#he REALLY wanted to make this movie and you can tell

[mcromwell]

Why did it take me so long to see Monkey Man?! Delightful!! And surprisingly queer!! Very relevant and really fun to watch, I thought it kicked ass.

Seriously, this movie rules: it's got great cinematography, class war, strength training at a trans commune, mutual aid, monkey masks, and Dev Patel stabs a man with his teeth! IT WAS FUN

There's this one part where the camera is momentarily 1st person as Monkey Man is jumping down a flight of stairs kicking a guy, but then as he's fighting another guy the camera gets knocked OUT of 1st person and back into 3rd person and it happens so organically and fluidly I was floored

[dawngyu]

RAIN LILIES

pairing: soulmate idol choi beomgyu x soulmate fem!reader

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

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

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

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

He shouldn’t be real.

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

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

wc: 20k — playlist.

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

[rosenclaws]

Valentines Day Blues || Worst!Logan x Reader

summary: Logan has never really cared about Valentines day until he met you, but despite his best efforts nothing seems to be working out for him.

warnings: angst to fluff, a little spice at the end but no smut, logan's self doubt and slight anger issues, happy ending.

wc: 2.8k

a/n: This is my entry for Loveuary event by @lubdubology and @yxtkiwiyxt! I had pick worst logan my love and add some angst bc I love angst but it all works out for our boy <3 Happy (Early) Valentines day guys!!

Sometimes Logan wonders why he even tries anymore. It's like the world is out to get him specifically. All he wanted was to plan one perfect day. Just one day where he can prove to you, to himself that he's more than a fuck up.

Logan has never really cared about Valentines Day. He's celebrated before. You know gone to dinner, to the movie, had a few hook ups. When he lived at the mansion he remembers the heart decorations and all the red and pink. The kids sharing valentines and watching them experience their first love. But thinking back on his long life there just wasn't anything about the holiday that stood out to him.

For Logan, things just never seemed to work out. Love wasn't his thing. He had lost the ones he loved. He hadn't thought about it, felt it, for years. It never even crossed his mind anymore. Too afraid of losing yet another lover. He went about his life, a shell of the man he used to be. A disgrace to the name X-Men and a monster parents tell their children about at night.

Until Wade showed up and everything changed. He's a hero now, well he's not a villain in the eyes of citizens. He'll take it. He could be free to live again, to make friends, enjoy life. To heal and live in memory of his fallen friends rather than run away from the pain. He doesn't think he'll ever forgive himself, but he can start by being a better man.

It's been so long since Logan felt love that he didn't even recognize it at first. He didn't understand why his heart beat faster, why he felt sweaty, why his stomach twisted and turned by just your mere presence. He thought it was something else.

Maybe you're a mutant and were using your powers on him. Maybe you had heard what he had done and decided that he wasn't worthy of redemption. He avoided you like the plague. Unable to shake whatever you were doing to him no matter how hard he tried. It wasn't until Wade slapped him on the back of the head and spelled it out in big bold letters.

He had a crush.

Logan just scoffed. A crush? That word...It felt so juvenile. A crush is something between two kids who stare at each other from across the classroom. A crush is small and innocent and Logan is far too old and far too worn to be crushing on Wade's friend. But he could only lie to himself for so long. It wasn't a crush. No that wasn't the right word.

He was in love. When he started creeping back into your life it hit him full force. Took him by the neck and shook him until it all clicked. He longed for your attention, to be close to you. To make you laugh, to watch you smile. He wanted to hold you at night, to hear your voice when he drifted off to sleep and to wake up the next morning with you by his side. He was utterly fucked.

It was funny really. Especially to Wade, I mean how clueless could a man be? You would think two hundred years of experience would mean he could pick up on these things. But Logan doesn't notice those things anymore.

He's so in his own head he never even noticed that you were mirroring his feelings. That the mere sight of Logan was enough to make you weak in the knees. That his laugh, as rare as it was to hear, was music to your ears. That you were heartbroken when he started to avoid you, anxiety filling your brain about why the man just couldn't stand to be around you.

Wade treated it as his own rom com. Making popcorn and watching the longing looks shared between the two of you. Except Wade wasn't a patient person and he wasn't trying to watch a slow burn where both of you refuse to talk. So he pushed you two together. Spilling both your secrets right in front of each other and walking away like he didn't just change your lives forever. But it worked. You had to give him that at least. Even if Logan really didn't want to give Wade any credit ever.

Logan remembers that night like it was yesterday. You took his hand, so nervous to look him in the eyes. He locked your fingers together, squeezing your hand softly and tilting your chin to look at him. Colossus passes by and using the man as cover he kisses you. He could hear a faint "Oh come on! What is this Disney Channel?" From Wade but he pays it no mind.

Since that day Logan has vowed to spend every moment being the man you deserve. You tell him that you love him but sometimes it's hard to believe. How could someone like you love a man like him? Your heart was too good for him. Too bright to be with a man who wasn't even sure he had a heart just a year ago.

But nevertheless you're still here and Valentines day is fast approaching. This is his chance to show you how much he loves you. To buy you the perfect gift and plan the perfect date. If he could do this, he could be just a fraction of a man good enough for you.

He wanted to make you breakfast. To dress up nice and proper for once with flowers in his hands. A picnic at the park. To watch the sunset together all wrapped up in blankets. A night time drive that ends in a passionate night.

But life has other plans.

The day starts with a broken alarm clock. Logan groans as he wakes up, reaching out for you only to feel an empty bed. He shoots awake, looking at the clock to see that it was well past breakfast time.

"Fuck!" He hisses as he throws the covers off and scrambles to the kitchen. To his dismay you're already awake and eating. His heart sinks, failure number one.

"Hi honey, how did you sleep?" You ask sweetly as you wrap your arms around his waist, sighing happily as you hug your boyfriend.

"Alright, I meant to wake up earlier than this." He mumbles as he holds you tight. He tries not to show his disappointment as he covers it with a smile. He still has his other plans, the day is just starting.

"That's okay, I'm glad you were able to get some rest." Logan huffs but nods along with you.

He pours himself a cup of coffee. He suddenly realizes to tell you something and pulls you back into him, kissing you fiercely. You squeak in surprise but melt into his embrace.

"What as that for?" You tease as he pulls away. Logan shrugs and kisses you again.

"Happy Valentines Day Sweetheart." He purrs. You giggle as he buries his face in your neck.

"Happy Valentines Day Logan."

"Now, I have the whole day planned so go get ready." His disappointment from earlier fading as he thinks about the rest of the day. "How romantic of you." You kiss his cheek and turn to go back to your bedroom. Logan smirks and gently slaps your ass as you walk away.

"Logan!" You scold him but he just grins wider.

"Sorry, couldn't help myself."

Logan packs the picnic basket as you get ready. He made sure to buy all your favorite things and handmade chocolate covered strawberries last night after you went to bed. Those were romantic right? The clock ticks by faster than he realized and it dawns on him that the flowers he ordered have yet to arrive. His phone buzzes and he growls as he checks it.

Of course.

A text from the florist shop that they can't complete his order despite the fact he ordered these weeks ago. Fuck. Well maybe he can grab something on your way to the park? No he can't buy them right in front of you. Plus what store even has flowers right now. Maybe he can cut a few from the neighbors garden. They won't miss a few roses.

"Logan? Everything okay?" He snaps out it and shoves his phone back in his pocket.

"Just fine sweetheart," His eyes land on you and he lets out a low whistle.

"You trying to kill me or something?" He says with a smirk as he takes in your outfit. Fuck you're perfect.

"This old thing? I just had it laying around." You joke.

You grab onto his belt and pull him into you, his lips capturing you in a hot kiss. His hands slowly slide up your body. You could get lost in this kiss forever.

A loud boom breaks you apart. Your heads whip towards the window and see the sky darken before your very eyes.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." Logan growls as he lets go of you. Stalking his way to the window to see rain pouring down outside. There goes the picnic plans. He slams the window shut. Frustration taking over his mind.

"It's supposed to rain all day," You say as you check your phone. You notice Logan's mood turn sour and you start to get worried.

"Of course it is." He scoffs. Logan searches for something in his brain to fix this day. Maybe he can just drive out of the city and you can still go on a picnic or watch the sunset.

"Logan are you okay?" You ask softly. He grunts as his phone buzzes once again in his pocket. Wade's picture flashes up on the screen and it takes everything in Logan to actually answer.

"What."

"Hey so...I might have borrowed your car last night for reasons that are not important to you and well lets just say its going to be out of commission for a couple days k sorry gonna hang up before you process this bye love you!" Wade speaks fast and hangs up faster.

No breakfast, no flowers, no car, no park, no sunset. Just fucking great. He can't even do one fucking nice thing for you. Logan crushes his phone in his hands without even thinking. He's done, he just. He doesn't get it. Why can't he just do one nice thing for you?

"Logan!" You hurry over and try to comfort him but he just holds his hand up.

"What's wrong?" He just sighs, stands up and shoves his hands in his pockets.

"There are no plans anymore. I'm sorry." He says lowly. Disappointment seeping into his tone.

"I had everything planned, I had the perfect day. A day where I can just... you know what? Forget it. I don't even know why you bother with me anymore." He mumbles.

He ignores the calls of his name as he walks out the door and leaves. The rain soaks him right to his metal bones. He just sits on the grass. Letting the rain hit him. Dramatic? Maybe but he's defeated. Just. Purely defeated.

His inner thoughts swarm with attacks, the happiness he had hoped to feel was draining. Being replaced with self doubt that can only scream that he's not worthy of you, not worth the love.

"Logan you get your ass back inside right now!" Your voice cuts through the harsh patter of the rain. He turns to see you marching forward, your pretty clothes all ruined now as you walk over to him.

"Go back inside, you're going to get sick." Logan says with concern but you don't care.

"No, not until you talk to me." You say stubbornly. He huffs and takes off the jacket he had put on earlier to hold it above your head. Rain pelts his back but its stopped hitting you.

"It's nothing."

"Stop that! Stop shutting me out Logan. Look I know this is hard, that sometimes you get wrapped up in your own head. But that's why I'm here." You grab his face, making sure he can't get away from you. You don't know how many times you need to drive this into his thick skull but you will if that's what it takes.

"A bother? Do you really think I'm just putting up with you? I fucking love you, you idiot! I don't care about if the date is perfect or if you get me flowers or chocolate. I care about you."

"Everything got fucked up today sweetheart. Literally everything I wanted was ruined. Don't you think that's a sign? That the universe is trying to fucking tell me something?" You scoff and shake your head.

"Tell you what? Huh? What could the universe possibly tell you that I can't. I'm telling you right now. That you are the love of me life. I love our lazy mornings, the soft kisses, the movie nights, the way you make my day brighter and my stomach flutter. Fuck the universe. Logan, I'm right here." Logan does so much for you that he doesn't even notice.

He loves you and his love is more than enough. It bleeds into everything he does. The way he looks at you, how he talks to you, the pure love and adoration in his eyes.

"I wanted today to be perfect for you. I wanted to show you that I'm worthy of every part of you." He confesses.

You pull him in for a kiss. Not caring if he drops the jacket that was once covering you. You let the rain fall as your lips move passionately with each other. Logan groans as he wraps his arms around you. Your hands reach up to grab at his wet hair, pushing it back and running your fingers through it. His hands grip your waist tightly, pulling you impossibly close to him. Reluctantly you pull apart, needing to catch your breath. He's got this dopey smile, his eyes softening as you rest your hands on his chest.

"You idiot, you're already are worth that and more." You whisper. Thunder rolls through the sky and you tug on Logan's hand.

"Come on, let's go back inside. I don't need to find out if your metal skeleton attracts lightning." He chuckles but follows you back inside. After drying off and changing back into your pajamas he finds you trying to push the couch back.

"What are you doing?" He asks as he walks over and picks it up with ease.

"Show off." You mumble. You grab a blanket it and lay it on the floor.

"You wanted a picnic, so let's have one." Placing a couple pillows on the floor, you and Logan sit in your living room with the food he had packed earlier.

The sound of the rain hitting the windows was oddly peaceful. Your heart warmed at the sight of everything Logan had packed. He really put thought and care into this. You were practically in his lap at this point. His hands wanting to be on you at all times.

"Here," You lift a chocolate strawberry to his mouth and he takes a bite.

"Sweet, not as sweet as you though." He says with a cheeky smirk.

"Cheesy," You roll your eyes playfully. He chuckles, his thumb rubbing the side of your mouth where some chocolate was. His face softens, eyes brimming with an emotion you can't read as he stares at you.

"Hey, I love you."

You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. You're everything. I want to wake up next to you for the rest of my life. Logan feels it all, you're it for him. But he doesn't know how to say it quite yet, so he settles for I love you and hopes you understand how much he truly means it.

"I love you too Logan, more than anything." He presses a kiss to your cheek and peppers them down to your jaw. His teeth grazing your pulse point.

"There's still one more thing I had planned that we can do right here." Logan purrs. You giggle as he flips the two of you so that you're on your back, your head on a pillow.

"Oh really?" You tease as you slip your hands up his shirt.

"Happy Valentines day Logan." You hum as he nibbles on your neck.

It's not the day he had expected to have, but it's turned into one he'll never forget. Maybe this holiday isn't so bad. He smirks as he sits back on his knees, still in slight disbelief that you're his. You know what? The universe can suck it. Because he's happy and for once he won't let anything get in his way.

"Happy Valentines day sweetheart."

Here's to many, many more.

[chuellas]

Initiation | I is for Intimacy

⤷ Ft. Nakahara Chuuya

V. A. L. E. N. T. I. N. E.

Warnings | Fem!Reader, N.SFW, 18+ only, use of the names “Doll” and “Baby”, physical and emotional intimacy, oral (Reader rec), fingering, unprotected sex, WC: 2.2k

A/N | This one is a lot tamer than the rest and once again I got wayyyyy too carried away but can you blame me? My baby deserves the world 😔

His hands tremble slightly as you both reach your apartment building’s entrance. The two of you have been dating for about 3 months now and Chuuya has held off on being physically intimate with you up until now. But he could tell your patience has been waning and tonight was your tipping point. You’ve been hinting to him all night that you want him to follow you up to your apartment. The extra touches that linger just a little longer than usual, the longing gaze at any part of him you find attractive, which apparently is every inch of him. 

You fiddle with your fingers and keys, watching them before steeling yourself and inviting him. “Y’know, it’s still pretty early…Why don’t you come up? We could have a cup of tea or a glass of wine and watch a movie?”

Your eyes are filled with so much hope, how is Chuuya supposed to say no to that?

He doesn’t of course, as a matter of fact he’s quick to accept your offer and follows you anxiously to your apartment. The Port Mafia executive couldn’t figure out why he was so nervous. He’s slept with plenty of people before this. He’d even goes as far as to say he’s skilled in this subject, never having left a partner dissatisfied. 

So why are you different? 

Realistically Chuuya knows why but he doesn’t want to admit it to himself because if he does that then it means all of this is actually real. It would mean he cares for you far beyond anyone he’s cared for previously. So he’s avoided the subject with you altogether, letting himself stew in denial.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t also incredibly excited. It’s depraved, the amount of times Chuuya has fucked his hand to the thought of you, playing the little voice memos you like to send him every once in a while when you’re at work and typing takes too long. He always comes at the sound of your fluttery giggle, the sound casting a spell over his body every time without fail.

He wonders briefly, what the real thing will do to him when he’s nestled inside of you. 

The ginger can feel himself getting worked up just at the thought of it. He needs to calm himself down. The two of you just got to your apartment. You let him into your home and he’s immediately greeted by a small cat that can’t be more than 6 months old. He’s never been too keen on cat’s but the little ball of fur takes to him immediately and you let out an incredulous laugh.

“She usually hides when I have company, you must be really good with animals.” You crouch down and hold your finger out for the kitten to sniff, just as expected she does so and rubs herself against your hand, clearly recognizing you as her owner. “This is Rika. She may not look it, but this little girl is feisty. She started out as a foster but I fell in love with her and couldn’t fathom the thought of life without her anymore. Sorry, I should have asked if you were allergic before bringing you up…”

Chuuya smiles fondly at you and the small creature, crouching down and mimicking your actions to gain the kitten's trust. “Nah, don’t worry, Doll. I’m not allergic, just- Never been the biggest fan of these guys. She’s cute though, just like her owner.”

You let out a groan and fall onto your butt, knees still bent, to make yourself comfortable on the floor. Rika starts at the movement but once she realizes that it was just you, she continues to headbutt Chuuya and even starts to purr. His attention is still on you despite the little furballs attempts to get him to pet her. 

“That was so cheesy.” You’re covering your face with your hands and peek through them to look at Rika, then back up at the ginger. “...but, I suppose, she’s quite fond of you…just like her owner.”

Chuuya lets out a chuckle of his own because, yeah, that definitely sounded awfully cheesy now that he heard you say it. Yet, it still calmed his previous nerves. The Port Mafia executive stands up and offers his hands for help. You take them with an appreciative smile and he hoists you up. He’s aware that he used far too much force than he needed to but it’s entirely on purpose. You stumble into him and he’s ready to steady you, grip firmly set on your hips to hold you against him.

His lids droop down to look at you through his lashes and the air in your apartment thickens. Your lips part, Chuuya thinks you were going to say something, but he doesn’t give you time as he dips his head down and steals a kiss from you. Then another.

And another.

He continues to kiss you until you both find yourselves stumbling almost blindly into your room. You toe the door shut and start ridding Chuuya of his clothes with trembling hands. You’re nervous too, somehow that makes the ginger just a little more confident and he aids you in taking off his jacket and lifting his shirt over his head. He watches your reaction closely, the way your chest quickens with your breath, the way your pupils dilate in excitement, and most of all the way your face flushes in the prettiest way.

Chuuya is in trouble. Normally his interactions like this are only filled with desire and pleasure. Something only transactional or to itch a certain scratch. That’s it. But this is clearly different. 

The ability user wants to take his time with you, wants you to feel good. He wants to touch and kiss every surface of your skin. Chuuya wants to mold your insides to only take him, to remember the shape of only his cock.

You're the most dangerous person Chuuya has ever encountered and you don’t even know it.

Chuuya makes good on his desires, slowly and carefully peeling your clothes away, making sure to kiss every bit of new skin being exposed. You aren’t as patient but you have no control over what he does right now. The ginger had a plan and you weren’t going to deter him from it. 

When the executive gets you down to your underwear, he makes work of your bra first, expertly unclasping your bra with the snap of his fingers. You let out a pained whine, clearly enjoying just how easy it was for him to take off the usually tricky garment. He wastes no time in cupping your breasts in his now ungloved hands and kneading gently at the plush skin. His fingers run over your nipple and you let out a broken gasp. 

A grin stretches at his lips, he can’t help it, pleased with the reactions he’s drawing out of you when he hasn’t even come close to touching you how he’d like to. 

The ginger drags his hands down your abdomen at an agonizingly slow pace and you squirm impatiently in his hold. “Chuuya…Please, just- oh my god- just fuck me already.”

Your breath catches in your throat when Chuuya flips you around and has your back crashing into his chest and he dips his head to leave a trail of kisses down your neck.

“Gotta be patient f’me, Doll. I gotta make sure you’re ready to take me. Can’t have you uncomfortable, now, can we?” Your head falls onto his shoulder as you let out another whine.

You’re walked to the edge of your bed before you’re being flipped back around and pushed onto it, your legs hanging off the end. Chuuya kneels and pushes your legs together so he can guide them to one side of his head to slip your underwear off with ease. The ginger pries your legs apart once more and settles your legs on each of his shoulders. 

When you’re finally fully exposed, slick cunt practically drooling for Chuuya, he lets out a groan. He has a physical reaction to the sight of you, his cock jumping in his very tight pants. If you would let him, he thinks he would be content with drowning in your pretty glistening cunt. 

You reach for the ginger’s hair and let out another whine. “Chuuya…”

“Fuck, Baby. You been hiding this pretty little thing from me this entire time? A damn shame I’ve let this go to waste till now.” He doesn’t let you respond, diving right in and helping himself to your taste.

With expert precision Chuuya finds your clit with one swipe of his tongue up your folds. He’s quick to attach himself to the sensitive bud and starts sucking on you and then releasing, creating a delicious rhythm with his mouth. You grip at his hair with trembling fingers. It’s cute, really, how worked up you’re getting. The executive has a sneaking feeling you’ve never had someone who actually knows what they’re doing eat you out like this before. 

As if you could read his mind you gasp out, “How- shit- how are you s-so good at that? It feels s’good…”

The ginger knows better than to deem that with an actual response, so instead he brings a hand up to your entrance and coats his middle finger in your slick before inserting it and immediately pumping it in and out of you. It happens fast. You pant out his name and twist your body as you try to almost crawl away from the pleasure building up in your stomach. Chuuya doesn’t let you, of course. He makes sure to bring you flying off the edge. You cum without warning and the sounds of Chuuya drinking you up bounces off the walls. 

You twitch from the oversensitivity and subconsciously push at Chuuya's head. He gets the hint and pulls away. His face is a mess, lips, cheeks and chin glistening with your juices. What's worse is he licks it all off like a parched man, not satiated until he’s licked all of it off.  

Chuuya finally pulls down his pants and climbs over you, dragging you up all the way onto the bed. He takes another moment to admire your lucid state. Body sheen with a small layer of sweat, hair splayed around you in a halo, chest flushed and heaving from your pants. You’re more beautiful than he could ever have tried to imagine. Whatever Chuuya had previously pictured, was put to shame tenfold with you here finally bare right in front of him. 

He gingerly strokes some hair stuck to your face out of the way and lets his finger linger, traveling down the outline of your face. “Think you have one more in you, Doll?”

Chuuya doesn’t think he’s ever had to ask that question before. His usual partners are always selfish, having no problem asking for what they want. You on the other hand? You were far too soft, too kind to ever ask for more when this is your first time getting into bed with him. 

Your eyes close momentarily and he watches your intently. Your eyelashes flutter as you lean into his hand that’s now cupping your face tenderly. When you open your eyes to look up at him through your lashes Chuuya swear he almost cums right then and there. How the hell is he supposed to survive the night with you when you look so stunning underneath him like this?

“Yeah. I want you, Chuuya.” You’re killing him—you really will be the death of him he swears, no dramatics, it’s simply factual. 

He lets out a strained chuckle. “Okay, you got me, all of me.”

Chuuya leans closer into you and rests his forehead on yours before guiding his tip to your entrance. He swipes himself through your folds a few times, making sure he’s wet enough to slip into you easily before finally sinking into you. Your eyes screw shut and your arms fly to his back, desperately looking for something to slutch onto as he stretches you so deliciously. Your mouth drops open but no noise falls out. 

Instead of letting himself get overwhelmed by how velvety and warm and inviting your walls are, Chuuya distracts himself by crashing his lips to your. You finally let out small whines and whimpers and while he’s running his tongue across your lips, asking for another entrance, you impatiently roll your hips. He lets out a surprised grunt but gets the hint and starts a slow but pointed pace. 

Chuuya is used to having sex, he’s slept with countless people thanks to the nature of his job. It’s been seen as a skill for so long that he forgot that it could feel like this. This was something more than just a physical connection, it’s also emotional. 

Chuuya thought he knew everything there was to know about sex, but he has a lot to learn about intimacy, and he doesn’t think he’d want to learn it from anyone else other than you.

[imstillalexcomic]

This isn’t really meant to be a comic trashing my dad.

I do truly appreciate his commitment to education.  I do truly have a soft spot for his style of humor, which certainly influenced the development of my own.  I appreciate how he had this VHS-C camera that he was always bringing out and would let me use, sparking my love for movies and starting me on a path that led to me going to film school.

All those good things about him were real.

But so was the colossal amount of damage he caused.

If you happen to be a parent and are reading this right now, I’m going to ask that you consider this suggestion from a childless thirty-six year old:

You need to consider how you communicate with your child, and how communication doesn’t just mean the words that you use.

You’re telling your kids something with the foods you eat, the activities you engage in, etc…

…you communicate to your children with the media you consume.

The rhetoric against the trans community wasn’t as much in the spotlight when I was growing up, but every time my dad turned on the radio, he’d have my sister and I listen to the likes of Rush Limbaugh, or Sean Hannity, Mark Levin, etc…  One of the topics that’d come up frequently was queer people. 

Issues about Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, gay marriage, gay boy scouts…

The “gays” were an issue.  More than an issue really, they were a problem.  If someone was queer, these radio hosts were quick to villainize; “this teacher is going to turn their students gay,” “this troop leader is going to abuse his scouts,” you don’t want your kid to end up like that, do you?”

My dad would listen to these folks non-stop and nod along in agreement, all the while his extremely queer and aware of it child was sitting right behind him, listening to how she was some kind of monster.

So I hid. 

There could be no sharing about aspects of myself.  My parents would be listening to 770am or Fox News all the time.  If I share that I was queer, I’d be finished.  How couldn’t that be the case?  Every day they chose to listen to people that hate me, so they hate people like me. 

So I can’t let them know me.  I won’t let them know me.

Even though they never said that they hated queer people with their own words, they told me that they hated queer people every day with the media they chose, and in turn forced me to consume.

So again, if there are any parents reading this right now, consider my words.  Hate is a choice you make, and hate can be communicated with more than just words.

If for no other reason, you never know if that kid in the back seat is listening, listening to how you hate them.

[colossrat]

Billy likes to be independent, he is a little homeless boy who fights life tooth and nail. He always needs to be strong to show society that he doesn't need, much less want, an adult in his life sending him here and there.

But he doesn't need to fight to prove himself strong when he already looks strong. Billy can't ask for help as Billy because that will bring trouble or an adult trying to dad him

But Cap? he can let himself be vulnerable as Cap, even if he doesn't need help, he can ask for it. Marvel will just be a friend in need of help and no one will treat him like a helpless child for that

So, after a good few months, if not years, of becoming friends with his league colleagues, the captain starts to show how he loves having people around him for little things.

he wants to open a jar from the kitchen. He has the strength to go head to head with Superman, but he would never miss the opportunity to ask Superman himself to do it for him. Clark always gets a little confused, because the pot isn't that tight, or tight at all, but he always helps because he sees how it brings a genuine and happy smile to his colleague.

Does he need a snack? He will ask Flash to prepare something for him, saying that the food he makes is the best and with the best flavor.

captain has a problem with magic, he is completely capable of solving it himself, but he will knock on zatanna's door to ask for advice, potions, a protection spell and even a good luck hug if he feels she wouldn't refuse

There's a new movie, he doesn't even want to see it that much, but he's going to ask Cyborg if he can make the movie show in the watchtower break room because he finds the control and streaming platforms confusing

He will ask Batman silly questions, or even prepare complex questions with Solomon's help so he can ask and listen for hours while the bat explains things to him. Not that he didn't already know the answers or couldn't find them in the rock's library of infinite knowledge. but he likes to have someone talking and explaining things to him with so much patience, teaching and even being happy to have someone to listen to his knowledge

Are they going on a water mission? He will ask Aquaman for tips on how to swim faster or more efficiently

Is he having a slower day? Why not ask the Martian Hunter to accompany him to a cat cafe? Ask what are the best sweets or brands of cookies? ask for help to bake a cake or taste the frosting, a brigadeiro

He's having problems with his communicator, better go see Red Tornado if he has tips on how to use it without confusing the private lines again, or ask if he has some free time to go for a fly through some storms. He makes hurricanes, he must like storms just like him, right?

There is a dangerous magical temple sending dangerous magical frequencies, he can destroy it alone, but he asks the hawkwoman for help to put everything down with her mace

there's a cockroach in the watchtower… better ask dr.fate for help to kill it

A LADYBUG ON THE WATCHTOWER?! Call the jl green lanterns asap so they can conjure up a green safe pot to transport her back to earth!!

Did he fall? He wasn't even hurt, but he's going to ask Diana to check if he doesn't have a bump on his head. Diana understands where her little brother's requests come from, and she never unmasks him, she just takes the opportunity to make her little brother happy without feeling bad about asking for help.

Now, a hero approaches little Billy with a piece of food? oh. he will bite off your fingers and throw the food back in your face (not really because that would be wasteful, but he would return the food and tell you to eat it yourself, that he would get food for himself on his own)

He can be feral, try to teach him a life lesson and he will teach YOU a life lesson.

His shoelaces are untied and he just stuck them inside his shoe? you leave his shoelace inside the shoe. If a hero, be it the Man Of Steel himself, bends down to tie his shoelaces, OH MY, he'll kick you in the face and scream that you're not supposed to touch his stuff

Unless that you are also a child or mr tawny, then he maybe either accept your help or gently refuse

[keerysfreckles]

your house | LUKE HUGHES 43

pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader

summary: one summer luke fell in love with a girl; a girl who he'd knock on every door of her neighborhood for.

warnings: use of y/n, kissing, not proofread

a/n: i just watched love actually for the first time and i NEEDED a hughes fic of the scene of david trying to find natalie so here i am 😋

masterlist ! | requests are open

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

"honey, you'll love it there. now i know it's different from our normal summer in colorado, but this is just better for us."

"so we're going to michigan cause we're poor and you don't want to deal with dad anymore?"

"y/n!"

"what? it's the truth. i'm well aware you got fired, and that's why we're driving thirty minutes away to go live in some air bnb beach house for the summer. don't sugarcoat it mom."

with those words, y/n stands from her bed, and walks out the door, leaving her mother there. her mother sighs. she expected this kind of reaction, but was sure she wouldn't have to be giving her daughter the same lecture she's been giving her all week, the morning of their trip. her mother stands, walking down the hall towards her son's room, letting him know about their departure.

in all twenty years of y/n's life, herself, her brother, and mother and father would go on the most wonderful and beautiful summer vacations to colorado. her aunt and uncle on her dad's side lived there, and it was amazing. y/n and her brother, thomas, got along well with their cousins, and enjoyed the slight climate change when they stepped out of the colorado airport.

but now that's changed.

y/n's mother, mary, had gotten fired from her previous job. why you may ask? she had an affair with the boss.

y/n couldn't help but laugh when she told her children the news. how predictable. it makes sense now as to why the family wasn't going to colorado. mary didn't want to deal with the after math of her personal issues. y/n's father hasn't been in the picture since. two months without the one person who y/n really cared about left her life, and now she's dealing with her mother's stupid consequences.

so she sits in the backseat of the car, vowing to never sit next to her mother again, waiting for the three of them to leave for the trip to northern michigan.

her younger brother got in the car soonly after shoving his bags in the trunk. things between the two have changed, to say the least. before, they rarely spoke. only making light conversation at family dinners, or congratulating each other on any school performances.

but now, they're practically inseparable. neither knew what to do after the affair, but they knew they had to stick together. the night their mother told them, they hid out in y/n's room, where they watched an old 80s movie and binged on snacks y/n had hidden away. it made them feel normal.

"alright, are we ready?" mary asks, earning a small response from thomas, as y/n just puts her headphones in her ears.

thirty minutes of listening to music is practically heaven to y/n, and is soon ruined as mary pulls into the driveway of a small summer house. the walls are painted white, but most are fading, showing the original brown slabs underneath. there's dainty lilies and other small flowers in bushes along the porch, and the three now stand in front of a bright yellow door.

y/n and thomas go upstairs to the small hallway, and are quick to assign rooms and unpack.

as thomas is in the middle of unpacking, y/n walks into his room.

"could you tell mom i won't be home for dinner? i'm gonna walk around."

thomas turns to look at her, "so you're just leaving me with her?"

y/n fixes her jacket hood, "i guess you can come," she jokes.

"you think mom will be okay here by herself?"

y/n gives him a pointed look, "do you really think she cared about being alone when she was hooking up with her boss."

thomas grimaces, "ew, gross."

y/n shrugs, "c'mon just throw some shoes on, i'm starving."

the nineteen year old groans as he follows his sisters' orders. the two slip out the front door seamlessly.

"mom must be busy unpacking," thomas notices, as the two begin walking down the street of houses.

ten minutes into their silent walk, thomas whines, "i should've eaten something before we left."

"why don't you look up somewhere to eat. there has to be some good restaurants around here."

thomas grabs his phone, and begins reading off the closest diners and dives. y/n's ears perk up at a decent sounding burger diner, and thomas is quick to list the directions.

the two get there fairly easy, thanks to thomas' pretty good directional skills, and are quick to sit at the counter. thomas claims the only bright green stool, making y/n sit in the yellow one next to him.

there's only a few others in the diner. an older couple occupying the booth to their left, a family of five at two tables at the end, and three others sitting at the counter with them.

a nice waitress is fast to take their orders, and now the two sit there, sipping on their respective sodas. thomas is busy looking around the place, taking in the bright and whimsical colors of the 50s inspired diner.

y/n however is finding a peculiar interest in her plastic cup.

until a voice breaks her out of her trance.

"are you two locals, or tourists?"

y/n and thomas both turn their heads, being met with a boy with long brown hair, sitting on the end of the trio of boys besides them. the one in the middle chuckles at his bluntness, while the other smacks him in the head.

"sorry?" y/n speaks up.

"you don't look familiar, and we usually know everyone around this neighborhood," the stranger explains.

"tourists," thomas answers the previous question.

"well we're in an airbnb, just for the summer," y/n elaborates.

the stranger nods, "so tourists."

y/n and thomas nod.

the waitress from before comes back with the siblings' orders, and for some reason the stranger continues the conversation.

"you two have anywhere to be tonight?"

y/n just sends him a look, while thomas responds, "no, i don't think so."

"great! we're going to the annual beach bonfire, you guys are more than welcome to join."

thomas looks at y/n, and she just shrugs.

"i'll just let mom know," thomas reasons.

"cool," the stranger replies, "i'm jack."

"y/n," she states.

"thomas," he sends a smile.

"this is luke," jack points to the one right next to him, "and this is quinn," he now points to the one on the end.

"you wouldn't happen to watch hockey do you?" luke pipes up, while quinn just sighs at his brothers' bluntness.

thomas and y/n both shake their heads, resulting in jack and luke high fiving. they honestly hated when people knew who they were. now of course they were grateful for their fans, but they'd rather people be friends with them for them, and not their job.

"are you guys leaving soon?" thomas asks, bringing up the bonfire again.

luke nods, "yeah, we can wait for you guys to finish eating."

it's as if a flip switched in thomas' head, making him shovel his burger and fries in his mouth faster than before.

"you are disgusting," y/n mutters, as thomas now stands from his bar stool, walking towards the not so strangers.

jack and quinn stand with thomas, and begin to walk out the diner.

y/n sighs, now trying to finish her meal to catch up with the others.

"i could wait for you," luke slides into the stool next to her, "i know jack and quinn wouldn't dare leave without me," he laughs.

she sends him a thank you, as he simply takes one of her fries.

she finishes her meal at a normal pace again, and begins taking her wallet out, before luke pauses her movement by placing his hand on her wrist.

"we sort of trashed your dinner with your brother, it's on me," he smiles.

the gesture takes y/n off gaurd, "oh, uh, thank you."

y/n and luke finally meet the others outside the diner, and jack begins leading the group towards their usual beach.

luke and y/n stay towards the back of the group, while jack and quinn are showing thomas everything he may need to know about the small city.

"so how do you guys know each other?" y/n asks.

luke can't help but laugh, not used to the question.

"we're brothers, actually."

"wait seriously?"

luke nods, "yep. i'm the youngest, jack's the middle, and quinn's the oldest."

"how old are you guys?"

"twenty one, thwenty three and twenty five. what about you guys?" luke gestures to thomas.

"i'm the oldest, and thomas is my only brother. i'm twenty, he just turned nineteen."

"and you said you guys are in an airbnb this summer?" luke questions.

y/n nods, "yeah, it's a pretty small house, and it's on the stupidest street name."

"well now i have to know the name," luke interrupts.

"family avenue," y/n recites, remembering the bright green sign she saw when her mother turned on the street of their destination.

luke's eyebrows furrow, "why is that stupid?"

y/n chuckles dryly, "my family hasn't exactly feeled like a family for the past two months."

luke now nods, not wanting to pry into any of the girls' family business.

luke goes to ask her another question, just wanting to get to know her more, but jack exclaims that they arrived to the beach. the group is met with a roaring bonfire in the middle of the beach. maybe fifteen people are scattered around, mingling and drinking whatever concoction is sloshing inside red solo cups. jack continues showing thomas around, while quinn wanders off to a group of people he seems to know well.

"you can hang out with me if you want," luke offers as him and y/n walk around the fire to a less busy space. "jack and quinn always seem to abandon me at these things."

y/n laughs, "i'm usually the one abandoning thomas."

the two begin to sit in the sand, but luke stops just as they're about to touch the beige grains.

"what are you doing?" y/n wonders, watching luke take his hoodie off. she can't help but inaudibly gasp at the faint outline of his abs she can see as his shirt picks up slightly.

"so you don't get any sand in your shorts," luke pats his hoodie that's now layed out next to him.

she thanks him for the second time that night, not used to someone she's just met to be so nice to her.

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

the following morning, y/n woke up with probably hundreds of text from the middle hughes brother, regretting giving the three her number as they departed last night.

all of jack's messages were asking if she was awake yet, if she and her brother wanted to go on their boat with them, and asking about any of her favorite snacks.

it wasn't even nine am, yet jack seemed to be living the day away.

just as she was about to respond, a knock echoed in her room. thomas explains it's him on the other side, and y/n mumbles a welcoming as her face is still smushed up against her pillow.

"can we go on the brothers' boat with them please," thomas drags out the last word.

"jack texted you too?"

thomas nods, "oh yeah, probably twenty times before i woke up."

"he's insane. doesn't he know people like to sleep in?"

the two chuckle, but thomas asks his sister his question again. the girl is quick to respond positively.

"anything to get out of this house. it was awkward enough walking in on mom still awake in the living room last night."

thomas agrees, "yeah. honestly i didn't things could get more awkward."

the two disperse, and begin getting ready. y/n makes sure to actually respond to jack now, letting him know her and thomas will be there soon. jack sends her his address just as she calls for thomas at the bottom of the stairs.

"jesus how far do these guys live? and why are we walking everywhere?" thomas complains.

"it's only a fifteen minute walk calm down, plus it's nice outside. and do you really want to ask mom to take the car when all she's gonna do is ask a ton of questions we really don't want to answer."

"okay yeah, i see your point."

y/n knocks on the wooden door of the address jack had given her, and her and her brother are met with quinn standing on the other side.

"hey you guys actually made it," he welcomes them inside.

quinn gives them a breif tour, before guiding them out back and down the dock towards their boat.

"holy shit," thomas exclaims, causing y/n to his his arm. "sorry! i've just never known anyone with a boat like this before."

jack and luke turn to see the siblings making their way down the dock. jack grabs their bags, as luke helps y/n onto the boat.

she begins to stumble as she steps inside, but luke catches her, his hand grazing over her waist ever so gently.

"hi," she greets quietly.

"hey," he smiles.

"lovebirds, move," jack demands, making the two chuckle or choke on air as he pushes his way towards the front of the boat.

quinn and thomas make conversation towards the back of the boat, while luke, y/n and jack talk near the driver's seat. jack is efficient when he finally pulls into a clearing, with a few other boats or jet skis passing them.

"so you guys just chill out here? like all day?" thomas asks as they all begin making their way to the back of the boat.

"yeah, pretty much," jack responds.

"that's awesome."

as everyone was slipping shirts and hats off, luke couldn't help but let his gaze fall over to y/n. of course he thought she was pretty when the two met yesterday, but seeing her in a red two-piece swimsuit was making his heart beat irregularly fast.

taking him out of his trance, jack falls into the water, thomas and quinn following soon after.

"after you m'lady," luke jokes, gesturing towards the end of the boat waiting for the remaining two passengers.

after probably six hours of swimming, multiple cannonball competitions, exploring and snacking on anything the brothers brought in the cooler, the five are sitting on the back of the boat. quinn's sipping on an hour old beer, starting to get warm from the now setting sun. thomas was finishing up a bag of chips, while luke was talking with him. jack and y/n had their feet dangling in the water below them.

"people who get pushed in the water, say what?" jack gets out as humanly possible as he can.

"wait what?" y/n asks, as her eyebrows scrunch together. however before she can begin to comprehend what jack had said, his hand is already on her back pushing her towards the water.

she lets out a yelp, not ready to be met with the colder water, thanks to the sun being hidden behind a close group of large rocks.

"dude!"

"what's your problem?"

"what?" jack shrugs, "c'mon she's fine."

y/n was not fine.

because she was wasn't expecting to go back in the water, she certainly didn't have enough air in her lungs, meaning she took in air when she was being pushed in. now resulting in the girl having a coughing fit as she emerged from the water.

"what the hell jack?" she gets out in between coughs.

"you looked bored!" he tries to reason.

once y/n's coughing fit has subsided, quinn speaks up, "are we all ready to start heading back?"

"wait!" y/n calls out, still treading water, "can someone go with me to go look for shells?"

"shells?" jack questions.

"someone people collect cds, or action figures, or flowers. y/n has her shells," thomas explains.

"luke, go with her," quinn states, "i don't want to have a search party."

luke is quick to comply, getting back in the water and swimming towards y/n. he knows a good spot where she can find her needed collectables, and begins swimming in that direction.

luke ends up guiding her towards a large rock formation, one with a flowing waterfall covering up the opening.

"it's just in there," he explains, pointing towards the waterfall.

the two swims under the waterfall, now being met with the much more quiet and dark small cave. they feel rocks beneath them, making them stand as the begin to walk futher inside.

"it's beautiful in here," y/n admits while looking around.

the sound of the waterfall is practically muffled, and the reflection of the water shines above the rocks above her head.

luke however is noticing the way she looks. this is the most peaceful he's seen her in the past two days. he watches as she starts looking around for shells, as he finally responds, "yeah, it is," without taking his eyes off her.

he helps her on her scavenger hunt and the two are surprised at how many small shells are scattered around the cave.

"how many are you looking for?" luke asks, grabbing a few more and putting them in his pocket.

"do you have pockets?"

"yeah," he responds, following her deeper in the cave.

"then however many can fit inside," she turns back and smiles at him.

as soon as she fills her hand, she walks the small length back towards luke. she slows, looking over how heavenly the boy in front of her seems. his hair is now damp, his curls already starting to form again as they dry. there's droplets of water sticking to his chest and arms. and god his thighs. y/n has to avert her eyes before she feels her cheeks starting to warm up.

"here," she pulls his attention, holding out her closed hand.

there skin touches as she passes the shells into luke's hand. he's careful to put them in his now full pocket, until he's looking back at the girl.

the two stare at each other for a moment, as the outside world seems to fade away. luke takes in a short sharp breath, as he realizes what's happening to him. it's only happened to him once before, but he's fallen for y/n. or love at first sight, as some would call it.

there's just something about her the draws luke closer; closer than he wants to admit out loud.

the way her hair is naturally drying, and starting to fall over her shoulders. the way the water is now reflecting off her eyes, as if that was the thing making luke more infatuated. the way she's looking back at him.

y/n can't not stare at luke. her breathing quickens at the sight of him. how he slightly towers her, making her bend her neck less than three inches up to meet his eyes. how soft his lips look after he sticks his tongue out to wet them. how close they've seemed to get to each other without speaking a word.

she looks down at the feeling of luke's hand latching onto hers. his long fingers leaving trails of newfound determination on her skin.

"luke," she whispers, not wanting to break any sort of bubble they've sorted around themselves.

silently, luke steps closer, reaching his hand up to cradle the back y/n's neck. within a second his lips are on hers. y/n's hands almost instinctively travel towards luke's abdomen, grazing over the faint lines over his torso, making her gasp against his lips. luke uses the action as an excuse to slip his tongue between her lips, deepening the kiss.

luke begins to pull away, but y/n chases his lips, stepping onto her tip-toes to get another taste of him.

"y/n," luke chokes out, moving his arms down to her shoulders, making her back away on her own accord.

y/n knows that look and sound too well. the feeling of being pushed away, literally and figuratively in this case.

before luke can begin to explain himself, y/n speaks over him, "we should um-" she steps back further away from luke, not daring to look him in the eyes, "we should head back."

luke sighs, but nods, cursing at himself over and over as they go back the way they came.

he makes sure all of the collected shells stay put in his pockets as he enters the water, and leads the way back to the parked boat.

"took you guys long enough," quinn jokes as he notices his younger brother get to the boat first, however he doesn't help y/n up behind him.

"you find your shells?" thomas questions.

y/n nods, "yeah, loads."

her brother is quick to notice the large difference in her behavior before and after she left the boat, but doesn't question it in the presence of the others.

quinn starts the boat back up, without giving any proper warning, and without making sure everyone is sitting.

the sudden movement causes y/n to stumble, as she was still standing. of course luck is totally on her side tonight after the events from the past ten minutes, as she ends up falling back and into luke's lap. despite their interesting circumstances, luke's arms reach out to grab her, steadying her on his leg.

"sorry," she mutters, while scooting over to sit next to him instead.

"all good," he quietly replies, not even sure if she heard him.

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

once quinn parked the boat back at their dock, y/n stands as soon as possible, claiming they have to be home for a "family dinner".

thomas is immediately confused, reminding her how shit their home life has been recently, but regrets it as the three hughes' brothers offer to let them spend the night at their house. y/n declines, not wanting to be around luke anymore than she has to be.

no, she didn't hate the kiss. in fact she loved the kiss. she loved how safe she felt in luke's arms, despite only knowing him for less than a week. she loved the feeling of luke's lips on hers, and only wanted to feel it again. what had she done wrong?

she doesn't let the thoughts consume her too badly as she practically drags thomas off the boat and through the backyard.

"are you okay?" he begins to question, now out of ear shot from the three brothers finally stepping out of the boat. "what happened back there with luke? you looked like you wanted to cry or scream or throw up when you got back to the boat."

"i'm fine," y/n responds.

"obviously you're not fine. why would you say we have a family din-"

"thomas, i said i'm fine."

at her tone, thomas quickly gets the memo and shuts his lips as they made their way around the hughes' house, and in the direction of their own summer house.

"um, care to explain what happened in the cave rusty?" jack questions his younger brother, using the nickname he knows luke's despises. the three bothers made it back inside and the two older siblings were standing in front of luke who was sitting on the couch, beginning their much needed interrogation.

"i kissed her," he simply replies, not meeting their eyes.

jack's eyes widened as quinn just laughed.

"that's what made you guys act like- well, that?" jack emphasizes while gesturing to the boat in the backyard.

"i don't know! probably!" luke replies, simply confused.

"did she kiss you back?" quinn asks, sitting down on the ottoman in front of luke.

luke nods, earning a small whistle from jack.

"so what exactly happened?" quinn continued.

"i don't know," luke responds after sighing. "i thought maybe i was pushing her into something. i mean, we literally met yesterday, but i just feel this connection with her. and i thought she felt it too."

a beat of silence passes, until jack speaks up, "you said she kissed you back?"

luke nods.

"so what happened after?"

"i kind of pushed her away."

"idiot," jack mumbles.

quinn covers up his words however, "well, do you think if you explained how you're feeling to her, that could help?"

"i doubt she wants to talk to me right now. she threw herself off the boat to leave."

"so? just go find her, kiss her, and make up."

"wow jack, great advice," luke rolls his eyes.

"actually," quinn turns to jack, "you have a good idea."

"i'm sorry, what did you just say?" it's luke's turn to question quinn.

quinn begins explaining, "she said she has an air bnb here, so obviously she has to be close, especially if they've been walking everywhere."

jack sits besides luke, him and luke taking in quinn's words.

"do you have any idea of where she lives?"

"shit, no," luke responds, making jack groan. luke can't believe he began to believe in their ridiculous plan.

"wait," luke suddenly remembers, "family avenue."

"that'a boy lukey!" jack claps his shoulder, running to grab his shoes and car keys.

"but what if she never wants to see me again?" he calls out to jack, and now to quinn who's stood up.

"you said you feel a connection with her luke. you haven't said that about any girl since samantha from high school, and we all know how bat shit crazy you guys were for each other."

"yeah, so we know y/n can't just be some girl we can let slip out of your hands," jack adds to quinn's words.

"come on! get your shoes on, we have an air bnb to find."

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

"let me guess, you don't know what house?" jack asks luke in the passenger seat, as he pulls up to their desired street. luke shakes his head, as quinn groans in the backseat.

"guess we're knocking," quinn reasons, as him and jack step out of the car.

luke steps out a second later, "i can't believe i'm actually agreeing to your stupid idea."

"do you want to find the love of your life or not?" jack asks him, making like just sigh. "that's what i thought, now c'mon, let's start ringing some doorbells."

the three brothers started knocking and ringing doorbells down the street. luke took one side, while quinn took the other, and jack ran a little down the road.

about twenty doors were knocked on by each brother. no one lucky enough to find the girl they were looking for.

luke had been met with an old lady who looked like he had just woken her up. jack was face to face with a lovely looking man with tattoooes covering his entire body. while quinn was greeted by three children, all questioning him on his hockey skills, claiming their older sister watches him play on tv all the time. all of those different home-owners, but still no y/n.

"this is useless," luke states as the three meet back up in front of a random house.

"why is this street the longest street ever," jack complains. "i don't even think we've made it halfway through these houses."

luke shakes his head in defeat, "let's just go home guys."

quinn grabs luke's shoulder, and points in between him and jack, "did you guys check that one?"

luke and jack turn to be met with an old white house. the paint is chipped in mulitple places, but it seems like the owners tried covering up the problem areas by planting lilies around the porch.

"it can't hurt to try," jack shrugs, "what's one more house lukey?"

luke takes the pathway up the driveway and the steps leading to the house. he knocks on the yellow door.

an older woman opens the door, and the hope starts spilling from luke's eyes, but nevertheless he asks the question he's repeated so many times tonight.

"hi ma'am, sorry to bother you tonight, but does y/n live here by any chance?"

the woman's eyebrows furrow, before she turns to yell up the stairs behind her, but still keeps an eye on the boy in front of her.

the girl comes down the stairs reluctantly at the sound of her mothers voice, "what?"

the woman gestures to the door, specifically who was on the other side of the door.

"luke," y/n exclaims, mostly surprised to see him standing in front of her.

"please, let me explain."

y/n steps between her mother and the door, closing it without explaining a single thing to the other woman.

luke inhales, not realizing his brothers' plan would actually work, so he takes a moment to think about his words. as he thinks, he looks over y/n, who's being bathed in the moonlight above them. she's wearing a large shirt with a pair of pajama pants, but luke still think she looks gorgeous.

"i did mean to kiss you earlier," luke starts, "i wanted to kiss you earlier. hell, i really liked kissing you earlier. i'm an idiot for pushing you away after. i guess it was just a habit, because of what happened in the past when i got super close to someone. but you aren't just someone, y/n. that's why i came here to find you, even though it took fucking forever to find your house," luke takes another breath, realizing he's been rambling.

"but the point is, i found you, and i just wanted to explain. y/n i really like you, and i want to make something work between us, please. please just give me another chance. let me make it up to you."

luke is practically out of breath by the time he finishes his speech, nervously running a hand through his hair.

"you know you didn't have to say all of that," y/n calmly responds.

"what?" luke's tone is laced with confusion.

y/n steps closer to him, moving her hands to hold his jaw, making the two lock eyes. luke keeps his hands in his pockets.

"you searching for my house, knocking on god knows how many doors, and wanting to show up was more than enough," she shares, before bringing his head closer and connecting their lips.

luke's hands immediately find home on her waist, pulling her impossibly closer. the kiss is quick to deepen, as y/n turns her head while luke takes the opportunity to slip his tongue between her lips, just like he had done during their first kiss.

however, clapping and whistles break the two apart, making them both turn their heads.

jack and quinn are stood at the end of the driveway.

"nice going rusty!" jack calls out, while quinn continues clapping. they'll take any moment to try and embarrass their younger brother, and the moment couldn't have been any sweeter for them.

luke begins ushering y/n inside her own home, "luke what are you doing?" she laughs.

"quick, just go inside," he mutters in a joking manner, "i'll just sleep here tonight, they'll leave."

"oh is that so?" y/n asks, "how do you know i won't kick you out?"

luke simply leans down and kisses her again once they're inside, "you wouldn't dare," he mumbles against her lips, and y/n swears her heartbeat just skipped three times.

she nods, "yeah, yep you're so right," she practically pulls luke up the stairs towards her room.

outside, jack and quinn begin walking back down the sidewalk to their car.

"best big brothers in the world, say what?" jack gets out as quick as possible.

"what!" him and quinn call out in the night sky, as they high five in triumph.

[g4rvez-r3id]

spencer reid request: spencer and reader have been trying to get pregnant for a while, but lately reader's been stressed about how it's just not happening for her, and with valentine's day coming up, spencer decides to help reader de-stress and relax. you can make it as smutty or as purely fluffy as you like <3

you got it, rucha! thank you for being my first request <3 sorry if it’s not what you envisioned babe, i really tried for you (requests are ONLY OPEN to my MUTUALS rn until i get the hang of requests!)

Love Of My Life

Husband!Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Synopsis: You’re fully expecting to spend Valentine’s Day alone with year with your husband on a case. To your surprise, he comes home early and wants to help you destress, especially with you two trying for a baby. But little does he know, you have some news that’s going to change his world forever.

Category: Fluff, Smut

Warnings: 18+ MDNI established relationship, valentine’s day themed fic, surprises, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of trying for a baby, love love love, fluff fluff fluff, kissing, mentions of having a baby, smut warnings: soft dom!spencer reid, fingering, use of the word ‘ejaculate’, breast play/slight nipple play, unprotected sex, creampie (that should cover it)

Author’s Note: happy valentine’s day my lovelies! please enjoy a fluffy smut with spencer reid <3

Of course you had to work on Valentine’s Day. You were the one who wanted the demanding job and your own money spend, you were gonna take all the hours you could get.

And then you thought about it. Maybe that’s why it wasn’t happening for you. Maybe you weren’t relaxed enough, maybe a lot of stresses had to do with the reason you weren’t getting pregnant.

You and Spencer had been trying for a baby for six months now and so far, nothing was happening. And every time you hoped it was different and felt a flutter in your stomach as you took a pregnancy test, you were always disappointed when that stick came back negative. You were starting to believe that motherhood just wasn’t in the stars for you. Which was sad to think, since you knew Spencer would be an amazing father. You’d seen him with his godson, Henry. Spencer had assured to you time and time again that if it could happen, he was happy with or without kids as long as he was with you.

But then while he was gone on his case, you discovered something and you’d yet to tell him.

Today was Valentine’s Day, the most romantic day of the year and Spencer wasn’t able to spend the day with you because he’d gotten called into a case a few days prior. You told him it was okay, since you also had to work a long shift that day and that you could celebrate a day later if needed.

Now, your shift ended and you honestly kinda looked forward to going home to an empty apartment and stuffing your face with chocolate he’d sent you and watching romance movies. It wasn’t the Valentine’s Day you envisioned but it was something, at least.

You had finally gotten home and had been in the middle of removing your shoes and your coat and scarf when you noticed something on the ground. You bent down and picked up and examined a small rose petal on the ground and looked down and saw that the floor is covered in them and that they’re leading a trail into your kitchen. And that’s when you’d smelt something.

Cooked food? You frowned, wondering what that wonderful aroma was as you walked slowly towards your kitchen and your jaw drops when you see Spencer standing there, fixing the bouquet of flowers on the table and you notice that he hasn’t seen you yet.

“Spencer?” You ask, making his jump up at the sound of your voice and almost knocking over the flowers but luckily catching them before the vase full of water fell over.

Spencer then stands straight and pulls a strand of hair behind his ear in nervousness as he meets your eyes with a small smile. “Hi.” He greets and you look around.

He’d decorated the place nicely. Heart balloons, flowers, dinner waiting for you on your table and he’d gifted you a basket with a small teddy bear and your favorite snacks. A smile forms your face as you walk towards him.

“I thought you were gonna be gone.” You tell him. He shrugs simply, “We solved the case. And I wanted to get home to you as fast as I could.” You smile fondly at him, grateful that he can be home. “You couldn’t have waited until I got home and maybe washed this whole day off of me? I feel so ugh right now.” You chuckle as you move your hair out of your face and Spencer back up and smiles. “Don’t be ridiculous, you look beautiful no matter what.” How does he always know what to say?

“I know we’ve had a rough few months with—” He trails off and you know what he means. Since your issues with trying to get pregnant. “But tonight, I just want to help you relax and de-stress. And I don’t want your mind on anything.” You knew what that meant.

You bite your lip in anticipation and lean forward, tugging his face towards yours and you press your lips into a kiss and he leans further, passionately kissing you until breathing becomes a chore.

“Why don’t we take this into the bedroom, then?” You suggest seductively with a teasing smile. Spencer raises his brows in amusement as you take his hand, walking backwards towards your bedroom and pulling him to kiss your lips as you back towards the door.

You don’t even have time to open it, sandwiched in between the door and Spencer as his lips are on the column of your neck, kissing and no doubt leaving hickies behind. He get to your pulse point and you find yourself beginning to unbutton his shirt with your fingers but you can hardly focus when his mouth is all over you.

Finally, you manage to find the doorknob and open the door, flipping the both of you over as the back of his knees hit the bed and you crawl on top of him, kissing passionately and leaving lipstick marks all over his neck, reaching his pulse point and causing him to moan out as you smirk against his neck.

“Wait, wait, wait,” He stops you, pushing you off by your shoulders. “This is supposed to be about you.” You smile at his carefulness with you, how gentle he is, like he always was.

“Well, maybe I want to take care of you.” You tell him but Spencer shakes his head, “You take care of me plenty.” He moves a strand of loose hair from your face. “You’re so beautiful.”

You lean in, closing the gap between you two once more and he is quick to flip the both of you over and he interlinks your fingers together as he holds one of your hands above your head.

You feel as his hand drags down your body, from the column of your neck to your swelled breasts, down your stomach, all the way to his final destination. He sticks his hand to the waistband of your underwear and you feel as he sticks a finger into your slick folds.

You moan into his mouth as he groans, moving from your lips to whisper in your ear — “You’re so wet.” You lean your head over to his and mutter, “All for you.”

He moves his finger inside of you, pushing in and pulling out with a rhythm that’s enough to make you tug on his hair. “Oh, God…” You breathe, gasping as your back arches on the bed and trying to grind your hips into his hand as his thumb makes its’ way to your clit.

You bite your lip to stifle your moans. Hey, your walls were thin! Spencer notices this and shakes his head, “None of that, I want to hear you say my name. Okay, angel? Can you do that?” His motions with his fingers move faster as he waits for your answer. “Oh, Spencer…” You moan out and Spencer smirks against your neck.

“Can you cum like this? Just like this?” He breathes heavily and you whine as his motions grow faster and faster, thumb rubbing your clit and and fingers moving faster inside of you until the coil in your stomach breaks and you tighten your thighs around his hand.

Spencer moved up, looking into your eyes, so full of love and affection and you smile at him, so content in this moment — with him. Everything was always better with him.

“Do you still want to keep going? I’m fine with ending things here, if you don’t want to.” Spencer suggests and you fall in love with him all over again. He’s so tender with you, so loving and careful like you’re fragile glass hanging from the ceiling. He’d stare at you for so long, mesmerized with love for you.

“No, I want to keep going.” You tell, trailing your hand down from his stomach to his belt and then to his bulge underneath his slacks. He flinched a bit and gasped. “Careful there, angel. I might, um, ejaculate too early.”

You chuckle and shake your head, “You’re the only person that uses that word, you know.”

Spencer raises his brows. “Should I stop?”

“I actually find it very sexy, how intellectual you are.” You smirk, laying back as he looks over your dress and then his eyes gaze from your body to you. “May I?”

You nod, breathlessly and Spencer removes your underwear underneath your dress and flings then across the room and as he begins to undress himself, you help yourself out of your dress, only revealing you wearing a pastel bra underneath.

Spencer finally leans himself over you as he gawks at your breasts and can’t seem to take his eyes off of them. Spencer Reid was a boob man, through and through. No surprise there. “My eyes are up here, baby.” You joke and Spencer gives you that sheepish look, like he’d been caught and you swear you see his ears go pink. “S-Sorry.” He stutters. “Don’t worry, I don’t mind.” You smirk as you grab one of his hands and put it on the swell of your breast and you bite your lip in anticipation.

Spencer leans down as he kisses each of your breasts before going to suck on your right nipple and you dig your fingers into his hair and watch as his eyes are on you, blown with lust and you swear you see hearts in them.

Eventually, he relents and backs up to adjust himself on top of you. You look down between you two and you take him into your hand and guide him at your entrance.

Spencer smiles at you as he pushes himself inside of you and in this moment — you both are infinite. Every thrust, every moan, every loving moment between you two is just that. Like you’re the only people in the world right now. Nothing else matters except for this moment. And as you stare into his eyes, his love for you is written all over them. Years ago, you could never imagine yourself being loved the way you are now. And Spencer proved you wrong. Thank God. Because he loved you in any way a person can be loved.

He interlinks your fingers again as he goes slowly and surely, a pace that you’re both content with. Spencer always loved taking his time with you. You whisper in his ear to go a bit faster and your wish is his command so he speeds up just a bit, not too much, not too slow but just right.

Spencer feels as you clench around him and as you tighten around his cock, he gasps, quickly announcing that he’s cumming and tips his head back as he releases inside of you. You could watch him for eternity like this. You couldn’t help it, everything about him was sexy.

He’s there for a moment before he gently pulls out of you and makes his way down to your heat and you squirm once you his hot mouth closes around your bud and you almost want to push him away, due to the overstimulation. “Spence— too much.” You gasp as you writhe in his grasp.

Spencer holds your thighs down and he pulls his tongue away from your body and speaks up — “You can give me one more, angel. Please.” And who are you to say no to that?

You cum with a silent scream and you’re seeing stars. You shut your eyes and fall apart on the bed, the relief of him releasing his mouth off of you is enough to make you tired. Spencer pushes his hair away from his face as he goes to lay next to you.

“I’m sorry, angel. I didn’t mean to overstimulate you.” Easy for him to say. He never let you go to bed without you cumming at least twice. You open your eyes just enough to see him gazing at you and he reaches over, caressing your cheek lovingly. “It’s okay. It’s okay because it’s you.” You say and Spencer smiles to himself and he gives you a moment to rest before needing to go and clean you up, cuddling up to you and holding you in his arms.

“You know, there is some evidence in statistics that there is a slight increase in conceptions around Valentine's Day.” Spencer speaks. “Maybe that could’ve been the one.”

You open your eyes and forget about your news that you’ve needed to tell him. “Um… actually…” You speak, causing him to look down at you with furrowed brows and a confused expression on his face. He studied your facial expressions and sits up in disbelief, still staring at you in wonder. Where were you going with this?

“How do you feel about having an October baby?” You finally respond and Spencer’s eyes widen and his jaw drops and he’s quick to pepper your face with kisses in excitement like an excited golden retriever. You smile as he continues doing so for a moment.

“How long have you known?” Spencer asks. “A week or so now. Doctor said I was about a month in and things are good so far.” You assure to him.

“I love you,” Spencer says. “With or without this, I’d love you, no matter what. You’re the love of my life.” You smile at him as he glances at your stomach and leans down to give your belly a kiss as well and you blush at the motion. How lucky you were to have this man.

“Alright,” Spencer stands, grabbing your hands for you to sit up and he adds for you to get up gently. “Let’s get you cleaned up.“

Again, it’s the just the two of you against the world. And soon enough there will be another one. Fifty percent of him and fifty percent of you. And then it will be the three of you against the world.

This was a Valentine’s Day for the books.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Hello, could you write something about Steve please ? They're not together yet, but reader who's shameless and says everything that goes trough her/their mind says "Damn I wanna kiss you" in the middle of a conversation with him. I found that funny, but maybe there's a lil story we can make with that ?

You've always been the kind of person who says everything they're thinking and people tend to either love or hate that about you. Steve, though, that's his favorite thing about you. He loves that you're shameless about speaking your mind. He loves that you just say whatever thought comes to your head no matter what it is.

Your mind is such a beautiful thing and he loves when you give him a glimpse inside it, especially when you talk about something that you're passionate about. He could listen to you talk for hours.

He often wonders if it's obvious that he's madly in love with you when he listens to you speak. If you know, you certainly haven't said anything. You're smart so he's sure it's only a matter of time before you figure him out.

He knows you love him too. He can see it so clearly in the way you talk to him, looking at him like you have hearts in your eyes. Well, that and Robin drunkenly told him one night and when he confronted her the next morning, she confirmed that it was true.

So he's been trying so hard to figure out how to ask you about it. He invited you over for dinner and a movie with the intention of asking about it, but he doesn't want to scare you away. So he's just listening to you speak with that lovesick look on his face while you go on and on about a show you've been trying to get him to watch. He'd much rather just have you explain it. It's much more interesting that way, he's sure.

Now you're about to put on a movie the two of you have seen a billion times and for whatever reason, you're looking at him differently. You're about to blurt something, he just knows it. He knows you like the back of his hand, every single mark on your face, every single quirk.

"Damn, I really want to kiss you," you tell him and his eyes light up, the honey color lighting up in the warm glow of the lamp that's shining on his face from the table that's behind you.

"You want to kiss me?" He asks with a laugh and you just nod, scooting closer so that your faces are only inches apart.

"I do," you nod. "Can I?" You ask in a hopeful whisper.

"Honey," He laughs, leaning in ever more. "I thought you'd never ask." He then takes your face in his hands, his lips slotting between yours in what he's convinced is the best kiss of his life with fireworks exploding between the two of you.

You pull away too soon for his liking with a grin on your face that only makes him want to kiss you again so he does. The two of you stay like the rest of the night, not even bothering to turn on the movie because you're so caught up in each other. As he's got you lying against the couch, Steve's convinced that he wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

[zepskies]

Aw thank you so much for giving me the idea and letting me run with it!! 🥰

Oooh I feel like with Big Sky you can start from the last episode of season 2 and more or less understand why Beau is there. Whereas with the Boys...yeah, you definitely need to see season 1 and 2 before you watch 3. 😉 Still, I'm so glad you could still have fun with this batch of HCs!!

Aww no worries on 10 Inch. It's not the best movie ever, but Priestly is oh so very adorkable in it! 💜💜

Hahaa yay!! Another Friends fan! 💕

I was imagining MEV reader again, and as I was writing this I kept getting myself confused because I’m relating her to Monica’s love of cooking. But Dean is a bit of a mother hen and fussy with the cleanliness of his room, so he’s definitely got some similarities with Monica there haha - role reversal when the ‘bossy’ one gets bossed - just go to bed Dean!

Awww honestly it makes me so happy you were imagining the Midnight Espresso-verse reader! 🥹 That version of her and Dean live in my heart rent free always. But you're right, she totally embodies Dean's love of cooking while he holds her down in a similar way that Chandler holds down and supports Monica. She also dotes on Dean a lot though, so it would make sense to me how she'd be taking care of Dean and making sure he slows down to take care of himself. 💞 (Yes, go right to bed, Dean!!)

I’m really surprised by Beau’s character. I’ve read a couple of fics where the big 3 were all present, granted they were crackish, but I was under the impression he was a little more grounded and sweeter? And I guess he probably is, I’ll give him a pass because he has the man flu, but I didn’t realise he was such a work-a-holic. Then again, he’s a sheriff, makes sense. And at least he listens eventually, even if there were a few, I’ll say instructions. Man runs a right ship. “And can you get me…”

Aw yeah, Beau tends to be more grounded and a little more mature than Dean, but he still has a playful aspect to him, along with a hidden edge of trauma in his past (you'll see when you watch the show).

Yes! The idea was that he's the sheriff and really gets into his work, but once he caves to her telling him he needs to take it easy, it was my HC that he'd settle into being her patient. More sweet but annoying, in a "can you get me just one more thing, baby?" kind of way lmao.

He’s just a dick, a grumbly one, but also a softie and wants some love deep down right? You won’t win it with yachts, mate, although I guess it’s worked for him before?

Oooh yes, Ben is selfish and an asshole, most of the time. Taciturn and grumpy, but for someone he actually cares about I feel like he'd try to soften up just for her. 😉

LOL he's learning that love isn't just throwing money around. 😆

I’m going to see if I can watch Ten Inch Hero 🤞 - but now I really want to know if I was to read one of your Ben fics (being a super hero interests me the most), is there one I could read where I wouldn’t have to watch the show first? 👉👈 spoilers don’t bother me, I read supernatural fics set in the bunker before I’d even gotten there 😅 but I want to check one out and Break Me Down is looking very appealing ❤️

10 Inch Hero is an easy watch! Though with Soldier Boy, I reeeeally recommend you watch The Boys first to get a sense of the world, the characters, the background of SB's story. It's a wild ride lol, but I would truly love it if you read Break Me Down! That's the SB series I'm most proud of, and was my first foray into figuring out how to write Soldier Boy. 🥰💚 Hopefully BMD emulates the tone of the show. I tried to do justice to SB's characterization, as well as the other Boys characters, like Butcher, Hughie, Annie, M.M. etc.

However, if you do decide to dive into BMD before watching the show, the main thing you need to know is that Soldier Boy (real name Ben) is a Boys parody of Captain America...if with a Winter Soldier "captured by Russians and tortured for 40 years" storyline. 😅

At the end of season 3, there's a big showdown between Homelander, SB, Butcher, and the rest of the main characters. BMD is canon divergent from how season 3 ended, but you can read up on the canon plotline here.

HEADCANON: Man Flu

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader || Beau Arlen x Reader || Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader || Boaz Priestly x Reader

HC: When Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy (Ben), and Boaz Priestly get sick, how would they act when you (try to) take care of them?

AN: After reading I Got You by @bettystonewell (Dean x Reader) and The Best Kind of Medicine by @lamentationsofalonelypotato (Soldier Boy x Reader), I realized that I've never actually written a sick-fic before. Here it is in headcanon form, since you guys seem to like these! lol 💜

Also adding Priestly to this lineup for the first time because some of you have been requesting more of him recently. 😉

Tags/Warnings: Established relationship, hurt/comfort, sick-fic, some needy affection-starved men who don't want to admit they're needy, lots of fluff.~

Dean Winchester

He's not sick. Because he doesn't get sick.

Dean claims he has the constitution of a horse, but you still take the beer out of his hand before he can take a sip at 10:00 a.m.

He's too busy interrupting himself, namely by coughing half a lung, wheezing, blinking teary eyes -- the whole phlegmy nine yards.

Sam shakes his head, casting you a look that frankly says, Good luck.

He knows his brother is stubborn as hell, and one of the things Dean dislikes most is being fussed over for "no reason." Being seen as weak. Not being able to just shrug his shoulders and shake it off.

To be fair, Dean tries. Except this time it's accompanied by a body shiver and a reluctant sniffle. His pallid face is drawn, and his usually strong and solid frame looks unsteady as he leans a hand on the War Room table.

"Okay, come on, Rambo. Let's get you back into bed," you say, guiding your boyfriend back to the room you share with him.

"I'm find," he insists, even as he begrudgingly accepts the gentle pressure of your hand on his back and shoulder, pushing him down to the bed.

"Sure you are, baby," you say with a smirk. "You're in the primb of libe."

Dean shoots you a narrowed look. Damn you for forcing him to binge-watch all those episodes of Friends late at night when you both can't sleep.

Right now he's Monica, trying to convince you he's in tip-top shape, while you're Chandler, just trying to get him to use tissues instead of his flannel sleeve to wipe his runny nose.

After taking his boots off, you get him to change out of his jeans and back into his sweatpants. Then you manage to get him to lay down under the covers with the promise of coming back with medicine and soup.

"I don't want soup, damn it," he grumbles. You just roll your eyes and rub his arm.

"Just rest. I'll be back with the Vicks."

As you might expect, Dean is not an easy patient.

He refuses to drink tea, but he does down the pills you bring for him, with a measured toss of his head that still makes his head swim. He groans.

He swallows a couple of cautious spoonfuls of the soup, pausing when he realizes that its warmth actually feels good down his sore and scratchy throat. It tastes pretty good too, especially with the warm, buttered slices of bread on the side.

"You made this?" he asks.

"Mhmm," you nod, smiling. If nothing else, good food will pacify this man. "Chicken and wild rice, made especially for you."

"Hmm. S' good," he nods in reply. He manages to finish the bowl.

He has to admit, if just to himself, that he does feel like shit.

He won't admit that the way you're rubbing his back, the gentle pressure of your nails between his shoulders and down his spine relaxes him, makes him feel better.

He knows that you care about him. That you love him. But this is one of those moments where it hits him, just how much.

It's a little overwhelming. A heavy swell of pressure fills his chest, so he tries not to let himself think about it for very long.

(He fails.)

After he's done eating, you take the plates away and help him back into bed. You linger there, slipping your fingers through his soft brown hair and pressing a kiss to his clammy forehead.

"I really need you to rest, okay," you say quietly. "If you need anything, just text me or Sam. Don't get out of bed."

Dean grasps your hand before you can move away from him. Since you're probably going to wash your hands anyway, he lays a kiss on the back of your hand.

"Thanks, sweetheart."

Beau Arlen

Sheriff Beau Arlen is the type to run himself into the ground because he's so damn into his work.

He wants to do well in his station of responsibility, and he feels like he has to make up for his performance during the summer madness of Buck Barnes and Avery...and everything in between.

You just have to make Beau realize that he needs to slow down, before he well and truly burns himself out.

You put your foot down one morning.

He tries to get out of bed but has to pause, his head swimming. He takes a couple of steadying breaths while sitting on the edge of the bed.

You notice with a frown. "Hey, you okay?"

"Fine. Just fine," he answers a little too breathlessly. He raises a hand to his head. His throat is sticky and coarse. He wrinkles his nose when he also feels a sneeze coming on.

"Just need a...a...mugh-ah-ha-hugh."

His coughing sneeze makes you grimace. You didn't even know someone could sneeze and cough at the same time.

"Aw, babe. You're sick," you say as you move over to him, resting a hand on his back. He shakes his head and groans.

"Nah, can't be sick. Gotta lot of work to do today," he says. His voice is like gravel blended with broken glass. It would actually be sexy, if for the distinctly un-sexy way he tries to clear the great wad of phlegm from his throat.

He tries to rock himself onto his feet, but there he sways on the landing. You hurry out of bed to grab his arm and steady him.

"Oh no, you don't. Back into bed," you say.

"Aw, sweetheart. I'll be fine--"

"No. Lay down. You're not going in today," you say more firmly, all while you tuck the man back into bed with the blankets covering him.

"All right, all right. No need to be so pushy," he can't help but tease.

It earns a small smirk on your face. It seems like his man flu hasn't yet deprived him of his sense of humor.

"I thought you liked that though," you reply. You sit on the edge of the bed and rub his chest. He groans in defeat.

"Can't believe this," he grumbles. "Today of all days--"

"There's always going to be another case. This is your body telling you that you need to slow down," you tell him. "So how about this. I'm gonna call in one of my sick days, and we'll bunker in together."

You stroke his bearded cheek. He quirks a smile, grabbing your hand and squeezing warmly.

"How long until I'm allowed out, warden?" he asks.

"Until you can stand without keeling over," you dryly reply. A smile tugs at your lips. "Remind me to stop by CVS to grab you a Life Alert."

"All right, har har haugh--" His sarcasm ends on a very real, wheezing cough. Your amused smile drops. You relent from your teasing and stroke his chest once more.

"Okay, just rest. Let me get you some actual medicine and I'll be right back."

He stops you by grabbing your wrist. "Hey, uh...can I have some chicken noodle soup later?"

"Of course, baby. I'll swing by the store now and get some stuff for you."

"And some saltines?"

"Saltine crackers on the side. Got it."

You're about to head to the bathroom to brush your teeth before you start getting ready to go to the store, but once again, Beau's needy hand stops you.

"Before you go, some tea with honey and lemon would be good. Just something for my throat," he croaks.

You smile and nod. "Yeah, for sure. That'll be better for you than coffee."

"Oh, and can you gimme that quilt over there?" he asks, pointing to your favorite knitted blanket at the edge of the bed. You graciously lay it over his form and drop a kiss onto his forehead.

"And some cough drops. Thank you, darlin'," Beau adds.

Your lips begin to press together, but you nod and continue getting dressed.

You can already tell this man is going to settle into you taking care of him just fine.

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Neither of you thought it was possible, considering his super genes that allowed him to eat and booze and drug harder than Andre the Giant and Keith Richards put together.

But one day, your over six-foot super soldier goes down hard. The warning signs came the night before, when you could hardly sleep with the way he was snoring like a grizzly bear.

In the morning, he wakes bleary-eyed with a runny nose and a coughing fit hard enough to shake the bed.

"Fuck," he groans, dragging a hand over his face before he turns onto his back. "This's gotta be some kind of bullshit hangover."

You move over to him in bed and feel the intense warmth of his clammy forehead. Your brows draw together in concern.

"No, I think you're sick."

"Not possible," he grumbles. "I haven't been sick since..."

Well, since he was a kid, probably. He won't admit it, but he's surprised he still has that memory lodged in the back of his mind.

It comes to the forefront now: your hand on his cheek unknowingly mimics his mother's gentle touch, her soft, kind voice.

"Aw, my sweet boy. Let's get you feeling better."

He can almost recall the floral scent of her perfume, echoes of it in the shampoo you use.

Ben claims he's fine, that he doesn't need your help or want the medicine and tea you bring for him. (He tries the tea, grimaces, and spits it out when you're not looking.)

He's a sourpatch grumbly patient who only begrudgingly stays put in bed when you ask him to. He doesn't mind lying around and watching movies all day, not to mention episode after episode of Below Deck. It reminds him that he wants to get back into boating.

"Hey, sweetheart," he calls to you from the bedroom, his voice croaking all the while. "I'm getting you a yacht for Valentine's Day. You want it all white, or throw in a bit of gold? Actually, check out this one with the navy trim."

You roll your eyes to yourself when you step back into the room. You're carrying a tray with a large bowl of soup and a fifth of whiskey. He claims the latter will help soothe his throat, and you don't have the heart to argue with him when he's clearly feeling so shitty.

"You mean you're getting you a yacht," you reply wryly. "We live in the city. Where the hell would we put a boat?"

"In a yacht club, where it belongs," Ben retorts. He hooks an arm around your waist and peruses what you've brought him on the tray. He doesn't look all that interested.

"Look, I know you're not exactly a soupy kinda guy, but this'll make you feel better," you say.

"Why can't you put some fucking steak in it or something?" he grouses. He tries and fails to hide another wet cough.

"Why can't you just eat what I lovingly made, just for you," you snipped back.

He rolls his eyes at your attitude, but he pipes down. In that silence, he's conceding that you have a point. There was a time were all he had to do was glance in someone's direction, and there'd be some fucking moron to fulfill his every whim.

Now, you're probably the only one in the world that would actually do what you're doing...

Cooking for him, putting your heart into it, for the simple reason that you do care.

Ben takes the bowl of soup from your hands. Raising a brow, you offer him the spoon as well.

He eats without further complaint.

You smile and reward him with a sweet kiss on his forehead, brushing his hair back as you do so.

"See? That's not so hard, huh?" you can't help but needle him. "It's okay, baby. I'll take care of you."

He eyes you dryly, but he won't admit that there's a different kind of warmth coiling in his chest.

Boaz Priestly

"Uuuughhh, babe," he groans. "I feel like death on toast."

You're standing beside the bed with a smile playing on your lips. You brush back his for once un-gelled hair back from his face. It's weird to see it all limp and lifeless, slightly damp with sweat.

"Unironically, I should make you some toast," you reply. "What kind of medicine do we have?"

Priestly unearths his head from under his pillow to look up at you with miserable red-rimmed eyes and a sniffling, stuffy nose. "Can we count the tequila in the mini bar?"

"Maybe later," you laugh. "How are we on groceries?"

Priestly struggles to think. He takes your hand and rubs it back and forth across his chest. Maybe your sweet, loving touch has the power to clear away his congestion without him needing Vicks. Too minty.

"We have that pastrami I brought back from the shop," he says.

"That's six days old already," you shake your head.

"Aw, that's still good," he argues. "But uh, other than that, I think I have half a cheeseburger left from last night."

Last night's date at TGI Friday's, he means.

You heave a sigh. "Okay, clearly I'm going to the store. You just stay in bed and rest. Drink your tea."

He grimaces like a child. "I don't like tea."

"I know you don't like tea, but you need to drink it. It's good for your throat and your immune system."

He groans and flops back over onto his stomach. You bite your lip against a smile. He's such a whiny baby when he's sick.

Talk about Man Flu.

"Come on, be a good boy for me," you say, smacking him lightly on the ass. "Soon enough you'll feel better."

A smile creeps across his face where it's pressed against his pillow.

"Know what would really make me feel better?" he hedges. He tries to guide you down to him by tugging on your hand, but you resist him.

"Oh, no. You're not gonna get your germs all over me," you say.

"Hey, what happened to in sickness and in health?" he croaks. Even while under the weather, he's still plenty strong enough to grapple with you. He manages to yank you down. Laughing, you stumble into a seat on the edge of the bed.

"Huh, I don't remember exchanging any vows. You see a ring on this finger?" you tease, flashing your bare hand in his face to try and distract him and weasle out of his grip. "I can jump this ship anytime I want."

Priestly pouts. His arm hooks tighter around your waist. "Huh, guess you got me there..."

He turns his head and coughs roughly into his arm. Your amusement fades into concern and sympathy. You lay a hand over his chest while he struggles.

Once again, he clasps his free hand over yours. He glances up a bit hesitantly into your eyes.

"Well, maybe it's time there should be something on this finger," he murmurs.

You blink your eyes wider. Your head tilts, wondering if you just heard him right. Is this delirium fever talking, or is he serious?

"O-Oh yeah?" you ask.

Priestly tries to gauge your reaction. Seeing your face break out into a cute, shy smile raises the corners of his lips. Hope blooms in his chest, right beneath your hand.

"Yeah," he says, trying to clear his cracking throat. "I mean, if you're okay with that. If it's not too soon--"

You slip your fingers over his plush, chapped lips, and your smile brightens.

"When you're feeling better, you can ask me that question properly."

AN: 😆 I hope you liked the first ever addition of Priestly!! It was so fun to try and write him again (it's been a while lol). Feel free to imagine this vignette in the same storyverse as The Miracle Man and Code Red.

But I also hope you enjoyed the "Big 3," as I call them, even though Russell is starting to give Beau a run for his money on one of those slots. 😂 Let me know which guy you had the most fun reading on this one! 💜

And if you want even more fluff before Valentine's Day, check out my friend @waynes-multiverse who just posted her set of V-Day headcanons with Dean, Soldier Boy, Beau, and Russell: Headcanon: Valentine's Day 💕

Join My Patreon 🌟 Get early access to new stories, bonus content, and first looks at upcoming stories, send me requests, and more!

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[cherrycheolkat]

• random slutty CUTE thoughts - seungcheol •

the valentine’s day one with clumsy cheol

seungcheol has big plans for valentine’s day, but everything seems to be going wrong - he just wants to make it the best valentine’s day you’ve ever had, no matter what

seungcheol had plans for your valentine’s day evening - he planned the food, the jewelry, the flowers, literally everything PLANNED

but now he’s lying on his back in a hospital bed because he tripped in the bathroom - he wasn’t even showering - he just slipped and whacked his head on the tile and maybe got woozy when he saw some blood

it was so embarrassing, literally everything about tonight was supposed to be sexy

but when you come into the hospital room, worried and squishing his cheeks, asking if he’s ’okay’ and ‘what can you do’ - all he can think is how you’re so cute when you’re worried about him, cooing over him and petting him, calling him ‘baby’ and kissing his forehead - he certainly doesn’t hate it

plus, he’s usually the one who’s protective, but you’re kind of scary when the nurses can’t answer basic questions, like whether it’s a serious head injury or a mild concussion

he’s annoyed when the doctor says he needs to stay the night because he can literally imagine everything he planned sitting at home and going to waste, but at least they say you can stay the night too

you had planned for that, of course, and already brought some extra clothes for yourself and for him, plus a tablet full of downloaded shows and movies and the pillow he likes and an extra blanket

it’s funny to him how a few things from home and having you curled against him make a hospital room seem almost homey

he’s almost okay with things, but also he isn’t at all - tonight was important - he had been waiting to tell you something and this wasn’t the romantic evening he had planned

but when you lean up to kiss him, your warm lips pressing to his, he immediately feels all the warm, quivering feelings you always make him feel - he loves those feelings dearly

you lean back slowly, smoothing his hair and staring at him quietly for a few moments, he returns your gaze, adoring the gentle way you look at him, like he’s someone truly special to you

you lean down again, kissing his cheek softly, “you’re so sweet for planning everything,” you whisper

he flushes slightly, “you weren’t supposed to see that,” he whines

you just smile, “but i did and it was so perfect” —

he stops you, “i know, but then i fell and ruined everything”

you shake your head, “you didn’t ruin anything, cheol,” you assures him, “it’s just a special story we can tell everyone one day,” she smiles, “the day i realized i was completely in love with you,” you kiss him again, lingering for a moment before pulling back

his eyes were large, “i was supposed to confess today!” he whined again

you laugh softly, “so go ahead then - it’s not like we can’t realize it the same day”

he shakes his head, “no, i’ve known - i just wanted to tell you today so it’s romantic…special,” he pouted

you nod, “ah, so you wanted it to be memorable when you told me?” you giggle, “there’s nothing memorable about today, i guess”

he knew you were joking, but he still sulked, and you press closer, “cheol,” you stroke his cheek, “really, i mean it, i love you,” you whisper, “just you,” you press another kiss to his cheek

“maybe i’ll pick another romantic day,” he exaggerated his pouting, making you laugh softly

you nuzzle close, “at least i told you as soon as i knew how i felt”

he sighs, “i knew at christmas when you picked the matching necklaces and refused anything else they had”

she laughed, “that? can it be something else?”

“no - it’s just when i knew you were really the person i love,” he strokes your cheek

you smile, “i guess it’s okay then”

he rolls his eyes, “i love you too,” he finally confesses

you nuzzle closer, enjoying his warmth, “i love you more”

he swats your arm gently, “i’m injured, let me win,” he pouts

you grin, “of course you win, my perfect cheol”

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ────

a/n: i just wanted something cute for cheollie

♡ kat

[pinkicyheart]

blue lock as the 5 love languages ˖ ࣪⭑

a/n: fluff, slightly suggestive in karasu and aiku’s parts, “girl” in barou’s part, kaiser’s section might be a bit ooc, enjoy!

acts of service - barou

barou is really gentle, but you would never know it from the way he speaks. he’s definitely much kinder to you than he is to anyone from blue lock, but sometimes he just can’t work up the courage to tell you how pretty he thinks you are, or ask for a hug when he wants one. the best thing he can muster up is offering to braid your hair out of the shower. he says it’s to keep your hair neat, but you both know it’s because he loves how warm your skin is.

he loves making you food. and keeping your shared apartment tidy. even though he nags at you to put your shoes away, he always gives you a nice foot massage after hard days at work.

he really doesn’t like to see you struggle. he’s like your helicopter boyfriend. if he could spend the rest of his life making sure you never have to lift a finger again, he would! he’s like your living calendar. he remembers all the due dates and deadlines and appointments. he’ll remember to restock the groceries and do an oil change for the car. because a girl like you shouldn’t have to worry!

quality time - ness

you’re ness’s favorite person. he loves your sense of humor, and how personable and thoughtful you are. he loves how fun you are. even though he knows you love him, he’s given up hope that anyone could love him how he loves them. ness feels really deeply, and while it is lonely, he wouldn’t want anyone to feel as he does anyways.

which is why when you tell him if you want to get out of here and get ice cream, his heart sings. thinking that you would find getting ice cream with him to be better than staying at this party with all of your friends. he keeps it together just until u two escape the party and are on your way to the ice cream parlor.

you see him with his eyes welling up, smiling at the ground. you ask him what’s wrong ever so gently, and he just shakes his head. he didn’t want you to worry. he manages to quietly whisper that he feels loved.

words of affirmation - karasu

karasu is a chatterbox. he loves telling you about the show he’s been watching, or something funny otoya told him or about what he ate earlier, or how he wants to take a nap, or how your ass looks great in those jeans, or his dream to volunteer at a shelter… you get the idea. the boy just loves talking. and when he’s not talking, he’s secretly humming to himself, or sneezing obnoxiously loud, or singing the same song he’s been singing for weeks.

don’t get him wrong, he loves to hear your voice! which is why he gives you as much possibilities as he can to hear you respond back to him. he loves to pick at your brain. sometimes he wishes he could live inside your brain because he just finds you so fascinating.

he’s a sweet talker too. when he forgets about your scheduled nightly movie time, (also filled with a lot of chatting), he knows just how to apologize. you can never stay mad at your angel for too long. or so he tells you.

physical touch - aiku

aiku is a bit of a weirdo, you’ve learned. he talks in his sleep and sometimes just says strange things to get a reaction out of you. his current obsession is playing truth or dare with you, but just daring you to hug him. or kiss him on the cheek. or hold his hand. you try to tell him that you’re dating and you can do that anytime, but he’s not one to listen. he just keeps on doing it.

eventually you ask him why he does that and he just tells you that he likes it when you touch him. you give him a playful shove and tell him that he’s being gross, but he tells you that he doesn’t necessarily mean it in a sexual manner. he just loves the feeling of your skin on his. and all the sudden it just makes sense.

when he rubs your arms in 90 degree weather, whenever he reaches for your hands under the table, and whenever he scratches your legs as he stares at the tv. aiku just loves to feel you. and he hopes that you love to feel him just the same.

gift giving - kaiser

even though kaiser hates receiving gifts, he loves spoiling you with extravagant gifts. he is a generous king, and what kind of boyfriend would he be if his s/o wasn’t constantly dressed to the nines and happy? kaiser takes pleasure in excelling in everything he does.

he loves buying you jewelry, and designer goods. he loves whenever you gain relationship weight. you really are his baby and he takes pride in getting his baby all the food they deserve. he wants for you to get all the high class experiences he never got. he loves it when you come to his games, but don’t let him hear you bought the tickets yourself. it makes him sad because why don’t you think he can provide for you? you should expect better and more from him.

kaiser finds it difficult to tell you how much his heart beats for you, or caressing you whenever he thinks you look beautiful. the best he can do is leave the dress that his love has been raving about on their bed, waiting in anticipation for you to come see it. and when you kiss him all over in gratitude, kaiser smiles. because he knows that despite his shortcomings, you can feel how he feels for you.

[iamhereforfunnzies]

Chapter 1: I see you

Bruce overlooking his paperwork and plans of capturing crimminals and crime rates, he felt his stomach grumble. Seeing the grandfather clock tick a 11:15 p.m. he smiled “Just in time for Lunch.” He felt a bit sad knowing he is eating alone today, Dick being Bludhaven, Jason never really visiting, Tim out somewhere with Conner, and Damian out doing voluntary work in a animal shelter. What a lonely time to be in the manor.

    Scratch   

              Heavy breathing was on the otherside of the door he saw you , (Name) how different you were usually … out? But it’s better than eating alone and it would be nice to converse with you , he called you but why do you look at him like that. You arm is bleeding from your intensive scratching , eyes forcing itself not to cry what happened? Why do you look like you died?  “(Name), what are you doing?” you turn to him. “OH- um… Just anxious that’s all” Bruce narrowed his eyes as you look down slowing down on the scratching. “About what?” He sat next to you ,why is he so tall?!

              “Just…I had a nightmare.” GREAT (NAME) (MIDDLENAME) WAYNE , he’s gonna think you’re a huge incompetent baby. Nice going , idiot your mind screams at you. Bruce blinks he feels so amused , how adorable he just wants to pinch your cheeks and coax you to sleep. He chuckled lightly “What happened in your nightmare?” he can’t believe he is having a normal parent to child conversation.  Honestly, your not sure if you can tell him , since it wasn’t a dream you died and then you just time travel back 2 weeks before your death. “ I was walking back to the manor after work.” Bruce hid his shock as you mentioned having a job. “There was a man …” your head throbbed as you try to see your memory clear. “He touched , choke, then…No, No it was choke , someone else touched me, then  a gun was shoved in my mouth.” Your head throbbed harder as your heart was trying to break out your ribs. “Something happened , c’mon remember” you hit your stupid head trying to make your death clear as you start mumbling curse words.

                Bruce stood still not knowing how to respond , he held your hands. “Don’t . Stop. Just don’t think about it.” He was comforting you , now that he had a good look at you. When did you get so tall? Weren’t you just a seedling a month ago? (Name) when did you get your nails done? Why are your eyes so tired? Weren’t you trailing Dick and Tim to play with you? When did your hair changed? Alfred eyes widen as he see’s Bruce hugging you with what looks like a panic attack.  “Lunch is here”

What is wrong with you? Why the hell did you cry infront of him! Never once did Bruce took the time with you. He always seemed so occupied with his little only boys squad doing who know’s what! It’s so weird they are always fighting at the gym with Dick , Tim , and Damian (Rarely Jason), they are so secretive that you just stopped asking questions. Pacing in your quaint room with all this awards from last place to gold , you stare at them how much you lost and won over the years. Yet, you held every lost with pride because you tried well that’s what Alfred tells you.

              A sudden text came in your phone as you see your manager asking you if your free in 2 weeks in Tuesday. You stared at your phone , you died at Tuesday. A normal Tuesday nothing special about the date but you died. You died, you left the message seen.  Staring at yourself in the mirror you said to the mirror. “Am I doing enough to worth living?” Years , hours , days and seconds of awards in your room but not one moment of them stood out. All of this rewards weren’t for you , they were for them.

                             You look at the photo stand of your family I the gala, you were always the one who they claim to protect you but they never tell you anything . Laughing among their little group never explaining to you or care to want you to join in. Even in movie nights it feels like your watching them instead of the movie. Game nights were just you being some extra player they never needed. You grimace as you hid the photo frame of your table. Your childhood was dedicated to appease their eyes , your life to make interesting so they can be interested in your welbecoming but you died. Dead with nothing to remember.

                            A robin in a tree chirping in the trees as the gotham sky in a rare moment glows gold  like heavens gate, the sun shinning, the air crisp and fresh . The robin turns it’s head to you tilting it’s head but flies away with the other birds in the sky. “Fucking heavens , God if this a sign I am not gonna take this second chance for granted.” You muster a trembling smile. “I am gonna lived.” You took your phone.

(Name), are you free the week after this at Tuesday 8:00 a.m.?

Today 12:05 p.m.

                                                                                                                        

   I quit. Thank you for the experience.

                                                                                                                                    Today 12:15 p.m.

I genuinely hope this is readable

[fuctacles]

i was gonna cut it in half, but you get 2k for Valentine's Day <3

<< thirteen | 😺 | fifteen >>

Eddie asks Wayne where is a good place to make key copies, and drafts a plan. He'll go to Steph's salon, pick up her keys, make a copy for her, and drop them back before she leaves work. Just a tiny good deed from a friendly neighbour, so she doesn't have to juggle her one set between cat feeders and whatnot. 

Except Wayne sees through him immediately and throws a bucket of cold water on his enthusiasm.

"While I fully support whatever you two are doing..." He promptly raises his hand so Eddie would spare him any of the explanations brewing behind his lips. "I think this would be a little too much."

"How?" Eddie frowns, confused.

"Well, a bachelor she has just met is asking for her keys to make copies. It's a little too much too fast, don't you think?"

Eddie opens his mouth, closes it. Frowns.

"Maybe?"

"How would you feel if a new friend thought they know better how many keys you should own?" Wayne raises his eyebrows. "And took it upon themself to do it for you?"

"Okay, fine, I hear you!" Eddie groans, throwing his hands up. 

Wayne sips on his coffee, now calm enough that his nephew won't do something too stupid. 

"With that said, I too think it's silly to not have a spare."

"Thank you," Eddie murmurs, drumming his fingers against his cup. "So what do I do?"

"Buy her flowers, ever heard of it?" Wayne raises his eyebrow. 

Eddie twists his mouth, unconvinced with the idea. 

"I don't know, it sounds pretty forward..."

Wayne almost snorts his coffee out of his nose.

Eddie follows the blanket permission he got the last day and walks up to Steph's apartment around the same time. Since he felt that bringing her flowers would be too much, he settled on cookies from his favorite bakery. They could share them with coffee or tea, and it wouldn't be too weird. 

It's just...

He really hopes they could actually talk.

When he opens the doors labeled 54, he's hit with the smell of spices. Steph leans through the kitchen door to greet him.

"Hi! I'm making fried rice, do you want some?"

Eddie nods, curbing the desire to come over and kiss her.

"Yeah, it smells good." He steps into the kitchen, setting the cookies on the counter. "Can I help with something?"

Steph keeps stirring for a second, before she points to one of the cupboards.

"Take out two bowls, please?" she asks.

Eddie's been in the apartment all alone, and he's looked through Steph's stuff to some extent. Opening cupboards while she's cooking shouldn't feel as thrilling as it does. 

When she finishes the food, he grabs beers for the two of them, and they move to the the living room again, a movie already waiting to be played.

"Is Willow okay?" she asks, hovering over the play button, and Eddie's eyes couldn't go any wider. Only one lamp is left on in the room, and the TV is illuminating Steph like an angel offering him the finest pleasures in life. 

"Is the sky blue?" he shoots back. "It's one of my favorites." 

She smiles, all self satisfied and wide, like she already knew he'll love the movie. 

Eddie tilts his head, eyeing her suspiciously. 

"Did Wayne tell you?"

Steph shakes her head 'no'. 

"It was a lucky guess," she admits coyly. 

Oh, to be known like that by another human. Have someone with enough intimate knowledge of him to guess his thoughts, pick out things they know he'll like. She knows he'll like. 

Eddie does like the movie, but he wishes it was something boring so they could talk. Of course, he's also enjoying having Steph pressed against his shoulder, and the movie is a great excuse to just be in her presence, without the responsible adult communication thing. 

It's when she gets up asking if he wants another beer, when he realizes he's been too engrossed in the movie. 

"Uh, I'm not even halfway," he says, moving the bottle in his hand. 

"But are you gonna drink more?"

"Probably," he shrugs. 

She brings back another four beers, and as this time he's paying attention, he notices she's already drunk a fair amount of the one she's holding.

"Everything okay?" he asks gently. He doesn't remember Steph drinking this fast, or this much, during their previous hang-outs. And it's a weekday, too.

"Mhm, yep." She plops down next to him heavily, but even the weight of her body against him doesn't soothe his nerves. On the contrary. It's easy to tell she's already tipsy, and she's planning to have at least two more beers, including the one in her hand. 

"Not to be a buzzkill, you know..." Eddie licks his lips nervously. "But you're drinking more than usual."

She makes an amused sound, deep in her throat.

"Tell that to my high school self."

"Well, I'm telling it to my adult friend Stephanie, I don't know that other one."

Steph huffs, staring at the screen.

"Good."

At loss of what else to say, he leans back against the couch, hoping the press of their shoulders will bring her some comfort his words apparently can't. He's turning to the TV, when she speaks up.

"I have something to tell you."

Eddie's eyes immediately go back to her, but she's staring ahead. 

"Yeah?" he prompts.

"After the movie."

He's confused and worried, but since she wants him to stay, it can't be anything bad, right?

"Okay," he says, feeling anything but. All the possible confessions are going through his mind, movie forgotten. The only things he's aware of are Steph's movements when she brings up the bottle to her lips, and her muscles flex against his arm, and his own racing thoughts. 

She's going to tell him she's a lesbian just like Robin. Maybe they're secretly a long distance couple, or she has a thing with Joyce. Or she has a man in another state. A secret family, a husband? What if she has a kid? Eddie would make a good step-dad, but he wasn't planning for that any time soon. Or maybe it's way simpler than that, and she'll finally tell him to stop, that she's not interested, never was. That Eddie, a metal musician still in college, isn't worth it. 

"I wasn't born a woman."

The credits are rolling on the screen, letters forming Eddie's miserable scenarios, and he's so focused on them he barely hears Steph's words. But finally, he turns his head towards her. She's slumped next to him, picking on the label of her empty beer bottle. He's so relieved he doesn't understand what's going on.

"I know." Not his best reaction but he can't believe she's been worried about it all this time, drinking just to tell him something he's already figured out.

Steph frowns, before turning to him with glassy eyes. 

"You know?"

He points to the collage on her wall.

"You have your old photos right there?"

She stares at the display like she's seeing it for the first time in her life. Her eyes widen with the realization and she makes a sound between a snort and a groan, head falling back. 

"Of course I fucking do."

Eddie drums his fingers against his beer bottle. He still has a couple of swings left. 

"Is that what you were so worried about?"

"Of course!" She throws out her hands angrily, startling him. "It's always 'do you not want me, Steph?' and then 'ew, you have a what?' or 'i always wanted to fuck someone like that' and honestly? At this point I don't know which one is worse. So yes, I was fucking worried!" 

Steph stands up angrily, swaying a little, but she quickly catches her balance. She starts gathering the empty bottles and Eddie rushes to help before she drops any and makes a mess, but she gathers them petulantly in her arms. 

"You can go, I got this," she says dismissively. 

"I want to help," he protests, hands held out uselessly. Steph marches to the kitchen, all the bottles pressed close to her chest. Eddie quickly follows, but she safely deposits them all in the sink and stares at them, expression hidden by her hair. 

"Stop sucking up to me. I'm not something to be scratched off a bucket list."

"What?" Eddie frowns. 

Steph finally turns towards him, and now he wishes she didn't. Her eyes are sad and angry and he doesn't like them directed at him like that. 

"Is that why you kissed me? Because you knew?"

'I always wanted to fuck someone like that.'

"No. No," he protests firmly. "I liked you before that, it doesn't matter to me."

"Are you sure?" she scoffs. "You might change your mind when I get undressed."

"I highly doubt that." He crosses his arms over his chest. "I've told you I'm not deterred by d—" His eyes widen momentarily, the word lodging in his throat, but Steph only rolls her eyes with annoyance. 

"You can say 'dick'. I have a dick. I am a woman with a dick."

That's a lot of dicks for just a few words. And Eddie is trying to prove that he's into them but not in a weird way. Which is difficult when you're rarely normal about anything. 

"Yeah, that, and I've had close encounters with those, though never on a woman before," he admits. "I would operate whatever genitals you have because they're yours, not because I'm hoping they're a certain way. I don't care. Well, I care because they're yours, but if you told me I can never touch or look, that's okay." Though what a travesty that would be. What about all the orgasms he promised her in his head? But she still has a prostate, right? He probably could—

"Say it," Steph interrupts his futuristic plans.

"Huh?"

"Say I have a dick." She crosses her arms tightly over her chest. 

Eddie inhales deeply. 

"You have a dick. It doesn't matter to me either way. You could have a pussy, a dick, or a cacti, and I would accommodate. Though we probably would have to get rid of the thorns on the last one. Or get me some protective gear."

She lets out a startled snort.

"Yeah, sure. We'll see about that."

It sounds like a challenge, and while Eddie might hate sports, he loves games. If it's up his alley, he can get competitive easily, and this one promises great treasures, if he wins. 

If only he knew the rules. 

"Tomorrow, same time. Wear something comfortable."

Eddie's eyes widen.

"For what?" His voice comes out higher than he'd like, but his mind quickly resurfaces from the gutter it found itself in, and he frowns, suddenly suspicious. "Will you make me exercise?"

Her features soften, and a playful smirk pulls on her lips. 

"You'll see."

Her smile is a good sign, even if it's at his expense, so he decides not to push his luck anymore and end the night here. 

"Well, I'm gonna..." He awkwardly motions to the door, hesitating. 

Steph is leaning against the bar counter, watching him knowingly. 

"You can get a goodnight kiss tonight," she says, resting her cheek against her palm. "Or get more tomorrow."

Eddie wonders, if the game has already started. He puts his quick Dungeon Master wits to work, and figures with how far he's come, he gets advantage on the Charisma check. 

"I could live off of goodnight kisses for forever," he says. "There's no need for anything more."

He almost feels bad at how fast her resolve crumbles, giving place to fiery red flush. 

"Fucking charmer," she scoffs almost angrily, before rounding the counter towards him. The energy coming off of her makes him take a step back, and he hits the front door. Steph's nails scratch the wooden surface right next to his ear. She tilts her head. 

"You're gonna put your money where your mouth is?" 

Eddie's been trying to get better at that, sometimes to his own demise—staying true to his words, keeping promises. So he reaches for her neck and pulls her in.

It's more like their first kiss than the last one. It's hungrier, the knowledge that they both want more seeping into their muscles, grasping at clothes, pulling and pushing. Eddie groans into Steph's hot mouth, happy to be pressed between her soft, strong body, and the cold door. She pushes even closer, gathering the sound with her tongue and claiming it for herself. 

They pull apart with a wet smack, and Steph laughs breathily at the dopey smile she finds directed at her. She pats Eddie's cheek affectionately and untangles herself from his grasp. The door clicks when she twists the lock, and it seems to bring Eddie back from his daze. 

"Goodnight, Eddie," she says pointedly. 

He blinks at her, before his soft smile comes back, and he reaches up again to place one last kiss on her lips. 

"Goodnight. See you tomorrow," he smiles, before slipping outside the door. 

Steph is terrible person, and also more smitten with this boy than she'd want to admit, so she looks through the peephole at the dimly lit corridor. She hopes Eddie can't hear her chuckle at the silly dance he does while walking away from her door.

@wheneverfeasible @steddieinthesun @hattsy-likes-pretty-stuff @bumblebeecuttlefishes @phantomcat94 @tartarusknight  @tinyplanet95 @steddiefication @estrellami-1 @disrespectedgoatman @madigoround @tartarusknight @blasvemous @cryptid-system @hiei-harringtonmunson @hellowhatthehellisgoingonhere @dreamercec @manliest-of-muppets @bookbinderbitch @marklee-blackmore  @icecat @rootbeerandmusic @mollymawkwrites @milojames16

help me with rent

[astrasng]

kisses shared with ateez 𝜗𝜚

→ summary: ateez as type of kisses. they are down bad for you

→ warning: mainly fluff, nothing else

→ a/n: happy valentine's day to everyone ♡ make sure to treat yourself to something delicious and stay hydrated! ♡ ps: probably jongo's my fav from all of these

here's the masterlist to the event ^^

enjoy!♡

──── ⋆˚࿔ hongjoong || hurried kiss

hongjoong, the busy man he is, often forgets about giving you a kiss before leaving for work. and that often leads to hurried kisses, wanting to give you every single ounce of his love into one messy, i have to leave kiss before finally letting you go. he often can't control his feelings when it comes to you, especially when you are kissing him, your hands in his hair or around his neck, pulling him even closer, meaning that he's deeping the kiss too. starting with a soft kiss, that's what he thougth. it feels so good having your lips on his, so good that he can't let go even though he needs to go to work. and you know that too, but oh well, you're more important, right? because the minute hongjoong pulls away and whispers kiss me more in a hoarse voice tells you that you are more important than anything.

──── ⋆˚࿔ seonghwa || comforting kisses

seonghwa is simply someone who is a comforting person in general. his prescence often makes you calm whenever something stressful is happening in your life. the tone he's talking to you never heard being mean or sour,rather calm and warm. that also goes for his kisses. he often senses you being tired from a long day, only wanting to lay down on your shared bed or couch to sleep a little in seonghwa's arms, which he gladly accepts. whenever that happens, he can't help but press kisses all over your face, your temple, the top of your head or your closed eyelids which only makes you even sleepier. the feeling of his kisses spreads warmth all over your body, snuggling closer into his arms as he keeps his lips pressed on the top of your head. he feels so lucky to have you.

──── ⋆˚࿔ yunho || tingly kiss

the type of kiss that makes you want more and it leaves you feeling all tingly from yunho is just deadly. he always pulls away just before you could kiss him right back intensively, your hands still in his hair as his are steady on your waist. he smiles down at you, and then simply leaves. that's how easy it is for him, the control he has over himself making his ego even bigger when he knows how annoyed you feel at times like these. you can't help but touch your lips like in the movies, feeling your muscle still tingling in the best of the best of terms, literally still feeling his soft lips on yours. how lovingly he can press a kiss on your skin and lips, his body molding into yours to punctuate his unspoken words. in this way, not only his kiss, but his whole prescence makes you tingle with love.

──── ⋆˚࿔ yeosang || surprise kisses

yeosang isn't usually the one initiating the kiss first. he does, from time to time, but it always surprises you when he randomly kisses your temple, or your cheeks, god bless you your lips out of nowhere. even after all these years being together, still feels like it's a surprise feeling him walking up next to you or hopping down on the couch just to give you a kiss. it makes him often realize how rarely he makes the first move. it often makes him angry too, and often all those kisses are originally from him being beaten up on silly things like this. you told him once - don't be silly, i don't mind making the first move! making sure to reassure him that it really doesn't bother you. but still, it makes him want to initiate more things in your relationship, giving you everything you deserve because he loves seeing you being flustered by his sudden actions.

──── ⋆˚࿔ san || the i love yous

whispering i love you between kisses is san's specialty. doesn't matter where you are, or the circumstances. you can either be mad at him for some reason, or be in stupidly in love with him. he doesn't care, because san always wants to let you know how much he loves you. there isn't a time where he doesn't say it, or shows it to you. during cuddling or walking on the street - stopping in midsentence just to kiss you on the lips. deep, and long, feeling his emotions bored into that one single kiss. he whispers i love you when he feels like going in for a second kiss, or saying i love you so fucking much when you are both lost in a heated shared kiss which leads into multiple one.

──── ⋆˚࿔ mingi || kisses from behind

given mingi's height is easy for him to only drop his head lower and press kisses either on your shoulders, or the side of your neck. he grabs the opportunity when he sees you standing with your back to him,either doing something in the kitchen or looking at something at a supermarket. he loves walking up behind you and snaking an arm, maybe both, around your waist to pull himself closer and kiss your skin. it often makes you shiver just from his touch, feeling him behind you and hugging you from behind as he can't seem to stop pecking your exposed skin. sometimes he even murmurs I love your perfume or i missed you so much after a long day of not seeing you.

──── ⋆˚࿔ wooyoung || flustered kiss

wooyoung often sneaks kisses here and there, pressing a quick kiss before leaving on your forehead or cheeks. it doesn't matter, the only thing that matters is that he always gives you a kiss before leaving. but when he's home with you and the air is a little hotter than it should be? woo can't help himself to disattach himself off of you, your perfume pulling him in every time for more kisses and cuddles. and because of this, it often leads him kissing his way up from your wrist all the way up to your collarbones and lastly your lips. he focuses on your lips so much that by the time you two pull away you have to fight for air. he feels proud when he sees your face all flustered and red, ears burning off under his stare as he murmurs cute under his breath.

──── ⋆˚࿔ jongho || palm kisses

he's the romantic type. even if he doesn't necesseraly shows it, he is. he thinks kissing your warm palm of your hand says more i love yous than any other kisses. pressing a long, meaningful kiss in the center of your palm, all the way to your fingertips and to your knuckles feels like he's trying to erupt all the butterflies in your stomach. and he does, because you are left with the deepest shade of red on your face and chest, seeing him smirking under his breath by how cute you are. it's not unusual that he does this, he's a gentleman at heart, but you can't ever get use to him being this flirty and affectionate when it's just the two of you. kudos if he does this little moves of his infront of his friends or family with a wink in your way, you know that you'll marry this man no matter what.

a/n: if you've gotten to this point of my event, thank you so much for reading! i hope everyone had a good time, i tried to go with a more suave feeling for valentine's. ik i had a lot of fun, thank you so much for the notes and reblogs!

taglist: @arunainluv @myraet @peterm4rker @chenlezip

important!: this is pure fiction, the act in this story is by my imagination and not based off true events. please do not copy the work.

[c4tluver02]

Family Video

a/n: haiiii this is my very first pic ive everrrrr written so im sorry if its awful and boring!!!!! if there's anything I can improve on pls let me know!! also id love any requests you guys have! <333 enjoy

summery: after just moving to Hawkins you decided a movie is in order. but when looking for a movie you notice the boy at the counter just can't stop staring at you!

no warnings!

wc: 1k

｡･::･ﾟꕥ,｡･::･ﾟꕥ｡･::･ﾟꕥ,｡･::･ﾟꕥ｡･::･ﾟꕥ,｡･::･ﾟꕥ｡･::･ﾟꕥ,｡･::･ﾟꕥ｡･::･ﾟ

All Steve could do was roll his eyes. Robin went on a date with Vickie last night and it was simply all she could talk about.  

“Robin of course she likes you, she asked you on the date. Vickie wouldn't do that if she didn't mean it.” Steve says somewhat listening in and out of what feels like hours long of the same topic. 

“Well this isn't something I can mess up, I mean what if I was too forward or I rambled I mean you know I can ramble!” 

Steve sighs as he puts tapes back into their spot after they had been returned. “Listen Rob, I can promise you VIckie likes you for you and your rambling. There's nothing you need to be worried about.” He says trying to end this conversation and get back to working in peace.

Truth be told Steve was having trouble in the dating department. If you would have told King Steve that he would have trouble even holding a conversation with girls he wouldn't believe you. Yet here he was listening to everyone tell him their love life and him having nothing to say back.

“Steve you don't get it VIckie is perfect in every sense of the word. I mean what if-” Robin gets cut off as the bell above the door rings signaling a new customer and Steve couldn't be more thankful.

You walked in feeling eyes on you, almost like you had interrupted a conversation. You walk towards the comedy section in hopes of finding something interesting to fill your weekend with.

As you start to look around, you feel a pair of eyes on you. When you look up you notice the boy at the counter swiftly turning his head the other way. You smile to yourself at his attempt of making it look like he wasn't staring. You then walk to the drama aisle. You're not really sure what type of movie you're looking for but it's almost as if the counter boy can read your mind. 

“Hey, um, is there anything you need help with?” Steve says with a kind smile on his face as he walks over to you. 

“Hi! Yes, actually some help would be great. I am not really sure what movie to watch.. Do you have any, uh, suggestions?” You say not sounding as confident now that the cute boy is standing right in front of you 

Steve's eyes lit up at the request, the thought of being helpful to such a pretty girl had his heart pounding. 

“Of course, do you have any genres of movie you like?” Steve asks, trying to learn any bit of information he could about you.

“I definitely like romance movies, comedy, horror, and drama of course I guess I'm not really picky when it comes to genres.” It wasn't until you noticed that you and Steve were both completely stopped in the middle of the aisle that you probably could have just said comedy and he could have found a movie no problem. Steve didn't mind your long answer though, he liked that you were so open to talk. He guides you both to the comedy section and pulls out a movie. 

“Ok we have this movie, it just came out and we've gotten great consumer reviews on it” He says with a smile that's probably a little too wide for just helping a customer pick out a movie. 

You look at the movie he's picked and it happens to be one you've seen before but you don't have the heart to tell him that. He looks proud to give you a good recommendation along with his help so you take the movie from his hands and smile at him.

“Perfect! I probably would have been looking in here forever trying to find something without your help!” you say with a smile not really wanting this conversation to end.

It almost seems like Steve doesn't either, or maybe you just aren't good at hiding your emotions as he says 

“Hey uh, how come I haven't seen you around here before?” Steve says hoping he's not coming off too forward the last thing he wanted to do was scare you away. 

You stand in front of him with wide eyes not knowing exactly what to say. You knew this town was small and being new will probably have a few others asking why they didn't know of you. 

“Oh, I just moved here about a week ago. I am just trying to scope out some places and I thought a movie night would be comforting.” You say as you twirl your hair in your hands, a nervous habit you have. 

Steve nods wishing he could ask you a million more questions. There was something so intriguing about you. He wants to know where you lived before coming here, or better yet why you decided to move here out of all the places. Trying to come off nonchalant and cool, Steve pops the question that you weren't expecting. 

“Anyone helping you move, friend, or maybe boyfriend?” Steve looks at you with big eyes and a calm demeanor trying to pull out his King Steve persona even though his night will be utterly ruined if the answer isn't no. 

You blush lightly at his question but just enough for Steve to notice. “Nope, no boyfriend helping. I moved out here alone so packing has been slower for sure.” You say you are trying to sound cool despite the fact you are single and have no clue what you are doing moving and starting a new life all on your own.

Steve's shoulders release a tension he didn't even know he was holding. A breath of relief comes out right and as Steve opens his mouth to say something back-

“Hey are you ready to check out?” Robin says walking up to you guys noticing you have a movie picked out. 

You look between her and Steve blinking as reality comes crashing down on you. This guy has a job and she probably needs him to get back to it. Not standing here talking to you for forever. You walk up to the counter and see that Steve is gonna be the one checking you out. 

You pay for the movie as you and Steve sit in a comfortable silence. Before you leave you thank him.

“Thanks for all you help… Steve?” You say reading out his name tag on his vest.  

But Steve just loves the way his name sounds coming out of your mouth. He wishes you could say it again. It’s as if an angel just spoke to him. Your eyes, your hair, your smile, it's all perfection. He can't believe that someone so perfect is right in front of him. Like cupid shot him directly in the heart. As you blink in front of him waiting for a response he finally answers. 

“Yea.. Steve! And if you want to come back and let us know what you thought of the movie you're more than welcome to!” Steve says with excitement blowing his nonchalant cover a bit. 

You gleam at his invitation even though you both know you'll have to come back to return the movie anyways. Yet you don't mention it or try to mess with him about it. You simply smile and nod.

“Got it, I'll be back soon for the review!” You say as you grin from ear to ear just by looking at the boy in front of you as you open the door to leave. 

Once you get in your car Steve turns around and sighs. Robin looks directly at him with eyes squinted and a smirk.

“What?” Steve asks confused with her stare

“I saw you have heart eyes for her..” Robin says, poking him in his shoulder repeatedly. 

Steve huffs and rolls his eyes pushing her hand away, “I was just helping out a customer buckley. Can a man not do that?” He bites back sarcastically.

“Mhm sure, I guess so.” Robin says back with a smirk on her face as Steve turns around knowing this isn't just some customer.