#he ended up showing up maybe he glitched or something

[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

[dormiloncito]

"i care about all my new vegas companions equally," i lie as i was about to go insane because i couldn't find boone anywhere

[i-starcreamed]

Can I request how Megs would feel if he fought his beloved, reader needs to beat some sense to him and help him from being blinded with hatred. (Tf one plz) Also I want a good ending cuz I'm still sad about the movie. And if it isn't obvious cybertronian reader.

MEGATRON X READER

Obviously Tf One spoilers! God this was so fun to write, I just hope I got their personalities right. I haven't written anything this long in a while !! Also I never knew I'd be so much of a Megatron enjoyer until this movie...yeah, it took me this long.

[ cybertronian! reader Angst and eventually fluff, could be pretty rushed tbh but I just want him to healll. Very NOT canon to the movie

You knew it wasn’t your D-16 the moment his optics changed. Or maybe it was the way he distanced himself from you and your friends in a matter of hours--maybe minutes. It was a subconscious, subtle shift, but one you wished you could have talked him out of.

You suppose you saw the changed D-16 once you made it to the hideout of the High Guard fliers. Your once-kind, responsible lover was gripping Starscream by the neck, his hold tightening with every word from the flier beneath him.

You glanced at Orion, Elita, and Bee, all frozen in horror. You panicked and you stepped forward, placing your servo on his shoulder. Before you could continue, he whirled around, optics burning with a cold, harsh light—practically glaring at you.

“Y/N…“

“D, what the hell are you doing?!” You demanded, your voice steady despite his glare. “This isn’t like you, this isn’t the way, come on.”

He didn’t respond. Instead, his optics locked onto Starscream again. He was seething, the flier grinning through the pain wasn't helping your case either.

“Come on, do it! Do it, don’t be a c-coward!” Starscream sputtered through glitching vocal processors, even as D-16’s servo squeezed harder, threatening to crush the life from him.

D-16 narrowed his optics, “I’m not a coward!” He roared as Starscream’s cackling turned into garbled screeches

You attempted to push him away, roughly shoving him by the shoulder. “D, stop it!” He shoved you back. The sudden force sent you stumbling, and when you steadied yourself, you found yourself staring down the barrel of his arm cannon. His orange optics were locked on you, but for a fleeting moment, they softened. It was like he didn't recognize you, but then he hesitated.

“Stay out of my way, from now on.” He said lowly, as if his words pained him. “Please.”

His hesitation vanished as the cannon swung back toward Starscream. You stood there, stunned, until Orion and Elita rushed over to pull you up. Then you just stood and did nothing.

You watched in horror as D-16 continued to declare himself as someone they should follow to victory. Oh, you knew how much he wanted Sentinel dead now. Hell, you did too. But you weren’t sure if this was the right way. You weren’t a bad bot. Neither was D-16, he never was. You had to do something...before things got bad.

You recalled the moment just before he…snapped.

___

“Y/N, don’t you see? He’s been lying this whole time.” “Yes, D. I see, I know. But—“ “I want him dead. I just-I need..I need to see him suffer. Look what he did. To you. To me. To us. We could have been..so much more.” He placed his servo over your spark, right above where your transformation cog was. He used to dream of you two racing together, having fun. Hell, flying even. Back then he didn’t know what he would transform into. “We can still be more, D. We have a bigger purpose now, we were given the ability to transform by a prime himself. We just need to..show everyone the truth. And we will. Then we can—“ “It’s not enough.” He blurted out, pulling you closer as if it was the last time he’d hold you. “You deserve so much better. I promise you, Y/N. I promise you he will pay.”

___

Things only got worse from there. You reached your breaking point when you saw D-16—no, Megatron—vanish Orion himself. You couldn’t believe it. They were like brothers. And now, your beloved had become something else entirely. And yet, you still felt helpless.

You rushed over, avoiding and pushing the other bots as you made your way to where D-16 stood. They all cheered him on as he was trying to lift Sentinel into the air. He was going to kill him. He really was.

“D, stop it! Look what you’ve done!” You shouted, stomping your way forward, frustration boiling inside. You slammed your shaking fist into his shoulder. Primus, you were pissed at him right now.

“Please, please! Tell me what the hell you’re doing. This wasn’t a part of the plan.” You pleaded with him, hoping you’d somehow get him to react. Instead, he inched closer, the same stance you’d expect of someone challenging you. “No, you’re wrong. This was the plan. It was what had to be done. How can I get you to see that.” He visibly calmed for a moment, reaching out a servo to brush against the side of your faceplate. Despite everything, it’s still him. And he loved you.

You hesitated, then stepped back. Oh, how it pained you. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand your goal.” You said, barely above a whisper. Time seemed to freeze, and he slowly lowered his arm. In an instant, you watched his gaze darken.

“Then you’re just in my way.”

__

Your hopes were revived as Orion, now as Optimus Prime, came back, the matrix of leadership implanted into his chest. Optimus had saved the life of Sentinel (perhaps a little undeserved), knowing there was another way to deal with this. But now he has to save..practically all of Iacon. Maybe just maybe, between the two of you, you can stop Megatron.

The fight between the two friends wasn’t solving anything, you only feared they’d end up killing each other. You got rid of your fear, inserting yourself in the fight just as they managed to gain some distance from eachother. He grunted as you shoved him harder this time, his footing a bit unsteady from his existing injuries.

“What are yo—“

“I told you, stop. This,” you punctuated every word with a shove. “Is. Madness!” You panted, glaring up at your lover. “Come back to me, D. This isn’t the real you. I know it isn’t.” You pleaded, he responded with an irritated grunt.

“I, am Megatron. Not D-16, I am not that bot anymore. Y/N, stand down-“

“No! You stand down! You’re acting foolishly right now! I won't just stand here and watch you destroy yourself and--” You yelled, going straight for him to push him again, but he stopped you with a raise of his cannon. You froze in your tracks.

"Back down, Y/N." He said with a growl. You narrowed your optics, leaning your frame right up against the barrel, hearing a light clink.. The glow illuminated your armor. For a second, you saw his optics widen. He paused, licking his teeth. "I don't want to fight you. But I-"

"But you will if you have to, right? That's what you were going to say? Do it then," Your voice cracked, "I have nothing left to lose."

He huffed, so be it. He lunged towards you, and you raised your arms, blocking the strike. You opened up to move his blaster out of the way, leaving your side open to his incoming fist. It collided with your side, sparks flying from the contact. You grunted, stumbling back. When he came at you again, you caught his arm, pulling him close until you were face to face.

"We're both being foolish right now, are you happy yet? You panted, he grits his teeth.

"Quit saying that!" He growled, shoving you away. He shot his cannon, the blast flying past your side. You slid to avoid it, earning another blast from him. He fired his cannon, but the shot missed. He was aiming wide on purpose. You blinked, you knew his aim wasn't that bad...primus, he really was missing on purpose. If you weren't fighting right now, you'd swoon.

"Are you missing on purpose?" You asked incredulously.

"No! I.. yes..no! Listen to me, Y/N. We can end this now, if you let me do this one thing."

"You've already done enough. D..."

"Don't call me that."

He lunged again, but this time, you sidestepped, charging into him and sending him crashing to the ground, the side of his face hit the ground. You managed to pin him momentarily, struggling to keep him from standing.

"This isn't what you want. Trust me.." You paused. "Megs. Please."

He tensed beneath you, then slightly loosened as you called him 'Megs.'

"This is revenge, it won't help you feel any better. Not long-term. You'll only continue hating and hating, I can't bear to lose you like this. It's...it's tearing us apart." You shuddered, loosening your grip.

Eventually, you felt his breathing slow to a decent pace, slowly, you climbed off him, kneeling beside him. He sighed. "I..I don't know how to stop." He quietly said. You leaned forward, placing a servo against his jaw. "I can help you. I will help you. Megs, you have me with you. You have..Optimus with you. We're all with you."

You both knelt silently for a moment, gathering each other's thoughts. Finally, he had the courage to look up at you. You might never see those big yellow optics of his again, but at least now they weren't so cold. They held some type of sincerity. "I'm..so sorry." He breathed out.

You almost sighed in relief. "You're still angry, and that's okay, alright? Now it's my turn to promise you, we'll deal with this differently. It won't feel fair at first, but it's the right thing to do. Stand up." You gently said, extending your servo out to him. He slowly took your servo, his grip as gentle, almost afraid of breaking you. Primus, how he regrets hurting you. You can see it written all over his face. He was blinded by rage, he was indeed acting foolish. His optics briefly flicked to Sentinel, still on the ground and honestly, grateful to still be in one single piece. He turned away before the anger could return.

"I didn't want to hurt you," He whispered.

You softly scoffed, gently nudging him. This time, without any defensive intent. "You controlled yourself better than I did. I wanted to beat your aft, D-- Megs." You joked, earning a small, bittersweet smile.

You took your servos in his, softly smiling at him. You turned to Optimus, who was just as relieved as you were. "Optimus, do you think Megs and I can help rebuild Iacon? The way it's supposed to be?"

Optimus smiled gently, looking proud. "Of course you can. We all can." He looked at Megatron, his gaze firm but kind. "I am glad to have you back, friend."

Megatron nodded, still tense but..accepting. One day, they'll be as brothers again. You just know it. "As am I." He said, turning to you. His gaze softened. "Y/N...I love you."

"I love you as well, Megs."

[skellycrows]

dp x dc (dead tired/brain dead)

One of my favorite things in fiction is combining my favorite characters with some sort of occult or eldritch horrors or whatever and torturing them. Surprised it took this long for it to really click that with dpxdc that's Very Easy to do.

So picture little Tim, post Jason's death, coming to the realization that Batman needs his Robin back. That his hero is suffering and making others suffer and Tim is the only one that's paying attention, the only one that can do something about it. Nevermind that he's just a kid- he shoulders the responsibility without even blinking.

Except that instead of demanding the Bruce makes him Robin, he chooses to bring Batman's Robin back.

Tim using the resources provided by his wealth to research the occult, deals, summoning's. Tim painstakingly gathering the materials, searching for the best ways to make it safe, to make it work.

And when everything is ready and he goes through with it, trembling but steadfast with that stubborn determination that refuses to die, he summons the ghost king himself-

When all is said and done, Tim has lost rights to his own soul, unconscious on the floor, and Dark Pariah has revived Jason in his grave.

Except, being unconscious, Tim doesn't make it to check the grave before Jason has clawed his way out and be taken in by the league of assassins. Because yeah, Pariah Dark agreed to bring him back to life, but the deal didn't specify that he had to give him his full faculties back.

And after that, it follows canon- Tim becomes Robin, partially to save Batman, but also so he can more easily search for Jason. He doesn't tell anyone what he did- how is he supposed to explain that he sold his soul away for a boy he never met? And everyone knows Bruce isn't the fondest of this stuff being in Gotham. And then, when bonds and relationships are built, it becomes more that he knows how it would hurt them to know that he did that, to know that he doomed himself, to know that Jason was alive and he didn't tell them.

Except maybe all this with the added sting of the deal having changed something fundamentally in Tim. It made him uncanny, tainted his soul (not his, not anymore-) made him different. He moves a bit too quietly, heals a bit too quickly, handles pain a bit too readily. Maybe he's too pale and thin, even when he builds muscle and eats healthily. Maybe he can stay up for days on end, or when he gets mad his voice distorts, his eyes just barely tinge green.

Or maybe that's just the criminal's imagination acting up. its Gotham, after all.

And then his parents die.

And by the time the Red Hood shows up, Tim has all but given up, accepted that he sold himself off for nothing, only for the reveal to slap him in the face. And he's pissed. And he's hurt, and he's relieved and-

He's mostly traumatized because what the fuck Jason, you don't fit in that damn Robin suit anymore Jesus Christ.

Tim doesn't really know what to do, if he should tell anyone that he's the cause of this, because at this point he feels like explaining would be the equivalent of tearing an organ from his body.

And then Damian shows up. And then Bruce dies. And then Robin, the role he never really wanted but is now all that he really has gets taken from him, and he goes on his trip to prove Bruce is alive and save him, and really, he's too busy to think about how he sold his soul.

While all this is happening, Danny has taken over the throne of the ghost king, and is slowly working through all the legal bullshit he inherited and all the souls that he now apparently owns??? And while dealing with it all he eventually lands upon a contract made with a thirteen year old and really, that's just not fair, he'll have to look into it when he gets the chance.

So, after everything, when Tim finally gets the chance to settle down into his life again, he's down in the Batcave, working on a case late into the night, only for all the very expensive tech to start glitching, the air to get colder.

He, of course, turns around to see a boy. The boy is a bit taller than Tim, but thinner, more lanky. He floats in the air, snow white hair and glowing green eyes- the whole eye, pupil and sclera colored as well.

And Danny is terrifying and he is beautiful in that terror, uncannily sharp features and pale clear skin, a crown atop his head and a ring upon his finger. He's off putting in a way that defies explanation, in a way that makes shivers run down Tim's spine despite his years of experience, the sheer weight of his presence implying a being that's powerful beyond Tim's comprehension.

Danny, meanwhile, is just frowning at Tim, because-

"How the hell did Pariah manage to fuck up a simple deal? You have ectoplasm, dude. Have you died, before?"

Tim just blinks at him, because okay, the terrifying person that somehow got in the Batcave without setting off any sensors sounds like a teenage boy. Sure. Why not.

"What the hell is ectoplasm?"

[phoenixyfriend]

I have another AU. Whoo!

Saw a youtube thumbnail that caused some free association...

And imagined an odd little Setting where a bored Padme orders a like… LMD-style droid that looks and acts mostly human, because she's lonely and wants to pretend she has a boyfriend, and then the box arrives and she puts the 'droid' together like it's an IKEA bookshelf, and it wakes up and introduces itself as "Anakin Skywalker."

And so Padme starts living out this idyllic fantasy with a live-in househusband that's mostly like a butler that she can cuddle at night. Maybe sex happens maybe not. Doesn't matter. Mostly just Padme indulging in some relaxing fantasy time.

And then he gets a virus and goes Vader mode, and she has to fight for her life against her robot boyfriend.

(Padme has a date with this dashing young captain in the army who made a comment about how he's a bit uncomfortable with the droid boyfriend he saw in a linen closet.)

Little bit of "Megan," little bit of like… idk Disney's "Smart House" or any other movie where the robot starts thinking it's human, gets yandere about the love interest, and decides to do murder about it.

@atagotiak said: Maybe the virus or glitch or whatever isn't obvious immediately, just when she starts to maybe be interested in a human…

So yeah, the virus isn't super noticeable at first, buuuut then Rex shows up and. Well.

As @jebiknights put it:

Captain Rex being weird about the robot boyfriend is great Yes he's pretty but why is he here why is he in your closet just why

She was LONELY and she DOESN'T TRUST MEN because they keep trying to STEAL STATE SECRETS FROM HER DATAPADS, okay?

Her last real relationship was with Clovis, who was getting bribed to steal information on legislation she was drafting for tech safety stuff.

"My last boyfriend was slicing into my private servers to violate republic security and I was paranoid about that so I got a robot boyfriend." "Couldn't he slice in even more easily?" "I mean probably, but he can't really be bribed and I had a friend go through his code to make sure he didn't have any external loyalties, so he wouldn't."

The friend was R2-D2, which is great, buuuuuut Anakin not having any outside loyalties doesn't prevent his firewalls from getting fucked up.

jebiknights:

Omg r2d2 and Anakin mega best friends in this Artoo LOVES harassing high strung droids

I think somehow she and Rex manage to neutralize Anakin without 'killing' him and he? ends up in the care of Obi-Wan? I don't know why or how or what's going on but Anakin ends up latching on to Obi-Wan like a dog to the owner that's the most generous with the treats.

It could end with murdering the evil bot, but I think it's funny for him to just end up Obi-Wan's problem. Like always.

Padme: This droid is uh. Well he's designed to be a boyfriend? To deal with being lonely? Please don't judge me. Obi-Wan: I don't, uh. I don't need a boyfriend. I just need to figure out what happened in the code to cause this so we can let the manufacturer know. Padme, embarrassed: Listen, you can probably just leave him shut down in a corner or something, I'm just worried that trying to deactivate him entirely could reactivate the murder mode? Anyway, mostly he just wants… you know… to sleep in my bed and make dinner and stuff. So you can probably keep him happy while you investigate the issue by just letting him cook for you or something. Obi-Wan: I don't know that I'm comfortable with letting a designed-for-romance droid sleep in my bed with me. Anakin, gauging Obi-Wan's face for his age: I do not need to be a boyfriend. Obi-Wan, unnerved and relieved: Oh, good. Anakin: I will be your son. Obi-Wan: What.

Anakin is making himself Obi-Wan's problem. Padme is mortified. Rex is just icing his shoulder.

@firebirdeternal offered:

I like the idea that Anakin isn't any less evil he's just in charge of like. A single holo-display with no internet access. The worst he can do is be emo in Obi-wan's living room when he's trying to read. "First step in solving the problem of evil sapient technology: Don't hook them up to anything with a connection or a motor. Second step: Don't let them on your Spotify account or they will ruin your recommendations for months."

[yuoniz]

LOVE STRINGS — TUBATU

synopsis . tubatu as beabadoobee songs

투바투 : txt x gnr ☁️ 1.1K — fluff ❨ warnings ❩ suggestive, profanity, txt down bad losers yes! 𓍼 note — repost again but who really cares┆(bookshelf)

OO1 ┊CHOI YEONJUN

as glue song

if you guys were in a relationship, you would basically be in a relationship w this song

this songs just embodies yeonjun

this man would fall in love pretty quickly if you knew the right ways to make his heart flutter

he would still feel like he came back from his first date w you after you both go on dates.

bros go to line would be "where are you rn?"

like even if you just called him 5 mins ago that you're coming to his house he would still text you

or if you just left the dorm

you would literally be stuck to him by the glue (😆😆)

he can't even find the right words to express what he feels for you

theres so much he wants to express because I see him as a very expressive person

its the little things he does that show how much he loves you

putting his hand against the top of a cabinet so when you bring your head up it would hit the edge

allowing you to use him as a makeshift chair at anytime

this man will never say no to you

if you want something, he'd simply just nod his head

if you want boba, he'd kiss your forehead and leave the apartment after saying 'I love you'

he's seriously so whipped for you plss

"have I ever told you how pretty you look?"

"jun, you said that five times this morning."

other members are under the cut !

OO2 ┊CHOI SOOBIN

as livelong

this song is so soobin coded idc

he would learn so much with being in a relationship with you

it would be one of those quiet times you both would spend together

you would be reading a book, resting on his lap

he would be massaging you head, stroking his fingers through your hair

and he would be lost in your eyes fixated on the book you were engrossed in

and he knew he was in love with you

everytime he sees you see would have so many thoughts running around his head and he would just make some weird noise whenever you ask him a question because he has so much to say

"did you listen to this song, bin? I love it sm."

"nngh"

🧍‍♀️

no because you're the partner he wants to grow old with

like he can't name a more beautiful person other than you

bro is so in love its actually concerning

and you would be to

thats how you both were

you both learn so much from each other through conversations, heated arguments, anything

and at the end of the day, you both were molded for each other

thats how yall were

"If we both had children should we call them soobeans?"

"babe..."

OO3 ┊CHOI BEOMGYU

as apple cider

plsss this song was dedicated to beomgyu

he would never express his feelings like

its giving friends to lovers with mutual pining, but half of the time its beomgyu acting like he hates you, denying his feelings but actually he's so in love with you.

he just doesn't know it yet

because why does he always hold your hand when you walk together in public?

oh so you wont get lost

ok so why does he call you "honey" in front of other people

so they won't bother you

like... ok bff

the deluder is deluding

"I don't even like you that much. Wait, I do, fuck"

TELL ME THAT AIN'T HIM

plss he'd be so awkward asking you out

"idk maybe if you wanna go out to watch or movie or something idk."

he'd blush so hard when you say yes

and when you both date

it would still be the same expect yall are dating HELPP

the way yall would bicker 80% of the time and then make out the other 20% of the time

its so cute to see him all flustered when you compliment him

"you are soo in love with me, gyu."

"SHUT UP!"

OO4 ┊KANG TAEHYUN

as you're here that's the thing

he'd want a simple relationship

he doesn't want to overcomplicate things

hell he'd even just want a no-label relationship

I so believe that this man is a "career>relationship"

sorry terry 😕

he'd want it to be lowkey

but when it's just the two of you, he's so???

no because why does he glitch everytime he sees you??

he feels so safe when you're just simply there

like you srsly got him wrapped around your finger

"tyun, I'm sorry I cant come tomorrow. Plus, what would happen if I'm not there."

"You're not there, that's the thing."

LIKE?????

he falls a bit too hard whenever he sees you

and you're sick of this no-label relationship

you want it to be more than just this

and you know he wants it too

so after months of contemplating

you confronted him

and he couldn't imagine his life without you

so without saying anything

he just kissed you

he loves you too much to let go of you

he's never felt this b4, but he liked it

"I know I don't say it. that much, but..."

"it's okay tyun, I do too."

OO1 ┊HUENING KAI

as art class

he's someone who would have a massive crush on someone (you) and he would think they won't like him back

he would be the first one to realise if you got a new haircut

or if you changed your perfume

he has a great memory when it comes to you.

He'd be so attentive when he listens to you

he would remember the little things like

"there's no way you got me this."

"you said you liked it when we were at the park."

PLSS HE SO CUTE

you'd notice his cute gestures

and you realised he liked you

you made him feel like his heart was an art class

he'd feel so wild yet it be in the calmest moments you both would have

he likes you so much, he doesn't know what to do

he's the type of person to feel so much and he actually doesn't know what to do

so you ask him if he wanted to go out

everything around you both froze, to him

he'd just stand there and nod

plsss

even after its a few months after you both start dating

he'd still be so utterly in love with you

he'd just wanted to be with you, doing nothing

if only you could read his mind.

"you looked so pretty today, not the you didn't look pretty yesterday or any other days! you actually look pretty everyday-"

"kai if you wanna kiss, just say so."

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎designer yuoniz ! do not copy, repost, translate any of my works

[scribescrawls]

Transformers One setting, I like to headcanon that the 50 cycles when the High Guard were being hunted down were rough especially as energon no longer flowed. Now imagine soon after the events of the movie when Megatron is with the rest of the High Guard at their new base that’s still half being set up, Starscream or one of the others will just mention something extremely wild that happened to them casually to each other that it makes Megatron go “that can’t possibly be real” or “for your sake I really hope you’re lying”. For instance, imagine Starscream trying to actually impart some surface survival skills to their new leader and points to a set of weird looking plants/grass growing out of the planet and Starscream is like “if you’re ever extremely desperate and stranded with no energon sources wandering wastelands on the brink of shutting down, you can eat these as a last resort. It will give you the energy to stay online, but be careful. It’s best to only consume it if you have someone with you who can tie you up and carry you. I recommend taking shifts so you can keep moving forward”.

Megatron, confused: Wait why would I need someone to tie me up and carry me?

Starscream: Side effects. I mean it about it being a last resort. It makes you not yourself. Feral, aggressive, and a potential danger to both yourself and others. Then the hallucinations start setting in. You start hearing and seeing things. The visions are different for everyone, but rarely are they pleasant. And the feeling of it finally burning out of your system at the end hurts like a glitch.

Megatron: How do you even know for sure that’s what it does?

Starscream: First hand experience. But one day it could save your life so remember it.

Megatron, doubtful if Starscream is telling the truth, but morbidly curious: What did you hear and see?

Starscream: Have you ever seen the dead come back to life wrong and their face plates slowly melting off as you hear the dying screams of bots long past?

Megatron: No…

Starscream: Let’s try to keep it that way.

He wonders if maybe Starscream is just messing with him or trying to scare him about the surface, but then he turns his head to see Shockwave and Soundwave nodding seriously and confirming Starscream’s statements.

Shockwave, referring to Starscream: I used to have dents in my old arm from when he bit me under its effects. Of course I can’t show you since that was on my old arm before I lost and replaced it later down the line.

Megatron: Wait that’s not your original arm? What happened to it?

Shockwave, casually with no context: Oh Starscream cut it off. I don’t hold it against him though, it was the logical thing to do at the time.

Megatron is just like wtf were you guys doing in those 50 cycles?! In what circumstances does cutting off someone’s arm make logical sense?! Poor Megatron is probably wondering if it’s not too late to run back to Iacon.

I just like the idea that during those 50 cycles the High Guard were going through the Horrors™.

[solar4seekstron]

Besties

D-16 and Orion Pax x Cybertronian!Reader OneShot

Just thought this would be a cute scenario where Y/N gets caught in Orions and Ds little fights they have daily as they wait on the train. The two sort of fight over them and at the end they all just became friends. Sorry if you guys don’t like much detail it’s just something I enjoy doing.

Content: SFW

TW/Tags: Non really, Orion is a silly bean that must be protected, D is a sexy mf, yes he’s my fav sue me, Y/N tried their best to help out and gets new besties that’ll totally not lead to angst in the future

Introduction Movies Oneshots Masterlist

You were a regular miner like Orion and D. Although you met D first when on the train. You two didn’t talk until Orion landed on the train. Certainly making an entrance to not be late. He was able to make it in before the doors closed. D at that moment was trying to ignore Orion as he looked the other way while he leaned on the mining carts. Orion then looked around and noticed you. You were just standing there not really paying too much attention.

He then scoot to next to you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders as his other cervo rests on his hip. He whispered to you “Play along.” You barely have time to nod as he then speaks a bit higher. (Mind you guys are on the other side of the mining cart of D.

”Guess I’ll have to Chat with my. New. Best. Friend. Isn’t that right friend?” He says with a grin as he glances at D. D was still looking forward as he continued to have a neutral face on with his eyes narrowed. “Maybe he doesn’t care?” This is the first time the two heard you spoke. You sounded so quiet and soft. At the same time your voice can be encouraging and strong bringing comfort. Orion was defiantly taken aback as he glanced at you. Ds face showed to be a bit surprised as he glanced at you too. Until reverting back to the face he had before.

”Ah, but you see a true best friend would care and since he doesn’t truly care seeing my arms around another then- *he pretends he’s crying a bit as he makes sniffling sounds* he was never my best friend in the first place…….” You and Orion looked at D. Who just rolled his optics and looked the opposite way of you guys.

”Wow he’s really mad this time.” Jazz piped in. Orion gave him a look telling him to shut up. Leaving jazz to chuckle.

You then get an idea. “Hey Orion there’s that race tomorrow. Would you like to go together?” Orion got excited. “Sure I’d LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooove to go with you ah-“ “Y/N” “Y/N!” D only continued to ignore him. Though his optics did twitch a bit. Trying to stay strong.

You think for a moment “Yeah it’ll be great when it’s just true best friends going and no little….hating glitches.” You whisper loud that last part. Orion had the biggest grin on his face as he tried to hide his laughter. You did the same as you hid your head in his shoulder and his other cervo now on his knee. You two can be heard trying to hide your laughter.

D still looked away but now was a lot more ticked off as he just looked more angry. You two did notice based on his small movements and descide to lean bit over the cart as you both loudly whisper at the same time.

“Race”

He lost it. “Oh for Primus sake!” He stomped over around the cart. Both you and Orion backs against the window of the train. He then was at first facing Orion who had the biggest grin on his face for a moment. But then D turned to you and grabbed you by your waist. He put you over his shoulder as he glared at Orion who was confused. Walked back to his spot on the other side of the cart. Setting you down next to him and his cervo on your hip as you stood there confused. Orion had a surprised face as his cervos clutched on the cart. D was facing forward with a nutural but with a bit of angry look this time. You looked at Orion and shrugged. D pulled you closer his other arm now on the cart as he leaned on it.

Orion was so mad as he crossed his arms and looked down. You thought for a moment, then comes with an idea. “Why not the three of us go?” D side eyed you as Orion does the same. “….Please?” You asked as he D and Orion then looked at each other.

”……….Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine” The two say at the same time. “But I wont like it!” The two say at the same time again. You let out a giggle as you crossed your arms. You defiantly made new friends with the wonder boys today.

A short one shot…….I have done it my children…..A short one shot…..Hope y’all enjoyed!!! As always requests are open in the DMs.

[selineram3421]

*new version of Alastor takes over the Internet* Hehe.

Cursed Cat Headcanons

Curse Cat Alastor & Human Reader

Warnings ⚠

⚠ mentions of death, "normal" cat stuff ⚠

You find a strange looking cat at the shelter.

The red creature was separated from the other cats and behind a heavy duty glass with multiple scratch marks.

"Can I interact with this one?", you asked.

"I don't think we are allowed to let that one out...", the worker says. "We're not even sure if its a cat."

You were also not sure as the little creature had antlers.

"Might have been dead this morning.", they mumbled but you caught it.

"Uh...ok.", you say, feeling a little put off how calmly the employee said that. "I'll take them."

And that's how you got a cat.

Once having the necessary items and a cat tower order placed, you bring the red cat home.

It sounds a bit angry. Growling, hissing, scratching and biting the inside of the cat carrier.

Maybe they didn't like small spaces..

Their first day was...something.

You ended up having to fix or toss out a lot of furniture.

They seemed to like sitting on top of your bookshelf. Often watching as you cleaned around the room or when you slept.

Kinda creepy. And you swore you saw their eyes glow once.

But other than the strange shadows and weird noises, you didn't have problems. In fact, they took care of the spiders and other pesky bugs that managed to get into your home.

Eventually, you tried to call them by names from a list that you made but they mostly ignored you whenever you tried.

It wasn't until you were watching Hazbin Hotel that the red cat perked up.

"I'm Alastor!", your favorite character introduced himself.

The red creature then hopped onto your coffee table and stared at you, effectively grabbing your attention.

"What is it?", you asked before noticing your T.V. glitch and loop.

"I'm Alastor!", it said again. "¡'m Al@$tør!", it started to distort. "Ĭ̢̜͝'m̬̟̑͗ Á̘͉̉l͈̯̾̀á̘͉̉s͚͈̭̦̈́̈̄͒t͙́ó͎̥͡ṙ̻!", the audio was getting worse and worse as it repeated. "ł'₥ ₳Ⱡ₳₴₮ØⱤ."

Glancing at your cat, you noticed it was grinning like the oh so famous cheshire cat.

"Uh..Alastor?", you said.

As soon as you called them the name, the episode continued to play regularly and your cat had its normal happy demeanor.

"Ok...", you paused the show and went to the kitchen for snacks. "I might have picked up a cursed cat."

After that, Alastor actually seemed to like you. No longer hissing or scratching you when you tried to pet them and sought you out for some cuddles.

Hehehehe..

You had to take him to the vet for a check up and well.. It turned out exactly how you expected it to. Also, you found out they were a he.

He was number one..of the worsts cats in the vet hospital's care. They had to order new gloves meant for hawks.

After that, you got him a little bow to match the character Alastor and he seemed to really enjoy it. Of course, the red cat was quite fluffy and only the bow part was visible.

The cat tower finally arrived and you set it up. It was mostly black, coming with a feather toy as well.

"Done!", you stepped back and smiled at the finished cat tower.

Of course, like any cat, Alastor was not amused. Sitting in the packaging box comfortably.

"You know what? I'm not even mad. I used to sit in boxes as a kid.", you said and cleaned up the bubble wrap.

Things were turning out pretty well. That is until your neighbor got a weird looking pet. Now you knew Alastor was strange but he looked like a cat. Whatever the neighbor has was something else.

It was black with blue and some red. Flat looking face and a strange tail.

Maybe it was an exotic animal?

You weren't sure but Alastor hated, HATED, them.

And you made sure not to walk your little furball when the other pet was out. Making that mistake once. Once being enough.

I bestow upon ye cat Alastor!

~Seline, the person.

Taglist@

@c4rved-pumpk1n @scary-noodlesblog @stolas-thebirb @naelys-the-aster @biromanticboba @lbcreations-blog @ducky-died-inside @kiraisastay @pooplyface1423 @line-viper @117s-girl @spiderlegsling @alastorsgoldie @repentant-repeller @kcsketches @lofasofabread @kotaleee @im-coolrat @superzombiewho @speckle-meow-meow @jammcookie @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @trashbin-nie @koioli @fatherlesschild2 @mmik3yy @just-here-reading @nealeart @hudiexiaoying @crystal-multiplefandomlover @glowinggoldfish0 @tiredgamerhere @fluffy-koalala @valenfawkes @willowshadenox @aria-tempest @alastor-simp @willowaudreykeyes @+?

ML II for Alastor🎙️

[springgirlshowers]

Begrijp je me?

Summary: You’ve got a problem with going quiet when you’re upset. Joost has a solution of comforting you.

WC: 1029

When you got annoyed or angry with someone or something, you had a tendency to go quiet.

Whenever a person would piss you off or you couldn’t get something to work the way you needed it to, you would completely shut down.

Whatever it was; multiple rude customers at work, cancelled plans you were actually looking forward to, arguments, being late to something, your computer or phone constantly glitching out, having a stressfully busy day, etc.

You’d end up talking to anyone for hours, usually just sitting alone, going on your phone or reading or watching your favorite show to make you feel somewhat better.

Of course, you would talk about it, going on rants about whatever pissed you off. However, Joost would never push you into talking about whatever bothered you when you didn’t want to. He knew it would only make you angrier.

And he understood. Even when he was the one who pissed you off and you gave him the silent treatment, he understood. He’s gotten like that before too.

So, he’d just leave you alone and try not to ask you too many questions, knowing all you wanted was complete silence.

Today you had a particularly stressful day. You ended up nearly missing an important appointment, your manager was getting all on your ass at work, you accidentally burnt your hand, and got yelled at by a customer.

As soon as you got home, Joost knew you didn’t have a good day with the way you slammed the door shut, kicked your shoes off, threw your bag down, and marched into the bedroom.

You changed out your work clothes and into pajamas even though it was only three o’clock. Sitting for a moment on the bed to try and calm down a bit.

While you changed, Joost noted this should be the time to put in earbuds while he worked on and edited his latest music video. Making sure the volume wasn’t loud enough to the point you could hear it coming out his earbuds.

You came out the room and flopped down on the other side of the couch, Joost and you looked at each other. You only shook your head with a scowl on your face, rubbing your hands down your face.

This was your quiet communication that you were having a shitty day, that you felt like shit. He gave you a sympathetic frown.

You opened your phone and he went back to his laptop. You scrolled through your apps for a while. Joost decided this was his moment to try and attempt to cheer you up just a bit.

He sent you a silly cat meme he saved earlier on Instagram. He secretly waited and watched you open the notification, letting you watch the video.

Some relief washed over him when he saw the way your lips curled up at the meme, seeing you double tap the screen and like it.

He smiled to himself, going back to the laptop sitting on the small table in front of him.

It was a few more minutes before you put your phone down, crawling over to him on the couch and snuggling into his side. He welcomed you, wrapping his arm around you.

He took one earbud out, looking at your face.

“Feeling any better?” He squeezed your arm.

“A bit. Still annoyed somewhat.” You muttered out.

“Bad day at work?”

“Mhm.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He tried to keep the questions to a minimum.

“Not really. I think I’ll just get mad again. Maybe later.” You shuffled closer to him, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Is this the Antwoord music video?” You lazily pointed to his laptop, trying to turn your attention away from your frustration that was still lingering.

“Yeah, I’ve got a little bit of the editing for it done. I’m trying to finish it before Saturday.” He said happily.

“Can I see?” You asked, preparing for him to say no. You knew he didn’t like to show anything to anyone until he had it exactly the way he wanted.

But he felt bad that you were upset, if it took your mind off your frustrations, then he’d show you the bit he had done.

“It needs some work.” He unplugged his earbuds from the computer, scrolling back to the beginning of the video.

The repeated lyrics felt like punch in the gut.

Begrijp je me? Begrijp je me?

Begrijp je me of begrijp je me niet?

Joost understood you so well. He could read you like a book. Sometimes Joost was a bit of a closed book. But you still knew things that he would share with no one else.

You hoped he knew you understood him as much as he understood you.

By the end of the hook he paused the video, signaling that’s all he had done.

He looked at you nervously, waiting for your rating of it.

“I liked it, I think it’s just fine.” You gave him a smile, his heart fluttered knowing your bad mood was melting away by the second

“Really? Or are you just saying that because you’re my girlfriend?” He mumbled, you rolled your eyes playfully.

“It’s very fast. Fast paced, I like it.” You nodded, head shifting against his shirt. “You looked cute in it too.”

“I always look cute to you.”

“Cause you are!” You exclaimed. Joost felt flooded with relief, seeing that your annoyed mood was taken over by contentment.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m gonna keep working on it, are you okay if I don’t keep the earbuds in?” You nodded against his chest.

You watched as he edited clips, playing them over and over, rearranging them, and adding effects.

Your eyelids became to feel heavy, you kept yawing.

“I’m gonna take a nap.” You mumbled. You shifted down a bit, laying your head down on his lap. He moved the small table his computer was to the side, giving you space for your head.

He brushed a hand through your hair, stopping a little bit after he noticed you passed out, lips slightly parting and chest going up and down smoothly. He smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head and letting you sleep.

[cannedbabs]

HEY YOU TURBO/WIR FANS!

Yeah I’m talking to YOU! 🫵

Do you want to know current updates in some of the Disney parks either I found or are recently happening? Maybe!

Ooooo you want to soo bad 👇👇 oooOoOoOo…

Hi. Im your residential Disney parks factoid. This doesn’t mean give your money to the parks and I still highly encourage getting merch/etc off hand :]

There’s a lot of content I’ve found while searching specific things in regards to Disney! So let’s start from oldest to newest? Sure !

1. KING CANDY BUG FEATURED IN WORLD OF COLOR

(Video credit to Theme Park Review on YouTube! Check out full video here)

This is from a Special Edition World of Color show in Disney California Adventure called “Celebration!” It was to celebrate Walt Disney’s legacy. This show only went from May 2015 to September 2016, and hasn’t shown again. This show included our beloved king candy Cybug BUT it also included two other scenes from WIR (albeit briefly)! Those being “Ralph and Vanellope’s handshake” and “Ralph’s sacrifice (when he’s falling towards Diet Cola Mountain)”

Is it a VERY VERY short clip of him? Yes 😔 but the idea he was chosen specifically for a ‘special edition’ of WOC while being paired with big bads such as Ursula, Scar, Sid, Maleficent, and even Stinky Pete (and more!) is so awesome to me!

2. NEW POSSIBLE WIR TOKYO DISNEY ATTRACTION!!

In the year 2026 we are apparently getting a Wreck-it Ralph inspired ride! It will be in their Tomorrowland, replacing Buzz Lightyear’s Astro Blasters (which I believe has already closed in late 2024 to begin construction!). Here’s the summary (read more about it here):

"In the new attraction, guests will team up with Vanellope and Ralph for an adventure in the game world. Riders will help save the world of the racing video game Sugar Rush, which is about to be destroyed by the bugs created by King Candy. Working together, players will return the sugar bugs to the original, cute sweets such as cookies and cakes."

I’ve heard it will look like Ant-man and the Wasp: Nano Battle in Hong Kong Disneyland (click here to see video of that ride!), a mix of screen and real props where you have to shoot (???) created by King Candy. Are these bugs referring to game-glitches or Cybugs? I’m unsure! But since KC is mentioned I’d LOVE to see if he could be apart of the ride as a “boss level” ending bit sort of deal (kind of like Zurg in Buzz Lightyears!)

3. VANELLOPE SWEET POP WORLD IN TOKYO DISNEY JUST OPENED!!!

From January 15th to March 16th, 2025, Pal-Palooza is featuring our favorite little racer!!

This brings forth LOTS new Vanellope centered merch, as well as events within the park that includes a specialty parade, food and drink, photo ops, hotel services (there was an AR thing involved w the hotels 👀)

This post is getting too long BUT!!! THIS NEWS IS SO EXCITING, 2025 is the year for WIR I guess! 😭😭

If people wanted I’m totally down to go over something that was ‘Ralph Breaks Virtual Reality’ that TheVoid had hosted before their closure. But :] I’ll leave it at this for now!

((Like stated. I am a Disney park factoid, I love updates and such especially if it involves my favs! I figured this would be a decent way to update fans who aren’t in the know about past/current WIR ‘wins’(?) Feel free to ask any questions for more depth and I will gladly do the research! :] have a lovely day everyone!!))

[pyrodolls]

Second part of the yandere kung lao? We do not want it we NEED it 🥰

self aware! yandere kung lao x reader PART 2

warnings: obsession, ooc kung lao, gender neutral reader, kung lao has an existential crisis

summary: you’re in the game now, thanks to kung lao dragging you into the mortal kombat 1 universe. but you didn't expect him to be so... suffocating.

a/n: I WAS SURPRISED THAT PEOPLE LIKED THE FIRST PART. i got so many requests for a part two, sooooo here it is. i love self aware fics, and i tried so hard to hold back on turning this into a sagau-cult-au inspired fic. i love reading sagau cult au fics on here bro. maybe someday i'll make self aware mk1 cult au fics

see part one here -> part 1

-you woke up in the nook of an alley, confused on how you got there. but you knew you got transported in the world of mortal kombat. is this just a dream? there's no way you just woke up in a video game.

-you tried pinching yourself, in case you were indeed having a dream. unfortunately, nothing happened. you just landed in mortal kombat somehow.

-the thought of waking up in one of your favorite video games seemed cool at first, but a lot of questions popped into your head. how did you get there? is it a permanent thing? can you escape somehow? does any of this have to do with the kung lao glitches?

-your last question was quickly answered when you heard someone mumbling nearby. the voice sounded too familiar. it was kung lao's voice.

-"where are they..." kung lao mumbled, repeating that phrase every few seconds. was he looking for someone? could it be you he was looking for?

-you wanted to reveal yourself and meet him, but you hesitated. you remembered those weird glitches that happened while you were trying to play the game, so you were slightly creeped out by kung lao.

- a part of you wanted to say something or introduce yourself, but you got a strange feeling in your gut, almost as if you know you shouldn’t trust him. something is wrong about him, really wrong.

- trusting your gut, you ended up hiding from kung lao. as soon as you stopped hearing his mumbling, you got up from your hiding spot, thinking you were safe.

-"found you." kung lao whispered, engulfing you in his arms. apparently you couldn't hide from him. and he really was looking for you after all.

-"it's you.. it's really you..." he repeated, his voice cracking.

-"you know me?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "i think you have the wrong person..."

-"why would i have the wrong person? i brought you here for a reason." kung lao replied, not letting go of you.

-you were shocked. *he* was the one that brought you in the game? there's no way...

-"you see, i was tired of being away from you. it was like torture. i needed to feel your warmth, i couldn't bare being stuck behind a screen. besides, it kind of hurt when you kept on shutting the game off and on! did you not want to see me or something?" kung lao teased, casually acting as if you had a close relationship with each other.

-"how did you know you were in a game? and you wanted to feel my... warmth?" you asked, in complete shock from what he was saying. does he care about you or something? but you have never even spoken. obviously you liked kung lao because he was a cool character, but it was never deeper than that. you knew he was just a character and nothing more.

-"of course i did! you know how much i love you, right? i've been showing hints for so long! don't tell me that was for nothing.." he whined.

-he loved you? there was no way. he never even spoken to you! he was a fictional character, and you were just a regular mortal kombat player. it had to be a joke. maybe you were high.

-kung lao got the hint that you were still confused, so he tried to regain your memory.

-"you know.. remember how i gave you all my skins and stuff? that was a lot of hard work, you have no idea how much coding or whatever i had to go through. and i tried talking to you directly, but that was even harder. the most i could do was look at you as often as i could. was that not enough for you?" kung lao explained, sensing that his efforts were all for naught.

-so he was the reason for all those glitches. somehow, kung lao became self-aware... and he made himself the center of attention so he could gain your affection? it sounded extremely bizarre.

-if kung lao was capable of messing with the game and bringing you inside the game, who knew what else he was capable of?

-in fear of angering him, you decided to go along with his little delusions.

-"well, of course i knew! i just needed a reminder, sorry. i'm glad you brought me here, kung lao." you lied.

-upon hearing what you said, a big smile appeared on his face. kung lao was ecstatic that you returned his affections. he worked so hard to show you how much he loves you, and now he finally has the chance to embrace you. he can finally treat you with the love you deserve. he was tired of always seeing you on the other side of the screen, unable to directly interact with you.

-"great! i'm so glad we finally got to meet. i have so much i want to talk about with you, and i just can't wait to spend time with you. you don't understand how long i've been waiting for this moment." kung lao excitedly ranted.

-in that moment, a part of him realized his life was a lie. all the tales he heard of his ancestors, all the adventures and memories he's ever had... were all a figment for a video game. it was a terrible feeling to him, and he refused to face that reality. kung lao preferred to focus on you, instead of worrying. obviously, there was nothing else worth his love and time anymore after learning that his life is a lie.

-kung lao now believes you are a sort of saviour, a light in his fake life. nothing else matters anymore, because he has you now. and you have him too! he'll devote himself to you and provide you with strength, excitement, and love for the rest of your life. nobody is better than him, you should be grateful that you managed to have such a great partner by your side!

-it's not like anyone would be a better choice than him anyway, so don't go off and find someone else, okay? in fact, you probably shouldn't even look at anyone else. kung lao did so much for you and proved that he is worthy of your affections, so there is no reason for you to go after anyone else. if you do, kung lao will... take care of them. nobody will one-up him. nobody will be better than him this time. not on his watch. just this once... he can have something to himself.

[apollodarling-writes]

HUNTING GAMES

cws : dubcon, somnophilia, creampie, levi leaves the game, murder, code-breaking, i went over the word limit a little bit, implied manipulation and threats, dating sim! levi, levi gets a bit ummm sadistic?? at the end, college! reader, im still not happy with it but its been so long since ive updated, if i missed anything please let me know.

commissioned by anonymous.

MDNI.

there was a new otome game that had been all the rage recently. characterized by its cutesy, college-life approach, lurking beneath each syrupy-sweet word and blossoming friendship was a sinister undertone. the objective of the game was to achieve the best possible ending for the route you choose, however each love interest was desperate for your love, making said objective increasingly unattainable the further the plot progressed. you’d downloaded the game when your friend had shown you one of their favorite love interests, finding yourself hooked on the stoic culinary arts major, levi ackerman.

levi ackerman was the first route you’d ever chosen. although, in the beginning, he wasn’t too keen on raising your intimacy level. while looking at forums online, you realized that was just how he was. levi was harder to please, and by far one of the most dangerous and volatile love interests in the game. he wasn’t afraid to annihilate any other character to get what he wanted, and knew how to cover his tracks. it was hard to tell when he was on the cusp of snapping, what he liked and disliked, and where he was when he wasn’t pestering you about something trivial.

once you finally manage to get your intimacy level up to the point where his obsessive tendencies begin to show, his personality does a 180… with you at least. he’s more affectionate, gives you gifts for your daily check in — most of it being food he’s cooked just for you, and you find that he’s easier to fluster, stumbling over his words and a faint blush spreading across the apples of his cheeks. levi is still the same when he interacts with npcs, maybe a bit more on the protective and stand-off ish side when youre around. with love interests, however, levi is more hostile than ever.

you’d failed levi’s route many, many times, and had finally just achieved the good ending when you’d stumbled across something regarding a secret route of his. naturally, you wanted to see it to completion, but for some reason it just kept going. growing tired of this secret route, you chose to switch to another love interest.

this love interest in particular was very sweet, docile almost. armin seemed harmless enough, and you found that you enjoyed this route more than you had levi’s. although, after a little while, you noticed some easter eggs hidden in the back that made you feel a bit uneasy. there was a silhouette in the background of each interaction, watching everything play out, as well as a few npcs that seemed to disappear or avoid you altogether. the more you played, the more uneasy and afraid armin looked.

you noticed that armin’s eyes were often glancing around, his sentences shorter when the silhouette was more prevalent, and on a few occasions, he’d outright ignored you. once, you’d found him beaten and bloody in an alleyway outside of the boy’s dormitories, appearing half-conscious and you’d chosen the option to patch him up. after that, your intimacy levels skyrocketed and he was back to normal.

just before the two of you exchanged a kiss during one of the date events, the screen glitched and suddenly armin laid in a pool of his own blood. armin’s face became pixelated, which was unusual for this game since it was known for its graphics. was this part of the game? your heart skipped a beat, gooseflesh rising on your arms as levi entered the place armin was just moments before.

levi’s appearance glitched in places, the blood spatter on his face seeming to drip and become more realistic. that… wasnt supposed to happen. did the game have a bug? you think you see levi’s brow twitch, his lips tugging into a frown, but you cant be sure.

“[name]… why did you leave me?” levi is uncharacteristically upset with you, his face scrunched with what seems to be a mixture of frustration and hurt. “i thought you loved me.”

you knit your brows, trying to exit the route; to your horror, youre unable to leave. levi grows increasingly upset the more you click the button, “why are you on his route? can’t you see that youre mine? we’re made for each other!” he shouts, his voicelines glitching in places.

“why can’t i leave the damn route?” you grit out, one hand gripping the hem of your shirt. “what the fuck is going on?”

levi’s face falls, a far away look in his eyes as you are finally able to exit armin’s route. you groan, leaning back in your chair as you thread a hand through your hair. “is this part of levi’s secret route?” you wonder aloud.

after that, you didn’t touch the game for days. you searched forum after forum, site after site, searching for answers. why did levi suddenly appear on armin’s route? surely, it was part of levi’s secret route… right? your gut told you otherwise, but a game character being sentient? that was something that only happened in fanfiction, and certainly not to you.

a week had come and gone before you even thought about touching the game. you were busy with work, college, and still hadn’t found the answers you were looking for. maybe you’d be able to find them in-game… but what if levi kills another love interest? what if they don’t come back when the game resets? what if —

shakily exhaling through your mouth, you release the tension in your shoulders, cracking your fingers as you hover over the next love interest’s route. she was a very bubbly love interest, her smile bright and contagious enough to have one of your own tugging at the corners of your lips as you right-click on hange’s route.

the two of you interacted quite well, your natural dialogue choices furthering your intimacy level. hange was known to be a relatively easy route — not much reading between the lines, or even guesswork. she was very upfront for the most part. you found yourself forgetting about your secret investigation, genuinely losing yourself to the interactions between yourself and hange.

you only started getting suspicious again once you noticed the silhouette in the background once more. hange seemed to notice too, but she was more composed than armin had been. you squint as the silhouette flickers, your pulse thrumming in your throat as you quickly stutter out, “levi, leave hange alone or i’ll never play your route again.”

the silhouette rushes to the screen, stumbling over its words and blubbering about how it just loves you so much and can’t live without you! the anonymity fades, leaving levi in its place, and you realize that levi was more dangerous than you’d initially thought. hange is quick to take her leave once she notices the look in levi’s eyes, and you attempt to as well. levi’s anger flares up once more at the sight of your cursor clicking the exit game button.

“[first name] [last name], stop trying to leave me. why don’t you want me anymore? you can’t make me love you and then leave. you’re so cruel.” levi’s digits grip his collar, tugging it away from his throat as if he couldn’t breathe. “i-i learned things about you, for you — i tried my best to be the man you wanted, so why are you choosing other people?! am i not enough?!”

a chill shoots down your spine, cold washing over your body as your stomach tightens. you tuck your fingers into your palm, beginning to feel as if you were glued to your seat. how did he know your last name? you don’t remember putting that information in at all… maybe it was from your email? maybe the developers had a third-party thing going on?

levi becomes more frantic the more he speaks, pleading and begging for you to love him again. “i was your first route! you put the most effort into me! you can’t just leave!!” you have a creeping feeling that he’s looking at you — unlike most games, levi seems to lack a blank stare, and instead seems entirely focused on you.

“there’s no way he’s sentient.” you mumble to yourself, pressing a quivering hand to the damp skin of your forehead. “i’m just…. im just tired and stressed. yeah… i should just go to bed.”

you stumble out of your chair, body on autopilot and mind reeling as you put your monitor in sleep mode and push your chair under your desk, trudging over to your bed in disbelief. you tuck yourself in, and just before you’re able to fall asleep, you hear levi speak.

“you look so cute when you’re sleeping…” you hear his shaky breaths — the utter glee in his tone, as if he were more than content just to watch you. dread and unease fill your stomach as you realize you can’t ignore this anymore.

you shoot up in your bed, chest heaving and eyes blown wide as your gaze snaps to your monitor. could he see you? could he hear you? were you going crazy?

you slowly make your way over to your monitor and pull up your game, levi dreamily staring back at you as if you’d hung the stars in the sky. “are… you sentient?” your voice wavers as you ask this, fingertips digging into the hard plastic of your desk.

levi stills, his idle animation unusually stiff. for a moment you wonder if you should check yourself into the nearest hospital, but then, “you finally noticed… oh, baby, that makes me so happy— i’ve been trying to get your attention for so long!”

it’s your turn to still, your body going rigid and exhaling shakily. oh, you were royally fucked. if he was sentient, could he leave the game? god, you hope not.

“i’ve been watching you for so long! i even learned about your parents and your siblings for you! i know your address, the names of your friends; i know your all favorites, i know that you have a dog named rufus, i know that you like to listen to music while you clean —“

levi drones on and on, going over everything he’s learned about you during the time he’s been watching you. your breathing grows heavy and erratic; sinking into a primal state of fight or flight, you hurriedly try to uninstall the game from your computer, but it seems levi had already anticipated this. the screen glitches, flashing white as levi appears in different places — duplicates, different routes, pictures of you, npcs that went missing, hastily written notes all dedicated to you.

deciding that deleting the game wouldn’t work, you opt to unplug your computer. the screen stills for a moment, going completely black before a variety of coding begins to type out on the screen.

“leave me alone!” you shout, your voice cracking as you rip your monitors and pc off of your desk, throwing them across your room. they bounce off your dresser, knocking a few trinkets and such off, sending them clattering to the ground. you notice the coding slows for a moment, eyeing the shattered hardware scattered across your bedroom floor. “you’re just a game!! i don’t actually love you!”

“you’re wrong!!” levi’s voice is distorted and distant — glitching out in some places, or manifesting as a multitude of voices, some higher, some lower in pitch. “you love me — you do! i know you do!”

you panic, the cortisol and adrenaline running through your veins clouding your sense of judgment as you rush to your kitchen and grab a trash bag, picking up a baseball bat from a closet on your way back to your room. you hastily throw your setup in the bag and grip the bat, swinging the metal bat back and smashing the contents of the bag until you feel safe and can’t hear the whirring of the code any longer. you stumble back onto the edge of your bed, staring at the bag as you strain your ears for any signs of levi. heaving a sigh, you wipe the sweat from your brow and gather all the miscellaneous pieces of your setup that were strewn across your floor, placing them in the bag.

you feel disconnected from your body as you bring the bag outside, opening your garbage can and tossing them in. a drop on your face shocks you out of your stupor, but you realize that it was only a drop of rain. your fingers tremble still, your breathing still erratic as you try to calm your racing heart. how was any of this even possible?

you slowly trudge back inside your home, entering your room and collapsing on your bed. this must be a bad dream. it has to be; there’s no way that this could happen. you lie awake for awhile, your mind spinning round and round again. thoughts come and go, never staying for too long, and you forget them immediately after they depart. the events of the night had worn you out, your eyes growing impossibly heavy, drifting off into a deep slumber.

outside, the monitor screen flickers to life. code rapidly pans down the screen, sparks flying as a hand slowly peels out. carefully, levi drags himself out of the game and into…. wait, why is he in a trash can? surely, his beloved wouldn’t…? with haste, levi tracks his way inside your home, brows furrowed with quiet rage. how could you just throw him away like that?

levi takes his sweet time cleaning up, lathering himself in your products and sniffing your towel before drying himself with it. he runs his fingers along the countertops, walls, and doorframes, trudging along to your room as he admires your home. it isn’t long before he finds you sleeping soundly atop your bed sheets. levi’s breath instantly catches in his throat, his heart racing in his chest as he approaches your slumbering form. you were even prettier in person.

carefully crawling onto your bed, the pads of his fingers tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, trailing down to your shoulders. his eyes wander to your exposed flesh before flickering back up to your lips. one kiss couldn’t hurt, right? carefully leaning down, levi molds his lips to yours; his heart nearly stops the moment he tastes you. one kiss isn’t enough. he needs more! levi unbuckles his belt and ties your hands to the headboard, then drags his hand along your chest, swallowing thickly as he feels his pants tighten.

levi quietly positions himself between your thighs, burying his head in your neck as he leisurely grinds his cock into you. biting his lip to muffle his whimpers, he lifts your shirt, baring your breasts to his greedy eyes. levi immediately latches onto one, his tongue swirling around the erect flesh as he works your pajama pants to the side.

“need to taste you, baby.” he murmurs. levi kneels between your thighs, his tongue slowly lapping at the arousal that had begun to leak from you. he takes but a moment to shimmy his pants down far enough to fist his cock, slowly pumping it with his free hand. the man softly groans into your folds, a sleepy whine parting your lips in response.

as he continues lapping at you, levi feels his stomach tighten and stops all movement. he waits for the feeling to subside, then aligns himself with your entrance. he shallowly thrusts into your cunt, slowly working his way inside and bottoming out with a broken whimper. levi’s mind spins at the way your walls grip him — the feeling almost as if he were made to fuck you, as if you were made to take him. his fingers grip your hips as he attempts to control himself, pressing both of your legs further out for easier access.

it isn’t long before levi loses himself in the feeling; it is his first time after all. his hips snap into yours, whimpering and whining through gritted teeth all the while, and you slowly begin to wake. levi’s eyes roll back as the feeling in his tummy snaps, not once stopping as he pumps you full of his cum.

you let out a confused moan, your eyes slowly adjusting to see levi’s fucked out face gazing down at you. “f—feels so good…” he whispers, slotting his lips to yours. you attempt to shimmy away, but it was to no avail; the asshole had tied you up. you attempt to fight him off, but it’s to no avail as he’s stronger than you and has shackled you to your bed.

waves of unwanted pleasure course through your body, forcing soft whimpers and whines from your lips as levi unknowingly rocks his hips into the places that have your eyes rolling back. gazing down at you with something akin to reverence, levi presses the pad of his thumb to your clit, slowly circling his name and bringing you closer to your climax.

“cmon, baby.” levi groans, feeling your walls tighten around his cock. “cum f’me.”

you simply shake your head in response, screwing your eyes shut and murmuring through a whimper, “go fuck yourself.”

levi only chuckles at your words, seemingly amused, and lifts your hips; the man slings an arm around your lower back, one hand gripping the meat on your hip, and forces you to meet his thrusts.

nothing seemed real at the moment. you were unable to stop levi from leaving the game, and now the man was taking advantage of you. you suppose the only good thing in this situation is that despite it all, levi was going to make you cum.

your back arches as your fingers dig into your palms, your cunt pulsing and fluttering as your eyes roll into the back of your head. a high-pitched whine erupts from your throat, levi smirking victoriously at the sight beneath him, and you relinquish control; melting into his hold, you wordlessly beg for more.

you didn’t know what would come after this, nor did you know how you were going to fight your way out of it. the only thing you knew is that this felt good. somewhere deep in your mind, you knew you didn’t want this, but had decided to relish in the feeling of being desired for the time being.

[macabr3-barbi3]

Bluetooth Bogie

week three! give it up for week three!!!

I hope everyone is eating well with everything we have on our Menu so far, lovingly crafted and beautifully executed by our lovely @synamartia! Thank you as always to my love @fraugwinska for the pretty pretty banners she made for me, and to the other wives as well! @minkdelovely @hazelfoureyes @sugoi-writes 🩷❤️🩵

Summary: reader uses a production headpiece to drop filthy one-liners in Vox’s ear, live on air!

Vox is minding his business reading off the evening news report when he hears the telltale beep of one of the production headsets connecting with his Bluetooth. He continues with his sentence, figuring it will just be someone updating him with something new that was happening that he needed to touch on, just more of the usual shit that people pinged him about while he was live.

“I’ve been thinking about sucking you off during broadcasts.”

He stutters- the sentence he had been in the middle of dies on his lips as his screen glitches in the monitor he uses to watch himself. He powers through, regaining his train of thought and scanning the crowd of people beyond the set for the culprit; it could only be you that was stupid or brave enough to say such a thing to him in front of so many people. No one else seems to have any reaction to the words, so he knows you’ve used the tech skills -that had caught his eye enough to hire you in the first place- to isolate the signal so it only came through to him. He doesn’t see you in the immediate vicinity or recognize your shape in the group before him, and his eyes narrow when he hears shuffling from your end of the connection.

He keeps going. “And hey, wouldn’t you know it- Lucifer himself has been spotted out and about Hell again! Maybe with that shitshow Hotel up and running he felt it necessary to remind Hell how royalty is supposed to behave-”

A moan warbles through his processors. “Do you think you could concentrate with me under the desk while you did your show? Choking on your cock while you try to get through the news?” He thinks he can hear something in the background, faint and slick, and he’s hard behind the shelter of the desk before he’s finished his sentence at the implication of what you’re doing on the other end.

Vox holds it together this time, managing to get through his thought about Lucifer with your soft sounds of pleasure in his ear while you touch yourself on the other end of the connection. He can’t risk checking any of his camera feeds to find where you are on the off chance of his equipment malfunctioning and showing you off for all of Hell to see; that would be a fuck of a cover-up for Velvette to handle when he offed anyone stupid enough to snap a screenshot from the broadcast and post it online. 

“I know how loud you like me to be- we could watch the footage back later and see if the production mics picked up the sound of me moaning around you… ohhh…” The sound trails off, wet and muffled like you’ve shoved something into your mouth to replicate the feeling of gagging on his cock.

Could he end his broadcast? He’s paused live on air, the set manager exchanging curious glances with the rest of the crew- he could say his battery was dying, or one of his mechanical pieces needed to be replaced; anything to get out from behind this desk and go find you, fuck you into the nearest flat surface and then maybe reprimand you for interrupting his work even if it was sexy as fuck. 

“Would anyone notice if you fucked me under the desk?” 

He feels an error message flash across his screen and he tries to recover, laughing awkwardly and shuffling his papers on the desk. “Sorry about that, folks! Just a little buffering- on to our next bit of news…” He tries to split his focus so he can keep presenting while still listening to your whimpers and soft cries through the connection. It’s not working well- he keeps getting distracted by the noises you make, causing lulls in his speech while he tries to report, the production team looking more and more frazzled the longer it goes on.

His cock is straining against his pants with the way you’re teasing him, a wet patch against the front where the tip of his erection leaks. “You’d have to gag me somehow- or everyone in the Pride Ring would get to hear what I sound like cumming on your cock.”

Vox is ready to call it. Hell could live without another fucking update on the Radio Demon- he had more important things to tend to when he managed to locate you. The team is whispering amongst themselves- “Sir?” The production manager asks hesitantly through one of the properly connected headsets, the hand holding his clipboard shaking minutely across the way.

“I don’t think you could handle it,” you whisper into your end, and that stops him from giving the order to end transmission. “You’re so vocal when you’re inside of me- I don’t think you’d last a whole segment without breaking and telling me how well I’m taking you. I’m not even there with you now and I can tell you’re thinking about shutting down production.” A breathy whine of his name, and the faint, rhythmic noise he’s been hearing intensifies as you fuck yourself harder on whatever toy you had gotten your hands on. “You’d be the one to get us caught.”

Vox closes his eyes for a moment and processes the challenge you’ve issued. “How about that acid rain, everyone?” He asks, and he hears your stilted chuckle through the headset. “Temporary glitch, nothing to worry about- rest assured that those responsible will be held accountable. Our next piece here is gonna be a big hit with those over in the Industrial district…”

He locks his shit down, reporting the news without another hitch even with the distracting sound of you in his head as you bring yourself to orgasm over and over. His cock twitches and jerks in time with the noises but he refuses to even take his hands off the desk to palm himself for some relief- that would be your responsibility once he got his fucking hands on you. The production team looks relieved that he’s back to normal, and you know better now than to try and tease him any further beyond the soft gasps of his name as you pleasure yourself.

At the scheduled time- and not a moment sooner, thank you very much- the live broadcast ends, and the connection to your headset goes dead. He turns away from his desk and finally pulls up his camera feeds; there you are, spread across his sheets all sweaty and fucked out, one hand already back between your legs and the other blowing a little kiss to the blinking red light of the camera. His stage manager hardly gets out the first part of his question about what the fuck had happened before Vox is gone, zapping into the nearest cable line and on his way to teach you a lesson about interrupting his work.

[moon-buggg]

Has Y/N ever gotten genuinely upset/frustrated/angry at HH!Sun and/or Moon?

In general? Yeah of course, the boys are a bit of an acquired taste at the best of times and they both show affection in... strange ways. It takes some getting used to, and even then conflict is inevitable in any relationship. Sometimes you just aren't in the mood to get jumpscared and they aren't... always the best on picking up on that, for example. As for something more specific....

"Again again, we neeed to do it again!"

"Sun," you struggle to form the words, "we've been at this for ages. Can't we take a break?" You don't bother trying to tell him that you don't need to run through the script again, that you could recite it backwards at this point- that's a loosing battle.

The boss had issued a new routine- a seasonal script to really celebrate Halloween had been his sell- and the two of you had been practising for so long your throat is on fire. You're exhausted. You really don't have another 'from the top!' in you.

"No no no!! It's not good enough!" he shouts, spindly hands grasping at his rays. At first it was hard not to flinch away from his exaggerated movements, but you're more than used to them by now. You know your Sun, and he's always so, so careful with you.

Today, however, it seems his perfectionism has gotten the better of him.

"Sun," you say, more harshly than you maybe meant, "I'm not a robot, I need a break."

"NOO!!" his sudden shout makes you jump. "We can't stop! It's not perfect! We can't stop until it's perfect! If we do something- something-" Sun is all jittering movement, harsh and frantic. It's hard to be too sympathetic. 

"What! What will happen?" You're tired. You're thirsty. You are not in the fucking mood. It's uncharitable, you know that, and you'll probably feel awful about it but you still shout at him.

He stills at your outburst. "...I can't tell you."

You sigh, and slowly raise your hands to your head. "Of course not."

Sun... stops... for a minute. The silence would be suspicious if you couldn't hear him shifting his weight from foot to foot. You don't look up at him, letting the silence hang heavy between the two you. You don't lower your hands when you finally go to speak.

"Sun. I'm not going to improve like this," you're careful with your words, keeping your tone nice and even. You can't stop some of your exhaustion from bleeding in. "If you want me to do better I gotta take a break." You know he's precious about his scenes, you want everything to go smoothly too, but the line had to be drawn somewhere. You pull your face out of your hands and Sun seems to stop and actually, finally, really look at you.

It's always a little hard to tell what they're thinking, but now, staring at Sun's blank, frozen smile, you truly have no clue. He's gone stock still, and looks bizarre without the movement. Utterly devoid of any of his usual tells.

It... doesn't make you feel great.

"It's not about you," he says, almost whispers- quietly. A hurried sound not explicitly meant for you to hear. It's baffling enough for the burning annoyance to simmer down. But not disappear.

"What? Is it about you then?" his silence is answer enough. "You're not gonna forget your lines, Sun." He can't, not with the script directly uploaded into that big head of his. Maybe, in the future, you would chalk your confusion up to exhaustion, but you honestly have no idea what he's talking about.

Sun doesn't answer, but finally moves. Giant metal arms wrap around his torso. He makes a frustrated groan. He doesn't tell you what he's really worried about. Doesn't tell you about the slowly accumulating small glitches, or how he's worried one might happen with his hands around you. "Your shifted ended 7 minutes ago," he does say, eventually. Choosing this moment to disappear off set and notifying Moon not to try and goad you into staying. He does not respond to the questioning message Moon sends back.

All while leaving you to find your own way out, utterly confused and mad and worried.

[in1-nutshell]

Hello teacher I'm just resending my request cause I remember you said some of the request you get from other followers disappears and I haven't seen the other request that I have send you when your request box was open

So I took the liberty of myself when your request box was open to copy and paste my requests so here they are

1.) Not too sure where this idea came from but I would like request a (our world buddy again) who happens to have a great fatherly like relationship with Prime Verse megatron who ends up meeting IDW Optimus who actually is her adopted dad he has the papers and data pads to prove everything and Prime megatron and his decepticons decided they were gonna fight IDW Optimus for custody of buddy and it ended somewhere along the line of Prime megatron ended up in the medbay completely unconscious and half of his army traumatized after they found out what an how angry a prime who is a father can really get (technically related to my story)

2.) Don't really know what to think for this one but what about IDW Bots meet G1 bots?

3.) Buddy from our world meet team prime and team megatron from cyber verse world? I would love that interaction

Oh and cyber verse starscream got really attached to her to the point he doesn't like sharing her attention which buddy has no problems with cause she knows why he is the way is. And maybe megatron and sound wave got attached too and devised plans to steal her and keep her the nemesis for a little while cause it's not everyday you meet someone who show so much affection

P.S feel free to write these last cause I know you are busy😃✌

This is a pretty big list, so I went with number 2, minus the Cyberverse part. I don't write for Cyberverse as of now.

Hope you enjoy!

Human Buddy from the real world meeting Team Prime

SFW, Platonic, Human reader

TFP

Buddy was starting to think that maybe the new coffee mixture they had made was really an elixir to travel dimensions.

They didn’t know how hard they hit their head when they saw Wheeljack arguing with Ultra Magnus.

The two bots didn’t even notice the human until they came literally running to Magnus’s pede and hugged him the best they could.

Buddy hugging Magnus’s pede: “If this is a dream I don’t want to wake up!” Magnus nearly jumps feeling the random human hug his pede. Wheeljack looks like he is going to glitch, though he doesn’t know for what reason. Wheeljack: “Hey… umm, kid what are you—” They turned their head so fast Wheeljack was sure that he heard a snap. The human starts running up to him rapidly shaking their fist in excitement: “Wheeljack! I can’t believe I’m actually talking to you! Either that or I may have found the limit of coffee I am allowed to drink.” Ultra Magnus and Wheeljack: “What?” Buddy: “Hey, aren’t you supposed to take me to meet the rest of the team? Isn’t it like, the whole protocol?” Ultra Magnus gives Wheeljack an uneasy look: “You seem to know quite a bit…” Buddy waving their hand: “I’ll explain that later, now, who am I climbing in?!”

When they arrive to the base, they are practically bouncing off the walls.

They are even more excited than when Miko first showed up.

In fact, the new human is excited to meet the kids, Fowler and June just as much as they are excited to meet the bots.

Miko has a taste of her own medicine and feels the need to apologize… someday.

Buddy does calm down when explaining how they know who they are and how they had been through a similar situation like this before.

That leads to more questions, but Buddy refuses to answer them.

Something about ‘Not wanting to mess with the universes’.

Buddy: “Anyways I need to keep you guys from finding out about some spoilers, like Bee’s voice coming back. Team Prime: “WHAT?!” Bumblebee: BEEP!? (MY VOICE?!)” Buddy: “…Rats…”

Optimus does allow Buddy to stay on the base while they wait until they return back home.

Most of the team thinks that another Miko is among them now.

And to a point they are right.

But Buddy also knows when to stop and tries to be useful around the base.

Buddy sweeping the human area. Miko: “This has been the third time you’ve cleaned this place this week. You can leave some stuff around you know?” Buddy still sweeping: “Ratchet finds the mess distracting; I’m just trying to lighten some of the load.” Ratchet, who overhears this now has to rethink his opinion of Buddy.

More respect is earned when they see Buddy football tackle Miko from going into the groundbrigde.

Many hugs are given on what seem like random days.

Those days turn out to be heavier than others and Buddy is always behind the bot ready to hug or do whatever they can to make them feel better.

Smokescreen walks into the base with his doorwings a bit drooped. Buddy running over to him: “Hey Smokes.” Smokescreen puts on a fake smile: “what’s up Buddy?” Buddy patting his pede and giving a genuine smile: “You’re doing great.” Smokescreen just nods because he doesn’t want to cry in front of Optimus. Later… Ratchet still on the main console. Buddy grabbing a blanket and places it nearby. Ratchet: “And what are you doing? You should be in bed.” Buddy: “That’s where you should be too.” Ratchet scoffs and continues working. Buddy: “Don’t think I didn’t see you put back your rations today.” Ratchet stops mid key stroke. Buddy: “I am NOT going to sleep until you get some energon and go to sleep.” Ratchet: “Well then prepare to stay awake for a long time.” Buddy cracking their knuckles: “Bring it! I’ve been awake for 3 days and 3 nights straight during exam week!” Ratchet suddenly worried for Buddy’s health: “…You win this round.” Buddy laughs in sleep deprived.

The bots are wrong to assume that Buddy wouldn’t pull a Miko.

… and now some are considering bringing them out with them.

Buddy fan almost as much as they do with the bots and some cons are now afraid of getting the feral human on them.

But Buddy has also thrown rocks at certain cons out of pure spite.

Buddy throwing some rocks at Breakdown: “SWALLOW YOUR PRIDE AND JOIN US!” Breakdown looking at the human questioning: “What?” Buddy still chucking rocks: “YOU COULD BE A GREAT AUTOBOT WITH YOUR POTENTIAL! BRING KNOCKOUT TOO!” Knockout: “I think this human lost it.” Buddy: “DO NOT LET YOUR MAN GO OUT HUNTING THAT TRAITOROUS SPIDER!” Arcee: “Finally something we agree on.”