#WHY WAS THIS A RED STAGE EVENT!!!

[goobfan]

Don't fuck with us re zero fans we stay up till 2 am for an event where nothing happens with our ip

[krizariel]

You are safe, Jay. You are not alone.

[green-tea-overdose]

This way of referring to myself in second person is... Eerily familiar. Maybe the show isn't over. Maybe it never will be.

Maybe this is just how I learn.

Anytime there's a new, unfamiliar idea, it is personified, and it keeps happening, until there's a lot, and I've had time to get used to them all,

And then all at once, I will merge with them, truly learning everything.

And it begins again when I encounter more, and I will have years to debate with them, to cast out what I truly think is wrong, to slowly iterate myself in the form of personified foreign ideas.

But, until then.

[crookedfandomquill]

This is very situational, and sadly may not be realistic for everyone, but I need y’all to understand that a very important part of political activism is fucking talking to your conservative or moderate friends and family.

My dad voted for Trump in 2016. He’s a middle class white evangelical from Arkansas. He raised me with conservative Christian values, just like his parents raised him. When he voted Trump, he was holding his nose, but he didn’t feel too bad about it, and went on to vote red down the ticket in the 2018 midterms, as well.

But I started college in 2017. Higher education and independence changed everything for me, and I went home over holidays and summers with fire in my belly and a thousand arguments ready at the drop of a hat, to my father’s dismay.

I remember crying in my room after emotional, intense arguments with him. I told him over and over that I felt betrayed by his choice to vote for a man who admitted to sexually assaulting women, who built his platform on dehumanizing immigrants and the disabled, who spread overtly-racist rhetoric, who flouted the values of kindness and self-discipline that I’d been raised on. And my dad always had some justification about the “greater good”: fighting against abortion, bolstering the economy, getting other Christian politicians into office.

But over time, as we grew further apart and I lost my will to discuss anything with him at all, he softened. He started asking me why I thought the way I did about the things we disagreed about. He would listen to my answers without interruption, and mull them over afterward instead of expressing his own opinion. And all the while, he watched the Trump presidency become cruel and absurd and devastating.

The first time he openly expressed regret to me, I had come home for a weekend after Kavanaugh was confirmed to SCOTUS. My dad realized he had helped elect a man who preyed on women… and that man had opened the door to more predators. I can’t tell you what it felt like for him to admit that he’d made a mistake, not just in voting for Trump but in defending him for so long. We kept arguing, but it was more debating than fighting. I knew he was capable of seeing my side of things, even if it took a while, and he knew I wasn’t just a sensitive college student with shallow new ideas about the world.

And then 2020 hit. Specifically, George Floyd was murdered, and the events that followed played out on the national stage. My dad was incredibly shaken by it. He asked me if I had any books from college about racial issues. I loaned him The New Jim Crow, one of the required readings for my Race and the Law class. Then I gave him Just Mercy. Then he watched the documentary 13th. Then he joined a racial harmony group he learned about through one of the few Black families at our church and insisted our whole family come. He held up signs at a protest against Confederate monuments in our conservative southern town. In three years, he went from defending Trump’s comments about “Black-on-Black crime” to publicly advocating for racial justice and opposing the death penalty.

We went together to vote in the 2020 primaries. I couldn’t help asking who he’d voted for; I didn’t even know if he’d asked for the Republican or Democratic ticket. He admitted he’d voted for Bernie. fucking. Sanders, then made me promise not to tell my grandma he’d voted liberal. When the election rolled around in November, he voted Biden. I’m sure he held his nose to do it, just like he held his nose voting in 2016. But I know he doesn’t regret it.

I am, of course, unbelievably lucky to have a parent who loved me enough, and was empathetic enough, to choose his relationship with me over his strongly-held opinions. He kept searching for truth because, as much as he’ll deny it, he’s a very smart and curious person. No degree of intelligence or curiosity makes you immune to propaganda, especially if you were raised not to question the party line. It’s easy to dismiss our conservative, conspiracy-pilled loved ones as stupid, hypocritical, and cruel. Sometimes they are. But sometimes they aren’t. Sometimes they will bend to keep their relationships from breaking. Sometimes, if they can be made to understand that their beliefs and actions are harming someone they love, they will make concessions. And sometimes they just need one person in their life to put a foot down, to be vulnerable and assertive and argumentative, to bring the impact of their politics close to home.

As the most important election of our lifetimes approaches, do not put peace over progress. If you have someone like my dad, someone who is good-willed and smart and loves you more than their own opinions, tell them how you feel. Tell them what their choices will mean for you, for your friends, for your community. Tell them what they could lose: your trust, your affection, your respect. Don’t avoid conflict if it could be productive. Because my conflict with my dad didn’t just win him over–it won over my moderate mom and one of my conservative brothers. And it put us in community with other like-minded people and led my parents to a healthier and kinder faith.

All of this to say, there is hope in conflict. There is hope in our relationships with people who think differently from us. There is hope in exposing your fear and anger and pain to people you love. And hope is a form of activism.

[orcasoul]

The Plus One

Summery: You and Pedro have been in a relationship for a while but for some reason he'd stopped inviting you to social events. Has he grown tired of you...?

Warnings: swearing, angst (because I liiive for it!), mental health issues, low self esteem from reader, caring Pedro, fluff, use of Y/N.

This is inspired by the video of Pedro dancing his arse off at Sarah Paulsons 50th birthday party. God bless this man for randomly inspiring us when he's not even trying to lol.

Word Count: 3,516

It's a quiet evening at home. The living room fireplace is softy blazing, the crackling red and orange flames along with the Christmas tree lights and low lamp light bathes the room in a reposeful ambience. You're snuggled up on the settee in your favourite fluffy Oodie, sipping a hot chocolate as you finish reading a Christmas rom com by one of your favourite authors. And while this is something that usually helps you to unwind at the end of the day, you can't seem to shift that gutting feeling deep down in your stomach. You should have been with Pedro tonight at Sarah's party instead of here alone. With the book finished you're about to check Kindle for your next read but before opening the app, you'd decided to check your notifications on facebook.

Now you wish you hadn't. Of course the first thing to pop up would be a video of Pedro having the time of his life at the party. Not that that is the real issue here. You're not the controlling or possessive type who wants to keep their partner all for yourself and deny them any kind of social life; quite the opposit, in fact. The thing that really hurts, that makes your heart physically ache is that you're never included in Pedro's social events anymore. You would have loved to have been his date to Sarah's party and make memories with him like normal couples do. You've met Sarah on several occasions and the two of you had always got along really well, so why would he rather go alone than bring you?

You've been together for six months now, so it's not like you're in the early stages where you're both yet to meet the others' family and friends. It just doesn't make sense. You had attended a few ceremonies and promotional events for Pedro's movies with him before now and even though they had been quite intense environments to be in, you were just thrilled to be there with him, to support him and show the world how proud you are of him. And you'd like to think that you were adept at hiding the effects that your social anxiety had on you during these occasions. You'd smile, engage in chit chat and if it became too overwhelming you'd always secretly resort to your special coping technique to calm your nerves; stroking slow circles on the palm of your hand.

But it had been months since you'd last attended any events with him and as time goes on it just hurts more and more. You'd hoped time would have made it easier to accept, but truthfully it makes you feel abandoned, insignificant, like you don't belong in his world. Is that it? Is he embarrassed by you? It's true you're both from very different worlds, having met through friends of friends and not through working together in the film industry. Sometimes you still can't understand why he'd chose to be with a nobody like you when he could literally have any woman he wanted. As your mind continues to spiral, taking you to dark places, tears begin to roll down your cheeks.

To love him so much, only to feel it's not enough for him to want you around is... soul crushing. You'd been trying for so long to ignore that niggling little voice in the back of your mind; the one telling you that you aren't good enough for him and there has been times when you'd been able to mute it, especially when you're together and he looks at you with pure adoration in his eyes, or the times he would come home to LA between filming, even if it was just for a couple of days to see you or if he couldn't make it he'd fly you out to the set. No matter what he always made time for your relationship, but only out of the public eye. Pedro has always been a private person, especially when it comes to romantic involvements, but it feels like he's trying to hide you.

And now, this latest video has turned that niggling little voice into a full on megaphone, screaming an endless barrage of ugly truths at you; you're not enough for him. He's bored of you. You're an embarrassment, a stone around his neck. It was only a matter of time. You clutch at your chest as your heart shatters into a thousand pieces, sobs wracking your body. It's over! How could you have not seen it sooner?! He doesn't need you in his life. He's bloody Pedro Pascal for heavens' sake.

You were a delusional fool to ever believe you had anything to offer him. Maybe this is his way of subtly telling you it wasn't working for him anymore. Maybe he'd hoped showing you the stark differences between you both would have made you realise it couldn't continue, and being the kind and gentle man he is, he didn't want to outright dump you and hurt you, so this was the best strategy.

Now your sorrow is tinged with anger. If he wanted to end it all this time he damn well should have had the balls to tell you instead of dragging it out. So, it's down to you now; if he won't do it, you'll have to. Your tablet screen is now shining with your tears. You wipe it dry with your sleeve and throw it down beside you, Knidle well and truly forgotton. Fluffing up a cushion, you curl up on the settee while your broken heart mourns and weeps.

As the party came to an end Pedro couldn't help but feel a little relieved. He'd had a great time and wouldn't have missed one of his best friends' milestone birthdays for the world, but he missed you like hell tonight. He especially felt the sting of your absence when he would see couples dancing or sitting together, hand in hand or snuggling up. He feels selfish, but he wishes you could have been here tonight. And not just tonight, but to all his recent public appearances like the premiers for The Wild Robot and Gladiator 2, but he won't put you through that again.

The guilt still eats away at him when he casts his mind back to the last couple of times you'd attended high profile events with him, even low key and private ones where there isn't a constant blinding flash of cameras. He knows of your struggles with your mental health, in particular with social anxiety (something he can absolutely relate to) and even through your obvious facade he could see what the pressure was doing to you, often feeling a slight tremble in your hand while laced with his. He could see the difference between your forced smile and your genuine smile; the one that would make your eyes sparkle and he could lose himself in them completely.

But the worst thing was when you start rubbing the palm of your hand over and over when you'd thought he wasn't watching. He knew then it was all becoming too much for you and that's when he'd decided that he won't be selfish anymore, that he had to prioritise your well being and comfort before his own and if that meant attending ceremonies and large gatherings alone, so be it. Of course, he always felt incomplete without you at his side, but your needs far outweigh his own as far as he's concerned. Knowing he can shield you from even a fraction of discomfort makes the sacrifice worth it.

After slipping into his jacket, Pedro found Sarah at the front door of her house, waving some guests off. Wrapping her in a big hug, he said, "Happy birthday again, sweetie and thanks for inviting me." Sarah returned the hug. "I'm so glad you came, but I missed seeing Y/N tonight. How is she?" Pedro couldn't hold back the grin that broke out across his face at the mention of your name. "She's great. I wanted to bring her tonight, but I think the crowd would have been too much for her." Sarah smiled endearingly at her friend. "You really do love her, don't you?" Pedro chuckled. "What makes you say that?"

"Oh no reason..." she smirked. " Only that I've never seen you so smitten and protective over any other woman in all the years I've known you. You've got it bad." Pedro rolled his eyes, playfully. "Yeah, I guess I do." "So, what are you waiting for?" Sarah crossed her arms over her chest. "What are you talking about?" Pedro asked, knowing exactly what she meant. "You've been carrying that ring around with you for weeks now and still haven't asked her. What's holding you back?" Pedro shifted uncomfortably, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Just worried about her, that's all. The moment word gets out of an engagement, paparazzi will be circling like vultures. I don't just want her overwhelmed." "I think you underestimate her," Sarah began, "I don't think she'd ever let her anxiety get in the way of being with you. It's obvious how much she loves you. In fact when I'm around you two for too long, the sweetness gives me temporary diabetes." Pedro let out a deep belly laugh at that, drawing one from Sarah in return.

"Just do it..." she urged, gently. "You know she'll say yes." Pedro smiled and nodded, "I know." "Well..." Sarah yawned, "Get out of here. I'm fifty now and need my beauty sleep." She gave Pedro another hug. "So, I'll see you and Y/N for lunch next week?" "Sure," Pedro replied, "Goodnight, sweetie." He waved as he walked to his car. "Night," Sarah called out before closing the door.

Settling in his car, Pedro connected his phone to the car speaker and rang your phone. He promised he'd call after the party to say goodnight and couldn't wait to hear your voice. But as soon as you answered, he knew something was wrong. "Hey baby, everything okay?" he asked, worridly. His worry only increased when you cleared your throat, trying to hide the tremble in your voice. "Yeah um... I'm fine." You most definitely aren't fine! "You're a shit liar, you know that?" Pedro says, lightheartedly to help put you at ease. Now his tone turns more serious. "Tell me what's wrong." Silence... "Y/N? You're starting to scare me now." "I told you I'm fine. I'm just... tired." You tried to sound convincing but failed, spectacularly.

"I'm coming over -" "No!" Your abrupt outburst silenced Pedro. You've never turned him away in all the months you've been together. "It's... uh... it's late. You should just get home safe." Pedro sighed. "I know something's wrong and if you won't tell me on the phone I'm coming over." At that, you burst into tears. A pang shot straight through Pedro's heart at the sound of you crying. "Hey, baby, talk to me!" he pled. "What happened?" In between the the sniffling your voice became strained. "I didn't want to do this over the phone." Pedro suddenly had a sinking feeling in his gut, not liking the tone of this conversation. "Do what?" he asked, hesitantly. "Its..." sniffle, "It's over."

If Pedro hadn't already been sitting in the car his legs would have given out on him! "W- what?!" he stuttered in disbelief. "What do you mean it's over?!" His hands gripped the steering wheel for support. Where the fuck did this come from all of a sudden?! "Please..." you whispered, sounding mentally drained. "Don't pretend you didn't know this was coming. If you don't want me anymore you should have said something sooner." Pdero jerked his head back, blinking in shock. "What the hell are you talking about, Y/N?" You are full on sobbing now, your words just an unintelligible jumble. "I'm coming over, right now!" "No, please-" "I'm coming over!" he cut you off bluntly and hung up the phone.

His hands shook as he started up the engine and it took all of his willpower to not floor it to your house. Getting pulled over for speeding is the last thing he needs right now. The whole way over, his mind was a frantic mess. What could have happened between the last time he saw you (which was only yesterday) and now? Did he say something? Do something? When he got to your house, he practically flew from the car, his fist pounding on your front door almost as hard as his heart was pounding behind his ribs. "Baby open up, please. I'm not leaving until you talk to me." A few moments later the door cracked open and there you stood, puffy eyed and blotchy faced. Your lips had swollen and your nose shone red from crying.

Pedro could have cried himself from the state you're in. Without a second thought he pushed his way through the door and swept you into his arms, cupping the back of your head to his chest. To his relief, instead of pushing him away, you encircled your arms around his waist, holding him tight. He reached back to close the door behind him, then guided you to the setee, sitting beside you. "Now, what's all this about, hmm? I know this isn't what you really want." You shook your head, a small humourless laugh escaping you. "Of course it's not, but deep down I think it's what you want."

Pedro's forefinger gently tipped your chin up so you were looking into his eyes; big puppy dog eyes filled hurt, confusion and fear. "What I want?" His bottom lip twitched as if he was lost for words. You nod, wiping your cheeks. "W- why would you ever think something like that, sweetheart?" Pedro's shocked expression now has you doubting yourself. Were you wrong? But how could you be? For a while, you've been trying to ignore the feeling that he was slipping away but looking at him now... It's like he'd never even entertained the idea of leaving you. All this uncertainty is giving you whiplash and you can't hold it in anymore. You need to get everything off your chest.

"I..." you trail off as you feel more tears gathering, ready to pour out along with all your insecurities. "...I feel like you don't want me around anymore..." you begin, chest shuddering with nerves and hiccups. "You never invite me to anything, whether it's to do with your public life or even your social life. I'm never included like a partner should be. I need you to be honest... Are you ashamed of me? Because sometimes I feel like you don't want to be seen with me and that you've been pulling away..." You're rambling now, but you just can't stop. "I know I'm not on the same level as you and there are so many beautiful women out there throwing themselves at your feet. Maybe I don't belong in your world. Maybe I'm not enough for you-" Pedro's hands on either side of your face stops your self deprecating tirade.

"Baby, don't you ever put yourself down like that again, you hear me?" You're shocked to see Pedro's cheeks are now wet too. "I'm sorry. Fucking hell! I'm so sorry I made you feel that way. I thought I was protecting you this whole time." "Protecting me?" you ask in bewilderment. Pedro gave you a sad smile. "I Know from years of experience that being in the spotlight is tough. It can be draining and I could see how hard it was for you." Pedro took one of your hands and turned it over, rubbing slow circles into your palm. When you realised what he meant by that action, he nodded and kissed your forehead.

"I know you tried to hide it from me, but I noticed every time." "I'm sorry," you mumbled, shame burning your cheeks. "No." Pedro squeezed your hand. "You never apologise for that. I'm the one who's sorry. I was afraid if I mentioned it, you deny it for my sake, so I stopped asking you to come with me thinking it was the best thing for you." Pedro exhaled and your heart ached for him, seeing the guilt and remorse crushing him. "I didn't think it would have looked like I never want you around, 'cause the truth is I miss you, EVERY GODDAMN TIME I have to attend these things without you. I want you with me, now and forever. I'll tell you what..." he looked to be carefully considering his next words. "if you feel up for it, come with me to the next event and if you feel overwhelmed at any point, you tell me and we'll take some time out or even leave."

More tears fall, but this time from sheer relief. You hadn't realised you'd dropped your head again until Pedro, once again, lifted your chin. He looked into your eyes with a fierce and passionate determination. "Now, I'll say this only once; I'm not ashamed of you, we are on the same level, you are more than enough for me and you ARE my world. I love you, so much!" You couldn't fight the beaming smile that practically split your face and you grabbed Pedro by the collar of his jacket, crashing your lips against his.

A surprised "Oomph!" came from his throat and you felt him smile against your mouth. His hands slid to your waist and he pulled you flush to his upper body. His tongue licked your lips and you opened them, allowing him to deepen then kiss; a kiss filled with love, reassurance and a promise of forever. Pedro then broke the kiss, pulling you into a hug. "I love you too," you whispered into his ear. "And I'm sorry, I should have told you how I was feeling instead of keeping it from you." Pedro cupped your cheek, wiping away a tear. "I'm sorry too, for making that decision for you instead of talking to you."

You let out a lighthearted chuckle, Pedro's frown softening at the sound. "I guess it was just bad communication on both our parts." "Yeah..." he agreed. "Let's make a promise to each other, right now; that we'll always be open and honest with each other and not keep things bottled up." "I promise," you smile and kiss the tip of his nose. "And I promise, too," he returned the kiss. With all the tension drained from your body, you suddenly feel exhausted and can't stop the big yawn taking over you. Pedro smiled at you, adoringly. "I think we should get you to bed, sweetheart." He stood up, picking you up off the setee and made his way to your bedroom.

"Will you stay tonight?" You whisper as you snuggle into his neck, inhaling the scent you love so much. "Of course I will." He kissed the crown of your head. While you used the bathroom, pedro changed into a pair of PJ bottoms and an old T-shirt he'd left here for when he'd stay over. He used the bathroom after you, rushing through brushing his teeth just so he could return to you sooner. Walking into the bedroom, he laughed to himself when all could see was your eyes peeking at him from the edge of the quilt, which was pulled up to cover your nose. God, you look adorable. Your eyes creased in the corners as you laughed under the cover, then pulled it away for him to settle in next to you.

Pedro laid on his back, lifting his arm for you to snuggle into him. Sighing happily, you lay your head on his broad chest and lace a leg over his hips, the steady thump of his heartbeat and the warmth of his body soothing you instantly. "I love you." You tipped your head up to kiss him softly on his lips. "I love you too," he purred, tightening his arms around you. It didn't take you more than ten minutes to drop off, judging by your slow breaths. Pedro, on the other hand, stayed awake long after you'd dropped off, just relishing the feeling of holding you in his arms. He feels sick to his stomach when he thinks about how close he came to losing you tonight, and all because of a misunderstanding.

He thinks of the ring he's been carrying around, how he almost lost the opportunity to give it to you. Well, he won't wait any longer. If tonight has taught him anything, it's that nothing is guaranteed in life and, even though he never once doubted you'd say yes, just your devastated reaction to believing you'd lost him proves that you love and need him as much as he does you. Tomorrow he'll ask you; He'll wine and dine you at your favourite restaurant, take you on a stroll along the beach and then, he'll get down on one knee and invite you to share the rest of your life with him.

@greenwitchfromthewoods @picketniffler @liciafonseca @misscornelia13 @missadangel @southernbe

[rebelssvy]

idol ✧.*

idol reader x bakugo ੈ✩‧₊˚

⋆·˚ ༘ *

summary: pure fluff. you are an idol preforming at a hero ceromony where bakugo falls for you.

listening to strategy by twice and new dance by xg.

every year the hero’s hold there ceremony for the standings of the top ten. everyone who is anyone is there.

of course there has always been preformances, pop music, rnb, rap, even opera makes there own special appearances between rankings.

this year your group was invited to preform. since trainee days you hadn’t really known how much your group would succeed. you are happy to say you guys are doing great. internationally.

preforming at coachella and other events. this was just another gig. your preformace was going to be about ten minutes. your makeup was done and you looked amazing.

getting walked around back stage bumping into hero’s that were about to get the standings for the year. your goals were similar, it was all about rankings for both groups.

as you walked in the dim lights you passed by the group walking off the stage. you were able to recognize everyone. they were humanities hero’s of course. it made you remember why you were here, to celebrate the people that keep you safe.

before you knew it your group was called up to the ready set behind the stage. the lights were bright but it was normal. nothing you couldn’t handle. your groups leader shouted out introducing your team. goosebumps scattered your skin.

the beat to your most popular song dropped, seeing your chance before the lyrics you yelled out,

“thank you heros!!!”

dancing into motion, your trained body moved in the rhythm you practice day and night. rocking your hips it was soon to be your turn to sing the chorus.

coming to the front of the stage you sung with a smile on your face.

little did you know this was the moment that a popular someone fell for you. he had passed you back stage and walked through with a stare. to go seemingly unnoticed by you. king dynamight watched you sing and his heart beat sped up. racing out of his chest his stone cold emotions couldn’t show what he was feeling.

this was his first time seeing you, or your group. he had never heard or listened to you before. so in his own world you were now pulling him out of the seriousness, and you didn’t even know it.

he focused in on you for the ten minutes you were on the stage, his eyes never leaving you. he watched as you gave thanks to the hero’s, to him.

your heart raced, you knew your time on this stage was almost up. but you were also approaching your dance solo. it was your time to shine. stepping up to center for the last time tonight you forced everyone to look at you. there was no way anyone was going to look away from you. not with the way your hips swayed or the way you moved your arms with the beat.

your group members came in with you at the end of the break and sang the remainder of the last song. your leader saying goodbye to the crowd and you ending with “hope you enjoyed!”

cantering off the stage you laughed with your group members. all having the time of your life, before you all got serious. the tension back stage was the same as when you left. it was thick, all the heros and others standing with anxiety about where they stand with rankings.

as a body guard led you to your designated seats, you waved and bowed at several heroes and people that applauded your performance.

finally sitting down you got a moment of relief between all the commotion. well it wasn’t too long before a small group of men made there way over to your memebers.

you knew them, one was red riot, the other one was similar to pikachew and the last one was named like great explosion god murder or something like that. you bowed silently and watched as the others talked to your other members. your heart sped up as you noticed the explosion one saunter over to infront of you.

“hey.” you looked up to his voice. he was talking to you. this guy is ranked well too.

you put on your idol face, preppy and overly nice. “hello! hope you enjoyed our preformace!” you spoke with confidence.

“you don’t have to be fake with me, you must be exhausted after ten minutes of dancing. those idiots have you guys up there for way to long without a break.” he was nicer then you thought, or nicer than you had seen him in the media. maybe it was all fake.

“oh no, it really isn’t that bad. ten minutes is nothing when you love what you do.” you laughed out. you focused in on him as he spoke to you. he was built. somewhat rugged but seemed intelligent, calculated almost.

“well you looked damn good up there. i need to go but.. you’ll see me around i’m sure.” his voice was rough with his words, sounding like a threat but you knew it was a promise.

he walked away with his coworkers before you could say anything else. in shock you sat and stared at the ground.

snapping back into reality when your group member said beside you, “woah! he was cute! i think he likes you y/n…” her giggles were music to your stressed ears. taking a moment you giggled with her and said

“i hope so!”

it wasn’t until you were in bed later that night that you got a new follower.

dynamight follows you! just now.

it wasn’t a minute before you followed back. it’s safe to say the feelings were mutual.

bakugo had immediately went home after that and watched your old videos and some fancams btw.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.

more idol flicks coming tbh. checking out your requests also!!!

part two link here!!!

[dawngyu]

RAIN LILIES

pairing: soulmate idol choi beomgyu x soulmate fem!reader

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

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

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

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

He shouldn’t be real.

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

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

wc: 20k — playlist.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And now you wonder if it did—with you.

"One, two, three, smile!"

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

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

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

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

And then there are days you fear it.

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

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

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

How can you miss someone you've never met?

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

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

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

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

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

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

A picture of everything the universe had promised them.

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

You can't look.

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

Or no. You’ve lost count.

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

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

Alone at the sidelines.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Huh?"

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

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

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

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

You’re used to it by now.

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

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

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

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

You blink at her, taken aback.

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

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

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

It’s time to go.

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

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

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

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

"What's taking you so long?"

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

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

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

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

The entire room turns to look at him.

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

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

"Oh?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

He can't look away.

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

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

Everyone teased the maknae relentlessly for weeks.

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

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

His soulmate.

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

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

Where are you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perfect.

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

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

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

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

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

HYBE.

Funeral wreaths. Trucks. Massive banners.

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

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

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

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

Your stomach twists. “What?”

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

GET LEE HEESEUNG OUT OF HYBE.

APOLOGIZE, LEE HEESEUNG.

EXPLAIN THIS, LEE HEESEUNG.

ENHYPEN IS NOW ONLY SIX.

IDOLS WITH SOULMATES ARE NOT IDOLS.

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

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

Your stomach turns.

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

But you almost hear what she isn’t saying.

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

It’s the only explanation, isn’t it?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You won’t regret this!”

You already do.

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

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

TOMORROW X TOGETHER

They... didn’t look bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You groaned, "Fine."

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

And one of them stands out.

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

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

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

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

"One Beomgyu, please."

You followed her... once again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Where are we going now?"

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

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

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

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

Then, it’s your turn.

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

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

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

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

Fucking hell.

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

Beomgyu.

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, still grinning. “Okay.”

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

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

It’s beautiful.

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

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

Beomgyu.

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

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

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

All because his eyes meet yours.

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

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

It can't be real.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Heeseung, the newest idol thrown into the fire.

He, who got caught with his soulmate.

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

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

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

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

The irony.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What it is, he can’t quite say.

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

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

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

But then, he notices one weird thing.

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

You’re not looking at all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then his gaze flickers back to you.

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

His breath falters. He sees it.

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

The thread.

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

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

Soulmate.

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

He finally found you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Got you, beautiful.

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

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

Yet you see it perfectly too.

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

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

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

You're even more beautiful when you laugh.

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

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

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

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

And you are.

"Hyung," he breathes out.

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

But Beomgyu isn’t thinking about the show anymore.

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

Not yet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Beomgyu is your soulmate.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It clicks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sixteen years.

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

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

She’s the reason you met him.

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

And maybe she was right.

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

It doesn’t matter. Because you saw it.

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

He exists.

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

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

“I—I have a friend with me,”

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

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

Let's go.

You’re going to meet Beomgyu.

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

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

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

She knocks. Opens it.

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

The thought vanishes the second you see him.

Beomgyu.

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

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

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

Beomgyu stares at you, and you stare back.

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

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

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

How can someone be made this perfect?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"God, you're so beautiful."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s in deep.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And wear warm clothes—it’s winter."

"You too."

"Eat on time."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It can't last, doesn't it?

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

Elevators terrified you.

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

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

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

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

It took only a second before answering.

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

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

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

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

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

The doorbell rings again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s already 3 PM.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

An idea sparked in your mind.

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

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

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

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

My Y/N Live?

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

You look handsome.

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

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

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

You're watching?

A few seconds pass before your reply pops up.

Yes.

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

I'm shy.

Why? You look good.

A pause. Then another message.

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

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

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

Then he catches it.

315flowersmyass kekekeke -

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

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

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

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

It’s a picture. You.

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

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

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

"She’s here."

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

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

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

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

Ow! I fell! Fell for you~ —bg <3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Excuse me?"

"Are you fucking deaf?" she snaps.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She smiles, "Don’t test me."

I’m heading home now.

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

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

God, he misses you.

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

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

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

Then, voicemail.

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

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

He’s in the van now. It’s been hours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still nothing.

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

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

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

Once. Twice.

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

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

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

“Are you okay? I’ve been—”

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

"What is it?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then the line goes dead.

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

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

And now, it’s real.

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

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

His phone dings.

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

“Hello?” His voice is hoarse.

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

His breath catches.

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

"Please."

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

She smiles, "Don’t test me."

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

Your thoughts won’t stop either.

Beomgyu.

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

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

But is it?

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

You take another drink, and it burns.

“Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your phone screen lights up between you. Another call.

Beomgyu. He’s still calling. Still trying.

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

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

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

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

Everything. Everything is wrong.

“Beomgyu.”

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

“Are you okay? I’ve been—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Please sleep. And forget about me.

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

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

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

You press the end button.

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

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

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

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

She’d do anything for you.

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

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

Beomgyu’s birthday.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know your schedule is packed—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s been listening the whole time.

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

So Beomgyu told them everything.

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

No one understood him better than they did.

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

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

It shattered something in all of them.

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

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

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

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

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

And he would.

Completely.

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

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

Then the doorbell rings. Right. The food.

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

Choi Beomgyu.

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

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

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

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

His footsteps retreat.

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

The doorbell rings again.

You yank it open, “Wait, my ass—”

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

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

Just like what he said. He's there.

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

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

Why did you let him wait this long?

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

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

And there he is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When you tug hard on his hair, he groans against you, finally pulling back. His lips glisten as he moves up your body. He crashes his mouth onto yours, the kiss deep and hungry, and you taste yourself on his tongue—messy, desperate, a mix of him and you, blurring the lines between who’s devouring who.

“I love you,” he murmured as he positioned himself, slowly sliding into you. A low, guttural sound escaped him as he felt you, tight and warm, pulling him deeper. He's sure he'll come right there and then. His face buried itself in the curve of your neck, and his words spilled out—"I'm sorry it took this long."

"You feel so so good, don't ask me to stop, please." His touch was gentle even as his thrusts inside you grew more desperate. He cradled your head, kissed away your tears, and pressed his lips to your cheek. “I’m in love with you, Y/N,"

“I love you,” you replied, capturing his lips in a desperate kiss as you both unravelled together, bodies trembling in unison. Your thighs clenched tightly around his waist.

"Beomgyu, I— It was selfish of me—" You whispered his name and it made tears well up in his eyes. His hand gently pushed the damp strands of hair from your face, and he pressed tender kisses along your cheeks, your temple, and your jaw.

“Shh, no,” he whispered, pulling you against his chest, holding you like he was afraid you’d slip away. His lips brushed the crown of your head. "None of this is your fault," he murmurs. "But you have to trust me now."

All the horrors inside you dissolve with every kiss he presses to your skin, each one stripping away the fear, the doubt, the self-imposed distance. He kisses you like he’s rewriting everything, like he knows exactly where every shattered piece of you belongs. As if he’s memorized the map of your ruin and decided, you were always meant to be whole.

And you let him.

Because now, in his arms, with his lips claiming yours over and over, only pulls away when breathing becomes a necessity—his forehead pressing against yours for a fleeting second before his mouth finds yours again, as if letting go for too long might break him, you realise the truth—it was foolish of you to think that pushing him away would solve it all.

It was foolish to ever believe you could ever live without him.

Waking up with Beomgyu’s arm draped over your bare waist felt like something out of a dream.

The second you tried to slip away, he pulled you right back in, burying his face in the crook of your neck with a sleepy rough hum. His grip was loose but unwilling, like even in sleep, he couldn’t bear to let you go. He filled your morning with lazy kisses, tangled limbs, and muffled laughter, his fingers tracing over your bare skin.

You could live a lifetime like this and still never believe it was real.

Now, you sit at your vanity, dressed for work, fastening an earring as Beomgyu, fresh from the shower, tugs on a clean hoodie. He catches your eye in the mirror and grins as he walks over. “What are you doing baby? Dolled up and all.”

“Drying my hair,” you say, “I’m actually early today. Da-hee is dropping by later too, by the way.”

“Okay. I’ll drive you.” He leans down, eyes flickering to the hairdryer on the desk. He picks it up, flipping it on. “I know how to do this.”

You give him a skeptical look. “Oh, really?”

“Uh-huh. I could probably do your makeup too.” He presses a teasing kiss to your cheek, making you giggle.

The warmth of the dryer was against your scalp as he carefully runs his fingers through your hair, drying it with surprising patience. His touch lingers even after the dryer clicks off, his fingers gently gathering strands of your hair.

“I used to braid my mom’s hair when I was younger,” he murmurs. “I want to do yours too.” You nod, watching him through the mirror, watching the way he looks at you with so much quiet devotion it nearly steals your breath. "It will be an honour to do this every day for you, you know."

And just like that, you fall in love all over again.

You sit in the passenger seat, your hair loosely braided—the proof that he wasn’t just bluffing. His fingers lace with yours as he drives, his thumb idly tracing circles against your skin. Every time the car slows at a red light, he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “I love you,”

He grins, that same cheeky, heart-stopping smile. "Love you more," he replies.

You let out a quiet breath, leaning your head against the window, watching the world blur past. But then—out of the corner of your eye—you see it.

And your breath catches in your throat.

Rain Lilies.

Flowers that shine the brightest in the wake of the storm.

It looks out of place. You remembered last night’s rain. It had come down in furious sheets, drowning the streets, washing everything away. The pavement is still slick, puddles reflecting the grey morning sky. And yet—there it is.

Small. Alive.

In the middle of a city that never stops, where people rush past without a second glance, too busy to care about a thing so insignificant, so easily overlooked—it stands, untouched. A quiet defiance against the cruelty that tried to take it.

It looks out of place, and it's beautiful.

If something this fragile can survive and still bloom—maybe, just maybe, so can you.

"Hyung!" Beomgyu’s laughter rings through the air as he runs straight into his brother’s arms. They embrace, laughing like they’re kids again, the older one attempting to lift him off the ground. Behind them, his parents rush to catch up, smiles stretched wide across their faces. The house, with its endless stretch of green, looks like out of a memory—soft, a paradise.

Beomgyu turns to you then, his hand resting gently on your back. His eyes soft when he speaks.

"Mom, Dad," he says, "This is Y/N."

You bow politely, but before you can even rise fully, his mother pulls you into a hug. "I’ve wanted to meet you for so long, dear," she murmurs against your shoulder.

When Beomgyu’s father steps forward, you feel your chest tighten. He smiles, and for a second, it’s like looking at Beomgyu in the years to come. His hug is just as warm, just as safe.

Lunch is a blur of laughter and stories, of hands brushing, of Beomgyu sneaking glances at you when he thinks you aren’t looking.

His parents laugh along with your stories—the one about meeting his sweet members, and how Da-hee had begged to meet them in person. You describe her pale face, wide-eyed and on the verge of fainting the entire time, and how Beomgyu grew irritated every time Yeonjun jokingly flirted with you, insisting he should be your favorite.

But it’s the story of Beomgyu meeting your family last week that really gets them, how he’d been so polite, yet adorably nervous, his hands fidgeting in his lap as he tried to make the right impression.

His mom grins, her eyes bright with excitement. “I’ll have to meet them soon,” she says, already making plans in her head, as if you’ve always been part of the family. At some point, Beomgyu tells them you’ll be staying for the week. They are overjoyed, and Toto, takes an instant liking to you.

Beomgyu sits on the porch, it's evening now.

This deck—he’s spent years here—on this very step, staring out at the world, wondering when he’d find you. Wondering if he ever would.

His fingers tighten around the handwritten letter on his phone screen, the words waiting to be sent out into the world. His heart pounds. What if they don’t understand? What if this changes everything? What if—

Laughter drifts from inside the house, yours mixing with his mom’s, his brother’s. It was the only assurance he'd ever need.

He exhales sharply, thumb hovering for only a second longer before he clicks post. It loads. He doesn’t watch. Just locks his phone and sets it aside as the front door creaks open.

"You’re trying to escape me, cookie?" Your voice is playful, arms crossing as you step toward him. Beomgyu only grins, shaking his head at the nickname his father gave him. He slips an arm around your shoulders as soon as you sit down, pulling you while he presses kisses on the side of your head.

"Never," His fingers find yours, a new habit of his—thumb caressing over your ring finger. His thoughts slip to the diamond ring hidden in his dorm, the one he bought after a week of meeting you. He just needs to find the right moment, the right words. Because even now, after everything, you still make him nervous. The way his heart races when you walk into a room, how everything seems to stop for a moment when you look his way.

He meets your smile with one of his own. Would he ever be this lucky in another life? To find you, to love you—not by destiny’s design, not by some divine script, but by choice?

Even without a soulmate mark, even without fate—

It would always be you.

Maybe in another world, the sky is burning, the world is ending, an apocalypse, and he still falls in love with you. Maybe in another life, he is a man undone, a husband who shatters more than he mends, but even then, he would spend eternity piecing himself back together just to be worthy of you.

Beomgyu knows this much: no matter the lifetime, no matter the universe, he will love you. Again and again, without hesitation, without end. As if loving you is written into the very fabric of his existence.

His fingers graze your cheek, and you lean into him like you were always meant to—like the universe has been bringing you back to him for centuries. Your smile reaches your eyes, soft and certain. His missing piece. The better half of him.

Beomgyu looks at you, and to him, you are something that comes after the rain—the hush of the earth reborn, the golden light breaking through the clouds, the promise that even the chaos was worth it.

He can’t help himself. Not when you’re looking at him like that. Not when your smile is the only thing he ever wants to see.

So he leans in.

The phone sits forgotten, lighting up with messages—teary words, heartfelt congratulations, the world calling for him. But none of it matters.

Because right now, you are in his arms. Right now, he is kissing the soft of your addicting lips. And right now, that is all that ever was, all that ever is, all that ever will be.

THE END.

taglist: I love you @.beombunni @.lovingbeomgyudayone @.virtaideen @.hyukascampfire @.fancypeacepersona @.bamgeutori @.lilbrorufr @.beomieeeeeeeeeeees @.xylatox @.imlonelydontsendhelp @.yunverie @.baekberrie @.soobabby @.hyunelixbun @.kejingken @.blossommi @.sumzysworld @.tyunningstar @.filmnings @.channieismylove @.frankghgr @.missychief1404 @.fatbixchwithanopinion @.saejinniestar @.brrytears @.sbnslver @.hoefororeo @.pagelets @.urlocal-moa @.ewsnup @.moagyuu @.melmochii

[hoe4hotchner]

aaron x supermodel reader?? 👀👀

Mystery man | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Supermodel!reader | WC: 1.9k | CW: Fluff, reader is wearing lingerie in a picture at one point

The relentless flashes of cameras were nearly blinding as the black town car came to a halt in front of the venue. You took a moment to steady yourself, exhaling softly before stepping out into the chaos. The city was alive tonight, the buzz of Paris Fashion Week crackling in the evening air like electricity as journalists, media outlets, paparazzi's, and so on had gathered around the velvet ropes to the red carpet.

As you swung one long leg out of the car, the delicate fabric of your gown cascaded in shimmering ripples around you. The dress was a masterpiece—silk that seemed to flow like water, catching the thousand lights with every movement. Diamond earrings glinted against your skin, and your heels—custom-designed, of course—clicked against the cobblestones as you straightened to your full height.

The crowd outside erupted into a frenzy the moment they spotted you, shouting your name in a symphony of accents, the occasional “over here!” cutting through the noise. You didn’t flinch, didn’t falter; you were used to this. It was your stage, and you owned it.

But tonight wasn’t just about you.

You turned, holding out a hand, and watched as he stepped out of the car.

Aaron Hotchner.

Even in the middle of the whirlwind, he exuded a calm authority that made heads turn. The black suit he wore was impeccably tailored, the kind of understated elegance that spoke volumes without trying too hard. You had insisted on having the designer of your attire make something for him too—for the occasion you'd shrugged.

His dark eyes scanned the crowd, not with the excitement of someone dazzled by the spectacle, but with the sharp awareness of a man—an agent—who didn’t miss a thing.

For a moment, you wondered what he was thinking. If he felt out of place or if he was regretting saying yes to your impulsive invitation. But when his gaze shifted to you, the faintest trace of a smile curved his lips, and any doubt disappeared.

You reached for his hand, and when his fingers closed around yours, the crowd’s focus shifted instantly.

“Who is that?”

“Is that her date?”

“Oh my God, he’s hot!”

“Someone get a name!”

The whispers grew louder as the two of you began walking toward the beginning of the carpet. Hotch’s presence next to you was a contrast to your usual presence at these events. Normally you would've given the cameras a little pre-show, before heading inside to get dressed in the collection of the evening.

And where most people—even celebrities—might have preened for the cameras in the slowest way possible, he simply carried himself with confidence, his free hand brushing against the edge of his jacket.

When another wave of flashes erupted, he leaned in closer. “This is... different,” he murmured, his voice so low you could feel it more than hear it.

You glanced up at him, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “Different good or different bad?”

He gave you a look—half exasperated, half amused. “Let’s just say I’m starting to understand why you always come home exhausted after these things.”

Your laugh turned brighter, drawing even more attention from the photographers. “Welcome to my world, Agent Hotchner.”

The questions from the crowd grew more pointed. Someone yelled, “Are you two together?” while another voice called out, “Is this your boyfriend?”

Aaron’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, his thumb brushing over yours as if to steady you both. You could feel his discomfort at the attention, but he didn’t let it show outwardly.

As you approached the gilded double doors of the venue, you slowed, tilting your head toward him. “They’ll figure out who you are by tomorrow,” you said softly with a teasing tone.

He raised a brow. “Is that a warning?”

“More like a promise.” You smiled, squeezing his hand before leading him inside.

Once the heavy doors shut behind you, the noise from outside faded into a muffled hum. Aaron exhaled, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he looked around the space.

“Now that,” he said, meeting your gaze, “was intense.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, stepping closer to fix his tie, which had shifted slightly during the commotion. “And it’s only the beginning.”

The sun had barely begun to stream through the blinds of Garcia’s apartment, casting a soft, golden hue across her kitchen. She hummed quietly to herself, a melody she’d picked up from the latest show she had managed to binge between cases, as she went about her morning ritual.

Her bright pink robe swished around her as she moved. Everything in her kitchen had just as much personality as her; from the gleaming chrome appliances to the rainbow of coffee pods stacked neatly by her machine.

She hit the button for her usual shot of espresso, the familiar whirring sound filling the room as she reached for her favorite mug—a ceramic cat face with ears that doubled as handles and then turned to her fridge to gather all the fixings.

Her TV, mounted in the corner of her living room and perpetually tuned to a morning show, prattled on in the background. It was her morning white noise, the kind of chatter she half-listened to while focusing on more important things, like perfecting her froth-to-espresso ratio.

“...Paris Fashion Week turned heads last night with more than just couture,” the announcer’s voice chimed, accompanied by upbeat music. “A surprise appearance by a supermodel and her mysterious companion has everyone talking this morning.”

Garcia paused mid-pour, her interest piqued. Her gaze flicked to the screen, where a paparazzi photo filled the frame.

She squinted.

The image showed a stunning figure draped in a flowing gown, her hand firmly clasped in a man’s. His face wasn’t entirely visible, but his strong profile and familiar suit cut made Garcia gasp.

“No. Freaking. Way,” she whispered, her coffee momentarily forgotten.

The announcer continued, the screen now displaying the bold headline:

Supermodel Spotted With Mystery Man at Paris Fashion Week!

The next photo zoomed in on the man’s face, his stoic expression unmistakable.

“Oh my God,” Garcia said louder, her hand flying to her mouth. “That’s Hotch!”

The caption beneath the image confirmed it, sending her brain into overdrive: Mystery Man Identified as Aaron Hotchner, FBI Unit Chief.

Her half-made latte was abandoned on the counter as she scrambled for her phone. “This is not happening. This is not happening,” she muttered, her fingers flying over the screen until she found the contact she needed.

The phone barely rang before Derek Morgan’s voice came through, groggy and unamused. “Garcia, it’s not even eight, Hotch is away there's no need to wake up this ear—”

“Did you see it?” she blurted, cutting him off.

“See what?”

“Our boss!” she shrieked, pacing the length of her kitchen. “Hotch! He was at Paris Fashion Week! Holding hands with a supermodel! It’s on every channel!”

There was a pause, followed by Morgan’s skeptical laugh. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. Hotch? Our Hotch?”

“Yes, our Hotch! The Aaron Hotchner! He’s on TV right now looking like James Bond at a runway show!”

Another pause, and then Morgan’s full-throated laugh rumbled through the line. “This I gotta see. Send me the link.”

Garcia was already snapping a picture of the TV screen, muttering under her breath. “I can’t believe this. He’s going to walk into work on Monday like nothing happened. Nothing happened!”

Morgan’s voice was rich with amusement. “Think he’ll bring her to the office?”

“Oh, don’t even joke,” Garcia groaned, dramatically flopping onto her couch. “This is going to be the topic of gossip for weeks. Months. Years! I need answers, Derek. Answers!”

Morgan’s chuckle softened. “Good luck getting any. You know how tight-lipped he is.”

Garcia sighed, already plotting her strategy. If anyone could get the inside scoop, it was her.

The streets of Paris were alive with the afternoon bustle as busy Parisians were heading home after a day's work. The sunlight streamed through the wrought-iron balconies and cast warm patterns on the cobblestone streets as the sun started to set. You sat at a small café table nestled in the corner of a quiet terrace, the scent of freshly baked croissants and strong espresso mingling in the air. Across from you, Aaron was the picture of peace, a man who seemed utterly unbothered by the flurry of attention he’d unwittingly garnered in just one night.

On the small table between you sat a glossy gossip magazine, its cover adorned with a candid shot of the two of you from the night before. The headline practically screamed: Supermodel’s Mystery Man: Who Is He? FBI Unit Chief Turns Heads at Paris Fashion Week!

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and bubbling as you traced a finger over the grainy image of Hotch, his sharp profile and protective grip on your hand immortalized in print. “They’ve already printed it,” you said, your tone a mix of amusement and disbelief.

Aaron leaned back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other. His phone buzzed incessantly on the table, the notifications relentless, but he didn’t so much as glance at it. Instead, his focus remained entirely on you, his lips curving into a faint smirk.

“They’re calling you a ‘mystery man,’” you teased, flipping the magazine open to the full-page spread inside. The photos captured every angle of the two of you from last night—the hand-holding, the shared smiles, the way he had leaned in to speak to you amidst the chaos of flashing cameras.

“And here’s my personal favorite,” you added, pointing to a particularly flattering shot of him looking utterly smitten as you had walked down the runway in a set of silver lingerie.

Hotch’s dark eyes flicked to the image before returning to yours. “I think I prefer to keep them guessing,” he said, his voice was warm, he knew that wouldn't be the case. He reached for his coffee, the faintest trace of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Hmm,” you mused, tilting your head as you studied him. “Not sure your team agrees.” You nodded toward his phone, which buzzed again with what had to be its twentieth alert in the last ten minutes.

He sighed, a sound more affectionate than exasperated, and finally picked up the device. “Garcia,” he muttered, his eyes narrowing slightly as he read a series of increasingly unbelieving messages. “And Morgan,” he added, his smirk deepening.

You rested your chin in your hand, grinning at him. “I told you they’d find out.”

Hotch set the phone back on the table without responding to the messages, his gaze softening as it met yours. “Let them talk,” he said simply, his voice carrying the conviction you adored. “Right now, I’m exactly where I want to be.”

Your chest warmed at his words, and you leaned forward, reaching across the table to take his hand. “Good,” you murmured, your thumb brushing over his knuckles. “Because I wouldn’t want you anywhere else.”

For a moment, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of you, the noise and chaos of the city fading into the background below.

“Though,” you added, breaking the moment with a mischievous smile and a wink, “I wouldn’t mind seeing you on next year’s cover of GQ. You know, for the sake of balance.”

Hotch chuckled, the sound so utterly endearing, as he shook his head. “Let’s not get too carried away.”

[cutehoons02]

I fell in love with a golden retriever vampire...

*pairing: Idol vampire Jake x Enhypen human stylist

*trope: grumpy x sunshine

*synopsis: In an alternative future, vampires and humans live together peacefully thanks to a treaty that regulates their relations. Jake is a member of the Enhypen one of the most famous groups in the world and thousands of fans are fascinated by his being a vampire but at the same time representing the most human part and golden retriever of the group, in a moment full of successes of the career of Enhypen appears in the life of Jake his new stylist. They couldn’t be more different than this: Jake is a vampire instead she is a human, Jake is a puppy in vampire format instead she thinks only of her work and is a little bit haughty and snobby, Jake loves fun and is a womanizer instead she is cynical about him and the charm of Jake does not perceive it as a beautiful thing but as a distraction. What will happen when Jake’s powers with his favorite stylist don’t work? And why is she the only one not to fall for his vampire charms…

*tags: A lot of humor, teased, jealousy, possession, Jake is a bit of a pervert, loves to touch and annoy his stylist, scenes where Jake bites his stylist, blood, unprotected sex (don't horny ppl), oral sex, fingering, a little degradation, multiple spicy scenes (pubblic), pet names (Good girl, baby) (Jackie,Golden retriever)+ 16, angst.

10k (🧛)

(English is not my native language)

In an alternative future, vampires and humans live together peacefully thanks to a treaty that regulates their relations. Vampires are known for their unnatural beauty and superhuman abilities, which makes them highly sought after in the world of entertainment, fashion, and entertainment, especially in the world of Idols, Vampires are rarely tired and need a few hours of sleep so they are perfect for the endless hours of dance training, various events that make as models or even actors. However, despite the peaceful coexistence, there is still a subtle mutual prejudice between the two species, there is a peace treaty but things do not always go well for humans when they meet on their way vampires who have not accepted the rules of the treaty imposed by the magical world and that of the humans.

Jake, one of the members of Enhypen, is a vampire with a special power: emotional manipulation through touch. It can calm, confuse, or intensify a person’s feelings with a simple touch, an ability that makes him useful on stage but makes him appear a little weaker than others in routine everyday situations.

All 7 members have powers: Heeseung the oldest member of the group has the power of vocal hypnotism. He is the calmest and most rational person in the group, and he is often the peacemaker between Jake and the designer.

Jay can hypnotize people, controlling their minds, emotions, and thoughts with his gaze. This allows him to manipulate the actions of others and influence their thoughts. However, his power is limited when he is not emotionally balanced if he lets himself be overwhelmed by his darkest desires, or if he stands beside sensitive people.

Sunghoon has the power of super speed and is the "prince" of the group, with an elegant but competitive air.

Sunoo is empathic and can capture any emotion or tension with his natural aura, he can perceive the emotions of others without the need for physical contact. He is the first to notice the tension between Jake and the designer.

Jungwon is the first of the group to be able to transform into a bat and fly. He can also move objects with his mind. Its flying power makes it super fast, but it requires a lot of energy and can be affected by weather conditions.

Finally, we have Ni-Ki the smallest of the group has the power of mimetism (can make itself invisible for long periods). He is the most lively of the group and enjoys teasing Jake.

The studio is a chaotic mix of lights, and clothes hanging mono color with red references to remind that the Enhypen were vampires and they fed mostly blood and staff ran everywhere to prepare members for their next shooting with a well-known brand of Italian high-rise clothing. For Y/n the new designer, It was her first day and she had been waiting for a long time after finishing her studies in fashion design to work for a fashion house or to be someone’s stylist when they accepted her for a year-paid trial she felt like, she was on top of the world. Y/n she could seem reserved, a little cynical, and maybe haughty but had struggled with herself to pay for her studies and learn everything there was to know about high fashion. Y/n found himself arranging a rack of perfectly ironed leather jackets and shirts. It’s the first day with the group, and his goal is simple: do his job perfectly, show the department boss that she is good, and go away without a hitch, But she doesn't know that soon a vampire in the guise of golden retrievers would be upset all her life and all its uncertainties. Jake walked backstage like a thunderbolt, with an aura that can’t go unnoticed: bright smile, relaxed posture, eyes that seemed to sparkle with pure charm wearing fake nerd glasses, and his artificial golden hair that gave him that aura even more as a non-human person. He observed the staff, 90% of the human people whom he had known well for 4 years now, but his eyes immediately turned to her, the girl with curly copper-colored hair who was putting their jackets away. He suddenly stopped to observe her, not that it was unusual for Jake to stop and look at a beautiful girl, both in vampire TV and in human TV was routine now was represent as a lover of adventure and did not make distinctions between vampire or human girls but this time... there was something different.

Jake with a smile like a book, the usual thing he did to get the attention that he loved to receive from women approached the new stylist. «Oh, hello. Are you new? I’m Jake, nice to meet you.» Jake reached out to him because with that excuse he would have the way to touch her and feel what she felt at that moment with his magic power.

The designer heard a melodic voice coming from next to her and that voice had already been heard a billion times on TV or when she listened to their songs. " Yes, i know who you are. You’re the one who’s always late and ruining staff time, right?" Y/n looked up for a second and found himself next to Jake Sim the womanizer of the group with his slightly frizzy blonde hair, his classic smile made all the girls drool for him and his body toned for the countless hours spent in the gym and training. But after a few seconds, she concentrated back on the jackets and Jake stood for an instant speechless. She didn’t even look at him. No smile, no blush, no nod of that typical "oh my god, it’s Jake from Enhypen" reaction.

«Wow, pungent. I like girls with character. What’s your name, honey? I bet that a girl like you will have a beautiful and particular name as your coppery blonde hair and your forest green eyes» Finally you look up and stare at him with a dry look. Jake’s eyes meet yours, but something goes wrong. He can’t read your emotions, or touch you for a second and it’s as if his usual power to manipulate the charm and feelings of others has disappeared. For the first time in hundreds of years, Jake feels... normal. "If you are done flirting with me i would be happy, i have to adjust your measurements for this jacket that i think is too big for you. Please stay still and try to keep it up until I’m done with the job, then you can go flirt with the other staff girls!" Jake, a little upset, lets himself take the measurements for the thousandth time. As she takes the measurements of his bust and shoulders,he smells her perfume: sweet but with a pungent note, just like her attitude towards him at this moment.

Jake is a serial chatterbox and tries to break the silence with another of his little jokes «You haven’t told me your name yet. I am always so irresistible with all the girls that i meet, what is it you have a magical power that you are particularly impervious to my charm?» Y/n looked at the vampire in front of her and looked up, God how self-centered this boy was.

"Well, maybe fate wanted you to meet for the first time a girl who does not find you irresistible to your charm, what if your little ego as a superstar is getting weaker because for the first time especially a human does not find you irresistible?" Jake looked at you slightly with his mouth open and felt his fangs become slightly longer and his eyes get darker than they should, why was he so excited about such a conversation? The little human was teasing him and seemed not to be afraid that there was a vampire in front of her who could temper or bleed her in an instant if she would not keep her mouth shut. As she continues to work, Jake realizes that not only can’t he use his powers on her, but that his natural charm doesn’t even seem to scratch her. This irritates him... and intrigues him.

It had been more than a month since your arrival in the world of Enhypen and you were always excited to discover and have adventures with them, In that month you were flying to Spain for a festival and had been able to design 2 dresses for members one for Sunghoon and the other for Jay and the department head was greatly surprised by the sketch and also how the set of the two vampire suits came out. With the other members, you had started to become less cynical and maybe even "friendly" but with the only one who could not get a professional and friendly relationship was Jake, he always made you some jokes inappropriate about how they dressed your jeans, how he loved seeing your beautiful legs while you were wearing skirts but at the same time he teased you about how you only became touchy when you were with him or how your cheeks warmed up when he whispered things a little dirty when you made it before you went out to sing on stage or when you were measuring him for a new suit. As it was happening at this exact moment: you had helped all the members to prepare and at the same time take photos that would go later on the various Fashion Blogs of the vampire world and human ones for the clothes worn by the 7 idols.

"Jake, it’s your turn to change the outfit," You said in a dry tone, trying to keep your cool as you were putting the sketch of the dress on the electronic board. Your heart is already agitated enough when Jake is near, with that mischievous smile and aura that seems to wrap around him. Jake came in and stood before you and looked at you with a puppy smile and slightly protruding lip and smiled at you with an expression that screamed amused and teasing. «Okay, but I’m a little tired, can you help me? Never know these leather pants seem so tight and i wouldn’t want to break them!» You ignored his words and pointed to the open shirt, leather jacket, and leather pants on the stand. “Hurry up with your clothes, Jake. We’re late." The vampire looked at his watch and had 10 minutes before he left for the event and of course, decided to complicate your life. With a languid smile, he pulls his shirt right in front of you, revealing his sculpted chest. You looked at him slightly amused but you were smoking out of anger because if they found you with only a finger too much put in a strange position for the department head they would fire you instantly, you shot to not look at it and not to let them see that you were slightly embarrassed, It wasn’t the first time you saw a bare chest but Jake had seriously sexy and muscular physique at the right spot and his muscular crests that formed a perfect V made you think of things you should never have imagined.

"Really? Couldn’t you change behind the partition like everyone else? What is it you have not yet understood that i'm not fascinated by you Jake" The vampire in front of you laughed and slipped his pants from the suit and remained only in boxers in front of you, were you cursing him in all possible languages because he wanted so much to embarrass you and tease you?

«Well, where is the fun if i went to change in knowing? It’s nice to see you so cheeky looking at my beautiful physique and who knows maybe in your mind you imagine being over my legs or while licking these beautiful muscles!» You were so tired of his insolence that you threw his shirt and heard him laugh. "Jake! Put some clothes on, for God’s sake!" «You are so boring Y/n, should you relax and have fun sometimes and why do you use words like Holy Heavens? i'm a vampire, not a priest or some clerical member». You sighed, trying to ignore it. But your work came before his stupid beats so you walked up and gently took his shirt. "Put this on. Right now, Jake. Otherwise, i'll send you out in just boxers." Jake took a step towards you, getting close enough to hold your breath. «Can you help me, right? You’re the designer. Touch me as well. I don’t bite... at least not without permission.»

You stared at him trying to keep calm. "Did anyone ever tell you that you’re unbearable?" Jake laughed softly as you might get slightly touchy, but when he felt her stylist’s little fingers touching his shoulder to fix his shirt, everything changed.

As your fingers touched his cold vampire skin, you both stiffened. There is something strange: an unexpected warmth spreads under your touch, as if only with your touch could feel the heat, something as unknown to a vampire. Jake was as amazed as he was, so he laid his big hand slightly over yours where you had just stopped for the heat shock you both received.

«You...you are hot Y/n» you laughed at his bat when you pushed your hand away to button the shirt buttons. "Wow what a scientific finding you just made Jake, of course, I’m hot in my body circulates blood, i'm a human if you don’t remember" Jake shook his head, it was seriously weird what was happening. For what reason did he feel the heat while touching it? Never happened. Then, with a more uncertain smile than usual, he looked at you, and you buttoned the last button and left two open to reveal his skin and toned physique. «No, you don’t understand Y/n. I’m a vampire i should be cold for you, you shouldn’t feel heat when you touch me, that only happens...» You didn’t want to hear his stupid comments anymore so you put the clothes on and made a sign to move “Jake... You talk too much, move that the other members are waiting for you. Give a little help from the hairstylist and run into the studio" you ran away from his presence and went to the studio where the other members were already ready, you put near your cape that smiled at you and made her see all the photos you had done to the members and fortunately Jake had made hairstylist so nobody noticed anything.

The months passed quickly and Y/n always pretended not to feel what she felt every time she accidentally touched the vampire and was unaware of what he felt and went through Jake’s head. You always tried to ignore what happened every time you touched Jake, but it wasn’t easy. At first, it was just isolated episodes: a touch of the arm to fix his jacket, a contact while you were fixing his collar. But each time, that unexpected heat returned, and each time it seemed to become more intense. Jake, for his part, did everything to provoke those moments and have an excuse to feel that touch. He came deliberately, with banal excuses: "Can you fix this sleeve?" or "I need help with this zip." He did not need any help, but he wanted to feel that heat that made him crazy. This thing was noticed by his companions and not only, no more gossip or drama between him and the other girls, was seriously focused on the comeback that would be there soon Jake every weekend was in the company of some girl and instead a couple of time seemed to have no more want to touch or date other girls, the only touch he wanted and was obsessed with was Y/n.

They had all worn the various costumes for the new comeback and were preparing to shoot the new video, Jake was training with the band members, but the presence of the stylist backstage distracted him. She was there talking to another stylist while she was bent over a box full of accessories, trying to fit them into a costume they would use later for recording outdoors.

Jake watches her in secret, trying to ignore the growing desire that assailed him every time he was in the same room with her, in the same plane, in the same bar where all the employees stopped in the morning practically her smell was getting more and more into Jake’s body and soul and it was strange because he had not yet felt or tasted her blood and seemed to attract him every day More and more.

Sunghoon gave him an elbow. <<Hey, what are you doing? You’ve missed the step for the third time. We have repeated this choreography a thousand times even the walls know it by heart>>

Jake clears his throat, trying to look natural. "Nothing, I’m just tired."

Jay, who is watching everything carefully, looks at him with a suspicious look. «Tired? Distracted? You’re a vampire we don’t rest almost ever Jake, these are all excuses»

Sunghoon follows Jake’s look and immediately understands. <<Oh, i see. It’s for you, isn’t it? Your favorite designer with whom you argue from morning to night, stop staring at her because besides us other people can follow your gaze right now. >>

Jake’s eyes are up, trying to hide the embarrassment. "Don’t be silly i wasn’t staring at her. For that moment when my eyes leaned on her figure you looked where my gaze was... that’s all." Jake was embarrassed and started to torture the fur of his hands

Jay with a mischievous grin looked at Jake. «Curious? How no. Your eyes are turning dark, brother. If you don’t calm down, you’ll make a vampire scene in front of everyone.»

Hoon laughed at Jay’s joke and came even closer to Jake << Look here not to mention the tusks. They are growing you every time you approach her. Maybe it’s time to do something.>>

Jake walked away from his brothers and looked at them badly "Nothing’s happening. There’s nothing wrong if sometimes my fangs become longer, it always happens when i’m near girls is my instinct as a predator what i'm"

Jay looks at him with a piercing look, as only a vampire can do. «You know that the heat and intensity you feel are not random. If she causes you all this, she could be your soul mate and not say that you have never thought about it because it is for a good few weeks that no gossip comes out about you, i don't see you flirting with any girl, and always seem so lost in your thoughts»

Jake would like to fight back but he gets stuck. He can’t deny it, but he doesn’t even admit it. The idea that she might be his soul mate scares him more than anything else, there are so few pairs of humans and a vampire, that they were seriously banned but since the two worlds made peace and began to collaborate subspecies of marriages between vampires and humans had been celebrated but were still seen as decidedly out of place especially by older generations.

Slowly, the other members also began to notice that something was wrong. Ni-Ki in particular enjoyed teasing Jake whenever the stylist was around.

Jungwon watched the older boy’s hair get tangled up from the sensations he was feeling when he saw Y/n. "Hey, Jake, are you all right? It seems your brain goes haywire every time she enters the room." Another time Ni-Ki was in the company of the golden retriever and Y/n had spent a second showing him a newspaper of Vogue Korea where they were and Ni-Ki was wearing a dress she had designed and when he left Jake was definitely desperate because the smell of Y/n was driving him crazy.

<<Maybe we should ask her to stay a little further away from you next time. We wouldn’t want Jake to lose control and throw himself at his neck, would we?>> Jake gave the group’s little boy a hateful look and cursed him when they bit him, nobody told him how hard it could be to feel and want a person who at first did not even much with his arrogance but now he was seriously tired and would do anything to understand if Y/n was his soul mate or if it was all fruit of his sick mind because he could not have it like all the other girls.

Enhypen flew to Japan for a festival where the top 5 bands of the moment would perform, both male and female, had just finished performing after another group called Stray Kids and when he came back backstage he went to grab something to nibble on but his look after a few seconds stopped on Y/n and felt his anger grow second by second. The reason why? His stylist was chatting with another idol, for his bad luck with one of the most beautiful humans in circulation as well as Hyunjin who belonged to the Stray Kids. Hyunjin was the representation of the classic model but at the same time idol, he was enigmatic with his aura as an artist, with his hair slightly long, and with his charm fake emo. The scene was innocent: you were getting a drink and Hyunjin came to you and as gentlemanly as he was asked if you wanted to taste some Japanese snacks that he loved because he had seen you busy preparing all the members for the day and how he deduced you had eaten almost nothing, the smiles and accepted until you started talking about the more and less of the various tours that the two groups were to do and Hyunjin without malice had touched your side. After all, he wanted to take more food to the table but Jake when he saw this scene something inside him clicked.

After a while, Y/n saw Jake arrive haughtily and stand in front of Hyunjin. «Are you finished? We need her. Work to do, you know how she gets paid to be our stylist not to have conversations with other idols."

Hyunhin confused took a step back. "Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb. I just wanted to let her discover some snacks that we humans love so much, things you vampires can’t understand!" Y/n watched Jake tighten his hands around his jeans more and more and after a few seconds he took her away from Hyunjin until he pushed his stylist into a closet Jake looked immediately if there were cameras but that time was lucky because there were only him and the designer attached to the wall with arms crossed to the body to make them as baracer.

"What a scene, Jake. I didn’t know you were my babysitter." Jake closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them again there was no longer the golden retriever version that everyone knew but perhaps a darker and maybe true version of him. «I don’t like it when you approach people you don’t know.» But who did he think he was? had no control over you.

"Oh, i see. And why? Aren’t you the one who flirts with everything that is human or not, since you are a vampire?"

Jake’s jaw is tight. He was really tired of you, of your arrogance, of how you ignored that warmth you felt too, and wanted to teach you a lesson. «Don't compare me to them. You don’t belong to this world of idols, you don’t belong to anyone... except to me.»

His words made you jump. For a moment you are speechless, and then you decide to answer him with your usual sarcasm.

"Oh, really? And since when did you decide to become possessive? I thought you were the one-night stand, and so when i listened to the gossip news every weekend they would photograph or film you with one or maybe more different girls!"

Jake stepped towards you, his face a few inches from yours «Maybe i was. But you have changed everything fucking don’t tell me that you don't feel what i feel, every time i'm near you when i touch you, i always feel that electric discharge of heat that for us vampires is almost impossible to perceive because we have no blood and no emanate heat.»

"Don’t think your movie lines impress me, Jake. I’m not one of your fans who faints as soon as you smile, I’m not fascinated by you, I don’t see in you the guy that is represented on all media and not." You didn’t finish the sentence that Jake’s lips crashed into yours, there was no hesitation, only physical need. Contact is an explosion of sensations: the heat that feels every time it touches you becomes almost unbearable, wrapping both.

You remain motionless, caught by surprise, but then you give in to the kiss, returning it with a passion that you did not think you had. Jake came even closer and lifted you off the floor and sat you down on the small table full of detergents that he dropped when he put his big hands around your ass to lean on you and then close again to him. «Baby fuck, you’re driving me crazy months i wanted to feel your lips in mine» you slightly pushed Jake away but he dived back into your lips and a little moan came out of your lips when you felt his canines close to your lip and without permission bit your lower lip lightly and when Jake saw the drops of your blood began to sucked and at the same time lifted the light shirt you had on, and when he saw you only with the bra and little drops that were pouring out of your mouth, his neck up to the breast was no longer controlled and began to lick and suck you every drop scattered in your little body around yours.

"I hate you Jake" Jake smiled when he licked and sucked the little wound he had made in your lip again, «You’ll make me crazy Y/n, this is definitely your end you will not be able to go back» you put your arms around his neck and kissed him again but this time it was you who taunted him and as he had done he bit his lip but from him no drop of blood came out but from his lips, a lot of groans and sighs of pleasure, still covered by the breast-rest to his body and at the same time you kissed desperately and after a while Jake licked the wound that had caused you with his tongue and you no longer felt pain because with his tongue could cure any injury with his powers.

You pushed him away and after a while, you pulled him to sit next to you and you put yourself on him, you didn’t know if that table would hold your weight but you didn’t care, You just wanted to feel Jake’s lips again in your body and swung slightly along its length; Jake was seriously ecstatic. Who would have thought you had so much energy and desire to ride him? As you kissed, you felt his big hands slightly cold but when they touched your body they became slightly warm, one hand was behind your back to keep you balanced, and with a single gesture he took off your bra and with the other began to tighten a breast and took his lips from the you and bent slightly to suck an bud of your breast, You were so sensitive in that part of your body and all these new discoveries about you will go all into a part of his brain where he wrote down all the things you liked and those less. Your nipples harden in the cold air but are quickly warmed by Jake’s fingers, he pinches and pulls the buds sharply, and the feeling makes you want to get aroused. He started to torture you both nipples slowly and pulled his hair slightly, "Jake pls, don’t always be a jerk with me" A grin formed on his face, and licked you and suck the bud but his canines were driving you crazy because every time he sucked them you felt more and more in contact with your skin but Jake was not a mad lunatic as some people had painted him and not you would ever do harm, so with all his patience he never let out his teeth but only his tongue.

«Fuck stop little move so on my dick or I’ll come in these pants for thousands of dollars» A little moan came out from your lips and laughed at that sentence of Jake

"That’s the point, Jake, stop calling me a little girl because I’m not one of the whores you fucked for no reason" Jake was really fucked by you, who were you really?

You wrapped your arms around his arms again and began to ride them lengthwise, and Jake leaned his head against the wall and wrapped his big hands around your hips covered in a light pull of black leggings, You were sending him off head whenever you rode his dick covered in jeans and after a few seconds he felt the flap of his pants wet and a finger intruded into your pussy still dressed in leggings and felt that you were completely wet. Fuck for the first time in hundreds of years, he came as a boy loser in his boxer shorts.

Jake drew you close to himself and pressed you to his body and he drew light circles above your leggings behind your back until he felt that you had calmed down, After a while he slightly moved away from you and took your face with his big hands and stroked your completely reddened cheeks.

"You really are a problem Jake" He smiled at you and passed his thumb around where he had bit you slightly with his canine.

«And you are mine. You know that, don’t you?»

You did not answer, but the blush on your cheeks and the look in his eyes said it all.

After what had happened in the Japanese locker, it seemed to have made Jake more and more sensitive to the scent and smell of Y/n, tried in every way to throw a few glances, to visit her even for a few minutes between breaks of some intense choreography or in the morning he always arrived first and left him in his art studio some humanoid food that loved his human like a chocolate muffin or a smoothie. His companions or in short vampire brothers were mocking him a little but they were happy that the first to have found (hopefully) his soul mate was Jake, they were also tired of seeing him always with some girl different and knew that when he would find her would see his true cub nature as they called him "the golden retriever vampire" because he always loved to cuddle, Embrace or play with all members, especially with Ni-Ki who found herself in that world of the idol at a young age.

The autumn festival was on the plan in Seoul and Enhypen was invited as guest of honor, there were many other groups both vampires and humans and they were always a little alert because so many people would be perfect for "bad" vampires, creatures who did not accept the peace treaty with humans and were always hunting for some human to bite or even worse if they felt or knew that a vampire had eyes on a human wanted absolutely to make the vampire in question suffer. Their mission is clear: hit the stylist to hurt Jake and the rest of the group, because even if Y/n was the soul mate Jake had a subtle connection with the other 6 members, and if they hurt Jake would also hurt the others in some way.

While you were putting the accessories behind the scenes, a vampire suddenly appeared in front of you with red eyes and exposed tusks. You had seen some vampires lose control and even the Enhypen sometimes showed their canines to their fans or red eyes but this vampire in front of you looked literally scary and you went a little backward, They always told you that you shouldn’t be afraid because they would hear it and they would feel even more with the heart and blood pumping more but at this moment you were really terrified until you saw his canines come out of your mouth and tried to touch you but Jake and the others immediately rushed to you.

Jay pushed you with a pussyfoot behind him, saying «Don’t dare to come near her again or even worse touch her is ours.»

Sunghoon with his usual cold, calculating, and scornful look looked at the vampire still with eyes on you << You’ve chosen the wrong target, do not allow yourself to touch her or any other person without powers, Don’t turn against me because if you don’t remember I’m of the royal family and I could send you to hell in an instant>>

Jake when he saw that it wasn’t him who had saved you or alienated you from that vampire completely lost control. With a deep growl, face the vampire who had dared to approach you. Eyes as black as darkness tusks fully exposed. In a few seconds, the danger was eliminated.

But when you watched the scene of Jake biting and maybe killing that vampire in front of you, you became terrified and looked at everyone with scared eyes, especially Jake. You walked away from Jay looked at him and cried with tears "Stay away from me! All of you! You’re monsters!"

Jake turns to you, his face still marked by anger and adrenaline, and yells «I saved you. You should be glad i got him out»

You backed away a little "From what? From other monsters like you? I don’t want to have anything to do with you, your sick world full of malice"

Your words are like a dagger for Jake. His confident smile disappeared completely, giving way to a wounded expression, and lowered his head as he watched you move away from them but above all from him, and in a low voice he said «I... I am not like them.»

Sunghoon put his hand on Jake’s shoulder and said << Jake. She just needs time. >

«And if that were not enough? for her, I’m only a monster...»

The Enhypen were training without breaks for almost three hours until a man entered the rehearsal room. He is tall and elegant, but there is a menacing aura around him. His eyes glimmer with a dark red, and every movement seems calculated. Jake recognizes him immediately.

«Rex. What do you want?»

"Quiet I’m not here to create problems I’m here to warn you."

The other members stop, the air suddenly tenses and Jay immediately stands near Jake

<< Warn him of what?>>

Rex looked at Jake "You're... human. The stylist. She attracted unwanted attention. There are vampires who do not respect the treaty, and you are an easy target."

Jake clenches his fists, his body tense. «They will not touch her»

Rex raised an eyebrow, "I hope so for you. But protecting her while she lives alone is practically impossible. It’s better if she comes live with you, at least until things calm down."

Jake remains silent for a long moment. The stylist’s words come to his mind: "You are all monsters." The thought of seeing her every day, knowing how much she fears him, makes him feel empty.

«No way.»

Jay stared at Jake << Rex is right. If something happens to her, you won’t forgive yourself. Let me convince her that you are... too involved. >>

Jake turns to Jay, face tense. «Do as you please. But don’t ask me to talk to her.»

Jay meets you at the end of a long day’s work, sitting in your studio surrounded by a pile of sketches, unfinished clothes, and several cups of coffee with deep dark circles, a sign of sleepless nights.

Jay came in unannounced << You don’t look well>> You looked up and with surprise there was Jay

"What are you doing here? You’re not the one who usually makes surprise visits."

Jay smiled slightly << For Jake it is... complicated. So I’m the one to bring you the message, he knows that i’m half human like you so he thinks i’m the perfect candidate to tell you this bomb without you getting angry or scared even more>> you looked curious Jay and made with my hands the gesture of continuing to speak.

<< You’re safe here but not at home, you have to come and live with us, at least for a while until things settle down between you and Jake>>

You raised an eyebrow "And why should I? I don’t feel exactly comfortable with you... vampires"

Jay sighs, sitting in front of her. << Look, I know you’re angry and scared. And you’re right to be. But if you don’t come with us, we can’t guarantee your protection. Rex himself said you’re a target. And trust me, you don’t want to know what happens if one of those vampires finds you. If you don’t trust others of me you can trust i have the blood that flows under my skin and a little i can understand you, so now get up that i accompany you home, You take a nice hot shower and then we prepare a suitcase and come to stay with us for a while and then when things have settled you can decide whether to go back to your house or stay with Jake>> These words make you shiver and annuities without objecting.

When you arrived at their house you were warmly welcomed by everyone... except for Jake. Every time you met him in the hallways, he would just nod cold or look at you for a moment before leaving.

One night, however, terror took over. A sudden noise woke you up, and the memories of the attack at the festival came to mind. You looked at the time and without doing it on purpose were 3 o'clock in the night the time of the devil. Trembling, you slipped out of his room and headed for Jake’s door.

Knocking slowly you felt your heart beat strong until after a few seconds the door opened and there in front of you was Jake in pajamas with black stripes, red and blue, and a bare chest; you felt the cheeks turn immediately red and married the look to his face «What do you want?»

"Can’t i sleep, can i come in?"

Jake opened the door, his impassive expression, and saw you enter his shelter

«You shouldn’t be here Y/n, the monster in front of you could bleed you dry and feed you to other monsters like me!» You watched his canines on display and a shiver ran through your body, bit your lip and you approached him and you leaned down where he was sitting in bed.

"I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what i said. I was scared, confused, and when I saw you so angry and hurt that being me."

Jake finally looked up at you and looked at you with a bitter smile

«You said it, and you thought it. I’m nothing but a monster to you, am I?» You shook your head, unable to bear the distance that had been created between you and him by that event.

"You’re not a monster to me. You’re Jake. You’re the guy who makes me lose my patience every day, who makes me laugh when I least expect it, who looks at me as if I’m the only thing that matters in the world, who behaves a little bit of a pervert when I wear skirts or that always looks at me with that look you would like to claim yours and let everyone know! I was wrong, but... I don’t really mean it."

Before Jake could answer you kissed him. His lips were soft against hers, full of a sweetness that tried to erase the pain it had caused him, you felt immediately the heat that you had missed in those days and for a moment Jake let go responding to the kiss, but then he brusquely walked away and looked at you with those half-brown eyes with red shades.

Jake got up from his bed and put some distance away from you. «A kiss is not enough to fix everything. Not when you said those words... You don’t understand what it means to me to be seen like this by you, Y/n.»

You felt the tears burn your eyes, but he was not willing to give up.

"I didn’t understand it before but i do now. I know i hurt you, and maybe i don’t deserve your forgiveness. But... I want to make it right."

Jake stared at you, his eyes shining in the dim, full of conflict. Before he could answer you wrapped him in a sincere embrace, holding him as if it was something precious that maybe you had slowly understood that you too were feeling something for him.

"Please let me stay. I don’t want to sleep alone tonight."

Jake stood still for a long time, his body stiff against yours. Then, with a trembling breath, his arms rose and surrounded you

«You’re stubborn, you know? You drive me crazy»

You looked up, with a soft but provocative smile "I’m learning from the best golden retriever who can’t stop hugging people."

Jake laughed softly, shaking his head. His face became soft, and for the first time in those days, he seemed more serene.

«Do not make me regret this. Tomorrow when you wake up do the go away and don’t come back the girl cynical and a little haughty who loved to make fun of me, let’s discover Y/n»

You nodded against his chest, finally feeling some peace. You had been hugging for almost half an hour but after a while, you felt Jake’s belly growl with hunger and a little laugh came out of your mouths as you looked at each other, Jake broke away from you and took a small bottle of blood from under the bed and your face was at how much disgust but you saw immediately the expression of Jake become serious and maybe a little suffering? you bent slightly towards him and passed your little hand through his slightly long hair in the tuft "What’s wrong, Jake? Do you need a straw?"

Jake looked up at you exasperated «Don’t repeat Y/n, where did the sweet girl from before?» You raised your hands in surrender "I’m just saying. You’re a vampire, I thought drinking blood was like... your favorite thing."

«It’s not so simple Y/n, since i tasted yours, any blood sucks me and I have trouble feeding myself» you look at the boy next to you with a small grin

"Are you telling me that my blood is the best you’ve ever tasted?"

Jake looked at you with his little red eyes «It’s not funny.»

You said "He is a little bit. But hey, at least now I know that I’m irreplaceable for someone!"

Jake looked at you intensely and his little smile had vanished «You are much more than irreplaceable Y/n, now you sleep that it is almost 4»

The days passed and between exhausting workouts, events, and live, fan meetings the days went by quickly and even your stay in the protected villa of Enhypen continued. Jake kept teasing you and you did the same, It seemed that since the first time you slept together, embraced as two young boys who were to discover each other and not as a vampire who was afraid of losing you and a human who did not understand this thing about soul mate, But Jake that night was definitely in abstinence of something he had tasted from Y/n and wanted absolutely to possess it but at the same time did not want to scare her and be seen a "monster" from her eyes.

Jake walked into your room with quiet steps, slightly ruffled hair, and an unreadable expression on his face. You noticed it immediately: the way his eyes looked even darker than usual, the evident tension in his shoulders.

You looked up and there was a puppy-looking Jake in front of you, who was looking at you and honestly didn’t know what to do or say

"Can’t sleep, or did you miss me already? We met like an hour ago!"

Jake looked at you with his intense gaze as if he was eating with his eyes. «I can’t stay away from you.»

You were stuck for a moment, surprised by his sincerity," his voice was so serious, so vulnerable but you were literally a little bitch and loved to tease him and to hide the tension I said. " Oh, poor little golden retriever. Need a cuddle?"

Jake does not laugh. He comes slowly, until he sits on the edge of his bed, so close that you could feel the freshness of his skin. «Don’t joke, please Y/n. I need you tonight.»

His low, almost pleading tone made you shiver, you had never seen a Jake so direct and you approached him.

“Then what do you want to do, Jake? Stand there staring at me or..." You can’t finish the sentence that Jake moves suddenly, hands laying on the sides of your hips as he approaches you dangerously. His face is so close to you that he can feel his breath against your neck.

«Don’t ask me questions you’re not ready to hear answered.»

You held your breath but did not want to back out. In fact, you raised your hand and deliberately placed it on his chest, feeling his muscles tense under his shirt. "What if i was ready?"

Jake stiffens as if his words have broken something inside him. Then, slowly, he lets himself fall beside her, lying on the bed. «I don’t know if i can control myself tonight, you are too much Y/n for me.»

You’re turning towards him, a smile that plays on your lips. "Who said you had to control yourself? I thought you were a vampire, not a puppy."

Jake closed his eyes for a moment, breathing heavily. When he opens them again, there is something different about him: a vulnerability he had never shown before. He rises up on an elbow and fixes you with such intensity that you feel your cheeks warm.

Jake said in a roaring voice, «If I bite you, everything will change. I can’t risk hurting you.»

You bowed your head, your smile became a little more provocative. "What if i wanted to risk it?"

Jake doesn’t answer. He just stares at you for an infinite moment, then slowly lowers his head towards his neck. When his cold lips touch your skin, you feel a shiver run down your back.

"It’s not you who should be afraid, it’s me." Caress his cheeks and open your neck even more

Jake makes a low sound, almost a growl that sound was incredibly sexy and you would have wanted to hear it again forever. Then, without hesitation, gently sinks his fangs into your skin.

The pain is minimal, almost imperceptible, but the heat that follows is overwhelming. You felt the blood flow to him as if he was creating a bond that goes beyond the physical. Jake groans slowly, his body relaxing while he drinks with a sweetness that he would never have expected, he sucked gently but at the same time was unbridled by the heat that produced your body and the feeling of his lips around your neck and the taste that had your exquisite blood in his mouth. When he comes off, blood gushes from his lips and his eyes are dark, almost black. He took off your slightly stained shirt and little drops went into your body but he wanted to do something even dirtier with you.

Jake in a low voice, with a trembling smile, said to you «I know now why i can’t stay away from you. It’s you. It was always you.»

You touched your neck, still a little bit dizzy and sore, and felt Jake sit on his knees in front of your bed and take off your pajamas.

«You trust me, baby? I want to make you feel good but at the same time i too» watch Jake and to hide your nervousness you talked by doing one of your usual jokes." I just made you bite my neck and suck it, I think I do, Jake!"

Jake laughed softly, a deep guttural sound, and came close to touching your pussy, but he wanted to hear it with the tongue in which he had tasted you and still tasted your blood. He took off your already wet panties and you had the pussy totally stimulated because of his canines that sucked your blood and you were terribly excited, passed his tongue in your pussy and he moaned. «You’re so wet for me eh.?» He kissed you for a few seconds the inside cosca «So wet for the guy that you said it did not fascinate you eh.?» presses his pinky on your completely wet core, rotating around your inlet without any additional pressure.

"Jake pls, I’ve been so good to you i let you bite me i need..." was starting to tease you, and this time he was the one who was ruining you not you. He took his little finger off the clitoris and suddenly started to lick a path from your entrance to your clitoris where it snaps and sucks hard. The feeling makes you tremble on your knees and you reach for a hand to get caught in his hair, pulling hard. Jake works your clitoris just as you like it and you can feel your upcoming orgasm grow but he had another thought and let his hands off your thighs and suddenly stood up and opened your eyes for the loss of his tongue on your pussy and with canines in plain sight You felt his tongue with your juices give you little kisses where he had previously bitten you, and bit you again but this time for a few seconds and the contact of his canines on the skin another time made you moan both from pleasure and pain "Jakie". Jake was ecstatic when he heard that nickname and with the blood flowing back to taste your pussy «This is the sweetest thing i have ever tasted.» Jake opened you again with one hand before collecting your slimy cum and teasing your entrance. Your back bows giving him a better access and you groan as he puts one finger and then another.

«Are you close baby?» Jake bites your clitoris and you scream as he presses the sweet gummy spot inside of you that makes you see the stars. Come strong enough to get you shed tears again, your hand pulls the vampire stronger on your clitoris before it’s too much and you have to let go. Jake walks away but not before licking you clean and letting you shudder for all the sensations you had felt.

Jake gave you his shirt and I’ll pull you to myself to never let you go because you were really his and no one else would have you.

Morning light filters through the curtains of the room, creating a soft and warm atmosphere. You wake up slowly but your first thought is not work or your daily worries but Jake.

You look at him, noticing how his body is lying beside you, his arms around you as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Jake’s head is gently resting on your neck where a few hours before he bit you for the first time, you put your finger where he bit you but there was no visible sting but felt when you pressed lightly that it bothered you, His warm and regular breath made your neck tingle and you had never seen it so... Vulnerable. So human.

You smiled at the sight of him who didn’t look like a vampire but as his brothers said: he looked literally like a golden retriever in person size, he was so attached to you and you passed your hand through his cheeks, and then into his slightly ruffled hair. But you wanted to tease him as he had done last night and without thinking, your hand moved slowly towards his abdomen, touching it with a light movement. Jake’s skin is incredibly smooth, and you can’t help but follow the toning muscles that relax under his hand.

Jake barely moved, a low sound coming from his lips as a shiver seemed to run through his skin. You smiled, traced his muscle ridges, and whispered "Who would have thought a vampire could look like this... peaceful."

Jake didn’t answer, but his body reacts to your touch. The breath gets heavier, and he lifts his head slightly to look at you, his eyes are a little confused when he sees you looking at their muscles and touching them. «What are you doing?»

You bent forward and kissed him on the neck, letting your lips touch his cold skin. Don’t expect the reaction that follows. Jake stiffens and an immediate heat wave runs under his skin. His hands are clenched around your hips, and he looks at you with darker eyes than before.

Jake with a rock voice said to you «I didn’t think you liked playing with fire.»

You looked at yourself with a mischievous smile in front of you "I’m not playing, Jake. And then... who said I don’t like to take risks?"

Jake stared at you intensely, his body tense and incredibly close to yours. Then, without thinking too much, he comes even closer, his hands gently caressing your face before dropping down on your neck where it stops just uncertain.

«If I kiss you... I don’t know if I can stop.»

You smile amusingly, but also slightly provocatively. "What are you afraid of losing control, Jakey?"

Jake doesn’t answer, but the tension between you is palpable. It comes a little closer, his lips touch yours, and the intensity grows. «This time I will not stop if you keep teasing me like that Y/n, think carefully because you saw my two faces the one of vampire and I’m not so kind and the one from the Jake golden retriever. What would you like if I made you mine?» You felt your cheeks warm and you put your hand in his chest and both felt that warm elliptricity between your bodies. “I’d like both of them" Jake with a moan crashed into your lips and gently leaned over the pillows and laid himself on top of you holding onto his muscles and vampire strength as you kissed, He pulled your hair and to tease you he rubbed his cock in your fine pajamas. He groans in your mouth before his big hand takes your breast and pinches your nipple.

"Jakie," groaning, throwing his head backward as he creeps into your core. He leans over to clip his lips to your intact breast, pinching you as he rolls his hips forward again.

«Fuck my little human is rubbing on my dick like a slut» You pulled his hair and with one shot he slipped your pants and you were left alone with your panties but also those ended badly when he tore them off, He stood up slowly without taking his eyes from yours and took off his pajamas and boxer shorts too. You watched Jake pass a hand on his hard, slimy cock waiting for you. He almost gave in to the feeling, his free hand wrapped around your thigh to pull you close to him. «Look at you, who is going to fuck you in a moment. The boy you couldn’t stand» he whispers, taking his tip and dragging it between your wet folds.

"Jakie pls, I need you" Jake chuckled but did not move to slip inside you and was back to tease. «God had been dreaming of this moment for months, Y/n» sliding his cock’s head back and forth from your entrance to your clitoris waving your hips crying because you needed it inside you for the first time.

As he pushes in inch by inch, both groan quite loudly "fuck it’s so nice Jackie", was trying to slow down the pace but can’t hold back with you sucking his dick off perfectly, You put your arms around his neck, and pulled him closer so as he came out again pumped on your entrance and hit your G-spot.

Jake touches the bottom by bending forward and bending down halfway before burying his nose in your neck to try to catch his breath, felt how your heart was pumping and how your blood was running at a thousand in your body and was so proud of you feeling like this; you were hers and at that moment he would have wanted to do you. You don’t know how many dirty things: like biting you and fuck you at the same time but he knew it was too much for you so he hammered his cock in your pussy again and raised your leg to make it come in more and more and at the same time started to Tease your clitoris. You were beautiful under him moaning his name and looking at him with a face he had never seen, there was no more expression of a few days ago that you told him he was a monster, This was your true expression where with just a glance could see that you were slowly falling in love with him.

Eventually pushes you over the edge, coming strong around him, your eyes swirling towards the back of his head. Muscles tense and aching as he fucks you through your orgasm, sending shivers of pleasure all over your body. The cock was a little sloppy but kept pushing until you came in full and when it came out I held my breath.

He buries his face in your neck and kisses you again and again where yesterday he had you drooling, stabilizing your breath with his low moan coming out of your throat.

«I warn you, you are now completely mine. I will not let you go.» You looked up and embraced him.

"Stop being so possessive of me, maybe you’re my Jake. But for now, know that I like you a little... but I won’t tell you everything so easily."

Jake watched you, for a moment uncertain whether to believe what you said. Then he smiled, knowing that he would have his answer in his own way with time.

«Don’t worry. I’ll show you, baby»

You didn’t answer, but your heartbeat betrayed what you didn’t want to admit: Jake had already managed to take a part of you. And neither of them knew what would happen next.

Merry Christmas🎄comments are appreciated❤️

[sp0o0kylights]

Steve has no idea how he got talked into this.

Actually, that’s a lie, he knows how it started: a phone call, his mother, and a sudden way for her to be in the spotlight for her yearly fifteen minutes of Hawkins fame. He just can’t recall why he agreed to it.

“It's an opportunity, Steven." She says, heels clicking against the department store tile.

An embarrassment is what it was, but Steve knew better than to tell his mother that.

"You should be honored that Wendy--that’s the head chair of the charity board, you remember her don't you? She used to attend your piano recitals--she asked for you personally." His mother expertly plucked a shirt from the rack, holding it up to the light.

"Those were your parties mom, not my piano recitals." Steve reminds her as she holds the shirt out to him. He took it, adding it to the stack he had in his hands.

The parties were the exact same kind of shit this as this “Valentine's Day Fundraiser” a way for rich people to celebrate themselves by making others uncomfortable.

Only instead of being forced to play piano so his mothers friends could wine and dine with the famous Harrington's, he was being hauled up in front of the entire town (or whoever was attending this stupid event) and auctioned off as a “date” to the highest bidder.

(“It’s for one day, Steven, don’t be so dramatic. Why is your generation entirely incapable of taking a joke and having fun?” His mother had said, when he tried to tell her he wasn’t comfortable with the idea.

Of course there was no answer that would please her; soon enough, Steve found himself dragged about town as his mother played dress up.)

"You'll be standing alongside the Mayor, the fire department, even that idiot, Mary Marie--"

She stops for a moment, eyeing a jacket with a critical eye.

Just as quickly she dismisses it with a hum, prowling on to the next section.

"--the point is that there will be plenty of candidates for the children to pick from, but you’ll be the only hero up there."

That same critical eye turns on him, appraising him like he was no more than a horse in her stable, adding up imperfections and dividing amongst his best qualities.

(Despite a lifetime of training, it still takes everything in him not to squirm.)

"Not to mention a Harrington.” She purrs, taking a step closer to run a manicured hand down the front of his shirt, smoothing away a stray crease. “Women will be throwing money to win a day with you."

Steve has to fight not to outright shudder.

"Which means you have to look your best. Now stop whining, we’re almost done.”

Steve doubts that, but it doesn’t matter; he never had a choice to begin with.

xXx

Four hours, one shower, and several rounds of his mother’s nagging and meticulous styling, ,Steve finds himself back in Hawkin’s High, staring at the gym.

His mother had long swept past him, having spotted some high school friends and gone over to lord her lifestyle and general wealth over them.

For a fundraiser, the charity board in charge had spared no expense in dressing the gym up. Red, pink and white balloons decorated the doorways and a large stage hauled to one end.

Tables with thick, white table cloth are artfully arranged about the floor, caterers swiftly moving between them.

This is probably the fanciest this gym has ever looked, and Steve wants to be anywhere but inside it.

“Oh--Steve.” A gentle voice says next to him, and Steve turns his head in surprise to see Chrissy Cunningham look nervously up at him. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Me neither honestly.” He tells her, watching the way that makes the younger woman smile. “But I’ve been volun-told to be auctioned off. What about yourself?”

Chrissy runs her hands down her dress, a modest if not beautiful blue halter dress , wincing as she snags a nail on it. “The school held a vote at lunch about who would represent the school tonight. All of the varsity cheerleaders and basketball players were involved.”

“I see.” Steve says, keeping his voice gentle and playful. There had always been a part of Chrissy that had reminded him of El. Someone who needed kind words in their life. “You got voted as tonight’s sacrifice, huh?”

Chrissy laughs at that, hand flying to cover her mouth. “I guess you could say that.” She says, and seems surprised at herself for it.

“Did Jason get picked too?” Steve asks. It would make sense if he was, the guy was the basketball Captain after all.

Chrissy nods, then chews on her lip. “Yes but--he’s not happy about it,”

Steve snorts and tries to cover it with a cough. “None of us are.”

“It’s more that I’m being auctioned off.”

Chrissy must catch the look on his face because she rushes to add; “You know, like any boyfriend would be! I know it’s just supposed to be a fun silly thing and they’re not really dates but…” She trails off, voice growing quieter at the end. “He worries.”

The word “worry” sounds like it means something else entirely.

Steve feels for her.

“Hey, if Jason’s an ass about it, let me know.” Steve says after a moment of shared silence. “You don’t deserve to deal with him being a kid about this shit.”

Chrissy blinks up at him at that, hand almost to her mouth as though she’d subconsciously raised them up to chew on her nails. “Thanks Steve. That’s nice of you.” She whispers it, and Steve nods and smiles at her.

“There you two are!” A woman says, rushing over with a clipboard. “Steve Harrington and Chrissy Cunningham, right? We’re gathering all the dates behind those doors.” She turns and points to the opposite end of the gym. “If you both would follow me please?”

Steve motions for Chrissy to go first, and moves to follow her when a flash of curls crushed down by a blur of white, blue and electric yellow catches his eye.

He turns automatically, seeking it out and sure enough, ducking down the hall is Henderson, Sinclair hot on his heels.

A familiar mixture of emotions lights up Steve’s spine, and he knows immediately he won’t be able to rest until he figures out what the gremlins are up to--because their Hellfire Club was supposedly canceled today on grounds that Munson had stolen a microphone, or some other crap.

“I’m really sorry, I’ll join you in a second!” Steve calls, before darting down the hall, after them.

xXx

Here’s the thing about the kids.

Mike can be downright squirrely when he wants to be.

The guy is all long-limbs and ever-changing moods, and the second he spots Steve he vanishes around the corner and leaves no trace of himself behind.

Dustin, similarly, is catty.

The kid’s not fast, but when cornered, he has a tendency to do the most insane, ridiculous things.

Currently Steve is ninety percent sure he just saw him jump out a window, and the only reason it’s not one hundred is because his eyesight isn’t the greatest these days, and it’s entirely possible Dustin found something to put that stupid Weird Al shirt on and threw that out the window instead,

It wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened.

Knowing this, Steve automatically goes for the easiest target: Lucas.

See, Lucas is, of course, the most athletic and the only one likely to give Steve a run for his money should he too, decide to bolt.

He also was the most likely to stop and actually talk to Steve, because unlike his friends, he possessed some emotional maturity.

Or just maturity in general.

“Come on Luc, what’s going on?” Steve calls out, the second he rounds the corner and spots the kids. “You’re freaking me out.”

That makes Lucas stop and come to him, while the other two dipshits bolt.

Steve leans against a wall, eyebrow raised as Lucas slinks forward, but knows instantly from the grin the kid’s trying to hide that whatever’s going on right now, is their usual kind of bullshit.

(An internal part of him, the part that has to deal with the unusual bullshit every six months or so, sighs in relief.)

“Okay, you have to swear not to be mad.” Lucas starts, which is never a good sign, but at least it’s coming from Steve’s second most trustworthy kid.

(Will still holds first place, after the time he ratted out Mike for dumping nail polish all over Max’s jacket.

“She was super rude, but she didn’t deserve that.” Will had said with a stubborn set to his jaw.

Steve had ruffled his hair and together they had plotted a way to get revenge on Mike without letting Max outright murder him.)

“We uh, might have heard that you were being auctioned off tonight.”

Which was not at all where Steve thought this was going to go.

“Okay?” He hedges, waiting to see where Lucas spills the part that makes Steve worry.

“So you played D&D with Erica and Dustin, and neither of them will stop bragging about it.” Lucas says, a slight pink coloring his cheeks, “--and Mike won’t say it, but I know it bothers him too so we thought we could, uh, buy you. For the day.”

Lucas sends out his gigawatt grin, the one he uses when he’s trying to be his most charming. “To make you play D&D with us.”

Something warm and soft blooms in Steve’s heart. A kind of love he’d never had before hauling the little shits out of the line of fire the first time.

These kids were gonna be the death of him, he just knew it.

“If you ever tell the others I said this I will deny it ” Steve says, pulling out his wallet and forking out a handful of twenties. “But I would be happy to play your dungeons and dipshits game with you.”

Lucas doesn’t even correct him as he accepts the money with a grin--a real one this time. “Really?” He says, and it's so stupidly hopefully it makes Steve’s heart squeeze.

He reaches out, pulling the kid in for a hug for a second. Claps him on the back a few times before pushing fondly at his head.

“Over being taken on a date by some middle aged woman? Absolutely. But like I said,” He playfully shoves Lucas away, “You tell anyone and I will deny, deny, deny.”

“Sure Steve, whatever.” Lucas says, before running off to go find his friends.

Steve watches him go for a moment, smile on his face, before turning back to the gym.

He’d rather play D&D with the kids any day over dealing with this farce.

(The shocking thing, he finds himself thinking as he wanders over to where the other dates are situated, is that he means it. Even if a hot, beautiful girl bid on him--he’d rather spend the day with the kids.

Doesn’t that just say something about his life these days?)

xXx Eddie xXx

His club was going to kill him.

Normally, missing a game would be downright heresy. Betrayal of the highest order, particularly considering he’s the damn dungeon master. Sure, other people can DM, but not for the current ongoing campaign, which means Eddie landing his sorry ass in detention disrespected the sanctity of both his club and his people.

A fact he will need to beg on hands and knees to makeup for.

The siren song of the microphone, nevermind the idea of having an honest to god stage to prowl around on at lunch was simply too much for Eddie to resist, particularly when it came to his anti-Valentines Day speech.

Not that he was the type of guy to roll his eyes at all the lovey-dovey crap floating around, but more that people could be so stupid about it.

…and maybe he was a little bit jealous.

Eddie convinces himself it’s fine. He plans to have a session for the missed game on Sunday, when he knows his friends had planned to hang out at his place anyway.

Still feels bad about it as he walks down the halls of Hawkin’s high, annoyed that detention took as long as it did.

There’s people milling around, in the kind of stupid dressed up clothes that wasn’t formal, but could be described by evil words like “business casual.” The best skirts and knitted tops, slacks for the men paired with button up shirts or polos.

Like a fucking swarm of Steve Harrington’s--without any of the guys charm.

Not that he had any charm.

Definitely not.

Eddie gives an overactive shudder to clear his head, making his way out of the school as fast as he can.

Because life, the universe and everything in it hates him, he’s interrupted.

“Eddie! Oh thank god, look guys it’s Eddie!”

For the briefest of seconds after hearing Henderson’s voice, Eddie’s worried no one thought to tell the kids that Hellfire had been canceled.

Or, considering Eddie’s over the top response to the first time one of them had tried to miss a campaign night, they might be worried he’s dying (rather than simply an “unbearable idiot” as Jeff had called him earlier.)

His freshman lambs quickly swarm him, three pairs of eyes staring with weird amounts of hope (Sinclair, Henderson) and awkward embarrassment (Wheeler.)

“Eddie! Eddie, they're only letting Juniors and Seniors place the actual bets!” Dustin sounds frantic, practically vibrating in place before him. “They won’t let any of us bid on Steve!”

Any fondness Eddie felt evaporates in a puff of vexed smoke.

“That sounds like a you problem.” He challenges, raising an eyebrow.

For once, the freshmen don’t cringe back.

Instead he’s treated to steel sliding across Henderon’s face, Sinclair right behind him and Mike, who refuses to meet Eddie’s eyes, but stands with his friends anyway.

“Come on, think of all the chaos it’ll cause!” Dustin is pleading, his hands waving in the air in a way that reminds Eddie of himself. “Isn’t that like, you’re whole thing? Going against ‘the Man’!?”

Yes, because publicly buying Harrington for a date in front of Hawkin’s self-proclaimed elite was a great way to stick it to ‘the Man’, instead of, say, painting yet another target on his back.

“I don’t think getting into a bidding war over taking Steve Harrington on a date is going to go over well.” He deadpans.

Dustin throws his hands in the air. “It doesn’t have to be a date! ”

“Jennifer’s mom’s friends bid on her. For a girls night.” Mike adds so quietly it takes a minute for the words to process.

“Just saying!” He adds frantically, as though Eddie is going to call him out for this betrayal.

Considering the downright fearful look he’s wearing, Eddie might just do it for shits and giggles in his next campaign.

“We’re begging you, don’t you want to see Steve play D&D? We promise you can even watch the whole thing and embarrass him or whatever!” Dustin continues, hands clasped together in front of him.

“There you idiots are.” A judgey, annoyed voice calls, cutting into the conversation.

Eddie has never met Sinclair Jr. but immediately assumes the girl walking towards them with her arms firmly on her hips must be her “Steve’s up next, idiots. I know you know how auctions work, so I shouldn't have to remind you about having to physically be in the room to bid on him.”

She stops, cocking her head challengingly. “Unless one of you is going to call in from a payphone?”

Cheeky.

Eddie loves cheeky.

Even if she is eleven.

Muted calls ring out again from the gym. Apparently Hawkin’s middle aged women have started their fight for a day spent with one of the “young, local heroes”.

The very thought of Steve, all scraped up in the stupid Scoop’s Ahoy sailor uniform, guiding kid’s out of the mallfire with his broad chest and buff arms and--

“Eddie.” Dustin whines, bouncing frantically in place.

‘Head out of the gutter, Munson!’ He thinks, annoyed at himself (and perhaps, a little bit more understanding of the ladies shouting out numbers in the gym).

“Do you still only have five dollars?” He says, and it's not defeat, not yet, but he can see the hope reignite in their eyes.

This was stupid. A stupid, stupid, stupid idea!

“We have a hundred now.” Lucas says firmly, which is at least a lot more than five.

The calls from the gym are playful but there’s a catty undertone now. Those women really want that date with Steve, and Eddie knows walking in there, bidding on Harrington is a death sentence.

Dustin’s done something to his eyes. They’re wide, shined over like he’s about to cry. Like this fucking matters to him.

It drills into Eddie in a way he hates. How the three of them, (even Mike who is still trying his best not to act like he wants this) are handing him all their dreams. He’s someone they look up to, someone who can make things happen, and he’s always liked that feeling--but this?

This was asking a lot.

“Eddie man, please. You’re our only hope.” Dustin says it softly, and goddamn him, it’s like he knows Eddie is weak for this shit. That under all his leather and chains that he cares.

About them.

He just wishes what they didn’t care about was fucking Steve Harrington.

He knows they think the guy hung the moon. Just as he knows he'll need more than money to fend off the competition and actually win Steve: he'll need a plan.

Knows, even, just how he’ll do it.

“Baby Sinclair, a word?” He crooks a finger, walking a few paces backwards as a plan rapidly forms.

She flicks her eyes over to him, and with an appraisal that says she had already judged him and found him lacking. “It’s Erica.”

Eddie bows low to her, arm brushing the floor. “My deepest apologies, Lady Erica.”

She rolls her eyes but comes over anyway and lets Eddie whisper in her ear.

Read the rest on A03: LINK

[writers-potion]

do you have any dialogue prompts for enemies to lovers (like the stages separately)? thanks

Enemies-to-Lovers Dialogue Prompts

A mix of prompts from: @celestialwrites, @corvase, @novelbear, @unboundprompts and myself, @writers-potion

1. Making the Enemy

"Cry me a river and drown in it."

“You are a mockery of philosophy.”

“You are truly pathetic if you thought I’d ever rely on you."

“Oh bravo! No one cared.”

“You’re nothing, you were nothing even to your mother/father.”

“You’re on a path of self destruction and I’m not going to stop it."

“Having you around is just like having a nightmare I can’t wait to wake from.”

“what even is the point of you?”

2. The Clash

"I've met a lot of funny people in my life, but you... you are the most hysterical."

"I'm not trusting someone who looks like... that."

"I can't wait to wipe that wicked smirk off of your smug face."

"You know if you do this, you'll be fucked too, right?"

"Am I being too rough? Well, I'm only getting started."

“i think we’re friends now.” “God, don’t say that.”

“everything is just a competition for you… isn’t it?” “isn’t it for you, too?”

“h—” “don’t talk to me.”

“i’d pay good money for you to admit you tolerate me.” “tolerate being the operative word.”

“why can’t you open up to me?” “why do you want me to?”

3. A Shift In the Air

“i realise that i am clearly irresistible but..why did you choose to act on all the flirting now?”

“wanna do it again?”

“should we like. talk about it”

“you’re..extremely red” “shut up” “like actually vermillion” “go to hell”

“are we about to kiss right now” as a joke, but then the other character actually leans in

“look since the events of last night i can safely say that i have discovered multiple new techniques to shut you up, and i am not afraid to use them”

“this never happened” “consider it forgotten” proceeds to happen many times after

4. Being Vulnerable/ Losing for Love

“Since when did you ever care about me?!” “Since fucking forever, you idiotic dunce!”

“Well, I’m sorry I fell in love with you, okay? But it happened and I can’t do shit about it.” “You… What?” 

“You think I wanted this to happen? You think I, of all people, wanted to fall in love with you?” 

"i brought you flowers." "for what?" "there has to be a reason?"

“I’m not…used to feeling this way, okay?”

“Oh - don’t fucking do that.”

"shut up and kiss me"

"such a pretty liar mhmm"

“We might have been wrong.”

5. Lovers At Last

"you want me?" "you know i do"

"i hate you." "hate and love, what's the difference, darling?"

"i want to stab them, i want to shoot them, but my fucking god i want to kiss them too."

"you better kill me soon because it's the only way you will ever be able to keep me away."

"what are you doing?" "asking you to marry me? daggers and all."

[comicaurora]

Hey Red! Long time viewer, first time Asker - I have been so consistently impressed with the quality of the world of Aurora, and I wanted to say how cool I think this series is!

For my question, I want to know which order you went in when you made the comic: did the characters inform the world, or vice versa? I’m working with a team to make a story and I’m of the mindset that the world must inform the structure of the characters, but I’ve seen a lot of opposing ideas that say characterization should be paramount and the world should mold to fit the idea of the characters so they can shine.

I've sort of gone back and forth about this! By which I don't mean I've changed my mind on which is important - I mean at different stages of the worldbuilding I've reversed whether I change the world to suit the characters or vice versa.

Early on I built a simple concept to serve as the foundation of my world, and then I almost entirely scrappd it. It was the idea that anything that possessed both a soul and a body had a mind. You could have souls without bodies and bodies without souls, but only both those things together produced a mind, like an interfefence pattern produced by layering two grids on top of one another. Emergent consciousness was a fun concept, but not exactly a good foundation to build a whole world around, so I dropped it and focused on other things.

Then I went full character driven. I would build a character I thought was cool and flesh out the world that needed to exist to justify them. I wanted a cool wizard with a superpowered evil side so I built an elemental magic system for him. I wanted a weird dude with a connection to a god, so I built out gods.

It worked for a first draft, but it was very wobbly. The characters didn't have much to tie them together beyond loosely existing in the same world. So once I had the elemental magic system, I worked backwards to make a coherent world out of it - elementally influenced people and creatures producing exciting magical subspecies and fun fantasy regions of high magic. I worked out the primordials and some of the effects of their elemental natures. I started laying out gods and the worldbuilding of souls largely to answer the question "why can't a wizard just automatically win every fight by turning people inside out" because that was less interesting than the character stuff I wanted to do.

With the world actually coherent I switched back to building out character concepts. I had all this world stuff locked down, but now I had a really cool idea for this edgy beastman dude, and where could THAT fit in? So I started building out the history of the world to cover the ground of "wizards and gods and other powerful people did Weird Shit to reshape the world and make new kinds of people sometimes" which gave me a lot more room to play. And building out the history meant locking down a timeline and putting historical events in order, and once I did THAT, it gave me a bunch more worldbuilding ideas to play with of when certain things could've happened and what effects those might've caused-

Anyway, I can't tell if I'm doing this wrong or if I'm doing this very right, but in my experience it's worked best as a back-and-forth, letting each draft grow and change the next one.

[bm571158]

“You Can’t Rush Greatness.”

There was only fifteen minutes until the two of them were supposed to be walking down the red carpet at the F1 75 launch event. She’d been dressed for the last half an hour, wandering nervously around the hotel room and touching up her already flawless makeup, just to do something to occupy herself. She wasn’t sure why she was so nervous, it wasn’t like she was the one who had to get up on stage after all.

Lando on the other hand, was completely unphased by the whole thing, almost to the point of it being annoying. He’d been messing around online, playing some kind of virtual reality golf with Max and some other friends when she got in the shower. She’d come out of the shower half an hour later to find him still in exactly the same position. The only thing that had made him look away for a second was the sight of her dropping her towel to the floor and being momentarily naked while she reached into the wardrobe for a robe. Then he’d gone straight back to playing golf, leaving her to get ready.

By the time she had blow dried and curled her hair, sitting cross legged in front of the full length mirror to start applying her make up he’d finally paused his game for long enough to get in the shower. He’d stopped off to give her a kiss on the cheek on his way through to the bathroom, telling her that you looked pretty, and smudging your still unfinished makeup.

If he’d just started getting ready when he then got out of the shower the two of them would’ve been on time and there would’ve been no issues. But instead he’d laid on the bed, towel wrapped around his hips, complaining bitterly about how much he didn’t want to go although they both knew he hadn’t got a choice. It was the only reason that she had agreed to go with him in the first place, he’d argued that the whole thing might be a little bit less awful with her for company and she never had been able to say no to him.

The only thing was it was the first time in their fledgling relationship that the two of them had officially attended anything together. While Lando was incredibly relaxed about the whole thing, to the point that they were supposed to be leaving in under five minutes and he still hadn’t finished getting dressed, her stomach was churning with nerves.

“Come on, Lando.” She hurried him along. “We’re going to be late.”

“You can’t rush greatness.” He smirked, going back to trying to fasten his cuff links.

She just rolled your eyes at him, turning back to the mirror to straighten out her dress for the hundredth time. The quiet groan Lando let out had her turning back to face him though.

“What?” You asked.

“The bloody collar doesn’t do up!” He sighed, tugging at the collar of his shirt, the buttons a long way off meeting to prove his point.

“This is why you’re supposed to try things on more than two minutes before we walk out of the door.” She pointed out, walking over to him and grasping the collar of his shirt. It was a long way off meeting, there was no way it was going to button up even if she forced it, not without strangling him at least.

“You look really, really sexy tonight.” He smiled, eyes running appreciatively down her body as his hands fell to your waist.

“We definitely don’t have time for any of that. We’re already late.” She rolled your eyes at him. “And you’re going to have to ditch the tie as well. There’s no way we’re getting this done up.”

“At least all that neck training torture is doing something I guess.” Lando joked. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” She nodded. “Shall we go?”

“One sec…” he dropped his hands from her waist, crouching down to put his shoes on. “Now we can go.” He plucked his coat off the hook by the wardrobe, handing hers to her.

It was a lot of drama and unnecessary work, to get into the specially painted McLaren so that he could drive round to the red carpet at the entrance. She pointed out on the way there that the two of them could’ve walked from the hotel of the entrance in less than half the time it took to get there in the car. Lando had agreed, muttering something about the whole thing being very unnecessary, but had been parking the McLaren up at the bottom of the red carpet before he could say much else.

He’d jumped out, with a friendly wave to the crowd, coming around to her side of the car to open the door. As soon as she was out his hand was firmly holding hers, giving it a firm squeeze of reassurance before the two of them set off up the red carpet. The flashes of the cameras were blinding, and she faltered a little bit, never having felt quite so out of her depth in the whole time that the two of them had been together.

“You okay?” Lando whispered, leaning in so his voice was low in her ear.

“Yeah, just don’t let go of me.” She told him, gripping his hand a little tighter even at the thought. The last thing she wanted was to be left aimlessly wandering around here on her own. She didn’t know anyone, or where they were supposed to be going.

“I won’t, I promise.” He reassured her.

He’d kept his word. The only time he’d let go of her hand was to wrap his arm around her instead, pulling her in a bit closer to him when she started to shiver from the cold on the hope of keeping her a little warmer. She had stood a little awkwardly beside him as he gave various interviews on the way in, but eventually they made it in to the venue and Lando pulled her chair out for her so that you could sit down at the McLaren table.

The venue was huge, packed with an excitable crowd. Lando was quick to take his coat off and drape it over her shoulders as she shivered, not expecting it to be quite as cold as it was inside. She shot him a grateful smile, and he returned it, his hand falling onto her thigh as he turned to speak to his team principal who was sitting beside him.

It was a strange evening, the jokes a bit cringey, the reveal of each car being over the top and seeming to go on for a little too long. McLaren having won the Constructors Championship in 2024 meant that they were the last team to reveal their car. Lando kissing the top of her head quickly and giving her an encouraging smile as he headed off to get ready with Oscar, Zak and Andrea as the evening began to draw to a close.

She smiled and cheered when he came out on the stage later on, dressed in his new race suit for the 2025 season. He somehow managed to find her in amongst the crowd, giving her a wave and a wink that had her blushing before he turned his attention back to the interview that he was supposed to be giving.

It took a while for him to find her again after he was done on the stage, but when he did he was back in his suit, curls ruffled from getting changed and with a big smile on his face.

“You ready to go?” He asked, holding out his hand.

“I am.” She agreed, taking his hand.

He called out a goodbye to the remaining members of the McLaren team that were hanging around at the table, the venue already rapidly emptying, and then quickly led her through the crowd.

He didn’t bother picking up the car to take them back to the hotel, the two of them completing the short walk back to the lobby in less time than it would’ve taken the valet to pull the car around.

“They’d better not be planning to do that every year.” Lando groaned, leaning against the wall in the elevator as they waited for it to take them up to their hotel room. “That was absolutely ridiculous.”

“I don’t know, I thought you looked pretty sexy up on that stage.” She smirked. “The suit… it really looks good on you.”

As she said it her hands reached for the collar of his shirt, the one that was never going to fit around his muscular neck, and as her fingertips grazed over his skin Lando shivered under her touch.

“Oh really?” He smirked, any earlier trace of tiredness rapidly fading as he grabbed her by the waist.

“Mmmm.” She agreed, fingers toying with the next button down, exposing a little more of his toned chest. “If you’re not too tired, maybe I’ll help you out of it… reward you for doing such a great job tonight.”

“Is that right?” He smiled, biting on his lip as he tightened his grip on her waist. Her hands slowly worked their way down the buttons of his shirt.

“It is.” She agreed, stepping out of her heels and dropping down a couple of inches lower in front of him.

He lifted his hands off her waist to allow her to pull his jacket and shirt down his arms in one smooth move, leaving him bare chested and stood in front of her, eyes watching her every move as he waited to see what she was going to do next. It was her show, and he felt a shiver of anticipation as he waited for her to do something.

She slowly trailed her fingertips from his collarbone, down the defined muscles of his chest, across his abs and to the waistband of his trousers. He sucked in a sharp breath as he fingers dipped just below the waistband, but before she got to where he wanted she pulled her hand away and turned her back to him.

“Unzip me?” She suggested, gathering her hair up and sweeping it to one side to make the zip easily accessible for him.

He reached eagerly for the zip, because she looked beautiful in the dress but he knew what was underneath it was going to be even better. The zip slid down smoothly, and after quickly shrugging her arms out of the sleeves the silk material slid down her body and pooled at her feet.

The sight of her nearly naked in front of him, a few scraps of black lace the only thing covering her, snapped Lando out of his trance. His hands were back on her almost instantly, pulling her back towards him so that her back was flush against his chest, hand sliding around to explore her soft and tanned skin. His teeth nipped lightly at the skin of her neck.

A quiet sigh of contentment slipped out of her lips as he found the particularly sensitive spot behind her ear that he knew drove her wild.

“Lando…” his name escaped her as a breathy sigh, his hands skimming down the soft skin of her stomach towards the waistband of her underwear. “Please…” she didn’t even know what she was asking for, just for him to do something more than the current maddeningly slow trail of his fingertips over her skin.

“Shhhh… patience.” He reminded her, hand still moving painfully slowly, his lips trailing slowly down her shoulder. One hand moved up to loop through the straps of her bra, dragging them slowly down her arms before he finally unclasped it and let it fall to the floor with her dress.

She shivered as the cold air of the hotel room hit her bare skin, a sharp contrast from the warmth of Lando’s skin behind her, pressed against her back.

She had no idea how long he kept her there, a hand firmly on her hip keeping her in place as his hands and lips slowly explored her skin. There was no hurry, absolutely no urgency to his movements, just a lazy exploration of the body that was starting to seriously test her patience.

He did eventually turn her around to she was facing him, lips capturing hers in a kiss that left her breathless. His hands grabbed the back of her thighs, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carried her back through the room towards the bed.

The bed was still strewn with clothes from where he’d got ready from the event and he quickly brushed them off before dropping her on to the bed, grinning at her as she bounced on the soft mattress, hair fanning out around her like a halo and laid there waiting for him. He made short work of getting out of his now painfully tight trousers, crawling back up the bed and leaving a trail of kisses up her body as he went.

“Lando… please..” she groaned, locking her legs around his waist in an attempt to pull him closer.

“You’re impatient tonight, huh?” He grinned, leaning in to meet her lips with a passionate kiss that left her breathless.

“Lando…” she ground her hips in to his now obvious erection that was straining at his boxer shorts. “Don’t tease me.”

She rolled her hips into his again, harder this time, and heard his breath catch in his throat. She took advantage of the fact that she had him momentarily distracted, using her grip around his waist to flip the two of them over so she was straddling him.

He looked a bit dazed and confused as to how they’d ended up in that position, but he didn’t fight her. He just lifted his hips allowing her to drag his boxers down his legs, and before he could say anything she’d rid herself of her own underwear, braced her hands against his chest and was sinking down on him.

He swore quietly under his breath as she took all of him, sinking down onto him agonisingly slowly. Once he bottomed out, filling her completely she made no attempt to move, just watching his facial expression, head tipped back on the pillow and his mouth slightly open as he tried to catch his breath and regain some control, the feeling of her around him almost being too much to handle.

“Come on, don’t tease me.” He whined, his hands finding her hips, trying to encourage her to move.

“What was it you said earlier?” She asked innocently. “You can’t rush greatness?” As she spoke she began to move, setting an agonisingly slow pace that had Lando seriously considering just flipping the two of them over and having his way with her.

“You’re going to make me regret that, aren’t you?” He groaned, the noise a mix of frustration and pleasure as her hips rolled in the slow rhythm that she had set.

“You’ll have to wait and see.” She winked.

[tillsfan]

Why Till HAS to be alive.

hello everyone!! warning this is REALLY long (specifically as you get to the end). i hope you enjoy my in depth theorizing.

The flickering of his picture.

At the end of round 7, his picture lingers and flickers after Luka moves up the ranks. In all the previous rounds, the loser’s picture faded out before the winner moved up. People are saying this is a reach but I believe this is the most obvious hint. Vivinos’ details are always intentional and significant.

His earpiece falling out.

His earpiece falls out after he gets shot. We are shown that these earpieces detect the wearer’s heartbeat. They couldn’t detect his heartbeat disappearing because it fell out. Due to his picture lingering and then flickering, I assume the flickering was as his earpiece fell out.

When you think about it, why else would they show us this teaser image? This teaser pushed it into our faces that the earpieces are heart monitors. I think it’d be a little too coincidental that till’s earpiece fell out after this.

How he was shot.

The gunshots came from the audience. Meaning that where Till got shot, it didn’t go through his neck, and only grazed it.

This injury isn’t as fatal as Ivan’s and Sua’s. He also didn’t bleed out as he got shot, while Ivan and Sua bled out all over the floor.

This shows that his injury wasn’t bad enough to be fatal. He’s definitely severely hurt, as he coughed up blood, but he’s salvageable.

The way his body is lying.

Till’s arm went limp, yet his leg was still staying up. If you’re dead, you physically cannot support any part of your body. His leg would’ve fallen. I believe he DID pass out, though. I see people saying he’s pretending, and honestly I don’t believe he’s in the right headspace to think of faking he’s death. He’s tired, exhausted, he was clearly stressed throughout the round.

The fact that he’s still able to support his leg up shows that blood is still actively flowing through him. If he were dead, it’d be pretty much physically impossible for his leg to stay propped up, as blood would’ve stopped flowing.

Also the way he’s positioned to the audience, his leg is covering up where aliens would be able to see the injury, same with Mizi’s arm. This is definitely more of a stretch, just a detail I noticed

His All-In cover art.

In his cover, he has red tape over his neck. I think this is too significant and OUT as a detail to not mean anything. Although it’s on the opposite side of where he actually got shot, bandaging his neck in general seems too big of a detail. None of the other characters had a detail like this in their cover arts.

It could be said that he has the tape due to being a rebel, which made sense before Round 7. But if we used this logic, wouldn’t Hyuna have some significant detail in her cover art?

We also know that red equals rebellion in Alien Stage. It signifies fighting back. As I said before, this COULD be said because he’s a rebel, but I think he’d be fighting back despite his injury. It wasn’t a fatal wound.

His character is unfinished.

His death doesn’t make sense compared to the other characters that died. Ivan’s death was easier to accept because we knew his motives, his story. For the entirety of Alien Stage, he was the narrator in his and Till’s story. There wasn’t any mystery surrounding his character, so it made sense to kill him. Sua’s death was easier to accept because her death did something for the narrative, as her death started this chain of events and continued to haunt the narrative. We also eventually learned her true motives.

But Till’s death? It does nothing. You could say his death is to build Mizi’s character, but I think it’d make more sense if he LIVED for Mizi’s character. Her motivations would change, it’d be easier to move on from events if she had someone with shared trauma with her. In general, Till’s death makes no sense compared to the other deaths. He didn’t have any motivations at this point besides living. Sua and Ivan’s goals were fulfilled, which was protecting their loved ones. But Till’s wasn’t. His death is significantly different from the other dead contestants.

His story is also just.. not done at all. He was just beginning to develop as a character. Mizi grew after Sua’s death, her character developed significantly. Till didn’t develop as a character after Mizi’s disappearance, and he didn’t have the chance to develop after Ivan’s death, even though it was significant to him. We also got literally NOTHING from his POV besides around 2, which was just him adoring Mizi and a little peek at the abuse he’s endured. Also his death is just a waste in general—I don’t believe they’d tell his story AFTER he died. It just makes no sense to kill off his character after questions were just being raised.

How the creators are treating his ‘death’.

The way that Vivimeng are treating his ‘death’ feels so especially different to me. Ivan’s art after his death was a bittersweet art, and he was resting. he was okay with his death, and we were forced to accept that reality. Plus the "thank you for being the victim of my shallow emotions" comic. That concluded his story, we learned his motives and it was easier to accept he died after. But Till? We never got his POV on anything. We never got his final thoughts like we did Ivan and Sua. Till’s story was never told through his OWN eyes. Vivimeng are GATEKEEPING till's perspective like their life depends on it. My theory as to why? His character isn't over. His life isn't over, there's so much missing about him and the dots aren't connecting in the same way they have for the previous deaths

Till’s comic and art were happy. Bittersweet pieces. You knew there was a tinge of sadness, yet I can't help but feel these last till arts are pushing hope onto us. Ivan and Sua’s comics ended with their deaths, Till’s ended with 4nakt all together. it brings the theme of hope. Of love prevailing. I feel we can't look over the fact that Till’s comic is so vastly different than the others.

I should also note that they are going out of their way to hide details of his neck in all official arts after Round 7. He’ll have his branding hidden, or just straight up gone. Also in the recent official art of him, Ivan and Sua, his art is significantly different. He’s the only one facing away from us, the blood on him not visible, and his injury is also facing away from us. There’s a lack of branding on him as well. I feel this is the most obvious piece we’ve gotten signifying that he’s going to be alive, they’re deliberately hiding any way for us to see the aftermath of his injury. Unlike with Ivan and Sua, where they made their aftermath very obvious. (I would add images but I reached the image limit. Crying.)

TLDR, there’s too many details.

Vivinos excels too much at writing to fail his character like this. To kill him off as his story just started. I believe him finally being able to tell his own story instead of having others tell it for him will symbolize him breaking free. Breaking free from the restraints. From his status as a prisoner. I think this experience will further him as a character, and not truly end him.

[jaysgirlx]

I think I NEED a some head canons about about Jason Todd meeting his lovely girlfriend at one of Bruces annoying get together at the opera where an ballet piece plays as entertainment, just with the slight specialty that she’s the ballerina

Btw love your work <3

Jason Todd Gala Meet Cute Headcanons

— To be frank, Jason Todd hates galas but when Dick doesn't want to go alone or when he wants to support Bruce or Cass he'll be there. Family is Family.

— When he first sees you his jaw nearly drops because he's never seen anybody as stunning as you. As graceful as a swan, you glide across the stage with ethereal elegance. Each movement is a dance of precision and passion, your body a canvas painting a story of love and longing. Jason Tood was now indeed a lovesick boy.

— You've got the poor boy hooked, watching you like you're his last meal. Even Dick could see, that you caught Jason's eye. At the end of your performance, you took a bow and you looked right over at him and smiled.

— He wasn't sure if that had really been meant for him but that didn't stop him from blushing a bit. So he's nearly on the floor begging Bruce for your name or to at least introduce him and he agrees just so Jason would calm down.

— Bruce invites you to join the rest of the gala if you're interested, since his son was very fond of your performance, "Oh is he the one with the little white strip in his hair? he's quite cute isn't he?".

—Dick's grinning ear to ear, watching his brother stare at you from across the room, while guides you to one of the private bathrooms. He'd never seen Jason so whipped for a girl who he didn't even know.

— Once you finally finished changing, you found yourself drinking a glass of red wine, standing in the corner alone. You usually don't come to events like these but since you were personally invited by Bruce Wayne you saw no reason not to.

— When Jason spots you from across the room, he debates on waiting for Bruce to introduce the two of you but just says fuck it and goes for it.

— "I didn't know ballerinas, came to galas like these, there's not much fun doll," he asks putting his hand out for yours. You hesitate but place yours on top of his, allowing him to kiss the back of your hand. "Only when pretty boys like you request for us," you say giggling, and now for sure you're fucked. Jason Todd wasn't just cute, he was hot.

— He butters you up by asking your favorite composer, "Well I've never performed any of his music but I'm quite the fan of Vivaldi" you say while he leans against the wall next to you. He asks the questions and lets you do most of the talking since he'd prefer to listen to you. By the end of the night, there was nothing Jason didn't know about you but it seemed like you hadn't gotten to know him.

— He had spent the whole night flirting with you and buttering you up and you're not even surprised when he asks to walk you out, "Why not but only on one condition, you have to take me out on a date and let me get to know you this time" and Jason had no objections to that.

— Now you've got the Jason Todd following behind you, people are whispering and watching the two of you. How'd you manage to pull one of Bruce Wayne's sons, especially the standoffish one? You weren't even his girlfriend yet and people couldn't stop talking about you and exactly what Jason wanted, well at least before he made you his.

[sttm99]

Older!pro hero!Bakugo falling for one of UA's newer students seven years after he graduated.

ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+!!

Note: I am without a doubt going to expand on this later, so consider this a teaser and let me know if anyone would like to be tagged when I post that one!

He only went back to participate in some event the school was hosting, standing near the edge of the stage next to Red Riot. He face was rigid, and his expression twisted in annoyance at having to be there as he handed out certificates to the approaching students.

He notices you after a couple of minutes standing there, his eyes glued to your side profile as you converse with your classmates. He thinks you're absolutely beautiful, and he tries not to let himself get distracted, but he can't help himself.

Everyone's giddy at seeing the heroes in their school's hall, even though they're alumni and their pictures are plastered on walls all around the school. You're excited too, and he likes that.

He likes that your eyes keep glancing over to where he's standing, and he can see how you grin, how you look towards the girl at your left, mouthing, 'Dynamight's looking here, right?'

He can't help the pride swelling his chest, his eyes still stuck on you even when you leave, all the students filing out of the classroom.

He's quick to put out an offer to you to join his agency when you guys graduate two months later. It's uncharacteristic of him, and his assistant is more than shocked when asked to send the letter, but he doesn't really care.

He doesn't care when Mina and Todoroki ask him why he's at your class's graduation even though he's always invited and has never shown up before.

He also doesn't care how quick Heroes Weekly is to talk about the first UA student to be offered a sidekick role at Dynamight's agency straight from graduation.

And he honestly couldn't care less about waking up to the scandalous picture all over social media about 6 months after.

DYNAMIGHT CAUGHT GETTING COSY WITH HIS NEW SIDEKICK!

And it's a picture of you sitting on his lap, hands rubbing over his chest, exposed by the undone buttons of his shirt, taken in the VIP section of a high-end club he and other heroes frequented.

He smirks to himself, throwing his phone on his bedside table as he climbs back into the sheets, running his palm over your naked back and leaning in to kiss the back of your neck softly.

Extra note: I guess it's my fault for writing it this way, but please, reader is 18! 😭she's unironically inspired by me, and I was 18 before I graduated, so she's intended to be 18 in her last year of school.