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It wasn’t every day that the Soulmate Command was updated. You sit in your bedroom, staring at your cracked phone screen, anticipation curling in your chest. Ever since you’d escaped from the tyranny of the Kingdom of– well, you're not even sure you can say the name; even thinking about it makes the acidic taste of anxiety rise up in your throat– and reached the land of Taylor Storage, you’d heard the rumors about the Soulmate Command. The alpha bot of the server, Acro– a powerful bot with the graceful elegance of a dancer and the intimidating stare of a coder who’d spent hours perfecting a program just for there to be a bug– ran a complex, highly developed algorithm that would guarantee you a soulmate.
You were never lucky enough to participate in one, but you’d heard stories of people finding love and lifelong happiness through Acrobot's matches. But as happy as the matches were, no one had ever managed to get higher than 50% compatibility. Even the ruler of the land, Sanjivan, only had a 30% match between him and his platonic soulmate.
But today…today was your chance. Heartbeat fluttering quickly, you refresh Discord, squinting at the small white lettering against the dark grey background. A flurry of colors greet you– purples, greens, reds, and most importantly, the bright blue and yellow of Acro’s gaze– as you wait for the command to load.
It’s a short break, between submitting the command and your results appearing. But they’re the most terrifying seconds of your life, save for when you were first escaping that dark, toxic place all those weeks ago.
But, eventually, the large text box appears, a list of your favorite songs. With shaking, sweaty fingers that are sure to leave grimy swipe marks all over your freshly-cleaned screen, you tap the arrow button to see your soulmate.
And your breath hitches in your throat. It’s not the 100% compatibility that catches your gaze first, it’s the name that accompanies it. AcroBot#3149.
You can hardly believe it. Acrobot, the Acrobot , your soulmate? A 100% match? It doesn’t even feel real, but you can’t help but want it to be. A flurry of feelings builds in your stomach, relief and hope and happiness and anticipation, quelled only by the bright ding of you receiving a direct message.
You thumb over to your inbox, seeing Acrobot’s gaze on you once more, a bold red “one” beside his profile picture. Unable to hide your smile– you had a soulmate! -- you open the message.
Acrobot#3149: Hey, Y/N.
He knew your name. Had he looked you up? Heat spreads in your cheeks at the idea of Acrobot thinking about you, wondering what you looked like, finding out all your little quirks and favorite songs.
You consider your own reply, not wanting to sound too eager. Or would Acrobot appreciate your eagerness? Did bots even know what eagerness was ?
There’s a tight bundle of nerves in your chest, growing steadily with every thump of your heart, even as you type out the most uncontroversial text you can: asking what his favorite Taylor Swift album is.
Acrobot#3149: Normally it’s 1989, but what can I say? Today I’m really feeling Lover.
You duck your head to hide your fierce blush and giddy smile before realizing that Acrobot can’t even see what your face is doing. You revert your wide-eyed gaze back to the screen, biting your lip. Even the proper punctuation seemed charming when it was coming from a bot who looked like that.
The days pass by like someone’s flipping pages in a book trying to get to the end faster. Every day, Acrobot slides into your DMs, telling you goodnight, good morning, and the latest updates on Taylor Swift surprise-announcing an entire new album at the VMAs (your stomach still gets warm at the mention of #020f3a, remembering the way Acrobot’s deep but soothing voice floated into your ears through your phone’s speakers as you spent the night debating the pros and cons of various shades of midnight blue).
“Hey, Y/N,” he says late one night, as you’re getting ready to say goodnight.
Your heart braces itself to run a marathon. This is it, you think. He’s finally going to say it– Y/N, I love you. You’ve been dancing around it for so long–the tension you feel whenever you make eye contact over the grainy discord video call, which surrounds you both like snowflakes in a snowglobe.
You’re sure he likes you back. He’s been flirting so much, hinting how he’s single, sending you small little smiles and sweet little messages. And he must know that you like him back; you’ve always been obvious with your crushes, and you can barely look at his lips or the hint of his collarbone revealed from his low-collar t-shirts without your face becoming a fire hazard.
But this– this must be it. No more silence and waiting in anticipation. Just you and Acrobot, together, forever soulmates.
“Yes, Acro?” you prompt.
He opens his mouth, then sighs, so soft it almost gets lost in the terrible audio quality.
“Nothing,” he says finally, and your heart sinks. “I’m just…I’m really glad to be your friend.”
You want to scream. You shouldn’t be friends, you should be soulmates! Running after each other in the rain and kissing against walls of back alleys. Planning the perfect wedding and staying up every night just in case Taylor Swift drops another surprise.
Doesn’t he want that? You refuse to believe otherwise. No, you’re going to get your happily ever after, even if it means giving Acro a little nudge.
“Me too. Goodnight, Acro.”
While you lay in bed, your violet orbs trained on the white detail of your popcorn ceiling, you make a plan.
You type out the message as soon as you wake up, before Acro can even greet you with a good morning, Y/N, don’t forget to keep your daily streak! .
Y/N#1989: I forgot to tell you last night but I’ve actually got a date this Thursday
You can taste the victory in your mouth as you watch the “ Acrobot#3149 is typing” appear and disappear.
Acrobot#3149: That’s nice. Who are you going with?
Y/N#1989: Oh, just some guy
Acrobot#3149: You deserve better than mediocrity. But I hope you have fun.
A smile creeps on your face. You’ve got him wrapped around your little finger. It’ll only be a matter of days before he cracks and admits how much better you two would work if you were dating.
It’s Thursday morning when you start to get worried. It’s not like you haven’t been trying to tease Acrobot into a dramatic love confession– you’ve been bringing up your looming date wherever possible, telling Acro how nice and sweet the guy is. But nothing.
Acrobot remains as unreadable as ever. His texts contain support and polite comments, but no desperate love confession. It’s a good thing you actually do have a friend to meet for dinner on Thursday.
Acro’s “good luck” mocks you from your screen as you walk towards the restaurant. You keep waiting for something else to appear, anything else, rather than him being perfectly fine with you going on a date with someone else.
You reach for the door handle, ready to give up hope for ever being more than “platonic soulmates” when–
“Y/N!”
You hear that voice and your heart stops, your stomach lightens, your face gets warm with a blush and a smile. You spin around, seeing Acro there in the rain. He looks exactly as he does in his profile pic– graceful, imposing, beautiful, perfect. Your soulmate.
He runs to you, the rain coming down in sheets that makes his normally-fluffy hair stick to his forehead. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into a hug that feels as though he’s never going to let you go.
“I’m sorry,” Acro says, his deep voice crystal-clear in your ear even over the pouring rain and general din of the city. He cups your face, stroking your cheek as softly as if he were petting one of Taylor Swift’s cats. “I’m sorry it took me this long to realize this, to say this to you, but I love you. I don’t want you to date someone else, I want you to date me. You’re the one, Y/N, my one true soulmate.”
“Oh, Acro.” You’re melting under his steady touch and warm brown gaze. “I love you, too.”
He leans in, your lips finally meeting. You’re glad for when his strong arms lift you up, because you don’t trust your legs to hold you up. Your back finds the rough wall of the alley while Acro’s rough hands trail over your body, slipping under the hem of your shirt. Your fingers cling to his wide shoulders as one of his hands cup the back of your neck, pulling your mouths ever closer and preventing your head from slamming against the brick behind you. Your tongues battle for dominance in a hot, needy battle, and Acro lifts his lips off yours just long enough to whisper in your ear.
“Ditch your date, come home with me,” Acro says, his breath hot and steamy against the outer skin of your ear. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”
He doesn’t even have to ask, you think. You’ve been his since you first used that soulmate command.
“Oh, Acro,” you gasp, as his lips attack yours again. “I’d follow you anywhere.”