#genuinely. where the fuck did the time go

[cosmicmunsonwrites]

MORE MEAN!RAFE PLEASE!!! Maybe leading from the last ask and it’s him being the desperate one and she’s just scared of him now but she still loves him or smth idk lols

even when you pushed me away

mean!rafe cameron x desperate!fem!reader

cw — stalking

summary — rafe somehow finds you after you frantically ran away from home.

authors note — this is a continuation of my mean!rafe series. it is in my rafe cameron masterlist under “au’s” if you’d like it read it as a series instead of a standalone. thank you guys for all the love with this au, it means the world to me. please request more!!

do not copy or post my work anywhere else.

“why are you here, rafe?” you asked, your voice firm and unwavering even though you were slightly terrified and cowering behind your half-opened front door. “how did you even find me?”

he shook his head and brushed it off. “why am i here? because you just got up and left. no note? text? a call? nothing,” he explained calmly. “why? and where is all your stuff?” you bit your bottom lip nervously and stared at him. to your surprise, he looked genuinely confused. “did i do something?”

you almost laughed. did he do something? was he serious? “you should leave. i don’t want to talk to you,” you stated while beginning to close the door.

he lunged forward quickly and pushed back on it slightly, not enough for you to be scared that he was going to force his way in or anything like that, but just to keep you from shutting it in his face. “please, baby. i jus’ wanna talk to you. i want you to come home. i wanna know why you left in the first place.”

your resolve was beginning to slip. he was being so sweet and his eyes were all glassy like he was going to cry. “rafe, i don’t want to talk to you. i can’t,” you said a little more forcefully.

his bottom lip trembled slightly and he stared at you with wide eyes. “why not? what did i do wrong? if its about not spending enough time together, i promise i’ll change. i’ll clear my schedule for the rest of the week and we can spend every second of it together. jus’ please, come back home.”

“it’s not about that,” you replied. you wanted to leave with him so desperately. he sounded so torn and sad and it was beginning to make your heart break for him. “you’re not a good person. i can’t get mixed up with that.”

a tear slipped down his cheek as the realization set in. “baby, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered softly before talking a step closer to the door. you threatened to close it, narrowing the gap between you and him. that made him take a step back instantly. “please. jus’ come home and i’ll explain. i promise you. no lying, no bullshit. i’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

you felt your nose begin to sting and tears pool in your waterline. “i can’t, rafe.” you quickly shut the door and twisted the lock. a loud bang sounded on the door and you instinctively jumped back as you sobbed.

“open the fucking door!” he shouted angrily. you could hear his voice tremble before he began to repeatedly bang on the wood. “open the door!”

you slid down the wall and curled up into yourself, letting the tears call and the ugly cries escape your mouth. you’d never seen this side of him and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t terrify you to your core.

“baby, please! i’m begging you to open the door. i just want to talk to you,” he said, his voice slightly muffled through the barrier. “i need to talk to you. i need you to know that i’m not a bad person. please.”

you were pretty sure you were past that point now.

[queervegancryptid]

They fought back in part because the cops were literally checking their genitals so they could arrest the trans and gender non-conforming people there.

Stonewall wouldn't have been fucking necessary if not for cops pulling that shit and the powers that be supporting them so there wouldn't be any consequences. Cis queer people were also under threat, obviously, because you don't have to be trans to suffer from cissexism. But to remove references to trans people from this monument in particular is to literally erase trans people from a key moment in our history.

It's all part of the plan. One of the insidious things about erasing us in this way is that knowing our history can be a source of pride as well as strength, and it can help us resist the demoralizing nature of all of what's happening.

That's part of why they're doing it. They don't want us to know our history, and they also don't want cis people to know it, either, because then they can spread the false narrative that trans people were invented by attention-seeking people on Tumblr circa 2014. It goes hand in fucking glove with censorship and calling anything remotely queer "obscenity." If they can paint us as an anomaly that's definitionally obscene and therefore Morally Bad, it's that much easier to justify attacks on us.

Despite every way the Democrats have disappointed me over the years, when Harris gave a speech in November that called people at Stonewall "patriots," I teared up. Not that I put much stock (or any, really) in patriotism. But as a child, I never let myself imagine a future where a politician running for a major office, let alone for president, would say anything like that about people like me. This country is where I was born, but I never felt a sense of belonging in that way, like I had a welcoming home here. Maybe I never will.

Part of the reason queer bars are a thing at all is that queer people, especially trans people, were pushed underground and had nowhere else to fucking go aside from the odd bar that might be friendly to us. These places did become like home for a lot of people, and understanding it in context matters. It wasn't like they just threw bricks because "lol fuck cops." They fought back after enduring a lot, and they fought back out of genuine necessity, and I used to think, "They threw bricks so I wouldn't have to."

Lately, though, I'm coming to the realization that one day I might have to throw a brick, myself. I just hope I have my queer family around me, throwing bricks alongside me, if and when the time comes. We can resist, and we must do it together, and that's yet another reason they don't want you to know history. Collective action is necessary and can work. And it terrifies the folks in power.

Sigh. I'm sorry to go off. But this shit has me feeling some kind of way, and I just need people to understand the importance of queer history. If we don't protect it ourselves, it'll be destroyed.

Please read and share history. It matters. It really, really matters.

Okay. I'm gonna go cry.

Not to be dramatic but this is a massive fucking deal and I legitimately hope every single politician dies.

[simpjaes]

PERVERT. ― P.JS 

Requested by anonymous via tumblr: dilf jay and his daughter’s best friend. Or the one where Jay is slightly obsessed with his daughter’s best friend.

minors do not interact. 

WORDCOUNT― 2.8k

PAIRING ― dad/weirdo ! jay x afab reader

CONTENT―  jay is in his 40s, reader is in her 20s

WARNINGS ― age gap, somnophilia, dubious consent (due to somno), unprotected sex, dom jay, pocket pussies and masturbation Support me on patreon if you'd like!

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Being called a creep or a pervert would have felt much more uncomfortable in any other situation, but it’s different right now because Jay is being a creep. A pervert, chubbing up in his pants solely because you’re trying to fuck with him again. He loves that playful tone of your voice when you call him that too, all while bending over in front of him without your panties on, fucking presenting yourself to him, then mocking him for looking. 

It’s very different. You’re very different compared to the previous times you’ve been here. 

He groans to himself as he remembers it. Lying alone in his bed now like he couldn’t have bent you flat over his coffee table not two hours ago. He could have done it, genuinely, you’d not have fought him on it while parading yourself around like that. 

And it’s true that he always loved it when his daughter would bring her friends home from campus for a Holiday. Not for the reasons he loves it now, but still. It was always a different excuse for all the faces he’s met. Family is too busy, home life isn’t great, their family is too strict. Whatever. You come alongside his daughter often under the sad truth that you simply have no one to go home to. You’re alone and in need of some care. So, you come here, to Jay’s home, clearly acting like you’re more interested in his daughter than you are him.

Three times now you’ve come for the holidays and summer, trotting through that front door as if you always belonged here from the start. The first time was the only visit where Jay was casual towards you, somewhat of a father figure even. 

He still remembers what you did at the end of that visit too. You had already been living in his house with his daughter for a month and a half by that point, only a week or two left before going back to your shitty little dorm rooms on campus for the Fall semester. His daughter was at her usual summer job that night, and you were fucking yourself openly on his living room couch. 

You had feigned embarrassment, despite knowing when Jay comes home from work. He saw that shine in your eye though, the way you tried to hold back a smile at the way he looked directly at what your hand was doing, unable to tear his eyes away until you jumped up and apologized, smelling like the alcohol in his cabinet. The week following that should have been awkward too. But it wasn’t. 

Solely because you found reasons to flaunt yourself from that point forward. Something clicked in Jay’s head. Lust, need, curiosity. And he thinks it clicked in your head too, because goddamn did you have nothing to hide at that point. 

And still, even now, he remembers the exact spot on the couch where you had dripped all over it. So many lonely nights after that he found himself on his knees in front of it, nose planted right in that spot and trying to inhale some remnant of how wet you were that day. 

The second time you appeared at his house, he had very nearly forgotten you. He can only get off so many times against his couch, after all, other things were more exciting after so many weeks had passed. He was outside on his porch hanging up christmas lights when he saw you getting out of his daughter’s car. Instantly his cock throbbed, nearly throwing him off the short ladder and onto the ground into a horny mess of man. 

His daughter was there though, and he had to keep that under wraps. Quickly, he had tucked his cock and allowed the loving hug, promising a dinner of shitty food and horrible B movies to both of you before continuing his duty of, well, being a fucking dad to his daughter before being a creep to you.

That visit went well, you were actually quite distracted with his daughter and he was thankful for that, however, the day you left to start spring break was the day you reminded him that you’re…interested. Maybe.

Your daughter had already packed her belongings and gifts up in her car, and you hung around behind, feeling the electricity in the air as always when it’s just you and Jay in the room. Always wondering if he’ll say something or look for too long. You lingered, glancing at him shyly as if he knew, as if he could feel it too. But he still said nothing.

You huffed, hearing the horn outside blare as if to tell you to hurry it up. Staying too long here wouldn’t necessarily alert your best friend of anything weird going on, but there would be questions. So, you hurried it up, reaching into your bag and practically throwing a wrapped box at Jay. 

He quirked a brow, looking at you under half-hooded eyes.

“Christmas was five days ago.” He said to you, almost like a question. “I know.” You had very quickly responded before practically sprinting out the door out of fear of what he’d think. Truly, you couldn’t face him opening it in front of you. 

And Jay stared at that item for about two minutes before fucking it. All night. All day. Practically locked in his room, solidifying that you, his daughter’s best friend, provided a pussy for him. 

All of that circles back to now, still lying in his bed alone after you had let him steal a glance of your pussy openly for the first time. Your third time in his home, this time for much longer than your last winter break.  He’s gotta do something about this. ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・  The good news: your best friend left for work an hour ago.

The great news: Jay hasn’t stopped looking at you.

At first, this was scary for you. You recall the night you snuck into the liquor and had a few too many sips, wondering what would happen if Mr. Park saw you doing something scandalous. You’d thought he was hot upon meeting him, all dressed up in his business attire the day you first came here. That crush deepened the second you saw him fresh out of a shower not thirty minutes later, whipping around the kitchen to cook a meal for you and your best friend as if he hadn’t worked for nine hours already.

Something about him was just so unbearably sexy, and when he looked between your legs that day…you knew. 

And you wanted to be sexy for him too. Thankfully, you definitely are. 

The two of you are alone now, but in separate rooms. You can hear him moving around in the kitchen, washing the dishes he had used to throw together a quick breakfast, and you’re sinking into the couch wondering if he’ll ever bring up the pocket pussy you so graciously, and bravely, bought for him last christmas. 

But it stays silent between the two of you, regardless of how loud the eye contact is when you pass each other, or he finds himself in the same room as you.

One hour, two hours, three hours. 

Time is passing too quickly when you’re aware of someone in the room that you want. When you need them to fucking say something at this point because you’ve done your part. 

Who cares if you want to fuck your best friend’s dad before she gets home from work anyway? She’ll never find out. And even if she did, you’re an adult. 

“Mr. Park–” You mumble as he walks through the living room again, seemingly busy with yet another task. 

“Hm?”

“Did you fuck that toy I got for you?” You didn’t have to work up the courage to ask him, the way he acts around you is enough to know. 

Yet, still, he freezes in place as if he’s got a spotlight on him and newspapers being printed this very second at the mere truth of it all. 

“What–” He pauses, swallowing around the lump in his throat as he prepares to lie. “What are you talking about?” 

You lift from the couch, peeking over the back of it and narrowing your eyes at him.

“You threw it away?” 

Still, he’s frozen.

“Of course I did.” He lies again, but he sees that disappointed look in your face to not know of how often he fucks it. Thinking of you, no less. “Funny gag gift, but there was no need.”

There was no need? What? Like, he gets around? He fucks around? Other people? 

“Oh–” You start, but quickly cut yourself off to lie. “Yeah, it was a gag gift anyway. Thought you’d laugh.” 

And it’s the way both of you pretend you didn’t just ask him so blatantly if he’s fucked it. A gag gift? Bullshit. You’re so fucking bad at lying it almost makes Jay want to punish you for trying to dumbly. Fucking yourself on his couch, presenting your cunt to him, gifting him something to shove his cock up into. A gag gift.

Right. 

Yet still, he pretends to be normal. Acts like he’s not interested just to see if you keep trying. The funniest part is you both fucking know what you’re doing. Doesn’t change the fact that your best friend comes home and Jay continues to act like nothing has ever happened. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Disappointed sits in your gut as you cuddle under the blankets, feeling the cold fabric grow warm against your skin. This guest room has its charms but you can imagine the only action it’s ever seen has been you under these very same blankets, time and time again, plunging your fingers in and out of yourself with silent moans bitten into a pillow. 

You roll your eyes, not wanting to give Jay another ounce of your lust for embarrassing you like that today. Surely he’s used the toy, right? He’s a man, whether he actually wants you or not, he wouldn’t throw away a toy that only offers pleasure, right?

Maybe that’s all it is, too. Jay being a man. Anyone would look for too long if they’ve seen you fuck yourself. Anyone would stare at your pussy if you put it in front of their face. 

You’re being too confident. In fact, you’re probably just making him uncomfortable at this point. And here you are probably reading an awkward atmosphere for one suffocated by lust and pining. How…fucking embarrassing.

And, so, you count your sheep. 1, 2, 3, 100, 200, 300, 1023, 1024, 1025– and finally, sleep overtakes you.

A heavy sleep, one deep enough to not hear the click of your door or the quiet, socked feet making their way to your temporary bed. In fact, you do feel the bed dip beside you, and in your sleepy haze all you can do is mumble out to your best friend, Jay’s daughter, “Fuck off to your own room.”

There’s a pause, allowing you to fall right back into your deep sleep.

Honestly, if it weren’t for those words, Jay would have already had his hands on you. But he holds himself back, one knee on your bed and head hanging as he looks down at you. Peaceful when you sleep, no mocking or cheeky look in your eyes solely because they’re closed. 

He holds his breath, thinking about all that’s happened. This is okay, right? For him to sneak past his daughter’s room just to get to you at nearly four in the morning? This isn’t weird. 

It’s not. He already knows you want it, and using that toy tonight just…wasn’t doing it for him anymore. He wants the real thing. 

Jay hypes himself, over and over again as he stares down at you, lifting a hand slowly to tug at the blankets. Gently, so softly pulling it down past your waist. He holds his breath at your skewed tank top, allowing a view of your plump tits squished together from the weight of your arm. 

A side sleeper, forcing the curves of your body to be blatant even under the blankets. He stares more, more, more, not yet touching but now continuing to pull the blanket off of you entirely. 

Ah, shorts. Those fucking shorts. The ones that show the curve of your ass when you walk around the house. The ones he’s thought twice about, three times, four times about. Wondering what they’d feel like crumpled in his hands, tearing them off of you. 

And god, his cock is aching. Leaking in his sweatpants, dampening the front of them as he finally leans down, face just inches from your chest as he allows his hand to land on your hip. 

Slowly, he caresses down your body with one hand, and holds himself up with the other. He can smell your lotion on your skin here, so close to your tits. He leans closer, now tucking his hands between your legs, rubbing even more gently at your thighs. And then, he leans back.

All the way up, unsure of what to do, what to touch first, if he should wake you, or if he should just fuck off and pretend yet again that this happened. His hand goes from your inner thighs to your stomach, toying with the hem of your tank top before he reaches the neck line. Right there, he pulls more gently than he did the blankets. 

Hoping, praying he can see.

And see, he does. He effectively pulls your tank top enough to allow one of your nipples to pop out, slowly erecting at the sudden coolness against it, and instantly he’s playing with it. Soft pads of his fingers very lightly touching the tip of your nipple, rubbing little circles before glancing down your body when you shift.

There’s a little sound out of your mouth at this point, something that is similar enough to a moan that lets him utilize his other hand now for more than just holding himself up. He runs it right back to your thighs, both touches barely ghosting against your skin until his hips start to fuck forward on instinct. 

You. Gifted. Him. A. Pussy. 

It’s hard for him though, to stop what he’s doing just to grab at your hand and bump it closer to him, all so he can rest his cock in it. So, he doesn’t, not yet at least. He continues his play like this for now, moving the hand on your thighs up slightly, until you shift again in your sleep and roll onto you back.

There, he readjusts, watching the way your sleepy legs spread open and the way your tit remains exposed for him to keep massaging. His hand intentionally moves to your clothed pussy now though, hoping you’ve gotten wet in your slip.

And you have, apparently, because he can fucking feel it on the tips of his fingers. That’s all he wanted. All he needed.

And so, he doesn’t care if you wake up now. Feeling that right against his skin was enough to send him over the edge. No more enjoying it, no more simmering in the delight of touching you. No. 

He pulls back, practically tearing is cock out of his pants and forcing himself between your legs with no care or even consideration. You had half woken up to the commotion, but your eyes shoot open at the ripping feeling of his cock being shoved into you. All the way to his balls. 

He falls over you, both hands cradling your head as he twitches inside of you, pistoning his hips so fast, so aggressively that you can’t even catch your first waking breath. Instantly, your hands shoot around him, clawing at his back as you come back to reality from the realm of dreams. 

Or, is this a dream? A sweet, wet, desperate dream?

“Shh,” Jay hums against your ear, holding your head so tightly against him as his hips move freely, without his full intent, almost animalistic. “Gonna show you–”

He cuts himself off in a moan, feeling your nails dig into his back before your legs, surprisingly, don’t run. No, you wrap them around his waist. Yet, still, you can’t speak. All you can do is squeeze your eyes shut and hope to fucking god you can adjust to him. He’s…so much thicker than you expected.

You can feel every vein when it pulses, the bulbous head pushing past your walls regardless of how much more wet you’ve gotten. Goddamn, what a way to fucking wake up. 

Expectations will never live up to reality, you suppose. Because honestly, you thought you’d be the one on top of him, taking him for all he’s worth, but somehow the way he moves seems better. The blatant taboo nature of this, and how desperate he sounds against your ear. 

Fuck. 

“Show me?” You manage to cry out quietly, feeling the pain slowly fade to nothing but pleasure. 

“How hard I fuck that toy.” He smiles when you finally speak, relishing in the way you grip him all over. From your fingernails to your legs. Even your cunt squeezes him pathetically tight, so fucking tight. 

You moan now, satisfied that he’s a fucking liar. Confident that everything you thought originally was and still is true. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

✧ please support me on patreon !

[cursedcanon]

Hickey

In which you give THEM a hickey

Characters: Gojo, Choso , Sakuna, Geto , Toji and Nanami

Contains:NSFW, suggestive themes, explicit language, and sexual references.

GOJO:

You barely had time to pull away before Gojo’s wide grin nearly split his face in half. He didn’t just look excited—he looked thrilled.

“Ohhhh?? My little civilian thinks they can mark me?” he teases, practically vibrating with amusement. He immediately pulls out his phone to take a picture. “This is staying in my gallery forever. No—wait, I’m setting it as my new lock screen. Wait, better yet—I'm sending it to Geto. No, Nanami. Imagine his reaction—”

You snatch the phone from his hands before he can send your little masterpiece to his poor, unsuspecting coworker.

"gojo"

“Call me ‘Satoru’ and I’ll consider behaving.”

He does not, in fact, behave. For the next week, he brings up the hickey at every possible opportunity.

“Remember that time you got a little too excited and decided to brand me? Haha, good times.”

If you give him another one? Oh, it’s over for you. He’ll be in your personal space constantly, pointing at his neck and batting his lashes.

CHOSO:

You barely get a chance to press your lips to his neck before Choso jerks away, eyes wide with genuine horror.

“Are you… eating me?”

You blink. “What? No! Choso—”

“I KNEW IT,” he mutters, touching the damp spot where your mouth had been, looking betrayed. “You said you wouldn’t.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Choso, it’s just a hickey—”

He frowns deeply, staring at you in silence for a long time. Then, hesitantly, he leans in, lips barely grazing your neck before pulling back, looking almost proud of himself. “Did I do it?”

You check your skin. He didn’t even try to suck, but the effort is adorable. “Sure, babe. You did amazing."

SAKUNA:

You press your lips to his neck and suck lightly, leaving a dark mark on his skin.

Sukuna immediately tenses. “The fuck are you—”

You pull away, admiring your work. “Nice.”

There’s a long pause. Then, slowly, his lips curl into a grin. “Ohhh. I see how it is.”

You raise an eyebrow. “See what?”

His smirk widens. “You’re trying to assert dominance.”

You snort. “No, I just wanted to give you a hickey.”

Sukuna leans back, arms crossed. “Uh-huh. Sure. I get it. You think you’re alpha now.”

You blink. “What?”

“Go on. Say it.” He gestures at himself. “Say you own me.”

You give him a look. “I—”

“Say it.” He leans in, grinning like a madman. “C’mon, brat. Prove you’re the boss.”

You sigh. “I own—”

“NO, YOU FUCKING DON’T.” He immediately shoves you away, laughing like an asshole.

You groan. “Why are you like this?!”

He just smirks, pointing to the hickey. “Joke’s on you, this means you’re mine now.”

“…That’s not how that works.”

Sukuna shrugs. “Too bad. I  make the rules.”

GETO:

You take your time kissing along his jaw before making your way down to his neck, sucking just hard enough to leave a mark.

“Tsk.” His voice is smooth, unimpressed. “Filthy monkey.”

You gasp, pulling away dramatically. “EXCUSE ME?”

Geto smirks, eyes glinting with amusement. “You heard me.”

“I knew you were a menace, but this?” You place a hand over your chest, shaking your head. “Unbelievable.”

“You just left a mark on me, and you’re offended?” He laughs, stroking his thumb over the hickey. “You really are ridiculous.”

You squint at him. “I’m giving you another one just for that.”

He only smirks, tilting his head slightly. “Go on, then.”

TOJI:

You press your lips to his neck, sucking lightly.

Toji pauses mid-chew—because, of course, he’s eating something—and side-eyes you. “…The hell you doin’?”

You don’t answer, just keep going.

He chews slower. Swallows. Then, in the most deadpan voice imaginable—

“You tryna season me?”

You choke on a laugh, pulling away. “What? No!”

He wipes his neck like he expects to find marinade. “Tch. At least use some salt next time.”

You smack his arm. “It’s a hickey, Toji!”

“Yeah?” He smirks. “And what do you want me to do? Moan?”

You blink. Stare. Then, without missing a beat—

“Yes.”

Toji leans in real close, his lips brushing your ear, voice deep and rough—

“Ahhh~”

You shove him away so fast he almost falls over laughing.

NANAMI:

Nanami sighs the moment your lips leave his neck. His fingers press against the forming mark, and he turns to you with the most exhausted expression.

"Was that really necessary?" he asks, voice flat.

You nod. "Very."

He pinches the bridge of his nose. "This is going to be a problem at work."

You grin. "Sounds like a you problem."

Nanami just sighs again, already regretting all his life choices.

[4zahara]

## | Rocket Science

←Previous. Masterlist. Next→

Word count: 1.7k

A/N: English is not my first language. Shorter chapter because it was a last minute thing. I thought it'll be more interesting showing how things will be going in the future(present)—since the serie is basically Jason and reader's past. I'll be back sooner this time, I promise♡

Few times has Tim Drake felt like he was being played with like when it came down to family.

Actually, scratch that.

More people he cared to count had tried playing him for a fool and failed as to say this is the worse he's felt. This time around was different just to emphasize the absurdity his life was sliding into.

Yes, he was benched until recovering.

No, he couldn't refuse it.

No, he wasn't sulking.

"So bed rest for how long now? Alfred 's gonna breath over your shoulder for a while. Believe me. Been there, done that." Dick Grayson has been here, allegedly, trying to cheer him up. But personally, the acrobat should reconsider his chances as a cheerleader if he thought Tim could laugh off a concussion, bruises all over and his tingling ribs.

"You've been beaten by a 6 ft something dude on bright yellow leggins?" It was only half sardonic. His brother's had an extravagant life.

"The answer will surprise you."

Dick's presence wasn't very comforting under the particular self deprecating light of asking himself 'who he was really here for?'. However, the man actually managed to pull at the corners of his brother's lips to get a scoff. It was better than nothing.

"Well..." Tim said, leaning further back into tiny wall of pillows with a smirk, "We could always just call (Name) and have her deal with The Red Hood," His voice carried a teasing edge with a grin that lingered for a second longer, hanging in the air like a fading echo.

Dick didn’t laugh. Tim hadn't expected him to. But not even a chuckle or eye-roll at the idea of this rather skinny, 5 ft something woman going up to a Crime Lord to whoop his ass?

No sarcastic comeback, no snort of agreement, just that small, almost imperceptible shift: the stiffening of his jaw, the subtle crease between his brows, and the way he suddenly became very interested in side eyeing the floor.

Nothing to match the usual rhythm of their banter.

Something wasn't right already and Tim couldn't catch a break from one drama to the other.

Fuck the weighted, hollow kind of silence that didn’t fit but always followed him.

He could have brushed it off really, chalking it up to stress or whatever. That just wasn't like him though.

Replaying his own words in his head could only do so much, and the kick of the joke got stuck on the tip of his tongue, but was like stone in water regardless.

Eyes drifted to Dick’s hunched shoulders, noticing how his movements were precise but mechanical, like he was trying too hard to stay focused. It wasn’t just annoyance. It wasn’t about the mess. It wasn't about his strained relationship with you—where chats were exchanged probably once every few months.

"Did (Name) block you again or why are you sulking?"

"I'm not sulking." The grin Tim shot back was more habit than genuine amusement, his brain already shifting gears beneath the surface.

Dick’s response was quick, too quick, the kind that snaps out like muscle memory instead of actual thought. His voice had that tight edge to it, the kind that tries to masquerade as casual but doesn’t quite land right.

Okay, Tim thought, narrowing his eyes slightly. Not just weird. This is “something’s definitely up” weird.

"I should be the only one sulking,"

"Who are you? Bruce?"

Dick wasn’t looking at him. Still staring at the floor like it held all the answers to the universe. His fingers drummed absently against his knee, a restless little rhythm that had no business being there if everything was fine.

Tim let the silence stretch, just a little, leaning into it like he was daring Dick to fill it. But when nothing came, he cocked his head.

"Wait," Tim said slowly, voice softer now, like he was testing the shape of the thought forming in real-time. "This isn’t about her blocking you—"

"I wasn't blocked."

"—This is… something else."

Dick shifted then, barely noticeable if Tim hadn’t been watching like a hawk. A quick inhale through the nose, shoulders straightening.

"Don’t overthink it, Tim."

Wrong move. Dick should've known better. Telling Tim not to overthink was like telling water not to be wet.

Fair enough, everyone surrounding him was an overthinker, but that was more his environment's fault than his own. Then, the nagging feeling of a wider picture he was not privy to, creeped in. It was on. There was nothing better to do.

Tim sat up straighter, the teasing grin completely gone now. His mind raced, connecting dots that hadn’t even looked like dots before.

"It’s not about me. It’s about her." His eyes narrowed. "What aren’t you telling me?"

Dick’s jaw clenched. Not enough to be obvious, but enough for Tim to catch it. His gaze flicked to the window, like the skyline outside was suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world.

And that’s when it hit Tim.

It wasn’t the joke itself—it was who he’d joked about. The Red Hood. Jason.

Tim’s breath hitched slightly. Like acknowledging a fact that had always been then, yet pushed aside, the realization creeped in like cold fingers wrapping around his ribs.

"She doesn’t know, does she?" Tim whispered, not a question, more like a statement dragged out of him.

No answer.

Tim’s chest tightened, equal parts disbelief and frustration rising like a tide. "She doesn’t know Jason Da Vinci is alive."

Dick finally looked at him then, and not-quite-guilt-but-almost etched into the lines around his eyes, buried in the tense set of his mouth.

"It’s complicated, Tim."

"Complicated?" Tim’s voice cracked, a bitter laugh escaping him. "Dick. This changed everything."

"I know that!" Dick snapped but not really. Just raised his voice louder than intended, his own frustration bleeding through now. He dragged a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "Of course I know. But it’s not that simple. It's the whole problem, in fact. Jason… he’s not the same. And I didn’t—" He stopped himself, words hitting a wall.

Tim stared at him, heart pounding.

"Yeah," he muttered bitterly. "That much s'obvious." The youngest focused alone on the last word.

Tim let out a slow breath, trying to push past the initial frustration, but it was like trying to wade through knee-deep mud. He couldn't wrap his head around it.

Had he known this a while back he probably wouldn't be struggling right now.

Maybe.

"How—" He stopped, rethinking his words. "How does that even happen, Dick? And, what about Bruce? Shouldn't he have been the one to tell her?"

Dick's lips pressed into a thin line and he shook his head. Something closer to exhaustion, was probably gnawing at him and probably had been long before Tim stumbled into it.

"Bruce has regrets, but he had already made up his mind by the time I heard about it. And Jason was already supposedly death, again. What was I supposed to tell her?" Dick’s gaze was heavy now, meeting Tim’s.

“Clearly he's alive.”

“Yeah, but what were the chances?” Another deep breath to calm down. "Listen. B only saw so little of how it impacted (Name) back then," Dick muttered, scrubbing a hand down his face. "And yet he still thought—hell, I agreed—it is for the best not to call across the world if we were just where we started but worse." His voice trailed off, but Tim didn’t need him to finish the sentence.

Tim had only seen glimpses of it, filtered through the distance between them when he took on the mantle of Robin, but even that had been enough. The grief had hollowed you out, twisted something inside your in a way that felt eerily familiar. You lost an anchor in a world that already demanded too much from them.

"We don't want her to spiral. To relapse and cut everyone off again."

"‘Cause that worked so well so far. And mind you, she never cut me off."

And it wasn't completely true. At the time he had had to adapt fast into being Gotham's newest Robin and didn't notice the months in which he heard nothing from you when communication was already low.

"It would break (Name)," Dick admitted, quieter now, like saying it out loud made it harder to carry. "Looking at you and knowing."

There was a sour taste at the back of Tim's throat. "So the plan is just… never telling her while Jason is out there playing vigilante roulette with Gotham’s criminals?"

"She trusted you because you weren’t us. You weren’t tangled in that mess. Not like me. Not like Bruce." He let out a hollow laugh, devoid of any real humor.

Tim saw that statement for what it was. His brother could be very persuasive with undertones alone when he wanted to push.

Jason wasn’t ready.

You weren't ready.

If you hadn't met already, then the only one who search hadn't gone looking for his family ties.

There was more—the truth under all the excuses Tim hadn't asked for. It surprised him if anything how much of a word vomit had a simple joke divulged into.

Just his luck.

Just his family.

Chest tight, fingers twitching at his sides. He wanted to rest, for once, sleep it off. But instead, he exhaled sharply, leaning back against the pillows, feeling even more drained. Feeling less like the original problem mattered anymore.

"I’m not going to tell her," Tim said quietly, and Dick’s head snapped up, relief flashing in his eyes before Tim added, "But we're so dead if she ever finds out."

Dick swallowed hard, nodding slowly like his neck was made of rusted hinges.

Minutes passed in strained silence before Dick finally pulled out his phone, staring at the screen like it was a live grenade. His thumb hovered over the contact name for far too long before he muttered, "You rest, I'll go for something to eat."

Tim didn’t argue. He knew Dick needed an excuse to leave. He was probably gonna call her and this was the best he came up with.

One could only wonder how long has Dick been holding everything related to you to himself.

As Dick exited the room, Tim had already pulled out his own phone, fingers moving almost without thought. He hits sand before second-guessing it.

You may be strained from the family, but not Tim.

Somewhere across the world, a phone buzzed to life in the middle of a starred night.

A message, a call and fifteen after, a flight was booked.

[ally1uvsu]

The taste of your lips is my idea of luxury | Choi Su-bong (Thanos) x Nam-gyu

⨉⠀⠀─⠀⠀Series .⠀›⠀Trans Namgyu Week 2025⠀‎ꪆৎ day 6; Body Worship/Overstimulated sex — Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5

·⠀warnings info⠀· NSFW — . wc; 11.6k (yeah..)

Summary; Nam-gyu was broke, and that was no secret. But what would happen if he went into a party with See-mi who was accompanying her rich girlfriend? Maybe it was a bad idea, but maybe not so much more of one after meeting a certain purple haired man.

Tags; Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Sugar daddy thanos, Except they meet in a party and it only becomes a title after they bang, Trans Namgyu (Squid Game), Thanos is referred as choi su-bong, Namgyu-centric (Squid Game), Tbh I swap their povs a lot, Bottom Namgyu (Squid Game), Namgyu Wears Glasses (Squid Game), Pathetic Namgyu (Squid Game), Top Choi Subong I Thanos, Namgyu is a law student, He's also really broke, Semi and Namgyu are best friends, House Party, Business Party, Car Sex, Kind Of, Cunnilingus, Multiple Orgasms, Unsafe Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Boypussy, Drinking, Smoking, Safe Sane and Consensual, Riding, Missionary Position, Doggy Style, they go multiple rounds, Creampie, Squirting and Vaginal Ejaculation, Body Worship, Se-mi and Mi-na are gfs, Dirty Talk Namgyu is referred by his name properly, Orgasm Edging, Accidental, well kind of, Sexual Overstimulation, Overstimulated Sex, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Religious analogies (unsure how else to put this lol), DID SOMEBODY SAYYYYYYY SERVICE TOP THANOS? 😻, Crying, Dacryphilia, They're so fucking gay I hate them, Thanos is just a little mean, he's also whipped, Love at first sight ahh type of shit, Soft Choi Subong | Thanos, Aftercare, Butt Slapping, this is so foul im sorry, Downright DIRTY too, Possessive Choi Subong I Thanos, Idk if it's is a kink or if he genuinely likes to see his cum drip out, THIS SOUNDED WEIRD SORRY, The Author Regrets Nothing, The Author Regrets Everything, Slut Shaming, There are a lot of mood swings, Rough Sex, But Also Gentle Sex, Hair-pulling, Kinky, Praise Kink

Notes; OH MY FUCK IM FINALLY DONE I’VE BEEN WORKING ON THIS FOR HOURSSSSSS 😭😭🙏 enjoy guys… This might cover for the whole week altho I have a day left.. sighs! Also me and my 75 tags against the world smh!

Nam-gyu was burnt out, it was the easiest way to put this. He had to study and work, and his life basically revolved around that. He would spend countless hours studying for his exams and doing assignments everywhere and anywhere— which is how he ended up in this situation.

"Nam-gyu, I get it. You're in college, but you have to pay attention to work." His manager said frustrated, hell, what was the problem with that? He couldn't even use this phone and the store was practically empty all the damn time. He only worked here because when he saved up it covered his college tuitions.. ignoring how he was nearly getting evicted from his apartment.

"This is the tenth time, Nam-gyu. Not the second or third, tenth. You've been warned before." Nam-gyu gritted his teeth, hands clasped behind his back as he bowed along with a murmured apology, not that he was sorry. His manager and this store could all go to hell in his honest opinion.

"You know I don't have any time to do my school work or study— plus, the store is always empty." Nam-gyu said with a frustrated sigh, tucking his hair that was already greasy behind his ears. He heard the older and grumpy man in front of him take a deep breath, and this was where he knew he would be jobless. "Alright, you have to pick between that or your job. You surely must have more time to study and do your.. homework."

Was it dumb to quit his job when it was his only source of money? More than definitely. But Nam-gyu couldn't care less anymore, taking off the vest he was given to be identified as an employee and tossing it on the floor, Nam-gyu stared at him in the eyes. It was no wonder nobody ever wanted to work here, no wonder this place was constantly fucking short staffed. "Yeah? Well, fuck you too." Nam-gyu spat as he snatched his bag and pushed the door of the shop open.

It was terribly stupid to be upset over something like this, and he knew it was. But life wasn't doing him anything good, he was far more than broke, he was nearly getting in debt. Sure, his job covered his college tuitions but it didn't change the fact that he still had bills to cover for his apartment.

Nam-gyu loved to study, always had. He was the smart kid back in his high school years and below, but now getting burnt out was inevitable. He couldn't find the motivation to study, all of the times he studied at work and at home was him forcing himself to make his money worth.

He watched the sun beginning to set in the horizon, creating an otherwise peaceful atmosphere. The breeze felt soft as it brushed against his hair, he stared through the leaves of the trees as the dimming gaps of sunlight reached his face. Was this all really worth it?

Staring ahead of him, he saw someone's face stamped on the billboard. Something about this guy being a billionaire and hosting some party for the rich. Screw them, screw all of the rich who care about no one but themselves. Screw that fucking purple haired man on that billboard who had that damn smile on his face.

They were all just privileged little shits in the end, either they lived off of a family fortune or because of that fortune they smoothly went through college and graduated, it wasn't fair.

But maybe life never would be fair on him, and that's okay, too. He could just find another job and keep studying, become a lawyer.. or something. He crossed the street, his feet feeling heavier than they normally felt. His brain was seconds from blowing up, and he knew damn well those bills would be there to haunt him the second he went back to his apartment.

People all around were laughing and giggling, kids, adults, couples.. he wished he had a shred of what they had.

Truly, Nam-gyu always had to fend for himself. His mom was never around and his dad died when he was eight, leaving him all by himself. He had no siblings, which he was mostly grateful for because he could barely care for himself. But then there was his mom— when he came out as trans, it just got worse. If she wasn't present in his life previously, a day after she had vanished.

He had to pick himself up financially, learn how to get his shit together, and carry on.

Gripping his bag tighter, he turned the corner to his apartment complex. Getting through the gatekeeper that stood there mostly doing nothing, Nam-gyu began going up the long stairs to the fifth floor since the already rusty elevator broke.

The routine was tiring, but Nam-gyu didn't have a choice. Even if he was in the bottom of the pit, he had to work something out.

He reached for his keys, hearing the comforting jingle as he reached for the door '631', sliding it in the lock and turning. The door creaked open in a loud noise, but it felt otherwise grounding. Once that was done, he slid it back out and tucked them safely in his pocket, stepping in and letting out another heavy sigh as he stared at the pile of letters on the entrance floor.

Tossing his bag aside with what probably was frustration, maybe anger.. he kicked his shoes off, sliding down the door and leaning his head in his hands. It was as if the universe was testing him, maybe life was just insistent on dragging him down.

Maybe Nam-gyu all along was meant to be nothing in the end, forced to go with the flow.

A few minutes passed, they felt like an eternity in his mind. The air was suffocating, his responsibilities were. Yet even then, albeit the nagging headache and the soreness in his muscles, Nam-gyu reached for the stupid pile of letters before he ended up falling asleep in that position.

He teared the letters open one by one, some were just newspapers, some were just bills, bills, and more fucking bills. They were all just tossed aside, uncaring about how he was drowning in them. 

Nam-gyu should have felt relieved that he reached the last letter, but he felt upset even further as he checked the contents on that last one. A fucking eviction letter— what fault did he have if he couldn't cover college and a place to live? Shit, somedays he would have to eat half of a fucking ramen and leave the other for later or tomorrow.

It was all infuriating. 

It pissed him off how people who didn't have a proper condition had to be squashed like bugs by filthy rich people or people who had some kind of sustenance. It wasn't fair how people who were perfectly fine looked down upon people like Nam-gyu, none of it was fair.

He ripped the letter in his hands, standing up as he tossed it aside. Maybe he could smoke a cigarette? Those normally always worked whenever he was stressed. But then again, he needed to go out to the supermarket and buy some more.

He checked his savings box, it was barely enough to pay his tuition.. shit. It all bubbled up in his damn veins, and before he could even realize he was being driven by his own rage again, he was tossing a glass cup against the wall.

The sound of it shattering brought him back to reality, watching the shards fly everywhere. Maybe he just needed some air, yeah.. maybe that's what he needed. 

Reaching for the pair of glasses he kept above his nightstand, slamming the door of his apartment shut and not even bothering to lock it as he ran down the flight of stairs.

He was supposed to have a meeting with the landlord roughly around now, but it didn't mention anything about it being fucking mandatory. This wouldn't cover his tuition, he would need another paycheck. So, with a few money he grabbed from that stupid piggy bank, Nam-gyu began making his way towards a convenience store. 

Getting himself some cigarettes would probably make it better, along with some food since his stomach was rumbling and growling. He pushed past some people, unsure as of why he was running. He took in a heavy breath as he finally reached the crosswalk, only then realizing his legs burnt and his breath was uneven.

The light flicked red finally, and he began crossing. Only jumping back when a car sped through without a bother, making him audibly gasp as his money fell on a puddle of water. "Shit! You asshole! Watch where the fuck you're driving towards!" He called out towards the car that had already left, grabbing his money with a bunch of 'No's spilling from his lips.

Inside the car, Su-bong's head snapped towards the window with a furrow of his brow, was someone.. shouting at his driver? "What was that?" He asked as he looked away from the window, fingers pausing at the keyboard on his laptop.

"Nothing, sir. It was just merely a pedestrian who tried to cross in the wrong timing." The man replied, unbothered. Currently, Su-bong was on the way to that little business party he was hosting to discuss a few.. matters. It wasn't the best thing in the world, matter of fact, it was boring as fuck. But whatever kept the money going, he guessed.

"How long until we get there? We have to get there before our guests." Su-bong said with the same calm tone of voice, matching it to how the man driving had been speaking. "Around ten minutes, Mr.Choi. Don't worry, I'll make sure you get there before your awaited guests."

Su-bong hummed in response and in approval, focusing once again on the stocks open on his laptop. At least there would be drinks there, and likely a bunch of gossip, maybe this night wouldn't be entirely boring. (Even if he knew this expectation would likely lead him towards deception.)

Across the street already, Nam-gyu was trying to figure out ways to dry the money in his hands. None of these cheap stores had fucking dryers in the bathroom, normally, Nam-gyu wouldn't mind. But he needed that now more than ever.

His eyes lit up as he caught sight of a fancy store not too far away from him, he had his fingers crossed that they had a bathroom. And just to his luck, they did!

He stood there for some time, ignoring the bubbling heat in his hands as the air did some favor into drying the won bills. Some people passed by and looked at him weirdly, but they didn't matter as much as his money.

While standing there, Nam-gyu got some time to think. Maybe he should quit college for once and for all? Law was something he liked to study, but then, if he didn't graduate.. he could only get so far.

His gaze was far away, focused on a point in the wall while waiting for the money to dry at least a little bit. For some time, the pain and the heat became unbearable eventually. But lucky for him, they had dried well.

A breath of relief was punched out of Nam-gyu's lungs as he tucked the money inside his pocket, he really didn't feel like facing his landlord who was likely inside his apartment waiting for him right this moment.

Now, all he had to do was go to the convenience store. Maybe he would quit college in the end, use whatever was in his savings for the tuition to pay rent and find himself another job.

Now that he had that done, he could finally stop getting those weird stares. Feeling a little bit more lighter, Nam-gyu got out of the bathroom. Hopefully, they would accept the money back at the store. Maybe he could meet up with Se-mi later today and have a few drinks like they normally did on days like this.

Pulling his phone out, he dialed the all too familiar numbers and brought it up to his ear, walking while looking at his own feet. A small smile sprouted on his lips as he heard Se-mi's voice, it sounded.. faint, she was probably previously sleeping. "Shit.. what the hell do you want?" What a ray of sunshine, Se-mi really was an amazing friend.

"I'm about to drop around the convenience store, you down for tonight?" Nam-gyu asked, feeling weirdly hopeful. Maybe these were the small joys of his life, moments like this where he could just drink away his worries and get high. 

"..I was kind of going out today, shit— the time, fuck!" Nam-gyu furrowed his brows as he eyed the time, did she have a date or something? "You got a date or something?"

He chuckled as he heard the rustling sounds across the phone, and the loud clatter of the girl's phone against what Nam-gyu assumed was her nightstand. "Yeah, something like that!.." 

Well, looks like everyone was getting someone for this valentine's day. Even Se-mi, and she was younger than him. Maybe Nam-gyu would die alone at this point. "Who's the unlucky girl?"

"Shit, didn't I tell you? Crap, I must have forgotten.." Se-mi trailed off, yanking her closet open as she began going through her clothes. "I began dating this one girl, Mi-na. I don't know how the hell I bagged her but she's one of those rich ass people, y'know?"

What.

"Wait, what? Say that shit again?" Now this was just Nam-gyu being utterly unlucky, Se-mi wasn't even in debt and got a rich girlfriend! Sure, he's gay and all that jazz but he really needed that money.

"Yeah, I know, right? I found out two days ago when she asked me to go out with her to this party today." He heard the younger girl scoff, and Nam-gyu was completely dumbfounded. "You really took getting a sugar mommy seriously." Nam-gyu said with a chuckle, hearing a few muffled curses spill from Se-mi's mouth.

"You wanna come?" Se-mi asked suddenly, and Nam-gyu actually froze on spot this time. It wasn't the best idea.. Nam-gyu didn't have clothes or whatever, he would feel completely out of place there. "Uh.. I- shit, why would I? I'd be completely out of place there."

"Well, I feel bad now, of course." Nam-gyu rolled his eyes, he'd think it was because she'd feel lonely, but of course not. "Damn, you hurt my feelings like this."

"Come on, Nam! If you'd feel out of place, imagine me. Plus, we can shit talk together, enjoy fancy shit, and I don't know— live a little. Plus, maybe you can find yourself a rich man over there." Nam-gyu let out a nervous chuckle, shit. This was a bad idea, but it wasn't like he could go back to his house today, anyway.

"I don't even have proper clothing." Nam-gyu stated anyways, which was true. And even if he did— again, he couldn't go home. "You can borrow some suit of mines." Se-mi retorted back, and he could practically see her standing there with a hand on her hip.

"I'm nowhere near your house, and even then your girlfriend probably would be bothered." 

"We can pick you up, and she told me I could invite someone over if I wanted to."

"You'll both be late if you wait for me to get ready."

"She can wait, the party doesn't have a timing to end."

"But—" Maybe Se-mi was a little bit too good at these kind of arguments, whenever he threw in an excuse, she'd have a perfect solution for it. Which sometimes just would make him say no.

"All I'm hearing is excuses, excuses, and more excuses, Nam. Just get your ass over here already before I give up on you already, jeez." Se-mi complained with a tinge of annoyance, and Nam-gyu did go.

—

"Se-mi, I really don't think this is a good idea." Maybe he shouldn't have come here, after all. His head was tilted back as Se-mi applied some sort of.. whatever is it that she was doing in his eye. The clothes, even if they fit him, were a tad uncomfortable. But at least his hair wasn't greasy anymore, he felt overly fancy when he shouldn't even be here. It was a weird kind of feeling.

"Shh, stay quiet, I'm nearly done. Mi-na will be here soon." Se-mi scolded, running the tip of her brush with black eyeshadow along Nam-gyu's upper eyelash line. It wasn't really makeup, just something more to enhance Nam-gyu's eyes. Naturally, he already had eyes that kind of resembled a cat's, all Se-mi really had to do was make them pop off just a bit more.

 "I really shouldn't be going, tho—" Nam-gyu said with an impatient whine as Se-mi finally pulled away, and Nam-gyu managed to pull his neck forward. Rubbing the back of his already sore neck, he stared at Se-mi who was standing there, proud of her work. "You. Look. Stunning!" She said with a grin, and Nam-gyu stood up to stare at himself in the mirror, technically, she wasn't wrong.

Maybe Nam-gyu could let himself enjoy this evening and let go of his troubles and worries for a bit.

"Yeah, yeah. I guess." Nam-gyu said with an amused smile, and Se-mi already began putting her stuff away. "See? It will be fun! We'll go, drink, get high, and have fun together while drinking rich people shit, what else could be better than that?"

"Yeah.. you know what? You're not wrong." Nam-gyu said along with a hum of approval, fixing his tie for the tenth time. "My question is why the hell do you have two suits?"

Se-mi wasn't wearing a dress, she was wearing a suit just like his, save for the fact it was black and his was navy blue. According to her, dresses were too much of a fuss and you can move freely in a suit. Nam-gyu couldn't necessarily disagree with her. "Dunno, I like both colors. I have both just so I could have an option of colors."

Nam-gyu nodded after a long dragged and low 'ahh..', they would have been silent if it wasn't for the soft buzzing of Se-mi's phone. While the other finished whatever she was doing, Nam-gyu reached for her phone to see the name of contact tagged as 'Princess'. It made him cringe internally but.. the girl Se-mi's dating is indeed pretty, that he couldn't deny.

"Here, your little girlfriend is calling you." Nam-gyu said with a face feigning disgust, and Se-mi simply rolled her eyes as she snatched her phone back the same second she shut her bathroom cabinet. "Hey, you here already?"

Nam-gyu didn't bother picking up on the details, instead, he focused on fixing his tie for the tenth time already in front of the mirror. Fidgeting with his rings and pushing his glasses back from the tip of his nose. 

"Alright, let's get going. She's outside." Se-mi called out as she slid her shoes on by the entrance, turning the doorknob open. Nam-gyu was quick to ease his shoes on, being somewhat glad that he and Se-mi wore the same size of shoes. Their clothes were close enough, he assumed.

Trailing closely after Se-mi who was still busy on her phone, he took the chance to look out the window to try and spot any car out there that could be waiting for them. Maybe she wasn't here yet and just really close?

Stepping outside, Nam-gyu was met with the fresh breeze for the third time of the day. This time, though, the sun was far gone. The stars danced across the sky and the lampposts reflected a warm light on the sidewalks, creating a cozy atmosphere.

Not even two minutes of standing later, Nam-gyu caught side of a fucking Bugatti turning the corner. Shit, even if Nam-gyu saved up all of his money altogether, he could barely reach the bottom of what that Se-mi's girlfriend likely spent on this.

"Bring up your jaw, we'll both be seeing more than this, Nam." Se-mi said with a laugh, opening the passenger door and sliding in. It took Nam-gyu a few seconds to recompose himself, but then he also got inside the car.

It smelled like luxury, not that Nam-gyu was used to it. But it was a nice smell as overwhelming as it was. To the side, he could see Se-mi greeting the girl he had seen on the phone a few seconds ago, presumably her girlfriend. "Ew, I'm here too, y'know." Nam-gyu huffed as the car began to move.

"Right, right. Sorry." Se-mi grumbled as she reluctantly pulled away, and Mi-na's face finally came into full view. She eyed him up and down before smiling, nudging Se-mi's arm and whispering something inaudible to her, to which Se-mi nodded.

"You must be Nam-gyu, right?" Mi-na said when she pulled back, extending her hand for Nam-gyu to shake, and he did. She was.. nice, that's what he could tell right off the bat. Maybe a little mean and sassy, but otherwise nice.

He wouldn't have thought she was much fun, but in matter of seconds, the trio was laughing as the car nearly reached their destination. Nam-gyu covered his mouth with his hand as another laugh bubbled up in his chest, and Se-mi looked happy that they were well.. getting along well.

"You know, Nam-gyu. With that face of yours and your sense of humor, you might end up finding someone to fund you out there." Mi-na suggested with a mischievous glint in her eyes, it made Nam-gyu suspect that she was probably making up a plan in the back of her mind.

"Nah, I wouldn't think so. All of these fancy ass people in there and someone would like a broke college student? Pfft, no way." Mi-na immediately gasped at that, smacking his hand away as she observed his face. "Nonsense! I mean, you do have a very beautiful face. I don't think money counts when you can sway the heart of anyone there." 

"Can't say I disagree with that, Nam." Se-mi butted in, hand resting lightly on her girlfriend's waist as she pulled the other down to her sit. "Just saying, if you end up on someone's bed tonight, don't call me. I'll leave you to be because your broke ass does need some money ASAP."

"What an amazing friend.." Nam-gyu uttered under his breath as he changed his gaze from the two girls towards the window, right timing. He caught a glimpse of a huge fucking building outside, and if it wasn't fancy Nam-gyu didn't fucking exist.

"Okay, now I'm 100% we'll feel out of place here." Nam-gyu said as he snapped his head towards Se-mi, and Mi-na simply waved her hand as she crossed her arms. "Relax, normally business parties like this rarely involves business unless you bring it up. It's just a bunch of rich people gathering and shit talking while getting drunk."

Not that it made anything any easier.. but Nam-gyu swallowed the lump in his throat as he nodded. The car eventually halted in front of the gate as the driver handed a neatly made paper roll to which the gatekeeper opened, checking it, and then finally allowing their entrance.

Stepping out of the car, Nam-gyu adjusted his clothes at least for the tenth time only in an hour. Se-mi and Mi-na intertwined their arms together, and Nam-gyu just kind of tagged along by Se-mi's side.

The people here smelled expensive, they acted expensive as if it clung to them like a second skin. Every step they gave while passing by them, Nam-gyu couldn't help but feel smaller and smaller. His fingers fidgeted with one of his rings, he was unsure how the other girl seemed so at ease.

The laughter was filling the air, rich sounding laughter to which Nam-gyu nearly cringed to. All of this people were probably filthy rich, a kind of luxury Nam-gyu likely would never experience once in his life. But his thoughts were snapped away as he sat down on some couch nearby the pool as his two companions sat down.

"Jeez, this feels overwhelming." Nam-gyu complained with a huff, tucking his hair back behind his ears. Mi-na simply laughed, head leaned on Se-mi's shoulder as she grabbed a glass of wine from some waitress that was moving around. "You'll get used to it, just have a couple of drinks and you'll be just fine. People here aren't that bad, some may be snobby but in the end.. they're just other people, too."

Well, that made Nam-gyu feel more at ease. His fingers wrapped lightly around the bottom of the glass, bringing the cup towards his lips as he took a sip. The taste was bitter, it made Nam-gyu initially grimace, but then he was slowly drinking it. Getting used to the taste which after all, wasn't that bad.

"I'll be back, m'kay?" Mi-na said with a giggle as she kissed Se-mi's cheek before darting off somewhere. Nam-gyu took this opportunity to slide closer to the girl, sighing as he tilted his head back. "I was supposed to have a meeting with my landlord today, I mean, I got an eviction letter."

Se-mi paused, raising her brow. "Is it because of the rent you barely ever pay?" Nam-gyu hummed as he nodded, taking another sip of the bitter wine coating his tongue. "Might quit college because of it."

"You know you can stay by my place as much time as you need, right?" Nam-gyu nodded once again, but either way, he wouldn't have enough to pay the tuition anyways. "It's fine, I won't be able to pay the tuition anyways." He shrugged, pausing as his eyes flickered to the people loudly speaking with a small grin. "Ay, you see that woman over there? Look at where her hand's going.."

Se-mi smacked his arm playfully, as if playing to scold him but either way she let out a quiet chuckle. "We shouldn't be talking about people so openly like this.. but shit, yeah. In public is crazy."

Nam-gyu laughed, covering his mouth with his hand as laughter bubbled up from his chest. He loved these moments with Se-mi, sometimes the worse of situations just went away with simple little moments they have together.

Not very far from them, Mi-na looked for someone in specific, a bright smile appearing on her lips as she caught sight of three men standing nearby the garden. Rushing forwards as much as she could in the heels she was wearing, she tapped someone's shoulder, someone who was all too familiar.

"Su-bong! It's been so long!" She said as the face of the familiar man came into view, and Su-bong returned her smile. "Señorita! It has been a long time." He replied with a side hug, a grin plastered in his face. "How have things been? Still trying to find someone?"

"No.. not really, I found a girlfriend." Mi-na said cheekily, watching as Su-bong's face fell for a second. "Jeez, who's the lucky lady? She here today?" Mi-na nodded, pointing towards the couch that was obscured by a few standing people. "She's sitting there with her friend, wanna come meet them?"

Su-bong thought for a second, setting down his glass as he waved bye to the men he was previously talked to. "Of course."

With that, Su-bong followed Mi-na's lead. Greeting some people here and there on the way until they finally reached the couch where the two Mi-na mentioned would be. But to his surprise, only who Su-bong assumed was Mi-na's girlfriend was there.

"Heyy, I'm back!" Mi-na announced as she plopped down next to Se-mi, finally realizing Nam-gyu wasn't there. "Where's Nam-gyu?"

"He went inside the house.. probably on the balcony he saw for a smoke." Se-mi said as she casually threw her arm over the older girl's shoulders, looking at Su-bong. "And who might that be?"

"Oh, he's my childhood best friend! His name is Su-bong, Su-bong, this is Se-mi." Mi-na introduced them cheerfully, watching the pair shake hands and give each other a polite smile.. well, for Se-mi's part. Because Su-bong was already pulling the whole señorita shit.

Before it could even get any further, Mi-na chimed in, an idea popping up in her mind as she squeezed Se-mi's hand, whom she hoped would get the idea. "Ay, Su-bong. Since you know the house, why don't you go call Nam-gyu for us?"

Su-bong furrowed his brows, crossing his arms. "Why don't you go? He's your friend." Well.. that was a good one, sure. But now, Mi-na kind of felt like playing matchmaker. "One, you're the host. Two, you know the building better, andd three, I'm kind of busy with my girlfriend here."

Su-bong rolled his eyes, a heavy huff of protest leaving his lips as he mumbled a flow of 'whatever's' as he turned around and left. The second Su-bong was gone, though, Mi-na looked at her girlfriend with a wicked grin. "A hundred bucks they'll hook up."

"Mm, bet." Se-mi replied with a chuckle, shaking her head. Mi-na had weird way of trying to match people together.

Above on the balcony Nam-gyu reached inside the house, the strong smell of cigarettes filled the air. One was already crushed by his side, a faint mark of something burnt in the wood of the railing he was leaning against. 

The breeze caressed his face and hair softly, doing nothing to shake away his thoughts of what he would even do with his future.

He inhaled the comforting smoke, eyes prying shut with relief as he pulled the stick back, holding it in for a minute before slowly exhaling it. Cigarettes and drinks were comforting to him, maybe it was because they had its own way to numb down his brain.

The faintest sounds of footsteps in distance reached his ears, even then, he didn't turn. The soft padding of feet mingling with the whooshing wind, and it just grew closer.. until it stopped. Right behind him.

Nam-gyu made no move to turn around, uninterested. It wasn't Se-mi, likely not Mi-na either. They'd probably be calling out for his name all around. "Smoking alone out here?" He heard a deep voice say, it was an unfamiliar one, mayhaps belonging to a very much older man.

"No, the corpse of my dead father is next to me." He replied dryly, and he heard the rustling and padding of feet again as they finally leaned into the railing right next to him, their eyes meeting.

Nam-gyu turned his head reluctantly, a tad annoyed that someone ruined his moment that he had been using to calm down his mind and think, but these eyes were mesmerizing.

Nam-gyu then remembered, this was the same man he had seen earlier on the billboard. But up close, with the dim lighting of the moon glinting softly above them, maybe he wasn't that bad. Purple hair, yet not the entirety of his hair was purple. He had a sharp jaw, defined cheekbones and.. blue eyes. 

It momentarily snapped him out of the moment again, but the deep rumble of a chuckle brought him back to reality. "You have another one of those?"

Nam-gyu nodded, reaching inside his pocket for another stick and his lighter. Su-bong reached for it, bringing it up to his lips as his fingers created the friction against the lighter, watching the flame be lit and burn into the cigarette.

Handing the other the lighter back, Su-bong stared off into the view Nam-gyu had previously been admiring. And then, he turned to Nam-gyu's face. He normally didn't remember anyone he invited, he just knew they came. But Nam-gyu.. he was sure he never met anyone that intrigued him so much as Nam-gyu did.

His eyes were a beautiful shade of black, almost cat like, too. Despite the lack of warmth in them, the fact they were devoid of anything, they were gorgeous. His skin was pale, tinted with barely visible freckles. Maybe coming here to call after Mi-na's friend wasn't so much of a bother anymore.

"You work with anything in particular?" Su-bong asked after a few seconds of awkward silence that seemed to stretch into eternity. Nam-gyu initially shook his head, not saying anything. Su-bong would have thought that Nam-gyu just wanted to be left alone in the end, but before he really could put his mind into it, Nam-gyu was speaking.

"No. I go to college, though." Interesting, well, maybe Nam-gyu really just came around because he was invited. "What major?" Su-bong really was unsure why was he dragging this on, maybe it was because Nam-gyu had a certain allure to him, or maybe it was just because the raven haired man managed to pick his interest.

"Law, but I'm probably going to quit." Nam-gyu said nonchalantly despite the tug on his heart he felt as he said those words, inhaling more smoke to drown the feeling. "Mm, how come? Got tired of it?" Su-bong said, genuinely curious as his fingers tapped against the wood of the railing. Now more focused on Nam-gyu than the cigarette, the view, or the laughter downstairs.

Nam-gyu let out a heavy sigh, normally, he wasn't one to go around and spill his guts to the world. But then again, he was talking to one of those rich and privileged people, it was likely he'd never see Su-bong again. "My job covers most of my tuition but.. I don't have enough to pay my damn rent. And either way, the job I work at is mostly empty all the time, even then I can't study. So I would just work for nothing and fail."

Su-bong pursed his lips, averting his gaze once again thoughtfully. "Sounds pretty tough," he began off. 

Nam-gyu was definitely one of the people who were financially struggling, and him being here was just mere luck because his friend is dating Mi-na. Su-bong normally didn't pay attention to these kinds of people, most of them just wanted money or something— anything, to drag them out of the situation they're in. But Nam-gyu seems decided, maybe a but too much. He looked unbothered or at least tried to convince himself he didn't care about this.

"It's not a tough decision, college can make you go towards the path of success, but if you slowly give yourself up in the end.. none of it is worth it. Even though I like studying, it's the truth." Nam-gyu murmured as he pushed his glasses back to the ridge of his nose, observing below them the glinting lights and the people socializing.

"I didn't catch your name yet." Su-bong suddenly mentioned, maybe he was just trying to change the uncomfortable subject.. whatever. Nam-gyu nodded, leaning his upper body forward as he enjoyed the soft and warm summer breeze. "Nam-gyu, Roh Nam-gyu."

Pretty name for a beautiful face.

That was Su-bong's first thought as he finally got his name, a smile appearing on his lips only to be brushed away. "My name's Choi Su-bong, it's nice to meet you, Nam-gyu."

Nam-gyu nodded, and he would have thought the conversation might as well have ended there. Yet, countless minutes later, to which he didn't even bother counting, he was still here. Still here sitting down on the floor as he laughed away with Su-bong as if he had known him his whole life, all while he held an already out cigarette.

"For someone so rich.. I wouldn't have thought you're funny, y'know? In my opinion, rich people can be so snobby.. it pisses me off." Nam-gyu said with another laugh coming right after as Su-bong snorted, waving him off. "Hey, now you know we're not snobby.. at least not all of us are, anyway."

They both stopped talking again, but this time, for some reason it felt weirdly different. The atmosphere was carefree and yet draping over them like a blanket, it was just enough to make Nam-gyu's heart begin thudding with excitement for reasons he couldn't even place.

"Do I piss you off?" Su-bong asked in a low murmur, hand moving from his own thigh to just tilt Nam-gyu's chin up. Sure.. Nam-gyu initially cursed him off but in the end, Su-bong wasn't bad. "No, not at all." Nam-gyu replied nearly breathlessly.

It was a tense moment charged with unspoken desires and unsaid words, Nam-gyu felt as if he had known this intriguing but weirdly attractive man since forever. He didn't know why he felt like this.. or what kind of spell Su-bong had on him (if he even had any), for him to feel the way he was feeling. He wasn't one for impulsive actions, but for some reason, his mind was screaming at him to give in.

And then, after a moment of hesitation and pondering, their eyes locked again. No words were exchanged at all, but it was as if they could read into each other's minds as their lips locked together.

It felt right, way too right. The alcohol clouded his mind and the smell of cigarettes clinging to Su-bong.. or maybe it was him, which in the end was both, was slowly getting to his brain. A groan spilled from Nam-gyu's lips as he reciprocated the kiss eagerly, eyelids fluttering shut against his will.

The way they melted together felt as if they were meant to do this, call Nam-gyu cheesy but he couldn't deny how good it felt. 

Su-bong was practically devouring him whole, hands wandering all around him as if trying to memorize his body through the barrier of their clothing pieces. Naturally, Nam-gyu didn't believe in God. But the second he pulled away, heavy and panting, and met Su-bong's eyes, the first thought occurring to his mind was that this man was his savior.

Nam-gyu let out a chuckle, tilting his head down as to hide his smile. He didn't know many things, but he knew he wanted Su-bong. Not because of the money, not because of where he is placed in society, but because of who he is.

"Wanna get out of here?" Su-bong asked just as equally breathless with a different gleam in his eyes, it was as if he felt it, too. "You're just.. leaving your guests here?" Nam-gyu asked, was he really getting to the point he was leaving his own party for him?

"Don't worry, I can't manage a party all by myself. I have assistants here that know how to take care of things without me." Su-bong said as he stood up, pulling Nam-gyu along as they sped walked out of the house.

It was as if Su-bong's assistants all knew his own rhythm and how he was, it surprised him, honestly. Especially when the man he assumed was the driver began making their way towards some limousine— maybe Su-bong really had it all thought out.

Following suit after the older man, he got inside the back seat. Of course the limousine had a damn partition, and Su-bong had never been so glad he came here with it.

The door behind Su-bong clicked shut as he rolled up the window, completely obscuring the driver from their view. And in an instant, their lips were on each other again.

Nam-gyu grabbed Su-bong's hair, feeling the silky and surprisingly strands beneath his fingers as they eagerly made out. Nam-gyu pressed against the seat, and Su-bong on top of him. The kiss broke with a wet 'pop', Nam-gyu was panting, but Su-bong didn't seem to mind catching his breath at all. His kisses descended all the way towards Nam-gyu's jaw to his neck, kissing and biting softly around the skin.

Su-bong began undoing the tie Nam-gyu wore, easing off the blazer all while he paid extra attention to the milky skin beneath his lips. But he didn't take off his shirt, thinking it'd be too much of a waste of time to put it back on once they reached the penthouse Su-bong stayed at.

And yet, he still was inpatient to just stick to kissing. His hands fumbled with Nam-gyu's belt as he heard the other pant and let out noises, the way his chest heaved and fell was nothing short of addictive.

Nam-gyu's heart stopped as he was brought to reality when he felt cold air hit his legs, realizing that Su-bong wasn't on top anymore, but kneeled down between his legs. Nam-gyu wasn't one to sleep around mainly because of this reason, most people in Korea were far too judgmental.

And yet, as Su-bong pulled down his boxers, he didn't say a word. He looked back up at Nam-gyu with a look he swore could suffocate him. Nam-gyu would have sworn he could feel his blood rushing just by how Su-bong was staring at him. With those eyes of him so hazy and practically begging, it made him think and know that right this instant, Su-bong didn't want only his body.

Nam-gyu nodded, and that was all the permission Su-bong ever needed. Firm hands gripped the back of Nam-gyu's thighs as they were thrown over his broad shoulders, it was as if Su-bong needed this— needed him like the air he breathed.

If he was unfocused before, all of his focus was brought back to reality. The reality where Su-bong buried his face between his legs, an expert tongue flat against his folds before it licked a stripe up his slit. A moan elicited from Nam-gyu's lips, a hand immediately burying itself on the purple hair since he couldn't really grasp onto anything.

Su-bong could have sworn he would lose his mind just from how good Nam-gyu tasted, shit, he if Nam-gyu accepted getting paid just for Su-bong to have him. His nose buried against the other's clit as he slid his tongue in with a groan, hearing the pleasurable sounds spilling from Nam-gyu's lips, maybe Su-bong was indeed in heaven.

Alternating between licks and thrusts of his tongue, Su-bong finally latched on the other's clit, one of his fingers pressing against his entrance to slowly sink in up to his knuckles.

Nam-gyu clenched around his fingers, as if he was desperate to keep them in. A hand flew over Nam-gyu's mouth as to muffle the series of noises he was letting out. Su-bong definitely did this before, he was doing this so confidently and so easily that it was making Nam-gyu's mind fog up. For a moment, he felt bad for the driver in the other compartment of the car, but now?.. maybe not so much. Despite his efforts to stay quiet, the feeling was too fucking good to ignore.

His gaze was dazed and distant, looking at everywhere but Su-bong's eyes. His biggest mistake was to look at them anyways, because the sight was genuinely breathtaking. The man had a determined face and even then, had this wild look in his eyes. It was enough to feel a familiar tightness in his core, making Nam-gyu throw his head back as the hand that was on Su-bong's hair forced him closer, if that even was possible.

The only sounds heard in the car was either Nam-gyu moaning or the obscene squelching sounds, Nam-gyu began grinding his hips against Su-bong's face, eyes rolling back from the sheer pleasure of it all. His thighs were restless, especially when Su-bong sunk a second finger just as equally deep as the first one. Nam-gyu didn't know if he wanted to press closer or squirm away from just how intense this all was. But either way he couldn't move, all due to one of Su-bong's arms pressed around one of his thighs, holding him down.

It was fucking pathetic how Nam-gyu was whimpering and moaning like a bitch in heat, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Everything was muffled as if he was underwater, he felt too good to bother. He locked his eyes with Su-bong again, who let out a groan against his cunt. Nam-gyu shuddered, shit, he was so close—

And then the car came into a halt, making Su-bong pull back. Nam-gyu whined in protest as he lost the feeling of Su-bong's fingers and mouth on him, but he was quickly shut with a heated kiss as Su-bong pulled up his pants. Nam-gyu was so fucking horny it physically hurt. The throb in his pussy was insistent, strong, shit had he really gone that long without sex?

"Why'd you stop?" Nam-gyu said with a frown and even annoyance in his voice, and Su-bong gave him a stupid grin full of teeth before kissing his jaw, close to his ear. "Maybe because the car stopped.. we're here. But then again, maybe you were too fucked out on my tongue to notice. Especially when you moaned like you were in heat."

Nam-gyu's face earned a bright tint of red at Su-bong's words, smacking the other's arms as he opened his mouth to clearly argue back against the statement, albeit knowing it was nothing but the truth. But their lips met again in another kiss, and this time, Nam-gyu could properly and definitely taste himself on Su-bong's tongue. A knock on the window was heard before they even got too heated, the driver announcing they had arrived, and Su-bong pulled back.. still with that damn cheeky grin. This time, he leaned in directly in his ear, enough to make him shudder, and whispered;

"I have enough money to pay you to have you staying on display in my bedroom allll day, and I most definitely could pay you to let me eat your sweet cunt for hours, mm? Would you like that?" Su-bong said in a breathy voice, it was deep and a bit raspy, making Nam-gyu feel a tingle down his spine. "I'd be between your legs so much that instead of complaining, you'll be crying for me to stop. But then again, you'll probably like it." And with that, Su-bong pulled away. Taking Nam-gyu's hand into his as he led the other out of the car.

Disheveled, flushing, and panting, Nam-gyu met the driver's eyes. Thankfully, his face was devoid of any emotion, even if Nam-gyu knew he was moaning loudly enough for the older man to hear. A man could certainly hope, right?

The sight in front of him momentarily had him dazed, making him forget about a lot of things in the moment. The building was definitely fancy, it shone bright and was well decorated. It had beautiful details, details that Nam-gyu was sure that even a single piece standing outside for decoration was worth more than he was. Su-bong chuckled, but didn't mention it further as he hastily dragged Nam-gyu inside. He greeted a few people along the way to the elevator, some staff doing the same as they politely bowed towards each other. Normally, Nam-gyu would feel extremely awkward and out of place, but he really just wanted Su-bong's hands roaming everywhere around him once again— so he really couldn't bring himself to care at this point.

The ride inside the elevator felt excruciatingly slow, his grip tight on Su-bong's hand. He was definitely just as eager as Nam-gyu was, considering how he would impatiently squeeze Nam-gyu's hand back from time to time. 

The door to the elevator dinged open just in time, to his relief. By now, Su-bong was just rapidly dragging Nam-gyu through the halls until they stopped by a particular door.

Su-bong's hands stubbornly shook as he slid the key inside the keyhole and twisted it. Hastily opening the door, he tossed the keys aside and shut the door with an unintentional slam when Nam-gyu walked in. The poor man didn't have a chance to admire how fancy the whole place was before he was swooped up in the other's arms, maybe Su-bong was even more horny than he was, after all.

In matter of seconds, he was thrown against the bed with an oddly gentle care. The blankets and mattress felt comfortable against his hands, it was definitely some kind of velvet. The rustling of clothes called Nam-gyu back to reality, only to see Su-bong standing there shirtless. He definitely went to gym, having a toned and defined upper body. Su-bong not only had a great personality but he was fucking hot. These same hands were back on him, undoing the buttons of his pants and carelessly throwing them aside along with his underwear, despite having previously been naked seconds earlier— he still couldn't help feeling a bit exposed.

Air felt a bit scarce as Su-bong slid off his shirt, Nam-gyu couldn't help feeling overly conscious over the two scars shaped in crescents there. But it was way better than when he still had his boobs, dysphoria wasn't as bad anymore. His shirt was also thrown on the floor somewhere with his clothes, leaving him bare for the air to caress his skin.

Su-bong stared at the man beneath him, all of the weight in the world seemed to be in those beautiful black eyes and Su-bong felt like he was swept off his feet. Nam-gyu was still somewhat panting, his once neat hair was sticking everywhere but most importantly, around his head like some sort of halo. His chest heaving and falling, hands slightly gripping the sheets in anticipation, and Su-bong decided right there that Nam-gyu wasn't too far below the gods. Matter of fact, he likely was one. "Shit," Su-bong mumbled as he pressed his face against Nam-gyu's neck, kissing the skin there as both of his hands held his waist firmly.

"You're fucking divine, you know that?" Nam-gyu gaped his lips, his heart stuttering in place as he processed the words. He got called a lot of things throughout the course of his life, hot, pretty, gorgeous— but being called something such as this in such a raw unbridled way, a way that sounded so genuine, tugged at his heart.

"Su-bong— please." Nam-gyu whined back, those words were all sent straight to his core. He wasn't aware he had a thing for getting praised and worshipped like this, but he wasn't complaining. Those warm and open mouthed kisses became bites, etching and craving themselves on his skin with a pleasurable sting of pain.

Su-bong was everywhere, his mouth marking the pale skin of his neck, his shoulders, his collarbones— and then he finally pulled back, panting slightly with a satisfied smirk on his face. "You're fucking gorgeous, you sure you're not a god in disguise?" Su-bong genuinely asked, fingers tracing the marks under his chest with an utter tenderness Nam-gyu swore he would cry.. not only from his eyes, of course.

"Su-bong, shit— please, just fuck me." Nam-gyu said with a frown, it really wasn't his fault when his cunt was throbbing too fucking hard just from how turned on he was. "Needy." Su-bong mumbled in reply as he latched on one of his nipples, a moan tearing from Nam-gyu's throat. Initially low, but when Su-bong slid in two fingers inside of him again with no warning, it essentially grew higher in pitch.

His thighs shook as Su-bong shoved his fingers deep enough to reach that spongy spot inside of him, crooking and scissoring in an almost teasing manner. He could feel his erection pressing directly on the thigh he was hovering over, and Nam-gyu really just wanted to be fucked dumb over and over again by this man.

Su-bong pulled back, smirking at Nam-gyu who was by now grinding his hips down as much as he could against his fingers, a hand coming up to caress his cheek in an almost mocking way. "You gonna cum, baby?" With those words, he sped up his movements. The palm of his hand slapping against Nam-gyu's already tortured clit with each thrust.

Nam-gyu nodded, gripping the sheets as moans tore from his throat. The knot in his core slowly unraveling, "Come on, cum around my fingers, you earned it." And he did, hard. Nam-gyu's eyes nearly rolled back (they probably did, but he was too out of it to even tell.) As his thighs tried to clamp shut out of pure instinct, gushing around Su-bong's fingers.

Su-bong worked Nam-gyu through his orgasm, watching Nam-gyu squirt and pulse around his fingers with genuine awe. Peppering his face in kisses, down to his jaw, neck, and stopping at his shoulders. A grin plastered on his face as Nam-gyu finally came down from his intense high. He eased his fingers out, earning whines of what looked like overstimulation and bringing his fingers to his mouth as he sucked them clean. "You taste real good, y'know?" Su-bong murmured against Nam-gyu's shoulder before pulling back to look at him in the eyes. Nam-gyu looked a little out of it, maybe it was that good in the end. "You with me?"

Nam-gyu slowly snapped back to it, the initial haze of his orgasm fading as he was met with Su-bong's grounding eyes. He nodded, although he was barely catching into the words. He propped himself up on his elbows, chasing after Su-bong's lips as they met with a kiss. It wasn't soft, nor tender. But it wasn't feral either, instead, it exhaled the feelings unspoken; passion, may-haps. And definitely lust.

With a surprising ease, as Su-bong allowed it, Nam-gyu slowly swapped their positions so he was properly sat on his lap. A hand burying itself into the mix of purple and black hair while the other deftly unbuckled Su-bong's belt and unzipped the zipper of his pants, and with a minimum help from the older man, he shoved them down along with his boxers, whom Su-bong kicked somewhere in the room.

Breaking the kiss apart and yet without breaking eye contact, Nam-gyu grabbed the other's already red cock— the poor thing already leaking. And Nam-gyu couldn't even judge him, he was fucking sopping wet. Pumping it once or twice in his hand as Su-bong let out quiet groans, he pressed it slowly against his entrance before he began sinking down.

Moans and grunts from both of them were heard in the room and yet they still stared at each other. Su-bong held Nam-gyu's hips firmly, thinking he had never looked so divine. He felt like gummy around him— and shit, he was tight. He would have guessed it had been a little while, and the thought almost made him smile. Almost.

"Shit— you're s'big" Nam-gyu groaned into Su-bong's neck, he felt so fucking stuffed and full and yet Su-bong was only halfway in. "Relax, just take a breath, 'kay?" Su-bong said as he as gently as possible, eased Nam-gyu down into his dick. Rubbing circles on his hips with his thumbs, after what felt like an eternity, Su-bong bottomed out. Pulling Nam-gyu in for another kiss to help him distract himself.

The pain was stinging, it definitely had been more than months since Nam-gyu had sex with someone. But it was good, that was something he couldn't deny. But it slowly eased away as they kissed, forcing himself to focus more on the feeling of Su-bong's lips on his than the slightly uncomfortable feeling. "Sh- shit.." Su-bong said with a breathless moan, eyes darting to see Nam-gyu perfectly adjusted on his lap. 

"You feel good, fuck," Nam-gyu moaned, lifting his hips a tad shakily before dropping down. Su-bong's hands aided him on the movement, although he did let Nam-gyu work it in his own pace. "Fucking christ, you're a dream." Su-bong said with a groan, head hitting back against the headboard and fingers tightening around the other's hip when he let out a sound equal to a whimper.

The initial pace was slow, a measured drop and rise of hips that had them both moaning and allowing them to savor the feeling. But then again, it only took a few moments for that pace to change into a much faster one. In question of seconds, Nam-gyu was going faster and faster until he was practically bouncing on Su-bong's lap. Mewling and moaning helplessly, it was a hell of a fucking sight.

Su-bong took a little while to appreciate Nam-gyu's appearance before anything else, the way Nam-gyu had his arms thrown over his shoulders, the way his eyes were glazed and unfocused, sometimes rolling back.. the way his lips, already swollen and red from kissing parted to let out the most sinful moans Su-bong has ever heard.. he swore Nam-gyu could make a pornstar feel ashamed. And the way he was nearly drooling, fucking himself dumb on Su-bong's cock as if it was his life purpose.

Tugging at Nam-gyu's hair for a split second, he watched the latter whine at the feeling before being pulled into a messy and sloppy kiss. It was as if they were trying to swallow each other, maybe that's how both of them wanted it to be. Su-bong dug his nails into Nam-gyu's skin, hoping that it was strong enough to leave a mark— any mark he could leave on this being that Su-bong so dearly believed was a god. And maybe the altar was Nam-gyu's hips, where Su-bong worshipped him.

Nam-gyu moaned breathlessly against the kiss, his movements all jerky and uncoordinated as he got closer and closer. And as their lips parted, Nam-gyu was coming for the second time— and fucking hard. To the point his vision was all blurry and Su-bong became just a flash of purple hair.

Su-bong groaned as he felt Nam-gyu squeeze the life out of him, his cunt gripping his dick so tight he would have guessed Nam-gyu never wanted to let him go. He bit down on the other's shoulder, thrusting up as their bodies moved in sync. And then he finally released, pushing himself as deep as he could go before flooding the other's insides. It was an addictive kind of feeling, one that Su-bong definitely wanted to get used to. "Good job— shit, good boy"

Nam-gyu whimpered at the name, their bodies altogether slowly halting to a stop. For a few moments, both of them stayed still, starstruck. Nam-gyu was the first to move, whimpers and moans he tried so hard to suppress falling from his lips desperately until the other's cock limply slid out of his cunt, biting his lip at the mere sight of it.

Su-bong observed it just as well as Nam-gyu did, his tongue kissing his teeth as he watched his cum slowly slide out of Nam-gyu's gaping and spasming hole. "For someone who was dying to get fucked, you're really wasteful, y'know?" Su-bong murmured as he pushed two of his fingers in, earning an overstimulated moan from Nam-gyu who smacked his shoulder. "Asshole.. I'm still fucking sensitive."

But really, Su-bong couldn't care less. Tapping Nam-gyu's clit with his thumb, "Get on your knees and hands." It was an authoritative kind of voice, demanding, too. But not forcing, if Nam-gyu wanted to stop there, Su-bong would stop. But a wicked grin spread on his lips as Nam-gyu did just exactly as he was told to, maybe he might as well keep Nam-gyu all to himself in his bed.

"Tsk, maybe you really would like being in my bedroom, wouldn't you? Fucking slut." Su-bong murmured, not even giving the other a warning before he pushed himself straight in with a groan. His hand, heavy and willing, slapping against the skin of his ass. 

Nam-gyu let out a surprised yelp at that, he shouldn't have enjoyed it but.. he weirdly did, the sting of pain slowly fading away only to be etched again. "F-fuck!— Su-bong!" A broken moan tore from his throat, and this time, Su-bong wasn't letting him take his time.

The thrusts were relentless, nearly wild if not more than that. The combined feeling of his insides being ravaged and the sharp smacks against his ass were too much. His upper body slumped forward, leaving his ass perked up as he gripped the sheets below him. His thighs shook, Nam-gyu for a split second believed he would pass out and slump forward completely if it wasn't for the firm grip of one of Su-bong's hands so tight on his hip. "F-fuck, Su-bong— it's too muc- ahn!.. shit, slow down!-" 

And yet the older man made no move to slow down, he didn't had intentions to, after all. Another demanding hand smacked against Nam-gyu's ass, tearing moans from the back of the other's throat. Su-bong watched with satisfaction as the once pale skin became a blooming red, deciding to give the poor boy a break and moving his hand to press Nam-gyu's head against the mattress. "You take what I give you, hear me? You asked for this."

A shiver ran down Nam-gyu's spine at how deep and rough Su-bong's voice was, his eyes prickling with tears as he moaned uselessly like some cheap slut against the blankets. The grip he had there was enough to make his knuckles whiten. His mouth opened and didn't even close again as a series of 'ah, ah, ah's' left his lips. His mind was blank, the only thing etched into it was Su-bong deep inside of him, Su-bong pressing his face down, Su-bong who was now pressing kisses down his spine. Su-bong, Su-bong, Su-bong. Everything was him, he was everywhere.

Pulling Nam-gyu's head back by the hair, Su-bong kissed his shoulder as he watched him practically drool, pathetically sobbing as he clenched hard against Su-bong's dick. The sight was nearly enough to make Su-bong cum right there and then, but he held it in. "Come on, touch yourself f'me." Su-bong instructed as calmly as he could despite how restrained his voice sounded.

Nam-gyu nodded, or at least tried to. And even as he felt highly overstimulated and out of it, two of his fingers pressed against his clit, jerky and deft as he rubbed himself. Nam-gyu swore his soul got sucked out seconds later when he came once again, nearly passing out as he kept gushing around the other. Su-bong moaned and grunted as he fucked Nam-gyu through his orgasm, all it took for him to cum too was a few more thrusts before he buried himself to the hilt, cumming to the feeling of Nam-gyu's gummy walls gripping him as if he was going to disappear if it let go.

Despite the haze of his orgasm, Su-bong kissed the side of Nam-gyu's neck as he slumped forward, murmuring sweet words as he heard Nam-gyu genuinely sob of pleasurable overstimulation.

"Think you can do one f'me, baby? Just one more?" Su-bong asked as he stilled his movements, letting Nam-gyu come back to reality. The raven haired man shook his head, overstimulation slowly drenching up his brain. Sobs left him as he completely ignored the drool leaving his parted lips.

Su-bong eased himself out of the other, flipping him on his back only to be met with the most fucking erotic and yet still infuriatingly beautiful sight. A sight that knocked air out of his lungs.

Nam-gyu's eyelashes were wet, his eyes were shining with tears and they were slightly bloodshot. They had an alluring shine to them, and Su-bong found that Nam-gyu was fucking gorgeous when he cried. There was drool etched on his cheek from the previous moment, his chest heaved and fell in a rapid pace. His lips red and swollen, sweat on his forehead and hair sticking to his face. And Nam-gyu still was the most beautiful man Su-bong had ever laid eyes on. "Come on, baby, just one more and I'll let you rest."

Nam-gyu whined in protest, shaking his head as he sniffled. But with just a little bit more of convincing— a few sweet words here and there, he was agreeing. "Just one more.. i'm fucking tired." Nam-gyu murmured with a furrow of his brows.

Su-bong nodded, kissing his cheek and wiping his tears tenderly with the back of his hand. This time, maybe it wasn't because Su-bong wanted to fuck Nam-gyu, he wanted to downright worship the god that somehow ended up in his bed. Nam-gyu's eyes fluttered shut with a throaty moan as Su-bong slid himself back in for what felt like the tenth time only tonight, and he cursed himself mentally for agreeing with this at first, but Su-bong didn't move at first, catching Nam-gyu off guard.

Instead, the purple haired man began descending kisses down Nam-gyu's neck, slowly and throughly. So gentle that Nam-gyu thought that for a second, Su-bong was treating him like a piece of frail art. "You're so gorgeous, shit." Su-bong murmured against Nam-gyu's heated skin, determined to leave his lips in every single inch there was. "If I knew you were friends with Mi-na's girlfriend, I'd have taken you for myself a long time ago." Su-bong said as he kissed the scars Nam-gyu was so insecure of, gentle, and willing. As if he was trying to make Nam-gyu carve into his brain that he was perfect, even with the small crescent scars beneath his chest.

And Nam-gyu thought he might begin sobbing all over again, especially when Su-bong finally began moving as slowly and tenderly as he could, and yet deep— in a way Nam-gyu actually could feel just how deep inside he was, and just how big Su-bong felt— stuffing his poor cunt full. "I'm not religious or anything, but fuck— I think I want to worship you everyday of my life." Su-bong said as he placed one of Nam-gyu's legs over his shoulder, his gaze holding so much care, something so undeniably sweet, that Nam-gyu's heart couldn't take it. Nor the way his chest felt like it would burst.

"Would you like that? Fuck— staying with me? Let me worship like the god you are? Honestly, you're not too below that." Su-bong said with a shaky laugh, mixed with a moan as he moved himself quicker. His free hand caressed Nam-gyu's body, tracing every scar, every stretch mark in view, every little detail. And committing them to memory.

"Su-bong— yes, shit! Yes, yes, yes— please!" Nam-gyu chanted over and over again, careless about the tears spilling down his cheeks as he felt Su-bong's thumb firmly press against his clit, circling it slowly in soothing motions. The feeling of it all was genuinely overwhelming, in a good way. Dragging another orgasm out of him as he chanted Su-bong's name over and over again as he came for the fourth time only tonight.

Su-bong's breath hitched, gripping Nam-gyu's leg firmly as he tossed his hair back, overstimulating himself with a few more thrusts before he buried himself to the hilt once again, in a way that felt right, and came. Slowly fucking his cum inside the other with gentle and little thrusts until he stopped fully.

Dropping Nam-gyu's leg down, none of them moved for what felt like an eternity, instead.. they just stared at each other's eyes in a moment of unspoken emotions. "Good job, you did so well f'me" Su-bong was the first to speak, already peppering kisses all over Nam-gyu's face as he slid out of his pussy who spasmed and clenched around air, leaking out his cum. Nam-gyu was out of it, too out of it, to be honest. He felt half unconscious and half conscious, just barely catching onto Su-bong's words.

"Stay here, I'll run you a bath." Su-bong said with a smile even though Nam-gyu could barely move a muscle. Showering was just as tender, his hair was washed throughly like every part of his body. All with the utmost care. His hair was dried with a blow dryer and he was changed into some clothes that were a little bit too big on him, and finally, he caught up with the moment when he was in bed.. laying next to Su-bong. Face pressed into the other's collarbone.

Su-bong was absentmindedly tracing circles on Nam-gyu's arm as he hummed quietly, inhaling the shampoo scent emanating from his freshly washed hair. "Do you still want to go to college?" He asked abruptly, making Nam-gyu pull back to look at Su-bong in the eyes. "If I had the money, I'd keep going." He said a little bit resentful, knowing he'd have to quit.

"I'll pay for your tuitions, and you can also.. stay with me, if you want. I meant it when I said I wanted you for me." Su-bong said sheepishly, fully expecting a 'no' or 'we only slept once, get lost.' From Nam-gyu. But in reality, Nam-gyu gave him the most beautiful smile he could muster up along with a chuckle and nodded. "If you wanted to date me, you could have just said so. Going to college is just part of the package."

Su-bong smiled back, shaking his head before burying his face into Nam-gyu's hair. "Alright, guess I'll be living with a future lawyer, then."

Nam-gyu was the first to fall asleep, lulled by the good feelings and how light his heart felt. And Su-bong slept right after, observing Nam-gyu's face until slept caught him too.

And if the poor driver ever heard them previously? That was for him to keep it to himself. (With a little bribery of an extra payment.)

-

BONUS!!!

Nam-gyu groaned as he sat up straight, rubbing his eyes as he felt arms draped over his waist. He sighed as he looked at Su-bong, reaching for his glasses and phone left on the nightstand. Clicking on his phone, he was startled to see the amount of messages and missed calls from Se-mi, shit.

Calling the other girl back immediately, he barely had the chance to say hi as Se-mi asked; "Did you guys hook up?"

In the back, he could hear Mi-na giggling. So all along.. they had been planning this. Ever since the car ride where Mi-na whispered something to Se-mi, tsk. Clever little bitches. But he still couldn't help feeling a little embarrassed. "Se-mi!" He scolded, a huff leaving his lips.

But Nam-gyu didn't mind it, not at all. Especially when he got a caring boyfriend along the way.

[xylatox]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

RAIN LILIES

pairing: soulmate idol choi beomgyu x soulmate fem!reader

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

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

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

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

He shouldn’t be real.

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

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

wc: 20k — playlist.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And now you wonder if it did—with you.

"One, two, three, smile!"

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

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

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

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

And then there are days you fear it.

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

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

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

How can you miss someone you've never met?

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

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

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

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

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

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

A picture of everything the universe had promised them.

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

You can't look.

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

Or no. You’ve lost count.

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

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

Alone at the sidelines.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Huh?"

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

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

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

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

You’re used to it by now.

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

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

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

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

You blink at her, taken aback.

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

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

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

It’s time to go.

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

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

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

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

"What's taking you so long?"

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

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

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

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

The entire room turns to look at him.

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

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

"Oh?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

He can't look away.

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

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

Everyone teased the maknae relentlessly for weeks.

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

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

His soulmate.

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

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

Where are you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perfect.

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

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

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

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

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

HYBE.

Funeral wreaths. Trucks. Massive banners.

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

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

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

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

Your stomach twists. “What?”

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

GET LEE HEESEUNG OUT OF HYBE.

APOLOGIZE, LEE HEESEUNG.

EXPLAIN THIS, LEE HEESEUNG.

ENHYPEN IS NOW ONLY SIX.

IDOLS WITH SOULMATES ARE NOT IDOLS.

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

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

Your stomach turns.

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

But you almost hear what she isn’t saying.

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

It’s the only explanation, isn’t it?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You won’t regret this!”

You already do.

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

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

TOMORROW X TOGETHER

They... didn’t look bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You groaned, "Fine."

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

And one of them stands out.

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

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

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

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

"One Beomgyu, please."

You followed her... once again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Where are we going now?"

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

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

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

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

Then, it’s your turn.

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

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

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

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

Fucking hell.

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

Beomgyu.

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, still grinning. “Okay.”

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

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

It’s beautiful.

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

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

Beomgyu.

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

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

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

All because his eyes meet yours.

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

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

It can't be real.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Heeseung, the newest idol thrown into the fire.

He, who got caught with his soulmate.

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

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

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

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

The irony.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What it is, he can’t quite say.

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

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

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

But then, he notices one weird thing.

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

You’re not looking at all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then his gaze flickers back to you.

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

His breath falters. He sees it.

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

The thread.

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

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

Soulmate.

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

He finally found you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Got you, beautiful.

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

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

Yet you see it perfectly too.

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

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

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

You're even more beautiful when you laugh.

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

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

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

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

And you are.

"Hyung," he breathes out.

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

But Beomgyu isn’t thinking about the show anymore.

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

Not yet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Beomgyu is your soulmate.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It clicks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sixteen years.

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

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

She’s the reason you met him.

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

And maybe she was right.

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

It doesn’t matter. Because you saw it.

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

He exists.

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

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

“I—I have a friend with me,”

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

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

Let's go.

You’re going to meet Beomgyu.

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

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

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

She knocks. Opens it.

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

The thought vanishes the second you see him.

Beomgyu.

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

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

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

Beomgyu stares at you, and you stare back.

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

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

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

How can someone be made this perfect?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"God, you're so beautiful."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s in deep.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And wear warm clothes—it’s winter."

"You too."

"Eat on time."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It can't last, doesn't it?

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

Elevators terrified you.

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

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

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

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

It took only a second before answering.

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

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

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

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

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

The doorbell rings again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s already 3 PM.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

An idea sparked in your mind.

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

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

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

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

My Y/N Live?

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

You look handsome.

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

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

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

You're watching?

A few seconds pass before your reply pops up.

Yes.

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

I'm shy.

Why? You look good.

A pause. Then another message.

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

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

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

Then he catches it.

315flowersmyass kekekeke -

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

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

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

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

It’s a picture. You.

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

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

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

"She’s here."

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

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

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

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

Ow! I fell! Fell for you~ —bg <3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Excuse me?"

"Are you fucking deaf?" she snaps.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She smiles, "Don’t test me."

I’m heading home now.

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

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

God, he misses you.

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

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

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

Then, voicemail.

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

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

He’s in the van now. It’s been hours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still nothing.

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

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

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

Once. Twice.

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

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

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

“Are you okay? I’ve been—”

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

"What is it?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then the line goes dead.

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

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

And now, it’s real.

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

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

His phone dings.

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

“Hello?” His voice is hoarse.

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

His breath catches.

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

"Please."

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

She smiles, "Don’t test me."

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

Your thoughts won’t stop either.

Beomgyu.

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

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

But is it?

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

You take another drink, and it burns.

“Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your phone screen lights up between you. Another call.

Beomgyu. He’s still calling. Still trying.

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

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

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

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

Everything. Everything is wrong.

“Beomgyu.”

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

“Are you okay? I’ve been—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Please sleep. And forget about me.

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

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

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

You press the end button.

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

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

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

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

She’d do anything for you.

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

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

Beomgyu’s birthday.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know your schedule is packed—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s been listening the whole time.

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

So Beomgyu told them everything.

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

No one understood him better than they did.

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

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

It shattered something in all of them.

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

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

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

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

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

And he would.

Completely.

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

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

Then the doorbell rings. Right. The food.

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

Choi Beomgyu.

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

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

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

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

His footsteps retreat.

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

The doorbell rings again.

You yank it open, “Wait, my ass—”

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

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

Just like what he said. He's there.

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

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

Why did you let him wait this long?

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

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

And there he is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you let him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And your breath catches in your throat.

Rain Lilies.

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

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

Small. Alive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even without a soulmate mark, even without fate—

It would always be you.

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

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

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

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

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

So he leans in.

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

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

THE END.

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

[oh-no-its-bird]

I FUCKING FORGOT THE NEW ALIEN STAGE CAME OUT TODAY OH GOD OH FUCK I SAW IT COME UP IN RECCOMENDED AND HAD A FULL BODY REACTION TO IT PLEASEPLEAS PELSAE GO WATCH IT IM GOING TO FUCKING CRY IM GOING TO FUCKING THROW UP IM GONNA .

it was so fucking beautiful actually. I did not expect the bright spots of it, though maybe I should have. Vivinos has always been such a master of balancing fluff in a way that makes it hurt. And then the end . just. fuck. fuck. Oh my god. Fuck.

Spoilers below the cut, I am feeling many things and thinking many thoughts, so let's dissect this together:

I was so entranced by the beautiful visuals I straight up forgot to put captions on to get the lyrics for my first watch. But when it opened to Luka smiling so fucking genuinely, I almost gasped

The way he smiles when he first sees her is CRAZY, I am obsessed with it. Only pausing when a literal gun is held to his head, and even then, not for long

And then he grows so much more almost sweet and fond when she so blatantly ignores him. I felt like he was saying, "yeah, that's my Hyuna."

So like. Super strong opening to us seeing Luka killing off what I've seen others claim are his clones, presumably to make sure he can't be easily killed and replaced

I especially like this post by @kitespark talking about this bit and how Luka may have then ended up killing Hyuna's brother bc they looked so similar, and he assumed they were clones

LUKA'S HANDS !!! AS A KID !!! DID NOT HAVE PURPLE FINGERTIPS!!! We also see his hands when he's older, and he also does not have purple fingertips then! Does this mean he got them later in life, after so many experiments? That's what I'm not placing my bets on

The music itself was. Beautiful. As always, obviously, but especially so.

The slow, gentle singing that can be seen as both darkly comforting or sweetly assuring, the almost bell like chimes in the background, I loved it.

When it first shifted to Luka's voice, singing as Hyuna lay on the ground, I just about screamed. Their voices sound so pretty next to each other, I really like hearing them in contrast

Getting to see all these frames of Hyuna just surrounded by people in the resistance was so nice, actually.

I thought it was so well done, how we get to see her gradually get happier, recovering from her past.

Starting with a scene of her alone, drinking, before someone steps in (presumably to bring her comfort in company) before we start to see clips of her, each one with her a little bit happier, and each one with the lighting just a bit brighter, till we finally see her give a fully animated smile, even as we can see the silhouettes of those in the garden inside of her

She learned to smile !! Even through her grief!! She smiled even though she still kept them in her mind and heart!!!

AND THEN LUKA?? HAVING A (WANTED(?)) POSTER??? OF HYUNA ?? IN HIS ROOM??? AND HIM GIVING IT THE WORLDS JERKIEST MOST AWKWARD LITTLE KISS AFTER STARING AT IT FOR AN AWKWARD AMOUNT OF TIME, OH MY HEART !!!

The kiss is so sudden and jerky and awkward and it kind of looks like it hurt, honestly. Like, at first I wondered if it even was a kiss, but idk what else it would even be. Luka misses his girlfriend yall

There's actually so much to dissect of these short frames, tbh. Is this his room, where he is kept on a concerning amount of medical equipment, or is it just a hospital room he's been in long enough to be allowed to put things up on the wall?

And then we get to just. The happiness of the video. Which, by the way, kicked me in the fucking gut and stole all my lunch money. Like, holy shit you guys, what the actual fuck.

There's so much happening here, but in general I've seen two camps:

a) we are seeing glimpses of the actor au, where they are getting ready and into their roles and having silly fluffy fun times

and b, which is what I originally thought) We are seeing them getting ready for their death matches. Preparing costumes for the stage, hoping for the best. And just the lighter times they've gotten to spend together, in the garden

I'd like to believe it's both, tbh. That at first, we're seeing the lighter times they've spent together, getting their costumes ready, singing, running through grass, being kids while they still can.

A few flashes of other people too, in terrible situations but still smiling, showing that there is still joy to be found in this world

And then, a flash of violence-- Mizi, her face splashed with Sua's blood, and the music takes on this crescendo as it shows us this beautiful what if.

Some of the flashes are definitely some sort of modern au, a true what if.

Sua in a school uniform, giggling with a friend on the way to class, Till in art class, Hyunwoo and someone who's presumably his friend riding bikes through a glowing forest, Mizi laughing as she works on something, Hyuna and Luka dancing together on some sort of date (WITH WEDDING RINGS ON !!! WEDDING !! RINGS !!), a phone taking a photo of food better than anything the alien stage contestants have ever gotten to eat before (especially in contrast to the quiet lunch scene only a few images before, which may have been there to contrast it)

Other portions I read as more mis-remembered, 'if only the garden could have been brighter' moments (particularly the one of them cleaning that one aliens teeth, which we saw Till and Mizi terrified of in round 3) but otherwise I think can be seen as just more beautiful moments.

Running around, playing, having fun, laughing

At some point, towards the middle, I had an abstract thought that it was appropriate, to be posted on valentines day. For all that parts of it felt like a love letter to life. Seeing them all so happy, not only with each other but just being. Doing things they loved, being happy, living

I stg, I started tearing up. I love how well animated and bright this section was, you can tell they really said "guys we have to make this shit COUNT" and spared no expense. Everyone say thank you vivinos and qmeng !!

And then, of course, we hard cut back to reality. A quick glimpse of some remembered Luka angst, and we are on stage with Mizi again. Our last glimpse of happiness being Sua's smile.

What the fuck !!!

Ok so just. Everything about the next bit is so good to me.

Luka having eyes for literally nothing and no one other than Hyuna, even as a gun is literally held to his head.

The cutting back and forth between him stumbling blindly her way as an adult and as a child was so good. He has never had eyes for anyone other than her, and it shows

The way Hyuna runs for him, knowing whats about to happen even as Luka remains blind to everything but her, the way she spins him around to take the shot for him in a hug, which, BY THE WAY, THE FACT THAT LUKA WAS REACHING OUT FOR A HUG. MAKES ME INSANE.

LOOK AT HIM !!!! HE WAS REACHING OUT TO HER !!! HE WAS GOING FOR A HUG !!!! HE SAW HER AND RAN AND LITERALLY THREW HIMSELF INTO HER ARMS HE MISSED HER SO MUCH I DONT KNOW HOW TO HANDLE THIS ACTUALLY !!!!

Also its funny that it was the resistance guy who took the shot, I understand his thought process (Luka probably looked like he was going for his boss lmao) but then he ended up fucking shooting Hyuna instead.

I have to wonder if we'll get to see this guys reaction in the next video, I kind of hope we do. I feel like there's a small chance we might, in some like, corner of the screen we see Dewey grabbing him by his collar to shake him angrily or smthn

It's a small thing also, but I like how we also get to see the guy next to Hyuna react to Luka's blatant idiocy. Like, yeah he's being an idiot, and yeah people are around to see it. Idk, it's small but it just makes it all feel more real to me

^ this guy is all of us watching at home as Luka ignores the gun aimed at his head and runs for hyuna lmao

Also, Luka's hands are now colored in as purple when he's a child here, so that may have just been a coloring error earlier. So throw out what I said about his hands not being purple when he was young into the bin, oops!

So then we're back to seeing more flashes of life, and what we are given is Hyuna's grief, and Hyuna's fear.

A man, presumably some resistance member, dying as they cry and watch him pass. And then Hyuna, in the hospital.

The focus on her leg, and then the abrupt cut to what I think must be the moment that she lost it, then again a cut to the round of alien stage she lost (where she was supposed to have died) and another cut to her crying, scared, makes me think we're seeing a sort of rewind of her joining the resistance

Did she lose her leg in her escape from alien stage maybe? Either way, I like this shift from like, we've seen all these good memories of life, and now we're back to the bleak. Hyuna learned to smile, got to heal, but there were still so many dark moments too

Also: I don't know who this guy is, but he's cute and I want him carnally.

AND THEN JUST THE SHIFT FROM CUTE HYUNA AND LUKA TO HER FUCKING BLEEDING OUT IN HIS FUCKING ARMSMSSSSSS IM GONNA BE FUCKING SICK WHAT THE HELL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And also Luka's fingers are back to being not purple, so was it a miscolor, or...?

And then. Hyuna's speech. This is one of the very few times we get to hear an alien stage character just,, talk. Off the top of my head, the only time I can remember us getting that is My Clematis, the very first round of alien stage. And that talk was half exposition.

It's so well done, and just. Ag. Ah. A.

I dont even have the words tbh!!!

"I resented you so. I had to keep moving forward in every moment... But you were always my one and only weakness. (choking up) That's why I resented you so. Luka, live with love. Embrace the pain, the frailty, and live and the moments so unbearably shameful. Forgive yourself... Again and again, endlessly. because everything... begins from there.

I DONT EVEN KNOW MAN !!! WHAT THE FUCK !!! WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK !!!!

Hyuna admitting that even as she's always resented Luka, he has always been and always remained her weakness, and that is why she continued to resent him so much

Hyuna urging Luka to love. To forgive himself. To feel.

Luka, who we've always seen as untouchable, a man who knows how to play this game-- who has won it before and now plays with his opponents in order to win it again. Just, him tearing up. His mask cracking in the face of Hyuna's words, of her blood on her face (on his hands)

THE FACT THAT IT IS LITERALLY LUKA'S FAULT SHE'S THERE!!!! THAT SHE'S NOW DYING !!!!

Luka has always been blind to everything but Hyuna, and going with some interpretations of how we've seen him do dumb shit just to see Hyuna's face before (specifically when we saw him injure (potentially kill(??)) Hyuna's little brother, then smile up at Hyuna like he was just waiting for her reaction) it is. So fitting that this is how it ends

With Luka, once again blind to everything but the girl who can make him feel something, managing to kill that girl in his blindness

Fucking rip!!

I AM HUFFING COPIUM LIKE ITS PAINT I REFUSE TO BELIEVE HYUNA IS DEAD PLEASEEEE !! YEHA OK SURE HER LIGHT WENT OUT BUT WE WERENT SHOWN THE BODY IT DOESNT COUNT OK IT DOESNT COUNT SHUT THE FUCK UP

AND MEANWHILE MIZI DIDNT EVEN SEE HYUNA GET SHOT BECAUSE SHE'S STILL SOBBING OVER TILL'S CORPSE IN HER ARMS, FUCK

Anyways. Final thoughts.

This alien stage was. Wonderful. Beautiful. It may be my new favorite.

Every second of it was so well done, and I need to applause Vivinos for once again showing off that she knows how to make all of us cry by drawing her characters happy.

What the fuck, man!!

Anyways, I watched most of this without subtitles (and when I did watch with titles, I kept getting distracted by the pretty visuals and couldn't focus) So, I possibly misread/misunderstood a thing or two.

I'm gonna go watch it like 10 more times with subtitles on this time, then maybe realize smthn and feel regret, but, whatever

Go watch alien stage.

[solarismoons]

SPOILERS FOR S2 EP5 OF SCHOOL SPIRITS

This one’s gonna be a LONG one… Sorry in advance.

I feel SO bad for Maddie. “My mom is being a good mother just not to me.” UGH! That made me so so sad.

The meeting with the living kids and the ghosts was SO funny. Simon and Wally FINALLY interacted. It was also so fucking awkward for the living kids. Like imagine sitting there staring at a bunch of empty chairs with pictures of dead people…

ALSO Wallys, “You’ve been here like four years babe, try 40.” MADE ME SCREAM. BABE?????? I CAN’T.

I love when Wally acts like a dumbass. “Where can we find a Bazooka?” WHAT?? Also there is SOMETHING going on with Xavier. Wally literally pointed out ‘he’s looking right at me.’ I don’t think he can see them, but he can definitely sense something is there. I’m calling it right now.

Um… Wally misses body shots??? Hey… so when did Wally become a FREAK?

Yuri is FINALLY out of the pottery room??? I’m really growing to like him.

That hellscape was fucking INSANE. I did NOT expect to see Janet literally burnt to a crisp. I genuinely feel so bad for her, but I can’t help but be pissed for what she’s doing to Maddie.

Yuri’s death sounds so sad 🙁. He had such a bad panic attack it triggered his asthma? Ugh, my baby. I need him and Charley to hook up NOW.

I feel so bad for Nicole. I wasn’t a huge fan of her last season, but everyone’s always so mean to her. Not a single person even attempted to hear her out.

What the hell happened with Mr. Martin?? That man was ANGRY. I’m so confused! Janet’s old friend, Eugene, basically said the fire was purposeful. What even happened to make Mr. Martin snap like that, and why did he purposely start a fire??

That dinner was SO uncomfortable. I don’t even know what to say other than that.

The pool scene made me so sad. “Maybe Janet can do more with my life than I ever could.” I had a suspicion Maddie might have this thought eventually. Peyton’s acting was SO good.

“I wish you would be stuck with me here forever. But, you deserve to live.” WALLY STOP BREAKING MY HEART.

WALLY AND MADDIE MAKING OUT IN THE POOL??? HELLO??? The tension is INSANE. The way she touched his lips with her thumb??? They are FEEDING us this season.

NICOLE COMING IN CLUTCH WITH THE EUGENE LINE??? Janet was HORRIFIED. Also, no way Janet boiled Simon’s phone… she’s completely freaking me out. Her holding the knife while telling Simon to leave??? If she hurts anyone i’m gonna sob.

Milo with his hair down and wet made me feral. I love him either way, but the hair down just gets me. I need Wally to STOP gelling it up. The amount of fluff we got with Mally is literally is insane.

XAVIER SAW MADDIES DEAD DAD??? Okay, this is an INSANE episode. Nicole finding out that she’s texting Xavier this early was NOT what I thought would happen.

This is one of the first times i’ve cried during this show. That song Rhonda’s friend made was so heartbreaking. I love Rhonda so much.

“Why can’t it be?” YURI STOP. I love Charley so much. He really deserves someone.

RED ALERT. EVERYONE WAS RIGHT ABOUT MR. ANDERSON. Mr. Martin giving Janet Fahrenheit 451 was so sick… I hate him more and more every episode.

AND HE KIDNAPPED HER??? I CANNOT wait an entire week for this

[eddiediazismyhusband]

I mean..they haven't been renewed yet and tim will start working on the spinoff in march, so who knows. Ryan always has other projects to plug though (like the indie film he did with his brother last hiatus) so I hope he's not leaving, maybe jeff is just overselling the interview. It makes me sad that one person potentially leaving (whether it's lou or ryan) makes people stop watching the show, but I guess the writers only have themselves to blame :/ sooo much potential and they keep reversing storylines instead of going for it. The whole eddie&chris story is disappointing and sending buck back on the hamster wheel is too. It just wasn't necessary to hold back so much in s7/8 of a successful show.

yeah, like i said we won’t know until we know

i sincerely hope i’m wrong, but i’ve spent too many years of this show going “maybe this time it’ll be satisfying” just for them to fuck it up

tbh tho if there are fans leaving bc they’re upset lou is gone… i say good riddance. i have no space to hold for people who turn a blind eye to that man/character’s racism in 2025, especially not when we have a facist in the white house- that’s why i disagree with the notion that buck was ever off the hamster wheel; even oliver himself said he wasn’t, and the whole relationship with tommy fell so much in line w buck’s previous ones that to say he was off the hamster wheel is giving tommy far too much credit.

i genuinely feel like there needs to be a writer’s room purge, and someone younger with s much clearer vision needs to take over as showrunner… tim has just been turning this into the new ls with the most random ass plotlines and story arcs that he never follows through on… like this is not the show to experiment on- use the new spinoff for that, but not the og

anyway… i’m at the point where i’m like let tim fuck around and find out. if he wants to destroy the fandom and the support he has, watching record numbers tank in a matter of weeks, then by all means be my guest. let him see that we’re not gonna sit here and let him do what has been done to us time snd time and time again w network tv shows blatantly queerbaiting

unfortunately though, knowing the fandom, i think expecting people to actually hold tim accountable for queerbaiting is wishful thinking at this point

[revolvinghell]

oh good we're doing this.

What your favorite Will Wood song says about you!! and if i dont say yours feel free to let me know

Where do you get off?: either asexual or VERY horny, no in between.

The Song With Five Names: you REALLY like to confuse people when they ask about your favorite song. You also need some of that Old Time Religion.

Front Street: you probably watch the 2019 bbq videos on repeat. Also, drugs.

Chemical Overreaction: in the words of blake jennings: lsd is not a hobby. no, neither is screaming.

Mr Capgras: youre cool! but maybe work on those trust issues.

Blackboxwarrior OKULTRA: do you even understand half of this song?? Genuine question, I want to know.

Cotard's solution: lemme guess. You have unmanaged anger issues that you manage to suppress, until you have a bad day, and then the doorknob is enough to make you punch a hole through your wall. …same.

Vampire Reference: YOU ARE COOL. I am biased, but you are COOL.

2012: you probably lose yourself a lot. and say "fuck" a lot, that too.

2012 (again): you call this music.

Laplace's Angel: i have nothing to say. theres such a wide array of Laplace's Angel fans that it's impossible to pinpoint similarities.

I/Me/Myself: 💅

Aikido: you probably played this on valentines day. My only question is: why do you think this is an acceptable love song?

Bones: not a day goes by where this song isn't stuck in your head.

Destroy to Enjoy: anger issues, hating religion, did i miss anything? oh right. CONSTRUCTION SOUNDS

The First Step: admit you have a problem. will wood is not a coping mechanism either, by the way.

2econd 2ight 2eer: you quote this song every time you leave a room. STOP IT.

6up 5oh cop-out (pro/con): you hate police. but this song is about getting arrested for drunk driving.

You liked this (okay, computer!): this is a total shot in the dark, but you either hate the internet or want to be a cult leader.

Any 2018 demo: you like this more than the original song. And you're gayer.

Memento Mori: mm, how's that existential crisis going today? On schedule? Good? Okay. Go to therapy.

Red moon: …do you exist??…And if I did, you deserved it: youre probably an artist of some kind.

Tomcat Disposables or Euthanasia: you could benefit from lexapro. Or any other antidepressant for that matter.

to be continued lol

[epaulando]

so i've been making a spreadsheet of all the race results in order to see different stats for myself yeah. i'm sure i could do this just by like visiting reddit but i want to make it myself. and i start around 5 pm. so tell me why i look up and it's suddenly 6:52

[marzipanilla]

I think I just desperately miss shows with 20+ eps a season.

Even with him fumbling it I would love Mark actually attempting to be a bastion of morals/attempting the right thing. I think they're almost trying to do that this season with his confrontation with Cecil, but it all falls so flat because Mark struggles to even articulate why he thinks he's right to begin with except by defining himself as not his father. Once more we missed out on him attempting to find a role model people consider good and doing what he could in his power to emulate and either learning something about what being a beacon for ppl means or realizing that everyone fucks up and purity culture in a trauma response job ain't gunna get you no where. He's so obsessed with power level he doesn't realize he needs to actually learn things. Like why it's important to help people at all. He doesn't know apparently, since he can't explain to Oliver that being a hero is more than killing people who were hurting others. hint Mark- it's because the unilateral power Cecil fears you capable of wielding is the same shit he wields

We need flashbacks to Nolan's time w the Guardian bc what was that like before he had the slightly awkward shit we see in S1 ep 1. Immortal mostly trusts him during the white house attack and is genuinely horrified at the thought of him hurting the team ! Unlike in the comic where he just says 'I've always hated you' which like I could take either canon- tho it really feels more like a dick measuring contest gone wrong instead of 'I knew you were bad I just couldn't put my finger on it' in the comic.

Team dynamics my beloved. Wonder Woman was under some rubble and Batman was desperately digging her out and they made him stop and when she emerged a moment later she noticed the dirt on his hands !! and comforted him even tho he tried to hide the fact he was scrambling to get her out ! no words just actions ! like ! give me tiny character moments -sob- The JL getting coffee and blankets for each other when sleepy D : (and more a character moment than a team moment but Clark crawling into the rocket he came to Earth on to hide bc his dream monster form was hurting people and he just wanted to be safe !!! all visual never discussed w dialogue !! beautiful!!) Also Lisa Edelstein showed up as a voice for a side char and I spent the whole ep going who ??? until I saw the credits lol

Oh that's a fun scene! I've maybe only ever seen the first Madagascar film lol But yeah, even changing the tone- please let the team play off of each other! We get .5 seconds of that in S1 during the end of the Machine Head fight. a tiny. tiny moment. Definitely limitations and budget for animation, but gah- like !! the whole squad going up for the sequid invasion threat and literally two people doing anything at all !! like !! WHY DID ALL OF YOU GO YOU LITERALLY DID NOTHING. Blame yourselves for what happened on the ground team, like, damn, the whole team did not need to go into space. You'd think you would have figured that out by now.

Everyone gets female characters jewelry in media and I hate it lol Look, there are times it can work- heirlooms, genuinely discussed mcguffin/backstory pieces where whatever it is means something, but the vast majority of the time it's just a shiny necklace picked up from the fucking mall. And what do the women get their men? Insanely thoughtful gifts about their personalities and interests. If you can only think to get your partner jewelry, then you fucking know nothing about them at all. My biggest example of this is from the show Castle, where one episode has the main chick setting up a recreation of Rear Window for the main dude to experience/play out like it's real bc he's stuck at home on his birthday. The entire episode is about what goes down. When it's her birthday? He buys her a necklace, and it's a subplot to whatever it going on in the ep, and it's a comedic subplot bc he loses it at one point and most of the antics around the gift aren't even about her. And then he gives her the necklace at the end that we're never going to see her wear again because she has a job where wearing shit like that isn't a good idea.

I fucking hate jewelry as a gift. It says I don't know anything about this character and I refuse to put any effort in.

Also is Kate gunna where her fucking wedding ring on missions??? like ??? what ??? Then again, I think Nolan, Mark and Eve are legit the only heroes in the entire series who have secret identities/civilian identities, so like- I guess it doesn't matter?? 90% of you have your fucking name as part of your hero name if you have a name at all. A part of me is glad the show never really deep dives into those stories, they sort of did with Amber in S1, and they bring it up a bit with Debbie telling Paul this season, but like, at the end of the day, this is a world where secret identities are 1000% just... not a thing. Everyone calls Mark, Mark. Like. EVERYONE. To the point that it didn't even occur to him that A SPACE ALIEN knowing his first name might have been a red flag in S2 when he went to Thraxa.

Mark is only strong in the 11th hour and I would hope someone is genre savvy enough to realize that by now. Do not call on Invincible unless everyone is already dead, he is worthless otherwise lol

The rogue's gallery is kind of sad for this show. Like. There is no personal element to any of the reoccurring villains (there's like.. one coming up that's personal and then there's Levi), and if you want them to be menacing and reoccurring they either really need to rep something socially bad and you're commenting on it each time they make their appearance and its about THAT and the teams response to it, or you need a personal connection with the villain. Doc Seismic just makes broad strokes first semester of college level commentary about the current state of society! Tho, I will say, I think his token diversity comment is literally the first time Mark has been acknowledged as not white? Which like, I get not bringing it up all the fucking time especially since it is a change from the comics, but, it IS a change from the comics and in either medium he is a mixed race kid! We ever going to give him a chance to talk about that? You know, the thing he and Oliver SHOULD ACTUALLY BE ABLE TO TALK ABOUT THAT'S PERSONAL TO THEM AND HUMANIZING AND NOT ABOUT HAVING COME OUT OF NOLAN'S DICK? Where is the moment where Oliver is slathering on make-up to go outside and lamenting on not being human passing the way Mark is? Where does Mark get to acknowledge being alien?

Cecil did go to Debbie in an attempt to get a hand in Oliver's training and it IS wild to think about what that would have entailed. 'Cause like, I think he woulda seen that kid go 'and then I kill them now, right??' and had to go : / pretty damn quick about it lol Also him constantly antagonizing Mark after everything is hilarious. Like. Are you trying to prove to everyone watching that Mark is also being unhinged or are you Just Like That Cecil. Like, when Cecil called off the reanimen but they kept beating on Mark- was that just him putting in a false call to make it sound like he was calling them off and then Mark went cray cray on them anyway, or did he genuinely try and call them off and it didn't work for some reason? Bc him trying to get other heroes on his side by showing off how powerful/dangerous Mark could be is kinda funny.

Some blank space is fun to work with in fic, but too much blank space and it feels like you're floating in the ether going ?? this ?? make sense maybe ?? but then what do you push off of? Just make up some shit to justify why the char thinks that way or skip over justifying it and hope the narrative stays strong despite it?

While I'm not too familiar with the DCU- your batfam meta posts are intiguing- so in transfering some of the broader strokes from them- I think you tackling a 'Mark isn't Nolan's biological son' fic would be fascinating. Sort of a step to the side of the 'what if Mark never got his powers' fic that sometimes pop up in the fandom

OOOOOO chewing on this currently, hm, the much a distinct flavor of exactly what you’re talking about, but the potential for more family drama depending on WHO knows. Does Mark know?? Is he waiting every day only to be crushed? Does he confused non-Debbie features with Nolan’s? I suppose I’m not the most enthusiastic about non-power AUs, but I think there’s something very fun to explore about Mark having to settle with, if he knows all his life, he will never have powers? I think the trajectory of his dreams will obviously shift, I can see him still having that distinct fatherly idolization, but perhaps embraces being useful to the GDA? Cecil’s number one intern—only intern—curtesy of nepotism, ha! There is something tickling me about Mark taking the Robin Route/Role for the Teen Team in terms of having no powers, just insane skills, BUT there’s something way more delicious about intern Mark when s1e01 happens and Mark tries snooping around to find out the truth about what happened to his Dad.

I wonder if, with Mark having a whole another father, if they’re more or less distant relationship, depending on WHEN Nolan entered Mark’s life? Like if Debbie met Nolan later for this, or just for fun, they dated once, separated (Mark being born during then), then they happened to stumble into each others lives again and Mark’s already been born, anywhere from tween to teenager so there’s a gap in how close they are. I feel like one important aspect of the whole Family Drama is how close they’re supposed to be, a functional, loving family turned upside down? So I wonder what more distance does. I wonder how Nolan copes when his family is entirely human and he can’t project onto Mark.

I love thinking about these, omg.

[s0fter-sin]

pt.3 of my horror au! you can find pt.1 here and pt.2 here!

cw mild horror, fear

johnny opens his eyes

or- he thinks he does

it’s completely black, not a speck of light to be found anywhere; certainly not the lantern he’s started keeping on by his bed or the moonlight that should be coming through the curtains

he remembers falling asleep on the couch; he was exhausted after ripping out the fresh carpet from the sitting room, the pristine thing at odds with the smoke stained walls. it didn’t match any of the carpets or rugs in the rest of the house, too modern compared the vintage fittings and, new or not, that bothered him so it had to go

he just hadn’t been expecting the giant brown stain embedded in the hardwood underneath

he was turning over the pros and cons of buying a floor sander if he ever stopped foot off the property again, promising himself he was only resting his eyes for a moment, and before he knew it, he was out

now he doesn’t even know if he’s awake

“ghost?” johnny whispers. his voice echoes strangely; muted like he’s an in enclosed but long space and bouncing off things he can’t even hope to see

he has no idea where he is. he’s not in the basement, not with how dark it is; even the little cloudy window would be a wellspring of light compared to this. it smells damp too; musty with stillness, like not much air gets to it

johnny sets a hand in the soft dirt beneath him and sits up, some kind of cloth falling off his shoulders. he reaches out with shaking hands, searching for any kind of balance - a wall, furniture, something - and slowly gets to his feet

“ghost, you here?”

his fingers meet nothing but open air and he almost tips over. he has no equilibrium, nothing grounding him; the dark so all-consuming, he might as well have not moved at all

air dances over his cheek and he gasps and spins around when a large hand latches around his wrist and johnny hisses as he’s tugged blindly forward

“ghost?” he asks and the hand tightens

he doesn’t know what to do with the relief trying to warm his belly

“hey, slow- slow down, i can’t see,” he gasps, stumbling over the uneven ground. the whole thing bowed and curved, gravel flicking out into the depths with every step like it was carved out by hand and never smoothed out

johnny swallows hard and clutches at ghost’s arm with his other hand

“ghost, can… can we go back upstairs?” he whispers, futilely pulling at his sleeve. something old and animal in him claws at the inside of his skull, baying and screaming that he not raise his voice; to not break this unnatural still darkness too harshly. “please?”

ghost just leads him deeper into the void

until he suddenly stops and johnny covers his mouth to mute the beginnings of the scream ripping from his throat when he runs into his back. he digs his fingers into his cheek, forcing a slow breath through his nose

“…you want to show me something?” he guesses and flinches as the air in front of him rushes like ghost’s moving very quickly. something scratches, like rock on rock, and he flinches as he takes his other wrist and cups his hands around something big

ghost’s hands fall away and johnny reflexively clutches the thing to his chest

“don’t leave,” he begs. “please don’t leave me down here.”

silence

he runs his dry tongue over his lips. “ghost?”

those same hands close around his biceps and johnny all but melts into the body-warmth at his back. ghost smooths down his arms, covering his hands with his, and pulls the thing away from his chest to eye-level

like he expects johnny to be able to see it

the way he can

johnny frowns, rubbing over the thing with his thumb. it’s heavier than he expected from the sound it made along the ground; smoother than the rocks he’s seen around the property and the gravel he kicked around down here

ghost’s chin drops on his shoulder and he jumps, pausing as he rolls into his neck and he can clearly feel the wide grin on his face

he blinks and something makes him press back into him, to try and see him with his body. there’s a cleft in his top lip he’s never noticed before and he’s practically shaking, rocking against his back like he’s trying to urge him to go quicker

johnny spins the rock around in his hands, trying to feel what it is, what would make ghost so - almost childishly - excited. his fingers catch on a crater, shallow and smooth like it’s been carved away. he drags his fingers down and feels another, around the same size. his frown deepens and his fingers slow as he finds another hole, this one going straight into the rock

ghost shifts behind him, his grin widening against his skin and something in johnny curdles, his hair standing on end

it feels like he’s not breathing, the dark so complete it’s stealing the air from his very lungs as he works his fingers down the rock; stuttering when the texture suddenly changes. he hits a fissure, then another, another; curls his fingers underneath and feels it flatten out. strangely familiar grooves run along it before it changes and becomes thinner, becomes sharp-

johnny screams

johnny screams and drops the human skull ghost placed in his hands

he throws himself away from ghost and runs blindly into an earth wall. he scratches at the uneven surface, screams still ripping from his throat and feels wet heat on his fingers as his nails scrape and break. his voice cracks, almost shrieking when ghost’s arms suddenly wrap around his waist and pull him back into his chest

“let me out!” johnny screams, fighting his arms, trying to run but run where it’s too dark- “please, let me out, let me out, please!”

ghost’s body curls over his, effortlessly holding him in place as he wrenches in his grip and wails and /screams/. he presses his face into the side of his head and johnny strains to get away, to stop touching him, to run-

and falters when he feels the contours of his face

ghost isn’t smiling anymore

“please,” johnny sobs brokenly, his legs going out from under him. but ghost tightens his grip and doesn’t let him fall. “let me out… please, i wanna get out. please, please…”

he keeps begging, mindless and panicked and almost screams again when ghost tugs him back a step, his fingers digging into his clothes. he doesn’t want to touch the skull again, he doesn’t want ghost to leave him, he doesn’t want to be lost in the dark-

ghost’s giant hands grip under his thighs, pulling him up and he slings his legs around his waist, burying his face in his throat as he sobs

his weight tilts and johnny flinches as his back suddenly touches dirt, arching up into ghost’s body to get away from it- he doesn’t want to be underground anymore, he doesn’t want to be buried anymore-

ghost wraps an arm under his back, holding him tight to his body, and johnny shrinks even more at the scrape of dirt and brick against the outside of their shoulders as he crawls them through some kind of hole

his weight shifts again, falling into the cradle of ghost’s hips, and he sobs at the feeling of going up

the arm crawling them forward presses against his armpit and johnny cringes at the screech of metal on concrete as ghost shoves something out of the way, involuntarily peeking out behind him

and gasps in pure relief at the moonlight streaming through the basement window; the dim yet powerful light making his eyes ache after so long in such total darkness

he can’t bear to look away from it, even as his eyes twitch and squint, still clinging to ghost as he crawls them across the basement to the stairs. he gets to his feet, not even stumbling with johnny’s added weight, and he strains to keep looking out the window as he climbs up. only when they reach the top step does he wrench his eyes away, desperately searching for the nearest window

and ghost seems to know it; angling him to look out the dining room into the backyard as he carries him to the couch he fell asleep on

johnny keeps his fingers tangled in his hood as he sets him down, holding him close. he doesn’t even try to pull back and he feels him drop to kneel between his legs, compressing himself down the way a man of his size shouldn’t be able to

his breath stutters on an inhale and johnny forces himself to drag his eyes away from the light, to take his first real look at the source of all his terror; the ghost in his walls…

and he’s just a man

his hair has been hacked at, patches ripped out and uneven, too fine to dread but matted together all the same. thinner patches struggle to grow through shiny scar tissue; some blunt and wide, others looking like burns. but beneath the caked in dirt and years of grease… it might be blonde

his hoodie and jeans sit tight and loose in turn like they were bought for the build of a very different man, hiding dirty skin so pale he didn’t even know it was possible, almost /translucent/; veins bright and bulging beneath his skin like he’s never seen sunlight

and with the size and complexity of the cavern under the basement… maybe he hasn’t

but it’s his face johnny gets caught on

his light lashes do nothing to hide the fine scars dug around his eyes, like he scratched at them with his fingernails and after only his short time in the dark, he can guess why he did it. his pupils look permanently dilated, forcing away the deep brown of his irises; unblinking, desperate to take in as much light as possible. more scars cut through his skin, so old and light they almost blend in, difficult to see through the dirt staining his skin

but none of it, the scars, the filth, the uncanny wrongness…

none of it hides how beautiful he is

ghost slowly reaches up and johnny freezes as he brings his thumb to his cheek, wiping through the sticky tear tracks on his skin. it makes his sleeve fall back and his heart seizes at the thick, ragged band of scarring ringing his wrist

he swallows heavily as ghost brings it back to his mouth, sucking his tears from his skin. it splits the cleft in his upper lip wider, splaying over his thumb. ghost doesn’t look away and johnny’s heart beats loud in his ears as he reaches for his hand, tangling his fingers through his own, and lifts it to his mouth

his hand shakes as he gently runs his thumb over his bottom lip, catching on his chapped skin and the smaller scars splitting it, but ghost stops his hand; moving his thumb up to his top lip

the cleft matches up to a thick scar running up his cheek, just skirting his nose and almost meeting his eye and johnny’s violently reminded of the body’s worth of blood stained into the floor of the sitting room

“the sk-…” he falters, a shudder creeping up his spine as he remembers the feel of it in his hands. “the person downstairs; did they do this to you?”

ghost cocks his head and johnny’s thumb slips into his mouth, caressing his inner lip

“did… did they put you down there? in the dark?” he tries again

he sucks at his thumb, a gentle self-soothing pressure

“the couple who used to live here…” johnny breathes, slow with realisation. the couple who lived here for thirty years. the couple the realtor refused to tell him anything about…

“they were your parents.”

but she never said anything about a child

“your parents put you down there,” he repeats and feels sick with grief for a boy he’ll never know. “was… was it your mother?”

ghost rears up on his knees, crawling above him and caging him in against the couch and johnny gasps as he lets out an animalistic snarl in his face, spittle flying onto his cheek

“sorry, i’m sorry, it wasn’t her- it wasn’t her, i know she didn’t do it,” johnny rushes out, flattening himself against the couch and tries to pull his hand away when he presses into it even harder, his thumb pressed to his eye tooth

ghost pants, teeth still bared in a deranged snarl. his mouth twitches, lips slowly falling to cover his teeth. his tongue runs over his lips, gathering the spit from them and tickling the edges of his thumb

“y-your father…?” he tries and his breath catches as he nods

johnny slowly copies him, still pressed back into the couch

ghost’s eyes flicker up at him like he’s checking his reaction and keeps lapping at his thumb, long almost apologetic passes of his tongue as he works down to his palm. he leans in and johnny’s breath stutters as he laves his tongue up his cheek, cleaning up the spit. ghost lets out a low groan, nibbling along his cheekbone and goosebumps prickle his skin

he sinks back down, mouthing a trail down his throat and he shivers as he bites at his collar, tugging it away with his teeth to expose his collarbone

“ghost…” johnny sighs and he pauses

ghost noses at his sternum and sits back on his heels, nuzzling his forehead into his belly as he pulls something from the front pocket of his hoodie

something heavy tumbles out with it but he ignores it in favour of the bundle of cloth ghost pushes into his hands, wrapping his arms around his hips and sinking his chin into his thigh. johnny’s heart sinks as he gently unfolds it, careful of the unthreading edges and torn holes and has to bite his lip hard

it’s a ragged patchwork blanket; hardly big enough to cover a child. and hand embroidered onto it, in faded and dirtied gold thread is a single word

“simon,” he reads, tracing the once-loved letters

simon perks up in his lap, making a gurgling almost purr in the back of his throat; the closest thing to speech he’s heard from him in the month he’s lived here

“your name is simon,” johnny breathes

he thought he considered everything about how he ended up a prisoner in his own house; a serial killer toying with his food, a stalker he never noticed, a random psychopath chomping at the bit for his next victim and johnny was just unlucky enough to draw his attention

but if this is the only thing simon has left, his only proof of before… he’s been down there, left alone in the rotting dark, for decades

since he was a child

“i’m so sorry, simon,” johnny whispers thickly

but simon just frowns

like he’s never heard an apology in his life

johnny presses his eyes shut for a moment, just for a moment; to let himself feel the pain and the fear and the grief, then refolds the blanket just as tenderly as he opened it. he presses it into simon’s chest and his heart catches at the way he hugs it tight, dropping his chin to nuzzle into the fabric

he flinches as he takes his hand in his, jerking back, but johnny keeps hold of him; gently tangling their fingers together and rises to his feet

“come on,” he beckons, walking backwards towards the stairs

simon’s grip tightens around his blanket. but he follows him, up the stairs johnny sprinted down the morning after he first saw him, across the landing with the vents he counted and dreaded walking past, into his bedroom

where it all began

johnny pushes the door wider and riley pops his head up from his dog bed, tensing and about to jump up when he sees simon behind him

“back to sleep, riley-boy,” he soothes and riley droops and burrows straight back under his blanket, nosing it up over his face until only his ears stick out

he smiles and turns back to simon- but it drops when he sees how he’s frozen in the doorway; quick, wide eyes darting around the room. around the master bedroom, clutching his blanket to his chest like he’s afraid of it being stolen

“it’s okay, simon,” johnny promises, rounding him and takes his other hand in his. “he’s not here anymore; you can come in.”

he slowly steps backwards and with the gentlest tug on his hands, simon follows

but lets out an almost involuntary sounding hiss, squeezing his eyes shut and twisting away from the automatic lantern set up on his bedside table

johnny looks between them, at the warm light that’s been his beacon for the last few weeks, and the man he needed that safety from

he holds his breath

and flicks off the lantern

chills immediately creep up his spine; the encroaching shadows smothering him like waves and it’s only simon’s hand in his, the gleam of moonlight catching his eyes, that keeps him above water

johnny squeezes his hand and brings him to the bed, silently coaxing him under the covers. he’s stiff, holding himself so rigid it almost looks painful, and he leaves the covers around his waist, not wanting to make him feel restricted when he’s already so visually unsure

“just like you did for me,” he murmurs, remembering the scrap cloth of a blanket he woke under

simon’s most prized possession

his only possession

simon cocks his head, that same primitive yet studious look in his eyes as he watches him climb in next to him and tug the covers up to his shoulder. he looks at it then the side over his waist, and pulls it up until it covers him up to the neck

johnny can’t help the smile tugging at his lips and sinks deeper into the bed, the blanket riding up higher

until they match

“we’re safe here, simon,” he promises

simon’s wide brown eyes stare back at him and it’s all to easy to lose himself in them

💀🧼

when johnny wakes up, simon is gone; only a dirt-stained imprint of him left on the sheet and pillowcase

and his phone sitting innocently on the side table, beside the lit lantern

[vaguely-concerned]

shathann fucked up in so many ways with raising taash but she also makes me. so so SO sad. welcome back deeply flawed dragon age mother figures in various shades of 'well. I mean you tried. I guess' (from 'not at all' to 'I can see what you thought you were going for at least' as appropriate) we tango once more

[stingslikeabee]

It soon became clear to Melissa that it wasn't a fight - it was a massacre. The three guys who had ran after the young woman in the hopes of teaching the barmaid a lesson found instead a very different fate at the end of their path, the sound of cracking bone and ripped flesh washing over the brunette who turned into more of a bystander than anything.

It wasn't the violence that shocked her, really - as an almost-victim to the vicious behavior that lurked under the attacker's voices and glares, Melissa had no compassion for that type of asshole. It was the accidental target-turned-savior that amazed her, instead: the way he so swiftly dispatched any potential threats and then spoke to her in such a controlled tone had the girl wondering even more about who he was, even if the barmaid knew there were plenty of private and secretive souls around.

It was her job to know that, after all - even after the spectacular failure of that evening. Nodding quietly at the stranger and his wise advice of just walking away, Melissa looked around to pick anything that could have been left behind - car keys, a cellphone and some crumpled paper notes which looked like hers. "Thank you for this," she said at length, pocketing everything and, at long last, showing an ability to obey and heed his counsel for a change. "You didn't owe me anything and yet you saved my ass. Thank you."

The appreciation was genuine, as well as the smile on her face - but that night had showed Melissa enough about his lack of inclination for company and chit-chat. Not one to further annoy the man who had quite literally saved her life from sexual assault, injured limbs or worse, the girl turned back to where she been going originally, taking the path to her car to get out of the area and very much decided to never come back.

(It wasn't as if the second dude with an eyepatch would be visiting her friend anymore, after all. Not the way she had pictured the night, but not a bad outcome considering the stupid mistakes on her part.)

It was only after some time driving and at a red light that Melissa noticed a weird sound coming from somewhere within her car. Frowning, the girl pulled to the side and then patted her jacket, fishing out the phone and frowning at the device. It was ringing alright - but that wasn't her ringtone; hell, it sounded like a default one. The number flashing on the screen was also a strange one and as soon as the brunette tried to unblock the phone, it immediately refused to let her progress.

Fuck - that wasn't her phone, was it?

Inhaling deeply and steeling her nerves, the girl had no other option but continuing home, if only to get to her laptop and to activate the location of her own mobile for retrieval purposes. Fortunately, it seemed to have a decent amount of battery and it blinked perfectly still on the map, showing a strange address that she had no recollection of ever visiting before. It seemed removed from downtown, but she had nothing better to do with a wasted night but some (extra) investigation.

Going back to her vehicle, the woman revved it up and then went across town while internally groaning in frustration for most of the way. That night was just a succession of disasters, but Melissa's internal monologue about being unlucky started to grow quiet as she noticed the type of homes that she kept driving around. They grew imposing, with large gardens and and a number of secure gates and security cameras that made the brunette feel small and unimportant very fast.

The trail from her app ended at one of these mansions - which definitely did not belong to any of her customers, as far as she knew. Beyond confused with everything, the girl rolled the windows of her car down and then pressed a button on the intercom available, introducing herself to the best of her abilities in that scenario.

"Hi, my name is Melissa and it appears that my phone is inside - I don't know why, but it's showing up here according to my carrier. Is there any chance I can speak to someone about this? I might be with someone else's phone by accident, too."

Violence lives in his veins, no matter how hard he tries to convince himself that there is more to life than hurting others. Sometimes pain is unavoidable. Sometimes, life gets in the way, fate makes a decision for him and he has no choice but to go with the flow and take the punches in stride. This will be no different. These men are bottom of the barrel, the scum most wipe off and send into the trash, and whether or not it was their own doing to be seen in such light didn't matter. The truth of it all is that they are not only threatening him, and her, but allowing them to get off scot-free would only encourage this behavior further.

If there is one thing that Slade won't readily abide by, is seeing good people get hurt, if he can do something to stop it.

By the end of it all the three men are laid out across the damp concrete and staining its already filthy surface with steady streams of red. Broken bones and torn skin, he is not at all bothered by the gruesome sight, knowing well enough that it could have been worse. These were nothing more than thugs who'd gone uncontested for too long, comfortable in their hunting grounds and unaware that far more dangerous predators would snap them up should they go wandering into open jaws.

For a moment, he considers taking it a step further. A mind ravaged by all he had done and every terrible atrocity befallen the people of Star City, and beyond, he could very well ensure that the three damaged men never harm another soul. Can she see the look in his eye? How he positively revels in the bloodshed, atop the food-chain, Slade is far more than he seems even now. However, he relents. Whether or not that hesitation was begot by Melissa's presence alone or the fact he would do anything to be kept out of a box, is unknown, and his attention drifts towards her.

"You should be going," he remarks surprisingly even, despite the physical exertion which had been set on full display. His body does indeed ache but nothing that a few pills won't solve, aided by the heat of a shower that would scald such tender skin.

"They'll get back up eventually and you don't want to be around for it. Probably won't want to be showing your face around here again, either." Because even though he had been her hero in the moment, there was absolutely no intention of his to become some type of vigilante. There are already plenty of those to go around.