#THE THREE OF THEM ARE MATCHING đđđđ
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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 weddingsâyour 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 doesnât really⊠exist.
Thatâs how you ended up here, standing beside your korean-pop-obsessed friend who practically dragged you out and swore youâd love the show. It all became a blur when your eyes met his.
Heâs on stage, gripping the mic impossibly still, staring down back at you like he feels it too.
He shouldnât 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 â playlist.
notes: fighting both my delulu and my demons while writing this. đ Might just be the fic I enjoyed writing the mostâI 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.
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If fate promised you something so certain, how could you not long for it?
Since childhood, youâve heard the stories. The way people speak in hushed voices, weaving fate into riddles, how somewhere out there, it's waitingâa single red string, unseen until the exact moment itâs 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 feelingâthe pull, the process. It's everywhere. In the way, your parents fit together like pages of the same story. On the way your younger sisterâstill so new to the world found her match.
When youâre told your whole life that destiny is waiting for you, how could you not ache for it?
The universe doesnât make mistakes. And yet, your hands remained... stringless.
And now you wonder if it didâwith you.
"One, two, three, smile!"
You press the shutter, capturing the way they look at each other. You lower the camera, but they donât even noticeâtheyâre too caught up in their own little world, whispering sentences only theyâll 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 theyâre 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 itâthis 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 elseâs.
And then there are days you fear it.
What if they donât want to find you? What if thatâs why youâre still alone? What if they got it wrong, skipped over your name, and he simply⊠doesnât 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 shouldnât be a promise. Yet in the deepest hours of the night, you found yourselfâgasping, trembling, and sobbing to your palms. The feeling ofâ
How can you miss someone you've never met?
You want to reach for a hand youâve never held. You long for a voice youâve never heard, a scent youâve never breathed, a shadow youâve 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, "Itâs 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 photographerâI know you must be busy."
"Youâre welcome," you reply, adjusting your camera strap. "Itâs what I do, after all."
Ju-won steps in then, reaching for Ha-rinâs hand like he canât 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 metâfirst 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-rinâs cheek like itâs the first time, like they havenât spent years by each otherâs side. The look in their eyes is so easy, so full of love, that you have to look away.
You can't look.
"Uh, Iâll get some drinks," you say, forcing a smile that feels as out of place as you do. You donât wait for a response. You just turn, your heels clicking against the polished floor, head spinning as you try to count how many weddings youâve attended this year.
Or no. Youâve lost count.
Everyone you grew up withâyour friends, your classmatesâhave already found their soulmates. Most are married now, some already raising children.
Your heels dig into your feet with each hurried step, but you donât slow down. You just keep moving, past everyone. You know exactly where youâll 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! Itâs been a while!" A voice cuts calls out, familiarâbut 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.
"Iâm 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 roomâher soulmate. "The guyâs obsessed."
"Of course he is," the first girl grins. "Heâs your soulmate." She swirls her drink before adding, "Mine just got back from overseas. Heâll see me tomorrow once heâs in the city." And there it is againâcircling 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 donât?
"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. Didnât the studies say most people find their soulmate before twenty-five? Thatâs what the records say."
Thereâs no malice in her voice, just matter-of-fact. Like sheâs pointing out a statistic, saying out whatâs already been made painfully clear to you. itâs the same tired reminder, the same unspoken question: whatâs wrong with you?
Youâre used to it by now.
"Yeah," you say, unwilling to argue. Whatâs the point? Your mind slips back to those reckless high school daysâthe days when older girls, too cool and too cruel, mocked you for not having a soulmate. You remember snapping back, pretending their words didnât sting.
Later, the tears came on the bus ride homeâcarving 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 doesnât even feel like you have all of you?
From the corner of your eye, you catch the second girl nudging her. "Donât mind her, Y/N," she says quickly. "She doesnât 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 itâs cheating, right? Since you havenât met them yet."
You set your drink down, your fingers suddenly cold. "Why are you suggesting something you wouldnât 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 donât wait for an answer. You're done for tonight.
Itâs time to go.
You turn away, not bothering to look back. No one needs you hereâyour 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 wasnât yours to celebrate.
You lock the door behind you and lean against it blinking, exhaling shakily. "I guess today wasnât 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.
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"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 shiâ"
"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 aroundâhis 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 thatâs the first thing you care about?" Yeonjun teases, shaking his head with a laugh.
"Well, I didnât 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 didnât raise you to turn on me like this!"
"You? Raise me?" Kai scoffs. "Soobin hyungâs the one who raised me, what are you talking about?"
Soobin smirks and chucks Beomgyuâs 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."
Beomgyuâs slightly damp hair clings to the back of his neck. He hadnât had time to dry it properly before they rushed out of the dormâthere 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 thenâ
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 theirsâtheir 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 thatâhe never let himself dwell on it for too long. Pushing it aside became second nature, the same way heâd 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 didnât matter how many years passed or how much he achievedâwhen 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?
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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 thatâs 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? Thatâ" you hesitate, your chest tightening, "that Iâm just⊠meant to be alone?"
Something flickers across her faceâpity, maybe. Youâre not sure. "Iâll look into it, I promise," she says after a moment. "I know twenty-six feels late, and I know itâs 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 âthank youâ before slipping out of the room, the door clicking shut behind you.
âHow was it?â Da-heeâs voice reaches you before you even look up. Sheâs already on her feet, eyes scanning your face, searching for an answer. âWhat did they say?â
âNothing I havenât heard before.â You sigh, walking past her. âI told you I should not do this.â
She huffs, crossing her arms as she falls into step beside you. âYou never tried it,â
Your best friend doesnât argue anymore, following you to the counter in silence. The cashier barely looks up as they say, âThat consultation is $120 total, plus taxes, bringing it to $145.86. Card or cash?â
You catch Da-hee reaching for her wallet, but you gently push her hand away. âDonât,â you murmur. âThis was for me.â
You hand over your card. A quick swipe, a faint beep. And just like that, youâre 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 donât cover something as rare, as unquantifiable, as soulmate problems.
Because to them, itâs not a real sickness, proving that you areâonce againâthe outlier.
Perfect.
âCome on,â 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 driverâs side door. âLet me at least drive?â she offers, voice softer now.
You chuckle at her persistence, shaking your head before tossing her the keys. âOkay.â 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 easyâuntil 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.
âWhat the fuck?â 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."
âWhatâs going on?â you ask, still trying to piece together the meaning behind it all.
She exhales, lips pressing into a thin line. âLee Heeseung. An idol,â she starts. âNews got out that he recently went out with his soulmate.â Her voice dips, sadness flickering across her face. âAnd now⊠now, people want him out of the group.â
Your stomach twists. âWhat?â
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 itâone 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. Sheâs 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.
âItâs worse when so many fans are⊠young,â Da-hee murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. âMost of them are stringless.â She says the last word carefully like she doesnât want to offend you.
But you almost hear what she isnât saying.
Stringless people canât 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 idolâs lifeâwho they love, who they belong toâshould be theirs to control.
Itâs the only explanation, isnât 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. âI donât get it.â You donât know him. You don't need to know him to know the injustice of it. âWhy treat him like he committed some kind of crime? Heâs meant to have someone. Heâs a person, notââ You gesture vaguely at the protest, frustration bubbling up. âNot their property.â
Da-hee sighs. âThatâs why idols who are caught with their soulmatesâespecially the ones who confirm it, get cancelled. Fans turn on them. They lose everything.â She shakes her head, voice laced with exhaustion and resignation. âItâs sad that they have to hide it.â
The thought of society hating someone just for loving who theyâre meant to love makes your chest feel tight. How could something meant to be beautiful turn into this?
You guess your own situation isnât 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 youâuntil Da-hee suddenly squeals, nearly knocking the popcorn over in the process.
âOh my god,â she gasps, shoving the popcorn bowl off her lap as she scrambles to her feet. âOH MY GOD.â She starts stomping in place.
You glance at her, unimpressed. âI want to wipe that ridiculous grin off your face.â
She just giggles and shoves her phone in front of you. âJoon bought me VVIP tickets. Iâm going to die.â She pumps a fist in the air, bouncing on her toes like a kid who just won the lottery. âAnd thereâs two. He canât goâoh my god. Please, please, I am begging you to come with me. Itâs next week! That sneaky bastard didnât even tell me he bought them ages ago.â
You hesitate, already feeling the excuse forming on your tongue. âI donât thinkââ
âCome on, Y/N.â She grabs your arm, shaking it dramatically. âLook at me. I have a soulmate, and I still thirst over Tomorrow X Together.â
You nearly choke on your drink. âThatâs a long-ass name.â
âTheyâre my babies,â she says, clutching her chest like sheâs been personally blessed by the gods. âYouâll love the show, I promise. And maybeâyouâll be like me. While you wait for your soulmate, itâs harmless to fangirl a little. OMG, what if you become a MOA? Thatâs my dream. Imagine us going to cafĂ©s with photocards, buying merch, collecting albumsââ
âOkay, first of all, they are grown men. Not babies.â you cut in before she spirals. You know from experience that once she starts talking about her fangirl life, she never stops. âAnyways, okay, Iâll go. But donât expect anything.â
Da-hee lets out another excited squeal before launching herself at you, wrapping her arms around your neck and squeezing way too tight.
âYou wonât regret this!â
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... didnât 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 posedâher 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.
âSo you donât lose it,â 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 donât even think about saying no. Iâm still heartbroken you refused the lightstick, so at least take this. Weâre gonna be right at the barricades, you canât 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 wonât say it out loudânot yetâbut youâll admit it now. Theyâre 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 redâ"
"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 didnât have much of a choice. But this time, your steps felt⊠lighter. Movements are less reluctant than when you first arrived.
You werenât 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 MOAsâtotal strangersâsmiled 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 maybeâjust maybeâit was the picket you now held carefully in your hands.
You didnât 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 wasnât 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 shinedânot 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 wonât open for another thirty minutes, but sheâs on a mission. The funny thing isâshe doesnât really need to drag you anymore.
Something has settled in your bones. Youâre going to see this through, stay until the last song fades. And maybeâyouâll find yourself here again next time.
"Itâs 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 itâs finally Da-heeâs turn, she gasps, then squeals so loudly people around her chuckle. "Yeonjun!" she cries, clutching the card to her chest like itâs the most precious thing in the world. "I got him!"
Then, itâs your turn.
A row of face-down cards is laid out before you. You donât think too hard about itâyou 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 smileâonly this time, itâs 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 youâd be hereâcrammed into a packed venue, surrounded by screaming teenagersâyou wouldâve 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 crowdâs energy vibrates as hundreds of voices chant their names.
âItâs soundcheck first,â Da-hee leans in, her voice barely cutting through the noise. âThen the main concert.â
You nod, still grinning. âOkay.â
Then, the opening notes of a song play through the speakers. The crowd erupts. âOh my god!â Da-hee shrieks, âItâs Deja Vu!â
The five of them step onto the stage. Itâs a blurâlights flashing, voices screaming. Your heart pounds against your ribs as the music swells, wrapping around you like something alive.
Itâs beautiful.
A tall manâeasily the tallestâmoves 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 didnât even know this morning.
Then, the song begins to wind down. And thatâs when you see him.
Beomgyu.
His steps are slower than the others, like heâs 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 itâs only a matter of time before you give in. You look up, unsure.
The mic is at his lips, his voice singing into the melodyâuntil 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 thatâs left is the pullâa red thread stretching between, searing itself into your vision, blinding in its intensityâdemanding to be seen.
On stage, he stands impossibly still, his fingers gripping the mic like he sees it too.
It can't be real.
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âWe're trending again,â Taehyun says, flopping onto Beomgyuâs hotel bed with a sigh. âWhat the hell?â
Beomgyu leans back against the headboard, âHow much time do we have?â
Taehyun checks his watch. âPractice is in⊠oh. Hours.â He exhales, shaking his head in awe. âThis 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?â He laughs, eyes distant.
âWhen Yeonjun used to sneak his soulmate in, trying to show off like he was already famous? As a trainee. And nowânow, weâre here.â
Beomgyu snorts. âIn that practice room, too. I still donât know how his soulmate put up with that. Or how Yeonjun didnât get kicked out.â
âYeah. They just couldnât let go of each other.â Taehyun laughs, shaking his head. âAnd I don't think Big Hit will let go of him too."
It had been one of the first rules drilled into them during trainingâno 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 doesnât respond right away. He just shrugs, tossing things out of his suitcaseâa 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 werenât just industry rumoursâsome were ancient, some recent.
If this doesnât work out, I donât know if I can take it. Taehyun had said that once. This career was everything. He wasnât 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 shiftâthe 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 thatâstarts 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 arenât supposed to want. In their world, the idea that you should be free with your soulmate is just thatâan idea. Or maybe worse. A peril. A risk too big to take.
He remembers Soobin crying once, blaming himself for wanting this lifeâthis 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.
âDid you see everyone? Insane.â Yeonjun says, eyes wide as they sit in the salon-like chairs. âTheyâve been out there since last night.â
Kai glances at him as much as he can without moving his head, his makeup artist carefully blending eyeshadow. âYeah, I saw them. MOAs are bundled up out there, and itâs freezing. It's worrying me.â
"I feel like I'm about to throw up. I'm nervous,"
Playing a stadiumâa 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 voicesâhis own, the other'sâtelling him he wasnât 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 doesnât feel real. He stares at his hands once his stylist is done with his eyes. Thereâs something else tugging at him, a strange feeling thatâs been lurking since morning.
What it is, he canât 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. Heâs beenâon 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 sideâlike an instinct.
Beomgyu likes looking at MOAs. It feels good. Familiar, almost. Sometimes, he even recognizes a faceâ it was a feeling like a reminder of home, a classmate from school, someone heâd seen before. And then thereâs the simple joy of it all. The way someoneâs face brightens up because of him. It never gets old. It never stops making him happy, too.
But then, he notices one weird thing.
Itâs strange. Heâs right here. He could understand if you were looking at another memberâfans have their favourites, after all. But youâre not looking at anyone. You're staring at the floor?
Youâre not looking at all.
He tilts his head, trying to see betterâto get a curious glimpse, and suddenly, his whole world shifts. His heart slams to a stop. Itâs so sudden, so overwhelming, he almost stumbles forward, yanking him toward the barricade. "What?"
And thenâyou 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 thereâs nothing but this moment. Just the two of you, staring.
The closeness of Beomgyu makes the crowd shift, bodies pressing closerâbut you donât move. You just stand thereâstill, steadyâwhile 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 wouldâve stayed like that foreverâfrozen, staring, lostâif 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 thatâs when he hears it, the music. He closes his agape lips, and clears his throat. The song is still playing. Right. Heâs supposed to beâ
But then his gaze flickers back to you.
Itâs nothing, he tells himself. Youâre just so so pretty. Thatâs all. Maybe it was your eyes or your hair or the way you did it. It was just fucking cute. It doesnât mean anything. Andâ
His breath falters. He sees it.
He hadnât 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 handâat his ring fingerâ 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.
Youâre his. After everythingâafter all this timeâ
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.
Heâs dressed. Heâs 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. Butâhis 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 youâre 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 himâit 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.
Heâs 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 showsânever.
Waiting for the music queue, he finally lifts his head.
Muscle memory takes over. His body knows what to do. Heâs trained for this, conditioned for it. Every movement, every note, every expressionâitâs 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 wouldnât even dare to chase?
Would he trade it all, just to see you again?
His feet moveâbefore 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. Youâre still near the barricade, still close enough that he doesnât have to search.
He keeps up, waves, and makes facesâthings for MOAs, things heâs done a thousand times before. But his mind isnât on them. Itâs on you. And youâre just standing there again, frozen in place like you donât trust yourself to move.
He waves again, but this time, itâs for you. Directly. You tilt your head, hesitant, and thenâan unsure wave back. Itâs 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 werenât so blinding, he swears heâd 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 donât move. And then, he sees itâyour eyes kept flickering downward, tracing the thread again and again, like you were making sure.
Yet you see it perfectly too.
You smileâsmall, hesitant, like youâre not sure this is really happening. Then, as if on impulse, you lift your hand, forming a careful, uncertain hand heart.
He doesnât even wait a second before returning it.
His eagerness made you laugh. A breathless, disbelieving kind of laugh. He canât 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 instantâdramatic, ridiculousâclutching his chest like youâve just shot him straight through the heart. He stumbles back, clutches at his clothes, so completely gone for you.
Itâs meant to be a joke, but it isnât.
Because you do have his heart, donât you? And the strangest thing is, he doesnât even know your name. Has never heard your voice. But right now, none of that matters. Maybe heâd 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 awayâaway 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 isnât thinking about the show anymore.
Heâs looking at Soobin. Waiting. Searching for the right way to ask without anyone else catching on. He doesnât want them to hear. Doesnât want them to know.
Not yet.
Soobin frowns slightly. âWhat? You've been looking distracted since earlier. Are you okay?â
âYour soulmateâŠâ His eyes flicker down. He hesitates, searching for the right words. The right way to say this. "AtâTokyo? How did youâŠ?"
He doesnât 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 suddenlyâyouâre just gone? And what if this is his only chance?
The room moves around himâzippers, voices, fabric rustlingâbut 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 anyoneâwith that equally knowing look on his face.
"Let's talk. Just the two of us."
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Beomgyu is your soulmate.
The boys just disappeared backstage, their song still ringing in your ears, but your hands wonât stop shaking. Your chest is tight, your throat burns, and thereâs a sting at the corners of your eyes.
You're not a mistake. Heâs here. He saw you.
His eyes, his smile. The way he moves, the faint dimple that appears when he does. The thought is too muchâit 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 faceâat your trembling fingers, at the way you canât seem to catch your breath.
âY/N?â Her voice softens. âWhatâs wrong?â
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 godâwhere is he? Is he a MOA? Is heââ
She doesnât even get to finish the thought before she freezes.
It clicks.
Then, slowly, her face shiftsâfrom 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 doesnât know what to do with them.
âOh my fucking god.â Her hands fly to her mouth, like she needs to physically stop herself from screaming. Then she grabs her hair, like thatâs going to help her process this.
âIs heâis Beomgyuââ She cuts herself off, whisper-shouting now, eyes darting toward the stage, toward the place where he just was. âIs that why he kept coming back over here?â
Her grip tightens on your arm, searching your face, waiting for you to confirm what she already knows. But you canât 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 canât 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. Sheâs seen every version of youâthe messy, the broken, the parts of you even you struggled to accept. Sheâs 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 nowânow sheâs the reason youâre here.
Sheâs the reason you met him.
You think of every birthday candle she ever closed her eyes for, every whispered wish she made on your behalfâbecause she believed that if two people wished for the same thing, the universe had to listen.
And maybe she was right.
It doesnât 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 doesnât 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 outfitâlike sheâs confirming, making sure. Then, she stops directly in front of you. âWe need to check some information on your tickets.â
Your heart slams against your ribs. Youâre not stupid. You know what this is. You know they wouldnât say it outright, not here, not in front of all these people.
âIâI have a friend with me,â
The staff member hesitates, studying you for a beat too long. Then she nods. âShe can come with you, but sheâll have to wait in the holding room.â
You turn to Da-hee, and sheâs 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.
Youâre 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 skinâpeople sneaking curious glancesâstaff members, crew, people who know exactly why youâre here.
Da-hee had to stay behind in the outer lounge. Now, itâs 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 doesnât want this? What if he only let you come here to reject youâto tell you, to your face, that even if the universe says youâre meant to be, he doesnât want you? What ifâ
The thought vanishes the second you see him.
Beomgyu.
Heâs mid-step, like heâs been pacing. He removes his hands from his face, his eyes widening just slightly before he clears his throat. âCome in,â he says, voice softer than you expected. Itâs 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 heâs watching every step.
âYou have 60 minutes, Beomgyu,â 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 awkwardâbut 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 constellationsâproof 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 lashesâdelicate, 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 donât even know if he wants this yetâ
"Whatâs your name?" Beomgyu asks, his voice quieter than he expected. He watches the way you blink, the slight parting of your lips like you hadnât expected him to speak first.
His hands curl into fists at his sides. The urge to reach outâto cup your face, to feel your skinâis 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, anythingâto 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 heâs always knownâlike a song heâs 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 heâs memorizing the way it feels to say it. And when you smileâjust the faintest curve of your lipsâhis 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. Itâs 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 flickerâjust for a secondâto your lips before settling back on yours. "Sheâs outside."
"Hm." Beomgyu nods slowly, as if letting the thought settle. Then, slowly, he reaches outâhis 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 donât 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 forwardâcareful, 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 doesnât 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 roomâclothing 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, heâs already staring. "But not anymore."
Beomgyu takes in everythingâyour lips, the way the light catches in your eyes, the soft of your hand in his. He doesnât even think before he speaks, before the thought thatâs 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 knewâyou 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.
"Youâre the one whoâs 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 chucklesâBeomgyu has heard the word beautiful more times than he can count. Itâs 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 lifeâyou were only here because Da-hee dragged you alongâheâd 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 youâd roll your eyes laugh and swat his arm. But the truth was, he didnât want to call you that. It was your name he wanted to say. He felt like heâd 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 heâd 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 thatâs 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 societyâwere 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 oneâjust by being next to each other.
He hadnât once let go of your hand for the past hour.
"No, I justâI didnât 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 hadnât let it go since.
âAnd it was random,â you add quickly, feeling your face heat up. âYou have to randomly pick it.â
The truth is, Beomgyu knows. He knows it was a random selection. He knows youâre 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 memberâs face staring back at him, no matter how petty it sounded, he also knows he wouldnât have been too thrilled about it.
Heâs 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 doesnât say anythingâjust turns and steps outside.
You glance at Beomgyu, and heâs pouting. "Weâre flying to Japan tomorrow morning, Y/N."
"Oh." The thought hadnât even crossed your mind. You just met your soulmate, and by morning, heâd be gone. "Okay."
You stand up, expecting him to do the same, but he doesnât move. Your hands dangle between you because he still hasnât let go. "Beomgyu?"
"Iâll see you as soon as I get back, okay?" His voice is softer now, like heâs 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 wonât 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. "Iâll survive."
"And wear warm clothesâitâs winter."
"You too."
"Eat on time."
"Youâre 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 itâs dangerous. Donât go out too late. And if you do, call me, okay? Actually, Iâd prefer if you didnât go out too late at all. Pleaseâmake sure you donâtâ"
He doesnât 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 inhaleâlike he hadnât 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 handïżœïżœïżœonly 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.
"Iâll see you soon, Beomgyu," you murmur.
You feel him tilt his head slightly before pressing a fleeting, warm kiss to your temple. "Iâll 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 quicklyâtoo 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 safelyâhis 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-heeâs 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 heâd somehow found in your sizeâbecause 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 firstâneither of you really knowing what to sayâbut 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 himâmore than onceâthat 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 Iâm sorry for making you wait. I promise weâll make up for all the time we lost. Sleep well, beautiful.
Even as sleep pulled you under, the smile on your lips never faded.
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You wake up to the relentless ringing of your doorbell. A groan slips past your lips as you burrow deeper into your blankets. Itâs Sunday. No work. No alarms. Just sleepâat 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 donât 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. Itâs not even earlyâitâs almost 1 PM.
Squinting against the bright light as you crack the door open, youâre met with a sight that instantly wakes you up. A delivery man stands there, arms full, holding the biggest bouquet of red roses youâve ever seen. The sheer number of petals is overwhelming, a deep sea of crimson spilling over the edges of his grasp.
"Whatâ" 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. Youâre 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 wonât 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 youâve been aliveâhow does he even think like this? Tears prick at your eyes before you can stop them. Heâs ridiculous. Heâs thoughtful in a way that completely undoes you.
Before you even realise what youâre doing, youâre running. Not walkingârunning. 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 openâlike he had been waiting for this call all along. âBeomgyuââ your voice comes out uneven, breathless.
He chuckles softly, âSo⊠I take it you liked it?â
Itâs 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 rosesânot that youâre 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 loadedâSoobin 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 wasnât exaggeratingâhe 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.
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"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, Beomgyuâs phone buzzes. He glances down at the screen.
My Y/N Live?
His back immediately straightens. Shit. Youâre watching? Heâs 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 toâ
"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 ridiculousâboth 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 heâs 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.
Thisâthis is cute. Heâs always enjoyed going live, but now he knows youâre 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 doesnât respond right awayâjust smiles, warmth spreading through his chest. Then his phone buzzes.
He checks it, and the moment he does, a gasp slips past his lips.
Itâs a picture. You.
A snack is held near your face, your expression relaxed. Youâre 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 doesnât look away from his phone as his lips curl into a smile.
"She is," he murmurs, almost to himself.
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"Sheâs here."
Ji-anâs voice pulls you from your focus. Sheâs standing beside your desk, phone pressed to her ear, while you scan last weekâs 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, thereâs a delivery for you. Theyâre 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 bouquetâthis 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~ âbg <3
A laugh escapes before you can stop itâhe'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? Thatâs next-level sweet. Iâm jealousâmine isn't really a flowers kind of person."
You return her smile, "Yeah, he's the sweetest."
Itâs been a month since you met Beomgyu. A single dayâthatâs 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 flowersâhis 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 drillâeveryone meets everyoneâs soulmate. Itâs 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 canât meet him. Your friends, your familyânone of them can. Maybe not now. Maybe not ever. You donât 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'sâhe's busy," you say, hoping your voice doesnât betray you. You glance at the bouquet on your desk, fingers tracing the petals as if they hold an answer you donât have. "Maybe next time."
The day finally ends, and youâre grateful Ji-an didnât 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 youâbut then you remember.
You forgot to send a text. Pulling out your phone, you type: Iâm 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 wonât see it for hours, but you text him anywayâbecause you can already hear his voice in your head, playful and pouty. You forgot to tell me again, heâd whine. Can you please let me know?
Youâve 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, thereâs always a second to say, I havenât forgotten you.
Because thatâs what heâs 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 girlâsitting right on the hood of your car.
Your car. Sheâs perched there like she belongs, fingers idly tracing patterns against the metal.
"Hey," you call out, keeping your voice even. "Itâs not really polite to sit on someone elseâs 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. Sheâs young. Much younger than you.
"Excuse me?"
"Are you fucking deaf?" she snaps.
Your instincts flareâthis isnât normal. You take a step back, "Leave. Now. Before I call the police."
But she doesnât move. Instead, she tilts her head, and smirked. "Youâre Beomgyuâs soulmate, arenât 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 wonât come.
Because you knowâwhatever you say next could make this worse.
She clicks her tongue, taking a slow step toward you. "Do this while Iâm still being nice," she says, voice eerily light. "Stay away from him. Or Iâll destroy everything." She tilts her head again, a slow blink. "Iâd 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 doesnât look back. Not until sheâs a few feet away.
"Donât think I wonât do it," she murmurs. "Just think about how I knew. Your name. Your workplace. Your parking spot."
She smiles, "Donât test me."
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Iâm 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 natureâhis 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, heâs not letting you out of his sight. Heâll beg his company if he has toâanything 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. Heâd buy you things you didnât 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. Thatâs what his parents always told him. Heâd give itâall of it.
Maybe one day, heâd 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.
Itâs the first time you havenât picked up.
Heâs in the van now. Itâs been hours.
Beomgyu grips his phone, scrolling through his notifications, eyes darting to every new alert. His heart lifts for a secondâonly to sink just as fast when he realizes itâs not you. The screen dims in his hands, but he doesnât put it down. He canât.
"You still havenât heard from her?" Soobin asked. Heâs the only one still awake, eyes heavy but observant. Beomgyu hadnât meant to make it obvious, but heâs never been good at hiding thingsânot 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. Sheâll probably be awake by then."
Beomgyu nods, forcing a small smile. "Yeah. Youâre 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 dancedâgave 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 wonât come.
His phone sits beside him on the bed. Youâre probably asleep. He tells himself that. He should leave it alone.
But knowing doesnât stop him from pressing call. It rings.
Once. Twice.
Heâs about to give up when the line clicks.
âH-Hello?â 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. âBaby, whatâs wrong?â
âBeomgyu.â The way you say his name makes his breath catch.
âAre you okay? Iâve beenââ
âBeomgyu.â You cut him off again, your voice softer this time. âYeah, Iâm⊠okay.â He hears you take a shaky breath. âIâve just been thinking for the past couple of hours, andâŠâ His grip on the phone tightens.
"What is it?"
âMaybe we should lie low for a bit? Youâre busy, and youâre at the peak of your career.â A pause. âItâs not that Iâm going away,â you add quickly, âIâm your soulmate, after all.â The last part is barely a whisper.
Beomgyu shoots up from where heâs sitting, running a hand through his hair, fingers pulling at the strands. He feels cold all over. His pulse pounds in his ears.
âWhere is this coming from?â His voice is raw, edged dangerously close to panic. âWhat happened, Y/N?â
âNothing, really,â you say too quickly. âIt just⊠crossed my mind.â Thereâs a pause. A beat of silence that feels like a lifetime. âItâs late there. Itâs 2 AM. Please sleep.â
His chest tightens. âAre you breaking up with me?â The words feel foreign in his mouth. His voice drops to a whisper. âDo you not want me? Do you not want this?â
âBeomgyu, please.â You voice wavers. âOur fate is certain. But right now⊠I just feel like itâs not working.â You exhale slowly. âYou should sleep, okay? Letâs talk again⊠soon.â
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 thenâhe 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, itâs real.
4 AM, and Beomgyu still hasnât slept. His eyes burn from exhaustion, but his mind wonât shut off. Heâs been texting you, calling youâover and overâbut 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. Itâs 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. Itâs stupid to answer an unknown call at this hour. Their managers had given them talks about it. But somethingâsomething in his gutâtells him to pick up.
âHello?â His voice is hoarse.
âBeomgyu.â A pause. Thenâ âItâs Da-hee,â
His breath catches.
âSheâs going to be angry if she finds out I called you,â Da-hee says, voice hushed, urgent. âBut I canât just sit back and watch this happen. Just listen to me. Iâm going to tell you everythingâfrom the start.â
"Please."
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"Donât think I wonât do it," she murmurs. "Just think about how I knew. Your name. Your workplace. Your parking spot."
She smiles, "Donât test me."
You take another sip of whiskey, curled up on the couch, knees drawn to your chest. The tears wonât 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 wonât stop either.
Beomgyu.
He has everythingâhis dream, his career, a future so bright it could swallow you whole. He has the world at his feet. And you? Youâre just⊠you. Not worth the risk. Not worth the detour. Maybe this was always how it was supposed to be. Maybe thatâs 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?
âFuck,â you choke out, voice breaking. You press the heel of your palm against your eyes, as if that could stop the ache. âJust when I finally saw you⊠What a joke.â You shake your head, wiping your face with the sleeve of your sweater. âThe universe is a fucking idiot for ever thinking we were meant to be.â
You take another drink, and it burns.
âY/N.â
You blink up, vision swimming, to see Da-hee standing in the doorway, concern etched across her face.
âIâve been ringing your doorbell,â she says, stepping closer. âI used the spare keyâwhy are you crying?â
You donât respond. You just stare at her, eyes glassy, cheeks wet. She moves toward you, eyes flickering to the near-empty glass in your hand. Youâve been drinking for hours. You already called in sick to workâthereâs no way you could function like this.
"Oh, honey," She sighs, reaches for the glass, and you donât fight it. You let it go. "What happened?"
âFate is already taking back what it let me borrow.â Your voice is barely above a whisper, but Da-hee hears it. She your holds your hand.
âWhat are you talking about?â she asks. âExplain.â
You swallow hard. Your throat feels tight, like every word is fighting to stay buried. But you force them out.
âA sasaeng,â you murmur, watching as Da-heeâs eyes widen in alarm. âShe found out about me. She knows everything, Da-hee. Where I live, where I work, my familyâeverything.â You suck in a shaky breath, blinking back fresh tears. âAnd the worst of it, she fucking said sheâs going to ruin Beomgyu.â
The moment the words leave your lips, your resolve shatters. You cryâlike a child finally breaking after being scolded in front of everyone, holding it all in until no oneâs around to see. Da-hee pulled you into her arms as you sobbed. You cling to her, hands fisting her sweater. âI have to let him go,â you choke out. âI canât do this to him. To them. They donât deserve this.â
Da-hee pulls back, her hands firm on your shoulders. âNo,â she says, shaking her head. âYou donât have to do this alone. We can go to the police. We can tell Beomgyuââ
âAnd then what?â you cut in, voice hollow. âWhat 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.â
Da-hee doesnât answer. She just sinks onto the couch beside you, eyes shining with unshed tears, because she knows you well. She knows you too wellâknows that the emotional version of you wouldnât 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. Heâs still calling. Still trying.
"I donât think itâs best to answer it right nowâ"
But you donât listen to Da-heeâs 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 knowâ
If you wake up tomorrow, you might not be able to let him go.
âH-Hello?â He stutters on the other line, his voice unsteady. Your breath catches in your throat. âBaby, whatâs wrong?â
Everything. Everything is wrong.
âBeomgyu.â
I miss you. How can I go on without you?
âAre you okay? Iâve beenââ
âBeomgyu.â You cut him off again, your voice softer this time. âYeah, Iâm⊠okay.â You take a shaky breath. âIâve just been thinking for the past couple of hours, andâŠâ You hesitate.
Iâm not okay. Iâve been thinking about you, only you, and how my existence could ruin everything youâve worked for.
"What?" His inhale is sharp, laced with the beginnings of panic.
âMaybe we should lie low for a bit? Youâre busy, and youâre at the peak of your career.â You pause, fingers trembling. âItâs not that Iâm going away,â you add quickly, desperate to believe your own words. âIâm your soulmate, after all.â The last part is barely a whisper.
I should be replaceable. And I shouldnât be your priority. You press a hand to your mouth, as if you can keep the words from spilling outâkeep the truth from bleeding through.
âWhere is this coming from? What happened, Y/N?â
My heart is breaking. And youâre too far away to hold it together.
âNothing, really,â you say too quickly. âIt just⊠crossed my mind.â You pause, swallowing. âItâs late there. Itâs 2 AM. Please sleep.â
Please sleep. And forget about me.
âAre you breaking up with me? Do you not want me? Do you not want this?â
I want you more than anything. Thatâs why I have to do this. If I can save you from losing everything, Iâll do it. Even if it means losing you.
âBeomgyu, please.â You voice wavers. âOur fate is certain. But right now⊠I just feel like itâs not working.â You exhale slowly. âYou should sleep, okay? Letâs talk again⊠soon.â
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.
Youâll do this for him. Even if it destroys you.
Da-hee wipes at her eyes, sniffling as she looks at youâcurled up in the fetal position, your body tense like youâre bracing for impact even in sleep. She managed to get you into bed, but it doesnât feel like enough.
Sheâd do anything for you.
Carefully, she tiptoes to the bedside table and picks up your phone. Her heart pounds. If anyoneâs watching me, Iâll 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.
Beomgyuâs birthday.
Da-hee lets out a small, disbelieving laugh. âYou idiot,â she whispers, shaking her head. âYou love him so much, and yet youâre willing to walk away. How can you be this selfless?â
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.
Youâll be furious. You might never forgive her. But if thereâs even the slightest chance this stops you from making the biggest mistake of your lifeâsheâll take that risk.
Someone has to tell him the things that you canât.
The line connects, and Da-hee inhales. âSheâs going to be angry if she finds out I called you, but I canât just sit back and watch this happen. Just listen to me. Iâm going to tell you everythingâfrom the start.â
Sheâll prepare her apology laterâmore than that, she hopes Beomgyu will fight for you.
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"I want to go home." Beomgyuâs 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 breathâhe mustâve run after him. Beomgyu doesnât care.
Beomgyu already knows everythingâDa-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. âYouâre flying back home in a few days, Beomgyu.â
âNo,â he says, jaw tightening. âI mean now. I need a few days. To rest. To handle something personal.â
âYou know your schedule is packedââ
âThen move everything,â Beomgyu interrupts sharply. He feels Soobinâs 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. âWe canât do that.â
âYou wonât even try?â His voice wavers between frustration and desperation. âYou wonât even let the management know?â
âWe canât make last-minute changes like this.â
Beomgyu lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. âRight. Of course.â He clenches his fists. All his life, heâs done everything they asked. Pushed through exhaustion, smiled through sickness, showed up even when his body begged him to stop. âI wonât follow you on this,â he says, voice steady. âI canât do this. Not this time. If you wonât let me go, Iâll still leave.â
âBeomgyu, letâs talk about this when youâre calm,â Soobin says gently, patting Beomgyuâs back. âPlease.â
Beomgyu turns to him, his eyes dark with frustration. âI love MOAs, hyung. I love all of you. They gave me everything.â His voice wavers, but he pushes through. âBut Y/N⊠she is my everything.â His breath hitches. He can't even explain it properly. How badly he needs you. âYouâre lucky. All of you. Your soulmatesâ"
âSo this is about your soulmate?â The manager exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. âDonât you see? Sheâs making you choose between her and your career.â
âNo.â Beomgyuïżœïżœïżœs voice breaks, his chest tightens, and the lump in his throat is unbearable. âSheâs not making me choose. Sheâs already choosing for me.â His next breath is shaky. âSheâs leaving. Can you let your own soulmate leave?â
The room falls silent. Soobin watches him, stunned. Heâd never seen Beomgyu like this beforeâthis 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. Heâs 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.
Heâs been listening the whole time.
Yeonjun immediately reaches out, tugging at his arm. âYah, Choi Beomgyu, come on,â he says quietly. âLetâs talk with everyone.â 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 listenedânot as bandmates, not as colleagues, but as brothers.
No one understood him better than they did.
They didnât tell him to reconsider. They didnât 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 prayedânot for him to change his mind, but for the world to understand.
Kai was the first to break. His voice barely above a whisper, âIs it really worth it⊠if the world doesnât want us to have soulmates?â
It shattered something in all of them.
Beomgyu didnât answerânot 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 isnât supposed to be shameful. Because having a soulmate shouldnât 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 isnât impossible.
And he would.
Completely.
He would trade it all, just to see you again.
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The pounding in your head hasnât let up, a dull, relentless throb that even the hot shower couldnât wash away. You pop an aspirin, sighing as you press your fingertips against your temples, willing the acheâand everything elseâto disappear.
Then the doorbell rings. Right. The food.
Dragging your feet toward the door, you barely think as you swing it openâthen 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 heâs afraid youâll vanish if he blinks.
âY/Nââ 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 itâs the only thing keeping you upright. Shit. He fucking looks good with his new dyed hairâ wait. Don't think about that. What is he doing here?
âIâm parked out front,â his voice comes through the door, muffled but you hear it. âI just want to talk.â A shaky inhale. Then softer, âBaby, Iâm here. When youâre ready, just open the door.â
His footsteps retreat.
You start pacing, your heart ricocheting against your ribs. Heâs here. He came all this way. After everything you stupidly said. You hurt him yetâ
The doorbell rings again.
You yank it open, âWait, my assââ
âChinese takeout for Y/N?â The delivery guy blinks at you, holding up the bag.
âOh.â 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, heâs 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, itâs 8 p.m. Heâs been outside for twelve hoursâsilent, waiting.
Just like he promised. He never knocked again. Twelve hours. Your hands tremble as you turn off the stove. He mustâve just come from another gruelling day, looking like heâd stepped off a plane after hours in the airârumpled, drained, and still without rest.
Why did you let him wait this long?
You donât 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 heâs run his hands through it a hundred times. His face is drawn, exhausted. His eyesâred-rimmed, heavy, like heâs been crying for hours. You swallow the lump in your throat.
âCome inside,â Your voice cracks, but you donât stop. You just turn around and head back toward the door. You donât have to look back to know heâs 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, "Beomgyuâ"
You barely get his name out before heâs on you. He can't stop himself anymore. Itâs how you looked outside, so effortlessâyour 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 angelicâhis hands grip your waist, pulling you flush against him, his body heat searing through your clothes. His lips crash into yoursâhungry, desperate, like heâs 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 kissâhotter, 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 youâd 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 donât mean itâthat 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?"
âI'm sorry,â 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 Beomgyuâs 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 hadnât 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 kissâfeatherlight, reverentâpressed against the place where destiny tied you to him.
âIt's going to be okayâŠâ 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 didnât know you were capable of.
"I'll fix it for us, for you." He looks at youâwanting to see every expression you make. Heâs going to fuck you until you cum all over his dick and then heâll do it again. Until you won't be able to think about leaving him anymore. He goes down furtherâkisses down and the smell of you is divine.
His face hovers and with his fingers he spreads you apart. He swallowsâsalivating. He sticks his tongue out, lightly licking your clit. You taste soâHe 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 doesnât stopâdoesnât 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 tongueâmessy, desperate, a mix of him and you, blurring the lines between whoâs devouring who.
âI love you,â 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 outâ"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. âIâm in love with you, Y/N,"
âI love you,â 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, Iâ It was selfish of meâ" 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.
âShh, no,â he whispered, pulling you against his chest, holding you like he was afraid youâd 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 heâs rewriting everything, like he knows exactly where every shattered piece of you belongs. As if heâs 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 necessityâhis 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 truthâit 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 Beomgyuâs 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 couldnât 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. âWhat are you doing baby? Dolled up and all.â
âDrying my hair,â you say, âIâm actually early today. Da-hee is dropping by later too, by the way.â
âOkay. Iâll drive you.â He leans down, eyes flickering to the hairdryer on the desk. He picks it up, flipping it on. âI know how to do this.â
You give him a skeptical look. âOh, really?â
âUh-huh. I could probably do your makeup too.â 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.
âI used to braid my momâs hair when I was younger,â he murmurs. âI want to do yours too.â 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 braidedâthe proof that he wasnât 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. âI love you,â
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 thenâout of the corner of your eyeâyou 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 nightâs 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 yetâthere 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 overlookedâit 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 bloomâmaybe, just maybe, so can you.
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"Hyung!" Beomgyuâs laughter rings through the air as he runs straight into his brotherâs arms. They embrace, laughing like theyâre 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 memoryâsoft, 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. "Iâve wanted to meet you for so long, dear," she murmurs against your shoulder.
When Beomgyuâs father steps forward, you feel your chest tighten. He smiles, and for a second, itâs 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 arenât looking.
His parents laugh along with your storiesâthe 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 itâs the story of Beomgyu meeting your family last week that really gets them, how heâd 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. âIâll have to meet them soon,â she says, already making plans in her head, as if youâve always been part of the family. At some point, Beomgyu tells them youâll 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 deckâheâs spent years hereâon this very step, staring out at the world, wondering when heâd 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 donât understand? What if this changes everything? What ifâ
Laughter drifts from inside the house, yours mixing with his momâs, his brotherâs. 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 doesnât watch. Just locks his phone and sets it aside as the front door creaks open.
"Youâre 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 hisâthumb 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 youânot by destinyâs design, not by some divine script, but by choice?
Even without a soulmate mark, even without fateâ
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 toâlike 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 rainâthe hush of the earth reborn, the golden light breaking through the clouds, the promise that even the chaos was worth it.
He canât help himself. Not when youâre 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 messagesâteary 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.
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hi iâm just here to drop in and mention how bad Quinn wants to leave marks on your body. he doesnât care where or how he just needs to see him on you at all times ya know?
Halloo, love, my lovely mootđ. Iâm sorry it took me long. I blame my two braincells. They got distracted. [Also... i totally didnt try to repost this (i did, but it didnt happen...đ sorry)] Here it is...ummm.... i think i have veered off in a different path. Sorry...đ§đ»ââïž
CW/TW: 18+ MDNI, Smut or smut(ish), Sloppy kisses and Marking, Slightest bit of choking, Quinn being a love sick fool đââïž
Count: 1448 words | Masterlist
One. Two. Three. Hmmm, thatâs not right. Quinn swears he left you four marks on your neckâŠWhy the fuck are you bundled up after all the hard work he did?
He could feel his irritation bubble up his throat, but he swallows it downâcrossing his arms, eyebrows drawnâas he tracks your movement across the apartment. Youâre doing miscellaneous cleaning, dusting here and there, dancing along with whatever music blasting in your headphones.
You look cute, really. Pretty and cozy in your matching sweatpants and your crewneck sweater. The colors are soft and makes your skin glow. The fit is oversized. You demanded that size when you got him to buy itâhe bought five sets for you, because you rarely request something. You are even wearing your comfy and grippy socks. Adorable, really. ReallyâFuck. What the fuck? Are you covering himâhis marksâup? Didnât you say you love them last night?
Before he could spiral, you finally notice him. Whatever complaints he has disintegrated to nothing. Your smile with the twinkle in your eyes takes his breath away. When you squeal and run towards him, his arms instantly drop, spreading to give in your hug. You smell like fresh laundry. Home. You smell like home. His home.
Quinn melts into your touch, head dipping where your neck and shoulders meet. His eyes dart from one mark after the other. Where is the other one?
 âQuinn, youâre home! Howâs your day? Howâs practice?â you ramble on, pressing a soft kiss on his cheek.
âAll good. I had fun,â he murmurs, slightly parting from you. âHowâs yours?â
You happily recount your dayâcleaning, work, watching a show, taking a good and satisfying bath. Quinn guesses that this day is for a nonlinear storytelling, which he has no complaints about. He could get lost in your voice, thatâs like the soft patters of rain, like the soft breeze in summer, like the rustle of leaves, like soft chirps of birds. Your voice is like every calming tune of nature. Soothing. Nurturing. Thatâs what you do to his soul.
Mix that with how firmly your arms are wrapped around his torso, hands slipping into his shirt. They smoothen over his muscles, tracing his spine, causing shivers to run down his fucking soul. Oh, the effect you have on him, but that doesnât appease him as it usually does. Not one bitâfine, maybe just slightlyâbecause where the fuck is it?
While you talk about a grocery list, Quinn carefully rubs your arms and your shoulders. When he thumbs the column of your neck, you instantly pause, shuddering, breaths picking up. You look at him with wide eyes. The blush staining your cheeks deepens. Cute.
Quinn slips his thumb into your collar and tugs. He almost gets distracted with the goosebumps on your skin. Almost. Because there it is. The fourth mark. Itâs just hiding under the edge. Still red and purple, the same shade as the other three. Still so beautiful on your skin. So fucking beautiful.
âQuinn?â you call, confusion etched in your face. âDid I lose you?â
Lose him? Never. You will never lose him. Youâre stuck with him. He will chase you no matter where you go, stand beside you, hold your hands every step of the way.
You know that, but youâre still pouting. As second ticks, your confusion turns into annoyance. Your eyebrows furrow. Youâre such a brat sometimes. It makes him want to kiss you, so he does. Your arms hook over his nape. The way your lips instantly part sends blood rushing down his groin. Youâre always so eager, parting your thighs for his leg to step between.
âYou ignored me,â you murmur, nipping at his lip. âYou canât ignore me.â
Fuck. That feels good.
âNot ignoring you. I heard everything you said,â Quinn whispers back in between kisses. âYou know that, brat.â
He feels your smile, hears your giggle. Heâs so fucked. Even that turns him on. With how your eyes shine, you know you had him in a chokehold. Well, he can have you in a chokehold too. Literally. So, he gives your neck a squeeze. A small whimper comes out your lips.
âQuinn.â
Your name spills out from his lips as a response.
You moan like heâs already fucking you, grinding your clothed cunt over his thigh. He pushes it up, letting you take all the friction you want.
When he goes for another kiss, your lips are already parted, tongue out, waiting for his. You beautiful siren. Quinn canât hold in his growl as he meets it.
The kiss is sloppy, messy, and hungry. Your spits mixing. Your tongues lashing. Your teeth bumping and nipping each otherâs lips. So different from the first one just a while ago. So different, yet utterly the sameâfull of love, lust, and devotion. So fucking good.
Quinn grinds his hard-on against you, raising his thigh to help you chase your high, but he stops. Not yet. You canât come just yet. Your whines fill his ears as he parts from you. Tears threaten to spill as you try, try, and fucking try to get him to kiss you again. To get him to let you ride his thigh again. To get him to fuck himself on you.
You have to wait.
âMaybe,â he mutters against your lips, almost laughing when your tongue darts out to gaud him for another kiss. Little seductress. Quinn impatiently tugs on your sweatshirt. âMaybe you should get rid of this, yeah?â
He nearly preens when you nodâdesperately and utterly wrecked. His hands shake as he helps you pull it off.
Fuck. Youâre just wearing an almost-sheer crop top underneath. Your nipples are already taut, begging for him to touch, to kiss, to suck. Your low neckline showcases your beautiful skin littered with different shades of kiss marks. Some are old. Some are new. All his.
Yet. Not. Enough.
Not when there are still lots of blank spaces of skin to mark. Not when many of them are already fading. Not when you can still hide them. He doubts it will ever be enough. He just needs him on you.
His kiss marks.
Different from cum and spit which youâor he, depending on your moodâwash away.
Different from the occasional fingerprint bruises he leaves on your hips and thighs from holding you so tightly as he fucked you until you couldnât stop cumming, until heâs left with watery cum or with nothing because your sweet pussy already sucked him dry.
Different because it shows the whole world how he worshipped you, your skin, your being.
Different but they always come one after another. He canât have you all marked up with your pussy unsatisfied, can he? No. Thatâs not possible. An offence that he would rather die than commit.
âYouâre so pretty,â he breathes, grazing his knuckles over your ribs. His other hand tenderly holds our hips, keeping them pressed against his, not letting you do anything else. âSo pretty.â
He nearly chokes on those words. He relishes the feel of your hands on his shoulders, fingers casually tugging the tips of his hairâa demand for him to stop fucking around.
Well, can you blame him for taking his time? He just loves you so much.
Then, your little tugs turn more desperate, fingers wrapping around his locks. You tug on his hair like you want to rip it off, but you would ease and scratch his scalp effectively seducing him.
But first, he needs to remedy his problem. He grips your arms, holding them against the wall, as he partakes on your skin. The way you surrenderâwhen he starts sucking and adding marks on your neck, even craning it to give him more accessâalmost made him fall to his knees. Oh, he is essentially on his knees, because you are his love, his law, his Goddess. He is always kneeling for you. His existence is nothing without you now. He can only beg that you always be with himâof course, he will ensure that.
But he canât be on his knees right now. How can he reach your neck then? How can he hold you up when you are melting with every suck and lick and kiss then?
Later, he can be on his knees. Later, when he needs to mark up your belly, your hips, your thighs, the creases between them that leads to your pussy, and your beautiful fucking ass. Later.
Right now, he needs to mark up your neck to show everyoneâhonestly, just him, fuck everyone elseâthat you are his and his alone.
#it took me a bit#no beta read YET#i fear i've gotten lost in the sauce#another evidence of me going overboard#smut#sweet#sweet quinn#again i swear he is sweet; he's just madly in love with you#ruinix drabbles#ruinix answers#quinn hughes#qh43#qhughes#huggy bear#quinn hughes drabble#quinn hughes blurb#quinn hughes smut#quinn hughes imagine#quinn hughes x you#quinn hughes x reader
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ALSO RETURNED FROM WAR.... Plus Dustin is there
#THE THREE OF THEM ARE MATCHING đđđđ#and Jonathan's still in the middle#what if I#NORMAL NORMAL NORMAL#stranger things#st5#jonathan byers#nancy wheeler#Steve Harrington#st5 spoilers#stoncy#monster hunting trio
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free will is drawing ur two favorite characters together and making them gay
#akekita content in this economy? it's more likely than you think#this is like for the three ppl that ship them (me tumblr user haliai and atlus)#also which boyliker at atlus designed yusuke's phantom outfit like WHY is he dressed like a gay hooker đđđđ#the skintight spandex bodysuit designed to show off the slutty waist?? the exposed cleavage?? the cunty little fox tail?? bro đ#my hand was shaking while i was drawing the second img it felt so IMMODEST đđđđđ#i wish atlus confirmed which highschool akechi went to bc i love the hc that he attends kosei#his tie matches hifumi's ribbon so i think they're trying to tell us smt (im delusional)#ANYWAY akechi and yusuke would match each other's freak lowkey like they're both hardcore yappers that weird everyone else tf out#akechi would find solidarity in the fact that yusuke doesn't shut up abt whatever he's interested in#also also the fact that akechi is a mirror version of him bc they're victims of the same situation#both being exploited and utilized as tools after their mothers death#by the man they called father in exchange for validation or a false sense of place#but ultimately yusuke was saved by phantom thieves while akechi refused any pity and slowly succumbed to fate of his own making#really makes you look at atlus and think whats going on in their buttery smooth brains for not including other character interactions#aside from the social links with joker. the wasted dynamic potential between some of the characters is insane đ#persona 5#p5#yusuke kitagawa#kitagawa yusuke#goro akechi#akechi goro#akekita#bro me when i stay up until three am drawing persona instead of finishing my lab (iâm beyond cooked đđ)#i think i need to switch college majors i canât keep doing this#lotus draws
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Just thinking about Bela and Dani and how close they were as kids, only to notice they have the same kind of piercingsđ„șâ€ïžïżŒ
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AND ALL THREE OF THEM HAD MATCHING NECKLACES IN THE OG DESIGNS
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Pardon me while I go SOB
#I canât w them#considering Dani shadowed Bela as a kid#they couldâve gotten piercings togther OR Dani wanted to match with her big sisđ or vice versa!#okay now brain rot HC of Bela getting her piercings simply because Dani didnât want to get hers done aloneâ€ïž#I love to imagine the years they actually got to spend together as children/young teens was just them being inseparable.#what? what do you mean they get tragically separated and Dani is desperately trying to rekindle her relationship with her sister#while Bela struggles with her own demons and pushes her sisters further away to keep them safe?#nuh uh đ§ââïž#all three of them are actually bonding at Disney World rn#resident lover#resident lover spoilers#bela dimitrescu#daniela dimitrescu
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I canât be bothered to finish these properly so here you go :â)
#Blanche looks Tall here oopsie#itâs just the pose I swear#Blanche is still đ€đ» teeny tiny. itâs so important sheâs so important#okay but real talk âŠ#ever since dorothy dipped rose that one time Iâve thought about someone dipping dorothy and well#i can explain âŠ#anyway enjoy !!! theyâre so married Iâm so mad these angles didnât let me draw their rings!!#<- let it be known those rings are THERE#the golden girls#blanche devereaux#dorothy zbornak#Blanche/Dorothy#blanche x dorothy#golden wives#<- speaking of. let it also be known that I am still a hardcore golden wives shipper#but also that it is impossible for me to find poses & such to draw all three of them in đ#anyway the three of them are married matching rose shaped rings with respective colours and designs#many thoughts my head is full of them constantly
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Realized I haven't drawn my F/Os and I together all in one photo, so I decided to amend that =]
I'll be hittin the hay now cuz its. 3AM where I live and I'm tired..
(JUST AS A DISCLAIMER TO THOSE OF YALL WHO DON'T KNOW: THAT IS NOT MILTON ON THE LEFT! ITS CODSWORTH!!! Don't let the bowler hat confuse you...)
#đŠâïžâïž metal trio#makin that the main tag of all three of us#for obvious reasons#fun fact i was originally gonna draw my sona in my hat to sorta match with them but i DESPISE drawin both antlers and hats together#it was gonna be a nod to my old sonas look but#i just couldnt do it i nearly gave up on this cuz of that đ#anyway yall like how i did the snow?#im pretty proud of it
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i know i was just complaining about stylizing loop's body but i figured that out and moved on and it turns out the head is so much harder đ i'm very happy with canon loop head and post-bodycraft loop head but the in-between phase is kicking my ASS and i can't just half-ass it bc figuring out the in-between head is the ENTIRE POINT of this WHOLE PROJECT....
i think part of the problem might be that unlike with the body, i do have an extremely clear idea of what is happening with the head physically and how it would look irl, it's just. a very difficult thing to draw. so i keep rejecting ideas that look good bc they're not my actual headcanon, but then also rejecting attempts to faithfully depict the headcanon bc they don't look good. head in my hands
#i set the tablet down for the night on a sketch that looks good but#most of my other sketches have also looked good :/ then i line them and it's not right at all#sigh#it might be easier if i changed how i draw the canon head but. j don't want to i like it....#maybe just worry less abt being an in-between phase and more do something entirely unique?#and then theoretically there's phases between all three points#like using pink to blend yellow and purple instead of blending directly....#that's so much going on though đ#idk hopefully that last sketch i did will work đđ#this has been a fun process tho#i don't usually iterate this much with anything except clothes#so it's cool to hammer away at a hard problem#and push myself to stylize in different ways#without feeling like i've ruined an entire illustration if the experiment fails#and i've figured out some cool techniques that might be fun to use in other places to give illustrations a particular vibe!#i'm just so invested in getting this head right tho that i'm like AHHHHHHH#đ€đ€đ€#silverstarschat#ugh on third thought maybe the canon head rly is my issue#it looks cool but it's not rly faithfully depicting my headcanon is it#so ofc any attempt to draw smth sorta like it won't match my headcanons either#OH I JUSF HAD AN IDEA#FUCK#I WANNA TRY IT SO BAD BUT I ALREADY TOOK MY CONTACTS OUT#AHHH I GOTTA faLL ASLEEP SO I CAN WAKE UP AND DRAW IT!!!!#ooohhhhh this is gonna be so good#crossing my goddamn fingers it works out#!!!!!!!
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anyway the con last weekend was fun! i got merch of TWO!!!!!(!!!) special interests AND my favorite movey AND my favorite tv show AND my favorite manga. and a keychain of a yuri ship. life is so fucking good
#(items in order listed here) vriska keychain aradia print nepeta print saw print (special interest and fave movie) madoka magica print#chainsaw man keychain millymeryl keychain#oh i also got alpha kid earrings (not really one set was cotton candy like the food and one set was game pieces one of which was green and#the other was orange. dirkjake colors thus dirkjake earrings.) uhhh what else did i get#i think thats it. good stuff.#just saying shit#conposting#cosplays i wore were roxy then godtier vriska then karkat#got lots of complements on my godtier vriska which was nice bc i sewed it!!#drafted the patterns and everything!#and i dyed those boots and made the cuffs and painted the soles. not that the sole paint lasted lol#i had so much funnnn i love conventions. next thing i have 2 look forward 2 is my friends bday party and a concert (same day)#the saw print is so cool ive only hung up aradia and nepeta so far but im excited 2 hang it in and the madomagi print up#omfg the madomagi print is gorgeous. ive said it before but madomagi artists r some of the most talented people alive#ran into ppl cosplaying 3/4 alpha kids (no jane đ) and terezi and nepeta and grimdark rose and june (who didnt recognize my friend who was#also cosplaying june? it was so weird đ) and two gamzees#gave most of them bracelets and/or buttons that we made#also saw a person in a space hoodie who i also gave a bracelet to#met three vendors with homestuck tattoos!#two of them were matching subtle moirail symbols w each others favorite flowers it was adorable âčïž#uhhh what else. didnt get a shark keychain due to money i rly wanted it tho i fucking love sharks
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I should do a tourny for my ocs in other guilds too and then pit the winners against each other
#if i do pandemonium+gladiatorium+knights it adds up to 33 (assuming pollux and castor are a pair) so i might do like One three way match#and then after that guilds comprise mostly of groups of 8 so like#i can do dragon tree and lunar flare together. and then cobalt heart and owl feather whenever i finish them#and i can do tartarus w the timber scouts but that seems. unfair. so ill add misc characters into that one#straight up mercs vs boyscouts đđđđ no yeah ill add others to that. there's not enough timber scouts anyway there's like 4 of em
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AKJDDNDSJDBDJJSHDHSJAJ
#i have someone to match my j/atp obsessive levels LOL#bro also my irl crazy switfie friend <333#both of us fucking screaming and crying at this j/atp rewatch while everyone else was normal LOL#singing along to everything DOING THE PERFECT HARMONY CHOREO LMFAOOOOO#SINGING LUKES GUITAR RIFF IN EDGE OF GREAT#IM SO SAD I MISS THIS SHOW SM#AND LIKE I JUST REWATCHED IT YEAH BUT I MISS LIKE#IDK HAVING HOPE FOR A FUCKING SEASON 2#THE ACTIVE ASS TUMBLR FANDOM#iâve been scrolling thru posts to send my friends who i just watched with#like the hope for s2âŠâŠ. the tag trending âŠâŠâŠ.. the last name revealâŠâŠâŠâŠ#i like also want to send them my favorite fanfics i feel so crazy lmao đđđđđđđ#what do i do when iâm reentering my j/atp obsession like however many years after it was fucking cancelled#*gestures vaguely at the pile of my love for this show* WHAT DO I DO W THIS FUCK YOU NETFLlX#;-;-;;-;-;;â;-;;â;;;;;;#and i doubt my friends who just watched it for the first time are gonna get as invested#BUT ITS OK I HAVE MY ONE FRIEND WHOZ ALSO CRAZY ABT IT LOL#đ„čđ„čđ„čđ„čđ„č#iâve literally been like running out of fanfic i want to read / struggling to find it but#iâm just gonna go rererereread stuff now LOL#oops i have already listened thru the soundtrack like 1.5 times since i got back#and i have made no move to get ready for bed LOL đ#ITS ONE TWO THREE FOUR TIMES THAT ILL TRY FOR ONE MORE NIGHT#jeanne talks
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The epic highs (cooing and laughing over the dogs with my mum) and lows (tearing up and getting emotional in front of my parents) of watching the doghouse with my mum and dad.
#there was a family of three (mum and two kids in their 20s) who recently lost their husband/dad#and they had me tearing up#the first dog they met wasnt a match which broke my heart#but the next two dogs (a pair) were perfect and the sons face just lit up đ#there was also a family with two young boys#and one of the boys was a bit anxious and wanted a dog to make him feel safer at night it was too cute#i cant with this show it ruins me#and im missing my own dogs rn i cant wait to get home and see them đ€§#personal
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~âąâĄâą~ I Like It Long
âł Summary: While out on a run, you and Michonne start lightly teasing Daryl for having his hair grown out. But there's a hidden reason as to why he won't cut it. (Daryl x Fem!Reader)
âł Setting: Alexandria, post Savior war
âł Word count: 1.4k
âł C/W: Just smut n hair pulling
âł A/N: This spawned from me writing the context plot of another fic and I was like⊠wait (And thank yall for the attention on that Mother's Day post??? Yall are so sweet đđ«¶)
My hair is really similar to Daryl's when it's partially or almost dry and it's actually my favorite thing about myself like xbsosjdjdneisnsiasjebeiisjabajissn
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You loudly banged your forearm against the glass door of a long abandoned drug store, not hearing any noise inside. Vines and weeds had grown through cracks in the concrete, winding up the sides of the building.
âSounds pretty clear,â You shrugged, holstering your bow and opting for hand-held blades as Michonne pulled open the handle. You, her, and Daryl were clearing through a nearby town while out on a supply run, opting to make quick work of the task in favor of getting home.
You three entered the building, keeping your guard up in case of any straggling walkers that weren't roused by the initial attempts to lure them towards you. The interior wasn't large, so you could comfortably split off from each other and still be close.
âSeems mostly ransacked. Not much left,â Michonne commented, katana lowered but out in front of her. This had begun to grow repetitive and boring, energy matching the grayness of the lighting.
She took a pair of hair cutting shears off the shelf in front of her, holding them up to your gaze a few isles over. âThink he could use these?â She asked as a smile played the edges of her mouth, nodding back towards Daryl, looking for mischief. His hair had grown quite long over the course of the last two years, the tawny blond darkening into a rich brown, accompanied by a shaggy cut.
âOh definitely. Jusâ gotta determine which onna us can hold him down long enough to cut it,â You replied with a chuckle, eyes following hers to where the archer stood at the endcap of another lane.
âShuddup, will ya?â Daryl scoffed, shaking his head with grunt. His gaze didn't break from the advertisement in front of him, trying to ignore your antics. âTs'fine.â
âGotta make use of whatever supplies we find, no?â You continued your teasing, trying to hide the grin on your face at his reaction. âYou were sweatinâ like a pig all summer, hair tangled all over yer face ân what not. When was the last time you cut it?â
âDonâ knoâ, donâ care,â He grumbled, and you eyed Michonne again. It's definitely been since the prison, at least. He moved on from the stand. âPlus, winter up âere's gon be colder. Will keep me warm.â
âDaryl, you're âbout the only one who didn't freshen up since we got to Alexandria. Don't you at least want a trim?â Michonne pestered, raising her eyebrows at him and shifting her weight to one leg. âYou remember Rick's whole hobo-beard.â
âAin't got no âhobo-beardâ.â
âBut you do look like the only âscissorsâ you know is the recently searched on your go to porn site,â Michonne chaffed, barely able to contain herself.
Daryl froze for just a second, face flushing as his head whipped to stare back at her. And you two burst out laughing, to which his expression soured.
âGive it up, alrighâ?! Ain't nothinâ wrong with mah hair!â He snapped, accent thick with embarrassment, bowing his head slightly in an effort to obscure it. He readjusted his hold on his crossbow. âGon shoot tha botha ya.â
âAy, ay! Jusâ sayinâ. Rick scrapped the beard and⊠maybe you'll finally get some play too,â She winked, followed by a lighthearted snicker.
Daryl groaned again and rolled his eyes, beginning to walk off, but caught your gaze for just a second.
It's not that he didn't want to cut his hair - he didn't care about it â but he wasn't really allowed to either way. There was one major, sexy, moaning reason he didn't cut his hair.
â„-ăăââââââŁ
âOh, god, Daryl! Fuck! Don't stop⊠god don't stop,â You cried out, hands clutching his shoulders as your nails began to dig into his flesh. His grip on your hips was bruising, keeping you steady as he pounded up into you at a relentless pace. That grip was the sole thing grounding you in the reality of the present moment.
âAin't gon stop,â He affirmed, voice gravelly. You moaned wildly, head weakly falling to his chest with exacerbated breaths, his own heaving against your temple. He leaned closer when he could, harshly sucking at your clavicle and boobs, leaving behind a litter of hickeys and little bites that colored you in reds and purples.
The springs of the bed beneath you sounded like they were gonna fold in on themselves, headboard sporadically banging against the wall as Daryl shifted down a little to hit into you at an angle, your clit brushing against him with each thrust. Your back arched overtop of him, shoving his dick into your belly.
âBaby, please⊠fhuuuckkkk.â You couldn't even think, every thought consumed by the feeling of him. The way he just destroyed you like it's an art he'd mastered, tip brushing against every sweet and sensitive spot inside you, walls desperately trying to cling on, balls hitting up against you, clit grinding on him, slickness coating his pelvis and your inner thighs, his clutch on you just so fucking strong.
You pulled yourself together, lifting your head to see him. His long hair was dark and dampened with sweat, matting up as it stuck to his forehead, obscuring part of his vision. But he was too focused on using you to fix it, didn't dare to remove his hands unless God willed him to.
You moved up, swiping it away, and his blue eyes instantly connected with yours, pupils blown with lust. He (somehow) sped up, starting to slam your hips up and down to meet him instead of just keeping them stationary, now just beating your cunt.
âTha's it girl. Jusâ keep takinïżœïżœ me good like thaâ.â
His words made you shiver, and you partially fell forward again, nestling your face beside his and snaking an arm behind his head. Your fingers weaved through his messy hair, tangling at the scalp, then tugging harshly as another wave of pleasure ripped through you.
And he whined. There it is. His breathy gasps and grunts mingled with strained whines, and whimpers, as you pulled tighter and tighter at the roots of his locks. His face contorted, eyes nearly squeezing shut, that one vein bulging from his neck, directly on the verge of so much.
âDaryl⊠inside.., Dar-â You panted, cut off as everything went white and you hit your peak. Your whole body felt electrified, tensing, twitching, walls spasming, toes curling and claws clinging to his frame.
Daryl tipped over the edge almost immediately after, having just been waiting for you to cum first. He desperately pumped into you a few more times, before curving up once more and simultaneously ramming you down as he came deep in you, the warmth of his release spreading through your core, and he threw his head back with ragged breaths.
You were both left a sweaty mess, gasping for oxygen, feeling full and satisfied. Your muscles couldn't keep you up, and you collapsed onto him, loosening your hold at his scalp, his hold on your hips doing the same.
He recovered a bit quicker than you, bringing a hand up and brushing your own messy hair away the second he had the energy to do so.
âYa alrighâ, sunshine?â He asked between hitches, hoping he hadn't been too rough. He soothingly rubbed his palm over the curve of your body where bruises were sure to form.
You nodded faintly, moving your head so you could breathe better, and you could feel him relax beneath you from the reassurance. He held you tenderly for a while, giving you time to regain your composure. Your eyes were closed in bliss. Few things beat the feeling of Daryl under you, rising and falling with his torso, hearing his low humming as he steadied himself â his softening cock still buried deep inside you, cum ever so surely beginning to dribble down.
You lazily remained in his arms, not wanting to deal with getting up, or the shower you two definitely needed. You took a strand of his hair, affectionately curling it around your finger like a tendril, then letting it go and repeating.
âYa actually want me tah cut ma hair?â He eventually asked, thinking back to your light mocking from earlier, how you'd laughed as Michonne layered it on. It didn't matter much to him, he'd do whatever pleased you.
âFuck no. Was just messinâ with you, Dixon,â You replied, kissing the skin of his collarbone right below you, and moving up to find his lips. âYou know I like it long.â
The long hair suited him, he looked good with it. You loved to wash and play with it, brush and braid it while he laid in your lap. But mainly, it was easy to grab at, pull on â and close to nothing in existence sounded better than those whines and whimpers every time you did so.
©corvidcrossbow 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified or adapted to other platforms. My work may be translated only if asked and with proof of given consent.
#daryldixon#daryl dixon#daryl dixon smut#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon fic#twd#the walking dead#twd daryl#twd daryl dixon#normanreedus#norman reedus#daryl dixon x female reader#daryl dixon x y/n#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon x you#daryl x reader#daryl x female reader#daryl x you#daryl dixon headcanon#daryl dixion smut#the walking dead fanfiction#daryl dixon imagine#norman reedus x reader#daryl
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Wearing Enhypenâs clothes
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Enha x implied fem reader, established relationship, 945 words (AGAIN), fluffff, jungwons is longer than everyone elseâsđŹ
Heeseung
He is the perpetrator.
Like as soon as you walk in the door he shoves his hoodie onto you
Itâs not cute eitherâ your arms get stuck and your hair is messed up and staticky everywhere
But as soon as itâs on he pulls the hood down and looks at you with such a lovesick look even though you look like a gremlin
Every time you stay over he makes you wear his clothes because he just thinks you look so cute
And since his shirts/hoodies are too big on you it makes it easier to sneak his hands up them to hold your bare waist which is his favorite way to cuddle đ
Jay
At first you were just so impressed with his style that you wanted to be like him đ„ș
He though it was so cute when you walked out in one of the outfits he had posted a picture in one day and been like âhow do you manage to make this look good đâ
âWell for starters, the clothes actually fit meâ he laughs and ruffles your hair
He likes to get matching outfits so you donât always have to steal much of his stuff since you probably have a match
But you always end up stealing his accessories
The amount of times heâs complimented your necklace only to realize it was his đ
Youâre lucky he loves you
Likes when you slide his rings onto your fingers while youâre playing with his hands đ„°
Jake
THE KING OF SHARING CLOTHES
He will give you anything that you want from his closet, no questions asked
He loves trying to sneakily add articles of his clothing to your outfits
Like âhey what if you added- I donât know- a flannel around your waist? Actually look, Iâve already go one right here. Let me put it on you.â
He loves coming home and seeing you in his hoodies or flannels (especially when theyâre so long it looks like you arenât wearing pants đ)
Refers to his new purchases as âour new jacketâ or will text you and ask âdo you like this?â
And when you tell him itâs a mens shirt so you wouldnât wear it he goes âactually, itâs a jake shirt, which means itâs a yn shirt.â
Sunghoon
Heâs one to act like he doesnât like it
But one time when you told him you were cold and he said âsounds like a you problemâ you threatened to go get one of the other boysâ hoodie and he got so pouty and mad đ
Now he always brings an extra one of HIS hoodies whenever you hang out because he doesnât want you to get it from someone else
Also the type to show up at your house, see your collection of his clothes and tease you about it but then not take them back
And if you EVER tell him you need another one bc the ones you have donât smell like him anymoreâ
Heâs gonna need three to four business days to recover from that
Sunoo
Another one to refer to his closet as âour closetâ
He always asks you to wear his stuff
Like you text him to ask what you should wear for your date and he tells you to just wear anything over and heâd give you something of his to wear
Sharing sweaters đ„ș
Like little grandpa sweaters that you thrift somewhere and you guys share them like itâs the sisterhood of the traveling pants or something and send each other little pictures of where you were wearing it
âToday I wore our sweater to the ice cream shop! The guy in front of me in line ordered mint choco and it made me think of youâ đ«¶
Jungwon
Listen, heâs seen the romcomsâ youâve made him watch enough of them during movie nights to know that people like wearing their boyfriends clothes
He just had no idea how to offer it
Does he just walk up to you one day and say âhere, wear thisâ? Does he take you to the cold section of the grocery store until you shiver and then give it to you?
HE DOESNT KNOW!!!
But one day you two come home from one of your dates and decide to just chill in his bed
Which is cool, except you had dressed a little nicer for the date and your outfit wasnât exactly made for comfort
âHey won, do you think I could borrow something to change into? My outfit isnât very comfy.â
He scolds you at first for not wearing something youâre comfortable in because heâs gonna think you look beautiful no matter what you wear, but eventually gives you a tshirt and pair of shorts to change into
Laughs because you look like Adam Sandler
âI thought this was going to be cute but you look really funnyâ
Riki
Listen, he loves napping
And napping on you is one of his favorite places
So when your stupid pretty shirt was scratching against his face, Riki was very upset
He lets out a big dramatic groan, grabbing one of his hoodies from the floor next to his bed and shoving it onto you so that he can sleep in peace
Youâre still wearing it when he wakes up, and earlier he was too tired to be embarassed but now he realizes what he did and gets a little red
âThanks for the hoodie ki,â you tease him, but still refuse to give it back when he asks
âWell if you hate it that much you can take it off.â
âNever!! This is mine now!â
Cue him chasing you around to try and get it back
#cleaning out my drafts#enhypen x reader#enhypen scenarios#enhypen fluff#enhypen headcanons#enhypen reactions#enhypen drabbles#heeseung x reader#jay x reader#jake scenarios#sunghoon x reader#sunoo scenarios#jungwon scenarios#riki scenarios#heeseung scenarios#jay scenarios#jake x reader#sunghoon scenarios#sunoo x reader#jungwon x reader#riki x reader
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This is all cool and all but can you imagine what Clark must be hearing all these weeks?
Like yea their hiding but, Clark has super hearing. So just imagine:
Clark loves his city, sure it was a bit loud and it felt like it never slept during the night. Weather it be from crimes to whatever, he loved it.
But these last few weeks, heâs been hearing some odd hissy cat noises??
Itâs so weird and off putting, that it sometimes distracts him from listening for cries of help. Heâs tried to track down the source but so far, whenever he gets there, the source of the noise is gone.
However he canât shake the lingering feeling, that he knows what this noise is. It feels familiar and he canât help but feel mocked whenever he tries to connect the dots.
Itâs making him loose focus.
Because itâs not even only at night!
No!
He hears it during the day too!! Which makes him stop typing on the computer and justâŠ
Stare out into the bustling city below as he tries to hear it from his current position. Which to be fair is hard when thereâs hundreds of people talking and clacking away on their computers. Right. Next. To. You.
And it has earned him some weird stares from some of his colleagues.
Especially Lois.
She keeps making remarks and comments on it, and he canât help but feel like sheâs attack him. But in a different kinda way then heâs been attacked before from his enemies.
âŠ
She was teasing and bulling him wasnât she?
Yep. She totally was.
Oh well, Lois. Itâs not like itâs his fault he keeps hearing this- weird cat growl that sounds like a mix from those demon howls the demons made when Constantine opened that weird, unholy portal to the heebie-jeebies inducing demon realm!
Clark would like to see how sheâd deal with that! Thank you very much.
But realistically speaking, Lois would probably find this as an opportunity and try harder than he is in finding the source of these unholy demonic cat grumbles.
It would be a horrible idea to tell her about it.
âŠ
So why the hell did he open his big fat mouth in front of her when she asked him that afternoon..?
Like come on! Heâs Superman! The man of Iron!
âŠ
But alas heâs a wimp while in his human persona, and canât hide shit from Lois.
Sigh
He should have just gotten coffee and blamed it on sleep deprivation and overworking. Maybe then he wouldnât be being lead all around Metropolis, with a determined Lois Lane on his back.
But he canât help but smile at that.ïżŒ
Danny has been reincarnated.
Which was an odd thing to realize, it wasn't even a slow one he just... snapped into it one day. One moment he was staring at a wall out of boredom the next, well, he was staring for an entirely different reason.
It was a task for his now young -he thinks around three years old?- mind to work its way through the memories, but it wasn't like he had much else to do honestly. So, what does he know?
His name is Danny, like, his actual name and not just a moniker. He was once a halfa and he already knows he's going to be missing invisibility and intangibility. He, well, died. For like, a second time which actually makes sense because reincarnation-
Anyways.
He was a clone of two people from this thing called the Justice League which, weird name but probably some government or activist group. Wonder Woman and Superman. Which were pretty weird names to name your kids but eh.
He doesn't really remember much besides that from this life, or the one from before but he's an adult! He'll figure things out once he gets out of this containment tube thing.
Did he mention he was in a test tube? He's a tube baby now. He thinks? Or maybe it's more like he's being contained.
Whatever.
So he breaks out. Thank you apparent superstrength that he has no idea why he has but he's not going to complain! He then wandered around all of the other test tubes, able to remember just enough of English to see that yea, they're dead.
He probably was too, before he had memories zapped into him. Or a vegetable.
He then finds this really big container, checks it out, then opens it because the clone inside isn't dead!
'Project Match' it said. He'll just call him Match.
Was he thanked for helping him? Nope. You would think that he would be thanked or at least somewhat respected for saving this guy but nope!
He was, quite literally, held up by his leg and dangled in the air. Who dangles a three-year-old?! Well, he was technically and adult but still! The next few things were a blur but after pulling off the old Fenton charm he found him and Match outside as he tried to stop him from attacking random people.
Luckily the charms and privilege of the youngest (he's assuming he's the youngest, because he's physically three) was more than enough to get through to him. Sure, the guy couldn't form words, really aggressive for literally no reason, really weird but also absolutely cool looking eyes. But he worked around the first issue by developing their own personal language from like grunts and stuff, the second he once again used his youngest privilege to boss him around and the third a pair of sunglasses easily fixed.
He just had to steer Match clear of those random S crest mark thingies. Which was a weird thing to hate but hey, he's not there to judge.
#dc x dp#dp x dc#dp x dc crossover#I have never written Superman (or anyone) in general so I hope I did well#I honestly didnât know how to describe the cat hissing đ#Clark canât tell the sound of his own kinds heartbeat#how dare he#itâs 2AM and idk what Iâm doing#did I do good?#Danny has his little three year old hands full trying to lead Match and himself away from Clark and Lois#Match is definitely getting sick of the increased moving#but his cute baby brother is all he needs for motivation to continue avoiding these humans that keep getting close to them#Danny feels like he recognizes the heartbeat of the big muscular human that keeps finding them#Surprise surprise it definitely sounds like his and Matches heartbeats
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à©â© My personal volkov (smau) à©â©
pairing : max verstappen x fem reader
summary : max verstappen got married, and his fiancé cannot stop sharing their twisted love
tw : suggestive, fluff
a/n : thank you so much to @amberjazmyn for suggesting this ! lysm đ«¶đ» also, if not obvious, the fic contains references of twisted love by Ana Huang đ«¶đ»
·:ïœĄïœ„ïŸïŸïœ„ â© ïœ„ïŸ ïœ„ïŸÂ·:ïœĄïœ„ïŸïŸïœ„ ïŸÂ·:ïœĄïœ„ïŸïŸïœ„ â© ïœ„ïŸ ïœ„ïŸÂ·:ïœĄïœ„ïŸïŸïœ„ïŸÂ·:ïœĄïœ„ïŸïŸïœ„ â© ïœ„ïŸ ïœ„ïŸÂ·:ïœĄïœ„ïŸïŸ
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liked by user1, user2, maxverstappen1, yncooper and 2,482,492 others
landonorris helping him take over the husband duties
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fransisca.gnomes good job with the ring max đđȘđ»
maxverstappen1 your approval was only needed đ
maxverstappen1 aslo norris, I WAS SUPPOSED TO POST THE PICTURES, I was supposed to announce MY ENGAGEMENT
landonorris best friends right ? maxverstappen1 meet me in Abu Dhabi
user1 AHAHAHAHA
user2 MOM AND DAD ARE MARRIED
user3 MR AND MRS VERSTAPPEN !?
user4 I want to taste both max and the pasta he made -
charlesleclerc Y/N, you sure you want to deal with his anger issues for life !?
maxverstappen1 WHAT ANGER ISSUES!?
yncooper exactly the way you are screaming over text in CAPS
yncooper and yes Charles, those anger issues lead tobest fucking of my life
maxverstappen1 Y/N!? HELLO!?
charlesleclerc I regret saying anything
lewishamilton then please calm him before every race, this lad is climbing over my car every time đ«·đ»
georgerussell you are using an emoji !?
lewishamilton so what ? đ€ș
georgerussell you need to learn the correct usage of them
user5 they forgot we can see this-
user6 the freakiness on public account !?
user7 I donât even want to imagine the private -
user8 no worries, some nudes might be there đ
user9 BUNDA
user10 đżđ
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liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, user1, user2, and 283,391 others
yncooper engaged men do it faster đźâđšđ
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user1 yn never beating the freaky allegations
user2 I wonât be surprised if max whips out handcuffs
user3 they definitely spend millions on bdsm
user4 the dress has easier access-
user5 WHY ARE THE FANS MATCHING THE FREAKINESS !?
maxverstappen1 my skills were top notch since d1
yncooper true, best first date ever đ«¶đ»
user6 YALL TELLING ME THEY GOT FREAKY ON FIRST DATE !?
user7 I wonât be surprised if they were just dating for 2 months
user6 surprisingly , they waited for two years đ
user8 PROJECT VERSTAPPEN IS GOING TO HAVE SOME FINE LOOKS?
user9 blonde, blue eyes, rich parents, yup I would get my kid to befriend their kid
user10 their kid or befriend the kidâs parents đż
user11 MAX WINNING THE 100 WDC
user12 thatâs biologically impossible đŠ
charlesleclerc do you both bother reading what your fans write ?
yncooper yes, sadly me and max donât have twisted love
user13 DID SHE QOUTE TWISTED LOVE !?
user14 max and Alex volkovâŠ.
user15 THATS A SMASH
user16 I get a TMI every time she posts âđ»
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liked by maxverstappen, mclaren and 1,485,398 others
redbullracing the three aspects of happy married life â Stress, tears and beerâ đ»
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user1 my wife said they quoted perfectly đż
user2 admin has marriage trauma
user3 admin got too real đ
user4 max is going after the admin with a knife for posting that pic
user5 them crying on the altar đ
user6 they are so cute đđ„č
maxverstappen1 the middle and last picture is perfect â€ïž
redbullracing the best for the best đ
ynverstappen my heart đ„č thank you for capturing the sweet and teary moments â€ïž
redbullracing welcome to red fam â€ïž
user7 y/n chugging down beer is somehow the most y/n thing she could do
user8 max watching y/n chug down 10 glasses of beer be like-
landonorris @ mclaren will I also get such appreciation post on my wedding ?
mclaren a wedding needs two humans Lando
landonorris I have Oscar đ§Ą
mclaren kindly do not engage in spoiling Oscily đ§Ą
user9 WE SUPPORT OSCAR AND LILY
user10 admin shutting down lando for Oscar and lily đ
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liked by maxverstappen, landonorris and 2,497,499 others
ynverstappen the eyes never lie, my Alex Volkov đ
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carlossainz55 you both deserve the world â€ïž
liked by ynverstappen
lewishamilton if you ever have marriage troubles, just call me up
maxverstappen1 says the unmarried virgin man
ynverstappen the person staying virgin for the next few month would you max and THANK YOU LEWIS FOR THE LOVELY GIFT đ«¶đ»
lewishamilton your welcome yn â€ïž
charlesleclerc what did he give âŠ..
ynverstappen Cheval Blanc 1947
charlesleclerc Lewis, I am your teammate, I deserve that too đ«¶đ»
landonorris you managed to click a photo max without his racing suit âŠ
ynverstappen I have a whole album ..?
landonorris send me few
ynverstappen nude, semi-nude, shirtless or with clothes ?
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#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen x y/n#max verstappen blurb#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen fluff#max verstappen x you#max verstappen smau#max verstappen fic#max verstappen social media au#f1 x female reader#f1 x y/n#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1 x you#f1 social media au#f1 smau#f1#formula 1#smau#max verstappen#f1 texts#formula 1 one shot#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 fic#f1 2024
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