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fandoms-x-reader · 24 hours ago

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Addictive Reading

Satan x Fem!Reader Word Count: 5,088 Warning: NSFW

Satan stared at you in awe as you sat there in his bed, wearing his sweater. Your hair fell effortlessly and your eyes had a natural sparkle to them. You looked so perfect without even trying to.

You graciously ate the breakfast Satan had made you with a content smile on your face. You looked up and noticed him staring at you. A small blush coated your cheeks as you asked, “What?”

Satan smiled softly at you before replying, “I can’t get over how a few months ago, I wanted to learn your name, and now you’re having breakfast with me in my sweater.”

From the moment you set foot inside the House of Lamentation, Satan had taken an interest in you. You were just a shy human who had her entire life turned upside down when you were randomly chosen to take part in the demon exchange program. He sympathized for you - he couldn’t even imagine what that would be like.

Sympathy.

Satan couldn’t remember ever having that feeling in his life before he met you. He read about it in his numerous fictional novels, but he never truly understood what it would feel like until he met you. In fact, the only feeling he had truly ever known was wrath. Then you came along and he was suddenly feeling things he never thought were possible.

He didn’t introduce himself to you right away. He kept his distance and studied you, trying to understand what made you so special. He concluded that there had to be a logical reason as to why you had everyone fawning over you. But, the more he stayed away, the less he wanted to; and, eventually it was no longer an option.

You were in the library of RAD, searching for a book when you noticed Satan staring at you. You gave him a smile and he felt his heart skip a beat. Did you just smile at…him? His mind was telling him not to approach you, but his feet had a mission of their own.

You noticed him standing next to you, and your smile returned to your face. “Oh, hey, you’re Satan, right?” you asked him. This was the first time the two of you were talking to each other despite you living in the House with him. Satan was taken aback by the way your voice sounded. He had heard you talking to his brothers; but, for some reason, it sounded so much sweeter when it was directed towards him.

He managed to nod his head in response and you continued to say, “I’m Y/N.” “I know,” Satan replied. A slight blush coated your cheeks as you told him, “Right. I guess everyone knows about the human exchange students.”

“Especially when they live with you,” he added, making you laugh. It was a small laugh, nothing special. But it was like music to his ears, and he was determined to make you laugh again. “Are you looking for a book?” he asked, his attention turning towards the shelf you were standing in front of.

“Yeah, the Devildom has so many interesting books. They’re completely different from the human world’s,” you replied. “Really?” Satan asked, genuinely curious. He assumed the books between both realms would have been the same.

He reached his hand up and pulled a book off the shelf, handing it to you. You took it and read the title, before flipping the book over and reading the small summary on the back. You were already invested just from the few sentences that were written there. “Thank you, I can’t wait to read it,” you told him, flashing him a smile that melted his heart.

You turned towards the librarian desk and started walking to go check out the book. Satan opened his mouth to say something - anything - to keep you talking to him for a while longer. But, you were already at the desk, talking to the librarian.

He watched with a bit of disappointment as she finished checking you out. If only he had thought of something else to say. Then, you turned towards him again and approached him. He immediately straightened as he watched you walk towards him, a glimmer in your eyes.

“Are you heading back to the House?” you asked. He had planned to stay and read for a bit, but this was an opportunity he wasn’t going to miss out on.

“Yes,” he replied and your smile widened. “I have some human books there if you want to borrow them,” you offered and Satan’s eyes lit up. “Thank you,” he replied. You nodded your head and the two of you began walking back to the House together.

There was a bit of side talk, but nothing special. He wasn’t quite sure how to interact with you yet. The only interactions he had in his life were with demons.

You got to the House and you led Satan up to your room. It was weird for him to be in there. His brothers adored the room, often spending their time in there with you. But, this was the first time he had ever set foot in there. You disappeared further into your room for a moment before returning to him with a book in your hands.

You offered it to him, telling him, “This is one of my favorites.” Satan took the book carefully, as if touching it the wrong way would cause it to spontaneously combust. He read the title, gently brushing his fingers over the words.

“I’ll go start reading it in the library right away,” he replied. “I was actually planning on reading for a bit too. Do you mind if I join you?” you asked him. You had always been interested in getting to know Satan, and you were hoping he wouldn’t turn you down.

Satan looked at you in awe and confusion. This was the first time someone had ever asked to hang out with him, willingly. He took a moment to answer, trying to figure out what it was he was feeling right now. What it was that you were making him feel.

He noticed your once hopeful expression was turning into a dejected look the longer he took to reply and he quickly said, “I don’t mind.” A smile lit up your face once again at his words as you told him, “Great, let’s go.”

Satan followed you to the library, watching you every step of the way. You entered the expansive room and continued walking until you were facing the reading area where two chairs and a couch were set up. Satan sat down on the couch, knowing that you would undoubtedly go for one of the chairs. He got comfortable and began reading the book.

However, he froze in his spot, his mind unable to focus as you sat down on the couch next to him. You focused your attention to your own book and Satan peered over his to look at you, his heart racing. You looked so alluring sitting next to him and reading. He wasn’t sure he would be able to get any reading done. Eventually though, he knew he would have to read or he would scare you off by spending the time just staring at you.

So, he began reading the book you gave him, getting lost in the story the author portrayed. You had also gotten lost in the world of the book Satan gave you. Both of you were so invested in the literature that you didn’t realize how late it had gotten until Lucifer came storming into the library.

You both looked up from your books, Satan starting to feel angry that of all his brothers, Lucifer was the one who interrupted his time with you. “There you are,” Lucifer said softly, looking at you. You looked up at him slightly confused and Lucifer told you, “It’s past midnight.”

You and Satan looked at each other shocked as you looked at the clock in the library. How had you both lost track of time so easily. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t even realize,” you replied, putting a bookmark in your book and getting up from the couch much to the dismay of Satan.

You began walking out of the library when you turned to face him. “I’ll see you later,” you told Satan with a smile before heading to your room. Satan couldn’t help the small smile that graced his lips at the idea of spending time with you again.

Satan got to the library early the next day, hoping you would be there as well. However, after a bit of time had passed he had given up on the idea that you were going to show up. Why would you want to?

He was about to go read in his room instead when you came rushing through the doors. Satan’s features immediately brightened when he saw you. You actually came.

“Hi,” you greeted warmly, moving over to the couch and sitting down next to Satan again. “Hi,” he replied, sounding more confident this time. “How was your day?” you asked him and he looked surprised by the question. You seemed honestly interested in knowing.

“It was good,” he replied. “Good,” you told him, flashing him a smile before opening your book and continuing to read. You two sat in silence for a while, your eyes scanning over the pages. Until suddenly you heard Satan mutter, “That can’t be.”

You tore your eyes away from your book to look up at the demon. You could tell by the look of the book about which part he had gotten to and a small smirk fell to your lips. It was one of your favorite parts.

You continued reading and a little while later you let out a small gasp. One of your favorite characters had died and no one knew what happened. Satan raised an eyebrow at the sound you had made and you looked up at him.

“She’s dead,” you told him. He watched you as your eyes rescanned the page, softly biting on your bottom lip as thoughts began running rampant through your head. Satan let his eyes trail to your bottom lip, letting himself get distracted at the ideas of how he would bite it.

He quickly snapped out of his thoughts before looking back at your eyes. He could tell your head was spinning with theories. He smirked slightly before asking, “What are you thinking about?” “I’m trying to figure out who killed her,” you replied.

“Who? The book deems it a suicide,” Satan replied. “Yeah, but that doesn’t add up. I mean first of all, she was found in a location that she had no business being in. Not to mention, to get there, someone would have had to let her in. She had a phobia of guns and yet that’s the weapon that was used. And on top of all of that, she had no history of depression, and she had just gotten a huge promotion at her job that she’s been working towards for years,” you explained.

“So, you think she was murdered?” Satan questioned, his smirk growing even more. “Yes, and if I had to guess who did it, I would say it was the boyfriend,” you replied, your eyes returning to the pages. A look of adoration shone through Satan’s green eyes as he looked at you, knowing you were absolutely correct. He couldn’t wait for you to find out.

He continued to read his book, stopping briefly every so often to clarify things with you about the human world that he was unfamiliar with. You were happy to share the information you had with him. Just as he was happy to do the same for you when it came to Devildom.

The night was drawing to a close and you were so close to finishing the book. You had to pay attention to the clock this time after promising Lucifer you would make sure to be in your room by curfew. You felt like you were racing against the clock to try and finish the book. Satan noticed what you were doing and couldn’t help but watch in amusement. He was curious if you would manage to pull it off.

Your eyes read the last few words on the page and you smiled as you excitedly said, “I knew it!” Satan let out a small laugh as you closed the book, a small blush coating your cheeks. “Sorry,” you muttered. “Don’t be. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone else who guessed it was a murder and guessed who did it. Well...anyone but me,” Satan replied.

You smiled and opened your mouth to continue the conversation when suddenly you realized the time. “Uh oh,” you whispered. “You should get back to your room,” Satan told you. You nodded your head and wished him a good night before heading off to your room, going to bed with a smile on your face.

Satan didn’t see you for the next few days and he was starting to worry that maybe you didn’t want to spend time with him anymore. He decided to read in his room for the night, not expecting you to show up at the library.

He had just gotten comfortable when there was suddenly a knock on his door. He was slightly irritated, expecting it to be one of his brothers with an insignificant reason as to why they were interrupting his time. But, when he opened the door, he saw you standing there, holding something behind your back.

“Sorry, am I interrupting?” you asked, your smile faltering just a bit. “Not at all,” he replied, surprised at how relieved he felt just to see you. “I got you a present,” you told him, holding out a book. Satan felt a whole new emotion rise up in him as he took the book from you and read the title. It was the second book to the one he had recommended you read. He had told you he never got the chance to read it himself. “They only had one copy, so I was wondering if you wanted to read it with me,” you said, a bit nervously, avoiding his gaze.

Satan smiled - a genuine smile - before his eyes lit up with excitement. “I’d love to,” he told you and your eyes finally met his. You took his hand in yours and his cheeks felt warm as you led him to the library.

When you got there, Satan sat down on the couch and you sat down next to him. You had to sit very close so you could both read the book, but you tried to be respectful of his space. Satan was blushing, looking very flustered, but opened the book.

You each began reading, your paces matching perfectly - as if you were meant to read together. Your reactions fed off of each other and you noticed yourself relaxing to Satan, your body pressing a bit further into him.

Your movement made him pause for a moment, his heart racing at an unbelievable pace as you sat next to him. But, he noticed that, for some reason, being this close to you felt undeniably right.

It had gotten late and you had just finished a chapter so you suggested you go to bed and pick up tomorrow. You got up first and then Satan got up as well, marking the spot with a bookmark. “See you tomorrow!” you told him, chastely pressing your lips to his cheek before bounding off to your room.

Satan stood there, frozen in shock, before gently pressing his fingers to the spot where your lips had touched him. Had you meant to do that? It felt so natural. As if you had done it a thousand times. Satan tried to get his breathing under control as he went back to his room for the night.

The next day, you woke up with so much excitement to see Satan again. You couldn’t wait to continue the story. But, the other demon brothers had different plans. They had you go with them to run some errands. You weren’t super happy about it, but complied. You texted Satan to let him know you would be late and ran around town with the others.

When you got back to the House of Lamentation, you were exhausted but still intent on seeing Satan. You went to the library and smiled when you saw that he was there, reading a different book to pass time.

“Hi,” you said, collapsing onto the couch next to him. He noticed your tired look and asked, “Are you okay?” You nodded your head before telling him, “Just tired. Your brothers wore me out today.” A slight frown formed as Satan suggested, “We could just pick the story up tomorrow, if you’d rather.”

You wanted to spend time with Satan so you quickly shook your head no. But, you doubted you would be able to keep up with his pace tonight. Suddenly, an idea came to your mind. “Would you read it to me?”

Satan was slightly taken aback by your question but agreed to it. You settled into his side, keeping your eyes on the book, even though he was reading the words out loud to you. He had one of his arms around you to properly hold the book.

He was in the middle of the sentence when suddenly, he forgot how to read. Or maybe he forgot how to speak. Because suddenly your head had fallen to his chest. He could hear his heart pounding in his chest as he looked down and noticed you were fast asleep. Panic set in as he tried to figure out what he should do. Should he wake you? You looked so peaceful sleeping though. Would you be mad if he let you sleep on him? Surely not, right?

Satan set the book down and shifted a bit so you both sat more comfortably on the couch. Upon moving, you moved your arm to wrap around his torso as you nuzzled further into his chest. Satan was so thankful that you were asleep so that you wouldn’t see how hard he was blushing or how nervous you made him.

He was able to reach a nearby blanket and carefully draped it over you before letting his arms hold you. He decided that even if there was another war happening outside, he was not going to move from this position. Soon, he fell asleep as well.

You woke up the next morning, feeling something warm pressed against you. You fluttered your eyes open and noticed that it was Satan. You looked around and realized you had fallen asleep on him in the library. You blushed and moved slightly, waking him. “Good morning,” he mumbled, his deep, groggy voice sending a shiver down your spine.

“Good morning,” you replied, moving to a sitting position. Satan immediately missed your warmth. He expected you to yell at him for not waking you up sooner, but instead you just smiled and asked him if he wanted to have breakfast with you.

There was no school today so you had the whole day to yourselves. You had a nice breakfast together, surprised that the other brothers weren’t there. Then, Satan didn’t even need to ask you what you wanted to do before you were both making your way back to the library.

You spent the next few hours reading the book, each of your own theories spinning in your head about who the murderer was. “It’s the spouse again,” Satan stated with confidence. You disagreed. “No, it’s the sister!” you argued. Satan looked borderline offended that you had proposed that idea. “Where did you even get that idea?” he asked. “The evidence is all over the book,” you replied. “No, it’s clear the spouse has struck yet again.”

“Fine, keep reading. I’ll prove you wrong,” you replied, a smirk on your face. Few had ever dared to challenge the Avatar of Wrath, and something about the way you challenged him made him all the more excited.

The two of you continued to read the book, grasping on to every word until you got to the last chapter. You sat closer to Satan, your attention completely on the book as the two of you read the ending. “So…,” he began. “It was the sister and the spouse,” you muttered. This was a turn of events. “So, we were both right,” he stated. A small pout formed on your lips. “I really wanted to prove you wrong,” you said, crossing your arms in disappointment.

Satan looked at your expression and couldn’t help but notice how adorable you looked right now. Without thinking, he gently rubbed his thumb over your bottom lip that was jutted out in mock sadness. Your heart stopped beating as it brushed over your lip. You stared at Satan in shock as tension filled the air between the two of you.

Satan blinked a couple of times before realizing what he just did. A blush immediately graced his cheeks as he pulled his hand away from you. “Sorry,” he muttered, looking anywhere but you. He didn’t even want to begin to think what you must think of him after that.

He moved to stand up, but you were quick to action. “Wait,” you said softly placing a hand on his arm, keeping him in his place. He looked at you in shock, waiting for you to say something; but, you had no words.

Instead, you leaned forward, placing your lips on his in a gentle kiss. Satan felt a wave of emotions. His mind began racing with thoughts as his body reacted to the kiss on its own. He had read about it before, but he never truly understood until now…this was…love.

As soon as he realized what the feeling was, he couldn’t get enough of it. He wanted more. He needed more. In one swift motion, he pulled you onto his lap, your legs straddling either side of him as he gently cupped your cheeks with his hands.

He pulled away for a moment, looking into your eyes. He silently asked if it was okay for the two of you to continue and you answered his question by reconnecting your lips. You settled your hips on him as you ran your fingers through his hair, pulling slightly.

Satan let out a small gasp at the feeling and you took the opportunity to insert your tongue into his mouth, doing everything in your power to please Satan. This was all new to him. He never had someone he felt this way about.

He wrapped his own hand in your hair as he bit your lower lip - something he had been wanting to do since that day he saw you gently bringing it in between your own teeth. The once quiet and shy bookworm was now experiencing a new side of himself and you were loving it.

He entangled his fingers into your hair even more, tugging on it enough to not hurt you but to jerk your head back, exposing your neck to him. He stared at it for a moment, admiring it, before placing sloppy kisses on it. He used his tongue to try and taste every inch of your neck before deciding on a slightly more dangerous option and he began sucking and biting the delicate skin.

You let out a small moan as he reached a particularly sensitive spot and Satan’s eyes widened. It was a simple moan - a taste of what was in store if the two of you continued. But it sent him over the edge.

He pulled away suddenly and you let out a small whimper, immediately missing the feeling of his lips. You dropped your head back down and made eye contact with him. His eyes were filled with lust and excitement that only turned you on more.

“Do you want to go to my room for the night?” he asked you simply. It was an innocent question, but it implied far less innocent actions. You nodded your head, immediately getting off of Satan. The two of you had smiles plastered on your face as he led you to his room.

As soon as the both of you were in, you shut the door and he pressed you up against it, no longer able to control his lust. He immediately began kissing you, but it wasn’t like before. These kisses were desperate - needy.

You pulled him close, deepening the kiss, before deciding to roll your hips against his. He let out a groan against your lips, the simple motion eliciting a surprising amount of pleasure. You helped him pull off his shirt and your hands immediately began exploring his chest and abdomen, appreciating how fit he was.

You pushed him towards the bed and Satan sat down with you straddling him once again. This time, it was your turn to begin kissing down his neck, leaving your own love marks. Satan relished in the feeling of your lips on his skin; and, when he had enough, he flipped the two of you so that he was back in control.

He quickly removed your shirt, taking a moment to fully take in your beauty before going back to his mission of pleasuring you. His hands reached behind you, sending a shiver down your spine as he unhooked your bra.

Then his lips and hands were caressing every part of your chest. He wanted to mark you as his as much as possible, making sure to place a kiss on every part he marked. The feelings his mouth and hands gave you were something you had never felt before - and, it left you craving for more.

Your hips involuntarily rolled against his again and Satan let out a small chuckle. He was just happy you were wanting him as badly as he was wanting you.

He carefully undid your pants before sliding them down, leaving you in nothing but your panties. Satan stroked the soft skin of your thighs before positioning himself in front of you. He bent down and began kissing and licking up the inner part of your thighs and you let out a few more moans, his mouth getting so close to where you wanted him more than anything.

He placed another kiss on your mound, over the panties, and you were sure that at this point, they were ruined. “Satan,” you moaned out. You were tired of the teasing. You wanted him - all of him.

Satan’s heart stopped beating as you moaned out his name. It had to be his favorite sound he has ever heard. He quickly removed your panties before taking off his own pants and boxers. He kissed back up your body, his hands freely roaming, before he locked eyes with you - once again silently asking you a question.

You gave him a small nod of your head and he kissed you passionately as he finally thrusted into you. His mind was clouded at the feeling of how tight you felt around him, and you were lost in the feeling of how good he felt inside you.

He slowly began moving, continuing to kiss you as he mumbled against your lips. You felt so fucking good. His thrusts became quicker and quicker as the room began filling with both of your moans. You gripped his back roughly, your nails threatening to leave scratch marks as you felt you yourself getting closer and closer to your climax.

Satan intertwined your fingers with his as he knew you were close. You moaned out his name one more time and he pulled you close as he finally let himself release. You followed shortly after, the noise in the room being reduced to heavy pants as you both came down from your high.

______________

When Satan woke up the next morning, he was surprised to feel a warmth sleeping next to him. His eyes fluttered open and he couldn’t help but smile as he saw you there. Memories flashed through his mind of him marking you as his, and he would gladly do it over and over again.

His eyes trailed down from your face to your chest and he noticed that you were wearing his sweater. You must have put it on at some point during the night.

He wanted to do something nice for you. Something to show you that you meant something to him. His mind went back to his books and he recalled how some significant others would cook their spouses breakfast to signify their night together.

Satan thought it was a good idea, so he snuck downstairs and did his best to recreate some of the human breakfast options he had read about. When he was satisfied with what he had made, he brought it upstairs to his room.

He quietly entered the room and set the tray on the bed before leaning in closer to you. Why did you always have to look so adorable? He leaned down and gently placed a kiss on your lips. You felt a smile forming on your face as you slowly opened your eyes to see your favorite demon sitting in front of you.

“Good morning,” you said groggily, remembering everything that had happened last night. “I made you breakfast,” Satan told you, a small smile resting on his features. Your eyes lit up with excitement as you quickly sat up, looking at the tray.

You felt your heart swell with joy and you pulled him into a hug. “Thank you,” you told him, before pulling back. He gave you a small nod, the blush on his cheeks still present as he brought the tray in between the two of you.

Satan stared at you in awe as you sat there in his bed, wearing his sweater. Your hair fell effortlessly and your eyes had a natural sparkle to them. You looked so perfect without even trying to.

You graciously ate the breakfast Satan had made you with a content smile on your face. You looked up and noticed him staring at you. A small blush coated your cheeks as you asked, “What?”

Satan smiled softly at you before replying, "I can’t get over how a few months ago, I wanted to learn your name, and now you’re having breakfast with me in my sweater.”

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woniverse-writes · 2 days ago

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“Love Letters”

kim sunoo x reader

summary: being in love with your childhood best friend is never easy, especially when they're as widely loved as kim sunoo

word count: 4.7k

warnings: swearing, kissing/small makeout, not proofread, slight angst??

notes: y'all I'm pretty sure I've talked about this before, but this cosplayer I used to follow back in 2020 makes music, and she came out with a new song today, thus what inspired this impromptu valentine's day fic. def recommend listening to it cuz it's so cutesy

You had always had a crush on Sunoo, but to be completely honest, who didn't? And that is exactly why you had such a hard time confessing your feelings to him.

the two of you had known each other since middle school, almost always being in the same class and joining the same clubs. even now, you both attend the same university and study the same major. You and Sunoo had grown to be pretty close friends throughout the years, which was ultimately a blessing and a curse. it gave you the opportunity to see the deeper parts of him that all his other admirers didn't have a chance to, and believe me, he has plenty of admirers.

Sunoo was always popular due to his kind heart and bubbly personality. His sweet smile and pretty eyes lured people in before they could even process it. it wasn't unusual for people to leave little gifts and snacks on his desk before class, or give him candy on Valentine's Day, or even leave him anonymous love notes in his locker. The admiration, known or anonymous, was not uncommon for Kim Sunoo.

even now, as you both stand in the lobby of the student union, talking to your friend Rei about her club's fundraiser, you could already sense the oncoming affection soon to be directed towards Sunoo.

"So what exactly is the fundraiser?" he raised an eyebrow slightly

"Oh my god, for someone as affectionate as you, you'd think the concept of a valentine would make sense." Rei dramatically scolded with absolutely no genuine malice whatsoever. You chuckled quietly at her attitude, glancing over to catch Sunoo glaring back with an unserious deadpan stare.

"I better have at least fifty of them by tomorrow" Sunoo glanced briefly at the table decorated with envelopes and stickers

"Well then you better drop some cash" she leaned back in her chair and gestured toward a cash box that was decorated with sparkly red and purple hearts. He scoffed sarcastically, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes like a true drama queen

"You really expect me to pay for AND write my own valentines? Some business you're running, Rei" causing both you and her to scoff and roll your eyes at his dramatics

"Alright let's go eat. I'm sure there are plenty of people who would give their money to write you a valentine." you smiled and waved at Rei then began to drag him toward the cafeteria doors

"I know someone who definitely would" the girl teased behind you as she watched you both walk off. Both yours and Sunoo heads whip around to look at her- him with curiosity, you with despair, anxiety, and a bit of murderous intent.

"What?? Who??" Sunoo paused in place as he waited excitedly for the girl's response. She just checked her nails and sighed with a teasing smirk.

"You'll just have to wait and see" Rei shrugged, causing the boy to throw his head back with a groan.

"Girl, literally whatever" he grabbed your wrist and began dragging you toward the dining hall again. You looked over your shoulder at Rei again, who was now giving you a big smile and thumbs up.

After you had finished eating, the two of you walked back to the dorms. You went to Sunoo's suite, which was the floor above yours, like you so often did. after about 45 minutes of just hanging out, you got a text from Rei

kongsuni🥐: come to my dorm for a sec, i need your help with something

You slouched against the couch with a tired groan before standing up and stretching

"Rei needs me for something, so I'll be back in a few minutes" you mumbled, slipping your house shoes on since her suite was on the same floor as Sunoo's. he looked up from his laptop for a second, nodded, then went to typing.

You didn't even bother knocking as you entered the suite, seeing your friend Haewon, who was one of Rei's roommates, sitting on the couch. You waved with a soft smile, getting the same in return, while heading toward Rei's room. Her door was open, so you walked in to see her sitting on the floor surrounded with what looked like materials to make valentines. Rei looked up as she sensed you walk in and gestured for you to sit with her, before immediately going back to work without saying a word

"So... what did you need me for?" you couldn't help but giggle slightly at the scene before you. Rei glanced up again for a brief second

"Aren't you gonna make Sunoo a valentine?" she mumbled softly as she remained focused on her own craft. your eyebrows shot up and eyes practically popped out of your head as you leaned back in surprise.

"Huh?? Why would I ever do that??"

"I mean, I did tell him I knew someone who would write him one" she shrugged, completely unbothered by your slight outburst

"yeah and you really thought that was gonna be me?" Rei sighed, finally pausing her gluing and setting the materials down before looking at you dead in the eyes.

"yes, y/n. I did. because you've been absolutely in love with him since you were 12, and it's only gotten worse since you two have gotten older. Even in the last three years I've known you, I've seen how much deeper in love you've fallen, so I can only imagine how bad it must've been before that. So you're gonna sit down, and write the damn valentine." Rei finished her rant with a huff and once again went back to work, leaving you sitting there with a slightly defeated pout.

"it's not that easy Rei..." she sighed, once again pausing to look up at you with an expectant gaze, causing you to gulp before continuing

"Obviously I've loved him for such a long time, which is why it's absolutely terrifying to risk messing things up. I mean... it's not like I haven't tried to drop hints to see if he's interested! it's just- everything I do is already so normal between us that I don't know how to make it more romantic without actually grabbing him by the face and saying "i'm not doing this platonically, this is romance" ya know?" you enunciated your point by doing as described and grabbing Rei by her face, shaking her gently. she grumbled slightly before pulling away with an annoyed but understanding laugh.

"I guess that does make it hard..." she agreed, leaving the two of you sitting in somber silence for a few seconds. she leans for to grab a few pieces of blank heart-shaped paper and slides them toward you with some glitter gel pens.

"It won't hurt to just write your feelings out though. You don't have to give it to him, just let it out." which is exactly what you did. You wrote about six different love letters addressed to kim sunoo over that hour and a half you spent in Rei's dorm. while she decorated envelopes and cards other people had paid her to put together, you let your feelings flow out onto little pieces of pastel pink card stock. After you finished writing, Rei handed you a stack of envelopes to put your love letters in, which were then sealed up with a wax stamp. you then helped her clean up the mess of scraps and fake rose petals, putting all the sealed cards into the big valentine box that would be displayed again in the student union the next morning. you stood up throwing away the last of the mess as the two of you headed back into the common area.

"Don't forget these" Rei handed you the small stack of envelopes with a knowing smile. You rolled your eyes with a shy grin and thanked her before heading back to sunoo's dorm. once you got back, you immediately tossed the letters into your bag, making sure to seem as natural as possible so your best friend didn't think anything strange was going on.

"what was that about? You were there for a while" Sunoo asked, still positioned at the table with his laptop open.

"Nothing much. She just wanted me to help her finish seal all the valentines"

"oh, were there a lot?"

"Actually, yeah... i'd say it was a decent amount" you shrugged, nodding as you thought back to the many envelopes Rei had thrown back in the box by the time you left.

"Any for me?" Sunoo glanced up over his laptop with a mischievously curious look, raising his eyebrows up and down teasingly. you rolled your eyes and and shook your head with a smile, playing off your anxiety well, before clicking your tongue in faux disappointment

"I didn't personally see any, sorry" you teased with a smile. Sunoo dramatically threw himself forward against the table with a groan causing you to suppress a large grin at his antics.

"Y/n... this might be the first time ever in my entire life that I'm not being doted on" he turned his head to the side to glance over at you with a look of distress. Even though he was obviously faking, Sunoo's pout and sad eyes, along with his cheek squished against the table made him look undeniably squeezable and in the moment it was nearly impossible for you not to jump on him.

"I'm sure you'll survive" you smiled down softly, admiration swimming in your eyes, as you leaned against the arm of the couch. the two of you continued staring at each other. as Sunoo's pout deepened, your smile became harder to contain.

"what's so funny, huh? you find my misery amusing?" he continued to complain, now barely able to contain his own smile as he sat and whined.

"oh, of course I do!" you teased once more, moving to sit in the seat across form him at the table. Sunoo rolled his eyes so hard you thought they would fall out of his head, letting out yet another overly dramatic sigh.

the next morning you were sitting in class when you got a text from Sunoo

divalicious🤩🌞: I GOT A LOVE LETTER😛😛😛 y/n: omg??? from who???? divalicious🤩🌞: idk yet but i just got an email from the poetry club president saying someone sent me a letter and i have to pick it up at the union later y/n: omg waaaaaait

you couldn't help but feel your heart ache a little at the thought of someone once again confessing to Sunoo. even though it was something you'd grown used to over the years, you'd always become accustomed to him shutting them down.

there was only ever one time where Sunoo gave someone a chance after confessing, and it was sophomore year of high school. Someone had secretly placing strawberry milk cartons on his desk before third period study hall every day, leaving cute silly little notes. At first he brushed it off and enjoyed the treat. but eventually he began laughing a little harder at the notes and gushing to you more about this secret admirer. it killed you.

divalicious🤩🌞: honestly it's probably just from one of the guys y/n: you think? would they really waste money on that? divalicious🤩🌞: oh of course they would. have you met ni-ki? y/n: true, true

you tried to push the slight anxiety down and convince yourself that he was right. it probably was just Riki or one of his other friends just messing with him. before you could think too much about it, you received a notification that you also got an email.

📧 to y/[email protected]: you've received a love letter! please stop by the Decelis Poetry Society's table set up in the student union today before 8pm. Any letters not picked up will be send to the mail room for personal pickup.

your eyes widened as you had to stop yourself from physically reacting too much. you honestly had no clue who would write you a love letter, but then you thought back to a few seconds ago when Sunoo assumed it was from his friends. Maybe Rei wrote you one? or Hanni? Maybe even Yujin? surely it had to be one of your friends, so it was nothing to worry about right now. a few minutes later you got another text from Sunoo.

divalicious🤩🌞: got out of econ early, omw to retrieve my love letter🫡

you hearted the message and went back to trying to pay attention to your lecture, but you couldn't shake the anxious feelings. another fifteen minutes passed and your class ended. as you packed up your stuff you got a text from Rei:

kongsuni🥐: hey sugar plum, Sunoo just came by and he got a lot of letters... I just wanted to let you know before he got to you so you had time to prepare your emotions

you felt your heart ache again at the thought of people confessing their admiration for your best friend, suddenly feeling like a hopeless teenager again.

y/n: thanks love. i'm really just hoping they're joke letters from the boys :/ kongsuni🥐: i know, me too :(

you once again hearted the message threw your bag over your shoulder with a sigh as you began walking out of class, heading toward the student union to pick up your own letter. as you were about to walk in, your phone started blowing up again with numerous texts.

divalicious🤩🌞: bouta open my letters- will send updates🙈

kongsuni🥐: Y/n kongsuni🥐: i think something really bad happened kongsuni🥐: i really hope i'm wrong though and just tweaking out right now...

you began typing a frantic response to Rei as you continued your way into the building, but before you could even press send she was running up to you

"Oh my god Y/n- oh my god- you need to help me look through these envelopes right now and help me prove to myself i'm not a terrible friend" Rei grabbed you by the shoulders and whispered frantically as she looked over her shoulder toward the poetry club's fundraising table

"What??? Rei what the fuck is going on??"

"I'm missing like- six letters" there was a brief pause due to your confusion. surely this wasn't something she should be so worked up about

"Okay? it's gonna be okay, we'll find them!" you tried to shed some positivity on the situation but Rei was not having it

"No, y/n. it's not like that! I don't think I have them..." there was another moment of silence between the two of you as you tried to process who might have the missing letters she's referring to.

"...well then who does?" Rei opened and closed her mouth trying to find the right words, before taking a deep breath

"is that the bag you brought to Sunoo's last night..." at that question you felt your heart drop to your stomach.

"Oh my god there's no way..."

"Y/n i don't want that to be the case so please just check your bag and make sure you still have Sunoo's letters in there" she clasped her hands together and closed her eyes as she tried to speak as evenly as possible. your heart shook as you looked at her with regret

"That bag's back at my dorm."

Rei dropped her hands to her sides and pursed her lips. the girls forehead creased as she forced herself to take another deep breath. all you could do was stand there and stare blankly, completely dumbfounded by the possibility of Sunoo actively reading the love letters you wrote him.

"Rei..."

"Yeah?"

"I need to go"

"Y/n I'm so sorry-"

"No, it's okay... they're definitely still in my bag... we would've noticed if i grabbed the wrong ones..." you absently mumbled, trying not to crash out. you began walking back from the direction you originally came from, not bothering to check your phone even though it's been blowing up for the last 10 minutes you've been out.

"Wait!"

you turned around, feeling sluggish and on a different planet as Rei handed you an envelope with your name on it.

"I know right now isn't the best time, but hopefully everything works out and you'll be able to enjoy this after..."

you tried to smile and gave Rei a quite 'thanks' before continuing the trudge back. once you got back to your dorm, you opened the door to see one of your suite mates sitting in the common area.

"Hey! how was accounting?" Dayeon asked cheerily, glancing up from her laptop

"was fine" you mumbled absentmindedly, immediately heading to your room to search for the tote bag you brought along with you to Sunoo's the night before. after glancing around you spotted the bag hanging on the corner of your dresser. snatching it, you began rummaging through the bag, quickly finding the stack of letters tied together with a satin ribbon. you frantically started ripping them open one by one, only to realize none of them were addressed to Kim Sunoo.

it finally dawned on you that the letters he received were in fact not from Riki, or Sunghoon... but the love letters Sunoo received were written by you.

at that point you couldn't even stop the meltdown if you tried. tears immediately began to burn your eyes as you felt your chest contract. you tried to shift as quietly as possible across your floor as you crawled to pushed your door shut to make sure Dayeon didn't hear you cry. not like it would matter since the walls were so thin, she'd hear you anyway. you ran your hands through your hair as you curled up against the side of your bed.

"there's no way... there's just no way..."

you had imagined confessing to Sunoo multiple times before- or rather fantasized about him confessing to you, however it was never anything close to this. of course you'd sat with your thoughts on multiple occasions and thought about the what-ifs, especially the thought of "what if he realizes i like him and he doesn't feel the same, and then our friendship is ruined forever?" but again, that anxiety never came close to what you were feeling in this moment.

it felt like you were hunched over for at least an hour, tears streaming down your face, feeling like you were going to throw up, thinking your world was ending. but then came a soft knock on your door. assuming it was dayeon you sat up straight and wiped your tears, before standing up and opening the door, only to see a very starry-eyed Kim Sunoo. you felt your heart rise to your throat and fora second you honestly thought you were gonna vomit, before you watched many different emotions flash across Sunoo's face in a matter of seconds. you felt more tears sting your eyes again as you tried to force yourself to prepare for the conversation that was about to be had, but you just couldn't gather your thoughts

"What's wrong?" he whispered soft with concern, laying a gentle hand on your shoulder.

"huh?" did he really not think this would upset you?

Sunoo's expression shifted once again from concern to disappointment as he let his hand slip from your shoulder

"Did you read my letter?"

"What??" at this point you were full on crying again, so confused and distraught by the situation, not even really processing what's actually happening.

Sunoo smiled somewhat sadly, but couldn't help the endeared chuckle that he tried to suppress. he looked down at the floor momentarily, trying his best not to smile at how cute you were in this unfortunate situation. He glanced back up and reached for your hand.

"Are you okay?" it was a soft, genuine question, asked with the same amount of care and attention he's always asked with.

"Sunoo... i'm so confused right now... didn't you open your letters?" Sunoo's smile only grew, even though he was still trying to hold back from getting too excited.

"Of course I did... didn't you read yours?" he rubbed circles on the back of your hand with him thumb. your brows furrowed deeper in confusion, truly lost to what was going on in the world around you

"No, not yet..." you sniffled, wiping more tears from your face. Sunoo chuckled quietly, completely and utterly endeared by you.

"Why not?" he questioned softly.

"I... I don't know" you looked down, avoiding eye contact, not knowing how to explain the situation you were in yet.

"Well I think you should open it... it might make you feel better" Sunoo squeezed your hand and gave you the sweetest, softest smile as you finally met his gaze. you raised your eyebrows slightly, but turned to retrieve the letter from where it was haphazardly tossed on your desk.

you glanced back at Sunoo one last time before he excitedly gestured to the unopened envelope. you sat down at your desk and opened the letter, reading in your head

Dear Y/n, I'm sorry it took me so long to finally get the courage to say something to you. I know we've been friends for years now, and i obviously cherish that more than anything. I don't think there's anyone in this world who has made me feel as special as you do, which is why it's so hard to keep being you friend. I want to love you deeper than how I've been able to so far. I want to show my affection and adoration for you so wholly and openly that it's clear to everyone who my heart belongs to. I know this is so beyond cheesy and honestly kind of stupid maybe, but the love i have for you is just so strong and pure that I couldn't think of a better way to express it. I've tried to come up with the best possible plans of how to confess in my head, yet none of them feel like they'd ever be good enough for you- which is crazy because I know a singular letter isn't anything drastic, but i personally don't think there's any better show of romance than a classic love letter. so again, i'm sorry for making you wait so long my sweet angel, but i hope this letter makes you finally see how hopelessly in love i am with you. p.s. the only reason I even indulged that secret admirer back in high school was because I thought it was you and by the time i found out it wasn't, I had a crisis and realized how in love with you i was, that i figured I might as well try to get over you since at the time it seemed like you had no interest in me. but now that many years have passed, i realize how stupidly blind i was not to see that you did in fact like me like that. but it's okay cuz you've also lowkey been stupidly blind not to see how much i've loved you too lol <3

by the time you finish readin his letter there were teardrops on the page and the sides were slightly crinkled and damp from how hard you were clutching it with your sweaty palms. you glanced over to where Sunoo was sitting on your bed with a watery pout

"Sunoo..."

"I wanted it to be you so bad... I've only ever wanted it to be you"

you jumped up from your desk chair and swiftly moved across the room, throwing your arms around Sunoo and holding onto him for dear life. He giggled into your neck as he wrapped his arms just as tightly around your waist. the two of you stayed like that for a few more seconds before you leaned back slightly. Sunoo did the same, leaving the two of you face to face, only about and inch or two in between you.

"So..." Sunoo whispered with a soft smile. you giggled, resting your forehead against his

"you're kinda obsessed with me ya know" he teased

"oh shut UP- you're saying I'M obsessed after the confession you just wrote?" you shot back with a laugh as he squeezed you tighter. you two giggled together for a few more seconds before he leaned back again, this time with an ever-so-sightly concerned expression

"Were you crying cuz you thought i didn't like you back or something?" Sunoo questioned, rubbing gentle circles on your back. you let out a mix between a groan and a chuckle as you let your forehead fall against his shoulder in embarrassment

"honestly, yeah..."

"What??"

"yeah... Rei had me write those letters to just get my feelings out, but you were honestly never supposed to get them..."

"Are you serious?" Sunoo threw his head back as he laughed in complete disbelief

"Yup... the only reason you even have them is because Rei accidentally mixed up the stacks and put yours in the box" you rubbed a hand down your face as you sigh before letting out your own laugh of disbelief

"speaking of- lemme text her back real quick cuz she's definitely still freaking out over this" you reached for your phone and winced once you saw thirteen missed texts and four missed calls from Rei. Sunoo came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder as you read through the texts. you sent a message letting her know you had the wrong letters, but deleted what you had began typing as a follow-up.

instead you opened the camera app and snapped a quick selfie of you and Sunoo. he had turned his head so that his own cheek would be slightly pressing against yours, his lips brushing the skin, making it very obvious there's been a shift in the dynamic.

kongsuni🥐: Y/n please answer girl, you're making me really nervous

y/n: i don't have Sunoo's letters y/n: (sent 1 attachment) y/n: but it's okay cuz he found them <3 kongsuni🥐: AHHHHHH OH MY GOD Y/N WHAT THE FUCK-

you both chuckled at Rei's reaction. Sunoo squeezed you tighter placing an aggressive kiss against your cheek, causing you to laugh harder. he continued to place little pecks across the span of your skin wherever he could reach from his position. eventually he let out a dramatic sigh and spun you around, finally placing a gentle kiss on you lips.

the two of you stayed there for a few seconds, just enjoying the connection, before he tilted his head ever-so-slightly to fit his lips better against yours to deepen the kiss. you let out a sigh against Sunoo's lips, allowing him better access as you continued to make out. your arms draped lazily around his neck as you played with hair. after a few more moments, you separated for air. you and Sunoo stared at each other in silence for a second before bursting into a fit of giggles.

you both moved to lay in your bed, cuddling under your cozy throw blankets. with stars in your eyes you both shared the details of your affections for each other and how stupidly in love you'd both been all this time.

"I can't believe all it took for us to finally get it together was some love letters..." Sunoo mumbles softly, shifting to press his cheek further into you. you huffed a quiet laugh before responding just as softly

"you say that as if one of us didn't have an absolutely breakdown over said letters" you mumbled in return. he hummed and squeezed you softly

"listen, i had plenty of my own breakdowns over that letter, but all of that was forgotten the second i read through what you wrote me" Sunoo opened his eyes to glance at you with nothing but pure adoration and love. you looked into his eyes and smiled softly, pressing a feathery kiss to the tip of his nose, before scooching down to rest your head against his chest

"I know we haven't even made things official yet, but I love you Kim Sunoo" you felt his chest rumble with a quiet chuckle, then you felt his soft lips agaisnt the top of you head

"I love you too my sweet angel" he mumbled into your hair as you both begin to drift off in a little mid-day nap, comforted more than ever by each other's presence.

notes: a few more notes, sorry y'all. this was originally supposed to be an ot7 fic and be like- a bunch of different scenarios of you writing them love letters. and then it was supposed to be a jungwon fic... but then i realized how many jungwon fics i'm in the middle of writing and i decided "omg our number one lovely boy needs a cutie little valentine's day fic" hehehe. i hope y'all enjoyed it😛

#enha x reader #enhypen x reader #kim sunoo x reader #kim sunoo #sunoo x reader #enhypen sunoo #sunoo #kim sunoo fluff #sunoo fic #sunoo fluff #sunoo oneshots #kim sunoo oneshot #enhypen fic #enhypen fluff #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen oneshot

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nobodysavemysoulitsperfectlyfine · 3 days ago

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Incorrect Percy Jackson Quotes as things my friends and I have said except I literally forgot the context.

Percy Jackson: "No. I will eat him. Swallow him whole. Shove him down my gullet. You underestimate how much I need him seasoned, battered, baked or fried."

Annabeth Chase: "No, the stupidest thing I've ever heard is anything Jk Rowling ever said."

Jason Grace: (screaming at the top of his lungs) "WHO EVEN IS JEMIMAH THE CONQUEROR??"

Leo Valdez: (breaking out into song whenever the room is quiet)

Piper Mclean: (In front of literal police) "It's because I stole it."

Frank Zhang: (Standing in front of a very wealthy house in the middle of the poorest county in the state) "What? I'm not rich."

Hazel Levesque: (Relentlessly being bullied for looking like a horse girl)

Nico Di Angelo: "I know it's midnight and we don't live here, but I really want to go out in the woods right now."

Will Sollace: "How could there possibly be THIS many things wrong with you?? What the hell?"

Chris Rodriguez: (Spamming calls and texts) "HOW COME EVERY TIME I TAKE COUGH MEDICINE I HAVE VIVID NIGHTMARES OF BEING IN FUCKING LEAGUE OF LEGENDS. I DON'T WANT THEM."

Octavian: "No, I'm really manipulative. It's gotten to a point where I don't even notice, but you guys should keep that in mind."

Reyna Avila Ramirez Allerano: (Aiming nerf guns stolen from a group of rotten kids) "JUSTICE!!"

Dakota: (Taking a drink of literally anything carbonated and visibly twitching uncomfortably) "Ew." (Drinking again) "Ew. Disgusting." (Drinking it again)

Mr. D: "Would you please STOP MAKING BABIES IF YOU DON'T WANT TO RAISE THEM."

Lester Papadopoulos: "How is it that every time a thunderstorm rolls around I have a psychotic break? Like, I have a feeling that's not just anxiety."

Meg Mcaffery: "I always thought Unicorns would be fatter."

Luke Castellan: "Guys, do you think I have bad morals?" (everyone saying yes in unison)

Alex Fierro: (Only ever using hoe as a pronoun when talking about someone to their face)

Magnus Chase: (Being forced to eat an orange peel covered in salt after saying he was bored while other people watched and recorded him gag)

Austin Lake:(Playing Sailor Song every moment he gets the chance)

Rachel Dare: "You know there's a Greek word for that? That describes exactly what you are?"

Georgina: "Right Now my Mom's waiting outside for and I quote "Biker Bitch". It's like a fairy tale."

Rhea: "I genuinely, and wholeheartedly believe that MOST of the world's problems would be solved if all men got a decent pegging. Every world leader, politician, everyone." (Continues to debate this perfectly for twenty minutes)

Ethan Nakumara: "Guys do your parents have nemisisees?"

Litreysis: "My entire face hates me."

Blitzen: "By Peach do you mean fruit or ass?"

Hearth: (Signing slurs in public to his boyfriend while smiling kindly)

Commodus: (Harassing the guy dressed up as Santa by repeatedly smacking his fake stomach and calling his ass a bowl full of jelly)

Thomas Jefferson Junior: "You're only a whore mentally."

Mallory Keen: (Prank calling some poor woman and screaming random scottish as loud as possible)

Marcus: "I'm gonna boil one of them alive and make the other watch."

Samirah Al Abbas: (frowning in response to seeing her friend's scores on the empathy test)

Arrow of Dodona: "Probably cause I am in the woods. They thought I got lost."

Ella The Harpy: (Rewrighting Heather's as a Biden x Trump musical with other world leaders as the Heathers)

I'm tired maybe I'll do more tomorrow or never

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matsuyorific · 1 day ago

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From what I understand from the show, Anarka and Jagged got together around the start of their career, and were a couple act. Sometimes around when the twins were born, Jagged's career started taking off. Anarka felt like Jagged cared more about his music than his family, so she took the kids and left without telling him.

It's not really clear if they were every married or not. Most likely Jagged continued working while Anarka was taking it easy through her pregnancy. Especially if they were already signed with Bob Roth, whom we can easily imagine wanting to promote the more manageable Jagged, and not the hard headed Anarka. This is all speculation, but it's possible that Bob also pushed Anarka out of the group, thinking no one would want to see a pregnant woman on stage.

Jagged doesn't strike me as someone who hates his family. Nothing he does or says in the show hints at this at all. From what he's said in the show, he makes it sound like he didn't want Anarka to leave with the twins. That he wanted to be their dad, but was also trying to make it as a musician. Sure, he didn't balance well and put more focus on his music, but he genuinely seemed to care about his kids.

When he's confronted by Truth, he doesn't even make excuses like "I was too busy" or "your mom wouldn't let me." He says "I was too lame to be a parent." This is still an excuse, but it's one made out of the belief that he can't be the parent he knows his kids to be. His decision was made based on what he felt was best for his kids.

However, Anarka also thought it best he not be around. She kept his identity from the twins, and wouldn't let Jagged come by. So it's not even completely Jagged's fault he wasn't there. This is actually pretty common irl, where divorced parents will try to make their kids take sides. In Anarka's case, she refused to tell her kids about their father, so that they wouldn't even have a choice. Then when Jagged finally reunites with them, she still insists he has nothing to do with them. Even with Jagged there, trying to be in his kid's life, she's still so insistent that he leave.

This isn't to say it's 100% Anarka's fault. She still has a lot of hurt feelings she needs to let go of, but those hurt feelings don't come from nowhere. While her logic was flawed, she still tried to do her best for her kids. She was so desperate to keep her kids from feeling the same hurt she'd felt, that she'd ended up hurting everyone else in the process. Including herself.

Young Anarka

I dunno… Like

Her past intrigued me the most out of all the adult characters, and I can't understand her mix with Jagged. Like, he cheated on her and she got pregnant? They had an open relationship? Or did they only share intimacy? Why did she never tell her kids about their father? And why didn't their father pay child support lmao…

#anarka couffaine #luka couffaine #juleka couffaine #jagged stone #miraculous ladybug

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prapaiwife · 2 days ago

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Another thing we need to unpack is this scene with fern and po, and this was very much needed, especially in this time, we are in with certain "fans" feeling genuinely confused betrayed even or just feeling this now sudden emptiness as if they are unimportant when an idol they love so much have found a love of their own in their personal life. Now, this was really good because it gave us the perspectives about idols and dating, and where do the fans truly fit right? Cause fans' feelings are vaild to an extent! It should never ever go beyond your morals and into something so toxic! And idols who u love are a human living being like u! As fans, we need to respect that their is a line we do not cross. A lot of ppl need this reminder that there are limitations and boundaries. And this whole moment here, po made her see this for the bigger picture it is! He can hear how Fern was hurt, and Fern herself, being the one who runs their fan base account she actively helps and supports them. And that's exactly it you do that for them cause u love them for what they create! The music the albums the tours whatever! Thay all can't happen without your support that's what keep them motivated. And so po made it clear that no matter who your idols fall in love with, it doesn't mean they don't love u any less, and the relationship between fans and the love they have for whoever it is in their life is different! And because we are fans, we aren't entitled to anything cause if we were in thier shoes honestly how could you not understand them and the burden they now carry cause they feel they disappointed their fans for falling in love?

#thamepo series #thamepo heart that skips a beat #thamepo #thamepo the series #thame po #est supha #ciize apichaya

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tikosblogg · 6 hours ago

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Meet n Greet… Noah Drabble..

Warning: none just pure cuteness.

A/N: This has been rotting in my drafts forever. I decided to post it while I’m working on Ch 2 of who am I? It should be up by one day this week!

Bad omens. My favorite band. Here I was watching them live, along with my four year old lily.

A questionable parenting choice, perhaps, taking a small child to a metal concert. But Lily loved them. I’d played their music constantly since she was born. “There Is A Hell, Believe Me I’ve Seen It. There Is A Heaven, Let’s Keep It A Secret” was practically her lullaby. Okay, maybe not the best lullaby, but she seemed to like it.

And now, here we were, waiting in line for the meet and greet. Lily, perched on my hip, was a whirlwind of excited energy. Her tiny hands were clapping, her bright blue eyes darting around the room, soaking in the sights and sounds.

Then she saw him.

Noah. The man whose voice had carried me through so many tough times. He was standing with the rest of the band, posing for pictures with a fan.

“NOAH!” Lily’s voice, surprisingly loud for such a small person, sliced through the din. She started waving her hand, her little face alight with pure, unadulterated joy. “Noah! Noah!”

He looked up. His dark eyes, that I’d only ever seen in photos or on a screen, locked onto Lily. A genuine, warm smile spread across his face, transforming his usual brooding expression. He waved back.

Lily squealed, wriggling in my arms, as I sat her down beside me. The line inched forward, each step feeling like an eternity. Finally, it was our turn.

As soon as our feet hit the designated photo area, Lily launched herself forward. She bypassed the rest of the band entirely and barreled straight into Noah, wrapping her arms around his leg in a tight hug.

He laughed, a deep, resonant sound that sent shivers down my spine. He reached down, effortlessly scooping her up into his arms. Lily, now face-to-face with her idol, hugged him around the neck.

“If I’m there’ is me and Mommy’s favorite song!” she declared, her voice muffled against his shoulder.

Noah’s laugh was warm against my ears this time. “Really? I love that song too.”

“Yeah,” Lily continued, her volume increasing with each word, “but Mommy cries when she hears it!”

My cheeks flushed crimson. Mortification washed over me in waves. "Lily, shhh," I hissed, trying to silence her from completely exposing me. It was true. That song always got to me.

Noah looked at me, that sweet smile still playing on his lips. Then, turning back to Lily, and looking around us, as if expecting someone else to be with us, he asked, “Does your daddy not like our music too?”

Lily shook her head vehemently. “I don’t have a daddy.”

The laughter in Noah’s eyes vanished. His expression softened, a flicker of something I couldn’t quite decipher crossing his features. He gave Lily another squeeze, his gaze shifting to me. He mouthed a silent “sorry,” his eyes conveying genuine sympathy.

I shrugged it off, offering a weak smile. It was fine. We were fine.

“I have a mommy,” Lily declared, puffing out her chest with pride. “I don’t need a daddy.”

Noah nodded, his gaze lingering on me just a beat too long. “That’s right. You got your mommy. That’s all you need.”

He looked at me again, his eyes searching mine. Before I could formulate a response, Lily piped up again. “Mommy says she wish you were my daddy, cuz you’re handsome!”

I gasped, instinctively covering my face with my hands. This couldn't be happening. The earth should just open up and swallow me whole. Humiliation pricked at my skin.

Noah and the rest of the band erupted in laughter. It was good natured laughter, but still. I wanted to disappear.

Noah, regaining his composure, looked at me with amusement dancing in his eyes. "Well, I think your mommy is very pretty too."

My heart skipped a beat. Heat bloomed in my chest, chasing away some, but not all, of the embarrassment.

He reached out his hand. Hesitantly, I took it. His fingers closed around mine, his grip warm and surprisingly firm. He gently tugged me closer, pulling me into his side.

“Come on, let’s get a picture,” he said, his voice low and smooth.

The rest of the band gathered around us, their laughter subsiding into playful grins. I felt a hand on my back, guiding me into place. I was acutely aware of his arm around my waist, the warmth of his body pressed against mine.

Someone snapped a photo. Then another. And another. Each flash of the camera a stark reminder of the surreal situation I found myself in.

Finally, the impromptu photoshoot was over. I fumbled in my bag, pulling out a CD insert of their album. It was a picture of the whole band. “Would you mind signing this?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

They happily obliged, passing the insert around for each member to add their signature. Noah was last. He took the marker, his dark eyes meeting mine. He held my gaze for a long moment, something unreadable swirling within their depths.

He scribbled something on the insert, then handed it back to me with a wink. “Was nice meeting you two,” he said, his voice a soft murmur.

Flustered, I thanked them and quickly ushered Lily out of the room. The cool night air felt like a welcome relief against my burning skin.

Back in the car, strapped into Lily's carseat, she chattered excitedly about meeting Noah. I managed a weak smile and started the engine.

As I pulled out of the parking lot, I glanced down at the signed CD insert, which was lying on the passenger seat. I picked it up, my fingers tracing the signatures. Then, my eyes landed on something else.

Beneath his signature, Noah had written a phone number. A real, legitimate phone number.

My breath hitched. My heart pounded in my chest. My mind reeled. Was this really happening?

I stared at the number, my fingers trembling. It was a bold move. A completely unexpected move. A move that had the potential to change everything.

I glanced in the rearview mirror at Lily, fast asleep in her car seat, her face peaceful and serene. I looked back at the number.

#noah sebastian #bad omens #badomensimagines #noahsebastiancult #bad omens cult #imagines #bad omens band

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gublerryswift · 3 hours ago

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Museum meet cute | Spencer Reid x Reader

meet cute | fluff

In which you have your own meet cute in a museum visit

Warnings: None

Content: Reader meets spencer in a museum and he does a classic Reid ramble (she loves it, it's cute)

All the studying for your master’s degree was starting to get to you, the sleepless nights, the stress and one of the most draining: the lack of fun. You had never been one to spend weekends in parties and clubs, hating the crowded spaces and loud music, your type of fun consisted more of slow things like vising libraries, museums and expositions, but lately you couldn't even find time for those little things that brought you so much joy. Well, this ended tonight.

After sending what you hoped would be the last draft for your thesis, you decided you deserved to finally have some fun. You got ready in your favorite outfit, and stepped out the house, the first stop was your favorite coffee shop to grab a caramel macchiato before heading to your favorite museum. You had heard of this new exposition of a painter caller “Walter Sickert” that sounded fascinating and were excited to finally see it, as you walked into the exposition you were mesmerized by the beauty of the work there, never been one to totally understand art and all the meanings and references, but you always had a soft spot for it, a thing that captivated you to those paintings and sculptures.

As you walked into the exposition, the soft lights above the paintings, the faint sound of the surrounding conversations, it all made you feel at home, you noticed how much you had missed these places. One in particular caught your attention, a painting of a woman looking straight out, her gaze seemed lost and half of her face was not painted, you were intrigued by it and stood there trying to make understand what might be the history behind what you were seeing.

A couple of minutes later, you felt a presence beside you, you looked to the side and saw a tall man standing there dressed with a cardigan you internally wished were yours and these glasses that made him look like one of those philosophy professors, his hands inside his pockets also admiring the painting.

“Mesmerizing, isn't it?” He speaks, pulling you out of your thoughts. His voice is soft and quiet as to not disturb the other people in the gallery, you look over to him, a small smile forming on your lips as you nod.

"Absolutely." you reply. "There's something about this style of art that just catches my attention, it's so…" You drift off, trying to find the right words for how you were feeling

“Hauntingly beautiful” He completes your sentence, giving you a small shy smile that made your heart flutter

“Yeah, exactly that. I couldn't put it into words before”

You two fall in a comfortable silence, admiring the painting in front of you until he breaks the silence. “You know, some people believe that this artist was actually Jack the ripper”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, not expecting the random mention of a serial killer, “What, really? Why?” You turn to him, your genuinely curious expression seems to only fuel his excitement, he smiles and begins talking. The words roll out his mouth like he’d just been waiting for the moment to drop this.

“Some DNA analyzed from the letter jack sent to the police matched with the author's, also he has a series of paintings called 'Camden town murder’ which were made at the same time jack committed his crimes in the same town, also he is said to have worked in a studio that once was occupied by the ripper himself” You nod along and smile, being a sucker for true crime and history you really were interested in what this guy was saying, plus the speed in which he talked was perfect for your brain, and you found yourself immersed in his explanation.

“However” He lifts his pointer finger in a way that makes you hold back a giggle, god this man was cute – Why were you finding a man who was talking about a painter possibly being a killer cute? Maybe all the time inside your house made you lose your self-preservation skills. “Forensic scientists believe that most, if not all the letters sent to the police weren't actually sent by the killer, and all the other possible evidence is very circumstantial so the probability of him actually being jack the ripper is almost none, still an interesting hypothesis though.” He smiles and nods as he finishes his explanation, and he starts fidgeting with the strap of his satchel bag.

“Wow, that's actually really interesting, I would never imagine it” You smile at him “It's really impressing how you just know all that”

“Thank you, my brain is basically filled with a bunch of random facts just waiting to be said” He chuckles, and you notice a light blush showing up in his cheeks as he looks away from your gaze, going back to staring at the painting.

“I never got your name” You say, trying to keep the conversation going, you were drawn to him for some reason and didn't want to part ways so soon.

“I'm Spencer, and you are…” You tell him your name, smiling at him.

You were never the girl who would ask guys out or try their number, always being shy you were terrified of rejection, but right now you met this really cute guy who seemed so smart and was exactly your type, and you really didn't want to just leave it at this, so with a sudden courage you decide to take the plunge.

“You know, this museum has a really good coffee shop downstairs, would you like to go?” You smile at him, feeling your heart thump on your chest from the nervousness.

Spencer's eyes widen in surprise, but a warm smile spreads across his face as he nods eagerly, agreeing to your spontaneous invitation “Yes, I'd love to, maybe I can find more painter fun facts to tell you”

“Oh can't wait” you let out a giggle as you both start to walk out.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x y/n

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xylatox · 2 days ago

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

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

I absolutely love a good red string au, it taps into my romantic side so bad. The rules are simple: the second your eyes meet theirs, a delicate crimson thread will wrap and tug around your ring finger, stretching across, tied to the one who is destined to love you. — like this is exactly why I love this trope, to be destined to have someone to love and receive love from in such an unconditional way just puts me at ease.

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

How does love do that? How does it make someone shine like they’re carrying sunlight beneath their skin? Like just standing beside the right person is enough to set them alight? — I feel like Raya took my thoughts here, especially the first line😭 like how does love do that. I've always seen love where it seems more one-sided, falls apart later down or doesn't seem to exist in hard times, so I've always wanted/wondered of the existence of such an unconditional type of love.

"That's… weird, right?" The first girl tilts her head, genuinely puzzled. "I mean, we sat through those lectures together. Didn’t the studies say most people find their soulmate before twenty-five? That’s what the records say." — that's so, uncalled for😭 like as reader said she's just pointing out a fact but damn, maybe I'm a bit to sensitive lmfao.

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

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

“Come on, Y/N.” She grabs your arm, shaking it dramatically. “Look at me. I have a soulmate, and I still thirst over Tomorrow X Together.” — I love Da-hee so much, she's so real for this. I do love that reader isn't a MOA though, it somehow makes her future bond with Gyu even sweeter. And the fact that reader unknowingly picks Gyu's picket😭😭😭 they are so destined and her getting his photocard further solidifies it I'm going to fucking sob.

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

And they have the bond ugh😭😭😭😭😭I'm going to throw up😭😭😭 — Everything else fades. The crowd, the shake of Da-hee beside you, even the music that was supposed to be loud. All that’s left is the pull—a red thread stretching between, searing itself into your vision, blinding in its intensity—demanding to be seen. — oh my god ugh.

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

God, I love Gyu's entire reaction to them being soulmates, it's so endearing. Thin, and so impossibly red. A string stretched between, glowing faintly under the stage lights. He looks down at his hand—at his ring finger— it's tied there. His eyes trace its path. To you. His chest tightens. — this is so cute and I love how it makes him nervous for the concert now :(((.

He waves again, but this time, it’s for you. Directly. You tilt your head, hesitant, and then—an unsure wave back. It’s so small, so subtle, but it makes him smile. His grin spreads before he can think twice. — this is so cute I'll pass out. Him and reader are so cute your honor, I love them do much like the interactions are so cute I genuinely have no other words.

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

Their first interaction:(( I feel so damn soft—"So, uh, hi?" Beomgyu says, and it pulls a laugh from you. His heart stumbles over itself at the sound, warmth blooming in his chest. It’s ridiculous, really, how easily you affect him.—god they're so awkward I love it :(( I think they're so cute I want to keep them in my pocket. I just love the idea of them not knowing anything about each other especially since ready wasn't a fan before so it feels so much more genuine.

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

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

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

Trying to go out my comfort zone this year and comment on smut because I always get shy/embarrassed but oh my god —Beomgyu's eyes never left yours as his fingers found your hand, seeking the place where the string was tied. The red thread appears, and he lifts it to his lips. A kiss—featherlight, reverent—pressed against the place where destiny tied you to him. — this is absolutely everything.

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

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

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

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

Maybe in another world, the sky is burning, the world is ending, an apocalypse, and he still falls in love with you. Maybe in another life, he is a man undone, a husband who shatters more than he mends, but even then, he would spend eternity piecing himself back together just to be worthy of you.— Raya this caught me so off guard that I am sobbing so hard, a reference to The Last Safe Place and The Slow Surrender, you are absolutely insane oh my god.

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

RAIN LILIES

pairing: soulmate idol choi beomgyu x soulmate fem!reader

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

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

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

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

He shouldn’t be real.

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

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

wc: 20k — playlist.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And now you wonder if it did—with you.

"One, two, three, smile!"

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

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

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

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

And then there are days you fear it.

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

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

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

How can you miss someone you've never met?

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

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

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

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

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

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

A picture of everything the universe had promised them.

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

You can't look.

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

Or no. You’ve lost count.

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

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

Alone at the sidelines.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Huh?"

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

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

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.

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.

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.

"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.

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.

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