#and he hopes everyone else can do the same

[dawngyu]

RAIN LILIES

pairing: soulmate idol choi beomgyu x soulmate fem!reader

Sitting at parties surrounded by lovers, a silent third wheel at movie nights, the friend holding the camera at weddings—your hands are always... alone in the spaces where others are full.

Were you an error in the grand scheme? An anomaly? A glitch in the unforgiving script? Or maybe, he simply doesn’t really… exist.

That’s how you ended up here, standing beside your korean-pop-obsessed friend who practically dragged you out and swore you’d love the show. It all became a blur when your eyes met his.

He’s on stage, gripping the mic impossibly still, staring down back at you like he feels it too.

He shouldn’t be real.

warnings: red-string au, strangers to lovers, reader is two years older, normal society norms, waiting, anxiety, doubts, sasaengs, insecurities, hasty decisions, drunk-in-love beomgyu. pov switching. everything written is a work of fiction. let me know if I missed anything.

smut-warnings: MDNI, explicit-descriptions, missionary, fingering, oral!fem receiving, dom beomgyu.

wc: 20k — playlist.

notes: fighting both my delulu and my demons while writing this. 😭 Might just be the fic I enjoyed writing the most—I hope you love it just as much! so glad to be part of this beautiful event. a big thank you to @killa-1009 for beta reading this. ilysm.

1/5 part of the valentine event with talented moas! see the full masterlist here.

If fate promised you something so certain, how could you not long for it?

Since childhood, you’ve heard the stories. The way people speak in hushed voices, weaving fate into riddles, how somewhere out there, it's waiting—a single red string, unseen until the exact moment it’s meant to appear.

The rules are simple: the second your eyes meet theirs, a delicate crimson thread will wrap and tug around your ring finger, stretching across, tied to the one who is destined to love you.

You watched it happen to everyone else. From playground giggles in elementary school to whispered confessions in high school hallways, to late-night talks in college dorm rooms. You listened as your friends spoke about finding their own soulmates, the feeling—the pull, the process. It's everywhere. In the way, your parents fit together like pages of the same story. On the way your younger sister—still so new to the world found her match.

When you’re told your whole life that destiny is waiting for you, how could you not ache for it?

The universe doesn’t make mistakes. And yet, your hands remained... stringless.

And now you wonder if it did—with you.

"One, two, three, smile!"

You press the shutter, capturing the way they look at each other. You lower the camera, but they don’t even notice—they’re too caught up in their own little world, whispering sentences only they’ll ever understand. They laugh, eyes soft, bodies leaning in just a little closer.

How does love do that? How does it make someone shine like they’re carrying sunlight beneath their skin? Like just standing beside the right person is enough to set them alight?

And why, no matter how long you wait, does that light never seem to find you?

There are days you curse it—this cruel design, this aching uncertain certainty. You tell yourself it would be easier not to know, to live without the quiet hope that somewhere, someone is meant to find you, or that fate had already written your name beside someone else’s.

And then there are days you fear it.

What if they don’t want to find you? What if that’s why you’re still alone? What if they got it wrong, skipped over your name, and he simply… doesn’t exist?

You're an anomaly. A glitch in the well-made script.

You lost count of how many times you wished it was never made this way. That love shouldn’t be a promise. Yet in the deepest hours of the night, you found yourself—gasping, trembling, and sobbing to your palms. The feeling of—

How can you miss someone you've never met?

You want to reach for a hand you’ve never held. You long for a voice you’ve never heard, a scent you’ve never breathed, a shadow you’ve never chased. And more than anything, you wish you had a name to whisper, to give you hope.

You swallow, forcing a smile as you turn back to the couple. "Congratulations," you say, "It’s a beautiful wedding."

"Thank you, Y/N!" Ha-rin squeals, practically glowing as she steps forward to hug you. "And thank you for being our photographer—I know you must be busy."

"You’re welcome," you reply, adjusting your camera strap. "It’s what I do, after all."

Ju-won steps in then, reaching for Ha-rin’s hand like he can’t stand even a moment of space between them. "Thank you, Y/N," he says, his eyes never straying far from his wife.

They were your high school classmates. You remember the day they met—first year, first morning, when their eyes met across the classroom, and just like that, the red string appeared. They grew together, from awkward introductions to effortless friendship, and now, here they were, husband and wife.

A picture of everything the universe had promised them.

Ju-won leans in, pressing a kiss to Ha-rin’s cheek like it’s the first time, like they haven’t spent years by each other’s side. The look in their eyes is so easy, so full of love, that you have to look away.

You can't look.

"Uh, I’ll get some drinks," you say, forcing a smile that feels as out of place as you do. You don’t wait for a response. You just turn, your heels clicking against the polished floor, head spinning as you try to count how many weddings you’ve attended this year.

Or no. You’ve lost count.

Everyone you grew up with—your friends, your classmates—have already found their soulmates. Most are married now, some already raising children.

Your heels dig into your feet with each hurried step, but you don’t slow down. You just keep moving, past everyone. You know exactly where you’ll end up. The same place you always do.

Alone at the sidelines.

You grab a drink, bringing it to your lips a little too quickly, hoping the cool burn will settle the unease twisting in your stomach.

"Hey! It’s been a while!" A voice cuts calls out, familiar—but not familiar enough. You turn to see a girl skidding towards you, her face vaguely recognizable. A former classmate? A clubmate? Someone who once sat next to you in a lecture hall?

"How have you been?" she asks, taking a drink for herself.

"I’m fine, thanks," you reply, forcing an easy nod before taking another sip.

A second passes, and then another girl joins the conversation, breathless with laughter. "Beom-seok finally let me go," she teases, tilting her head toward the man across the room—her soulmate. "The guy’s obsessed."

"Of course he is," the first girl grins. "He’s your soulmate." She swirls her drink before adding, "Mine just got back from overseas. He’ll see me tomorrow once he’s in the city." And there it is again—circling back to the same topic, the one you can never take part in. You nod, offering a small smile, pretending to listen.

Because what is there to say when everyone else has something you don’t?

"Y/N?" Your name pulls you out of your thoughts.

"Huh?"

"Did you meet yours yet?" The question hits like a slow, squeezing ache in your chest.

"No," you say, reaching for another drink. It's embarrassing that everyone knows you're empty. "I haven't."

"That's… weird, right?" The first girl tilts her head, genuinely puzzled. "I mean, we sat through those lectures together. Didn’t the studies say most people find their soulmate before twenty-five? That’s what the records say."

There’s no malice in her voice, just matter-of-fact. Like she’s pointing out a statistic, saying out what’s already been made painfully clear to you. it’s the same tired reminder, the same unspoken question: what’s wrong with you?

You’re used to it by now.

"Yeah," you say, unwilling to argue. What’s the point? Your mind slips back to those reckless high school days—the days when older girls, too cool and too cruel, mocked you for not having a soulmate. You remember snapping back, pretending their words didn’t sting.

Later, the tears came on the bus ride home—carving rivers down your cheeks as you sob. Strangers offered tissues, soft words, awkward kindness, but none of it could stitch you back together. You remember your mother's words after seeing her home. To stop them from hurting you, you have to accept all of yourself.

But how do you accept the whole of you, when it doesn’t even feel like you have all of you?

From the corner of your eye, you catch the second girl nudging her. "Don’t mind her, Y/N," she says quickly. "She doesn’t always think before she talks." Then, after a beat, she adds, "Have you tried dating in the meantime? You know, while you're waiting?"

You blink at her, taken aback.

"I mean, it's not like it’s cheating, right? Since you haven’t met them yet."

You set your drink down, your fingers suddenly cold. "Why are you suggesting something you wouldn’t even do?" Your voice is calm, but it makes her shift uncomfortably. "Or did you? Does your soulmate know?"

Neither of them speaks. Guilt in their expressions. You don’t wait for an answer. You're done for tonight.

It’s time to go.

You turn away, not bothering to look back. No one needs you here—your part is done. Your role here is over. You pull out your phone, quickly typing out a polite apology to the bride before slipping it back into your pocket.

The drive home is silent, and the buzz of the engine is the only company you have. Your hands grip the wheel a little too tightly, your thoughts drifting despite your best efforts to keep them at bay. When you finally reach your small apartment, you step out, clutching yet another wedding souvenir in one hand a meaningless token of a night that wasn’t yours to celebrate.

You lock the door behind you and lean against it blinking, exhaling shakily. "I guess today wasn’t the day either," you murmur to no one in particular, wiping away the single tear that managed to escape. "What's taking you so long?"

No matter how often you whispered this question, it never hurt any less.

"What's taking you so long?"

Beomgyu groans from under the covers, trying to burrow deeper into the warmth of his bed. The sudden tug of his blanket makes him blindly reach out, attempting to grab it back. "You shi—"

"Beomgyu, you're the last one. We're all almost ready to go," Soobin says, adjusting his belt in the mirror. "Look at this little child."

Beomgyu stretches with a dramatic yawn. "I'm up, I'm up," he mumbles, sitting up sluggishly and blinking against the light. He swings his legs over the edge of the bed, feet landing on the bedside table. Soobin shakes his head but doesn't stick around—his job is done. Beomgyu is finally awake.

Minutes later, Beomgyu trudges into the living room, hair a mess, voice still deep with sleep. "Are we eating there?"

The entire room turns to look at him.

"You woke up late, and that’s the first thing you care about?" Yeonjun teases, shaking his head with a laugh.

"Well, I didn’t eat last night," Beomgyu grumbles.

"Oh?"

"Liar," the maknae pipes up from the couch, casually applying lip balm. "You literally snuck out to eat."

"You snitch," Beomgyu gasps, feigning betrayal. "I didn’t raise you to turn on me like this!"

"You? Raise me?" Kai scoffs. "Soobin hyung’s the one who raised me, what are you talking about?"

Soobin smirks and chucks Beomgyu’s towel straight at his face. "Exactly. Now go shower, you idiot."

Laughter erupts around the room as Beomgyu groans, trudging toward the bathroom. "Shower quick, hyung," Taehyun calls out.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

Beomgyu’s slightly damp hair clings to the back of his neck. He hadn’t had time to dry it properly before they rushed out of the dorm—there was no room for delays today. A broadcast for their comeback. Another promotion. His stylist would handle it in the green room anyway.

They pile into the van, the usual quiet settling over them. Despite being fully dressed and ready, exhaustion hangs heavy. One by one, his members drift off, heads resting against windows, bodies slumped in their seats. Only Kai remains awake, lost in his own world, music pulsing through his earphones. The maknae was so engrossed on his phone, obviously texting with a small smile on his face.

Beomgyu sighs, pressing his forehead against the cool glass, his breath slightly fogging up the window. Today would be a long day. Rehearsals, performances, a challenge video, taping. He missed this. He missed MOAs. The rush of the stage. The high of performing. And then—

Oh.

The van slows at a red light, and his gaze drifts absentmindedly to the sidewalk. His chest tightens.

A couple walks by, laughing, hands intertwined, completely lost in their own world. The way they move together, effortlessly in sync. In love. Content. Happy. He stares longer than he should.

He can't look away.

His throat feels tight as the van lurches forward again, pulling him out of his thoughts. He blinks hard, shifting in his seat. The image stayed, pressed into the back of his mind.

All four of his members had already found theirs—their soulmates. The one they could lean on when the world became too loud. Beomgyu was happy for them, of course, he was. He remember how he was when Kai blushed when he met his soulmate recently, right after his 23rd birthday.

Everyone teased the maknae relentlessly for weeks.

Beomgyu had been too busy his whole life, training since he was just a kid, running full speed toward a dream. His mind is busy to the point he sometimes forgets it. He does not mean to. It's just that—he never let himself dwell on it for too long. Pushing it aside became second nature, the same way he’d forget to eat when he was too busy, too distracted.

But every year, without fail, when the room dimmed and the birthday candles in front of him, his wish was always the same.

His soulmate.

It didn’t matter how many years passed or how much he achieved—when the glow of those tiny flames danced in his eyes, it was the only thing his heart whispered.

Beomgyu exhales shakily, his fingers curling into his hoodie. a quiet sigh slipping from his pouting lips.

Where are you?

The stark white walls of the hospital room loom over, mocking your awkwardness.

"There's nothing wrong with you, dear," the woman in front of you says, her lab coat lending a sense of authority to her words. Her voice is gentle, reassuring, but it barely soothes the unease twisting in your chest. "Soulmates do tend to find each other early, statistically speaking. But that’s just a pattern, not a guarantee."

You swallow hard. The lump in your throat stays put. "Is there… any chance this is a mistake?" Your voice is quieter than you intend, fragile in a way you hate. "That someone could go their whole life without one? That—" you hesitate, your chest tightening, "that I’m just… meant to be alone?"

Something flickers across her face—pity, maybe. You’re not sure. "I’ll look into it, I promise," she says after a moment. "I know twenty-six feels late, and I know it’s frustrating. But… trust in destiny a little longer. If you want, I can also recommend a therapist. I know the pressure can get to you."

Her words are meant to be comforting. They only make the weight in your chest heavier. You shake your head, managing a quiet “thank you” before slipping out of the room, the door clicking shut behind you.

“How was it?” Da-hee’s voice reaches you before you even look up. She’s already on her feet, eyes scanning your face, searching for an answer. “What did they say?”

“Nothing I haven’t heard before.” You sigh, walking past her. “I told you I should not do this.”

She huffs, crossing her arms as she falls into step beside you. “You never tried it,”

Your best friend doesn’t argue anymore, following you to the counter in silence. The cashier barely looks up as they say, “That consultation is $120 total, plus taxes, bringing it to $145.86. Card or cash?”

You catch Da-hee reaching for her wallet, but you gently push her hand away. “Don’t,” you murmur. “This was for me.”

You hand over your card. A quick swipe, a faint beep. And just like that, you’re down nearly $150 with nothing to show for it but a sinking feeling in your stomach.

That much money for a consultation. A conversation. No treatment, no tests, nothing tangible. Soulmate doctors are expensive. Too expensive. And health insurance? Useless. They don’t cover something as rare, as unquantifiable, as soulmate problems.

Because to them, it’s not a real sickness, proving that you are—once again—the outlier.

Perfect.

“Come on,” you say, nudging your still-guilty-looking friend. She follows you out of the hospital, quiet and pouting.

At the car, she pulls open the driver’s side door. “Let me at least drive?” she offers, voice softer now.

You chuckle at her persistence, shaking your head before tossing her the keys. “Okay.” Sliding into the passenger seat, you reach for the radio, as she pulls out of the parking lot.

"Let's hang out at your place," Da-hee says, and she grins as she sees you nod your head.

Music played softly through the speakers, blending with the casual flow of conversation. The air is light, and easy—until your car rolls past a towering black building.

HYBE.

Funeral wreaths. Trucks. Massive banners.

Your brows furrow as you take it in, the sight so jarring that it silences you for a beat. The road ahead clogs with slowed traffic, people lingering to gawk at the scene.

“What the fuck?” Da-hee mutters, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter, eyes darting across the scene. The traffic slows as more people crane their necks to look. You do the same, stomach twisting at the sheer scale of it. "This is insane."

“What’s going on?” you ask, still trying to piece together the meaning behind it all.

She exhales, lips pressing into a thin line. “Lee Heeseung. An idol,” she starts. “News got out that he recently went out with his soulmate.” Her voice dips, sadness flickering across her face. “And now… now, people want him out of the group.”

Your stomach twists. “What?”

You strain to read the bold, angry messages plastered across the banners:

GET LEE HEESEUNG OUT OF HYBE.

APOLOGIZE, LEE HEESEUNG.

EXPLAIN THIS, LEE HEESEUNG.

ENHYPEN IS NOW ONLY SIX.

IDOLS WITH SOULMATES ARE NOT IDOLS.

The messages feel suffocating, each one worse than the last. Then you see it—one of the trucks, its LED screen flashing an image like a public execution.

A man, young and striking, caught mid-laughter as he eats ramen with a girl beside him. She’s smiling too, her expression warm, content. The matching caps on their heads make them look like any ordinary couple, but the grainy, long-lens quality of the photo gives it away. Someone had been watching. Someone had been waiting to expose them.

Your stomach turns.

“It’s worse when so many fans are… young,” Da-hee murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. “Most of them are stringless.” She says the last word carefully like she doesn’t want to offend you.

But you almost hear what she isn’t saying.

Stringless people can’t understand the soulmate bond. And when it comes to idols, that misunderstanding twists into darker. As insane as it sounds, they feel entitled. Possessive. Like their devotion should be enough. Like an idol’s life—who they love, who they belong to—should be theirs to control.

It’s the only explanation, isn’t it?

The car inches forward, and your eyes drift back to the scene outside. Security guards push against the surging crowd, their faces strained. The banners wave wildly, like battle flags in a war meant to punish.

You swallow hard. “I don’t get it.” You don’t know him. You don't need to know him to know the injustice of it. “Why treat him like he committed some kind of crime? He’s meant to have someone. He’s a person, not—” You gesture vaguely at the protest, frustration bubbling up. “Not their property.”

Da-hee sighs. “That’s why idols who are caught with their soulmates—especially the ones who confirm it, get cancelled. Fans turn on them. They lose everything.” She shakes her head, voice laced with exhaustion and resignation. “It’s sad that they have to hide it.”

The thought of society hating someone just for loving who they’re meant to love makes your chest feel tight. How could something meant to be beautiful turn into this?

You guess your own situation isn’t the only cruel, unfair thing in this world.

The two of you make it back to your apartment, settling in for a movie with a bowl of popcorn between you. The glow of the TV flickers across the room, a comfortable silence stretching between you—until Da-hee suddenly squeals, nearly knocking the popcorn over in the process.

“Oh my god,” she gasps, shoving the popcorn bowl off her lap as she scrambles to her feet. “OH MY GOD.” She starts stomping in place.

You glance at her, unimpressed. “I want to wipe that ridiculous grin off your face.”

She just giggles and shoves her phone in front of you. “Joon bought me VVIP tickets. I’m going to die.” She pumps a fist in the air, bouncing on her toes like a kid who just won the lottery. “And there’s two. He can’t go—oh my god. Please, please, I am begging you to come with me. It’s next week! That sneaky bastard didn’t even tell me he bought them ages ago.”

You hesitate, already feeling the excuse forming on your tongue. “I don’t think—”

“Come on, Y/N.” She grabs your arm, shaking it dramatically. “Look at me. I have a soulmate, and I still thirst over Tomorrow X Together.”

You nearly choke on your drink. “That’s a long-ass name.”

“They’re my babies,” she says, clutching her chest like she’s been personally blessed by the gods. “You’ll love the show, I promise. And maybe—you’ll be like me. While you wait for your soulmate, it’s harmless to fangirl a little. OMG, what if you become a MOA? That’s my dream. Imagine us going to cafés with photocards, buying merch, collecting albums—”

“Okay, first of all, they are grown men. Not babies.” you cut in before she spirals. You know from experience that once she starts talking about her fangirl life, she never stops. “Anyways, okay, I’ll go. But don’t expect anything.”

Da-hee lets out another excited squeal before launching herself at you, wrapping her arms around your neck and squeezing way too tight.

“You won’t regret this!”

You already do.

It was your turn to trail behind Da-hee like a lost puppy, weaving through the sea of fans decked out in carefully coordinated outfits. Everyone is well dressed. So prepared. Keychains and accessories dangled from their bags, the sound of clinking metal filling the air.

"Look at them," Da-hee suddenly stopped, pulling out her phone. You followed her gaze to the massive banner hanging outside the arena.

TOMORROW X TOGETHER

They... didn’t look bad.

"My husbands," Da-hee sighed dreamily spinning turning to you with wide eyes. "Let's take a selfie!"

Before you could protest, she yanked you in, holding her phone high. The two of you posed—her grinning ear to ear, you looking like a reluctant daughter humoring her overexcited mom.

At the ticketing section, an attendant handed you both event wristbands and ID laces. You're about to shove yours into your pocket, but Da-hee looped it around your neck like a medal.

“So you don’t lose it,” she said firmly.

You sighed, adjusting the strap as you followed her toward a merch booth. Fans swarmed the display, eyes gleaming as they scanned the shelves stacked with albums, shirts, and accessories.

"Everyone's so hyped," you muttered, glancing around. "I can see a lot of Da-hees here."

"Of course they are," Da-hee said ignoring your last comment with a dramatic sway of her hand. She skimmed the display. "This comeback is a masterpiece."

You frowned. "What are we even doing here?"

"You need a picket." She says. "And don’t even think about saying no. I’m still heartbroken you refused the lightstick, so at least take this. We’re gonna be right at the barricades, you can’t just stand there empty-handed. Pick one."

You groaned, "Fine."

Your eyes sweep over the options, scanning each face printed on the glossy boards. You won’t say it out loud—not yet—but you’ll admit it now. They’re all… ridiculously handsome.

And one of them stands out.

Soft brown eyes. A small, almost knowing smile. Something about his face makes your breath hitch. "Uh..."

Da-hee leans in, brow furrowing. "What are you picking? Wait. Are you okay? Why are you so red—"

"I'm not," You quickly pointed at the picket, avoiding her stare like your life depended on it. "This one."

A slow, mischievous grin spreads across her face. "Oh-ho." She turns to the waiting merch seller, smiling some more.

"One Beomgyu, please."

You followed her... once again.

You didn’t have much of a choice. But this time, your steps felt… lighter. Movements are less reluctant than when you first arrived.

You weren’t sure why. Maybe it was the way the heat had finally eased, the golden glow of late afternoon settling over the pavement. Maybe it was the way MOAs—total strangers—smiled at you like you belonged, their warmth making you feel strangely at ease. Maybe it was the fact of not hearing the word soulmate even once. That you don't feel the odd one out.

Or maybe—just maybe—it was the picket you now held carefully in your hands.

You didn’t know how it happened. How you went from teasing Da-hee about her obsession to clutching a piece of laminated paper like it meant something. But the more you looked around, the more you understood.

It wasn’t just about the idols printed on banners or the music playing faintly in the background. But also, it was about them. These people who glowed with excitement, who found joy in simply being here, in loving unapologetically.

You were sceptical of it at first, seeing the front of HYBE last week. The protest. But just like everything, you saw it. The good side of being a fan.

How they shined—not only because of who they adored, but because of how they adored. How happy they were to love, and to share that love with everyone around them.

And somehow, standing here among them, you felt a little brighter, too.

"Where are we going now?"

"MOAZONE," Da-hee answers without hesitation, pulling you toward yet another booth. The concert doors won’t open for another thirty minutes, but she’s on a mission. The funny thing is—she doesn’t really need to drag you anymore.

Something has settled in your bones. You’re going to see this through, stay until the last song fades. And maybe—you’ll find yourself here again next time.

"It’s a booth where you can pull a concert-exclusive photocard," she explains further, eyes shining with excitement.

You nod, letting her lead the way. The line is long. When it’s finally Da-hee’s turn, she gasps, then squeals so loudly people around her chuckle. "Yeonjun!" she cries, clutching the card to her chest like it’s the most precious thing in the world. "I got him!"

Then, it’s your turn.

A row of face-down cards is laid out before you. You don’t think too hard about it—you just point to one.

The staff hands it over, and when you flip it, your breath catches.

"You got Beomgyu?!" Da-hee shrieks, bouncing on her toes beside you. You barely hear her. Because there he is.

Elbow propped up, chin resting on his hand, that same small, knowing smile—only this time, it’s wider.

Fucking hell.

Da-hee grabs your arm, shaking you. "Girl, you are officially a Beomgyu magnet. I'm unfriending you if don't start liking them,"

Beomgyu.

Beomgyu. His name loops in your mind, over and over. And for some reason, it fits. His name suits him.

You tried your best not to break a smile. "Come on,"

If you had told yourself a year ago that you’d be here—crammed into a packed venue, surrounded by screaming teenagers—you would’ve laughed. Hard.

And yet, here you are, laughing. Not at the absurdity of it, but with it. Caught up in the moment with Da-hee, the crowd’s energy vibrates as hundreds of voices chant their names.

“It’s soundcheck first,” Da-hee leans in, her voice barely cutting through the noise. “Then the main concert.”

You nod, still grinning. “Okay.”

Then, the opening notes of a song play through the speakers. The crowd erupts. “Oh my god!” Da-hee shrieks, “It’s Deja Vu!”

The five of them step onto the stage. It’s a blur—lights flashing, voices screaming. Your heart pounds against your ribs as the music swells, wrapping around you like something alive.

It’s beautiful.

A tall man—easily the tallest—moves toward your section, waving with an easy smile, deep dimples carving into his soft-looking cheeks. It reminds you of bread. The warmth of it is infectious, and before you even realise it, you're waving back, grinning at someone whose name you didn’t even know this morning.

Then, the song begins to wind down. And that’s when you see him.

Beomgyu.

His steps are slower than the others, like he’s taking his time, scanning the crowd with careful eyes. You tell yourself not to look. Not when he gets closer. Not when that strange, restless nervousness twists in your stomach. You clench your fists and stare at the ground. Why? Why does this feel so overwhelming?

Around you, voices grew. The energy shifts, and you know it’s only a matter of time before you give in. You look up, unsure.

The mic is at his lips, his voice singing into the melody—until suddenly, he stops.

All because his eyes meet yours.

Everything else fades. The crowd, the shake of Da-hee beside you, even the music that was supposed to be loud. All that’s left is the pull—a red thread stretching between, searing itself into your vision, blinding in its intensity—demanding to be seen.

On stage, he stands impossibly still, his fingers gripping the mic like he sees it too.

It can't be real.

“We're trending again,” Taehyun says, flopping onto Beomgyu’s hotel bed with a sigh. “What the hell?”

Beomgyu leans back against the headboard, “How much time do we have?”

Taehyun checks his watch. “Practice is in… oh. Hours.” He exhales, shaking his head in awe. “This is actually happening. A sold-out stadium, Beomgyu. Can you believe that? Remember that tiny, run-down building we used to train in? The cracked floorboards, the growing mushrooms?” He laughs, eyes distant.

“When Yeonjun used to sneak his soulmate in, trying to show off like he was already famous? As a trainee. And now—now, we’re here.���

Beomgyu snorts. “In that practice room, too. I still don’t know how his soulmate put up with that. Or how Yeonjun didn’t get kicked out.”

“Yeah. They just couldn’t let go of each other.” Taehyun laughs, shaking his head. “And I don't think Big Hit will let go of him too."

It had been one of the first rules drilled into them during training—no soulmates. No... searching. And if they already had one? They had to tell them. Have the conversation. An agreement that would turn everything into a secret.

Soulmates were inevitable, unstoppable. Beomgyu still remembers the contract in his hands, the way he read every word over and over, heart pounding. As if somewhere in the fine print, there was a clause that might hurt his soulmate. In the end, he signed.

If he ever found his soulmate, no one could know. Not until everything was over. In other words, disbandment.

"I'm missing her like crazy these days."

Beomgyu doesn’t respond right away. He just shrugs, tossing things out of his suitcase—a hoodie, a toothbrush, whatever his hands find first. He had noticed how restless Taehyun had been, the way he kept his phone glued to his hands, typing, hesitating, typing again. But what was there to say? What could he do about it?

The others were good at pretending. Hiding. The quiet hotel meetups, the stolen hours between schedules. But if Beomgyu was being honest, he could count on both hands the number of times any of the four had actually been with their soulmates since debut.

The fear of getting caught kept them all in line. Not just by the company, but by the fans. The horror stories weren’t just industry rumours—some were ancient, some recent.

If this doesn’t work out, I don’t know if I can take it. Taehyun had said that once. This career was everything. He wasn’t going to risk it. He wasn't ready. And Beomgyu understood. Everyone understood. He could already picture the protest trucks outside the company building if anyone ever slipped up.

"You heard anything from Heeseung?" Taehyun asks, his voice careful, his fingers tightening around his phone. Beomgyu knows him well enough to catch the shift—the way his mind drifts, went from missing his soulmate to remembering the latest scandal in their world.

Heeseung, the newest idol thrown into the fire.

He, who got caught with his soulmate.

"Yeah," Beomgyu says, swallowing. "He's okay, but… his soulmate is taking the worst of it."

Taehyun stills. The thought of his own soulmate being dragged into something like that—starts to burn at the back of his mind. What if it were her?

"Hey, don't overthink it," Beomgyu says because he sees it. He sees it in all of them. The quiet way they carry it, that they aren’t supposed to want. In their world, the idea that you should be free with your soulmate is just that—an idea. Or maybe worse. A peril. A risk too big to take.

He remembers Soobin crying once, blaming himself for wanting this life—this job. And how, in the end, the only person who could calm him down was his soulmate. The same person the company treated like a liability. Yet, the only one with the power to bring their leader back to himself.

The irony.

He also remembers the night he sat with his dad, asking him how he knew Mom was his. He had tilted his head, recounting their encounter, before he said one thing that stuck with him.

"Before I even saw the string, I knew… it was her."

Beomgyu used to cringe at that. Now, he wonders if he'll ever get the chance to feel it.

“Did you see everyone? Insane.” Yeonjun says, eyes wide as they sit in the salon-like chairs. “They’ve been out there since last night.”

Kai glances at him as much as he can without moving his head, his makeup artist carefully blending eyeshadow. “Yeah, I saw them. MOAs are bundled up out there, and it’s freezing. It's worrying me.”

"I feel like I'm about to throw up. I'm nervous,"

Playing a stadium—a sold-out one, this is the dream. The one every trainee chases, the one Beomgyu used to stare at the ceiling imagining, too afraid to believe it could ever be real. And yet, here it is.

His mind pulls him back to the past. The long nights, the aching muscles, the quiet sobs muffled into his pillow. The moments of doubt, the voices—his own, the other's—telling him he wasn’t enough. He remembers how hard they worked. How hard he worked. How many times they shared one meal because they couldn't afford another one. And still, somehow, they held on.

He knows he earned this, and fought for it with everything he had. But standing here now, bathed in the price of it all, it still doesn’t feel real. He stares at his hands once his stylist is done with his eyes. There’s something else tugging at him, a strange feeling that’s been lurking since morning.

What it is, he can’t quite say.

Beomgyu's eyes sweep over the big space. The kind of big that makes his head spin if he thinks about it too much. In a few hours, this place will be much packed. He’s been—on stages just like this, under lights just as bright but somehow, it still knocks the wind out of him.

It's soundcheck. He likes it because, with the lights up, he can actually see everyone. It was one of the rare moments he could see faces. He likes it as much as the offline fan signs. They move through the set, running back and forth across the stage, but his feet keep pulling him toward one side—like an instinct.

Beomgyu likes looking at MOAs. It feels good. Familiar, almost. Sometimes, he even recognizes a face— it was a feeling like a reminder of home, a classmate from school, someone he’d seen before. And then there’s the simple joy of it all. The way someone’s face brightens up because of him. It never gets old. It never stops making him happy, too.

But then, he notices one weird thing.

It’s strange. He’s right here. He could understand if you were looking at another member—fans have their favourites, after all. But you’re not looking at anyone. You're staring at the floor?

You’re not looking at all.

He tilts his head, trying to see better—to get a curious glimpse, and suddenly, his whole world shifts. His heart slams to a stop. It’s so sudden, so overwhelming, he almost stumbles forward, yanking him toward the barricade. "What?"

And then—you move, as if you heard his thoughts.

Just the slightest turn of your head, your face lifting, eyes locking onto his. He stops breathing. His fingers go numb around the mic. Everything slows, softens, blurs at the edges until there’s nothing but this moment. Just the two of you, staring.

The closeness of Beomgyu makes the crowd shift, bodies pressing closer—but you don’t move. You just stand there—still, steady—while the rest of the world shifts around you. Like the last grain of sand in an hourglass, holding on as everything else rushes past.

He swears he would’ve stayed like that forever—frozen, staring, lost—if not for the firm hand on his shoulder. A small tug. He blinks, the spell breaking just enough for reality to slip back in.

"Beomgyu? What's wrong?" Soobin. His leader gives him a look of worry and urgency, and that’s when he hears it, the music. He closes his agape lips, and clears his throat. The song is still playing. Right. He’s supposed to be—

But then his gaze flickers back to you.

It’s nothing, he tells himself. You’re just so so pretty. That’s all. Maybe it was your eyes or your hair or the way you did it. It was just fucking cute. It doesn’t mean anything. And—

His breath falters. He sees it.

He hadn’t noticed before. He had been too busy looking at you. Too caught up in the moment that he missed it entirely. Something all of the members have. Something Beomgyu had waited for his whole life.

The thread.

Thin, and so impossibly red. A string stretched between, glowing faintly under the stage lights. He looks down at his hand—at his ring finger— it's tied there. His eyes trace its path. To you. His chest tightens.

"Before I even saw the string, I knew… it was her."

Soulmate.

You’re his. After everything—after all this time—

He finally found you.

The dressing room is a blur of movement, stylists rushing, last-minute adjustments being made, and voices overlapping but he just sits there. Staring at the floor.

He’s dressed. He’s ready. He should be used to this by now, the pre-show jitters, the nervous energy that always sits in his chest before he steps on stage. But—his soulmate is out there. Somewhere in the crowd. And the thought grips him so tight it almost hurts. What if he never sees you again? What if you’re gone before he can find you?

Your face lingers in his mind, vivid and haunting. The way the lights hit your dress, the way you looked at him—it knocked the breath right out of his lungs. He was completely unprepared for it. You were so beautiful that he almost forgot what he was doing.

He’s never been shaken like that before. Not in his personal life. Not as an idol. Not in school, at the company, on stage, meeting seniors, at award shows—never.

Waiting for the music queue, he finally lifts his head.

Muscle memory takes over. His body knows what to do. He’s trained for this, conditioned for it. Every movement, every note, every expression—it’s muscle memory now. His instincts take over before his thoughts can catch up. This is his life. His career. The one thing he chose, out of everything he could have been. How many people in the world get to do this? To stand under those lights, to hear thousands of voices calling his name, to live a dream most wouldn’t even dare to chase?

Would he trade it all, just to see you again?

His feet move—before he can stop them, despite his thoughts, his heart pulls him stronger toward your section. It's a force beyond his control. When he finally sees you again, it feels like a miracle. You’re still near the barricade, still close enough that he doesn’t have to search.

He keeps up, waves, and makes faces—things for MOAs, things he’s done a thousand times before. But his mind isn’t on them. It’s on you. And you’re just standing there again, frozen in place like you don’t trust yourself to move.

He waves again, but this time, it’s for you. Directly. You tilt your head, hesitant, and then—an unsure wave back. It’s so small, so subtle, but it makes him smile. His grin spreads before he can think twice.

Got you, beautiful.

He pumps his fist in an exaggerated show of triumph, like he just won a game only the two of you are playing. He watches as your eyes go wide, and if the lights weren’t so blinding, he swears he’d see the warmth rising to your cheeks. He fists his hand, trying to hold back from reaching out to you.

He crouches, and the fans around you surge forward, eager to be seen, but you don’t move. And then, he sees it—your eyes kept flickering downward, tracing the thread again and again, like you were making sure.

Yet you see it perfectly too.

You smile—small, hesitant, like you’re not sure this is really happening. Then, as if on impulse, you lift your hand, forming a careful, uncertain hand heart.

He doesn’t even wait a second before returning it.

His eagerness made you laugh. A breathless, disbelieving kind of laugh. He can’t hear it, not over the noise of the crowd, but he sees it in the way your shoulders shake, the way your eyes crease at the corners. His chest aches.

You're even more beautiful when you laugh.

He tosses a few kisses out into the air, but he gives his last kiss, the last one to you. You hesitate for only a second before sending one back. His response is instant—dramatic, ridiculous—clutching his chest like you’ve just shot him straight through the heart. He stumbles back, clutches at his clothes, so completely gone for you.

It’s meant to be a joke, but it isn’t.

Because you do have his heart, don’t you? And the strangest thing is, he doesn’t even know your name. Has never heard your voice. But right now, none of that matters. Maybe he’d stay here forever if he could, but the next song cut through the air, pulling him back to the present. His feet move, leading him away—away from you.

Before he joins the centre, just for a second, he looks back. A second to meet your eyes again, to make sure you're watching him.

And you are.

"Hyung," he breathes out.

Soobin turns, both of them standing still as stylists tug their sweat-drenched shirts off, replacing them with fresh ones.

But Beomgyu isn’t thinking about the show anymore.

He’s looking at Soobin. Waiting. Searching for the right way to ask without anyone else catching on. He doesn’t want them to hear. Doesn’t want them to know.

Not yet.

Soobin frowns slightly. “What? You've been looking distracted since earlier. Are you okay?”

“Your soulmate…” His eyes flicker down. He hesitates, searching for the right words. The right way to say this. "At—Tokyo? How did you…?"

He doesn’t need to finish the thought. How can the older forget the only time he managed to sneak his soulmate backstage? Soobin stares at Beomgyu. The latter's face is practically screaming his questions. How did you do it? How did you get them backstage? How did you make it happen?

Beomgyu has to see you. In front of him. Next to him. Because what if you disappear? What if he lets this slip through his fingers, and suddenly—you’re just gone? And what if this is his only chance?

The room moves around him—zippers, voices, fabric rustling—but all he can hear is his own ragged breathing. He moves his eyes. And there, watching him is their leader who knows him better than anyone—with that equally knowing look on his face.

"Let's talk. Just the two of us."

Beomgyu is your soulmate.

The boys just disappeared backstage, their song still ringing in your ears, but your hands won’t stop shaking. Your chest is tight, your throat burns, and there’s a sting at the corners of your eyes.

You're not a mistake. He’s here. He saw you.

His eyes, his smile. The way he moves, the faint dimple that appears when he does. The thought is too much—it makes your knees weak, and forces you to grip the barricade to keep yourself upright.

"Girl, I swear Beomgyu kept looking over here," Da-hee says, nudging you, completely oblivious to the storm unraveling in your chest. Then she catches sight of your face—at your trembling fingers, at the way you can’t seem to catch your breath.

“Y/N?” Her voice softens. “What’s wrong?”

The words leave your lips before you can even think. "I saw my soulmate."

Your voice shakes, barely above a whisper, but Da-hee hears it. Her eyes go wide. "Wait, what? Oh my god—where is he? Is he a MOA? Is he—”

She doesn’t even get to finish the thought before she freezes.

It clicks.

Then, slowly, her face shifts—from confusion to shock to absolute disbelief. The finding out, then the realising. She stares at you, her mouth slightly open, her hands hovering in the air like she doesn’t know what to do with them.

“Oh my fucking god.” Her hands fly to her mouth, like she needs to physically stop herself from screaming. Then she grabs her hair, like that’s going to help her process this.

“Is he—is Beomgyu—” She cuts herself off, whisper-shouting now, eyes darting toward the stage, toward the place where he just was. “Is that why he kept coming back over here?”

Her grip tightens on your arm, searching your face, waiting for you to confirm what she already knows. But you can’t say anything. All you can give is a small nod.

Minutes pass. The music swells and fades, song after song drifting through the speakers.

Da-hee stays by your side, rubbing soothing circles on your back, whispering reassurances you can’t fully process. At some point, you catch her sniffling into her hands, wiping away her own tears.

Sixteen years.

Sixteen years of friendship, of growing up together, of knowing each other better than anyone else ever could. She’s seen every version of you—the messy, the broken, the parts of you even you struggled to accept. She’s cried with you, cried for you, carried your grief like it was her own. Even after finding her own soulmate, she never left you behind. Never made you feel like you were missing something, like you were less.

And now—now she’s the reason you’re here.

She’s the reason you met him.

You think of every birthday candle she ever closed her eyes for, every whispered wish she made on your behalf—because she believed that if two people wished for the same thing, the universe had to listen.

And maybe she was right.

It doesn’t matter if he never speaks to you. If the lights were too bright, if the crowd was too big, if he never even saw the thread at all.

It doesn’t matter. Because you saw it.

And that means you were never a mistake. Never some error in the grand design.

He exists.

Da-hee squeezes your hands, grounding you as a woman in staff uniform approaches. Her eyes lock onto yours, scanning your face, your outfit—like she’s confirming, making sure. Then, she stops directly in front of you. “We need to check some information on your tickets.”

Your heart slams against your ribs. You’re not stupid. You know what this is. You know they wouldn’t say it outright, not here, not in front of all these people.

“I—I have a friend with me,”

The staff member hesitates, studying you for a beat too long. Then she nods. “She can come with you, but she’ll have to wait in the holding room.”

You turn to Da-hee, and she’s already looking at you, her eyes wide and glassy. For a moment, neither of you speaks. Then she forces a wobbly smile.

Let's go.

You’re going to meet Beomgyu.

The walk was terrifying. Your hands clench tighter with every step, nails digging into your palms, but it does nothing to steady you. Every passing glance burns into your skin—people sneaking curious glances—staff members, crew, people who know exactly why you’re here.

Da-hee had to stay behind in the outer lounge. Now, it’s just you and the staff member leading you deeper into the backstage hallways. The air is thick, suffocating, and you force yourself to breathe through it.

Then she stops. A white door stands in front of you. Dressing Room is printed neatly on a sign, but the words blur as your mind spins.

She knocks. Opens it.

Panic rushes in. What if he doesn’t want this? What if he only let you come here to reject you—to tell you, to your face, that even if the universe says you’re meant to be, he doesn’t want you? What if—

The thought vanishes the second you see him.

Beomgyu.

He’s mid-step, like he’s been pacing. He removes his hands from his face, his eyes widening just slightly before he clears his throat. “Come in,” he says, voice softer than you expected. It’s meant for the staff member, but his gaze never left yours.

The staff steps aside, gesturing for you to enter. Heat crawls up your neck as you force yourself to move, hyper-aware of the way he’s watching every step.

“You have 60 minutes, Beomgyu,” she says before closing the door behind you.

Beomgyu stares at you, and you stare back.

For a moment, neither of you move. Just standing there, eyes locked, as if the world has paused just for this. To anyone else, it might look awkward—but you can't look away as he does.

Your eyes traces over his face, bare and fresh like he just washed up. The soft curve of his cheekbones, the freckles and moles scattered like constellations—proof that the universe took its time with him. Perfect in a way that makes your chest ache.

He blinks, and your eyes catch on his lashes—delicate, dark, fluttering against his skin like something out of a dream.

How can someone be made this perfect?

The question lodges itself in your throat, and before you can stop it, your vision blurs. Tears threaten to spill, but you blink them away. You don’t even know if he wants this yet—

"What’s your name?" Beomgyu asks, his voice quieter than he expected. He watches the way you blink, the slight parting of your lips like you hadn’t expected him to speak first.

His hands curl into fists at his sides. The urge to reach out—to cup your face, to feel your skin—is overwhelming. But he holds himself back.

Beomgyu has never considered himself the kind of person to take the first step. But not this. Not with you. He wants to start a conversation, anything—to get you talking, to hear your voice, to know you.

"Y/N." The sound of your voice stills him. It settles in his chest, not as something new, but as something he swears he’s always known—like a song he’s heard in a dream, waiting to be remembered. His lips twitch into a small, almost dazed smile.

Your voice is so pretty, he thinks. So pretty that it hurts.

He repeats your name, slower this time, rolling it over his tongue like he’s memorizing the way it feels to say it. And when you smile—just the faintest curve of your lips—his own smile widens into a grin.

"So, uh, hi?" Beomgyu says, and it pulls a laugh from you. His heart stumbles over itself at the sound, warmth blooming in his chest. It’s ridiculous, really, how easily you affect him.

"Did you come here alone?" he asks, trying to steady himself.

"I was with a friend," you say, and his eyes flicker—just for a second—to your lips before settling back on yours. "She’s outside."

"Hm." Beomgyu nods slowly, as if letting the thought settle. Then, slowly, he reaches out—his palm open, facing up, an unspoken invitation for you to give your hand out.

Your breath catches. Hesitation flickers for just a moment before you place your hand in his. Beomgyu feels warmth creep up his neck the second your skin meets, a flush he hopes you don’t notice. His fingers curl gently around yours, testing the weight of your hand in his own.

"Come on," he says, his voice softer now. He tugs you forward—careful, gentle, afraid he's hurt you in any way if he pulls too hard. "You should sit. You must be tired from standing out there."

"I could say the same," you murmur as you both sink into the couch. Beomgyu turns slightly toward you, his knee brushing yours, but he doesn’t let go of your hand. His thumb traces absentminded circles against your skin. "You danced and ran around the stage all night," you add, tilting your head at him.

He chuckles, the sound low and a little breathless. Your eyes drift around the room—clothing racks, scattered bags, the quiet remnants of a space that had been buzzing with energy just minutes ago.

"Yeah, I was pretty tired," he admits. Then, after a pause, softer this time, when you look at him again, he’s already staring. "But not anymore."

Beomgyu takes in everything—your lips, the way the light catches in your eyes, the soft of your hand in his. He doesn’t even think before he speaks, before the thought that’s been looping in his head since he first saw you finally slips past his lips.

"God, you're so beautiful."

Beomgyu watches as your cheeks flush, the warmth creeping up your skin like the slow bloom of dawn. He knew—you were his soulmate. Fates stitched together long before this moment, yet nothing could have prepared him for the way you looked right now. He never imagined that watching you blush under his words would feel this intoxicating.

"You’re the one who’s beautiful," you murmur, barely above a whisper. The words feel foreign on your tongue, yet true in a way that unsettles you. You clear your throat, trying to mask the way your heart stumbles over itself, but Beomgyu only tightens his grip on your hand.

You wonder how you even got here. This morning, you woke up with no idea that by evening, you'd be sitting across from your soulmate, flirting like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He chuckles—Beomgyu has heard the word beautiful more times than he can count. It’s been thrown at him in passing, whispered through screams from fans, printed in glossy magazines. But somehow, from your lips, it sounds different.

The next few minutes passed in easy conversation. Beomgyu had already pieced together bits of your life—you were only here because Da-hee dragged you along—he’d been hoping to meet her too, if only to thank her.

He knew you worked a corporate job, that photography was your escape. That you were two years older than him, a fact that he immediately latched onto, whispering noona in a teasing lilt just to see the way you’d roll your eyes laugh and swat his arm. But the truth was, he didn’t want to call you that. It was your name he wanted to say. He felt like he’d already spent a lifetime missing it, and now that he knew it, he never wanted to stop saying it.

You had learned things about him, too. That he’d loved music since he was a kid, that he picked up a guitar before he fully understood its chords. That he was cast as a trainee before he even hit the climax of his teenage years, and that six years had passed since he debuted. Things you could have easily searched online, or you could have read every article, and watched every interview, but nothing made your heart flutter quite like the way he told his own story.

The contrast between your lives was undeniable. Maybe that’s why it took so long for fate to push you toward each other.

While you were drowning in homework, he was in a practice room, chasing a dream. While you sat through lectures and worried about exams, he was in a studio, recording songs that would echo through stadiums. While you cried over a failed job interview, he stayed up until dawn, running through choreography again and again until his legs gave out. Your society—were parallel lines moving in different directions.

But sitting here, watching him scrunch his nose in laughter, none of that seemed to matter. Two people from different worlds, felt like it had faded into one—just by being next to each other.

He hadn’t once let go of your hand for the past hour.

"No, I just—I didn’t know where else to put it, so I stuck it there." You fumble for an excuse, cheeks burning as Beomgyu grins at you. He had spotted the photocard of him tucked into the back of your phone case, and he hadn’t let it go since.

“And it was random,” you add quickly, feeling your face heat up. “You have to randomly pick it.”

The truth is, Beomgyu knows. He knows it was a random selection. He knows you’re flustered. And he loves it. Loves the way you try to explain yourself, loves hearing you ramble, loves the way your face heats up under his stare. And to be honest, if it had been another member’s face staring back at him, no matter how petty it sounded, he also knows he wouldn’t have been too thrilled about it.

He’s in deep.

"Beomgyu, it's time to go." The same staff member says, pulling you both back to reality. You didn't even hear the doors opening. Her eyes flicker to your joined hands for a second, but she doesn’t say anything—just turns and steps outside.

You glance at Beomgyu, and he’s pouting. "We’re flying to Japan tomorrow morning, Y/N."

"Oh." The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind. You just met your soulmate, and by morning, he’d be gone. "Okay."

You stand up, expecting him to do the same, but he doesn’t move. Your hands dangle between you because he still hasn’t let go. "Beomgyu?"

"I’ll see you as soon as I get back, okay?" His voice is softer now, like he’s trying to find the right words. His gaze lingers on you, unreadable for a moment, before he finally stands. He squeezes your hands gently. "It won’t be too long."

"Alright… we have each other's numbers, so… text me."

"Just know your phone might be buzzing non-stop,"

"Got it." You roll your eyes, smiling. "I’ll survive."

"And wear warm clothes—it’s winter."

"You too."

"Eat on time."

"You’re the one doing concerts. I should be the one saying that."

He ignores your deflection, pressing on. "Sleep well. Lock your doors properly. You live alone, so it’s dangerous. Don’t go out too late. And if you do, call me, okay? Actually, I’d prefer if you didn’t go out too late at all. Please—make sure you don’t—"

He doesn’t get to finish. Before he can say another word, you reach up, sliding your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him into a hug. His words cut off instantly, replaced by a soft inhale—like he hadn’t breathed since he started speaking. Your heart squuezes over itself at his endless concern, spreading through your chest. Blinking rapidly, trying to push away the tears threatening to spill.

For the first time tonight, Beomgyu lets go of your hand—only to wrap both arms around you, one firm around your waist, the other reaching up to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading gently through your hair.

"I’ll see you soon, Beomgyu," you murmur.

You feel him tilt his head slightly before pressing a fleeting, warm kiss to your temple. "I’ll see you soon."

Elevators terrify you. It scares you because it feels like everything could come crashing down at any second. Why would you trust something that rises so quickly—too fast?

It can't last, doesn't it?

You feel him snuggle to you more, and you chuckle, pressed against him, his scent, his arms around you, holding you safely—his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek, as if whispering that the fall you fear will never come.

Elevators terrified you.

You wish you could have captured Da-hee’s face when she saw you walking over with Beomgyu beside you, his hand resting firmly on your back. Her eyes widened, mouth slightly agape, before she shot you a knowing look.

Beomgyu offered her a quick thanks, the paper bag with your heels swinging from your hands, and you stood there in the fresh pair of sneakers he’d somehow found in your size—because he wanted to. His eyes met yours for just a second longer before he turned to leave.

The second you stepped into the parking lot, Da-hee lost it. She let out a squeal so loud you had to clamp a hand over her mouth, laughing as she practically vibrated with excitement. "What just happened?!" she whispered against your palm, her eyes sparkling.

That night, as soon as you got home, your phone rang. His name lit up the screen.

It took only a second before answering.

It was awkward at first—neither of you really knowing what to say—but before you knew it, you were talking about everything and nothing, voices laced with exhaustion but neither willing to hang up first. He was leaving in a few hours, and you had to be the one to convince him to sleep, reminding him—more than once—that he had a flight to catch.

You had just curled up in your blankets when your phone buzzed again. Dozy, you reached for it, thumb swiping across the screen.

Choi Beomgyu I’m sorry for making you wait. I promise we’ll make up for all the time we lost. Sleep well, beautiful.

Even as sleep pulled you under, the smile on your lips never faded.

You wake up to the relentless ringing of your doorbell. A groan slips past your lips as you burrow deeper into your blankets. It’s Sunday. No work. No alarms. Just sleep—at least, that was the plan.

The doorbell rings again.

With an exaggerated sigh, you drag yourself out of bed, doing the bare minimum to look somewhat presentable. Your hair is probably a mess, your face still puffy from sleep, but you don’t care. Whoever decided to disturb your well-earned rest better have a damn good reason.

You glance at the clock on your way out. Oh. It’s not even early—it’s almost 1 PM.

Squinting against the bright light as you crack the door open, you’re met with a sight that instantly wakes you up. A delivery man stands there, arms full, holding the biggest bouquet of red roses you’ve ever seen. The sheer number of petals is overwhelming, a deep sea of crimson spilling over the edges of his grasp.

"What—" Your brain struggles to catch up, and then it clicks. Beomgyu. He asked for your address yesterday.

"Y/N?" The man confirms, struggling under the bouquet.

Your eyes widen. "Damn, just how many are in there?"

"Three hundred and fifteen roses," he says, barely holding onto the mass of flowers. "Please sign here."

Three hundred and fifteen. You’re smiling as you take the pen from him.

You stumble slightly, still half-dazed as you carefully set the massive bouquet down, trying not to crush a single petal. Your fingers tremble as you reach for the small card nestled between the roses, your heart already beating a little too fast.

315 months of not being with you. This won’t make up for it, but I hope it makes you happy.

You inhale sharply. Your chest tightens. 315 months. He counted. Beomgyu counted the exact number of months you’ve been alive—how does he even think like this? Tears prick at your eyes before you can stop them. He’s ridiculous. He’s thoughtful in a way that completely undoes you.

Before you even realise what you’re doing, you’re running. Not walking—running. Because suddenly, every second without hearing his voice feels like a second wasted.

Your fingers fumble as you dial his number, pressing the phone to your ear. It barely rings once before the line clicks open—like he had been waiting for this call all along. “Beomgyu—” your voice comes out uneven, breathless.

He chuckles softly, “So… I take it you liked it?”

It’s already 3 PM.

Somehow, you lost track of time, carefully splitting the bundle into smaller arrangements, placing them in vases around your apartment. Now, your living room and kitchen are drenched in the scent of roses—not that you’re complaining.

Beomgyu had stayed on the phone with you the entire time, talking about his morning, his voice in the background as you worked. That is, until someone called for him on the other end, reminding him he had things to do.

You sighed when the call ended. It's sunday, and his sunday is like the worst day of your week. And you're here, resting.

Now, fresh out of the shower, droplets of water still clung to your skin as you stepped onto the cool tile. A shiver ran down your spine as you grabbed a towel, pressing it to your face, inhaling the soft, familiar scent of fabric softener.

Dressed in cozy clothes, you curled up on the couch, remote in one hand, a bowl of yogurt and berries resting on your lap. Television played softly as you mindlessly scrolled through channels, enjoying the quiet.

Until your phone buzzed. You unlocked it, eyes immediately landing on the message.

Nut-job Da-hee. Girl! He's extra glowy today!! OMG <link>

You tapped the link, expecting a video to pop up, but instead, it directed you to download an app. You went along with it, quickly signing in and typing out a cheeky username.

The video loaded—Soobin and Beomgyu, in a hotel room. A small table sat near the camera, cluttered with food containers and drinks. Beomgyu was on the bed, lounging comfortably but still close enough to be part of the frame.

And Da-hee wasn’t exaggerating—he looked good. The black shirt fit him just right, his dark hair falling effortlessly, lips tinted a soft pink. A phone in hand, completely unaware of just how stunning he looked.

An idea sparked in your mind.

"It's not barley tea, MOA," Beomgyu laughs, shaking his head as Soobin insists otherwise. No matter how many times their leader repeats himself, the comments keep flooding in, doubting him.

"Choi Beomgyu really traumatized you, huh?" he teases, eyes crinkling with amusement.

"What do you mean?" Beomgyu argues, but Soobin is already moving on, reading a new comment aloud. "Barley tea is healthy,"

Just then, Beomgyu’s phone buzzes. He glances down at the screen.

My Y/N Live?

His back immediately straightens. Shit. You’re watching? He’s about to type out a response when another message pops up.

You look handsome.

Beomgyu presses a hand over his mouth, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. He wants to—

"Beomgyu, MOAs are asking what you're doing," Soobin interrupts, his eyes full of silent curiosity.

"Nothing," Beomgyu says too quickly. "Kai sent a meme." He shifts closer to the camera, Soobin right beside him. With his phone in his hands, he types a message, fully aware that Soobin is peeking at his screen. They probably look ridiculous—both of them staring down at their phones while thousands of people watch.

You're watching?

A few seconds pass before your reply pops up.

Yes.

Beomgyu inhales, trying to focus as Soobin keeps talking. His fingers move instinctively.

I'm shy.

Why? You look good.

A pause. Then another message.

Wait, stop looking at your phone. Let MOA see you? Username: 315flowersmyass.

Beomgyu chokes on a laugh. His lips curl up as he locks his phone and holds it up to the camera, as if to prove he’s done. As if to prove that he followed your words.

"So cute," he sings, the words slipping out without thought. The chat erupts, MOAs spamming hearts and messages.

Then he catches it.

315flowersmyass kekekeke -

His grin stretches wider. He closes his face on the screen. "Hi, MOA." He giggles.

This—this is cute. He’s always enjoyed going live, but now he knows you’re watching, he discovers a love for it he never even knew was possible.

The live eventually comes to an end. As soon as it does, Soobin turns to Beomgyu with a knowing smile. "I'm happy you finally found her," he says simply. Beomgyu doesn’t respond right away—just smiles, warmth spreading through his chest. Then his phone buzzes.

He checks it, and the moment he does, a gasp slips past his lips.

It’s a picture. You.

A snack is held near your face, your expression relaxed. You’re in cozy clothes, looking effortlessly beautiful, breathtaking. The picture made Beomgyu wish he could fly back to you right there and then. Over his shoulder, Soobin leans in. "Is that her?" he asks, then grins. "She's pretty."

Beomgyu doesn’t look away from his phone as his lips curl into a smile.

"She is," he murmurs, almost to himself.

"She’s here."

Ji-an’s voice pulls you from your focus. She’s standing beside your desk, phone pressed to her ear, while you scan last week’s finance report. Your eyes flick over the spreadsheet, catching an error in a formula, but before you can fix it, Ji-an calls your name. "Y/N, there’s a delivery for you. They’re at the door."

"Oh," you murmur, pushing your reading glasses up the bridge of your nose. Contacts felt like too much trouble today. "Thanks."

As you stand, a familiar warmth spreads through your chest. Outside, the delivery man hands you a bouquet—this time, white roses.

You peek at the note while walking back, the click of your heels filling the space. Your way back to your desk by the window. The skyline stretches endlessly beyond the glass, a vast expanse of city lights and open sky.

Ow! I fell! Fell for you~ —bg <3

A laugh escapes before you can stop it—he's so silly. One of the things you realised recently.

"That's the fourth bouquet this month, Y/N," Ji-an muses, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "I know you just met your soulmate, but flowers every week? That’s next-level sweet. I’m jealous—mine isn't really a flowers kind of person."

You return her smile, "Yeah, he's the sweetest."

It’s been a month since you met Beomgyu. A single day—that’s all you had together. And yet, in the weeks that followed, he never let distance become an excuse. Even with his tour in full swing, miles stretching endlessly between you, he still found ways to reach you. A call in the middle of the night. A voice note filled with sleepy laughter. And these flowers—his way of saying, I'm here. I'm coming back to you soon.

Ji-an leans against your desk, eyes glinting with curiosity. "So… when do we get to meet him?" she asks, wiggling her brows. "You know the drill—everyone meets everyone’s soulmate. It’s basically tradition. At least one or two quick bond drinks a year, right?"

The playful edge in her voice makes your stomach twist. Because as much as you want to laugh along, to pretend that everything is as simple as it should be… you know the truth.

They can’t meet him. Your friends, your family—none of them can. Maybe not now. Maybe not ever. You don’t even know when you will see him again.

You swallow, forcing down the sudden tightness in your throat. The warmth you felt just moments ago, thinking about him, is now laced with something heavier.

"He's—he's busy," you say, hoping your voice doesn’t betray you. You glance at the bouquet on your desk, fingers tracing the petals as if they hold an answer you don’t have. "Maybe next time."

The day finally ends, and you’re grateful Ji-an didn’t push for more.

You clutch the bouquet a little tighter as you step into the elevator, the faint scent of roses lingering in the air. By the time you make it to the parking lot, exhaustion weighs on you—but then you remember.

You forgot to send a text. Pulling out your phone, you type: I’m heading home now.

The message sends, and a small smile tugs at your lips. Beomgyu is probably fast asleep by now, lost in a time zone opposite yours. He won’t see it for hours, but you text him anyway—because you can already hear his voice in your head, playful and pouty. You forgot to tell me again, he’d whine. Can you please let me know?

You’ve learned a lot from him in such a short time. How simple it is to make someone feel remembered. How easy it is to reach out. How even in the busiest moments, there’s always a second to say, I haven’t forgotten you.

Because that’s what he’s been doing for you all along.

You slip your phone back into your pocket, ready to head to your car when someone stops you. Your steps slow, brows knitting together as your scan lands on a girl—sitting right on the hood of your car.

Your car. She’s perched there like she belongs, fingers idly tracing patterns against the metal.

"Hey," you call out, keeping your voice even. "It’s not really polite to sit on someone else’s car, sweetheart."

Her head lifts, eyes locking onto yours with disdain, "Don't sweetheart me, you slut."

The venom in her words knocks the air from your lungs. Your breath catches, shock flashing through you as she stands. She’s young. Much younger than you.

"Excuse me?"

"Are you fucking deaf?" she snaps.

Your instincts flare—this isn’t normal. You take a step back, "Leave. Now. Before I call the police."

But she doesn’t move. Instead, she tilts her head, and smirked. "You’re Beomgyu’s soulmate, aren’t you?"

Your body locks up. How does she know? Your fingers tighten around the stems of the flowers, the thorns pressing into your palm. You want to speak, to deny, to do something, but the words won’t come.

Because you know—whatever you say next could make this worse.

She clicks her tongue, taking a slow step toward you. "Do this while I’m still being nice," she says, voice eerily light. "Stay away from him. Or I’ll destroy everything." She tilts her head again, a slow blink. "I’d rather see him ruined than with you, unnie."

She steps past you then, her shoulder knocking into yours just hard enough to make you stumble back. Your hands cold, heart hammering against your ribs. She doesn’t look back. Not until she’s a few feet away.

"Don’t think I won’t do it," she murmurs. "Just think about how I knew. Your name. Your workplace. Your parking spot."

She smiles, "Don’t test me."

I’m heading home now.

Beomgyu rubs the sleep from his eyes, his fingers fumbling for his phone the moment he wakes up. Checking for your messages has become second nature—his first instinct, before he even fully shakes off sleep.

The corners of his lips curl into a soft smile as he reads your text. You remembered.

God, he misses you.

When he gets back, he’s not letting you out of his sight. He’ll beg his company if he has to—anything to steal just a little more time with you. He wants to spoil you, to show up with flowers every single day just to see that shy smile of yours. He’d buy you things you didn’t even know you needed, take pictures of you at every chance, make playlists for you, drag you into late-night game sessions just to hear you laugh and call him ridiculous. Love is effort. That’s what his parents always told him. He’d give it—all of it.

Maybe one day, he’d convince you to visit Daegu with him. Introduce you to his family, let his mom fuss over you, watch his brother tease him relentlessly. And Toto… Would you like Toto?

The thought makes him chuckle as he taps your contact and presses call. It rings. Once. Twice. Three times. His smile falters.

Then, voicemail.

His brows knit together. He tries again. Straight to voicemail. The phone feels heavier in his hand now.

It’s the first time you haven’t picked up.

He’s in the van now. It’s been hours.

Beomgyu grips his phone, scrolling through his notifications, eyes darting to every new alert. His heart lifts for a second—only to sink just as fast when he realizes it’s not you. The screen dims in his hands, but he doesn’t put it down. He can’t.

"You still haven’t heard from her?" Soobin asked. He’s the only one still awake, eyes heavy but observant. Beomgyu hadn’t meant to make it obvious, but he’s never been good at hiding things—not to his members.

"No," Beomgyu mutters, shaking his head. His throat feels tight. "We always talk before she falls asleep."

Soobin exhales, tilting his head back against the seat. "She probably crashed as soon as she got home. Long day, maybe?" He keeps his tone easy, reassuring. "Just focus on later's concert. She’ll probably be awake by then."

Beomgyu nods, forcing a small smile. "Yeah. You’re right. Thanks, hyung."

Soobin claps a hand on his back. "Don't think about it too much."

Beomgyu did his best to push thoughts of you aside during the concert. He smiled, he sang, he danced—gave everything to the stage like he always did. But the second he was backstage, drenched in sweat and breathless from the high of performing, his hands were already reaching for his phone.

Still nothing.

Back at the hotel, Soobin and Yeonjun made sure he ate. He forced down a few bites, just enough to keep them from worrying. Now, fresh from a shower, exhaustion settles deep in his bones. His muscles ache, the weight of the night pressing down on him, but sleep won’t come.

His phone sits beside him on the bed. You’re probably asleep. He tells himself that. He should leave it alone.

But knowing doesn’t stop him from pressing call. It rings.

Once. Twice.

He’s about to give up when the line clicks.

“H-Hello?” Beomgyu stutters, his voice unsteady. No response. His heart pounds as he pulls the phone away, checking the screen just to be sure. The call is still connected. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Beomgyu.” The way you say his name makes his breath catch.

“Are you okay? I’ve been—”

“Beomgyu.” You cut him off again, your voice softer this time. “Yeah, I’m… okay.” He hears you take a shaky breath. “I’ve just been thinking for the past couple of hours, and…” His grip on the phone tightens.

"What is it?"

“Maybe we should lie low for a bit? You’re busy, and you’re at the peak of your career.” A pause. “It’s not that I’m going away,” you add quickly, “I’m your soulmate, after all.” The last part is barely a whisper.

Beomgyu shoots up from where he’s sitting, running a hand through his hair, fingers pulling at the strands. He feels cold all over. His pulse pounds in his ears.

“Where is this coming from?” His voice is raw, edged dangerously close to panic. “What happened, Y/N?”

“Nothing, really,” you say too quickly. “It just… crossed my mind.” There’s a pause. A beat of silence that feels like a lifetime. “It’s late there. It’s 2 AM. Please sleep.”

His chest tightens. “Are you breaking up with me?” The words feel foreign in his mouth. His voice drops to a whisper. “Do you not want me? Do you not want this?”

“Beomgyu, please.” You voice wavers. “Our fate is certain. But right now… I just feel like it’s not working.” You exhale slowly. “You should sleep, okay? Let’s talk again… soon.”

And then the line goes dead.

Beomgyu stares at his screen, his fingers frozen, his mind racing to process what just happened. His chest caves in, breath shaky as he stumbles back onto the bed. And then—he breaks.

His hands cover his face, shoulders trembling as it all crashes down on him. He had a feeling when you didn't answer his call. A whisper of doubt, an inkling of fear.

And now, it’s real.

4 AM, and Beomgyu still hasn’t slept. His eyes burn from exhaustion, but his mind won’t shut off. He’s been texting you, calling you—over and over—but every attempt goes straight to voicemail. At some point, your phone must have died, or worse, you turned it off.

He lies on the stiff hotel bed, staring at the ceiling. It’s unfamiliar. Cold. But then again, when was the last time anything in his life felt familiar? Felt like home?

His phone dings.

He scrambles for it, heartbeat hammering, but before he can check the notification, an unknown number flashes across the screen. It’s stupid to answer an unknown call at this hour. Their managers had given them talks about it. But something—something in his gut—tells him to pick up.

“Hello?” His voice is hoarse.

“Beomgyu.” A pause. Then— “It’s Da-hee,”

His breath catches.

“She’s going to be angry if she finds out I called you,” Da-hee says, voice hushed, urgent. “But I can’t just sit back and watch this happen. Just listen to me. I’m going to tell you everything—from the start.”

"Please."

"Don’t think I won’t do it," she murmurs. "Just think about how I knew. Your name. Your workplace. Your parking spot."

She smiles, "Don’t test me."

You take another sip of whiskey, curled up on the couch, knees drawn to your chest. The tears won’t stop. No matter how many times you wipe them away, they keep coming, slipping down your cheeks, burning just as much as the liquor sliding down your throat.

Your thoughts won’t stop either.

Beomgyu.

He has everything—his dream, his career, a future so bright it could swallow you whole. He has the world at his feet. And you? You’re just… you. Not worth the risk. Not worth the detour. Maybe this was always how it was supposed to be. Maybe that’s why your paths were never meant to cross in the first place. You saw the consequence, felt it when you passed the Hybe building, that heavy reminder of the impossible divide between your worlds.

It should be enough. Enough that you got to know him, enough that he even knows your name. Enough that you get to see him on a screen. It should be enough.

But is it?

“Fuck,” you choke out, voice breaking. You press the heel of your palm against your eyes, as if that could stop the ache. “Just when I finally saw you… What a joke.” You shake your head, wiping your face with the sleeve of your sweater. “The universe is a fucking idiot for ever thinking we were meant to be.”

You take another drink, and it burns.

“Y/N.”

You blink up, vision swimming, to see Da-hee standing in the doorway, concern etched across her face.

“I’ve been ringing your doorbell,” she says, stepping closer. “I used the spare key—why are you crying?”

You don’t respond. You just stare at her, eyes glassy, cheeks wet. She moves toward you, eyes flickering to the near-empty glass in your hand. You’ve been drinking for hours. You already called in sick to work—there’s no way you could function like this.

"Oh, honey," She sighs, reaches for the glass, and you don’t fight it. You let it go. "What happened?"

“Fate is already taking back what it let me borrow.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, but Da-hee hears it. She your holds your hand.

“What are you talking about?” she asks. “Explain.”

You swallow hard. Your throat feels tight, like every word is fighting to stay buried. But you force them out.

“A sasaeng,” you murmur, watching as Da-hee’s eyes widen in alarm. “She found out about me. She knows everything, Da-hee. Where I live, where I work, my family—everything.” You suck in a shaky breath, blinking back fresh tears. “And the worst of it, she fucking said she’s going to ruin Beomgyu.”

The moment the words leave your lips, your resolve shatters. You cry—like a child finally breaking after being scolded in front of everyone, holding it all in until no one’s around to see. Da-hee pulled you into her arms as you sobbed. You cling to her, hands fisting her sweater. “I have to let him go,” you choke out. “I can’t do this to him. To them. They don’t deserve this.”

Da-hee pulls back, her hands firm on your shoulders. “No,” she says, shaking her head. “You don’t have to do this alone. We can go to the police. We can tell Beomgyu—”

“And then what?” you cut in, voice hollow. “What can they really do? Stop her from telling the world? Keep every single person quiet? Even if she gets caught, the damage will already be done.”

Da-hee doesn’t answer. She just sinks onto the couch beside you, eyes shining with unshed tears, because she knows you well. She knows you too well—knows that the emotional version of you wouldn’t be able to hear her, not right now. Not until the sobs quiet down and the pain in your chest eases just a little. So, she just holds you.

Your phone screen lights up between you. Another call.

Beomgyu. He’s still calling. Still trying.

"I don’t think it’s best to answer it right now—"

But you don’t listen to Da-hee’s warning. Your fingers tremble as they hover over the screen. You have to end this. Now. While you still have the strength. Because deep down, you know—

If you wake up tomorrow, you might not be able to let him go.

“H-Hello?” He stutters on the other line, his voice unsteady. Your breath catches in your throat. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

Everything. Everything is wrong.

“Beomgyu.”

I miss you. How can I go on without you?

“Are you okay? I’ve been—”

“Beomgyu.” You cut him off again, your voice softer this time. “Yeah, I’m… okay.” You take a shaky breath. “I’ve just been thinking for the past couple of hours, and…” You hesitate.

I’m not okay. I’ve been thinking about you, only you, and how my existence could ruin everything you’ve worked for.

"What?" His inhale is sharp, laced with the beginnings of panic.

“Maybe we should lie low for a bit? You’re busy, and you’re at the peak of your career.” You pause, fingers trembling. “It’s not that I’m going away,” you add quickly, desperate to believe your own words. “I’m your soulmate, after all.” The last part is barely a whisper.

I should be replaceable. And I shouldn’t be your priority. You press a hand to your mouth, as if you can keep the words from spilling out—keep the truth from bleeding through.

“Where is this coming from? What happened, Y/N?”

My heart is breaking. And you’re too far away to hold it together.

“Nothing, really,” you say too quickly. “It just… crossed my mind.” You pause, swallowing. “It’s late there. It’s 2 AM. Please sleep.”

Please sleep. And forget about me.

“Are you breaking up with me? Do you not want me? Do you not want this?”

I want you more than anything. That’s why I have to do this. If I can save you from losing everything, I’ll do it. Even if it means losing you.

“Beomgyu, please.” You voice wavers. “Our fate is certain. But right now… I just feel like it’s not working.” You exhale slowly. “You should sleep, okay? Let’s talk again… soon.”

You press the end button.

The sobs rip through you, shaking your whole body and stealing the air from your lungs. You curl in on yourself, pressing your fist to your mouth, as if that could stop the sound, as if that could stop the pain. How can love be this cruel? How can the same thing that made you feel so alive now leave you feeling so hollow?

But this is for him. You tell yourself that over and over, like a mantra, like a prayer, like a desperate attempt to make it hurt less.

You’ll do this for him. Even if it destroys you.

Da-hee wipes at her eyes, sniffling as she looks at you—curled up in the fetal position, your body tense like you’re bracing for impact even in sleep. She managed to get you into bed, but it doesn’t feel like enough.

She’d do anything for you.

Carefully, she tiptoes to the bedside table and picks up your phone. Her heart pounds. If anyone’s watching me, I’ll beg for forgiveness later. But right now, she comes first.

She types in your usual password. 8888. Incorrect. She frowns, thinking. You changed it? Then, almost without realizing it, her fingers move on their own. 0313. The screen unlocks.

Beomgyu’s birthday.

Da-hee lets out a small, disbelieving laugh. “You idiot,” she whispers, shaking her head. “You love him so much, and yet you’re willing to walk away. How can you be this selfless?”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she scrolls through your contacts, searching for his name. Her thumb hovers over it for only a second before she types his number on her own phone.

You’ll be furious. You might never forgive her. But if there’s even the slightest chance this stops you from making the biggest mistake of your life—she’ll take that risk.

Someone has to tell him the things that you can’t.

The line connects, and Da-hee inhales. “She’s going to be angry if she finds out I called you, but I can’t just sit back and watch this happen. Just listen to me. I’m going to tell you everything—from the start.”

She’ll prepare her apology later—more than that, she hopes Beomgyu will fight for you.

"I want to go home." Beomgyu’s voice is firm, but his hands are clenched into fists at his sides. His manager looks up from his laptop, brows furrowing.

The door bursts open. Soobin stumbles in, slightly out of breath—he must’ve run after him. Beomgyu doesn’t care.

Beomgyu already knows everything—Da-hee told him. Every sickening detail. And now, standing here, he has no idea how to fix this. No idol has ever come out of this unscathed. But none of that matters right now. His only priority is getting to you.

His manager sighs, already exasperated. “You’re flying back home in a few days, Beomgyu.”

“No,” he says, jaw tightening. “I mean now. I need a few days. To rest. To handle something personal.”

“You know your schedule is packed—”

“Then move everything,” Beomgyu interrupts sharply. He feels Soobin’s hand on his shoulder, hears his name spoken softly, but he shrugs it off. No one is stopping him from getting to you.

His manager sighs again, firmer this time. “We can’t do that.”

“You won’t even try?” His voice wavers between frustration and desperation. “You won’t even let the management know?”

“We can’t make last-minute changes like this.”

Beomgyu lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Right. Of course.” He clenches his fists. All his life, he’s done everything they asked. Pushed through exhaustion, smiled through sickness, showed up even when his body begged him to stop. “I won’t follow you on this,” he says, voice steady. “I can’t do this. Not this time. If you won’t let me go, I’ll still leave.”

“Beomgyu, let’s talk about this when you’re calm,” Soobin says gently, patting Beomgyu’s back. “Please.”

Beomgyu turns to him, his eyes dark with frustration. “I love MOAs, hyung. I love all of you. They gave me everything.” His voice wavers, but he pushes through. “But Y/N… she is my everything.” His breath hitches. He can't even explain it properly. How badly he needs you. “You’re lucky. All of you. Your soulmates—"

“So this is about your soulmate?” The manager exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “Don’t you see? She’s making you choose between her and your career.”

“No.” Beomgyu’s voice breaks, his chest tightens, and the lump in his throat is unbearable. “She’s not making me choose. She’s already choosing for me.” His next breath is shaky. “She’s leaving. Can you let your own soulmate leave?”

The room falls silent. Soobin watches him, stunned. He’d never seen Beomgyu like this before—this angry, this desperate. And the question stings the older.

Beomgyu turns away, blinking rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. Explaining further is useless. He’s already said everything that matters. Nothing is going to stop him now. When he steps into the hallway, he sees Yeonjun standing there, leaning against the wall.

He’s been listening the whole time.

Yeonjun immediately reaches out, tugging at his arm. “Yah, Choi Beomgyu, come on,” he says quietly. “Let’s talk with everyone.” Beomgyu exhales shakily. If there's anyone he owes an explanation. It's them. His brothers.

So Beomgyu told them everything.

About the sasaeng. About the threats. About how you were walking away to protect him. About how he refused to let that happen. And just like he knew they would, the four of them listened—not as bandmates, not as colleagues, but as brothers.

No one understood him better than they did.

They didn’t tell him to reconsider. They didn’t tell him to stay. Instead, they held onto him, arms wrapped tight, as if they could shield him from the storm that was already brewing. They prayed—not for him to change his mind, but for the world to understand.

Kai was the first to break. His voice barely above a whisper, “Is it really worth it… if the world doesn’t want us to have soulmates?”

It shattered something in all of them.

Beomgyu didn’t answer—not with words. Because what kind of world was it, where love had to be hidden? Where choosing your own heart felt like a betrayal?

With the help of his members, he managed to slip through the cracks, securing a last-minute flight. Now, as he sat on the plane, adjusting his mask, pulling his cap low, he caught his own reflection in the window.

Maybe it was time. Time to stop pretending. Time to stop hiding.

Because an idol in love isn’t supposed to be shameful. Because having a soulmate shouldn’t be treated like a scandal. Because loving you would never make him love his dream any less.

He just had to believe in MOAs. In the people who gave him everything. What he has with them, he treasures so much that the thought of baring his heart isn’t impossible.

And he would.

Completely.

He would trade it all, just to see you again.

The pounding in your head hasn’t let up, a dull, relentless throb that even the hot shower couldn’t wash away. You pop an aspirin, sighing as you press your fingertips against your temples, willing the ache—and everything else—to disappear.

Then the doorbell rings. Right. The food.

Dragging your feet toward the door, you barely think as you swing it open—then freeze.

Choi Beomgyu.

His face bare, a backpack slung over his shoulder. A car idles in your driveway, but you barely process it. Your eyes lock onto the messy strands of blonde peeking out from under his hoodie, his gaze searching yours. He looks at you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he blinks.

“Y/N—” The door slams shut in his face before he can say another word.

Your breath stumbles. Your pulse pounds. The damp strands of your hair cling to your neck as you press your back against the door, fingers gripping the handle like it’s the only thing keeping you upright. Shit. He fucking looks good with his new dyed hair— wait. Don't think about that. What is he doing here?

“I’m parked out front,” his voice comes through the door, muffled but you hear it. “I just want to talk.” A shaky inhale. Then softer, “Baby, I’m here. When you’re ready, just open the door.”

His footsteps retreat.

You start pacing, your heart ricocheting against your ribs. He’s here. He came all this way. After everything you stupidly said. You hurt him yet—

The doorbell rings again.

You yank it open, “Wait, my ass—”

“Chinese takeout for Y/N?” The delivery guy blinks at you, holding up the bag.

“Oh.” You blush, embarrassed. You fumble for your wallet, signing the receipt with shaky hands. Your eyes keep drifting past him, toward the car still parked in front of your house.

Just like what he said. He's there.

The hours slip away unnoticed, morning fading seamlessly into afternoon. Every time you steal a glance through the curtain, he’s still there. Evening creeps in as you start making dinner. Without thinking, you plate portions for two. Your hands hesitate over the dishes, your heart heavy. When you check the clock, it’s 8 p.m. He’s been outside for twelve hours—silent, waiting.

Just like he promised. He never knocked again. Twelve hours. Your hands tremble as you turn off the stove. He must’ve just come from another gruelling day, looking like he’d stepped off a plane after hours in the air—rumpled, drained, and still without rest.

Why did you let him wait this long?

You don’t stop to think anymore. You grab your keys, shove your feet into your slippers, and head straight for his car, blinking back the tears that blur your vision.

He must see you coming because, before you even reach him, the car door swings open.

And there he is.

His hoodie is pushed back now, his hair slightly dishevelled like he’s run his hands through it a hundred times. His face is drawn, exhausted. His eyes—red-rimmed, heavy, like he’s been crying for hours. You swallow the lump in your throat.

“Come inside,” Your voice cracks, but you don’t stop. You just turn around and head back toward the door. You don’t have to look back to know he’s following.

He steps inside, his tall frame filling the space as you quietly shut the door behind him. Your apartment looks small with him around. When you turn, your eyes meet, "Beomgyu—"

You barely get his name out before he’s on you. He can't stop himself anymore. It’s how you looked outside, so effortless—your hair pinned up, the simplicity of your everyday clothes, and yet, you somehow seemed untouchable. He envisions a life with you, a routine, your soft smile waiting for him when he comes home, you looking like something angelic—his hands grip your waist, pulling you flush against him, his body heat searing through your clothes. His lips crash into yours—hungry, desperate, like he’s been starved for you. His mouth moves against yours, claiming, taking.

His fingers thread through your hair, tilting your head back as his tongue slides against yours. His hands roam down, gripping, pulling, making sure you feel every bit of him. He grabs your wrists, lifting them, wrapping your arms around his neck as his lips move to your jaw, then to your neck, his breath ragged as he nips your sensitive skin. "I missed you," he murmurs. Another kiss—hotter, deeper, his body pressing your back against the wall. "I got fucking scared you'd never open the door."

His movements were hurried, frantic, as if he were afraid you’d disappear if he let go. In one swift motion, he lifted you, his steps unsteady as he carried you to the bedroom. Your bedroom. The air felt heavy as he laid you down on the mattress.

"I get it. I know you don’t mean it—that you really believe this is for the best." His voice softens, almost breaking. He presses his crotch to yours, eyes seeking yours. "But did it ever cross your mind what I want? What I think is best for me? For us?"

“I'm sorry,” you said weakly, your hands clutching at his shirt, your voice trembling as much as your resolve.

"I'll always forgive you." His hands moved to your shoulders, then slid down to your waist, pulling you to him. He grinds desperately to you. You never knew that lips could talk without uttering a word as he captures your lips again and again. "Because your words could never hurt me as much as your leaving does."

You surrendered to his touch, your body softening beneath him. Your hands gripped his shoulders for balance as he pressed you deeper into the mattress, which groaned under your shifting weight. You reached for Beomgyu’s lips, catching him off guard as you kissed him with everything you had, tongues colliding in a heated frenzy. His hand slid between your thighs, cupping your middle and sending a shiver through you. But even in the haze of his taste, a heavy guilt settled in your chest. "Gyu,"

"I need you, baby. Or I'll go crazy." His breaths were ragged, syncing with your every moan as his tongue tangled with yours. Your fingers tugged at the hem of his shirt, pulling him closer, urging him on. His body pressed against yours, grinding to yours, while his hands roamed over your skin, igniting every nerve he touched. His lips trailed downward, leaving soft kisses that melted into your flesh, a path leading straight to your core.

He stripped you of every barrier, leaving you bare under his gaze. His eyes shimmered with adoration and awe as they traced your body. You hadn’t realized how powerless you were against him until your legs parted, welcoming him. He's on top of you, looked at you like you were sacred, like you were his entire world.

Beomgyu's eyes never left yours as his fingers found your hand, seeking the place where the string was tied. The red thread appears, and he lifts it to his lips. A kiss—featherlight, reverent—pressed against the place where destiny tied you to him.

“It's going to be okay…” he whispered between kisses, his voice breaking in a way that made your heart ache. Tears pricked your eyes because you wanted to believe him. You needed to believe him. His hands explored further, his fingers shakily reaching for your clit, pinching softly then roughly rubbing, coaxing sounds from your lips that you didn’t know you were capable of.

"I'll fix it for us, for you." He looks at you—wanting to see every expression you make. He’s going to fuck you until you cum all over his dick and then he’ll do it again. Until you won't be able to think about leaving him anymore. He goes down further—kisses down and the smell of you is divine.

His face hovers and with his fingers he spreads you apart. He swallows—salivating. He sticks his tongue out, lightly licking your clit. You taste so—He buries his face in, tongue inside, hands on your hips. "Shit, you were really gonna leave me? And I was gonna miss this?" He groans, lapping up, sucking the arousal out of you. He moves up, nose bumping on your clit then he suckles more. His cock throbs with every taste of you, the way you melt against his mouth driving him insane. He feels you slick against his chin, but he doesn’t stop—doesn’t leave a single inch of you untouched by his warm, greedy mouth. It was as if your body had been crafted for his lips alone, flesh and heat meant to be devoured at his leisure.

When you tug hard on his hair, he groans against you, finally pulling back. His lips glisten as he moves up your body. He crashes his mouth onto yours, the kiss deep and hungry, and you taste yourself on his tongue—messy, desperate, a mix of him and you, blurring the lines between who’s devouring who.

“I love you,” he murmured as he positioned himself, slowly sliding into you. A low, guttural sound escaped him as he felt you, tight and warm, pulling him deeper. He's sure he'll come right there and then. His face buried itself in the curve of your neck, and his words spilled out—"I'm sorry it took this long."

"You feel so so good, don't ask me to stop, please." His touch was gentle even as his thrusts inside you grew more desperate. He cradled your head, kissed away your tears, and pressed his lips to your cheek. “I’m in love with you, Y/N,"

“I love you,” you replied, capturing his lips in a desperate kiss as you both unravelled together, bodies trembling in unison. Your thighs clenched tightly around his waist.

"Beomgyu, I— It was selfish of me—" You whispered his name and it made tears well up in his eyes. His hand gently pushed the damp strands of hair from your face, and he pressed tender kisses along your cheeks, your temple, and your jaw.

“Shh, no,” he whispered, pulling you against his chest, holding you like he was afraid you’d slip away. His lips brushed the crown of your head. "None of this is your fault," he murmurs. "But you have to trust me now."

All the horrors inside you dissolve with every kiss he presses to your skin, each one stripping away the fear, the doubt, the self-imposed distance. He kisses you like he’s rewriting everything, like he knows exactly where every shattered piece of you belongs. As if he’s memorized the map of your ruin and decided, you were always meant to be whole.

And you let him.

Because now, in his arms, with his lips claiming yours over and over, only pulls away when breathing becomes a necessity—his forehead pressing against yours for a fleeting second before his mouth finds yours again, as if letting go for too long might break him, you realise the truth—it was foolish of you to think that pushing him away would solve it all.

It was foolish to ever believe you could ever live without him.

Waking up with Beomgyu’s arm draped over your bare waist felt like something out of a dream.

The second you tried to slip away, he pulled you right back in, burying his face in the crook of your neck with a sleepy rough hum. His grip was loose but unwilling, like even in sleep, he couldn’t bear to let you go. He filled your morning with lazy kisses, tangled limbs, and muffled laughter, his fingers tracing over your bare skin.

You could live a lifetime like this and still never believe it was real.

Now, you sit at your vanity, dressed for work, fastening an earring as Beomgyu, fresh from the shower, tugs on a clean hoodie. He catches your eye in the mirror and grins as he walks over. “What are you doing baby? Dolled up and all.”

“Drying my hair,” you say, “I’m actually early today. Da-hee is dropping by later too, by the way.”

“Okay. I’ll drive you.” He leans down, eyes flickering to the hairdryer on the desk. He picks it up, flipping it on. “I know how to do this.”

You give him a skeptical look. “Oh, really?”

“Uh-huh. I could probably do your makeup too.” He presses a teasing kiss to your cheek, making you giggle.

The warmth of the dryer was against your scalp as he carefully runs his fingers through your hair, drying it with surprising patience. His touch lingers even after the dryer clicks off, his fingers gently gathering strands of your hair.

“I used to braid my mom’s hair when I was younger,” he murmurs. “I want to do yours too.” You nod, watching him through the mirror, watching the way he looks at you with so much quiet devotion it nearly steals your breath. "It will be an honour to do this every day for you, you know."

And just like that, you fall in love all over again.

You sit in the passenger seat, your hair loosely braided—the proof that he wasn’t just bluffing. His fingers lace with yours as he drives, his thumb idly tracing circles against your skin. Every time the car slows at a red light, he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “I love you,”

He grins, that same cheeky, heart-stopping smile. "Love you more," he replies.

You let out a quiet breath, leaning your head against the window, watching the world blur past. But then—out of the corner of your eye—you see it.

And your breath catches in your throat.

Rain Lilies.

Flowers that shine the brightest in the wake of the storm.

It looks out of place. You remembered last night’s rain. It had come down in furious sheets, drowning the streets, washing everything away. The pavement is still slick, puddles reflecting the grey morning sky. And yet—there it is.

Small. Alive.

In the middle of a city that never stops, where people rush past without a second glance, too busy to care about a thing so insignificant, so easily overlooked—it stands, untouched. A quiet defiance against the cruelty that tried to take it.

It looks out of place, and it's beautiful.

If something this fragile can survive and still bloom—maybe, just maybe, so can you.

"Hyung!" Beomgyu’s laughter rings through the air as he runs straight into his brother’s arms. They embrace, laughing like they’re kids again, the older one attempting to lift him off the ground. Behind them, his parents rush to catch up, smiles stretched wide across their faces. The house, with its endless stretch of green, looks like out of a memory—soft, a paradise.

Beomgyu turns to you then, his hand resting gently on your back. His eyes soft when he speaks.

"Mom, Dad," he says, "This is Y/N."

You bow politely, but before you can even rise fully, his mother pulls you into a hug. "I’ve wanted to meet you for so long, dear," she murmurs against your shoulder.

When Beomgyu’s father steps forward, you feel your chest tighten. He smiles, and for a second, it’s like looking at Beomgyu in the years to come. His hug is just as warm, just as safe.

Lunch is a blur of laughter and stories, of hands brushing, of Beomgyu sneaking glances at you when he thinks you aren’t looking.

His parents laugh along with your stories—the one about meeting his sweet members, and how Da-hee had begged to meet them in person. You describe her pale face, wide-eyed and on the verge of fainting the entire time, and how Beomgyu grew irritated every time Yeonjun jokingly flirted with you, insisting he should be your favorite.

But it’s the story of Beomgyu meeting your family last week that really gets them, how he’d been so polite, yet adorably nervous, his hands fidgeting in his lap as he tried to make the right impression.

His mom grins, her eyes bright with excitement. “I’ll have to meet them soon,” she says, already making plans in her head, as if you’ve always been part of the family. At some point, Beomgyu tells them you’ll be staying for the week. They are overjoyed, and Toto, takes an instant liking to you.

Beomgyu sits on the porch, it's evening now.

This deck—he’s spent years here—on this very step, staring out at the world, wondering when he’d find you. Wondering if he ever would.

His fingers tighten around the handwritten letter on his phone screen, the words waiting to be sent out into the world. His heart pounds. What if they don’t understand? What if this changes everything? What if—

Laughter drifts from inside the house, yours mixing with his mom’s, his brother’s. It was the only assurance he'd ever need.

He exhales sharply, thumb hovering for only a second longer before he clicks post. It loads. He doesn’t watch. Just locks his phone and sets it aside as the front door creaks open.

"You’re trying to escape me, cookie?" Your voice is playful, arms crossing as you step toward him. Beomgyu only grins, shaking his head at the nickname his father gave him. He slips an arm around your shoulders as soon as you sit down, pulling you while he presses kisses on the side of your head.

"Never," His fingers find yours, a new habit of his—thumb caressing over your ring finger. His thoughts slip to the diamond ring hidden in his dorm, the one he bought after a week of meeting you. He just needs to find the right moment, the right words. Because even now, after everything, you still make him nervous. The way his heart races when you walk into a room, how everything seems to stop for a moment when you look his way.

He meets your smile with one of his own. Would he ever be this lucky in another life? To find you, to love you—not by destiny’s design, not by some divine script, but by choice?

Even without a soulmate mark, even without fate—

It would always be you.

Maybe in another world, the sky is burning, the world is ending, an apocalypse, and he still falls in love with you. Maybe in another life, he is a man undone, a husband who shatters more than he mends, but even then, he would spend eternity piecing himself back together just to be worthy of you.

Beomgyu knows this much: no matter the lifetime, no matter the universe, he will love you. Again and again, without hesitation, without end. As if loving you is written into the very fabric of his existence.

His fingers graze your cheek, and you lean into him like you were always meant to—like the universe has been bringing you back to him for centuries. Your smile reaches your eyes, soft and certain. His missing piece. The better half of him.

Beomgyu looks at you, and to him, you are something that comes after the rain—the hush of the earth reborn, the golden light breaking through the clouds, the promise that even the chaos was worth it.

He can’t help himself. Not when you’re looking at him like that. Not when your smile is the only thing he ever wants to see.

So he leans in.

The phone sits forgotten, lighting up with messages—teary words, heartfelt congratulations, the world calling for him. But none of it matters.

Because right now, you are in his arms. Right now, he is kissing the soft of your addicting lips. And right now, that is all that ever was, all that ever is, all that ever will be.

THE END.

taglist: I love you @beombunni @lovingbeomgyudayone @virtaideen @hyukascampfire @fancypeacepersona @bamgeutori @lilbrorufr @beomieeeeeeeeeeees @xylatox @imlonelydontsendhelp @yunverie @baekberrie @soobabby @hyunelixbun @kejingken @blossommi @sumzysworld @tyunningstar @filmnings @channieismylove @frankghgr @missychief1404 @fatbixchwithanopinion @saejinniestar @brrytears @sbnslver @hoefororeo @pagelets @urlocal-moa @ewsnup @moagyuu @melmochii

[honeypiehotchner]

Operation Lovebirds (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- oneshot

Happy belated Valentine's Day! In the spirit of making myself feel better, here's some unashamed fluff in between updates of The Gambit!

Summary: You make plans for the team to get drinks together after work on Valentine’s Day in an effort to make yourself feel better after a sudden breakup. The team decides to play matchmaker instead 😉

Warnings: oblivious reader, oblivious Hotch, PINING, YEARNING, past relationship/breakup woes, gender neutral terms for reader's ex, hotch is divorced but no foyet arc, awkward flirting (i think), happy ending ofc!!!

WC: ~5,200

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Aaron Hotchner since you started working at the BAU a year ago, it’s that he doesn’t go out.

You’re not really sure what it is that stops him, because even Rossi comes out with the team most nights, but in the year that you’ve been here, Hotch has come out three whole times. Three. In a year.

So, naturally, you’re the first to let the pure surprise show on your face when Hotch agrees to go out tomorrow night. In fact, you laugh.

He doesn’t.

“Oh my god,” you pause, smacking Morgan’s arm. “He’s being serious. Somebody get the champagne! Get me a calendar, I need to mark it.”

Hotch rolls his eyes at you, but there’s a small smile fighting at the corners of his lips like always when he hears your jokes. “Don’t get too excited. I might change my mind.” 

(The truth is, after seeing how excited you are, he won’t change his mind. He hasn’t seen you smile in a week.)

A week ago, the person you were dating broke things off rather randomly. You aren’t even sure if you can consider them as someone you were in a relationship with, since based off their final message to you, it seems they didn’t see things that way. Regardless, it ended, and it was something that, for the first time, you had high hopes for. You thought it might’ve been real.

So, yeah, Hotch hasn’t seen you smile in a week. He knows something is wrong, but hasn’t had the courage to ask, in case he’s overstepping. The two of you get along just fine to work together, and you’ve had a few heart-to-hearts over the months, especially on late night flights when everyone else is asleep and you’re the only two wide awake. But those feel…different than this.

Hotch is just happy that his idea worked. He knew if he could joke about going out, it would put the bug in your ear, and you’d make the plans. Which is how he found himself agreeing to go out to a bar tomorrow after work.

Tomorrow just so happens to be Valentine’s Day. So what if Hotch selfishly wanted to spend the day with you in some capacity outside of the office, but was too scared to ask outright? So what if he’s a little happy at the fact that you have no plans other than inviting everyone out to drinks?

He’s a little worried given that he thought you were seeing someone, but he thought that was his imagination. You never mentioned dating anyone to anyone on the team, Hotch was just putting pieces together to hurt his own feelings.

Except. You haven’t smiled in a week, and you’re suddenly free for drinks after work…on Valentine’s Day.

Hotch tries not to think about it too much. He doesn’t want to think about you being sad any more than he’s had to this past week with your silent moods and halfway smiles. That alone has already twisted something into a knot in his chest.

“This is perfect!” your excitement is palpable. “This might be the first time I get everyone out at once. Derek, do not let me down. Bring your date!”

“Fine, fine,” Derek concedes. “I’ll ask her if she wants to come -- after her and I have had a very romantic dinner,” he smirks.

You roll your eyes and shove his shoulder in the same sibling way you always interact with Morgan, but Hotch watches you carefully, noticing the hint of sadness behind your eyes.

Fuck. You were seeing someone. That’s the only explanation, and they broke your heart -- a week before Valentine’s Day, might he add -- and it must’ve felt real to you because why else would you have that devastated look in your eyes?

Hotch, unsurprisingly, has harbored somewhat of a schoolgirl crush for you since about a month after you started working at the BAU. It took Rossi precisely one week to notice, but you’re going on month eleven of being blissfully unaware. Morgan has given Hotch a couple knowing looks but has yet to call him out on it. If JJ and Emily know (and they do), they haven’t said anything, least of all to you. Garcia is well aware after she caught Hotch watching you wistfully from his office one afternoon, but she hasn’t mentioned anything to you.

Rossi has, of course, tried to talk Hotch into making a move -- even a half-move, a hint of a move -- but Hotch refuses. Mostly because he had suspicions you were seeing someone, but also because he just can’t imagine someone like you having the same feelings for someone like him. It’s bizarre.

As everyone listens to your giddy pre-planning of where to go for drinks and what to wear, knowing looks are shared by the team -- looks that you and Hotch are left out of.

+++

You’re trying on the fourteenth outfit and trying to hold yourself together when you nearly cancel drinks to lie in bed in a pit of despair.

But that’s dramatic and irrational, so you try on a fifteenth outfit, say fuck it, and grab your car keys.

You’ll be a little early to the bar, but you don’t mind. Might as well get out before you lose the will to go back out again.

You just couldn’t stomach sitting inside, alone on Valentine’s Day, not during this rollercoaster of emotions that you’re feeling. Especially not now.

It’s not that you thought you had found the one, it’s the fact that you thought maybe they are. It’s not the fact that you were certain, it’s that you were so hopeful. You really thought things would go farther than that, and you never thought the crash and burn would be so random. 

You really thought this time was different. Because it felt different, it felt good. Only for it to end the same as always. 

You should be used to it by now, you think. People being uncertain of you. People being uncertain of how they want you in their lives. This isn’t the first time you’ve been in a relationship with someone only for them to decide that suddenly they aren’t ready for a relationship. It doesn’t make any more sense than it did the last time, but this one certainly knocked the wind out of you from how unexpected it was.

No matter, though. Because tonight you’re dancing, laughing with friends, and hopefully smiling so hard that you forget about it all hurting so much.

When you get to the bar, you’re the first one there, so you slide up to the bar and wave the bartender down, getting started with your first drink.

Unfortunately, no one cute catches your eye -- yet. You’re not exactly sure if you want to flirt with anyone tonight, but it could be fun. Could take your mind off things.

You’re halfway done with your first drink when Derek texts the group chat. Dinner got a little delayed. See y’all in a bit.

You roll your eyes, knowing exactly what he means by delayed. You snort and text back telling him it’s fine.

JJ is next. Couldn’t find a babysitter so Will and I are staying in! So sorry guys!

You frown, but it’s fine. You were worried about whether they'd be able to find a babysitter so soon.

No one else says a word, so you assume they’re all free.

Except that they don’t show.

You’re getting a little annoyed as the minutes tick by until you see, like a knight in shining armor, Aaron Hotchner walks through the doors.

You smile in pure relief and disbelief that he’s actually here, waving him over. He spots you and a soft smile settles on his lips, making a beeline for you at the bar.

Couples are sitting on either side of you, so Hotch stands behind you, your body suddenly very aware of how close he is.

“You look surprised to see me,” he teases.

You stare up at him, mystified. “Because I am.”

Hotch orders a whiskey on the rocks and another of whatever you’re having, opening a tab. Your brain short circuits a moment too late when you realize he’s just bought you a drink.

You don’t mention it, unsure of what exactly it means. Or what exactly you want it to mean.

When the bartender brings the drinks over, Hotch leans down to speak to you over to growing crowds and conversations. “There’s an open booth over there if you want to move somewhere more comfortable?”

Your mind spins with all kinds of inappropriate thoughts as you nod. “Booth sounds nice.”

You were unaware of just how many people had flooded into the bar since Hotch arrived, your focus clearly all on him and how close he was to touching you. Your fingers lightly touch Hotch’s back as you follow him through the crowd to the booth that he can see with his height.

Finally, you spot it, a miraculously free two-person booth at a table with a small lamp in the middle. It casts just enough shadows on Hotch’s face to make him look infinitely more attractive (something you hadn’t thought possible).

You’ve harbored a foolish crush on your boss since, well, the very beginning. It’s embarrassing.

Because you know that not only will he never feel the same way, it’s also highly against the rules at work and would be beyond frowned-upon. So, you suffer in silence, and try desperately not to think about what it might feel like to just kiss him. Just once.

That’s the alcohol and loneliness talking. You need to pull yourself together.

There’s precisely ten minutes of small talk before Hotch goes straight for the heart.

“How are you doing?” he asks.

For anyone else, it’s an unassuming question. It’s simple. It almost falls into the category of small talk, except it doesn’t. Not for two FBI profilers.

Still, you try to deflect with a shrug. “I’m alright. As alright as someone chronically single can be on Valentine’s Day, I guess. What about you?”

He’s not exactly in a different boat. He’s been single ever since his divorce a few years ago, as far as you know -- and you imagine you’d know because these sort of things get around in the BAU. The nosiest unit in the FBI, you always joke.

Hotch mirrors your shrug. “I’m alright.” He pauses, studying you. “I only ask because you’ve seemed…down lately.”

You grimace.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” he quickly adds, almost scrambling. “I know this is odd, I’m your boss and we’re sitting at a booth in a bar on Valentine’s Day, but, I want you to know, if you do want to talk -- about anything -- I’m here. I want to listen.”

You stare at him blankly for a moment, feeling your facade as it slowly melts and drips away. “Thanks,” you avert your eyes, focusing instead on your drink that has barely two sips left. You have a comfortable buzz now, one that makes you a little quicker to let him in. “I was seeing someone that I was really hopeful about, for the first time, ever, and it ended randomly a week ago. Got a text just out of nowhere.” You pause, chuckling darkly. “I was in the middle of thinking about Valentine’s plans, actually, when I got the text. So.”

Hearing you confirm it out loud only makes Hotch’s heart twist and threaten to break. “I’m sorry,” he says, unsure of what else he can say, unsure of if there’s anything he can say to make it better. “I’m really sorry that happened.”

“Thanks,” you breathe, shaking your head a little to shake yourself out of it. You look up at Hotch and put on a fake, half-smile, the same one he’s seen you wearing the past week. “On to the next one, huh?” you joke. “If there even is a next one. If I even want there to be another one,” you add with a roll of your eyes. “I might have reached my limit for this shit.”

Hotch can’t even say that he blames you. “That’s understandable.”

There’s a trace of something in your eyes when you look at him, something he can’t read, but your smile is a little softer now, starting to look genuine. “Alright,” you clear your throat. “There’s my relationship woes. What about you? Breaking any hearts? Anyone breaking yours?”

He laughs at your change of subject, but shakes his head. “No, no, there’s no one.”

You frown. “Why not?”

He shrugs. “Haven’t really wanted to, I suppose.” I’m too much of a coward to ask you out on a date, according to Rossi. “Maybe soon, though.”

Excitement glints in your eyes. “Ooh, there is someone, I knew it! Tell me immediately.” 

He just stares at you, fighting back a smile at your unbridled joy that he gets to witness. He is so glad he gets to see this expression on your face. “There’s not really someone, it’s kind of--” He pauses, looking down at his own glass, wondering how much he can say without giving himself away so embarrassingly. “I’ve been too afraid to do something.”

“Why?” you ask, sounding genuinely interested. “Is she dating someone?”

“She was,” he replies, perhaps too fast. “And I’m not certain she feels the same way, or else I’d have made a move by now,” he admits, thinking the whiskey is getting to him. “Maybe.”

“Aaron Hotchner, a shy, hopeless romantic,” you muse, leaning back in the booth with a smirk. “Who would’ve guessed?”

He gives you an almost pained look, hoping the awe seeps through the most. Because you have no idea, do you? You have no idea just what you do to him, just by talking to him, looking at him, making him laugh, letting him hear your laugh. He’s more of a goner than he originally thought.

He laughs off your teasing. “There are my woes,” he says, hoping that’ll be the end of it. “Where are the rest of the team, anyway?”

“Who knows,” you say, sounding unbothered, though you dig your phone out to see if anyone has texted. 

If you and Aaron hadn’t been so caught up in conversation for the past hour, then you would’ve seen that everyone has said they can’t make it or that they’ll be “late” which is only code for they won’t show. You frown down at the messages, some almost forty-five minutes old now, wondering what they’re up to. 

Aaron glances at his phone, too, finding a private message from David. Enjoy your date ;)

Hotch rolls his eyes, pocketing his phone. The team -- most likely led by self-proclaimed Cupid, David Rossi -- decided to play matchmaker. He should’ve known.

And you…you seem completely unaware.

“Whatever,” you exhale, exasperated. “I should’ve known better than to try to get everyone together on Valentine’s Day.” You pause, a sheepish look in your eyes. “I just really didn’t want to be alone, so,” you lightly tap Aaron’s leg with your foot, “thanks for coming and keeping me company.”

“Anytime,” he says, meaning it wholeheartedly. “Should we get another drink?”

You hum. “I was actually getting kinda hungry.”

“You read my mind,” Aaron smiles. “Do they have food here?”

“Probably shitty bar food,” you reply. You look up at him through your lashes, nearly knocking the breath from his lungs. “Wanna go somewhere else?”

He nods immediately, nodding toward the door. “Let’s go. I know the perfect place.”

You grin almost instantly, standing up from the booth. “Lead the way.”

+++

The perfect place that Aaron knows is a hole-in-the-wall, family-run pizza joint that he has frequented for years, probably ever since he joined the BAU and moved out here. It’s open late, and half-full of other couples when you and Aaron arrive.

“Hey, Tony,” Aaron greets the owner with a firm handshake and smile. “Table for two, please.”

You watch as Tony gives Aaron a look before repeating his words, “Table for two, you got it, right this way, Hotchner.”

The way Tony says his name is reminiscent of a coach talking to his favorite player, right down to the playful swat of Aaron’s chest. It makes you smile.

“And who is the lucky lady?” Tony asks nonchalantly as he places the menus down on the table by the window.

You giggle, introducing yourself. “I wasn’t aware Aaron had connections here.”

It could be a trick of the dim lighting, but you swear you see Hotch blush as he shakes his head.

“Oh, yeah,” Tony says, standing back as you both sit. “I’ve known him for years, always coming here alone on Valentine’s Day. I’m just happy to see he’s brought someone with him this time.”

“Oh, we’re--” you start to say.

But Hotch interjects with, “That’s enough, Tony, thank you.”

You furrow your eyebrows only a little. He didn’t deny what Tony is implying.

You ignore it. Because you can’t let yourself read into it. That’s what always ends up burning you. You need to ignore it.

Tony leaves to let the two of you look at the menu, albeit going with a mischievous smile on his face.

“What do you recommend?” you ask, trying to redirect. “Or should we just get a large and split it?”

“That might be easiest,” Hotch agrees. “Let’s do that.”

Tony returns to take your order and brings water with him, promising some wine if you’d like. You laugh him off and tell him the two of you just came from the bar. 

When the pizza comes out, the two of you dig in, both having not realized just how hungry you were. With more water and food on your stomach, the alcohol has begun to wear off. But you’re still happy you’re spending the night with Aaron.

Whoever it is that he’s got his eyes set on, she’s one lucky girl. You know that for sure.

As the night winds to a close, you watch him more closely, wanting to memorize this. Because if you have any say in it, he’s going to get that girl that he’s so hopelessly in love with already. He deserves that. Even if it means you’ll never have another night like this with him.

So, you tell him just that as he’s dropping you back off at home. You turn toward him in the passenger seat, a sad smile on your lips.

“I’m going to give some unsolicited advice, okay?” you begin.

He laughs, clearly wary. “Okay. Go ahead.”

“Ask her out,” you say, hating the way you can feel the beginnings of tears pricking at the backs of your eyes. “Make a move. Don’t make her wait any longer. She might feel the same way, you never know, and you’ll never know, if you don’t ask her. So do it.”

He watches you, eyes studying every inch of your face. You don’t know it, but he’s trying to figure out why you look so sad as you’re saying this to him. How can you have no idea that it’s you, it’s always been you? How do you not know?

“That’s all,” you say, blinking the emotion out of your eyes. It’s gone so quick that he wonders if he imagined it. “Thank you for tonight, I really needed it. I’ll see you on Monday?”

He nods, all words foreign to him. “See you Monday. Enjoy your weekend.”

“You too,” you give him another smile.

He watches you leave, watches you get to your front door, waits for you to go inside. He stays there, waiting until he sees the lights turn on in your apartment, until he knows without a doubt that you are safe inside.

He drives away. And starts to think of a plan.

+++

Monday is a slow, tortuous day after a slow, tortuous weekend spent wondering yourself sick about if Hotch took your advice. If he spent the weekend with her, the girl that made his eyes go all soft when talked about her to you. If he was going to come into the office as a new man on Monday, feelings reciprocated, love radiating off him.

He didn’t, which you felt guilty for feeling relieved about.

He brought you a coffee, though. With a heart on the side of the cup. Probably from the barista who made it, you think. 

It’s a paperwork kind of day, so everyone leaves by 4:30, even Reid, though he leaves so early because he has an event at a bookstore to go to. Slowly, everyone trickles out, until it’s just you and Hotch.

You’re avoiding your empty apartment. Hotch is finishing up his work, while simultaneously building up the courage to ask you to dinner.

Time is ticking, this he knows, and he starts packing up as soon as he sees you standing to rinse out your coffee mug.

You’re just finishing gathering your things when you hear Hotch leaving his office, locking the door behind him. You look up at him with a smile.

“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this,” you tease, gesturing around at the barren BAU. “Why do we keep doing this?” 

It’s true that you’re usually the last two here, but this time feels different. There’s a different tension in the air that wasn’t here before, and you’re trying like hell to decipher if it’s good or bad.

“What are your plans for dinner?” he asks.

“Just leftovers or something,” you shrug. “You?”

“Well,” he says, letting out a soft, nervous laugh. “I was hoping to take someone out to dinner.”

You deflate a little. He must mean the girl. You try not to let it show in your tone, so you keep your head tucked, putting things away. “Did you ask her out? What’d she say?”

“That she had leftovers or something.”

Your hand freezes on your purse. You’re terrified to look up because if you do, then that means-- He can’t mean--

“I didn’t think I was so bad at this,” Aaron chuckles. “I guess it’s not muscle memory anymore.”

Slowly, slowly you lift your eyes. He’s sheepish. There is a blush on his cheeks, his smile is so damn hesitant, and you’re smiling before you can stop yourself.

“Aaron Hotchner,” you cross your arms over your chest. “Are you trying to ask me out on a date?”

“Emphasis on trying,” he says, looking so boyish. “Would you like to get dinner with me? Tonight, as a proper date?”

You nod right away, then stop yourself. “Wait, what about that girl you were telling me about?”

You’ve been “the other girl” before, and you refuse to do that again, not even for a man who looks like Aaron Hotchner.

But he laughs. Not at you, more at himself, at the situation. He shakes his head. “That girl is you,” he says. “I thought I was so obvious.”

“Wait--” you pause, blinking, the gears in your head stuttering and starting. “Me?”

He nods. “Since you started here. It was getting kind of embarrassing, according to Rossi.”

You giggle, unable to help yourself. Then pieces begin clicking into place. “Wait, so Valentine’s Day--”

“That was the team’s doing,” he nods to confirm. “Rossi got them in on it.”

“Oh my god,” you whisper. “And tonight?”

“Tonight was…just us being ourselves,” he confesses with a warm smile. “I didn’t tell any of them to leave so early.”

“And I just always stay a bit later,” you add. “Like you.”

“Like me,” he says. “Though you still leave before I do, most nights.”

“Yeah, because you sleep here, it seems like.”

“Hey,” he laughs, feigning hurt for a moment. “So…dinner?”

“Dinner,” you nod. “I’d love to get dinner with you, Aaron.”

“That’s a relief,” he breathes. “Can I take you somewhere again?”

You can take me anywhere you want, is what you want to say, but that feels a bit forward. “Of course,” you say instead. “Lead the way.”

+++

The team finds out the very next day, by pure accident.

Aaron drove you two to dinner last night straight from work, and the both of you were too caught up in it all to realize you left your car at work. Until it’s the next morning, you’re heading down to the parking lot of your apartment, car keys in hand, with your car nowhere to be found.

Aaron is walking through the BAU doors when his phone buzzes with a call from you. His heart skips as he answers, “Good morning.”

“Good morning, my love,” you reply easily. “Do you know where my car is? You get one guess.”

Hotch pauses, thinks, wondering why you’re asking him this question, until-- “Oh, shit,” he laughs. “I’ll come get you.”

“I can just take the bus,” you laugh just as hard. “I just wanted to tell you.”

You? On the bus? When he can easily just come get you? Absolutely not. “I’ll come get you,” he says again. “Let me set my things down, and I’ll be on my way to you.”

“Aaron--”

“Let me, please?” he asks, shoving inside his office to put his things down just inside the door. “I’m already walking back out to my car. We can get coffee and breakfast.”

“Okay,” you concede, finally. “I’ll wait.”

“I’ll be twenty minutes.”

It’s less time than that, actually, but you don’t call him out on it. Instead, you climb into his passenger seat with a smile.

“Long time no see,” you joke, buckling yourself in.

“I’m so sorry,” he laughs. “I completely forgot about your car.”

“I did too, don’t be sorry,” you reply, resting your hand on his arm. “It’s funny. And I’ll just drive it home tonight.”

He doesn’t want you to, he wants to always drive you around like this, but he doesn’t say that. He doesn’t want to come on too strong. “Okay. Well, for your troubles, we’ll get breakfast.”

“And coffee,” you sigh happily. “My turn to pick. I know the best place.”

He turns his phone toward you, the GPS already up. “Lead the way.”

When the two of you finally make it back to the BAU, the whole team is there, huddled around in the bullpen, clearly whispering about you and Hotch.

See, it’s rather suspicious when Hotch’s things are in his office, but he isn’t, especially an hour after he’s usually already got half the day’s work done. And your absence was noted too, as the minutes ticked by and no one had heard from you. And they knew the two of you were the last to leave last night.

Hotch holds open the glass door for you, laughing at something you’ve said (like always), the two of you unaware of the team meeting until you’re inside.

Everyone wears similar smirks. 

“Hello lovebirds,” Rossi chimes. “We were wondering where you disappeared to.”

“Just breakfast,” you say with a shrug.

“Mhm,” Morgan hums. “Where’s my breakfast?”

“Go away,” you groan, swatting him. “Why are you all around my desk? Boundaries!”

Just like that, the crowd disperses with some laughter, and Hotch is free to escape up to his office. Rossi is quick to follow him, interrogating him about his night.

“It was a great night,” Hotch replies, not wanting to give anything away. “You are an instigator.”

“Did you kiss her?” Rossi presses on.

Hotch makes a sound of disbelief. Rossi looks appalled.

“You didn’t?”

“There is such a thing as taking things slow, Dave,” Hotch replies.

“Alright,” Dave concedes. “But dinner was good?”

“Dinner was great,” Hotch reiterates, unable to hide his smile. “Now get out of my office so I can get some work done.”

Rossi leaves with a smirk so smug that Hotch hopes his face cramps up.

+++

Later in the evening, when once again it’s just you and Hotch left in the office, Hotch decides to pack up a little early. 

You’re in your own world, completely unaware that he’s heading out until he’s standing beside your desk. 

You lift your eyes, realizing he’s watching you. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he smiles. “Ready to go?”

You glance at the clock. “I was actually--”

He shakes his head. “Come on.”

“What?”

“As your boss, I’m deciding you’re done for the day.”

“Oh, really?” you quirk an eyebrow. “And there wouldn’t happen to be any ulterior motives, would there?”

He shrugs, all sheepish again. “If you happened to be free for dinner again, I wouldn’t say no.”

“And if I’m not free?”

He’s unbothered. “Then I’ll walk you to your car and let you get to your plans.”

“Not even a kiss goodnight?” you tease as you start gathering your things.

Hotch goes quiet. “That can be arranged.”

“Okay,” you murmur, standing with your things. “Let’s go.”

He reaches out for your hand which you easily hold onto, walking with him to the elevators. As you wait for one to arrive, you look at him, taking in his side profile. He catches you looking from just the corner of his eye, starting to smile.

Once you step onto the elevator, you break the silence. “I desperately need to sleep early tonight, so raincheck on dinner?”

He nods. “Of course.”

You pause, testing the waters. “Coffee tomorrow, though?”

He smiles. “I’ll pick you up at seven?”

“That’s perfect,” you reply.

Hotch walks you to your car, as promised, and helps you set your things inside. He even opens the driver’s side door for you. You’re about to get inside when he stops you, one hand on your arm.

“About that goodnight kiss,” he says, a glint in his eyes that has your stomach doing flips.

You place your hands on his shoulders, gently looping your wrists around his neck. “Mm, what about it?”

His hands find your waist in no time, squeezing ever so slightly. “Can I?”

“You don’t have to ask,” you murmur. “And yes.”

You’re both smiling into it, softening when your lips finally connect. You feel it then, how this is what you’ve been missing. 

Aaron is so gentle as he kisses, so timid in a way that only makes you want him even more. His hands never wander from your waist, except for one moment to cup your jaw, to brush his thumb over your cheek as he kisses you one last time.

He pulls back to watch you, your eyes still closed in bliss. When you finally open them, he’s smiling at you.

“That’s some goodnight kiss,” you tease. “Careful, or you’ll spoil me.”

He shakes his head. “I want to,” he says, pressing another kiss to your lips. “And I will.”

You bring one hand to his face, holding onto him in disbelief. “Goodnight, Aaron.”

“Goodnight,” he whispers, giving you one more kiss for good measure. “Let me know when you get home safe?”

You nod. “You as well?”

“Okay,” he smiles. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

You nod slowly. “In the morning.”

Neither of you make any move to leave. In fact, it takes half an hour for you to peel yourselves off of one another, and might’ve taken longer if your stomach hadn’t growled.

Eventually, you part, and Aaron shuts you into your car, waving as you drive off before he walks to his own vehicle. He stares at his reflection in a bit of disbelief, wondering what he did to deserve someone like you.

[xiepheer]

hello!! see your new hehe can u do headcannons on what yandere beasts would be like with a spouse, whos real gentleeeee

Yandere Beasts with their gentle spouses! 💖

Hello everyone! Doing one of my first requests! I hope u like this! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

Also reader here is GN so u can choose what gender this will take over!

Now unfortunately, due to the lack of information of the 2 other beast cookies, I would only do 3 which are the released cookies. I hope yall forgive me 😭🙏

Happy Valentine's my pookies!

Shadow Milk cookie

Ahh the master of deceit. What a surprise.

Now of course, with his spouse he very VERY loves would do anything for them.

The jester clown would do anything for his gentle spouse.

Everyone didn't expect the clown to have a spouse who is also very loyal to him.

The beast of deceit, having a spouse. Cookies wondered who even wanted to be with them? (me.)

His beloved spouse was not only small and petite that needed his protection, but also is gentle and is the only cookie that cared for him.

Now he is a jealous cookie.

He does NOT like male cookies that he doesn't trust or know.

This jester would do anything for his darling spouse.

He would kill

He would rob

He would destroy

All for his beloved spouse.

After the forks trapped them, he was worried. Scared.

Scared that another cookie might still his beloved spouse while he's sealed in the silver tree.

Worried that they might get hurt but he can trust Candy Apple cookie and Black Sapphire cookie, right?

Right and wrong.

Candy Apple cookie tried many ways to isolate or make her 'Master Shadow Milk cookie' hate his spouse but couldn't do so.

Candy Apple's jealousy just grew when she sees her master's smile grow wider when he sees his lovely beloved spouse.

Now Black Sapphire Cookie watch over his Master's spouse. He would make sure that Candy Apple cookie don't hurt them.

Or else not only Candy Apple cookie be doomed, but also him for not protecting them.

He would do anything for them. He would destroy everything. Cause chaos. Just for them.

Just to show his 'love' to them.

He would destroy everyone that has a problem agaidnt his spouse.

Have a bully? Sure no problem

Got someone liking them? He would NOT let the cookie that likes his spouse slide. His spouse is his only.

Got someone his spouse would like to get rid of? Sure he can make them into his puppets.

His spouse is only his and his only.

Burning Spice cookie

Now Burning Spice cookie would be the type of ruler with a LOT of spouses but of course, he has favoritism.

This specific spouse was the only soft cookie he has encountered in the Spice desert or Spice Kingdom.

All his other spouses were not the same as his chosen one.

They were all rude and mean, meanwhile his chosen one was gentle, soft, and kind.

This was what he wanted. Under all those destruction, he also needs some relief but couldn't do so since his other spouses acted so rude to him like how any ordinary spice cookies would be.

His favorite spouse is gentle, soft, nice, and despite his destructive personality, they would not leave him.

That is what made him want them more.

Their soft dough, cute dimples, soft cheeks, gentle and carefree personality made him go crazy.

He NEEDS to protect them.

No matter what. He needs to.

The Great Destroyer has needs too.

This Great Destroyer would go crazy for them.

He would destroy countless villages or cities just for them.

After the forks trapped them, he was cursing the witches for sealing him and his friends and most importantly, sealing him away from his beloved spouse.

He was angered. He tried the best he could to try and break free from the forks but the forks wouldn't budge.

Countless attempts of breaking free using his axe and nothing worked.

Now after he was sealed, he can only count on Nutmeg Tiger cookie to protect them and make them the ruler while he was gone.

Nutmeg Tiger cookie on the other hand, did the command. She knew too well what's gonna happen if she disobeys his command.

His other spouses whom he didn't seem to care about but his beloved spouse was angered.

They were all protesting, "Why didn't WE get a turn!?", "This is so unfair!", "let us do what we want since we're his spouses as well!"

Nutmeg Tiger cookie did nothing to them but use her guards agaidnt them.

Telling them if they ever hurted The Great Destroyer's beloved chosen spouse, he would destroy them with no second thought.

Meanwhile, in the silver tree, he couldn't stop thinking about his beloved one. He was actually scared.

Scared that his spouse mind get ended by his other spouses due to jealousy.

But back to the kingdom, they knew better than to mess with Burning Spice cookie.

And they came to the conclusion that his favorite spouse is his and his only.

Mystic Flour cookie

Ahh the cookie of Apathy.

She might not show it to her spouse but her spouse will know she actually loves them by how gentle she is with them.

She has not been gentle with any cookies yet since her corruption.

And yet, eversince she has found them, she felt the urgent need to protect them, to give them whatever they wanted, to love them like no one did to her.

She has always been caused chaos with the other cookies but after she married her spouse, she changed.

She felt an fluttering feeling she hadn't felt.

Now her spouse being the gentle cookie they are, always wanted her.

The cookie of Apathy wasn't expecting such thing.

She was gonna turn the cookie into flour when she couldn't bear to do it.

She has a feeling she has not felt before.

She vowed to protect her beloved spouse, bring what they needed for them.

She would turn any cookies and friends are NOT excluded into flour.

She would cause mass destruction and chaos in Earthbread just for them.

She would do anything for her gentle spouse.

She would love their kisses, hugs, and cuddles coming from them.

Now since those forks fell on her, she just knew she couldn't leave her beloved spouse all alone without her guard.

She desperately tried so hard to reach out for them but the seal closed.

Her beloved spouse was also reaching out as well.

Her days were filled in sorrow and sadness as the thought of her beloved spouse all alone out there, without protection filled her head.

Although she doesn't show it, she would cry a little as the thought takes over.

Her jam was also stripped away from her which made her feel a little weak but not weak enough for her to be considered as a normal cookie again.

She trusts that Could Haetae cookie would watch over her spouse and keep them safe until she has returned and until her soul jam has returned to her.

Now being with Cloud Haetae, they would try their hardest and best to keep their beloved Mystic Flour cookie's beloved spouse safe.

They worked for them, was there for them like Mystic Flour cookie.

With the reminder of the cookie of Apathy, they knew that her beloved spouse was needed to be guarded at all times and that was all they were doing.

Mystic Flour cookie let anyone know who her beloved spouse belongs to.

Hope yall like this! BTW I'm a retired wattpad writer cuz I lost all the motives 1 yr ago but now I think I'm feeling it again 😎

Anyways forgive me for my mistakes if I ever had some while writing this. Have a wonderful day!

[bringerofdarkness-fancomic]

happy love day, folks! exnic typically isn’t one for romance, but i still wanted an excuse to draw him in this fancy outfit i gave him. :3

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Flatbeds and Ice Cream

Summary: Tyler Owens x fe!Reader -> You have known Tyler for ten years and although your first meeting might not have been the most conventional, neither is the way you finally get together.

Disclaimer: Mostly lovable fluff, hint of angst (if any), mention of bull rider!Tyler, reader is a doctor, subtext of Tyler being an EMT, mention of cuts and bleeding. Reader patched Tyler up, Tyler patches Reader up. Soft kisses. Happy Valentines Day, people! Hope you enjoy this one ❤ Not Proof Read.

It was no secret that Tyler had been pining after you for years. Well, saying that. It was kind of a secret. From you, at least. 

But everyone else saw it. 

They saw it in the way he looked at you, in the way he spoke to you and how he was around you. He’d never taken anybody star gazing in the meadow he found when he was on his very first tour of Tornado Alley. He’d never sat up and waited for someone to get back from their date, even though he had no need to. And he’d never sat and listened to someone’s instructions when it came to being careful and having someone take care of him. 

For as long as you’d known Tyler, he’d always been reckless. Careful, but reckless nonetheless.

The first time you’d met him had been when he’d thrown himself in front of a bull to save your brother. 

They were on the circuit together. Whilst Tyler rode them, your brother looked after them. And they were good friends – your brother always talked about Tyler; how skilled he was, how charming he was with the girls and how smart he was, too, despite his head getting stomped on one too many times by a bull. 

Your first conversation with Tyler had been in the hospital. Your brother refused to leave his side. You couldn’t blame him. He’d saved his life. But that didn’t stop you from yelling at Tyler when you finally got introduced. Once you’d given your thanks and your brother had left the room for a moment, you yelled at him. 

“Go on. I can tell you’re dying to yell at me.”

You didn’t know whether to ask him how he knew or to just start yelling. “Believe me, I am more than grateful for you saving my brother but you are a complete idiot! What the hell were you thinking? Jumping in front of a bull like that?! You know you could have died, too?! You almost did! And what would have happened then? One casualty? Two? You know, that shared idiot of ours tells me a lot about you.”

“He does?”

“Yeah. He tells me you’re skilled at what you do.”

Tyler smiled, feeling pride in his chest. “Thanks-”

“He also says you’re smart. Too smart for just being a bull rider.”

“It’s a noble profession-”

“And it almost got you killed today. Not because you were riding, but because it decided it didn’t want to play anymore and started to fight back. More than just bucking a rider off. You’ve got a brain, Tyler. I suggest you use it before it’s too late.”

Tyler’s reaction stalled for a moment as you hiked your bag a little further up your shoulder before making your way towards the door. 

“Hey, hold on.” You paused by the door and looked back at Tyler. “Where do you think you get off with saying something like that to me?”

You sighed. “Tyler, as far as I’m aware, you and my brother are best friends.”

He nodded silently, waiting for an explanation. 

“That gives me full right to cuss him out and tell him the exact same thing if it was him in the hospital bed. And since you’re his best friend, it gives me full right to do the same with you.”

That same year, Tyler applied to college. 

Four years of education and years of chasing later, Tyler had his own rodeo team and every once in a while, you joined him. For the first few, your brother had joined him until he met a girl from Seattle in the middle of Tornado Alley. After that, he hung up his chasing hat and settled down with a comfortable job in her hometown. 

But you stayed on. 

“Don’t get hurt,” you called out over the radio as Dexter pulled into the side of the road and parked. 

“I promise.” Tyler’s voice rang back. 

And then they were off again. Like with every chase and every storm the Wrangler’s came across. Off roading, going seventy miles an hour across fields, in between wind turbines or wooden fences and wheat. By the time Tyler came back with the truck it was covered from top to bottom in dirt and wet grass. 

As he stepped out of his truck, you took a long look at him. If anyone didn’t know how either of you were with each other, they could have mistaken it for you checking him out. Which you were. But for more reasons than that he just looked like a greek god in a cowboy rodeo heaven. 

You were checking to see if he was okay. 

“You’re bleeding.”

Tyler laughed, “What?”

Pressing a light finger to the cut on the side of his head, he winced and you showed him. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’m bleeding.”

“How did you do it?”

Tyler thought about it for a moment as you both fell into the similar movements of you guiding him away from his truck to sit down on the floor of the van as you grabbed your medical kit. Meanwhile, the others started tidying the equipment up before they’d sit down with you and Tyler in the parking lot. 

“There was a gust and the truck door closed. It hit me but I didn’t think it hit that hard.”

He did. He felt it. But he didn’t know it was bleeding. 

Standing in between his legs, his fingers deftly fidgeting with the fabric of your trousers, your concentration remained on him and getting the cut cleaned and sealed. You moved his chin with your fingers and his head followed your movements. 

“This might sting.”

It did.

He didn’t hide it very well. 

“Sorry,” you apologised, blowing a little light air onto it to stop the momentary burning sensation. 

Meanwhile, across the lot, Boone was watching both of you. 

“Do you think they’ll ever do anything about it?”

Lily turned and looked in his direction. Tyler’s eyes were fixed on you as you took careful consideration with helping fix his cuts. 

“Don’t talk about it. I’ve been trying to get them together for years.”

“Man, Tyler is sooo in love with her.”

Lily looked over even though she didn’t need to, to know it was true. Tyler looked at you in a way Lily had never seen a man look at a woman before. There was more than just trust and respect there. There was also something more than just ‘love’. The word ‘love’ seemed too simple for the bond that you and Tyler had. 

Maybe ‘soulmates’ or ‘twin flames’ were better descriptions. 

She’d seen it between you both since day one of meeting you. She met Tyler maybe a year earlier and they were fast friends but something she picked up on, even before she came to know Tyler as her family, was that Tyler had someone. 

He had a connection with someone in his life, unlike any other. 

Of course, it wasn’t until she met you that she realised who that was with. The sole reason why no other romantic relationship – no matter how perfect the girl Lily seemed to find – did not work. 

She was never you. 

And it didn’t take long for confirmation from Tyler considering he couldn’t hide his feelings from his face whenever he looked at you. But he was convinced that you never felt the same because you were like that with everyone. 

And he was right. To an extent. 

When Lily got pelted with hail that hard it cut her skin, you patched her up. You made her swear to be careful and you patched her up. But you never looked at her like how you looked at Tyler. When Boone did a back-flip and landed wrong, you cussed him for being an idiot and helped patch him up. You never stood in between his legs or looked at him like how you looked at Tyler. 

It was all in the subtle differences with how you treated everyone else compared to Tyler. 

With Tyler, there was almost something more intimate about the whole thing. Because even when you stood in between Javi’s legs when his sunglasses scared his nose, there was nothing seemingly romantic about the ordeal. 

But you and Tyler…

That was something magical. 

“Do you think there’s anything we can do to, you know, push it along? They’re killin’ me.”

Lily laughed and Boone helped her up onto the back of the truck. “I’ve got a few ideas but so far they’ve not exactly gone to plan.”

“I say just leave them to it.” Dani said as she rounded the back of the truck. “Best to leave it to fate. When it’s meant to happen, it’ll happen.”

“I agree. If we push them together too soon, it could backfire.”

“They’ve known each other over a decade.” Kate said, leaning onto the flatbed. “How much longer can it be?”

“We could always parent trap them?” Javi offered. 

But Lily shook her head. “I tried that but they just figured out a way to get out together.”

Kate looked at her. “So, when I saw them climbing out of the motel storage closet two months ago…that was because of you?”

“Guilty.”

They all looked back to the oblivious couple. 

“Maybe it’s just timing.”

Boone sighed. “If they don’t get together soon, we’ve gotta do something about it.”

As they watched the couple, they realised Boone was right. 

“Well, what’s the diagnosis, Doc?”

“You should be okay, now.”

Tyler smiled and went to touch his wound. “Thanks, Doc.”

You slapped his hand away and it instantly dropped. “Don’t touch it. And, you’re welcome.”

Tyler watched you for a moment or two. Something seemed off. 

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, why?”

You looked at him as you packed the rest of the supplies away, but it was only brief. To anyone else, making eye contact when saying a statement like that might actually mean you were ‘fine’. But Tyler didn’t believe it for a second. 

He’d known you too long. He knew all of your tells. 

“No, you’re not.”

For a moment, your guard dropped and your gaze shot to him. How the hell did he know? You already knew how. It was Tyler. He could read you like a book. When he actually read the secret book on you, you’d never know. All you knew was that you shouldn’t have been shocked that out of everyone, he was the one to notice. 

Better yet, he was the one to not ask his question again, but rather tell you the truth you didn’t want to admit to yourself. 

“What is it?”

You remained silent, packed up the rest of your things and stepped up and behind him into the van. And he followed suit. 

“Y/n, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Ty. I promise.”

Tyler clicked his tongue as he leaned against the small kitchen side. “There you go, breaking rule number two.”

“Rule number two?”

“Never lie.” Tyler told you. 

“Since when do we have rules?” 

“Uh, since you gave me a set of them ten years ago. This goes both ways, Sweetheart. If I have to live by them, so do you.”

“Well,” you had to think on your feet. “You broke rule number one. Don’t get hurt. Seems we’re even.”

You went to move past him, to run away from the conversation but slightly sticking his arm out, he stopped you. And, feeling his eyes on you, you looked at him. 

“Talk to me,” Tyler’s voice was quiet. Soft. Like he was trying not to startle you. “Please.”

If you looked at him any longer, you’d cave. Those green eyes of his always had some kind of magical power over you. So you shook your head and forced yourself to look away. 

“It’s nothing.” Then you stepped back a little. “I better go and check on the others.”

Tyler let you go, but he knew the conversation wasn’t over. Something was up and you were hurting. And he needed to find out why. 

Tyler’s eyes rarely left you over the next day and a half. You kept your eye on his wound, but when you cleaned it, that’s the only place you looked. You didn’t sneak a look at him like you usually did when you thought he wasn’t paying attention. You barely said two words to him. 

He’d asked Dani and Dexter if they knew anything about what had happened to you, but even they didn’t know. They knew you’d been quiet for the last couple of days, but other than that you seemed okay. 

It was as the sun started its descent in the sky that you got a knock on your motel door. Everyone had either gone for a nap or a shower, so you didn’t fully know who to expect. But once you opened your door, it was no surprise. 

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Tyler smiled. “Are you busy?”

You shook your head. “Not really. Why?”

“I’m gonna go for a drive, want to come with me?”

You were silent for a moment, trying to decide between saying ‘yes’ and ‘no’. On one hand, you’d love to join him. On the other, you knew within the first ten minutes of the drive, Tyler would know everything about what you weren’t telling him just by your silence. 

Tyler could see the contemplation washing over your face. “Let me rephrase? I’m going for a drive, and I want you to come with me.”

Looking into his eyes, you felt your internal battle melt away. 

“We need to talk.”

Internally, you sighed. You couldn’t avoid him forever. 

“Let me grab my jacket.”

“I’ll be by the truck.”

Two minutes later, you walked down the metal steps as you zipped up your jacket in the slow breeze that passed through the peaceful silence of the motel. Tyler stood by the passenger door, waiting to open it for you and close it behind you. 

Then he rounded the front before he pulled himself into the driver’s seat and peeled out of the lot and headed down the backroads. 

Usually, the radio would be playing on some kind of country station and the silence wouldn’t even be noticed between yourself and Tyler. But he wanted to talk. You both needed to talk. 

“Where are we headed?”

“Thought we could get some ice cream.” 

You smiled. Ever since Boone had mentioned it in the morning, you’d had a craving for it. 

After a few more minutes of silence, you plucked up the courage to ask. “So what did you want to talk about?”

Tyler looked at you, back at the road and back to you with a sigh. “Please remember we’re going for ice cream.”

“Okay.”

“And that I’m driving.”

You were getting a little worried. 

“Okay?”

“I called your brother.” You just stared at Tyler, waiting for him to continue. “He told me what happened.”

You searched Tyler’s face for any hint of a lie. He’d said that once before, just to get you to admit it outloud to him. He hadn’t called your brother and he hadn’t known what had happened. 

But this time he did. 

“Tyler…”

“Something was up with you and I knew you weren’t going to tell me. I wasn’t gonna take any chances.”

You sat back in your seat. “You could have just asked me.”

“Would you have told me?”

You were quiet. “Eventually.”

“Y/n,” Tyler sighed. “You spend so much time taking care of everyone else.”

“It’s my job.”

He shook his head. “It’s more than that. You spend so much time making sure everyone else is okay, making sure we’re not hurt or dying or slipping off the edge of the world. You deserve not to get hurt, too.”

“It’s a little late for that.” Your voice seemed like something it never was. 

Small.

You didn’t know whether to look out of the window or at your hands. But Tyler brought your gaze back to him anyway by taking hold of your hand from where he sat. 

“I know I can’t change what happened, but I’m here if you wanna talk. Or scream. Or cry. Or bitch about it.” That part made you smile and he gave you a light smile in return. “For as long as you need.”

For the first time in a few weeks, you felt normal again for a moment. “Thanks.”

Looking at Tyler, his hand still firmly in yours, you watched as he looked from you, back to the road. 

Even when you were younger, you could have watched him forever trying to commit him to memory. Each line and curve of his face, the length of his lashes, the colour of his hair…all of it. You’d looked at the man for just over a decade. Maybe it was some innate fear of losing him, or maybe it was the fact that the first time you met him was when he charged in front of a bull and got flipped into the air like a rag-doll. 

But you wanted to make sure he was there. 

One thing that you were certain of was that, no matter what, you’d never forget his eyes. The way they bore into your soul unlike anything else. Tyler knew what you were thinking and feeling with one single gaze on your face. 

Nobody else could do that. 

Nobody. 

Just him. 

Just Tyler. 

Pulling into a semi empty parking lot, Tyler switched off the engine and looked over at you. Then you both made your way inside. Grabbing a basket, you and Tyler stocked up on different flavours of ice cream for both yourself and the others before heading towards the check out. 

Finally, once you’d come outside, there were barely any cars in the entire lot but the way the sun was setting, sending a golden hue over everything it touched, made it seem a lot more peaceful than just empty. 

“Wanna stay here for a while?”

“Here? Here here?”

Tyler smiled as he lifted the back of his flat bed down and hopped up into it. You tried to deny yourself of the fact that you checked him out as he did so. 

“Yes, here. Or have you got somewhere better to be?”

You could hear the smile in his voice. 

“What about the ice cream?”

Tyler gave a casual shrug before he lifted it up. “I’ve got a cooler. They’ll keep for a while.”

You looked around you. There was no hurry in getting back. Everyone would probably still be napping. 

“Okay then.”

As Tyler dropped the bag into the cooler, he walked over to you and gave you a hand up before you held onto his arm for stability. 

“You okay?”

“All good.”

As you sat down, Tyler went back to the cooler and pulled out your chosen flavour of the day, as well as his before handing you a clean spoon from the small side pocket of the cooler. 

Then he joined you. 

With the sun warm on your bodies, the pair of you sat on the edge of Tyler’s flatbed, your legs swinging free. 

“So, what did our shared idiot have to say? Is he and the girls okay?”

Tyler nodded. “Melenie’s on a girls weekend away for her friend’s bachelorette party, so he’s trying to keep the girls busy before they call their mom. He also said that Caroline has now decided she wants to become a vet instead of a princess equestrian horse ballet dancer.”

You smiled with a small laugh. 

“And Zoey has taken to teaching her dad how to cook a meal that does not include pasta or cheese.”

You looked at Tyler. “Is that why I got a text asking what a bechamel is?”

Tyler nodded with a small laugh. “She found a recipe for Lasagna to help him dip his toe in the water. She’s just like you, you know.”

“What? Bossy? Stubborn? Too smart for her own good?”

“Clever.” 

You looked at Tyler again. 

Then he shrugged. “Bossy, too. But clever.”

You smiled, taking the compliment, even if you did roll your eyes at his agreement of you being called ‘bossy’. 

A small chuckle escaped you. “She has been running rings around those two for years. I’m expecting Caroline will be doing the same soon enough.”

“Soon enough? She already does! You know, last time I went to see them she had your brother learning how to sow pink sequins onto tu-tu fabric.”

“But he doesn’t know how to use a needle. I’m pretty sure I banned him from using one when he was sixteen and tried to sow his socks back together. It ended up looking like he had webbed feet.”

Tyler laughed. “Well, he’s gotten better at least. I had to give him a helping hand, but by the end of the night she was doing pirouettes around the garden until she got dizzy.”

You smiled. You saw your brother, sister-in-law and nieces as often as you could. You had a facetime call with them at least once a week. Your niece Zoey had even taken to writing your letters since she was practicing to earn her pen license in school. 

The conversation flowed from there. From your nieces, to Tyler’s family, to the Wranglers, to work, to the prediction of a few more EF-1s and 2s in the area in the coming days and then back to ice cream. 

Until Dani called and asked you and Tyler to pick some food up on your way back from wherever you both were. 

“Come on, we better go.”

As you took Tyler’s tub back to the cooler along with your own, he hopped down to the ground and waited for you. And from there, after the initial awkward moment, Tyler reached to your hips before slowly lowering you down until your feet hit the concrete directly in front of him. 

For a moment, the world seemed to disappear around you. 

Feeling Tyler’s fingers against the waistband of your shorts holding you steady, you felt yourself lean forward. With your eyes trailing up from his chest where your hands had fallen from his shoulders, all the way up to where his eyes moved from the lower half of your face to meet your gaze, a question popped into your mind. Well, a few questions. 

Did he feel the same?

Was he…did he want to kiss you, too?

Before you could get your answers, however, Tyler’s phone rang out loud. And the moment seemed to roll away as you and Tyler realised what was happening and stepped away from each other. 

“It’s…it’s Dexter.”

You nodded and stepped away. “I’ll wait in the truck.”

As Tyler watched you walk away, looking back at him every once in a while, he cursed himself for leaving his phone on loud. 

Looking down at the contact, he swiped to answer and scuffed his boots on the concrete as he cleared his throat. “Yeah?”

“Hey, Ty. Uh, I’m picking up a reading.”

Sitting in the truck, you looked at your reflection. The heat you could feel on your cheeks was clearly writing across your face. You could only pray Tyler thought it was from the sun and not from the twister of butterflies inside of you. 

From the rearview mirror, you watched him scurry around, grabbing a pen and a scrap piece of paper to scribble something down. Then he hung up and rushed towards the driver’s seat. 

“Is everything okay?”

“Get your seatbelt on.” Tyler told you as he pulled his own on and started the truck up. 

“Ty, what’s going on-”

“Dexter’s picked up some cells. We’re twenty minutes away. Fifteen if we hurry.”

The noise of his engine seemed to get louder until it joined in with the sound of the incoming sirens. 

You could both see it in the distance, gathering more track as it got closer. First it ripped through a baseball park for the kids, then the field and park beside it before heading towards the markets in the town. 

“The shelters are all full!”

You looked around you, as did Tyler. “The bar! They’ll have a cellar!”

The wind continued to pick up around you both, everyone’s voice becoming silent in comparison to the chaos around you all. 

Then you saw one of the tents take flight. 

“Tyler!”

He couldn’t hear you. 

“Tyler!”

He heard you as you forced yourself closer, but before he could react, you pulled him down just before the tent swooped lower and took your both out. Rolling along the ground, the tent cover ripped away and went sailing through the air and down the street along with the metal stand. 

“Are you okay?”

Tyler was above you, checking you over. But you just nodded and your attention turned towards the end of the street. 

“We need to get inside.”

With Tyler’s help, you stood up and pulled yourself into the bar before he closed the door and directed you towards the cellar. As the door to the cellar closed behind you, a sharp pain came to the side of your head. 

“Come on, down here. We’ll be safe here.”

Tyler slotted you between the wall and himself, his arms wrapping around you securely. Every now and again, people let out small screams. More so when the tornado ripped through the town and battered against the cellar door. 

You gripped onto Tyler’s arm and clothes a little tighter, burying your head into his chest. Then you felt his arm reach from your back to your head, holding you against him, his cheek resting against the top of your head. 

Slowly, the wind disappeared and the battering of the door came to a stop. The only noises that could be heard in the cellar were people’s gasps and heavy breathing as they looked around as the swinging headlamp above them. 

“Do you think it’s over?”

“Maybe.” 

Tyler looked up and helped you up from where you stood. The stinging on your head seemed to get worse as you stood up and the blurry image of Tyler reached into his pocket and pulled out a clean square of fabric. 

You hissed.

“Sorry. Just keep pressure. You’re bleeding.”

For a moment you tried to look at it then realised you couldn’t. 

“I’ve got a med kit in my truck. Hopefully it’s still there.”

Eventually, you all got back outside. Boone, Dani and Kate appeared from across the street, a sea of people behind them. 

“Can you hold down the fort?” Tyler asked Lily. “I want to make sure Y/n’s okay.”

“Yeah, ‘course. We’ve got her med kit with us if you don’t have yours.”

Tyler nodded and thanked her before moving back to the sidewalk, his hand coming to your shoulder. “Come on, let's go and patch you up.”

Finding Tyler’s truck, he slotted the back of the flatbed down and lifted you onto the back. 

“I’m gonna grab my kit. It’s on the backseat.”

You just nodded, keeping the eye closest to the cut shut. Tyler disappeared for a moment but once he was back in front of you, he was a little less blurry. 

“Okay, let me take a look at this.”

“Are you okay?”

Tyler laughed a little as he examined your wound. “You’re the one bleeding here, Sweetheart. It’s my turn to take care of you.”

“I don’t know how I feel about that.”

Tyler chuckled. “Well,” he examined the wound further before reaching for the cotton swabs and cleaning solution. “It’s either me or another paramedic-”

“You.”

Tyler smiled. “Glad to know I’m a fan favourite.”

Then with a small warning, he started to clean the cut on your head. You hissed, lifting your hand to his other arm. 

“Sorry, I’ll be finished soon. I promise.” Tyler said as his thumb gently rubbed your cheek as it rested in his hand. 

“It’s okay. I trust you.”

Tyler smiled a little. “Am I still a fan favourite?”

The stinging settled and you moved back towards him and the cotton swab. “More than a favourite, but I might be biassed.”

You seemed to have shocked yourself but Tyler didn’t seem to react. Too much, at least. Maybe he hadn’t heard you. 

With little tape pieces, Tyler pinched your cut together before laying them across it. 

“What’s the diagnosis, Doc?”

Tyler smiled, “I’m keeping my eye on you, but you should live.”

“Ah,” you smiled. “The three little words every woman wants to hear.” 

For a moment, it looked like Tyler was going to say something but then he turned back to his med bag. “We should probably head back. See if anyone needs our help.”

“You’re right.”

And you both did exactly that. 

The night sky had fully settled across the town by the time you and Tyler started helping out. And by the time you all got back to the motel, the moon was at its peak. Everyone headed for bed the moment you all got back. 

Except for you. 

Twenty minutes later, you stepped out of the shower for the second time that day, your hair wrapped in a towel as you got dressed into a spare set of clean clothes. 

Then there was a familiar knock on your door as you flipped your head over and pulled the towel from around your hair. 

“It’s open, Ty!”

“How did you know it was me?”

You gave him a tired smile. “I know your knock. Is everything okay?”

“I wanted to check on you.” He lifted his med bag from beside him. You nodded and he shut the door behind him before he walked across the carpet floor and sat beside you on your bed. 

With his fingers gently holding your head, he examined your wound. “How are you feeling?”

“The dizziness is gone and I can see you clearly again, so that’s something.”

Tyler smiled. 

“I am a doctor, Tyler. I do know what I’m doing.”

“I know.” Tyler nodded. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t have to check up on you. You deserve to be taken care of, too.”

You smiled and gave him a quiet, “Thank you.”

“Well, it seems clean.”

“I did just have a shower.”

Tyler chuckled, a light blush spreading across his cheeks. “Right. Well, you look okay. I mean, you always look okay. Beautiful, actually. But-”

“Ty.”

“What I mean is- it’s just that- your wound looks okay.” Tyler finally looked at you calmly again, his hand coming to your wound to let his thumb brush the wet strands of your hair away from it. 

“You always look beautiful.”

You felt yourself lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed for a moment until you heard his voice. Then your eyes met his. 

But no phone rang this time. 

No knock came to the door. 

Neither of you were trying to avoid the other. 

As his hand slipped through the strands of your hair, your hand reached out for his arm and you moved closer. Finally, his lips met yours in a tender kiss. It was soft then…searching. His hand that you’d reach for pulled you closer until he held you flush against him, your own hands reaching for his side as well as his jaw. 

With the kiss floating to an end, you felt Tyler’s nose nuzzle against yours, your eyes still closed as his forehead came to touch yours. 

Then you finally opened your eyes when you felt Tyler pull away for a moment. He was looking at you, that ridiculously endearing smile on his face as he looked at you and once again brushed the hair from your face. 

Then you felt yourself giggle. 

“What?” He asked. 

“Nothing. It’s nothing…just…I never thought this would happen.”

“Are you glad it did?” Tyler felt his heart trying to prepare itself for the worst. 

But you smiled. “I am…are you?”

Tyler felt a wave of relief wash over him. “If you only knew how long I’d been thinking about it…”

“Is that a yes?”

Tyler nodded. “That’s a yes.”

“So…if I asked you to kiss me again, would you say yes?”

“Yes.” Tyler leaned closer. “I’d say ‘yes’.”

Kissing you once again, your fate was tied with Tyler. A day where Tyler didn’t kiss you good morning, good night or just for no reason at all would never come into being. 

[helaintoloki]

Somethin’ Stupid

part two

pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

warnings: angst, lots of pining, eventual fluff

notes: part two is here! ty guys for the support and hope you enjoy <3

summary: being forced to go on a mission together allows bucky and y/n to come to an understanding

*part one

You wake up with an awful hangover and a broken heart.

A part of you had hoped that the events that had transpired last night were merely figments of a dream, a peek into some alternate dimension where you had misjudged your tolerance for alcohol and completely humiliated yourself in front of the man you were hopelessly in love with. But the glass of water paired with a bottle of aspirin and a note from Natasha excusing you from training today proved otherwise.

All it took was a single drunken confession to completely obliterate one of the most dearest friendships you had. How could you ever possibly face him after this? Not only had you completely misread his intentions, but he had responded less than enthusiastically to your profession. You’d seen it in his face, the guilt that swam in his eyes and sympathetic smile that he wore so beautifully despite how badly it hurt you. Though Natasha had cut him off before he could offer a full response, you had enough sense to know what had been coming next.

“I’m sorry kid, but I don’t see you that way. You’re just not my type.”

The mere thought has you reeling all over again as you fight to keep your nausea at bay and clumsily reach for the glass of water. You’re grateful that you’ve been given the green light to essentially lock yourself away in your room and hide in your shame for the rest of the day, but you know that eventually you’ll be expected to go back out there and resume your daily routine. But Bucky was part of that routine, and you feel absolutely pathetic as you realize just how much you’d centered your life around him.

It’s obvious that logic is not your strong suit when it comes to these situations, so it made sense that you felt the only natural solution was to simply avoid Bucky for as long as humanly possible. You’d spar with someone else, maybe ask Natasha to join you for a movie instead, and chase away your own nightmares from now on. Surely this would help you get over him once and for all.

At least that’s what you hoped.

However, you were only successful in avoiding Bucky for a straight week until Steve decided you two were the perfect candidates for a recon mission.

You’d followed Steve around the compound pleading your case as soon as he’d handed you the mission file, but the man was adamant that you were the only one right for the job.

“You’re the only one who can see inside the building without actually having to step foot in it,” Steve had reminded you, his stance firm and his arms crossed over his broad chest as he spoke. “We need to know if these guys actually have any stolen Stark tech on their hands before we risk going in there. Your vision can give us the layout of the building and determine their inventory without them even knowing.”

“If my enhanced eyesight makes me the most qualified then why can’t I just go on my own?” You adamantly protested before handing the file back to him. “It clearly states in the report that I’m not expected to go inside or make contact with any hostiles, so why do I need a partner?”

“You’re going to be too busy scanning the building to watch your own back, so you’ll need someone else there to watch it for you,” Steve reminded you with authority, his tone indicative of the fact that as Captain he had the final say. With a softer tone, he placed a firm hand on your shoulder before giving it a comforting squeeze. “Besides, I think this will be good for you both. A team only works if everyone’s on the same page, so it’s important to me that you two figure things out. Understood?”

“You got it, Cap,” you finally relinquished with a discontented sigh before excusing yourself to prepare for the mission.

You end up in the car garage a few hours later anxiously waiting for Bucky’s arrival. A part of you had considered leaving without him and worrying about Steve’s wrath at a later point, but you knew better than to test your luck. He was right about needing someone to have your back, but you just wish that someone could have been anyone else on the team.

The sound of heavy boots making their way towards you prompts you to lift your despondent gaze towards their own. Despite only having been apart from him for a week, you still find your breath catching in your throat and heartbeat speeding its pace by tenfold as you lock eyes with his stormy gaze. You have no idea what he’s thinking, and you desperately wish your x-ray vision could allow you to look into his head and read his thoughts, but unfortunately that’s Wanda’s speciality, not yours.

“Hey,” he greets with a barely visible smile that makes your chest tighten with longing. You’d think that after being rejected you’d be over him by now, but it turns out it’s true when they say absence makes the heart grow fonder.

“Hi,” you murmur meekly, absently dragging the toe of your boot along the ground. The air is thick with tension as you both engage in an unwelcome staring contest and wait with baited breath for the other to address the obvious elephant in the room. After a minute, you finally speak, “Thanks for coming along.”

“No need to thank me,” he assures you in the softest tone he can muster, almost as if you’ll run off again if he doesn’t choose his words carefully. “You know I’ll always have your back.”

His reply has you swallowing harshly while your stomach twists itself in knots; this week had been miserable for you, and yet you’d never stopped to consider how Bucky was fairing in your absence. Even if he did only view you as a kid, you still had formed a close bond with the man, and it must have been jarring for him to spend his days unused to your absence. You’d essentially iced him out without worrying about the repercussions, and now here you were forced to face them head on.

“We should go,” you state suddenly in an attempt to avoid any further awkwardness. Bucky opens his mouth to protest but instead chooses to keep silent and grab the keys for his motorcycle. As much as he’s been dying to talk to you about what had occurred at Tony’s party, he knows you both need to be focused on the task at hand, so he instead chooses to offer you a helmet before starting up the bike.

The world almost feels whole again when you seat yourself behind him and wrap your arms around his torso in a tight hold as he begins to speed off to your destination. You’ve missed this closeness, his warmth, the scent of his cologne and the comfort it brings you to rest your cheek against his back as you watch the scenery pass you by. You’re not sure if your relationship with the super soldier will ever be the same, and a part of you wonders if it’s possible to borrow the time stone from Dr. Strange so you can go back and stop yourself from making such a horrid mistake. You’d feel better if you could at least know what Bucky was thinking.

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky was thinking about a lot of things.

Though everyone around him could see how stupidly blind he was to your adoration for him, Bucky legitimately had no inkling of your romantic feelings for him. The shock on his face that night had been genuine, and your confession left him dumbfounded as he scrambled to come up with the right words, but Natasha had whisked you away before he had been given the chance.

Bucky laid awake for hours that night reminiscing on all the times you’d shared together- evenings spent talking for hours until the sun came out, playful teasing over your earpieces during missions, letting you crawl into his bed at odd hours because it helped your night terrors. He could say he was simply being a good friend, a good teammate even, but he knew he’d only be kidding himself. Bucky would do just about anything you asked of him, and he knew it was because deep inside he loved you too.

The word kid had slipped out, but it was meant to be viewed as a harmless pet name. If he knew just how upset it would have made you he never would have used it, and it haunted him every single day you ignored him. He wanted to make things right, but that would only be possible if you gave him the chance.

And right now, it didn’t seem like that was going to happen anytime soon.

~~~

Your eyes are laser focused on the building before you as you nestle into the high branches of a tree and ignore the biting cold from the snowfall. Bucky is perched beside you, gaze constantly shifting as he scans the area for any potential threats to your safety. You’ve been at this for about an hour as you meticulously scan each floor in search of any weapons as well as intel regarding how many people occupy the building. Your eyes are starting to burn from the amount of strain your powers put on them, something Bucky picks up on as he places a hand on your shoulder to get your attention.

“I think you should take a break,” he prompts with worry clear on his features. Though a part of you agrees, you’re too stubborn to relent to his suggestion. This mission is your chance to prove to him that you’re not just some kid he has to babysit; you are just as capable as anyone else, and you want him to see you not as a mentee but as an equal.

“I’m fine,” you insist indignantly before returning your gaze to the weapons base, “you’re breaking my concentration.”

“Y/n, if you put too much pressure on your eyes you’re going to have a crushing migraine for weeks and Steve will have no choice but to bench you from missions,” he reminds you, and though Bucky is only trying to be helpful you feel as if you’re being reprimanded like some child.

“Are you not listening to me? I’m fine,” you grit through clenched teeth. The pressure is getting to you, and this conversation certainly isn’t helping.

“Look, just stop to use the eyedrops Dr. Banner gave you and then-“

“Oh my god, would you stop?! You’re not my babysitter, Bucky!” You finally cry out in exasperation.

“Hey!” A third voice interjects before Bucky can respond, prompting both of you to turn your heads just in time to see a man below raising his gun in your direction. You’d both been so engrossed in your debacle to notice a guard had been sent to search the area, and your little outburst had just given away your hiding spot.

Your head is pounding from the overexertion of your powers, and you’re barely able to register Bucky yelling at you to duck. The man begins to shoot before Bucky can draw his gun, and you’re not quick enough to duck out of the way when a bullet comes in your direction. It shoots straight through your shoulder blade, the force strong enough to hinder your balance and throw you off of the tree branch.

“Y/n!” Bucky cries out, eyes wide as he shoots a hand out for you. He’s barely able to graze your fingertips before you go falling straight to the ground with a strangled cry. The last thing you see is his horrified face before you hit the floor with a defeaning thud.

Everything goes dark after that.

~~~

The lights of the infirmary are blinding as you will yourself to peel your eyes open with a groan. A dull throbbing fills your head as you lift your hand to shield your eyes and attempt to sit up only to be gently pushed back down onto the bed.

“Easy there, slugger,” a voice reprimands teasingly, “Bruce says you shouldn’t be making any sudden movements for the next few days. You didn’t break anything, but you’re bruised up pretty bad and need to be on a five day medication regimen to keep the migraines at bay, and that’s not even mentioning the bullet hole in your shoulder.”

“Natasha?” you murmur hoarsely, barely making out her figure through squinted eyes. Your mind is reeling as you try to recall the events of your mission, and your stomach drops as you recall that you hadn’t been alone when you’d been ambushed. “Where’s Bucky?!”

You try to sit up again only for her to push you back down with one hand while the other uses the control pad to dim the lights in the room. You’re grateful for the pressure it alleviates, but your racing heart does nothing to help your anxious state.

“Bucky is fine,” she reassures you, “he left to get you some water, but he’s been in this room all day since you both got back.”

“What happened? I-I remember arguing with him, getting caught, falling out of a tree…”

“You hit a couple branches on the way down which is why you’re all banged up, but luckily the snow helped break your fall and prevented any further damage. Barnes was able to get you both out of there unscathed, and thankfully Bruce was able to remove the bullet out of your shoulder with minimal scarring. But… I have to say, I’ve never seen Bucky look so worried before.”

“God,” you whine in embarrassment, palms pressing into your eyes as you hold your face in your hands. “It’s like I’m incapable of not making a fool of myself every time we’re alone together.”

“Look, just stop dragging your feet and face the issue head on. You two need to work this out,” Natasha reiterates, her eyes subtly shifting to the man that enters the infirmary with a bottle of water in his hands. “The sooner the better.”

Bucky looks like a dog caught with its tail between his legs as he approaches your bedside, swallowing nervously as Natasha moves past him with a “good luck” leaving her lips as she exits the room and allows you both some privacy. You take the bottle from him with trembling hands and a quiet thank you before finally willing yourself to look at him.

“I’m sorry… this whole mess is my fault,” you murmur remorsefully, fingers fidgeting with the paper label on the bottle, "if I had just kept my mouth shut that night-“

“I’m glad you said it.”

“What?” You breathe out in surprise, unsure if you heard him correctly or if it was just your migraine skewing your perception of reality. Bucky swallows nervously before seating himself beside your bed, a bashful smile playing at his lips as he meets your gaze.

“Look, I know I reacted horribly in the moment, but it was only because I thought you were too drunk to mean it,” he confesses almost shamefully, a flash of guilt present in his features. “It’s hard to believe a woman as wonderful as you would want a tired old man like me, and I assumed it was a spur of the moment thing. But I have cared for you the moment Steve introduced you to us as a new member of the team, and I don’t go out of my way to protect you because I think you’re some incapable kid who needs my help. It’s because… well, it’s because I love you too. And I’m sorry it took me this long to say it.”

Your lips are parted in shock as you process Bucky’s words, your mind racing to catch up as you realize the man you’ve pined for so long is now confessing his love for you. A part of you is scared that this is some sort of concussion dream and that you’ll wake up to find it wasn’t real. But the feel of his hand carefully cupping your cheek says otherwise, and you nearly melt into his touch at the feeling.

“You love me?” You repeat again in quiet astonishment. Bucky lets out a small chuckle in response.

“Of course I do, sweetheart,” he reassures you with an adoring smile, “it killed me to be away from you for so long, and I hate that it took us being shot at for me to finally tell you that.”

“I guess we just operate better on chaos,” you weakly joke, smiling when it earns you another laugh out of Bucky.

“It certainly is our specialty,” he agrees with wry grin. Then, tone more serious now as he moves to take one of your hands in his own, he says, “I love you, y/n, and I’d be honored if you would give me the chance to take you out somewhere nice to makeup for this whole mess I put us through.”

With a soft smile, you give his hand a gentle squeeze and answer, “I’d love nothing more.”

And then, in the privacy of the quiet infirmary, Bucky leans in and steals the first of many kisses from you.

| tags: @cjand10 @wamefou @g1g1l @yes-ilovetowrite @greatenthusiasttidalwave @shanksstrawhat @vicmc624 |

[iamhereforfunnzies]

Villain & Violent

Prologue

You were a child just a normal child who just wanted a family, everyone else gets to have that why not you? All those years of calling , praying , begging for them to glance at you was embarrassing how childish of you to ever hope for them to lower themselves to you. Here you are with some thug with a gun in your temple shaking “ If y-ou don’t give me the money , I’ll shoot!” he stuttered out with a pink hello kitty gun. Staying still as if you’re a nothing but decoration in the donut store “You know I am more of a my melody gal” you began to take the cash out of the counter as you arrogantly show of your nails. “Well no one can beat the original and the BEST” he said taking the cash of your hands as you glare at him. “Hello kitty such a basic answer you poser” “ And My Melody ain’t??” the two of you have a stare off.

“Respect?”

“Respect.”

The two of you saluted each other as hear the police sirens come out of time and this how your life is a string of badluck , jinxes , accidents , mistakes , and you. “Honestly , I can’t believe I haven’t quit this daam job” you said walking at an alleyway on your way to the manor. When the same fucking hello kitty boy was fighting for his life with some oversize hyenas of men looked at you; you were about to turn away when he yelled. “HER. SHE’S THE ONE WHO GAVE ME THE MONEY” How. The . Fuck-

“And that’s how I died.” You remembered but at the same time you don’t. There had to be more than this , looking at your hands the same My Melody nailset it was fresh so it still be 2 more weeks before you died. Looking around your at the dinning room alone as usual waiting for Alfred to come and bring your lunch, you feel something wet on your cheek. Is that how my life was? Unfullfiling? A comedic death? I didn’t even get my 7 minutes… Why did I die like that? Why didn’t I run? Why did I just stand there you stupid , idiotic , dumb bitch of a- “(Name), what are you doing?” Bruce stood in the door looking at your arm full of scratches, bleeding their staining the table cloth and your blood shot eyes.

Be honest with me am I insane I wrote a 7k+ fanfic becuase I lost my cellphone and had no wifi for an entire day. I am just gonna continue it since it would be a waste not to. Enjoy my word spam of a story and no it's not even nearly done.

[iamgonnagetyouback]

hi! congratulations on 2k ivy! i've only recently stumbled into your acc but i'm loving all of your works so far!

you write so good i feel like im actually in it, iykwim!

anyways, if it's okay with you, can i get a 🧸 teddy dust for mattheo or theo with the prompt; "look, i know i probably should have backed off and i apologize." "no, honestly it was kind of hot." "what??" (from the 2nd angst prompt list)

i love your works sm you're amazing! cheers to 2k again!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀────۶ৎ reckless

synopsis: ever since you met mattheo, you knew he had a temper. but when some creep at a party gets too close to you, he completely snaps. now you're in his dorm, everyone yelling, but all you can think about is how pretty he looks when he's angry content warnings: violence, fighting, blood, suggestive tension, possessive!mattheo, mutual pining author's note: hi love!! ୨ৎ omg first of all, thank you so much for your sweet words, you have no idea how much that means to me ♡ hope you love it, darling—mwah!! ‹𝟹 nav. ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀2k celebration. ⠀

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ᡣ𐭩 words.ᐟ 705

The party had been going fine—better than fine, actually. The music was loud, the drinks were flowing, and the Slytherin common room was packed with students laughing, dancing, and generally causing trouble. But then, of course, someone had to ruin it.

You’d been trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of some Ravenclaw’s hand lingering too long on your wrist, his body crowding too close as he slurred something about how you were “too pretty to be this stuck-up.”

You were this close to hexing him when someone else stepped in.

More specifically—Mattheo. And more as in swung in.

The shift in the room was immediate. One second, you were glaring up at the guy, and the next, Mattheo was right there, shoving himself between you and the Ravenclaw.

His voice was low, lethal. "Touch her again, and I’ll break your fucking hand."

The guy scoffed, clearly thinking Mattheo was all talk—right up until Mattheo’s fist connected with his jaw.

The impact was loud. Gasps echoed around the room.

"For fuck’s sake, Riddle!" Draco groaned, already marching over.

Draco and Theodore had immediately shoved themselves between Mattheo and the guy before he could do worse. Lorenzo grabbed you by the wrist, tugging you back as Blaise and Pansy tried to calm the situation down. The guy scrambled away, cursing, but Mattheo still lunged after him, only stopped by Theodore gripping his shirt and yanking him back.

"Fucking hell, Riddle," Blaise hissed. "You wanna get expelled?"

"Expelled?" Pansy cut in, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she grabbed your hand. "More like murdered—if Snape finds out, he’s going to skin him alive."

"I’d like to see him try," Mattheo muttered, wiping his knuckles on his shirt.

"Are you dense?" Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do you ever think before you act?"

Mattheo scoffed. "Oh, please. You lot would’ve done the same."

Theodore rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. "Doesn’t mean we’re not going to call you an idiot for it."

Eventually, after much grumbling, the boys dragged Mattheo upstairs to their dorm, with you and Pansy following close behind.

Once inside, the scolding resumed.

"If you break every guy’s nose who flirts with her, you’re going to run out of people to fight," Lorenzo pointed out.

"And fists," Blaise added.

"And brain cells," Theodore muttered.

"Bold of you to assume he has any left," Draco deadpanned.

Mattheo huffed, plopping onto his bed. "Whatever. Worth it."

Pansy shook her head before turning to you. "You okay, love?"

You nodded, offering a small smile. "I would’ve handled it, but..."

"But he had to go full knight-in-bloody-armor," Draco finished, rolling his eyes.

Blaise smirked. "Our resident guard dog."

Mattheo flipped him off. "Shut up."

Eventually, after much scolding (mostly from Pansy and Lorenzo), everyone trickled out, leaving you alone with Mattheo.

You exhaled, arms crossed as you leaned against the wall.

"Look, I know I probably should have backed off, and I apologize."

You let out a breathy laugh. "No, honestly, it was kind of hot."

Mattheo blinked. "What??"

You smirked, watching realization dawn on his face as he tilted his head at you, eyes darkening with mischief. "Ohhh. So you like watching me throw punches, huh? That’s a bit concerning, love."

You shoved his shoulder. "Shut up."

"No, no, this is good information. Noted." His grin was all teeth, but there was something softer in the way he looked at you now.

The air between you shifted. You could still see the adrenaline buzzing under his skin, the way his jaw flexed slightly, his lips still slightly parted like he had more he wanted to say.

So you decided to shut him up another way.

You grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him down into a kiss. His hands immediately found your waist, fingers pressing into your skin as he responded instantly, tilting his head and deepening it like he’d been waiting for this.

When you finally pulled away, Mattheo was grinning like an idiot. "So, just to clarify—if I get into more fights, do I get more kisses?"

You rolled your eyes. "Try it and find out."

"Merlin, I love a challenge."

And just like that, Mattheo Riddle was absolutely, hopelessly gone for you.

© iamgonnagetyouback ⋆.˚ please do not copy, translate, or repost any of my work.

[redheadspark]

hii!! may i request for the feb prompt session? specifically our boy eddie munson with numbers 2 & 5! like eddie pulling reader aside to confide abt their little crush to someone and reader just thinks oh ahah its nothing but as time goes on we can slide in prompt number 5 for ultimate pining from reader 🤓 perhaps even angsty,, mwhehe >:)

A/N - this is great for Eddie! Thanks for the request, I hope you like it!

Be Brave

Summary - Eddie asks you for advice.

Warnings - Fluff with a hint of Angst

“Hey!  I wanna talk about something with you,”

“If it involves Hellfire you’re on your own.  I’m not going to be getting you out of your shit hole situations anymore,” 

“No no!  I mean….that’s nice when you help with that, but no.  It’s something else,”

You poked your head out of your locker, seeing your best friend look at you with an image of nervousness on his face. His wild hair framing his face and his backpack half-hazardly over his shoulder.  You could see the look in his eyes that this was serious, and knowing Eddie Munson, he was rarely serious.

He was serious about a few things: Hellfire Club, his love for metal music, and the need to be his own different.  So what would it be?

“What’s going on, Eddie?” You asked as you grabbed a few books from your locker to put in your backpack.

“You won’t make fun of me?” He questioned, you grinning as you raised a brow at him.

“Since when do I ever, ever make fun of you?” You asked him in a teasing way.  

“I’m not going to answer that,” he replied, “Just…I wanna talk to you because you’re a girl and you probably are better equip at this than me,”

That made you pause again as you finally closed your locker and faced Eddie.  You both were close as friends, ever since you were recruited to join Hellfire club thanks to your older brother who knew Eddie.  They both were in the same grade and your brother knew you liked playing Dungeons and Dragons, he taught you the game. He figured you playing with Eddie would both get you something to do and to get you out of his hair.  Both worked, and you were a decent player at the table.  It made Eddie admire you all the more, not that he didn’t think girls could play Dungeons and Dragons, he just loved how you played.  The same vigor and bite, just like how he played. 

Which in return made him get a small crush on you.  Not that he knew that you were crushing on him back.

“I wanna tell this girl that I like her, but I don’t know how to do it,” he explained, your heart both beating a pinch faster and plummeting at the same time. You were never one to be yearning for drama that others went through, especially girls and their crushes. It seemed too time consuming and petty, which explained by you hardly had any girl friends. Just a few, but you liked it that way.  You had no time for drama and boy trouble, you had too much homework and after school activities to deal with than to figure out who liked who and who was dating

One of your friends was a cheerleader named Danielle, good friends with Christie Cunningham who was pretty much great with everyone at Hawkins High.  You and Danielle study together in the library on Tuesdays during Study Hall because you both were the top students in your science class, in all your classes really, and one afternoon she asked you about Eddie.

“What about him?” You whispered to her since the librarian was notorious for shushing those who were not whispering. Danielle grinned, chewing the back of her pencil as she was tapping her fingers on the top of her opened science book.

“He’s kind of cute, isn’t he?”  She asked you in a shrug.  You kept it cool, something you brother taught you since you were notorious for not having the best poker face. But deep down, it felt like she kicked you straight in the stomach and you were about to vomit all over the desk.  

“He’s alright,” You hummed, Danielle rolling her eyes.

“Oh come on, you don’t think he’s cute? With at will hair and how he loves his music?” She asked, keeping her voice low.  You wanted to roll your eyes, clearly knowing deep down that Danielle had no idea about the music he likes or the kind of hobbies he was into.  Maybe you were protective of Eddie since you two were close and confided in each other from time to time, and to hear that someone else liked him only as a surface crush, it was not sitting well with you.

“He’s my friend,” You could only reply, Danielle shrugging and going back to work on her notebook.  You passed for a few long seconds, thinking of the worst possibility that Danielle and Eddie would be a couple in the future.  It made you mad, sad, confused, and heartbroken at the same time. But you could only bury it down and not mention it.  That was social suicide, not even worth it.  

So it was buried, along with your own feelings for Eddie.

“The best thing to do is to tell her how you feel,” You explained as you and Eddie walked down the hall, side by side while Eddie watched you in earnest to hear your suggestion to him, “Girls like honesty, not flirting around the bush,”

“That sounds…weird,” Eddie explained with a confused look on his face.

“You know what I mean,” You reasoned as you grinned, “Look, Eddie, whoever this girl is, I bet if you tell them and you’re honest about it, it’ll work out.  You’re a great guy,”

“I think you’re forgetting that I have the nickname Eddie “the Freak” Munson around here,” He reminded you as you huffed.

“That stems from the popular kids who don’t know how to wipe their own asses,” You joked, Eddie was chuckling as you made it to your English class.  You turned to face him, seeing him watch you with warmth in his brown eyes and a small smirk on his lips.  Reach over to squeeze his arm gently within your fingers, you tilted your head up at him since he had a few inches on you.

“Be brave, Eddie.  Girls dig it,” You explained, then slipped into your class right when the bell rang. Eddie stood there for a few long seconds, drinking all you said before he jogged down the hall to get to his math class.  He could be brave, it was easier said than done but he could.  You made it sound so easy, like a normal chore to do throughout the day.  But maybe he could do it just to make you smile.

It gave him a pep in his step.

“I rolled a 20!”

“Roll for damage?”

“13?”

“Hell yeah!  How do you wanna do this?”

You leaned over the table, your D20 dice perched in front of your spot along with your papers and notepad etched out in notes as you were describing how you were killing the beast in the middle of combat.  The others around the table were cheering, egging you on as you were drinking in the victory that was in your hands.  

Eddie, in his Dungeon Master chair, was watching in amazement a massive grin on his face as you were using your hands, and your eyes lit up in joy while you were giving every single detail with precision.  He’s seen the others in Hellfire give great details when they would end or an enemy, but you were on a different level.  You loved storytelling, and the way you spoke, and played the game with creativity and enthusiasm. He wished the others would take a page out of your book.

In that moment as the others cheered, Garret clasping you on the shoulder and Dustin and Mike cheering loudly, Eddie watched with a cocked head and love in his eyes.  You were laughing, blush on your cheeks and your light brown hair dancing in the low lighting made his heart flutter.

You didn’t know that Danielle was shot down by Eddie a few days before, Danielle asked him out to study together after school and Eddie politely declined.  He knew Danielle was not the one for him, and she never held a flame for him to be entranced to.  Not like you, Eddie was a moth to your flame and he liked it that way.  He knew what he liked, and he remembered what you told him in that hallway.

You told him to be brave.  And maybe after the game, he would finally ask you on a date.

The End.

[traveler-at-heart]

Average

Summary: Natasha and you make an unlikely pair.

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

“Describe yourself in one word”

Boring.

No, not boring. You’ve traveled, even if it was to the places everyone goes to when they’re backpacking through Europe.

You have friends, go out to the movies, you love concerts.

Like everyone else. You are like everyobody else.

Average.

“Y/N?” Holly insists, making you snap out of your thoughts.

Right, this is about her dating profile, not an existencial crisis inducing question for you.

You can focus on that while you take your Thursday bath.

“Curious” you offer.

“Like the monkey”

“Adventurous”

“So a harlot?”

“Oh, my God! Difficult, the word you are looking for is difficult” you sigh, crashing against your desk. Your friend laughs, going back to her phone.

“I’m writing down sexy”

—

The question sticks with you as you go back home.

Average height, average hair color. Regular clothes. 9 to 5 job. You’re smart, but not particularly good at anything.

There’s nothing outstanding about your small, normal family life as well.

And honestly? You like it, but if you were to go out with someone tomorrow, would you even know what to talk about?

It’s one of those days, where you aren’t sure if you’re stuck in your comfort zone or happy and fulfilled with what you have.

While you prepare dinner for one and eat in front of the tv, you can’t help but hope that maybe, just maybe, tomorrow will be out of the ordinary.

—

Careful what you wish for.

Flying aliens across New York are definitely out of the ordinary.

When you wished for an exciting day, you kinda hoped to spot a celebrity, or eat something nice out. Not be a first hand witness of the end of the world.

People are running in every direction, screaming terrified. You’re ready to join the mass hysteria, but something makes you look around the street.

There’s a woman trapped under some metal, struggling to free herself.

Aliens blast around you, and you’re torn.

Run.

And you do, except that against all logic, it’s towards the woman.

“You need to evacuate” she says, waving her hand. “Someone come in, damn it”

Judging by her outfit, and the way she places her fingers over her ear, she must be an agent in the field.

The woman probably knows how to protect herself. Maybe she could easily get out of it. Or it’s her job to die to protect others.

Either way, it’s unacceptable for you to leave her behind.

“Come on” you use a piece of a spaceship for leverage, lifting the heavy object that’s trapping her.

“Careful” when she looks up, she sees one of the aliens throwing something at you. Pushing you out of the way, you both stumble down the destroyed street until a tall man comes to the rescue.

“Took your sweet time” the woman complains.

“Sorry. Who are you?”

“A citizen. Take her to safety”

“Wait” you plead, but he’s already carrying you to the evacuation zone.

“I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Steve Rogers”

Oh, well, getting carried by Captain America definitely doesn’t happen to you every day.

Wish granted.

—

It’s been a week and the city is slowly getting rebuilt. It’s not like they have another choice. New York can’t stop, not even for an alien invasion.

So, life goes back to being the same.

9 to 5, cooking, old movies.

Meeting with friends, who were eager to hear your story about being rescued by Captain America. In a few days, they’d forget.

You seem to have a problem with that, because you can’t forget that beautiful woman and her red hair, striking green eyes looking at you while you helped her.

It’s stupid, really. You don’t even know her name.

But as days go by, you remember more things that seemed to be lost in the moment.

That cute little nose, her full lips.

She’s the most beautiful…

“Excuse me”

It takes you a moment to understand someone’s speaking to you. As you turn around, you find the woman, staring at you with a smile.

“Hi” you say, a little too loudly.

“Hello. Glad to see you made it out safely”

“Yes, well, Captain America made sure of that” you nod, fidgeting with your hands.

Now that there’s no aliens or an imminent threat, her attention is on you and nothing else, which makes you squirm a little.

“Can I… buy you a coffee? To thank you for saving my life”

“No need to thank me” you say, hoping she asks again because you’re eager to spend time with her.

“I insist” she says with a smile.

That’s all it takes for you to agree.

She let’s you choose the place, a small café close to where you live.

You finally learn her name when the barista takes her coffee order.

Natasha.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N” she says when you get your own drink, and she pays for the both of you. “Wanna sit down for a bit?”

Of course, you want to know everything you can about Natasha. So you nod, and let her pick a table for you to sit.

“I’m really grateful”

“It’s what anyone…”

“Most people were running away from danger, not towards it. Especially for a stranger” she says, smiling.

You decide that you really like her smile.

“Well, most of my friends wouldn’t believe me if I told them it happened. I’m a pretty average person”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah” you shrug your shoulders.

“Tell me your favorite song” she asks suddenly and you roll your eyes. “What?”

“That’s such a generic question! I have tons of them, it depends on my mood”

“Favorite song to dance to while cleaning” Natasha asks again and this time you nod, thinking about it.

“The Piña Colada song” you say, trying not to laugh. “You?”

“Uhm… Bad Reputation” she confesses.

“Yeah, you look like a Joan Jett kind of girl”

“Is that good or bad?” Natasha arches her eyebrows, intrigued.

“It means you’re a badass and cool. I think, don’t take my word for it”

“No; I think I will”

You sip your drink, feeling intimidated by her intense stare.

“How did you find me?” you ask, remembering she only knew what you look like.

“It’s kind of my job to find people. What’s yours?”

“Something far less interesting” you deflect the question, but Natasha keeps looking at you. “Data analysis”

“Sounds important”

“It isn’t” you say, smiling. “Not as much as saving the world, at least”

You keep talking for a bit, until Natasha gets a call. That’s fine, you know how to take a hint.

While she’s talking, you go up to the counter and ask for another coffee and a sandwich.

“Are you still hungry? We can get something to eat” Natasha says, concerned. You find it endearing.

“No, it’s fine. Thanks for the coffee”

“I don’t think it’s enough to thank you”

“You really don’t have to”

“Let’s go to the movies another time. Would you like that?” Natasha says, smiling as you bite your lip.

“Yeah, ok”

“I think I should get your number, just in case”

You agree with a smile.

And after the short walk home, you hear your phone ping.

Natasha: Wednesday at 7?

Y/N: See you then :)

—

It’s strange, to develop a friendship with someone whose life is the opposite of yours.

Natasha always asks you things about yourself, things that you think are irrelevant. But maybe she does it because her work is all about secrets, and there’s not much to share on anything else.

“Did you go to prom?” she asks one night as you’re walking back to your apartment.

“Yeah, with my gay best friend. We were each other’s beards”

That makes Natasha laugh, but for some reason she tenses a second later, standing in front of you.

“Hey, Y/N” a man says, and you recognise the voice instantly. Your hand goes around Natasha’s wrist, sliding all the way to hold her hand. You squeeze once to let her know it’s ok, and the man in front of you is not a threat.

“Homer, hi” you greet the man who is usually living in abandoned buildings. “Did you get the clothes I left for you?”

“I did and I shared them with Pop, we’re nice and warm now”

“Alright, I’ll stop by later in the week with some food, ok?”

“Much appreciated. Have a good one, ladies”

He’s pretty harmless, but you understand that Natasha has to be on guard all the time.

“I’m sorry” she says, still holding your hand. “I tend to think the worst of people”

“From everyone? Including me?”

“Never you” she shakes her head. “You’re too kind”

“I’m just an average person” you repeat, the same way you’ve done your whole life.

“You’re wrong” Natasha says.

She doesn’t let go of your hand for the rest of the walk.

—

It’s been a few months since you started hanging out with Natasha. There are times when she’s away for days, or weeks, and you just know she’ll show up after the mission.

You’re always home and you’re always there to welcome her back.

A part of you is still playing dumb, but you know those lingering stares and small touches are becoming a problem. Each time, your heart beats faster, and you find that you spend more and more time wondering what it would be like to kiss her.

There’s gotta be a way to stop these foolish dreams, because Natasha is an agent, a trained spy, and a hero. You are a girl from the midwest, who moved to a big city and still gets lost in the subway from time to time.

Maybe spending less time together could be the solution, but it’s impossible for you to say no to her.

Which is why you’re waiting outside of the theater. You don’t really like ballet, or rather, it’s a little too sophisticated for your simple mind, but Natasha insisted on taking you, and buying you some fancy clothes.

It all sounds very nice, except she’s not here and you’re freezing, refusing to head inside until you see her.

Natasha’s phone is dead too.

After an hour, you convince yourself to head home, and call a cab. It’s too far away to walk with these heels that were also not your idea.

You stop by the café that you and Natasha like, ordering a hot cocoa for you and coffee and a sandwich for another woman who is usually sleeping in the streets.

“Looking like a million dollars” she says, accepting the food with a smile. “Did you have a good time?”

“No, not really. My friend didn’t show” you sigh.

“Is it the girl that follows you around everywhere like a lost puppy?”

You laugh at that. There’s no way the Black Widow acts like a lost puppy around you.

“You mean my friend Natasha? Yeah, she was probably busy with work”

“Her loss” the woman tsks.

“Well, here” you notice the air is cold and the woman’s gloves are basically shreds of fabric. “These will help”

“You’re a doll”

Another hour goes by and just as you’re about to leave and look for Natasha, she rushes to your door, knocking frantically.

“I’m sorry, mission ran long”

Of course you step aside to let her in, because you can never be mad at her for being busy saving the world. But still, you stay silent as you walk to the kitchen, knowing she’ll be right behind you.

“You’re mad at me, aren’t you? Of course, you have every right to be. I made you dress up and then stood you up…”

“Nat” you interrupt her, frowning. “I don’t care about that. I’m a big girl, I could have gone inside and enjoyed the show. I just…”

“What? What is it?”

“Well, I was really scared about you” you confess, turning your back to her. “I know enough about your job to understand it’s dangerous, and I just kept fearing the worst. Would it have been so difficult to text me to let me know you were ok?”

You finish your rant with a huff, crossing your arms and turning to look at her.

And Natasha is smiling.

“This isn’t funny”

“No, it’s not. You’re just cute even when you’re angry”

“Not the time to joke”

“Who said I’m joking?” she gets in your way when you try to leave the kitchen, thinking she’s being impossible.

“What are you doing?” you say when she leans forward, placing her hands on your arms.

“Just let me show you” she asks, and then you feel her lips on yours, kissing you slowly. Only when you place your hands on her neck, does she pull you by the waist and deepens the kiss.

“Why…”

“I don’t know if you know this, but I’m in love with you” she confesses when you break apart.

“But I’m just av…”

“Don’t say it” she pulls you against her, your noses inches apart. “The world can be a very bad place sometimes. And you have no idea how hard it is to find someone as kind as you”

“It’s nothing”

“It’s everything” she smiles, kissing you again. “Can I make it up to you for missing our date?”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach when she calls it a date. You nod, smiling.

“Same old dinner and movie plan?”

“Sounds perfect to me”

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist ||

genre(s) -> fluff, non-idol, hybrid au, poly au, requested paring(s) -> ATEEZ x reader warning(s) -> nothing :D words -> 1.8k

abstract -> why not celebrate two holidays instead of one...

y/n’s perspective

“Can we celebrate Christmas this year?” Wooyoung had asked me since last year we couldn’t since… Well, I got San two months before and celebrated when he wasn’t adjusted and even Wooyoung wasn’t something I wanted to force upon. So even though I did get them gifts we didn’t go all out since we didn’t feel up to it. 

“Ooh! Can we?! I heard you make gingerbread houses and decorate a huge pine tree and–""You’re exaggerating” Yeosang scolded Wooyoung who pouted and glared at the Doberman hybrid.

“Hmm? Do you want to celebrate?” I asked and they nodded. I chuckled and said why not… “Can we get a tree then? Even if it's small?” Seonghwa asked and I chuckled. “Get the biggest tree you’d like within reason of fitting it in the elevator of course,” I said and they grinned.

“We should do Secret Santa! I remember you did it when you were still in high school” Wooyoung suggested and I was surprised but everyone else looked confused. “Why don’t you explain to them what it is first?” I asked and his bushy tail moved back and forth as he explained the concept which everyone agreed. 

They’d share with each other but since I was the one with money… the one who got me would have to buy it with my card and id just trust what it is. 

Meaning… Some were unhappy with who they got. 

Unfortunately… Sometimes things don’t go as planned and we don't celebrate Christmas as planned. With the whole lawsuit, I was in and out of the apartment and settling it. As well as adjusting to Mingi and the entire situation with Yunho running away, it was the end of January when everything was settled and the living room still had Christmas decorations.

Sure we briefly celebrated  New Year’s but… they were upset we didn’t get to do everything as planned. Until… someone spoke up about it. 

“Why can’t you celebrate a late Christmas?” Yunho asked and everyone was silent in thought before looking at me. I chuckled at their perplexed faces… “If you guys want–” “YES!!” they yelled, not letting me finish. “And Valentine's Day is coming up too” Yeosang pointed out as everyone looked at each other. 

Well… combining two holidays in one day was an interesting thought. Everyone had re-pulled who they would give as Secret Santa and like before… but were unhappy with who they got. 

San -> Hongjoong. Hongjoong -> Yunho. Yunho -> Seonghwa. Seonghwa -> Mingi. Mingi -> Yeosang. Yeosang -> Wooyoung.  Wooyoung -> me. 

“Angel… who got Seonghwa?” Yeosang asked first and I sighed. “Why?” I asked and he groaned softly. “Cause he’s the easiest to get something for and Wooyoung… Well, he doesn’t like me giving gifts” he explained, which was true. Every time he suggested Wooyoung try something, the fox hybrid didn't like it. 

“You got Wooyoung?” San asked suddenly joining us and the Doberman nodded. “I’ll trade you? I have Hongjoong” he said and Yeosang scoffed. “He’d be harder to get something for” he scolded and I laughed. 

“You’ll figure it out,” I said and they sighed as I walked off wondering what they’d get from each other. Of course, it would be cheating for me to get them a Secret Santa since… Well, I already got everybody's gifts on actual Christmas and then a bucnh of stuff for Yunho and Mingi already. It was mainly an event for them to look forward to.

I just hope this month of February will be… happy memory for them since they have never experienced the holidays before. 

Seonghwa wanted to use the tree we got but never used it and decorate it pink. Which Yeosang and Wooyoung were ecstatic about. They decorated it with hearts, roses, and other red and pink decorations. It was Valentine's Christmas!

We’d do “Christmas Eve” on the day before Valentine's Day to make it a full effect. Cause while we did have a feast for actual Christmas it wasn’t the same.

“I want to switch Secret Santas!” Mingi whined for the hundredth time. “What’s so wrong with Yeosang?” I asked and he pouted. “I wanted Yunho” he muttered and I chuckled. “Besides he only likes expensive things I don't understand!” he complained and I was gonna offer help when I heard a laugh behind me. A familiar white-striped tail made its way to my waist before he grinned. “I know who Yunho? And he wants to switch!” he said and Mingi lit up. “Will he want Yeosang–” “I want Yeosang so I'll make him a deal” he said and his tail had happy syndrome. 

“Ok! I have to look for things now!” he said, running to his room. “You have Mingi,” I said and he nodded. “I also know Yunho wants to trade for Mingi,” he said and I sighed. “What's the point of a Secret Santa?” I asked and he chuckled “I don’t know, all I know is that Yunho probably has me if Hongjoon has been asking to trade with him,” he said and I sighed. 

“There’s no point in the secret anymore huh?” I asked and he kissed my head before laughing and walking off. “Yunho has Seonghwa?” Yeosang asked now out of nowhere… I laughed. “Yeah? You’re gonna have to fight Hongjoong for that”

Mingi successfully bought and secured a gift for his traded Secret Santa… Yunho. Whilst Mingi is the same… for Mingi. However, there is a current… bribe going around. Yeosang has been bothering Hongjoong to get Seonghwa, while Hongjoong wanted to get Seonghwa something lego or animal-crossing related. Yeosang wanted to get a perfume and skin care set they’d both been looking at. 

It was all for selfish reasons since they’d share it so he’d be getting himself a gift. I already offered to buy him one he denied it and wanted to get his way. 

Seonghwa however… bought the set they’ve been looking at for him… and maybe himself. So… in a way, Yeosang got what he wanted but he’s pouting while looking for Wooyoung’s present that is hard to find. 

San was also having a lot of trouble with… well Hongjoong. Meaning there wasn’t any more trading happening. It was officially set. 

Hongjoong → Seonghwa Seonghwa → Yeosang  Yeosang → Wooyoung  San → Hongjoong Wooyoung → myself  Yunho → Mingi  Mingi → Yunho 

Now what was left if they waited for the days to go past a celebrated with one another as they fully believed in the skit of it being Christmas. 

when it was finally the day after our "Christmas Eve" we all woke up early either in valenties or Christmas pajamas. huddled around the Valentine's Day tree as we saw who would go first.

They decided the oldest would go first, and they'd decide after that.

"I got Yeosang!" Seonghwa announced as he got the fanciest wrapped box. Yeosang looked surprised but... Mingi's tail was wagging since he got to switch from the fellow canine.

"Here I was hoping for the biggest box "Yeosang teased and as he opened it, he was soon in a state of shock. "It's the set we've been talking about!" he said with a grin as he for once thanked the older.

The image shocked everyone as Yerosnag actually hugged Seonghwa. Until he pulled away realizing and huffed as he got his big present and put it in front of Wooyoung.

"Ah... I was kinda hoping you weren't the one who got me" he muttered as the Doberman glared. Wooyoung chuckled as he opened it and his fluffy talk wagged. He then looked at Yeosang in shock.

'This is one of a kind!" he said as he looked at the jacket Yeosnag was able to get. He had me talk to Wonyoung to help me get it... but it was a one-of-a-kind jacket that Wooyoung only had now.

Wooyoung had one hobby in common with the Doberman... to collect all kinda of clothes.

"I... have you. Do you want your gift now or last?" Wooyoung soon asked as he carefully folded the jacket as he looked at me expectingly. "I'd say hers should be last" Hongjoong announced and everyone agreed.

Now they went with Hongjoong as the second oldest.

"I got Seonghwa," he said as he gave... Seonghwa is the biggest box. He looked shocked. He started opening the cute pink stared swapping paper as it revealed...

A Star Wars Lego set and some animal crossing in-game good cards. Seonghwa's eyes got all big and his tail was swaying in content as he talked the fellow tiger in a hug.

"The tigers are showing PDA again" Yeosang complained and I chuckled. The next now was Yunho as he was the next oldest that hasn't given his gift.

"Mingi," he said as he handed the gift to the boy and he was happy to see he got a gift from the one he admired most from here. He opened it and he revealed... a Tokyo ghoul manga set.

He's been reading the digital version on my tablet but has also stated he might be collecting manga soon.

He was so happy he started showing off the art style in it. It was cute seeing Mingi get excited and something to look forward to in the next few days.

"I also got you!" Mingi said as he clumsily stood up to grab the gift in heart wrapping for the other giant. Yunho opened it carefully to reveal... "A PlayStation?" he muttered in shock as he looked at it carefully. It had a spiderman design as he even found a venom figure inside it.

Everyone seemed happy with their gifts... even though some of them cheated. Honestly... most of them cheated.

"And yours!" Wooyoung as he was now in front of me. I was most curious to what he did since he said he wasn't planning on buying me anything.

I opened it to reveal... a small little book.

"It's... a story about us! About how the heroine saves her seven princes... it may not be as good as your writing but it ends happily and-" I cut him off with a hug. While... it may have seemed small it meant everything.

The writing was everything to me so... "Thank you, I bet it'll be my favorite book" I said and he chuckled as he hugged me back.

"It's actually not badly written. I'll give it to Wooyoung for that" San said and I chuckled. "It's all of us... but written a little different. Everyone helped with their section. I really hope you'll like it" Wooyoung explained and I nodded. I know he liked to read what I wrote since we met... but seeing how he actually wrote something for me, made me want to tear up.

"Of course I will!!" I said and he smiled. "One more thing, and something from all of us!" he said and suddenly they all pulled out roses.

"While we're celebrating our own version of Christmas it is also Valentine's Day! So who will you choose to be your Valentine?"

please don't be a silent reader !! reblog, comment, and like <3

[hello-gloomy]

Hello!!! Thank you for your amazing writing so far!!!

I hope if its no trouble could you please do a Xeno Houston Wingfield x reader scenario where the reader is captured at the same time as Gen (by Stanley ofc). And then Xeno kind of like falls for her because she also majors in rockets and space...or something. Feel free to ignore or change it up!

Thank you in advance!!

I love this sm, hope you like it and it's not to crack filled.

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

Black Magic

Dr. Xeno H. x Fem!Reader

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

Description: Being the only American in the Kingdom of Science comes in handy when you finally make the trip to America; being a fellow scientist also helps a little too well, though.

Warnings: Mild violence, touching, the reader is said to be American, maybe a bit creepy Xeno, Sarcasm, and cursing. Maybe OOC. SPOILERS FOR THE ANIME S4.

A/N: I hope Anon enjoys this; I also couldn't help but make the reader an agent of chaos. The opportunity was too good to pass up. I hope this isn't too OOC for you guys

Words: 1,300

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

The only time being American came in handy while in Japan during the petrification was when you were in the Stone World, and Senku wanted to return to America, which meant you were stuck as an encyclopedia for everyone else. When the kingdom reached Texas, you already knew something was off; it was too easy.

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!" Were the first words out your mouth while you and everyone else were running from being shot at. While you were happy that you weren't the only ones who had progressed this far with science, you hated how American this situation was. They were firing on a bunch of randoms on their land that they hadn't seen before, very Texas; at least they didn't leave behind their amendments. After your group had made off with the plane, you were stuck with the scouting group being the only one in their natural element. When Gen had noticed how easy it was to track your attacker, he volunteered to go and find him himself. You wouldn't let him off so quickly, so you followed him just in case.

"We gonna get shot at again," You mused to Gen with a smirk, earning a disapproving look from him. When you finally stumbled upon your attacker, who promptly aimed his gun at you both, you couldn't help but burst into laughter, much to Gen's dismay. As he negotiated for your lives, the blonde with the purple lipstick instructed you to follow him to his colony while sneaking glances in your direction. You had to guess it was due to your clothing; it was more native to your home country than the one you had been staying in for so long. Gen was looking around, amazed at everything but still keeping a poker face; you, on the other hand, were dismissive of the entire operation. It was obvious that they had a smaller group than yours and hadn't found out how to un-petrify anyone yet. When you arrived at what you could tell was a lab, you were finally shown the mastermind behind this whole thing. When he turned to face you and Gen, your eyes and mouth reacted faster than your self-preservation skills.

"You're that fucking Scientist from those NASA articles!" All three men looked over at you, which made your cheeks heat at all the eyes on you.

"How elegant; it brings me pleasure to know that achievements in the old world reached multiple ends of the planet." While Stanley, as you've come to find out from one Dr. Xeno, is hooking up Gen to what you can tell is a fantastic stone world lie detector, he chats it up with you, asking where you are from, how long you've been awake, what your previous occupation was; you can't help but answer him excitedly. For someone your age and with the same or higher level of intelligence as you, it was a truly invigorating experience.

"Please stop telling the enemyyay information about us." Gen pleaded with you; he had a plan, so you did decide to be a little less loose-lipped, but you still did want to talk to the doctor while you loved talking to Senku; he was still a little too young for you, while Dr. Xeno was much older and on your level emotionally speaking in a sense.

"Relax. They're just a bunch of goths."

"Can you take this erioussay!" Gen was practically begging at this point, so you backed off and went to stand by the gunslinger instead. The Dr. went to go and question Gen, and he, in turn, worked his magic to get you both on the inside. When he called Taiju a doctor, you had to steel your face so hard not to cringe at his choice of fake leaders for your group. You saw Stanley looking at you from the corner of his eyes.

"Man, Dr. Xeno must really like you." You start while glancing at his lips; he raises his brow, signaling for you to go forward with your statements about the two of them.

"Purple is a pretty difficult color to make; in ancient times, they used snails to get that color. But while doing that, the species of snail they were using were becoming less common, making it a color only used for the aristocracy." Stanley let out a huff and shook his head.

"God, your just as bad as him with this science shit." He jested, and you screwed up your face. Gen walked over to where the two of you stood along the wall and hit you in the arm. You gave him a half-hearted 'ow' while rubbing your arm.

"You can take Gen and introduce him to everyone else." Stanley nodded while Gen started to splutter reasons for you to accompany him. You waved your hand, signaling you would be fine.

"Relax, Doctor Frankenstein won't kill me." You direct to Gen. While smiling at the X-marked doctor before you, you see his lips twitch, making you smile even more significantly. Gen spares you one last glance before walking along quietly. He offers you a seat, and you take it with a small 'thank you' before taking it.

"Coffee?" he offers, and you practically moan out a yes at the thought of caffeine touching your taste buds. He brings over two mugs before pulling up a seat beside you, watching as you take your first sip and practically crying tears of joy at the taste.

"Make me a monster, and I might marry you." He huffs a little laugh.

"I will get on that for you, " he tells you while taking his own sip. He asks you how long you've been out of the stone; you hold eye contact while weighing the pros and cons of answering him. You decide to give him the time, and he nods in understanding. He also rewards you for your honesty, telling you the timeline of how long he's been out.

"It seems your technology is not too far behind ours."

"We would be farther if we weren't too busy fighting amongst ourselves." You tell him with mild exasperation, mumbling about teenagers and their angstyness.

"Why not join my group?" He offers while grasping your face and staring into your eyes intensely; those black voids make you pause.

"It would be nice to have a headstart on having more intelligence in this new world." He tells you while rubbing a clawed thumb along your face; you feel your heart move to your throat at his implication, his thoughts similar to Tsukasa's in the beginning. It made your stomach twist; you knew Senku's idea of reviving the entirety of humanity was the dream of a naive child; being a couple years his senior, you knew the reality of your situation from the start, so you decided to let Senku have his hope for the future even starting to believe it after a few years. The second you saw the shores of America is when you were brought off of the childish dream you let yourself fall into.

"There's only so many smart people in the world, you know." He chuckles quietly at your statement, moving to brush hair out of your face instead. He moves to bring out some supplies, and you lean over his shoulder in interest. Your eyes widen in recognition at what he brought out in front of you: supplies for makeup.

"Yes, and I happened to have found one of them, " he tells you, letting you make a few makeup products while he watches. He could convince you to join him and see things through his eyes; he would ensure it and never let someone with such potential slip through his claws—not now, not ever.

[that-hazbin]

Your angel AU now has me by the THROAT.

I’m assuming that Alastor goes to Hell basically immediately after Emily tells him that Lucifer Fell and hopes that Lucifer didn’t just forget about him (even if everyone else had).

That reunion will be messy, and I think that in a way Lucifer didn’t forget about Alastor—I am now convinced that the apple on Lucifer’s hat is the one he meant to give Alastor and no one can convince me otherwise—but thoughts of him kind of fell to the wayside as other things took priority. I imagine Lucifer will be a mix of happiness to see Alastor, and horrified guilt because he was left in that garden for 10,000 years alone and it’s his fault. You said this whole idea was based on Spinel, so I’d think Alastor is a mix of terrible sadness and frothing fury, oscillating between the two in turns.

You have set up a situation that will have severe emotional repercussions that are delicious to contemplate; thank you for sharing your ideas and writing with us, and I respectfully request more.

I shortened a lot of this AU because I wanted people to make their own thoughts on it, but I've got a lot of personal thoughts for it that makes it fun. One of them is that in this AU, Alastor doesn't have wings. He was made for Lucifer as basically his doll, and so he wasn't allowed flight. If he needed to go anywhere, he needed Lucifer to fly him around. So leaving Heaven to get to Hell would, in fact, be really difficult. He can't just fly down the way Adam and his exorcists can.

Granted, since Lucifer fell, maybe Alastor thinks "alright I'll do that too" and just bodily throws himself over the edge. That would be a NASTY reunion for Lucifer. Sees some meteor falling from Heaven, flies up to stop it, only to realize "Hey wait is that a person— IS THAT ALASTOR?!"

Meanwhile Emily, who witnessed this poor WINGLESS guy JUMP FOR HELL, is frantically trying to call up Charlie and give her like. A warning. Perhaps an explanation.

Lucifer and Alastor would have the most messed up reunion in this case. Alastor is still operating on the idea that his whole existence is to please Lucifer in some way, specifically to make him happy, to entertain him. In Lucifer's mind, this means that Alastor literally condemned himself to the most painful action in existence because of HIM. He never managed to give Alastor the fruit of knowledge like he planned, and it resulted in this.

Unbeknownst to Lucifer, Alastor isn't completely bereft of free will. Otherwise, he wouldn't be... feeling the emotions that he's feeling. He's hurt, saddened, and filled with so much anger. And Alastor is not going to direct that anger at Lucifer, of course not, it's not his fault that Alastor waited for ten-thousand years for no reason. (Except, it kind of is, but NO IT ISN'T.)

Things will hit a boiling point, though, when Lucifer suggests getting Alastor back into Heaven. Because obviously Alastor doesn't deserve to be in Hell, it sucks here, and Alastor deserves better— except that's not what Alastor hears. What Alastor hears is that despite waiting several millennia for this moment, Lucifer doesn't actually want him around and is planning on getting rid of him. Wiping his hands of him. Why not, right? Every other angel in Heaven has forgotten about his very existence, and here's Lucifer, the one he was made for, trying to do the same!

Alastor would just. Explode. He's confused and so, so furious. What exactly did he do wrong this time? Why isn't his friend happy to see him, why doesn't he want Alastor to stay? Is he seriously going to abandon Alastor AGAIN?! TEN THOUSAND YEARS! He can't do it again, he can't.

It would take a while before Alastor calms down.

[insomniadreamzz]

You are perfect to me

College AU Powder x Fem!Reader

Contains angst and a lot of fluff

———

This was a request I got and I immediately fell in love with it. The request was pretty long so I decided to not quote it here but write the story down. I hope you like what I made out of it anon ❤️

For as long as you can remember you had a crush on one of your classmates in college. It was no other than Powder, the blue haired girl had such a beautiful and kind heart, it just made you fall for her but there was one problem. Powder had only eyes for another classmate, Ekko. He had the same interest as Powder, loving to tinker with scrap and making something cool out of it. You knew they spend a lot of time together after class.

How you knew? Well you were a friend group together with Caitlyn, Vi and the two older students Jayce and Mel. Vi was Powders sister and she knew about your crush on Powder but never said anything. She didn’t want to get between you two and let yourself do the thing.

No matter how much you tried to give her signs that you liked her, Powder always took it in a friendly way, not really getting that you try to flirt with her. Of course she didn’t since she only had eyes for Ekko and basically did the same, wanting to give Ekko signs that she liked him more than a friend.

It was a rollercoaster of emotions living like that. You knew she liked someone else but you couldn’t control your own feelings as well. You couldn’t just turn your own emotions off as if it wasn’t hard enough to fall for someone in your friend group.

A few days ago Caitlyn invided all of you to her home for a house party. Her parents were away so she had the house for her own and of course it had to be a party. You first didn’t know if you should agree or not because you already knew you might see Powder and Ekko getting closer but then thought why should that stop you from having your own fun? So in the end you agreed to come to the party.

You decided to dress up not too fancy, wearing jeans and a crop top, a coat on top. It was cold outside and you weren’t a big fan of dresses, at least when it was cold outside. You were more the ‚cozy but still beautiful‘ kind of person.

When you arrived at Caitlyn‘s house, you could already hear the music outside of the house. That woman never failed doing a great party. You ringed the doorbell and Caitlyn greeted you with a wide smile, pulling you into a hug. „Hey there!! I am so happy you decided to come. Please come in.“ She said and you went inside after thanking her for the invitation. Everyone else greeted you happily and already in a very good mood caused by alcohol. Caitlyn also invited more of her own friends, thank god the house was big enough for so many people, some were dancing, some were talking. It was a very comfortable atmosphere. The only thing making you feel uncomfortable was seeing Powder dancing with Ekko. It made your tummy twist uncomfortable, making you want to have a drink to get over it but you won’t drink today since you were here with your car.

„Alright! Why are you standing there? Come on get a drink!“ Vi told you, being clearly tipsy but you shook your head in response. „No thanks no alcohol for me this time but I would like to take a coke.“ You said, making her accept your decision before handing you the drink, Vi was here to party but also help out Caitlyn with the guests since they were a couple, Vi wouldn’t just chill there and let Caitlyn do the work. She was very kind. Just like her sister Powder.

…

The music kept on ringing in your ears as you drove off into your own thoughts. You tried not to stare too obviously at Powder as you remembered how many times you tried to ask her out, trying to be cute and sweet towards her but it never really seemed to work.

Of course she appreciated your compliments and everything but as always, just in a friendship way.

You got back to reality once you noticed a conversation getting a little bit out of hand, Ekko and Powder were standing near you, talking to another person, you couldn’t ignore the conversation since they were near enough for you to hear.

„…well we all know Powders creations wouldn’t function without my help anyways.“ You only heard that but it was enough for understanding why Powder left. You watched her run away out into the backyard meanwhile Ekko kept on talking, clearly not noticing what his stupid behavior caused.

You stood up from the couch you were chilling at with your coke before following Powder, seeing her sitting down against a tree with her knees against her chest, head resting against them as she cried. You frowned, heart breaking at the sight, your legs moving automatically as you approached her. „Powder…?“ You asked softly but you didn’t get an answer, just little sniffs. So you just sat down beside her in silence, just letting her know you are here.

A little chilly wind appeared, making you look at Powder who was still not really there. She was heartbroken, you just knew it but something else you noticed was her body shivering so you decided to take off your coat and wrap it around her body. This action made her look at you, her beautiful makeup all smudged from the tears, her white dress was probably also dirty from the ground. „Thank you…“ She murmured, her red puffy eyes making you feel so sad for her, reaching forward with your hand to wipe the tears away with your thumb. „It’s okay.“ You answered before thinking about leaving, this was it for tonight. You needed to take her home. „Let me drive you home. I think it’s enough for tonight isnt it?“ You carefully asked and she nodded slowly in response. „You are right…“

Of course you couldn’t miss the fact that Powder was drunk as well like the others. You had to hold her up a little as you walked her to your car which was a black BMW. You never really wanted to talk about the things you have, not wanting to show big dick energy. You were simply thankful for being able to afford some things, that was it.

„Wow I didn’t know you have such a fancy car.“ Powder spoke and you just chuckled a little before unlocking it, letting her get in. „I am not the one to tell people how amazing I am and the things I have.“ You mentioned before getting into the drivers seat, starting the engine.

„Yea…not like someone else…“ She mumbled and you knew she talked about Ekko. He really was behaving like an asshole but you tried to comfort her, knowing Powder liked Ekko a lot. „He is drunk. Maybe he didn’t think about how it would make you feel.“ You said as you focused on the road, Powder looked out the window as she listened to you. „He didn’t think at all. Ekko knows I always had problems in the past with my work since everything I tried to create when I was younger…just didn’t work like it should. It always made me feel insecure and now he even made me feel worse about my own work.“ You heard her voice crack, knowing she was on the edge of her tears again.

„You are very intelligent Pow, you don’t need a second person to make things work.“ You tried to help but she didn’t seem to listen, being lost in her own sad thoughts which made you have an idea. You decided to put on her favorite song and then, silence. Both of you just listening to the song as you drove, it didn’t last long though. Powder turned to face you, looking at your concentrated expression as you focused on the road before she interrupted the silence. „Why are you doing this?…all of this?“

Her soft voice made you smile a little. You didn’t have anything to lose at this point so you decided to just be honest. „Because I like you. Very much.“ You confessed, these words were enough for the blue haired girl to understand but she still wanted to know more. „You do? Why…you never told me before?“ She asked and you just chuckled with a little shrug. „Really? It’s obvious you have a crush on Ekko. I didn’t have a chance.“ You simply stated and that made her frown before looking out the window again. „Yea…I ‚had‘ a crush.“

You decided to stay silent after her last sentence, knowing the alcohol was also talking. Maybe she would think different when being sober.

Finally you arrived, the last five minutes were filled with silence and you felt a little awkward knowing Powder knew about your feelings now but you tried not to show the tension you felt as you got out of the car, offering your hand for her to get out. Her eyes met yours and you could still see the sadness and disappointment in them, it made you feel sad. „It’s okay Pow, just take a good rest and tomorrow everything will be different yea?“ You smiled, trying to make her smile as well but she only gave you a little, sad smile. „Thank you a lot for caring. I won’t forget the sweet gesture of yours.“ Powder rushed to you after saying that, closing the gap between you as she hugged you so tight, you thought she would break you any second, scared to lose you but you were there, hugging her back just as tight. „Thank you so much…“ She mentioned and you felt the tension between you, blushing as you smelled the beautiful scent of her perfume. „Don’t thank me. Of course I wouldn’t leave you like that.“

„I know because you are very sweet and kind. Please never change your attitude. I am happy I can count on you.“ Powder let go of you with a smile, now she was really smiling at you, making your heart melt. You both stare into each other’s eyes, the moonlight reflecting in Powders beautiful blue ones, making them look even more beautiful. For a few seconds you just kept staring, silently admiring each other before the door to Powders house opened, Vander getting out of there. „Hey girls! It’s cold outside, don’t you want to get inside??“ He asked with a little chuckle, not really noticing he just interrupted a intimate moment. You wished he didn’t because you were very close to kiss Powder but who knows why it happened like that. Maybe it was better that way. She was still drunk and you wouldn’t want to make a move in her like that. You wanted her to be sober when you try to make the next move.

„It’s okay! I just dropped her off home. The party was a little much and I wanted her to get home save.“ You told Vander and Powder let go of you, taking a few steps back before looking at you again. „Thank you again. Goodnight.“ She said before turning and walking towards Vander who waited for her to get back inside. You smiled before waving at them. „Goodnight! See ya!“

On your way home you questioned yourself if Powder would remember what you said today. Maybe she would forgive Ekko? Or she would get closer to you. Whatever it will be, you knew you will fund out the next day.

———

Part 2?

[okaysonny]

Saw that your reqs are open, so I wanted to ask for a platonic one-shot, hope you don't mind! I have this headcanon where the reader is Daniel's younger twin who is mute and whose behavior is very much like Vasco's. Maybe that's why Daniel could understand Jay without a problem— because he grew up with us and knew exactly what we wanted before we learned how to write or even any form of sign language (and also why he seems very patient and a bit unfazed by his friend group's silliness, if I'm not mistaken-).

a/n: i like very much 😍 you can chalk their communication down to TWINK TELEPATHY but this is a better explanation

headcanons bc anon said in another ask they dm👍🏽

★ daniel knowing sign language because of his twin is saur cute...him picking up on little gestures when they were both small </3

★ in the beginning of lookism, he was lowkey a pos. (yelled at his mom + blamed her for his life) so with his mom working all the time, daniel has to take responsibility in minding them. thinks his sibling is a bit of a nuisance, especially because of that bubbly, enthusiastic energy that vasco has.

★ buuut, he doesn't realise how much his experiences - the sign language, the (although reluctant) patience and care - sets him apart. not everyone has those skills, even if he thinks it's normal.

★ there's this scene at the start where daniel yells at his mom for putting an egg in his ramen 😭 i see his twin giving a judgmental look after, and daniel feels guilty. still, he does have a what would they know? attitude.

★ when daniel was transferring schools, he felt bad about running away from his problems and leaving his mom by herself. so i also think he'll feel bad about leaving his sibling by themselves too. they'll be on their own when his mom is working.

★ he’d sit down and have this so...i won't be here with you anymore. you'll be fine, right? conversation. daniel ask a bunch of questions for his own reassurance, and they just nod at everything.

★ cue emotional moment where his twin suddenly hugs him...and daniel realises he'll actually miss them. he starts crying, overwhelmed by the thought of leaving everything behind.

★ as daniel goes through his character growth, his connection with jay makes more sense now. his understanding of jay’s nonverbal communication comes naturally because he grew up doing the same with his sibling! in a way, with jay's friendship, he wants to make up for those early moments when daniel was dismissive with them.

★ thanksgiving arc reunion (the first one) would be heart tugging! i can see his sibling's appearance changing slightly. maybe they sign something like i knew you’d be okay and he tears up all over again.

★ his twin is looking after their mom now. daniel is grateful and proud, it's something that he never did before he moved away.

★ i don't think daniel really reveals personal details to his friends? so if his sibling visits him while everyone's around...it would be really funny. if the twin is a guy, everyone's like why are there two of them? if it’s a girl, it’s…why is daniel in a wig?

★ because his sibling has vasco's traits, i can defo see vasco having these intense conversations with them through gestures and nods. vasco doesn’t question it at all — he just asks more questions, completely fascinated. everyone else is like ermmm wtf

★ JAY AND HIS TWIN INTERACTING WOULD BE SO CUTE!!! they’d be communicating with quiet excitement :') a heartwarming moment for both of them, realising they aren’t alone in their experiences.

[shatcey]

Victor theories. Contradictions and links

This is probably the last part of my theories about Vivi before his route came out. Most likely, they have nothing to do with reality, which we will see pretty soon. I will kill someone if Cybird release someone from Vogel first. Do you hear that, Cybird? I'll buy tamagotchi and kill it!!!!! You don't want that, do you? Poor defenseless little creature…

When I read other theories and events about Vivi, I had some thoughts, but I haven't finished them, haven't put them together, and… I think it's finally time to do it properly.

I should probably add warnings. I'm mentioning the details of Alfons and Harrison's routes. And also provide fragments of events that had not yet been in the EN game (only in JP). And… a bit about Azel's route (but I'm warning you about this, and you can easily skip to the next part without reading).

There were many events with Vivi. I made a list when started preparing for this post… Not all of them contain anything that I can use within the described boundaries, but they all provide few or many hints. So… it took some time to check. I hope I didn't miss anything.

If so… remind me, and I'll make one more "last post"… it becomes an endless story.

His personality

@maladaptivedaydreamsx assumed that Victor isn't his real name, but was given to him because of Queen. I thought about that as well. As I mentioned here, Victor thinks of himself in quotation marks, as if it's not his real name, but a role he's playing. And that actually sounds pretty fitting. On the surface, he's a cheerful and positive, with a sweet, mama-type vibe. But when we read the stories from his perspective, he feels completely different. Very dark and even scary. His thoughts show how much he notices and thinks before making any decisions, how much of a calculating bastard he really is (lovingly). But is his cheerful side a role he's playing? Or is it just part of his personality? From the Bond story "The Other Side"

and kiss event...

Victor insists that this is just a part of him. And I'm inclined to believe.

There is a theory that Victor is actually immortal. @.reccyls mentioned this here last time. And this theory is possible. Not only because Victor is so determined to treat all the members of Crown and Kate like children. But also because of this Willy's remark from the 1st Victor's birthday

There are two possibilities that Willy could be hinting at.

The first… Vivi is a god. The God of death.

But… this may have a different meaning. Vivi is very closed to God or any other immortal being. Vivi often talks about death as a living creature. Perhaps the fact that he is a "constant companion of death" makes him a kind of expert in this matter.

And that's why I tend to think that the second option is closer to the truth. It's from the very beginning of the same 1st birthday.

Yes, Harry often says that Victor lies a lot, but I don't think that applies to this situation. The wording is very strange. He doesn't seem happy about this fact. Like… "I wish I had more time". Maybe it's just me.

Oh, I forgot about another option. Vivi could have been a god, but now he's a human. This explains why he's so annoyed by the fact that he needs to sleep. Hmmm… I like that option.

If assumed he's a very old and powerful being… who, despite this, has not lost interest in life as such and can still find joy in it (reminds of someone, right?). How did the Queen manage to get him as her aid? A contract? We have another Black butler?

And if everyone thinks of him as a very strong person, then no one will ever assume that he needs anything. No one ever considers him human. This thought crossed my mind when I talked about the Mirror event, but I decided not to voice it. But… what the hell… this is the last post, where else should I talk about it?

It was the same with Azel (if you haven't read his route and don't want spoilers, skip right to the next point). People didn't see him as a human being, they only asked for help, advice, and so on… In their eyes, he was only giving, after all, he is God. But… this is a rather selfish way of thinking. Even if a person seems completely independent and strong, and… perfect… this doesn't mean that he has nothing to wish. I can easily imagine Vivi in this concept. And that explains why he was so surprised when Kate said she liked helping him or taking care of him. This has never happened before.

But he doesn't have to be an immortal being for people to consider him inhuman. He succeeds in everything he does, and people may think that he doesn't need anyone's help.

His contradictions

Kate described him very accurately at a Drunk event, translated by @.reccyls.

I would also add that he takes care of the garden and himself (see how his hair is… it's a lot of work, you know) and it looks like he's sleeping normally. My baby Ally has dark circles under her eyes due to lack of sleep. But Vivi… there is no such thing. So… Yes, he really seems like the perfect person.

But behind every great accomplishment is a lot of hard work. We don't know what it is… he just has a habit of using every second of his life to the fullest, or… a kind of magic. But he really does a lot, and… I can understand why he wants to… relax sometimes. He can't admit it for some reason (pride or some restrictions) but he wants to anyway. And at the same Drunken event, he tricked Kate into putting his head in her lap and hugging her. As if he needed a reason for that. It feels like he's constantly preventing himself from doing what he wants to do. At the very end of Butler's event ("Your Hand, My Lady" translated by @.reccyls) Willy hints at this...

He's happy because Victor is FINALLY doing what he wants to do.

I got the impression that curse of the boys is a sick joke of fate. It is contrary to their true nature. Like a absolutely honest and straightforward Harrison have to lie because his curse forces him to do so. Or Ally, who wanted only one thing in life... to be remembered, and the curse did not allow him to got this. So I see the same contradiction in Victor's behavior… is his curse. He is literally obsessed with the idea of freedom. And the way he lives makes it seem like he's not free at all. And his desire to get something for himself sometimes is like getting some fresh air before he finds himself back in the dusty tunnels… He literally doesn't do ANYTHING for himself, he doesn't even ask others for anything. This is from the 2nd Cristmas event, translated by @.reccyls.

And this is from bond's story "About Freedom"

Despite the fact, he joked afterwards that he is as free as the wind. In this phrase, he said "I", not "you" or "people" in general. I'm sorry, Vivi, but I don't believe you're free. In fact, you've probably never been. That's why you dream about it. And it's a little sad.

Connections with the Queen

The bond between Vivi and the Queen is very strong and mysterious. He is absolutely devoted to her and literally does everything she says. But how long has he been doing this? Why does he feel like he belongs to her? As he told William at the very end of Butler event ("Your Hand, My Lady" translated by @.reccyls.

The first thing that comes to mind is the Black Butler. Sebas demonstrates absolute dedication without asking questions. And he is a demon who is devoted to man. Actually Vivi said at the first Christmas event (Wreck the halls) that he had made a deal with death…

Perhaps it has something to do with the Queen. I'm not saying that the Queen is the Death (we never know for sure), but the way he's devoted to her, and the way he convinced that the connection with death is not so easy to break, seems somehow similar. Indestructible.

@.velisle has posted a really huge post with facts and theories about Vivi… I added my thoughts here. There was a theory… That's the kid Victor talked about at the Secrets event…

...In fact, he is.

But there are two things that prevent me from thinking that way. The first… he doesn't know if the Queen could make them smiles. If he was that kid, he would know that.

And the second. If we assume that he is not a vampire or another magical creature that lives exceptionally long (or endless), then it is quite difficult to imagine. The calculation is simple. The game takes place around 1890. And the queen begins to rule in 1837. More than 50 years have passed since. And Victor looks like he's 40 at the most. So… He's NOT that kid, but… it could have been his parent or… an older sibling. Or… even someone related to Kate. I wouldn't be surprised if the developers link them so tightly.

@rou-luxe assumed that Victor made a promise to the Queen many years ago and continue fulfill it. It seems very correct, but at the same time not quite. No matter how much you like sticking to your promise, at some point you will feel tired or pressured to keep it. But here… he does it willingly, even with joy. So my idea… he is very grateful to the Queen. As if she had saved his life or given him a new life that he wouldn't have been able to get otherwise. This brings me back to my previous thought. That the Queen is not really human. But she is… at least the real Queen Victoria, who lived and died (which makes her a normal person). If it's just gratitude, then what exactly did she do for him to get him for a lifetime? This is… THE question!

Connections with Crown boys

We know that Vivi and Willy immediately clicked on the common desire to free people. The way we were shown Vivi's cursed ability (as I mentioned in a previous theory post) is somewhat similar to Willy's. I'll just add this part from the 1st birthday story.

We will not talk about that this is technically impossible to strangle yourself. Don't try to prove me wrong, check on Google.

The fact remains… Vivi orders the man to die or Death to take him away. But for some reason, his victim feels happy to follow this order.

It doesn't matter how, but the cursed ability of both of them (Victor and William) deprive a person of freedom. So… no wonder they understand each other so well, they literally went through the same struggles.

I don't think Vivi is particularly kind to Harry just because of his reaction (which is always so good). But also because he feels a little guilty about the death of Harry's father. He did not predict, did not find out, did not fix the problem in time. Yes, Vivi claims that he is not a kind, but rather an evil person, but he is a good teammate, he respects and helps all his partners. And he and Marco had a good team… From a distance, completely ignoring each other… but in the end, they really help each other a lot. So Vivi may feel guilty for missing something.

I didn't notice any special treatment for anyone else at the Crown. Well… Kate is an exception. But I would like to talk about her separately.

Connections with Kate

First the facts. Victor dragged Kate to the Crown because he thought it would help the boys. From his 1st birthday.

He said (will say) the same thing in the 1st anniversary (my summary). He thought she would change something. What does he think needs to be changed? He used a rather interesting phrase in 1st birthday...

Usually, when he said something like that, it's "succumb to your wickedness". Vivi often say that when he sends the boys to work. Did he assume that Kate would help them become better at their work? Is it related to work at all? Maybe about their course? Maybe it's about understanding themselves better? Or… about something completely different? But I tend to think he was looking for a way to combine them together.

They're all pretty strong and independent, they don't have much in common, they literally split into several groups, and he wanted to find a reason to unite them into one team. It's a very noble cause. He would probably reject such an idea as not fitting his wicked nature. Why do my favorite boys try to argue with me when I say good things about them? They're so weird.

But there's something he doesn't want her to know. Again from the 1st birthday...

It feels like he's afraid. It feels like he's been through something and doesn't want to make the same mistake again. Or he's constantly fighting… probably with his own curse… which forces him to do something to her (remember that his curse contradicts his essence). Vivi says something about it at the 1st Christmas event. This darkness demands that he stains her and whisks her away (I wrote about it here).

But his expectations of Kate really came true. She really brought change. And she even changed him. This is from his 2nd birthday story translated by @.reccyls.

It already looks like we're in the middle of his route. He feels that he is becoming less like an observer, he feels that he wants more for himself.

And now my assumptions, which, in fact, are based on nothing at all

The only thing we can be sure about is a kiss on the forehead. It was mentioned twice (I talked about it at the kiss event). The fact that Kate mentioned it twice means that developers are most likely to use it on one of the main routes. It could be Darius or someone we don't know about yet, but I think… that it's Victor. And it's not just his reaction to that kiss that makes me think so. But the DARK IF event.

I know it's an alternate world, but… the essence of the characters is the same, and it's quite interesting to imagine his main route through the prism of this event. Vivi's story hasn't been released yet, but in the second part of the event, there was a story for 95k points, and it's gorgeous. Translated by @.reccyls.

And this part is from a letter from this event. Not quite, but let's put it this way. Translated by @.reccyls.

The one and only. The soulmates. Actually, this theme is very strong at this event, and maybe I shouldn't even focus on it. But… for some reason, this concept seems very fitting for Vivi. The Vivi we know from Victorian London. And I really like to see this theme on at least one route in this game. Why not on Victor's, right?

So… my theory… Victor and Kate met when Kate was still a child. We haven't determined whether Victor is human or not, so I won't talk about him, but Kate was a child and witnessed something very bad. Something that could easily break the psyche for life. Victor solved the problem and kissed her on the forehead… and that's literally the only thing she remembers. It was probably just a short meeting, but for some reason they both remembered it. And now… after all these years, they meet again because they are destined to be together… I got goosebumps.

I think we should expect a second Tamamo route. With the "I want to be your friend so you won't be alone". They will work together, but this time she will help him with his work, and someone from his past will appear. Don't tell me he was a king as well… Thatever. And… so the hot scene will only be after the last avatar challenge (or even only in the epilogues).

Dark times are ahead... Patience to all of us.

@ethereal-blossom, Michelle, dear, I haven't found how to use your theories… my brain is burning up a bit after two days of thinking. But I'd like you to look at it. Maybe you could point out my mistakes or would like to add something. You know I'm always happy to read your thoughts.

The design of the spikelet on the dividers I took from Designed by Freepik

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

🔝 𝕊𝕋𝔸ℝ𝕋 ℙ𝔸𝔾𝔼 🔝

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