#Everyone like to be heard and express themselves but there is a time and place

[noonecaresaboutyourwhining]

Welcome to my own extremely controversial opinions!

This is the kind of shit that would get me lynched irl. "You coward, you're hiding behind a screen!" Damn right, I am! People are killed all the time for simply having opinions the masses don't agree with. I am not suicidal, which is why I run this blog and not my mouth irl :D

Here we go.

Black people who think white people owe them "reparations" are dumb af. Not only are you suggesting people be held accountable for things that people's ancestors did hundreds of years ago that at the time was fully legal and generally socially acceptable, but you are also showing your true self-righteous ignorance by assuming black people were the only race to be enslaved.

If gender exists on a spectrum, then one end of the spectrum is male and the other is female, and all these other "genders" people are claiming are bullshit. You can't have it both ways. Even if you exist perfectly in the middle, then it shouldn't matter that much so just pick one. Making it other people's responsibility to adjust to whatever you've decided in your head is unreasonable. It's like a kid who gets mad at people for not knowing they're being a unicorn that day.

There are four sexualities. Technically three, but I'm including asexuality even though that's often a disorder that can be corrected. You can be heterosexual, homosexual, or bisexual. Anything else is something you've made up in an attempt to define yourself within parameters that make sense to you. Being attracted to someone for their personality instead of gender does not make you "pansexual," it makes you bisexual. Getting to know someone before attraction forms is not unusual and you are not special enough for that alone to require your own unique sublabel.

All deviations in gender and sexuality are firmly encapsulated within the "Q" of "queer," as in that which is not the norm. For this reason, you don't even need the "LGBT-+" part of the acronym; it could just be "Q", meaning those who are not cisgendered heterosexuals, i.e. the norm. (Notably, just because you are offended by it being the norm, doesn't make it untrue.)

Hold on to your hats, folks; this is gonna be the longest and by far most controversial point. Building off of point 4, whether you approve or not, pedophilia falls under the queer label. If it were destigmatized it would allow for those afflicted to seek help and lessen the numbers of child molestation cases (though it's worth noting that many such cases are less about sexual attraction and more to do with psychological factors such as control). The torches and pitchforks approach is not helping anyone. No one chooses a sexuality that is not only publicly condemned but also may harm vulnerable individuals. In fact, if you believe it is not a choice to be gay, you also have to concede that it is not a choice to be a pedophile. It is a choice to be a child molester. The issue is that often these terms are used interchangeably. Many pedophiles live out their lives never laying a finger on a child or indulging in illicit materials. The inherent sexual deviation is a miswiring in the brain. Now, don't get me wrong - people often jump to conclusions and put words in my mouth - I am of the firm belief that if you harm so much as a hair on the head of a single child, you should be castrated, maimed, and dragged through the streets before being thrown to an angry mob. I am simply suggesting that the possibility to intervene exists before it comes to that, and perhaps then we would not need to condemn neither innocent children nor those afflicted with this specific neurological defect to a life of misery. Just maybe.

There's more, but these are the main ones. Have at it in the comments!

[yanyannica]

it's not like ushijima wakatoshi to get jealous over anything, but the one time you heavily suspect he does...

"oh? you jealous?"

your tall hunk of a boyfriend stares you down with a mild crease between his eyebrows. you stare back just as intensely with a dopey grin, waiting for an admission from your ever-stoic boyfriend.

it's not everyday you get to see him react like this, so you practically jump the opportunity.

you watch tentatively as he brings up a hand to his chest, clutching his shirt as his gaze drops to the ground — expression stoned not much unlike a rock as he contemplates your words. he never fails to look so serious.

"...am i?"

the blatant confusion on his face couldn't be any more funnier, and you had to stifle your laugh into your hand lest you hurt his feelings.

you really should've known better — of course he wouldn't know what to call it even if it slapped him in the face. we were talking about the guy who went up to you during a random tuesday and confessed that he had an constant urge to kiss you, and innocently asked if you knew anything about it like he was inquiring about homework.

(for an entire week before you officially got together, you had to convince him that no — you were most definitely not hypnotizing him.)

"you're such an idiot, you know?" you nudge his side teasingly, leaning your weight against him as you struggle to keep your giggles at bay.

your hulk of a boyfriend is way too adorable sometimes.

"i'm not quite sure what jealousy feels like. my apologies."

you grimace a bit at his response, now hyper-aware of the way his athletic body feels against your side.

he's never had to be jealous of anything because everyone else is busy being jealous of him!

you pout at him, before poking his side. softly, of course. you might break a finger or two if you went any harder.

you turn back to the matter at hand before it completely derails — you need full details on this rare side of him. "well, what did it feel like when you saw me talking to that guy?"

ushijima takes a moment before his eyes clear up.

"something felt weird here," he gently patted the spot over his heart and your eyes widen in surprise, pulling away to look at him more firmly. "like it got pinched. it didn’t hurt physically, but it made me... sad."

your heart clenches, hard. you swear you heard it crack within your chest too. oh my god. it was one hundred percent your fault! no questions asked!

you reach out to his arms as your eyes turn glassy, "oh, baby. i'm so sor —"

"my muscles contracted by themselves too, like how it feels when i want to hit a spike."

... ha?

your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets. the romantic air disperses in a matter of miliseconds, crashing down to earth.

a spike?!

what the hell? well, good thing you kept the conversation short, or else that guy would've had his head blown off...

a shudder runs down your spine.

you sweat profusely at his profound statement, "n-next time you feel bothered by something like that, make sure you approach me first before doing anything, okay?" for safety purposes!

ushijima blinks at you, completely none the wiser to your inner turmoil.

"alright," he pauses, as if there's something else he wants to say, contemplating it for a few moments before speaking up again. "i don't like feeling jealous. is that a bad thing?"

reallyyyyy such a baby. your baby.

"i'm really sorry for making you feel that way, toshi," leaning up on your tippy toes, you coerce him to lean down into your hold — placing a chaste kiss to his cheek. "you do know that you're the only one i have eyes for, yes?"

he nods affirmatively, like an obedient child heeding their parents' words like it's gospel.

"you trust me, right?"

another truthful nod of approval. you sigh in utter relief as you let him go for him to resume his practice, satisfied at how you were able to prevent a major crisis from occurring.

"i will make sure to consult you first before spiking."

you feel a tear form.

"toshi — baby, no —"

oh toshi yes */smirks deviously

[hwnglx]

pick a pile - what's your fs' first impression of you?

hi lovely reader. let's peak into the first impression your fs could potentially have of you. remember this is a general reading, so not everything will resonate with everyone! breathe slowly, take your time and use your intuition to go with the pile that speaks to you the most. remember to take what resonates, and let the rest flow. 𓂃♡

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ pile 1 ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

immediately heard the word “magnetic”. you will have a powerful impression on your future lover. you will stand out to them. a lot. there is something about your energy, the way you carry yourself, the way you look, the way you act, the way you speak; it's hypnotising, captivating and incredibly intriguing to your fs. it will be an instant attraction. first time they spot you, you just catch their eye right away, and something about you will mesmerize them.

i see this potentially happening in a setting where's there's several people around you, perhaps a party or celebration of some sort. the atmosphere is nice, enjoyable. likely to take place in an environment that's easygoing and pleasant, perhaps among friends or people you feel comfortable with.

your fs could spot you in a position where you're communicating, and the way you articulate yourself could pique their interest. you might give off this very intelligent and witty impression. like you just know what you're talking about, or you're good at what you do.

i see this person perhaps feeling inferior to you, and intimated by your strong presence. the way you make your fs feel could result in them feeling small, like “damn, never knew i could feel this crazy about a person without even getting to know them.” i keep getting the feeling you will stay stuck in this person's mind for a long time. the thought of you will follow them around constantly, and they could get hooked really fast.

there might be hesitation when it comes to actually confronting you, because of this potential inferiority complex they might experience. this person reads as quite hard on themselves, they might not be entirely confident or see themselves as a catch; but you definitely are a major catch in their eyes. that's why it's possible that they could have issues seeing themselves on the same level as you, which could hold them back from approaching you more confidently.

though i have to note; their first impression also consists of you seeing you in a light of empathy, gentleness, kindness. a part of what draws them in to you, could be that they see you as a person capable of providing them with what they don't have, especially in terms of their emotional world. you could bring them the sense of comfort they lack in life. something about you just screams emotional maturity to them. like this person would understand me the way no one else does.

the queen of cups always gives me very cancerian energy. (though you could just have prominent water/4h/12h placements in general!) cancerian people (especially cancer suns, venus' and risings) often have this beautifully feminine energy to them. you might have gorgeous curves, features that are more on the rounder side, like your face shape, which your fs could feel drawn to. something about your eyes could pull them in too, they could be very expressive.

additional physical features they might notice

dark skin

black clothing

white or bleached hair

medium hair

brunette

channelled songs

je te laisserai des mots by patrick watson

“i will leave you words,

under your door

and when you're alone for a moment

pick me up whenever you want

kiss me whenever you want”

nobody gets me by sza

“how am i supposed to tell you?

i don't wanna see you with anyone but me

nobody gets me

you do”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ pile 2 ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

your fs' first impression might include seeing you in a crowded place. this is random, so take what resonates, but for some of you it could be a school, a university; just a place where's a lot of different types of people, whose opinions, words or personalities potentially clash a lot.

your future lover could first perceive you, as a calm, quiet and reserved person, who's more of a lone-wolf. someone who prefers withdrawing, doing their own thing, and living in their own little dream world or bubble.

there is this feeling of you liking to doze off into your own fantasies, detached from the things that are going on around you. they could look at you as someone who doesn't enjoy being around people all the time, and feels more comfortable detaching themselves from fights, conflict, drama, gossip.

your fs could think you're the type to be easily overwhelmed, perhaps more insecure too, which could lead to this tendency of yours to distance yourself from everything that is going on. they might see you as someone artistic and introspective. the type to sit off to the side, quietly sketching or listening to music, while the crowd buzzes with noise.

they might be unable to read you at first, with you giving off more of a complex vibe they can't exactly decipher. they're under the impression that you're likely to have so much going on in your head, which could result in them wondering. there's mystery in your stillness.

the energy in terms of your fs' first impression of you, is more naive, shy, innocent, youthful.. it's likely your future lover is either older than you in age, or just thinks you're probably someone who's younger or more immature than them. you might even look younger than you actually are.

some of you might be quite petite in size. i can also see some of you liking to dress up in a dainty way, which your fs could take note of. some of you might have shorter hair, a bob, bangs or light brown or dirty blond hair.

your fs might not really be sure how to behave around you. it's likely they could look at you as someone very sensitive and soft-hearted, which could cause them to be slightly hesitant to be around you. they might be under the impression that you're someone who needs to be dealt with gently.

this impression you made on your fs doesn’t fade quickly. your presence lingers in their mind, not because you were loud or flashy, but because your quiet mystery made them want to know more.

something about you might give your future spouse the impression that you're well off. this could be in a financial sense; some of them might assume you come from a stable family background that supports you (even if that’s not actually the case, remember this is their subjective impression).

it could also reflect how they see you as someone who’s focused on their long-term goals and building a secure future for themselves. there's a quiet sense of success around you, like you're the type who works hard without needing attention, and is likely to achieve a lot because of that.

your energy reminds me of winter from aespa a little bit. she's a capricorn sun with a pisces moon, which gives her this blend of being a dreamy, head-in-the-clouds hard worker.

additional physical features they might notice

coloured eyes (green, blue)

white or bleached hair

beauty marks

freckles

baby face

square face

channelled songs

my future by billie eilish

“cause i'm in love

with my future

can't wait to meet her”

only love can hurt like this by paloma faith

“and when you come close, i just tremble

and every time you go

it's like a knife that cuts right through my soul”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ pile 3 ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

wow, safe to say you will make an impression on your fs. this person will quite literally be head over heels obsessed with you, from the moment they meet you. it's like “this person awakens things in me i've never felt before” there’s likely to be an intense, almost magnetic physical pull toward you, that they might not even be able to explain.

when your fs first encounters you, they could view you in a very flirty and charming light. there's just something about the way you carry yourself, the way you speak, the way you look at them, that makes them go crazy inside. even your sole eye contact has the ability to light up not just butterflies, but entire fireworks inside of them.

this person's energy is increeedibly emotional, and very passionate. they could be a bit of a player or womanizer. or perhaps just someone who flirts with a lot of people.

i see them falling fast for people, but hard at the same time. it's likely they'll romanticize the heck out of you in their head. definitely a case of rose-colored glasses, where literally everything you do is ✨captivating✨ to them.

interestingly, their first impression of you might come with a moment of humbling. the attraction will absolutely be there. it will be strong, immediate, even overwhelming, but so will a flicker of doubt. they might wonder if they'd even stand a chance with someone like you.

some of you might genuinely give them a little bit of a harsh reality check and blow to their ego, whether intentional or not. again, it's hard to tell if what i'm sensing is actually of substance, or just your fs' extremely emotion-based perception (this person is a big F in terms of mbti, i will tell you that) but something about the way you act, could make humble them, pull them back down to the ground.

some of you might just not pay much attention them, ignore them, give them the cold shoulder, while some of you could literally tell them to get down their high horse, to slow down or friendzone them. some of you might even be taken already, at your first encounter with your future lover. either way, there's a brief moment where their spirit takes a hit... and then they go right back to dreaming about you.

the star card speaks of dreams and idealism, but it's also about distance and longing.

think of what stars are like.. they're beautiful, so so dazzling and radiant, but unbelievably far away. that's how your fs will see you. beautiful and magnetic, but not easily attainable. they'll think of you as someone who rightfully has high standards, and wouldn't just settle for anyone.

physical features they might notice

sharp face

red head or coloured hair

make up

the way you dress

beauty marks

blue eyes

channelled songs

spicy by aespa

“you want my A to the Z

but you won't get it, not a chance

pulled in in a blink of an eye, you'll be mine”

rude boy by rihanna

“come here rude boy, can you get it up?

show me what you got now

baby, if i don't feel it i ain't faking”

thank you for reading! i'd love to hear you guys' feedback on what resonated for you

[r3ynah]

GHOSTBUSTERS DCxDP oneshot?

The bats think the mansion is haunted, and no one questions it. With the manor being at least decades old, being haunted by a possible ancestor of Bruce was the least of their worries when they have cases to solve, rogues to fight and mountains of paperwork to do.

At first, they ignored it, it was harmless at its earliest phase; pens disappearing out of nowhere when they'd clearly just placed it on top of the desk a minute ago, along with random lights flickering which they just reminded themselves to make a mental note that a lightbulb needs replacing.

And then it escalated, a few months in and things started getting freaky even for them, some of the bats would hear distant laughter in some corridors of the manor, shadowy figures at the corner of their eyes, and one time when the family was downstairs at cave working on a crime file half-past midnight, there was a sudden occurrence that every single light present in the Wayne manor even the cave underground suddenly turned off leaving the bat computer as the only thing to resonate light off from.

But even the bat computer was not completely protected, a few seconds after the blackout and after a few questioning glances at each other— all the monitor screens turned green, nothing in view just this neon sickly green that reminded them of the Lazarus pits, if they weren't alarmed yet, then the affair after this will certainly will:

The sound of someone weeping was heard, the crying was soft but not unnoticed. No, they couldn't even ignore this cry if they wanted to, but because this person was not letting their cries go unheard, it seeks their attention in every direction.

Everywhere but nowhere at the same time.

No one dared to break the silence, they thought they couldn't all the training and practice they had just willingly jumped out of the window when they heard the bellowing cries.

It seemed like they were being clung onto by unseen hands clutching at their legs to stay put in their places.

A few bated breaths: One, Two, Three, Four.

Wet footsteps can be heard slowly walking in their direction and then— Stephanie booked it, screaming along the lines of colorful and creative swears, followed by Tim cursing to himself that he needs to buy a bottle of holy water tomorrow, Jason definitely creeped out went to start his motorbike and escaping to go back to crime alley, Duke who was panicking grabbed Cass who was giggling at the chaos that is happening, by the hand and sprinted to the elevator with his powers keeping them from not slamming into anything, Dick was no religious person but he ran while singing the lyrics of 'I love you Jesus', Damian who was in Dick's arms can only protest.

And then there was Bruce, still standing unmoving at the center of the cave all alone, or is he?

And then Bruce felt it, cold mist gathering on top of his shoulders forming into a figure like someone was perched on it, he didn't want to believe it at first, but it was starting to be hard to make an excuse for it when a pair of neon green orbs like eyes opened up to stare at you, goosebumps traveled all over his body as he heard the uncanny but very clear whisper of the said mist like figure saying "Boo" before he also sprinted out of the cave to go to sleep, maybe he indeed was very stressed just like how Alfred told him yesterday.

It was now the next day, Alfred stood idly behind the kitchen counter, he adjusted an old cellular phone in his hand for a more comfortable grip while pressing it against his ear, his great-nephew called just a moment ago to express the troubles that he did.

"Did I go too far, scaring them?" Danny meekly said, clearly letting the guilt get to him, Alfred stayed silent as he looked up to look at the other room connecting to the kitchen which is one of the more used living rooms of the manor.

There he saw almost everyone present watching intently as Stephanie presented a PPT presentation of a video game called phasmophobia and was currently giving insights on how this game can help them as a basis on how they can identify the entity if it's just a shade or a full-on demon, which was also backed up by additional information given by Tim, who was very compelled on also doing this and was practically vibrating in excitement in place.

Surprisingly everyone else also seemed interested, nodding a couple of times in agreement and raising their hands when confused.

Alfred only had an amused look plastered on his face, as he brought his attention back to his nephew on the other side of the line:

"No need to worry too much my nephew, you have completed the task I gave you perfectly thank you."

Turns out that Alfred was getting irritated about how his worries were being ignored and how he was only given excuses as to why the bats couldn't rest and allow a time of relaxation, so he sighed and finally gave up and called his great-nephew from Amity Park to ask for a request in exchange of home baked desserts which was immediately accepted as a very good barter (Danny's words).

In the end, it went well, at least they have had their sleep and was now more focused on other things than work and being vigilantes, Alfred can only hope this will last up at a minimum of 2 weeks or so.

[shypotatoes013-blog]

Can we fucking talk about this?

I may sound really bad when I say this but it pisses me off to no end that we can’t have this game without men crying for a male mc option or trying to erase the MC. Like no??? This game isn’t for you. The creators made it FOR AFAB PEOPLE specifically. We don’t have shit like that.

It’s always inclusivity this, inclusivity that.

There is PLENTY of BL and other games dedicated to people who enjoy that type of content. Go play it, go read it.

I used to like yaoi. I preferred it over hetero at one point but like there’s liking and then there is projecting in places and insisting everyone else get behind it. You just don’t fucking do that??

Is it really SO BAD that AFAB have something for themselves? Do you have to belittle us and erase us so badly that we just have no spaces for ourselves?

And then saying they’d have better chemistry with another man. 😭 Have you heard the secret times? Have you read the stories or the cards? They are absolutely infatuated with the female body (and I know I used female here I’m sorry but that’s what mc is portrayed as in game.)

It’s not a contest. You can like them, headcanon them with another man. You can do whatever because they’re fictional just STOP ERASING WOMEN. We are allowed to exist in media.

I’m sorry for anyone reading this. I can’t articulate this the way I want to. It just makes me so mad that we deal with so much misogynistic bullshit and can’t have anything. I don’t go around trying to assert myself in spaces that weren’t made for me and I can’t understand why this isn’t an understood concept.

Edit: Also in reblogs

I've already expressed that I did not know how to articulate at the time either and my intention is not to make enemies of anyone. I admit that I could have waited to word that better, thanks for the input. It wasn't well received by my very trans friend either, but she has corrected me on the usage of the term AFAB, amongst other things.

However, I do not care that they want or wish for representation. It's the aggressiveness that some of them exude that is off putting. It's not fair I used general and pointed language and I'll take full accountability.

The erasure is completely removing the MC from the equation when she is the central point of the game. It literally revolves around her. And it was said that she lacks chemistry and that the men would have more chemistry with another man.

Opinions are fine, but when you're deadass serious just because you can't stand to see a female with the LI, that's different and THATS what I'm talking about.

I expressed that it's fine in headcanon and fanfiction because it is fiction. I don't have an issue with that, if you'd read that instead of jumping to that conclusion. I don't give a shit that people ship them together or with other men.

I don't care that they even ship themselves, but the actual hate, and in all seriousness, in lads fandom is an actual thing. It is the lack of acknowledgment that they're (the shitheads) still coming into the fandom and demanding a front row seat because it's "not fair!"

The screens I provided aren't mine. It was sent from a friend, but this is not the first instance I have seen of this and regardless of if it was a joke, it sometimes doesn't feel that way. I could have tempered myself, but I am also tired of tempering my rage.

[igwb]

Fate, Fortune and Jungkook's Misfortune.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: strangers to lovers au, fluff + slice of life + comedy

summary: hopelessly romantic, jungkook believed in all kinds of things—but mostly in fate. so when he stumbled upon what he thought was a sign from the universe, he took it seriously. maybe too seriously. but one way or another, he was determined to make her believe in fate too.

word count: 20K (one shot)

warnings: fem!reader, mentions of; astrology talk, fluff, fluff & fluff, and jungkook being jungkook (cute) ♡

playlist: sally when the wine runs out, goodnight n go, fallingforyou & you are the traffic

Jeon Jungkook had heard plenty of things about himself over the years, but three remarks seemed to follow him everywhere.

The first was that he was dramatic—sometimes a little too much. Jungkook wasn’t the kind of person who simply told a story; he performed it.

His hands would move wildly, his voice rising and falling with exaggerated emotion, as if every minor event in his life were a grand cinematic moment. It didn’t matter if he was recounting a near-death experience (which, in reality, was just him almost tripping on a sidewalk) or the time he spotted an unusually fluffy cat on the street—his excitement was all-consuming. His big, expressive doe eyes would widen as he spoke, drawing people in, making them listen, even if they had no idea why finding a cute cat had him this worked up.

And the worst part? His enthusiasm was contagious. No matter how absurd the topic, his friends always found themselves leaning in, hanging onto every word, caught up in the sheer energy of his storytelling.

The second thing was that Jungkook was persistent—relentless, even. When he set his mind on something, there was no stopping him. Once an idea lodged itself in his brain, he would pursue it with single-minded determination, as if failure wasn’t an option. And by determination, that meant everything was fair game.

Like the time his high school held a massive sports tournament. Most people saw it as a casual event, something to participate in for fun. Not Jungkook. He trained for months, pushing himself like he was preparing for the Olympics. In the end, he placed first—not necessarily because he was the most skilled, but because everyone else simply didn’t care enough to try that hard. But to Jungkook, a win was a win, and he would take it, no matter what.

And then, there was the last thing—perhaps the one that defined him the most. Jungkook was a hopeless romantic. Not just the kind who believed in love, but the kind who believed in fate. In soulmates. In every ridiculous, unrealistic notion that most people would roll their eyes at. Horoscopes? He checked them more often than the weather. MBTI? Not only did he know his own personality type by heart, but he had memorized everyone else’s, convinced that compatibility was written in the stars.

He believed in love at first sight, in grand gestures, in the idea that somewhere, out there, was the one meant just for him.

And if he ever found her?

Well, knowing Jungkook, he would do everything in his power to make her believe in fate too.

Jungkook had always enjoyed taking Yeontan for walks. The little Pomeranian technically belonged to Taehyung—his best friend—but Jungkook might as well have been his honorary second owner. Taehyung was overprotective when it came to his beloved dog, rarely trusting anyone else to handle him. But Jungkook? He was the exception.

And today, Jungkook had never been happier to be out walking the tiny ball of fluff. The sun was shining, the air was crisp, and Yeontan—small but ridiculously stubborn—was leading him rather than the other way around. Jungkook barely had a say in where they went, not that he minded. Yeontan had a mind of his own, and considering Taehyung had raised him like a pampered little prince, he was more than a little spoiled.

So when Yeontan suddenly yanked him toward a small, unfamiliar café, Jungkook let himself be dragged along, more amused than anything. He had never been here before, but the place looked exactly like something out of one of his guilty-pleasure romance novels—warm lighting, large windows fogged slightly from the temperature difference, plants hanging from the ceiling, and the faint scent of coffee and vanilla drifting through the air.

It was cozy. Inviting. The kind of café where love stories began.

And Jungkook, hopeless romantic that he was, couldn’t help but wonder—was fate trying to tell him something today?

Jungkook immediately pulled out his phone, completely oblivious to the fact that he was standing right in front of the café’s entrance, probably blocking customers from coming and going. But he didn’t care. There were priorities in life, and checking his horoscope at a potentially fated moment like this was one of them.

His browser was already open to his favorite astrology site—it always was—so all he had to do was scroll down to his sign. Virgo. He barely had time to process the words before—

Yank.

His eyes widened as the leash suddenly tugged forward, nearly making him stumble. Before he could react, Yeontan had already charged straight into the café.

“Yah—Tannie!” Jungkook yelled, frantically shoving his phone into his back pocket as he took off after the tiny troublemaker. He pushed through the doorway, eyes darting around in search of the little fluff ball. Yeontan was small but fast, and knowing him, he was already causing chaos somewhere between the tables.

Jungkook weaved past a few customers, muttering rushed apologies, his head swiveling as he searched. “I swear, if you embarrassed me in front of strangers again—”

And then he saw him.

Or rather, he saw her.

Because Yeontan wasn’t just causing trouble—he was happily sitting at the feet of a girl Jungkook had never seen before. A girl who, at that moment, was peering down at the fluffy little traitor with an amused look, one hand resting on her coffee cup, the other scratching behind his ears like she had all the time in the world.

Jungkook came to an abrupt stop. His brain short-circuited for a second, and suddenly, he remembered something very, very important.

His horoscope.

He scrambled to pull his phone out again, nearly dropping it in the process. His eyes scanned the words quickly, his heart rate picking up as he found what he was looking for.

Virgo: Today, fate will lead you to an unexpected encounter. Pay attention—this person might change everything.

Jungkook swallowed hard, gaze flickering back to the girl.

No way.

Jungkook walked toward the table with slow, measured steps, unsure of how to proceed. The girl was so engrossed in petting Yeontan that she didn’t even notice him approach. She had a laptop in front of her, a large coffee cup beside it, and a soft smile on her face as she looked down at the dog. Yeontan, for once, was happily soaking up the attention, his little tail wagging furiously.

And Jungkook?

He never wanted more to be a dog than in that exact moment. At least then, he’d have her full, undivided attention.

A few more seconds passed before she finally glanced up, eyes briefly meeting his, before they flicked back down to Yeontan. She didn’t even seem phased by the random guy suddenly appearing at her table. Instead, she offered a soft, almost amused smile, glancing at him only for a moment.

“He’s so cute,” she commented, her voice light and warm.

“He may look like an angel, but he’s far from it.” Jungkook crouched down to Yeontan’s level, gently tugging the leash back into his hands, hoping the dog would finally acknowledge him for once. Now that they were at the same height, he couldn’t help but hope that she would finally look at him too, not just at the dog.

Yeontan, as expected, didn’t seem to care about Jungkook’s presence, too busy enjoying the scratch behind his ears. Jungkook shot the dog a glare, as if silently scolding him. Seriously, dude?

When her eyes finally flicked back to him, the smile she gave wasn’t judgmental, just amused.

“I can tell,” she said, her tone teasing, “He definitely looks like he’s got a little mischief in him.”

“I don’t know if ‘mischief’ is enough to describe his personality. He’s chaotic,” Jungkook replied, a small laugh escaping as he ruffled the dog’s fur. “But yeah, he’s definitely not as innocent as he looks.”

For a moment, there was a comfortable silence as both of them watched Yeontan enjoy his little moment of fame. Jungkook was still crouched down, hands resting on the leash, his heart racing.

She pulled her hand back from Yeontan, her fingers lingering for just a second before retreating to her lap. Then, she glanced around the café, her eyes briefly scanning the space. It was such a small, insignificant movement, but Jungkook was completely entranced.

The soft glow of the café’s warm lighting reflected off her glasses, her round, chocolate-brown eyes peering through the lenses with quiet curiosity. Strands of hair had fallen loose from the bun on top of her head, perfectly framing her delicate features. Her lips—plump and pink—were slightly parted, like she was lost in thought.

Jungkook was so busy memorizing her face that he almost didn’t notice when she turned back to him.

Panic.

He shot up from his crouch so fast that he almost lost his balance, awkwardly straightening his posture as if that would somehow make up for the fact that he had very obviously been staring.

And then she smiled. Not a flirty smile, not even an encouraging one—just a small, polite curve of her lips that almost felt like she was expecting him to leave now. Like the moment had run its course, and she was giving him an easy out.

Jungkook’s heart dropped.

“Oh—uh, I’m sorry,” he blurted out, looking down at Yeontan as if the dog could somehow save him from his embarrassment. His cheeks burned, and he hated that he was so bad at this. He didn’t want the moment to end, but he also didn’t want to overstay his welcome.

But then his horoscope flashed in his mind again.

Virgo: Today, fate will lead you to an unexpected encounter. Pay attention—this person might change everything.

His fingers tightened around Yeontan’s leash.

No. If this was fate—and Jungkook knew it was—then he had to do something.

“Uh…” He forced himself to look up at her again, ignoring the heat in his face. “Are you familiar with this place?”

She raised an eyebrow, a small hmm leaving her lips as if urging him to go on.

Jungkook swallowed. “Which drink is the best?”

For a second, she just blinked at him, like she wasn’t sure if he was serious or not. Then, slowly, a small, knowing smirk appeared on her lips.

“You’re just asking that to keep talking to me, aren’t you?”

Jungkook’s breath hitched.

Oh, she’s dangerous.

“I—” He cleared his throat, scrambling to regain his composure. “I mean… maybe?”

She chuckled, shaking her head slightly as she leaned back in her chair, tilting her head at him in amusement. “Alright, I’ll bite.”

Jungkook held his breath.

“The best drink here? Definitely the caramel macchiato,” she finally said, voice smooth, teasing. “Sweet, a little strong, and pretty addictive.”

Jungkook grinned, his confidence returning in an instant. “That does sound like my type.”

She raised a brow. “The drink?”

Jungkook met her gaze, the corner of his lips quirking up. “Maybe.”

For the first time since he’d walked in, she actually looked surprised. Just for a second—just a flicker of something in her expression before she composed herself again.

Yeontan was getting impatient. The tiny fluff ball kept tugging on his leash, huffing dramatically, clearly annoyed that he was no longer the center of attention. His little paws shuffled against the café floor, his determination unshaken.

Jungkook sighed. Okay, maybe walking the dog wasn’t fun anymore.

Each time Yeontan yanked harder, Jungkook’s arm jerked forward, nearly throwing him off balance. He knew it was time to leave—there was no point in fighting when Yeontan had already decided he wasn’t going to lose.

Jungkook let out a small laugh, looking back at the girl, reluctant to let the moment end.

“You heard the brat,” he said, nodding toward the demanding Pomeranian. “Guess that’s my cue.”

She smiled, watching the little dog’s antics with amusement.

“Thanks for the recommendation,” Jungkook added, dragging out his words just slightly, lingering for a response. A name. Anything to keep this from being just another fleeting interaction.

For a second, she hesitated, lips pressing together like she was debating something. But then—

She said it.

Her name.

And oh, Jungkook was not prepared.

It rolled off her tongue so effortlessly, so naturally, and yet it felt like it echoed in his mind, settling into a permanent place inside of him. It was pretty—too pretty. Almost unfair.

For a split second, he nearly lost his composure, his grip tightening on Yeontan’s leash as he processed the way it sounded.

He forced himself to keep his cool, offering a grin that (hopefully) didn’t expose just how much he was freaking out inside.

“Pretty name,” he said casually, though inside, his brain was already in overdrive.

Because tonight—without a doubt—he was going to a name compatibility site, typing her name next to his, and testing their fate.

The day had been horrible. No amount of Hoseok’s usual sunshine-like energy, nor the comforting sight of his signature heart-shaped smile, could do anything to lift your mood. It was just one of those days—the kind where everything felt ten times heavier than it should.

The lecture was dragging on endlessly, your professor droning about legal cases and justice articles in a tone so monotonous that it almost felt like a personal attack. You fought to keep your eyes open, blinking rapidly every few minutes in a desperate attempt to stay focused.

Sometimes, you genuinely questioned your decision to pursue law. Why had you willingly subjected yourself to this? You could have been anywhere else—on a beach, running away to the mountains, maybe even opening a tiny coffee shop where you wouldn’t have to read through endless legal texts every night.

And yet…

No matter how often the thought of quitting crossed your mind, it never truly stuck. Because deep down, as exhausting as it was, as frustrating as some days could be, you had always loved it. The way logic, facts, and concrete evidence could build a path toward justice. It felt structured—rational. There was a process, a way to piece everything together, then the truth would always reveal itself. It wasn’t always easy, but at least it made sense.

That was more than you could say for Hoseok’s field of study.

You never quite understood how he could immerse himself so deeply in literature and poetry—worlds filled with metaphors, abstract emotions, and meanings that changed depending on who was reading them. Everything in his world felt so… out of place, detached from reality. There were no clear answers, no right or wrong, just endless interpretations.

While he found meaning in verses and prose, you found it in arguments and evidence.

And you were perfectly fine with that.

The moment you stepped into the small coffee shop, you let out a quiet sigh of relief. This place had always been your little escape. Today, it was a bit more crowded than usual, but you didn’t mind. You could wait.

Shuffling into place in the line, you let your thoughts drift to your usual order. Iced coffee. Large. No second-guessing. Caffeine had practically become your lifeline at this point, the only thing keeping you awake during long nights buried under case studies and legal articles.

The line moved painfully slow. You tapped your fingers lightly against your arm, eyes flicking toward the counter. The customer in front of you took forever, hesitating over their order like they were making a life-altering decision.

By the time they finally stepped aside to wait for their drink, you swore an entire hour had passed.

Suppressing a groan, you took a step forward, ready to place your order—when a voice beside you made you pause.

“Oh, what a funny coincidence! Didn’t know you were familiar with this place. It must be destiny.”

And there he was.

The boy from the other day, standing next to you with wide boba-like eyes, filled with excitement like he’d just stumbled upon something life-changing. His dark hair was messy, parted in the middle, and strands of it fell over his forehead like he had run here without a care. His thin lips curled around the straw of his drink, cheeks puffing slightly as he sipped.

You scoffed, shaking your head just as the barista handed you your iced coffee. “I knew this place before you,” you reminded him, fingers wrapping around your cup. “I was the one giving you a recommendation.”

You turned on your heels, making your way to your usual booth. You’d been looking forward to sitting alone, letting the familiar hum of the café settle your mind as you worked through another exhausting day.

But apparently, he had other plans.

He followed right behind you, still sipping on his drink, the straw stuck between his lips as he trailed after you like a lost puppy.

“Oh yeah, right,” he chuckled, sliding into the seat across from you without asking.

You stopped mid-motion, blinking at him. He had just… invited himself?

You always sat alone. That was the whole point of coming here. It was your time to work in peace.

“I forgot,” Jungkook continued casually, settling into the booth like he belonged there. “It’s been such a long time since I last saw you.”

“One week,” you corrected, raising an eyebrow as you took a sip from your coffee.

Jungkook grinned, unbothered. “One week too long.”

He placed his drink on the table, leaning forward so his mouth hovered just above the straw, refusing to use his hands as he took another sip.

You glanced under the table, half-expecting to see a familiar ball of fluff staring back at you. Instead, all you found were a pair of worn-out dark Converse, one foot lazily crossed over the other.

Your lips pursed slightly in disappointment before you looked back up. “Where’s the cute dog?”

As you spoke, you pulled your laptop from your bag, subtly hoping the boy would get the message—you had work to do.

“Oh, he’s got a hairstyle appointment,” he said, shrugging like this was a completely normal thing.

You blinked. “A what?”

He chuckled at your reaction before elaborating. “His owner treats him like a total brat, so he has to go to the groomer every month. Haircuts, fancy shampoo, the whole celebrity dog experience.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. Honestly, it made so much sense. From what you had seen, the dog had more attitude than most people you knew.

“So he’s not your dog?” you mused, arching an eyebrow.

“Hopefully not,” he scoffed, leaning back in his seat. “I love bigger dogs. Ones that don’t act like princesses.”

“What’s his name?” you asked absentmindedly, turning on your laptop.

You were trying to focus—you really were. But it was proving impossible when the person sitting across from you was sipping his drink obnoxiously loud, making a whole production out of it.

Though, if you were being honest, the real distraction was the way his big, boba-like eyes peeked at you from over your screen, watching you with far too much amusement.

Jungkook smirked. “You know, I’m a bit offended that you asked for the dog’s name before mine.”

You glanced up, unimpressed, as he leaned back in his chair, seemingly forgetting about his drink entirely now that he had a new source of entertainment.

“My name is Jungkook, by the way,” he added, like he was offering the most valuable piece of information in the world.

You rolled your eyes, but the corner of your lips betrayed you, curling into the beginnings of a grin.

“I didn’t ask for yours, did I?” you shot back, shutting your laptop halfway and placing it beside you, clearly accepting the fact that you weren’t getting any work done anytime soon.

Jungkook gasped dramatically, clutching his chest like you had personally wounded him. “Wow. That hurts.”

And just like that, you had a feeling you weren’t getting rid of Jungkook anytime soon.

And you were right.

Because every time you stepped into the coffee shop, he was already there.

Somehow, Jungkook always managed to arrive before you, sitting comfortably in your usual booth like he owned the place. And as if that wasn’t enough, he had the audacity to have your favorite drink already waiting on the table, like he had perfectly timed your arrival.

He’d wave at you the moment you walked in—enthusiastically, unashamed, completely oblivious to the way people turned to stare at you because of it. Your face would heat up every single time, a mix of embarrassment and exasperation, but Jungkook never seemed to care. If anything, he loved making a scene.

But, despite everything, you still made your way over to the table. Because, well—it was your table first. And Jungkook wasn’t about to scare you away from your favorite spot.

(Okay, and maybe because he was kind of nice. Just a little.)

Over time, you learned quite a few things about him. Mostly because Jungkook never shut up, and even if you hadn’t wanted to know, he would have told you anyway.

Like how he was obsessed—his words—with toe socks because he hated regular ones. Or how he was a hardcore astrology fan (again, his words).

That one, in particular, made you roll your eyes. And instead of working like you had planned, you found yourself in a full-blown debate with him about how horoscopes were absolute nonsense, a way for people to trick themselves into believing fate controlled their lives instead of taking responsibility for their own choices.

Jungkook had gasped, genuinely offended, and spent the next twenty minutes passionately explaining why he believed in them, rattling off birth charts and compatibility readings like he was reciting holy scripture.

And then, of course, there was this.

“What a coincidence,” Jungkook mused, voice dripping with fake innocence as he leaned back in his seat. His hands flew to his head in mock shock. “You coming here while your favorite drink is already on your favorite table? Fate really wants us together.”

You shot him a deadpan look, crossing your arms.

“I already told you,” you huffed, “fate is bullshit—a lazy excuse for naïve people who don’t want to take responsibility for their own choices.”

Jungkook grinned. “Exactly. And I’m choosing to sit here, waiting for you, every time. So really, it’s the same thing.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “That is not—”

But Jungkook was already sipping his drink again, looking far too smug for his own good.

And, annoyingly, you had no idea how to argue with that.

Jungkook cleared his throat, straightening in his chair with the kind of exaggerated seriousness that only he could pull off.

You sighed, already knowing what was coming as he pulled out his phone. Still, you sat down anyway, setting your laptop in front of you, pretending—really pretending—that you weren’t listening.

Jungkook, of course, wasn’t fazed.

He called your name, deepening his voice dramatically as he read aloud, “Today, your horoscope is telling you to take a deep breath, look at the grass, and let your heart talk while your mind relaxes.”

You raised an eyebrow, meeting his mischievous gaze over the top of your laptop screen. “Does it really?”

Jungkook grinned, nodding, but you weren’t convinced.

“What if you’re just bullshitting already bullshit facts?” you mused. “That would be defamation, and you could—”

Before you could get into any legal technicalities, Jungkook clicked his tongue, cutting you off. He wasn’t about to let logic ruin his fun.

He slid his phone across the table toward you. “It’s real, and I’m pleading non-guilty.” He lifted his hands in mock surrender.

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously before glancing at his phone, scanning the text quickly. To your surprise—and mild annoyance—he was actually telling the truth.

But then, your eyes landed on a line he had conveniently skipped.

“Oh, look,” you drawled, smirking as you pointed at the screen. “It also says I should be careful with who I’m interacting with today.”

Jungkook gasped, clutching his chest like you had stabbed him. “Are you implying I’m the bad influence here?”

You took a slow sip of your coffee. “I mean, if the stars say so…”

Jungkook scoffed, shaking his head as he dramatically took back his phone. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, typing something quickly before flashing the screen back at you. “Well, guess what? My horoscope says, ‘Don’t give up on people who challenge you—they may be the greatest blessing in disguise.’”

Your lips parted slightly at that, but before you could respond, Jungkook leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand as he smirked.

“So really,” he teased, “we’re the perfect balance.”

You rolled your eyes—but you didn’t argue.

Jungkook was absolutely ecstatic.

If he could, and if people wouldn’t look at him like he was a total weirdo, he would have definitely started dancing right there on the streets. With papers and colorful pens in hand, his movements would have been free and wild, just like his energy.

But instead, he grinned like an excited puppy as he made his way toward the coffee shop. And there you were, sitting in your usual booth, brows furrowed in intense concentration, typing away like a madman in the middle of a frenzy.

He couldn’t help but smile wider, his heart swelling with an odd kind of pride and joy.

He set his papers and pens on the table with a loud sigh, purposely making the sound dramatic as if to announce his grand entrance.

“It’s time for a break,” he declared, flopping down next to you with the flair of someone who was about to deliver the most important news of the century. “With the one and only Jeon Jungkook.”

You barely spared him a glance at first, but then you sighed, closing your laptop halfway with a sharp exhale. Your eyes were drawn to the chaos now sprawled on your table: a mess of papers, pens, and bright markers.

“Are you planning a drawing contest?” you asked, clearly unimpressed by the mess, already feeling the overwhelming urge to organize everything into neat piles. You hated working in a disorganized space. “Something the stars told you last night—something about you sucking at coloring?”

Jungkook scoffed loudly, leaning back in his chair like he was some kind of rebellious artist. He slid a sheet of paper toward you, the kind you’d get during an exam—multiple pages stuck together with nothing but your name scrawled on the front.

“It’s something I made,” he said, his voice oddly soft now, despite his playful tone. He quickly placed his hands over yours to stop you from reading it immediately. “For you.”

You blinked at him, confused. “You want me to take a break while doing something that looks like work?”

Jungkook shifted slightly, adjusting himself so that he was facing you more directly, his eyes wide with enthusiasm as he began explaining.

“It’s called an MBTI test,” he said, his voice bright with excitement, as if he were unveiling the secret to the universe itself. “It’s to see what your personality type is.”

You glanced at him skeptically, still unsure of where this was going. His face was utterly serious as he continued, the intensity in his eyes almost comical. “You have to answer the questions with what feels right to you—don’t overthink it, just go with your gut.”

You blinked at the stack of papers on the table, the colorful pens scattered around, and then back to him. The way he spoke—so intent, so dead serious—made it seem like he was about to launch into a criminal law exam or a high-stakes courtroom drama. But instead, it was… an MBTI test? Something Jungkook had created on a whim last night and printed out like it was some kind of official document?

It was absolutely ridiculous, and you couldn’t help but hide a grin. This was so Jungkook.

He was practically on the edge of his seat, as if waiting for a massive breakthrough in your psychological evolution. He tapped the paper a couple of times, as if he were an expert ready to reveal some deep, profound truth about you.

You stared at him, amused, eyes half-lidded, realizing that this was not the high-minded academic discussion you were expecting today. This was Jungkook at his finest. You tried not to laugh out loud, but his earnestness was too much.

“Right…” you drawled slowly, clearly entertained by how seriously he was treating this. “So this is like… a personality analysis? Just like that?”

“Exactly! This will tell you everything you need to know about who you really are.”

And there it was—another perfect example of Jungkook’s chaos, his unapologetic belief that everything, no matter how ridiculous, was important enough to be taken seriously. You shook your head in disbelief, but couldn’t help but feel entertained.

“Alright,” you finally said, eyes narrowing in mock suspicion. “What type are you then, Mr. Expert?”

Jungkook sat up a little straighter, tapping his chin thoughtfully before dramatically proclaiming, “I’m an ENFP. The campaigner—enthusiastic, creative, and full of ideas!”

You rolled your eyes. “Of course you are.”

He grinned proudly, unfazed by your skepticism, before nudging the test closer to you. “Now, your turn. Answer honestly!”

You sighed, knowing this was going to be a lot more entertaining than you had planned for your break.

You hated how focused you were on the test. Reading each question carefully as if it were one of the most important exams of your life, when, in reality, you should’ve been studying for something much more significant. But Jungkook had a way of pulling you into whatever chaos he created, and before you knew it, you were marking your answers like they actually mattered.

The only sound in the air was Jungkook’s rhythmic slurping through his straw, interrupted only by the occasional dramatic sigh that escaped his lips. He would never comment on your answers—probably terrified that if he did, it would somehow influence your responses and ruin the results of his serious experiment.

It took you almost twenty minutes to finish the entire thing. You handed him the test with a slight feeling of disbelief that you had actually gotten sucked into this. “Verdict, Mr. Jeon?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, half-tempted to make fun of him but curious at the same time.

Jungkook took the test from your hands and began reading your answers with the utmost seriousness. His brow furrowed deeply, as though he were an experienced psychologist analyzing a patient’s deepest fears and desires. He nodded at the answers with a distracted expression, as if processing your choices was a very complex task.

“Hmmm…” He nodded again, this time a little more dramatically, as if everything was starting to make sense. “Interesting… Very interesting…”

You waited for the reveal, feeling both a sense of dread and amusement as Jungkook continued his mock analysis, clearly savoring the moment. He rubbed his chin like an old-timey detective piecing together the clues.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he dropped the paper back on the table and leaned back in his chair with a confident smirk.

“Well,” Jungkook said, drawing out the word like he was preparing to make the grandest announcement of his life. “You, my dear friend, are… an INTP!” He paused dramatically for effect, before adding in a whisper, “The Thinker.”

You blinked at him, waiting for the punchline, but he just grinned, clearly satisfied with himself.

“INTP?” you repeated, not entirely sure whether to laugh or question his methods. “The Thinker? Really? That sounds like a terrible description.”

Jungkook shrugged with mock seriousness, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s the best one! It’s all about being logical, analytical, and deeply curious. It says you tend to overthink everything and live in your own head—oh, and you’re probably the type to avoid emotional decisions, too.”

You stared at him, not sure whether to be offended or impressed by how well he seemed to have pegged you. “That sounds… vaguely accurate.”

“See? I told you this was legit.” Jungkook leaned forward, his excitement palpable. “I’ve been studying this stuff for weeks!”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at Jungkook’s theatrics. He was truly relentless. When he pulled out another sheet of paper from the mess and lowered his voice.

“And guess what,” he said, his voice dipping into a conspiratorial tone as that annoyingly adorable bunny smile appeared on his face. “INTP and ENFP are very, very much compatible.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, shaking your head as you pushed your foot against his ankle lightly, your patience starting to wear thin. “I should’ve known it would turn out like that.” You reached for your laptop, already preparing to tune him out.

Jungkook wasn’t deterred, of course. He was practically pouting now, his bottom lip sticking out in that way that always seemed to make his charm even more potent. “Everything is telling us to do something about that match the stars have made!” he whined loudly, his hands flailing dramatically in the air. “Come on, you can’t fake that!”

You gave him a long look, almost unimpressed but definitely entertained by his determination. “You really think just because the stars said so, we should… what, embrace the fate of this ‘match’?”

“Yes!” Jungkook’s eyes lit up like he’d just won the lottery. “I mean, come on—do you really want to deny the stars? The universe is practically begging us to be in sync!”

But you weren’t going to let him win that easily. “I don’t know, Jungkook. It sounds like a whole lot of nonsense to me.”

Jungkook pouted again, leaning toward you with his chin propped up on his hand. “Well, maybe you’re just too rational for this,” he said, teasingly. “Maybe you just need to believe a little bit more in… magic.”

You glanced at him, the corner of your lips tugging upward despite yourself. “I’ll believe in magic when you start acting like an actual gentleman,” you shot back with a playful smirk.

Jungkook raised his eyebrows dramatically. “I’m already a gentleman, thank you very much,” he said, half-mockingly, half-seriously. He leaned forward again, fixing you with a teasing gaze. “But if it’ll convince you to give this whole ‘fate’ thing a chance, I’ll do anything.”

“Oh, really?” you asked, eyes narrowing as you folded your arms on the table. “Anything, huh?”

“Anything,” he said, with complete sincerity. The way he said it almost made you believe he meant it, and that’s when you realized… Jungkook was a lot more convincing than he had any right to be.

But you weren’t going to let him off the hook that easily. Not this time.

“Alright then, Mr. Gentleman,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “First, get me a refill of my coffee. I’ll need it to survive this… soulmate talk.”

Jungkook’s face lit up immediately. “Anything! I’ll be back in a second!” he said, already jumping up from his seat like he had just been given the best mission of his life.

As you watched him rush to the counter, you couldn’t help but shake your head. Maybe you did secretly enjoy Jungkook’s chaotic, persistent antics more than you’d admit…

When Jungkook promised he would do anything, you should have been more cautious.

You knew it came from a guy who believed in every whimsical, far-fetched thing under the sun and, more importantly, he was determined to get you to believe in it too. And maybe, just maybe, he was succeeding—just a little bit.

It was another ordinary day as you left your lecture, walking alongside Hoseok, who was happily recounting the poems he had just studied. He was going on and on about the beauty of love as described in each verse, the words almost spilling from him as you tried to tune him out, but as usual, his enthusiasm was contagious—still, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his idealistic notions of love.

You had no idea that the moment you stepped outside the lecture hall, your day would take yet another wild turn. The campus, full of people, should have made it impossible for you to spot someone. But there, amid the crowd, you saw him—the one and only Jeon Jungkook.

And no, it wasn’t because you’d gotten used to recognizing his face, his messy dark hair, his trademark bunny smile, or those absurdly bright boba-like eyes.

It wasn’t only you who noticed him, either. Hoseok, ever the curious one, immediately turned to you with a puzzled expression, clearly caught off guard by the spectacle in front of him.

“Why is there a guy holding a giant sign with your name written on it, standing next to a cute dog?” he asked, his voice a mix of confusion and amusement.

You were frozen, your feet rooted to the spot, unable to fully process what was happening. There he was, Jungkook, right in front of you, with a massive banner bearing your name in bold letters and Yeontan by his side. The crowd around him parted like the sea, but it was clear: Jungkook was waiting for you.

And you? You were speechless. You couldn’t move, couldn’t form a coherent thought. You were stuck there, watching him scan the crowd, eyes darting back and forth, until they locked on you, his expression lighting up.

Jungkook practically sprinted toward you, but his momentum was cut short when Yeontan decided he had no intention of moving. The tiny dog sat stubbornly in place, tail flicking like he was some kind of royalty, completely unbothered by the fact that his leash was still in Jungkook’s grip.

Jungkook let out a dramatic sigh, tapping his foot impatiently. “Stupid dog, just stand up,” he muttered under his breath. When Yeontan remained firmly seated, looking up at him with a level of indifference that only Taehyung’s dog could master, Jungkook resorted to threats. “If you don’t, I swear I’ll tell Taehyung to make you sleep on the floor tonight.”

Yeontan, predictably, didn’t budge. Worse, he let out a small, high-pitched bark—almost as if he was mocking Jungkook.

You couldn’t hold back your laugh. “Can’t handle a tiny dog, Jungkook? How do you expect to handle a bigger one, then?” you teased, stepping closer and standing on your tiptoes to peek over his shoulder. Your eyes lit up as you turned your attention to the spoiled little dog. “Yeontan, hi!”

And just like that, as if he had only been waiting for the right person to acknowledge him, Yeontan immediately stood up and strutted toward you, his fluffy body practically wiggling with excitement.

Jungkook let out an exaggerated groan, rolling his eyes as he watched you crouch down to greet the dog like he was the most important being on earth. “Unbelievable,” he muttered.

“Maybe he was just angry,” he said after a beat, crouching down beside you, watching as Yeontan happily accepted your affection. “He doesn’t like seeing men. Yeontan hates guys who aren’t me or Taehyung.”

You scoffed, turning your gaze from the dog to Jungkook, who was wearing the smuggest grin imaginable. “Oh, really?” you said, raising an eyebrow. “Yeontan or Jungkook?”

“Both,” he admitted without an ounce of shame.

Jungkook shot a glare at Hoseok as he walked off, a little annoyed at how casually he had brushed past him, clearly unfazed by Jungkook’s grand gesture. He was about to ask who he was when you spoke again, your voice teasing.

“So, what’s with the ridiculously large sign?”

Jungkook straightened up, feeling the weight of the oversized cardboard sign hanging awkwardly from his hands. “I needed to make sure you would see me,” he said with a sheepish grin.

You tilted your head, smirking. “Fate couldn’t do it for me?”

Jungkook chuckled, lifting the sign a little higher as if to prove a point. “Sometimes you need to take matters into your own hands.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small grin tugged at the corners of your lips. Without saying anything further, you stood up, stretching a bit, and started walking beside him. Neither of you had said where you were headed, but for once, it didn’t matter.

It was Tuesday, and usually, you would’ve been heading home by now—because it was 7 PM, and you had your usual routine of getting some rest and preparing for the next day. But tonight, for reasons you couldn’t quite pinpoint, you found yourself letting your feet carry you wherever Jungkook was going. Something about his presence had a way of making you forget about your usual need for structure, leaving you open to the idea of spontaneity.

You walked in silence for a while, the evening air crisp, but there was a sense of comfort in it. Something that felt easy. Even though it wasn’t part of your plan, you didn’t mind.

Jungkook beamed, motioning toward the arcade entrance as if it were some grand discovery. “Look where fate has brought us,” he said, excitement lacing his voice.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you watched Yeontan enthusiastically tug at his leash, barking at the door as if demanding to be let inside. “So, fate is Yeontan now?” you teased, shaking your head with a small smile.

Jungkook followed your gaze to the tiny dog at his feet, and though he hated to admit it, maybe—just maybe—the little troublemaker had actually led them here. But there was no way he was going to let Yeontan think he was in charge.

“Are you up for some arcade games?” he asked instead, his voice casual, but there was a hopeful glint in his eyes.

You hesitated. You had an early start tomorrow. A long, exhausting day filled with classes, readings, and responsibilities you couldn’t afford to neglect. And you knew yourself well—without at least eight hours of sleep, you’d be miserable.

But then you looked at Jungkook. His wide, expectant eyes darting everywhere except at you, as if afraid of your answer. The way he fidgeted slightly, like he was already bracing for rejection. And then there was Yeontan, tongue out, tail wagging, practically vibrating with anticipation.

And somehow, against all logic, you found yourself sighing in defeat.

“Fine,” you muttered, already regretting it and yet… not really.

Jungkook’s face instantly lit up, as if you’d just agreed to something life-changing. “Really?”

You rolled your eyes, already stepping toward the entrance. “Don’t make me change my mind, Jeon.”

And just like that, you let yourself be pulled into another one of his ridiculous, impulsive adventures.

“Alright, buddy. Stay with the nice man, okay? And please—please—don’t make a scene.”

Jungkook crouched down to Yeontan’s level, placing both hands on his tiny, fluffy face as he spoke in a hushed but serious tone.

Jungkook sighed, reluctantly handing the leash to the bodyguard stationed at the entrance. The man arched a brow, clearly questioning why he was suddenly assigned dog-sitting duties, but before he could refuse, Jungkook flashed him a bright, pleading smile—eyes wide, all innocence and desperation.

And just like that, the bodyguard gave in with a resigned sigh. No one could say no to Jeon Jungkook’s puppy eyes.

“Good choice, sir,” Jungkook said with a dramatic bow before turning on his heel and striding into the arcade, Yeontan’s protests ringing behind him.

“You are literally the worst dogsitter,” you said, shaking your head as you followed. “You just abandoned him with a total stranger for some arcade games.”

Jungkook glanced over his shoulder at the entrance, watching as the bodyguard—who initially looked reluctant—was now gently scratching Yeontan’s head, looking far too soft for his intimidating size.

“He’ll be fine,” Jungkook shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Honestly, it’s better this way. If Yeontan could talk, I’d be dead. Taehyung would bury me alive for this betrayal.”

You rolled your eyes. “And yet, you’re still so proud of yourself.”

“Of course I am,” he said, grinning as he came to a stop in front of the claw machine. He rubbed his hands together, cracking his knuckles as if preparing for battle. “Because—I’m about to win you a plushie.”

Jungkook bounced on the balls of his feet, rolling his shoulders like an athlete preparing for a high-stakes match. His fingers flexed in anticipation before gripping the joystick with the confidence of someone who had spent far too many hours mastering the art of claw machines.

“Alright, tell me—which one’s coming home with you?” he asked, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

You scanned the collection of plushies crammed inside the machine, your gaze immediately settling on one in particular.

“The bunny,” you said without hesitation.

Jungkook followed your line of sight, nodding in approval. The plushie was soft-looking, slightly lopsided, with tiny front teeth peeking out in a way that made it seem both mischievous and endearing. Unknowingly, a small smile tugged at your lips—it reminded you of someone.

Jungkook didn’t miss the way your expression softened, but instead of commenting, he shot you a wink, his usual playful confidence dialed up to maximum.

“Consider it yours,” he declared, cracking his knuckles dramatically before gripping the joystick like he was about to defuse a bomb.

“You do know that claw machines are scams, right?” you say, crossing your arms as you lean over the machine.

“Nothing is a scam if you’re skilled enough,”

You roll your eyes. “Right. And let me guess—fate is on your side?”

Jungkook grins. “Fate, skill, and pure determination.” He pushes the button.

The claw descends. Grabs the bunny. Lifts it.

And then—drops it right before the prize slot.

Jungkook’s jaw drops. His hands go to his head like he’s just witnessed the betrayal of a lifetime. “No way,” he whispers.

You snort. “I told you. Scams.”

But Jungkook isn’t one to admit defeat. Oh no. He pulls out more coins, inserting them like a man with a mission. “I will not lose to a machine,” he declares.

Attempt #2—fail.

Attempt #3—even worse.

Attempt #7—Jungkook is full-on yelling at the machine now. “You're rigged. Just admit it!”

By now, a small crowd has gathered to witness the absolute tragedy of Jeon Jungkook vs. the Claw Machine.

You sigh, shaking your head. “Let me try.”

Jungkook, looking utterly defeated, steps aside with a pout. “Fine. But if you win on your first try, I might actually cry.”

You take his spot, glance at the plushie you want, and move the claw with ease. One button press later, the claw grabs onto a cute little bunny plushie, lifts it, and—

Drops it perfectly into the prize slot.

Jungkook screams. “No way. No. Way.”

You bend down, grab the plushie, and hand it to him with a smirk. “For you, since you clearly can’t win one yourself.”

Jungkook clutches the plushie to his chest, looking at you with something close to awe. “I think I might be in love with you.”

You snort. “Shut up.”

You tugged at Jungkook’s sleeve, pulling him along with a surprising sense of urgency. You had a goal in mind, and there was no way you were going to let him chicken out. The moment you spotted it, the shooter laser game stood out like a beacon—something you used to love as a kid. Your dad used to take you there, and you’d always win, no matter how many times you played.

You hadn’t planned on telling Jungkook that, though. You wanted to see how determined he would be first, how seriously he would take this. It wasn’t just about winning—it was about making it fun, and seeing if he could keep up with your competitive side.

“Let’s do that,” you said, pointing at the brightly lit, futuristic shooter zone. Jungkook barely hesitated before his eyes lit up with excitement.

“Ready for some action?” he asked, almost too eager, as he handed his plushie bunny to the girl at the counter, his grin never fading. He slid on the neon vest with practiced ease, strapping the plastic gun around his waist with an exaggerated flourish.

“Okay, let me protect you,” he teased with a wink, stepping in front of you and walking toward the entrance of the game area, shoulders straight, as if he was about to face down a villain in a movie.

The mission was clear—this was going to be your game, and Jungkook was about to find out what it meant to face off against a determined opponent.

The moment the game started, you immediately fell into the zone, your eyes locked on your targets, fingers steady as you aimed and shot. But then, there was Jungkook, totally living his own action-movie fantasy. As you focused on picking off other players, he started yelling, “Cover me!” and then, with no hesitation, he dropped to the floor and did a full-on combat roll—completely unnecessary, but so Jungkook.

While you were racking up points, carefully picking off your targets, Jungkook seemed determined to make this game a one-man mission. He wasn’t playing it safe like the others, crouching behind barriers and taking strategic shots. Instead, he would rush directly into the fray, charging at his opponents with a reckless abandon, all while you watched in disbelief as he kept getting shot down, over and over again. It was like he was playing a completely different game.

The arena was dimly lit, the flashing lights of the game casting shadows and colors everywhere. But every time you caught sight of Jungkook, your attention was momentarily pulled away from the game. His face would light up with an almost childlike joy, his eyes locked in concentration, and his lips pressed tightly in a determined grimace as he aimed, his brow furrowed. Despite the madness of it all, you couldn’t help but grin at his antics.

As you watched him get shot again you leaned closer and whispered, “You’re not doing it right.” You quickly reached out, guiding his hands to hold the gun correctly, adjusting his stance so he’d be able to actually aim and shoot properly.

“It was right,” he muttered, a stubborn edge to his voice, but he didn’t protest as he immediately followed your correction, the gun now resting more naturally in his grip.

“You keep dying,” you pointed out, trying not to get distracted by the ridiculousness of the situation. “And you’re losing points because—”

Suddenly, he spun around, eyes wide as he shouted, “Behind you!” into your ear, as he shot at an enemy who had snuck up on you. His face lit up as he made the shot, turning back to you with a cheeky grin. “Call me if you need help,” he winked, clearly pleased with himself, and then, with zero regard for the other players, he dropped to the floor and started crawling across the arena like it was some kind of military operation.

You blinked, stunned for a moment. Literally no one else was crawling on the floor like him. But Jungkook? He was on his hands and knees, dragging himself across the ground as if there were some kind of tactical advantage to it. You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing, shaking your head at how ridiculously serious he was taking it all.

As the final seconds of the game ticked down, you caught sight of Jungkook once more. He had, once again, gotten himself shot for what felt like the thousandth time. He was lying dramatically on the floor, his body limp and still, as if he had been mortally wounded. But then, just as you were about to walk past, he reached out, grabbing your shoulder for support, and whispered in a voice that was way too serious for the situation.

“You must go on without me,” he said, gripping your hand with exaggerated intensity, his voice shaking as if he were facing his last moments.

He fell back dramatically, playing up his ‘dying’ act. But you weren’t about to fall for it.

You rolled your eyes, barely able to hide your smirk as you shoved him off. “You’re so annoying.”

And when the final scores flashed across the screen, your name was on top with a higher score than his. You couldn’t resist the small, victorious smirk that tugged at your lips. “Guess I don’t need your protection after all.”

Despite his over-the-top drama, he still grinned, following you like a lost puppy, not missing a beat. “Alright, alright, you may have won this round,” he said with a playful huff. “But the night is young. Let’s see who comes out on top in the next game.”

Jungkook knew he had to play this one smart. He had strategized this moment down to the last detail, carefully guiding you toward the dance battle game. This was his domain. If there was one game he could dominate, it was this one.

So, with all the confidence in the world, he turned to you and declared, “Fate says if I win, you owe me a wish.”

You scoffed, arms crossed. “When did fate ever say that?”

Jungkook waved a hand dismissively. “Just now. She whispered it to me.”

You rolled your eyes but stepped onto the dance pad anyway, letting him have his moment.

The game started, and that’s when you realized you were in trouble. Jungkook wasn’t just playing—he was performing. He was jumping, spinning, and moving like he was on a concert stage, while you were desperately trying to keep up with the arrows flashing across the screen. It was clear within seconds that he wasn’t holding back.

And then, as if he needed to rub it in, he ended the routine with a dramatic knee slide, stopping just in front of you. With a cocky smirk, he pointed at you like he had just finished a world tour concert.

“You must grant my wish now,” he said, completely out of breath but grinning like he had just won the lottery.

You, still panting, narrowed your eyes. “And what exactly is this wish?”

Jungkook didn’t hesitate. He leaned in slightly, eyes twinkling with mischief. “A date.”

Your breath hitched. You scoffed, trying to play it cool even as you felt warmth creeping up your neck. “You just embarrassed yourself in front of a bunch of strangers for a date?”

Jungkook only grinned wider. “I’d embarrass myself anywhere if it gets me one with you.”

Yeah. That shut you up real quick.

That night, sleep was impossible. You tossed and turned, flipping your pillow to the cooler side, only to sigh in frustration when it didn’t help. At some point, you kicked off your sheets, but even the newfound freedom didn’t stop the restlessness creeping through your body.

And then there was the bunny plushie. Sitting there. Staring at you.

It was ridiculous how something so small could feel so significant. But it wasn’t just any plushie—it was the one you had won and gave to Jungkook, the one you had picked without really thinking, the one he had insisted you keep.

“You won it. You chose this one for a reason.”

His words played in your mind, looping like a song you couldn’t turn off. And what irritated you the most was that he wasn’t wrong. You had picked it instinctively, drawn to its slightly reckless charm—the little front teeth peeking out, the way its ears flopped in different directions. It reminded you of something. Of someone.

But that was the part you hated. Because you couldn’t explain it. There was no rational reason, no evidence, no logical conclusion to why this plushie—why he—was suddenly taking up so much space in your thoughts. It was an unsolved case, an unfinished puzzle, and that alone should have been enough to frustrate you.

And yet… somehow, it felt right.

And that? That was the most confusing part of all.

The first thing Jungkook did when he woke up was check his messages, his heart momentarily freezing in his chest before he sighed in relief.

Taehyung had only sent him a picture—an ugly close-up of himself mid-yawn, Yeontan happily licking his cheek. That was it. Nothing unusual. Nothing suspicious. Which meant… he didn’t know about his betrayal.

Shaking off the thought, he did what he always did—instinctively opened his favorite astrology website, scrolling straight to his sign.

Virgo: Don’t let yourself get down because of your poor love life!

Jungkook nearly threw his phone across the room.

He bolted upright, staring at the screen like it had personally offended him.

“Poor love life?!” he scoffed, running a hand through his messy hair.

He read it again. And again. As if, by some miracle, the words might shift and correct themselves.

“My love life isn’t poor,” he muttered defensively, brows furrowed. “It’s… just slow. A slow burn. Romantic. Building suspense.”

But then his expression faltered.

Three days.

It had been three whole days since that night at the arcade. Since he walked you home. Since you laughed at his dumb jokes and promised to text him.

And yet, his phone remained silent.

At first, he told himself you were just busy. No big deal. Then, by the second day, he convinced himself you were doing it on purpose, making him wait—a power move. But now? Now, as the third day stretched on, he was starting to wonder if… if maybe the website was right.

Maybe his love life wasn’t just slow.

Maybe it was dead on arrival.

With a dramatic groan, he flopped onto his back again, phone resting on his chest. His mind was racing, spiraling into increasingly dramatic scenarios.

Was this karma? Was this because he let Yeontan stay with a stranger at the arcade?

Jungkook sat up, eyes wide with realization.

It was the dog. It had to be.

He gasped, sitting up. “Shit. Is the universe punishing me?!”

Panic surged through him as he hovered over your contact.

(not) my crush.

His fingers twitched, itching to type something—anything. But what was he even supposed to say?

hey, did u forget about me? No, too desperate.

hey, are you mad at me? No, too pathetic.

hey, my horoscope just wrecked my entire self-esteem, please respond so I can prove it wrong? …Okay, maybe that one was the closest to the truth.

But instead of texting, he groaned and shoved a pillow over his face, muffling his frustration.

He was losing his mind.

And the worst part?

He was starting to think the stupid website was right.

Jungkook grabbed his phone with newfound determination, scrolling down urgently until he found your horoscope. If there was anything in this world that could give him an answer, it was this.

His eyes darted over the words, his heart pounding as he read: Today, you may feel a little more anxious than usual… maybe it’s time to open your heart?

Jungkook exhaled, a slow breath of relief washing over him.

Finally. Something to work with.

If you were feeling anxious, he could fix that. If you needed comfort, he could be there. And if there was even the smallest chance that you were truly considering opening your heart—like the blog suggested—then he would make damn sure that heart was opening for him.

That was all the confirmation he needed.

Jungkook barely took the time to breathe as he rushed through his morning routine.

Shirt—on. Shoes—on. Teeth—brushed, face—washed. Hair? A mess. But he didn’t care. He had bigger things to focus on.

Your horoscope had given him an opening, a chance—an actual sign from the universe. And if there was one thing Jungkook believed in, it was signs.

As he ran, Jungkook quickly glanced at his phone. Saturday, 10 AM. Which meant you were probably at the coffee shop by now.

He could already picture it perfectly—your usual spot by the window, an oversized cup of iced coffee sitting beside you. You once told him you liked it because you could leave it untouched for hours and it would still be the same temperature. He had laughed at the logic, but the way your eyes had lit up when you explained it had made it seem like the most brilliant thing in the world.

Then there was your laptop, decorated with colorful stickers—each one telling a small story. Jungkook loved those stickers. Loved watching you focus so intensely on your screen, completely lost in thought, before he inevitably interrupted with a question about one of them. You’d roll your eyes, sighing in mock annoyance.

“You’re distracting me,” you would say, but you’d always answer anyway. The thought made him grin.

Yeah. You were definitely at the café.

And Jungkook was going to be there too.

By the time Jungkook reached the café, he was out of breath. He couldn’t remember the last time he had run this fast—maybe during the high school tournament when he had spent months training for the final match.

He slowed his pace as he reached the front of the café, his eyes scanning the window. And there you were. Your face was pressed against the table, looking exhausted or maybe just lost in your own thoughts. Your usual large iced coffee was nowhere to be seen—replaced by a small cup, barely touched. But your laptop, with all its little stickers, was still there. You were still there.

Jungkook felt a rush of relief, but also a tightening in his chest. Something was off, and it was clear now. His horoscope had said you were feeling anxious, and everything about the way you were sitting, slumped over your table, told him his hunch was right. You weren’t just having a bad day; it seemed like something more. And he wasn’t going to let that slide.

With one last deep breath, Jungkook pushed open the door to the café, his focus sharp. He wasn’t here for some grand gesture today. No, this time, his mission was clear: he had to make your day feel better. Because if your horoscope was even half right, you needed someone to help. Someone to show up.

And that someone, he decided, would be him.

“Weather’s good, the sky’s blue, and I think we should go for a little bit of a run,” Jungkook said with a smile, his voice light but full of purpose as he approached your table. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his joggers, giving you an amused look.

Your head jerked up at the sound of his voice, and before you could even process it, you found yourself screaming, your face flushing bright red. The sound was involuntary, escaping you before you could stop it. In a panic, you slammed your laptop shut, suddenly feeling self-conscious, though you couldn’t even pinpoint why.

“Why? Am I that ugly?” he muttered under his breath. But it wasn’t that at all—it was the opposite. Jungkook stood there in front of you, and suddenly, you couldn’t breathe right.

For the past three days, it had been hard to even focus on anything other than him. Ever since the arcade, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. Your mind was constantly drawn back to the things he did, the things he said, his mannerisms, and the way he made you feel. There was something about him—something undeniable and confusing that stirred your emotions.

It wasn’t love, you were sure of that… but it wasn’t just attraction either. It was something in between, something you couldn’t wrap your head around. And that only made it worse. You hated not being able to define what you were feeling. You were used to rational thoughts, to clear explanations, and this? This wasn’t it. And that made you anxious.

He stood there, dressed in a full oversized Nike tracksuit that was beige and blue. His hair was messier than usual, like he hadn’t bothered to fix it before rushing out the door. It seemed to have grown a bit longer since the last time you saw him, though you couldn’t even believe it had only been three days. He looked out of breath, cheeks flushed from his little sprint to the café, and somehow, that only made him more irresistible.

“So, how about that run?” he asked, voice light, but his gaze never leaving yours. It was almost like he was waiting for you to say something—anything—that would break the tension.

“You know I can’t go running, Jungkook. My finals are in two weeks, and—”

Before you can finish, he flops down onto the couch beside you. Not just beside you—right beside you. Close enough that you can see the curve of his eyelashes, the way his round eyes widen with innocent pleading. Close enough to notice a faint scar on his cheek, one you’ve never noticed before.

“Please?” He blinks up at you, fluttering his lashes in an exaggerated attempt to be cute.

You narrow your eyes. “That’s not gonna work on me.”

“Okay, fine,” he huffs, crossing his arms. “Then let’s talk logic. You owe me a date. I won the dance battle, fair and square.” He frowns, eyebrows scrunching like he’s personally offended that you’d forget such an important event.

“You seriously want our date to be… running?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

Jungkook beams, but you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker to your hands—how you’re already packing your stuff despite your protests. “It’s not what I originally had in mind,” he admits, standing up and—without hesitation—grabbing your backpack for you. “But if it’s the only way to get you to spend time with me, then sure. Let’s make it a date.”

“You really can’t take no for an answer, can you?”

At that, he simply shrugs, tilting his head in a way that makes him look entirely too smug. “Maybe I should become a lawyer too. I clearly know how to argue my way to a win.”

You roll your eyes, following him out of the café as he leads the way toward your apartment, two blocks away.

“Yeah, well, cases can’t be solved with astrology or whatever,” you tease, nudging his shoulder playfully.

Jungkook gasps, dramatically clutching his chest. “Excuse me? Are you suggesting the stars don’t have all the answers?”

You roll your eyes. “I’m implying that the stars didn’t predict you annoying me into a run today.”

Jungkook clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “Oh, but they did,” he says, reaching for his phone. “Your horoscope literally said you should open your heart today. And what better way to open your heart than a little bit of cardio?”

“You have a serious problem,” you mumble, but you don’t stop walking beside him.

He grins, triumphant. “And yet, here you are, willingly going on our first official date. Running,” he emphasizes, like it’s the most romantic thing in the world.

“You really think this is a date?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

Jungkook stops in his tracks, turning to face you with the biggest, most innocent puppy-eyed look you’ve ever seen. “Of course it is,” he says, completely serious. “Spending time together, getting our hearts racing, maybe even falling dramatically into each other’s arms if one of us trips—”

“That’s just you being clumsy.”

“—And afterward, we get smoothies, because every date needs a cute ending,” he finishes, ignoring your interruption.

After making a quick stop at your apartment to change into something more comfortable, you step outside to find Jungkook already waiting for you. He’s stretching, his arms reaching up toward the sky, head tilted back slightly as he loosens his muscles. The sight is almost too much—like he walked straight out of a Nike ad.

“You know, I’m very competitive,” he warns, rolling his shoulders as you step beside him. “So you’d better be ready to keep up.”

Without hesitation, you mirror his movements, stretching your arms as well. “Please,” you scoff. “I was in track when I was thirteen. You should be the one worried.”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Oh? Guess we’ll see about that.”

And just like that, the two of you are standing there in the middle of the street, stretching like absolute idiots. But somehow, you don’t care. Because at least you’re two idiots together.

And you should have known—Jungkook was a fitness guy. The kind of person who could run for hours, barely breaking a sweat, and still have enough energy to challenge you to a push-up contest afterward. His stamina was unreal, almost unfair.

You had always been pretty confident in yours, but something about this run was different. Maybe it was the way he decided to casually shrug off his jacket, leaving him in just a fitted white shirt that clung to him way too well. Or maybe it was the way your breath hitched—not just from running, but from realizing you were definitely staring.

Jungkook was always ahead, glancing back every now and then with that ridiculously bright smile of his, teasing you, daring you to catch up. And when you did—because, of course, he slowed down just enough to let you—he only grinned wider, as if this was exactly where he wanted you to be.

And for the first time today, you weren’t thinking about finals. Or stress. Or anything else weighing you down.

Because that’s the thing about Jungkook. He’s this endless ball of energy, always smiling, always pulling you into moments that feel lighter, better—like today. And maybe that’s exactly why you—wait, like! Like. That’s why you like Jungkook.

You wonder how he knew today was a terrible day. Maybe his horoscope nonsense wasn’t so much nonsense after all. The thought makes you laugh—only to immediately regret it when you realize laughing while running is a terrible idea.

Your breath catches, and within seconds, you’re doubling over, coughing like an idiot. Great.

Jungkook stops instantly, his teasing grin replaced with concern as he jogs back to you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice softer now as he gently pats your back. You barely manage to throw a thumbs-up between coughs, and he sighs in relief.

“Let’s take a break, okay? You’re doing so well.”

And just like that, your heart does something weird. Because suddenly, it’s not the run making it race—it’s him. His voice, his touch, his stupidly sweet encouragement.

Honestly? You think you could run for another hour now. Maybe even two.

The two of you sit in silence for a moment, watching as other joggers pass by, their rhythmic footsteps blending into the sound of the wind rustling through the trees.

“It’s so pretty,” Jungkook murmurs, his voice softer than usual, his eyes fixed on the river. “I love running.”

For once, there’s no teasing lilt in his voice, no mischievous glint in his doe eyes. Just quiet admiration. Peace. Relief.

It’s a side of him you haven’t seen before. A side you—unknowingly, unconsciously—want to know more about.

“You know,” you say after a moment, your breath finally evening out, “I don’t actually know anything about you.”

Jungkook turns to you, his usual grin creeping back onto his face. “You know my name is Jungkook,” he starts, tilting his head slightly. “I have a best friend named Taehyung, who has a terrible dog.”

You huff out a laugh, shaking your head as he continues.

“You also know I’m a Virgo. And an ENFP.” He lifts a finger, as if he’s listing off important facts. “You know I’m a dance machine, and a—”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you interrupt, rolling your eyes before he can spiral into one of his dramatic monologues.

Jungkook just chuckles, nudging your knee with his. And as you sit there, catching your breath beside him, you realize something—maybe knowing Jungkook isn’t about the big things. Maybe it’s about the small moments like this.

Jungkook exhales slowly, his gaze dropping to his feet. “I just don’t feel like there’s a lot to know about me,” he finally admits, voice quieter than before. “I’m not doing anything prestigious like law school. Or, well�� anything at all.” He lets out a small scoff, but you can hear it—that vulnerability laced beneath his usual playfulness.

You frown slightly. “You don’t have to do something like that to be worthy.”

He doesn’t look up, just keeps staring at his shoes. His toes wiggle inside them, like some kind of nervous habit, and he lets out a small chuckle—but you know it’s not real.

“You probably think I’m an idiot for believing in stupid stuff like this,” he mutters, scratching at the back of his neck. “I mean, you’re a law student. You obviously like solid facts. Things that aren’t based on some random website.”

You don’t say anything, just let him keep talking.

“Today, my horoscope said I was gonna have a bad day,” he continues, exhaling sharply through his nose. “And every time I read something like that, I do everything in my power to prove it wrong.”

For the first time, you really listen. You’ve always thought horoscopes were just an excuse—something people used to justify things happening to them instead of taking control of their own lives.

But maybe Jungkook sees it differently. Maybe, for him, it’s not about letting the universe decide his fate. Maybe it’s about fighting against it—choosing to seek out the good, even when the bad feels inevitable.

And maybe… that’s not so stupid after all.

After what felt like a long minute of silence—a silence that, surprisingly, wasn’t uncomfortable at all—you both finally start walking home. Conversation with Jungkook is always effortless, flowing like a river with no real destination, just moving naturally from one topic to another. He never lets the quiet stretch too long before filling it with something, whether it’s an observation, a joke, or a random thought that pops into his head.

And you love that.

By the time you arrive in front of your apartment, smoothies in hand just like he promised, you almost wish you could go for another round—just to spend more time with him.

You hesitate for a moment, watching as he sips on his drink, seemingly in no rush to leave either.

Then, just as you turn to head inside, you stop. “By the way—”

Jungkook instantly turns around at the sound of your voice, eyes wide, like he’s afraid he missed something important.

“I’m still waiting for the real date,” you say with a teasing smile, tilting your head slightly.

And before he can respond, before you can see whatever stunned expression is on his face, you finally step inside.

Jungkook stares at your closed door for a long second, then looks down at his smoothie, shaking his head with a laugh.

Yeah. He’s never been happier than right now.

If Jungkook had to describe what he was feeling right now in one word, it would be: terrible.

He was a walking disaster, pacing around his room, running a frustrated hand through his already-messy hair as he stared at the absolute war zone that was now his bed. Clothes were scattered everywhere—shirts he had tried on and tossed aside, jeans that didn’t feel quite right, shoes lined up in pairs as if they were about to be judged in a runway competition.

And still, nothing felt good enough.

The worst part? He had to swallow his pride and FaceTime Taehyung for advice. And that was truly, truly humiliating.

Because now, instead of being helpful, Taehyung was leaning into the camera, squinting like he was examining a piece of evidence.

“Bro,” Taehyung finally said, exasperated, “you look good in everything. Just wear clothes and leave the house.”

Jungkook groaned, rubbing his face. That should have been reassuring, but it wasn’t.

Still, after much internal debate (and Taehyung threatening to hang up if he didn’t stop whining), Jungkook finally decided: he just had to be himself.

And if that meant showing up in his usual slightly-effortless-but-still-cool style, then so be it.

Honestly? You weren’t doing any better.

Jungkook hadn’t even told you what the plan was. Instead, he had sent a series of texts that were so Jungkook that you almost regretted asking for clarification in the first place.

jk sexy virgo boy [4:32 PM] :

at least have something on u!

not that i would mind if not!!! :00

ewwww no!!! i know i shouldnt ask fucking taehyung for advice when it comes to that

you know what? just put on sneakers

oh and something you don’t mind really

…Yeah. That helped absolutely nothing.

You stared at your wardrobe for a moment, trying to make a decision that wouldn’t be too much, but also wouldn’t look like you were just casually hanging out with him as if you were old friends. You considered a dress, but it felt like overkill. Jeans were too laid back, too easygoing.

You finally decided on a pair of pants that were comfortable, but not too casual, and paired them with a simple t-shirt. You hoped that, by whatever weird cosmic force Jungkook believed in—maybe fate, or whatever the universe was trying to tell him—he would see that you weren’t trying to look good, but maybe just trying to survive this. You just hoped he wouldn’t see it as you dressing to impress. After all, you were definitely worried about looking like complete shit.

Jungkook was still a mess by the time he pulled up in front of your building.

Today was supposed to be his chance to impress you, so he had taken Taehyung’s advice—again—and took his car. Apparently, girls liked cars. Especially sleek, black ones like his. Jungkook had been skeptical at first, but Taehyung had said it with such confidence that he figured, why not?

Now? He deeply regretted listening to him.

At first, he had done his best to look smooth—one hand confidently gripping the steering wheel, the other resting lazily on the passenger seat like he was starring in some kind of car commercial. But the moment he actually arrived, all that supposed confidence vanished.

Because now, there was no avoiding it. In just a few minutes, he’d see you again.

His pulse picked up, thoughts racing faster than they should. It wasn’t even a big deal—just a date. A casual date. A hangout, even. So why did it feel like his brain was short-circuiting? Why did his palms feel clammy against the leather of the wheel?

And why, for the love of everything holy, had he decided this was the perfect time to struggle with parallel parking?

Five minutes. That’s how long he had been at this. Five whole minutes of inching forward, reversing, adjusting, reversing again, somehow making it worse every time. There were other parking spots, easier ones, but he had stubbornly chosen this one—the one closest to your front door. It made sense. It would make things smoother when you got in the car.

Except nothing about this was smooth.

He exhaled sharply, gripping the wheel. Alright. One more time. Just a few small movements, and—

A sudden knock on his window made him jump.

A noise—something between a squeak and a gasp—escaped him before he could stop it. His heart slammed against his ribs as he turned his head in pure panic, only to find you standing outside, arms crossed, amusement dancing in your eyes.

Jungkook froze. His mind blanked.

For a second, all he could do was stare at you, caught like a deer in headlights. Then, in a desperate attempt to salvage his dignity, he quickly shifted—one arm thrown back over the seat, posture adjusting into what he hoped was a nonchalant pose. With exaggerated ease, he rolled down the window, schooling his expression into something cool.

“Hey,” he said, voice only slightly strained. “What’s up?”

You raise an eyebrow, arms crossed as you peer down at him through the open window. “Having some trouble there, Fast & Furious?” your voice is light, teasing—but not unkind.

Jungkook visibly tenses, his grip on the steering wheel tightening for a split second before he clears his throat. “Uh, yeah… just, you know, making sure I’m not blocking anyone.” He runs a hand through his already-messy hair, a nervous habit you’ve started to pick up on. “Gotta be considerate of others.”

Your eyes flick toward his car—angled awkwardly, one wheel nearly kissing the curb while the other juts out into the street in a way that is definitely not considerate of anyone. You raise an eyebrow, amused.

“Right,” you drawl, nodding slowly. “Super considerate. I’m sure the other drivers will really appreciate the creative use of space.”

At that, Jungkook groans dramatically and throws his head back against the seat. “Okay, fine, I suck at parking. Happy?”

You laugh, leaning against the door. “A little.”

His head snaps toward you, scandalized. “Wow. You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I don’t remember signing up for that.”

Jungkook narrows his eyes, but there’s no real bite to it. He’s fighting a smile, the tension in his shoulders finally loosening. With a sigh, he shifts the car into reverse. “Alright, one more time. If I don’t get it this time, we’re Ubering.”

You smirk. “Deal.”

Jungkook straightens up, hands gripping the wheel with newfound determination. You step back, watching with amusement as he very slowly attempts to correct his angle, his bottom lip caught between his teeth in deep concentration.

And, to his credit—he does manage to park properly on the next try.

You make a show of clapping as he steps out of the car, locking it behind him. “Wow. Look at you. A functional adult.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning now, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he falls into step beside you. “Ha ha. Let’s just go before you hurt my ego even more.”

Still smiling, you nudge him playfully. “No promises.”

Jungkook, ever the gentleman (when he wants to be), holds the passenger door open for you before settling into his own seat. He’s still keeping up this air of mystery, refusing to spill any details about where exactly he’s taking you. It’s your date—still such a weird thing to call it—but apparently, you’re not allowed to know a single thing about it.

You try everything. Nudging his shoulder lightly, poking at his arm, even giving him your best puppy eyes. But all you get in response is a dramatic sigh and a warning.

“If you keep that up, I swear I’m gonna crash this car,” he mutters, gripping the wheel like it personally offended him.

“You’re so dramatic,” you huff, leaning back into your seat with an exaggerated whine when it becomes obvious he won’t budge. “At least give me a hint.”

“Nope.”

“You could literally be kidnapping me right now.” You glance out the window, as if hoping that alone will make him talk. “Hoseok asked me to send my location, by the way.”

Jungkook scoffs, barely sparing you a glance as he switches lanes. “Well, tell that Hoseok guy that tonight, you won’t be giving him any updates. You’ll be way too busy with me.” He grins proudly, wiggling his eyebrows like he just said something outrageously smooth.

You give him a long, unimpressed look before deadpanning, “You sure are taking my time. Five minutes to park? Yeah.”

His smile immediately drops. “Oh my God, let it go!”

“Never.”

You were glad you hadn’t pressed Jungkook for more details because, as soon as you saw where he had taken you, excitement bubbled up in your chest so fast you practically bounced in your seat.

“Karaoke?” you exclaimed, eyes lighting up as you took in the neon sign above the entrance.

Before Jungkook even had the chance to step out and open the door for you like he had originally planned—because he was, in fact, on his best gentleman behavior tonight—you were already scrambling out of the car, clapping your hands together like a little kid who just got the biggest candy bar in the store.

Jungkook, now standing on the other side of the car, stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trousers, willing himself to stay cool and collected. But inside? He was screaming. You loved the idea just as much as he had hoped, and that was enough to make his heart do a full-on gymnastics routine.

Still, he played it off like it was no big deal. Running a hand through his hair, he shrugged, forcing a casual expression onto his face. “Yeah,” he said, voice dripping with feigned nonchalance. “I think it’s time for you to witness my legendary singing skills.” His tone was cocky, the kind that made you roll your eyes and laugh at the same time.

“Oh, legendary, huh?” You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “I hope you know I take karaoke very seriously.”

Jungkook only smirked, stepping ahead of you as he pulled open the door. “Then you better bring your A-game, because I don’t lose.”

As you both made your way toward the entrance, Jungkook suddenly picked up his pace, clearly determined to be the first one inside. But you weren’t about to let him win that easily. You mirrored his steps, speeding up just as fast, the two of you now locked in a completely unnecessary—and yet highly competitive—race to the door.

Unsurprisingly, Jungkook reached the counter first, flashing a triumphant smirk as he leaned against it, effortlessly slipping into his “bad boy” act. He gave his name to the staff with an air of cool indifference, as if he hadn’t just practically sprinted to get there first. You rolled your eyes at his theatrics but followed along as the employee led you both toward the private booth he had booked.

The moment you stepped inside, the dimly lit karaoke room came to life with glowing neon lights, casting streaks of pink and blue across the walls. Jungkook took one look around, nodding in satisfaction before turning to you with a cocky grin.

“Alright,” he announced, completely serious. “This is the place where you’ll fall in love with me.”

The words left his lips so casually, so matter-of-fact, that it took you a second to process them. When you did, you let out a scoff, but no sarcastic remark came to mind—because the truth was, you had already fallen.

And if you let yourself think about it any longer, you knew you’d realize something even worse.

That no matter how much you fought it, no matter how ridiculous he could be… you were probably going to fall even more.

It was nearly impossible not to laugh at Jungkook’s antics. The way he threw himself into every song—whether it was an intense rock performance, complete with dramatic jumps and exaggerated guitar riffs made with his mouth, or a heartbreaking ballad where he closed his eyes and poured his entire soul into each lyric—was something out of a fever dream. He wasn’t just a good singer, he was a great one. And beyond that, he was a performer. Every move, every exaggerated gesture, was so unapologetically him that you couldn’t even think about taking the mic away.

By the time he finished his latest emotional masterpiece, a song so devastating that you half-expected him to drop to his knees in despair, he turned to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Come on,” he said, slightly out of breath but grinning. “I’ll show you how good we work together.”

Before you could protest, he grabbed your hand, effortlessly pulling you up from the couch. The warmth of his touch sent an embarrassing flutter through your stomach, and as he handed you a microphone, you caught sight of the song selection. A duet.

“Seriously, Jungkook?” You groaned, but the smile on your face betrayed you.

He didn’t even answer, too busy scrolling through the lyrics like he was preparing for the most important performance of his life. And when the music started, he went all in—grabbing your hand and twirling you in place before you could even sing a single note.

You tried to be serious. Really, you did. But how could you when Jungkook was dramatically belting out the lyrics, jumping around like a five-year-old who’d had too much sugar? It was ridiculous, and absolutely unfair, because the moment he pulled you close and started singing like you were the only person in the world, you completely lost it.

Laughter bubbled out of you, your voice cracking as you tried—and failed—to get through your lines. “Jungkook, I can’t—” you gasped between giggles, clutching your stomach as he twirled you again, this time nearly making you stumble.

“Oh, come on,” he teased, his own laughter mixing with yours as he tightened his grip on your hand. “At least try to keep up!”

You didn’t stand a chance. By the time the song ended, you were breathless—not from singing, but from laughing so much. And as Jungkook stood there, hands on his hips, chest heaving like he’d just finished a full-blown concert, you realized something.

This was the most fun you’d had in a long, long time.

“How was I?” Jungkook asked, his bunny smile stretching wide across his face, eyes gleaming with excitement. He was practically bouncing on his feet, ready to soak in every compliment you had to offer.

You opened your mouth, ready to tease him, but the way he looked at you—so expectant, so earnest—made you pause. His eyes were shining, round and full of innocent anticipation, like he truly needed to hear what you thought.

You smiled softly, tilting your head. “I think that not even the stars could have predicted how happy I am right now.”

Jungkook’s breath hitched. He hadn’t expected that. His confidence wavered for half a second before he let out a choked laugh, quickly turning his head away. “Aish, what is that?” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck as a faint pink dusted his cheeks.

But you saw the way his fingers curled slightly, the way he ducked his head just enough to try and hide his flustered expression. And you knew, without a doubt, that it was the best answer he could have possibly hoped for.

Jungkook continued to sing, each performance just as energetic as the last. It was almost exhausting just watching him, yet somehow, he never seemed to run out of energy. His voice never wavered, his movements never slowed—he was a force of nature, completely in his element.

You leaned back against the couch, watching in amusement as he jumped onto the small table in the middle of the room, using it as a makeshift stage. The neon lights reflected in his eyes as he belted out the chorus, dramatically pointing at you like he was dedicating the song to you and only you.

It was refreshing, really. How someone could be so alive, so unapologetically himself. While you often felt drained and stressed, weighed down by responsibilities and expectations, Jungkook was the complete opposite. He carried an energy so contagious that it made you forget about everything else—your finals, your worries, the anxiety that had settled in your chest all day.

Jungkook had a way of making the world feel a little lighter. And tonight, you let yourself enjoy that feeling, completely and without hesitation.

Just like every morning, Jungkook checked his horoscope the moment he woke up. It had become a ritual at this point—his little way of preparing for the day ahead. He checked yours too.

So, still half-asleep, he grabbed his phone, scrolling through the daily horoscope predictions. Everything seemed fine at first, but then… an idea struck him.

What if he checked your full zodiac chart?

It was stupid, probably. But Jungkook never did things halfway. If he was going to believe in astrology, he was going to do it right. So he sat up in bed, grabbed his laptop, and started searching. He input your birth details, cross-checking them with what little information he had gathered from your conversations. He even went down a rabbit hole of different astrology sites, just to be sure.

Jungkook stared at the screen, completely frozen. His heart, which had been doing happy little flips since last night, suddenly felt like it had plummeted straight into his stomach.

INCOMPATIBLE.

A big, glaring red warning taunted him from the astrology website, as if the universe itself was shaking him by the shoulders, screaming ABORT MISSION. His hand twitched toward the laptop, fingers hovering over the trackpad like he was contemplating slamming it shut and pretending he had never seen this. Maybe if he refreshed the page, the result would change. Maybe the website was wrong.

But no. There it was. The hard, cold truth.

Your rising sign? Disastrous.

Your moon placements? A ticking time bomb.

Your Venus signs? Literally the worst possible match.

Jungkook let out a strangled noise of distress, running his hands through his already-messy hair. This was bad. So bad.

He had been so sure—so sure—that the stars had aligned perfectly when he met you. But now? Now it felt like the universe was playing some kind of cruel joke on him. What if this meant something? What if this was a sign that things would go wrong?

He groaned, rolling onto his stomach to scream into his pillow.

And so, in true Jungkook fashion, he did the only logical thing: he decided to avoid you.

Just for a little while. Just until he could figure out what to do. Because what if he was leading you both into disaster? What if, despite how good everything felt, you were destined for heartbreak? He wasn’t ready to test fate like that.

He already missed you.

It didn’t help that the first thing Jungkook saw when he checked his phone was a message from you.

(not) my crush [9:54 AM] :

i went to the same website as you and my horoscope told me i would have really bad news!!! can u believe that? ahahaha!!!

Jungkook stared at the text, his brain short-circuiting.

Oh.

Without thinking, he flipped his phone face-down on the bed as if it had personally offended him. Then, after exactly three seconds of trying to process what he’d just read, he groaned dramatically and kicked his feet against the mattress, his frustration spilling out in the most childish way possible.

Why hadn’t he thought to check that sooner?!

Here he was, spiraling into an identity crisis, convinced the universe had doomed him to a tragic love story before it even began.

You hated it. Hated how Jungkook still hadn’t answered your text, even though it had been almost two hours.

Two whole hours.

It wasn’t like him. Jungkook always answered, even if it was just to send a ridiculous meme or a dramatic voice note about whatever chaos he’d gotten himself into. But now? Nothing.

You found yourself checking your phone every two minutes, staring at your last message, hoping—praying—that he’d at least open it. But he didn’t.

No read receipt. No typing bubble.

The more you thought about it, the worse it got. You couldn’t even focus on your lecture anymore, your professor’s words fading into white noise as your mind spiraled. Had you done something wrong last night? Had you said something that made him want to avoid you? You replayed every interaction, every joke, every single moment—but nothing stood out.

And yet, the silence felt like an answer in itself.

You didn’t want to be this kind of person. The kind who overanalyzed a single text, who let a tiny thing ruin their entire morning. But Jungkook’s weird antics had apparently rubbed off on you, because before you even realized what you were doing, your fingers were already typing into his favorite horoscope website.

Maybe, if Jungkook wouldn’t give you an answer, his precious astrology nonsense would.

The second the page loaded, you groaned, already hating yourself. How had it come to this? How had Jungkook managed to pull you into his ridiculous superstitions? You swore you weren’t like this. You swore you didn’t believe in this stuff. And yet, here you were, scrolling through planetary alignments like they held the key to your entire existence.

Just as you were about to give up, a familiar voice interrupted your crisis.

“Since when do you check horoscopes?”

You nearly jumped out of your seat as Hoseok dropped into the chair across from you, cracking open a can of Sprite. His brows were raised, eyes filled with pure amusement. “You always make fun of me for this,” he added, taking a sip.

Before you could even attempt to defend yourself, he leaned forward and glanced at your phone screen. His eyes widened.

“…You’re not even a Virgo.”

You tried desperately to hide your screen, quickly swiping the phone away from Hoseok’s curious gaze. “I’m trying to find answers,” you muttered, feeling the shame creep up your neck as you admitted the ridiculousness of what you were doing.

Hoseok raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “I didn’t think you were the type to believe in that stuff. You always said it was stupid.”

And you still thought it was stupid.

Virgo: It’s a wonderful day for you! You will feel happier than ever.

You couldn’t contain the scoff that escaped your lips. Happier than ever? Yeah, sure. If ignoring your texts and leaving you hanging was his version of a “wonderful day.”

Frustration bubbled up in your chest, and you quickly locked your phone, trying to push the whole situation out of your mind.

“And I still think it’s bullshit,” you muttered, half to yourself, half to Hoseok.

The hours dragged on as you sat at the coffee shop, staring out the window and occasionally glancing at your phone, hoping for some sign, some message, or at least a glimpse of Jungkook’s bright smile. But nothing.

The words from the horoscope kept playing in your head, an incessant loop. And all you could imagine was Jungkook, carefree and happy, doing exactly what he wanted, while you sat there, feeling like an idiot waiting for a message that wasn’t coming. It was infuriating.

You hated this feeling—the irritation, the frustration that bubbled up in your chest every time you thought about how he could be living his best day while you were left waiting, wondering what went wrong.

You had always admired Jungkook’s happiness. It was contagious, that energy of his. But today, for some reason, it felt like he was hiding it from you. You wanted to see it, feel it, share it with him. Why couldn’t he just reach out?

The sun began to set, casting long shadows across the coffee shop, but there was still no sign of him. The usual excitement in your chest slowly faded, replaced with a gnawing emptiness. He wasn’t coming.

As you walked home, the weight of your frustration grew heavier with every step. Your fingers hovered over your phone, unsure, but the pull to send something—to send anything—was too strong to ignore. You didn’t know if you were really that type of girl, the one who couldn’t handle being ignored, the one who overthought every message or lack thereof. But the truth was, you couldn’t be cool about it. You couldn’t just let it slide. The silence, the waiting, the unanswered texts—it was eating away at you, minute by minute, as if every second without a reply was slowly driving you insane.

You knew you should probably wait longer. You knew you should probably play it cool, pretend you were unaffected. But you couldn't.

So you did it. You sent the message.

You stared at the screen after sending it, the nerve-racking weight of regret hitting you. Was it dramatic? Yes. Was it over the top? Absolutely. But it felt like the only way to break through the silence, the only way to make your presence known in this strange waiting game you were playing.

As soon as Jungkook received your text, his heart skipped a beat. His phone had been sitting in front of him all day, and he had been checking it every few minutes, hoping for something from you. So when he saw your message light up the screen, he reached for it almost instantly, nearly leaping off the couch.

His eyes scanned the words, and then it hit him:

(not) my crush [7:03 PM] :

the stars have spoken, and they predict that if i dont get a reply from u soon, i will accidentally manifest a series of very very very weird, unexplainable events in your life this week!!! hope ur ready for it jeon. </3333

He froze. The audacity. The way you used his own horoscope—his stars—as a weapon against him had him laughing and groaning at the same time. He couldn’t help it. You were threatening him, but in the most playful, ridiculous way.

His heart was racing, but he immediately turned off his phone, swiping the screen as if that would somehow protect him from the impending doom of your horoscope wrath.

He slumped back into the couch, shaking his head. “Why did I even get into this?” he mumbled to himself, feeling both entertained and somewhat panicked.

But the more he thought about it, the more he realized: He didn’t really mind at all.

Turns out it was much harder than Jungkook had anticipated to ignore you.

First of all, his heart was screaming at him to see you. It had been four days without any interaction, and it felt like an eternity. He missed you more than he was willing to admit.

And second, you seemed to be everywhere. Or maybe it was just him. Jungkook swore that wherever he went, there you were. Walking down the same aisles at the grocery store, standing in line at the coffee shop, laughing with friends just a few feet away. It was like the universe was playing a prank on him, throwing you in his path at the most inconvenient times.

Like right now, for instance.

He’d been casually strolling through the grocery store, his mind distracted by the mundane task of picking out produce. When he turned a corner, he froze. There you were, casually walking through the aisle, completely oblivious to him standing just a few feet away. He blinked, his heart racing, not prepared for this sudden encounter.

He cursed under his breath, looking for a quick escape. His eyes darted around the store, and in the split second that followed, he spotted a shelf of canned beans directly behind him. Without thinking, he quickly ducked behind it, crouching down and trying to steady his breath. What the hell is wrong with me?

From behind the shelf, he peeked over the top, trying to gauge whether you had seen him. But you were still strolling along, picking out items, completely unaware of the mess he was making of himself. Jungkook felt both relieved and utterly embarrassed. He let out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding, shaking his head at his own ridiculousness.

Jungkook cautiously peered around the corner, his heart pounding as he tried to check if you were still nearby. His plan was simple—sneak out of the store without you noticing. Without thinking twice, he started to move swiftly toward the exit, hoping to escape unnoticed.

But fate, as usual, had other plans.

As he rushed past one of the aisles, a shopping cart suddenly came out of nowhere, rolling in his direction. Jungkook, not expecting it, collided with the cart full force. It sent him sprawling across the smooth floor, his feet flying out from under him and sending him into an awkward slide, his arms flailing like a windmill trying to regain some kind of balance.

“Oof,” he groaned, but before he could even recover from the fall, he heard a familiar voice, smooth and teasing.

“Oops,” you said, barely trying to hold back a laugh as you casually strolled by with your shopping cart in tow. The mischievous grin on your face made it clear that you were enjoying the sight of him on the floor more than you probably should have.

Jungkook watched you walk away, his heart sinking as you didn’t even spare him a glance. He had wanted to explain everything—about the horoscope, about his stupid overthinking, about how he’d been going crazy trying to figure things out in his head—but now it was too late. You were already too far away, leaving him standing there in the same spot on the floor.

The next few days were a blur for him. He couldn’t focus on anything. It didn’t help that he couldn’t stay away from you. No matter how much he tried to distract himself, his thoughts always circled back to you. He found himself at the coffee shop, the one he knew you frequented, even though he had no real reason to be there.

He threw on his black bucket hat, sunglasses, and a big, oversized hoodie, trying to make himself as unnoticeable as possible. It was hot as hell, but he didn’t care. He was desperate to catch a glimpse of you, just a fleeting moment to see if you were okay.

As he hid behind the tree, peeking out just enough to watch you, Jungkook’s heart ached. There you were, sitting in your usual spot with your laptop in front of you, a steaming cup of coffee by your side. You looked so peaceful, so engrossed in whatever you were doing, and it only made him miss you more. He had been a fool, hadn’t he? He should’ve never let things get this weird, should’ve never let his insecurities get in the way.

He stayed there, trying not to make a scene, wishing he could just walk up to you and fix everything. But no, he was too scared to make the first move. So, he remained in the shadows, watching from afar, longing for a chance to make things right.

Jungkook’s heart skipped a beat when a voice suddenly snapped him out of his nervous thoughts.

“What are you doing, you freak?” The words hit him like a bucket of cold water, and he nearly jumped out of his skin as he spun around to face the source. A man stood a few feet away, eyebrow raised in confusion, a can of Sprite casually dangling from his hand. The stranger’s gaze flicked between Jungkook and the tree, clearly puzzled by the odd sight of someone trying to hide behind it.

“You should probably leave before I call the cops for stalking,” the man added, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Jungkook’s face flushed a deep shade of red. He didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or to just make a run for it. He quickly reached up and pulled off his sunglasses, hoping to defuse the situation.

“I swear it’s not like that! I’m not a freak, I—” Jungkook stammered, his nerves now in overdrive.

The guy squinted at him, his expression shifting from confusion to realization. “Wait, you’re the guy with the cute dog, right?” He pointed at Jungkook, then made a show of lifting his finger to Jungkook’s bucket hat as if trying to get a better look. The recognition hit Jungkook like a ton of bricks. Of all the people in the world to see him in this ridiculous state, it had to be your friend.

“Seriously, man?” the guy called out again, clearly still amused, but not pressing the issue further. “You’re just gonna hide behind a tree like a creep?”

Jungkook winced, wishing the earth would swallow him whole. He could already feel his cheeks burning with embarrassment, and the last thing he wanted was for you to turn around and see him there, looking like a complete idiot. He couldn’t even face the guy properly, so he just mumbled something inaudible, turning around quickly and starting to back away.

“Alright, alright,” the man muttered, taking a sip of his Sprite. “But, hey, next time, try not to stalk people in broad daylight.”

As soon as Hoseok came to your table, he couldn’t hold back the grin on his face as he told you about Jungkook’s little hide-and-seek stunt behind the tree. You couldn’t help it. The sound of his description hit you like a wave, and you burst into laughter, the kind of laugh that makes your stomach hurt.

“He really hid behind a tree?” you asked, still chuckling as you wiped tears from the corners of your eyes. “That’s a new level of awkward.”

You weren’t angry at him anymore, not after hearing that. In fact, you were kind of amused. It seemed like Jungkook had finally realized how ridiculous his avoidance had been.

Still, you couldn’t let your guard down too much. Your chest ached with how much you missed him. The silence between the two of you had become unbearable, but your pride kept you from reaching out first. You needed him to make the first move, to come to you and explain why he had been acting so distant.

And just as you were starting to feel like maybe he’d never reach out, your phone buzzed with a message.

jk sexy virgo boy [4:37 PM] :

i failed the mission. meet me at the park pls pls pls? :(

It was like a breath of fresh air after holding your breath for days. The urge to jump out of your seat and run to the park was overwhelming. You didn’t even think twice. Your ego might have tried to hold you back, but the excitement in your chest was stronger. You were already putting on your shoes before your mind even caught up with what was happening.

You couldn’t say no. Not when he sounded so… genuine. Plus, how could you resist seeing him again, after all this time?

As you walked into the park, you couldn’t help but feel a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you saw him. Jungkook was sitting on a bench, his gaze fixed on the river. There was something oddly calming about seeing him like that, lost in thought, but it only made you more aware of how much you missed him.

His hair was longer than you remembered, the strands falling gently over his forehead. He looked even more beautiful than before—if that was even possible. Maybe it was the time and distance, but you found him even more striking now. He was still the same boba-eyed boy, the one you’d been both frustrated with and drawn to. It was hard to be mad at him when everything about him still made your heart race, even though you’d spent the past few days fuming over his silence.

What caught your eye, though, was the little fluffball sitting next to him. Yeontan was there too, his tiny tail wagging excitedly at your arrival.

“Hi, Yeontan,” you said, your voice soft as you crouched down to greet the dog. You purposely ignored Jungkook for the moment, focusing your attention on the little puppy as you gave him a gentle pat. Yeontan, ever the social one, eagerly licked your hand, wagging his tail even faster as if he knew he was the bridge between you and Jungkook.

Jungkook sighed, his voice low but tinged with a playful frustration as he watched you focus entirely on Yeontan. “The little brat always gets more attention than me whenever he’s around,” he muttered, tugging gently on the leash, trying to get you to turn your attention back to him.

You feigned confusion, looking around dramatically. “Who is speaking? Can you hear that, Yeontan?” you teased, purposefully ignoring him. You had told yourself you’d eventually listen, but that didn’t mean you were going to make it easy for him. You were enjoying the moment a little too much, watching him squirm just a bit.

Jungkook let out a soft sigh, shoulders slumping. “Guess I deserve that,” he muttered, but he didn’t let the silence linger for too long. Reaching behind him, he pulled out a sheet of paper and handed it over to you.

“Here,” he said, a little nervous now.

You raised an eyebrow, inspecting the piece of paper as you took it. “What is this? Is this a picture of me you took while hiding behind the tree?” you teased, your voice dripping with amusement. Jungkook’s cheeks flushed a deep shade of red as he stammered.

“It wasn’t like that, I swear. Don’t make it worse than it was!” he quickly protested, reaching for your hand to pull you up beside him on the bench.

You snickered, shaking your head as you glanced at the sheets in your hand. “You had a bucket hat and sunglasses, Hoseok told me everything,” you said, practically bursting with laughter. “What was the plan? Hide from me like a secret agent?”

Jungkook groaned, sinking his head into his hands. “It wasn’t that bad,” he mumbled, but his voice was laced with embarrassment.

You finally looked down at the sheets in your hands, the title at the top reading: Reason Why Jeon Jungkook Was Ignoring You And Why You Should Forgive Him.

“Oh wow,” you said, your voice laced with mock intrigue. “Okay, this is gonna be interesting.” You began flipping through the pages, smirking to yourself as you saw the first point listed:

1. You know how I always trust the universe’s timing, right? Well, I checked our zodiac compatibility, and it was a red flag—like, flashing neon lights red. I had to listen to the stars, or else the consequences would have been disastrous. It’s really not personal, I swear.

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter, your eyes scanning the screenshots that Jungkook had sent you, his so-called proof of why he had been avoiding you. Your complete zodiac chart, one that you didn’t even know existed, was now paired with his, glaring back at you with all its astrological implications.

“Really?” you said, still chuckling. “You’re basing all of this on a website and the stars?”

Jungkook bit his cheek, clearly trying to hold back a smile but failing miserably. “It’s not funny. I had multiple mental breakdowns because of that,” he insisted, his voice barely hiding the frustration. But the way his eyes flicked back to the screen made it clear he was invested in this whole thing far more than he was letting on.

You continued reading, curious about the next part of his dramatic saga. When you got to the second reason, your laughter intensified. You could barely keep it together as you read:

2. Yeontan gave me some tough love advice. He said, ‘Jungkook, the stars have spoken, and sometimes love can be as confusing as a game of fetch.’ I think he’s onto something, but I’m still unsure whether it’s me or the cosmos making me do this.

“Jungkook, are you for real?” You couldn’t stop laughing now, your hand pressed to your mouth to stifle the sound of your amusement.

Jungkook looked at you, his face serious despite the ridiculousness of the situation. “Yeontan gives great advice,” he said earnestly, his voice filled with mock sincerity.

You raised an eyebrow. “Yeontan, huh? You mean the same Yeontan who doesn’t have the ability to speak?”

“Well, yeah,” Jungkook started, then hesitated. “It’s actually Taehyung who told me that, but… you know what, let’s just say it was Yeontan.” He gave you a sheepish grin, clearly trying to make up for the fact that the whole story was a bit far-fetched.

You shook your head, still smiling despite yourself. “A little lie to make me forgive you, huh?”

“Exactly.” He nodded seriously, though you could see the glint of amusement in his eyes. “A little white lie can’t hurt, right? Especially when it involves the world’s wisest dog.”

“Fine,” you said with a dramatic sigh, though you couldn’t suppress your smile. “But next time, just ask Yeontan for relationship advice before we end up in a cosmic catastrophe.”

Jungkook’s hand wrapped around your wrist, his grip firm but trembling slightly. His wide eyes locked onto yours, a mix of fear and urgency swimming in them. He looked terrified—like he had just thrown himself off a cliff and was bracing for the fall.

“Wait. Please,” he pleaded, voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “Read the next page.”

Something about the way he said it made your breath catch. His fingers didn’t loosen around you, like he was afraid you’d let go before you saw what he needed you to see.

With a small, reassuring smile, you finally lowered your gaze to the page in your hands.

It was a mess. Words were scribbled over, sentences scratched out so violently they nearly tore through the paper. His handwriting, usually neat and precise, looked frantic—like he had rewritten the same thought a hundred times, fighting with himself over the words before finally settling on the one line that remained untouched.

3. I decided I didn’t care about all of that because I love you, and I don’t think zodiac charts (as terrible as they look) can change what I feel for you.

Your fingers tightened around the edges of the paper as your heart did something strange—something impossible to ignore.

Slowly, you lifted your eyes back to him.

Jungkook was watching you like his entire world depended on what you’d say next. His jaw was tight, his chest rising and falling a little too quickly, his free hand clenching into the fabric of his jeans.

Your heart was pounding. You swallowed, trying to find the right words, but your mind was blank. He loved you. Jungkook loved you.

“Jungkook…” You looked up at him, and for the first time, the usual confidence in his gaze wavered.

“I know it’s dumb,” he rushed to say, his free hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I just—I got in my head about it, and then I panicked, and I thought maybe the universe was trying to tell me something, and then I realized—” He took a shaky breath. “I realized I didn’t care. Because none of it matters if it means losing you.”

Your fingers curled around the page, gripping it tightly like it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

“You… really love me?” The words left your lips softer than you intended, but they hung in the air between you, heavy and real.

Jungkook nodded, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “Yeah. I do.” His voice was quiet, but there was no hesitation.

You blinked, feeling the sting of tears you hadn’t expected. And then—because it was Jungkook, and because you had been waiting for this moment without even realizing it—you smiled.

“So… are you saying the stars were wrong?” you teased, holding back a laugh.

Jungkook groaned, dropping his forehead against your shoulder dramatically. “God, don’t start.”

But his arms wrapped around you anyway, pulling you in close, and you could feel the way his heart was racing against yours.

“You know,” you murmured, gently pulling his head away from your shoulder so you could look him in the eyes. “Now more than ever, I think astrology is bullshit.”

Jungkook didn’t argue this time. He just looked at you, his eyes soft, almost embarrassed. Because you were right. He had let some random website tell him you weren’t meant for each other—when everything about you, about this, felt exactly right.

He exhaled a small laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah… I think I might have overreacted a little.”

“A little?” you raised an eyebrow, hands settling firmly on his shoulders. Yeontan whined between you, attempting to wriggle into your lap, but you ignored him. Your focus was solely on Jungkook. “But,” you continued, tilting your head slightly, “I do believe in one thing now.”

Jungkook blinked, leaning in unconsciously. “What’s that?”

“Fate,” you said simply, your fingers moving up to cup his round cheeks, brushing against the warm skin.

His lips parted slightly, his breath fanning against your face as he searched your gaze. “You really think that?” he asked, and when he smiled, it was his bunny one—the one that made your heart ache and your stomach flip all at once.

And oh, how you wanted to kiss him right then and there. But first, you needed to say it.

“Because I met you,” you whispered, your thumbs tracing over his cheekbones, “and I love you.”

Jungkook didn’t let you finish another word. Before you could even blink, his hands had found your face, his lips pressing against yours in a way that stole the breath right out of your lungs.

It wasn’t just an apology, and it wasn’t just relief. It was Jungkook—stubborn, overthinking, hopelessly romantic Jungkook—showing you exactly what he felt without needing any more words.

And as you kissed him back, fingers curling into his hoodie, you knew.

The stars might have been wrong, but this?

This was written in the universe just for you.

[beloveds-embrace]

Until the Last Loop: When the Hour Strikes

(Your doom is drawing nearer and nearer, and now you see the signs that will lead to it)

poly mercenaries 141 x princess reader, time loop

Masterlist | Part One | Part Two

Chaos eventually bloomed like rot within the castle walls, just as you’d expected. It began as whispers- always, in every life. Soft, serpentine murmurs slipping through the cracks of stone and shadow- but they spread quickly, clawing their way into the hearts of servants and courtiers alike. The air grew heavy with suspicion, thick as the scent of burning wax and spilled ink.

You felt it before you heard it.

A shift in the way the guards tightened their grips on their spears, in the way your maids avoided your gaze as they fastened your corset too tightly, fingers trembling against your spine. The silence when you entered a room was not the silence of reverence but the hush of fear- of vultures circling, their wings brushing against the walls.

You knew this song. Far too well.

The opening notes were always the same, a familiar melody of betrayal and inevitability, and like every time… the chords struck ominously. Sharp. Harsh. As if the unseen hand twisting the strings were far bolder.

And then the letters came.

Three sealed envelopes left abandoned in the corridors- no names, no crests, just ink blotted into thin, cheap parchment. The first was delivered to the head steward, its contents enough to send the kitchens into disarray as accusations flew. Poisoned wine. A plot to kill the king. Fingers pointed, but no evidence surfaced beyond the words themselves.

The food you were served was always cold and on occasions, spoiled.

The second letter found its way to your father’s study. You hadn’t been there when he read it, but the rage in his voice cracked through the halls like thunder. Words like “treason” and “execution” followed you even after the doors slammed shut.

The third appeared in your chambers. Unmarked. Unsigned.

But unmistakably meant for you.

You turned the paper over in your hands as the candlelight flickered against the script. It bore no threats- only a single sentence, written in a trembling hand:

Trust no one.

You burned it before the wax dripped too far. It didn’t warm the cold ache that burrowed itself in the tendons of your neck.

Of course, your “protectors” had to be aware of everything- maybe they even knew better than you of what rumors were spreading about you, and just as they’d done in most of your latest lives, they try to help:

Soap was the first to storm into yours room, expression thunderous, brows furrowed and his voice tight in his anger.

“Ye need to tell me if ye’ve seen anyone suspicious,” he said, pacing like a caged animal. It was nice to see that you weren’t the only one to feel like that “Anyone lurking where they shouldn’t be. Even if it’s one of the servants.”

You almost laughed at the absurdity of it. Suspicious? In this place, everything was suspicious. Every glance, every word spoken behind closed doors, every breath held too long. No one could be trusted, not really. Everyone and everything was another knot on the noose to go around your neck.

But you bit your tongue, folding your arms against the cold that crept through the stones. “You think it’s one of them?”

He stopped, turning to face you. “I think it’s someone close. Someone who knows enough about ye to make this believable.”

The implication lingered between you, unspoken but heavy.

Soap didn’t say it, but you saw it in the way his eyes flickered to the ashes in the hearth where the letter had burned, in the way his hand hovered near the hilt of his dagger.

“It’s not me.” You sighed.

“I ken, lass.” He said it too quickly, like he was reassuring himself more than you. Then he ran a hand through his shabby hair, exhaling sharply. “But someone wants it to look like it is.”

You scoffed, turning away from him at last. If your hands were shaking, he said nothing of them. “You and I both know someone could come, admit to spreading rumors, and my father would still believe I am to blame. Let it go, Johnny.”

“Lass…”

You had no reply for him. Why would you? You had given up. All you had left was just attempt to ease the fear that constantly plagued you like a swarm of flies.

Ghost was next. He came with shadows clinging to his heels, his presence a weight that settled over the room like the storm clouds of cold winters.

“Who gave you the letter?”

You stared at him, fingers curling into your skirts. They were rumpled, not fully cleaned, but you cared not. Bit by bit, you were nearing the striking hour and everyone around you was a constant reminder of the ticking seconds. “No one. It was already here when I came back.”

Ghost said nothing, the mask leaving him as unreadable as always, but his silence was suffocating.

“Do you think I’m lying?”

“No.” A grunt. A pause. “But I think someone’s lying to you.”

His words burrowed under your skin, sharp and invasive. You didn’t want to believe him, didn’t want to acknowledge the seed of doubt taking root in your chest.

But it was there. Growing and spreading its invasive roots.

Ghost lingered even after the questions stopped, his eyes never leaving you, as if he thought you might disappear if he looked away for one second. You should have found it unnerving, but instead, it felt like armor- thin and brittle, but armor nonetheless.

After him, Gaz found you in the gardens, the dying roses from before now nothing more than brittle stems and scattered petals. He didn’t speak at first, didn’t press, just sat beside you.

And for once, you didn’t feel the need to fill the silence. Your tongue stopped being a weapon several lifetimes ago; you’d rather have it still in your mouth when you were executed, rather than brutally ripped off for “spreading filthy lies” against your beloved father.

It was Gaz who broke it, eventually. “… We’ll figure it out. We are all searching leads, you know.”

You turned to look at him, searching for something- reassurance, perhaps, or conviction- but found only quiet determination. You wished you could bathe in such an emotion, but…

“Even if it’s too late?” you asked softly.

“It won’t be.”

The certainty in his voice twisted something inside you, fragile and aching. You didn’t want to believe him..

Couldn’t allow yourself such a hope, after all the lives you’d been robbed of. You knew they didn’t like this attitude of yours, found it strange; how certain you were of your early demise.

Price, on the other hand, was a pillar- unshakable and steady in a way that felt rare amidst all the chaos unfolding around you. While the others hunted for answers, sharp and swift, Price moved differently. Slower. More deliberate.

Ghost had told you Price had always been like that; a born, patient hunter. He never rushed, never panicked. Instead, he listened. Observed. Held the room together with nothing but the weight of his presence.

“There’s more to this than letters and rumors.” He said one evening, his voice low as he studied the map of the palace spread between you. Distantly, you noted that his writing was not the same as the one on the letter. “Whoever’s behind this knows what they’re doing.”

You swallowed, the words curling tight in your chest. It made it hard to speak, to think, but you didn’t allow yourself to drown just yet. “Do you think it’ll matter?”

His eyes met yours then- calm and steady. Grounding.

“It matters,” he said quietly. “All of it does, princess. Your insistence on dying so soon is almost making me uncomfortable.”

You ignored his second service; no one would truly understand. It wasn’t the answer you’d been expecting, but it was one you found yourself holding onto anyway.

Because as the days stretched and the shadows pressed closer, Price didn’t falter. He never looked at you the way others did. Never let the whispers of treason or guilt change the way he stood beside you.

When the tension twisted sharp and the weight of it all threatened to drag you under, he didn’t flinch.

He stayed.

And it wasn’t in words or reassurances- it was in the small, steady things. The way he made sure you ate, quietly setting a plate down beside you when your hands were too unsteady to hold a fork. The way he noticed when the walls felt too close, wordlessly leading you outside to breathe.

He was a tether when everything else threatened to break apart.

You never questioned it- never questioned him. Had no energy to do, so why would you question one of the few who didn’t look at you like you were a speck of sticky dirt under their shoes?

Because Price wasn’t like the others. He didn’t make promises he couldn’t keep. He didn’t fill the silence with pretty words.

He simply stayed.

And even when you felt like the world was caving in, that was enough.

By the end of the week, the castle was a hornet’s nest of accusations and fear. The kitchens were searched. The servants were questioned. Even the guards began turning on each other. The hour of the accusations had struck, and now the hour of your execution was nearing.

You were tired- bone-deep, soul-deep. The kind of exhaustion that even sleep couldn’t ease. Not that you slept much these days. The nightmares saw to that, clawing at the edges of your mind until the walls between dream and waking began to blur.

You stared too long into the mirrors, searching for someone you might still recognize and finding only the hollow reflection of a girl who had died too many times to keep pretending she was still whole.

I can’t keep doing this.

I am going to die again. And again. And again.

If anyone- if they- heard you pacing your rooms like a restless animal, no one came in to check you. If they heard your sobs, they knew no comfort offered would soothe you.

One night, after your father visited, after he made you kneel and kiss his feet and swear that you were not attempting to overthrow him, you broke.

Loud, pained, terrified sobs tore through your chest, raw and unrelenting. You pressed your hands to your mouth, desperate to muffle the sounds, but it did little to silence the grief clawing its way out of you.

Your knees buckled beneath the weight of it, and you crumpled to the floor, trembling as the cold seeped into your skin. The walls of your chambers felt smaller, closer, as though they were closing in, suffocating you.

You didn’t know how long you stayed there- folded in on yourself, shivering and broken. Minutes? Hours? Time had lost its meaning, stretching endlessly as your thoughts spiraled.

The door creaked.

You flinched, your breath hitching as shadows shifted across the floor. You didn’t look up. You couldn’t.

Not until a warm, heavy cloak was draped over your shoulders.

Price knelt beside you, silent as he settled onto the floor. He didn’t speak, didn’t try to pull words from you. He only sat, solid and steady, his presence filling the room like the glow of dying embers- quiet, but enduring.

And for the first time that night, the sobs began to slow.

(Part Four)

[oharaslove]

We’ve always seen Grumpy x Sunshine when it comes to Miguel and Reader. Today I present you with Grumpy x Grumpy

Reader who never showed a smile towards anyone in the Society. 

Miguel who notices them in the group meetings. Every Spider has a sense of humour, they smile through the pain, but you didn’t. You were always with a serious expression. You were integrated, at the same time though, you seemed closed off. Not letting anyone come close. 

Miguel who takes interest. There is only one place for a Grumpy person in this lab, and that’s him. Or at least, most people say he is grumpy, not that he believes it 100%. 

Reader who enjoys spending time by themselves, recluding to the rooftop of the Society. A place that, weirdly enough, no one frequents. 

Miguel who looks for Reader in the common spaces, but doesn’t have luck. He didn’t exactly know what he wanted with you, but there was something pulling him towards your person. Did he want to be friends? Was he just curious? No idea.

Miguel who has to admit to Lyla what he is doing, having to accept her teases. “Oooohhh Miguel has got a crush” At which Miguel rolls his eyes. He doesn’t. He doesn’t even know you! How could he have a crush? he definitely has. If it were any other Spider, he would probably not care, but you. You had something. 

Lyla who, after an uncountable amount of mocking, takes pity on Miguel and reveals your location. Miguel who sees you through the security camera, sitting at the edge, dangling your feet. 

Miguel who marches towards your location. No plan in his head. He was just going with the flow. His body guiding him towards what it wanted. You

Reader who is startled by the sudden sound of someone opening the door to the rooftop. Who the hell comes here?. You turned around, spotting Miguel silently watching you from the doorway. You turn around again, rolling your eyes. Whatever. 

Miguel who approaches you. What the hell has he come here for? It’s been a looong minute since he has spoken to a woman, other than work stuff.

Miguel who just stands there, looking off at the distance, while keeping an eye on you from time to time. He was just testing the water, yeah. 

Reader who finds it weird, but let’s it happen. Miguel is the leader of the society after all. Besides, you knew (or at least heard) that he was “grumpy”. Problem, you didn’t know if he really was, or like you, he was misunderstood by everyone. In doubt, better keep quiet. 

Miguel who after a while, decides to go. That was embarrassing enough. But don’t get confused, he would come back, he just needed a plan. 

Miguel who, the first week, just stands there, getting comfortable with your presence, hoping you do too. Until….

“You know you can sit, right?” “Uh… I-” He stutters, not expecting you to talk. You scooch over, even though there is plenty of space. Miguel sits, rather close. He enjoys the view now, but most importantly, the heat emanating from your body. He sighs, step 1 down. 

Days turned into weeks. Now, you two were comfortable. Not talking much yet, but sitting next to each other, enjoying each other’s company while appreciating the skyline. Miguel hadn’t realised how much he needed this, relaxing. After a day being cooped up in the lab, this was a nice change. You would share food with each other, a lovely and quiet picnic between two friends? A boss and a worker? Co-workers? He had no clue, but whatever it was, he liked it. 

But… he wanted more. He felt the need to know you better. So.. that’s how the conversations started. About whatever, whoever… didn’t matter. What matter was that step 2 was down. 

Step 3 was by far the hardest one. Make you laugh. At least a small giggle or a smile, Miguel would be happy with either one. 

Granted, Miguel wasn’t good with jokes either. He didn’t know how the other Spiders did it. But thankfully, as a man of science, he knew how to achieve a goal. 

Miguel who spends quite some time observing the other Spiders. He never had a reason to, but now, he did. He thought that you would like it if he was funny, like the others. Yeah, surely, why wouldn’t you?

Miguel who writes some jokes and practises how to deliver them, over and over again. Lyla was having a blast. The big, “bad”, “grumpy” leader of the Spider Society, creator of Nueva York, was mad about another person. 

Miguel, nervous af, goes to your spot. After meeting for quite some time, you two developed a routine. Always at the same hour, same place. 

Reader who is already there, waiting. You really enjoyed meeting with Miguel, you felt he was the only one who understood you. 

Miguel who slowly approaches you. He could feel sweat dribble from his temple, down to his neck. 

Miguel checks the paper on his hand. Yeah, these jokes would do. 

Miguel who, after a peaceful chit chat, feels comfortable enough to start trying with the jokes. They were awful, to say the least. 

“How would you describe Spiderman’s perfect home? The world wide web!”

Miguel who after every stupid joke watches your reaction. At first, you are confused, but as jokes go by, he can see you trying hard not to smile. 

“What is–” “What are you doing?” you said, your lips tugging up into a smile. you were so adorable. “What do you mean?” “The jokes” you clarify, your smile widening. “I– I was trying to be funny, like the other Spidermen. People seem to like them. I–” “Don’t” you interrupt, your tone and expression serious. 

Miguel wanted to be swallowed by the Earth. He scrunches the paper and fists it. This was all a waste— “I like you just the way you are” You confess, making Miguel snap his head towards you, eyes wide like plates. 

“You– you do?” He must have misheard you. “Mhh” you mumbled, nodding. “Just,” you bite your lip, debating if you should say it or not. “Just be my Miguel. The one you’ve always been” And you smile as bright as the sun, warming Miguel’s hug. 

“Your Miguel” he repeats in a trance. You nod, biting your lip, trying to suppress the smile that had been printed on your face. Nothing could wipe it now. 

Miguel mirrors you, smiling from ear to ear. He looks at his clenched fist, the paper sticking out. He looks at you and laughs, throwing the paper into the city. “I’ll be your Miguel then” He scooches closer to you, giving you the opportunity to lean on his chest, as he rounds your body with his arm. 

“Yeah, my Miguel” you sighed, closing your eyes and melting into his touch. His warm body and heartbeat lulling you to sleep. 

Miguel who kisses the top of your head, before resting his cheek against it. He sighs, step 3 and goal down. 

To the world, you were two Grumpy people. But between you, days were spent between laughs and giggles. Kisses being interrupted by smiles. Just seeing each other made you happy. Life was warm, yellow and red, all together. It didn’t matter how the rest saw you, just that you two were happy and in love. 

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally getting help (pt 2)

This one actually is edited thanks to @basementqueercock! Thank you friend!

part 1 | Masterpost

-------

Vlad had been making a stink at the Gala about the Wayne brats taking his godson from him without his permission when the music suddenly cut out. Bruce Wayne himself stalked towards Vlad with an expression that was honestly a little intimidating, even if Vlad obviously wasn’t scared of such an empty headed pretty boy even if he was one of the richest and most influential people on the planet. He was Plasmius! He could take a rich pretty boy is he had to!

“Ah! Mr. Wayne, thank goodness! Your children have taken my Godson off somewhere! I’m sure it’s just a harmless prank but he’s a bit fragile and unpredictable so I really think that it would be best if-“

“Is he fragile and unpredictable because he’s pregnant and you knew?” Bruce asked low and dangerous. Silence spread out around them, even though there’s no way they could have heard they saw the look on Brucie’s face. He rarely got angry but when he did it was serious, when he did it usually meant someone had hurt a kid.

Vlad blanched for a moment, Danny had been so tight lipped about it, so unwilling to tell even those he trusted how did These people know?! “What? What on earth are you talking about? Of course he’s not pregnant, I mean he’s a boy!” Vlad huffed and Bruce’s jaw tightened even more somehow.

“He’s not leaving with you. Get out.” He said low and menacing, then raised his voice. “Sorry to cut the party short everyone but something has come up, a situation that really needs my attention so I’m going to have to put an end to the party early.”

“What do you mean!? He’s MY God son! MY heir! You can’t just keep him from me!” Vlad said, he knew that his eyes were starting to glow a little red but he couldn’t help it. “He’s MINE! Return him to me or you will regret it I swear!”

“See him out.” Bruce said dismissively to a handful of guards who had approached at the start of the commotion A lot of the socialites were already starting to see themselves out, now was not the time to argue, or even stick around when it looked like this might get physical.

“I will be back! I will be back with lawyers and police and the brat’s parents,” Vlad vowed but couldn’t risk fighting the guards any more than a usual old man would on the way out with so many eyes on him. Well he just needed to find a place alone. Then he could transform and come back, possess Bruce Wayne and make him do something heinous in public to ruin him for this.. this- this INDIGNITY!

-------

Bruce was having a hard time keeping his Batman expressions off his face as he saw that everyone was out of his house and he knew his children were having the same trouble. Dick looked like he was ready to bash someone’s head in and Steph wasn’t that much better. Damian was standing by the door, seeing everyone out with frosty politeness that no one would mistake as genuine. Bruce felt just a little bad, it wasn’t anyone’s fault what they had found tonight. No one else knew about the clearly abused teen they were currently harbouring, but none of the family could help it either. Bruce would send all the guests gift baskets once they could announce what was going on.

Alfred was on the phone with Bruce’s lawyers, sending them the mildly distorted audio from Danny’s earlier conversation with Cas and Dick, and the footage from Vlad Master’s outburst. That had the same sort of distortion over it too which was odd, he’d have to look into it. Cas had already informed him she thought Danny was a meta of some sort, maybe it was connected to that? Or maybe they were aliens? Though Danny being trans was currently the most plausible explanation for his pregnancy. They’d find out more later. What mattered was the footage of both of those would be enough for Bruce to get emergency custody while the family was investigated. 

Tim was with Danny in the room Alfred had fixed for him, helping him settle in and lending him some clothes. Tim was the closest to Danny’s age and also one of the calmer ones right now so he was in charge of trying to make Danny feel safe and comfortable while the family took up battle stations to deal with the legal and logistical elements of this.

Bruce made sure everyone was out, the perimeter was secure, and Oracle was at her computer watching the security feed for anything suspicious including the pattern of distortion Vlad and Danny seemed to emit. He wasn’t sure how paranoid he should be about all this, but he’d seen the way Vlad’s eyes sparked red when he was angry and Batman was sure he was a lot more dangerous then he first seemed. And not just in the way that he was apparently willing to impregnate a boy young enough to be his son.

Finally he couldn’t avoid going to check on Danny anymore. Not that he was Really avoiding it, just that he knew this was going to be an exhausting and difficult conversation and he needed to brace himself for it. With every step towards Danny’s new room he felt the weight gather on his shoulders of what this child must have been through.

He knocked, and let himself in. Immediately clocking the way Danny tensed at the sight of him. Of course a rich older man would set off his alarm bells. Bruce gave the softest smile he could and went to pull out the desk chair across from the bed Danny was sitting on, well out of arms reach so he wouldn’t seem like a threat as he sat down. He glanced at Tim who nodded and went and sat on the bed next to Danny. Solidarity, willing to stand up against Bruce if Danny needed it, safety.

“Hello Danny, it’s nice to meet you. My children told me a bit about.. your situation,” Bruce said with a small grimace. “Would you mind if I ask you some questions? I promise I won’t judge you whatever you say, and I promise I am on your side. No matter what I will try to keep you safe okay? Just tell me the truth, it’ll help me do what needs to be done.”

“Alright Mr. Wayne,” Danny said, though he was still wary.

“Thank you, please call me Bruce. So first, what’s your full name?” he asked deciding to start super easy.

“Daniel James Fenton,” Danny replied softly.

“Your parents names?”

“Doctors Madeline and Jack Fenton,” Huh the fact that he called his parents doctor like it was part of their name seemed to be significant though Bruce wasn’t sure exactly what it meant.

“How old are you?”

“I’m 16,” He said. A little older than he looked but still no where near old enough to have the weight of the world on his shoulders like he did.

“And you’re pregnant?” Bruce asked as gently as he could, Danny nodded. “And you’re sure?”

“Yes,” Danny said softly and Bruce nodded, licking his lips a little.

“Did you take a test then?” He asked and Danny grimaced making a so so motion.

“It’s not… that simple,” He said softly.

“Can you explain it to me please?” Bruce asked softly.

Danny took a deep breath and licked his lips, hesitating, opening his mouth to stat, hesitating again and biting his lip. Bruce stayed quiet as he watched the conflict on Danny’s face. “You work with the justice league right?” Danny asked suddenly which seemed like a bit of a non sequitur to Bruce but he needed. “A bunch of the members aren’t human right?” Ah, Bruce nodded again. “And you’re okay with that?”

“Of course I am Danny,” Bruce promised, soft and reassuring. “People don’t have to be human or from earth to be people. Whatever is going on with you you’re still a person, and a kid, and deserve to be protected.”

“Okay,” Danny said as he scrutinized Bruce’s body language for any sign that he was lying. “Okay. I’ve never been able to trust any adults with this shit but I can’t keep doing this on my own so okay. I’m not human, not fully anyway, not anymore. These are..” He touched his stomach. “Like if you did an ultrasound you wouldn’t see embryos more like… Hang on Here.”

Bruce blinked as Danny suddenly, reached Inside himself, and before he could panic Danny had pulled out a perfectly round object that filled his palm. It shimmered with light from within, cold and sparkling with stars. “Our kind is more energy and light then anything else. This is Us, the mind, heart, everything we are is stored in our core the rest is formed around that. I mean for most of my kind, I’m still half human.” Danny said before replacing the orb inside him. “I have two other little cores inside me right now, feeding on my energy to develop properly, you could see them on an Xray. I don’t know how long they’ll take honestly.” He sighed caressing his stomach again.

 “But I can feel them inside me, I can feel their worry when I’m scared, and their joy when I’m happy, and their love. They’re my babies.” He said with the softest most paternal smile on his lips. The bags under his eyes were awful, he was clearly exhausted and stressed, but his expression told Bruce Danny thought it was all going to be worth it for his children. It brought a lump to his throat he had to clear before he could speak again.

“Okay, do you have access to healthcare appropriate for your.. species?” He asked and Danny nodded. Though he was tight lipped still.

“There are protections for non-human species in America you know,” Tim said.

Bruce and Tim exchanged a confused look as Danny barked a laugh. “Not for MY kind, we were specifically excluded,” He said with a wry curl to his lips. “The shadow or echo left behind when a proper human dies, not sentient or sapient they say. Malicious and dangerous they say. To be captured or exterminated on sight. They would take me, experiment on me, probably put my babies in jars or something.”

Oh, oh fuck, he was shaking, eyes blank and glassy like he was heading towards a panic attack. “Danny! Danny look at me,” Bruce said as he leaned forward and Danny’s gaze flicked up to his face. “I don’t know who ‘they’ are but I promise I will do everything in my power to make sure they don’t get you. You’re clearly not what they say, and anyone who would hurt a child is not the good guy in this story.”

“Who are they?” Tim asked with an expression that promised swift and vicious retribution.

Danny took another deep breath. “The GIW, the Ghost Investigation Ward. They’re a government agency, they’ve been hunting in my hometown for a while. Early on we tried to call the Justice Legue, but I think they were jamming the lines or something,” Danny said looking down and biting his lip.

Fuck this poor kid really couldn’t catch a break! Bruce was sure that the ‘ghosts’ these idiots were hunting weren’t really anything of the sort, but he would look into this and see what he could find. Tim was clearly itching to as well bad he wasn’t willing to leave Danny alone with Bruce, good lad.

“And what about your parents? Do you think you could be safely returned to their home?” Bruce asked, as much as he wanted to keep Danny reunification was supposed to be the goal of fostering.

“No!” Danny nearly yelped sitting up straight. “No! They work for the GIW! They design most of their weapons. If they ever found I’d been contaminated- I don’t want to think the worst of them but even if they still recognized me as their son the babies-“ He cut off, wrapping both his arms around his stomach and curling in on himself.

“Okay, we’ll call child protective services, my lawyer, and the Justice League. We’ll get to the bottom of this,” Bruce promised Danny. “And you can stay here as long as you need to. Is there any other family you would want to go to?” Bruce asked, just to be sure, but he wasn’t surprised when Danny shook his head and grabbed a pillow to hug.

“And I know Oracle and Red Robin will be itching to find out more about this ‘government agency’,” Tim said. “I want to go tell them Danny, if Bruce and I go will you be okay on your own or do you want me to ask Cas to come stay with you?”

“Cas please? If she’s not busy?” Danny asked uncertainly and Tim nodded. Bruce was getting up before Danny spoke up again. “I have a sister, Jazz. She knows about me not being fully human, but not about the babies. She’s a good person, and she’s almost an adult. I don’t know, I just need you to know she’s good, and I don’t want to mess things up for her,” Danny said worriedly.

“Of course Danny, thanks for letting me know,” Bruce said with a smile already making plans to get her out as well. “We’ll let you know as soon as there are developments.” He promised before both he and Tim ducked out. They split up, Tim going to find Cas and ask her to go back to Danny before they reconvened in the bat cave, they had a lot of research to do.

next>

[m1stm3]

now playing…

stay soft by mitski

↺ |◁ II ▷| ♡

cw’s!!: some angst and fem! reader (reader is referred to as a woman and uses she/her pronouns) :]

wc: 916 (my longest posted yet!!!)

imagining shigaraki who announces to the league that he found a temporary place to stay a few weeks after the base gets destroyed, answering zero questions as to how exactly he found a place for a group of villains to stay after they had seemingly exhausted all of their options (“someone owed me a favor” was all he had said. none of them believed him).

they’re all confused when they arrive at a relatively residential neighborhood. they’re even more confused when their boss walks up to the front door of a random house as if he’s done it a thousand times before (he has. he’d always crawl back to this doorstep, always looking a little small and wounded).

and — not to be repetitive — but imagine their shock when the sweetest looking woman opens the door. you. you’re all smiles and sugar, giving their boss a wide smile before greeting the rest of them and inviting them inside. they’re practically gawking at the way you dote on them as if they’re normal houseguests and not a group of strangely dressed villains.

the blonde girl and the two men in masks are the only ones that introduce themselves (himiko, jin, and ‘compress’. you recognized them from tomuras previous explanations. he thought they were all pains in their own right, you couldn’t bring yourself to agree). the others stay close by tomura, allowing him to guide them through the new environment (as if they had much of a choice). he hadn’t said a word since the nice woman opened the door, even ignoring spinners insistent, whispered questions.

tomura suddenly stops, gesturing to three doors. “we’re taking up these two rooms, the garage, and the living room.” he points to the last door in the hallway. “that’s the bathroom. figure it out amongst yourselves.” he explained flatly, making his way back to the main area of the house with nothing else said. they were left with more questions than when they had initially gotten there.

their boss had settled into a couch by the time they wandered back into the main area, slouched against an armrest with that blank look he wore whenever he was lost in thought. you had taken to the more talkative three, smiling softly as you answered their questions while offering them mugs of something warm (you couldn’t help the softened look in your eyes when you saw the brief shock in their expressions at the gesture).

it was quiet for a while after that. peaceful, even… until you dropped a mug while trying to tidy up your kitchen. it had been a while since the league had seen their boss suddenly so alert, no hesitation in his movements when he briskly made his way into the kitchen. they had braced themselves to hear yelling or some form of harshness. anything to express his displeasure towards the sudden interruption to his thoughts. only, that’s not what happened. at all, actually.

you were a little more frantic, murmuring soft apologies while crouched down and picking up the larger shards of ceramic. only the three at the table could see what was going on, but the quiet way everything was handled was enough for everyone to connect some dots. tomura hadn’t said anything, simply moving down to your level to help you pick up the bigger shards.

when he finally spoke, it was like witnessing a different person. ‘soft’ was an adjective the league wasn’t familiar with. they didn’t have the privilege of really knowing what that word meant… they understood it better now though, with the way their boss was reassuring you in a quiet voice. his words were scolding as per usual, (even you weren’t immune to his small lectures urging you to ‘be more careful’) but he said them with a lightness none of them had heard before.

and then you touched him and suddenly they understood (those who witnessed it, of course). the contact was brief, just a small, grateful squeeze to his shoulder. something so easily overlooked by the general population… but they knew their boss well. they knew the weight of the small gesture. it was so painfully normal, he didn’t even blink an eye at the small touch.

the three at the table — who usually had had so much to say — could only spare each other small, knowing glances. the others that had settled on the couch still looked expectant, as if waiting for the storm that was soon to come pouring down (they could’ve waited years, it was never going to happen).

the league stood at your house for two weeks after that, the interactions between you and the members short but sweet. tomura had bunked in the garage, walking into the house throughout the night with the weak excuse of having to use the bathroom.

they decided not to call him out on his lie.

you remained kind even as they were leaving, wishing them well and softly urging them to stay safe. only himiko noticed the look you and tomura shared as he walked past you. a secret something she was sure only the two of you knew the meaning of. she found herself foolishly hoping that the pretty lady who had taken care of them would be okay.

you found yourself foolishly hoping to see them again (in another life, maybe. things would be better then.)

[melloollem]

Family nights|| Bruce Wayne x Batmom Reader × Batboys

Summary: Your children keep you company after patrol until your husband arrives.

Warnings: English is not my native language.

(DC masterlist)

You were woken by a movement at the bottom of the bed and your first reaction was to reach out to Bruce's side of the bed. Noticing the lack of your husband's warmth at your side, you reluctantly opened your eyes, a sigh escaped your lips and, as you moved your legs, you heard a complaint: "Mom, I'm here". You readjusted your position, with an expression of confusion on your face.

"Damian, I told you not to wake her." It was Tim's turn to speak, his sudden presence startled you, he'd come out of the bathroom in your room, damn vigilante skills, when had these kids gotten in here? "Tsk, you don't even know what happened, I didn't wake her, Drake" you sighed recognizing the scenario that always ended in a long argument between the boys, before Tim could retort arousing Damian's fury you butted in "Ok, you two have had enough of this, let's not do this now" Your body stretched towards Damian pulling him into your arms, while leaning on the headboard.

"Mummy's boy" Jason's mocking voice was heard as he lay down on the side of the bed that belonged to Bruce, had he been lying on the floor all this time? Confusion returned to her face at the thought. "Shut up, Todd, it's not my fault you're too old to be with your mother" Despite Damian's quick response, you felt him tense in your arms, you wouldn't have hugged him if you'd known it wasn't just him and Tim in the room, everyone knew how shy Damian was with displays of affection. Your embrace loosened, but the boy still didn't get off your lap.

"Get your big ass over there, Jason," said Dick as he got up from the floor too, but unlike Jason, he had a pillow in his hand, you couldn't even be surprised anymore. The eldest of your children settled down on the bed with the space left for him, turning to you and saying "Hi, Mom," a half-childish smile escaped him, and you reciprocated in the same way "Can you tell me what you're doing here?" Your tone was more serious than expected.

"Bruce asked us to stay with you," said Tim as he took Damian's place at the end of the bed. "He had some things to sort out after patrol," added Jason. You turned on the lamp next to the bed, all this time the boys were walking around the room with the help of the light from the hallway.

"Actually, father asked me to stay with you until he got back, the others invited themselves" Damian informed "In fact, Dick invited himself and pulled Tim and me into it" Jason let out in a tired grumble. "It would be like a slumber party, according to him" Tim let out a sigh, their eyes turned to Dick waiting for his side of the story and receiving only a shy smile in response.

You glanced at the clock on your bedside table as you said "It's late, one of you go and get him" Referring to Bruce, all of your children let out a tired sigh and before a general discussion started you said "Ok, text him and tell him to come" Dick was the one who picked up his cell phone and sent Bruce a text message, not quite sure how long it would take for him to see it.

You closed your eyes in an attempt to go back to sleep as kicks to your side tried to hit Tim "Damian, leave your brother so I can sleep" the younger man squeaked "But mom, he's lying on top of me" You didn't even have to open your eyes to know that Damian was exaggerating about his brother's current position. "Damian" his tone foreshadowed a reprimand, the boy shut up and moved further away from his brother.

A comfortable hush settled over the room, you hoped to return to your old state, but Tim was in opposition "I don't want to sleep" You abandoned the idea at this point in the discussion, realizing that it would be impossible. Dick quickly retorted "You're the one of us who needs the most sleep" An annoyed murmur escaped Jason "I'm the one who needs the most sleep" He, like you, really wanted to sleep, but it looked like this family was repulsed by the term.

"We can watch a movie" Tim said, you knew he was electric because of the mission, typical attitude. "Sure, look for something" Jason sighed in response to your declaration, he can't believe you gave in so easily. Tim flipped through the catalog, indecisive about what to watch "We could watch a musical, a comedy, a horror movie..." "Your voice is the most terrifying thing tonight," Jason cut off his brother, who continued to ramble on about the different types of movie you could watch.

At one point Tim opted for a mystery movie, you rolled your eyes at the choice, the kids always figured out the mystery before the middle of the movie, ruining the experience. You watched what was supposed to be a movie session turn into a loose conversation after Tim did exactly what you had predicted. They debated the mission, most of them, Jason just mumbled something at one time or another in agreement.

"Does anyone know how to solve this? What's he talking about?" Now they were talking about one of the Charade's riddles, and it seemed that Tim still had no idea what the villain meant. "It's an allusion to mirrors" Bruce was the one who answered as he entered the room, all eyes turned to him and Jason let out a relieved sigh "Finally, I'm going to sleep" He stood up and stretched his body lazily. "What about the movie?" Damian was the one who asked "The script is weak" Tim said following Jason's example and sliding out of bed, now that he had an idea of where to start solving the puzzle there was no reason to stay there.

You watched each of your children leave the room with a brief "good night", you answered each of them, Dick was the last to leave, closing the door. A sigh of relief left your lips, wishing you could finally go back to sleep, Bruce chuckled at your attitude, before sliding in next to you, your eyes following his every move as he got into bed.

"Everything okay?" Your question was prompted by his delay in returning home "Will be" your brow furrowed hoping for a better answer, that kind of vague assurance never brought good news, but all Bruce did when he noticed your expression was leave a quick kiss on your forehead with the same words "Will be", you decided not to ask any more questions, but that subject still circled your mind.

"Family movie?" he asked, turning to the television, intending to change his focus, you followed his example, the movie was still playing in a scene that wasn't so interesting right now "Tim's choice. You're the only one missing" Even though you smiled, Bruce noticed what you meant in those words, but decided to ignore it "What movie is that?" Now he was looking at you. Taking advantage of the moment, you caught the changes in Bruce's image, he looked more tired than usual "I'm not sure, but it looks like we have two killers and one of them is the victim's brother" Anticipating his next question, you added "Tim spared no details".

A silence consumed the room, the two of you staring at the television, wrapped in each other's embrace. You weren't sure how much of Bruce's thoughts were on the movie, he seemed to be thinking about something else, but he wouldn't share it with you. Bruce had made a vow to himself not to bring the dilemmas of vigilante life into rooms with you, too bad he couldn't stop them from plaguing his own mind.

"You know you can tell me everything, right?" You tried to broach the subject gently, wishing Bruce would share his fears with you "Tim has terrible taste in movies" His response took you by surprise, drawing a laugh from you "Said the man from the musicals" You allowed the light tone to take over the conversation "I thought that was one of the things you loved about me" He couldn't believe it "I think that was one of the things you said on our first date" Another laugh erupted from you at your husband's surprised expression, "I'm sorry about that" An amused smile escaped you and Bruce could only smile back at the sight of it.

Your laughter gradually subsided and now you just looked at each other in love "I'm serious about this, you can tell me anything" You took advantage of the comfort of the situation to clarify your speech. "I know that" He seemed to focus on his own thoughts for a second "I love you" Bruce hoped that declaration would be able to quell all your worries. "I know that" You smiled cheekily, but quickly returned to your passionate expression "And I love you too".

[maskedbyghost]

this is like a prequel to this story, basically a story of how the reader became badass

The first time you hold a gun, you’re sixteen years old.

It’s heavier than you expected, the metal cool against your palms. Your father, the kind of man who doesn’t waste words, stands beside you at the range, watching as you adjust your grip.

You’ve spent years observing him, watching how he cleans his weapons with precision, listening as he lectures you on patience, discipline, and control.

“Breathe,” he reminds you. “Slow pull on the trigger. Never jerk.”

You inhale, steady your hands, and squeeze the trigger.

The bullet tears through the paper target, dead center. A perfect shot.

Your father doesn’t say much, but the flicker of approval in his eyes is enough. It’s the closest thing to praise you’ll get, and you take it.

You don’t join the military for glory. You don’t enlist for revenge, or for honor, or out of some sense of duty. You do it because you’re good at it. Because you were raised for it. Because deep down, you know you’d be wasting something if you didn’t.

Basic training is brutal, but not in the way you expected. The physical pain is one thing—grueling runs, endless drills, bruises that never seem to fade—but it’s the mental conditioning that’s worse. They break you down, strip you of whatever identity you had before, and rebuild you into something else. Something efficient.

You take to it better than most. You learn fast, adapt quicker, and your instructors take notice. They push you harder, expecting more, and you never give them a reason to doubt you. You become someone who operates best under pressure, who doesn’t hesitate when it counts. The kind of person who walks into the fire without flinching.

By the time you make it into special operations, you’re something lethal. Not just a soldier, but a weapon. You don’t brag about it. You don’t have to because your results speak for themselves.

But, you meet Simon in a bar, of all places.

It’s one of those dimly lit pubs that smell like stale beer and bad decisions, the kind where off-duty soldiers go to drink away the things they don’t talk about. You’re sitting at the counter, drinking a whiskey, when someone settles beside you. You feel him before you see him—the weight of his presence, the tension of someone who’s always aware of his surroundings.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

You glance up, and it takes everything in you to keep your expression neutral. He’s big—broad shoulders, strong frame, dressed in civilian clothes but carrying himself like a man who’s seen his fair share of violence. No balaclava tonight, but you don’t need it to recognize him.

Ghost.

You’ve heard the stories. Everyone has. He’s a ghost in more ways than one, his reputation whispered in the kind of circles you used to walk in. Deadly. A man who doesn’t let himself get attached.

You glance at him, unimpressed. “Do you make a habit of buying drinks for strangers?”

Simon shrugs, signaling the bartender. “Only the ones who look like they could use one.”

You let him buy you a drink. One turns into two, then three, and before you know it, the conversation is flowing easier than you expected. He’s blunt, sharp-witted, and surprisingly funny in a dry, understated way. He learns you can hold your liquor, keep up with his sarcasm, and throw a jab just as well as he can.

He doesn’t ask about your past. You don’t ask about his.

The night ends with him walking you back to your place, his hands shoved into his pockets, his shoulders relaxed for once

“You always let strange men buy you drinks?” he asks.

You smirk. “Only the ones with pretty eyes.”

That earns you a chuckle. At your doorstep, he hesitates for just a second before stepping back, nodding once. “Take care, love.”

You watch him disappear down the street, and something in your chest shifts, but you choose to ignore it.

He doesn’t know what you can do.

And you don’t tell him.

Not because you’re keeping secrets, but because for the first time in a long time, it feels nice to just be someone. Not a soldier, not an operative, not a weapon. Just you. And when Simon looks at you, that’s all he sees. He doesn’t see the training, the kill count, the years of discipline that shaped you into what you are. He just sees the woman in front of him, and for now, that’s enough.

So you let him believe it. Let him think you’re just a civilian, just a woman who happened to catch his interest.

But some things don’t stay buried forever. Some truths don’t stay hidden.

One day, he’ll find out. One day, the past you’ve tried to leave behind will come knocking.

And when that day comes, you have no idea if he’ll look at you the same way.

------

(jokes on you, he asked to marry you that exact moment)

@daydreamerwoah

[swivi]

A NEW ADDITION TO THE FAMILY

This will have around 10 parts if I have enough motivation

(Where Wanderer, {{name}} and Durin reunite.) I tried to make this genderfluid and please be warned I forced myself to write this because I wanted them to interact again..which means there might be mistakes since I'm tired from my exams.

When Wanderer and {{name}} heard about Durin's transformation into a human, they both had mixed reactions. {{name}} was excited, practically begging Wanderer to go to Mondstat while Wanderer was silent. Even tho he looked blank on the outside Wanderer's thoughts were all over the place. He felt happy but also worried for Durin.

It took about two days to convince Wanderer with the help of Nahida, and finally, the two were allowed to go to Mondstat to visit Durin. When they first arrived, {{name}} was looking around in excitement, dragging him around the city to look around, while Wanderer only sighed in annoyance. This continued for a few minutes before he had enough.

"You do remember that we came here for something else, right? Or did you get sidetracked again." His words were laced with annoyance and impatience which seemed to catch {{name}} attention. A smirk played on their lips as they took the chance to tease him.

"So you do miss him? I knew some part of you missed Mini Durin." This seemed to catch Wanderer's attention as he scoffed, quickly denying it.

"What are you on about? I'm just here because you dragged me to this stupid city.." Wanderer grumbled under his breath, turning his head to the side. This made {{name}} amused, but before they could tease him anymore, a voice caught there attention. {{name}} and Wanderer turned around just in time before they were smacked over by a force, a small grunt leaving their lips.

It all happened in a blur one second two voices that sound familiar to the Traveler and Paimon called out to them, then the next second, they were on the floor with someone hugging them. {{name}} took the time to recover while Wanderer glared at the source, only to pause. The boy who knocked them down looked no younger than 13. His red eyes clashed with Wanderer's as the two had a stare off before Paimon's voice pulled them from their thoughts.

"Oh no, Durin, are you okay? Quick Traveler Albedo's gonna kill us if Durin gets injured..he just woke up a day ago. Didn't he say something about him needing time to stabilize..oh my god-" The Traveler covered Paimon's panicked murmurs with their hand, sighing to themselves before they could speak {{name}} wrapped their arms around Durin with a smile, pure excitement in their face.

"This is Durin now? Oh my archons..hes so cute, Wanderer look!" They exclaimed in excitement, turning to Wanderer, who only remained silent the entire time, watching the scene with a blank look before he sighed.Durin, however, was excited, staring up at him expectantly.

"Hatguy, look! I'm human now, just like everyone." Durin turned around, showing off his new human form. His hair was a light shade of purple, two black horns peaking from his head. His red eyes that now shinned with excitement, staring up at him expectantly. His clothes consisted of a simple white shirt that looked a little too big for him, making him look even more adorable. {{name}} looked seconds away from crushing him, their hold on him tight as they complimented him left and right.

"You guys are gonna make a scene if this continues." Wanderer complained, standing up with a sigh before brushing off his clothes. After a few seconds, the two also got off the ground, but there was something wrong with Durin. His once excited look now looked gloomy as he stared up at the Wanderer with sad eyes.

"Did you not miss me, Hat guy?" The sad look in his eyes seemed to make Wanderer pause, his expression softening slightly before he crossed his arms with a sigh.

"Good to see you too, I guess.." His voice was calm yet held a slightly gentle tone in it that seemed to make Durin perk up slightly, his bright smile returning. Before he could speak {{name}} but in,

"Don't mind Wanderer.. we both missed you, that's why we are here, right Wanderer? Are you okay now? Have you eaten? You're not hurt, right?""

Their voice was filled with relief and happiness as they doted on Durin, who seemed to smile even more, nodding along with their questions.

The Traveler and Paimon watched the domestic scene before Paimon turned to whisper,

"Don't they look like a family, Paimons so happy for them.." The Traveler agreed with a small smile, before glancing at Wanderer who was silent the entire time. His chest felt tight for some reason making him even more overwhelmed..why did he feel so happy? The Wanderer's thoughts were in a jumble before {{name}} waved their hands over his face with a concerned smile.

"Teyvat to Wanderer? Oh, you're alive.. The Traveler and Paimon proposed that we spend time with Durin today and since he doesn't have proper clothes yet.. we should definitely go shopping." Their excitement made Wanderer roll his eyes before he glanced over at Durin, who looked just as excited at the thought of spending time together.

"Can we, Can we!?" Durin looked up at him expectantly, his small black wings flapping slightly in excitement, making Wanderer pause, making a mental note to himself about them. After a few convincing words, he sighed in annoyance.

"You! Fine... just don't run off." *He grumbled before grunting at the feeling of someone grabbing his hand. He looked down in annoyance at seeing Durin before sighing silently, following him. {{Name}} was just as excited, holding Durin's hand as they walked around. To the folks in Mondstat city, they looked almost like family.

A young boy walking with his parents. What a sweet sight.

[songbirdseung]

𝑷𝑰𝑪𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑬  𝑷𝑬𝑹𝑭𝑬𝑪𝑻  /  𝑳𝑬𝑬  𝑯𝑬𝑬𝑺𝑬𝑼𝑵𝑮

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦 

paris was a city of dreams. the kind of place that made lovers out of skeptics, turned fleeting moments into timeless memories, and held an allure so powerful that even the most reserved souls found themselves swept up in its magic. but you weren’t here for romance, you were here for work.

your name was well-known in the photography industry, a talent sought after by major brands and designers. your ability to capture emotions in still frames had earned you recognition, making you one of the most respected photographers in the world. you weren’t one to get starstruck, nor did you let the glitz and glam of the fashion world affect you. it was just another job, another opportunity to create something beautiful.

but when you walked into the grand studio set for the upcoming paris fashion week campaign, you quickly realized this project would be different.

"ah, you're finally here!" the creative director, madame elise, greeted you with a kiss on both cheeks, her french accent as elegant as ever. "we have a very special subject for you today."

you adjusted the camera strap around your neck, barely looking up from your schedule. "who is it?"

"lee heeseung," she said with a knowing smile.

your eyes flickered up, just for a moment. of course, you knew who lee heeseung was.

he was a world-renowned model, adored for his striking features and effortless charisma. he was also a global pop sensation, his voice captivating millions. he was the kind of man who dominated headlines, a favorite of designers and photographers alike.

but to you, he was just another subject in front of your lens.

at least, that's what you thought.

"heeseung is getting ready," elise continued. "but you'll meet him soon. i have a feeling you two will get along."

you highly doubted that.

when you finally stepped onto the set, checking the lighting and adjusting your camera, you heard the door open behind you.

"heeseung, darling!" elise greeted.

you turned your head slightly, just enough to get a glimpse of him. and for the first time in your career, you felt your breath hitch.

he was tall, effortlessly confident in the way he carried himself. his hair was styled to perfection, his features sharp yet soft in a way that made your fingers itch to capture him on camera. and when his eyes landed on you; warm, curious, and slightly mischievous. you felt something shift.

"so you're the photographer everyone talks about," he said, his voice smooth as silk.

you raised an eyebrow, masking any reaction to his presence. "and you're the model everyone talks about."

a slow smirk curled on his lips. "i guess we both have reputations to uphold."

you huffed, lifting your camera. "let’s see if you live up to yours, then."

heeseung chuckled but stepped into position, effortlessly falling into a pose. as you peered through your lens, you couldn't deny it. he was made to be in front of the camera. every tilt of his head, every slight change in expression was perfect.

but what surprised you most was the way he looked at you. even through the lens, it felt as if he was staring right into your soul.

for the first time in a long time, you felt something unfamiliar stir in your chest.

and you weren’t sure if you liked it.

you liked to believe you were a professional. no matter who stood in front of your lens, no matter how famous, charming, or ridiculously good-looking they were. you always maintained a level of detachment. but with lee heeseung, that line was already starting to blur.

the photoshoot went seamlessly, at least on the surface. heeseung was a natural, effortlessly shifting from pose to pose, his gaze alternating between intense and playful. but between the flashes of the camera, there were moments... fleeting, almost unnoticeable, where his eyes would linger on you just a second too long. where his smirk felt a little too personal. where the air between you felt just a little too charged.

"you’re good at this," you found yourself muttering as you adjusted the lighting.

"i try," he said, grinning. then, with a slight tilt of his head, he added, "but maybe it’s just easier when you’re the one behind the camera."

you rolled your eyes. "do you flirt with all your photographers, or am i just special?"

heeseung laughed, stepping closer, too close. "i’m a professional, i would never flirt on the job."

"mm-hmm," you hummed, unimpressed, but you couldn’t ignore the way your heart skipped a beat when he looked at you like that.

the shoot ended before you could dwell too much on it. as the team bustled around, preparing for the next segment, you took a step back to review the shots.

"see something you like?"

his voice was closer than you expected, making you jolt slightly. heeseung had somehow slipped beside you, peering at your camera screen.

"i see good photography," you replied flatly.

"or maybe just a good subject," he teased.

you turned to face him fully. "you really don’t turn it off, do you?"

heeseung simply shrugged, his grin never fading. "what can i say? i like making people flustered."

"not working," you lied, ignoring the heat creeping up your neck.

heeseung let out a hum of amusement, stepping back. "we’ll see about that, yn."

you weren’t sure what he meant by that. but the way he said your name... smooth, familiar, almost like a promise, left you wondering.

you told yourself it was nothing. just harmless flirting, the kind models and photographers often exchanged to keep the mood light. but when the second photoshoot rolled around a few weeks later, and heeseung walked in with that same playful glint in his eyes, you realized this wasn’t just going to go away.

"back so soon?" you mused, adjusting your camera settings.

"you say that like you aren’t excited to see me," he shot back.

you scoffed. "don’t flatter yourself."

but even as you said it, you knew he wasn’t entirely wrong.

this time, the shoot took place outdoors, a scenic courtyard in the heart of paris. the golden hour sunbathed the area in a warm glow, making the moment feel almost dreamlike.

heeseung was dressed in a sleek designer suit, but he carried himself so effortlessly that he could have been wearing a simple hoodie and still looked just as stunning. he leaned against a stone railing, the soft breeze ruffling his hair as he gazed off into the distance.

click.

the moment was perfect. but then, as if sensing your eyes on him, he turned suddenly locking eyes with you just as you pressed the shutter.

click.

you lowered the camera, your breath catching slightly.

"that one felt personal," he remarked, tilting his head.

"don’t get any ideas," you muttered, quickly checking the shot.

heeseung chuckled but didn’t push. instead, he let you work, letting the tension simmer between you both, unspoken but undeniable.

as the shoot wrapped up, the crew started packing up, leaving you and heeseung momentarily alone.

"so," he started, stretching his arms above his head, "we’re working together quite a lot now, huh?"

"occupational hazard," you replied, stuffing your gear into your bag.

heeseung hummed, watching you carefully. "you know, for someone who acts all serious, you’re actually kind of fun."

"gee, thanks," you deadpanned.

"i’m serious," he said, stepping closer. "i like working with you."

you hesitated for a moment, then met his gaze. "yeah... me too."

it was the first time you had admitted it.

the first time you let yourself acknowledge that maybe, just maybe, lee heeseung was becoming something more than just another subject in front of your lens.

paris fashion week was in full swing, which meant long days filled with back-to-back shoots, last-minute adjustments, and the electrifying buzz of the industry’s biggest names gathering in one place. for you, it was just another job until lee heeseung made it anything but.

it had been nearly two months since your first shoot with him, and somehow, he had managed to insert himself into your routine as if he had always been there. you found yourself looking forward to working with him, anticipating his teasing remarks, the easy banter, the way he always found a way to make the air around you feel just a little warmer.

but today was different.

today, heeseung was avoiding you.

not obviously, not in a way anyone else would notice, but you felt it. the way he barely met your eyes, how he kept his distance when usually he’d find a way to hover around, and how, during the shoot, he was stiff, too controlled, too perfect.

and it was bothering you more than it should have.

"heeseung," you finally said, lowering your camera mid-shoot. "what’s wrong with you today?"

he blinked, surprised. "what do you mean?"

"don’t play dumb," you sighed, crossing your arms. "you’re different. distant."

heeseung exhaled, running a hand through his hair before looking away. for a moment, you thought he wouldn’t answer, but then.

"i heard something," he admitted, voice quieter than usual.

"what?" you frowned.

"some of the staff were talking earlier," he continued, finally meeting your gaze. "about how you and i have been working together a lot. they were saying how… unprofessional it is. how it looks like i’m getting special treatment because of you."

you scoffed. "that’s ridiculous."

"i know," heeseung nodded, but there was a hesitance in his voice.

"but you’re letting it get to you," you noted, softer this time.

heeseung pressed his lips together. "i just don’t want you to deal with any rumors because of me."

you stared at him for a moment, your heart doing something strange in your chest.

"heeseung," you said, stepping closer. "i don’t care what people say."

his brows furrowed slightly. "you don’t?"

"no," you confirmed, offering him a small smile. "i care about doing my job. i care about taking good photos. and… i care about working with you."

his eyes widened slightly, his usually teasing demeanor faltering.

for the first time since you met him, heeseung looked genuinely caught off guard.

then, slowly, a smile tugged at his lips.

"you really have a way of making a guy feel special, yn," he mused.

"yeah, well," you shrugged, pretending to check your camera to avoid his gaze. "maybe you are."

heeseung chuckled, and just like that, the tension melted away.

"okay," he said, shaking his head. "let’s finish this shoot."

and when he posed this time, it wasn’t stiff or controlled. it was effortless, confident—just like the heeseung you had come to know.

but there was something else in his gaze now, something that lingered even after the shoot ended.

something that made you realize you had just crossed another invisible line with him.

and you weren’t sure you wanted to go back.

the thing about spending too much time with someone like lee heeseung was that it became dangerously easy to fall into routine. and routine meant familiarity. and familiarity meant attachment.

and attachment? that was dangerous.

you weren’t stupid. you knew what was happening. the teasing, the lingering gazes, the way your conversations started lasting a little longer each time. the way heeseung always seemed to find you, no matter how busy the event was.

but most of all, it was the way he looked at you now.

like you were something worth looking at.

tonight was a formal industry gala, an event to celebrate the biggest names in fashion, and as expected, heeseung was one of the main attractions. he looked stunning in his black tailored suit, hair styled in a way that made him seem even more effortlessly charming.

but instead of mingling with the elite, instead of indulging the endless line of people vying for his attention, he was here.

standing next to you.

"shouldn’t you be networking?" you teased, sipping your champagne.

"shouldn’t you be taking photos?" he shot back, leaning against the high-top table.

"touche."

heeseung smirked, eyes scanning the crowd before returning to you.

"you look beautiful, by the way," he added casually.

you nearly choked on your drink. "excuse me?"

"what?" he blinked innocently. "can’t i compliment my favorite photographer?"

"heeseung."

he laughed, leaning in slightly. "okay, fine. my favorite person here, then."

you rolled your eyes, but your heart wasn’t as unaffected.

"you’re impossible," you muttered.

"and yet, you’re still here with me," he pointed out.

you opened your mouth to argue, but the words died in your throat when his gaze softened.

"yn," he said, quieter now. "can i ask you something?"

you swallowed. "what?"

heeseung hesitated for the briefest moment, then...

"if we had met under different circumstances," he mused, "do you think we would’ve still ended up here?"

your breath hitched.

"i… don’t know," you admitted honestly.

"i think we would’ve," he said, watching you carefully. "somehow. someway."

the weight of his words settled between you, heavy and unspoken.

but you didn’t get to respond because just then, someone called his name, pulling him away.

and as he left, you realized something.

heeseung had been flirting with you from the start.

but now?

now, it felt like he wasn’t just flirting anymore.

he meant it.

you weren’t sure when things started shifting. maybe it was gradual, so slow and subtle that you didn’t realize it until it was too late. or maybe it was always there, simmering beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to rise.

but now, there was no denying it.

something had changed between you and heeseung.

and it was dangerous.

the gala had ended hours ago, but your mind refused to rest. you sat in your hotel room, scrolling through the photos you had taken throughout the event, yet none of them held your attention.

all you could think about was him.

the way he had looked at you. the way he had spoken. the way his words had lingered in the air long after he walked away.

"if we had met under different circumstances, do you think we would’ve still ended up here?"

what kind of question was that?

and why? why did you find yourself wanting to answer it now?

a sudden knock at your door pulled you out of your thoughts.

your heart stuttered.

there was only one person it could be.

you hesitated before standing up, smoothing out your clothes as you made your way to the door. with a deep breath, you opened it.

and there he was.

lee heeseung.

standing in the dimly lit hallway, dressed down from his formal attire but looking just as effortlessly handsome.

"hey," he said, voice softer than usual.

"hey," you replied, gripping the door handle to steady yourself.

he hesitated, glancing down before meeting your gaze again.

"can we talk?"

you knew you should say no.

but instead, you stepped aside, allowing him in.

the air inside the room was thick with something unspoken, something that had been brewing between you for months now.

heeseung stood in the middle of the room, hands in his pockets, shifting his weight slightly. he looked hesitant—like he wasn’t sure if he should be here.

you folded your arms, leaning against the desk. "what’s going on, heeseung?"

he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "i just… i couldn’t stop thinking about what i said earlier. at the gala."

your stomach tightened. "which part?"

"you know which part," he said, stepping closer. "yn, i—"

he stopped himself, shaking his head.

"heeseung," you prompted, your voice quieter now.

he let out a breath, finally meeting your eyes.

"i like you," he admitted. "more than i should. more than i planned to."

the words settled between you like a slow-burning fire, crackling with intensity.

your breath caught in your throat. "you…"

"yeah," he breathed out. "and i know it’s complicated. i know we work together, and i know we’re both busy, and i know this isn’t what you wanted when you took this job. but…" he trailed off, swallowing hard.

"but?" you pressed, your heart pounding.

"but i can’t pretend anymore," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "i don’t want to just be your favorite model to work with. i don’t want to just be someone you photograph and joke around with. i want more."

silence stretched between you, heavy and uncertain.

heeseung searched your face, waiting—hoping—for something, anything.

and then, finally, you spoke.

"i don’t know if i can do this, heeseung," you whispered.

his expression faltered. "why?"

"because," you said, struggling to find the words, "i don’t do love. i never have. i’ve never let myself because i’m scared of what happens when it falls apart. and with you? it feels too real. too easy."

"and that scares you?" he asked, stepping even closer, close enough that you could see the sincerity in his eyes.

"yes," you admitted.

heeseung studied you for a moment before speaking again.

"then let me prove to you that it’s worth it."

your breath hitched.

"heeseung…"

"give me six months," he said, determination in his voice. "give me the same amount of time we’ve been working together. and if, by the end of it, you still think love isn’t for you, then i’ll let you go."

your lips parted, heart racing.

"but," he added, a small, teasing smile creeping onto his lips, "i don’t think you’ll want to."

and god help you—because a part of you didn’t, either.

you should have said no.

you should have laughed it off, shaken your head, told heeseung that love wasn’t some experiment he could just convince you into.

but instead, you found yourself agreeing.

"six months," you repeated, almost like you were trying to convince yourself. "that's it."

heeseung grinned, tilting his head slightly. "that's it."

but something in the way he said it made you feel like he already knew he was going to win.

the first few weeks after the agreement were… interesting, to say the least.

it wasn't as if things drastically changed overnight, heeseung was still your work partner, still the same easygoing guy who made your job so much fun. but now, there was an added layer to everything.

every glance lasted a little longer.

every touch lingered a little more.

every conversation felt heavier, like he was pulling you in before you even realized it.

and worst of all?

it was working.

it happened in milan.

you were there for another shoot, one of the last big campaigns before paris fashion week.

it was late, and you had just wrapped up an exhausting day of work. the team had gone out for drinks, but you opted out, choosing instead to return to your hotel room, claiming you were tired.

but not even twenty minutes later, there was a knock on your door.

you knew who it was before you even opened it.

"you really didn’t want to go out?" heeseung asked, leaning casually against the doorframe, dressed in sweats and a hoodie instead of the usual designer pieces he was forced to wear all day.

"not really in the mood," you admitted, stepping aside to let him in.

heeseung made himself comfortable on the couch, stretching his long legs out. "good. neither was i."

you rolled your eyes. "then why did you try to convince me to go?"

"i just wanted to see if you’d say yes."

"you're annoying."

"and you love it," he shot back with a smirk.

you ignored the way your stomach flipped at his words and plopped onto the couch beside him, tucking your legs underneath you.

for a while, neither of you said anything. the hotel window was open, allowing the cool night air to drift in, along with the faint sounds of the city below.

and then, heeseung spoke.

"why do you think love is such a bad thing?"

your fingers toyed with the hem of your sweater. "it’s not that i think it’s bad. i just don’t think it’s for me."

"but why?"

you hesitated before answering.

"because i’ve seen it ruin people."

heeseung was quiet for a moment. then...

"and yet, you take photos of love all the time."

you blinked. "what?"

"your photography," he explained, turning to face you. "you capture moments that are filled with love, whether it’s in the way someone looks at another person or in the way their hands linger when they think no one’s watching. you find love in places people don’t even think to look."

your lips parted, but no words came out.

"so maybe," heeseung continued, voice softer now, "it’s not that you don’t believe in love. maybe you’re just scared of feeling it for yourself."

his words settled in your chest, heavy and warm all at once.

you swallowed hard, looking away.

"and what if i am?"

heeseung reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle.

"then i’ll just have to show you that it’s not so scary after all."

and just like that, you felt it.

something shift.

something undeniable.

something you weren’t sure you could ignore anymore.

milan was the first crack in the wall you'd so carefully built around yourself.

but paris? paris was when it all started crumbling.

in the weeks leading up to fashion week, you and heeseung were inseparable. the long hours of work, the constant traveling, the late-night conversations in hotel rooms, it all blurred together until you couldn’t tell where he ended and you began.

and the worst part?

you didn’t want to stop it.

it was the night before the biggest show of the season.

you were supposed to be in your hotel room, getting some much-needed rest before the chaos of the next day. instead, you found yourself on the rooftop, camera in hand, the city lights stretching endlessly before you.

you didn’t hear him approach, but you knew he was there the moment you felt his presence beside you.

"you always do this," heeseung mused, leaning against the railing, his gaze on you rather than the view.

"do what?"

"hide away when things start to feel too real."

you lowered your camera, biting the inside of your cheek. "i’m not hiding."

heeseung smirked. "then why are you up here instead of downstairs celebrating with everyone else?"

you had no answer for that.

so instead, you did what you always did, redirected.

"what about you? why aren’t you with them?"

heeseung shrugged, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "because i knew you’d be up here."

his words made your chest tighten, something dangerously close to affection creeping up your throat.

heeseung turned fully to face you, his expression unreadable.

"yn," he started, voice lower now, "are you ever going to let yourself feel it?"

you swallowed. "feel what?"

"this," he gestured vaguely between the two of you. "us."

you shook your head, feigning ignorance. "heeseung—"

"don’t," he cut in gently, stepping closer. "don’t pretend you don’t know what i’m talking about."

you did.

of course, you did.

because the way your pulse raced whenever he looked at you like that, the way his touch lingered longer than necessary, the way your body leaned into his without thinking... it told you everything you needed to know.

you had been falling.

and you were starting to think you had been since the very beginning.

"heeseung..." you whispered, almost like you were scared of saying his name too loudly.

he took another step forward, close enough now that you could feel the warmth radiating off of him in the cold night air.

"you’re running out of time, yn," he murmured, tilting his head slightly. "we’re running out of time."

you knew what he meant.

six months.

six months that were almost up.

and then what?

heeseung exhaled softly, like he could see the turmoil in your eyes.

"just let yourself have this," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "just once."

you weren’t sure who moved first.

all you knew was that one second, you were standing there, heart pounding, and the next, heeseung’s lips were on yours.

soft. warm. familiar in a way that shouldn’t have been possible.

and in that moment, with the paris skyline glowing behind you, you realized something.

you had never stood a chance against him.

paris had always been called the city of love. you just never thought you’d experience it firsthand.

but here you were, standing on a rooftop with heeseung, lips tingling from his kiss, heart pounding so violently you could hear it in your ears.

his hands were still on your waist, grounding you in a moment that felt both surreal and inevitable.

"you okay?" heeseung murmured, voice low and gentle, like he was afraid you’d pull away.

you weren’t sure if you were okay.

because this wasn’t just some fleeting thing. this wasn’t just two people caught up in a whirlwind romance.

this was real.

and it terrified you.

but as you looked up at him, saw the way he was looking at you, not just with longing, but with certainty, you realized something.

it was too late.

you were already his.

"i think so," you finally answered, your voice softer than you intended.

heeseung’s lips curled into a smirk, but it wasn’t the teasing kind. it was the kind that made your stomach flip, the kind that told you he knew exactly what was going on in your head.

"good," he said simply, before pressing another kiss to your forehead. "because i’m not going anywhere."

your breath hitched. "but—"

"no buts, yn," heeseung cut in, shaking his head. "we’ve been dancing around this for months. i think we both knew it would come to this."

you swallowed hard, your fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket. "what if it doesn’t work?"

heeseung exhaled, resting his forehead against yours. "then it doesn’t. but what if it does?"

that was the real question, wasn’t it?

what if it did?

what if, after everything, this was the one thing in your life that made sense?

you didn’t have an answer.

so instead, you did the only thing you could do; you kissed him again.

the next morning, everything felt... different.

not in a bad way.

but different.

heeseung was already awake when you opened your eyes, lying on his side and watching you with a lazy smile.

"morning," he said, voice raspy from sleep.

"morning," you murmured, blinking at him.

neither of you moved. neither of you spoke. but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable.

it was full.

heeseung eventually reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "you’re thinking too much."

"i always think too much," you muttered.

"i know," he said, grinning. "that’s why i’m here. to remind you to just go with it."

"go with it?" you echoed.

heeseung nodded, shifting onto his back and stretching. "yep. no overthinking. no panicking. just us."

just us.

it sounded so simple when he said it like that.

but maybe it really was that simple.

you exhaled deeply, closing your eyes for a moment. when you opened them again, heeseung was still looking at you, waiting.

you finally smiled. "okay."

his eyes sparkled. "okay?"

"okay," you repeated, surer this time.

because whatever this was, whatever you were stepping into, you weren’t alone.

and that was enough.

for now.

falling in love wasn’t something you planned for.

but as you sat across from heeseung at a tiny café in paris, watching him stir sugar into his espresso with a sleepy smile, you realized that maybe love didn’t follow a plan at all. maybe it just happened unexpectedly, inevitably.

"you're staring," heeseung teased, glancing up at you through his lashes.

"so what if i am?" you shot back, resting your chin in your hand.

his lips curved into that damn smirk, the one that made your heart stutter in your chest. "then i guess i’ll have to get used to it."

you rolled your eyes, but you were smiling.

it had only been a day since that kiss on the rooftop, but something between you had shifted. there were no more lingering glances filled with hesitation. no more stolen touches that meant more than either of you were willing to admit.

everything was out in the open now.

and it felt good.

"what’s our plan for today?" you asked, taking a sip of your coffee.

heeseung tilted his head in thought. "photoshoot in the afternoon. but other than that..." he trailed off, eyes twinkling. "i was thinking we could spend the morning together. just us."

you raised a brow. "isn't that what we've been doing?"

he shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes. "yeah, but now i don’t have to come up with excuses to be around you. i can just say i want to be with my girlfriend."

the word made you freeze.

girlfriend.

heeseung noticed immediately, setting his cup down and leaning forward. "too soon?"

"no," you said quickly. too quickly.

he chuckled, reaching across the table to take your hand. "you can say the word, yn. it won’t kill you."

you bit your lip. "i just... i didn’t think we’d be here."

"neither did i," he admitted, thumb brushing over your knuckles. "but we are."

you stared at him for a long moment, taking in the sincerity in his gaze, the quiet patience in the way he waited for you to process it all.

heeseung never rushed you. never pressured you.

he just let you be.

"okay," you finally said, exhaling.

he perked up. "okay?"

you nodded, squeezing his hand. "okay."

his grin was so wide it made your chest ache.

"cool," he said, attempting to sound nonchalant, but the excitement in his voice betrayed him. "so. where's my good morning kiss?"

you laughed, shaking your head. "you’re impossible."

"and yet," he drawled, tilting his cheek toward you expectantly, "you still like me."

with a dramatic sigh, you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

heeseung hummed, clearly pleased. "mm, good enough. for now."

you groaned, but the warmth in your chest told a different story.

the photoshoot was supposed to be just another work day.

except it wasn’t.

because now, every stolen glance between you and heeseung had weight to it. every accidental touch sent little sparks up your spine.

"you two have insane chemistry," the photographer commented, snapping away as heeseung stood behind you, his hand resting casually on your hip.

you tried not to let the words fluster you, but heeseung?

he was eating it up.

"guess it’s just natural," he said smoothly, fingers grazing your waist in a way that was definitely not part of the pose.

you elbowed him lightly, shooting him a warning look.

heeseung just winked.

impossible, you thought.

but when the shoot wrapped up and heeseung pulled you aside, a teasing grin on his lips, you realized that maybe you didn’t mind it at all.

"what now?" you asked, crossing your arms as you leaned against the dressing room counter.

heeseung stepped closer, caging you in. "nothing. just wanted to admire my girlfriend up close."

you narrowed your eyes. "you’re enjoying this too much."

"can you blame me?" he murmured, his voice dropping. "i’ve been waiting months for this."

your breath hitched.

because the way he was looking at you, the way his fingers toyed with the hem of your sleeve—

you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep up this little game of playing it cool.

"heeseung," you started, voice coming out softer than intended.

he leaned in, so close his lips brushed against your ear.

"yes, baby?"

your entire body tensed at the pet name.

heeseung chuckled. "ah, so that’s what gets you flustered."

you glared at him, cheeks burning. "shut up."

he grinned, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before pulling away.

"i would," he said, grabbing his jacket. "but i like teasing you too much."

you exhaled sharply, watching as he walked toward the door.

just before he stepped out, he turned back with a smirk.

"i’ll see you at dinner, yeah?"

you crossed your arms, pretending to be unimpressed. "we’ll see."

heeseung winked. "oh, we will."

with that, he was gone.

leaving you alone with a racing heart and the realization that you were in way too deep.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Heaven & Earth 🌍 | Gladiator II Imagine

My Masterlists

Characters & Pairings: Emperor Geta x Empress!reader

Content Warnings: fluff, comfort, depictions of mental illness, mentions of pregnancy, soft!Geta, historical refences and mythology (not completely accurate to the timeline) | female!reader (she/her) like three uses of Y/n | wc: 4.6k

Requested 📨 yes/no (rules for requests)

Premise: In which the mighty Emperor Geta of Rome becomes the beacon of light pulling his Empress back to Earth when the Gods of Mount Olympus visit her mind in an attempt to beckon her to a place where the Heavens and Earth crash alongside each other.

note: yes this based and inspired by Queen Charlotte and basically the reader has the condition George has. I apologize in advance for any potential mistakes and inaccuracies, I am not an expert or professional in regard to mental conditions please be mindful of that and kind when leaving comments or critique. Thank you.

dilectus meus = "my beloved," in Latin

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

“My Emperor!” The shout echoed, bouncing off the palace walls, racing footsteps in its wake as the servant rushed to the man she searched for. Finding him at the end of the corridor with his guards walking as they readied themselves to greet General Acacius upon his return to Rome. “Please, Emperor, a moment of your time!”

Gruffing, irritation painting his visage, Geta pivoted to face the servant, making them come to a freezing stop feet away from where he stood. Out of breath and red in the face from chasing the sovereign. Geta’s gaze turned hard, “What is it? What is so important you have hounded me at a time like this--.”

“Forgive me, your Majesty, it’s the Empress,” the servant was bold to interrupt Geta, but they did so anyway despite the dire consequences. However their intuition was right as they watched the Emperor’s face shift from anger to panic. 

It was then Geta realized the servant as the main attendee to his wife. Alba. Who’d been with her since she was still in the care of her father and step-mother. A constant figure in the Empress’ life who saw first hand the torment that plagued Y/n’s mind. Normally Alba was successful in bringing her back to Earth, but her state of duress told Geta it was out of her hands and Y/n needed him. 

In a hurry, Geta brushes past her, ordering him to follow and his guards trail closely behind. “When did it start?”

“Only minutes ago. We finished her hair and nearly completed her glamour when I noticed she became silent. I tried calling her back but then she started saying the usual things when this happens.”

“The Gods and Olympus?”

“Yes, Emperor,” Alba confirmed, eyes watering as they approached the chambers. Even after so many years, the suffering of the Empress brought anguish to the maiden. And to her fellow servants, who cared deeply for their Queen. “I cannot place what is responsible for this sudden fit,” her voice drops to a whisper, so only Geta heard her. Yes, the guards close to the Imperial couple had knowledge but still they wished to keep matters private from prying ears. 

“Likely the upcoming celebrations of her father’s arrival,” Geta spoke aloud, turning the corner hastily. The doors of his chambers came into view and he heard the gentle voices of his wife’s servants trying to coax her from her state. “Fetch warm milk from the kitchens and honey bread. She’ll need that once I’ve brought her back.”

“Yes, Imperator,” Alba bows her head before turning on her heel to head in the opposite direction toward the kitchens. Geta continues on, passing his wife’s guards who appear in just as distress as the maids as they stand at the doorway. As he enters the chambers, everyone freezes. 

His eyes scan the room, his wife nowhere to be found but the doleful expressions of the servants confirmed she was there. Hiding somewhere. The vanity was in disarray, rings scattered across the surface and on the ground, indicating she likely removed them in her fit of stress. Face paint spilled against the smooth marble. The vase full of lilies shattered, leaving water and petals puddled together. 

“Where is she?”

The servant pointed to the bed, “underneath, my Imperator. She refuses to come out.” 

With a wave of a hand, Geta orders, “Leave us.” And like birds flocking in the sky, the servants and maids ushered out of the chambers. The guards posting themselves outside after closing the door with a loud *click* 

Now standing alone in his chambers, away from the eyes of his staff, Geta relaxes his shoulders with an exhale. Mentally preparing himself as his attention turned toward the grand bed where the sound of heavy panting filled his ears. 

“Darling?” he calls out softly, feet carrying him to his side of the bed. Upon hearing her shaken, “yes,” Geta kneels himself onto the rug, lifting the sham to peek underneath the bed, where he finds his beloved wife laying on the feathered rug covering the wooden floors. 

Geta’s heart tightened at her state. Body stiff as the statues that adorned the palace grounds. Eyes wide and fearful, lips quivering as she attempts to calm her breathing. Chest heaving at a fast pace, thankfully slowing by the second. Beads of sweat on her forehead, glistening against the golden headpiece the servants had managed to place atop when they finished styling her hair. The makeup beneath her eyes smudged from the tears cascading her cheeks. Face flushed with shame and embarrassment. Geta wanted nothing more than to remove the distress from his wife and free her from the storm her mind bestowed on her.

A ball of black fur was nestled against the Empress’ side. Ears peeking up followed by bright green eyes, revealing her beloved cat Nox. The animal was a gift to her on their wedding day to assist her when times like these occurred. A companion for when Geta was occupied. 

“It’s been quite some time since this happened,” he muses, tucking the sham into the mattress so his view is not obscured, never taking his eyes away from her as he removes his flowing cape, discarding it on top of the bed. “The last was before we were gifted the babe growing in your womb.” He peeked down to see the slight swell of her stomach protruding against the fabric of her dress. 

“I--I’m so sorry,” her voice croaks, sniffing as she fights to hold back another wave of tears. “I do not know--know why today this--.”

Geta shushes her, a whimper leaving her mouth, thinking she displeased him. Refusing to look at the man, Y/n hears shuffling and from her peripheral catches her husband lay his back on the rug before scooting beneath the bed. Inch by inch until he finally reached her side. The warmth of his hand radiated against her palm as he took it in his. Softly stroking the bare knuckles lacking rings. The loving gesture a means to bring comfort.

“The Gods visited you, my darling?”

Her breathing finally calms down at the gentleness in his voice, swallowing the saliva that formed in her throat. Still, she stares at the wood above her, unable to meet his gaze. “Mars--Mars and Venus--they watched from the shadows. Juno stood--stood behind me in the mirror. I--I willed them to leave, to not bother me on a day like this--but they refused, saying I was to follow them home.” shuddering, the Empress squeezes her eyes shut, the darkness welcoming with open arms. “I did not wish to make a spectacle, husband. Especially today with all that’s been prepared. Forgive me, please.” 

“There is nothing to forgive, love.” Geta assures her, lifting the hand he clutched to cradle against his chest. Letting her feel the rhythmic beat of his heart. “Just focus on my voice and my heart. Let me guide you as you return from your journey to Olympus. Our little one needs you to be calm, my love.”

And so the rulers of Rome laid beneath their bed for what felt like hours until the Empress fully rejoined her husband back on Earth. All the while Geta stroked the hand perched on his chest, bringing it up periodically to kiss her fingertips and whisper words of love and affirmation into her skin. 

His thoughts drifted to the past when he felt her relax. To when he first met the woman who captured his soul and would become his Empress. Stunning the court as Geta had never planned to marry and simply enjoyed the pleasures being the Emperor afforded. 

It was an accident. The two were never supposed to meet. For she never attended public events at the palace with her father, the esteemed General of Rome, Marcus Acacius and her step-mother, Lucilla, the adored daughter of former Emperor Marcus Aurelius. Their daughter was a mere mystery, hardly anyone besides close members of the Senate had knowledge of the woman. 

The origin of her condition was also a mystery. Marcus' first wife, Y/n’s mother, passed during childbirth leaving the General to raise her on his own. She was mostly in the care of maids and servants when he was off to fight Rome’s wars, therefore Marcus did not know what shadowed his beloved daughter's mind until he witnessed an episode himself shortly after her seventh birthday. That’s when her primary caretaker, an older woman by the name of Daphne, confessed to the General the fits began two years prior. 

Most men would be ashamed. Might go as far as to send their child away. Disowning them to be left to the bloody wolves of the world and to not dare claim their sire’s name furthermore. For a child who lived between the Heavens and the Earth was unheard of. Who’s state of mind would relinquish them from any sustainable future. 

But General Acacius was not that man. His daughter was his life, and the memory of his wife whom he adored. It would be the ultimate sin to discard the child as though she were the dirt beneath his feet. His late wife would drag him to the Underworld herself should he dare. 

No, General Acacius vowed to protect and love his daughter the moment she entered the world. He would uphold it until his last breath. 

He only let the best of the best care for the girl. Paying them an Emperors wager to ensure her needs were met and she felt safe in the walls of her home. To bring her back to Earth when the Gods of Olympus called to her and he was unable to return her himself. By the time she reached the age of ten and Marcus remarried Lucilla, he and the staff realized her fits were brought upon by stress and situations that unnerved the girl. 

Y/n was granted freedoms with few restrictions. She was tutored with the best education provided, allowed to roam the gardens, have animal companions, and interact with the children of Acacius’ colleagues when they visited the home. Daphne close to her, the older woman knowing when to step in and remove the girl as the features on her face would consort and she’d stare off into the distance momentarily before the flood of emotions consumed her.

After Daphne passed, Alba entered the picture. And she, Marcus, and Lucilla were the only three able to pull the young woman from the Heavens. Until she met Geta. 

It was a spur of the moment decision. Marcus and Lucilla were summoned to the palace to attend a feast celebrating the founding of Rome. He himself had dismissed his staff to allow them to enjoy the festivities the night held. And he could not leave his daughter alone, but there was no one to watch her while they were gone. In the end, it was Lucilla who convinced Marcus to allow her to accompany them to the palace. For she had not endured an episode in months since her nineteenth name day and it would do well for her to be exposed to their peers. Not to mention she’d be beside them the entire time, and they’d depart immediately if she became overwhelmed. 

Marcus had no issue until it came time for them to greet the Emperors. Geta and Caracalla seated in their thrones, flanked by their companions who fed them grapes and produced goblets of wine. He witnessed with his own eyes the sudden shift in demeanor from Emperor Geta when his gaze landed on the young woman. His bored expression consorting to one of intrigue and interest. Flooding the general with uncertainty. 

He continued to find Geta seeking his daughter throughout the night. Observing her from afar or purposefully conversing with guests in their proximity. Not hiding the way his brown eyes flickered to her in an attempt to lock their stares. Then Marcus discovered the two talking by the feast table, Lucilla having been pulled into a conversation by a Senator allowing Geta to swoop in and steal the young woman’s attention. 

Marcus did not miss the way his daughter’s face lit up. In awe of the man before her and completely immersed in whatever it was they were talking about. Geta too, possessed an expression no man had ever seen before. As though he was in the presence of a Goddess. 

And when Geta summoned Marcus at the end of the feast with his intentions, the General cursed the Gods for putting him in a position that would threaten his daughters livelihood. The decision determined her fate. 

“You deny me, Acacius,” Geta sneered, anger penetrating his tone and visage. “I have proposed to you the gift of a lifetime. I desire to make your daughter my Empress, and you dare voice opposition!?”

Calm and collected, the General simply bows his head before saying, “Emperor Geta, any man would be thanking the Gods for this generous offer, but it is my daughter’s well being I put above all else in this world.” Of course he was not blind to the gruesome reputation Geta and his brother had developed. Bloodthirsty rulers who enjoyed making spectacles of their enemies. No stranger to the violence they enjoyed from Glatorial battles. He’d be damned to let his precious daughter marry a man who’d expose her to distressing events that’ll trigger her. 

“You’re foolish to even think for a moment this was anything but an order.”

Now that was what Marcus was afraid of. That Geta had already made up his mind and wasn’t asking for permission to marry Y/n…. he was announcing his intent to marry her. 

“My Emperor,” Marcus pleaded, “I cannot let you decide this without informing you of my daughter’s condition. And I ask for you to reconsider to allow her the freedom of scrutiny from the people of Rome.”

Geta’s head tilts, confusion painting his form, “Condition?”

Marcus takes a deep breath, feeling the pounding of his heart against his chest. Praying to the Gods for mercy for his daughter should the emperor deem it necessary to exile her. “From time to time, my daughter experiences these episodes that overtake her state of mind.” Geta’s expression shifts, like he understood what the general implied considering his brother also experienced fits. “It’s happened since she was a child. Often triggered by stress or when overwhelmed and usually lasts minutes,” he explains with a shaky exhale, “It is as though her mind lives between the Heavens and the Earth. Where our Gods visit her, beckoning her to come with them to Olympus. Once she’s pulled away it is difficult to return her back to herself as she’s consumed by the emotional distress. My wife, her caretaker, and myself are the ones able to draw her back when her mind is elsewhere.” Licking his lips, eyes trailing to the floor, Marcus finishes by saying, “it is why I’ve never brought her to these functions till tonight. She needs stability, she needs peace. And forgive me, my Imperator, for speaking freely but marrying her to you frightens me for what she may experience without us there to care for her.”

Any man would be warded off at the revelation, but Geta was not deterred. He maintained his proposal, for he was smitten by the beautiful maiden that waltzed into his palace and tore down the marble walls he built around his soul. She was a breath of life in the otherwise dreadful environment surrounding him. He would prove Acacius wrong, and stand by his beloved during her times of need. 

Returning her to Earth when the Gods come to take her.

In the month leading to the Royal wedding during their courtship, the soon to be Empress moved into her own private chambers in preparation to assimilate to the life ahead of her. Geta showered her with gifts and anything she dreamed of having. Chocolates and wine, jewels and gold. Their love blossomed with each passing day. 

The first time the Emperor witnessed her experience a visit from the Gods, Geta wished nothing more than to switch places. He’d approached her chamber door to wish her goodnight when the commotion raging inside filled his ears. The guards posted in front of the doors stiffening at the sight of him. Hesitating to open the doors when he ordered, but when they did Geta entered to find his beloved pacing hastily. Her hair in wild disarray, indicating they’d just taken out the braids when the episode occurred, and robes untied leaving her sheer nightgown to the naked eye. 

Geta saw her lips moving at a fast pace, spilling out incorrigible words jumbled together. Eyes blinking a mile per minute, and hands trembling as she spoke to a presence they could not see. It broke his heart to see her in such distress. Wishing nothing more than to free her from the torment that plagued her.

Her head-maiden/caretaker Alba pleaded with tears in her eyes for her to return home while the other servants observed with sorrow. “My Lady, focus on my voice. You are safe. You are loved. You are home. Order them away and return to us, sweet lady.”

Eventually, and a shock to those in attendance, Geta was the one to calm his beloved and return her to him. Attending to her with care no one expected the Emperor to possess. Then again, it was rare for onlookers to witness him calm his brother when he had an episode. 

When the woman finally steadied her breathing, she broke down into a heap of sobs into Geta’s chest. The Emperor winding his arms around her figure to shield her from the world, murmuring sweet nothings against the crown of her head. Only lifting his head once to order the servants out to grant them privacy, but not before ordering Alba to retrieve warm milk and honey bread for his beloved. 

That night they had their first argument. Y/n begging Geta to withdraw his proposal and let her return to her parents. So that she would not be a burden to him and an embarrassment to Rome. He deserved a better wife. One that will be an image of Venus as Empress of Rome, who would not curse his line with a condition that pulled them away from Earth. Geta refused, confessing his love for her and that he would never be able to find a woman to capture his mind, body, and soul like she has done. 

“Look at me!” she pushed away from his hold, tear streaks smudging her makeup and hair an untamed mane. “I am unwell! My mind cannot place where I am--it is like the Heavens and the Earth collide--!” She takes her fingertips to her temples, the tears flowing like a waterfall. “The Gods--the Gods pry me from the ground--they take me away! I cannot subject you to a life of worry that I’ll have a fit in the middle of a Senate meeting or in front of the people. They will tell you to rid yourself of me--to take a new wife and return me to my father. Why wait when you can do that now and save yourself the shame--!”

Geta grasped her hands in his, pulling them to his chest so she felt the beat of his heart against her palms. The steady rhythm grounding her as his brown eyes penetrated her own with intensity. “Listen to me,” He demands with firmness, but not the type to frighten her. “I do not care what the Senate--or anyone of Rome thinks, you are what matters to me. No one will ever amount to the light you’ve awakened in me. Gods be damned, I will not let anyone take you away.” He keeps one hand clutching hers, the other moving to cup her cheek. “I will stand with you between the Heavens and the Earth. I will tell you where you are.”

They were married the next morning, neither waiting to swear themselves to the other beneath the Gods and before the people of Rome. General Acacius gave his daughter away, watching with glistening eyes as he witnessed the two souls entwine. Lucilla not shying from her emotion, dabbing the tears that fell with a handkerchief. Emperor Caracalla looked on with a neutral expression, not rejoicing but not averse either. 

The Royal couple trotted the streets of Rome in the carriage, waving to the people who cheered and threw rice and flowers their way. Blessing their new Empress and thanking the Gods for her. Geta held onto her hand the entire journey, pressing soft kisses to the skin to remind her of his presence whenever he caught beginning to dissociate. Pulling her from the Gods before they had the chance to take her. 

Months later, following a delightful honeymoon, the Empress experienced another difficult episode when she was delivered massive news from the Royal physician. Geta was attending a Senate meeting when a guard approached him, immediately departing when told his wife was indisposed. 

“What brought this on,” he commanded the servant walking with him, who’d been the one to pass the message to his guard. 

“She did not digest her morning meal, my Imperator,” they explained with a stutter, “and has been plagued with fatigue the last several days that she ordered the physician to examine her.” Worry etched Geta’s face, picking up the pace that the servant was practically running beside him. “Forgive me for informing you of this--for I know the Empress would rather be the one, but she is with child and we suspect this fit is a result of the news.”

Geta freezes, the air catching in his throat as his brain processes what was just bestowed to him. Warmth fills his chest, and before he knows it a tender smile graces his features. A stunning sight to those around him.

His wife was with child. He was going to be a father. 

Suddenly Geta remembered where he was and who needed him. Shaking his head as he hurriedly walked down the corridors to their shared chambers. He orders the servant to the kitchens for warm milk and honey bread, the guards taking their place outside the room while he enters on his own. There he finds Alba alone by the doors of the balcony, a gentle expression on her face looking at something on the floor. While his wife’s cat, Nox, perches himself on the nightstand. 

“Where is she? They said she was in here.” Geta questioned, panic in his eyes that he could not see his wife. The panic turns into worry when Alba points to the bed.

“She’s laying underneath,” she tells him with a frown. 

Geta rushes over, kneeling down to lift the shame, face dropping when he discovers Y/n shivering on the fur rug laid beneath the bed. Wet cheeks and chest panting up and down as she catches her breath. Glancing up, he waves a hand to Alba as a gesture for her to leave them. The maid bows, closing the chamber doors on her way out.

“My darling, why are you under the bed?”

“The Gods, they--they cannot find me here,” she croaks, staring blankly at the wood as the voices drown out to muffles and the stars leave her vision. “It’s quiet under here.” 

Laying on his back, Geta shuffles onto the rug to the space beside his wife. Reaching for her hand when he gets comfortable. “You are right, my dear. It is rather quiet,” her skin is soft under the thumbs stroking her knuckles. “Very peaceful if I must say.”

“Please accept my apologies, husband,” she sniffs, free hand wiping at her face. “I did not think they’d remove you from your meeting.”

“Forget the meeting. It was tiresome and if I’m honest I was planning to leave anyway right as my guard approached me.” Her light chuckle relieved him, the emperor turning his head to stare at her side profile. Taking in her beautiful face as though she would vanish from thin air and leave him. “What ails you, my love? What did the Gods want today?”

The Empress’ bottom lip quivered, making his heart sting as he felt her pain. “The physician told me something,” another sniff leaves her, followed by a lone tear. “I’m with child, Geta. And I know I should be overjoyed, thanking the Gods for this gift and celebrating with you--.” she tilts her head away from the bed frame, facing him instead and allowing the emotion to release. “But I am afraid. I fear for our child--that they will endure the same as me and I cannot fathom it.”

Geta leans over, cupping her cheek with the hand not holding hers and stares deeply into her eyes. “Look at me. No matter what happens, whether our child is touched by the Gods or not, we will stand and take this passage of the unknown together. They will be safe and loved, with you as their mother protecting them. No God will pull them from Earth, we will tell them where they are. Understand?”

The Empress nods, bottom lip jutted out like a child in need as the tears leaked from her eyes. Geta tilts her jaw up, bringing her mouth to his in a sweet kiss to seal his vow and remind her of his devotion. They remain beneath the bed for a few minutes until she’s calm, Geta pressing loving kisses to her nose, cheeks, forehead, and lips. His hand moved to her stomach, caressing the silk clad skin where their child grew. Conceived of their love. 

The birth of twins Marcus and Marcella brought celebration to Rome. Citizens crowded the gates of the palace with gifts, games in the colosseum held in their honor. Followed by the anniversary of the Royal couple where the golden statue of the Empress was unveiled. Every night Geta held her after tucking in their children, murmuring words of affirmation to lull her to sleep. 

Time went on and her visit from the Gods became distant. Sometimes brought on by the worry of her father at war or the state of the Empire. Then after the twins second name day they were blessed with the news they were with child once more. 

Now here they were beneath the bed of their Royal chamber months later, Emperor Geta of Rome consoling his beloved wife as he guided her back to Earth. The babe nestled in her womb grew while their twins slept soundly in their nursery until it was time to wake them. Her father had likely arrived at the palace by now and Caracalla was waiting for them to appear so they may greet Acacius together. 

But Geta would not leave their bedroom floor until his Empress was ready. Till the Gods left her alone. 

“Thank you,” her voice brought him out of his thoughts, gaze lifting to find the eyes he adored staring back at him with absolute tenderness. Glistening against the speck of light able to reach them. The Empress conveyed all the love in her tone as she spoke, “Thank you for standing with me. For always telling me where I am.” Warmth erupted in his chest, Geta never breaking eye contact as he brought her hand to his mouth, his own eyes glistening.

“I will fight for you until my last breath. I love you, dilectus meus.” 

[harmonictechnicality]

It’s the way Steve places a pin in that damn map of Hawkins. Two fingers, muddy knuckles. Fuck if Eddie knows the actual destination because all he can navigate is the curve of Steve’s index finger as he smooths out the edges of the map.

And it’s stupid, right? Because the world is folding in on itself and he’s looking at a guy in the kind of way Victorian novelists would only describe as ‘longingly.’ It’s objectively stupid. Probably some adrenaline bullshit that a doctor could explain with a brain scan.

The rest of the group has scattered, plotting amongst themselves. Pulling plans out of their asses. Finding layers of courage behind clues and cassette tapes.

Eddie should do that too. Plan. Make decisions. Do anything other than stare at the dirt underneath Steve’s goddamn fingernails.

“Please blink, Munson.” Steve says while clearing his throat. He’s been doing that a lot. Which is, like, understandable after coughing up lake water all night long.

He clears his throat again. “Show sign of life before I ransack the supply bag for that shit you call music.”

“That… shit?” Eddie spits out the words. Briefly forgets his swirly Steve feelings because of the fucking audacity on this guy. “Rightrightright, because Bob Seger is so fucking dignified, huh?”

“Uh-oh.” Dustin murmurs behind him.

“Because Old Time Rock and Roll is the highest ranking of ear candy?” Eddie searches through their duffel bag until he finds Steve’s Vecna Saftey Tape. Waves it around wildly as he speaks. “Forgive me. I didn’t know entry-level chord progressions were considered Carnegie Hall worthy these days. But by all means, call my music shit.”

He throws the tape at Steve’s lap before dropping back down to his seat on the couch.

“Well,” Steve smirks. “At least we know if the music won’t wake you up, mocking it sure as hell will.”

“Guys. Focus.” Nancy steps into the center of the room. Everyone nods, even Eddie. They listen intently to her directions. Henderson doesn’t interrupt her, not even once.

Nancy’s entire demeanor is charged with currents of determination. It’s honestly impressive. Truly. She could convince congress to change the fucking constitution if she wanted. Have the supreme court eating out of her palm with how persuasive she can be.

And the only thing that distracts her, is the same thing distracting Eddie.

Two fingers. Muddy knuckles.

Eddie follows her gaze back over to Steve. Her expression softening when she sees him.

It’s cruel and expected. Cruel that Eddie has to witness such softness, knowing exactly how it feels. Expected because wedding bells can practically be heard every time those two interact with each other. No one can deny that.

But knowing all this doesn’t stop the cruelty from squeezing Eddie’s stomach till his insides feel raw.

He swallows down his flimsy fantasies. Keeps repeating those words from back in the woods:

It’s jealousy, it’s jealousy, it’s jealousy, it’s-

“Hey, man.” Steve says.

Man? Not ‘Nancy, my betrothed?’ Not “Nancy, my muse?”

… Man?

Eddie blinks. Glances up to see Steve looking at him. “Your taste in music isn’t complete shit.”

Which isn’t exactly an apology. But the teasing scratches an itch in Eddie’s brain that he hasn’t be able to reach for a very long time.

“Yeah.” Eddie says. “I guess Bob Seger’s stuff is… intermediate. Assistant managerial-level chord progressions.”

He pauses. Then leans in and adds a quick, “At best.”

They both laugh a little. It’s cut short by Steve clearing his throat again. One of the many reminders that they’re not well.

That nothing they’re going through is fair. Not even in the same universe as Fair. Eddie’s eyes fall to the red markings around Steve’s neck. Wonders if that makes his cough hurt worse.

“Look.” Steve nudges Eddie’s arm. Pulls his attention back into this moment. “We’ve got this, okay?”

Eddie can’t exactly tell if there’s softness in Steve’s eyes - the same kind Nancy gives to him so freely. Or if it’s just regularly scheduled Concern. But it doesn’t even matter because Steve said that.

We.

‘We’ve got this.’

Him and Steve.

And, okay, was Steve referring to a collective ‘we?’ Sure, yeah. Obviously. But Eddie is allowing himself to wallow in delusion while the world’s expiration date remains questionable.

So he aims a lovesick smile at Steve and sighs. “Whatever you say, Harrington.”