#Sorry this one isn't as long or as good as the other ones

[bytemee]

WICKED GAMES — YU JIMIN.

“bring your love baby, i could bring my shame.”

synopsis. fueled by liquor and jealousy, you show karina that she's not always the one in control.

pairing. mean!sorority!karina x (not so)loser!gp!reader

warning(s). 18+ smut, g!p reader, p in v (unprotected), degradation (um haha), rough sex, u call karina track #17 off 1989 taylors version by taylor swift (sl*t), spoiler alert she likes it, spanking, backshots or a good career, begging, tummy bulge, jus dirty man im sorry this isn't who i am

words. 3k

authors note. yes im late, yes i was sleep, yes im sorru. prob gonna make a masterlist for mean sorority karina (when i wake up tmr). no men interact w this one cuz yall already get yk...so plz don't ruin it

part one. headcannons. navigation. main masterlist.

the bass from downstairs was still thumping through the walls, but you barely heard it over the sound of your own irritation.

you weren't even supposed to be here tonight. you told yourself that every time—every time karina batted her lashes at you and you showed up anyway, standing on the sidelines, playing the role of her personal support system when you weren't even hers to claim.

and yet, there you were again, nursing a drink that was long since finished, watching as some frat guy leaned in a little too close, grinning like he actually had a chance. karina wasn't exactly entertaining him, but she wasn't shutting him down either. just smiling, letting him talk, letting him think.

you clenched your jaw, rolling your empty cup between your fingers.

the party had dragged on longer than you wanted, but you stayed—because you always did. because karina wanted you there, and for some reason, that was enough.

you hadn't said anything when she let those frat guys linger a little too close, hadn't reacted when she flashed them that signature smile. you just watched, jaw tight, fingers curled around your empty cup, telling yourself it didn't matter.

but now, the night was winding down, and somehow, as always, you ended up here.

karina's room was quiet, muffling the heavy bass still shaking the walls downstairs. you barely acknowledged her as you dropped into the chair by her desk, pulling out your phone, pretending to be more interested in your screen than the way she moved around the room.

she hummed softly as she unzipped her dress, letting it slip off her shoulders, pooling on the floor. the sound of her humming was the only noise between the two of you, and it filled you with an uncomfortable warmth. "you were really quiet tonight," she mused, stepping out of it, now left in just a tank top and shorts.

you didn't answer. just kept scrolling.

karina turned, watching you for a moment before making her way over. she didn't hesitate before settling onto your lap, straddling you, one hand resting on your shoulder while the other tugged at your phone.

your gripped tightened, eyes still glued to the screen. "don't want to talk about it," you murmured, turning your head to avoid her lips.

a small smile slipped onto her lips, and her hand came up, brushing back a strand of your hair. "c'mon, don't be mad at me," she said, a hint of amusement in her tone, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

you rolled your eyes.

karina clicked her tongue, fingers curling around your jaw, forcing you to meet her gaze. "don't pout, puppy" she cooed. "let's have some fun."

"i'm not in the mood."

"not even for me?" she pressed her hips forward, grinding down on you.

your expression darkened, jaw clenching. "karina—"

karina huffed, her grip on your jaw tightening just slightly. "you're being difficult," she muttered, leaning in, brushing her lips against yours. "thought you liked it when i gave you attention."

"not in the mood," you repeated, pushing her back.

"what, did the guys downstairs upset you?" she said, a knowing smirk slipping onto her face.

Karina stared at your expression for a long moment, waiting for your resounding silence to confirm what she already knew. She chuckled, running a finger along your jaw, leaning in, voice low as she spoke. "are you jealous, puppy?"

your expression hardened.

"shut up," you muttered, grabbing her wrist, releasing her hold on your face. "do you get off being a slut or something?"

karina blinked, eyes widening, her breath hitching slightly. her usual confidence wavered, the teasing expression on her face faltering as a faint blush rose to her cheeks. she opened her mouth like she wanted to say something, but nothing came out.

her wrist flexed slightly in your grip, not in an attempt to pull away, but more like she was unsure of what to do with herself now. for once, she wasn't in control.

"i asked you a question," you murmured, tightening your hold just enough to make her shiver.

karina swallowed hard, lips parting as she stared up at you, the pink blush on her face growing darker. her tongue darted out, wetting her bottom lip, eyes darkening.

"yes," she whispered, a slight whine in her voice.

"what was that?"

she inhaled shakily, her hips shifting against yours. "y-yes, i get off being a slut," she admitted, a soft moan escaping her.

"that's what i thought," you said, voice low, your free hand dropping to her waist. you squeezed her hip, drawing a sharp gasp from her, your hand drifting lower, squeezing her ass. "you're so fucking annoying," you breathed, leaning in, pressing your lips to her jaw.

"oh, fuck," she gasped, hips pressing forward, hands dropping to your chest. "i'm sorry," she mumbled, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt, clinging onto you as you nipped and sucked at her skin.

you hummed, kissing your way up her neck. "are you?"

karina let out a whimper, her hips grinding down against yours.

"you're the only one i want," she whispered, turning her head, catching your lips in a messy kiss. "the only one who can make me feel this good."

you groaned, the sound muffled against her mouth, your hand gripping her hip, tugging her closer. karina's arms came up, wrapping around your neck, fingers tangling into your hair, moaning against your mouth.

you pulled back, just enough to breathe. "so annoying," you repeated, the words lost to the press of your lips.

karina smiled against your mouth. "i know."

it was all too easy to give in to her. to give her exactly what she wanted. you knew she had you wrapped around her finger, and she didn't hesitate to use it to her advantage.

you hated her, and loved her, and everything in between.

she kissed like a dream, the faint taste of strawberry chapstick lingering on her lips, her tongue hot and eager against yours. a soft moan escaped her as her fingers tangled into your hair, nails grazing your scalp, her hips rolling against you, a breathy whine slipping past her lips.

your grip tightened around her waist before you lifted her effortlessly, turning to drop her onto the bed. she grinned, hands reaching for your shirt, trying to pull you down with her. but you pushed her back, pressing her into the mattress, guiding her onto her stomach, her legs hanging over the edge.

she glanced over her shoulder at you, a teasing glint in her eyes as she let out a soft laugh.

"really? from behind?" she mused, lips forming the slightest pout.

you exhaled sharply, rolling your eyes before gripping her hips, pulling her back until her ass was raised. with one swift motion, you tugged down her shorts and underwear, leaving her bare beneath you.

karina bit her lip, a soft moan escaping her at the cool air.

"you wanted to be fucked, didn't you?" you asked, hand coming down to her ass, a loud slap echoing through the room.

karina jolted forward with a cry, the pain only causing her arousal to grow. "f-fuck," she whimpered, pressing back into your hand, desperate for more. you spanked her again and again, leaving her skin red and warm. karina's cries grew louder, her grip tightening on the sheets, her back arching beautifully.

"please," she moaned, eyes fluttering closed.

you spanked her once more, harder this time, the sound of your hand against her skin ringing in your ears.

"please what?" you murmured, dropping to your knees behind her, pressing a soft kiss to her skin.

"want you," she breathed, a quiet whine escaping her. "wanna be fucked. please, wanna be fucked."

"yeah?"

"fuck me," she pleaded, voice cracking as your belt jingled. karina sighed at the sound, anticipation building, her legs spreading, her hips rocking back and forth, desperate for friction. you could hear her ragged breaths, and you could practically see the way her hands were fisted into the sheets, the way her eyes were squeezed shut, the way she was biting her lip in anticipation.

you pushed down your pants, just enough to release your cock, taking yourself in hand. karina moaned as you lined up, a shiver running through her, the head of your cock teasing her entrance.

"you're gonna be a good girl for me, right?" you asked, hand trailing up her back, tugging at her hair.

karina's response was a high-pitched whimper, her hips pressing back against you. you pulled harder, tugging her head back, forcing a moan from her throat.

"use your words, baby."

"yes!" she gasped, her hips pressing back, desperately trying to find purchase. "yes, yes, i'll be good. i'll be a good girl. just fuck me. please, please fuck me. i need it. i need you. please."

"good girl."

karina cried out, fingers curling into the sheets as you sank into her. her mouth fell open, head tipping back, her eyes squeezing shut as her jaw fell open. she was so wet and hot and tight, and it felt so good, and she looked so perfect, and you were going to ruin her. you groaned, sinking deeper and deeper into her until your hips were pressed flush against hers.

"oh, fuck," she whined, her back arching.

you let go of her hair, letting her fall forward, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. you grabbed her hips, digging your fingers into her skin hard enough to leave bruises, and started to move. karina moaned, fingers scrabbling at the sheets, desperate to find something to hold onto, as you fucked her into the mattress.

your pace was quick, a mix of shallow thrusts and deep ones, never letting up, never giving her a chance to recover. her voice cracked as her moans grew louder, her body shuddering, the pressure building in her core.

"you like being fucked like a little slut?"

"y-yes!" she gasped, nodding, her eyes rolling back as your cock hit the perfect spot. "f-fuck, fuck, fuck. so fucking good, feels so good, god, i'm gonna cum. don't stop. i'm so close. fuck, i'm gonna—!"

"not yet."

"p-please!" she cried, voice cracking, her hips stuttering.

"hold it," you warned, voice low, a dangerous edge to your tone.

she sobbed, shaking her head. you gripped her hips tighter, controlling the pace as she whimpered in frustration, on the brink of release.

she cried out as you slapped her ass, a harsh sting spreading through her. you gripped her hair, tugging her head back, forcing her back to arch. she moaned, the new angle hitting deeper, her voice cracking, her walls tightening around you.

"are you going to cum?"

"yes!"

"say it."

"i'm gonna cum, i'm gonna cum, please let me cum," she whimpered, a desperate sob escaping her. "p-please. please, i'm so close, please let me cum, fuck, please."

you growled, a low, possessive sound, and you reached for her chin, pulling her head back even further. "cum for me, rina."

the moment the words left your mouth, karina's body jerked forward with a scream. her thighs shook, her hips bucked, and her body shuddered as she came, the pleasure crashing over her in waves. she was beautiful, her voice ringing through the room, her hair sticking to her forehead, her eyes screwed shut, her lips parted in a silent cry.

you released her hair, letting her collapse against the mattress, her body going limp as her orgasm faded. her hips rolled against yours, the small movements pushing her through her aftershocks, her voice a quiet whimper, her fingers curling into the sheets, her back rising and falling with her shallow breaths.

"so beautiful," you murmured, stroking her back.

she was gorgeous, flushed and breathless, and completely spent. you ran your fingers along her spine, up and down, up and down, letting her come down from her high. she hummed, her eyes fluttering closed, her body relaxing.

"how are you feeling, baby?" you asked, brushing her hair out of her face.

"'m good," she mumbled, her lips curving into a lazy smile. "feel good."

you nodded, leaning down, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. "that's good. can you take some more?"

she let out a quiet hum, a soft moan escaping her. "more?"

you gave a gentle nod, and karina's lips curled into a sly grin.

"fuck me."

karina gasped as you moved her, your hands gripping her, manhandling her, positioning her. she was pliant, her body moving willingly under your touch, and a small whine escaped her as you pulled her to you. you sat on your knees, karina on her back in front of you, legs spread, head tilted back, exposing the smooth column of her throat.

you sat on your knees, karina on her back in front of you, legs spread, head tilted back, exposing the smooth column of her throat.

you couldn't resist leaning down, pressing your lips to her neck, your tongue tracing the skin there, tasting her. she let out a soft moan, her hands coming up to rest on your shoulders, nails digging into your flesh. you bit down, leaving a mark on her skin, before sucking on the spot, eliciting a sharp cry from her.

you pulled back, staring down at her, and she stared back, eyes heavy, her lips parted, a faint blush rising to her cheeks.

"beautiful," you murmured, hand trailing down her body, stopping at her breast, squeezing her under her tank top. karina whimpered, hips rocking against yours, a breathy moan escaping her as you pinched her nipple. "you're so perfect, karina. such a pretty little thing."

she flushed, biting her lip.

you chuckled, leaning down, catching her lips in a kiss. "don't act shy now."

"m'not," she mumbled, her hands trailing up your back, tangling into your hair.

"no?" you asked, pressing kisses to her cheek, down her jaw, and her neck. you could feel the warmth radiating off her, her pulse quickening under your lips, her skin flushing, and it was all too easy to imagine her face. her eyes screwed shut, bottom lip caught between her teeth, her cheeks painted with a dark blush, her expression so perfectly sweet.

you leaned back, your gaze dropping to where you were still buried inside her. your cock was glistening, slick with her arousal, and you licked your lips. karina inhaled sharply, watching you with wide eyes, a soft whine escaping her.

"you want me to make you cum again, baby?" you asked, slowly dragging yourself out of her. she nodded eagerly, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she balled up your shirt, half confused why you were still wearing it but too deep in the moment to question it.

"want it so bad," she said, the words slipping past her lips before she could think. you chuckled, pushing back into her with one quick thrust, forcing a moan from her. you stilled your hips, just for a moment, looking at the bulge in her stomach, her skin stretched around your cock, and a shiver ran through you.

"god, look at that," you whispered, your voice thick with lust, a hand pressing down on her stomach. "you take my cock so well, karina."

she whimpered, her head falling back against the pillow, her eyes fluttering closed. her walls fluttered around you, clenching and unclenching, her body craving more, wanting you deeper. she moaned, her hips moving, trying to get you to move, but you stayed still, your eyes glued to her stomach.

"fuck, you're so big," she mumbled, a shaky breath escaping her, her thighs trembling.

"yeah?" you murmured, grinding into her just slightly. "feels good, baby?"

"yeah," she whined, nodding, her fingers tightening their grip on your shirt. "you feel so good. love how deep you are."

a groan rumbled in your chest, and you leaned down, pressing a kiss to her lips, a soft whimper escaping her.

"gonna make you feel even better, baby."

karina's eyes snapped open as you started moving, her head falling back with a moan. her arms wrapped around your neck, holding onto you tightly, her legs hooking around your waist. you groaned, a low, guttural sound, her head turning to the side as you quickened your pace, her breath coming in short gasps.

"so good," she whined, her voice cracking, her grip tightening around you. "oh, god. y-you're gonna make me cum again."

"already?"

"mhm," she hummed, biting her lip, a desperate whimper escaping her. "f-fuck. oh, shit. feels s-so good. please, please. fuck, don't stop. gonna make me cum, gonna make me cum."

"such a slut," you murmured, lips pressing to her cheek, your hand slipping between your bodies, thumb circling her clit. "so sensitive."

karina jolted with a cry, her hips jerking up against yours, her back arching, her mouth falling open in a silent moan. she was a wreck, and you loved it. her eyes were screwed shut, her face scrunched up in pleasure, her walls clenching around you, and the sight had you throbbing.

"you're so fucking sexy, rina," you breathed, nipping at her neck, your thrusts getting rougher, losing any sense of rhythm. "i could do this forever. fucking ruin you, make you scream my name."

karina was beyond words. all she could do was moan and gasp and whine, her body rocking beneath yours.

"cum for me," you murmured, your lips trailing across her jaw, nipping at her earlobe.

she cried out, her hips stuttering, her walls clamping down around you, her head thrown back as she came, the pleasure coursing through her. her body trembled, and you fucked her through her orgasm, her moans and cries echoing off the walls.

"fuck, i'm gonna cum," you muttered, burying your face in her neck.

"please," she whimpered, the word muffled against your skin, her voice cracking. "please, wanna be filled. wanna be yours. cum for me, cum for me. please."

you moaned, the sound rumbling in your chest, as you slammed into her, burying yourself to the hilt. karina cried out as you came, your cock throbbing, filling her. you shuddered, your body going slack, a low groan escaping you, your grip on her hips loosening.

she hummed, her fingers trailing up and down your back, a soft, sated sound, as she held you. she was warm and pliant and perfect, and for a moment, all you could think about was her.

your breaths were ragged, chests heaving, as you both tried to catch your breath. your lips brushed against hers, soft and sweet, and you could feel her smile.

"was that good?"

"yes," she breathed, nodding. "it was amazing. thank you, puppy."

you hummed, your thumb trailing along her hip.

"can you stay tonight?" she asked, a slight pleading tone to her voice.

you couldn't help the smile that slipped onto your face, pressing another kiss to her cheek.

"yeah, rina. i'll stay."

she grinned, the sight making your chest tight, and pressed a soft kiss to the tip of your nose.

taglist — @brocoliisscared @kimminjiissosjdirbidnsjje

[dilf-docs]

Tuyo Será, Y Tuyo Será

sub!javi peña x younger!reader

summary: after an stressful day at the office, javi finds solace in your warm embrace: you, his informant, who he has yet to cross that line he always crosses, like a goddamn vice.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, pwp, sub!javi, mommy/daddy kink (they call eachother mami and papi), oral (m. and f. receiving), hand job, face-sitting, fingering, creampie, p. in v., overestimulation, praise kink, degradation kink (u call him a slut once or twice lol), real men yearn™, bit of angst sprinkled, no sense whatsover just feels™

word count: 5,924 words

side note: i'm gonna be very honest with y'all. i listened to the theme song of narcos, tuyo (so good check it out), and got infested with a real bad crave to re-watch (but before reheating my narcos nachos i want to finish my romcom february marathon and finish the mission impossible movies). also, my tl is filled with javi gifs and my lewd thoughts abt him have gone beyond comprehension (not the bush reblog doing numbers...). see, it all started with an audio of him yelling maricón while i browsed twitter, which in case u don't know is the spanish equivalent to the f slur. sorry, it made me horny. javier's so bossy and intimidating but what if he wasn't? i'm all in for brat taming but i have a thing for sub boys lowkey. ah, i almost forgot, HAPPY VALENTINES MY LOVELY CITIZENS! (it's literally 12am) this is a gift from my single delulu romantic ass to you (and it's filthy sex? well, yes! isn't that a testament of our town's core beliefs? that's true love to me idk)

The air around him was tingued with women for the night, licor, suave conversation and burnt cigarettes.

The Cali cartel case had been stuck for a while. After the success of Pablo Escobar's hunt and Murphy leaving, besides his ascend, Peña felt the need for things to go fast; succesful. Besides, he had found it hard to balance the stress left behind, the one women and nicotine used to fix before.

He's nursing a glass of whiskey, despite claiming he was going to quit that too, eyes scanning the bar for you.

Sure, informants weren't his thing anymore, but he had a long history with you: you, who despite the violence and danger stayed, probably for the money, probably for him. Yes, he likes to think from time to time that your reason for choosing Colombia and denying the fake ID and passport he gave you was for this borrowed time you had with each other, filling the gaps between long nights at an office too big for a person, all to avoid the same loneliness waiting for him back at his apartment, because home meant warmth, and there was no one waiting for him back there.

So he chose to entertain you when he picked up the phone.

"Peña" he answered the call, fingers drumming against his desk and the poor hues of the lamp above scattered paperwork, some pages tinted with coffee circles caused by the base of his mug, filled over and over again.

"It's me" and he smiles at the sound of your voice, sweet, unlike the bitter taste of caffeine. "Is it a bad time to call? Are you busy?"

Filler questions, to steady your heart. The lonely office answers back mockingly on Peñas side.

"For you, I'm always available" he responds instead, cheeky. "What are you doin' up late at this hour?" he's asking, even if the question applies to himself as well. "Stayed up thinking 'bout something?"

Your tongue backfires you, speaking before you can stop yourself.

"You" there's a satisfied hum on the other line.

"So I take you call for a lead?" he leans back on his chair, arm resting behind his face. "Would be real helpful, hermosa"

"Sorry to dissapoint" how would you reveal the real reason you called? No. Never. "I just wanted to hear you"

He's standing up before he can register, pacing around the dim lit room.

"Baby..." he's already speaking up, condescending. No, not you too.

"C'mon, Peña" your heart beats dangerously, feeling it swell painfully on your throat. "It's been a long week, hasn't it?" a beat, "I'm on this bar near the office, mind if you join an old pal for a drink? I know you are alone too"

The feeling settles in, like his mind.

"Yeah?" he challenges.

"I see the office lights, all dark. 'Cept for yours"

He laughs, "You're a true detective, baby. Might have to hire you"

He's always calling you baby, because that's what you were when you started working this. Baby first, laced with intrigue and amusement at how you'd stand tall despite your age, ready to risk your life to free your home of the violence and terror drugs had brought upon. Baby now, more like a reflex, a habit Javier Peña can't break; the worst of his vices.

"Well, am I not already?" you laugh. "Come, will you? Just a drink and I'll leave you alone. You're free to drown on paperwork after that"

Worst is, Javier had already agreed the moment he picked up the saccharine tinge of your voice on the phone, impossibly addicting.

"Deal"

So now he's here. And he's finally seen you.

"You're here"

He takes a quick scan of your body, sporting a rather simple outift. Yet you seem to pull it off, hair cascading down in soft waves that ressemble the sea, very fitting in their job to compliment your tan skin.

"I am"

"You said you were here" he remarks, finishing his glass.

You take the glass from his hands, stiff from all day at the office, then raise it, mockingly alluding a toast.

"Wanted to let you relax for a bit" you add. "Thought you stopped"

"I needed it" not to admit out loud your call had made him nervous, hidden desperation and fire behind your apparent casual words. Or maybe it was his mind, far too tired and stressed to think straight.

"Good. Ready to go?"

"Where?" but he's already stand up from the stool.

"My place" and there's that same undertone he picked at first (once an agent, always an agent) now less hidden and more out in the open for him to follow or quit, much like any other of his addictions.

"For?"

"It's up to you to find out"

"Cheeky baby" he's chastising, his eyes full of something dark, and not punishing. "Are you going to murder me? Drugged my drink?" he attempts to do a terrible joke, all to calm down the fire on his soft belly and the throb of his cock. Fuck, when was the last time he had blown off some steam?

"You don't bite the hand that feeds you" you quip, but your teeth ressemble fangs. "¿Quién te crees que soy?" (who do you think I am?)

The walk to your apartment felt longer, despite having been here on a pass before, or when sending novice agents to watch for your safety.

He's never been inside before, but now he's taking the stairs two at a time, despite being tipsy, reaching your floor while you giggle with confidence, yet there's some uncertainity when you fumble your keys due to shaky hands, probably because you've never let him inside or because of your plan for tonight.

"It's very you" he comments out loud while you mumble a soft Shoes off. He takes another quick scan, some dishes drying on the counter, a rugged carpet and a flower vase with some petals fallen over the coffee table in front of your TV. It looks like a home, lived in: unlike his, that seems a curated effort to show someone occupies it, as a hotel room rather than a place to live. It's your warmth, thought, the one that wraps him up like a blanket or a fire.

Peña's been so busy looking around that he doesn't notice you've dissapeared.

"Baby?" he searches around, "¿a dónde te fuiste?" (where did you go?)

"In here" coming from the yellow-ish light at the end of the hallway.

He walks in slow steps, the floor creaking under his weight. Javier is opening the door, and the last he expects is to see you like this: on the bed, sprawled out. Fuck, he had imagined it alright: pumping his cock to the thought of you, but never thinking he'd got the very real thing for him.

"Baby-"

But here you were, all while he drools like a pathetic hungry dog, wordless and so fucking touch starved.

"Like what you see?"

His eyes roam over every dip and curve of your body, how your skin trembles even if he hasn't touched you and the room is hot. Heat is building within him, primal instincts fighting to take you, claim you, and make you his. It's a goddamn burning feeling he knows all too well.

"Mucho" he grins wolfishly, purring "bet it tastes as good as it looks" (a lot)

You sport a victory grin. "Why don't you find out?"

Your voice is like a siren call, and he's surrendering to the years of depriving himself of you.

He slowly walks to the bed, afraid if he speds up things, he'll wake up of this dream. He begins to unbutton his shirt, revealing his honeyed skin and soft belly from stress eating and licor, a smattering of dark hair trailing down past his navel.

Peña makes a pause at the edge of the bed, where you have sat up. He delicately cups with his rough hand your soft cheek, capturing your lips in a short n' sweet kiss. Finally, tasting all of you, tongue in your mouth wet, exploring every corner to get to know you: not the brave and loudmouth but the needy and touchy side of yours in bed. It speaks about pent-up passion and a hunger that seems to be only sated by the taste of you; the water to calm his thrist.

"Need you, baby" he breathes against your swollen lips. "Want to feel your skin and heartbeat as my own"

But a smile paints your lips as you sit on the edge, and he's unsure what it means.

"Slow down, needy boy" you taut, kissing the tip of his nose. "Do you remember our call? Said you've been through some stress" Javier lets out a little whine, "haven't you?" he nods eagerly, melting under your confident touch across his bicep, tracing his stomach that protudes over his jeans and belt. "So, how about this? I had an idea"

He raises an eyebrow, trying not to get distracted by your persistent touch.

"Better make it good. My patience is wearin' thin" and you can't help but coo at his strained pants and needy demeanor, so contrasting to his broody and serious nature.

"You've had a terrible week" fingers now getting lost down his happy trail, dangerously low to his pulsating cock. "Why don't I help you? But not like you think, no" you smile. "Let me take care of you, baby. I'll do all the work, and all you have to do is follow my orders like the obedient pretty boy you are. Sounds easy, right?"

A shiver runs down his spine as his dick strains against his pants. He bites back a groan, hips twitching involuntarily as you tease him.

He gulps, thinking about it. It's a new proposition that makes his cock pulse. Truthfully, it's been a week, no, weeks filled with stress, and the idea of letting someone else take control, despite his preference on him being the one in charge, aligned with his powerful masculine husk, makes it hard to picture it. But your parted swollen lips, eyes set with that determination he loves and his aching aging body...

Al carajo con todo. Peña is in. (Fuck this shit)

"Are you sure you can handle all of this?" with a stupid grin on his face, signaling his heating body, glistening with a sheen of sweat from the make-out session from before. "I'm not used to this, but for you, baby, I might make an exception. I trust you to take good care of me, yes?"

You hum, standing up. Even if he towers over you, you feel in power.

"¿Cuál es tu plan, mami? I want to hear every filthy sinful thing you have in mind" (what's your plan?)

You stand in your tiptoes to lick his lips, then planting a wet kiss that sends a jolt of electricty straight to his aching cock. Javier's heart pounds with anticipation while your tongue roams his mouth, making out until his pupils are blown wide and hair disheveled. He must look pathetic now, but he doesn't give a flying fuck about it.

"Oh, but I don't want to spoil any surprises... it wouldn't be fun" you grin. "Are you willing to be obedient for me? So you get to see what I have planned. Now sit, on the edge of the bed, now"

Wordlessly, he sits on the edge you previously had, his feet planted firmly on the floor, his thighs spread wide in a delicious manspread Peña often did.

"I've done as you asked, baby" voice firm with a low desire. "What's your next move?"

His chest heaves with each ragged breath that drags like a cigarette.

You drop on your kness, pushing his thighs further apart, red nails (just as he liked; did them a day earlier for him) digging into his jeans as you squeeze the thick muscle. Then, you lean down and press a kiss to his bulge. A low, guttural groan tears from his throat, touch igniting sparks of pleasure that raise through his veins., hips bucking involuntarily, seeking fricction. His hands clench on his side, hold as white as your sheets, trying not to grab you and disobey the looming domineering aura you had imposed on him.

"Want to hear your pretty sounds when I treat you good, baby. All of them; don't hold back"

"Fuck, baby" he pants, voice starined with the effort of holding back. "W-want to hear your every breathy moan, every filthy curse and-"

You nuzzle your face into his bulge, cutting his words effectively, the rough fabric scratching your face over his painfully hard bulge, eyes teasing.

"Hmh, hear me? No, papi. Today is all about you, just you"

He shudders at the contrast of your soft skin over the rough denim. He gazes down, eyes as dark and intense as yours, a bead of sweat sliding down his temple from the intensity of his arousal.

"You're torturing me, baby" his voice is a low rumble on his chest. "You want me to beg, plead for your touch like a desperate man?"

Peña reaches down, calloused fingers skimming along your jawline before tilting your chin up to force your gaze to meet his own. His thumb brushed across your lower lip, the rough digit dragging across the delicate rosy skin.

"Very well. I'll play your game and be what you want me to be"

"Please, want to hear you baby: beg, plead for me. And I shall give" you squeeze his thigh, playing with his belt buckle, a soft metallic clink echoing in the charged air. "Would you want me to help you? Use your words"

"Please, y/n" he raps, your name a delicious sound on his lips. "Please, I need you. Your touch, your kiss, your everything... I'm begging you, baby, help me"

He never imagined he'd have you like this, let alone, on this scenario. Why had he restrained himself when you had always wanted this as much as he did: with the way your eyes took him in everytime he walked in the room, or the way your hand would linger on your brief meetings to share information. It was the way you held onto him, like faith.

Peña reaches down, fingers fumbling with the buckle of his belt hidden under his belly, struggling to undo the clasp. The agent curses, feeling dumb all of a sudden with his display of desperation, at how a young girl gets him so out of himself, horny stupid. May be the lack of women or just, well, you.

"Touch me, baby" he pleads, his eyes dark and intense. "Wrap your hands around my cock and stroke me- Want to feel your mouth on me, for you to take me, please-"

He leans back, chest heaving. This raw need he feels, it tugs at his heart and cock.

"Since you've been such a good boy, I'll reward you" you smile, oh so sickenly sweet, as if you weren't edging him. "Gonna shove my cock so far my throat you won't be able to think of anything else"

Javier shudders at your words, cock leaking with precum at the thought of your lips around his shaft. The room falls silent, and he swears you might just be able to hear the beat that pounds in his ears, that be the reason why you're smiling while he anticipates your touch.

You unzip his jeans with a calculated sense of purpose, the denim material parting to reveal the straining bulge of his erection.

"Such a pretty cock, Javi" the nickname makes his groan, "is this for me?"

He lifts his hips, allowing you to tug the jeans down his thick thighs, dick in display.

"Fuck, y/n" his voice echos a needy rumble. "I'm not a man who begs, cariño, but for you, I'll do"

Peña's rough fingers grab your hair, guiding your face closer. The room grows hotter, and you swear you can smell his musky aroma, impregnated with desire and arousal.

So your reward is to wrap your lips around his tip and suck harshly. Javier lets out a rough hiss at the sensation of your mouth, even if just the tip. He feels your tongue swirling around the sensitive flesh, lapping at the drops of precum that had already leaked from his tip.

"Dios" he cries, his head falling back as he archs into your touch. His hand's hold on your hair turns more rough, as he's fighting the urge to thrust deep into your warm welcoming mouth.

You pull back, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his tip. You enjoy every second of his disheveled state, and the way your eyes darken, reveling in the power you hold over him, Peña's desire burns even more ardent.

"Please" he begs, "need to feel your throat around my cock as you swallow me down" and then he's bucking his hips slightly, not to force himself on you, but to let you set the pace. He moans at the wet sounds of your sucking, lips stretched around his girth.

Over and over, you take him, your technique getting more confident with each turn.

"You're a natural at this" he praises, voice rough with arousal. "You're gonna be the death of me"

You pull out with a Pop! making him whine.

"Don't talk, baby. I just want to hear your moans you desobedient old man" he barely registers your next move, slapping his cock. He lets out a sharp, breathless moan at the contact. "Will you behave now and let me jerk you off?"

"Sí, sí, sí" he pleads without a second thought, or embarrasment of his needy state. He feels your hand wrap around his throbbing dick, fingers barely able to encircle his thick girth. You stroke him with a teasing slowness, and his hips buck involuntary as he gasps, the pain bordering on pain at the intensity.

He then bites his lips, trying to hold back the desperate pleas that'll sink his masculinity even further, but his chest heaves with the effort, his skin sweat-slicked over his tense muscles.

"Mmm, yes..." he breathes out, the wet sounds of your palm gliding along his arousal, more than he could take. "I'm all yours, baby. Use my cock the way you want"

You smile, "that's my good boy"

He tangles his fingers in your hair once more, guiding your hand as you stroke him. Your fingers and lips brushing drive him wild, whines he can't contain coming out.

"D-don't stop" he begs, eyes fluttering as he looses himself in the haze. "P-please, keep on touching me, making me feel this good. I want to paint your skin with my seed-"

"Beg for it" your voice is low, and you slap his cock again. "Go on, wanna hear you, pretty boy"

Javier lets out a shar gasp at the sudden sting of pain mixing with the pleasure coursing through his veins. His balls tighten, the pressure a ringing sound on his ears as you continue to stroke him ruthlessly.

"Please" voice reduced to a desperate, needy whine. "Please, I need it. I need to cum so fucking badly. Te lo pido, cariño. Déjame, por favor" (i'm asking you, honey. let me, please)

He bucks his hips frantically, fucking himself with your fist at the amounted pleasure.

It's a real picture: disheveled hair that sticks to his equally sweaty skin, fluttering droopy eyes, ragged panting and desperate moans spilling from his pretty lips.

"Fuck, I can't- can't hold it back" he mumbles, eyes wild and fevered. "I'm going to cum, all over your hand. Please, let me have this. ¡Te lo ruego!" (i beg you)

He was lost in the haze of lust, body trembling with the force of his impending climax. The pressure was unbereable; he needed to find release.

"Aw. Pretty boy can't take it anymore, can he?" you coo, laughing a bit. Your nails dig on his thigh. "Do it, baby. And don't hold back: I want to hear every filthy little sound out of your lips"

Peña throws his head back at the same time a low, guttural roar of pleasure rips through his throat. His cock jerks and spams in your grip, spurting hot shots like a volcano. Javier's never felt like this before: so fucking hard, hips bucking and thrashing as he rides out the waves of his intense climax, painting your hand with his cum.

"S-so good. Se siente jodidamente bien, carajo" he moans, hips jerking erratically as the last spurts of his release dribble out onto your fingers. (shit, it feels so good, fuck)

His body slumps back against the bed, and from your knees, you get to see his chest and tummy rising up and down, struggling to catch his breath. His seed still glistens on your hand, so you do the most reasonable thing and suck it off. Javi's cock goes hard again at the sound, dying to see what it looks like, if the image is as obscene as what he can hear, but his back is killing him, so he lays still, fluttering eyes as he looks at the ceiling, a satisfied smirk at the corners of his mouth.

"That was-" he can't even speak, oh God, "I want to" he fumbles his words, "want to please you in return, baby"

But you're not done for tonight. You get up, and he gets to observe your body as you slowly undress the last remanents of your clothes (underwear), a show for him and his hooded eyes. Peña licks his lips like a starved man, but fuck, wasn't he?

Then, you push his body to stay against the mattress, sitting on his lap. He gasps sharply as you pin him down, straddling his lips with a wicked gleam in your eyes.

"Do you think you deserve to cum inside me, Javi?"

He can feel your core pressing against his sensitive cock, wet and hot, making him shiver.

You pinch is nipple, waiting for an answer. A soft cry escapes his lips, and he's arching into your touch. There's a jolt that goes straight to his dick, and he can feel himself getting overestimulated, twitching and jumping under you.

But his eyes are dark and hazy, wandering with lust your body, hands roaming wildly with teasing touches. You brush his too, no, burn it where your touch meets his soft tanned skin, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

"Mmm, I don't know if I deserve such a reward" his tone low and seductive, but there's a twinge of insecurity laced, as if he does believe he isn't worth it. "But I want it. God, I need it" you smile at his pleading. "Want to feel your tight little cunt squeezing my cock, for you to milk me for dry, to take every last drop of my cum"

He rolls his hips slightly, semi-hard cock brushing against your dripping sex.

"Tell me what I have to do to earn the privilege" he whines. "Haré lo que sea, sólo dilo" (i'll do anything, just say so)

"That's my good boy"

You grab his cock, settling it on your entrance, wet folds receiving him. You tease the tip before sliding it slowly inside, and Javier's body shivers when your slick heat taunts him, making him gasp sharply. He feels your moist coat his dick, allowing him to glide his cock along your slit with ease.

"So fucking wet, baby" he praises with a groan, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips as he fought the urge to surge forward, to bury himself in your welcoming heat in one hard thrust. "So ready for me"

You sink down slowly, every inch of your tight walls gripping him. It flutters and squeezes around his cock perfectly, making his eyes roll back in ecstasy.

"Feels so good, baby" he pants, hips lifting slightly to meet yours as you settle onto his lap. He can feel you enveloping him completely and its driving him mad. "Gonna make me cum before I'm even fully hard" 

He meets your gaze, drowning in your dilatated pupils, your breasts bouncing with every move and breath. Javier finds that, with such a view, it's not hard to fall into this supplicant version of himself.

You start bouncing on his cock, letting it hit all your spots. You whine, softly.

"God, Javi, feels so good-" he's babbling nonsense in spanish as he holds you by your hips. You feel your release coming.

"Shit, Javi. Mami is cumming-"

You fuck yourself faster on him, making Peña moan louder when you ride him harder, hips slamming down onto his with urgency. The wet slap of fleash against flesh fills the room, mingling with his cries and your whines.

"Do it, baby. Cum for me, want to know I made you feel good" he urges as he feels your walls flutter and squeeze around his dick, his fingers sinking into your ass' soft skin, guiding your movements.

With one final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside your cunt. You come undone around him, pussy clenching and rippling along every inch of his cok, sending him over the edge.

"Fuck, mami. I have to-"

You hold his hips down, still on your senses despite just having an orgasm.

"Wanted to cum without my permission, you needy slut? I said I want to hear you beg for it, ask me to come, and don't ever do it without me telling you to"

He can feel his cock pulsing and throbbing inside her, the urge to release his load overwhelming. But at your stern command, he forces himself to hold back, gritting his teeth as he fights for control.

"Perdóname, bebé" he pants, voice strained as he holds back. "It won't happen again without your permission" (forgive me, baby)

"Good. Have we learned, then?"

"Yes, yes!" he cries out, eyes wide and pleading. "Please, y/n. I beg you. Need to cum so badly, I- it's too much, please let me. Please, please, please!"

His fists ball tightly on his sides, knuckles turning white as his body trembles with his impending release.

"Please, let me have your permission to cum," he begs, voice a desperate, needy whine. "I'll do anything, baby. I'll be your good boy, your obedient fucktoy. Just say the word. Please, I'm begging you- let me cum for you"

You push your erection against your core, nodding in response.

"Cum for me, loudly, so I know that you're thankful for this"

With your permission granted and hips pressing down firmly against his, Javier allows himself to surrender to the overwhelming urge to cum.

Thick, hot ropes of cum erupted from his shaft, painting your velvety walls with his essence. He can feel each powerful spurt of his release, the sensation of his balls emptying inside you pushing him to even greater heights of ecstasy. The pleasure was almost too much to comprehend, the feeling of your hot, slick walls milking his cock for every last drop of his release sending him spiraling into a state of euphoria.

"Thank you, baby" he pants, struggling to catch his breath. "Thank you for letting me cum inside you"

"Is that so?" I chuckle, "want to really show me how thankful you are?"

Without telling him so, you slip out of his dick, cum still leaking from your legs, and place on top of him: on his face, even if he slightly struggles for air, keeping yourself held up on the headboard of his bed, barely putting any pressure on him.

"Then eat me, baby" you feel his hot breath against my folds, "reward me for riding your needy dick; wanna hear just how pussy starved you are"

Javier's eyes widened as you suddenly straddle his face, the scent and taste of your combined releases filling his nostrils and coating his tongue. He could feel the sticky essence, a mix of your arousal and his own cum, smearing across his cheeks as you ground your dripping core against his mouth.

Without hesitation, Peña dives in, his tongue delving between your folds to lap up the sensitive nub. He moans deeply, the vibrations rumbling through his chest and against your cunt.

"Mmm, fuck yes" he growls, his hands gripping your thighs tightly as he pulls you down harder against his face, savoring your sweet pussy that tastes like him too. "I'm starved for this pussy, baby, could eat this pretty little cunt for hours and never get enough"

Peña seals his lips around your clit, suckling the swollen bud as he fucks his tongue deeper inside. He can feel his cock twitching and hardening once more, the sensation of your dripping sex against his face and the taste of your releases on his tongue reigniting his desire.

You grind my hips up to meet his face, moaning loudly as he continues to devour your cunt. He looks up at you, mouth still glued to my pussy. His eyes are glassy and he's whimpering into your folds. The image alone makes your pussy gush.

"Sweet boy, keep going. Doing such a good job with your tongue" you moan while his hips buck into nothing in the air, "love how you eat me out"

Javier moans into your dripping pussy as you ground her hips against his face, the praise and encouragement spurring him on. Your juices flow freely, coating his chin until they drip down onto his chest.

"Love eating this perfect pussy. I fucking love the taste of you, the way you gush and quiver against my tongue. I could spend all day with my face buried between your thighs, worshipping this sweet cunt"

He could feel his own arousal growing, his cock hardening and throbbing as he lost himself in the act of pleasuring you.

Spurred on by your praising moans, he redoubled his efforts, sucking your clit hard as he plungs two fingers deep into your soaked cunt. He pumps them in and out, curling them to stroke that sensitive spot inside you.

"That's it, hermosa. Ride my face. Please, use me baby, please"

He can feel your thighs trembling on either side of his head, body tense as he brings you closer and closer to the edge. The thought of tasting your release, juices flooding his mouth, made his own arousal swell to painful proportions.

"Would you let me use your nose, papi? Wanna cum on your face, grind off of it" you say, but even if you ask for permission, you're already over it, riding it.

Javier lets out a muffled moan of approval as you begin to grind your dripping pussy more firmly against his nose, using it to stimulate your most sensitive spots. He can feel the sticky essence of your coupling smearing across his upper lip and coating his nostrils as you ride his face with increasing urgency.

"I want to feel you cumming, drenching my face with your sweet juices" he pleads. "Paint my fucking nose with your release, baby"

He could feel your thighs quaking and clenching around his ears, body tensing as you chase your rapidly approaching climax. The scent of your arousal is overwhelming, the sweet aroma filling his nostrils and clouding his mind with lust.

"That's it, baby. Fuck my nose, use it to make yourself cum," he urges. "Give it to me, y/n. Give me everything you have"

You grip the back of his head, pushing him down while grinding your wet pussy across his face. You feel yourself tightening your hold as you come against his mouth, Javier letting out a muffled cry of pure, unadulterated pleasure as he feels your fingers tangling and tugging demandingly.

"Then be a good boy and take it all"

"Yes, mami!" he gasps, the words vibrating deliciously against your soaked, sensitive flesh. "I'm your good boy. I'll take it all, every last drop"

Peña feels your pussy clench and spasm against his mouth, walls fluttering wildly as your climax crashes over you. He whines deeply, the sound drowned out by the gush of your release flooding his mouth and pouring over his chin. The taste of your arousal is as sweet as he imagined, intoxicating, exploding across his taste buds and sending a bolt of pure lust straight to his aching cock.

"You taste so fucking good, baby. So sweet and perfect" he pants, his voice hoarse. "I could drown in this pussy and die a happy man"

He feels your body shaking and trembling above him, hips still grinding weakly against his face. But you still have the strength to lace your fingers through his hair and pull his head back.

You can feel his dick barely grazing your ass, rock-hard again.

"Now swallow it, and I might help you with that" you slap his cock with your free hand. He bucks and jerks at the mix of sensations; the way you toy with him and tease him, only heightening his desperation and desire. "Be a good boy just as you've been. I want to see this throat swallowing it all"

You taut his neck and adam's apple with your nails, the pull exposing the vulnerable column of his throat. He can feel the sharp sting of the nails digging into his skin, the sensation sending a dark thrill of pain and pleasure racing down his spine.

"Yes, mami" his voice a low, submissive rasp. "I'll swallow every drop, just like a good boy"

He tilts his head back further, Adam's apple bobbing as he gulps and swallows, trying to obey. The taste of your cum coats his tongue and slides down his throat.

"Good boy" you praise, stroking and slapping his shaft, your eyes never leaving his.

"Fuck!" he cries out, his hips thrusting up to meet your hand.

He can feel his release swiftly approaching, the pressure in his balls growing to an unbearable level. The way you touch him, the taste of your release still lingering on his tongue... he's gone insane, and it's your fault the same man who took down the biggest druglord of the world is now reduced to a moaning mess.

"Please, mami" he begs, his tone desperate. "I need to cum so badly. Will you allow me?"

"Do it" you pant, "and don't hold back any cute cries coming from your lips"

With your permission granted, Javier's cock spams violently in your grip.

"Fuck, yes! I'm cumming so fucking hard, mami. Thank you, baby, thank you so much!"

Thick, hot ropes of cum explod from his cock, painting your hand and his own abdomen with his essence. His body convulses beneath you, muscles clenching and unclenching as his climax tears through him.

He gazes up at you, eyes hazy and mind fucked.

This newfound pleasure was almost too much to comprehend, a weird feeling of ecstasy he had never dreamed of. And it was you, of all people, who had made him come by rendering him to a whiny and needy submissive part of himself he didn't know.

"Thank you for letting me cum, mami" he pants, his voice a low, rough rasp. "I am forever in your debt, baby"

You giggle, laying down next to him, while pressing a soft kiss to his sweat glistening temple.

"Anytime" you reply, so sweet and simple, as if you hadn't completely ruined his life.

But well, wasn't he known for his love to get into places he shouldn't have?

dts: para @ann-gell u know i love u right? my mx valentine, xoxo. no autorizo que te sientas mal así que ten una cochinada ft. javier peñita, te la dedico con amors, my hot funny lovely friend ♡

[niiwa-angel]

I'll also add, there has only ever been 1 (one) interaction between Stella and Blitz, and it's the "Sorry, I fucked your husband" scene. Stella only cares about Blitz in the sense that he's so far down the social ladder that Stolas having any sort of relationship with him negatively reflects on her.

Contrary wise, we've seen Blitz and Octavia interact at least once, they spent a good portion of time nearby each other in Loo Loo Land, both agreed that they disliked Robo-Fizz, and Octavia has Blitz's number saved in her phone. Vice versa, Blitz has Octavia's number saved. Even during Sins-mas, Octavia and Blitz agree that Andrealphus getting his ass kicked by IMP would be "a bad look". Not only that, Stolas is very proud of his daughter, he mentions that Via is at her mother's when trying to invite Blitz inside after Ozzie's. Blitz has enough information to not only put a name to a face when it comes to Octavia, he's had enough interactions with her to have her number saved.

It's not that Blitz wants to completely shove Stella out of the picture, it's that Stella isn't really in his picture. Even if he doesn't really know Octavia, he knows she's important to Stolas. He understands that in the terms of a long term relationship with Stolas, Via is part of the package. The same way any long term relationship with Blitz involves Loona too. As flawed as Blitz's relationship with commitment may be, he is a devoted father to Loona and he expects the same from Stolas.

Furthermore, let's look at Blitz's character. Blitz is a character that desires a family, it's one of the few things from the pilot that didn't change. Blitz wants a family, he calls IMP a family, to the point of over involving himself in Millie and Moxxie's relationship. It's why he continues to push his way into Barbie's life and recovery, despite the nurse and Barbie saying that she doesn't want him there.

Blitz fantasizing about he, Stolas, Loona, and Via as a family isn't him trying to shove Stella out of the picture, it's him continuing to want a family.

What’s gross is that I bet you’re smarter than this, you just have a bizarre antagonistic parasocial relationship with Vivienne Medrano.

This critique is fundamentally flawed in its analysis, misinterpreting the narrative structure and character dynamics of Helluva Boss. Here’s a breakdown of why it doesn’t hold up:

1. The Claim About Blitz and Octavia:

The statement that Blitz “pretends Octavia’s mother never existed” grossly oversimplifies his behavior and motivations. Blitz’s struggles are rooted in his unresolved trauma and inability to form healthy relationships, not a deliberate erasure of Stella. Additionally, the idea that Stella is treated as a “nameless surrogate egg donor” is false. The show repeatedly acknowledges her presence, but she’s portrayed negatively because her actions (abusing Stolas, prioritizing status over family) make her an antagonist. This isn’t about erasing her but about exploring Stolas’s toxic marriage and its impact on Octavia.

2. The Misreading of Stella’s Character:

The critique argues that Vivienne “has to make the woman purely evil and unfeeling,” but Stella’s characterization is consistent with her role as an abusive partner and a foil to Stolas. Her lack of maternal care is a reflection of her values and personality, not an inherent “hatred of women.” Plenty of female characters in Helluva Boss are nuanced, compassionate, and strong (e.g., Millie, Loona, Octavia), disproving the claim of misogyny.

3. The Strawman Argument of “Gay Erotica”:

The scene where Blitz throws Stella out the window isn’t about her disliking “gay erotica.” It’s a comedic exaggeration that underscores the absurdity of the situation, fitting the show’s satirical tone. The focus isn’t on her gender but on the humor of the clash between her and Stolas.

4. The Daughters’ Reactions:

The daughters’ lack of mourning in the Christmas episode is a misinterpretation of the narrative focus. The scene is meant to emphasize Blitz’s moral growth, not delve into the daughters’ feelings. It’s also possible that the mom died quite some time ago and they have moved past actively mourning, but to assume they “don’t care” is reading into something the episode doesn’t explicitly address.

5. Accusation of Misandrist Themes:

Claiming that Vivienne portrays “gay men’s love as more pure” ignores the complexity of Stolas and Blitz’s relationship, which is far from idealized. Their love is messy, imperfect, and rooted in deep emotional baggage—hardly the pedestal the critique implies.

In summary, this critique misrepresents Helluva Boss by cherry-picking elements and ignoring context. The show’s nuanced exploration of flawed relationships, trauma, and humor-driven storytelling doesn’t align with the reductive and bad-faith interpretation presented here.

[lucy90712]

My valentine forver- Jude Bellingham

5 years old 

"Y/n I want to ask you something" Jude said as we were playing together during lunchtime 

"What is it Judey?" I asked 

"Will you be my valentine?" He asked 

"Sure but what's that" I said 

"I don't really know but my mummy and daddy keep talking about a Valentine's Day and being each others valentine so I guess it's just something best friends do" he said 

"Ok I'll be your valentine as long as you push me on the swings" I said 

"Deal let's go" he said grabbing my hand to help me up 

~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey sweetheart how was your day?" My mummy asked when she picked me up after school 

"It was good Jude asked me to be his valentine" I said 

"He did what?" She exclaimed 

"He said its something best friends do and he's my best friend so now we are each other's valentines" I said 

"That's exciting we'll have to talk to Jude's parents about that" she said 

9 years old 

For what feels like the first time in forever it's nice enough for us to be allowed outside at break time. Me and my friends all wanted to play football with the boys as they always think they are so good but we think we are just as good. There wasn't enough of us to make a full team to play the boys but we drew straws and organised ourselves into two teams. I ended up on the same team as Jude which is what I was secretly hoping for as we've played together before and we worked really well together so I was happy to get to play with him again. 

The years of friendship mean that Jude and I are pretty in tune with each other especially on a football pitch. Today was no different we didn't really need anyone else on our team as we both managed to run round the kids on the other team and pass back and forth until the ball went in the back of the net. It was so much fun but most importantly I was glad to make the other girls proud as maybe now the boys will take us seriously and let us play with them more often. Sadly we didn't get to gloat for too long as the bell rang meaning we had to go back to class. On the way back in I went to grab my water bottle but before I could Jude grabbed it for me as his was right next to mine.

"You played great out there you should really join a team" Jude said 

"My mum won't let me she says I can't do both football and dance and I'm committed to dance this year but maybe next year I'll do football" I said 

"Maybe you can join my club and we can play together" he said 

"That would be fun" I said 

"Wait y/n before we go into class I need to ask you will you be my valentine?" He asked 

"I'm sorry Jude I just don't like you like that I like being friends but that's it I'm sorry if that hurts your feelings" I said running off to go back into class 

Jude looked a little sad for the rest of the day which made me feel awful but I just don't like him that way in fact I don't like any boys that way because that's gross. I like our friendship we play together at school and he's taught me a lot about football but that's it nothing else. 

13 years old- Jude's POV 

Come on Jude you can do it. It's not that difficult just say the words. What's the worst that could happen. Well she could say no but she's done that before and I survived but this time it feels different we aren't 9 anymore and dating isn't something to be sneered at anymore. Being rejected now will probably hurt a lot more but I can't be thinking about that or else I'll chicken out for like the 5th time. 

I've had a crush on y/n for years but this past year it's only gotten worse. She's just so beautiful I can't stop myself from staring at her from across the room when we are in class together. I'm not the only one who has a crush on y/n all the guys in our year and even some in the year above are always talking about how pretty she is. I'm not as popular or as attractive as some of the guys who also like y/n but I'm hoping that after our many years of friendship she'll feel the same as me and if I can ask her first then I think I stand a good chance, at least that's what I'm telling myself. 

After school today we have football practice and y/n will be there as she plays with the team when she's allowed as the school doesn't have a girls team. I made sure to get changed quickly so I could be the first one out there so as soon as y/n was ready I could ask her out as we warm up. As she made her way outside she was talking to one of the other guys in the team Jack and she had a big smile on her face which isn't unusual but it did make me a little nervous. 

"Hey Jude" she said as she came over 

"Hi you seem extra happy today what's going on?" I asked 

"Jack just asked me out so we're going to go on a date this weekend as long as my parents let me but they like Jack so I'm confident" she said 

"Oh wow I didn’t know you liked him" I said trying not to give away my disappointment 

"I've liked him for a while but I never told anyone a I only ever get teased for saying I like anyone so I kept it to myself" she explained 

"Well I'm happy for you" I said completely lying 

It really broke my heart that she's with someone else but I really should've seen it coming she's the prettiest girl in school it was only a matter of time before someone asked her out. That doesn't mean it hurts any less but I'll get over it and at least we are still friends even if she can't be my girlfriend I can still hang out with her. 

15 years old - Your POV 

Maybe love just isn't for me. I've been with two guys over the last few years and both have cheated on me with one of my friends so I've lost a lot of friends but luckily I still have Jude. Since all the drama I spend a lot more time with him as I know he won't betray me and there's no drama surrounding him which is exactly what I want I don't care about being popular and having lots of friends anymore I just want true friends. I call Jude my friend but that's not really how I feel about him after spending more time together I realised that I truly enjoy Jude's company in a way I've never enjoyed being around anyone else. I'm not entirely sure when my feelings started to change but it must've been before my last boyfriend cheated on me as it hurt but I wasn't as upset as the first time because I just wasn't as emotionally attached anymore. 

I've had many chances to tell Jude how I feel but I just haven't been able to make myself do it. I'm not stupid I know there was a time when pretty much all of the guys in school had a crush on me Jude included but I don't know if he feels the same now. He used to get awkward around me which is what gave him away but he doesn't act like that anymore which makes me think that he doesn't like me that way anymore. Jude has been such a good friend to me since we were 5 but especially the last few years we are always together whether it be at lunchtime in school or kicking a ball around down the park at the weekend. I value our friendship so much that I can't bring myself to tell Jude how I feel, the possible rejection isn't worth our friendship to me.

I've put my feelings aside for a few months now but as it's approaching Valentine's Day and I hear my friends talking about that their boyfriends are doing for them it makes me a little sad and maybe a little jealous that I don't have that with Jude. In a completely genius move I'm spending the next few days with Jude helping him get some extra training in as he's playing a big match soon and he wants to play well and he likes to test his skills against me. Our plan is to go straight from school to the park where they have football pitch we can play around on until it gets dark. 

~~~~~~~~~~

"You're going to do great in that match you are definitely too much for me to be able to keep up with" I said 

"You're still coming back from injury though" he said 

"You still beat me fair and square like a million times trust me you've got this" I said 

"Do you have any plans Sunday?" He asked out of nowhere 

"Thats Valentine's Day right definitely no plans for that day" I laughed trying to make a joke of how sad my love life has been 

"Then would you like to go on a date with me?" He asked 

"What" I said completely in shock 

"That was stupid I'm sorry forget I ever said that" Jude panicked 

"No I would love to go on a date with you the question just took me by surprise I had no idea you still felt that way about me" I said 

"Wait, still you knew I had feelings on you" he said 

"Yeah you weren't exactly subtle a few years ago but now you are definitely better at hiding your feelings I had no idea you still liked me" I explained 

We laughed about it before actually planning our date after texting our parents to make sure they'd be willing to take us and make the reservation at the restaurant we wanted to go to for us as we aren't actually old enough to do that. On the way home from the park I couldn't stop smiling thinking about going on a date with Jude after all these years of friendship and feelings on both sides but never at the same time. When we got to my house Jude grabbed my hand and leaned in to kiss my cheek which made me blush like I've never blushed before but it felt right being with Jude in this way. 

19 years old 

I'd have never guessed that the airport would be so busy on Valentine's Day but I guess it makes sense with people going away or going to visit long distance partners which is what I'm doing so I guess I'm part of the problem. Since Jude went to Germany our relationship has changed quite a lot but we are still just as happy as before. Originally I was supposed to move with him and join Dortmund's women's team but I tore my acl over a year ago and haven't been able to play again since so instead I opted to go to university instead. Last year we couldn't be together to celebrate so we had a date over FaceTime but this year I'm surprising Jude as he has no idea I'm coming. With the help of some of his teammates who I knew well from coming to visit as much as I can I've planned dinner at a nice restaurant and then we are going to a show at a nearby theatre but most importantly I'm going to Jude's apartment to wait for him to come home from training to surprise him with it all. 

My flight landed a bit late but I got through the airport quickly so I managed to get to the apartment with about half an hour to spare before Jude is due home. I spent my time freshening up a bit and setting out the presents I got him on the coffee table. When I heard him opening the door I got up and ran to hide somewhere to really make it a surprise. He came in and saw what I'd left for him on the coffee table and started to read the card which is when I came out from the room I was hiding in and snuck up until I could sit next to him. I managed to make him jump then he just stared at me and didn't say anything. 

"What are you doing here?" He asked when he was able to speak 

"I thought I'd come and surprise you as we didn't get to spend valentines together last year" I said 

"I've missed you so much I'm so happy you're here" he said 

"I'm here for a few days so we can spend plenty of time together but tonight I have things planned for us so we need to get ready in an hour" I said 

"What have you planned?" He asked 

"We are going to dinner at that restaurant that you said is really nice and then afterwards we are going to the local theatre to watch a show" I said 

"That sounds amazing I'm so impressed you've managed to pull this off" he said 

"I had a bit of help so hopefully it all goes to plan" I said 

"As long as I get to be with you it doesn't matter what goes wrong I'll have a good time" he said 

21 years old - present day 

The last year or so has been a rollercoaster once Jude moved to Madrid and settled in I joined him to do my masters degree instead of staying home for another year. Because of all this last year we didn't celebrate valentines at all really as Jude was away for a game and I had exams but this year he's promised me he's going to go all out to make up for it. I have no classes today so Jude booked appointments for me to get my hair, nails and makeup done so all I have to do is pick an outfit when I get home which is already a lot but he made sure to make it clear that this is only the beginning. 

My first appointment was my hair appointment so I just got a trim and got it styled then came makeup which I left up to the makeup artist as she definitely knows better than I do. I already looked so much better just after that but I still had one more appointment. Jude remembered where I like to go to get my nails done so he booked the appointment with the girl I always go to so we got to catch up as it's been a while since I've had someone other than me do my nails. Usually I have ideas of what I want to do but this time I didn't so she suggested some someone French tips so that's what we did. My nail girl is good but today she took extra care in making sure they were perfect and wouldn't let me leave until she was happy but it was so worth it. 

After all of my appointments I felt really good about myself even more so when I got home and got dressed in the dress I decided I wanted to wear. Jude also put on his outfit which he looked so good in so I insisted that we take pictures together before we leave as we never both look this good one of us is always having a bad hair day so we have to take advantage of both feeling good about ourselves. After taking pictures Jude told me we needed to leave as there was a car waiting outside for us which was I was expecting to just be an Uber or something but it was actually a really fancy car. The driver greeted us and offered us glasses of champagne which is definitely not what I was expecting but Jude did say he was going to go all out so I should've seen it coming. 

The car took us to a really nice restaurant which surprisingly wasn't too busy despite it being Valentine's Day. The place was definitely decked out for the occasion as there were candles on all the tables and lots of roses all around including a few rose petals on each table. Dinner was lovely all of the food was amazing and we had a great time but that wasn't all Jude had planned so we got back into the car which took us to this beautiful park in the city. As it was dark no one else was around so we walked around for a bit and then made our way to the big lake in the middle of it. 

I was enjoying the view looking at the reflection of the moon in the water when I felt Jude's hand slip out of mine so I looked over to see if he was ok. When I did I saw him down on one knee holding a ring box. I really didn't expect Jude to propose tonight so I was shocked but also incredibly happy as he truly is the love of my life so getting married to him is something I've dreamed of a lot. Jude grabbed one of my hands while my other one went to wipe the tears that were falling down my face completely out of my control. 

"Y/n since we met when we were little kids we've had a connection that I've never experienced with anyone else and when we started dating I realised I was the luckiest person on earth get to be with my best friend and soulmate now I think it's time to ask if you'll marry me and be my valentine forever" he said 

"Y-yes of course I'll marry you" I managed to stutter out as he slid the ring on my finger

"Thank god I was so nervous you'd say no" he laughed 

"Why would I ever say no" I said 

"I don't know I was just worried you'd think this is too much or a bit corny to do it on Valentine's Day but this day has been important throughout our relationship so it felt fitting to get engaged on the day we had our first date all those years ago" he said 

"Its perfect it means so much to me that you thought so much about it that's what I really care about" I said 

"I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you" he said 

"Me too" I smiled 

[kenziexoxoxo]

Valentines day for everyone I write for lord help me

Warnings: this is pure smut no real plot this is also gonna be a lot of words enjoy and happy valentines day 😉 @schumi-angel he's somewhere in here he's towards the middle 😭

John Dutton: John is a man of simple pleasures he isn't one for buying into the valentines day shit. So his gift to you is a day in bed with his head between your thighs. "Fuck daddy yes." You moaned your back arching off the bed as John's God send of a tongue worked you over for the umpteenth time that day. He looked up at you his face covered in your arousal kissing your thigh. "Happy valentines day Darlin'."

Lee Dutton: Lee's a passionate man he loves to make sure you know how much he fucking loves you. The day starts out with slow love making then throughout the day he follows you around the ranch like a lost puppy as John gave him the day off to spend with you. That night he takes you to some fancy ass restaurant. He wore a suit which was a rare site but it was like catnip to you. You're both lucky you made it back to the ranch before you pounced on his ass. "I think I need to wear a suit more often." He teased as you rode him nails scratching down his chest the bed creaking under you two. You gave him a look which made him chuckle before he buried his face in your tits.

Ryan: He had no idea what to do for you. He wanted your first valentines day to be special so he asked your father John what the fuck he should which John just smacked him in the back of the head and said "she's your woman figure it out yourself boy." So he took ya for a long horse back ride through the fields even though there was snow on the ground and you froze your tits off. Once you got back you both decided to 'warm up'. A loud banging was heard on her door as her father's voice drifted through the door. "Ryan for fucks sake do not get her pregnant."

Jaime Dutton: Jamie was working on his campaign on valentines day which pissed you off so what'd you do you went to his campaign office in a trench coat with nothing on underneath. You walked past Christina glaring her down as you walked towards Jamie's office opening the door even though Christina was saying he was busy. Jamie looked up seeing you come in he smiled you lock the door and un tied the trench coat letting it fall to the floor. "Now you can keep working or take me home and fuck me senseless." She said hands on her hips. Jamie's jaw dropped let's say he broke the speed limit to get you home.

Kayce Dutton: Kayce hated valentines day thinking it was a waste of time he loved you and showed you every day so he treated it like any other day which made you a little sad his father John had noticed and smacked some sense into Kayce a hard smack to the back of the head does wonders. You were sitting in yours and Kayce's room when he came in tail tucked between his legs. "Listen baby I'm sorry it's just another day to me." He said getting down on his knees as he pushed up your skirt he had many a ways to make it up to you most of it had to do with his face between your thighs.

Anthony Bridgerton: Anthony the dirty basatrd has the day planned out start to finish there's only one thing he wants and it's you naked in bed. He definitely got his way. You woke up to the feeling of someone sucking on your clit you had told Anthony he could wake you up like this as it was fun. You opened your eyes lifting the sheet and blankets to see Anthony's face buried deep between your thighs eating like a stared man. Hearing the blankets move he looked up mumbling a 'good my love happy valentines day.' Against your clit before going back to work.

Benedict Bridgerton: Benedict wasn't sure what he wanted to do but then an idea struck him. Painting you in the nude. He barely out the outline done on his canvas as you decided to tease him slipping your fingers between your thighs and playing with your clit making your back arching off the chaise lounge he had you laying on. The painting was very much forgotten very fast as your moans graced his ears.

Sebastian Vettel: Sebastian was in another country for valentines day as he had a meeting with his team but he made it up to you when he got home he barely made it through the door before bending you over the back of the couch and slamming into you.

Ayrton Senna: Ayrton being Brazilian was an amazing lover both in and out of the sheets. He had taken you to a small island so to not be disturbed as he worshiped your body. He mapped out your body with his tongue having you a moaning mess in seconds.

Alain Prost: Alain decided to get a nice bottle of wine and take you out to the French countryside. In a little cottage he got a couple years ago as a way to hide from the crazy fans. You two got into the bottle of wine and not a spot in that little cottage was not used as a spot to fuck the kitchen counter, the stairs, the bed, the bathroom, the living room there was not a spot that didn't see your naked sweaty bodies.

James Hunt: James oh boy James was excited any day he could spoil you extra without people giving him dirty looks he fucking loved. Today was no different he spoiled you beyond belief. The day ended in your favorite way on all fours with James pounding into you like a feral animal cigarette in his mouth as he fucked you.

Niki Lauda: After Niki's accident he'd become self conscious and hadn't really wanted to be intimate. You were dying to have your husband again. He got back from a meeting with Ferrari and you were waiting for him in a little lace set. He felt a tent form in his pants immediately. You got down on your knees unzipping his pants. "Baby I-" He cut himself off as he moaned from your mouth wrapping around him forgetting about everything else besides fucking you again.

Daniel Riccardo: Danny Ric loves a good laugh so he spends most of his day making you laugh and smile before he has you begging you to cum. "Please Danny please I've been a good girl." You moaned your ass in the air as he ploughed into you from behind. He smirked smacking your ass. "Yes you have but hold on a little longer." He said his thick long Australian fingers coming in contact eith your clit.

Kimi Raikkonen: Kimi although called the ice man is a man who loves and worships his girl. He is not one for holidays though so he treats it as any other day till that night where he'll take melted chocolate and drizzle it over your body licking you clean.

Toto Wolff: Toto is a man who loves to spend money epically on his woman. It's start out small a little gift in the morning and just get bugger and bigger till he probably bought whatever car you wanted and is now fucking you in said car. "Toto yesssss." You moaned as sat in the passenger seat in Toto's lap riding him. The car shaking ad his face was buried in your tits.

Mika Hakkinen: Mika being Finnish isn't one for showing a lot of emotion or talking a lot not unless it's you then he'll talk your ear off. He made sure the day was special his gift to you was finally agreeing to having a baby. "Yeah you want my babies don't you." He growled in your ear as he pounded into you.

Jenson Button: JB loves valentines day and goes all the way out there and I mean out there. Chocolates, flowers, jewelry you name it he gets it. His favorite thing is to fuck you with the new jewelry he bought you watching it shine in the light as he pounded into you.

Lance Stroll: Being a billionaire has its perks one of them is home being able to spoil you rotten whenever the fuck he wants and epically on valentines day. He bought you a new remote controlled vibrator and decides to use it during you fancy Italian dinner in Italy as he flew you guys out for the day. He turned up the the intensity making you squirm and roll your lips together as the vibrations got worse and worse trying to keep your body still as you looked right into hisneyes as you came.

Nico Rosberg: Nico took you to Monaco where he wined and dined you all night and made you feel like the most special woman in the world. The night carried on back at his place as he fucked you against the huge window that over looked the street people below having no idea you were getting railed. "You like this don't you having the chance someone will look up and see you getting fucked yeah you're so wet."

Oscar Piastri: Although he is a quiet man he sure does love to show you how mich he loves you and today is no different he decides to spend his day in between your thighs. "Are *moan* you gonna do this all day?" You asked while arching your back off the bed. Oscar only nodded continuing his work.

Lando Norris: Lando had a full day of being in bed having you in every position he can. He had you in the snail position going as fast as he can his curls a mess all over his forehead. He growled as he came deep inside you. "I hope you end up pregnant." He whispered in your ear before flipping you for doggy style.

Mark Webber: Mark wanted to spend the whole day between your thighs that's what he wanted for valentines day giving you aussie kisses 😉. He was merciless going at it for hours barely letting you calm down before he started up again the perfect gift for him.

Franco Colapinto: Franco was something else he woke you up giving you mate. The day went on and he gave you little gifts all day long. Till that night when he gave you the best gift he proposed so the night ended with you two tangled in your shared sheets him slamming his hips against yours making the most lewd noises he could knowing how much you love when he's vocal.

François Cevert: The Frenchman is a bit of a master of valentines day. The day starts with your favorite flowers and candies before he treats you to an amazing breakfast on bed which turns into slow love making as he whispers praises in your ear. As the day goes on he loves up on you a lot saying he just wants you to feel special on valentines day. Then once the sun sets he has you pinned down in bed the French doors open to let in a nice breeze from the south of France air as he slams his hips into yours in the most delicious way.

Lewis Hamilton: Lewis loves to leave hickies so that's how your day is spent him aucking your skin till it was deep purple pretty much with his marks he even hickied a LH44 down your spine as his hands kneeded your ass.

Carlos Sainz: *smooth operator plays softly in the background* Carlos made sure the day was extra special with pancakes in bed beautiful red roses and slow love making. Smooth operator played in the background as he timed his thrusts with the music. "Feel so good mi amor."

Charles Leclerc: Charles spent most of the day trying to make it perfect for you but like Ferrari's strategy it went out the window. So you two opted to just stay inside and enjoy each other and then welcomed your first child together that November.

Michael Schumacher: Michael was excited for valentines day with you this year why you ask cause he had the whole day planned for you two. He had bought you a matching set in red having you parade around the house in only that all day long before ripping it off you and fucking you dumb. "Yesss daddy right there." You said withering under Michael as he pounded into you he felt himself get harder when you called him daddy.

Jack Doohan: Jack was never much of a romantic never really having been in a relationship besides his ex gf but that was toxic relationship so nothing he did for valentines day was right so he went all out for you hoping he'd get at least one thing right. But your favorite gift was having him all to yourself for a day and getting to cuddle and then fuck till your little hearts content.

Fernando Alonso: Fernando was definitely a Spanish lover through and through your day was filled with sweet love making and amazing food. His favorite putting chocolate on your body and little cut up strawberries so he could lick and eat them off you.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs: Gibbs is very old fashioned so he bought you red roses and chocolates you two soent the evening in his basement building his boat. Since he had to work that day as always but he made sure he took a lunch break to have lunch with you. And once you both got more and more frisky he fucked you up against the boat.

Tim McGee: Tim wrote you a love letter and left it for you as he had to work. But once he got home his attention was all on you and making you feel good. His long fingers working you over time and time again till you were a blabbering mess.

Dwayne Pride: Dwayne kinda sucked at valentines day but he was trying just for you. He woke you up by covering you in kisses. He kissed every inch of your body like he was trying to mark it to memory so he could never forget you it lead to his face being buried between your thighs for hours.

Kevin Costner: Yours and Kevin's valentines day was spent with you in labor and giving birth to your first child and his 8th. You had started to lactate and while the baby was sleeping you became engorged and he decided to help you out. "Fuck thank you." You moaned as his lips sucked helping relieve some of the pressure in your tits his hips rutted against the bed as he tasted your milk.

Glen Powell: Glen loved to cook so he made you breakfast in bed before taking and making slow and sweet love to you before having to go to set to film.

Ian Bohen: Ian was in the middle of filming the next season of Yellowstone so you two had a little phone sex date instead of seeing each other rin person both finishing together over FaceTime.

Wes Bentley: Wes was a passionate man and loved to fuck you hard and slow epically on valentines day. He soent the day worshipping your body in every way he physically could.

Mike Dodds: Mike had to work most of the day so he didn't get home till late but he was in his dress blues which you loved and almost pounced on him as he walked into the house he handcuffed you as he pounded into you like a mad man.

Silco: Silco was not one for holidays that included valentines day he could careless but he will say he does love the fact that your wore something skimpy that day he watched you all day in a short little skirt and crop top wanting to just bend you over and fuck you so that's what he did he locked his office door and you were bent over having his cock shoved in you in seconds.

[yimpysdiner]

Ridiculously long analysis of Jimmy's dialogue (PART 2)

PART 1 HERE Continuing with the next section,

Mimicking?

The whole ordeal of Jimmy copying Curly's "yeah?" in speech has already been pointed out, but there's something else I wanted to look into. This section is gonna be relatively short but this interaction still sticks with me. It's fairly easy to miss as you can brush it off but given Jimmy often repeats words or phrases from those around him I find it interesting.

This interaction was so awkward that it has me thinking about it over and over so honestly this may be one big nothing burger and more so headcanon territory but hear me out.

Jimmy gets quiet here as either 1, he expects them all to die on that ship as he said before crashing it or 2, he's terrified of any sort of attention their whole ordeal may get if they survive. The awkward silence is only filled by him commenting on ladies. Daisuke is no stranger to talking about "beach babes" and as Swansea puts it, "thinking with his downstairs long-nose." Honestly, Jimmy is a scumbag and gross around women, but I don't think this is the sort of situation where he cares to be impressing any ladies. This reads to me as him trying to "fit in" with Daisuke in a way. The way he often mimics people and says things they'd relate to defuse situations and get on their good sides feels like a form of masking. I'm no professional, no idea what in specific this would be, but Jimmy strikes me as the kind of guy who finds it really difficult to positively navigate a lot of social situations, especially if he feels uneasy like he was here. This parts super rambly sorry, this is just something interesting about him to me, how he'll latch on to other people's personality traits and mirror them.

Lashing out

We all already know Jimmy's not a very stable guy, very small things irritate him, he has levels to his anger however.

His base line irritation is just little remarks like this, things that you would scratch your head at but they're small so you can't quite bring them up. It's not completely aggressive, but it's definitely not very friendly either

I won't shove all the same screenshots of him lashing out during the birthday party here, but there he only lashes out in front of everyone else when he's able to make it seem like he's in the right. He insults everyone to their faces, but he's able to pin all the blame on Curly, letting out his anger while also in some sort of way getting people on his "side." Here he's *already* sewing seeds of doubt about Curly into the other's mind, so his little plan to blame Curly for the crash later on only works out all the more in his favor.

Then there's moments like when he's giving Curly his pills. He isn't exactly yelling, more so going on with his angry, paranoid rambles. This of course is followed by the implication he beats Curly while feeding him his painkillers, physically taking out his anger on someone who can't fight back. Side note, the only times he ever gets physical is when they're in a position of being unable to fight back (drugging Swansea, the implied drugging of Anya, and of course when Curly is left defenseless.)

I believe this is the first instance of Jimmy actually full on yelling while having one of his tantrums, which is why I say his anger is written in levels. It's not all one flat base of him cussing like a sailor and screaming his head off, remembering this and *what* exactly makes him tick helps me when deciding how I should write him reacting to certain situations. There's other instances where he's clearly panicked and flustered, stuttering and rambling because of high stress situations such as when Daisuke is on the brink of death and it's all his fault, which we'll get to later.

Hopelessness

Something I noticed when going back through everything is Jimmy seems completely and utterly hopeless about everything in his life. It starts out in the cockpit scene, one of the very few times he's genuinely vulnerable.

This line initially just seems like Jimmy is some power tripping guy who likes being the right hand man to the Captain, which is entirely possible (and true, given how quick he is to assume the Captains role himself), but it leads me to suspect something else as well.

These are out of order, but I think like this is better demonstrates Jimmy has never really felt the sense of control over his life like he has until he got this gig with Curly. He feels comfortable like this, which is why Curly wanting to "throw it all away" in his eyes baffles him. I really wish the devs gave some insight to what Jimmy's life on Earth was, why *he* ran from it all to assume a position where he felt he was finally in the drivers seat.

When Jimmy is faced with the reality of what he's done, his first worry is when he gets back home, he'll be caged in the same position he was, back at square one with no control over his life, rotting in a prison. Even if he did get out, as he said, none of it will matter, not with an assault on his permanent record. Maybe he held onto hope that he and Curly would find something new to do, but because he made the choice to force himself on Anya, that'll never happen. His knee jerk reaction to that? Kill himself. Kill himself and take everyone down with him, because if he's not in control, he may as well be dead. "The Tulpar crew was never found."

Remorse

Jimmy isn't entirely uncaring for what he's done. He suffers delusions for each and every one of the people he fucked over, all except Anya. Instead, he sees visions of the child he created, the ever looming reminder of what he did, no matter how hard he tried to block out Anya from his mind, it will always, always haunt him. Him crying to Curly and pleading forgiveness from someone who can't properly give it to him anymore is already a sort of in your face scene, that and the scenes with the horse delusions.

I want to talk about Daisuke and Swansea actually, as he had a much more direct role in their ends. In his mind he can say, oh, Curly ran in and did that to himself, oh, Anya swallowed those pills and did that to herself. It's Daisuke and Swansea who show up more broadly as themselves in his delusions as he was the sole reason for their passing. As Daisuke is dying, he is incredibly distressed the entire time.

Daisuke being so prominent in his mind has always struck me as interesting, seeing him in the vent, a grave, in the graveyard, all the flowers, the real genuine panic when trying to fix what he did. He never wanted him to die, he obviously feels immense guilt in making him crawl through that vent.

As for Swansea, Swansea can read him like a book, and he lets Jimmy know exactly what he thinks of him before he's shot and killed. He appears in the graveyard with Jimmy, also leaving a lasting impact on Jimmy's psyche.

To say Jimmy feels nothing over what he's done, or that he wouldn't care about people dying or anything like that is wrong on so many levels when the entire last half of the game focuses on him having to literally fight his own demons. It all culminates into him saying he fixed everything, deluding himself into being a hero as some sort of final comfort to his broken mind before he offs himself, "saving" Curly after dismembering him as if that makes up for all his wrongdoings. Jimmy is so layered and interesting and human, and that's what makes him a fantastically written character. It's what allows you to see yourself in him and reflect, see those insecurities he harbors, those toxic traits he exhibits, every little ugly part of him meant to be a mirror to your own actions. Denying him his humanity and making him an emotionless, aggressive, constantly angry person strips him of everything he's meant to be.

Sorry for the huuuuge yapsesh, but I thought going over these would be fun, it also helps me keep my characterization of him as accurate as I can possibly make it. If you have any thoughts let me know!!! I am very very invested in him and I love to hear what others think of him, even if I may agree or disagree.

[xylatox]

Finally getting to read the other fics of this event!!Another Raya fic and it's Choi Beomgyu no less, going to fight for my life (bias wrecker Gyu 😭). I am of course, very excited.

Writing this sentence after I fixed up the review and holy moly, I'm sorry it's so long!

I absolutely love a good red string au, it taps into my romantic side so bad. 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. — like this is exactly why I love this trope, to be destined to have someone to love and receive love from in such an unconditional way just puts me at ease.

The universe doesn’t make mistakes. And yet, your hands remained... stringless.— of course for right now that isn't the case for reader :( but I'm looking forward to how this will unravel.

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? — I feel like Raya took my thoughts here, especially the first line😭 like how does love do that. I've always seen love where it seems more one-sided, falls apart later down or doesn't seem to exist in hard times, so I've always wanted/wondered of the existence of such an unconditional type of love.

"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." — that's so, uncalled for😭 like as reader said she's just pointing out a fact but damn, maybe I'm a bit to sensitive lmfao.

Raya's change in POV will always be my favorite transition and I will die on that hill. It brings back memories of The Last Safe Place which was ironically also an idol!Gyu fic. I love that without fail, amidst the business, Gyu always wishes to meet reader, it's so sweet.

I love that the doctor reassures reader and the concept of there being therapy for things like this warms my heart. Lee Heesung cameo omg I did not expect this (so I love with him ugh). It's so disheartening tho that the reaction to idols having soulmates seems possible and that hurts, like theyre people too yknow?

“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.” — I love Da-hee so much, she's so real for this. I do love that reader isn't a MOA though, it somehow makes her future bond with Gyu even sweeter. And the fact that reader unknowingly picks Gyu's picket😭😭😭 they are so destined and her getting his photocard further solidifies it I'm going to fucking sob.

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. — Soobin :(((( I'm going to sob this is so cute, it makes me so excited

And they have the bond ugh😭😭😭😭😭I'm going to throw up😭😭😭 — 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. — oh my god ugh.

I love that this POV change goes a bit before the moment and we see the boys thoughts on everything pertaining to soulmates and how hard it is for them as idols to deal with that considering society's response.

God, I love Gyu's entire reaction to them being soulmates, it's so endearing. 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. — this is so cute and I love how it makes him nervous for the concert now :(((.

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. — this is so cute I'll pass out. Him and reader are so cute your honor, I love them do much like the interactions are so cute I genuinely have no other words.

Love that Soobin kinda realizes something was up in the moment and ahhh :((( Gyu asking him I'll cry. I love that Da-hee is that supportive if a friend that she's so moved to cry for you (like same) but it's so endearing how much their friendship means to them.

Their first interaction:(( I feel so damn soft—"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.—god they're so awkward I love it :(( I think they're so cute I want to keep them in my pocket. I just love the idea of them not knowing anything about each other especially since ready wasn't a fan before so it feels so much more genuine.

The message he sends her after😭😭 I was wondering the significance behind the 315 roses and then I just fucking sobbed oh my god, may this kind of love find everyone😭 I'm so giggly lol, I love how cute Gyu reacts when she sends him a message during live God this is adorable.

Yall really do love causing me pain huh? Some people really are insane like, going that length to harass Gyu's soulmate??? Like he's glowing and happy let them live :(( The angst has fully kicked in and the only thing I feel is sick but best girl Da-hee coming to the rescue, she's such an empathic friend I actually love her so much, she's such a well written character.

I actually love how it was discussed from Gyu's perspective with everyone. Like their manager assuming reader asked him to choose when she in fact rather sacrifice the relationship for his job shows how much she loves him and the fact that he would trade it all for her is so heartwarming. "Because your words could never hurt me as much as your leaving does." — may this love find us wtf. I've been told before that my words will push people away (even if I'm being honest with no intention to hurt) and often times voicing your opinion or just trying to do the best for others comes off differently to them, but I hope everyone is able to receive a response like this in their life. To be loved really is an amazing thing.

Trying to go out my comfort zone this year and comment on smut because I always get shy/embarrassed but oh my god —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. — this is absolutely everything.

“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." — Raya, I AM GOING SO INSANE RN, running laps in my head rn.

He's so reassuring to reader too, that's so hot oh my god. —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. — brb crying my eyes out again.

The moment I saw the title of the fic oh my god, my chest tightened, I gasped and a tear fell. I always love when titles are integrated into fics with significance like this.

I love that they met each others parents and reader and Da-hee met the members it's so cute, and reader using Gyu's nickname that his dad used omg crying.

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.— Raya this caught me so off guard that I am sobbing so hard, a reference to The Last Safe Place and The Slow Surrender, you are absolutely insane oh my god.

This was so good Raya omg😭😭 I will always be so happy that ive read every fic you've published thus far and I always love to see how you'd grow with each fic and you never fail to surprise me, I absolutely loved this.

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

[mercurysmicrowave]

Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice

Pair: Nanami Kento x reader x Toji Fushigiro

Wc~3.5k

Includes: Tooth rotting fluff, polyamorous relationship, mentions of sex but no smut, not proofread

Kento has found your behavior to be odd the past few days. He comes home, and you're always somewhere else. Don't get him wrong. He loves the one-on-one time he gets with Toji. The two rarely have moments where they can enjoy each other's presence. And Toji was definitely taking advantage of the situation. Kento wasn't even able to step through the front door. Toji would swing the door open, greet Kento with a smirk, and whisk him away to the bedroom.

With how loud the two men were, it made it easy for you to sneak in and out of the house without being noticed. It also helped that after the multiple rounds, Kento was properly fucked out and sleeping on Toji's arm.

And that's exactly what happened at this moment. Once the moaning had stopped for three minutes, then started again for sixteen minutes, then stopped for another ten, you were sure that Toji's half of the plan was finished. You creaked the door open. Toji was skillfully moving his arm from under Kento and instead placing a pillow for the tired salaryman. Toji put his clothes back on and joined you in the hallway.

"How long do we have?" You whispered.

Toji laughs. "If we wanted, we could be out all night, and he wouldn't notice." He puffs his chest, proud of his work.

"Yeah, well, sometimes we can only go one round because I'm just that good," You replied smugly.

"Right," Toji ruffles your hair. "But it ain't a competition sweets...even though he'd never be satisfied with one round." Your eye twitches. You'd show him how great one round with you could be. You shake your head. Not now. Now it's time to get to carry out what you've been working on for weeks. Well, not exactly, it could've been done in a day, but you and Toji love messing with Kento. He's so fun to tease.

Toji shows off the car keys he took from Kento, and together, the two of you take Kento's car on a little joyride.

It's around 7pm when Kento wakes up. He groans as he sits up in bed. He looks beneath him, shocked that Toji isn't there. Why isn't Toji there? Kento can't help how his heart picks up pace. He closes his eyes to think. This doesn't help, as now he is acutely aware of the lack of noise in the house. Why was everything so quiet? He goes to grab his glasses on the nightstand. He feels around for a bit, and although he does find his glasses, his keys aren't where they usually are. Alarms go off in his head. He can barely keep himself upright(Toji would claim this was because of him, but truly it was fear that had struck him) as he gets out of bed and struggles to put on clothes. He holds onto the wall as he walks out of his room. His mouth seems dry, and he can't bring himself to call out to you or Toji. What if he didn't get a response back. As he gets closer to the end of the hallway, his nose scrunches up as putrid scent hits him.

"Dammit, Toji!" You yell. "The box said ten minutes"

"But we made two servings! That means double the time to cook!" You and Toji are quickly opening up windows and fanning the area. Kento let out a sigh of relief before his legs finally gave out and he fell to the floor.

"Kento!""Ken"! You and Toji stop what your doing and move to help Kento stand up.

"You're here," Is all he can say. You and Toji look to each other.

"Duh," Toji responds. You flick his head.

Kento shakes his head. "I woke up and you weren't there...and my keys were gone" He pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Sorry, Ken," You say. "We were gonna wake you up with cookies and brownies, but someone never learned to count." You glare at Toji.

"It's still edible," Toji argues.

"We can't serve that to him," You lift up Kento's face and squish it with one hand. "Look at him. If one more thing goes wrong, he'll die."

Toji rolls his eyes. He takes Kento from you and holds him in his arms "Right. Guess we'll have to go with plan B" You salute Toji and race to the master bathroom.

"Keep me company while their gone?" Toji asks. Kento nods and let's Toji carry him to the living room. Sat on the couch, Toji turns on the TV. The two men embrace each other as the watch the first thing to come one.

It doesn't take long for you to shout from the bathroom. "IT'S ALL READY!"

"There's my cue," Toji turns off the TV. "Up we go." He carries Kento to where you are. Kento's room-well at this point it was everyones room- was covered in rose petals. You had no restraint when it came to decorating. Toji carries Kento into the bathroom. The lights are dimmed, and the tub is lined with lavender scented candles. The tub is filled with bubbles and hot water. You smile, waiting for Kento's reaction. He stares shocked. He looks to Toji, then back to you.

"Happy Aniversary!" You and Toji day in unison.

[lifeafterpsychiatry]

(tw for alcohol use, feel free to ignore if it might be a trigger for you)

I think I might have an alcohol problem. I don't drink daily, but usually 2-3 times a week and it's heavy enough to make me stumble a little most of the time. I can never just have one drink. It was once just for fun but now it's also helping me cope with shit going on in my day to day life, and to pop open a few beverages at the end of a long day is something I look forward to immensely, so much so that I find myself drinking more than I originally intended, or I'll have some days with repeated thoughts of just popping open a cold one and getting very drunk. I'm trying to limit my consumption so I don't become an alcoholic, but it's hard when life is cruel and alcohol makes me feel so light and carefree. I don't know what to do, and I'm not asking for advice so much as a listening ear. I have a family history of substance abuse on both sides and I'm kinda scared right now. But when I can drink at the end of the day I feel like for a while everything's good and I love that respite in my life, when I don't have to deal with all the shit people throw at me. I wish I at least had a friend to drink with and socialize, but Im always drinking alone in the middle of the night and hoping to feel floaty and numb. It's hard to deal with. I'm going to hold out hope for the future though and know that life will go on. Trying to remember that I'll get out of this (and the sooner the better so I don't become dependent, if I'll listen to my own conscience) fortunately it hasn't impacted my life (yet) other than just spending a little too much on drinks or drinking one more than I should.

Sorry for the long ramble but thanks for reading if you have <3

I struggle with addiction myself (though not to alcohol) and here's a couple things I've learned along the way:

Even considering that you might be an addict is a really important and hard first step to take. I'm proud of you!

Addiction isn't limited to having a physical dependency which requires daily upkeep. There is also the concept of psychological addiction, which is more about how and why you engage with a certain substance than whether you're physically dependent on it yet. And refusing to face the question of addiction because you don't drink/do drugs daily will only escalate the issue.

It's easy to end up thinking that if you could just learn to drink/do drugs in a less unhealthy way, you can keep drinking/doing drugs. But once you've started using a substance as a coping method, it is very hard and often impossible to successfully go back to only using it recreationally.

Addiction is a coping method in most cases. This means that your challenge isn't just to drink less, it's to figure out why you're drinking and how to face and resolve the underlying issues that alchohol currently helps you cope with. It usally isn't as simple as just not drinking anymore when you aren't drinking for fun.

Addiction isn't a moral failure and it doesn't reflect badly on you as a person. It's a coping method that you have a genetic predisposition towards, not a sign that you're an unusually bad, weak, immoral person. And regardless of whether you're in active addiction, trying to recover or managing sobriety, your value and worth as a person is the same.

[cringengl]

I know that it's a fairly popular opinion that the reason that Ian badmouths Mickey in s6-7 is mostly because the writers wanted us to dislike Mickey and be glad that he was supposed to be permanently gone from the show. However, while I do think this is partially true, I also think that it is veryyyy much in character that Ian says those things and that even if the writers fully planned on having Mickey back in those later seasons, he still would have said what he said.

It basically comes down to the main difference between the Gallaghers and the Milkovichs. The Gallaghers want to escape the southside (at least Fiona down to Liam do), while the Milkovich have claimed it as a part of their identity. They embrace it and are proud to show it off, including Mickey, and even Mandy believes that she will never do any better in life. Because of this, the Gallaghers, who are cocky, look down on the Milkovichs for not wanting to get out of the Southside and see them as more white trash than they are. Ian goes into his relationship with Mickey with this ideology. He's young and wants a boyfriend, and Mickey is hot and gay, so why not?

The problem comes when Ian gets diagnosed. You can see it in 5x10 when Ian calls Mickey the "shit-talking, bitch-slapping piece of Southside trash I fell for" and during that one deleted scene of Ian's dream where he and Mickey are dressed in white and holding Yevgeny. Ian doesn't want to stay in the Southside forever and his dream involves a 'perfect' Mickey, one that wants to hold Yevgeny and have a house together and doesn't cut the sleeves off of his shirts. Mickey didn't initially believe that Ian was bipolar and ignored Fiona and Lip's advice to take him to a hospital to get seen, he's white trash that is happy to scam people with his brothers for the rest of his life. Ian doesn't want that, he wants to have a successful career, live in the suburbs, and grow tomatoes.

After breaking up with Mickey, he's convinced that Mickey would not help with his recovery and mental health. Fiona and Lip certainly think that, plus how is he going to get a good job and recover if his boyfriend is literally in prison and could easily go back?

The problem with that is that Ian is in love with Mickey. Mickey isn't just a shit-talking, bitch-slapping piece of Southside trash, he's the shit-talking, bitch-slapping piece of Southside trash that Ian fell for. Not only that, but the deleted scene of the dream reveals that he genuinely believes in a future with Mickey, and recognises that Mickey is a gentle, loving person, who would make a great dad despite his shitty role model.

These two conflicting ideas are constantly clashing in Ian's head, 'Mickey is bad for me' 'But I love him' 'I don't think I can be where I want to be in life with him' 'I don't want to be without him'. And so, in order to reassure himself, partially through getting other people to agree with him, Ian badmouths Mickey, bringing up the worst of their relationship to convince himself that Caleb and then Trevor is right for him, and a sign that Ian is going to stop being white trash and get out of the Southside, while Mickey would only make him stay.

It's only when Ian realises in s9 that the only person that has made sure that Ian is stuck in the Southside is Ian himself, that he goes, fuck it, I love Mickey and he is a good partner for me.

wow this got super long sorry about that- if u did manage to read this all the way through i'd love to hear your thoughts on whether ian being rude about mickey was in character or not!!

[thegaissilent]

"...good night, dearest." Her words are soft, so at least some love is left after how bad everything just went.

She makes her way to the office, though she doesn't really have anything to do. So, when she sits by the desk, she fetches her sketchbook, grabbing a pencil and not really thinking when she starts drawing, letting her emotions guide her.

Firstly, there's a poppy field, but it doesn't look as beautiful and well taken care of as it once did. The flowers are wrecked, petals scattered around the grass. And in the middle of that, there's a single girl in a big gown, she's got curly hair, but you can't really see her face. She holds one of the poppies in her hand and it is the one that looks the most wrecked. Not a single petal visible anymore.

A few tears drop on the drawing as she works on it and she's so focused on what she's doing that she only hears someone knocking on the door when they seem to try it for the second time. For a moment, she wonders if it might be Elphie and her eyes light up a little.

"Come in."

It's almost hard to hide her disappointment when Fiyero is the one to enter the office. Because, of course. Why would it be Elphie? She had made her cry. She had hurt her.

"Glinda? Is everything alright? It's pretty late."

Glinda shakes her head, forcing a smile.

"Yes, darling, of course. Just... Artistic inspiration!" She laughs. It's not real.

"Of course." Fiyero nods. "Well... Perhaps... You should finish it tomorrow? It's way past midnight."

"What?" She frowns. "What time is it?"

"...2 am."

Her eyes widen in surprise. Time usually passed without her noticing when she was drawing, but even so, she must have been there for at least 3 hours now.

Everything starts coming back, then, and her stomach growls, and her bladder complains and she yawns.

"I am... So sorry, dear. I'll be there shortly..."

Why is he still awake, though? It's not like they actually wait for each other to fall asleep every night.

"Why aren't you in bed yet?"

"...it's been hard to sleep."

She nods. Indeed, lately, Fiyero has been having a hard time to sleep and Glinda isn't sure of what is happening, but she's heard of the Gale Force getting a lot more violent to "maintain order".

In all honesty, Glinda has avoided the subject. And perhaps that doesn't make her the best of partners, she should be taking care of him somewhere, but thinking of what the Wizard has been doing, how worse things things have been getting makes it almost unbearable to wake up in the morning.

"Of course... I'm sorry, dear." He nods.

"Don't take too long, okay?"

She nods and he leaves, making his way back to their room. And Glinda doesn't take too long. She decides to fetch something to eat first, then makes her way to the bathroom before she heads for the room, where she finds her fiance laying on the bed, a little shrunk with the blanket over him. He looks so scared it's disturbing.

She swallows, changing to her nightgown and letting her hair loose, brushing it before she sits by the edge of the bed and breathes a couple of times, her fingers clenching in itself. Fiyero shakes behind her and she lets a tear drop.

How much longer can they take this? And was Elphaba coming here really a good choice? Wouldn't she end up just as broken as the two of them were now?

She almost feels like running to her room right away and telling her to go. To leave and never look back, before this goddamn palace sucks on all of her light as it did Fiyero's.

Glinda still has a light. She has to be the light. As it is her job to bring people hope, to keep them cheerful even in times as dark as these. It doesn't matter how fake this light is, the citizens of Oz count on her to keep it going.

But, Lurline, does it weight.

She lies on the bed at last, back to Fiyero, but it doesn't take long for her to turn and spoon him. For he is warm and she has something to cling onto.

It should be enough. It used to be enough, but knowing Elphaba is right in the next room, Glinda misses her terribly. She misses having her strong green arms wrapped around her. She misses being young and melting in those arms, knowing that as far as they could lie down together like that every night, everything would be fine.

They would always be fine.

...they would never be fine again, would they?

for: @halfofozsfavouriteteam

Being Glinda, the Good is, above everything else, tiring.

She can't even pinpoint what is the most tiring part of it. If it's the fact she has to perform way more than she did her entire life, if it's the fact the work never ends and she barely has time to stop and relax. Or if it's simply because she feels stuck in a loop and there is no way out.

Her entire life is made out of lies now. Having to listen to those rumors about her best friend and not being able to say anything against them, smiling and waving to the crowd while they stare at her like she's some sort of savior.

Getting married to Fiyero so she can finally stop thinking about her.

She is tired. She is so tired. And yet she can't stop it. She doesn't know how to. Because despite it all, despite the fact that this is wrong and repulsive, she can't help herself. She can't help the small amount of satisfaction that she gets when people are praising her. When she's celebrated, applauded.

It doesn't compare to real love, of course. It never will.

But it fills her up somehow. It's all that she's had for the last years and if she keeps trying, she knows she can pretend that they truly love her.

Plus, she's still trying to make moves to actually take down the Wizard. To destroy this awful, terrible system from inside. So maybe, one day, she will be able to clean Elphaba's name. And have her friend back beside her.

(Does she actually believe she can do that still, though? Or did that naiveté die with Galinda?)

Either way, her entire life is absurdly tiring and as soon as she reaches the Emerald Palace in her bubble, exhausted from a very long day, she only wants to soak in her bathtub, and then lie on her bed.

But instead, she's called by the Wizard and grunts at that as she makes her way to the room where he keeps the goddamn machine. Everyday, Glinda wishes she could set that thing on fire.

As soon as she walks past the door, she freezes, though.

Green skin. Black clothes. Dark hair with microbraids.

Elphie.

"Elphie!" She exclaims, throwing herself on her friend to hug her tight. "What... What are you doing here?"

[sisdiss]

Honestly, I am not trying to be inflammatory but the more I think of it, the more I am convinced that the curse of hatred exists, but it's actually Tobirama and all of his students that carry it.

Every time Tobirama or Danzo, in particular, talk about the Uchiha Clan being inherently evil because of this or that, it genuinely sounds to me like they are projecting onto them.

Tobirama: "So the Uchiha Clan loves others deeply, but they can't handle their emotions and turn evil because of it when something bad happens to their loved ones"

Also Tobirama: "The Senju clan bases it's strength/jutsu on love, but that never led to us being evil or us being unable to let our hateful feelings go☝️ because we're so rational"

Also Tobirama unable to let his hate and fear towards the Uchiha Clan go (singling them out from all the other clans) and acting like they are so overcome by their emotions that they can't act reasonable or be trusted. Even though Madara, whose brother was literally killed by Tobirama, acted civil towards him for (probably) multiple years, while Tobirama was setting the foundation to keep the Uchiha isolated and away from any real leadership position.

Tobirama’s disdain never lessened and got passed down to the next generation.

[kittyandco]

hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

[featherymainffins]

Trying to remember where I first encountered humanity as a horror to see if this has a root the same way you can trace literally all of my thirst for fictional characters back to WITCH, but ngl I genuinely cannot remember anything like that.

[seventh-district]

Could've left me just the way you found me, but you came and put your wings around me. You went out of your way, to fix what you didn't break.

This song is so incredibly Sam & Darlin' coded and no one can tell me otherwise.

[lots of lyrical analysis below the cut] [there's also a short little fanfic blurb of them stargazing down there too (this post got really out of hand lmao)]

For those not fully caught up, note that the following commentary contains various spoilers for Sam and Darlin's stories.

Note: Unfortunately this song is gendered, using the word 'girl' several times. Which sucks a little bit for immersion purposes, not only for keeping Darlin' gender-neutral, but also because I see this song as a duet between them, and Darlin' obviously wouldn't be addressing Sam with the word 'girl' either. So! As with most songs on their playlist, we're just gonna mentally omit any gendered terms we come across.

Side note: Frustratingly, this is one of those songs that didn't really even need to gender the subject in the first place. No part of the story or message is lost without it. But alas, many songs are like that, and so the playlist-makers of the world shall continue to suffer. [/lh]

Anyways, preamble's over. It's lyric time now yay!

Sam's Part

I was a ten-year train wreck

Technically for Sam I suppose it was 13 years, but ten is close enough (and 'ten' admittedly flows a lot better in the rhythm of the song than 'thirteen' would.) Anyways, we're not here to split hairs, (I have to remind myself), we're just here to point out similarities.

In Sam's Dec. '22 HBW, he says "For the last 13 years or so I haven't had to care too much about how I look. Seemed a little redundant after turnin', considerin' I didn't wanna be around much'a anybody anyway."

I think he's mentioned or alluded to that roughly 13 year period of time more than once, but that's the one I remember best so it's the example I'm using. There's still about 4 Sam audios I've yet to listen to as of making this post, so if I'm missing some Key Lore I'll edit this later. But for now, I don't think Sam has given many specifics on exactly how bad things got during that time. Luckily, 'train wreck' is a pretty broad and subjective term, so it easily covers any degree to which he may have fallen apart during those years.

It also feels like a very 'him' way of quickly brushing over the details of his past/his hurt, as he seems to tend to do with Darlin', (not all the time ofc but it's still something I've noticed) putting his own hurt on the backburner to prioritize and attend to theirs. Even outside of his dynamic with them, I think as a healer, it's something he learned to do. And now he does it with everyone. Put on a brave face, compartmentalize things and unpack them later, etc. I could go on and on but there'll be time for that in other posts I'm sure. For now, lets get back to the song at hand.

With a last-call longneck

Due to personal reasons, I've yet to decide if I want to HC him as having used alcohol as a coping mechanism during that time. I don't recall him having mentioned alcohol much, if at all, (maybe one mention of whiskey that I don't have time to find right now) so I don't think it's necessarily canon that he did, but it's certainly possible. My personal preferences aside, I'll admit it makes for some good additional angst. (And- self-indulgently- it makes some other songs on my playlist for them more fitting.) So, for the sake of this song, let's imagine that he did.

I was searchin', I'd been hurt real bad

This one feels pretty self-explanatory given what Alexis did, (and, if you wanna get even angstier with it, whatever his family did earlier on in his life) so there isn't much commentary to add on my end.

I HC that in spite of 'not wanting to be around anybody', he- like Darlin- still had a tiny part of himself buried deep down that was, in a way, 'searching' for someone to find solace in. (No this isn't me projecting onto them both haha what are you talking about-)

Movin' on, gettin' sidetracked One step forward and five back

This is generally applicable enough that I don't feel the need to give too much of a specific example. Anyone who's recovered or is recovering from trauma knows this non-linear, back-and-forth struggle well already, and I'm sure he was no stranger to it.

If I were to give some examples though, I could point to Darlin's (and subsequently, Sam's) encounter with Alexis at the summit, or the shit that Quinn dredged up about Fredrick and threw at Sam in the interrogation room. Those are both more recent examples and I imagine these lines of the song to be coming from a place of him prior to meeting Darlin', but still, they're some instances where I'm sure he felt like the past was pulling him back in. I'm sure that there's been many throughout those 13 years that we were never witness to.

Not your fault, I was scared to fall

This line reminds me of their 'Cuddles and Confessions' audio. I don't think he ever explicitly said he was 'scared' per se, so afaik there's no specific line I can quote, but in that and every audio prior, he was obviously hesitant to admit, perhaps even to himself, that he was gradually falling for them. Even after the initial confession, there's certain limits of his (e.g. biting) that he carries for far longer, and some that I (and others) HC that he'll carry forever. So this line feels to me like him reassuring Darlin' that his reluctance isn't the fault of them, but his past.

Darlin's Part

You were the star in the pitch black Shine the way on the way back

We don't have any canon instances of them comparing Sam to a star, but I can see it being something they'd say (perhaps less poetically, but the sentiment would be there) one night while laying up on their roof watching the stars with him. Maybe they're dead-tired, talking nonsense with lidded eyes at the end of a long day, fighting sleep in favor of more time spent with him.

"What- what're you pointin' at Darlin'?"

Their hazy focus is trained on the brightest star visible in their line of sight, arm stretched out to the sky above them. "That really bright one, to the... to the left."

Sam does his best to follow their less-than-specific directions of 'to the left', their pointed finger doing little to help given the difference in perspective. Luckily, after all these years, he knows this stretch of night sky like the back of his hand, so it isn't hard to locate the brightest one. Ghosting his fingers up along their arm, he takes their hand in his and brings it back down to earth. "Okay, yeah, I see it now. What about it though?"

"That's you." They say, matter-of-factly.

"That's me?" He questions, humor in his tone.

"Mhm." They nod with finality, blinking slow.

Sam considers the odd statement for a moment before gently correcting them. "I'm uh, I'm pretty sure that's Sirius, actually."

They scoff. "I am being serious."

Sam stifles a laugh into their hair. "No- no I mean- like... what's another name for it... Oh! It's also called the Dog Star."

"C'mon Sam, at least call it the Wolf Star if you're trying to turn this around on me..."

He shakes his head and readies himself to explain further, but they cut him off before he can start. "But no- no, this one isn't about me. That's you."

He decides to play along, finding something endearing in their overtired nonsense. "Okay... then would'ja be so kind as to explain to this confused old man just how, or why that star is me?"

Their frown is audible in their voice as they latch onto the wrong part of his sentence. "You're not old, Sam. ...Do I need to tell Asher to kick the jokes down a notch?"

He smiles at their over-protectivity. "There'll be no need for that, now. Was just a joke, darlin', I promise."

They huff, but thankfully shift focus back to the prior topic. "It's... I dunno. It's just you, Sam. It's... bright. Light. Something warm, out there in the cold dark. Standing out amongst all the rest. Calling to me, stealing my attention. I... I didn't come out here looking for it, but there it is. ...There you were. In the dark. The only bright thing I'd seen in... fuck, in years. Years of chasing fleeting warmth, tripping over myself in the pitch black, falling into... places 'n people I shouldn't have. You were the light in that darkness. Even there, surrounded by the ghost of him. You outshone it. Your warmth didn't hurt. I didn't have to squint when I looked at you. You weren't the blinding sun. You were the brightest star I'd ever seen. You guided me back home."

In the back of their mind, they recall something they once heard, something about light, and time, and distance. Space. Something about... how you can see a star that's already burnt out, because it's light hasn't reached earth yet. The ghost of a star that's already died. Only still perceptible thanks to time, and distance.

They remember Sam's words, once whispered to them on this very roof.

"Whatever your choice is... I'm not gonna live forever. I made that decision a long time ago."

They think about dead stars.

They think about time.

"...-lin'? Darlin'?" Sam's calloused hand slides up their forearm, pulling them out of their thoughts. "There you are. Think I lost ya' for a minute there... you good?"

They look up at Sam, concern creasing his features, shadows cast across his face from the light of the dying stars above him.

They reach out, pulling him down into them. Burying their face into his collar, Sam's concern grows when he feels it saturate with tears. A human might struggle to hear their words, muffled against the thick fabric, but his hearing catches it just fine.

"Don't burn out too quick. Please. I still need you here. I don't- I don't wanna be left in the dark again. Please, please Sam. Don't leave me here. I'm not selfish enough to ask you for forever, but please. Not yet. Not yet. Not yet."

.......Whoopsies! Really, genuinely didn't mean to improv an entire scene there, good god. Also didn't mean to swerve hard into angst at the end but uh. that's what came out! so I'm rolling with it lmao. Aaanyways let's move on, it's getting late and this is a song analysis post, not a fic.

Out of nowhere, answered all my prayers

'Out of nowhere' reminds me of Sam's words from the same HBW video I referenced earlier. "You came into my life like a damn wreckin' ball. There was no preparing for that, clothing or otherwise." While those were Sam's words, not Darlin's, I still feel like they feel similarly to how suddenly Sam came into their life as well. (Not in a bad way, mind you!)

[the significance of 'answered all my prayers' edges into my own personal more headcanon-y/personal/OC-ified Darlin' territory, so we can just gloss over this one for the sake of at least attempting to keep this more universally applicable]

Picked up the towel that I threw in Took in a heart that was ruined

Again, largely self-explanatory I feel. (*proceeds to explain anyways*) I imagine that Darlin' was at the point of throwing in the towel, hellbent on a solo-mission to find Quinn regardless of the danger it posed to them. I doubt they were looking toward the future anymore, (to reference Sam,) fully willing to throw themself at their problems until they really did break.

The specific use of 'ruined' hits hard here, because after everything they went through with Quinn, and especially after he recounted it all to Sam in that interrogation room, I imagine that they really, truly did feel ruined.

Showed me the past ain't a tattoo Loved me even when you didn't have to

These lines in particular make me sick with emotion every time I hear this song, because I feel like they hit the nail on the head for how Darlin' feels.

I'll be here citing various quotes all night that I feel showcase that sentiment, but we don't have time for that! So instead I'm just pointing to the entirety of 'Quinn's Aftermath' video, and leaving you with this single quote from it.

"Everything that he said reflects nothin' on you, and everything on him."

Equally Applicable Lines

And I don't know why Why you saw something in me, baby But you saw right through All the pain, and you came and saved me Yeah, I know you didn't leave me lonely Weren't the one that put the heartbreak on me Picked up the pieces It wasn't the mess that you made Could've left me just the way you found me But you came and put your wings around me You went out of your way To fix what you didn't break

Again, I think these lines are all pretty self-explanatory, and are just as accurate coming from either one of them. To me, at least, their entire dynamic is that they saved each other, in their own ways.

(But I will admit, the final verses about 'going out of your way to fix what you didn't break' are definitely conjuring up memories of Sam in the early days, literally going out of his way to visit and heal Darlin' after their fight with the two vamps. In general, his continued/repeated healing of them after they once again hurt themselves is the very literal definition of fixing what he didn't break.

But! While we may have more blatant examples of Sam being 'the fixer' so to speak, I think he'd argue that Darlin' has done plenty fixing of their own. Physical wounds aren't the only things that need healing, after all.)

-------

[shameless self-promo of my Sam & Darlin' playlist for those few of u interested enough to make it to the very end of this wall of text. if u liked this then u might like some of the other songs on there soooo maybe go check it out and maybe perhaps give it a follow so i can get a little serotonin boost or dopamine or whatever the chemical is that's released when Number Go Up. ...okay that's it i hope u enjoyed my fixation-induced ramblings! thank u and goodnight]

[britneyshakespeare]

barnes and noble has been raising the prices of everything and further pushing for their premium membership option (which they raised the price of by 60 percent this year!) and then when they have big sales events, they're less than what they used to be.

last year at this time you could get one of their leather-bound book annex tomes for $12.50 (without a member discount) because of the 50 percent off all hardcover sales. but they raised the price of those tomes from 25 bucks to 30, and they decreased the sale from 50 percent off all hardcovers to 1/3rd off. so that same book that was $12.50 at last year's end-of-year sale is now 20 bucks. and that's supposed to be savings enough to induce me to walk into one of their stores this week?

i'm sorry but b&n has just gotten so greedy, even though their business has only been doing better and better in previous years. they do not have to be raising prices like they have been, and they can damn well afford to have the same savings events they used to. if you went to one of those hardcover sales a year or two ago, even if you lived in a less populated area like i do, you had never seen a b&n so busy in your life. things were flying off the shelves. they WERE making bank.

and as a company they've only been growing and growing (as much as the publishing industry has been, in recent years). but there are so many other ways to buy books. CHEAPER ways to buy books. MORE SUSTAINABLE ways to buy books. and since books and booksellers are doing really well right now, i don't see why barnes and noble is getting so greedy when they don't have to be. i dont like new shiny books that much. people buy books for the content, ultimately. sometimes we as consumers might make the choice that a new shiny book is worth paying a bit more for, but not that much. barnes and noble has just been demanding more and more of their customers' money for less and less benefit.