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dawngyu · 3 days ago

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RAIN LILIES

pairing: soulmate idol choi beomgyu x soulmate fem!reader

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

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

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

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

He shouldn’t be real.

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

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

wc: 20k — playlist.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And now you wonder if it did—with you.

"One, two, three, smile!"

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

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

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

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

And then there are days you fear it.

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

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

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

How can you miss someone you've never met?

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

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

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

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

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

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

A picture of everything the universe had promised them.

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

You can't look.

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

Or no. You’ve lost count.

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

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

Alone at the sidelines.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Huh?"

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

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

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

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

You’re used to it by now.

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

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

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

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

You blink at her, taken aback.

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

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

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

It’s time to go.

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

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

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

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

"What's taking you so long?"

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

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

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

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

The entire room turns to look at him.

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

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

"Oh?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

He can't look away.

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

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

Everyone teased the maknae relentlessly for weeks.

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

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

His soulmate.

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

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

Where are you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perfect.

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

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

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

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

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

HYBE.

Funeral wreaths. Trucks. Massive banners.

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

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

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

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

Your stomach twists. “What?”

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

GET LEE HEESEUNG OUT OF HYBE.

APOLOGIZE, LEE HEESEUNG.

EXPLAIN THIS, LEE HEESEUNG.

ENHYPEN IS NOW ONLY SIX.

IDOLS WITH SOULMATES ARE NOT IDOLS.

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

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

Your stomach turns.

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

But you almost hear what she isn’t saying.

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

It’s the only explanation, isn’t it?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You won’t regret this!”

You already do.

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

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

TOMORROW X TOGETHER

They... didn’t look bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You groaned, "Fine."

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

And one of them stands out.

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

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

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

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

"One Beomgyu, please."

You followed her... once again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Where are we going now?"

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

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

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

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

Then, it’s your turn.

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

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

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

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

Fucking hell.

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

Beomgyu.

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, still grinning. “Okay.”

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

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

It’s beautiful.

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

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

Beomgyu.

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

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

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

All because his eyes meet yours.

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

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

It can't be real.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Heeseung, the newest idol thrown into the fire.

He, who got caught with his soulmate.

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

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

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

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

The irony.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What it is, he can’t quite say.

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

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

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

But then, he notices one weird thing.

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

You’re not looking at all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then his gaze flickers back to you.

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

His breath falters. He sees it.

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

The thread.

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

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

Soulmate.

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

He finally found you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Got you, beautiful.

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

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

Yet you see it perfectly too.

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

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

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

You're even more beautiful when you laugh.

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

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

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

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

And you are.

"Hyung," he breathes out.

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

But Beomgyu isn’t thinking about the show anymore.

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

Not yet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Beomgyu is your soulmate.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It clicks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sixteen years.

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

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

She’s the reason you met him.

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

And maybe she was right.

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

It doesn’t matter. Because you saw it.

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

He exists.

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

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

“I—I have a friend with me,”

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

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

Let's go.

You’re going to meet Beomgyu.

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

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

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

She knocks. Opens it.

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

The thought vanishes the second you see him.

Beomgyu.

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

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

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

Beomgyu stares at you, and you stare back.

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

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

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

How can someone be made this perfect?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"God, you're so beautiful."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s in deep.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And wear warm clothes—it’s winter."

"You too."

"Eat on time."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It can't last, doesn't it?

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

Elevators terrified you.

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

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

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

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

It took only a second before answering.

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

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

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

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

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

The doorbell rings again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s already 3 PM.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

An idea sparked in your mind.

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

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

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

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

My Y/N Live?

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

You look handsome.

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

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

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

You're watching?

A few seconds pass before your reply pops up.

Yes.

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

I'm shy.

Why? You look good.

A pause. Then another message.

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

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

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

Then he catches it.

315flowersmyass kekekeke -

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

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

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

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

It’s a picture. You.

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

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

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

"She’s here."

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

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

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

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

Ow! I fell! Fell for you~ —bg <3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Excuse me?"

"Are you fucking deaf?" she snaps.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She smiles, "Don’t test me."

I’m heading home now.

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

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

God, he misses you.

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

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

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

Then, voicemail.

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

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

He’s in the van now. It’s been hours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still nothing.

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

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

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

Once. Twice.

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

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

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

“Are you okay? I’ve been—”

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

"What is it?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then the line goes dead.

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

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

And now, it’s real.

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

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

His phone dings.

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

“Hello?” His voice is hoarse.

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

His breath catches.

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

"Please."

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

She smiles, "Don’t test me."

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

Your thoughts won’t stop either.

Beomgyu.

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

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

But is it?

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

You take another drink, and it burns.

“Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your phone screen lights up between you. Another call.

Beomgyu. He’s still calling. Still trying.

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

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

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

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

Everything. Everything is wrong.

“Beomgyu.”

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

“Are you okay? I’ve been—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Please sleep. And forget about me.

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

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

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

You press the end button.

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

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

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

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

She’d do anything for you.

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

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

Beomgyu’s birthday.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know your schedule is packed—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s been listening the whole time.

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

So Beomgyu told them everything.

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

No one understood him better than they did.

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

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

It shattered something in all of them.

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

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

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

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

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

And he would.

Completely.

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

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

Then the doorbell rings. Right. The food.

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

Choi Beomgyu.

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

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

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

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

His footsteps retreat.

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

The doorbell rings again.

You yank it open, “Wait, my ass—”

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

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

Just like what he said. He's there.

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

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

Why did you let him wait this long?

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

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

And there he is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you let him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And your breath catches in your throat.

Rain Lilies.

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

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

Small. Alive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even without a soulmate mark, even without fate—

It would always be you.

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

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

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

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

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

So he leans in.

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

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

THE END.

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

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rarepen1999 · 2 days ago

Text

solitary although seeking fellow spiritual witches

green witch

Capricorn

pendulum, tarot, crystals, and essential oils

sage, rosemary, thyme, basil, lavender and parsley

i center my craft around integrity and honoring my intuition

i do not curse and i stray from others who send out malicious energy

i have always nurtured my relationship with nature, the forest, trees, and plants

i do believe in karma, not sure about reincarnation

my name is Alessa (uh-leh-suh) when ppl can't pronounce it I tell them to call me Less, and say "Less-is-more"

i am open yet respectful about my beliefs and practices

the last spell i performed was a love spell

yes

yes- i have several grimoire style notebooks that typically cover specific subjects or themes. one in particular encompasses many topics all under the umbrella of meditation, self-inquiry, and manifestation. i include records of tarot readings, reflections, book excerpts with commentary, etc.

yes

labradorite

sea shells

yes

earth

yes, in the non-traditional sense

i am interested in lucid dreaming, astral projection, psychic abilities..

attraction and curiosity about nature and focusing intentions to cultivate desired outcomes

if praying with others counts, then yes. in my past i was a devout Christian.

no…

yes

i believe so yes, not sure how to define though.. possibly my higher self or God

the importance of a 'tuning in' / 'closing down' ritual before / after magick

yes

spring or fall

chanting or writing with other incorporations , anything i can infuse intention into..

i incorporate rituals

the craft (original)

i had a psychotic break

bees wax

selenite

yes

grounding

yes

plastic

yes

being sleep deprived in public

realizing my power, abilities, and gifts

yes

a black cat

the world

amber

Do you wear pagan jewelry in public?

not necessarily

absolutely

trust in self and spirit

not relating to the majority of people swimming main-stream

yes, certainly. i am so much more in tune with everything

the stillness and desires of my soul

lucid dreaming and astral projection

'tuning in' exercise such as grounding

i believe i have an innate ability to channel the spirit of God

crystals, sage, palo santo, oracle cards, and more crystals

the forest

yoga or breath work

naturally

i am a morning bird for sure , i feel much healthier when i honor my internal clock and circadian rhythm

any time you have the right energy and intention

yes

blue, it is tranquil

clairaudience , alliance , and voyance

Witchcraft Asks #1-105

Here is the list of the 105 witchcraft questions I just finished answering. I answered one each day but feel free to answer them all at once or however you want to do it. Tag your it!

1. Are you solitary or in a coven? 2. Do you consider yourself Wiccan, Pagan, witch, or other? 3. What is your zodiac sign? 4. Do you have a Patron God/dess? 5. Do you work with a Pantheon? 6. Do you use tarot, palmistry, or  any other kind of divination? 7. What are some of your favorite herbs to use in your practice? (if any) 8. How would you define your craft? 9. Do you curse? If not, do you accept others who do? 10. How long have you been practicing? 11. Do you currently or have you ever had any familiars? 12. Do you believe in Karma or Reincarnation? 13. Do you have a magical name? 14. Are you “out of the broom closet”? 15. What was the last spell you performed? 16. Would you consider yourself knowledgeable? 17. Do you write your own spells? 18. Do you have a book of shadows? If so, how is it written and/or set up? 19. Do you worship nature? 20. What is your favorite gemstone? 21. Do you use feathers, claws, fur, pelt, skeletons/bones, or any other animal body part for magical work? 22. Do you have an altar? 23. What is your preferred element? 24. Do you consider yourself an Alchemist? 25. Are you any other type of magical practitioner besides a witch? 26. What got you interested in witchcraft? 27. Have you ever performed a spell or ritual with the company of anyone who was not a witch? 28. Have you ever used ouija? 29. Do you consider yourself a psychic? 30. Do you have a spirit guide? If so, what is it? 31. What is something you wish someone had told you when you first started? 32. Do you celebrate the Sabbats? If so which one is your favorite? 33. Would you ever teach witchcraft to your children? 34. Do you meditate? 35. What is your favorite season? 36. What is your favorite type of magick to preform? 37. How do you incorporate your spirituality into your daily life? 38. What is your favorite witchy movie? 39. What is your favorite witchy book, both fiction and non-fiction. Why? 40. What is the first spell you ever preformed? Successful or not. 41. What’s the craziest witchcraft-related thing that’s happened to you? 42. What is your favourite type of candle to use? 43. What is your favorite witchy tool? 44. Do you or have you ever made your own witchy tools? 45. Have you ever worked with any magical creatures such as the fea or spirits? 46. Do you practice color magic? 47. Do you or have you ever had a witchy teacher or mentor of any kind? 48. What is your preferred way of shopping for witchcraft supplies? 49. Do you believe in predestination or fate? 50. What do you do to reconnect when you are feeling out of touch with your practice? 51. Have you ever had any supernatural experiences? 52. What is your biggest witchy pet peeve? 53. Do you like incense? If so what’s your favorite scent? 54. Do you keep a dream journal of any kind? 55. What has been your biggest witchcraft disaster? 56. What has been your biggest witchcraft success? 57. What in your practice do you do that you may feel silly or embarrassed about? 58. Do you believe that you can be an atheist, Christian, Muslim or some other faith and still be a witch too? 59. Do you ever feel insecure, unsure or even scared of spell work? 60. Do you ever hold yourself to a standard in your witchcraft that you feel you may never obtain? 61. What is something witch related that you want right now? 62. What is your rune of choice? 63. What is your tarot card of choice? 64. Do you use essential oils? If so what is your favorite? 65. Have you ever taken any kind of witchcraft or pagan courses? 66. Do you wear pagan jewelry in public? 67. Have you ever been discriminated against because of your faith or being a witch? 68. Do you read or subscribe to any pagan magazines? 69. Do you think it’s important to know the history of paganism and witchcraft? 70. What are your favorite things about being a witch? 71. What are your least favorite things about being a witch? 72. Do you listen to any pagan music? If so who is your favorite singer/band? 73. Do you celebrate the Esbbats? If so, how? 74. Do you ever work skyclad? 75. Do you think witchcraft has improved your life? If so, how? 76. Where do you draw inspiration from for your practice? 77. Do you believe in ‘fantasy’ creatures? (Unicorns, fairies, elves, gnomes, ghosts, etc) 78. What’s your favorite sigil/symbol? 79. Do you use blood magick in your practice? Why or why not? 80. Could you ever be in a relationship with someone who doesn’t support your practice? 81. In what area or subject would you most like your craft to grow? 82. What’s your favorite candle scent? Do you use it in your practice? 83. Do you have a pre-ritual ritual? (I.e. Something you do before rituals to prepare yourself for them). If so what is it? 84. What real life witch most inspires your practice? 85. What is your favorite method of communicating with deity? 86. How do you like to organize all your witchy items and ingredients? 87. Do you have any witches in your family that you know of? 88. How have you created your path? What is unique about it? 89. Do you feel you have any natural gifts or affinities (premonitions, hearing spirits, etc.) that led you toward the craft? If so what are they? 90. Do you believe you can initiate yourself or do you have to be initiated by another witch or coven? 91. When you first started out in your path what was the first thing or things you bought? 92. What is the most spiritual or magickal place you’ve been? 93. What’s one piece of advice you’d give someone who is searching for their matron and patron deities? 94. What techniques do you use to ‘get in the zone’ for meditation? 95. Did visualization come easily to you or did you have to practice at it? 96. Do you prefer day or night? Why? 97. What do you think is the best time and place to do spell work? 98. How did you feel when you cast your first circle? Did you stumble or did it go smoothly? 99. Do you believe witchcraft gets easier with time and practice? 100. Do you believe in many gods or one God with many faces? 101. Do you eat meat, eggs and dairy? 102. What is your favorite color and why? 103. What is the one question you get asked most by non-practitioners or non-pagans? How do you usually respond? 104. Which of your five senses would you say is your strongest? 105. What is a pagan or witchcraft rule that you preach but don’t practice?

#green witch #nature #trees

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kiwriteswords · 3 days ago

Note

I was listening to Diet Pepsi by Addison Rae (it gives me so much Hotch vibes for some reason??? I love it) and I thought it would be the perfect occasion to make a request for your Thirsty Thursday 👀 I don't have much idea but I guess something in the car, maybe a younger reader so we have a lovely age gap and maybe something that goes with the lyrics "I write my name with lipstick on your chest I leave a mark so you know I'm the best" (don't need to be the name writing of course ahah but I love the idea of lipstick stains on his chest)

You're the absolute best and congrats on your 2k btw!! you deserve thousand more 🫶

Fog up the windows in the parking lot [Aaron Hotchner x Age-Gap!Reader] **

Ki2k Masterlist||MainMasterlist (not updated, sorry!)|| Ao3||Word Count: 3k|| AN: Hii! Thank you so much for this request--I still can't believe I was listening to this song when you sent this, haha. Great minds think alike!! I hope you like this (I can't write smut to save my life, but here i am doing a smut day.)

Tags/Warnings: female reader, porn without plot honestly, smut, mdni, unprotected sex, car sex, I am bad at writing smut sorry, horny hotch, sorta brat tamer hotch, age gap, you're hotch's controversially young gf, not specified if reader is BAU (so up to your imagination).

Summary: The one where Aaron Hotchner realizes he goes weak in the knees when he sees how tight his much younger girlfriend's jeans are.

Hotch couldn't help himself today, and it was all because of those jeans you decided to wear. Each time you bent over to grab something off the lower shelves at the grocery store, his heart skipped a beat, his mind filled with thoughts that had no place in the brightly lit aisles of their local market. You were oblivious to the effect you were having on him, focused on checking items off the grocery list, your hips swaying naturally as you moved down the aisles.

It wasn’t just the bending or the swaying; it was every little thing you did. Each time you reached up to grab something from a higher shelf, the way your back arched slightly, Hotch felt a pull deep inside him, a stirring of feelings he hadn't expected to be so strong.

When you both loaded the groceries into the car and then reached into the backseat to grab your purse, your jeans hugging you perfectly, Hotch found his eyes lingering. He was usually more composed than this, more in control, but today, those jeans had him teetering on the edge.

Driving home, he kept stealing glances your way, each look like adding fuel to a fire he was struggling to contain. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and tinged with a hint of warning and desire mingled together. "You have no idea what those jeans are doing to me," he confessed, trying to keep his focus on the road but failing miserably.

You turned to look at him, a mischievous sparkle in your eye, fully aware now of the turmoil you were causing. His words, so out of character for the usually stoic and controlled man, only brought a playful smile to your lips.

Hotch knew he was treading uncharted waters, not just with his emotions but with how openly he was expressing them. Despite the teasing from the team, who noticed how much younger you were, and their offhand jokes about him being like a lovestruck teenager, it didn't matter. You brought out a side of him he never knew existed. A side that felt alive, vibrant, and yes, even a bit reckless.

You sighed, looking in your purse for something beside Hotch in the passenger seat. He then all about lost it when you unbuckled your seat belt in the passenger seat and twisted to the back. Your ass was now level with his head, practically drawing him in. He had to keep his eyes on the road--but god dammit.

The car shifted slightly as he adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening from the tension. "You're doing this on purpose now," he muttered under his breath, his voice laced with a mix of exasperation and barely contained desire.

Playing coy, you didn't respond immediately. Instead, you found your lipstick and settled back into your seat, taking your time to apply it carefully, glancing at him to gauge his reaction. His eyes flicked, catching yours, and you saw a flash of something intense in his gaze.

Hotch stepped on the gas a bit harder than necessary, the slight surge forward a clear indication of his growing impatience and agitation. You couldn’t help but smile at his reaction, teasing him further. "You know, you're really sexy when you're all hot and bothered," you pointed out, your tone playful yet sincere.

The remark seemed to hit a nerve, and Hotch took a deep breath, trying to refocus his attention on the road. But it was clear you had effectively distracted him, his mind racing with thoughts he usually kept well under wraps. This side of Hotch, the one that struggled between his composed exterior and the mounting desire you elicited, intrigued you. It was a side of him that came out rarely, and you relished the moments when you could draw it out, loving the way he looked at you when he thought you weren't watching.

You leaned back in your seat, a mischievous glint in your eye, and teased him, "I have a good idea."

Hotch's response was immediate and a little strained, his voice tight as he focused on the road. "The only idea I have right now is getting home and taking a cold shower." He was half-joking, but the undertone of his voice betrayed his growing frustration and need.

You laughed lightly, enjoying the effect you had on him, but decided to push the envelope a little further. "You know," you started casually as if the thought had just occurred to you, "I've always wanted to have sex in the car."

Hotch paused at that, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He glanced at you briefly, his expression a mix of surprise and contemplation. The rational side of him kicked in almost immediately, listing several reasons why that was not a good idea—safety, legality, the potential for discomfort. But before he could voice any of those thoughts, he felt your hand on his thigh.

Your fingers started caressing him, inching dangerously close to his groin. Each touch sent a jolt through him, scattering his thoughts and straining his control. His grip on the steering wheel tightened again, and he drew in a sharp breath, trying to concentrate on the road while battling the surge of desire your bold move had ignited.

He half sighed, half groaned your name, his voice strained as he tried to concentrate on the road. "That's not—"

But he didn't finish his sentence. The sensation of your fingers, the way you leaned closer to him, your breath on his neck as you whispered just how much you wanted this—all of it was overwhelming. Hotch gripped the steering wheel even tighter, the car speeding along as he battled the surge of desire that you sparked with your daring touch.

He took a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of control, but the more he thought about your suggestion, the more appealing it seemed. Here he was, a man always in control, always calculated, yet at this moment, driven to the edge by the simple act of your hand on his leg.

"We should... we should at least pull over," he finally conceded, his voice a mix of reluctance and desire, realizing that resisting you completely was a battle he might not want to win today. As he scanned for a secluded spot to park, the thrill of the impending escapade with you sent a jolt of anticipation through him.

Hotch pulled the car over, the tires crunching softly on the gravel as he turned off into a secluded spot shielded by trees. Without a word, he reached over the console, his movements deliberate, and captured your lips in a rough, hungry kiss. You moaned into his mouth, your lipstick leaving a taste of cherries against his lips, igniting a fire within him that he hadn't allowed himself to feel in years.

His hands roamed over your body with a sense of urgency and ownership, finally reaching across the console to trace down your legs to those tight jeans that had been torturing him all day. His touch sent shivers up your spine, and you pulled back breathless, meeting his gaze which had darkened with raw desire.

"You’re gonna need to help me peel these off," you suggested with a playful yet sultry tone, motioning towards the backseat, "Maybe back there would be better?"

The idea sent a thrill through Hotch, the tightness in his own jeans growing at the thought. His brain buzzed with a cascade of 'what ifs' — what if we get caught? What if someone sees? Yet, the logical side of him was quickly overridden by the sheer desire to be closer to you, to explore this daring side of your relationship.

Hotch's decision was made the moment you suggested moving to the backseat, but as he surveyed the space, he realized there was enough room if he pushed the driver's seat all the way back. The SUV, similar to the one he drove for the FBI, was spacious, but even then, the two of you fit just barely.

You began to wiggle out of your jeans in the passenger seat, and Hotch reached for his belt with urgency. Typically, your intimate moments were full of foreplay, and you both took your time, savoring each other. But today was different—there was a sense of rush, an urgency in the air as he pulled himself from his jeans, his eyes never leaving you.

"Come here," he said in a low, commanding tone that sent a shiver down your spine. It was a direct, uncharacteristically blunt invitation, but it carried all the intensity of your mutual desire. He adjusted himself, making space for you, anticipation etching every line of his face as he awaited you to straddle his lap.

Your eyes went from his to his hand as he began stroking himself with a semi-achingly slow pace that made your eyes widen. He watched you slide your panties down your legs, kicking them to the floor of the car with your jeans and shoes.

The rush, the spontaneity—it all contributed to a thrilling urgency neither of you could deny. As you moved towards him, leaving the constraints of your jeans behind, the tight confines of the SUV seemed to close in, enveloping you both in a private world where only your intertwined desires mattered.

You slid from the passenger seat, the fabric of the car seats whispering beneath you as you maneuvered yourself toward Hotch. The confined space of the SUV made every movement more deliberate, more charged with an electrifying tension. Your heart raced as you reached him; his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that mirrored the pounding of your pulse.

Carefully, you straddled him, positioning yourself over his lap. Hotch's hands immediately found your hips, his grip firm and sure, anchoring you securely against him. The close quarters of the SUV enveloped you both, creating a cocoon of intimacy that amplified each breath, each subtle shift in movement.

His hand moved from your hip to between your legs, spreading you and finding the wetness that waited for him there. He groaned, feeling it; he threw his head back, opening his neck for you to nip at and kiss. You began unbuttoning his button-up, glad he went without the tie today and just the button-up and jeans--a casual look you loved.

You reached between the two of you and positioned him before swiftly sinking down with a shared groan filling the walls between the two of you. You felt the pads of his fingertips grip your hips again as you began to rock into him, subconsciously clenching around him.

His hands caressed the curve of your ass, guiding your hips to rock against him. The way he pressed you so firmly down against his hips had the right amount of pressure on your clit, causing you to roll your eyes in pleasure.

His hands spread up your sides on your still-clothed top. Through your shirt, he grabbed at your breasts roughly before returning to your ass.

Hotch got a little rougher, meeting your hips rand ocking against his with a thrust beneath you. You could feel him deep within you. Caught in your throat was a moan, but the pleasure was too immense--too good.

“You have no idea what you were doing to me today in those jeans,” Hotch panted, his lips finding the crook between your shoulder and your neck as he began to meet you thrust for thrust--so deep, so good--so much.

“Oh,” You squeaked, “I have an idea.” You laughed, breathlessly.

“Fucking,” Thrust, “Brat.” The sound of your hips smacking. Your thighs sweaty now against him, and your wetness now audible.

“You love it,” You breathed, your lips going down to his chest now, kissing him and leaving marks of your lips from your lipstick, stained across his chest.

“Yes,” He thrusted again, sharper now, but the rhythm beginning to falter. “You better hurry up and come,” he said breathlessly. You clenched around him with a glint in your eyes, “I’m serious.”

Reaching between the two of you, you began working your clit with a circular rhythm that was old faithful in any situation. Hotch’s eyes squeezed shut then open, continuing to meet you. There was a found tempo from the way your fingers circled your clit and the way his hips met yours.

You felt the coil begin to tighten as your orgasm approached. Your thighs began to shake and you threw your head back. Hotch’s fingers bruising your hips continued with each deep thrust. Over and over and over. Just right.

You came with a gasp, which was then covered by Hotch’s lips kissing you. His hips beginning to lose control as his own orgasm left him. You felt him empty within you, only adding to the sensitivity you felt deep within you. His hips stuttered against you, resting, but your thighs still shaking against him. As if to hold you into place, his hand rested at the small of your back, settleing you.

A groan left his lips into your mouth, and the two of you slowed with lethargy. As the intensity of the moment ebbed, Hotch's hands gently caressed your skin, soothing and tender in their touch. The two of you were left sweaty and breathless, the aftermath of your passion palpable in the close, humid air of the SUV. His hands moved slowly, tracing patterns across your back and shoulders, each stroke helping to ground you both as you came down from your highs.

The small space of the car, which just moments ago had felt electrifying and exhilarating, now seemed overly warm and confining. As you both caught your breath, the reality of the situation gently settled in—a mixture of amusement and affection hanging between you.

"We definitely need a shower," Hotch murmured, a slight grin playing on his lips as he acknowledged the state both of you were in. The thought of continuing this intimacy in the shower brought a soft smile to your face.

"And maybe a detail for the car," you added, laughing softly, the sound mixing with the faint hum of the idling engine. The humor of the situation wasn't lost on you, and Hotch's responding chuckle told you he felt the same.

"So, I take it you liked the jeans?" you asked, a playful note in your voice.

Hotch glanced at you, a smirk playing on his lips. His eyes held a glint of mischief mixed with undeniable affection. "I loved them," he admitted, his voice low and enticing. "But for the sake of productivity, maybe never wear them again around me if we actually want to get anything done."

His witty response made you laugh, the sound light and carefree. It was moments like these that deepened your connection, mixing playful banter with the intense chemistry you shared.

Your fingers trace the outline of your lips marked all along his neck and chest from the now-smeared lipstick you had applied moments before. A mischievous smile spread across your face as you pointed them out. "You know, this might be my favorite look on you now," you said, the playful tone in your voice tinged with a hint of satisfaction.

Hotch raised his eyebrows, a slight blush coloring his cheeks as he reached up to feel the marks, his fingers brushing over the spots you indicated. The corners of his mouth turned up in a smile, appreciative of your boldness and the memory of the moments that led to such disarray.

"Is that so?" he replied, his voice laced with humor and a warmth that reached his eyes. "I suppose it's a good thing we're heading home then. I might need to wear it more often if it gets that kind of approval."

As you watched the fading lipstick marks on his skin, you leaned closer, a teasing gleam in your eyes. "I like marking what's mine," you murmured, tracing a finger lightly over one of the marks, emphasizing your words.

Hotch looked at you, his expression softening into one of deep affection, the playful retort ready on his lips turning into something far more tender. "Sweetheart, you don't need marks to know I am," he replied, his voice gentle yet firm, filled with a sincerity that warmed you through.

You kissed him tenderly there before he patted your bare hip. You smiled against his lips, knowing the two of you had to leave this little intimate cocoon now. “I know, I know,” you sighed against his lips before whimpering, slowly moving off of him, trying not to make an entire mess of his already dirtied car. Hotch groaned, feeling you leave his lap.

Despite the age gap between you, something about being with you made Hotch feel as though he was losing his innocence all over again; each moment tinged with a freshness and excitement that he hadn’t realized he’d been missing. It was a rediscovery, a rejuvenation of spirit in the best way possible, with every laugh, touch, and shared secret making him feel both wonderfully vulnerable and profoundly alive.

He sure hoped you wore those jeans again.

300 notes · View notes

rootedinrevisions · 3 days ago

Text

Worth the Effort

Summary: On their first Valentine’s Day together, Glen goes above and beyond to show his love in a way that proves just how much the reader means to him.

Warnings: None! Just pure fluff and good vibes.

Word Count: 4.3k

Author’s Note: Thank you to the Anon who sent in this request! This one was fun to write with the holiday coming up! Also put a little bit of myself in this one as I've never really had a partner put effort into Valentine's Day. So it was fun to brainstorm what someone would do to make Valentine’s Day special!

A Few Days Before Valentine's Day

The phone rings just as you’re settling onto the couch for the evening, the glow of the lamp next to you casting soft shadows against the walls of the living room. You glance at the screen, and the second you see Glen’s name your heart gives an involuntary flutter.

“Hey, babe,” you say, leaning back against the cushions. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping? Isn’t it like…two in the morning over there?”

There’s a chuckle on the other end, warm and familiar. “Nah, we wrapped late, and I couldn’t sleep without hearing your voice first.”

Your stomach tightens. He always knows what to say.

“Well, I’m honored,” you murmur, smiling despite yourself. “How’s London treating you?”

Glen sighs, and you can almost picture him. He’s probably stretched out in some ridiculously nice hotel room, one arm behind his head, hair tousled from a long day on set.

“It’s good. Cold as hell, though.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You poor thing.”

“I know, right?” he says, voice dripping with mock suffering. “I need to get back to Texas.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, drama queen.”

There’s a pause just long enough for you to hear the subtle shift in his tone when he speaks again. “Speaking of me coming back,” Glen starts, “don’t make any plans for Friday.”

Your brows pull together in confusion. “Friday?” You blink, glancing at the calendar on your nightstand. “What’s Friday?”

There’s a beat of silence.

“You’re messing with me,” Glen says flatly.

You tilt your head. “I’m… not?”

“Babe.” His voice dips, both amused and exasperated. “Friday is Valentine’s Day.”

Your stomach clenches. Your fingers tighten slightly around the phone, but you force a casual laugh.

“Right,” you say quickly. “Well, you don’t have to worry about coming home for just that. It’s just a stupid holiday.”

You’re met with silence. Not a long one, just a couple of seconds that are barely noticeable, but you hear it. And knowing Glen, he’s probably hearing everything you’re not saying.

He exhales softly. “C’mon, don’t be like that.”

You shrug, even though he can’t see you. “I’m serious. You don’t have to come all the way back just for some commercialized excuse to buy me chocolates and overpriced roses.”

His voice is softer now. “You really think I’d let our first Valentine’s Day together be just another day?”

You don’t know how to explain what’s going through your head, at least not without sounding pathetic. But the truth is, the only other serious relationship you’ve ever had was with someone who hated Valentine’s Day. He called it pointless. Overrated. He never bought you flowers. Never made plans. Never did anything. And eventually, you just learned to stop expecting it.

Glen, though? Glen isn’t like that.

Still you shake your head, keeping your voice light. “I don’t know. I think you’re underestimating my ability to spend the night in pajamas bingeing bad reality TV.”

There’s a chuckle, but it’s quieter this time. Then, his voice turns gravelly, lower than before. “Sweetheart,” he murmurs, “I already have something planned.”

Your breath catches. “You—”

“I’ll be home Friday,” he promises. “And once I get home I’m all yours.”

* * * * *

Valentine’s Day - Morning

Soft morning light spills through your curtains painting yours and Glen’s bedroom in soft golden hues. You shift under the covers stretching lazily, the quiet hum of the world outside lulling you back into a light doze. For once you don’t have to rush. No work. No emails. No meetings. You took the whole day off not for Valentine’s Day, of course. Just…because. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

The faint sound of the front door unlocking downstairs barely registers in your half asleep state. Your mind lingers somewhere between dreamland and consciousness until a familiar voice cuts through the silence.

“Babe?”

Your eyes flutter open. There’s a brief second where your brain doesn’t quite catch up. Because Glen is in London. He’s supposed to be thousands of miles away.

But then a slow grin spreads across your face as you remember his promise. Pushing the covers off, you scramble out of bed and run toward the living room.

The second you turn the corner, there he is. Glen. Standing in your doorway, looking completely and devastatingly like home. His hair is tousled from travel, and his jacket is slung casually over one arm. But it’s the expression on his face that makes your breath hitch. That stupid heart melting smile.

“Hey beautiful,” he says, voice rich with amusement.

You don’t even think. You just launch yourself into his arms. Glen catches you easily, like he’s been waiting for it. One of his arms wraps around you, strong and warm, holding you just tight enough to make your heart squeeze.

“You’re here,” you mumble against his shoulder.

His laugh rumbles through his chest. “Told you I would be.”

You pull back just enough to look at him, your hands sliding to cup his face. He’s slightly scruffy, his jaw rough with the shadow of a beard like he hadn’t bothered to shave before hopping on a plane.

Your fingers brush over the stubble, and Glen just smirks.

“You checking if I’m real?” he teases.

You roll your eyes. “I’m debating if I should kill you for not telling me when your flight was landing. I would’ve picked you up.”

He chuckles, but before you can say anything else he pulls something from behind his back. A bouquet of roses. Deep red, vibrant, freshly wrapped with ribbon.

Your lips part, but for a second, nothing comes out.

Because this has never happened to you before. No one has ever shown up with flowers. No one has ever gone out of their way to make you feel like you’re worth the effort.

Glen watches you carefully, his gaze softer now. “You okay?”

You swallow, nodding as you take the bouquet from him. The petals are velvety under your fingertips, the scent delicate and sweet.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

He tilts his head. “I know.” Then leaning in he presses a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead. “But I wanted to.”

Your chest tightens. Because for the first time ever Valentine’s Day doesn’t feel like some stupid, commercialized holiday.

It just feels like him.

Glen leans against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest, watching as you tuck the roses into a vase. “So,” he says casually, “what time do you have to be at the office?”

You hesitate for half a second before replying, “I actually took the day off.”

Glen raises a brow, a slow smirk spreading across his face. “Did you now?”

You shoot him a look already knowing where this is going. “Don’t.”

“Oh, I’m definitely gonna.” He steps closer, tilting his head. “Did you take today off to avoid your office turning into a Valentine’s Day war zone?”

You sigh dramatically. “It’s not a war zone. It’s just…” You gesture vaguely. “Okay maybe it is kind of like a war zone.”

Glen chuckles. “So you’re telling me that right now, at this very moment, the entire office is split into two camps. One group gushing over their gifts, the other dramatically swearing off love forever.”

You snort. “Pretty much.”

He grins. “And you just…opted out?”

“I didn’t opt out,” you argue, crossing your arms. “I just thought, you know, a personal day sounded nice.”

Glen hums, unconvinced. “Mhm. Just a total coincidence that you took off work on Valentine’s Day?”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, actually.”

“Uh-huh.” He steps forward, hands slipping around your waist as he leans in. His voice drops, warm and teasing against your ear. “Admit it. You were worried I wouldn’t come back.”

Your stomach flips, but you try to keep your expression neutral. “You are so full of yourself. Not everything is about you, you know?”

He laughs, pressing a quick kiss to the side of your neck before pulling back. “Maybe.”

Moving effortlessly around your kitchen, Glen grabs a frying pan and starts pulling things from the fridge.

You frown. “Are you…cooking?”

He raises a brow. “What, you think just because I’m a pretty face I can’t make breakfast?”

You smirk, hopping up onto the counter. “I think I’ve seen you burn toast before.”

He points a spatula at you. “That was one time. And I was distracted.”

You narrow your eyes playfully. “By what?”

Glen grins. “You, probably.”

Your cheeks warm, but you shake your head laughing as Glen effortlessly takes over the kitchen.

The rest of the morning is easy. Pancakes, fresh fruit, coffee. You sit cross legged on the couch while Glen flips through the channels, landing on an old movie you’ve both seen a dozen times.

The world outside drifts by, but here in this little pocket of time, everything feels calm.

Because it’s not about the holiday. It’s just about being with him.

Later That Afternoon

You’re curled up on the couch, half asleep, when Glen nudges your foot.

“Hey,” he says, stretching. “We should probably get ready soon.”

You frown, peeking one eye open. “For what?”

He smirks. “C’mon. I’ve got plans for us.”

You hesitate, eyeing him suspiciously. “What kind of plans?”

His lips twitch. “The kind where you should wear something nice.”

Your stomach flips. Because Glen Powell does not do basic.

Which means whatever he’s got planned…it’s something big.

You stand in the middle of the walk-in closet, hands on your hips, staring at the rows of clothes as if they might magically assemble themselves into the perfect outfit.

Something nice. That’s what Glen had said. But what does that even mean? Does he mean nice boots and jeans? Like Texas casual nice? Or does he mean nice dinner nice?

You sigh pulling out a dress, then immediately putting it back. You check your phone like maybe Glen has sent some kind of clarification, but no. Just a winking emoji in response to your earlier “Where are we going?” text.

So helpful.

Just as you’re debating whether you should just put on leggings and hope for the best, you hear footsteps behind you.

“You’re overthinking.”

You turn to see Glen leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, grinning like he’s caught you doing something embarrassing.

“I am not overthinking,” you say even though, okay, maybe you are.

Glen pushes off the doorframe and steps inside, his gaze flicking from the half-unzipped dress in your hand to the growing pile of discarded outfits on the bench. “You’re standing in the middle of the closet looking like you’re solving a murder,” he teases.

You huff. “That’s because you were vague.” You gesture toward him. “What does something nice even mean? You’re wearing jeans!”

He glances down at his outfit—jeans and a crisp button up, the sleeves rolled up in a way that does unfair things to his forearms. “Yeah. Because I know where we’re going.”

“That’s not helpful.”

He laughs, stepping closer. “Here.” He slides past you, reaching into your side of the closet like he’s done it a hundred times before. He pulls out a sundress. It’s one of your favorites. Light, comfortable, effortless. The kind of thing that works for a casual dinner or something a little special.

He holds it up. “This one.”

You take it, raising an eyebrow. “You picked that fast.”

He shrugs. “I like this one on you.”

Something about the way he says it is so easy and certain. It sends warmth curling through your chest. You glance at him, suddenly aware of the way he’s watching you, like he already knows you’re going to listen to him.

“Alright,” you say, fighting a smile. “But if I’m overdressed, I’m blaming you.”

Glen grins. “That’s fair.” He leans in, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before stepping back. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

You smooth your hands over the dress as you step out of the bedroom, your heels clicking lightly against the hardwood as you make your way down the stairs. There’s a hint of nerves buzzing in your chest. Not because you’re unsure about the date, but because Glen has a way of making everything feel like it means more.

As you reach the last step, you spot him near the front door, messing with his watch. He must hear you approaching because he glances up. And freezes.

His fingers pause, his whole body going still as he looks at you like he’s seeing you for the first time.

You recognize that look. It’s the one he gave you the first time you ever dressed up for an event together. The one he gets when you’re wearing something that knocks the breath out of him.

His lips part slightly, his brows lifting just enough to be noticeable. His eyes take a slow appreciative once over, lingering on the soft fabric of your dress, the way it falls just right, the way it hugs your curves without even trying.

“See something you like?” you tease, one eyebrow quirking as you reach the bottom step.

Glen blinks like you just snapped him out of a trance. Then that easy, borderline cocky grin of his slides into place. “I always do,” he says smoothly, stepping toward you. “But damn, sweetheart.” His voice dips lower warm and teasing. “You really outdid yourself tonight.”

You roll your eyes fighting back a smile. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re stunning.” He closes the space between you, reaching for your hand. His fingers slide against yours, warm and steady. “If I didn’t already have a whole plan for tonight, I’d be seriously reconsidering leaving this house.”

Your face warms at his words, but you shake your head with a laugh. “Well, now I definitely need to know what this plan is.”

He smirks, giving your hand a quick squeeze before leading you toward the door. “Oh, trust me, sweetheart.” He opens the door, gesturing for you to step outside. “You’re gonna love it.”

As you step outside the cool evening air wraps around you, carrying the scent of fresh grass and the lingering warmth of the Texas sun. Glen’s hand is warm in yours as he leads you toward the garage where his truck and SUV sit side by side. Your car is parked in the third spot.

You glance between his truck and the SUV, expecting him to open the door to one of the vehicles. Maybe he’s planned a nice dinner in town or some kind of fancy event. But instead of going for the truck Glen veers to the side…toward the Gator ATV.

You stop short. “Uh… did you forget we’re dressed nicely?” You gesture between the two of you, your dress swaying slightly with the motion. “Because I don’t think this outfit is exactly ATV appropriate.”

Glen just grins, already pulling open the driver’s side. “You trust me, don’t you?”

You narrow your eyes playfully. “Should I?”

He leans against the roll cage, arms crossed, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I did put in all this effort to plan something special for you.” He tilts his head toward the passenger seat. “So, what do you say? You gonna climb in and find out, or are you gonna stand there and keep looking pretty?”

You bite your lip, giving the Gator a once over. It’s not what you expected, but with Glen the unexpected is usually the best part. With a small sigh you step forward, gathering your dress slightly as you climb into the seat.

Glen smirks as he watches. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

“I swear, if you send me flying—”

“Sweetheart.” He places a hand over his heart. “I would never let anything happen to you.” Then with a wink he turns the key, and the engine rumbles to life beneath you.

As he pulls out of the garage, the headlights cut through the dusky sky, and the excitement in your chest starts to build. You still don’t know where he’s taking you, but you can already tell whatever it is, it’s going to be unforgettable.

The ride is short, but the anticipation builds with every bump and turn down the dirt path. The air is crisp and fresh, carrying the scent of wild grass and the faintest hint of cedar. The last bit of golden sunlight lingers on the horizon, casting everything in a warm glow.

As Glen slows the ATV to a stop, you finally see it—a clearing in the middle of his land, wide and open, with a sky that seems to stretch forever. And right in the center of it all, a blanket is spread out, a carefully packed picnic basket resting on top, along with a small lantern glowing softly in the evening light.

“You did all this?” you ask softly, turning to Glen as he kills the engine.

He grins, already stepping out of the ATV and moving to your side. “Told you I had something special planned.” He reaches for your hand, helping you down with that effortless, gentlemanly ease that always makes your heart race.

As soon as your feet touch the ground, you kick off your shoes, the cool grass tickling your bare skin. Glen watches with amusement. “Getting comfortable already?”

“You expect me to sit on a picnic blanket in heels?” you tease.

He chuckles, slipping his arm around your waist as he guides you toward the setup. “Fair enough.”

Once you reach the blanket Glen lets go of you just long enough to sit down first. Then with that easy, confident charm, he reaches out offering his hand to you.

You place your hand in his letting him help you down, and as soon as you’re settled, he stays close. One arm propped behind you for support, his body warm and solid beside yours.

“This…” You take another glance around, your heart swelling at the effort he’s put into all of this. “This is amazing, Glen.”

His gaze softens, a small smile playing on his lips. “You deserve it.”

And just like that the tension in your chest, the years of past Valentine’s Days that were ignored or dismissed fades into something warm and weightless.

You bite your lip, trying to suppress the way your emotions threaten to creep up, but Glen must notice because he reaches up, brushing his thumb gently against your cheek.

“Hey,” he murmurs, “none of that. No sad thoughts tonight.”

You exhale a small laugh. “I’m not sad,” you admit. “I just…I think this is the first time Valentine’s Day has actually felt like something special.”

His fingers slide under your chin, tilting your face toward his. His voice is soft, steady. “That’s because you’re special.”

And before you can argue, before you can brush it off, he leans in, pressing a soft lingering kiss to your lips, sealing the moment in a way that leaves no room for doubt.

Glen reaches into the picnic basket, a playful smirk on his face as he starts unpacking the meal he’s carefully put together. There’s fresh fruit, a variety of cheeses, slices of warm bread wrapped in a cloth, and a thermos that smells suspiciously like homemade soup.

You raise a brow. “You went all out for this.”

He grins as he pops open a container, revealing chocolate-covered strawberries. “Told you I had a plan.”

As you both start eating, the atmosphere settles into something warm and intimate. The sky deepens into a soft indigo, stars beginning to peek through, and the lantern beside you casts a cozy glow over the blanket.

At one point, Glen picks up a piece of cheese, holding it out toward you with an exaggerated look of expectation. “Open up, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes but lean in anyway, taking the bite from his fingers. His smirk widens. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

You swallow, shaking your head at him. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, you love me.”

You snort. “That’s still up for debate.”

Glen gasps dramatically, clutching his chest as if wounded. “Damn. And here I thought I was winning you over.”

“You’re gonna have to work a little harder than feeding me cheese,” you tease.

He leans in, voice dropping just a little. “Noted.”

Your stomach flutters, but before you can react, Glen reaches back into the basket, pulling something out and setting it in front of you with a little flourish.

“Speaking of working harder,” he says, “here’s your real Valentine’s Day present.”

You blink, looking down at the small, wrapped box in front of you. Your heart stutters. “Glen…”

“No arguing,” he warns, nudging it toward you. “Just open it.”

Your fingers hesitate for a moment before you carefully peel back the wrapping. Inside, nestled in a velvet box, is a delicate bracelet—simple but elegant, with a small charm that catches the lantern light.

You recognize it instantly.

The charm is in the shape of Texas, and etched into it, so small you almost miss it, are the coordinates of Glen’s ranch.

Your breath catches.

“So you always have a piece of home with you,” he murmurs, watching your reaction closely.

A lump rises in your throat as you run your fingers over the charm, heart swelling at the thought behind it.

You glance up at Glen, eyes shining. “I—”

But the words don’t come.

Instead, you reach for him, cupping his face and pulling him into a kiss that’s soft and slow, filled with everything you’re feeling but can’t quite put into words.

You swallow the lump in your throat and whisper, “I love you.”

Glen smiles, pressing a kiss to your nose before pulling you into his arms. “Love you too, sweetheart.”

The sky is painted in soft hues of orange and pink, the last remnants of daylight sinking beyond the horizon. The warmth of the setting sun lingers on your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the warmth radiating from Glen as you lean back against his chest. His arms are wrapped loosely around your waist, fingers idly tracing patterns along your forearm.

You sigh contentedly, tilting your head slightly to look up at him. “This was perfect.”

Glen hums, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

For a while neither of you speak. You just sit there tangled up in each other watching the sun disappear. There’s a peacefulness in the quiet moments between you, in the way Glen’s breath moves steadily against your back, in the way his fingers never stop their gentle absentminded movements against your skin.

And then, as the last bit of daylight fades, Glen shifts behind you. “C’mon,” he murmurs, pressing another kiss to the top of your head before gently pulling away and standing up.

You blink, watching as he makes his way over to the Gator. “Where are you going?”

Glen doesn’t answer. At least not right away. Instead he reaches into the vehicle, flicks on the headlights, and suddenly the entire field is bathed in a warm golden glow. Then from the glove compartment he pulls out a small Bluetooth speaker.

Your heart stutters as he powers it on and scrolls through his phone for a moment before a familiar melody starts playing.

You recognize it instantly. It’s the first song you and Glen ever slow danced to on the first date.

Your breath catches as he turns back to you, the softest smile tugging at his lips. He makes his way over, holding his hand out. “Dance with me?”

You don’t hesitate. Slipping your hand into his, you let him pull you up and guide you into the middle of the makeshift dance floor. The headlights cast a dreamy glow, the stars begin to dot the inky sky above, and the music wraps around you like a warm embrace.

Glen’s hands find your waist, drawing you in close as he sways you to the music. You rest your arms around his neck, your fingers playing idly with the hair at the nape of his neck.

For a moment, you just move together, slow and easy, as if the rest of the world has faded away.

“You remember this?” Glen murmurs, his lips close to your ear.

You nod against his shoulder. “Of course, I do.”

“I do too.” He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. “I remember thinking that night that I’d do anything to get the chance to dance with you again..”

Your breath shudders, emotion tightening in your chest. “Glen—”

But he doesn’t let you finish. Instead he dips his head and kisses you slow and deep, like he’s got all the time in the world. And maybe he does.

The music plays on, the soft melody weaving between the night sounds of crickets and the occasional rustle of the breeze through the grass. Glen holds you close, his warmth wrapped around you like a second skin, his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek.

Neither of you speak, but words aren’t necessary. Everything you need to say is in the way he holds you, in the way he sways with you, in the way his fingers trace gentle patterns along your spine.

As the song nears its end, Glen presses his lips to your temple, lingering there for a long moment before whispering, “You get it now, don’t you?”

You blink up at him. “Get what?”

He smiles, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “That you deserve this. That you’re worth the effort.” His thumb skims over your cheek. “And that I’d fly across the world a hundred times over just to spend a day loving you.”

The words steal the breath right out of your lungs. Emotion swells in your chest, tightening your throat, burning behind your eyes.

You shake your head, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you whisper, “You’re gonna make me cry.”

Glen chuckles, tucking you against his chest once more. “Then I guess I’m doing something right.”

And so, you stay there—wrapped up in his arms, slow dancing beneath the stars, as the music fades and the world around you stands still.

Just you and him.

Exactly where you’re meant to be.

#Glen Powell #Glen Powell Fic #Glen Powell Fanfic #Glen Powell Fanfiction #Glen Powell x reader #Glen Powell x you #Soft!GlenPowell

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ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes · 3 days ago

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A Super Soldier's Soft Spot

pairing: post tfatws!bucky barnes x fem!reader

genre: flufff

el's thoughts: first time writing for bucky!! it's probably a lil ooc, but i figured i'll post it anyway. hope yall like it!!

masterlist

James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky. Winter Soldier. Ex-Winter Soldier. Avenger. The-One-With-The-Metal-Arm.Uncle Bucky. Babe.

All are names Bucky answers to. Granted, the last one was the latest addition to the list. He met Y/N at a little backyard barbeque at the Willson’s, that Sarah had put together. Sam invited him and he was promptly introduced to Y/N—Sarah’s friend since middle school. Bucky hated to admit that Sam had finally found him a match but he couldn’t deny how quickly he fell for Y/N.

She was a breath of fresh air in the storm that was his life. Cliche. He knows.

“Hurry up! We’re going to be late!”

Bucky chuckled, “I’m the one closest to the door, Y/N/N.” He tugged his leather jacket on and grabbed his keys from the key hook by the door. “Plus, you know your family doesn’t start dinner at the time they say they would. We’ll still get there early.”

Y/N hopped on one shoe-clad foot as she slipped the other shoe on, clutching her canvas tote bag in her other hand. “Still.” She stood up straight in front of him with a bright, teasing smile and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Okay, let’s go, Super Soldier.”

Bucky rolled his eyes playfully and held the door open for her, followed her out, and locked it behind him. If anyone asked him just five years ago if he saw himself going to family dinners once a month he would have laughed in their face. Yet, here he was, helping his girl into his car to drive them to her monthly family dinner.

Pulling into the large crowded driveway of Y/N’s family home, she reached across the center console and squeezed Bucky’s hand excitedly. Y/N’s older sister had texted her beforehand, letting her know that the kids would be joining them. Since Y/N’s nieces and nephews are in their early to mid-teen years, the kids seem to always have plans of their own on the weekend. The kids had grown incredibly fond of Bucky, already claiming him as their favorite. Y/N had tried to warn and prepare him for how overwhelming her nieces and nephews could be but Bucky surprised her the first time he met her family.

Bucky didn’t realize how much he missed being in a family setting, having forgotten how his own mother and sister were.

As soon as Bucky and Y/N stepped out of the car, the front door swung open hazardly.

“Uncle Bucky!”

Bucky barely had time to register the title before a whirlwind of limbs tackled him. He allowed himself to stumble back playfully, wrapping his metal arm around Y/N’s youngest niece, Ava, who clung to him like a koala.

“Hey, kid,” he chuckled, ruffling her hair. “Thought you had plans with your friends?”

Ava grinned. “Canceled. I had to be here. You promised to help me with my soccer drills.”

“Ah, right,” Bucky nodded while a smirk tugged at his lips. “You think you’re ready to take me on, huh?”

She crossed her arms, feigning confidence. “I’m faster than you.”

“Sure, kid,” he said, his tone dripping with playful sarcasm as he followed Y/N up the steps.

Inside, the house was alive with chatter, and the smell of something delicious and savory, simmered on the stove. Y/N’s mom greeted them first, pulling Bucky into a hug before she moved to kiss Y/N’s cheek. It had taken him a while to get used to the casual affection Y/N’s family showed him, but now? Now, it didn’t send him into fight mode. Now, he let himself melt into it.

“Bucky. Sweetie, you look too thin.” Y/N’s mom fussed, cupping his face. “Are you eating enough?”

“I–”

“He eats more than enough, Mom.” Y/N cut him off with a laugh. “Don’t let the super soldier metabolism fool you.”

Before Bucky could defend himself, Y/N’s two oldest nephews appeared, grinning as they exchanged knowing looks.

“You bringing the metal arm for football, or are you scared you’ll embarrass yourself?” Tyler, the eldest, challenged with a smirk.

Bucky raised a brow. “Kid, I fought aliens. You really think I’m scared of a game of backyard football?”

“Prove it then.”

Y/N sighed, shaking her head as Bucky let himself be dragged out to the backyard by the boys. “You’d think they’d stop testing him by now.”

Her older sister, Marie, smirked, handing Y/N a drink. “Please. They love him. He’s the first guy you’ve brought home who actually keeps up with them.”

Y/N smiled, watching Bucky as he jogged across the backyard, already intercepting a pass with an ease that left her nephews gaping. He looked so… happy. Like he belonged.

Like family.

Marie nudged her side. “He’s the one, huh?”

Y/N glanced at her sister before looking back at Bucky, who had just scooped up Ava onto his shoulders as she cheered.

“Yeah,” she murmured, heart swelling at the thought of Bucky being a part of her family permanently. “Yeah, I think he is.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagines #marvel #marvel imagines #marvel x reader #ellora.writes

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sourco0kie · 3 days ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/sourco0kie/775427187568525312/self-aware-au?source=share

Hey loved this and found it so interesting...and got an idea for a whole self aware au...possibly could be a series if you find it fun enough to write...already love what you did with this first writing and defiantly wanna see it in action and your take on this:

Self aware au...cowardly y/n. Just imagine a y/n who gets sucked into the game and is so nervous about the story because of the fights, rivalries, and etc...like they know the story of cookie run so they are TERRIFIED at first when they first enter the world...maybe nervous at first when the cookies become self aware but scared when actually in the world as themselves but a cookie form...just a powerless cookie!

Cue them getting dragged through story, thinking they are gonna die...but here is twist, especially because of this writing I really liked: the cookies adore them! So every time they think they are about to die or get caught in the crossfire? Nope, they are perfectly safe and loved! Can't wait to see all the hilarious senarios of y/n panicking and thinking 'this isn't gonna end well for me' only to be immediately proven wrong via y/n being protected, comforted, or whatever you want lol!

AAAA I LOVE THIS IDEA!

Ideas are exploding in my head!

Self Aware Au

W/cowardly!Reader

You don't know how but you have been sucked into the game. At first you just wanna relax on the couch then suddenly, poof, you're in the game.

The first to meet you was the team. They saved you from a couple of cake hounds and cake wolves. You introduce yourself to them and oh what a wrong move.

Gingerbrave was instantly all over you, fawning on about you and finally excited to meet you. Both Pure Vanilla Cookie and Wizard Cookie were questioning how you got here.

That aside, Gingerbrave insists on having you travel with them. At first you don't agree, saying you rather not, already knowing what will happen next with all the spoiler episodes you watched. Wizard Cookie agrees with you until Gingerbrave literally begged for you to come.

Geez just like how you begged for new cookies to come home in your gacha.

You gave in and went with their adventure, honestly all the time traveling you felt bad. Not having the skill to do.. anything. They would reassure you every time, "It's okay.. [Name] Cookie. Just getting to know you along the way was a gift."

Gift? Okay Pure Vanilla..

Finally all of you arrived at the place, Beast-Yeast. Being there somehow gives you the chills, the crawling feelings of being watched.

You all met Elder Faerie Cookie. Soon White Lily Cookie. You both introduce yourself, luckily (or unluckily which ever you wanna see it) she doesn't seem to recognize you from outside the screen.

It's all great, until you meet him. Oh how the presence just makes you wanna coward back and run. Hide away from everything. Not to mention you can't do anything. And he can do anything he wants.

"Oh. I see I have quite an audience here! I am SO terribly sorry to have kept you waiting!!"

You froze, you can't move even as your mind screams at you to run. It wasn't scary when you passed this episode.. why is it now? Why do you feel fear now? Is it because you couldn't do anything, like closing the game?

"But now... The wait is over!"

Move your body, run! Anything!

"Your favorite trickster is here!

The sharp stares of his eyes, lands directly at you. Your body shakes. You know what will happen! You know what's next! But why are you still afraid? You expected this long ago!..

Oh what some silly thoughts!

Gingerbrave put a stance between you and the beast. He seems as scared as you are but.. he's determined enough to protect you. They all did.

The faerie kingdom fell into deceit, playing lies and truth like a game for fun. Shadow Milk Cookie returns once in a while to tell the stories Elder Faerie Cookie told them. But different.

It goes like you expected so you wouldn't fall for his lies easily. In one of the plays he described you. The divine, watching over them, Oh they were saddened when the five original power holders fell and sealed away.

No you were not.

At the end you watched as the team defeated the trickster. After he tried to swoop you away from them.

You watched both Pure Vanilla Cookie and White Lily Cookie exchange. Now you don't know where to go. You're lost without a home or anything. But they, accept you into The team with open arms. You have no choice either way, as you follow them to the next adventure.

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blackbat05 · 2 days ago

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Fateful Encounters

Joaquin Torres x Reader

Plot: After a hard week at the library, you meet an enigmatic stranger with the help of your beloved dog. During TFATWS timeline.

Genre: PG-13

A/N: And I’m going to watch him on big screen today?!!!?Was in a funk so really glad I got this out! This is a complete rewrite to (Mixup) So excited to see him on Big Screen too after writing for him for so long! Enjoy!!! Tag: @the-slumberparty for 2025 challenge!

“Thanks for today!” You call out to Sophie who urges you to get out of the library and enjoy the weekend.

“Hey! Thanks for bringing Bubbles! They really loved her at the session today.” Sophie bends down to give my lovely Goldie, Bubbles a head pat. “You did such a good job!” She addresses the joyful pooch who gives a bark of acknowledgement.

You bid Sophie goodbye and lead Bubbles out into the cold evening of New York for a hearty dinner and another job well done for the week at the library.

“Well done girl! Where shall we go?” You ask Bubbles who gives a tug on her leash, leading you down the familiar path to both your favourite cafe near the library. “Of course, why did I even ask.” You smiled.

The cafe that you frequented when you first arrived in the bustling city was starting to become crowded on a Friday evening. Family and friends gathered to enjoy the start of a weekend. Bubbles obediently waits in line as you ordered a chicken rice bowl for yourself and a specially curated shredded chicken and pepperoni pizza for Bubbles who is almost pulling you the other direction the moment you finished payment.

“Girl! Slow down. There’s still seats.” You were confused at her sudden excitement at something. You follow her line of sight only to see a lone man gazing out of the window, lost in thought. Bubbles continues to drag you towards the said man, much to your horror.

“Bubbles! No! There’s other seats! We’re not disturbing the poor man!” You hissed under your breath. Unfortunately, it falls on deaf ears as Bubbles only becomes stronger. “Bubbles! Oh- hi!”

You quickly revert to what you assume is a calm and composed version of yourself when internally, you’re freaking out. For a very good reason.

The man was gorgeous. As in, breathtakingly gorgeous. Donning a black leather jacket, you were mesmerized by his hazel coloured eyes that just sucked you in with each passing minute. It felt like it was just the two of you in the room, his soft lips catching your attention…

Bubbles nudges you hardly on the shin and you snap out of your lovesick induced haze. It is then that you notice that the man’s right eye is recovering from a bad bruise. You’re left to wonder what was the story behind that but you quickly pull yourself together because this is not the time to be ogling at the man like he’s an animal at the zoo. You certainly didn’t want him to get the wrong impression.

“I’m so sorry, I’m not sure why Bubbles is acting this way.” You apologized. “We’ll just find a seat and be on our way.” You try to tug on Bubble’s leash without much success. Bless the man, he doesn’t seem bothered at all by your sudden appearance. In fact, he offers you the seat across from him. “It’s getting crowded, please.”

You thank him and quickly settle down across him. Bubbles takes no time in trotting over to her new found friend, resting her snout on his lap. “She likes you.” You observed. The man gives Bubbles a rub, much to her delight. “She never warms up to anyone that quickly before.”

“Well then, I must be a very lucky person.” He cracks a small smile before introducing himself. “Where are my manners? My name is Joaquin Torres.” Joaquin offers a handshake.

“Y/N L/N. We just came from the public library down the street.”

For the next few minutes, you fall into easy conversation about your job as a library assistant at the children’s section. You were absolutely out of luck when you were trying to search for a job fresh out of university. Although you could have gone into the corporate world and land a cushy job, you never felt that it was right for you to begin with. Your true passion lied with books and connecting with people about them. So one day, when you were absolutely tired of having to spend the whole day in front of a computer sending out resumes after resumes, you decided to head to the public library for a much needed escape.

“And lucky me, I saw the advert for the job. So here I am.” You beam inwardly at the memory. It was incredible really, how far you’ve come since then. “That’s enough about me, I would like to know more about you.” You say sincerely.

Joaquin fiddles with his teaspoon and you wonder if you’ve crossed the line. You start to open your mouth to apologize but it’s as if he can read your mind. “It’s only fair.” He brushes away your apology reassures that you’re not forcing him.

“I used to be in the military, Air Force.” Joaquin tells you. “It was the best time of my life. But seeing people die, that chipped away at my soul.” A moment of silence passes, perhaps for the lives that were lost.

“This?” He points to his bruise. “I got it while on a mission in Europe. I was there for surveillance, but innocent civilians died on my watch by a group of terrorists claiming that they were making the world better.” Joaquin tells me bitterly. Bubbles gets up and presses her body against Joaquin’s legs, as if she could sense the agitation radiating from him. He looks down and gives her another rub of thanks.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that. No one should ever have to go through something so horrific. Thank you for telling me.”

“It was actually something that I needed to do actually.” Joaquin confesses. “My Captain encouraged me to get therapy but it didn’t sit right with me.” He laughs at the thought. “I should thank you for sharing as well. It mustn’t have been easy, how you got here today.”

You were oddly pleased at Joaquin’s compliment. You knew that already, but having someone like Joaquin to acknowledge your struggles made you feel a connection with him.

As the customers continued to stream in and out of the cafe, you sat across the charming stranger-now-turned friend, sharing experiences living in the bustling Big Apple.

Bubbles whine, signaling that she was started to feel cooped out under the table. “Oh, I think that’s my signal.” You carefully eased the dog under the table. “Thank you for the company and conversation. I really needed that.”

“Same here. Take care.”

You stepped out into the chilly evening, heading back in the direction of your apartment. As you arrived back home, you let out a gasp of realization, causing Bubbles to be alarmed.

“Oh no! I forgot to ask him his number!” You groaned. Joaquin was a genuinely nice guy - a rare one these days. A rare one that you carelessly let out of your grasp like a slippery fish.

Hitting your head on the back of the sofa, you turned to Bubbles. “I guess it wasn’t meant to be huh girl?”

Bubbles let’s out a bark, bringing your backpack that you take to work everyday. Confused, you open up the bag, figuring that Bubbles wants to play with her blue plastic ball. Not that you were in a mood to play anyways. But dogs didn’t know that.

As you were about to throw the ball for Bubbles to fetch, she let’s out another bark. It is then you realized that there’s a white piece of paper sticking out of the ball’s cap. Unscrewing it open, a piece of paper that was ripped out from the order sheet at the cafe falls out. Opening it, you find a signature with a couple of words inside:

“Hey Y/N, I had a really great time talking to you. I know it sounds bonkers but I think I’ve hit it off with you and I don’t want this to be our only time. I don’t want to be a weirdo (or stalker) so this is my number. Call me when you’re ready.”

You hold the piece of paper in your hands, smiling from ear to ear. Perhaps you look a little deranged but the idea of Joaquin feeling the same way that you did was a god send. It really was a no brainer as to what you were going to do next.

Taking a deep breath, you dial his number that was given and hit the camera function while praying for the best.

After three rings, Joaquin picks up, his boyish features lighting up at the sight of you. Needless to say, it made you feel incredible. “I was praying that it wasn’t an unsuspecting old lady.” You crack a joke that earns a hearty laughter from the man.

“I’m glad you called.”

“So did I.”

Joaquin grins at your confession. “So… are you doing anything next weekend? I was thinking I could take you and Bubbles to this famous steak place.” It was adorable to see Joaquin nervous as he waits for your response. Joaquin must have sensed the cogs in your brain turning so he quickly adds, “I swear I’m not weird or anything. It’s just that I really liked talking to you that day and Bubbles! But if you don’t want to, I understand.”

“Joaquin!” You get his attention to stop him from rambling further.

“Yeah?”

“I was going to say yes either way.”

Joaquin blinks, slowly registering your words. “Great! That’s great! Um, bring Bubbles too! I want to see her again.”

You glance down at your beloved pooch who is wagging her tail at Joaquin’s voice.

“Oh she will. She’s definitely excited to see you too.” You laugh and pause for a moment, unsure if it’s too fast to say this. But hey, life is fleeting as it comes. So screw it.

“I’m excited to see you as well.”

#joaquin torres #joaquin torres x reader #captain america: brave new world #danny ramirez #navy and roo's sleepover

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kwanisms · 18 hours ago

Text

HELP! My Neighbor is an Alien a Porn Star — h.joshua

Neighbors come and go and for Y/N, this is inevitable. Which is why she never bothered to get to know her neighbors. She owns her townhouse while the two on either side of her are rentals. When a new neighbor moves in, she doesn’t think much of it until she sees the extremely attractive and single man moving in next door. She learns his name is Joshua and that there’s more than meets the eye; a whole lot more. alien!Joshua × fem!Reader

» back || m.list || taglist « ❑ WORDCOUNT 13k (i'm not sorry anymore lol) ❑ WARNINGS — adult dialogue, female reader, sex work, mentions of: food & alcohol consumption, aliens, porn, cam work; sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! ❑ CONTENT — fluff (in the form of comedy), smut (hella); sex work, porn industry, neighbors to lovers; non idol au, alien au, porn star au ❑ NOTES — this is my submission for @ddeonghwa-s cupid event. Hello, hello @shuadotcom it is I! Your cupid! This was so much fun to write and the premise was so fun to come up with! I hope you like your alien!Joshua! I love this concept so much and I could definitely be convinced to return to this in the future. This is not proofread because I didn’t have time 😭a huge thank you to @wooahaeproductions jupiter, @facethesunflower (+hubby) for helping coming up with the usernames. y'all are hilarious and wild. and thank you all for reading and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED.

❑ SMUT WARNINGS: voyeurism, watching porn/cam show, masturbation (male receiving), oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (do not do. especially with an alien), sex with an alien (lol), joshua has an alien cock (which is described in full detail so enjoy that image), use of pet names (baby, sweetheart), mild degradation, praise (f receiving), joshua’s precum is an aphrodisiac (pretty cool tbh. aliens are fun to write) so there’s that and also cum eating??, choking (f receiving), and I think that’s all of them lol but of course, let me know if I missed anything!

One of the things that came with living in the suburbs was neighbors but for you, getting to know them was never a priority. Owning your townhome meant you were a constant in the neighborhood while your neighbors were not. The townhomes on either side of you were rental properties with a plethora of families coming and going depending on how long the lease was.

Despite not taking the time to get to know them, you still made a conscious effort to be a good neighbor, never causing problems or resolving any that popped up. Most of the neighbors you had were families with young children or young couples still in the first few years of marriage. There were the occasional single professionals that moved in but they were far and few between.

So when you woke up one morning and headed down to make a cup of coffee before clocking into your work from home job, the sight of the box truck parked outside the house wasn’t a surprise. You walked over to the large bay window, spreading the slats of the blinds to peer outside.

The box truck must have pulled up while you were still upstairs as the back was now open and workers were moving briskly to unload items from the back. As you watched, you wondered who your new neighbor was going to be. Would it be another family like the last ones? Or maybe a couple of young professionals.

Letting the slats fall back in place, you turned from the window to go about your day, heading into your downstairs office off the main entry and shutting the doors to close off the rest of the home from your working space. You took a seat at the desk, setting your coffee on its designated coaster and powered up your dual screen pc. While it booted up, you sipped on your coffee, eyes occasionally drifting to the window where you could still see some of the movers unloading boxes and furniture.

The jingle of your computer home screen loading drew your attention back to the task at hand: work.

The rest of your morning consisted of checking emails, starting on reports and reviewing itineraries. It wasn’t a glamorous job but it afforded you a comfortable living and to pay your bills while also adding to your savings and being able to spend money on your hobbies.

When it was lunch time, you broke away from your screen and picked up your phone, scrolling through the various delivery options before deciding on something that sounded good and was relatively close. You placed your order and decided to leave your office and check to see if the mail had arrived.

Upon opening the door, you could see that the box truck was still parked but that the movers seemed to be finishing up. Walking down the steps from your porch, you glanced over to the townhouse that had sat vacant until today. Amongst the movers who wore khaki uniforms of short sleeve button downs and black pants, was a man who was dressed entirely different.

You opened your gate, stepping out to the cluster of mailboxes you found the mail had indeed come. You quickly opened yours with your key, pulling out the various envelopes, sneaking glances at your new neighbor as he spoke to who you could only assume was the boss of the movers. He had black hair, pushed back off his forehead.

He wore a simple white tee shirt, light wash jeans, and a pair of sneakers. He looked relatively ordinary. As you shut your mailbox door, you moved back to your gate, opening it. At the sound of the gate latch, the man looked in your direction. You quickly averted your eyes and made your way back to your steps.

You chanced a glance at the man, finding his attention was back on the moving company boss. You returned to the safety and privacy of your home, mail clutched against your chest as you shut your door. You shook yourself and headed into your office, grumbling about looking and feeling like an idiot.

It wasn’t like you weren’t supposed to be there. This was your neighborhood, too. You were perfectly within your rights to collect your mail and it was only natural that you would be curious about the new neighbor moving in. So why did you feel so strange?

You didn’t have much time to dwell on it as the sound of your doorbell made you jump, the letter in your hands you were about to open flying through the air and landing on your desk. You mentally scolded yourself for being so jumpy and got up, moving to the front door where you peered through the glass, shifting the small curtain to find the delivery driver with your food.

You opened the door, collecting your lunch with a ‘thanks’ and a generous tip before retreating once more into your home and carrying the takeout to your kitchen.

After lunch, you returned to your office, sorting through your mail before clocking back in for the rest of your shift. As the day wound down, you finalized your reports and submitted them before checking in for an end of the day meeting. It wasn’t a long meeting, fortunately, and you mostly just had to listen, occasionally giving your input before you were finally released and allowed to clock out.

After powering down your computer for the day, you left the office, heading into the kitchen to get started on making dinner. It was a mostly quiet affair, listening to one of your favorite scary story podcasts while you cooked a simple meal.

Once finished, you sat down to eat, continuing your podcast and listening to the narrator tell stories about the horrors of backpacking through Appalachia, something you would never do solely because of the stories you’d heard. Not that being outdoors was really much of your thing. You were more of an inside cat.

After eating and cleaning up, you made sure the downstairs was locked up and headed up to your bedroom, drawing yourself a nice, relaxing bath with the rest of your open bottle of wine. The bath was less about getting clean and more about relaxing as it was thankfully the weekend and you were now allowed to hide away in your home for two days before returning to the office on Monday morning.

As you soaked in the tub, you thought about your new neighbor. Was he the only one living in that big house? Did he have a family? A partner? Children? Answers that you would definitely not learn tonight but surely you would meet him in passing at some point. Perhaps you would find out then.

Then again, you never really made much of a conscious effort before to get to know your neighbors on more than a surface level, sharing names and basic information like job titles and pleasantries. You’d never invited a neighbor over for dinner nor had been invited over. You preferred it that way.

You had friends, you weren’t looking for any more.

The next day, you slept in, enjoying the warmth of your nest of pillows and cocoon of blankets for as long as you could before your subconscious nagged at you to finally get up and start the day. On a normal day, you would be up by 6 am, making breakfast or taking a shower before you had to clock into work at 8 am. Today however, you slept in until 9 before guilt wracked you for wasting the morning.

You went about your day, making a simple breakfast of eggs, sausage, and some sauteed vegetables. You downed your breakfast with some coffee before deciding today you would get your shopping done. Every weekend, you stocked up on groceries that were running low. After getting ready and donning more appropriate clothing, you ventured into your garage, located on the backside of your townhouse and got into your car.

The drive to the nearest market wasn’t long and you enjoyed the mostly empty streets and mild weather by singing and dancing along to your playlist. Drumming your fingers against the steering wheel to the beat and bobbing your head, you pulled into the parking lot of the market, pulling into a space and putting your car into park before shutting off the engine.

As you got out, you grabbed your bag of reusable totes from the trunk of your car and headed for the door, grabbing a cart and pulling out your list, kept conveniently on your phone. Walking up and down the aisles, you grabbed the items from your list, marking them off as you set them down in the basket.

As you rounded up your shopping, your phone started to vibrate in your hands and you checked the screen, seeing the face of your best friend along with her contact name. A smile crept over your face as you slid the bar across the bottom of the screen to answer, holding the device up to your ear.

“Hi Jiji,” you said softly. “Y/N! Where are you? I’m at your house and —” You let out a sigh as you maneuvered your cart, one-handed, through the store towards the check out area. “Jiji,” you said, trying to hide your exasperation. “I’m at the store. You know you’re supposed to tell me when you’re coming over before you get there, right?” you asked as you got into the queue to wait for an available terminal.

“I know,” your best friend started. “I was in the neighborhood and —”

Your brows furrowed at your best friend’s obvious lie. “You’re never just in the neighborhood, Youngji,” you countered. “Don’t pull that with me.” You heard her click her tongue impatiently. “Okay, you’re right but that’s not why I’m calling. When were you going to tell me you got a new neighbor?” You rolled your eyes as you neared the start of the queue.

“When I saw you tonight,” you answered. “Like a normal person would.” There was silence on the other end. “Oh… well, when will you be home?” she asked, sounding like a bored child. “I’m in line to check out,” you explained. “I have another errand to run and then I’ll be home.” You heard Youngji whine on the other side of the line. “Just let yourself in,” you said with a chuckle. “You know where the spare key is.”

You heard Youngji fumble with something. “Oh you’re right. Let me make sure no one is watching,” she murmured before you heard movement. “Got it!” she said triumphantly. You could hear the sound of her putting the key into the lock and the click of the latch as it unlocked. The sound of the door opening and shutting came over the line before you heard her turn the lock.

“I’m in,” she said in a whisper. “I’m gonna raid your fridge,” she added. You snorted as one of the checkout terminals opened up and you pushed your cart towards it. “It’s empty, so good luck,” you said as you started to unload your times. “I’m checking out now,” you announced as you heard the fridge open. “Boo, you suck,” Youngji whined. “Goodbye,” you continued and hung up, pocketing your phone.

As you continued to scan your items, you glanced up, eyes landing on the person at the self checkout machine across from yours. It was him. Your new neighbor. He glanced up, meeting your eyes. Your cheeks burned at being caught and you quickly offered a polite smile before returning your attention back to scanning and bagging your items.

You could feel his eyes on you and when you glanced back up, you saw them still looking at you as he scanned his own items, bagging them without looking. Seeing him this close, you could see that his eyes were a striking ombre of yellow and green and it caused your breath to catch in your throat. Either he had some really kick ass contact lenses, or he wasn’t human.

Upon meeting your gaze, he offered a mischievous smile, one where you could see that his teeth were slightly off, and definitely not human. The canines were too sharp and a little too long. You lowered your eyes and finished scanning your items, placing them into the reusable bags.

You quickly pulled out your loyalty card, scanning it and hoping for some deals before you started to finish up your transaction. Following the on screen prompts, you pressed the buttons for payment and card before holding your card over the reader until it beeped. Once your receipt printed out, you put your bags into your cart and pushed it away from the check out, not sparing another glance back.

Out in the parking lot, you returned to your vehicle, popping the trunk and placing your bags into the back before shutting the lid and pushing your cart into the cart return area. As you turned, you nearly ran into a cart pushed by none other than your new neighbor who had the same mischievous smirk on his face. “Pardon me,” he said, his voice lower and more honeyed than you were expecting. It simultaneously sent chills up your spine but also sent a wave of calm over you.

He was definitely not human.

“Apologies,” he added as you stepped aside, allowing him to push his cart into the slot behind yours. “D-don’t worry about it,” you stammered as he turned to look at you, those same piercing eyes looking back at you. “I should be going,” you added, taking a step backwards. “You’re my neighbor, aren’t you?” he asked, leaning casually against the metal fence surrounding the cart return.

You nodded slowly as he looked at you. “Y-yeah,” you said breathlessly. A smile spread across his face before he held his hand out for you to shake. “Joshua,” he said in what you assumed was an introduction. You hesitantly took his hand, feeling the heat radiating off him. “Y/N,” you responded in a much softer voice than you intended.

Just as quickly as he took your hand and shook it, he let go, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he said, putting an emphasis on your name. You couldn’t deny, you liked the way your name sounded when he said it. “You too, Joshua,” you answered. He tilted his head like a curious puppy. “So,” he started, taking a step forward, closer, towards you.

“Do you live alone?”

His question seemed to snap you out of whatever trance you seemed to be in and now that the allure of his smile was no longer clouding your judgement, your entire body was screaming at the danger it sensed. “No,” you lied. Joshua stopped to stare at you. “You don’t live alone?” he asked curiously. You shook your head. “No,” you answered again. “I have a –” you trailed off. What lie could you get away with. A roommate? A parent? A boyfriend? At some point he might notice if no one else showed up.

“Cat,” you finally said. ‘What the fuck?’ Joshua’s confused expression morphed into amusement. “Ahh, a cat.” You mentally scolded yourself. ‘What the fuck was that? How the hell is that going to deter anyone? A fucking cat???’ You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, a cat.”

Silence fell over the two of you before you finally broke it.

“Well, I should be going. Nice to meet you!” you said quickly before turning and making a beeline for your car. “Nice to meet you too, Y/N,” he called. You quickly unlocked your car and got in, shutting and locking the doors before fighting with your seatbelt. Once it clicked into place, you started the car, checking the coast was clear before hastily pulling out of the space and hurrying out of the parking lot as fast as you could without hurting anyone or violating any laws.

Your second errand only took a few minutes and soon, you were pulling into your garage, the door shutting behind you as you got out of your car and started unloading your groceries. Entering your home, you heard the subtle sounds of the TV and deposited your bags on the kitchen island. Turning around, you found Youngji lounging on your couch, remote in hand as she flipped through the channels.

“Welcome home, dear,” she called jokingly from her spot. “How was your day?”

You grimaced as you removed your jacket and moved to hang it up in the small hall near your garage entrance and kicked off your shoes, opting for your house slippers instead. You returned to the kitchen and started unpacking your groceries. “If you’re going to pretend like you live here, you can at least help me put the groceries away,” you said, looking over at her.

Youngji turned off the TV, tossing the remote onto the cushion beside her before getting up with a groan and making her way into your kitchen, wearing a pair of guest slippers. “Did you bring me any snacks?” she asked as she peered into one of the bags. You lightly tapped her on the head with an unopened plastic jar of grated parmesan.

“No snooping,” you said as you continued to pull everything out. “Just unload.”

As she helped, you chatted, talking about your respective weeks. As you started to put your things away, Youngji hopped up onto the kitchen counter, handing you things. “So,” she started as she handed you an unopened bottle of your favorite wine. “Your new neighbor.”

You stood up straight, taking the bottle from her and looking up at her nervously. “What about them?” you asked as nonchalantly as you could, bending over to lay the bottle of wine on its side on the bottom shelf of the fridge. “Have you met them?” Youngji asked as you stood up straight. “Yeah,” you answered vaguely. “I met him.” Youngji’s expression lit up.

“Him? As in singular man? Living next door?”

You looked up at her, noticing the excitement in her eyes. “No,” you said, pointing at her with your finger. “Don’t look at me like that!” Youngji pouted instantly as you continued putting away your perishables. “Oh come on!” she whined as you shut the refrigerator door. “Is he single?” she asked as you moved to start putting away the pantry items.

“I don’t know,” you answered truthfully. “I didn’t ask.”

Youngji hopped down and moved to lean against the wall next to the pantry opening, arms crossed over her chest. “You met him but didn’t talk about the basics?” she asked. You looked at her as you set a new bag of rice on the shelf. “We didn’t really have a chance to talk,” you admitted. “I met him at the store while I was checking out.”

Youngji narrowed her eyes. “Is that why you hung up on me?” she accused. You shook your head. “No,” you answered. “I hung up on you because I needed both hands to scan my items and put them away. Stop jumping to conclusions,” you added. Youngji stuck her tongue out at you as you finished putting the groceries away.

“Well, what’s he like?” Youngji asked as you moved to grab the non-food items to put away. She followed you through the house as you put away your laundry detergent in the laundry room. She continued to follow you as you took your toiletry refills upstairs to your linen closet.

“His name is Joshua,” you offered when she asked for his name. “That’s as much as I got.” Youngji wandered behind you as you led the way back downstairs. “No job?” she asked. You turned to face her as you reached the kitchen. “I didn’t get to ask and he didn’t offer the information.”

Youngji frowned as you opened the fridge and started to pull out the things you needed to make dinner. Your best friend moved to sit at the kitchen island. “So,” she started as you grabbed the necessary pans and set them on the counter. “What’s for dinner, boss?”

Dinner was a regular affair, sipping on wine as the pasta boiled and chicken cooked. Youngji was great company and always knew how to keep the conversation going, cracking jokes and telling amusing tales of her coworkers’ antics.

After finishing your early dinner, you headed upstairs to get changed and ready to go out. It was Saturday night and twice a month, you accompanied Youngji out to the city to visit her favorite club and let loose. You opted for a fitted, black dress that hugged your curves and fell just above your knees. Paired with the only pair of red bottom shoes you owned and a simple black clutch, you joined your best friend downstairs to put on your shoes and grab your jackets while you waited for the rideshare to arrive.

Youngji had donned a similar fitted dress but in white with a different neckline and long sleeves, over which she wore a black denim cropped jacket and wore black pumps with silver heels. Her clutch, which was a cross body with a chain strap, hung off her shoulder and the body of the purse was a vibrant red. You’d gone more subtle on your makeup but Youngji had, as always, gone bold with a dark smokey eye and nude lip.

Your uber arrived shortly after and Youngji led the way out of your house, letting you close and lock the door behind you. The black, four door sedan had tinted windows but the driver in the front seat matched the picture on the app, as did the license plate. You followed your best friend into the backseat, settling into the black leather interior.

The ride to the club wasn’t far but took longer with the traffic as you neared the heart of the city. As the car pulled up to the entrance of the club, you thanked the driver, handing her a cash tip and getting out of the car, curbside. Youngji joined you on the sidewalk as the car pulled into the flow of traffic and you turned to join the thankfully short queue into the club.

The location of the club was off the main strip of the downtown area so it never got exceedingly busy but it was still always full of people when you arrived. You never had to wait in line for long though and soon you were handing your IDs over to the bouncer and being directed inside where you paid your cover charges. The charge was higher than other clubs, but the higher cover charge meant the drinks were cheaper.

After turning your jackets into the coat room and getting your tickets, which you tucked into the safety of your clutches, you made your way to the bar, keeping a firm hold on Youngji’s hand as she led the way through the throngs of people on the dance floor. The music the DJ played was always a good mix of different genres that always got people dancing. He definitely knew what he was doing.

At the bar, you squeezed between the other patrons, next to your best friend so you could order something simple. There were several bartenders, bustling about as they got drink orders, made drinks, stocked the station, and other usual duties that came with the job. You ordered something with cherries.

When you got your drink, you were surprised to find it was green with green cherries. The bartender, a very attractive man with a black button down under a black vest, gave you a wink as he set the drink down before you. You thanked him but before you could hand him your card, Youngji beat you to it, opening a tab and telling you it was on her tonight.

After getting your drinks, you nursed them at the end of the bar as you looked around for either an empty seat or table. Youngji must have spotted one because she grabbed your hand and started steering you away from the bar and around the dance floor. As you neared the corner, you noticed two empty chairs and quickly snagged them, thankful to find somewhere to sit.

“How is that?” Youngji asked, eyeing your very green drink. You glanced down at it. “It’s good,” you replied over the bass that reverberated through the club and vibrated against your feet. Youngji silently held her hand out for your drink which you handed over. She took a sip, eyes widening as she handed it back. “That’s good, what is it?” she asked. You shrugged as you took another sip. “No idea,” you replied. “I taste sprite and melon though,” you added, taking another sip.

You continued to nurse your drinks as you listened to the music and watched the other patrons. One of the main reasons you came out here was to people-watch. It was fascinating to see how others interacted, especially strangers. When you finished your drink, Youngji got up and went to retrieve two more, bringing back two of the same drink you had received from the bartender.

“It’s some special drink for the night,” Youngji said as she sat down, handing you one of the drinks. “Mean Green or something like that,” she added. You took another sip, enjoying the taste. It was one of those drinks where you could barely taste the alcohol and in your experience with the club scene, you were well aware that drinks that tasted like juice were dangerous.

The alcohol had a way of sneaking up on you.

After downing a second and eventually a third drink, you were loose enough to throw your inhibitions away and join your best friend on the dance floor. The music, a mix of a couple sounds you’d heard in passing, played, drowning out almost all other sound as you enjoyed this time you got to spend with your best friend.

When you first moved to this city after graduating from college, which felt like a lifetime ago, Youngji was one of the first people you met. She worked at your last job. You were both fresh out of college, in debt, and needing work so entry level was the only thing you could find.

Youngji had immediately latched onto you and quickly became your closest work friend. After a few years of attempting to make your way up the corporate ladder, you found a much better paying job and Youngji was the first to encourage you to go for it. When you left, you had expected that your friendship with Youngji wouldn’t last but she continued to text and call, inviting you out and your friendship blossomed into more than just coworkers. You became actual friends.

Eventually, she left that job as well and went in a completely different direction in her career and now you were both settled and comfortable in your careers. Youngji lived in the city in a cute apartment on the edge of downtown that overlooked the river while you lived in a townhouse which had been a gift from your late aunt.

The next logical step now that you were settled was finding someone to share your life with but you weren’t in a rush to find anyone. Youngji was also in that stage where she was looking but not too seriously. You were just enjoying your life and living vicariously.

As the music changed again, Youngji leaned in to speak into your ear. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” she said over the music. You nodded to show you understood and told her you’d wait right there. You were having too much fun, feeling the music and dancing. You were well past the stage where you felt embarrassed or too anxious to do anything by yourself.

As your body swayed, your eyes shut and you continued to move to the beat. The lights seemed to mimic the crowd, dancing over the people in time to the music. You started to turn when you felt a warm body press into you from behind. Your eyes snapped open instantly, knowing it was impossible for it to be your best friend. They were too tall.

Turning in their hold, your eyes met those same green-yellow ombre eyes.

“Well, hello, neighbor,” Joshua said, an amused smirk on his face as he looked down at you.

“J-Joshua?” you asked, your voice barely audible over the music. Your body had stopped swaying as you stared back at him. “What’re you doing here?” He tilted his head curiously, those yellow-green eyes staring into your soul and seemingly glowing under the club lights.

“It’s a club, Y/N,” he answered. “I’m here to partake in this…” he trailed off, looking around at the dancing patrons surrounding you. “Revelry.” You stared up at him, heart pounding in your chest and echoing in your ears. “Am I not supposed to be here?” he asked, moving closer until his body was pressed right up against yours.

“Is this your special place? Should I find somewhere else to go and watch the people of this planet drink and make fools of themselves?” he asked, hands skimming over your hips as he drew you closer, holding you tight against him. You shook your head, staring at him wordlessly. “No,” you finally said, breath leaving your lungs as he leaned in closer.

“No,” you said again, clearing your throat and finding the will to push him back. “I’m uh…” you hesitated, closing your eyes and your brow furrowing. The club had started to spin and you were getting dizzier and dizzier by the minute. “Y/N?” Joshua asked, hands gently grabbing yours. “Are you alright?” he asked. You shook your head, attempting to shake yourself out of whatever this was.

You looked up at him as his face came back into focus. “Yeah,” you gasped. “I’m fine. I need to go find my friend. Enjoy your night.” You pulled away from him and started to push through the crowd only for him to catch up to you, gently grabbing your hand. “Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked, all amusement gone from his expression, replaced only with concern.

You forced a smile and nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay. Have a good night, neighbor,” you said, attempting to banter back with him. Whatever it was in your tone seemed to work and a small smile came over his face. “Alright, neighbor.”

You quickly found Youngji and after telling her about your almost spill on the dance floor, she agreed it was time to leave. You left out the part about running into Joshua as you retrieved your jackets while Youngji closed her tab at the bar. Outside, you waited for your rideshare on the sidewalk. The line for the club now extended down the side of the building and around the corner.

Your uber arrived shortly after stepping outside and after dropping Youngji off at her apartment, the driver took you back to your home in the suburbs. You thanked him, handing over an additional tip as you opened your door and stepped out.

The walk up to your front door was slow and sluggish and your body felt hot, despite the cool night air. It was a heat that radiated from deep within you and you couldn’t quite place it. Perhaps it was the alcohol but it didn’t feel quite right. As you unlocked your door, a car passed on the street behind you but you paid it no mind as you let yourself into your home, shutting and locking the door behind you.

You dragged yourself upstairs after checking to make sure your home was locked up and barely stripped yourself of your dress and shoes before collapsing into bed where exhaustion and sleep overtook you. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or the run in with your handsome neighbor, but your dreams that night were weird to say the least.

Weirder than usual.

When you woke the following morning, you couldn’t really remember much of them other than your neighbor starred in them and they were accompanied by that same deep seated heat that had thankfully dissipated by morning. The rest of your weekend was spent doing chores. You cleaned your house, did the laundry, and the dishes.

The morning had started out very gray and by afternoon, the clouds hadn’t dispersed and a light rain had settled in. You decided to light a few candles and camp out in the front room in front of your TV while you folded your laundry and caught up on your favorite show.

The rest of the day passed in a similar fashion and soon you were falling into bed.

Your sleep was plagued with the same strange dreams with Joshua. You weren’t sure what it all meant and you weren’t able to learn anything else as you woke up abruptly when your alarm cut through your subconscious. It was still dark out when you pulled yourself out of bed to shower and start your day.

It was the one day a week you were required to be in the office. Your job was mostly work from home but you had to go to the office every Monday for in person weekly meetings which were always done on Mondays. The commute to the office was the worst part, driving downtown, parking in the company parking garage, and making your way to the lobby and then up to the fifteenth floor.

The day dragged on but you were thankful that it was just today that you would be required to go in and then you could lounge about at home and get your work done. When the clock finally read half past four, you were beyond relieved to be leaving and heading home.

The commute back was much more enjoyable due to less traffic and you weren’t required to head back for another week.

You pulled into your garage and got out, letting yourself into the house where you were quick to rid yourself of your jacket and shoes. As you headed into your living room, you caught sight of the mail truck outside and sighed. ‘Right,’ you told yourself. ‘The mail.’

You retrieved your shoes and put them on at the front door, stepping out into the cool air and making your way down the steps. As you were halfway to the gate, you noticed a familiar face at the mailboxes and stopped in your tracks. Joshua. You were contemplating turning around and head back in to wait until he was gone but when his eyes flickered up and he caught sight of you, it was too late.

You committed and continued down the pathway, opening your gate and stepping out onto the sidewalk. “Hey neighbor,” Joshua said as he unlocked his slot, pulling out his mail and shutting it before stepping aside and allowing you to do the same. He sorted through his mail, checking to make sure it was all assigned to him while you pulled your own bills and other junk from your little metal box.

“Hey,” you said softly. As you shut the small door, locking it, Joshua spoke up. “Are you feeling any better?” he asked, his voice sounding genuinely concerned. You looked up at him. With a smile you nodded. “Yeah,” you answered. “Just tired from the day. Had to go into the office today.” He glanced down, taking note of your attire. “So where do you work?” he asked,

“Just at a firm downtown,” you answered. “I mostly work from home but once a week, I have to go into the office. Makes my Mondays just that more awful,” you joked with a light chuckle. Joshua mimicked your amusement. “What do you do?” he asked, sounding mildly curious.

You spent the next couple minutes explaining the nuances of your job and what you did on a day to day basis. “It sounds much more tedious than it is,” you added. “It’s not a glamorous or highly important job,” you added. “But it pays really well. Allows me to live a comfortable life.” Joshua nodded slowly.

“And rent such a beautiful home?” he asked, a smile gracing his face. You shook your head. “No,” you answered. “I actually own my townhome.” His expression shifted to awe. “Your salary covers your mortgage?” he asked, sounding impressed. You shook your head. “No,” you answered. “I actually inherited this place from my aunt,” you explained.

Joshua leaned against the gate, glancing back at your place. “It’s a beautiful home,” he said with a smile. You echoed his expression. “My aunt loved this place. She took great care of it and actually renovated it from the bottom to the top.” Joshua glanced down at you. “She did a great job.”

You looked up to meet his gaze. Silence fell as you stared at one another. Finally you broke eye contact and cleared your throat. “So, uh,” you stared. “What about you? What do you do for work?” Joshua’s smile shifted into a smirk for the briefest of moments but before he could answer, you heard the sound of a phone ringing. He apologized softly, digging into his pocket and pulling out his phone.

His eyes read the contact on the screen and you watched as his brow furrowed slightly. He finally looked up at you. “Sorry,” he said with a kind smile. “I have to take this. It was nice talking to you,” he continued. “Enjoy the rest of your evening,” he added before turning away and heading towards his own gate, answering his phone and holding it to his ear.

You watched as he headed towards his front door and disappeared into his home before making your way back to your own front door. Once inside, you went about your night, making dinner, eating, and then settling down for bed. As you lay there, your mind wandered back to Joshua.

You’d never really bothered to get to know your neighbors before, at least nothing past surface level.

Perhaps just this once, you could make an exception.

Over the next couple days, you continued to run into Joshua, whether it be at the mailbox or the store. You managed to chat with him each time and learned more and more about him. He worked in the entertainment industry but kept the details vague which you could understand for that line of work. You also learned that apart from being extremely good-looking, kind, and hardworking, that he was also very single and had signed at least a two year lease on the townhouse next door. Since it was just him, he’d turned one of the extra bedrooms into a home gym.

He seemed almost as interested in you as you were in him but despite the occasional flirting, he never really made a move. He also never said or did anything that made you feel uncomfortable and after a couple weeks of interacting with him, his inhuman qualities started to feel less shocking and the feeling of alertness or danger that had accompanied him started to dissipate into the background.

You knew he wasn’t human but that didn’t seem to bother you or anyone else around the two of you.

Nearly two months had passed by since Joshua had moved in. It was Friday which meant the weekend was coming up. Youngji was coming over as planned for dinner and Joshua had managed to catch you outside while you were getting your mail.

Joshua had started a new home project now that the weather was starting to warm up and you caught him in the middle of gardening. He was dressed in an old pair of jeans, the knees stained with grass and dirt, a plain white tee shirt, also smeared with bits of dirt tucked into his jeans and a dirty pair of work boots. He was leaning against the fence that separated your yards, a pair of gardening gloves on his hands, and a trowel in one hand.

You had been in the midst of conversation when you heard a car door shut and glanced out towards the street to find Youngji gathering her bag from the passenger seat of her car. She looked up as she reached the gate and her eyes went wide. “Youngji!” you said, waving her over. This was the first time she had come over while Joshua was out so this was the first time she’d ever seen your neighbor.

“This is Joshua,” you said as she let herself in, staring wide-eyed at your neighbor as she approached. Joshua removed one of his gloves and extended a hand for her to shake. She slowly took it, eyes still wide and staring at him, almost as if she were in a trance. Joshua seemed to have that effect on most people he met. She finally shook herself out of it. “N-nice to meet you,” she murmured, retracting her hand quickly after shaking Joshua’s hand a couple times.

The interaction seemed a little cold from your perspective. “Joshua’s started a new project,” you said, trying to break the tension that started to build between the three of you. “He’s built a flower bed here,” you explained. “What are you planting again?” you asked him directly.

Youngji listened silently as Joshua explained what he was planting in the flower bed before explaining the other plans for the yard he had. Throughout the whole thing, Youngji kept staring at him, occasionally glancing at you. Finally, you excused yourself and Youngji, wishing Joshua a good rest of the day and leading your best friend into your home.

Once inside and the door shut, you rounded on Youngji.

“What the hell was that?” you demanded as she kicked her shoes off and carried her bag over to the couch, dropping it on the cushion and sat down, covering her mouth with her hand. “Ji?” you asked, walking over to the couch. “What is it?”

Youngji looked up at you. “Do you have any idea who that was?” she asked. You nodded your head slowly. “Uh, yeah? That was Joshua. My new neighbor,” you answered. Youngji shook her head. “No,” she said. “I mean, yeah. He is your new neighbor but do you know who he is?” she asked. You stared at her, confusion spreading across your face.

“No?” you finally answered. Youngji let out a laugh, not of amusement but of astonishment. “Your new neighbor, the boy next door,” she started as she pulled her hand away from her mouth. “Is a porn star.”

Your stomach flipped at her revelation. “What?” you asked incredulously. “A p-porn star? No,” you said, shaking your head. “There’s no way. You have to be mistaken.” Youngji watched as you crossed in front of her to take a seat on the other part of the sofa. “He is,” she retorted. “He’s actually a really popular one. There aren’t that many alien porn stars out there,” she continued and you sat up, holding up your hand to silence her.

“I’m sorry,” you interrupted. “What did you just say? A what porn star?”

Youngji stared at you, a deadpan expression on her face. “An alien one,” she finally answered. “An alien porn star?” you repeated before bursting into laughter. “How do you even know this?” you finally asked when your laughter subsided. You watched red creep up your friend’s neck and face. “That’s not the point,” she said nervously, fidgeting in her seat.

“The point is that your neighbor is a porn star from another planet.”

Later that night after Youngji left, you were sitting on your couch, a movie playing in the background but you weren’t paying attention. Your mind was elsewhere. You glanced over the back of the couch towards your office where you could see your computer sitting on your desk in the darkness of the room.

Your curiosity was peaked but you weren’t even sure if you wanted to act on it. You weren’t exactly afraid of what you might find, but more afraid that you would like it. Youngji hadn’t given you much to go on other than a link. You stared at the computer for a moment longer before sighing and getting up.

Entering your office, you grabbed your laptop and took it back to your couch, setting it on the coffee table and producing a pair of earbuds that you paired to the laptop. Grabbing your phone, you opened your texts with Youngji and typed the link she had sent you into the address bar of your browser exactly as it appeared in the text.

It took you to a dark webpage with three large electric green tentacles, curling up around a singular rectangular box with rounded corners. Glowing and dripping green text read the word enter with a little green arrow pointing to the right. You hovered your mouse over it, checking the link properly to make sure you typed it correctly.

“Just do it,” you whispered to yourself. You clicked on the arrow and the page seemingly refreshed. The page had changed and now you were greeted with the same black page, green tentacles and an empty box with a typing cursor. Glowing and dripping green text instructed you to type in a name before allowing you to continue.

You pondered for a moment. You could keep the name vague but something deep down in you wanted Joshua to know that you knew about his career in the entertainment industry. He’d been purposefully vague when telling you and now you knew why. Alien porn star wasn’t exactly a career you’d go around advertising. Smiling to yourself, you typed into the box and clicked the little arrow next to your new display name.

Immediately, you were met with the home page. It was like the rest of the website you’d seen so far. Dark background, glowing green text but instead of the three large tentacles in the middle of the page, extending up from the bottom of the screen, there were a bunch of smaller tentacles peeking out from around the edge of the browser.

At the top of the page was a banner with a logo for the name of the website. It read Xeno-rotic in that same glowing green text that dripped down. Under it were various navigation buttons ranging from ‘home’ to ‘contact.’ Under that was a small search bar with a little green magnifying glass. You started to scroll, checking out the home page.

It displayed a list of active streams, a thumbnail with the name of the stream, the user who was live with a little slow blinking green dot, as well as a small description and a little green eye icon next to how many viewers were currently watching. You scrolled down to the bottom of the page where a little simple white arrow pointed to the right, indicating a next page.

Instead of clicking, you scrolled back up to the top. When you reached the top of the list, it refreshed and a couple new streams showed up. Once of which was at the very top and quickly gaining a lot of viewers. You looked at the username and checked your text from Youngji. The username of the top stream matched the one she had sent you.

You mouse hovered over the thumbnail and for a moment, you sat unmoving, unblinking as you contemplated just closing the whole thing and pretending this never happened but your curiosity was too strong and you’d already come this far. Taking a deep breath, you clicked on the stream and waited with baited breath as the page loaded. It was a lot like the home page but instead of a list, you were greeted with an embedded video player. The screen of the player was black with a circular loading icon, a glowing green one.

Just as you were about to back out and close your browser, the blackness flickered away and you were greeted by the sight of a figure moving on screen. “Sorry, sorry,” a familiar voice said. “For those of you just joining, the audio cut out so I’m trying to fix that.” Your heart skipped a beat as your neighbor’s face came into view, from the nose up. He was very close to the screen but you could tell he was smiling just from the way his eyes turned into crescents.

“I’ll have it fixed in a second,” he added before disappearing. You could see below the video was a white chat box with black text. It was going crazy with chats from various users. Off to the side of the player was a small box displaying a few names with little alien icons next to them. Above the names was the same green text that read “supporters.” You assumed it was some sort of payment system. If you paid so much, your name was shown in that tier.

Joshua’s face reappeared in frame and he peeked over the edge of the desk his computer was sitting on. “How’s that?” he asked. His voice was clear and the video also seemed clearer. Several people in the chat agreed with your personal sentiments, applauding him for fixing the audio and video feeds so swiftly. Joshua chuckled as he stood up and you could now see he had changed out of his gardening clothes. He was wearing a black tee and a pair of light gray sweatpants.

The chat went absolutely feral over this revelation.

You watched with amusement as Joshua leaned in to read the chat. “Oh is that so?” he asked, raising a brow, a playful smile appearing on his face. “We’ve only just started, chat, and already you’re demanding I remove my clothes?” he continued, a teasing laugh leaving his lips, “At least buy me dinner, first.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you at watching him banter with his viewers. It wasn’t unlike the way he teased and flirted with you. He was a natural at it. You watched as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes scanning the chat. “No, no,” he said softly. “It’s not out yet. It should be coming in the next couple months. We finished filming a few months ago. There was a lot of post production they needed to do before it’s ready,” he explained and you wondered what he was talking about and started reading the chat.

t3ntacleluver101: how was filming? It’s been a while right? knottyxbunny: hi shua! xen0ph1liac: i love you shua b34mmeupdaddy: beam me up daddy asstr0nut: will physical copies be released or will it only be available for streaming?

Based on the comments you could make out as the chat moved at lightning speed, Joshua must have finished filming something. He confirmed this as he answered some of the questions you had seen.

“No, it’ll be released for streaming first and then physical copies will go out to adult stores. You’ll also be able to buy it directly from the company website,” he explained, answering that question first. You watched as he reached up, scratching the back of his head. “Filming was different,” he continued. “It’s been a while since I’d been in front of a professional crew,” he added with a chuckle. “I’ve been doing cam stuff for so long that I got used to just being in front of a camera on my own. It was weird having to act again,” he continued stretching before leaning forward, resting his chin in his hand as he read more.

“I’m seeing a lot of familiar usernames,” he said with a smile. “Hi bunny,” he added. You watched his eyes scan the screen and assumed that he might have a list of all the viewers on his end. You watched his brows raise before a smirk came over his face.

“Here’s a few new ones,” he started. “Hi monster smasher sixty-nine, I hope I said that right. Here’s another, black hole bandit,” he read, letting out a chuckle. “Clever,” he continued. “He loves me not, with a k. Oh, a play on words. How cute,” he continued. “Scum lord four-two-one, I’m a monster for you, and…” he trailed off as he read the next one, his grin widening.

“Neighbor six-eight-three,” he read your username aloud and your heart skipped a beat as he looked into the camera. “Hello, neighbor,” he said and you swore he knew it was you. “Welcome to the stream everyone. I guess I’ve taken up most of the beginning of this,” he said sitting back in his seat, slowly swiveling back and forth as he continued to read the screen.

You watched as his hands moved and he did something with the mouse. “There,” he said, turning his head slightly. “Now I can see the chat and viewer list on this screen,” he said, sitting back once more. “For those of you that are new,” he started as he rested his hands behind his head, sitting back with his thighs spread, looking every bit as comfortable as he probably felt.

“I like to do things a little differently here. Most cam stars will only take suggestions from paying viewers,” he explained. “I don’t think that’s fair. So I will take suggestion and direction from paying viewers, of course, but don’t think that if you can’t pay, that I won’t listen to you as well. I want everyone to have a good time and enjoy the show,” he said with a smile. “It’s why I don’t charge an entry fee like some of the other stars here. I’m not shaming them by any means,” he continued.

“Everyone’s gotta do what they can to make money,” he added. “I just personally don’t like to do that.” You watched as he continued to swivel, turning his focus to the screen with the chat on it. “Oh come on now,” he said playfully. “Bunny, Xeno, Beam,” he said. “Be kind to our new guests. Don’t hog the chat. Remember what happened last time? I had to mute you because you wouldn’t stop spamming. Don’t make me do that again.”

A wave of heat washed over you, arousal shooting straight to your core at the sound of his voice. His voice was soft but his tone was very commanding and stern. Joshua lowered his hands, resting them on his thighs as he continued to read. You tore your gaze away from him to look at the chat as well.

b34mmeupdaddy: sorry alien daddy knottyxbunny: sorry. I’ll be good xen0ph1liac: just wanna express my luv ):

You heard Joshua chuckle and looked back at him. “It’s okay Beam, and you better Bunny. You know what happens when you don’t behave. I know Xeno, and I appreciate it, but we have six new viewers,” he said with a smile. “Don’t be shy, say hi, he encouraged. You watched as the others said hello and hi in the chat.

imamonster4u: howdy 🤠 heluvsmekn0t34: hi hi m0nstersmasher69: greetings scumlord421: yo blackh0leb4ndit: hey 👋

You realized that you were the sixth and you hesitated to type. Joshua noticed, the corners of his mouth twitching as he held back the urge to smirk. “Come on, neighbor,” he said. “You’re holding up the chat.” Your fingers hovered over the keys of your keyboard and you quickly typed out a response and deleted it before typing another in and pressing enter. Your whole body felt like it was on fire.

neighbor683: i don’t like being told what to do

You watched as Joshua sat up straight, leaning in to rest his chin in his hand, a smile spreading across his face as he read your message. “Oh, is that right, neighbor?” he asked, turning to look at the camera. “Don’t like being told what to do? How interesting.” The chat went wild, other viewers rushing to repeat the same words but Joshua’s attention was on the camera, almost as if he was staring past it and into your eyes. “I’ll have to remember that,” he finally said and pulled away.

He didn’t waste any more time as payments started coming in with suggestions as well as the chat asking him to show more, to talk, to do anything. You merely observed, watching as he gave a show, slowly moving his hands over his body until one rested over the growing bulge in his sweatpants.

“You’ve been so patient,” he said, eyes flitting over to the chat but speaking to no one in particular.

Or so you thought.

“Wonder what I am, where I’m from, what I do,” he continued, his hand moving over his erecting and palming himself through the thick material of his sweats. “Wonder what’s under here,” he added, gesturing to his crotch. “I look human enough,” he continued. “But I’m far from it.”

You watched as he rested his head back against his chair headrest, his chest slowly rising and falling as his breathing started to grow heavier. “You wanna see it?” he asked, the hint of a smirk on his face. “Wanna see what I’m hiding under here?”

You could see the chat moving at hyperspeed as the viewers threw out their own suggestions and pleaded with him to take something off. His hand slipped under the waistband of his sweats and you could see a peek of his underwear. You watched his hand move under the material, no doubt fingers wrapping around his shaft and slowly starting to pump himself.

You were on the edge of your seat, eyes glued to your screen as you watched him, his eyes fluttering shut as his hips started to buck, fucking his fist a little faster. You watched as a large payment, some four figures, appeared on screen with a single request: show us.

Joshua let out a breathless chuckle, his free hand grabbing his waistband. “As you wish.” he said and you watched, lips parted in awe as he pushed his sweats and underwear down, pulling his cock free from the confines. Or what you could only assume was his cock.

Despite his eyes, the teeth, and the overall feeling that Joshua was far from human, he was still human looking enough that when you looked at him, you could justify that he was wearing contacts and had fake teeth but when you saw what he was hiding under his clothes, at least his pants, all justification of him being human was thrown out the window.

In his hand was something that resembled a cock, just not a human one.

The base of it rested against a slit telling you that whatever this was, it was retractable. Meaning it withdrew inside of him when not in use. The color of it was what threw you. The base, which was slightly bulbous, was a deep crimson. The shaft was veiny and quite girthy but it also had small ribbed like patterns that wrapped around.

As your eyes were drawn up the shaft, the color faded from the deep crimson color to a lighter, more pale red. When you reached the head, you finally let out a soft gasp. It was a very soft pink. The absolute tip of his cock was a darker pink. The head was pointed, almost like an arrow shape, the base of the head slightly flared. It was like nothing you’d ever seen before and would probably ever see.

From base to tip, it was probably a good seven inches, so it wasn’t massive but you were certain that it would definitely fill whatever hole he decided to put it in. You watched his hand glide up the shaft towards the head and noticed a small bead of a translucent, pink liquid, almost like a pink syrup, drip from the slit of his cock. ‘Precum?’ you wondered to yourself.

You watched as he gathered the viscous liquid and spread it along his cock, making his hand glide smoother. Joshua let out a low groan, eyes fluttering shut as he continued to stroke himself, hand moving a little faster. It was a mesmerizing sight. The way his precum seemed to shimmer in the light of his room. You cou;dn’t seem to look away. As another bead of the pink precum appeared, you wondered what it tasted like.

Before you could stop yourself, your fingers were typing into the chat. Joshua’s eyes opened as you hit enter and he slowed his movements so he could focus on reading. You watched as he lifted his head and stared at the screen with the chat on it. “Taste it?” he asked, curiously. He turned to look at the camera. You typed quickly into the chat.

neighbor683: have you ever tasted your own precum before?

Joshua let out a chuckle. “I have,” he said with a nod before turning to look at the camera. “Do you want to taste it, neighbor? You wanna come over and see what my cock tastes like?” Your thighs pressed together on their own, as if you weren’t in control of your body. You didn’t care about the rest of the chat at this point and you weren’t sure if Joshua did either.

neighbor683: how about you come over here instead

Joshua let out another chuckle, his hand moving up and down his cock again, spreading more of the precum. “You want me to come over?” he asked, his head falling back against his headrest again. “Want me to come over and fuck that cute, tight little human cunt?”

The chat was going wild over your interaction but you didn’t care as you typed another response.

neighbor683: do it. I dare you.

Joshua let out a moan, low and pornographic as his cock twitched and he came onto his stomach. Thick ropes of milky pink painted his golden skin as he continued to pump his hand up and down, making sure to get everything out. You watched, eyes wide and underwear sticking to you, as his chest rose and fell, his breathing erratic and heavy.

The chat was still going off when he finally opened his eyes and lifted his head. “I wasn’t expecting to cum so soon,” he said softly as he sat up and reached off screen for something, producing a few tissues which he used to clean himself off with. “I’ll have to take another shower,” he said with an amused smirk as he wiped his stomach and hand. His cock had gone flaccid and started to retreat back inside his body. He pulled his underwear and pants back up, hiding it from view.

“Let me wash my hands really quick,” he said as he got to his feet.

He disappeared for a few moments, all the while, you sat there, staring at your screen in disbelief as the chat demanded to know what was going on. You saw your username being thrown around a few times. Without saying anything, you closed the browser, your screen going back to your desktop. Wordlessly, you shut your laptop, got to your feet and carried the device back to your office.

Setting it on your desk, you glanced out the window where you could see Joshua’s yard, the small flower garden barely visible in the darkness. As you shut your blinds, you headed back out into the living room, not noticing the dark shadow that crossed his yard and hopped the fence.

As you grabbed your empty cup from the coffee table, you were unaware of the footsteps ascending your front steps. It wasn’t until three sharp knocks rang out from your front door that you knew someone was there. You looked up from the sink. Had Joshua decided to make good on your dare? Or was he here to reprimand you?

You hesitated before wiping your hands on a towel and walked over to the front door. You knew it was Joshua without checking and unlocked the door, pulling it open and bracing for impact.

There he stood on your porch, still dressed in the same sweats and black tee. As the door opened, he turned to look at you, those piercing yellow-green eyes meeting your gaze. Nothing was said for a moment before he took the chance to look you over, a smirk slowly spreading across his face.

“Enjoy the show?” he asked, leaning against your doorframe. You swallowed thickly. “Look,” you started. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have watched—”

“Why are you apologizing?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. You looked up at him. “I… I don’t know,” you answered. “Are… aren’t you upset?” Joshua stared at you before letting out a laugh. “Upset? That my attractive neighbor now knows I’m a sex worker? No,” he answered. “And since you just sat there and watched from start to finish, I’m going to assume you aren’t upset?” he asked.

You shook your head. “No,” you answered. “Good,” Joshua replied. “So, you still want me to come over?” he asked, his tone lowering. Excitement coursed through you at the prospect of seeing in person what you’d seen on your screen. “I uh,” you started. “Don’t you need some time to … you know?”

Joshua chuckled as he leaned in closer. “You’re really cute when you’re flustered,” he said. “I’m not human,” he started. “Give me like five minutes and I’ll be more than ready to go.”

“Oh,” you said softly. “Do you wanna come back in five minutes or—”

“Just let me in and eat you out already,” he said with a smirk. You could feel your arousal pooling in your panties. “Besides,” he added as you stepped back, letting him into your home. “It smells like you could use some release.” You stared up at him in shock as he shut the door behind him. “Alien, remember?” he said, tapping his nose.

You watched him look around your living room. “Nice place,” he said with a nod. He looked down, meeting your gaze and neither of you moved or spoke for a moment. “So,” he started. “We gonna do this right here on the floor or you wanna show me to your room?”

Without any more prompting, you took his hand and led him up the stairs, leading him down the hall to your bedroom. Inside, you watched him look around curiously. “You can tell so much about a person by what they decorate their room with,” he said softly as he neared your bed, running the tips of his fingers over your bedspread.

You walked over as he turned towards you and let out a laugh as you pushed him down onto the bed, falling onto his butt with a bounce. “You’re so eager,” he said with a chuckle. You started to climb onto the bed, straddling his lap. “Just right into it, huh?” he whispered as your hands rested on his shoulders. You could feel his move up your back. “Have you watched any of my films?” he asked, his voice still soft. When you shook your head no, he smiled. “Good,” he said with a nod.

“I’d rather you didn’t have any expectations. The way I fuck in front of a camera is not how I do it off screen,” he explained, his hands sliding down your back and moving to your waist. “Do you have a safeword?” he asked, his voice still soft. “Cherries,” you whispered. Joshua reached up, cupping your cheek. “Good,” he replied. “Tell me what you like,” he continued, his hand sliding down the side of your neck, watching how you reacted, head tilting back slightly.

His fingers wrapped around your neck and you let out a moan as he squeezed gently. “Choking, got it,” he said, his voice slightly amused. “Anything else?” he asked, his hand sliding down to your chest and smoothing over your breast. “Dom-” your voice cut off. “What was that?” he asked. You licked your lips, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Dominate me.”

The minute the words left your lips, Joshua had done a complete 180, flipping you onto your back on the mattress and hovering over you. “Are you sure you want that?” he asked softly, eyes searching your face. You nodded slowly. “Yes,” you breathed out. “Take me.”

You didn’t have a chance to say anything else as Joshua’s lips crashed against yours, muffling a gasp as his hands wandered. He pulled back briefly. “Can I take this off?” he asked, gently tugging at your top. You nodded. “Take it all off, please,” you replied. Joshua chuckled as you pulled him into another kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

His spit was different from your own. Whereas yours was watery, his was thicker, more viscous. It had a slight taste to it. Something you couldn’t place. It was almost tangy but oh so subtle. Joshua’s hands pulled your shirt up and he broke away to pull it off entirely, tossing it aside as his eyes drank in your appearance. “I like this,” he murmured, fingers skimming over the black lace of your bra.

“But I’d like to take it off,” he added, looking to you for permission. You granted it with a nod and sat up, helping him undo the garment so he could slip it off and toss it aside. He guided you back down onto the bed, lips leaving a trail of kisses down the side of your neck to your collar. He continued, kissing down your chest, stopping to swirl the tip of his tongue around one of your nipples before continuing on until his lips met the waistband of your shorts.

He lifted his head but before he could ask, you were shimmying out of both your shorts and underwear, tossing them aside. Joshua let out a chuckle as he placed his hands on your knees, pushing your thighs apart. His eyes swept downward, taking in your nude form until they settled on the space between your thighs, your arousal glistening in the dim light of your bedside lamp.

You watched as his tongue slipped out to wet his lips. “I could probably just slide right in,” he said softly. “But where’s the harm in having a little taste,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eye as he lowered himself onto his stomach, head between your legs. He pushed your thighs further apart, fingers digging into your flesh. “Just a little taste,” he repeated.

Your head fell back against the pillows, a soft moan leaving your lips as his tongue met your clit, dragging slowly over it. On the surface, his tongue looked a lot like a humans but now that you could feel it, you could feel what felt like millions of small spines, like a cat's tongue only on a much smaller scale. It felt incredible and each pass over your clit had your back arching off the mattress as you moaned loudly, the sound unrestrained in the privacy of your bedroom.

True to his word, Joshua only had a small taste, groaning against you as he lapped at your essence. When he pulled back, he sat back on his heels and tugged his shirt off, dropping it aside before also shuffling out of his pants and underwear. The same cock you’d seen on the live stream was barely peeking out of the slit but quickly pushed its way out.

Joshua glanced up at you, a smirk on his lips. “You wanna taste it?” he asked, drawing your attention. You looked back down at his cock before nodding, your eye watching the way the small bead of pinkish precum caught the light. Joshua swiped his thumb over the slit, catching the liquid and brought his hand to your face, offering it to you.

Opening your mouth, you stuck your tongue out and Joshua let out a low chuckle before smearing the fluid over your tongue. Immediately you closed your mouth, swallowing. It was like nothing you’d ever experienced. Most human precum was salty but this was almost… fruity. There was a distinct taste of fruit, maybe a berry but you couldn’t fully place it. One thing was certain tho.

It definitely tasted like it looked.

There was a dull tingle that accompanied the taste and it started where the precum made contact with your tongue but started to slowly spread across your whole tongue and soon your mouth. It slowly spread down your throat, into your stomach and extending further until it settled low in your belly. A heat started to radiate from your belly, spreading throughout your whole body.

Joshua watched as your breathing started to quicken, your heart hammering in your chest. Arousal started to drip down and seep into your bedspread. “What is that?” you asked, referring to the tingling heat. Joshua chuckled. “It’s a natural aphrodisiac,” he explained. “My species secretes it during foreplay to prolong intercourse.”

He leaned over, his fingers wrapping around your throat. “You still want this?” he asked, to which you nodded. “Then do exactly what I tell you,” he said before roughly rolling you onto your stomach. He pulled your hips back, pulling you onto your knees. You felt his hand on your back between your shoulder blades, pushing your chest down. “Stay just like that,” he said in your ear as he moved your arms under your head. “You might want to hold on, baby,” he added as he guided the flared head of his cock to your dripping slit.

You felt the pointed tip enter you and let out a gasp before the rest of the head of his cock followed, pushing into you with ease. Your fingers dug into the sheets as he slowly eased his way in, your walls welcoming the intrusion as he stretched them. You let out a long, low moan as he bottomed out, the bulbous base kissing your entrance and the head of his cock pressing against your cervix. How he even fit inside you was beyond you but it felt even better than you imagined.

Joshua gave you a few moments to adjust before he started moving, setting a slow, steady pace. He had a firm grip on your hips as he thrust into you, the base of his cock hitting your lips with a wet smacking sound. You let out a cry of pleasure as he thrust into you harshly, testing your limits. “Just as warm and tight as I thought, he groaned, picking up the pace.

Each thrust had your toes curling, stars clouding your vision. Pure, unbridled pleasure coursed through you, the aphrodisiac running its course and making you more pliant and increasing your arousal. Joshua’s strength and stamina was a surprise to be sure but he wasn’t human so it wasn’t all too surprising.

“You had a lot to say earlier,” he growled as he wrapped his fingers around your neck from behind and lifted your head, his chest meeting your back as he leaned over you. “But you can’t say anything now. Does it feel good? Do you like how my cock feels inside you?”

You could only mewl and moan in response which only further fueled Joshua’s monologue. “Have I already fucked you dumb, sweetheart?” he panted into your ear, pounding into you from behind. “So pathetic and dumb just from a little bit of alien cock? What a good human slut. Are you gonna be good for me?” he asked, fingers tightening around your neck. You nodded wordlessly, still unable to form a coherent sentence.

“Gonna be a good girl and take it all?” he whispered, holding back a moan as your walls clenched around him. “Mhmm,” you moaned. Joshua let out a growl, hips slamming into you now. The base of his cock was trying to breach your hole and each attempt had you crying out in both pain and pleasure.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Be good and let me in.” With one final thrust, you came, tumbling over the edge as he managed to push the base of his cock into you, locking into place as he came, pumping you full of the same thick milky release you’d seen paint his stomach during the live stream.

“That’s it,” he mumbled as his cock twitched inside you, pumping even more cum. You let out a whine as you felt a slight ache from between your thighs. “Stay still,” Joshua murmured in your ear, his grip on your throat loosening. “Stay still, baby.”

A moan ripped from your throat as you felt the base of his cock start to swell. “What’s that?” you mumbled. You tried to push yourself up but Joshua gently forced you back down. “Just stay still, okay baby? Be good for me.” You did as he asked, receiving praise for your obedience.

After a couple more moments, everything seemed to stop. Chancing a glance downwards, you could see that your lower stomach was slightly distended. Swollen almost. “That was a lot of cum,” Joshua murmured, pressing a couple of soft kisses to your cheek. “But you did so well. Took everything I gave you.” You whined, trying to shift under him but he held your hips still.

“You can’t do that. We’re locked together. If you try to pull away, you’ll only hurt yourself or me. Just stay right there,” he cooed. “What do you mean, locked together?” you asked. “Remember the knot?” he asked softly. You shook your head. “What knot?”

“At the base of my cock is a knot. When I came, I pushed it inside you,” he explained. A brief flash of pain shot through you at the memory. You did remember that. “And then it started to swell,” he continued. “Well, now it’s swollen and locked in place. If I try to pull out, it’ll only hurt. So we have to wait for the swelling to go down before I can pull out,” he added.

You sighed, resting your cheek against the sheets. “How long will that take?” you asked as he gently caressed your thighs, massaging your muscles. “About an hour or so,” he murmured nonchalantly. “An hour?” you asked incredulously, lifting your head. “Mhmm,” he hummed. “About an hour and then you’ll need to go to the bathroom to get all of that out of you,” he added, reaching a hand around to press against your stomach. “And then we can go again,” he said with a smile as he nuzzled against your shoulder.

“I’m not done with you just yet.”

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what-even-is-thiss · 1 day ago

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Since I’ve made this post I’ve consistently been made to regret my wording of that statement. I didn’t think that this post would get this huge so I didn’t provide an actual explanation. I’ve since clarified many times what I actually meant but those versions of this post never seem to be the versions that are actually circulated.

What I was referring to was the invasion of Babur who started the Mughal dynasty which over time conquered much of India. He was known to be quite picky about food and a lot of the types of food he introduced to the subcontinent are still eaten today. At that time I had heard some people credit him with much of the history of Indian food as a whole. I’m not exactly sure anymore how accurate that is but I do believe he had a very large influence.

Again, if I’d known how popular this post would get I either would’ve worded that differently or left it out. I was just writing down facts I remembered and thought were cool and I couldn’t quite remember Babur’s name at the time.

Well I would give a medieval peasant some spaghetti.

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dksfml · 20 hours ago

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Love 119 [Part Four]

The Prequel

part of my paramedic!jungwon series. [part one][part two][part three]

pairing: jungwon x reader summary: the story of how you and jungwon met and fell in love at the most unexpected time and place. genre: countryside romance, strangers to lovers, slight angst, teasing, banter, and fluff (for the earlier parts: enemies at work, lovers at home. workplace romance, secret dating, suggestive, submissive jungwon) word count: 4.6k author's note: prequel to the paramedic jungwon series, but can be read first. shoutout to @tinycatharsis who gave me the idea to make a backstory for this series. i absolutely love writing this part, and all of it just makes sense. enjoy <3 playlist: pink skies - lany, every summertime - niki, orange flower - enhypen, mean it - lauv & lany.

The city had never felt like home.

It was where you spent years chasing deadlines, drowning in textbooks, and memorizing medical terms until they became second nature. It was where you learned to function on caffeine and minimal sleep, where your days blurred into a never-ending cycle of lectures, internships, and hospital rotations. It was where you succeeded but never truly lived.

So when graduation finally arrived, when you were handed that hard-earned diploma with your name written in elegant calligraphy, your first instinct wasn’t to celebrate. It was to escape.

You needed a pause before the next battle. The board exams loomed ahead, but for the first time in years, you had the freedom to breathe. And there was only one place that made sense—home.

Not the sleek apartment in the city. Not the sterile walls of a hospital. But the countryside, where your childhood memories lived.

Where the air smelled of fresh earth instead of smoke and gasoline. Where the horizon stretched endlessly, painted in hues of green and gold. Where the nights weren’t filled with sirens and car horns, but with the steady hum of crickets and the occasional bark of a distant dog.

It had been years since you’d last visited. Your relatives still lived there, cousins who once ran through the fields barefoot, now grown. You imagined their wide-eyed curiosity when they saw you again, the pride in their voices when they introduced you as the family’s doctor-to-be.

And so, with a suitcase packed and a heart yearning for something familiar, you left behind the city’s cold embrace and stepped onto a bus heading toward the place where it all began.

At that moment, you had no idea that this trip would change everything. That buried in the stillness of the countryside, amidst the swaying rice fields and the warmth of home, was a story waiting to unfold.

A story that began with a single glance across a field.

And a boy named Jungwon.

The bus ride stretched long and languid, the road unraveling before you in a winding path of asphalt and dust. The further you traveled, the more the city’s towering buildings shrank into the distance, replaced by rolling hills, scattered nipa huts, and endless fields bathed in the golden afternoon sun.

You leaned against the window, watching as the scenery shifted, the hum of the bus blending with the distant sounds of cicadas. There was something deeply nostalgic about it, how the trees bent with the wind, how farmers worked in synchronized rhythm, their straw hats bobbing as they harvested the rice that swayed like an ocean of gold.

It was a world untouched by the frantic pace of city life. Here, time stretched rather than sprinted, and people moved with purpose but without urgency.

It felt foreign now, yet painfully familiar.

As the bus pulled into the town’s small terminal, you took a deep breath. The air was thick with the scent of freshly harvested crops, warm earth, and a hint of smoke from a nearby food stall grilling skewers of meat. A few vendors called out to passing travelers, selling rice cakes wrapped in banana leaves, baskets of ripe mangoes, and homemade treats that reminded you of childhood afternoons spent sneaking bites before dinner.

Your cousin was already waiting for you.

“Y/N!” she called, waving excitedly from where she stood near a parked tricycle. Her face had changed over the years, the round cheeks of childhood now sharper, more mature. But her smile was the same. Bright, welcoming, and filled with the warmth of home.

You barely had time to react before she threw her arms around you, squeezing tight.

“It’s been so long! You look so—” She stepped back, giving you a once-over, eyes sparkling with mischief. “—so much like a city girl.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She smirked. “You’re gonna hate the heat. And the bugs.”

You already knew she was right. But you weren’t here for comfort. You were here to escape.

The ride back to your family’s house was bumpy, the dirt road uneven beneath the tricycle’s wheels. But the sight of home, your grandmother’s old wooden house, the wide fields stretching into the horizon, the laughter of children playing barefoot in the grass, was enough to make your chest tighten with something indescribable.

You had spent your entire life chasing after something bigger. A career, success, a future that was meant to shine. But sitting there, feeling the wind whip through your hair as the tricycle sped past familiar places, you realized that maybe the small things had always been the most precious.

The first few days passed in a blur of warm reunions and endless storytelling. Your little cousins clung to you, peppering you with questions about the city. They asked if the buildings really touched the sky, if the cars never stopped moving, if it was true that the air smelled different.

You answered them with a smile, but deep down, you envied their simple wonder.

One afternoon, your uncle invited you to the fields. “Just to see,” he said, but the knowing glint in his eyes told you otherwise.

That’s how you found yourself knee-deep in the rice paddies, the sun beating down mercilessly, sweat trickling down your spine as you attempted—poorly—to mimic the careful, practiced movements of the farmers. The mud squelched beneath your feet, and every time an insect buzzed past, you flinched. Your cousins laughed at your misery, their own hands swift and efficient as they gathered the stalks.

And then, you slipped.

It was embarrassing, really. One moment, you were standing, trying your best to pretend you belonged there, and the next, you were on the ground, hands sinking into the thick mud.

Laughter erupted around you, loud and unfiltered. You groaned, about to push yourself up when a shadow fell over you.

A hand appeared in your line of vision, fingers calloused, palm open.

“Need some help, city girl?”

You looked up, squinting against the sunlight.

That was the first time you saw him.

Jungwon.

His dark hair was slightly damp from sweat, his skin slightly tanned from days under the sun. There was an ease in the way he stood, as if he had done this his whole life, and maybe he had. His white shirt was loose, the sleeves rolled up, revealing toned arms that spoke of quiet strength. But what struck you most wasn’t his appearance.

It was the way he looked at you.

Amused. Curious. And just a little bit smug.

You frowned, ignoring his hand as you pushed yourself up, only to stumble again. This time, his hands caught you before you could fall, steadying you with surprising gentleness.

“Careful,” he said, voice tinged with laughter. “This isn’t the city. No smooth pavements here.”

You scowled. “I noticed.”

His lips quirked upward, eyes filled with something unreadable. “Yeah,” he mused. “I bet you did.”

And just like that, the first spark was lit.

You just didn’t know it yet.

You were still trying to shake off the mud from your hands when Jungwon chuckled.

“You sure you don’t need help?” he teased, crossing his arms.

You shot him a glare, brushing your palms against your pants in frustration. “I’m fine.”

Jungwon’s lips twitched as if suppressing a laugh. “Right. Totally looks like it.”

Your cousins were still snickering in the background, whispering to each other like schoolchildren watching a drama unfold. You sent them a warning glance, but that only made them giggle harder.

“Are you always this clumsy, or is it just the countryside that makes you weak?” Jungwon continued, his tone light but undeniably amused.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I don’t usually walk around in knee-deep mud, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Figured as much.” His gaze flickered to your clothes—your crisp white shirt now smeared with dirt, your once-pristine sneakers barely visible under the layers of mud. His smirk deepened. “You don’t exactly blend in here, city girl.”

You bristled at the nickname. “I have a name, you know.”

“Yeah? What is it?”

You hesitated for a split second. You weren’t sure why, but a part of you didn’t want to tell him, not yet. So instead, you crossed your arms and lifted your chin. “Shouldn’t you introduce yourself first?”

Jungwon let out a short laugh, tilting his head. “Fair enough.” He extended his hand, though with all the mud, neither of you seemed eager to actually shake hands. “Jungwon.”

You nodded, pretending not to be impressed by his confidence. “I’ve seen you around.”

“Same,” he said, leaning slightly closer. “Hard not to notice when someone reacts to every little bug like they’re facing death itself.”

You gasped. “I do not!”

He raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Tell that to the grasshopper that made you shriek earlier.”

Your cousins burst into laughter again, and you groaned, throwing your head back in exasperation. “Unbelievable.”

Jungwon only grinned, clearly enjoying this way too much. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from the big, scary insects.”

You rolled your eyes. “How noble of you.”

“I try.”

There was something infuriatingly charming about the way he spoke, his confidence laced with playfulness. You weren’t used to people talking to you like this, teasing, and completely unafraid to push your buttons. In the city, most people were either too polite or too intimidated by your background. But Jungwon? He wasn’t impressed.

And for some reason, that annoyed you.

“You work here?” you asked, trying to change the subject.

“For now,” he replied, kicking some loose dirt with the toe of his boot. “Helping out my family for the summer.”

You frowned. “You don’t usually live here?”

“Nope.” His expression didn’t change, but there was something unreadable in his tone. “I don’t stay in one place for long.”

That caught your attention. You studied him for a moment, trying to figure him out. He didn’t seem like someone who belonged in a quiet town like this. His sharp features, his composed demeanor there was a certain confidence about him, as if he had seen more of the world than this countryside could offer. He moved with an ease that felt practiced, as if he had long learned how to adapt to different places.

And yet, here he was.

“Don’t overthink it, city girl,” Jungwon said, snapping you out of your thoughts. “You’ll hurt your head.”

You scoffed. “What makes you think I’m overthinking?”

He simply shrugged, his eyes glinting. “Call it intuition.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could, your uncle’s voice rang through the fields.

“Y/N! You done embarrassing yourself, or are you staying in the mud all day?”

Jungwon let out a low chuckle, and you sighed dramatically. “Great. My whole family’s against me now.”

Jungwon gave you one last teasing glance before turning to walk away. “Welcome to the countryside.”

As he disappeared into the fields, you couldn’t help but watch him for a moment longer than necessary. There was something about him, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

And somehow, you had the strange feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time he got on your nerves.

The following days followed a steady rhythm. Mornings were filled with the sounds of roosters crowing and the chatter of your relatives preparing for the day. Afternoons were slower, drenched in the golden warmth of the sun, where people found shade under the trees or cooled off with sweet, icy drinks. Evenings were lively, dinners filled with laughter, children running around barefoot, and the sky bursting with stars so bright they almost didn’t seem real.

And somewhere in between all that, is Jungwon.

You saw him more often than you expected.

At first, it was just in passing. Him walking by your cousin’s house to borrow tools, him unloading sacks of rice from a truck, him helping the elders repair fences or lifting baskets filled with freshly harvested crops. You told yourself it was just coincidence, but deep down, you were starting to notice him a little too much.

And unfortunately, he seemed to notice you too.

“You look miserable.”

You turned from where you were standing near the edge of the rice fields, arms crossed as you watched your cousins work. Jungwon stood beside you, hands in his pockets, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“I’m not miserable,” you huffed. “I’m observing.”

“Observing what?”

You hesitated. “Just… how they work.”

Jungwon smirked. “You’re waiting for another chance to embarrass yourself, aren’t you?”

You scowled. “That was one time.”

“And yet, unforgettable.”

You sighed dramatically. “Are you always this annoying?”

“Only when it’s fun.”

You shot him a glare, but he only grinned. There was something frustrating about how effortlessly he could get under your skin. He was never cruel, never outright mocking. But he had a way of teasing you that made you feel like you were constantly playing a game you didn’t realize you signed up for.

Still, you weren’t about to let him have the upper hand.

“So, what do you do?” you asked, tilting your head. “Besides making my life difficult.”

Jungwon raised an eyebrow. “You mean here?”

“I mean in general.”

He hummed, as if considering whether or not he wanted to answer. “A little bit of everything.”

You narrowed your eyes. “That’s vague.”

“Maybe I like being vague.”

You scoffed. “That’s not fair. You ask me all these questions about my life, but you barely give me anything about yours.”

Jungwon shrugged, his lips curling up in amusement. “Maybe I just enjoy hearing you talk.”

That caught you off guard. For a split second, your brain short-circuited, unsure of whether he was messing with you or if there was something else hidden in his words. You opened your mouth to fire back, but before you could, he reached out and flicked a strand of your hair.

“You’ve got straw in your hair,” he said, smirking as he walked away. “City girl.”

You stood there, watching his retreating figure, heart pounding in a way you weren’t sure you liked.

Despite your best efforts, your interactions with Jungwon only increased.

He seemed to have a knack for appearing wherever you were. If you helped prepare meals in the kitchen, he’d conveniently show up to grab a drink. If you sat outside with your cousins, he’d stroll past, making some comment that sparked a new round of teasing from your family. If you took a walk through the fields in the late afternoon, he’d somehow always be nearby, throwing a casual, “Getting used to the bugs yet?” your way.

And then, there were the quieter moments.

One evening, you found yourself sitting on the wooden steps of your cousin’s house, sipping on a cup of cold coconut juice. The air was cooler now, the scent of the day’s labor fading into the crispness of the night.

Jungwon sat down beside you without a word, stretching his legs out in front of him. He rolled the drink in his hands before taking a slow sip. For once, he wasn’t teasing you.

“You like it here?” he asked after a while, his voice quieter than usual.

You glanced at him. “Yeah. It’s peaceful.”

He exhaled through his nose, tilting his head up to the night sky. “Too peaceful.”

You frowned. “Too peaceful?”

Jungwon tapped his fingers against the side of his cup. “I don’t know. I guess I like a little… action.”

You gave him a skeptical look. “What, you want car chases and explosions in the middle of the rice fields?”

He let out a soft chuckle. “Not exactly. Just… something unpredictable. Something fast. Something that makes your heart race.”

Your brows furrowed as you studied him. He didn’t seem like someone who belonged in a place like this, but this was the first time he actually admitted it.

“You get bored here, don’t you?” you asked, watching for his reaction.

Jungwon leaned back on his elbows, gaze fixed on the sky. “Let’s just say… I’m not used to staying still.”

Something about the way he said it made you pause. You wanted to ask more, why he was here in the first place, what kind of life he usually lived, but you hesitated.

Instead, you swirled your drink in your hands. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I think I prefer the quiet.”

Jungwon smirked, turning to you. “Yeah, I can tell. You like your little slow mornings, your countryside sunsets, your cozy little routines.”

You rolled your eyes. “Is that a bad thing?”

He shook his head. “Nah. Just… different.”

Silence settled between you for a moment, not exactly awkward, but filled with something unspoken.

Then, Jungwon nudged your knee with his. “But I bet even you wouldn’t mind a little excitement sometimes.”

You scoffed. “Excitement like what?”

He tilted his head, considering. “Something thrilling. Like running through the rain, chasing something you’re not supposed to have, breaking a rule or two.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Sounds illegal.”

Jungwon grinned. “Depends.”

You shook your head, amused. “You’re something else, Jungwon.”

“I try.”

And for the first time, sitting there under the starry sky, you started to wonder what exactly it was he was running toward, or running from.

The night stretched on in silence, but your mind was restless. Jungwon’s words lingered in the air, as if they held more weight than he let on.

You glanced at him, his face partially illuminated by the glow of the lantern hanging near the doorway. He was staring straight ahead, the usual playfulness in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something quieter.

“You know,” you started, swirling the last bits of your drink, “you never really talk about yourself.”

Jungwon smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes this time. “I thought you liked mysteries.”

You huffed. “I like solving them.”

He let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. “Figures.”

A breeze rolled through, rustling the banana leaves nearby. You hugged your knees to your chest, trying to piece him together. He wasn’t from here, that much was obvious. He wasn’t like your cousins, who had spent their entire lives in the countryside. He moved differently, spoke differently, carried himself like he had seen things, lived through things that didn’t belong in a place like this.

And yet, here he was.

“Are you running from something?” you asked, the words leaving your lips before you could stop them.

Jungwon finally looked at you, his gaze unreadable. For a second, you thought he wasn’t going to answer.

Then, he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “I wouldn’t say running.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Then what?”

He exhaled, watching the lantern light flicker. “Looking.”

“For what?”

Jungwon tapped his fingers against his knee, as if debating how much to say. Then, with a slight shrug, he murmured, “Something worth staying for.”

Something about the way he said it made your breath hitch.

You didn’t know why, but your heart beat a little faster at those words.

“You make it sound like nothing has ever been worth staying for,” you said quietly.

Jungwon didn’t respond right away. Instead, he leaned back, stretching his arms before giving you a small, lopsided grin, like he was trying to shake off whatever weight had settled on his shoulders.

“I guess I just haven’t found it yet,” he said.

You swallowed. There was something bittersweet about his tone. You wanted to press further, to ask what places he’d been, what he had seen, what had made him so restless. But something told you he wouldn’t answer, not tonight.

So instead, you forced a smirk and nudged his shoulder. “Well, good luck with that, wanderer.”

Jungwon chuckled. “Wanderer, huh?”

“You don’t stay in one place, you’re constantly looking for something… the name fits.”

He tilted his head, considering. “I guess that makes you the opposite, then.”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

Jungwon turned to you, the lantern’s warm glow reflecting in his dark eyes. “You want roots. Stability. A quiet life. You’re the kind of person who dreams of staying.”

You parted your lips, surprised at how easily he read you.

“…Yeah,” you admitted. “I do.”

Jungwon hummed, a knowing look in his eyes. “Guess that means we’re different, huh?”

You stared at him, your fingers tightening around your cup.

Different.

So why did it feel like, despite that difference, you were being pulled toward him anyway?

The stars twinkled above you, oblivious to the growing tension between the two of you. Somewhere in the distance, cicadas hummed, filling the silence.

You looked away first. “Yeah. We are.”

But for some reason, it didn’t feel like a bad thing.

The days blurred into each other, and before you knew it, your one-month stay was nearing its end.

You tried not to dwell on it too much. You busied yourself with your little cousins, indulging them with stories of the city and answering their endless questions. You helped out in the house, assisted in small village errands, and even tried your best to get used to working in the fields, though that part was still a disaster.

And then there was Jungwon.

Somehow, without meaning to, he had become a part of your everyday life. He was there in the mornings, showing up at your cousin’s house to borrow something, throwing a teasing remark your way. He was there in the afternoons, passing by while you played with the kids, making fun of your storytelling skills. And he was there in the evenings, sitting on the wooden steps with you, sharing drinks and small conversations under the stars.

But as the days passed, you couldn’t ignore the shift in the air. The teasing never stopped, but there were moments now—small, fleeting ones, where the playfulness softened, replaced by something else.

Like when he lingered just a little longer when handing you something.

Like when his gaze held yours for a second too long before he looked away.

Like when he stopped teasing you and instead just… listened.

It terrified you.

Because you knew this wouldn’t last.

One evening, as the sky burned with the last light of the sunset, you found yourself walking along the edge of the rice fields. The golden stalks swayed gently, whispering secrets to the wind. Jungwon was walking beside you, hands in his pockets, his usual easygoing expression in place.

“You’re quiet today,” he remarked.

You kicked at a stray pebble on the dirt path. “Just… thinking.”

“About?”

You hesitated. “Leaving.”

Jungwon didn’t say anything right away. Instead, he kept his gaze forward, his lips pressing into a firm line for a brief second before his usual smirk appeared.

“So, city life finally calling you back?” he said, his tone light, but there was something beneath it you couldn’t quite place.

You nodded. “I have to take my board exam. Then start working.”

“Right.”

Silence stretched between you, only broken by the distant croaking of frogs and the rustling of the fields.

You glanced at him. “You’re not saying anything annoying. That’s suspicious.”

Jungwon let out a chuckle, shaking his head. “What, you want me to tease you about leaving?”

You sighed. “No. I don’t know.”

A pause. Then, he tilted his head toward you. “Are you excited?”

You blinked at him. “About?”

“Going back. Getting away from this place.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it. Were you?

You had been, at the start. The first week here had been difficult, adjusting to the slower pace, dealing with the mud, getting teased for your city-girl habits. You missed the convenience of the city, the efficiency, the movement. But now…

You weren’t sure anymore.

“I should be,” you admitted. “I mean, this isn’t my life.”

Jungwon hummed. “Yeah.”

That was all he said. Yeah.

And for some reason, it made your chest tighten.

You frowned, suddenly frustrated. “You’re acting weird.”

Jungwon quirked a brow. “Am I?”

“Yes.”

He chuckled. “Maybe you’re just imagining things.”

You huffed. “That’s exactly something a weird person would say.”

Jungwon grinned, nudging your arm. “Fine. What do you want me to say? That I’ll miss you?”

Your breath hitched, but you forced a laugh. “Obviously. I’m the highlight of your summer.”

“Right, how could I forget?” he teased.

But his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Neither of you said it, but you both felt it.

This would end soon.

And neither of you knew what to do about it.

Your departure was only days away, and yet, the one thing you hadn’t expected happened.

Jungwon disappeared.

Jungwon was gone.

One day, he was there, teasing you, lingering in doorways, stealing glances when he thought you weren’t looking. And then suddenly, he wasn’t.

You didn’t notice it at first. You had been too preoccupied, too caught up in the last few days of your stay, making sure you spent enough time with your cousins before leaving. But then a whole day passed without seeing him. Then another. And another.

At first, you brushed it off. Maybe he was busy. Maybe his family needed him for something.

But then you asked.

And the answer sent an uncomfortable chill down your spine.

“He left,” one of your cousins told you, chewing absently on a piece of sugarcane. “Said he had something urgent to take care of.”

You stared at them, the words sinking in like stones in water. “Left? Where?”

They shrugged. “Dunno. Just packed up and went.”

Just like that. No warning. No explanation. No goodbye.

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “Figures.”

But it wasn’t funny. Not even a little.

You had spent the last month getting used to him—his teasing, his stupid smirks, the way he made you feel like he saw through you even when you didn’t want him to. You had spent weeks trying to figure him out, to understand the way he spoke in half-truths, always dodging real answers with a joke or a smirk.

And now, when you were finally starting to understand him, when you were finally starting to accept that maybe, just maybe, he had become a part of this place for you., he was gone.

Without a word.

You hated him for it.

It burned, hot and unforgiving in your chest.

Because you had told him. You had told him you were leaving soon, given him time to prepare, time to say something, anything.

But instead, he left first.

Coward.

You had never expected anything from Jungwon. At least, that’s what you told yourself. He had been nothing but a fleeting presence in your life, a summer memory that was never meant to last.

So why did it feel like a betrayal?

The worst part was, no one else seemed to care. Life in the countryside moved on, unaffected by his absence. Your cousins still played in the fields, your relatives still sat around after meals gossiping about the neighbors, the sun still rose and set like it always did.

But for you, something had shifted.

You left two days later, not bothering to ask about him again.

If Jungwon didn’t care enough to say goodbye, then neither did you.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

But the bitterness sat in your chest long after you boarded the bus back to the city.

And no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he had stolen something from you when he left, something you hadn’t even realized you were willing to give.

Months passed, but the feeling lingered—quiet, persistent, unshaken.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. That he didn’t matter.

But then, on your first day at work, stepping into the emergency department, the smell of antiseptic thick in the air, you looked up…

And there he was.

Jungwon.

Standing just a few feet away, sleeves rolled up, paramedic radio clipped to his belt, laughing at something a nurse said.

Your breath caught.

Of all the places in the world…

[part one][part two][part three]

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