#i love them but i think everyone near me knows that already

[m00nkissedlover]

・｡A Drunk Valentine 💝

You've ordered: a dark chocolate liquor donut! enjoy!

"But, hey, what can you do? I'm a touchy feely fool~"

Rafayel x reader | word count: 1,059 words

Summary: you accidentally leave out liquor chocolates...what's the worst that could happen? 💝

Warnings: mentions of liquor chocolates, rafayel gets a little tipsy (i imagine him as a lightweight-), mild spice (MDNI). not really a warming, but lowkey clingy rafayel 🤍

Note: my first love and deepspace fic! i haven't played the game (yet), so if anything in this fic seems inaccurate, feel free to (respectfully) let me know. happy valentine's day! 💕

Your Valentine's Day with your boyfriend was rather eventful and warmed your heart to its core. First thing in the morning, you woke up to a pleasant and delicious breakfast in bed. After feeding each other and sneaking kisses, the two of you relaxed in bed for the majority of the day, just enjoying each other's presence.

Later on, Rafayel took you out for a lavish dinner, set right by the ocean. And at the end of it all, you two exchanged gifts. He gave you the gift he'd been working on for weeks on end: a gorgeous painting of you as a merperson. You gave him clay figures you sculpted to look just like the two of you. The night ended off with you and Rafayel playing around in the ocean, splashing each other and having an all around good time.

You two finally made your way back home, stepping into your cozy shared apartment. You had dried off with the towels Rafayel had in the car, but your skin still begged for a shower.

"I'll be right back, I'm gonna go get in the shower." you told your boyfriend, getting a thumbs up in response.

As you disappeared down the hallway, Rafayel floated around the apartment, looking for something to hold his attention until you got back. His eyes soon settled upon two boxes of chocolate, one blue and one red. There weren't any names or labels on them, both boxes filled with the same chocolates.

Surely, you wouldn't mind if Rafayel snuck a few, right? After all, you two were probably going to eat them together after your showers.

---

You exited your shared bedroom, all cozy in your pajamas. Now all you needed was for Rafayel to shower and you two could spend the rest of Valentine's Day cuddling and watching a movie.

"Rafayel, the shower's free!" you announced, walking down the hallway. Usually, you'd already hear him making his way down the hall, but this time, you didn't get a response at all.

"Rafayel?" you called out, hearing a faint mumbling from the living room.

There you saw him, slumped onto the couch, his cheeks flushed and eyes half lidded. He was giggling and mumbling something incoherent, his fingers stained with a bit of...brown? Your eyes traveled down to where the blue box of chocolates sat, wide open with half the box gone.

"Rafayel, how many of these did you eat?" you asked, rushing over and taking the box.

"Why are you so...worried about it? Aren't those...for me?" he asked, his speech a bit slured.

"No! They're liquor filled chocolates, for my boss!" Rafayel raised an eyebrow, scooting over to where you kneeled near the couch.

"You...bought chocolate...for your boss?" he questioned, a frown on his lips.

"Of course I did. My boss gave everyone chocolate yesterday and I just wanted to return the favor." you said, sighing as you looked at the half empty box of chocolates. "I'll have to buy another one."

"Why are you...buying chocolates for...another man?" Rafayel asked, reaching over to tilt your chin up.

You almost burst out laughing at his question, taking his hand and intertwining your fingers. "Rafayel, my boss is a woman."

The purple haired male blinked at you, him frown now turning into a pout. "But maybe she-"

"She's married. And has kids." you said, already knowing what your boyfriend was thinking. He was so clingy when he was drunk, especially right now.

"Come on, let's go get you in the shower, and then we'll get you sobered up, okay?" you hummed, cupping his cheeks in your hands. You couldn't deny how cute he looked, all drunk and blushing and pouty.

As hard as it was to lug a six foot drunk man to the bathroom, you somehow managed to get him there. You let go of him to turn on the shower, turning around to take your leave.

"Let me know if you need anything." you said, sneaking a glance at him unbuttoning his shirt.

Before you knew what was happening, Rafayel pulled you into the shower with him, clothes and all. He pressed you back against the frosty glass, his knee moving to slip between your legs.

"What the hell?" you gasped, your own cheeks starting to heat up. He didn't say anything, just stared at you with those big and beautiful eyes of his.

"Rafayel, this is not the time for this. You need to shower and-!" He quickly silenced you with a kiss, his lips slowly moving against yours. Honestly, you didn't really mind, your senses going numb as you melted into it.

You could taste the sweet chocolate and bitter liquor on his tongue as he deepened the kiss, his grip on your hips tightening. Who would've thought that your Valentine's day would end with a steamy make out session, fully clothed, and in the shower? Obviously not you.

Rafayel let out a soft noise as he moved from your lips to kiss down your neck, a hand coming up to pull down the collar of your shirt. Your head was spinning, the warm steam enveloping you, your now wet clothes sticking to your skin, the smell of Rafayel's cologne in the air. All of it sent your heart into a mad frenzy. And you just wanted more.

You tangled your hand into his hair, sighing softly as his lips pressed to your collarbone. You were starting to feel warm and tingly all over, hearing his deep breathing in your ear.

"Rafayel." you breathed out, your eyes fluttering shut. He continued to kiss over your skin, his movements becoming a bit slower. Then, you felt him still against you.

"Hello? Rafayel?" you murmured, nudging his head with your shoulder. Oh, look at that. He got you all worked up only to fall asleep right in the middle of it! And this was why he didn't drink often.

You somehow managed to get yourself and Rafayel out of the shower and into warm and dry clothes. He sluggishly flopped into bed with you, curling up to your chest like a cat would and falling asleep almost immediately.

His soft snores made you smile as you ran your fingers through his hair, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

What an eventful evening.

Note to self: write names on chocolate boxes next year. 💝

© m00nkissedlover, 2025

[thedolmainblog]

hi!! i've been looking at your oc blythe and wreckofwafers yunie, they're so cute together! i wonder what they're like together, if you don't mind me asking?

okay funniest thing is that wreck told me they got a pretty similar question so either its a WILD coincidence or youre the same anon. i must say i admire your curiosity.....

so! what im gonna do is that im gonna explain things from blythe's point of view :3 here we go! under the cut bc it got long lol. as always, yuniekins and the art below belongs to @wreckowafer .

yunie essentially took the Sex route of romancing him, which basically is a series of lewd encounters between the two.....so yes before they even confessed their feelings yunie has given him a blowie, has been fingered multiple times by him and has been throughly thigh fucked.....that last part is what made him snap and finally take yunie for himself

blythe doesnt know this himself but yunie allowing him to take his virginity is a Huge Deal bc she's essentially handing him her highly important bargaining chips to him. but in blythes perspective he sees this as something very precious, something very important (not in the same way yunie sees it, but nevertheless) and seeing her halo crack because of him is. hes so normal about it is what im trying to say.

after the whole bunnyfuck sesh love claim, blythe isnt like. SURE what their relationship is at this point but he was sure of two things : he himself at the very least is very fond of yunie, and he doesn't want this....relationship to end somehow. and so the lewd encounter ensues!

but also he is treating her with small bits of affection. he doesnt want her to think hes a WEIRDO!!!!! even when his heart is bursting with love and affection. small kisses to her forehead, appreciative rub here and there, he protects her from people who bother her and the praises he gives her never ceases. he will get more Insane about it later. hes already happy with what they have going on!!!! and because he eases her into rather than just plunging her in she starts reciprocating the affection too, esp kissing u_u they start kissing on the mouth and both of them are obsessed by it!!!

the event that sealed them as a couple is blythe saving yunie instead of yunie having to save herself!! it was either kidnapping or a group of molester getting to her and blythe Just So Happen in the area, and of course he cant just!! let that slide!! and yall saw how he is when The One is hurt. he nearly beats everyone involved to death with one or two escaping. while hes mentally taking note of the one who escapes, he then turns to yunie to check up on her to see if shes okay (with blood on his hands still!!) and her response is to say i love you. ah.

with i love yous exchanged and yunie feeling safe in his arms 100% (he still thinks that he shouldve been able to prevent the whole thing from happening, but alas) they become rapechesters MOST ANNOYING COUPLE!!!! constantly in honeymoon phase, always near and touching each other. half of the people who know blythe is happy that he isnt grouchy all the time but also oh my god we can hear those two fucking in the back!!!!

like how i always describe blythe when he finally finds The One, everything else becomes a trivial matter compared to yunie. he starts prioritizing her over everything, why spend time doing useless things if he can take care of yunie instead? he has to provide a reason for her to stay with him. he also molds his catastrophic brain damage around HER brain damage and thinks everything she says is right. if they HAVE to be separated for a while, yunie already has a brand new phone blythe gave her to communicate. (somewhere, rhett is pissed off and has put blythe in his shit list for this)

yunie becomes somewhat of his assistant! she has no problem handling paperwork involving shady work and what is essentially money laundering. shes faster at it than he is, so shes always there when he deals with his shady practices. its also a good excuse to keep her near him at all times u_u people know not to touch her anyways

all in all everything she does (only smiling at him, confessing why she feels this way, clinging onto him constantly, wanting to be the goodest girl in the whole world when hes a bit mean to her during sex) only makes blythe fall deeper and deeper to the hole that is I LOVE YUNIE!!!!! he is never going to recover, and he is so, so happy about it. after everything hes been through, he finally found his true love.

[saebyeokbliss]

JUST MEET ME AT THE APT.— K. SAE-BYEOK

CHAPTER NINE

synopsis: managing a rising rock band is already chaotic enough, but when you're stuck touring with four reckless musicians, things get even messier. between late-night facetime calls, teasing that feels a little too knowing, and a certain guitarist who might just be your biggest problem, keeping things professional is getting harder by the second. but hey, no one said the music industry was easy.

warnings: mutual pining, intense eye contact, teasing that borders on flirting (or maybe it is flirting), friends who refuse to mind their business, secondhand embarrassment, slow burn that burns, emotional whiplash, online scandals

playlist: spotify

It started with a tweet.

A blurry, low-quality video posted by some fan who had managed to sneak backstage. The caption was cryptic but damning:

"WTF did Jisoo do to make Kang Sae-Byeok this mad???"

And underneath it—

A video of Sae-Byeok pinning Jisoo against the wall.

The audio was grainy, muffled by the distance and the hum of post-show chaos, but some words were crystal-clear.

"I don’t want to see you near her or the girls ever again."

"You don’t get to come in here and make her feel like nothing."

The internet exploded.

At first, there was confusion. Speculation. Wild theories about why HOT DIVISION’s lead guitarist was this close to throwing hands with an influencer-turned-socialite like Jisoo.

Then came the sides.

Some people immediately took Sae-Byeok’s, praising her for standing up for whoever she was talking about. Others rushed to defend Jisoo, twisting the narrative into something uglier—something about how aggressive Sae-Byeok had looked, how scary her temper seemed, how it was unprofessional for an artist of her status to act like that.

And then, of course, the worst theory took hold.

That it was about you.

Screenshots of old photos resurfaced—pictures of you with the band, of you standing next to Sae-Byeok at award shows, of you in the background of HOT DIVISION’s biggest moments. Someone even found a picture from that night, showing you leaving the backstage area just moments before the video took place.

And suddenly, you weren’t just the band’s manager anymore.

You were the reason for the fight.

The narrative twisted: Sae-Byeok was in love with you. Jisoo had done something to you. You were caught in the middle of some messy, behind-the-scenes drama that no one was supposed to know about.

It spiraled fast.

By the next morning, articles were being written. Think pieces dissecting Sae-Byeok’s reputation, questioning her professionalism, debating whether or not HOT DIVISION’s label would make a statement.

And through it all—

You stayed quiet.

Because you knew exactly how this worked.

Scandals like this didn’t just pass. They grew until someone stopped them.

And that someone had to be you.

You found Jisoo before anyone else did.

She had been avoiding the internet, dodging calls, probably waiting for it all to blow over before she made her next move. But you weren’t going to give her that luxury.

You cornered her in the back of a café, where she had been sipping an overpriced latte like her name wasn’t being dragged online.

She barely had time to react before you sat down across from her, fixing her with a look that made it clear you weren’t here to play games.

"Fix it," you said, voice steady.

Jisoo blinked. "Excuse me?"

You leaned forward. "You fix it. You clear it up. You tell everyone exactly what the fuck happened before this gets worse."

She scoffed, setting her cup down. "I don’t owe anyone anything."

Your patience snapped. "Are you serious? You owe Sae-Byeok everything right now. Because you’re sitting here, drinking your stupid fucking latte, while she’s getting torn apart for something that wasn’t even her fault."

Jisoo frowned, finally looking uncomfortable. "I didn’t mean for any of this to happen."

"But it did," you said sharply. "And I’m not letting you be the coward who lets her take the fall for it."

A beat of silence.

Jisoo looked away, jaw tightening. "I didn’t think she actually cared that much."

You exhaled through your nose, forcing yourself to stay calm. "That’s the problem. You never thought about what you were doing. You never thought about how it made me feel—how it made her feel."

She swallowed. "I just… I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong."

You shook your head. "Exactly."

Jisoo sighed, rubbing a hand down her face. "So what do you want me to do?"

"Tell the fucking truth," you said. "Make a statement. A video. A post. I don’t care. Just fix it."

She hesitated.

Then, finally, she pulled out her phone.

And for the first time since this entire mess started—

She actually did something right.

Jisoo’s video went up within the hour.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t some grand, emotional apology.

But it was enough.

She admitted that she had been careless, that she hadn’t realized how much she was excluding you, that she had walked into HOT DIVISION’s space without thinking about how it might have made you feel.

And most importantly—

She cleared Sae-Byeok’s name.

She explained that the argument wasn’t about anything romantic, that there was no secret drama or jealousy, that Sae-Byeok had only been angry because she had stood up for you.

The backlash didn’t disappear overnight. But it shifted.

Now, instead of attacking Sae-Byeok, people were applauding her.

And you— You finally let yourself breathe. But the damage had already been done.

And you weren’t sure if things could ever go back to the way they were before.

Dinner was quieter than usual.

Not because there was tension—no, after everything that had happened, the tension had finally cracked, leaving something raw and unspoken between all of you.

The girls had chosen a small restaurant, tucked away from prying eyes and the chaos of the internet, somewhere they could just be without worrying about cameras or fans or another scandal brewing.

And tonight, for the first time in a long time, they weren’t just HOT DIVISION.

They were just friends trying to make things right.

Ji-Yeong was the first to break the silence, setting her chopsticks down. "Alright, let’s just say it."

Se-Mi exhaled. "Yeah, we fucked up."

No-Eul nodded. "Big time."

Sae-Byeok, sitting across from you, was unusually quiet, arms crossed, her gaze flickering between you and the others.

Ji-Yeong leaned forward. "Look, we got caught up in our own shit, and we didn’t notice how much we were leaving you out. That’s on us. Completely on us."

Se-Mi sighed. "We should’ve realized sooner. We should’ve—" She hesitated, then met your eyes. "We should’ve been better friends to you."

You swallowed, feeling the weight of their words, the sincerity behind them.

And then No-Eul, ever direct, said, "We’re sorry."

Your chest tightened, but this time, it wasn’t from pain.

It was relief.

You let out a small, shaky breath, nodding. "Thank you."

Ji-Yeong gave you a hesitant smile. "Does this mean you forgive us?"

You huffed a quiet laugh. "I mean… yeah. But you guys owe me. Big time."

Se-Mi grinned. "Obviously. We’ll buy you so much coffee to make up for it."

No-Eul smirked. "Or we could just kick Jisoo’s ass next time we see her."

That made you laugh—really laugh, for the first time in days.

And just like that, things started to feel okay again.

After dinner, you stepped outside for some air.

The night was cool, the city lights flickering in the distance, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you actually felt lighter.

But you weren’t alone for long.

No-Eul appeared beside you, hands in her jacket pockets, her usual calm, unreadable expression on her face.

"You doing okay?" she asked, her voice softer than usual.

You hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. Better than before."

No-Eul tilted her head, studying you in that way she always did—like she could see right through you. "You sure?"

You sighed, leaning against the railing. "I mean… I still feel kinda stupid for letting it get to me so much."

No-Eul frowned. "Why?"

You shrugged. "Because it’s not like they meant to hurt me. And I knew that. But it still—" You exhaled. "It still sucked."

No-Eul was quiet for a moment, then said, "You don’t have to justify feeling hurt."

You glanced at her, surprised.

She met your gaze, something unreadable in her eyes. "You deserved better from us. And you were right to be upset."

The way she said it—so steady, so certain—made warmth bloom in your chest.

You smiled, small but genuine. "Thanks, No-Eul."

She nodded, her gaze lingering on you.

And for a moment—just a moment—something shifted.

The space between you felt smaller.

The air heavier.

Her eyes flickered to your lips, just for a second, and you felt your breath catch.

Was she—?

Were you—?

Before anything could happen, a voice cut through the air.

"Time to go," Sae-Byeok’s voice rang out, firm but unreadable.

You both jolted slightly, stepping back as if the moment had never happened.

When you turned to look at her, Sae-Byeok’s face was blank, but her eyes—her eyes—were sharp, flickering between you and No-Eul with something you couldn’t quite place.

You cleared your throat. "Right. Yeah. Let’s go."

No-Eul didn’t say anything—just shoved her hands back into her pockets and followed after you.

And as you walked ahead, you could feel Sae-Byeok’s gaze lingering on you.

Like she had seen everything.

Like she was thinking about something.

But she didn’t say a word.

Not yet.

taglist: @everly-summers-solace @knfthxv @madebysae @knfthxv @katieschry1 @imlackingsleep @lyzem @stellssxo @wiltingconquest @peelover25@monroesturnns @laurenkens @yenyu1s @idontliketoread2137 @bitchybananaflower @lyuuw

[gyu-tori]

Red Poppies | H.K

VALENTINE'S DAY SPECIAL | FLEUR DE DESTIN

Pairing: florist!hueningkai x fem!reader Genre: Soulmate AU, Fluff, Angst

Summary: When soulmates are found in dreams, your nights remain empty—until someone with a broken bond helps you search. As dreams clear, unexpected feelings emerge. Are soulmates really just predestined, or can fate change mid-course?

1/5 of the fleur de destin event!! See the full event here.

Word count: 14.2k

In a world where the concept of soulmates isn't a theory but an inevitable reality, the moment you turn 18, your dreams begin. That's when your soulmate appears, silently, waiting in the midst of your subconscious, pulling you into the world of shared dreams. It’s supposed to be magical—like a fate you can't escape, an inevitability that everyone else experiences.

Everyone else, except for you.

Every night, you wait, but the dreams never come. No warm, comforting figure stands before you in the half-light of slumber. No shared glances in the mist. The dreams everyone else describes, full of warmth and recognition, never materialize. You lie awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering what’s wrong with you. Your friends laugh about their experiences with their soulmates, speaking of a mysterious presence—someone they’ve never met, but already feel an unshakable connection to.

But for you? Nothing.

It’s as if you’re destined to walk through life alone. Everyone else gets a preview of their future, a glimpse of someone meant just for them, and yet you’re left with nothing but empty nights and a growing sense of isolation.

Questions begin to haunt you: Are soulmates real, or is it just a cruel trick of fate? Why do others get to experience something you can only dream of? The idea that there could be someone out there for you seems increasingly like a fantasy, an ideal too far-fetched to be believed.

Despite your doubts, there’s still a sliver of hope—something small, fragile, that perhaps one day your dream will come. But for now, it feels like it will never come true. You try to convince yourself that you’re fine without it, that the idea of a soulmate is overrated, but every empty dream reminds you otherwise.

The city is buzzing around you—crowds moving in all directions, the hum of traffic mixing with the distant murmur of conversation. You weave through the chaos, phone pressed to your ear, trying your best to pay attention to Jungwon’s frantic pleas.

“Please, please, I need you to help me with this!” Jungwon’s voice is filled with urgency, almost reaching a panicked pitch. “I’m seriously stuck. It’s for my girlfriend, you know? She loves flowers, but I can’t figure out which ones to get her. I was thinking, like, lilies or tulips? Wait, no—daisies! Or roses… or maybe something more unusual? I don’t know, man. Please, can you just check this one shop near you? It’s called Fleur de Destin. I swear they have the best flowers ever. I’ll pay you back after, I promise!! Just please, I really-”

You roll your eyes, but it’s all in good fun. Jungwon has always been like this—a bit too eager, a little too scatterbrained, but always with good intentions. You try to keep up with his rambling while your eyes scan the sidewalk for the shop.

“Wonnie, calm down!” you sigh, almost chuckling at his frantic energy. “I’m already on my way. I’ll figure it out, okay? Just give me a second.”

As you round the corner, you finally spot the sign you’re looking for: Fleur de Destin. The name alone makes you roll your eyes, almost scoffing at how ridiculous it is. Of course, it had to be soulmate-related—some flower shop with a fancy name designed to tug at the heartstrings of those obsessed with the idea of destiny.

“Right, right, thank you, thank you! You’re a lifesaver!” Jungwon’s voice rings with excitement, unaware of your thoughts. You roll your eyes, shaking your head as you push open the shop door.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m the best,” you mutter sarcastically, stepping inside the shop, your eyes scanning the colorful array of blooms on display. “So, what flowers did you want again?”

“Okay, so she likes lilies, but not the tiger kind. And tulips—oh, wait, maybe daisies would be better?” Jungwon continues, listing off flower after flower, each suggestion more irrelevant than the last.

You groan, struggling to keep track of his endless requests. “Jungwon, you’re literally saying every flower in existence,” you complain, glancing around the shop as you try to focus. “Just pick one, or I’m walking out with a cactus.”

Distracted and exasperated, you turn the corner, still holding the phone to your ear. And then, in a flash, it happens.

You bump directly into someone. A sharp jolt of surprise, followed by the sound of something crashing to the floor. You freeze, eyes widening in shock as a plethora of bright red petals tumbles from the stranger’s grasp and scatters across the floor.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” you blurt out, immediately hanging up on Jungwon without thinking. You kneel down, trying to salvage what’s left of the bouquet as your heart races. “Were these for your soulmate? I totally ruined them, didn’t I?”

The boy you bumped into crouches down with surprising grace, gathering the scattered flowers with care. His expression is more amused than anything else, as he looks up at you with a hint of a smile.

“No, these weren’t for my soulmate. Don’t worry about it,” he replies, his voice warm and reassuring.

Still flustered, you hastily help him pick up the fallen blooms. “But I completely ruined them. They were so pretty. I’ll pay for them!” you insist, already digging for your wallet.

He shakes his head with a small grin. “It’s fine. I wasn’t selling these to anyone specific. I was just arranging them.”

You bite your lip, not entirely convinced. “Still,” you protest, glancing at the half-destroyed bouquet. “I feel bad. They were part of a bigger arrangement, right? I messed it up.”

He pauses, and then grins wider, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous spark. “Well… you’re not wrong. I’d have to redo the whole arrangement now to make it work. But that’s just more work for me, so…” He holds the flowers out to you, a playful gleam in his gaze. “How about you take these instead? It’d save me the trouble.”

You blink, unsure. “Wait, really? I can pay for them, you know?” You hold up your wallet, still feeling guilty.

He shrugs, unfazed. “Yeah. Think of it as a freebie. From the shop to you. Something like… I don’t know, a new customer gift. Besides, it’s not like I can put these back on display now.”

A reluctant laugh escapes you, and you accept the bouquet with a small smile, feeling a little better about the situation. “Thank you. I feel bad about taking them, but… thank you,” you say, the awkwardness slowly fading.

As you straighten up to leave, ready to escape the situation before you embarrass yourself further, he adds, almost casually, “By the way, I’m Hueningkai. I work here part-time.”

His name lingers in your mind as you step out of the shop, the bouquet of poppies tucked carefully in your arms. For a brief moment, you feel a soft warmth blooming in your chest, a flutter that you can’t quite explain. You shake your head, dismissing it. It’s probably nothing, right? Just some random guy at a flower shop.

But the way his eyes spark with that playful, easy smile… something about it lingers in your thoughts longer than you expect.

The cool air hits you as you step outside, the city noises slowly fading into the background. The bouquet of red poppies feels delicate in your hands, their bright petals a stark contrast against the grey streets around you.

You pull your phone from your pocket, the familiar vibration in your hand a reminder of the chaos you’ve temporarily escaped. It’s a text from Jungwon—naturally. You glance at the screen, and immediately, you feel a little twinge of guilt.

“Did you find the flowers? Please tell me you didn’t get a cactus.”

You stare at the message for a beat, the poppies in your hand almost mocking you with their vibrant color. You can’t help but think of the brief encounter with the boy at the flower shop, his grin still lingering in your thoughts.

You hesitate, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Should you tell him the truth? That the flowers were a gift, that you accidentally ran into the boy while trying to help him? But it feels… too complicated. After all, you can’t exactly tell Jungwon you’ve already messed up his entire shopping trip by getting sidetracked with some random guy, even if the poppies are beautiful.

So, instead, you settle on something simpler. A little white lie.

“They didn’t have any of the ones you wanted. Sorry!”

You press send before you can second-guess yourself, a tiny knot of discomfort twisting in your stomach. You know Jungwon will bombard you with questions if he suspects something’s off, but at the moment, it seems like the easiest way out.

Sure enough, his response is swift and dramatic. A string of emojis floods the screen. A skull, a broken heart, and a sad cat.

You roll your eyes, chuckling softly to yourself. Typical Jungwon. Of course, he’d react like this. It’s all part of the charm—his over-the-top reactions to every little inconvenience.

But as you walk home, the weight of the bouquet starts to feel a little heavier, the small lie weighing on you despite how harmless it seems. You glance down at the poppies again. Their vibrant red hue stands out against the dull, overcast sky, reminding you of the shop, of Hueningkai, and of the warmth in his smile that you can’t seem to shake.

The soft morning light filters through your window, bathing the room in pale gold, but it only serves to amplify the emptiness you feel. The warmth of the sunlight brushes against your skin, but it does little to chase away the chill that’s settled in your chest. You blink awake, eyes still heavy with sleep, the familiar ache of disappointment lingering like a dull, unshakable weight. Another night, another empty dream. It’s become a cruel routine—the restless hours that stretch into a blur, the fragile hopes that flicker like candlelight, only to be snuffed out when morning comes and the truth sinks in: no soulmate. Just silence. Just loneliness.

You lie motionless, staring at the ceiling, the stillness of the room a mirror to the heaviness in your heart. Each breath feels shallow, as though the air itself carries the burden of your unfulfilled longing. Your gaze traces the cracks in the plaster above, mind drifting back to last night and the quiet sorrow of yet another dreamless sleep. The hours had passed in a haze of restless tossing and turning, the emptiness pressing against your chest like an unwelcome visitor that refused to leave.

But then, like a spark igniting in the darkness, a memory surfaces—soft and vivid, cutting through the fog of your melancholy. The bouquet of poppies on your counter. 

The bright red petals stand in stark contrast to the usual dull monotony of your mornings. You sit up and glance at the flowers again, a soft warmth blooming in your chest. Kai. You can’t shake the image of him—his warm smile, the way he hadn’t hesitated to give you the poppies, even when he probably should have asked for something in return. It’s funny how someone you barely know can make you feel so... seen, in a way. There was no judgment, no expectation, just a simple act of kindness that left you with more than just the flowers.

For a brief moment, the loneliness eases, replaced by a sense of comfort. A warmth you can’t quite place, something simple yet significant.

You decide, right then and there, that you should do something for him. It’s not much, just a small gesture to show your appreciation, but it feels like the right thing to do. Maybe it won’t change the emptiness that lingers in your heart, but at least for today, it feels like you’re taking a step toward something positive.

You make your way to a nearby café, the chilly air nipping at your cheeks as you walk, your hands cradling each other for warmth. The streets are quiet this early, the faint hum of the waking city blending with the soft rustle of leaves carried by the wind. Your breath fogs in front of you, each exhale a fleeting cloud that vanishes into the crisp morning air. The weight of your thoughts clings to you like the cold, but the gentle buzz of activity from the café’s glowing windows feels like a small reprieve from the solitude.

The bell above the door jingles softly as you step inside, warmth wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingles with the faint sweetness of pastries, and for a moment, it’s easy to forget the unease stirring in your chest. You step up to the counter, scanning the chalkboard menu even though you already know what you’ll order. Two cups of coffee—one for yourself, and one for him.

When it’s your turn, the barista greets you with a cheerful smile, her pen poised to jot down your order. You give it to her, your voice soft but steady, and she begins ringing you up. But then comes the inevitable question, casual and routine: “What name should I put on this one?” She gestures to one of the cups, waiting for your answer.

You open your mouth to reply, but the words falter, sticking in your throat. What was his name again?

The thought comes with an unexpected rush of panic. You know his name—of course, you do. You’ve said it to yourself countless times in the quiet moments in your mind. But now, with the barista watching you expectantly, the letters twist and blur in your mind. Hueningkai. That’s right, isn’t it? But how do you spell it? Is it “H-u-e” or “H-e-u”? The uncertainty churns in your stomach, and your nerves suddenly feel much too raw for something so small.

Your cheeks burn, the silence stretching uncomfortably. You need to say something. Anything. Before you can overthink it further, you quickly blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “Just… Kai. K-A-I.”

The barista nods with an easy smile, scribbling the name onto the cup. Her pen glides over the paper like it’s the simplest thing in the world, and you let out a quiet, shaky breath of relief. But the faint blush warming your face refuses to fade, a mix of embarrassment and something else you can’t quite name.

You step to the side to wait for your coffee, arms crossed as you try to shake off the lingering awkwardness. It’s just a name. It doesn’t have to be this complicated. People shorten names all the time, don’t they? It’s not a big deal. But no matter how much you tell yourself this, you can’t escape the strange weight that settles in your chest.

Because it does feel like a big deal. The simple act of ordering coffee for him feels far more significant than it should. It’s not just about the name or the cup; it’s about the connection, the bridge between what’s real and what still feels so dreamlike. It matters to you—more than you’d expected—and the thought of getting it wrong, of somehow lessening the meaning of this small gesture, gnaws at the edges of your mind.

Your fingers drum lightly against the counter as you wait, the soft hum of the café filling the quiet spaces in your thoughts. Why does this feel so important? You can’t quite explain it, even to yourself, but you know the answer lies somewhere in the way his name lingers on your tongue. It’s not just a name; it’s a piece of him. And that makes it impossible for you to treat it as anything less.

Back at the flower shop, the door chimes softly as you push it open. The familiar scent of flowers greets you, but this time, it feels different. There’s a lightness to the air, a nervous anticipation you can’t shake. You glance around the shop and spot Kai behind the counter, his back turned as he carefully arranges a bouquet. As you approach, he turns, his eyes widening in recognition.

“Oh, hey. Back again? What, did you come to knock over more flowers?” he teases, his voice light and amused as he sets the bouquet down.

You laugh nervously, the memory of the previous day’s accidental collision still fresh in your mind. “No, I just… I felt bad about yesterday. You were so nice, and since you wouldn’t let me pay for the poppies, I thought coffee might make up for it.”

Kai raises an eyebrow, looking at the cup in your hand, and then his gaze flickers to the name written on it. His smile grows wider as he sees “Kai” scrawled in neat handwriting. “Kai, huh?”

Your heart skips a beat at the way he says it. Did I mess it up? You panic for a split second before quickly speaking up. “What? Did I spell it wrong?”

“No, it’s fine,” he chuckles, his tone warm and light. “My friends call me that too. I did tell you it’s Hueningkai though, remember?”

You groan, scratching the back of your neck, feeling heat rise to your face. “I didn’t forget, don’t worry. It’s just that the barista asked for the spelling, and I panicked. I wasn’t sure if it was like… H-u-e or H-e-u or…” You trail off, embarrassed at how overblown this whole situation feels now.

His laughter is genuine and easy, making the awkwardness feel lighter. “Don’t worry. You can just call me Kai. Honestly, it suits me better.”

The tension between you two fades, and the conversation turns easy, natural even, as you both sip your coffee in companionable silence. There’s a peacefulness in this small moment, a quiet connection that feels as if it’s grown out of the simplest of actions. It’s strange—how a cup of coffee, an exchange of words, could carry so much weight. You can’t explain it, but somehow, it does. There’s a comfort in being here with him, in the shared space, even if it’s only for a moment.

As you finish your coffee, you start to stand up, preparing to leave. The warmth of the coffee lingers in your hands, and you feel a small pang of reluctance at the thought of walking away. But just as you turn, Kai’s voice calls out, pulling you back like a thread being gently tugged.

“Hey! I just realized—I didn’t get your name. I should’ve asked it beforehand, huh?”

You freeze mid-step, caught off guard by the simple statement. It’s funny how something as ordinary as your name can feel so vulnerable at this moment, as if giving it away might anchor you to this fleeting encounter. Slowly, you turn back toward him, a hint of embarrassment creeping into your expression.

“Oh, uh, right,” you say, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “How could I forget? I’m Y/N.” The words come out soft, almost hesitant, but you offer him a small, shy smile to soften the awkwardness.

Kai’s lips curve into a genuine smile, one that makes his features light up in a way that feels unfairly disarming. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N,” he says, his tone carrying a warmth that feels like the first hint of spring after a long winter.

You nod, ready to excuse yourself, but he continues, his voice dipping into a playful lilt. “I feel like I should make sure you don’t knock over any more flowers. How about we exchange numbers? That way, you can give me a heads-up if you’re planning to visit again.”

A surprised laugh escapes your lips, and you shake your head. “Are you going to hold that over me forever?” you ask, though the lightness in your tone betrays the quiet excitement bubbling beneath your skin.

“Absolutely,” he replies without missing a beat, the mischievous glint in his eyes sending a small flutter through your chest. “But I promise to be gentle about it.”

The faint heat rising to your cheeks betrays the calm facade you’re trying to maintain. “Alright,” you say, pulling your phone from your pocket, your fingers trembling just enough for you to notice. You carefully type in your number, hesitating for a moment before handing it to him.

As he takes the phone, his fingers brush lightly against yours. The contact is brief—barely a second—but it leaves behind a spark that lingers, warming your skin like the echo of a quiet flame. He glances at the screen, his lips curling into a satisfied smile as he saves your number.

“There,” he says, holding up his phone like it’s a trophy. “Now I can officially make sure you’re not a menace to flowers everywhere.”

You laugh again, the sound feeling freer this time. “I’ll do my best to avoid causing more disasters. Scout’s honor.”

Kai grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that makes your heart skip. “I’ll hold you to that, Y/N.”

With a final exchange of smiles, you both say your goodbyes. As you step out of the coffee shop and into the cool air, the world feels a little brighter, the colors a little sharper. Your mind keeps circling back to the warmth of his voice, the easy rhythm of your conversation, and the way his smile lingered just for you.

Clutching your phone in your pocket, you can’t help but wonder if this brief, serendipitous moment might grow into something far more unexpected. For the first time in a long time, the idea doesn’t feel so impossible. Instead, it feels like a quiet kind of hope.

The first text from Kai comes the next morning, a simple message: “Hope your day’s going well.”

You stare at the screen for a moment, unsure of what to say, but it feels like a door opening—a small crack that you could slip through. So, you respond: “Good so far, just the usual. How about you?”

It’s an innocent exchange, but something about it makes your heart flutter. It’s just a text. Just a casual check-in. And yet, it feels like it means more.

Over the next few days, the texts come more regularly. The casual messages soon become a natural part of your routine. Sometimes it’s a photo of the flowers you’ve come across while walking home, sometimes it’s a little observation about something funny or odd you saw in the city. Kai, always prompt in his replies, sends photos of his own—his latest photography projects, snapshots of the flowers at the shop, or just the candid moments of his day. It’s never anything particularly groundbreaking, but the simplicity of it makes you feel like you’re getting to know him more than you expected.

One afternoon, you send him a picture of a small bouquet you picked up on your way back from class. Bright yellow daffodils, with their cheerful petals standing out against the greenery. “What do you think of these?” you ask, feeling a little silly, but the thought of his opinion matters to you in a way you can’t quite explain.

A few minutes later, your phone buzzes. “They’re gorgeous. Definitely a good pick. I think you’re going to love how they look in your space.” There’s a small follow-up text: “Daffodils are one of my favorites. They remind me of early spring—the way the weather feels like it’s on the edge of change, but still holding onto a bit of the winter chill.”

You smile at his words, the thoughtfulness behind them. It’s strange how quickly you’ve come to appreciate these small moments of connection. The way his comments feel personal, and the way he seems to truly think about things before responding. It makes you feel seen, even if it’s just in this small way.

After a few weeks, the texts have evolved. Sometimes it’s quick updates on your day, but other times, you find yourselves talking late into the night, the messages flowing more easily than you ever expected. He tells you about his life, about how he balances his part-time job at the flower shop with his classes. How he has big dreams of traveling the world, capturing moments with his camera, but also feels a pressure to figure out what he wants to do with his life. There’s a sense of uncertainty in his words that you can relate to, but there’s also a spark of passion when he talks about photography, as if it’s the one thing he knows he’s meant to do.

It’s strange—how quickly you’ve started looking forward to his messages. At first, you thought it was just casual. A way to pass the time. But now? Now, it feels like a connection is slowly growing between you two, one small message at a time. Sometimes, you catch yourself waiting for the sound of your phone buzzing, hoping that there’ll be another text from him waiting for you. And when it does come, there’s a warmth that spreads through you, like the glow of the sun breaking through the clouds.

The ease with which you both have fallen into this comfortable, shared space catches you off guard. Every text feels like a small piece of a larger puzzle, one that you’re slowly starting to put together without even realizing it. And somehow, it feels like something more than just casual messages between friends. There’s something there, something that you can’t quite name yet.

Every now and then, you think about the idea of soulmates. You wonder, as you read his messages or look at the photos he sends, if this could be it. Could he be the one you’ve been waiting for, even though the dream system never worked for you? Could this—this—be how soulmates are found, not through dreams or destiny, but through something as simple and beautiful as a shared moment, a small act of kindness, and a deepening connection?

For now, though, all you know is that you enjoy these small moments with him. The way the conversations flow so naturally. The way he shares pieces of his life with you. And somehow, it feels like you’re building something more real than any dream could ever promise.

It’s another late evening at your favorite café, the soft hum of chatter and clink of coffee cups filling the air as you and Kai sit together, enjoying the warmth of your drinks. There's an unusual ease between you, a connection that feels more natural with each passing day.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Kai looks up at you, a contemplative expression crossing his face. "So, have you met your soulmate yet?"

The question catches you off guard, and your stomach sinks slightly. You've been avoiding this topic for weeks now. You laugh it off at first, trying to keep the conversation light. "What? No, I haven’t. You know that. I mean, I don't even have dreams like everyone else. It’s like... nothing is happening for me."

Kai gives you a soft, understanding look, though there’s a hint of sadness in his eyes. You pause, feeling the familiar sting of rejection, the disappointment that comes with never having felt the pull of a soulmate.

He hesitates, then quietly admits, "I haven’t had a soulmate dream either. Not for a long time."

You glance at him in surprise, unsure of how to respond. "What do you mean, 'not for a long time'?"

He looks away, as if lost in thought. "I had one. A long time ago. But..." His voice falters, and he takes a deep breath before continuing, "... my soulmate rejected me. They cut the bond before it could even really start."

The words hang in the air, and you feel the weight of them. You can't imagine what that kind of rejection must feel like—being told that your connection, your future, isn't real. But the look in Kai’s eyes tells you that it’s been the hardest thing he’s ever experienced.

"I tried to move on," Kai adds, his voice soft. "But it's hard, you know? When you’ve been told that you only get one soulmate... and then it all falls apart."

The sadness in his tone is unmistakable, and you feel a pang of sympathy for him, even though you're struggling with your own emptiness. The idea that everyone only gets one soulmate feels like a cruel joke, especially when it’s all tied to something as fragile as a dream. You’ve never had a soulmate dream, and now you’re hearing that Kai had one—and it was ripped away from him before it could even begin.

You want to comfort him, but the weight of the situation leaves you at a loss for words. Kai continues to gaze into his cup, almost as if the pain is too much to look at directly.

After a long silence, he looks up, meeting your eyes with a quiet resolve. "But I’m not going to let that stop me from helping you."

You blink, taken aback. "What do you mean?"

Kai leans back in his chair, his voice steady. "I know what it’s like to feel like you’re never going to meet the one. But that doesn’t mean I won’t help you find yours. Even if I’ve lost mine, I’ll help you. I won’t let you feel alone in this."

His words are both comforting and heartbreaking. You hadn’t expected him to offer—especially given everything he’s been through. The weight of his rejection, the hollow feeling he must carry every day, and still, he’s offering his help without hesitation. There’s something selfless in his offer, and you find it hard to process.

You swallow hard, a mix of gratitude and sadness pooling in your chest. "Kai, I—"

He gives you a soft smile, though it’s tinged with sorrow. "You don’t have to say anything. I know it’s not the same, but maybe we can help each other figure it out. I’ll be here, even if it’s just for the company. And I’ll help you search for your soulmate—just… don’t give up on them yet."

His words make your heart ache, and for a moment, you feel a tiny crack form in the wall around your own feelings. You had been carrying this burden of emptiness on your own, not sharing it with anyone, and now, Kai is here, offering to help in the only way he knows how. And yet, there’s a part of you that feels pained at the realization that he’s had to carry this pain of rejection alone for so long. You hadn’t expected to feel this way, but it hurts knowing that even though he’s willing to help you, he’s still carrying the pieces of his broken soulmate bond with him.

"I… I don't want you to feel like you have to help me," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t want you to go through this alone just because I need someone."

Kai shakes his head, his eyes soft but firm. "No. I want to help you. It’s not about pity or anything. It’s just... if I can help you find something real, then maybe it’ll make this whole thing worth it for someone else, even if it’s not me."

A lump forms in your throat, and for a moment, all you can do is nod. The emotions swirling in your chest are too complex to untangle, but you appreciate his honesty, his vulnerability. Yet despite the sadness that’s colored this conversation, something inside you shifts—Kai is no longer just the boy who gave you bumped into that one day; he’s someone who truly understands the weight of lost dreams, and somehow, you’re both going to find a way through it together.

But as he speaks, you can’t shake the quiet disappointment that lingers in your heart. You finally had hopes of your soulmate, you thought it was him, but turns out he already had a soulmate, well used to. But still, you can’t help but feel grateful for the person sitting across from you, even if the path ahead is uncertain, you had a friend like him.

As the days pass, your connection with Kai deepens, although you don’t let it get further than just a friend helping you out. The conversations you once had over coffee now spill over into late-night text exchanges and phone calls. The weight of your shared quest to understand soulmates—those late ones, the lost ones, the ones like you—becomes a bond neither of you had anticipated.

It starts off small. You exchange articles, links to forums, obscure old myths about soulmates passed down through generations. But each discovery, no matter how trivial it seems, feels like a small victory. And every time Kai texts you something new he’s found, it brings a new kind of excitement, something you haven’t felt in a long time. The loneliness doesn’t sting quite as much when you're searching together, looking for answers that might finally bring you peace.

The first night you sit together in his room, your laptops open, books scattered around you, it feels like a shared mission. You're not just searching for your soulmate anymore. You’re searching for a truth that feels just out of reach.

Kai, always the meticulous one, has already printed out several research papers he found about soulmate bonds, especially ones about the late bloomers—people who don’t dream of their soulmate until later in life, or whose connections are severed before they can even begin to bloom. His handwriting fills a small notebook, filled with observations, notes, and even speculative ideas about how soulmates could be tied to something more than just a dream.

"This one," Kai says one night, his finger tracing an old myth from a dusty book he’d borrowed from the local library, "talks about how some soulmates might be waiting for the other to be ready. Like, maybe the dream doesn't happen until both people are emotionally prepared to face each other. That could be why you haven’t had a soulmate dream yet—maybe you’re just not ready, or the dream hasn’t arrived because you haven’t faced whatever you need to face yet."

You take a long look at the page, absorbing the idea. It makes sense, in a way. Could there be some truth to it? Have you been avoiding something in your life that could make your dream of a soulmate real? "What do you think?" you ask, curious about his thoughts.

Kai leans back, his eyes a little distant. “I don’t know. But it’s possible. It’s just like when people say you can't truly love someone else until you love yourself, right? Maybe it’s the same with soulmates. The universe is waiting for you to be whole first.”

You nod, the words resonating in a way you didn’t expect. There’s a truth to what he’s saying. It’s not just about meeting someone; maybe it’s about becoming someone capable of accepting that connection. The weight of that realization lingers, but it also offers a flicker of hope. Could your soulmate be out there, waiting for you to understand something about yourself before you meet?

Another night, as you scroll through a thread on a forum discussing soulmate connections, you stumble upon an older comment—one that catches your attention. It talks about how some soulmate connections aren’t about finding your other half, but about finding someone who compliments your journey, someone who helps you grow. You read the words to Kai out loud, and he nods thoughtfully.

“That’s an interesting perspective,” he muses, tapping his pen on the desk. “What if soulmates aren’t a perfect match but rather the catalyst to make you a better version of yourself? It’s kind of like... what I was talking about with ‘readiness.’ Maybe soulmates are there to teach us something.”

Your heart flutters at the thought of it. Could your soulmate be someone you wouldn’t expect? Someone who helps you grow, someone who’s meant to challenge you? The idea makes your stomach turn in an odd mix of excitement and nervousness. What if your soulmate was someone completely different from what you imagined?

Kai’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “Maybe you haven’t had your dream because there’s something you still need to learn before you can be ready for it. But I’ll help you figure it out.”

His words settle over you like a gentle, steady reassurance. It’s not just the research or the theories that make you feel comforted, but the quiet sincerity behind them. Kai has been hurt by his own soulmate’s rejection, but instead of shutting down, he’s chosen to help you find yours. His belief in your chance at a soulmate, despite everything he’s been through, is something you can’t quite comprehend yet, but you feel the weight of it—how deeply he cares.

You don’t know what you’ve done to deserve such a loyal friend, but you’re grateful for it. The more time you spend together, the more you realize how much Kai’s presence has become a comfort in your life. He’s not just a source of information anymore; he’s a friend, someone who understands your struggles, someone who’s willing to go through this journey with you, no matter how long it takes.

But there’s something else, too—something that’s starting to grow between you, a feeling that’s hard to name. As you share theories, exchange ideas, and laugh over shared frustrations, the bond between you and Kai shifts. It’s no longer just about finding your soulmate. It’s about finding your way through this confusing, lonely world, together.

Sometimes, when your eyes meet across the table, you catch something unspoken in his gaze. It’s not the same as before. It’s softer, warmer, and when he smiles at you, it feels like something more than just a friend’s smile. But every time you notice it, you push it aside, telling yourself that you’re just imagining things.

After all, Kai is helping you find your soulmate—not being one for you.

And yet, with every passing night spent researching and learning together, the lines between friendship and something deeper begin to blur. The more you lean on each other, the harder it becomes to separate what you need from what you want. And neither of you knows yet where this journey will take you.

But you’re no longer alone in it.

After weeks of late-night research and deep conversations about soulmates, today is a quiet, uneventful afternoon at the flower shop. Kai has just finished his shift, and you’ve come from your classes, the calm of the day settling in between the two of you. The shop is warm, sunlight pouring through the windows, casting soft patterns on the floor. You’re both sitting with iced drinks in hand, scrolling through your phones. But there’s an underlying tension in the air that you can’t ignore.

Kai is distant today. He’s usually more present—playful, engaging, or cracking jokes to fill the silences. But not today. Today, he’s just sitting there, staring down at the floor, a furrow in his brow. It’s subtle, but you notice.

“Hey,” you say gently, trying to break the silence. “You okay?”

Kai blinks and looks up, his gaze sharp as if he’s just snapped out of a trance. He offers a small, distracted smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, just... thinking about something. It’s nothing.”

You don’t buy it. Not for a second. Over the past few weeks, you’ve become familiar with the way his moods shift, and this isn’t the usual easygoing Kai you know. Something’s bothering him.

“You sure?” You try again. “You seem... off.”

He chuckles softly, a little awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just... I ran into someone yesterday.”

You raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Someone? Who?”

Kai’s gaze flickers to the flowers scattered around the shop, avoiding your eyes. “My ex... the one who rejected me.”

His words hit you harder than you expected. You’ve heard pieces of his past, but hearing it like this, raw and unfiltered, makes something twist in your chest. You can see it now—the tension in his shoulders, the subtle tightness in his jaw. There’s a lingering sadness in the way he says it, like a ghost he’s still carrying around.

“Wait, you saw her?” you ask, your voice quiet.

Kai nods, looking almost reluctant to share. “Yeah. It was a surprise. We bumped into each other on the street. Honestly, I thought I’d feel... something. But, weirdly, I felt nothing.”

“Nothing?” you echo, surprised. “Like... no anger? No pain?”

He shakes his head slowly, his expression distant. “Just... indifference. I thought I’d feel something after everything that happened. But when I saw her, I realized I don’t care anymore. I didn’t feel anger or resentment. I didn’t feel relief, either. I just felt... nothing. I guess I was hoping for some sort of closure, but instead, I just... walked away.”

You pause, the weight of his words hanging in the air between you. The silence stretches, both of you caught in your thoughts, as you try to process what he’s just shared.

“It’s good that you felt indifferent,” you finally say, your voice gentle. “Maybe that means you’re starting to move on. Like... truly move on.”

Kai looks over at you, his eyes softening as he meets your gaze. He gives you a small smile, but it’s bittersweet. “Yeah... maybe. But it’s weird, you know? After everything we went through, I thought I’d have some kind of reaction. Some feeling that would tell me I was over it. But in the end... I didn’t feel anything at all.”

You think for a moment, then offer him a reassuring smile. “Maybe that’s a good thing. It means you’re free.”

Kai lets out a quiet, almost resigned laugh, but there’s still a shadow in his eyes. “Maybe. But sometimes I wonder... if I’m just... afraid of feeling anything again, you know? Maybe that’s why I can’t let myself care.”

His words hang in the air, and you don’t know what to say. You’re not sure how to fix the uncertainty in his voice, or the way he’s still so hesitant to let himself feel something, even though he’s ready to let go of the past.

You don’t have an immediate answer for him. Instead, you just sit there with him in the quiet of the shop, the weight of his vulnerability hanging between you. The afternoon light spills through the windows, casting long shadows as the two of you are left alone with your thoughts.

After a long moment, you finally speak. “If you ever want to talk about it more, you know I’m here, right?”

Kai looks at you, his gaze soft, and his smile deepens slightly. “I know. Thanks.”

It’s not the kind of conversation that has any clear resolution, but in this moment, the simple act of being there for each other feels like the most important thing. You’re not sure if Kai is ready to face his fears about opening his heart again, but you’re certain that, for now, you’re there with him, sharing this space and understanding him in a way that words can’t fully capture.

The afternoon slips into evening, and the two of you fall into an easy, comfortable silence. There’s no pressure, no need for more explanations. You’re just there, two people who have seen each other’s scars and are slowly learning how to heal them together.

It’s a fragile, quiet comfort. But it’s enough. For now.

For years, your dreams remained empty, cold, and silent. But then, one night, things began to shift. It started with a faint shadow, a shape in the distance that was too unclear to recognize—just a faint outline, barely visible. The figure was blurry, indistinct, but even so, your heart skipped a beat. You couldn't help but wonder: was this finally your soulmate? Could the long wait for a connection in your dreams be coming to an end?

Night after night, the figure grows clearer, the edges sharpening with each passing dream. Though you still can’t make out their face, their form is more defined now, their presence more tangible. You feel a pull in your chest, an unexplainable warmth when the figure appears. Hope swells inside you—the soulmate you’ve longed for, the one you were meant to meet, is finally reaching out. The excitement is overwhelming. You just need to see their face. But even with the lingering blur, you’re convinced: this is them, the one you’ve been waiting for all these years.

Yet, as your connection with this blurry figure deepens with each dream, you can’t help but think of Kai. Of the long conversations, of the shared moments, of the way you’ve both supported each other in your confusion and pain. For so long, he’s been a constant, a friend who has listened to your hopes and fears. And now, as you inch closer to meeting the person who will complete you, you wonder—what does this mean for you and Kai? Will your friendship end when your goal is reached?

For Kai, though, things are different. His dreams are also filled with a figure—a blurry, indistinct shape that grows clearer the more he sleeps. But unlike you, Kai isn’t filled with excitement. Instead, he feels dread. Every night, he’s haunted by this figure, and with every new dream, he’s more convinced that it’s not someone new—it's his ex-soulmate. The one who rejected him all those years ago.

The figure hasn’t solidified yet, still too blurry for him to fully recognize, but Kai knows. He knows that it’s her—the person who severed their bond before it could ever even begin. He hasn’t seen her in years, but every time the figure appears in his dreams, his stomach sinks. The more he tries to push it away, the more certain he becomes. This isn’t a new person; this is someone from his past, someone who broke his heart and left him questioning everything about soulmates.

The dread claws at him each night as he sees that blurry figure taking form, inching closer to clarity. He doesn’t want it to be her. He doesn’t want to face the possibility that she might want to reconnect, might want to try again. The rejection he endured still stings, and he can’t imagine having to go through that pain again. Even if the figure is still vague, the fear that it’s her makes him hesitate to believe it could be anything else. Yet, why does a part of him long for it to be someone else, even when it would be impossible.

You can’t contain your excitement when you sit down with Kai at the café, eager to share the latest developments in your dreams. The figure is growing clearer, and every night, you feel a stronger pull toward them. You tell Kai about how you can sense the figure reaching out to you, and how the bond feels so much more real with each passing night. The hope of finally meeting your soulmate feels so close, you can almost touch it.

Kai listens quietly, but the smile on his face is faint, his eyes shadowed with a flicker of something deeper. His heart sinks as you speak, a quiet ache growing in his chest. The weight of your words settles heavily on him. You’re so sure that the blurry figure in your dreams is your soulmate, but Kai can’t help but think about the blurry figure in his own dreams. 

As you talk about your dreams, about the connection growing stronger, Kai’s mind drifts. He’s been trying so hard to ignore the feelings that have been growing inside him. The feelings he’s been hiding for so long, the feelings that have only deepened as the two of you have spent more time together.

He’s falling for you. He knows it, feels it with every passing day, but the truth is too complicated, too painful. He watches as you get excited about your soulmate, your connection, and it feels like a cruel reminder of everything he can never have. The dream of soulmates that was once his, now shattered and replaced by an unspoken truth he can’t share.

Kai doesn’t want to feel this way. He doesn’t want to feel this weight on his chest, this tightness in his throat every time you talk about your soulmate, because he knows it’s too late. You’re on your way to meeting yours, and even if he wanted to tell you the truth—that he’s falling in love with you—he’s terrified. Terrified that you won’t feel the same way, terrified that it’s too late for him.

He’s watching you become closer to someone else, and the thought of losing you—of never having a chance with you—is unbearable. So, he suppresses it. He smiles, laughs, listens, all the while pretending that everything is fine, all the while fighting the intense emotions brewing inside him.

Despite the turmoil in his heart, Kai continues to help you. He listens patiently as you share the details of your dreams, offering his insights and advice on how to interpret the signs and clues. He tells you to pay attention to the smallest details, to look for anything that might confirm the identity of the figure, even as he feels the ache of not being able to reveal his own feelings.

Each time you tell him about how much clearer the figure has become, how the bond feels more tangible, the tension in Kai’s chest grows. He smiles and offers encouraging words, but the smile never quite reaches his eyes. The strain is evident in his voice, in the way he holds himself back from saying too much.

He’s doing everything he can to be there for you, to help you find your soulmate. But inside, he’s battling a storm of emotions. Every word of encouragement, every smile, feels like a slow burn, like he’s suffocating under the weight of his own unspoken love for you. The more you grow excited about your soulmate, the more the distance between you and Kai feels like an insurmountable divide.

The tension between you both grows, even if you don’t see it. Each moment spent with him feels like a precious gift to Kai, but also like a constant reminder of everything he can’t have. His love for you remains unspoken, locked away in the silence between your words, and he wonders how much longer he can keep it buried inside before it all comes spilling out.

The space between you and Kai continues to grow, though neither of you acknowledges it outright. There’s something undeniably charged between you two, something that lingers in every shared glance and every small moment. His presence in your life is a constant, and you’ve grown used to the comfort and warmth that comes with his quiet support. Yet, no matter how much you feel the connection between you, you still find yourself pushing it away.

You remind yourself that the soulmate you’ve been waiting for is out there, still a blurry figure in your dreams, and that’s the one you’re meant to be with. Despite the warmth you feel when Kai is around, the tenderness in his eyes, the way he listens to you like no one else does, you refuse to acknowledge it. You tell yourself that it’s too soon, that this bond with Kai doesn’t mean anything.

Each time you laugh and share another bit of good news about your dreams, you can feel his gaze lingering on you longer than it should, a quiet sadness that you don’t see, but that he can’t hide. You’re becoming more and more absorbed in the hope of meeting your soulmate, the one who’s supposed to be out there waiting for you, the one who will complete the dream you’ve been chasing for so long.

Kai, on the other hand, watches as the gap between you grows. It’s not that you’ve changed, not really. But he can see the way you’ve become more distant. The more excited you get about the dreams, the more you pull away from him, almost as if you’re trying to convince yourself that your soulmate isn’t someone you already know. It eats away at him, but he doesn’t know how to stop it. He’s terrified that if he tells you how he feels, he’ll only push you further away. But watching you hold on to the idea of someone else, someone who’s not him, is slowly breaking him.

One evening, after a long day, you and Kai take a quiet walk together. The air is cool, the sound of your footsteps is all that can be heard as the silence between you both grows more palpable. You’re talking about your dreams, your soulmate, and how convinced you are that they’re finally starting to reach you. The figure is becoming clearer, your connection growing stronger.

“I can’t wait to finally meet them,” you say, your smile hopeful, your eyes filled with anticipation.

Kai forces a smile, nodding along as if he’s truly happy for you, but his heart feels like it’s sinking. He swallows the lump in his throat, the ache that has been building inside him for weeks. “Yeah,” he replies softly, his voice carrying a faint edge of pain that he quickly tries to mask. “They’re out there.”

But even as he says it, there’s a part of him that wants to scream that he’s right here. That he’s the one who’s been by your side, supporting you through all of this. But he doesn’t. He can’t. He watches as you remain wrapped in the belief that your soulmate is someone who will appear in your dreams, and he wonders if you’ll ever look at him in that way.

The walk ends in silence, a thick, invisible wall between you that neither of you is willing to acknowledge. You part ways, still believing in the dream of your soulmate, unaware of how much Kai has already given you—how much he’s already given up in silence.

For Kai, each step away from you feels like a piece of him breaking off, but he swallows it down. He’s learned to live in the space of almost, to pretend that everything is fine, even when his heart aches with every passing second. But the truth is, he knows deep down that no matter how hard he tries to be just your friend, the feelings he has for you have grown too strong to ignore. He just doesn’t know if you’ll ever see him the way he sees you, nor should you, not when you’re destined to be with someone else already.

The night wraps around Kai like a heavy blanket as he sits on the edge of his bed, phone in hand, staring at your message. His thumb brushes idly against the screen, scrolling up to reread your words, as if the emotions woven into them might shift into something easier to bear if he looks just one more time.

You had sent it with so much enthusiasm, your excitement spilling over like the first rays of dawn breaking through the darkest night. You’d written about the dream—how vivid it was, how the figure was no longer a blur but beginning to take shape. You’d described every detail with a breathless kind of joy: the way the figure moved, how they reached out to you, how close you felt to finally understanding who they were. It was like reading a story painted in colors so bright they almost hurt his eyes, each word shining with hope and possibility.

Kai could see your happiness so clearly in every word, and it twisted something deep inside him. The tightness in his chest grew unbearable as he pictured you sitting there, eyes lit up, fingers typing quickly, pouring out your heart to him. It was the kind of joy he wanted to see on your face every day, the kind of excitement he longed to be the cause of—but instead, it was for someone else. Someone faceless. Someone who wasn’t him.

His hand tightened around his phone as he reread your description of the dream, the way you’d said the figure was finally coming into focus, how it felt like you were standing on the edge of a life-changing revelation. Kai could practically hear your voice in his mind, brimming with anticipation, and it only made the ache in his chest worse.

His fingers hover over the keyboard, trembling slightly, and before he knows it, he’s typing. I wish it were me. I wish I was the one you saw in your dreams. The words spill out in a rush, raw and unfiltered, as though his heart had taken over, desperate to finally be heard.

For a moment, he stares at the screen, his heart pounding. The confession feels so fragile, so vulnerable, and yet it burns with the truth he’s been carrying for far too long. The glowing words seem to taunt him, daring him to hit send, to step into the unknown and finally bare his soul.

But then reality crashes down on him like a wave, cold and unforgiving. His breathing slows as doubt creeps in, wrapping around him like chains. His thumb hovers over the “send” button, frozen. What if this changes everything? What if you don’t feel the same? What if he loses you entirely?

The risk feels too great, the fear too overwhelming. With a shaking breath, he presses backspace, watching the words disappear one by one, like erasing a part of himself. The blank text box stares back at him, mocking him with its emptiness.

Kai types something safer, something distant, something that won’t betray the storm raging inside him. "That sounds amazing. I’m really happy for you," he writes. The words feel hollow, lifeless, like a shadow of what he truly wants to say. But that's all he can manage.

He hits send before he can overthink it, the message vanishing into the ether like a whisper swallowed by the wind. As soon as it’s gone, a crushing weight settles on his chest. The ache doesn’t lessen; it deepens, sinking into him like a stone dropped into the depths of a still lake.

He imagines you reading his response, your excitement still glowing, your mind racing with thoughts of your soulmate and the dream that brought them closer to you. He imagines your smile, your heart fluttering with hope, and it feels like a knife twisting in his chest.

Kai closes his eyes, letting his head fall into his hands. The silence of his room is deafening, broken only by the sound of his own uneven breathing. He tells himself he’s happy for you—he repeats it over and over in his mind, like a mantra, as if saying it enough times might make it true. But deep down, he knows he’s lying.

He doesn’t just want to be part of your dreams; he wants to be the dream. The person you wake up thinking about. The one you’re so excited to meet. The one who makes your heart race and your words spill out in breathless joy. But instead, he’s the one sitting in the shadows, watching you chase a future that doesn’t include him.

A few days later, you meet Kai for coffee at your favorite spot, a cozy little café tucked away from the bustling streets. The familiar hum of conversation blends with the soft clinking of cups and the faint aroma of roasted beans in the air. It’s one of those rare, fleeting moments when life feels suspended in a delicate balance, and the two of you can simply exist—no burdens, no expectations, just two people sharing a moment of peace.

The conversation starts light, with playful jabs about the unseasonably warm weather and anecdotes from your day that make him chuckle. There’s an ease between you that feels natural, like slipping into a favorite sweater. But as the minutes tick by and your drinks grow lukewarm, the conversation takes a turn, shifting into deeper waters as it often does when you’re with him.

"So," Kai begins, a teasing lilt in his voice as he stirs his coffee. "How’s it going? The soulmate dreams?" His tone is light, almost casual, but the slight hesitation in his question hints at something more—something unspoken.

You sit up a little straighter, your eyes bright with excitement as you lean forward. "It’s getting clearer every night," you say, your words spilling out in a rush. "I can almost see them, Kai. It’s like I’m standing right there, just one step away. I know I’m going to meet them soon."

Kai listens intently, his hand stilling on his cup as he watches you. There’s a quiet intensity in his gaze, but it’s layered with something you can’t quite catch—an emotion buried deep beneath the surface. He offers you a small smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. "You really think they’re out there, huh?" he asks, his voice lilting with mock curiosity, but the weight behind his words betrays him.

You nod eagerly, completely missing the subtle crack in his façade. "I know they are," you say with conviction, your hands curling around your cup. "I’ve been waiting for this my whole life, Kai. I can feel it. They’re out there, and they’re waiting for me too."

His smile falters, just for a moment, before he schools his expression into something softer, something easier to wear. "I guess we all have to believe in something," he murmurs, his voice so quiet it nearly gets lost in the background noise. But his words hold a heaviness that lingers, an ache he tries to suppress.

You’re too caught up in your own thoughts to notice the way his shoulders slump ever so slightly, or the way his fingers tighten around his cup like he’s holding himself together. You keep talking, sharing every detail of your dreams—the colors, the sounds, the way your soulmate’s presence feels so real, so close. And all the while, Kai sits there, nodding along, his chest tightening with every word.

For you, this is hope—an unwavering belief that everything you’ve dreamed of is just around the corner. But for Kai, it’s something else entirely. It’s a quiet kind of agony, the kind that sits heavy in your chest and makes it hard to breathe. He’s been your confidant, your anchor, the one you turn to when the world feels too big. But as he listens to you speak of your soulmate with such reverence, a cruel truth seeps into his heart: you’ve never looked at him the way you look at the person in your dreams.

He forces another smile, his lips trembling for just a fraction of a second. "I’m happy for you," he says softly, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him. He means it—he really does—but the words feel like glass on his tongue.

You don’t notice the way his gaze lingers on you, or the way his hands tremble slightly as he sets his cup down. You don’t see the way his heart breaks, piece by piece, with every word you speak. All you see is the future you’ve dreamed of, the life you’re so certain is waiting for you.

And Kai—sweet, selfless Kai—sits there in silence, letting you pour your heart out even as his own shatters. A part of him wants to tell you the truth, to lay everything bare and risk it all. But another part—the part that loves you too much to take that chance—keeps him rooted in place. So he listens, he smiles, he nods, and he pretends. Because that’s all he can do now—be your friend, your confidant, the one who cheers you on even as he quietly mourns the future he knows he’ll never have with you.

A week later, the air feels heavy between you and Kai as you walk through the park, side by side, your shoes crunching softly on the path beneath. It’s a serene evening—the kind that makes everything feel just a little more alive, just a little more beautiful. The sky is a warm gradient of orange and pink, the sun dipping below the horizon. The kind of moment you would want to savor, if only everything didn’t feel so complicated.

Kai is listening as you talk about your usual topic the past few days, your soulmate—about the blurry figure in your dreams, how each night it becomes clearer. You’re excited, almost desperate to share this feeling with him. The possibility of finally meeting the person you’ve been waiting for, the one who might complete you.

But as you speak, you notice something. Kai is looking at you differently. His usual smile is soft, but there’s something deeper in his eyes, a mix of emotions you can’t quite understand but it’s something that makes your heart skip a beat. There’s a heaviness in the way he watches you, a silent understanding between you that only heightens the tension in the air.

The conversation slows, the words between you becoming fewer as the quiet settles in. You’re aware of the space between you—close, but not quite touching. It feels like everything is building to something, but neither of you knows exactly what. Your heartbeat quickens, and for the first time, you realize just how close you’ve become to him, how much his presence affects you.

Suddenly, you stop walking, turning to face him. The moment hangs between you, and you feel the pull—something between you that’s been there all along, something that’s become undeniable. Kai stands still, his gaze searching yours, as if asking for something you’re not sure you can give.

Then, before you can think, you see it: the way he leans in just slightly, the way the world feels like it’s slowing down around you. The distance between you shrinks, and you feel an electric current spark in the air. His breath is warm against your skin, his presence so overwhelming that your heart seems to stop beating for a moment.

Everything inside you screams to kiss him—to bridge the gap between you and the unspoken words you both keep holding back. But your thoughts of your soulmate—of the person who’s supposed to be in your dreams—rush in, and before you can even make a choice, you pull back.

“Wait,” you murmur, your voice shaky, caught in the whirlwind of your own emotions. “This is wrong, Kai. I... I can’t do this.”

Kai freezes. For a second, the world feels like it’s fallen silent, but instead of letting the awkwardness linger, he smiles quickly, a little too brightly, as though trying to mask what just happened.

"Sorry, I thought you had an eyelash on your cheek," he says, his voice light, almost too casual. "I was just trying to get it."

He raises his hand and brushes your cheek gently with his fingers, an act so tender it almost feels like a confession. His touch lingers for a moment before he pulls away, his smirk now a little forced.

“I don’t know if I got it. I couldn’t really see it properly,” he adds with a chuckle, as if nothing significant just happened. “Oh, sorry, guess I just got a little too close.”

You laugh nervously, your heart still racing, trying to mask the confusion inside. "Right," you say, your voice weak. "That was... close."

Kai steps back, his eyes still lingering on you for a fraction of a second, but the moment is already slipping away, the unspoken words hanging in the air, unresolved. The quiet that follows feels different now, heavier, like you’re both pretending it didn’t happen.

The rest of the walk feels like a slow unraveling. You continue to talk, but the easy silence is gone, replaced by an uncomfortable tension. The words are there, but they don’t feel like they’re reaching each other the same way. It’s as though the space between you has grown even wider.

Later, when you lie in bed, you replay the moment over and over in your mind. You keep thinking about how close you were, the way his fingers had brushed your cheek. You wonder if it had been a mistake to stop. Was it too soon? Was it wrong to pull away?

You convince yourself that you did the right thing. It’s not fair to Kai. It’s not fair to the soulmate you’re waiting for. But deep down, there’s a nagging doubt, a voice that wonders if you’ve been fooling yourself all along. Was it really the wrong time? Or did you just push him away because you were afraid of what it meant?

On the other side of the situation, Kai is tangled in his own thoughts. His fists are clenched at his sides as he stares at the ceiling, his mind racing. He replays the moment in his head too—the way his heart had pounded when you stopped him, how close you had been, how he thought, for just a second, that you might feel it too.

But you pulled away. And in that moment, he felt the weight of it all—the distance between you, the reality that no matter how close you got, you’d always be waiting for someone else.

“I should’ve known it was too good to be true,” he thinks bitterly. “You have someone else. Someone waiting for you. And I’m just here… stuck in this endless loop, a broken bond yet hoping that maybe you could mend it back with yours.”

He sighs, closing his eyes, willing the ache in his chest to fade. “I can’t make her feel something she doesn’t. She deserves someone who’s meant for her. Someone who was fated to her.”

And with that thought, Kai drifts into a restless sleep, knowing the truth but still clinging to the hope that maybe, just maybe, things could be different.

The dream begins, as it always does: blurry, disorienting, filled with an overwhelming sense of longing that you can never quite explain. It’s the same every night—shapes and shadows, a silhouette that never seems to come into focus, no matter how hard you try to make it clear. It teases you, whispers to you of something important, something that feels like destiny—but you can never quite grasp it.

Tonight, though, something is different.

The figure in front of you seems to ripple, the darkness around it seeming to waver, like the world itself is holding its breath. Your pulse quickens as the shadow begins to shift, stretching into something more defined, as if the universe is finally granting you the clarity you've been waiting for.

You reach out instinctively, as though you could pull the figure into sharper focus, draw the mystery out of the murky fog surrounding it. Your heart pounds in your chest, the anticipation rising to a fever pitch. The details begin to sharpen, the edges of the form gradually becoming clearer with each passing moment. A figure, tall and broad-shouldered, standing just out of reach. You can almost make out the curve of their jaw, the shape of their lips.

But still, it’s not enough.

And then—just when you think you might burst from the pressure of waiting—the veil is lifted. The figure finally comes into full view, and you gasp.

It’s not a stranger. Not the faceless being you’ve been waiting for all this time.

It’s him.

Kai.

His features are unmistakable now. The curve of his smile, the sharpness of his eyes, the way he stands with that quiet confidence you’ve come to know so well. Your breath hitches, and for a moment, it feels like the ground beneath you has vanished. All the tension, all the confusion you've carried with you all this time, falls away as realization crashes into you like a tidal wave.

This isn’t just a dream. This is the truth, the answer to every question you've had for so long. The person you’ve been yearning for, the soulmate you've been waiting to meet—is Kai. He always has been.

And just as this revelation settles deep within you, a strange, familiar pull tugs at your chest. The world around you begins to dissolve, and you feel yourself being torn away from this clarity, back into the murkiness of sleep.

Across the expanse of sleep, Kai stirs in his own dream. For weeks, he’s been seeing a shadowy figure, indistinct, almost impossible to grasp, lingering just out of reach. In the beginning, he assumed it was his ex-soulmate, the one who had rejected him so painfully. That figure—still shrouded in mystery—haunted him every night, dredging up emotions he’d long buried.

But tonight… tonight, everything changes.

The figure in his dream shifts, becoming clearer in a way he’s never seen before. The edges grow sharper, the outline of the person coming into focus with each passing second. His breath hitches in his sleep as he tries to make sense of it. He reaches for the figure, just as he’s done so many times before, desperate for clarity.

And then, the figure’s face is unmistakable.

It’s you.

He sits up suddenly, heart hammering in his chest. The dream isn’t just a flash of the past anymore—it’s you. It always has been. The face he’s been searching for, the one that’s been haunting him in the shadows, was you. Not his ex. Not a distant memory.

The realization is so sudden, so sharp, it almost feels like a physical blow. The dream slips away, leaving him awake and breathless in his bed. His heart races, thumping painfully as he processes what he’s just learned. The figure he’s been seeing—he’d thought it was someone else, but it was you all along. The connection, the bond, the love he thought had been lost to him—it’s been with you from the beginning. He doesn’t know how but he isn’t complaining. For once it felt like the universe was listening to him.

You wake, your pulse still erratic, your mind tangled in the remnants of your dream. You stare at the ceiling, still reeling from the shock of seeing Kai in the dream so clearly. How did you not know? How did you miss it before?

And then, like a jolt of electricity, the buzzing of your phone breaks through the haze of your thoughts. You glance at the screen, seeing Kai’s name flash across it, and for a moment, you hesitate. Could he have…?

You pick up the phone, your voice trembling. “Hello?”

There’s a pause, heavy with the unspoken. You can feel the rawness in his voice before he even speaks. “I—” He swallows, the words difficult to form, you could hear him panting as if he just ran miles. “I need to see you. Can you open your door?”

Your heart skips. You already know. You both woke up with the same realization, and the gravity of it weighs down on you, pulling at your chest.

“I’ll be right there,” you manage to say, barely able to steady your breath.

You rush to the door, your pulse quickening as you open it before he even knocks. There he is, standing in the hallway, his form framed by the dim light from the corridor. His eyes meet yours, filled with a blend of vulnerability and uncertainty, and you feel the weight of everything unspoken between you. Without a word, he steps inside, the door softly closing behind him.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The silence between you is thick, a heavy fog of unspoken words and emotions. You can’t seem to catch your breath. Your mind is still spinning with everything you've just realized, and you feel his presence in a way you never have before.

Finally, Kai breaks the silence, his voice quiet but urgent. “I don’t know what this means for us,” he admits. “But I know that… I don’t want to lose this. I don’t want to lose you.”

His words shake you, and you feel a lump form in your throat. You’ve been holding your emotions in check for so long, and now, standing here in the reality of what you’ve just learned, it feels like it’s all crashing down on you.

“I don’t want to lose you either,” you reply, your voice shaking. But then the doubt creeps in, and you can’t stop yourself from asking, “But… Kai, what if this isn’t just some dream? What if we’re just convincing ourselves it’s real?”

Kai steps closer, his gaze steady, unwavering. “We don’t need to convince ourselves, do we?” His voice is low, sincere. “What we have is real. It might not be the perfect soulmate connection we always imagined, but it’s ours. We’ve built something here. Haven’t we?”

The truth hits you like a wave. He’s right. Everything you’ve shared, everything you’ve felt—it’s not just fantasy. It’s real. And it has been all along. The bond between you is undeniable, even if it doesn’t fit the mold of what you thought soulmates should be.

“I guess… we don’t have to figure this out right now, do we?” you say, taking a step closer to him. “We can just… let it be.”

Kai’s smile is small, bittersweet, and filled with so much unsaid emotion. “Yeah. We can just let it be.”

And in that moment, you both understand. The connection between you, the pull you’ve both felt—it doesn’t need to be perfect. It just needs to be real.

Kai reaches out, his hand tentative but sure. You don’t pull away. Instead, you let him take your hand, fingers weaving together in a silent promise. His thumb brushes over your knuckles, sending warmth racing through you, and you look up at him, the question hanging in the air between you.

Do you want this?

The answer is clear as you lean in, your lips meeting his in a kiss that is gentle, soft, as if you’re both tasting the truth for the first time. The kiss deepens, fueled by everything you’ve been holding back, the emotions you’ve been too afraid to voice. His arms pull you closer, and you lose yourself in the moment, in the warmth, in the certainty that, finally, everything has fallen into place.

When the kiss finally breaks, neither of you pulls away. You’re both breathless, your foreheads pressed together, feeling the weight of everything that has just shifted between you.

Kai’s voice is a whisper, barely audible, but you hear it clearly. “I’ve been waiting for this—for you—for so long.”

You smile softly, your hand over his heart, feeling the rhythm of it beneath your palm. “Me too,” you whisper back.

And in that moment, it all clicks. This isn’t just a kiss. This is the culmination of everything you’ve built. Everything you’ve both waited for. It’s not a fantasy anymore. It’s real. You’ve found each other.

The kiss lingers between you like the soft echo of a song you never wanted to end. It’s not just a kiss—it’s a silent admission, a wordless promise, a release of everything that has been building between you, unspoken and hidden. Kai pulls back just slightly, but the weight of his gaze on yours feels as if he’s reaching into the deepest corners of your soul. There’s something in his eyes, something that tells you everything, yet nothing at all.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to say,” Kai begins, his voice a whisper, as fragile as the air between you. The tension in his voice—so raw, so vulnerable—sends a shiver through you. “Even before all of this… even before we realized what we meant to each other, I—” He stumbles over his words, his breath coming in shallow bursts, like someone standing on the edge of a precipice, afraid to fall.

You take a step closer, reaching for him, your hand finding his, grounding him, grounding yourself. You can feel his pulse, racing in sync with yours, the rhythm of your hearts mirroring the storm inside both of you. You offer him your silence, a soft encouragement that says everything without a word. “You can tell me anything, Kai,” you murmur, your voice steady, even as your heart flutters wildly within your chest.

He closes his eyes, as though gathering every shred of courage to speak the words that have been locked inside him for so long. Then, when his eyes meet yours again, they are filled with the weight of a thousand unspoken thoughts, and his next words come out like a confession he’s been carrying since the first moment he laid eyes on you.

“I’m falling for you,” he says, the words tumbling from his lips, as soft as the first rain of spring but as heavy as the storms they promise. “I think I have been for a while. And I… I don’t want to hide from it anymore.”

Your heart stops for a beat, and then it races, thudding loudly in your ears, so strong and steady that it feels like the sound of an ancient drum calling you home. Every part of you trembles at his admission, the truth of it sinking into your bones, as though he’s just pulled the rug out from under your feet and you’re left floating, weightless and free.

You can feel it too. You always have. It’s like a quiet fire, smoldering in your chest, a warmth that grows and flickers every time he’s near. And now, with his words, it explodes. The fire consumes you. You are lost in it, but somehow, it’s the only place you want to be.

“Kai,” you whisper, your voice shaky with the weight of your own confession. Your hands tremble as they reach up to touch his face, your fingers brushing against his skin like the softest touch of wind on a still day. “I’m falling for you too. I didn’t want to admit it at first, but…” The words catch in your throat, but you push them out, letting them flow like a river breaking free from its banks. “I’ve never felt more sure of anything in my life.”

The world seems to still in that moment. The doubts, the fears, the questions—they all vanish like smoke in the wind. There’s only the quiet certainty that settles in your chest, heavier than any burden you’ve carried before. You know this is right. You know it in the deepest part of your soul.

Kai’s smile is soft, almost hesitant, but it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. His thumb brushes over your cheek, so gentle, so tender, like a promise, like a vow. The warmth of his touch is the kind of warmth you’ve been searching for your whole life, the kind that fills every crack in your heart and makes it whole again. “We’re not alone anymore, are we?” he murmurs, his voice a low, soothing hum in the quiet of the room.

“No,” you breathe, your voice steady now, stronger than you ever imagined it could be. “We’re not.”

In that simple exchange, something inside you both shifts. You no longer need to search for the answers to what’s been confusing you. You no longer need to chase what was never truly lost. The future is no longer an uncertain road ahead. It’s the path you’re walking together, one step at a time, hand in hand.

There’s a new understanding between you now, one that doesn’t require words. You’ve built something, not out of fate, but out of choice. You’ve created this bond from the ground up, in the moments where you bled and healed and trusted each other, even when it seemed like the world was telling you it wasn’t meant to be.

And just like that, you understand. Soulmates aren’t found in dreams. They’re not a perfect match sewn together by some divine plan. Soulmates are born from the jagged pieces of your life—broken, messy, imperfect—and when the time is right, those pieces fit together in a way that makes everything else fade away.

Soulmates are made in the waking world, when two people choose to find each other in the chaos, when they choose to heal the wounds of the past with the love they build from the ground up. They are made from the moments of doubt and pain, the moments of laughter and joy, and the quiet moments when you realize that this, this connection, is something you’ve created.

The kiss that follows is everything you’ve ever needed. It’s not just another kiss; it’s the culmination of years of searching, of longing, of waiting for the right person. It’s the promise of all the tomorrows you will share, and the soft surrender of all the yesterdays you’ve held onto.

When your lips finally part, you rest your forehead against Kai’s, breathing each other in, as if the world outside of this room has ceased to exist. His voice, a mere whisper, breaks the silence, but this time, there is no hesitation. “I’ve been waiting for this—for you—for so long.”

A tear slips down your cheek, but it’s not one of sadness. It’s a tear of release, of acceptance, of peace. You smile softly, the weight of your own heart finally finding rest. “Me too,” you whisper back, your voice full of everything you couldn’t say before.

Soulmates don’t have to be something you find—they are something you choose to become. Something you create, piece by piece, through every laugh, every tear, and every step you take together. And as you lean into Kai, your heart steady in its rhythm, you know this is just the beginning of a love that bends all odds, one that goes beyond fate’s grasp.

© all rights reserved ─ @gyu-tori 2025

Rei's Notes ✎: It's here!! To be honest, I don't feel as proud with the finished product as I thought I was but I really hope you would still like it. I'm so proud to have put this idea to life and I couldn't have done it without the amazing people who also partook in this event. They are so talented and I had so much fun with them. Make sure to check out everyone else's stories and give them your thoughts too~ Happy Valentine's Day you lovelies <3

Taglist: @yunverie @dawngyu @hueningstar @hhoneyhan @immelissaaa @lovingbeomgyudayone @xylatox @i-like-to-read-at-4am @imlonelydontsendhelp @ode2soob @pagelets @hoefororeo @sbnslver @missychief1404 @brrytears @saejinniestar @imlonelydontsendhelp @urlocal-moa @melmochii @somiaw @filmnings @sndvlmuriel4

[kkoga]

Masterlist ! next !

WC — 1.16k

Creds to @cafekitsune for the divider!!

Chapter 1 — Love is a scam

Valentine's Day at Dream Academy was the worst.

The hallways were drowning in heart-shaped balloons, pink streamers, and tacky paper hearts taped to every available surface. 

The student council had really outdone themselves this year, turning the cafeteria into some kind of lovesick wonderland. 

The scent of chocolate and cheap roses hung in the air like bad perfume, and to make matters worse, a live band was playing slow love songs on the stage.

It was the kind of scene that would make any hopeless romantic swoon.

Too bad you weren't one of them.

Slumped over your lunch tray, you stabbed halfheartedly at your food, watching couples exchange shy smiles and hand-written love notes. Someone let out an excited squeal near the entrance—probably another confession happening. Gross.

"Ugh, I hate love," you muttered, setting your fork down with an irritated clatter.

Your friends, who have been watching you with a mix of concern and amusement, exchanged knowing looks.

"Okay, Grinch," Dani teased, nudging your arm. "What did love ever do to you?"

You shot her a deadpan look. "Dumped me three weeks before Valentine's and now it's rubbing itself in my face."

"Fair point," Lara said, sipping her soda. "But in love's defense, Jay was kind of a jerk."

Jay—your now ex-boyfriend—wasn't the worst guy in the world, but he wasn't exactly the best either. You've been together for almost a year, and then, just when you thought things were solid, he hit you with the classic "I think we should take a break." Which, as everyone knew, was a breakup code for "I'm already over this, but I don't want to look like the bad guy."

So yeah. Love sucked.

"I don't get why this holiday is such a big deal," you grumbled, watching as a guy from the soccer team handed a bouquet to his very flustered girlfriend. "It's just an excuse to flex relationships and make single people feel miserable."

Dani smirked. "Or maybe you're just better because you're single now."

"Gee, thanks for the insight, Dr. Phil."

Lara leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms. "I mean, if you really hate it, you could just skip the rest of the event. No one's forcing you to be here"

You let out a dramatic sigh. "Yeah, but then I'd be sitting in my room alone, sulking. At least here, i get to be bitter in good company"

"Aww, that's the spirit!" Dani cheered, patting your back like a proud coach. "Embrace the bitterness!"

The band on stage finished their song, and the lead singer stepped up to the mic. "Alright, lovebirds, this next one’s a classic. If you’ve got someone special, grab ‘em close!"

As the opening notes of some cheesy love song filled the air, couples started slow dancing near the stage. You groaned, resting your forehead against the table.

This was going to be a long night.

Before Dani could respond, the speakers crackled, and a voice boomed across the cafeteria.

"Attention, everyone! Don't forget to follow the Valentine's color code! If you're not wearing a designated color yet, grab a shirt from the booth near the stage!"

You groaned. Right. The stupid color-coding system.

Every year, the school forced students to participate in this ridiculous tradition, where your relationship status was basically put on display through the color of your shirt.

Red meant you were in love. Orange meant you were single but had a thing going with someone. Blue was for the heartbroken. Pink for those searching. White for the ones who prioritized studying over romance. Yellow meant you were moving on. Black? Bitter. And wearing your normal uniform meant you weren’t interested at all.

Dani stood up, pulling a black T-shirt from her backpack and grinning. "I, for one, am proudly representing Team Bitter." She slipped the shirt over her uniform, showing off the bold lettering across the front: LOVE IS A SCAM.

Lara rolled her eyes and pulled on a yellow shirt. "I’m moving on, thank you very much."

You hesitated for a second before sighing and grabbing the blue one from your bag. "Guess I’m Team Broken."

As you pulled it over your head, Dani nudged you. "You could’ve gone black and joined me in my hatred of love."

You smirked. "Tempting, but I’m not that dramatic."

"Rude," Dani scoffed, crossing her arms. 

"Bitter is a valid life choice."

Lara laughed, but then her gaze flickered to the entrance. "Uh-oh. Here comes Mr. Moisture ."

Your body tensed as you spotted him walking in—wearing an orange shirt. Single and connected. So he already had something going with someone else. Figures.

You turned back to your tray, pretending you hadn’t seen him.

"Alright, we are officially boycotting sad thoughts," Dani declared, grabbing your arm. "C’mon, let’s go mess around near the confession booth."

"Why?"

"Because watching people panic over their crushes is hilarious."

You sighed but let them drag you along. If nothing else, at least you weren’t sulking alone.

As the band on stage started another slow song, you glanced around at the sea of red, pink, and orange shirts around you, feeling your stomach twist. Maybe you were bitter. Maybe you did hate love.

Or maybe you just hated the fact that it felt like everyone was moving on except you

The confession booth was one of the biggest attractions at the event—students could drop anonymous notes in the designated boxes, and later, volunteers would pin them up on a large board for everyone to see. Some were dramatic, some sweet, and some just straight-up weird.

"Look at this one," Lara snorted, pointing to a note written in bright red ink. I love you so much, but I’m too scared to say it in person. Please notice me, A.M.

Dani laughed. "Classic secret admirer move. Respect."

You rolled your eyes, scanning the pinned-up confessions absentmindedly. A few were cringeworthy, others were kind of cute—but then, your gaze landed on a small, folded note tucked into the corner of the board. Unlike the others, this one wasn’t pinned up properly, like someone had stuffed it there in a hurry.

Curious, you reached out and unfolded it.

The handwriting was neat but slightly rushed, like the writer had been nervous.

I miss you. - S

You frowned. "Huh."

Dani peered over your shoulder. "Ooooh. Mystery love letter?"

You shrugged, reading it over again. S. Who the hell was S?

"Think it’s for you?" Lara asked, raising a brow.

You snorted. "Doubt it."

"Well, let’s think," Dani said, tapping her chin. "S could be... Samantha, Sarah, Shane—"

"Or just some random person’s confession that got shoved in the wrong spot," you pointed out.

But even as you said it, you found yourself staring at the note a second longer than necessary.

"I miss you."

For some reason, the words sent a weird, unfamiliar flutter through your chest.

You shook your head, stuffing the note back where you found it. It was probably nothing.

Right?

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

I know, that in a little part of your brain you’re thinking about Dave jerking off and crying. Make that as a fic pretty please

I’m ovulating

A/n: This is kinda short and a little angsty but we all need angst

Warnings: Smut, masturbation, fantasies (oral, handjob, titfucking), if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

Dave liked routine, it made everything work easier and it kept things moving. His day was a clock and he went through the clogs, switching from one thing to the next at the same time to get to the same place.

Part of that schedule included some time to relax, destress, and he definitely needed it after his day.

He'd gone to an interview, expecting it to be about the new album coming out, but all they talked about was Metallica. He knew what everyone thought of him and Metallica, he was a loser and a drunk, and he was tired of hearing about it so of course he was getting mad at people for bringing it up.

He got home and ordered takeout but it was supposed to take about an hour, so he had some time to kill.

Dave let out a heavy sigh, resting his head on his arm while his free hand moved down his body and he started palming himself through his sweats, conjuring up such sweet images in his mind.

He didn't know who this woman was, he just mashed a bunch of features together, it didn't matter much to him. He used her for his perverted fantasies for a moment, her lips around his cock, tears coming to her eyes as she choked on him.

He pulled himself out of his sweats and boxers, pushing them halfway down his thick thighs. He wondered about the woman's thighs, how they'd feel wrapped around his head as she whined and begged for more when he went down on her, how she'd tug on his hair and smother him in her thighs when she came.

He knew she wasn't real but he loved her and the way she was making him feel, but it wasn't enough to distract him from his day.

Hot strings of cum shot on from his tip onto his shirt. He didn't mind but he was getting hot and he was nowhere near being done, so he tossed it off to the side.

His hand moved faster as he tried to cover up the memories of Metallica with this woman -James and Lars standing over him before he woke up to this woman jerking him off between her tits.

He swallowed thickly, Metallica interviews he'd seen on TV crossing his mind, quickly disregarded by this woman crawling up him, her hand replacing his.

His hips bucked up into her hand, she was smaller than him and smelled so pretty, like some kind of dessert. He couldn't get enough of it.

"It's ok, Davie." She purred, her voice like honey; thick and sweet, slow as it dripped onto his ears. Tears came to his eyes, no matter how much he willed them away. "It's alright, Davie, I love you." She was behind him now, letting him use her chest as a pillow, the softest and warmest. He craved her touch.

His hand kept moving, the thought of him crying in someone's arms, as pathetic as it was, he needed to be pathetic. She jerked him off, and his eyes fluttered, his face scrunched as more strings of cum landed on his now bare chest.

Tears rolled down his cheeks but his hand continued to move, even though it was starting to hurt, his cock all flushed and leaking, using his cum as lube.

He choked out a moan that came out more as a moan, but he didn't miss the doorbell.

He was a mess, he managed to fix his pants though the bulge was very noticeable. He used his already messy shirt to wipe away the cum on his chest before he hurried downstairs and opened the door only to be met with that perfect woman from his fantasies.

Dave stared at you for a moment and you stared right back at him, taking in his disheveled state -his hair a mess and his eyes red, cheeks wet.

His lip quivered and he took a step closer to you, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your chest as his body trembled with more quiet sobs.

"Uh, s-sir..?" You said softly, rubbing your fingers through his hair with your free hand. "You're totals $12.65."

[heroisk]

I needed to draw ryomina dancing

[dennisboobs]

most annoying thing about being me is that i cannot engage with like. any fanon shit about dennis because i'm constantly on some advanced derangement and the stuff i thought two years ago when i was first getting comfy in the fandom is still the way everyone else looks at dennis but i'm like. yes but its Worse than this. you're like a quarter of the way there. this isn't the interesting bit, this is a symptom of it, keep going.

[dyed-petals]

i had a dream my parents gave me up when i was young. i came home from school one day and they told me they didnt want me anymore.

but that isnt what the dream was about. i knew that already.

it was a dream about being wanted.

my older cousin had a room for me, a whole country away, with exposed auburn wood and a big bed. big canvasses, with tubs of paint. a soft carpet. billboards for photos of memories i would make. set up for me like the aquarium for a long waited fish of an excited child.

que parecidas from the lips of relatives and strangers alike. it means ‘how seeming’. or ‘how belonging.’ they were commenting on how we look alike. we do. i could almost let myself forget i wasnt always here.

my cousins children became my little sisters. i did ballet with mis hermanitas down the hallways of our home. they dont know theres someone who called me hermanita too - i could almost let myself forget that, too.

my old friends called me sometimes, but less and less, as i started forgetting english. maybe as i forgot the words for friend and mom and sister i’d forget them too. maybe i could let myself remember only amigo y mamá y hermana. only the ones that wanted me.

but not when you called me. i could feel the dream realize - i didnt know you yet when i left - you can’t be here. large oilspilled hands replaced your face with someone else. someone who made sense in a timeline where i am wanted. you don’t make sense here. but you wiped off all the other faces. it was always you. breaking through. reaching out to me.

i couldn’t forget. not you. i wished i could. i clung to this dream where i was wanted. i didnt want to remember. you hugged me as it begun to rain. the murals i painted on my walls washed away drop my drop. until downpours claimed my dance trophies and tutus. my pictures of made-up friends. the walls dripped bare until through the haze of rain it was my real life again.

but you still hugged me.

it was a dream about being wanted. it still was.

[nochepsicodelica]

Toji who leaves hickeys all over you so often that you have to push him away when you start looking like you fought an octopus.

"Toji, you know these aren't always gonna be so small. They're gonna end up looking like bruises. Just look at the ones you already left."

"Mhm," he hums, already leaving another one on your shoulder blade, releasing your skin with a wet smack of his lips. He rubs his spit into the mark like it's some sort of salve that'll make it last longer.

"I'm fine with these," you say, looking at all the one's he left on your chest and below. "but my neck... i'm running out of makeup, baby. I won't be able to cover them if you keep this up."

"Then don't." He would just love that. Despite how nonchalant he sounds about it, it's a highly recommended suggestion. He would genuinely love it if you walked around with his marks all over your neck. People will automatically know that you already have someone you get freaky with.

"I have to go to work sometime. I wouldn't be able to take having my neck stared at by everyone I talk to. No more neck hickeys."

He nears your neck, again. The second you say he can't put another mark on it, he spots a clear area and leans in, lightly pressing his lips against it.

"Tojiii," you whine, leaning forward, away from him. "Leave it alone."

"But, it's clear. It's lonely without being marked like the rest of your neck." He scoots forward again, putting his enormous hands on your waist to pull you close. "I'll be quick. Just-"

"Mm-mm. No," you interrupt, brushing his hands off of you.

"I might just die if you don't let me do this, ma."

"Really?" You raise your brows in disbelief.

"Really," he responds, so confidently.

You scoff. "You're so dramatic. You won't die if you don't get to suck on my neck."

"Who knows? I might spontaneously collapse because of it. Weirder, more unexplainable things have happened."

He's so dumb sometimes. Your hunk is absolutely ridiculous, and yet you find yourself weighing towards his point in this.

"Would marking up that blank space actually cure you?" You feel as silly as him for asking the question.

"Who's to say?"

You tilt your head and deadpan. "Right. I guess i'll take my chances and just keep the random patch of unmarked skin on my neck."

"Hey, that doesn't mean we can't try. Come on, now."

You groan and roll your eyes before making your way back to him. He cups your cheeks, smirking as he looks into your eyes, before turning your head to expose the blank area on your neck.

"It's a reaaally good spot, doll. I think i'm gonna make it."

You huff, unable to look at him because of the way your head is turned. You feel his tongue slide over your neck, the gesture transitioning to his lips kissing the area and then it feels sharp. His lips leave a stinging sensation with every second that they stay on you.

"Ow, fuck, you vampire. It feels like you're actually trying to suck the blood out of me." You wince. "Are you done?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm done." He admires his masterpiece and smirks with pride. You have an entire collar of hickeys that he put on you, and the newest one looks mean.

"You look pretty. Could eat you up, mama." He swipes at the new mark with his thumb, looking at the color that will remain on your skin for the next few days.

"I can tell. You already devoured me. You're insane. Just look at all of this," you say, running your hand over your kiss stained neck.

"I was just nibbling on you," he speaks, into your jaw, before smoothly laying you down, onto the bed. "Just wanted a little taste," he says, taking your hands in his and pinning them above your head. "Am I really insane for that?"

"Um..." you laugh, making your flustered state obvious. "Yes?"

"Damn." He gives you a long, deep kiss, that makes you forget what you were talking about. "You think i'm crazy?" You hum, and he does it again.

"Haven't you played with me enough? I feel like i'm some chew toy for you." You giggle, feeling his lips on your cheek, trailing towards your jaw.

He hums, dismissively. "Found more blank space."

[urmum-lovesme]

The Gas Station

pairing: Rafe Cameron x Pregnant!Reader

summary: Y/n is in her final trimester of her pregnancy and Rafe is eager to make sure the birth of his first baby goes smoothly, but thanks to Y/n's stubbornness they find themselves stuck in a pretty sticky situation with the last two people they expected.

a/n: So I watched "We Live In Time" yesterday and I loved the movie so much that I wanted to rewrite the childbirth scene from it cause it was my favourite! Rafe is so 'grumpy to everyone else but soft for her' core in this. Ps: I’ve never given birth so this might not be too accurate, don’t kill me

warnings: Spoilers for the 'we live in time' childbirth scene, mentions of contractions, labour, childbirth (pretty visual ig?), mentions of a zoot but no smoking, mentions of alcohol but no drinking.

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

The living room of the Chateau was warm and filled with the low hum of conversation. Sarah was sprawled on the floor, while Kiara leaned back against the couch, discussing the possibilities of the new Cameron baby being a boy or girl. Pope sat at the kitchen table, half-focused on whatever book he had cracked open, pen scribbling against the paper trying to figure out the probability the mathematical way, and Cleo lounged near the window, lazily watching the wind shift the trees outside as they all spoke to one another

Y/n was sitting on the couch opposite Sarah and Kiara, half-listening, half-focused on the cookie in her hand as her other one rubbed over her large, rounded belly. Sarah grinned as she caught Y/n eyeing the cookie. 

“What, are my cookies that good?”

Y/n opened her mouth to answer but suddenly sucked in a sharp breath. Her hand instinctively flew to her lower stomach, the cookie forgotten on the side of the couch.

Rafe, who had been leaning against the doorway, taking the time to admire the girl in her last couple of days of pregnancy, immediately straightened. His relaxed expression vanished. She had been persistent that she wanted to come and visit Sarah and the Pogue’s at the chateau, and as much as he protested, knowing the due date of their baby was any day now, she managed to sway him with those pleading eyes of hers and small pout, which he couldn’t seem to say no to.

“What’s wrong?” 

His voice softened, but there was a thread of tension running through it as he crossed the room in two quick steps. Y/n didn’t answer right away. She squeezed her eyes shut, shifting to the edge of the sofa and placing both hands on her belly. She took in a slow, shaky breath.

“I… think I’m having contractions.”

The room fell into a sudden, heavy silence as they all looked at eachother. 

Sarah blinked. “Wait, what? Like, actual contractions?”

Cleo sat up straighter, eyeing her. “No way sweet thing, maybe you just ate too many of them damn cookies huh?”

“Okay, that’s it. We’re leaving. Right now.” 

Rafe’s face paled and he was already patting his pockets for the car keys, panic creeping into his voice as he grabbed the girl’s shoes from next to the door. Pope closed his book slowly, brows furrowed. 

“Hold on, how far apart are they? That matters, right?”

Kiara leaned forward, calm but attentive. “Yeah, how bad was that one? Like, on a scale of one to ‘get in the car’?”

Y/n exhaled slowly, leaning her head back. “It wasn’t that bad. Just… caught me off guard. I’m fine.”

“Fine? You just said you’re having contractions!”

Sarah gawked her eyes wide with disbelief. She had been buzzing with excitement ever since she found out she was going to be an aunt. The girl had been planning baby showers and picking out names for months, practically bouncing off the walls with anticipation that her brother was going to be a father, and that he’d changed so much since the couple had found out about their little angel. And now, that Y/n was in labour, and she couldn’t help but feel a mixture of concern and sheer excitement.

“She said ‘think,’” Cleo corrected, smirking. “Key word, Sarah. Could just be gas, ya know?”

Y/n let out a weak laugh. “Thanks for that, Cleo.”

Rafe didn’t laugh. He crouched in front of her, eyes scanning her face for any sign of distress, “Y/n, we should go. The hospital’s all the way in Figure 8, and we’re in the Cut, that’s not a quick drive.”

Y/n shook her head, breathing steadily, she’d noticed how he’d been on edge for the past few weeks, his nerves fraying with every little thing. Rafe cared about her more than he ever thought possible- she was everything to him. The thought of losing her or their baby terrified him to his core, he couldn’t bear the thought of not being there for her, of not protecting the two most important people in his life.

 “Rafey, that was the first contraction, my waters not even broken yet. We have time.”

“No, we don’t,” he snapped, then caught himself and softened his tone, letting out a sigh, “I just… I don’t want to risk it, okay?”

Kiara, who was watching the exchange with an amused expression surprised to see the once frat boy asshole so attentive, leaned over to Sarah. 

“Is he always this dramatic?”

“Oh yeah, it's become a talent.”

Pope stood up, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Look, if they’re still spaced out, you probably have hours. First babies take their time. But we should keep track.” As he looked around the kitchen drawers for something, cutlery clanged in them as he opened and shut the wooden furniture, finally fishing out an old plastic stopwatch.

Rafe shot him a glare, “Yeah, well, I’m not exactly betting on that.”

Y/n reached for Rafe’s hand, squeezing it gently. “Lets just sit here for a bit more please. If they get worse, we’ll go.”

Rafe stared at her for a long moment, then let out a frustrated breath. “Fine. But if anything changes, we’re out of here. No arguments.”

“No arguments.”

She responded as she smiled in agreement, leaning forward slightly to give the boy a quick peck on the lips. Reluctantly, Rafe sat beside her, shuffling so she rested against his side, his hand protectively resting on her belly, a place it had gotten used to resting on in the past few months. Sarah cleared her throat. 

“So… does this mean more cookies, or…?”

Y/n laughed out nodding her head with wide eyes and Cleo snorted at the girl's reaction.

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

The room had grown quieter, but the tension clung to the air as Rafe stood by the window, pacing with his phone pressed to his ear. His free hand raked over his short hair as he listened to the calm, too-casual voice on the other end of the line.

“What do you mean we shouldn’t come in yet?” Rafe snapped, disbelief lacing his voice.

“She’s in labour!”

The nurse on the other end responded evenly, used to anxious fathers. “Sir, unless her contractions are between three to five minutes apart, there’s no point in coming now. First-time labours can take hours, sometimes longer. You’ll be more comfortable at home.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened. “Do you know who I am?” his tone dropped, sharp and cold, “My family practically owns half this island, and you’re telling me to just sit around and wait?”

From the couch, Sarah groaned audibly and rolled her eyes.

“Oh my God.” 

She pushed off the armrest and stormed over, snatching the phone from Rafe’s hand before he could say another word and pressed it to her ear,

“Hi, sorry about him,” Sarah said sweetly into the phone, giving Rafe a sharp glare. “We’ll keep an eye on things and call if anything changes. Thanks for your help.”

She hung up and tossed the phone onto the table.

“Are you serious right now?” she snapped. “Pulling the Cameron card on a nurse? What was that supposed to do- magically speed up labor?”

Rafe’s eyes flashed angrily as he looked down to his younger sister, his finger jabbing into his chest as he spoke, “I’m trying to make sure she’s safe, Sarah! We’re stuck in this shithole cause you've,” his raised his finger pointing it to his temple, “put some voodoo spell on her so she doesn't want to leave and no one seems to care!”

Cleo looked over from where she was sitting, flipping her pocket knife, her eyebrows raised, clearly impressed by his sudden bizarre speculation. Sarah crossed her arms. 

“Yelling at the hospital won’t fix that. You need to calm down before you stress her out even more.”

Rafe opened his mouth to argue, but the sound of the back door creaking open cut him off. Kiara stepped in, shaking off the light drizzle from outside, a bright blue yoga ball awkwardly tucked under her arm.

“Found it!” she grinned, holding it out like a trophy.

Y/n’s face lit up despite the discomfort. “Oh, thank God.”

Kiara rolled it over to her, and Y/n carefully shifted forward, accepting it gratefully.

“I heard these help,” Kiara said with a small smile.

Y/n slowly eased herself onto the ball, her hands holding onto Kiara’s outstretched ones in support before she sat down on the plastic sphere starting to gently bounce. A relieved sigh slipped from her lips.

“Oh wow… yeah, this is way better.”

Sarah smirked. “Look, see? This is called helping, Rafe.”

Cleo, still lounging by the window, spoke up. “Yeah man, maybe if you threaten the ball next it’ll really speed things up.”

Pope cracked a small smile from his spot at the table at the girl’s words. Rafe, still tense, exhaled sharply and dropped into a chair by the kitchen table, rubbing his hands over his face. His eyes drifted to Y/n, watching her breathe easier with each bounce. As he watched her, he realised he seemed to be more stressed than she was, but was he in the wrong for that? He only wanted to make sure the mother of his child could have the most comfort possible. Without a word, he pushed up from his chair and slowly crossed the room. He crouched down in front of her, eyes locked on her face, his hands resting lightly on her knees.

“Baby… are you sure you want to stay here?” 

His voice was softer now, the edge gone, replaced by something fragile. Y/n blinked down at him, her breathing steady. She lifted one hand from her belly and gently cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing along his skin which was still smooth from when he shaved before they left their home.

“Rafey, please relax, yeah?” she murmured, her other hand drifting to rest protectively over her bump. “We’re okay.”

The weight in his chest loosened just a little at the sound of her voice, but it didn’t disappear.

Rafe leaned in just a bit closer. “Okay, but when you start feeling off you tell me, yeah?”

Y/n gave him a playful eye roll, but her smile was soft. She leaned forward, pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to his lips once more, she knew he was on edge, but she just wanted peace for the last few hours it was going to be just the two of them.

“Yes, I promise.”

Rafe’s shoulders finally dropped as he let out a quiet breath, grounding himself in her touch. Behind them, Kiara exchanged a look with Sarah and smirked. 

“Well, that’s gross.”

Sarah laughed under her breath at her best friend's comments, shaking her head, but there was a warmth in her smile as she watched them. As much as she teased, she couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of happiness for her brother. It was clear that Y/n had done something to him- something that had changed him for the better, something that made him softer, more present. Sarah could see it in the way he looked at her, how much he cared. It warmed her heart to know her brother had found someone who truly made him happy.

Rafe didn’t hear the girls giggling as his focus was completely on Y/n, “Alright,” he whispered, brushing his thumb along her knee before standing. 

“Just… don’t scare me like that again.”

Y/n smiled, leaning back and resuming her gentle bounce on the yoga ball hands circling her bump again.

“No promises.”

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

Hours had passed the sky outside the windows now dark, the streetlamps having switched on which caused an orange glow around the island, but time seemed to stretch as the intensity of Y/n’s contractions grew. The living room was dim, the rain outside tapping softly on the windows, the air thick with anticipation.

Y/n was on her knees, her body leaning against the couch for support. Her face clearly reflected her discomfort, lips pressed together in effort as she rocked back and forth slowly, trying to breathe through the latest wave of pain. Rafe kneeled beside her, one hand gently rubbing her back, the other resting on her arm. His voice was low, soothing, a steady presence as he spoke to her.

“Is it passing?”

Y/n groaned softly, her breath hitching before she let out a quiet whine, barely audible. 

“Yeah… it’s passing.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, but he kept his hand on her back, massaging in slow circles, his eyes never leaving her face. He looked up to Pope, who was standing near the window, timing her contractions with the stopwatch hanging loosely around his neck.

Pope glanced at the timer, then back at Rafe. “Okay, that’s about ten minutes apart now, but getting closer.”

Rafe’s gaze shifted back to Y/n, his concern deepening. He rubbed her back a little harder, as if that would somehow ease her discomfort, “Sweet girl,” he murmured gently, leaning closer, his breath warm against her ear. 

“I think we should get going now, hmm? The hospital’s still a bit of a drive.”

Y/n, in a small haze of pain, didn’t answer immediately. She just rested her head against her arms on the couch, humming out in agreement. Her nod was slow, but definite.

“Mmhm… yeah, let’s go,” she whispered, her voice small and weary.

Rafe exhaled, relief flooding through him but mixing with the urgency that had been building in his chest. He helped her slowly rise, supporting her as she stood, her legs somewhat unsteady beneath her.

“Alright, that's it”

As Rafe helped Y/n slowly stand, Sarah came rushing down the stairs, her face flushed from the hurry. Cleo was right behind her, holding a bag in one hand and a frantic expression on her face.

“Rafe!” Sarah called out, her voice breathless. “We got the bag Y/n left last time.”

She handed it over to Rafe, but before he could take it, Cleo swiped it from her hands with a dramatic roll of her eyes.

“Let the man take her to the car,” Cleo said, “I got this.”

Cleo gave Rafe a reassuring pat on the shoulder before turning to Y/n. “You’re good, girl. Just focus on not giving birth in here, aight?”

Y/n let out a soft chuckle, despite the tension in the air. “I’m fine. I’m fine,” she repeated, her voice calm and steady. Rafe shot Cleo a grateful look, still holding Y/n’s arm as she stood by herself, steady on her feet.

“Thank you,” he muttered under his breath, before turning back to Y/n. “Okay, baby, let’s get you to the car. You sure you’re alright to walk?”

Y/n gave him a sideways glance, rolling her eyes a little. “I’m fine, Rafe, really.”

But before they could make it to the door, Kiara popped up, her eyes wide with a mixture of concern and determination. “Wait, wait, don’t leave without me I want to say goodbye!”

Sarah quickly followed behind, carrying a jacket for Y/n, while Pope grabbed his keys, shaking his head in amusement. The group swarmed around Y/n, helping her navigate the small space. It was a chaotic rush of arms and voices as everyone tried to keep the situation under control- except for Y/n, who was walking at a steady pace, looking far calmer than anyone else in the room. It was amusing, watching everyone fuss over her, she couldn't wait till the baby was here and they’d have all their aunts and uncles fussing at their every cry.

“I swear, I’m fine,” she said again, giving Rafe a teasing smile as she walked on her own. “I’ve got this.”

Rafe’s eyes were glued to her, his brow furrowed in concern, but a small smile tugged at his lips as he followed her toward the door.

“Alright, if you say so,” he muttered, his voice low but full of warmth.

The car was already parked outside, the engine running, the group had gathered around the car, each of them offering their well-wishes as Y/n leaned against the car door, not wanting to get in till Rafe came out. He’d gone back in to the bathroom and Sarah had scolded him for being an ‘unprofessional dad-to-be’ which he told her to ‘fuck off’. Sarah called out, giving her a thumbs-up.

“Good luck, Y/n! Let us know when Baby Cameron gets here!” 

“You got this,” Kiara added, offering a smile. “Call us if you need anything- I mean we can’t give birth but you know….”

Cleo, arms crossed and leaning against the car, smirked. “Don’t be taking forever, yeah? I wanna meet the little Poguette!”

“Poguette? We don’t know the gender yet” Pope asked as he turned to the girl eyebrows drawn down into a small confused frown

“Don’t worry- auntie Cleo’s got a feeling” She responded with a wide smile as she winked to Y/n causing her to giggle.

“I think you mean Kookette not Poguette” 

Rafe spoke up as he appeared back from the house helping the girl into her seat. Y/n, sitting in the car, gave them all a tired but genuine smile, her face a little flushed from the effort. “I’ll do my best. Don’t worry, you’ll all get your chance to meet Baby Cameron soon.”

Rafe was about to close the door when she paused.

“Wait!”

The group froze, and all eyes snapped toward her, panic flashing in their faces for a brief second.

“Is everything okay? Are you—?” Sarah started, her tone suddenly worried.

Y/n looked up at her friends, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. Biting her bottom lip gently before she spoke out, 

“Are there any of those cookies left?”

The entire group stared at her for a beat, then burst into laughter, the tension breaking in an instant. Kiara snorted. “Nope, you ate them all, girl, not a crumb left.”

Y/n’s face dropped in exaggerated disappointment. “Aw, man… they were so good.”

Rafe, who had just started to walk around the front of the car, stopped and turned back to her with a grin. “Come on, baby. You’ll get your cookies in the hospital. I promise.”

“Guess that’ll have to do.”

Y/n sighed softly, leaning back into her seat with a deep breath. Kiara leaned in the window, shaking her head but grinning. “You’re gonna eat cookies while in labor…?”

“Hey, it’s what I want.”

Rafe sighed, shaking his head at the girl, but he couldn’t hide the fond smile that crept onto his face as he finally closed the door. He muttered, half to himself, as he walked around to the driver’s side. “We’re getting you to the hospital, cookies or not.”

The group waved them off, still laughing and calling out their goodbyes, as Rafe got in the car. Y/n smiled at the familiar faces outside the window before the car pulled away, heading toward the hospital.

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

The drive from the Cut to Figure 8 was a blur. Rafe’s focus was entirely on the road, but his eyes kept flicking over to Y/n, every so often. She was gripping the handle on the roof of the car, her knuckles white as the pain of her contractions began to intensify. Rafe’s hand rested on her thigh, his fingers gently squeezing as he glanced at her.

“How we doing baby?” 

He asked softly, though he could already see the tightness in her jaw, the way she was trying to breathe through the pain. Y/n groaned lowly, her grip on the car handle tightening as her breath hitched. 

“Mmm, not great…” 

She muttered, her voice strained. Her back arched slightly as another wave of pain hit, and her hand shifted to rest protectively on her belly. Rafe’s heart ached for her, but he kept his voice steady, trying to keep her calm.

“Breathe, baby. Yeah? Just like we practiced in the classes.” 

His voice was gentle, encouraging, though it wasn’t lost on him how much harder it was for her now. Y/n nodded slightly, her eyes squeezing shut as she focused on her breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Her whole body rocked with the rhythm, but it didn’t stop the groans slipping out of her.

“That’s it, baby. Good—”

“Shut the fuck up, Rafe.”

Her voice was sharp despite the pain, and Rafe froze for a moment, blinking in surprise at her words but he couldn't help but accept them with a nod. She was the one in labour not him. Y/n’s hand pressed harder against her bump as she groaned, her head resting back against the seat, her body arching slightly in response to the contraction.

She wasn’t having it.

Rafe couldn’t help but smile slightly at her attitude, but it was tender as he spoke, “Okay, okay,” he muttered, his hand still gently on her thigh. “I’m sorry.”

He kept his eyes on the road driving carefully, now that he had precious cargo in his car, but they would flicker occasionally to Y/n in the passenger’s seat. Always watching, always waiting, as they pushed forward toward the hospital. The pain was coming in waves now, each one crashing over her with more intensity than the last. Y/n’s body was tense, and her breathing was shallow, but she still managed to mutter through the strain, 

“Sorry… just hurts…”

Rafe’s grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly as he leaned forward, his eyes focused on the road, but Y/n could see the subtle tension in his jaw, the way his knuckles went white around the wheel.

“You don’t need to apologize to me, baby,” Rafe said softly, his voice tight.

Y/n turned her head slightly, her eyes meeting his for a split second. He looked anxious, his focus split between her and the road ahead. The tightness in his posture didn’t escape her, and she could see how much he was trying to hold it together. With a small, reassuring smile, Y/n placed her hand over his, which was still resting on her thigh. The touch was gentle but firm, 

“Ready to meet Baby Cameron?” 

She mumbled, her voice soft but sincere, trying to ease some of the stress in the car. Rafe’s breath hitched at the mention of their baby, and he glanced down at their hands, a small smile crossing his face. He squeezed her hand, his thumb brushing gently across her skin.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “And I’m so lucky that you’re the mother of my child Y/n… I love you.”

She squeezed his hand back, her eyes softening as she leaned back against the seat. Her breath was steadier now, a calmness settling in her chest as she gave him a small, exhausted smile.

“I love you, too, Rafey,” she whispered back.

—

The car crawled forward for a few agonizing seconds before the engine came to a halt once more. Rafe slammed his hand against the horn in frustration, the sharp sound echoing through the stillness of the traffic. His knuckles were white as he gripped the wheel, his jaw clenched tight.

“Fuck.” 

He muttered under his breath, his eyes darting around, trying to make sense of why the cars ahead weren’t moving. Y/n, breath coming in heavy bursts now, groaned quietly beside him, trying to steady herself as another wave of pain rolled through her. 

“Rafe…”

“I know, baby, I know,” he spoke out to her, his voice tight with frustration. “No one’s fucking moving.”

She turned her head slowly, her hand resting on her belly as she let out another shaky breath. She could feel the tension radiating off him, could see the way his shoulders were hunched in that familiar way he got when he was stressed.

“Rafe, please… just relax,” 

She said softly, though she was struggling to keep her own calm with each passing minute. It was no use because he could barely sit still anymore. Without another word, he threw the door open, slamming it behind him, and stepped out into the stagnant heat of the afternoon. Y/n’s eyes followed him through the windshield as he walked down the line of cars, frustration written in his tense shoulders. The bridge conjoining The Cut to Figure 8 stretched ahead, a long line of unmoving vehicles in both directions, but it seemed like nothing was happening. No one was getting anywhere.

Rafe walked halfway down the bridge, his eyes scanning the cars as he tried to figure out what was going on. He stopped beside a car with a window rolled down, the driver staring out at the traffic in the same defeated way everyone else was. Rafe stepped closer, his voice terse as he addressed the guy. 

“What’s going on up there?”

The guy glanced at him, his face creased with annoyance. “Accident upfront and tree fell in the back. Gonna be stuck here for a while, man.”

Rafe let out a low curse, his hand instinctively rubbing the back of his neck. “Fuck.”

He stood there for a second, staring at the endless line of cars, the weight of the situation finally hitting him. They were stuck. Stuck in the one place they couldn’t afford to be, halfway in the middle of nowhere. Taking a deep breath, Rafe turned around and started walking back toward the car. The frustration was palpable in every step, but it didn’t touch his determination. Rafe opened the door to the car, his eyes already scanning the area as he made his way back toward Y/n. But the moment his gaze landed on the seat next to him, his heart skipped a beat.

She wasn’t there.

His mind raced as he blinked, looking around the car in confusion. He slammed the door shut, his breath quickening as he jogged over to the other side of the vehicle, checking the backseat and the floor. Where the hell could she have gone? His pulse started to race- this wasn’t happening.

“Y/n?” he called out, his voice frantic.

He spun around, looking down the bridge, feeling the panic rise in his chest. She couldn’t have just disappeared, she’s literally a nine month pregnant woman, she wasn’t easy to lose. His eyes locked on a figure at the end of the bridge, and his heart dropped into his stomach. 

There she was.

Y/n was standing at the far side of the bridge, her body leaning slightly against the wall, one hand resting gently on her bump. She looked serene in a way, her posture relaxed even in the midst of the chaos, but Rafe could see the slight tremor in her shoulders, the way she was swaying lightly from side to side. The air around him seemed to still as he watched her, his thoughts spiraling, but then he broke into a jog, moving toward her with urgency.

“Y/n!” 

He called out again, his voice rough. She didn’t seem to hear him at first, or maybe she was just focused on the feeling of her own body, her eyes unfocused as she rubbed her belly in slow, soothing circles, looking down at her hand. Rafe’s steps quickened, and when he reached her side, he gently cupped her arm, his fingers warm against her skin.

“You can’t just run off like that! Are you crazy?” 

His voice was sharp, but underneath it, the worry was clear. He wanted to scold her for being out of the car, but the relief flooding him kept him from doing anything but reaching for her. Y/n raised an eyebrow, unbothered by his scolding, as she gently rubbed her belly. 

“I just wanted some air, Rafey,” she replied with a calmness that made Rafe’s frustration falter for a second.

“Jesus, woman,” he muttered, shaking his head. His shoulders dropped in exasperation as he sighed. “I—I don’t know what I’d do- what if I lost you huh?”

She smiled at his concern, “I'm nine months pregnant and in labour, I doubt I would’ve gotten very far Rafe.” A soft, reassuring smile pulled at the corners of her mouth, that helped calm some of the nerves still buzzing in his chest.

“C’mon, let’s get you back to the car,” 

He said, his voice softer now, his hand gently brushing the hair away from her face as he guided her back, but as they started walking back toward the car, Y/n’s eyes drifted behind him, catching something in the distance. Rafe looked over his shoulder. 

“What’s wrong?” 

He asked, his brow furrowing in confusion. Y/n’s gaze lingered on the gas station behind them, her fingers lightly playing with his as she spoke. 

“Really want some cookies right now…” 

She said, her voice full of that playful lilt. Rafe blinked, taking a moment to process what she was saying before he pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Are you serious right now?”

Y/n looked at him with a sweet, innocent expression. “Mmhmm.”

Rafe stared at her for a long moment, torn between disbelief and the need to smile. He glanced at the car, then at the standstill traffic behind him, a long sigh leaving his lips as the realization set in.

“Please?” 

Y/n added, her voice soft but pleading, her hand still holding his with that familiar touch which guided his palm to rest it against her baby bump which made it hard for him to say no. Rafe’s lips curled into a reluctant smile. 

“C’mon then,” he sighed, shaking his head in mock defeat. “Let’s just be quick, aight?”

And just like that, they veered off toward the gas station, Y/n’s determination to get her cookies almost making Rafe forget about the fact she was in labour, if it wasn’t for her groan every couple of minutes.

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

The door of the gas station swung open, the little golden bell above it ringing as soon as they stepped inside, Y/n’s breathing hitched. Rafe was right behind her, his hand resting gently on the small of her back, ready to support her. Yet the moment the door closed behind them, Y/n groaned loudly, the contraction hitting her with full force. Her breath came in quick, shallow bursts, and her hand instinctively went to her belly. A few people in the gas station glanced over, some in surprise, others in concern, but Rafe barely noticed them as he leaned closer to her, his voice low and calm.

“Let’s grab your cookies and go, baby,” he murmured, his breath brushing against her ear.

Y/n barely registered his words, still trying to push through the pain, her face scrunching in discomfort as she stepped forwards towards the sweet treat aisle. She let out another soft, pained groan as she leaned against the shelf, her hand gripping the cool metal for support.

She scanned the shelves in front of her, her eyes landing on a pack of cookies, double chocolate-chip. They weren’t Sarah’s but she guessed they would have to do. She grabbed one, then another right next to it, her body rocking slightly as she breathed heavily through the contraction.

Rafe stood behind her, watching in a mix of concern and frustration, trying to hold everything together while his brain screamed that they needed to hurry. He sighed quietly, trying to hold his patience as he watched whilst she picked up random things off the shelves- gatorade, crisps… a microwavable hot-dog for one? He furrowed his eyebrows at the girl as she shoved them all into his arms, groaning in distress, was she planning on having a picnic in the hospital?

“Is that good now?” 

Rafe asked quietly, glancing at her with a raised brow as he balanced the pile of items in his arms. Y/n didn’t even look up at him. She was bent over slightly, both hands gripping onto the handles of the fridge, her body still rocking gently as the contraction slowly passed. She nodded, the sound of her breath steadying now. 

“Mmhmm,” 

She mumbled, barely able to focus on anything other than the sharp ache she was still feeling.

“Jesus,” 

Rafe muttered under his breath, his frustration mixing with disbelief at the bizarre situation, as he moved toward the counter to pay. He tapped his foot impatiently, his eyes flicking from Y/n to the Rolex on his wrist. The seconds were ticking by, and every minute felt like an eternity. He glanced over his shoulder at the long queue in front of him, a subtle frown on his face. He hated waiting, but he hated even more that they were stuck in this gas station in the first place. Y/n was still by the fridge, her back slightly arched as she leaned against it, trying to breathe through the pain of another contraction. Her groan echoed loudly through the small shop, and Rafe felt his stomach tighten.

“Oh my Gooooooooddddd-”

The people in line ahead of him turned around at the sound, their eyes narrowing as they glanced in the direction Y/n was. Rafe clenched his jaw, his grip on the products in his arms tightening as he fought to keep his composure. Another loud groan broke through the silence, and Rafe’s patience snapped. He shot a look at the guy in front of him who seemed somewhat disturbed by the sound, his teeth gritting as he tried to stay calm but his irritation bubbled over, and he shot at him quickly, his voice sharp.

“She’s pregnant, okay?” 

He snapped, his gaze hardening. The man blinked, taken aback by the harshness in Rafe’s voice. The rest of the people in line seemed to take a step back, all of them suddenly understanding the gravity of the situation. Rafe was breathing heavily now, his mind racing as the seconds dragged on, but he couldn’t look away from Y/n. She was still by the fridge, still gripped by the pain of the contractions, but somehow, there was a calmness in her, even in the middle of everything, and she was now once again rocking softly back and forth. He exhaled, trying to push down the anger and frustration bubbling up inside.

The man in front of Rafe raised his hands in surrender, his face showing quick understanding. Without another word, he grabbed his items from the counter and muttered a hurried, “Sorry,” as he quickly walked past Rafe, giving him space. Rafe, barely noticing the man’s retreat, threw the items he was holding down onto the counter with a frustrated sigh. His eyes immediately darted back to Y/n, his head swiveling as he tried to spot her over the shelves. The moment he looked away from the counter, though, a voice interrupted his frantic search.

“Rafe?”

Rafe froze. He knew that voice. He didn’t have to turn around to know who it was, but of course, he did anyway. There, standing a few feet away, was John B. He groaned inwardly. How much worse could this get? He rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, “Pogue.” The name slipped from his lips, a reflexive reaction to the guy who always seemed to be around just when Rafe didn’t need him. John B gave him a tight-lipped smile, clearly trying to keep the peace, but Rafe could see the faint annoyance in his eyes.

“You need a bag?” 

John B asked, trying to be helpful, but Rafe wasn’t in the mood for small talk.

“Uh, yeah,” 

Rafe replied absently, barely glancing at John B as he spoke. His focus was entirely on trying to spot Y/n. His hands clenched the card in his hand as he tried to spot her around the shelves, his eyes scanning every inch of the small store. He didn’t even wait for John B to reply as his feet moved instinctively, carrying him away from the counter. He walked quickly down the aisles, his breath shallow as he called out her name, his voice strained with the urgency and stress building inside him.

“Y/n?”

His eyes darted from side to side, but there was no sign of her. He rounded the corner to another aisle, his heart starting to race as panic set in. He called out again, his voice louder this time. 

“Y/n?!”

But there was still no response. Rafe felt the irritation crawling up his spine, seriously? Not again.

“Are you kidding me?” he muttered, his words laced with frustration as he threw a glance back at the counter. He felt like the whole world was working against him right now. Rafe’s eyes flicked back to John B, ready to ask if he’d seen Y/n, but then something caught his attention. The door near the counter, with a small blue sign W/C, was just slightly cracked open- it was enough to stop him dead in his tracks. He shot a quick glance at John B, his jaw tightening. 

“Put my stuff to the side,” 

Rafe said, his tone clipped, he once again didn’t wait for an answer, already moving toward the bathroom door. The women’s, men’s, and disabled toilets were all closed, but Rafe stepped closer to the disabled bathroom, he placed his ear against the door, trying to hear anything over the noise in the gas station.

It was then he heard it- a soft groan, followed by heavy breathing.

A slight whine escaped the other side of the door, and his pulse raced. Without thinking, he knocked gently against it, his voice low but full of urgency. 

“Baby?”

A faint voice from within answered, weak but clear.

“Yeah?”

Rafe let out a relieved breath, his forehead resting briefly against the door, relief slowly hitting him. For a moment, he just stood there, collecting himself before he pulled back, his hand still gripping the handle of the door but it didn’t move. He could feel his heart racing in his chest, but he needed to stay calm- for her- well maybe for himself too.

“Are you okay?” 

He asked, his voice soft but still edged with concern.There was a pause before her voice came through, strained but almost casual. 

“Um…yeah?”

“What do you mean, um?”

Rafe’s eyebrows furrowed at her response. Another groan came from the other side of the door, followed by a sigh. 

“Well, I… uh, I thought I needed to use the toilet, but now that I’m in here… I think I need to push.”

“NO!”

Rafe’s eyes widened, and before he could even think, he blurted out the word. His hands raked over his hair, the panic setting in as his mind raced. 

“Baby, no- no, don’t push, okay? Please. I need you to open the door.”

He could hear her groaning again, and the sound made his chest tighten, “Y/n, I need you to open the door, okay? So we can go to the hospital. Are you listening to me, baby?” 

His voice cracked with desperation as he waited for her response. Rafe took a step back from the door, rubbing a hand over his face as he tried to steady his racing thoughts. His mind was spinning in panic, but he was doing his best to keep it together. Another groan came from the other side of the door, louder this time, and Rafe’s chest tightened.

“Rafe, I can’t… I can’t open the door,” her voice cracked, strained. “I need to push.”

His breath hitched, and he placed a hand against the door, his grip tightening. “Okay, okay. It’s okay.” His voice was soft but desperate.

 “I’m gonna come in, yeah?”

There was a brief silence before her voice came through again, strained but barely audible. 

“Yeah.”

The word was cut off by another loud groan, and the sound sent a jolt of panic through Rafe’s veins. Rafe’s patience snapped. Without a second thought, he barreled back to the counter, his voice urgent as he slammed his palm onto the surface.

“I need the key to the toilets Y/n is stuck in the disabled one.” 

His words came out in a rush, and John B didn’t hesitate. His brows furrowed in concern, and he quickly reached under the counter, pulling out multiple sets of keys before he found the right one. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I got it.” 

He gripped them in his hand as he looked at Rafe, he’s never seen the brunette so worried. “Sorry,” John B muttered to the guy on the other side of the counter as he quickly stood up, walking around the register. Rafe was ready to go straight back to Y/n when suddenly, John B called out.

“JJ!”

Rafe froze for a split second. Not him too. He shook his head in disbelief. What had he done to deserve this? He knew he had been a dick to so many people, for so many years, but was this really the punishment he deserved. JJ, the last person Rafe wanted to deal with, sauntered up to the counter with his signature blonde hair and cocky grin, with a zoot tucked behind his ear. 

“Sup?” he asked, sounding entirely too carefree for the situation.

“Need you to take over the counter for a bit,” 

John B said, his voice tight with urgency. JJ nodded lazily, unconcerned, “Mkay, my man,” he said, easily slipping into the role. John B turned back to Rafe, and the Cameron boy grabbed his arm.

 “Let’s go.”

They both moved toward the corridor with all the bathrooms, John B crouched in front of the disabled toilet door, the key in his hand as he started to unlock it. Rafe stood by him, his muscles tense, feeling like he could finally somewhat breathe again now that they were this close. They were about to get Y/n out, and finally going to leave this godforsaken place.

“Don’t worry, man,” John B said, trying to reassure him as he worked the key into the lock. “We’re gonna get her out of there.”

But then, there was a loud snapping sound. Both of them froze.

Rafe’s stomach dropped. 

“What? What is it?” 

His voice was sharp, fear creeping in. John B hesitated, his face a mixture of guilt and disbelief. “Well… um… the key broke.”

Rafe blinked in stunned silence. “What? Speak up!”

John B looked back at him, the words tumbling out quickly. “The key broke.”

Rafe’s frustration hit a boiling point, his voice cracking with anger as he slammed his hand against the wall angrily. 

“What the fuck do you mean, you broke the key?!”

“I’m sorry! It was an accident, alright?” John B’s hands shot up in defense.

Rafe’s eyes went wide. “How the hell do you fuck up opening a door? Are you fucking serious right now!?”

Before John B could answer, they both heard a loud voice from the other side of the room. “Heyyy, what’s going on here? What’s all the yelling for?” Rafe’s head snapped toward the voice. He could feel his blood boil. Of course. It was JJ. Of course it was. John B rolled his eyes. 

“Y/n’s stuck in the toilet, and I broke the key-”

Then, a loud, strained groan from the other side of the door cut him off. Y/n’s voice echoed out, desperate and pained. 

“Fuuuucckkkk,”

Rafe slammed his hand against the door, his voice softer but filled with worry. “Baby, you okay?” There was a brief pause before she answered. 

“Yeah, just… fuuuuuuck…”

“Jesus,” Rafe muttered, running his hands through his hair, trying to keep it together. John B glanced at him. 

“What was that?”

Rafe’s breath quickened, his anxiety rising again as he looked down to the door handle of the door, the snapped metal now lodging into the keyhole. 

“She’s in labor.”

JJ blinked, processing that. “What  the  fuck?”

“And now she’s fucking stuck in there… because of you!” Rafe growled, his eyes narrowing in fury. “I swear to god-”

But before Rafe could say anything more, JJ was already moving. He pushed past both of them, walking straight up to the door. Rafe stared at him, scoffing in disbelief. JJ turned to face the door, knuckles knocking against the wood in a rhythmic pattern. He called out, looking toward the door,

“Hey sunshine,” 

“JJ?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” JJ answered as he pulled his cap off and readjusted his hair, putting it back on backwards. “I need you to take a step away from the door.”

“What the hell are you doing?”

Rafe’s confusion was evident, his brow furrowed. JJ didn’t respond. He kicked the door hard, and the force of it echoed in the space, making Rafe’s heart skip a beat as he realised what the boy was trying to do.

“Wait!”

He called out as he rushed forward, his voice frantic as he called out to Y/n.

“Y/n, I need you to step back from the door, yeah?”

“I just told her that.” 

JJ spoke back to the boy, hands out in the air in confusion at his actions. Rafe rolled his eye’s as he spoke back so Y/n couldn’t hear, 

“She’s a stubborn pregnant woman, obviously she’s not going to listen to you.” 

JJ gave him a look before shrugging his shoulders, “touché.” From the other side, her breath was labored, each inhale shaky. “Ughh… okay,” she responded weakly, and there was a faint sound of movement behind the door.

“Have you done that for me, Y/n?” 

Rafe’s voice was strained, as if he was holding onto his patience by a thread. Another soft “yeah” came from her, and he stepped back, taking a deep breath to calm himself. Without saying another word, Rafe squared his shoulders. The frustration of the past few minutes boiled over. He looked at the door one last time and, without hesitation, launched his foot into it with everything he had. The sound of his kick reverberated through the small space, but the door didn’t budge. John B stepped forward, shaking his head in skepticism, but nevertheless he kicked the door next, his hit less forceful than Rafe’s but still forcefull. 

Nothing.

JJ followed suit, throwing his foot at the door, his kick full of impatience. 

Still nothing.

Rafe watched them, frustration building in his chest. “Get out of my way,” he muttered through gritted teeth. Without another word, he ripped his jacket off in a quick motion, tossing it aside as he stepped forward with sheer determination. This time, he didn’t just kick. He slammed his foot into the door again and again, each strike more powerful than the last, the force of his anger and desperation driving him. Finally, with one last powerful kick, the door swung open, the sound echoing loudly in the small hallways to the toilets. 

Rafe rushed in, his breath still heavy from the effort of kicking the door in. His eyes darted across the cramped space until he found Y/n. She was sitting there, slumped against the toilet, arm supporting herself on the sink next to her as she sat leant over, her face flushed with sweat, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps.

“Sweet girl,” Rafe murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he dropped to his knees in front of her. His hands instinctively cupped her cheeks, his fingers trembling slightly. 

“Are you okay? C’mon, let’s get you to the hospital, yeah?”

Y/n’s eyes were wide, and her grip tightened around his wrist. “I can’t… I can’t, Rafe,” she gasped, her voice a strained, breathless whimper. 

“I need to push, Rafe… I can’t—” 

The words trailed off as another wave of contraction hit her, causing her body to tense up. Rafe’s heart dropped in his chest. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He’d promised her he’d make sure everything was smooth, that she’d be in a safe, controlled place when the baby came. This definitely wasn’t how he’d envisioned the birth of his first child to happen.

“Okay, it’s okay-” 

He whispered, his hand brushing the small strands of damp hair away from her flushed, sweaty face. He gave her a soft, reassuring smile, even though inside, panic clawed at him. 

“-I’m here now, yeah? C’mon, let’s get you comfortable.”

And as he gently helped her try to shift, he held her gaze, his own filled with worry and tenderness. He wasn’t sure how things would play out from here, but he knew one thing- he was going to make it work. 

The moment John B and JJ stepped through the door coming back from locking up the door of the small gas station shop, they froze. Their eyes locked on Y/n, who was still leaning against the sink, her breathing ragged and uneven, sweat dripping down her face. JJ’s eyes widened in realization, his mouth falling open.

“Oh shit,” he muttered, his voice a mixture of disbelief and concern. 

“This is like for real- she’s in labor… like it’s legit-”

Rafe didn’t even look at them as he snapped into action, the blonde boys rambles falling on deaf ears. His focus was solely on Y/n, his voice low and strained. 

“Go get some towels, some water- anything.”

They both stared at him motionless as they took in the scene of the Kook who’d tormented them for so many years, gently help the girl down to a sitting position on the floor.

“NOW!” 

He barked out. John B and JJ scrambled out of the bathroom, their feet clattering as they bumped into each other in their rush to get the supplies. They didn’t say anything, just focused on finding whatever they could to help in their panic. Rafe turned back to Y/n, his face softening despite the storm of anxiety in his chest.

 “C’mon, let me help you.”

He murmured, his hands gently gripping her arms as he helped her pull down her sweatpants, hands lovingly rubbing against her calves in an attempt to comfort her. Y/n hummed out slightly, her uneasiness palpable, but as another contraction hit, she winced, her face contorting in pain. Rafe’s brows furrowed with concern, his heart aching for her. 

“I know, baby, I know. Just breathe. We’re gonna get through this, okay?”

And just as she nodded, another wave of pain hit, and Rafe exhaled in frustration, running a hand over his hair. “Fuck me,” he muttered under his breath, barely able to contain the rush of panic rising inside him.

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

The gas station bathroom looked nothing like it had before. Blankets and towels were scattered across the floor beneath Y/n, cushioning her knees as she rocked back and forth, panting through each wave of pain. Bottles of water and crumpled packaging littered the corners- whatever JJ and John B had managed to grab in their scramble. Y/n’s skin glistened with sweat, strands of hair clinging to her flushed face. She reached up with trembling hands, tugging at her top, desperate to get it off. The sticky fabric clung to her skin, and she let out a frustrated groan.  

"Here, baby, let me—" Rafe’s voice cut off as his phone buzzed against his ear, someone's voice being heard from the other side. He was crouched down, gripping the phone so tightly his knuckles turned white.  

"Yeah, okay, yeah—she's on the floor, towels everywhere. No, the hospital’s blocked off! We're stuck. I've just told you this, are you even listening to me!" 

His voice cracked, running high with panic. John B sat awkwardly near Y/n’s head, trying to offer some sort of comfort. Her hand suddenly shot out, fingers digging painfully into his arm. His breath hitched, tears stinging his eyes. He muttered, voice shaky, 

"Shit- okay, okay, you're okay," 

Y/n barely managed to choke out, "Sorry," between laboured breaths as her nails digged into his skin. John B’s voice squeaked, 

"It's fine! Totally fine!" 

His face twisted in pain, but he didn’t dare pull away. JJ hovered uselessly in the doorway, wide-eyed and wringing his hands feeling a little awkward with the situation at hand. 

“Uh… y’all need anything else? Snacks? Beer? No—okay, cool.”  

Rafe paced in a tight circle before crouching behind Y/n again, gripping the phone. The nurse’s voice was brisk but calm as she spoke into his ear,“Can you see the baby’s head, sir?”  

Rafe swallowed hard, leaning over for a quick glance. His face was drained of all colour.  

“Uh… yeah I can see the head.”  

Y/n’s head snapped up. "What?! What do you mean you can see it?!"  

Rafe’s eyes were wide, panic rising in his throat as the nurse’s voice cut through the phone, steady and firm. “Listen to me carefully. That means she’s ready to push. You need to place your hand firmly against the baby’s head to guide it out slowly. If it comes too fast, there’s a risk of decapitation.”  

Rafe froze. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. He stared at Y/n, blinking rapidly, his mind spiralling. His brain was screaming at him to move, to do something, but fear was holding him in place, like a heavy weight on his chest. He wasn’t prepared for this. He had no idea what to do, only that he couldn’t screw this up. 

“Hello? Sir? Are you still there? Is everything okay?”  

He cleared his throat, forcing the words out.  

"Yeah—yeah, I’m here."  

Rafe squeezed his eyes shut, dragging a shaky hand down his face, his fingers briefly pressing into his eye’s. He needed to keep it together, but every second felt heavier than the last. He sucked in a breath, grounding himself before snapping his head up.  

“JJ! Get over here and hold this fucking phone!”  

JJ shuffled forward, noticeably hesitant, eyes fixed awkwardly on the wall as he stood beside Rafe, who held the phone out for the boy slightly. However, as the blond boy refused to look down Rafe remained with his hand held out, causing him to look away from Y/n and see the boy still staring straight ahead at the wall. Rafe stared at him, disbelief simmering under his skin. 

“What the fuck are you doing?”  

“Bro?”  

John B glanced over from where he was crouched by Y/n’s head, frowning. JJ muttered under his breath, barely audible. Rafe’s patience snapped. 

“What!?”  

“Listen, your girl is literally naked right there, man! I don’t wanna look- it’s disrespectful!”  

JJ winced, shoulders tensing. Rafe’s jaw clenched so hard it hurt. His fists balled at his sides, knuckles white. Every muscle in his body screamed to just hit him, to shake the stupidity right out of him. He could see himself doing it- just one solid punch.  But instead, Rafe forced himself to take a breath, exhaling hard through his nose. He dragged a hand roughly over his face once again, muttering, “Jesus Christ-”  

Y/n let out a sharp, pained groan, her voice cracking.  

“JJ, I don’t care! Just help him- oh SHIIIIIIT!”  

Her scream cut through the room like a knife, yanking everyone’s attention back to reality. JJ’s eyes shot wide. 

“Okay! Okay! If you insist-”  

He didn’t even get the words out before Rafe shoved the phone- now on speaker- hard into his chest. JJ scrambled to steady it, and as his eyes flicked down, his face drained of colour as he looked at Y/n. The very top of the baby’s head was there. 

“Holy shit, Y/n there’s like a fucking baby in your pussy-”  

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, JJ!” 

Y/n’s scream was sharp and furious, echoing in the cramped space. JJ jumped, gripping the phone like it might explode.  

“Okay! Sorry! Jesus!” 

His voice cracked as he lifted the phone so they could hear it if the nurse spoke out. Rafe knelt back down behind Y/n, and he swallowed hard, as he felt the slick warmth of Y/n's skin under his palm, pressing his hand gently but firmly against the top of the baby’s head, just like the nurse had told him. His other hand rubbed slow, steady circles along the curve of her trembling back, grounding her as best he could. His heart was thundering in his chest, but he forced his voice to stay calm, soft- for her.

“Okay, sweet girl,” he murmured, “I need you to listen to me, yeah?”

Y/n’s head lolled against her arm, sweat-damp hair clinging to her flushed face as she let out a shaky breath. His voice firmed, but it was still gentle, coaxing. His hand didn’t stop moving on her back. 

“You’re doing so good, baby. So fucking good. But I really, really need you to push on the next contraction, alright?”

Her glassy eyes flickered to his, searching, scared. He gave her the smallest, crooked smile despite the panic clawing at him. 

“We’re so close, yeah? You’re so strong. Just one big push for me, okay?”

Y/n’s fingers dug into the blankets beneath her, knuckles white. She gave a slight, barely-there nod.

“That’s my girl,” his hand pressed steady against the baby’s head, the other still rubbing soothingly along her back, “Next one, baby. We’re gonna meet our little Cameron. You’ve got this.”

Y/n clenched her jaw, groaning through another push, but Rafe could feel it- nothing was changing. He leaned back slightly, panic creeping into his features, and turned towards the phone in JJ’s grip.

“I—nothing’s happening,” he said quickly, his voice strained, eyes darting from the phone to Y/n’s hunched figure. “What’s going on? Why isn’t the baby moving?”

The nurse’s voice came through, calm but firm. “She’s not pushing hard enough. You need to get the baby out soon, Mr Cameron. The longer the baby stays in the birth canal, the more risk there is of oxygen deprivation.”

Fuck. Rafe’s heart plummeted at the words, and he felt his hand slip slightly against Y/n’s damp skin. He sucked in a sharp breath, his lips parting to respond, but before he could, a faint sound drew his attention.

“Rafe…”

It was John B, his voice hesitant, almost soft. He was kneeling at Y/n’s side, her trembling fingers curled weakly around his forearm. 

“Rafe, man… I think you need to talk to her…” 

He said quietly, glancing down at the way Y/n’s grip seemed to falter, her breaths shallow and uneven. Rafe swallowed hard, his chest tightening at the sight of her pain and exhaustion. God, she wasn’t even on any painkillers, he didn’t want to imagine how she felt right now. His eyes darted between Y/n and the phone before he scrubbed a hand over his buzzed hair, frustration and fear mixing in his expression. John B slowly rose to his feet, giving Y/n’s hand a small squeeze before letting go. He turned to Rafe who had also risen, his face softer than it usually was when the two of them interacted.

“You heard what she said,” Rafe said slowly, voice tight.

John B met his eyes and gave a small, steady nod. “Yeah. I heard.”

Without warning, Rafe’s hand shot out and fisted the front of John B’s shirt, yanking him in close, nose to nose. His grip was iron, knuckles white.

“You hurt my child…” Rafe’s voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, his blue eyes blazing, “…I’ll kill you. Is that clear, John B?”

John B didn’t flinch, didn’t fight back. He just stared at Rafe, steady and calm. Because for the first time, he wasn’t seeing Rafe Cameron the hotheaded psycho- he was seeing a terrified father on the edge.

“Yeah,” John B said quietly, voice even. “Crystal.”

Rafe’s eyes flicked over his face, searching for any sign of weakness, but all he saw was understanding. He slowly uncurled his fingers, shoving John B back slightly. Without another word, they switched places. John B moved towards the phone, kneeling behind Y/n and Rafe dropped to his knees beside her, his hands instantly reaching for hers. One hand cradled the back of her head, fingers threading through her own holding her hand, while the other gently rubbed along her back in slow, grounding circles.

“Hey, hey, baby, look at me,” 

He murmured, his voice softer now, but the cracks of fear still clung to the edges. Y/n barely lifted her head, her body trembling. 

“Rafe… I can’t,” she whispered, her voice thin and shaky, “I’m so tired-”

Rafe’s chest tightened, his throat burning. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Not like this. Not here in this crappy gas station bathroom.

“I know, sweet girl… I know,” he breathed, pressing his forehead against hers for a moment. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t want this for you.”

Y/n shook her head faintly, her grip on his wrist weakening.

“No, baby, listen to me.”

 Rafe cupped her face, his thumbs brushing the sweat from her cheeks. His own eyes were glassy now, but his voice steadied. “I need you to be strong for me now, yeah? Just a little longer. You can do this. You’re so close.”

She blinked at him, breath shaky, and he leaned in closer, his nose brushing against hers.

“Please, baby. For me. For our baby.”

Y/n swallowed hard, a tear slipping down her cheek, but she gave him the faintest nod.

“That’s it,” he whispered, kissing her forehead as his thumb came out to wipe her cheek free of the salty water.. 

“That’s my girl.”

Y/n let out a guttural groan as she pushed with everything she had on her next contraction, her entire body trembling under the effort. Rafe was right beside her, one hand braced on her back, the other still gently cupping her hand, which she gripped ferociously.

“Oh my God- the head’s out!” 

John B shouted, voice laced with disbelief and panic. He was kneeld awkwardly, eyes wide as he stared down. JJ was next to him, his knees slipping slightly on the layered towels. 

“Holy shit, man, I see it! Okay, okay, you’re so close, Y/n!” His voice was high with adrenaline, but there was something soft in it, too. “Come on, mama, just a little more, you’re about to meet your baby!”

Rafe tightened his grip on Y/n’s shoulder, leaning in close, his breath shaky. “Sweet girl, we’re right there, yeah? One more push. You’ve got this.”

The nurse crackled through the phone still in JJ’s shaky grip, “Support the baby’s head! Careful, slow—don’t let it drop!” JJ scrambled, hands trembling as he carefully cupped the tiny, slick head, his face frozen in panic. “Okay, okay, I got it—I got it! Oh my God, John B, help me!” John B, swallowing his own panic, steadied JJ’s hands, both of them crouched and bracing themselves.

“Y/n, baby, one more. Just one more push,” 

Rafe whispered, voice breaking but full of determination. Y/n let out a ragged sob, gripping Rafe’s arm like a lifeline, her face buried into his neck. She drew in a shaking breath and bore down, crying out as her body strained.

“There we go!” John B’s voice cracked with disbelief. “The shoulders are coming!” JJ’s eyes were wide, hands gently guiding the tiny body. Rafe’s hand slid to her damp cheek, brushing her hair back. 

“That’s it, baby. That’s it.”

And in the next moment, the baby slipped free into JJ and John B’s waiting hands, their eyes wide with shock and awe. For a moment, the entire room was still. Breathless. Then, the silence shattered. A sharp, piercing wail filled the air—raw, loud, and alive.

The baby was crying.

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” the nurse’s voice crackled through the phone, filled with warmth. “That’s exactly what we want to hear, means their airways are clear- congratulations!” the nurse’s voice came through, vibrating with relief.

Y/n’s body sagged with relief, sobs breaking free as she wept, trembling from exhaustion and overwhelming joy. Rafe let out a shaky breath he hadn’t even realised he was holding. His chest tightened, and his eyes, glossed over, locked on Y/n, a tear sliding down his cheek. “Oh, sweet girl…” His voice was raw as he leaned in, cupping her tear-streaked face. 

“I’m so proud of you. You hear that?” 

He whispered, pressing his forehead to hers, voice breaking. “That’s our baby Y/n, you did that.” He pressed soft, lingering kisses to her forehead, his arms holding her close. Y/n’s breath hitched, tears slipping freely. Her voice was barely more than a whisper. 

“Is it… is it a boy or a girl?”

John B, though still emotional, took the lead as he carefully placed his hands on the baby’s tiny chest, rubbing gently as the nurse instructed to ​​ensure air was circulating properly. His movements instinctual despite the fear and emotions tangled in his chest. 

“It’s a girl.”

A fragile, joyful sob escaped Y/n’s lips, her hand flying to her mouth. The nurse’s voice crackled through the phone, her tone calm and clear. “Alright, now I need you to swaddle the baby tightly, make sure she doesn’t get cold.”

JJ moved quickly, wrapping the baby snugly in the towel, his hands surprisingly gentle despite the chaos unfolding around them. The nurse continued as they worked on the little being amongst the towels. “And how’s mom? Make sure she’s covered up too, don’t want her getting cold either.”

John B, standing up from his kneeling position, grabbed a second blanket and draped it over Y/n, making sure it covered her body as he gently rubbed her back. “Good job, Y/n. You’re amazing.” Never in a million years did he think when he got a job at the gas station he would be helping to deliver his brother in law’s baby. Y/n, leaning heavily against Rafe, gave him a small, exhausted smile.

The nurse’s voice came through again, more reassuring this time. “Now, I need you to pass the baby to mum. Be gentle, don’t pull on the umbilical cord. The ambulance is just two minutes away.”

Rafe, still crouched behind Y/n, gently helped her lean back against his chest . His arms were wrapped securely around her, as he supported her with a steady, comforting presence. He gently adjusted her position, making sure her back was firmly against his chest, and spoke softly, his voice laced with concern, 

“You okay, baby?”

Y/n hummed softly, her breath shallow as she nodded faintly, exhaustion clouding her features. She leaned back further into him, her body still trembling, but her grip on her blanket was firm. Rafe gave her a soft kiss on the side of her head, his hands gently rubbing her arm in soothing circles. JJ gently cradled the newborn, his hands trembling slightly from the weight of the moment. 

“Well done sunshine.” 

He said softly, his voice full of emotion as he carefully passed the baby to Y/n. With shaky hands, Y/n cradled the baby to her chest, her breath catching in her throat as she looked down at the sweet, tiny face. Tears welled up in her eyes, the overwhelming joy of finally holding her daughter too much to contain. She let out a shaky sob, her heart swelling with emotion. Rafe leaned in close, his voice soft as he spoke, 

“It’s okay, we’ve got her now, yeah?” 

He wrapped his arms around Y/n from behind, his chin resting gently on her shoulder, offering her all the reassurance she needed. Y/n barely heard him though, her attention entirely on the little life in her arms. She watched as he ran a trembling finger over the baby’s cheek, the softness of his daughter's skin pulling at his heartstrings. 

“She looks just like you, Rafey” 

Y/n murmured, her voice full of awe. Rafe let out an emotional laugh, a tear slipping from his eye as he leaned in to kiss Y/n’s forehead, feeling completely overwhelmed by the moment. Y/n turned her head to look at him, and he leaned forward slightly to press his forehead gently against hers, their breaths mingling in the quiet, sacred moment. After a moment of silence, he kissed her softly, his lips lingering for just a second. With glossy eyes, he whispered, 

“Thank you for giving us our sweet girl.”

Y/n smiled, her heart full as she leaned her head against his, both of them looking down at their peaceful, sleeping baby in her arms. Although baby Cameron was born in a gas station on the cut, in the hands of two Pogues who they didn't always get along with, and not in the prestigious private suite of the hospital they had planned to give birth in originally, they wouldn’t have had it any other way.

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

[luv-lock]

⸻ ʙ ᴇ ʟ ᴏ ᴠ ᴇ ᴅ ⸻

Pairing: Damian Wayne x Fem Reader Part 3

Headcanon: Your relationship with Damian was good. But he decided that it was time for you to meet his family...

Notes: Reader is Dick's ex. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

Damian sat at the grand dining table, surrounded by his family, each of them indulging in the rare moment of peace that only the Wayne family could afford. Bruce, as always, was silently observing his children while Jason, still in his worn leather jacket, slouched in his chair, seemingly bored by the usual family gathering.

“Next week,” Damian finally said, breaking the silence in his usual cool tone.

Everyone turned their attention to him, and Bruce raised an eyebrow, sensing something was coming.

“I’ll be inviting my future wife to dinner,” Damian continued, his voice steady, but with a flicker of something almost smug in his eyes. “She’ll be here next Wednesday.”

The rest of the family went silent for a moment, their gazes flicking to each other. Alfred raised an eyebrow, and Jason blinked in surprise.

"Wait, what?" Jason half-laughed, his voice laced with disbelief. "You're finally letting go of your stupid obsession, huh? You found someone who's not going to make you brood in the corner for hours?"

Damian’s eyes narrowed as his hand clenched around the edge of the table. Jason had been poking fun at him for years, always teasing him about his quiet obsession with you, the one person Damian had never let go of, even after years.

"I’m not obsessed," Damian muttered, glaring at his older brother. "You wouldn't understand."

Jason smirked. "Yeah, well, color me surprised. I didn't think you'd ever let another woman near you."

Damian only shot him another sharp look before getting up from the table, his cloak swirling behind him as he made his way to you. Jason's comment had struck a nerve, but he wasn't about to let anyone know it. Not yet.

When Damian found you later that evening, he was already planning the next steps in his mission to make you his—officially this time. You were in your apartment, tending to the plants you loved, when he knocked on your door. Without waiting for an invitation, he entered, his presence suddenly filling the room.

“What’s going on?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, already sensing something was off.

Damian’s lips curled into a small, unreadable smile. “I need to talk to you about something,” he said, crossing the room toward you. “Next week, I’m having dinner with my family. You’ll be joining us.”

Your eyes narrowed. “I’m not having dinner with your family.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I think you will.”

“Damian,” you practically barked, “No! I'm not doing this. I’m Dick’s ex. There’s no way I’m going to walk into your family dinner while he’s sitting there. No way."

Damian remained unfazed, his smile remaining in place, though a glint of amusement appeared in his eyes as he watched you argue.

“You’re not listening beloved,” he said calmly. He had grown taller than you in the years since, taller than Dick now, a fact he didn’t fail to take advantage of. As you continued to protest, he reached forward, gently placing one hand on your waist.

“I’m not asking you. I’m telling you,” Damian said, his voice soft but firm. His fingers tightened ever so slightly as he pulled you closer, not letting you escape from his grasp.

Your protests faltered when his lips descended on yours. You punched his chest half-heartedly, but it was no use—he wasn’t letting go. Slowly, you gave in, closing your eyes as the kiss deepened.

When he pulled away, his expression softened, though his tone remained authoritative. “You’re going to wear something pretty,” he murmured, his eyes scanning your face with a look that could melt anyone. “You’ll be beautiful, and you’ll do as I say. Understand?”

Your lips parted, still slightly breathless from the kiss, but you were too stubborn to admit it. “You can’t just—”

“Yes, I can,” he interrupted. “I will pick the dress. Don’t argue with me.”

The day of dinner came, and as much as you wanted to fight Damian’s demands, a small part of you knew you couldn’t. You dressed carefully, though the idea of stepping into the Wayne family’s world again filled you with a strange unease. Still, you found yourself in the dress Damian had picked—a gorgeous emerald dress that fit you in all the right places.

As you adjusted the zipper, a soft knock on the door interrupted your thoughts. Damian entered, looking every bit the heir to the Wayne legacy—suit sharp, hair perfectly in place, and that confident smirk you were starting to despise… and like.

“Let me,” he said softly, stepping behind you. You barely had time to process his words before his hand was at your back, gently pulling the zipper up. You stood still, feeling the heat rise to your face as he leaned closer, pressing his lips to your shoulder. His breath was warm against your skin as he kissed his way up to your neck.

“You look beautiful beloved,” he murmured, his lips brushing your skin. He turned your face toward him, his gaze softening as he kissed your eyelid. He met your gaze with an unsettling intensity.

He kissed your neck softly, his lips leaving a trail that made your heart flutter in ways you didn’t want to admit. “You’ve always been beautiful.”

You blinked, trying to hide the heat in your face, but it was hard when he was so close, his lips barely grazing your skin with every word. “Damian, please,” you whispered, but you weren’t sure if you were pleading for him to stop or to keep going.

He pulled back slowly, his eyes tracing your features with a satisfied gleam. “When we get there, you’re going to smile and behave. You’re going to look stunning and make them all understand why I picked you.”

He smirked again, his hand sliding down to rest on your waist. “Ready?” he asked, his voice low. You barely had time to nod before he led you out of the apartment, his arm wrapped around your waist, the night unfolding before you.

The atmosphere at Wayne Manor was tense the moment you walked in. Everyone—Alfred, Bruce, and Jason—turned to look at you, their expressions a mix of surprise and disbelief. Jason’s jaw dropped first, his eyes wide with realization.

“Wait… Y/N?” he blurted out, eyes flicking between you and Damian.

You froze, your gaze meeting Dick’s across the room. His face lit up with a mixture of shock and delight.

His face softened, a surprised grin spreading across his face. “Y/N?” he asked, his voice tinged with nostalgia. “Are you… are you back?”

He looked genuinely happy to see you, like he thought this moment would come eventually. But that happiness quickly faltered when he saw the way Damian was looking at you, a possessive gleam in his eyes.

But Damian, standing behind you, didn't give Dick a chance to finish his sentence. His hand tightened around your waist, pulling you closer as he glared at his older brother.

Damian’s smirk was deadly as he placed his hand possessively on the small of your back, guiding you to your seat. “Back?” Damian repeated with a sneer. “What do you mean by that Grayson?”

Dick stiffened, the smile fading from his face. Bruce looked between the two, his eyes narrowing. “What’s going on here, Damian?”

Damian’s voice was calm, almost smug as he leaned closer to you, his hand still at your back, possessive but gentle. “What is so hard to understand? I said I will bring my girlfriend, didn't I?”

The dinner started off awkwardly. Bruce, sensing the tension, tried to steer the conversation in a neutral direction. But it was clear that the elephant in the room was you—and how Damian had finally, and dramatically, claimed you as his.

Just as everyone was simmering in discomfort, Bruce suddenly broke the silence. “So… are you two planning on getting married anytime soon?” he asked, his tone casual, though there was a sharp edge to it.

You blinked at him. “What?”

Damian, without skipping a beat, gripped your hand a little tighter and looked at you with that confident, almost predatory gaze. “Yes, in the near future.”

The entire room went silent. Jason nearly choked on his water, while Tim looked like he was processing the chaos. Dick’s face went blank, the surprise evident in his eyes.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered, your mind racing.

Damian just smiled. “No. I’m not.”

And the entire Wayne family? They were left in stunned silence.

Part 1. Part 2.

Should I make a part 4?

𝒍𝒖𝒗-𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒌 ☆ 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[okwonyo]

CAN YOU SEE ME？ IM WAITING FOR THE RIGHT TIME ..

──── 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗇’𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾, 𝗇𝗈 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇.

bsf!enhypen x fem!rea 7OO non-idol au fluff potential future relationship ૮(^﹏^ ! skinship jealousy 【 MUSÉE 】

じや wrote this in a rush ! enjoy 🎀

rbs ✶ comments please + daily

𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 ｡ ｡ watches you from a distance. with his eyes wide as a deer caught in the headlights, he doesn’t say anything or does anything about it— he just watches. he can’t help but observe your movements, the way you laugh or how you tuck your hair behind your ear while you talk to the other man. he studies you, sadness in his eyes, trying to find out if you are interested in someone other than him or not. “what?” you ask him when you see the grimace on his face. instead of answering, he questions you too, “do you like him?” relief washes over him in a wave when you shake your head, “i thought we were just talking but he wanted more,” then you add, “i’d rather spend time with you”.

⠀ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ﹙ᵕ ᵕ⠀look under the cut ! ♡

𝐉𝐀𝐘 ｡ ｡ is always near you. in any circumstances, in any sort of place. if you are near, he is too— almost as if he was your bodyguard or, you as you prefer to say, guardian angel. any person that approaches you, approaches him too and needs to get approved by him to even talk to you. therefore, there is no need to explain that when a guy tries to talk to you, they get hit by a presence impossible to ignore right behind you. the menacing glares can make anyone pale and stumble over their words in front of you. and the funniest part, is that you are well aware of that but decide to act clueless— always shooting a fake confused look at him before smiling sweetly when yet another man runs away from you.

𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 ｡ ｡ as your known best friend, many people come to him when they wonder if you are single and try to find a way to ask you out. unfortunately for them, he is not only your best friend but also desperately and irrevocably in love with you. so, in lieu of giving proper answers and advice, he assures them that you are already taken, by no one else but him. and to be completely honest, it works quite well. he even likes to, just for the sake of the silly little lie— of course, be really clingy in front of others. you don’t mind, he has always been like that, and it makes him happy to touch you for a second and be your lover. even if it’s through everyone’s eyes but yours.

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 ｡ ｡ he has a special radar for whoever has romantic interests towards you. i mean, he would know how having a crush ok you feels like. since he has been in love with you since primary school. so, where are both around someone who seems to like a you a little bit too much, he starts his extra-clingy and affectionate best friend act. draping his arm on your shoulders, talking to you nonstop and asking for your attention as soon as your eyes go on anywhere else but him. “are you drunk?” you laugh all of the time, not even annoyed in the slightest. he is drunk, drunk in love.

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎 ｡ ｡ he is unable to control his face when a guy comes to talk to you. he stares at him with a disgusted and utterly offended expression on the surface of his face. as soon as romance is being involved, he tugs you close without thinking— the petname ‘sweetheart’ even slip out. you don’t seem to mind, you only excuse yourself to your other interlocutor before focusing fully on your best friend. when you don’t look, he shoots to the flabbergasted man a very proud grin. he loves to be your favorite.

𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍 ｡ ｡ he is flabbergasted, took over by immense disbelief and utter shock. he just watched the cashier shamelessly flirt with you— right in front of hom, without decorum. yes, he is not your boyfriend, but come on! he believes that the cashier should have been a little bit ashamed at least. “please,” he pleads as soon as you get out of the shop. “don’t tell me you are going to go out with that guy.” you immediately smile, a teasing question already tingling your tongue, “why? are you jealous?” his heart drops, his face reddens and he starts walking as you chuckle.

𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈 ｡ ｡ uses all his strength to try to not be jealous— alas, he fails as soon as he even thinks about you and that ‘nobody’ together. he looks at you with sad eyes and a frown, as if he was a kicked puppy, whereupon you tell him you got asked on a date by the stranger. “wouldn’t you rather spend time with me?” he asks you, and you giggle. “what? this guy will be boring in two weeks but, i will be fun forever.” this idiot isn’t even able to contain his happiness when you tell him that he is right, that you will stay with him tonight. he is so happy that he hugs you, tight.

𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open & network : @sgz-net

[life-is-more-than-just-a-game]

♠️ AiB males in Mingle-Game with you ♠️

A/N: I thought about this kind of headcanons while I was trying to fall asleep. 😬

The game is part of the second season from Squid Game, so if you haven't seen it yet but want to watch it- This writing may contain slight spoilers! 😶‍🌫️

Characters: Aguni, Arisu, Chishiya, Karube, Niragi

POV: gn!neutral

Warnings: Squid Game related; may contain Spoilers for season 2!

A g u n i

That man really hates playing games with you together. He isn't showing, but he is afraid of losing you in one of those games especially when it comes to the thought of losing you 'cause he is not able to protect you ...

He has the will of a leader and he may be pretty strong, physically and psychologically, but not knowing which game you'll join together almost kills him ever and ever again.

That's why Aguni always tries his best to convince you to play different games but this time he lost the discussion.

Thanks god it's not heart game the two of you joined, but clubs.

Bro, that man breathes a sigh of relief, you wouldn't believe it.

No chances he will leave your side, he stands by you and follows you everywhere you go, no matter what.

And he is watching you the. whole. damn. time.

Standing on the circling plate, he will touch you with his elbow when you start moving your body because of the playing song.

"Don't forget, it's all or nothing. Stay focused and stop dancing, you need to concentrate."

... He is finding it pretty cute actually but who is he to confess?

Ah, the plate stops moving and the song stops playing. A voice tells the number of people each group needs before running in one of the rooms you need to hide to win this game.

Good for you, nearly everybody knows Aguni.

And nearly everybody is fine with whoever wants to build a group with them, I mean everyone is just trying to survive ...

"A group of 3 people?" "Can't be this hard to find one more- no time to lose!"

Be prepared, he will carry you over his shoulder without hesitation ... He just grabs you and flicks you over ...

"Wow, alright, calm down Aguni, I have legs myself, you know?!" "Daily dose of training."

A r i s u

Same as Aguni, Arisu wouldn't step away from your side, leaving you alone in the crowd of people you may or may not know by even their names.

He's a cutie pie. While standing on the moving plate, he would stand by you as near as possible, just to make sure he isn't losing you.

Plus he wants to make sure you know he will always be there for you and no matter what happens, he isn't going anywhere without you.

He lost the most meaningful people in his life already. It broke him. Losing you- it's hard to say if he would make it another time.

Still, different from Aguni , he wouldn't mind moving with you to the song a little.

Actually it would be pretty fun to him, dancing to the rhythm with you.

For a second he would forget why you guys are even here ...

Lord have mercy, he loves you for that.

If he is able to, he would even sing along, sadly korean doesn't belong to his strength ...

Freestyle!

"Love, did you even know what the children are singing about?" "Actually no, but this song is both a curse and a blessing."

People will look at you as if you are a couple that is losing their minds- how can you have fun with the knowing this could be your last minute on earth?

Seriously, how?

"Oh, the song ends ..." "And we aren't moving anymore ..." "2!", the unknown voice tells the players.

Arisu grabs your wrist, not thinking about it twice, and drags you behind him, towards the door closest to you.

"Oi, don't be so rough on me!" "Sorry, gamer reflexes!"

C h i s h i y a

The strategist of this game.

Nobody would find a sample in this game as fast as he does.

Play with him the first and second round, and he will be able to guess the number of group members for every following turn.

"They will do everything to kill as many people as possible." "You don't say." "It's important to know. Based on that, the numbers are chosen." "Are you really trying to find a ... system behind this game?" "I'm not trying, I already found it. Just stand near me and everything will be okay."

Remembering the last games you played with him, you know he is right.

At first it was hard for you to trust him. He was always a mysterious person to you- calm, smart, ambitious. That makes him ... kind of a dangerous person.

But since you started "dating" him, it gets easier for you letting him take control in games you play both together.

"Promise you bring us out here alive ...?" "Not a big fan of promises, but this ... this is easy to handle."

He takes your hand you held out to him when you asked him that question. But not just to give you his word- he interlaces his fingers with yours instead, pulling you a little closer to him and making sure you stand by him.

Your face gets red like a tomato ...

"You know, you make the games a little more important to me, Y/N." "Huh? What do you mean?" "Your life matters more to me than my own life- so I'm willing to protect you. Even though it's just with my high level of intelligence." "... Well, who are you and what have you done to Chishiya?", you laugh while he is just giggling a little.

K a r u b e

Fun is important to him, he doesn't want to think about dying the whole time.

So he doesn't want YOU to think of dying the whole time, too.

I guess Karube could be the one dancing with like crazy to the song. Not just moving his body back and forth.

More like Thanos and Nam-gyu did in the series ... I was laughing so hard when I saw them dancing on the plate. 😭

Back to topic; he just wants you to feel comfortable and, above all, safe around him.

He loves having you close to him. As long as you are with him, he is sure that he can do anything.

He is also willing to achieve everything he has set himself as a goal.

Accordingly, if he has made it his goal to leave the game with you ...

... then he WILL leave this game WITH you!

Means, without ifs and buts, he stays with you. From start to finish.

We know how impulsive Karube can be.

Anyone who stands in the way of him and his plans will never be happy again.

For example, the player who tried to push in front of him when you two were running in a room together.

Then he is simply grabbing the clothes and pulls the foreign person out of the room again- with force and full physical strength.

If the stranger is lucky, he gets away with a broken nose.

If not, he will die- Karube has no mercy for people blocking his way.

"Well, you know, it's not necessary always punching people in the face when they are just panicking and fighting for their lives, Babe ..." "I know, but I was panicking, too. And I want to live. And I want you to live, too, y/n. I want a future with you, not with a-" “Unknown human being!", you say, stopping him from uttering an insult. "You are too good for this world, love."

N i r a g i

Bro's kinda rough to everyone, not just you. We all know what a beast he can be, so when it comes to finding group members, he will use every method that comes to his mind to make people join both of you.

Niragi isn't good with words. He would provoke the other players or manipulate them making sure you and himself can leave this game alive.

Yeah ... he has a soft spot for you.

Can you imagine him having a heart!? 😭

Anyways, his life isn't as important as yours, for him at least.

That's doesn't mean he wants to die in here!

You are just his priority, so when the voice is telling a number and other players don't want him to join their group, he would do ANYTHING that you are able to join a group.

Yep, he would grab people by their collar.

And he would punch and kick them if necessary.

... His firearm could also be used.

"Listen here, you litte fuck. You will make sure that you team up with her and you will make sure that you end up properly in one of these ugly rooms, that she gets out of here alive. Otherwise-" Niragi points his gun at the unknown player, ignoring your "No, stop! Put that down, are you crazy?!"

Damn, he would kill everyone in here to make sure you will survive, it's insane ...

Funny to say, his method is working very well ...

[cherie-doll]

I said "do you think you'll kill for me one day?"

(Yes, of course I will, my darling)

― yandere!cod men x reader ― ε price, ghost, soap, gaz, roach, makarov, alejandro, rudy, phillip graves, keegan, könig, horangi, nikto з suggestive?

꒰ ͜ ‿ ͜ ♡ ͜ ‿ ͜ ꒱

ଘ You're no plaything for Price. He doesn't just like you, he adores you. Cups your pretty face in his hands; delicately. His rugged and rough hands become gentle as soon as he comes into contact with your skin, treating it as if it were finely-grained porcelain. He treats you the exact opposite of how he treats anyone else. Whilst he leaves everyone else covered from head to toe in blood for coming near you, you're covered from head to toe in the most expensive items you wish for. But, he doesn't want you to forget that his money doesn't represent his love for you, it does not begin to cover not even half of what it should. He'll be sure to remind you not to be spoiled rotten. He's fond of you and while he's interested in you, you should listen and obey to what he advices you. He is more experienced after all.

ଘ Compare what Simon's scars and bruises are to your unscathed body. Let his hands roam over your body, taking in all he works for. Let them wander and familiarize with what he's toying with. His breath on your skin as it quickens, losing his train of thoughts as he fondles you. He's convinced you're meant only for him. No one else should touch you this way, no one could do it like he does. And please return it! Cradle his head in your lap, so the sizzling subsides and he feels alive. Let him know he's the best, the one. Let him lean in and capture those soft, plump lips in a passionate kiss. Don't pull away, don't deny him his heaven. And don't you dare let anyone else trail your body with their eyes like he does. Why, he'll feel as if they're already doing what their mind desires. He's screwed up in his mind but he'll move heaven and earth for those thighs to wrap around his waist at night spilling the warmth between them. Make him feel warm and welcome, give him the world he burns everyone else for. He sacrifices others at the feet of your altar.

ଘ Johnny's smug smile can fade rather quickly with one sensual move from you, watch him get lost as his breath is winded and his body is overtaken with an all-consuming fire of passion. Oh, he can't even fathom the idea of anyone before or after him experiencing such things. He'll be paralyzed the moment you sit on his lap and putting your hand to his chest, let it trail over his heart which at the moment beats wildly. It's a sensation he experiences when plunging a knife deep within someone else's chest, he reckons the feeling is almost the same. He thinks his victims rather lucky they die this way. How many other people can experience that fleeting, overwhelming feeling?

ଘ Kyle's hand kisses are done with such reverent trembling and respect that he'll have your skin tingling with warm sensations as if the late evening sun was seeping into your skin. Let his and your body blend together like the watercolors on an artist's canvas does. Bask in his affection like you'll sunbathe on the beach. Take in all the good he brings you, accept every touch of his that starts with a secure embrace and ends with the colliding of your bodies. The cold with which he lashes out for others has no place with the gentleness he entreats you with. Keep your eyes on his, locked in his steady gaze immerses himself in fantasies. He feels dizzy as if his world was spinning, losing himself in the sensations. And after the elation, let him shower you in praises, caresses and gifts. Let him buy you two rings for each finger, how many could you want to show off having a caring partner when you slide his card at the register? Make your hands look pretty whilst his are leaving a trail of crimson blood after him.

ଘ Roach couldn't ever hurt anyone else, he didn't know what he was capable of until the importance of you came all too clear. You're something that shouldn't belong to anyone else in the world. It's a quick descent down the spiral of violent devotion. His soft gaze usually filled with admiration and sentiment for you hardens, his pupils dilating as fear takes over. He's only acting on behalf of all his anguish, you haven't the heart to condemn him. He's shown you what your heart is worth, couldn't you give him some sort of heaven? He will do very well at whatever it is you ask of him, just wait while he shows you. There isn't anyone else like him he says over and over as if a prayer or spell he could make come true.

ଘ Makarov does not care whether he deserves you or not. Unlike the others who will commit unspeakable acts out of guilt and use their "pure" intentions to purify their actions, Makarov is selfish and relentless in what he wants. He does not flinch at your attempts of control, it's lost the moment he takes you in. He's determined to taste everything you have to offer, whether it's willingly or not. But he does like things to be served on a platter for him, he also has no problem taking it himself. Let the hand on the back of your neck guide you in the direction you are to walk, be docile and you'll surely receive tenderness. He can never deny that he loves the way your lashes flutter as you look through them up at him as he pats your head for being so good. Overtime you might notice small details showing his exterior cracking and revealing the soft, white underbelly of affection. He feels as if his chest caves in from your actions, the subtle red at the tip of his ears. Keep pulling at his neck collar, he'll like that fake sense of control you have.

ଘ You wouldn't ever catch a glimpse of Alejandro's manipulative strategies until he finds someone threatening. Is it wrong you're not seeing enough of other people? His biggest fear is you falling for someone else, the danger of you getting too close to someone is palpable for him. The intimacy you two share is from the harvest he's worked so hard for. He's been slaving away for so long to just let someone else lay a hand on you. He kneads you into what he desires, anything to feel the beating heart in your chest which pumps only for him. He'll keep polishing you until he gets down to the bare essence of you, which he can only dream to capture. The rhythm he wants to feel rushing through his veins, circling throughout his body.

ଘ Rudy's tenderness blinds you as he takes you to what you can only describe to be paradise. With the shining of luxury, all new and just for you he says. He'll press a million sweet kisses on your face before dropping that a most bothersome person will no longer be graced by your presence ever again. To him it's like a quiet act of love, to you, it's unimaginable. Don't worry your head will all the details, isn't it better to have no worries? He's all smooth indulgence telling you to keep looking at the adorned future he has ahead for you, telling you not to pay attention to the blood that stains the walls of the hallways you walk. He would lay out a new, fancy red carpet over the corpses for you to step over and continue in this fabricated dream.

ଘ Phillip knows exactly how to get the best out of you. Can you blame a man for knowing how to get what he wants from you? Let him tease and tug for he knows what every maneuver of his does. The hands that massage your skin don't get dirty, he'll always have others ready and willing to carry out whatever order he gives. It's what he's accustomed to and how he intends to keep it. But the droplets of blood that splatter do not miss his skin. The stain is still there, still under the skin of the thumb he pushes inside of you, feeling around for that bliss. Let his protectiveness clothe your body, he's already blurring the lines between obsessiveness and possessiveness.

ଘ Keegan's eyes will have you coming to a stumbling halt. Asking for something only you know how to give so good. Those erratic eyes that are unpredictable as they are deep, representing the deep dive you have to be holding your breath for. Are you ready to indulge? Because the impact will have you gasping for air, and when you try to take one you'll only swallow a mouthful of carnal desire. He ignites such a heat it's scalding to the touch, you don't know what's happening it's like you lose control. It happens so fast that when it's all over you'll let his lips, from which hot breaths slip through, kiss all over your sweat glistened body. His eyes might be softer and hold it for a while until he's back to the merciless, cold gaze which freezes everyone's else blood, feeling it lump within their veins.

ଘ Let König go on his fast rampages. They're over quick anyways. And afterwards, when he comes back, cradle his head between your thighs his tongue tangling as he stutters out promises to buy you what you wish if only you let him lap at your sweetness until his thoughts are left to reckless abandonment. Let him get what he can't get anywhere else. Call him handsome as your bury your fingers into his hair, your fingertips trailing his jaw and down his neck to where his adam's apple bobs as he swallows hard. Place kisses on his cheek until he turns his head in one swift motion and captures your lips in a desperate kiss. He wants it all, wants all of you all at once it makes him messy, shaky and weak. But he just wants someone to hold him, rubbing his ears and whispering words of affirmation in his ear.

ଘ Horangi could care less what other's want from him. You're in his viewpoint and he's determined to apply as much pressure as possible to make you bend. The reason he justifies himself with is the lullaby he's lulled to sleep with. Everyone else wants something from him, why shouldn't you? Everyone else is just in the way, he says over and over again, trying to make you focus on his lips instead of the bodies on the floor. With what he's done, he expects a standing ovation from you, nothing but complete adoration and servitude. He's a man who chases after impulses, who knows how long until this candle runs out. For now, ignore the brusque hand and acknowledge the underlying intents. He'll keep this lecherous momentum going until you're feeling faint from the mere touch of his hand.

ଘ Resignation is a trait Nikto works hard to work out of you. Surely, you ought to trust him after all he's done for you. In his mind, he's dedicated such gentle caring to you, you should be grateful. Don't be afraid to take directly out of his hand, he prefers you lose that skepticism. And when you do start to gentle, oh he can never get enough of it. His fingers grazing and gliding over your body at any and every chance he can get. Let him delve deeper into you, it's only natural for him to want to know you better. Every quiver of yours, he feels through the epidermis of his skin. He just knows you that well. His jerking movements shouldn't startle you by now. Maybe if you were more open, you would be telling him what you want. Give him some sort of sign before that spark ignites an unyielding fire. Because to him, that trembling is a sign of a smoldering fierceness waiting to break through.

:¨ ·.· ¨: `· . ꔫ

[comicaurora]

So uhh. If you feel like talking about it. As someone who lives in the US, how are you being kind to yourself on this upsetting morning <3

Checked in with my loved ones first and foremost.

It's interesting. The vibe I've been getting from my circle is very different from 2016. Much less… dread and horror at a realignment of the understanding of what can and can't happen here, now, in this place and day and age. More "fuck, guys. again? whatever. enjoy your consequences, maybe you'll manage to learn something this time."

Frustration and anger is not the most positive feeling, or even the most fair one to express, but it is a protective one. It hurts a lot less than most alternatives.

And it's quite a shift. It was earthshattering back then. How could this have been allowed to happen? Why couldn't it be stopped? Why couldn't we stop it? Why couldn't I stop it? Why couldn't everyone see what this meant? Why couldn't I make them understand? Did they really not care? What did that mean about humanity as a whole? Were we so thoughtless? How could anyone be trusted?

It seems… much less earthshattering to see it happen twice. Disappointing, sure. Frustrating. But nowhere near as devastating as the first time I saw it unfold. We already knew it could happen. I've already had time to digest the implications. Now I'm just freshly disappointed.

It also feels less indicative of Crushing Truths Of Reality this time. We've seen shit get bad. We've also seen shit get better from here! We know both outcomes are possible, even inevitable. We know hoping for a better future is always worthwhile. This isn't the apocalypse. It's an unremarkably bad turn of events brought on by unremarkably self-centered well-documented human impulses. It's utterly mundane in its unpleasantness. It doesn't need to be dignified with despair.

A democratic election, no matter the outcome or the side we're on, makes us all acutely aware of how outnumbered we are by people whose worldviews and priorities are demonstrably incomprehensible to us. And the first time you get outnumbered, it's a shock. Defeat is haunting. It didn't matter how badly you wanted it; by the very function of democracy, you do not have the power to override greater numbers. (insert electoral college caveat here)

The second time through, I find myself focusing on a different facet that has dramatically reduced the amount of spiralling I'm doing. I don't expect this to work for everyone, but for me specifically, it helped to crystallize a few thoughts:

You don't have the power to control anyone else. You don't. You can't share your worldview and your revelations with them. You can't make them think or understand anything. You can lay it all out for them, but you can't make them listen, and you can't make it click. A mentor can't make their student learn a lesson; that's why teaching is so complicated and hard. An active choice must be made by the person to enable themselves to understand, and they must put the pieces together in their own mind before it makes sense to them, and the pieces must have been presented in a way that makes sense to them in the first place. Lead a horse to water, can't make them drink.

These elections highlight a disconnect in what different groups of people care about; and no matter how clearly you explain yourself or how passionately you perform, caring cannot be forced on someone. Understanding and connection cannot be forced. You cannot make anything or anyone matter to someone. They have to choose to see how it matters in order to internalize it. If they choose not to, that is not your failing. You couldn't have made them do it by just Explaining Better. They are not your responsibility. They make their own choices. You can't reach inside their head and connect the dots for them.

I'm a storyteller. I make stories and put them out into the world. I hope people get something good out of them, but I have no control over what that something is. I want people to be thoughtful and kind and compassionate and hopeful and see themselves reflected in stranges, no matter their differences. I can craft stories that I hope encourage this. But that is the extent of my ability and the extent of my responsibility. I control no-one's actions but my own, and so while I am not having the best day, I am at least content that I am doing what I can, and I am not shattering myself against impossibilities trying to control the things I can't.

Sometimes, people make decisions that I think are really bad. I can't make that not happen. All I can do is try to make decisions that will result in things I think are good. Today, that means checking in on people, and not assigning too much dramatic narrative weight to an ultimately mundane set of unremarkable bad decisions outside of my control. We'll take life as it comes and help each other out when and how we can. Everything else is out of our hands.