#I love them I was waiting for this moment I hope this is enough | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

circeyoru · 1 day ago

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Love Trial _ Part 5 *END*

[Sung Jinwoo x High School Ex-Lover!Reader]

Part 1 ― Part 2 ― Part 3 ― Part 4 ― Part 5 (here)

Your first meeting with the boy named Sung Jinwoo was like any other. You two lived close and you two went to the same highschool. The two of your parents got to know each other and naturally so did you two. Jinwoo and you did mostly everything together, you two even welcomed his little sister into the world and you became something like an honourary sibling in the Sung family. Your relationship with them and him was just so close.

Your romantic interest towards the teen named Sung Jinwoo was also like any other. A little rumour, a little gossip, and a little curiosity. You developed real romantic feelings for him. Though it seemed like nothing changed much, the title changed from close childhood friends to significant others. You thought that was enough. He did too. It was enough because you two had each other to share your happy and depressing moments without shame or fear of abandonment.

Your bond with the man named Sung Jinwoo was unlike any other. A bond like family, a bond like best friends, a bond like soulmates. You two completed each other and complimented each other. While Jinwoo was logical in all he did, you were emotional in all you did. Clashing perspectives brought you two closer than ever and broadened your horizons. Everyone thought the only thing missing between you two were the wedding vows that would seal the deal.

Found you when your heart was broke I filled your cup until it overflowed Took it so far to keep you close (keep you close) I was afraid to leave you on your own

The picture-perfect world fell when Jinwoo’s father went missing in a gate and his mother fell victim to the Eternal Slumber. His sister was still studying and so was he. By a stroke of luck, he awakened at the right time, but only as the lowest. Still, he gave up on his studies and worked as a Hunter for money to protect his remaining family. You were by his side, cheering him on.

You lost count of the times Jinwoo appeared to you in new wounds or bandages. At times, you were even called to the hospital to see him because he didn’t want to worry his younger sister. Your worry and concern was through the roof everytime the hospital or Hunters Association number rang your phone, your heart beat a million per second as your mind hoped for the news that your lover survived by some miracle or mercy of whatever higher being. You’d scold and warn him to be careful, that there were still people waiting for his return, not just you. He’d give you the same smile. Both of you knew, there was no way he’d give up his career as a Hunter.

I said I’d catch you if you fall And if they laugh, then fuck ‘em all (all) And then I got you off your knees Put you right back on your feet

“Why don’t I introduce you to a stronger Hunter as your lover?”

“You’re still with that guy?”

“Poor you… Having to deal with him.”

“You know you deserve more, right?”

“Shut it! Sung Jinwoo is my lover and that’s that!” You also lost count of the people talking directly or indirectly and even behind your back that you should abandon Jinwoo as a lover. Perhaps you could stay friends, but not lovers―was the message from all of them. Sung Jinwoo, the Weakest Hunter of All Mankind, that was his title. While you were successful and talented in what you did as an ordinary citizen, the only bad quality people poked fun at was the lover you took care of.

You never let Jinwoo hear any of these, and you never let him doubt himself. Even when he did, you reassured him and stayed by his side. You’ll use your hard earn salary to buy a dagger for him to raids and kill monsters with higher rewards, you’ll research and read articles with some information that would benefit him. You did all that you could as a citizen with a Hunter lover. Still, you thought that wasn’t enough.

Choi Jong-In once offered a place for your lover, seeing you struggle in trying to help. He knew who your lover was and he knew how much you cared. He wanted to repay your indifference to his high status and still stayed as a loyal friend. You declined, knowing Jinwoo was a righteous person, he wouldn’t take the backdoor for money. He wouldn’t stoop so low. Even if he did and the results were good, he still wouldn’t be entirely happy.

Just so you could take advantage of me

When you heard he survived a Double Dungeon, you dropped everything and rushed to the hospital. He slept on the bed so peaceful, ignorant of the turmoil he caused you. You sat by him, waiting for him to wake up. Your hand brushed through his hair, his peaceful expression was so familiar that it reminded you of those days when he had no responsibility but studying and forcing you to study.

Your voice cracked as you cried, never have you cried in public but only in front of Jinwoo. “Please… Wake up…”

Just him.

Tell me how’s it feel sittin’ up there? Feeling so high but too far away to hold me You know I’m the one who put you up there Name in the sky Does it ever get lonely? Thinking you could live without me Thinking you could live without me Baby, I’m the one who put you up there I don’t know why (yeah, I don’t know why)

When he woke up, there was no call from him nor a text. You only knew because a doctor was kind enough to give you a call and asked why you hadn’t been visiting after his wake. You went to the hospital only to see him working out and people staring. Jealousy and envy didn’t cross your mind, but you did smile as you saw him back on his feet. Still, a small voice in your mind questioned why he didn’t at least text you.

You thought that was just the one time.

The usual cafe dates and routine dinners at his place with his sisters were all gone. He stood you up and forgot about them all. Even his sister barely saw him around the house. His sister took a picture of him and showed it to you one time during dinner. You hardly recognized him. Taller, muscler, and more mature looking. Looked like he went through a second puberty.

But you asked if he was fine. His sister answered yes. That was all that mattered, as long as he was fine. Your heart was at ease. Like in the past when Jinwoo went to raids on days unend, you’ll wait for him as his loyal lover. Never overbearing, never too clingy, never too nosy.

Thinking you could live without me Live without me Baby, I’m the one who put you up there I don’t know why (I don’t know why, yeah yeah)

Finally, he approached you and you two reunited for what felt like forever. Jinwoo joked, saying it was his sister nagging him to see you and you laughed along with him. You told him you understood his busy Hunter life. So started his tale on raids and dungeons while you listened. You knew he was keeping something from you, you felt it, but you didn’t question it.

A positive turn was in his life and he looked like he was in control of it all. He told you you didn’t need to waste money and time on helping him any longer. “It’s never a waste on you, Jinwoo.” You spoke to him softly with a warm smile as the breeze flowed through you two that night. “Well, you’ve told your side, my turn!”

Gave love ‘bout a hundred tries (hundred tries) Just running from the demons in your mind Then I took yours and made ‘em mine (made ‘em mine) I didn’t notice ‘cause my love was blind

You never knew he turned into an S-Rank. You only knew from Jong-In when he coincidentally found out. You felt… betrayed? In the dark? Untrusted? Surely, Jinwoo had his reasons to hide this from you. Surely…

Jinwoo said his Shadows would protect you, he placed guards on you for your protection. Precious soldiers that he didn’t have many. He said he’d be gone for a week to get something to cure his mother and he disappeared. Ironically, the soldiers he left spent more time with you and cared for you more than he did after his change. But you told yourself it was a sign of his love and affection to you. You told yourself that over and over again.

Said I’d catch you if you fall (fall) And if they laugh, then fuck ‘em all (all) And then I got you off your knees Put you right back on your feet Just so you can take advantage of me

When people went in search of Jinwoo, you warded them off and told them it was an invasion of privacy. Some even spread rumours that Jinwoo was a fake ranker and that he had done unsavoury things inside dungeons all along. You defended him and told them all off. No one understood his pain and suffering. No one saw his battered self that was barely clinging to life. No one was there when he was on the edge all his life. None of them but you.

Why are people only flocking to him when they have something to benefit them? It was sickening. Jinwoo deserved more. When he was weak, he was looked down on and mocked. When he is now strong, they claimed he was a fake. When would they see Jinwoo for who he was? He was so much more than his power. He was a person, just like them and you. He has feelings and emotions. He has a past and he has a right to his own life.

Tell me how’s it feel sittin’ up there? Feeling so high but too far away to hold me You know I’m the one who put you up there Name in the sky Does it ever get lonely?

His mother woke up and you were beyond ecstatic for the Sung family. You let them have their moment and you were asked to join in by his mother. You let the tears flow as you welcomed her back. You thought, now things would return back to the way they were.

You were wrong.

More and more, you saw Jinwoo with Cha Hae-In, the S-Rank before him. You saw them all chummy and smiles. You told yourself it was just because they were colleagues. Plus, Cha Hae-In was the only female S-Rank in the country, so it made sense. If all the S-Rank that interacted with her was a crush, then she’d have a harem by now. You surpressed the envy and jealousy within you, you were above it. You trust Jinwoo. You trust your love.

Thinking you could live without me Thinking you could live without me Baby, I’m the one who put you up there I don’t know why (yeah, I don’t know why) Thinking you could live without me Live without me Baby, I’m the one who put you up there I don’t know why, yeah

It was nothing. It was nothing. It was nothing. You lied and lied. Jinwoo’s smile was softer and wider towards Hae-In. Jinwoo’s time was spent with her and not you. It was nothing. It was nothing. It was nothing. You told yourself over and over. Please. Everything that you have done for him. Everything that you two have been through together. Doesn’t those times mean anything? Prove the negativity inside you wrong! Please, Jinwoo!

You don’t have to say just what you did I already know (I know) I had to go and find out from them So tell me how’s it feel (oh-whoa)

Your hands came up to your ears and applied pressure on them. “I’m sorry. Let’s break up. I’m sorry. Let’s break up. I’m sorry. Let’s break up. I’m sorry. Let’s break up. I’m sorry. Let’s break up. I’m sorry. Let’s break up.” It looped in your mind over and over again. Please shut up. Please stop it!

Third time’s a charm.

Your tears flowed in public and Jinwoo wasn’t even there to embrace you. You cried your heart out, you pleaded that it was all a nightmare. What did you lack? What did you do? What happened? In your friend’s arms, you begged for something over and over. Over… It was all over.

Now your heart was broken and you were but an empty shell. The Shadows that Jinwoo sent for your protection was all a painful reminder. They tried to comfort you when you were crying yourself to sleep, the knight Igris and the once destructive foe on Jeju Island Beru, both tried to soothe you. As much as you appreciated their kindness, you sent them all away and told them never to come to your side again. The Shadows mirrored their Lord and Master. You saw him in everything they did for you. Their presence by your side was too tortuous for you to bear.

Anger and resentment. It was all so draining. You found yourself as an empty shell before the mirror. Your smile was gone and the life in your eyes and long been dulled over. You blinked and opened your eyes, this was your reality. You returned to bed and scrolled your phone, a name pinned to the top of your chat so it was more accessible to you anytime and anywhere. You unpinned it and blocked it.

You scrolled through the messages of comfort from your friends and colleagues; even your boss and manager sent you their regards and understanding. You chuckled bitterly. Instead of wallowing in sorrow and drowning yourself in anguish, you should really change things up a bit.

So when the light from outside blinded you and a second chance was given to you. You let go of that boy, that teen, and that man that was once your whole life.

⬧⬪⬧⬪⬧⬪⬧⬪⬧⬪⬧⬪⬧⬪⬧⬪⬧⬪⬧⬪⬧⬪⬧⬪⬧⬪⬧⬪⬧⬪⬧⬪⬧⬪⬧⬪⬧⬪⬧⬪⬧⬪⬧

The dream of you leaving, the sight of your cold gaze, the indifferent attitude you held towards him. It was all an endless nightmare for the Shadow Monarch. This was nothing compared to the war waged between him and the Monarchs to ensure humanity’s safety. He thought he could handle everything when he returned, that your innocent smile would greet him once high school started.

Oh no no no I don’t know what moved me You know that you are everything that I’ve ever wanted Hey, before you bring the hammer down on me Give me a chance you know you’re all I’ll ever need

Yet all he met was the horrifying realization that you had all your memories of the past intact and made an effort to separate the reunion between the two of you. You weren’t in the same neighbourhood, you weren’t in the same school, you weren’t in the same grade. Nothing of the past was the same when it concerned you. The chance he thought he had was nonexistent from the beginning. It was all wishful thinking on his part.

Oh! Don’t look at me like that Not again! I’ll change it! I swear that I’ll repent! Show me a bit of mercy, stay the execution please If just this once forget these deeds of mine

You spared him nothing, not even hatred, when he was finally in the same school as you. College was the only way the two of you could meet, as it was hard to justify him changing schools or neighbourhoods to his parents. It was something his patience needed to bear for his mistakes. He dug his own grave after all.

So carefully form the perfect crime Build my defense and plan my tight alibi But even so it seems you can’t be fooled Even with all my tricks, I’m falling No no no!

He built himself a reputation―became a track star that even other schools would pay attention to. All in hopes of gaining even a mini bit of attention from you, but in return, you merely ignored it all and stayed far away from athletic news or anything related to it. Yes, he met Cha Hae-In. And yes, he helped her when she was in need, but that kindness he received, he wished it from you. Don’t give up on him or his love for you!

So now you’ll pass the verdict for crimes of passion How bad are the charges they’re going to list? Down and pleading after my final remarks By powers here you gave the sentence and I was guilty

Though, as popular as he was, you held your own fame. In the academic side, you used your past memories to your advantage and was dubbed as a genius. You won awards and was praised by your peers, even looked up to by the younger ones. As if to show him you didn’t need him in your life, you were blooming with success and happiness in your time without him.

Oh no no no! This verdict is the worst I don’t know what I’d do if ever that you’d leave me If that’s so well then at least I’ll go out by your hand Throw me away into the darkness let me fall

Talk of you and Choi Jong-In as a couple was all over campus. It irked him and made his chest tight as if a giant was crashing him in its grasp. He saw the two of you together. In this life, you were closer to Jong-in more so than the last, the title of childhood friend, best friend, and now boyfriend, all belonged to the former fire mage. He was nothing in your life, just the one that broke your heart in the past.

Oh Jesus! The evidence is clear I’m to blame it looks like I won’t talk out again But on the other hand there’s much worse a fate than to be trapped Here by your side at least I’m close to you

His Shadows pointed him toward where you were and his legs brought him to you. His loyal Shadows aimed and aided in his quest to return to your side and prove his fault. Even his Shadows bore the fate of their Master of being shunned by you, they knew you more as they were tasked with your safety, even before Hae-In was in the picture. They would have stopped their Master if they knew the reckless move he’d make that day. Even they knew that their Master would one day learn to regret it.

Now, they have to help their Master no matter what. They much preferred you over that woman. You were the only one by their Master’s time and time again, through his weakest and strongest. You never let him go until he was the one that said so. You had been in his world for the longest and you should have. They wondered how their Master couldn’t understand that. This loyalty, this devotion, this love, was not something that could be thrown away so easily.

Because their loyalty was set in stone to belong to Jinwoo when he commanded them to join his army. Yours was special and unique. A priceless treasure that should have been revered, appreciated, and maybe hidden away from the world. That was what Jinwoo should have done without mistake!

My stupid flaws and mistakes I make That one mistake, I thought no way I could lose But now I see that you’re not coming back Though I may kick and scream it’s all a waste You won’t be hearing me

With Jong-In by your side, Jinwoo’s place appeared to have been taken. The shock that the rumour of you two being a couple stunned him. This must have been what you felt when you saw him with Hae-In in the past. His Shadows was enraged that it wasn’t their Master who was by your side, that it wasn’t their Master that held your hand. Jinwoo could only watch Jong-In drag you away and you spearing him an uninterested glance, he could only wish for your gaze on him once more.

What kind of perfect love crime would make us both cry? So far is the distance between you and I The one who gave love, and one that can’t get enough Let’s tie our fates and reach an ending together here at last

Give him a chance, just one chance, to correct the wrongs. At least let him atone like the criminal he was. The victim needs their justice and he’ll serve it. Please, don’t let him off the hook so easily.

Like his prayer was heard by whatever god there was, you gave him what he wanted and he took it. He didn’t care if your schedule and his clashed where he couldn’t catch you. He’ll use his powers to his advantage. He’ll have a Shadow in his lecture and record everything so he could still know what was going on, meanwhile, he’d be with you in your lecture so that he could stay by your side.

He’d listen to everything you’d share, even make friends with your friends so they could lend him a helping hand. He’d show you that you were the only one on his mind to court, not anyone else and especially not Cha Hae-In. He’d swap his electives so that he was attending the same class as you, he’d go wherever you were, even if you were going to a literature book club or an idle stroll. He’d be there. Whatever you do, just let him into your life.

You’re suddenly interested in a band? He has concert tickets and he could even give you a ride on Kaisel to get there. You wanted to try a restaurant but your friends are too busy to hang out? He can fill in and pay for your meals, even eat what you dislike so there’s no waste! You’re very into an Otome game? He’ll… grudgingly study it and give you the best tips to get what you want!

No matter is too big or insignificant when it involves you. Jinwoo would smile and provide you with absolutely everything.

Pass the verdict for crimes of passion Let’s hear all the charges you’re going to list I’ll repent it by spending my life with you I’ll see it through we’ll be together ‘till death do us―

You, being the same as you were, slowly started to cave and let Jinwoo near you. Even smiling and joking like the past. You knew Jinwoo knew his efforts were paying off and at some point, you and Jong-In had ended your little joke as each other’s significant other. Of course, Jong-In was immediately crowded with proposals and confessions, then you and Jinwoo would laugh and tease the flustered guy.

Somehow, Jinwoo fit into your group and became an honourary member even though he was in a different department. Jong-In, who was once wary of Jinwoo because of his Shadows, also warmed up to the outsider. You were the odd one out since you were the only one that appeared to have bad blood with Jinwoo still.

“I am sorry for what I did.” Jinwoo said one day when you told him you couldn’t let go of the fear that history might repeat itself. “It was wrong of me.”

Those words had an effect on you, an effect you thought would have been long buried the day your heart was broken. Your mind raced, debating whether you should open your heart again and let him have your weakness. Love is a double-edged sword. It could protect and care, but it could also destroy and harm.

Will you give Jinwoo that sword?

Here’s the secret from trying passion I’m glad that you taught me the life I should live Faking crying you lay down the penalty

“I guess you leave me no choice.” You hummed and spun on your heel, hiding a goofy smile that would give away your joy and relief. If you’re giving away the key to your heart, you might has well hold his. “We’ll only be a trial couple. Just so I could see the Shadows again.”

Jinwoo smiled and laughed with you, “Alright. Whatever you say, Love.”

You smiled slyly and gave the sentence

And laughing you said That I was guilty

“And that was the hardest trial of My Liege and your father.” Beru finished his tale with a claw raised in the air. “Remember, Young Lord, your mother is the only person you can never cross!”

“Ohh. Mommy is scary…” Your son, Suho, nodded in agreement to Beru’s warning. “But Daddy was wrong first! If it was me, I will punch and kick! And push Daddy out of the house so it’s just me and Mommy here!”

“Our Liege did deserve at least that much.” Bellion chimed in with a solemn nod.

Igris sighed, as he slowly backed into the kitchen, what was about to happen next would not be pleasant.

Behind the three of them was an enraged Jinwoo who had just returned home from work and you covering your giggles with both hands. Jinwoo had picked you up from your workplace and the two of you went for a little shopping since the three strongest Shadows of Jinwoo was watching your son. Though, the scene you two returned to was not good, at least, for Jinwoo who was the man of the house.

Jinwoo cleared his throat loudly and the three on the floor slowly turned their heads to the front door. The imposing father crossed his arms with a hard glare and the smiling mother―that was you―laughed aloud like no tomorrow. Jinwoo’s tried his best to maintain a stoic and angered expression, but your laughter and shaking grip on him was breaking his character. “Beloved… Please…”

“Haha, alright, I’ll go check up on Igris who’s the only good Shadow who wouldn’t gossip behind your back.” You chuckled and went into the kitchen, sure enough, there was Igris doing the cooking preparations. He gave you a courteous nod that you returned, “You guys are never letting Jinwoo down what that mistake, huh.”

Igris nodded again.

You giggled like a child, “Hehe.”

This peaceful and joyful time was the ending of your little love story. The mixture of screams and laughter from your son and the embarrassed scolding from Jinwoo, then there was you enjoying everything with a smile. Never would you imagine this sort of life back with Jinwoo.

~Song Use Credit~ (don't tell me you guys didn’t notice...)

Reader’s POV Song: {Without Me} by Halsey

Jinwoo’s POV Song: {Love Trial} English Cover

Base by Will Stetson Supplementary by JubyPhonic (give both a listen if you haven’t heard them before~~)

Note: And this is the last part! Honestly, when I first read the request, I genuinely thought it was going to be the one part with the song reference. But noooo, ideas just kept popping up more and more… So, oh well, a series it is~ The ending feels more like a recap to me, but I was determined to put the song in!!!

Also a little trivia, Reader’s/your past and POV was written like so last minute before this upload. Don’t like why, but it felt so right to put it there. I realized Reader’s POV on what happened kind of was never detailedly mentioned but Jinwoo’s was. But then I didn’t want to separate the posts, so I just mushed it into one (else it’ll be a part 6 as the end).

Anyways~~ Thanks for reading and waiting for this series’ updates~ We're at the end of the road. See you in the other stories!!

Happy Valentine’s Day guys~ Hope this would brighten your day or give you a smile. My chocolate gift to you~

𝕮𝖎𝖗𝖈𝖊 𝖄.

Taglist: @rozuburedo @ariseverdark @skylar896 @o-qi-shisme @my-arietta @mydearestbeloved @the-dumber-scaramouche @mochinon-yah @waka-babe @ditmemay1234 @mangooes @cottonbeeeeeeee @gurlie919 @j1yuji @knucklesdeepmingi @amayakurusu13 @rjasmin2021 @needsleep3000 @backgroundcharactera @mushy-mushroom04 @sxftiebee @tanspostsblog @izaquix078 @lilliana-14 @simpforskz143148

#Circe’s Nighty Writings #Solo Leveling #Only I Can Level Up #solo leveling x reader #solo leveling jinwoo #sung jin woo x reader #sung jinwoo x reader #sung jinwoo #sung jinwoo x you #jinwoo #Love Trial

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organic-bloodbath · 1 day ago

Note

Since Valentine's Day is around the corner I was wondering if you could you write about Thanos x reader about Thanos and the reader being childhood friends for many years until they got older and now developed feelings for each other so Thanos is trying to tell the reader about his feelings for her by asking her to be his Valentine?

Thanks!

Marry me?

Thanos x Reader

Summary: Thanos tries to find a way to confess his love for you and recreates some of your old memories together.

Warnings: This is so sweet and fluffy your teeth are gonna rot.

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day sweeties ♡

☆☆☆

Thanos looked in your way as you worked on your painting. You had been here for the past three hours, having no breaks. Time flew faster than you realized when you had dived into the trance of painting and an hour felt like barely half of it.

You had been studying art for the past two years and were doing your final project at the moment. You had spent a lot of time and effort on it and were actually proud of it.

As you turned around, Thanos noticed a spot of blue paint stuck on your cheekbone. Your hands were always on paint too, you were so careless that sometimes you looked like you had been fingerpainting instead of using a brush. He wanted to press his thumb on your cheek and brush the paint off but he let his arms hang down on his sides.

"Are you going to keep staring at me or what?"

Every time your eyes locked with his, his heart skipped a beat and butterflies were flying inside his stomach, a smile creeping its way on his lips.

"It's looking good," he complimented and nodded towards the large painting.

"Oh, it's not nearly done yet," you shook your head. "But thanks." You turned back to your painting, adding a yellow stroke to the sun. "What's up?"

"Y/N," Thanos said quietly, taking a deep breath as he was gathering his words and courage in one pile.

"Hm?"

"Do you have any plans for tomorrow?"

"Well, one guy did ask me out and to be his Valentine," you answered. "Wanted to take me for a dinner."

Thanos' heart dropped and his eyes widened, but then he quickly tried to wipe the shocked and disappointed expression from his face. He didn't think he succeeded at that very well, but thankfully you hadn't looked at him.

"Oh, really?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly, making him awkwardly clear his throat. "Who is he?"

"One guy from my class. I know he's had a crush on me for a long time," you shrugged and continued painting, dipping your brush in the red paint on your palette. "I said no, though."

Thanos tried to fight the smile off his face, his heart racing faster now for a sprinkle of hope.

"I see," he mumbled. "So, your calendar is free tomorrow?"

"Yep," you confirmed and turned your head towards Thanos. "Why?"

"Well, I was thinking if you wanted to do something with me," Thanos offered.

"Sure, what did you have in mind?"

"Hmm, it's a surprise," he smiled, trying to act all mysterious. You lifted your eyebrows and crossed your arms on your chest, the brush making a red line on your arm in the process.

"A surprise, huh?" you repeated. "Not going to give even a small hint?"

"Nope, you'll see then."

You narrowed your eyes. "Alright, keep your secrets."

☆☆☆

Thanos had been in love with you for years, but was afraid of revealing it to you. What if you didn't feel the same for him and he'd ruin your friendship with his dumb confession? But he was equally as scared to say anything at all.

He couldn't keep his feelings hidden anymore, hiding them was eating him alive. He couldn't watch one more guy flirt with you, be able to kiss you and hold you close. You hadn't dated anyone in the past few years, and somewhere in his heart Thanos had a nagging feeling that maybe, just maybe, you felt the same way about him and were only waiting for him to gather enough courage to ask you out.

Thanos had thought about a million different ways how to tell you about his feelings, but still didn't know which one would be good enough. Should he just take your hand, look into your eyes and tell you those three words that were stuck in his throat? Should he plan a huge surprise for you and do a grand gesture for confessing how he felt? Buy you a bouquet of your favorite flowers, along with a box of those strawberry chocolates you couldn't get enough of?

He knew you didn't care too much about big surprises and large spectacles, you liked simple gestures, but still he wanted to put effort on telling about his feelings more than holding your hands in your living room while tv was playing today's news. Maybe he should cook a nice dinner for the two of you? Buy candles of your favorite scent?

You deserved only the best and nothing less.

☆☆☆

When you were 12 years old, your mom took you and your sister to an arcade. You loved playing different games but this was your first time in this arcade.

You wanted to play a race car game, which would include two players, but your sister didn't care about it. She had gone to play some space shooting game which name you didn't know. As you stood by the machine, a boy approached you.

"Do you want to play?" he asked.

"Um, i don't have a partner to play with," you answered shyly.

"Me neither," he said. "Want to play together?"

Your heart fluttered as you looked at the boy's smiling face.

"Sure," you said quietly. You had always been a little nervous and shy around boys, you didn't know exactly why.

You sat on the leather chairs next to each other and grabbed the wheel with both of your hands.

"Just so you know, i've never lost in this game," the boy said proudly.

"Is that a challenge?" you scoffed. "We'll see about that."

You had played a race car game a few times with your dad. Obviously you had won every round, because he wouldn't let his little daughter lose and get upset.

As you managed to get to the finish line just a few seconds before the boy, you let out a cheer while the boy only sat there silent, absolutely speechless. Nobody had beat him before, and now he lost to a girl? Absolutely outrageous.

"Ha, i won," you mocked him, seeing the defeated look on his face. "Want to play again?"

And for the next four rounds, he won only once, and that was because you let him so he wouldn't go back home totally upset.

Now, Thanos entered the same arcade, you following behind him.

"Su-bong," you said slowly. "Is this a date?"

Thanos felt his cheeks become red.

"Oh, well, i mean - do you want this to be one?" he stuttered.

"You brought me to the place where we first met on a Valentine's day," you pointed out with an amused smile. "I'd say that's pretty romantic."

You had guessed Thanos was planning a date for you, since it was Valentine's Day, but only never mentioned the 'date' word so you went along with it the way he did. You had noticed his reaction, the tone in his voice, when you mentioned that someone had asked you out, and his demeanor changing immediately when you told him you had refused.

"Would it be okay if... this was a date?" he asked carefully, sounding like he was afraid of getting slapped on the face. You didn't answer right away, which made Thanos panic a little bit. "It doesn't have to be, if you don't want to."

You bit your lip to prevent you smiling too widely. You had rarely seen Thanos as shy as he was acting right now, cheeks pink, and found it adorable.

"Maybe," you teased. "Do you have any other plans for our date?" You intentionally put more weight on the last word.

"I might have," he smiled.

"Is that a surprise too or will you reveal it to me?"

"I'll have it as a surprise," he said. "Atleast until i win in the car race."

"What do you mean 'win'?" you huffed, narrowing your eyes, arms against your chest. "Mind you, it's pretty obvious i'm better than you."

"To be fair, that was 15 years ago, and you failed your first driving test to get your driving license."

"I guess we'll see then, hm?"

For the first round, you took easy on him and held back, pretending to be worse than him and lose on purpose. He had to get false hope in his head that he's better than you, just so you could crush his ego on the next round.

"You can't be serious," Thanos scoffed.

"Told you, i'm better than you," you said. "You know what difference we have? I'm a reckless driver while you're the more careful one. That's why i don't drive in real life but succeed in videogames."

To be honest, on the outside you and Thanos looked probably the complete opposite, Thanos being the more reckless one.

"I'll win you one day, let me tell you," Thanos insisted.

"I guess we'll have to come here more often and get a membership card or something."

You felt your stomach growling.

"So, i hope the next part of our date involves food," you stated. "Otherwise i'll be angry if you're going to starve me."

"Don't worry, there's food," he assured you.

☆☆☆

Thanos took you into a restaurant where you hadn't eaten in ages. It had been your favorite place when you were a teenager, visiting it regularly with Thanos and your other friends too. You didn't really remember why you had stopped going there.

Your first time in this restaurant had been with Thanos. You were 16 years old at the time and you had missed the last bus which would take you back home. The restaurant was open until late at night around 1 or 2 am and it was the only one open nearby.

"What is this place?" you had asked.

"One of my favorite restaurants, they serve the best french fries," Thanos told you. "And you can get a dessert on discount."

"On discount?" you asked. "What are you, a regular customer and get every fifth pancake for free?"

"No, they have this policy that if someone proposes here, they get free dessert."

"You've proposed to a girl before?" Now you were really intrigued.

"Not yet, but i've seen that happen. Twice."

"You know that we're only 16, Su-bong," you reminded him.

"You look older though," he said, making you to smack his shoulder in annoyance.

Hesitantly, you agreed for a proposal performance in the middle of the restaurant after you had finished your meal. You had never enjoyed becoming the centre of attention, but with Thanos it felt different, because his presence managed to relax a lot more.

He really did drop down on his knee in front of you by your table, taking your hands in his as he showed you the ring, which was just shaped out of a piece of aluminium foil while you ate. You hadn't told him, but you kept the "ring" in your jewelry box for months, until you accidentally lost it somewhere.

He hadn't joked around back then, they really did offer you free dessert to a newly engaged couple, and the restaurant believed the act completely.

"We're eating here?"

"Yep," he said. "And i hope you're able to act along again."

"What, you going to propose again?" you chuckled and lifted your left eyebrow.

"I might," he admitted, then leaning close to whisper into your ear. "But don't tell Y/N, it has to be a surprise."

"My lips are sealed," you promised and closed the invisible zipper on your lips.

You entered the restaurant, a few people sitting at the tables, most of them looked like couples.

You ordered food and ate while having a nice conversation between the bites. He asked about your art project and in general about your most recent works which you were always excited to talk about. Thanos loved listening to your voice and especially hear you laugh. He loved how passionate you were about art as well.

You didn't know how much time had passed, most likely around an hour and half. After you had almost finished eating, Thanos took your hand in his over the table and looked directly into your eyes.

"Y/N," he said and tried to stay serious and not burst out laughing for what he was about to do. "I have something to tell you." He started to stand up, but not until he whispered to you: "Remember to act surprised."

Thanos got up and kneeled right in front of you, getting a ring out of his pocket and held it in the air on his eye level. You had to cover your mouth only to stop you from laughing.

"Y/N, will you marry me?"

You had always been good at faking tears and make yourself cry out of nothing. Right now, you let your eyes water again and twisted your face to look absolutely shocked, keeping your hand against your mouth. But faking the tears was easier than it would have been normally in other situations. The way he looked at you now with his pleading eyes made your heart race and butterflies appear in your stomach.

"Yes!" you squeled, on purpose loud enough for everyone in the restaurant to hear. Luckily the restaurant wasn't very large, so the waitress wasn't far away either. "Of course i'll marry you, honey."

A few people had turned to look at the two of you, pausing their own conversation. As Thanos got up and pulled you into a warm, tight hug, a few people started to clap and cheer for you, making your cheeks turn red.

Thanos put the ring on your finger. It was made of plastic and had a pink jewel on it, which looked like it could fall off any moment. But it fit perfectly in your finger.

You sat back at your table, and soon the waitress brought two plates of cheesecake for both of you.

"Congratulations," she smiled. "On the house."

You and Thanos thanked her.

"You know, this is the second time you've proposed to me but there still hasn't been a wedding," you pointed out, acting a little disappointed, and took a spoonful of cheesecake into your mouth. "Truly feels like you're avoiding commitment."

"I'm not avoiding anything, excuse me," Thanos stated.

"Mhm," you hummed, enjoying every bite of your cheesecake which was the best you had ever tasted.

"Alright then." Thanos straightened his back. "I suppose our date has one more step."

☆☆☆

You ended up into an empty park, nobody else in sight. It was already dark, the moon shining above you and a few starts here and there. This was the place where you and Thanos used to come after school sometimes, just to hang out when there wasn't many kids around.

"What are we doing here, Su-bong?" you asked, looking around you.

"I'm improvising our wedding," he said.

"Oh really?" you asked, surprised he was actually going through with it.

"Mhm," he hummed.

"We don't have a priest though."

"I was at my cousin's wedding couple of months ago, i think i can handle that," he said confidently. He didn't remember all the correct words but this was a last second wedding anyway.

"Well, we need a wedding witness too," you pointed out. Thanos looked around the park for a moment until spotted something on the ground.

"That's easy," he said and grabbed a teddy bear from the ground. It was dirty and wet after being dropped in a puddle. "He will do."

"I think he needs to be a little older and more alive."

"Y/N, look at him," Thanos said seriously and pointed at the bear where he had just put it, sitting on the ground facing you. "He has clearly seen life more than enough."

"Alright, fair enough," you chuckled.

"Okay, stand over here," he said, pulling you to the correct spot by his hand on your elbow. "Just like that, don't move."

Thanos didn't stand in front of you, but next to you, facing towards the bear.

"We have gathered here today to wed this beautiful couple," Thanos announced, lowering his voice even lower than his natural voice normally was. "Su-bong, please say your wedding vows."

Thanos stepped to stand in front of you, taking your hands in his. He cleared his throat and straightened his back until looked directly into your eyes. You tried to keep a serious face but was on the edge of laughing.

"Y/N... i really like you," Thanos said slowly and took a deep breath. He hadn't exactly planned a proper speech of his love confessing to you, so he had to just say everything that came into his mind. "I've known you over half of my life. You're that one person in my life who i will never want to lose. You're beautiful, funny, creative and the most caring person i know. I've had the best moments of my life with you and i hope we can keep making more of those memories together. I promise to love you always and forever, if you'll have me."

Your cheeks were burning hot, butterflies in your stomach ripping you apart and you couldn't get rid of the smile on your face, almost hurting your cheeks by now.

"That was beautiful, Su-bong," you admitted quietly. "Are you sure you don't write anything else than rap lyrics?"

"Just said what came into my mind by looking at you," he confessed and lifted his hand to put a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"Well, i liked that," you smiled. "I liked that a lot."

Thanos stepped back into the priests spot for a second.

"Y/N, please say your wedding vows to this handsome gentleman," he announced, then stepping back to his spot in front of you.

"You know i'm not very good with words," you mumbled shyly.

"That's okay," he said in a comforting tone. "It doesn't have to be a long speech."

"Su-bong," you said, taking a deep breath. "You've been my best friend ever since we were kids. You've always been there for me in everything and you're the person i trust the most in my life. And i want to have you for the rest of my life by my side."

Thanos looked at you in complete awe, his heart about to burst out of his chest. He wanted to grab you into his arms already, it took all his effort to stay still on his spot.

"Y/N, will you take Choi Su-bong as your lawful husband and promise to cherish and love him until death takes you apart?"

You bit your lip to try and resist the smile breaking your face by stretching too large.

"This is your last chance to say no and run away from the invisible altar," Thanos whispered to you. "Just make sure not to trip on the sand box on the way."

You chuckled and eventually nodded. "I will."

He felt like he would need to make you repeat those two simple words, just to make sure you had really agreed, and for a second he was frozen to his spot. He quickly shook his head to make himself function again and cleared his throat.

"Choi Su-bong, will you take Y/N as your lawful wife and promise to cherish and love her until death takes you apart?"

Thanos moved to his spot again, looking deep into your eyes.

"I will."

You let out a short giggle.

"In the presence of this dirty teddy bear, i hereby announce you a husband and wife," Thanos announced, hand on his heart. "You may kiss the bride."

You bit your lip, your insides warming up. Thanos took a step closer to you, only a few inches left between your bodies, and slowly put his hand on your cheek, it felt cold against your skin. He glanced at your lips, unsure if he should actually proceed or not.

You grabbed his face in your hands and instantly pulled him into a deep kiss. He didn't hesitate a moment longer, immediately putting his hands against your lower back to pull you closer against him. Thanos had waited for this moment for years and was sure that he was only dreaming and would wake up back to the reality any moment.

But you were in his arms, he was truly holding you close and finally kissing you. He had confessed his feelings to you and you hadn't just laughed at his face, making him feel ridiculous. Would you really be his?

You broke the kiss but kept your face close enough that the tip of your noses touched, keeping eye contact with him. Your hand rested against the back of his head, his on your hips.

"You know," you started with a teasing smile. "I think we should stay just as friends after all."

"That didn't convince you, huh?" he asked with raised eyebrows, face completely serious, putting his hand back on your cheek. "Do i need to do that again?"

"Perhaps," you teased. He didn't hesitate a second longer, pressing his lips on yours in a passionate, but also soft, kiss. His hands were wandering up your back.

"Did i convince you now?" he asked, putting his forefinger under your chin and touching your lower lip with his thumb. "I can do that as many times as i need to."

"I think we're good - for now," you smiled. "So, why did it take you this long to do that?"

"Because i'm an idiot," he laughed.

"So, are we engaged now for real, hm?" you asked, twirling the plastic ring on your finger.

"It's actually insulting that you think my real proposal includes a ring which cost 50 cents at a thrift shop," he defended himself with raised eyebrows. "And taking place at midnight in a park where teenagers come to smoke after school."

You looked at the ground and saw several cigarette stumps all around the sand.

"Fair," you giggled and bit your lip, then changing the tone of your voice to a more serious one. "But... if we're not official husband and wife right now, will we be one day?"

"If you want to," he whispered. "I'd like to settle for a boyfriend and girlfriend label for now - if that's okay with you?"

"More than okay," you agreed with a large smile and leaned in to kiss him again.

"Good," Thanos said and held you close.

☆☆☆

#choi su bong imagine #squid game imagine #squid game x reader #choi su bong x reader #thanos imagine #thanos x reader #thanos x you #choi su bong x you

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ayumigotabittoolonely · 1 day ago

Text

Valentine's special

SYPNOSIS : valentine's day has come and so has your boyfriend's excitement (some of you are married)

When I said everyone I meant every one including jogo

1 2 3

Nanami kento (husband)

Nanami Kento x Reader 7th Valentine’s Day Together

The Thoughtful Tradition – Nanami believes in consistency, so every year, he writes you a heartfelt letter instead of just buying a card. Seven years in, he’s got a little collection of them stored away, each one a deeper testament to his love. This year, he hands you the envelope with slightly pink-tinted ears, murmuring, “I tried to outdo last year’s, but words always fall short with you.”

Breakfast in Bed – He’s up early, making sure your favorite breakfast is prepared to perfection. No work today, he insists, pushing a plate toward you with that ever-so-soft look in his eyes. He even makes your coffee exactly how you like it, and if you’re feeling mischievous, you tug him back into bed with you for some extra cuddles. (Which he pretends to resist, but we all know he melts the second you bury your face in his chest.)

A Home Cooked Candlelit Dinner – Forget overpriced restaurants Nanami insists on making dinner himself because he wants everything to be personal. He spent days planning the menu, picking up ingredients from that one small market he trusts, and ensuring every dish is cooked to perfection. The moment he serves you, he watches for your reaction, waiting for that pleased little hum of approval.

The Gift Exchange – You both go all out for each other, but Nanami always leans toward something meaningful. This year, he surprises you with a customized piece of jewelry something discreet yet elegant, engraved with a tiny, personal message only the two of you would understand. And when you give him your gift, whether it’s a perfectly tailored suit, a sentimental keepsake, or even a scrapbook of your seven years together, you can see the way he swallows hard, genuinely touched.

Slow Dancing in the Living Room – After dinner, there’s no rush to do anything else. He simply takes your hand, pulls you into his arms, and sways with you to soft jazz playing in the background. It’s warm, safe, and intimate the kind of moment where you realize this is what love is. And when he leans down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead, he murmurs, “Seven years still isn’t enough. I hope you’re ready for a lifetime more.”

Gojo Satoru (boyfie)

Gojo Satoru x Reader The Most Chaotic valentine's

He Plans… Sort Of? – Gojo insists he has the perfect Valentine’s Day planned. The problem? He made the plans at 3 AM, half-awake, while eating candy, so the itinerary is questionable at best. He tells you to “just trust him” with that smug grin, but you already know chaos is coming.

The Over-the-Top Gift – This man does not do simple. He probably buys you way too many presents expensive jewelry, limited-edition snacks, a plushie that looks exactly like you (creepy, but also kinda cute???). And just for the drama, he hands you a small box first, acting all serious… only for it to contain a single mint or a terrible pun written on a sticky note. He thinks it’s hilarious. (Don’t worry, he actually got you something breathtaking, he just likes messing with you first.)

A Date That Feels Like a Fever Dream – Gojo doesn’t believe in boring dates, so expect something wild. Ice skating at an exclusive rink that he rented out just for you two? A spontaneous trip to another country just for dessert? Taking you to the highest rooftop just to show you the best view? He’s a menace, but he makes sure every second is fun and unforgettable.

Loud, Dramatic Love Confessions – He never stops talking about how much he loves you. He’s saying it every five minutes, in front of strangers, to strangers—he literally stops an old lady on the street just to say, “Ma’am, isn’t my partner the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen?” (She agrees, obviously.)

The Softest, Most Unexpected Moment – Somewhere in the chaos, there’s a pause. You’re both sitting somewhere maybe watching the city lights, maybe just lying down after running around all day. And suddenly, Gojo is quiet. His fingers trace slow circles on your palm, and when he speaks, his voice is softer than usual. “You know… I don’t think I could’ve made it this far without you.”

A Love That Feels Like Forever – He pulls you closer, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple, and murmurs, “Every day with you feels like Valentine’s, y’know?” And in that moment, you realize Gojo Satoru might be the most chaotic man alive, but when he loves, he loves with everything he has.

Geto suguru (post fall sorry)

Post-Fall Geto Suguru x Reader A Bittersweet Valentine’s Day

The Silent Acknowledgment – Suguru isn’t the same man he was before, and you both know it. Valentine’s Day used to be something sweet a day filled with laughter and lighthearted teasing. But now, there’s an unspoken weight to it. He doesn’t say anything about the day at first, but you know he remembers. He always remembers.

A Late-Night Visit – You don’t expect anything, not from this version of him. But when night falls, there’s a soft knock at your door. And there he is tired, a little disheveled, but unmistakably Suguru. He doesn’t say much, just, “Mind if I come in?” His voice is quieter than usual, almost hesitant, like he’s fighting an internal battle just by being here.

A Simple Gesture, a Complex Meaning – He’s not the type to bring flowers anymore, but he does place something small on the table. A single, folded piece of paper. You recognize his handwriting immediately. It’s not an elaborate love letter just a simple, raw, unpolished confession. A reminder that even after everything, even after the blood on his hands, you are still the one thing he can never erase from his heart.

A Moment of Vulnerability – He sits on your couch, running a hand through his hair, sighing. You know he’s tired not just physically, but emotionally, mentally. And yet, when you place your hand over his, he doesn’t pull away. He just looks at you, something aching in his expression, and murmurs, “Do you ever regret it?”

A Love That Still Lingers – You tell him the truth: never. Because no matter how much he’s changed, how much distance he’s tried to put between you, your love for him has never wavered. And for a split second, the Geto Suguru you knew is there again the one who used to tease you, who used to hold you so effortlessly. He lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re too good for me.”

The Goodbye That Always Hurts – He doesn’t stay the night. He never does. When the clock strikes midnight, he rises, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face before murmuring, “Happy Valentine’s, sweetheart.” And just like that, he’s gone leaving behind only the lingering warmth of his presence and the quiet ache of knowing he’ll always come back, but never stay.

(don't come for me i m my biggest hater , I hate myself for this 😭)

Sukuna

Ryomen Sukuna x Reader A Valentine’s Day 💀

First of All, He Does Not Care. (Or So He Says.) – If you expect Sukuna to be the type to celebrate Valentine’s Day like a normal man, you’re delusional. The second you mention the holiday, he scoffs. “Tch. What a pathetic, human tradition.” But guess what? By the end of the day, he’s still making it all about him and you.

The “Gift” Is a Power Move – Sukuna absolutely gives you a “gift,” but it’s something stupidly extravagant, just to show off. A throne? A legendary weapon? A cursed object with a horrifying backstory? If you ask for flowers, he’ll probably massacre an entire enchanted garden and present it to you like he just did you the biggest favor. “There. A hundred dead roses. Happy?”

Dinner… If You Survive It – He definitely takes you somewhere insane, whether you like it or not. “We’re feasting,” he declares and next thing you know, you’re seated at a cursed banquet where the dishes move and the drinks are probably forbidden. If you hesitate to eat something, he smirks and says, “What? Don’t trust me?” (No, you don’t, but you’re also not about to give him the satisfaction of saying it.)

Possessiveness Disguised as Indifference – If anyone dares to look at you the wrong way on Valentine’s, they’re dead. Simple. But if you call him out on it, he just shrugs. “I don’t care what weaklings do,” he mutters. But the way his hand lingers on your waist? The way his claws tighten ever so slightly when someone gets too close? Yeah, he cares.

The Unexpectedly Soft Moment (That He Will Deny Forever) – Somewhere in the chaos, there’s a moment when it’s just you and him. Maybe you’re sitting on the temple steps, maybe you’re staring at the moon. And for once, he’s not teasing or threatening you. He just looks at you really looks at you and says, “Tch. You’re lucky I tolerate you.” But his voice is lower, almost… fond.

The “Goodnight” That Isn’t Really a Goodnight – If you expect a sweet ending, please be serious. Sukuna does not whisper loving confessions or pull you into a tender embrace. No, he just smirks and says something infuriating like, “Don’t get used to this.” But the way his hand lingers on your wrist for just a second longer? The way he doesn’t let you go to bed without pulling you into his lap first? That’s his version of love. And honestly? It’s kind of addicting.

Me with geto suguru :

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babybearnation · 3 days ago

Note

any driver with a hip hop dancer!reader partner ? maybe lando, kimi, or ollie ?

i ended up making this more general dancer headcanons than hip hop dancer bcuz i don't really know much about hip hop dance so i hope that's okay!

gn!dancer!reader

cw: suggestive (ollie)

lando norris:

oh he's fucking obsessed with watching you dance

this man is both oddly flexible and awkward as fuck and therefore he thinks he can pull off some of the moves you do and only just about avoids breaking a bone because you catch him

comes to every single performance or competition you have, fully ready to cheer you on - he doesn't give a single fuck about any fans or paparazzi spotting him either

absolutely loves sitting on facetime with you whilst you practise bcuz he finds that watching you learn a dance is actually a lot more satisfying than watching you do the whole thing successfully

kimi antonelli:

i think kimi would totally love this because he's all fastfastfast and numbers and data and you are all following the flow and, in some cases, rather slow

he's not stupid enough to try and replicate your moves but he will memorise them in his head so if you forget the next part, he'll be able to help you figure it out

he might try and come to every performance/competition of yours but, considering he's going into his rookie f1 season, he might have to miss more than he'd like to keep up a good rapport with mercedes - he'll try and make it up to you tho

the moment you collapse onto the floor in relief over finally learning a dance, kimi will happily crawl over (if he's there) and give you a thousand kisses because he's so proud of you

ollie bearman:

ollie loves that you're a dancer! he finds it so enchanting and he has a billion videos of you dancing saved to his phone so he can rewatch them when he's bored or missing you

get him drunk enough and he's totally attempting to learn your choreo and he cannot do it but it's rather endearing how excited he gets about "doing" it

ollie will literally be so upset if he misses any of your performances or competitions so you've started getting people to film them for him so he can still watch them even when he isn't there - it's the highlight of his day when he gets out of the car after a free practice session or quali and there's a video from you waiting for him

ollie thinks sweaty you is hot so when you finish learning a dance and turn to him, panting, he's pouncing on you, whining for you to let him taste you - and who are you to say no?

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dawngyu · 13 hours ago

Text

RAIN LILIES

pairing: soulmate idol choi beomgyu x soulmate fem!reader

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

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

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

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

He shouldn’t be real.

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

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

wc: 20k — playlist.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And now you wonder if it did—with you.

"One, two, three, smile!"

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

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

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

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

And then there are days you fear it.

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

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

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

How can you miss someone you've never met?

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

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

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

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

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

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

A picture of everything the universe had promised them.

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

You can't look.

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

Or no. You’ve lost count.

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

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

Alone at the sidelines.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Huh?"

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

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

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

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

You’re used to it by now.

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

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

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

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

You blink at her, taken aback.

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

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

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

It’s time to go.

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

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

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

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

"What's taking you so long?"

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

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

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

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

The entire room turns to look at him.

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

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

"Oh?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

He can't look away.

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

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

Everyone teased the maknae relentlessly for weeks.

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

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

His soulmate.

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

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

Where are you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perfect.

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

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

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

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

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

HYBE.

Funeral wreaths. Trucks. Massive banners.

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

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

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

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

Your stomach twists. “What?”

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

GET LEE HEESEUNG OUT OF HYBE.

APOLOGIZE, LEE HEESEUNG.

EXPLAIN THIS, LEE HEESEUNG.

ENHYPEN IS NOW ONLY SIX.

IDOLS WITH SOULMATES ARE NOT IDOLS.

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

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

Your stomach turns.

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

But you almost hear what she isn’t saying.

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

It’s the only explanation, isn’t it?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You won’t regret this!”

You already do.

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

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

TOMORROW X TOGETHER

They... didn’t look bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You groaned, "Fine."

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

And one of them stands out.

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

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

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

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

"One Beomgyu, please."

You followed her... once again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Where are we going now?"

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

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

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

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

Then, it’s your turn.

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

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

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

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

Fucking hell.

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

Beomgyu.

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, still grinning. “Okay.”

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

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

It’s beautiful.

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

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

Beomgyu.

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

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

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

All because his eyes meet yours.

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

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

It can't be real.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Heeseung, the newest idol thrown into the fire.

He, who got caught with his soulmate.

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

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

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

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

The irony.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What it is, he can’t quite say.

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

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

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

But then, he notices one weird thing.

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

You’re not looking at all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then his gaze flickers back to you.

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

His breath falters. He sees it.

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

The thread.

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

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

Soulmate.

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

He finally found you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Got you, beautiful.

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

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

Yet you see it perfectly too.

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

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

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

You're even more beautiful when you laugh.

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

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

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

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

And you are.

"Hyung," he breathes out.

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

But Beomgyu isn’t thinking about the show anymore.

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

Not yet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Beomgyu is your soulmate.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It clicks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sixteen years.

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

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

She’s the reason you met him.

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

And maybe she was right.

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

It doesn’t matter. Because you saw it.

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

He exists.

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

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

“I—I have a friend with me,”

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

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

Let's go.

You’re going to meet Beomgyu.

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

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

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

She knocks. Opens it.

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

The thought vanishes the second you see him.

Beomgyu.

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

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

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

Beomgyu stares at you, and you stare back.

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

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

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

How can someone be made this perfect?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"God, you're so beautiful."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s in deep.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And wear warm clothes—it’s winter."

"You too."

"Eat on time."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It can't last, doesn't it?

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

Elevators terrified you.

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

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

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

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

It took only a second before answering.

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

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

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

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

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

The doorbell rings again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s already 3 PM.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

An idea sparked in your mind.

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

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

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

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

My Y/N Live?

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

You look handsome.

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

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

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

You're watching?

A few seconds pass before your reply pops up.

Yes.

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

I'm shy.

Why? You look good.

A pause. Then another message.

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

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

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

Then he catches it.

315flowersmyass kekekeke -

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

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

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

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

It’s a picture. You.

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

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

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

"She’s here."

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

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

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

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

Ow! I fell! Fell for you~ —bg <3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Excuse me?"

"Are you fucking deaf?" she snaps.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She smiles, "Don’t test me."

I’m heading home now.

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

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

God, he misses you.

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

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

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

Then, voicemail.

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

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

He’s in the van now. It’s been hours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still nothing.

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

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

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

Once. Twice.

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

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

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

“Are you okay? I’ve been—”

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

"What is it?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then the line goes dead.

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

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

And now, it’s real.

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

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

His phone dings.

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

“Hello?” His voice is hoarse.

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

His breath catches.

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

"Please."

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

She smiles, "Don’t test me."

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

Your thoughts won’t stop either.

Beomgyu.

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

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

But is it?

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

You take another drink, and it burns.

“Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your phone screen lights up between you. Another call.

Beomgyu. He’s still calling. Still trying.

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

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

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

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

Everything. Everything is wrong.

“Beomgyu.”

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

“Are you okay? I’ve been—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Please sleep. And forget about me.

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

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

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

You press the end button.

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

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

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

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

She’d do anything for you.

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

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

Beomgyu’s birthday.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know your schedule is packed—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s been listening the whole time.

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

So Beomgyu told them everything.

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

No one understood him better than they did.

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

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

It shattered something in all of them.

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

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

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

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

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

And he would.

Completely.

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

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

Then the doorbell rings. Right. The food.

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

Choi Beomgyu.

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

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

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

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

His footsteps retreat.

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

The doorbell rings again.

You yank it open, “Wait, my ass—”

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

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

Just like what he said. He's there.

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

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

Why did you let him wait this long?

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

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

And there he is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you let him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And your breath catches in your throat.

Rain Lilies.

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

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

Small. Alive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even without a soulmate mark, even without fate—

It would always be you.

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

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

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

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

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

So he leans in.

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

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

THE END.

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

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hrrtshape · 2 days ago

Text

i toured the lights, so many foreign roads for emma, forever ago.

it rains, of course it rains. because what is longing, true, ruinous longing, without the sky collapsing under the weight of it? the night is a symphony of water and want, the streetlamp flickering like the final, feeble heartbeat of restraint. she stands at the edge of the world, watching him through the veil of rain, and she thinks: if he does not love me, let the earth split open and swallow me whole.

emma had seen him with someone else. she had laughed, let her fingers drift over his wrist, leaned in close enough to breathe the same air. and oh, she doesn’t care. she is marble, she is ice, she is untouched. except she isn’t, and it’s unraveling her, thread by thread. their love, if it could even be called that, was a war waged in glances, in half-whispered words, in the space between a breath and a confession. lily-rose had once called it the cold war, and she had laughed, but wasn’t it?

because there had been moments. god, the moments. moments that lived beneath her skin, nestled in her bones, where his hands had been reverent and gentle, where his voice had been a quiet plea, where he had looked at her like she was the first and last thing he would ever beg for.

so when she sees him again, outside the plaza, beneath the trembling glow of the streetlamp, rain streaking through his lashes like tears, she breaks.

"i hope she was worth it."

he blinks, slow, disbelieving, rain catching in his hair, tracing down his face like a lover’s touch. his brows pull together, confusion written into every line of him.

"what?"

and oh, why? she does not want to do this. does not want to peel herself open, lay herself bare. but the words have already left her mouth, raw and ruined.

"her. whoever she is. the one you spent all night with."

he laughs, but it is not a laugh. it is a broken thing, sharp and breathless, a laugh that has been crushed under the weight of something unbearable.

"are you serious?"

and she hates him. hates him for making her feel like a fool, like a girl standing in the rain waiting for an answer she should already know.

but before she can turn, before she can swallow it down and retreat into the safety of silence, he moves. he is there, in front of her, close enough that she can see the rain trembling on his lips, close enough that she can hear the unsteadiness in his breath.

"you think i want her?" his voice is hoarse, wrecked, like something rusted with longing.

and she.... oh, she does not want to ask. who would? does not want to let the question burn her tongue, but she is drowning in it, lungs full of saltwater.

"do you?"

and that’s it. that’s the moment he shatters.

he exhales sharply, rakes his hands through his soaked hair, tips his head back like he is praying to something that will not answer. then he looks at her. really looks at her. like she is the sum of every poem he has ever memorised, the lyric stuck beneath his tongue, the name he has written into the margins of every notebook he has ever owned.

"it’s always been you."

her heart stops. her breath catches. she stands there, frozen, the rain pooling at her feet, her hands trembling at her sides.

and he....

he watches her like she is a secret he can finally speak aloud. his gaze drops to her lips, flickers back to her eyes, and he says it.

"come here."

it is not soft. it is not a plea. it is a command, and she...

she obeys.

she reaches for him, grabs fistfuls of his shirt, of his skin, of the ache between them, and she kisses him like she has spent a thousand lifetimes waiting for this.

and the rain keeps falling, and her hands twist in his hair, and his arms wrap around her like he will never let her go.

she is his, and he.

he is hers.

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jd-loves-fiction · 1 day ago

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Hi. I don't know if you know about such a manhwa as "Only for Love", but I want to make a request related to this manhwa (although not even quite related, but okay). In the manhwa, the main female and male characters in chibi form are depicted as a cunning, observant fox (her) and a stern, grumpy lion (his). And I got an idea: everyone knows that in Mydei's gameplay a lion flashes, and in Castrum Kremnos, there is also symbolism of a lion. So, the Reader has a mischievous, cheerful, ardent and cunning character, she does not know how to fight, but this is what attracted Mydei to herself. Her bright personality brought colors back to his life. The lion, who went through many fierce battles, who is always gloomy, becomes more alive when a little fox fawns on him, who wants to give him her love.

🌑this is honestly kinda perfect since Mydei is indeed lion coded and one of my (underdeveloped) HSR ocs is very fox coded :)) it's quite short tho i hope you like it!!

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐱

Mydei moves like fire through a forest, cutting down all who stand in his way as easy as breathing, shrugging off hits as if they’re little more than ticklish to him – which they probably are given his immortality.

“Have your mothers not taught you not to harm a lady?” You quip from behind Mydei as a small group of attackers approach you slowly, menacingly – though you remind calm, knowing exactly what’s coming.

Just as one of them reaches out a hand to grab you, the crown prince of Kremnos releases a powerful wave that knocks all around him to their knees before quickly reaching you. Not a hand makes contact with you as he disposes of each of your would-be assailants with all the ease you’d expect from him.

Mydei pants over the still bodies on the floor, sweating dripping over the red marking on his skin, exposed muscles twitching from the adrenaline still rushing through his veins. You can't help but giggle in delight, which catches his eye, “Wonderful work, as always, Mydeimos.”

He huffs as if your words do not please him, but his cheeks darken slightly from more than exertion, slowly rising to stand tall over the defeated while turning your way. The intensity of his gaze is enough to make a weaker being falter, but you know him better than that – you patiently wait for him to reach you with large but slow steps.

He stops before you, only inches away, staring you down with those golden eyes, hair messy as a lion’s mane, armor still shining bright as sunlight. You observe him for a moment as he pants, warm breaths brushing over your features like the warmth of a lit fireplace on a cold winter night – arrestingly handsome, even out of breath and dripping sweat.

Slowly, you open your arms, inviting him to take comfort in your embrace, with a fond smile on your lovely lips – Mydei feels his heart stutter weakly at the action, aching to melt into you now that the danger has passed.

So he does, dropping his heavy head onto your shoulder before letting out a long-suffering sigh. You can't help but flinch slightly, not expecting him to accept your offer so readily, and in public, no less. But you settle easily, smiling lovingly at his open affection, before wrapping your arms around his tired figure to run your fingers through his soft, messy, mane-like hair. He only seems to melt into you that much more at the action, exhaling in content against your skin.

You can't help but picture him as a large but docile lion, eager for your affection and purring as you provide it, a pleased curl to your lips.

#mydei #hsr mydei #mydei x reader #mydeimos #honkai star rail mydei #amphoreus #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #hsr x you #hsr x y/n #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail x reader #honkai sr #mydei hsr

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kedreeva · 3 days ago

Text

For those awaiting quail updates:

I sold the last of the baby celadons from the winter hatch (yay), and culled the wild type x SLB males (since they can't be used for breeding), which made some space for the rest of the birds.

Yesterday, I moved the first batch of ~10 of the WT x ce babies outside; at only four weeks, they were completely feathered in and capable of handling the temperature drop down to freezing temps no problem. This is one of the reasons I love the coturnix quail. Their turnaround time is remarkable.

I've been dealing with Aurora all day (literally got up, did chores, and took off for the vet for a /four hour/ long vet visit doing tests and collecting samples for labs), but tonight I will be cleaning all the cages, and separating out more quail from the baby baby cage. The medium group will move into the bigger caging with no heat, in preparation for also going outside in another week or two. Once they're out, I'll have three groups indoors.

The goal at the moment is to get the WT x SLB group sexed, process the last of the boys from that, and then hope I have enough WT girls to replace a full breeding group (maybe even two) of the SLB. If I can get 4-8 girls, I can sell off ALL of the SLB birds I currently have, excepting the fee that probably have it and need cleaned, and the ce birds that may have it (though I'm already working on cleaning them out). So I'm back playing the waiting game, but it's crawling along!

Sark is coming back from work away in a couple days, and he'll reset the ding dang lights for me to spring/summer hours, which should get the quail laying again to prepare for the next stage of the project!

#the quails #quails #my pets #celadon line #wild type celadon line #wild type line

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harpsinfinity · 23 hours ago

Note

Hii I’m really high so I hope this makes sense.

I wanted to request a virgin reader with little knowledge with experienced slightly older Leon like reader 19 and Leon 23.

Thank you thank you!! Have a good day xx

I want to take your brain and give it a kiss. Anyway here's your meal. Love you

Afab!fem!reader !!

Nsfw below!! ↓↓↓

To say you were nervous was a complete understatement, you'd never done an act such as this before. Hell, you'd never even had an orgasm before..you didn't know what to expect

Sure, you'd had previous partners, but you never got far enough with them. They were always too quick to ask for sex so early on in the relationship when you simply weren't ready.

But Leon; Leon was so patient and sweet with your inexperienced self, he didn't mind waiting. He made it clear that he wanted you to feel ready and comfortable, especially since it would be your first time with not just him, but anyone.

He lowered you down on your shared bed so sweetly, kissing your lips and your anxieties away. Softly asking:

"can I?"

When he came to undressing you. It made your heart swell with affection for the man, and an unfamiliar throb plague between your legs.

When his shirt slipped off, you couldn't look away. His broad shoulders and toned muscles had you aching and throbbing for him. He was built so strong, so beautifully. You couldn't believe he was your partner sometimes.

The wet spot growing in my panties was starting to become unbearable.

"lee-"

"shh, I've got you, angel. Let me make you feel good"

He started to thumb at your clothed clit, making your hips jump with a startled moan.

Oh.

That felt good.

His lips met yours as he pulled down your soaked panties down with pure gentleness and care. It was cute how inexperienced you were, how you struggled to keep up with the pace of his kisses.

It was time for him to show you everything you'd been missing out on, leave you properly fucked and satisfied. His lips trailed down your neck, kissing the junction where your neck met your shoulder.

A low moan graced your lips when he kissed along the swell of your chest, kissing and thumbing tenderly against one of your nipples. One hand coming to cup and thumb at the other one, your back involuntary arched into him as you melted beneath him.

His slow, sloppy kisses melt down your torso, he was taking his time with you. And you were trying to be patient. The touch of his mouth left a trail of what felt like fire on your skin, burning into desire.

Your legs were swiftly propped upon his strong shoulders, his face right between your plush thighs. You were exposed to him, it caused a faint redness to dust your cheeks. You had half the mind to close your legs, but his hands promptly kept them apart with little force.

His crystal blue eyes bore into yours with pure affection and lust for you.

"you're so beautiful"

He murmured against the soft skin of your thigh, working his way down to your centre with more sloppy, wet kisses.

Your eyelashes fluttered the moment his lips pressed against your twitching clit, your breath hitching in your throat. Oh, he went slow, getting you used to the addicting sensation of his sugary lips all over your sweet pussy. kissing your clit to sweetly, flicking his tongue over your drooling slit.

But then, he really showed you what you'd been missing out on. He all but shoved his face into your dripping heat, eating you like a starved man as he tongue fucked your hole, greedily drinking up your slick and pressing the tip of his perfect nose against your swollen bundle of nerves.

He groaned into you, the vibrations sending shockwaves up your spine as you sobbed in blissful pleasure. You can't believe you didn't do this sooner, it felt good. More than good, even.

A tingly warmth filled up your stomach, a coil tightening inside you. Your fingers messily carded through his hair, finding their place and gripping it from the roots.

Moan after moan slipped from your throat, making noises you didn't even think you could make as his skilled mouth worked on you like you deserved it. And you did.

Your thighs close around his head as your body began to tense and writhe uncontrollably.

"l-lee ! f-feels-"

"just let it happen, angel"

With a final suck to your slit, your eyes roll back impossibly far and your lips form a perfect 'o' shape as you came for the first time ever.

You rode out the waves of pleasure as they ebbed and flowed your way, you still, couldn't believe how good it felt. All that tension you once had all melted away in burning hot bliss.

Once you came to, you found yourself fully caged between the plush seats and Leon as he held his cock. You jaw nearly dropped, he was bigger than you thought he'd be. How would you take him without being almost split open..?

"hey, look at me angel"

His hand cupped the side of your face, gazing into your eyes with reassurance and comfort. His other hand soothingly rubbing up and down your side

"we'll go slow, there's no need to rush"

You nod, biting your lip in anticipation for him

"alright.."

And when it finally happens, when the tip of him finally slips inside of you. You gasp, brows pinching at the slight sting of him. His soothing touches keep you going until he's fully seated inside of you, his skin against yours.

He kisses you, slow and passionately. His lips felt too good against yours, you were already addicted to them. His fingers lace with yours, a heartwarming gesture that made butterflies invade your stomach.

"can I move?"

He asks. And you nod eagerly

"yes, please"

His hips begin to move against you at a slow pace, letting you get used to the feeling of him. There's still that small sting of your walls being opened up, but it's quickly being swallowed up by a feverish, burning hot sensation of ecstacy.

In no time, your pulsing and drooling around him, your own hips instinctively moving to meet his thrusts and chase that mind-melting feeling.

You almost come on the spot when he hits your g-spot for the first time, yelping bliss. You swear you could see stars every time he hit it.

"god, you feel so good, baby"

He groaned in your ear as you fed your moans into his. When you clench around him, it's like somethings been unlocked inside of you. Things you never knew about.

God, you've definitely been missing out.

You begin to feel a warmth gather inside of you, more intense than when Leon had his tongue stuffed inside your wanting hole

You couldn't help the drool coated your lips as he practically fucked you stupid. Your fingers squeeze around his and your legs lock around his waist.

"that's it, such a good girl. Give it to me, angel. You can do it"

He fed praise after praise to you, it made you clench and leak around him all the more. Your poor clit was smushed against his pelvis, throbbing and pulsing from the friction is was receiving

"ohh- f-feels weird- lee, w-whats happening-!?"

You squeal, the pressure in your stomach was so intense, and your body had started to tremble again. This time it was more intense.

"just let it wash over you, let it happen"

You choke out a blissed sob as you gush around him, soaking his balls and the sheets below you. It was like you were on another planet, not even present in your body as you experienced wave after wave as overwhelming pleasure.

Leon was close behind you, with a few final thrusts he threw his head back with a groan, filling you up full.

When you'd floated down from your high, he held you in his arms. Whispering praises upon praises.

A whine left your lips as he pulled out with a wet pop. Both his and your spent dripping out your hole

He stood up and off the bed, scooping you up into his arms bridal style. He nosed at your neck as he spoke

"you okay? I didn't go too hard on you or anything?"

A tired smile plays on your hips as you lean into the warm touch

"no, I'm okay."

You reply

"I have no idea how I haven't done that until now"

He chucked before carrying you off to the bathroom for a shared bath.

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muiitoloko · 19 hours ago

Note

Hi I hope you are doing well? 😊 I was wondering if I could request a Judge Turpin x shy 21 one year old reader who is his wife. Perhaps a smut fic with Richard making love to the reader for the first time and putting her at ease? Maybe she is nervous. I hope that makes sense if not I completely understand! I love your writing SO much!!! 💕

Title: To Have and To Hold

Summary: Judge Turpin is a man of absolute control, but his new bride’s untouched innocence threatens to unravel the beast within.

Pairing: Judge Turpin × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut, Loss of virginity.

Author's Notes: Thank you for your request! I don't think I did exactly what you asked, but I hope you like it 🫶