y2beom

[y2beom]

i actually just AURGRHRHRU to this fic it's so GOOD A MAN WHO YEARNS IS A MAN WHO EARNS!!!

bro, you good?

pairing: loser!beomgyu x best friend!reader

synopsis: beomgyu is the absolute worst best friend to have a crush on. he’s loud, clingy, and always in your space—flopping on your bed, stealing your snacks, and treating your personal bubble like it owes him rent. the worst part? he’s recently gotten hot. like, dangerously hot. and lately, messing with him has become your new favorite hobby, especially when a little harmless teasing leaves him red-faced and malfunctioning.

you were just having fun testing his limits. until you accidentally pushed too far… and he pushed back.

genre: best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, comedy, suggestive content

warnings: heavy making out, suggestive content(no full smut), partial undressing, swearing, whiny!beomgyu, reader being a menace

note: first installment of my 2k celebration yayy! also this is based off beomgyu's part in "brain empty, just you". enjoyy!

word count: 4.6k

if you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3

2k event | next

the absolute worst part about having a crush on choi beomgyu is that he makes it impossible to not have a crush on him. which is ridiculous, because he’s also the most annoying person you’ve ever met. loud, clingy, and constantly in your space like a human shaped parasite. he flops onto your bed like he owns it, steals your snacks without remorse, and treats your personal bubble like it’s public property. and yet—here you are, stuck pining after your best friend like some tragic rom-com side character.

it’s a perfectly normal weekend afternoon, the kind meant for lazy reading or mindlessly scrolling through your phone, when your bedroom door flies open with a dramatic bang. you don’t even have to look up to know who it is.

"i’m dying," beomgyu announces, like he’s delivering breaking news, before collapsing face first onto your bed. the mattress dips under his weight, and you barely manage to save your phone from being crushed under his flailing limbs.

"you’re heavy," you grumble, shoving at his shoulder.

he doesn’t budge. instead, he rolls onto his back, arms spread wide like a starfish, stealing even more of your space. his hair is still damp from a shower, tousled and slightly messy, and—god, why does he have to smell so good? it’s unfair. like, illegally unfair. fresh soap and something faintly citrusy, mixed with that stupid cologne he swears isn’t for anyone’s benefit but his own. you hate that you notice. you especially hate that it makes your stomach do a stupid little flip.

"how’d you even get in here?" you mutter, trying to sound annoyed instead of painfully aware of how close he is.

"your mom let me in, duh," he says, grinning up at you like he’s won something. "she loves me."

"she has terrible taste," you shoot back, but there’s no real bite to it. beomgyu knows it, too, because his grin only widens.

without asking, he snatches your phone right out of your hands, thumb already swiping through your notifications like he has every right to. "who’s texting you?" he asks, squinting at the screen. "is this junho? since when do you talk to junho?"

you lunge for the phone, but he holds it just out of reach, laughing when you half-climb over him in your attempt to grab it. "give it back, you nosy loser—"

"make me," he taunts, wiggling the phone above his head.

you huff, resorting to digging your fingers into his side, right where you know he’s ticklish. beomgyu yelps, jerking away, but in the chaos, your fingers brush against the bare strip of skin where his shirt has ridden up.

the second you make contact, his whole body tenses like he’s been electrocuted. his breath hitches, just barely, and his cheeks go pink. not just a little flushed—full on, unmistakably red.

you freeze.

beomgyu, who’s always the one invading your space, who slings an arm over your shoulders without thinking, who leans into every casual touch like it’s nothing, just short-circuited because you touched him.

and oh.

oh, this is interesting.

a slow, dangerous grin spreads across your face. beomgyu’s eyes widen like he already knows what’s coming. "what?" he asks, voice slightly higher than usual. "why are you looking at me like that?"

"like what?" you ask innocently, letting your fingers trail lightly over his waist again, just to see what happens.

he jolts, nearly falling off the bed. "hey!"

you can’t help it. you laugh, delighted by this newfound power. "what’s wrong, gyu? you’re always all over me. can’t handle it when it’s the other way around?"

"shut up," he mumbles, but he’s not meeting your eyes anymore, his ears still burning.

and just like that, a game is born.

because if there’s one thing you love more than anything, it’s messing with choi beomgyu. and if there’s one thing he apparently can’t handle?

it’s you.

it starts as a game—just harmless teasing, really. you don’t even mean for it to become a thing. but the way beomgyu reacts every single time your fingers accidentally brush his skin, or when you lean just a little too close under the pretence of looking at his phone screen—it’s addictive. like poking a sleeping bear and watching it startle awake, all clumsy limbs and flustered noises.

at first, you tell yourself you’re just doing it to annoy him. payback for all the times he’s invaded your space without permission, flopped onto your bed like he owns it, stolen bites of your food with that infuriating smirk. but then you notice the way his breath hitches when your knee bumps his under the table. the way his fingers twitch like he wants to reach back whenever you "fix" his collar, your touch lingering a second too long. the way his voice goes just a little higher when you whisper something close to his ear, like you’re sharing a secret.

it’s fascinating.

beomgyu, who’s always been the clingy one, the one who drapes himself over you without a second thought, suddenly can’t handle it when you initiate contact. and the more you test it, the more obvious it becomes that he’s not just flustered. he’s affected.

so you escalate.

you start "accidentally" letting your hand rest on his thigh when you’re sitting side by side, pretending not to notice the way his entire body goes rigid. you lean against him more than necessary when you’re tired, tucking your face into the crook of his neck just to feel the way his pulse jumps under your lips. you play with his hair while he’s trying to focus on something, twirling the soft strands between your fingers until he groans and swats at your hand, his cheeks pink.

and the best part? he never stops you.

he complains, sure. he whines and calls you annoying and shoves at your shoulders halfheartedly. but he never actually pulls away. if anything he leans into it, like he’s trying to prove he can take it, like he’s determined not to let you win.

which is how you end up here: beomgyu sprawled across your lap like an overgrown cat, his head heavy on your thighs as he scrolls through his phone. you’re both supposed to be studying, but neither of you has opened a textbook in at least an hour. instead, you’re absentmindedly running your fingers through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp the way you know makes him melt.

he’s trying so hard to act unaffected. but you can see the way his fingers have slowed on his screen, the way his breathing has evened out like he’s fighting not to sigh.

"you’re like a dog," you murmur, grinning when he cracks one eye open to glare at you.

"shut up," he mumbles, but there’s no real heat behind it.

you hum, dragging your nails gently down the back of his neck, and there—the full body shiver he tries (and fails) to suppress. you bite your lip to keep from laughing. "you good?"

"you’re the worst," he mutters, but he doesn’t move. doesn’t even try.

you’re about to tease him more, maybe poke his side, just to see him squirm, when suddenly, his hand shoots up and catches your wrust. your breath stutters.

beomgyu’s grip isn’t tight. it’s not rough or demanding. but the way his fingers circle your wrist, warm and firm, sends a jolt down your spine. your pulse jumps under his thumb.

for a second, neither of you moves.

then beomgyu tilts his head back to look at you, and—

oh.

his eyes are dark. not playful, not exasperated. just intense, in a way that makes your stomach flip.

"you’ve been messing with me all week," he says, voice low.

your throat feels dry. "i don’t know what you’re talking about."

he raises an eyebrow. "really."

"really," you say, but it comes out breathier than you mean it to.

beomgyu holds your gaze for a long, long second. then, slowly, he tugs your hand down—not away, but closer, until your palm is pressed flat against his chest. you can feel his heartbeat, rapid and unsteady, under your fingers.

"then keep going," he challenges, voice barely above a whisper. "since it’s nothing."

your brain short circuits.

because this—this isn’t how it’s supposed to go. he’s supposed to blush and sputter and shove you away like always. not dare you. not look at you like that.

your fingers twitch against his shirt.

beomgyu’s lips curl into a smirk. "what’s wrong?" he taunts, echoing your words from earlier. "can’t handle it when i push back?"

oh, it’s on.

you lean down before you can second guess yourself, your nose brushing his as you stop just short of his lips. his breath catches. "who said i was stopping?" you whisper.

beomgyu’s grip on your wrist tightens.

and then—

your mom calls your name from downstairs, and the moment shatters.

beomgyu jerks back like he’s been burned, nearly rolling off the bed in his haste. you yelp, grabbing his arm to steady him, but he’s already scrambling upright, running a hand through his hair like he can’t believe what almost happened.

"i—" he starts, then stops, his ears burning red. "we should—your mom’s calling."

you stare at him. he stares back.

then, slowly, a grin spreads across your face.

beomgyu groans, covering his eyes with one hand. "don’t."

"don’t what?" you ask, all innocence.

"you’re insufferable," he mutters, but he’s peeking at you through his fingers, and his lips are twitching like he’s fighting a smile.

you kick his shin lightly. "you love it."

he doesn’t deny it.

the thing about beomgyu is that he's always been tactile—always reaching for you, always in your space, always treating your personal boundaries like mild suggestions rather than actual rules. lately it’s gotten worse, with every touch feeling like something more. like there's electricity humming just beneath his skin, sparking where your fingers brush against him. and you can't stop poking at it, can't stop testing the limits of this new, fragile thing between you.

it's been days since the almost-moment on your bed, days of careful avoidance and pointed teasing and lingering touches that neither of you acknowledge. and now here you are, curled up in your room watching some b-list horror movie because beomgyu had whined until you gave in, his eyes doing that stupid, pleading thing you've never been able to say no to.

"this is so dumb," you mutter as the protagonist on screen wanders into yet another obviously haunted room. "why would anyone—"

"shhh," beomgyu interrupts, nudging your shoulder with his. "you're ruining the atmosphere."

"the atmosphere of what? bad cgi and worse acting?"

he gasps, pressing a hand to his chest like you've wounded him. "you take that back. this is cinematic gold."

you roll your eyes but don't protest further, settling back against your pillows. beomgyu shifts beside you, his arm brushing yours, warm and solid. you try to focus on the movie, you really do, but it's hard when he's right there, smelling like laundry detergent and that stupidly expensive cologne he pretends he doesn't carefully pick out. when he's close enough that you can see the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheeks in the dim light of your laptop screen.

then—

a sudden, earsplitting shriek comes from the movie, a grotesque face filling the frame, and you're lurching sideways before you can think, fingers digging into beomgyu's arm as you let out a startled yelp.

and beomgyu—

beomgyu squeaks.

it's high pitched and undignified and absolutely ridiculous coming from someone who spends half his time trying to act cool, and for a second, you're too stunned to even process it. then the sound registers, and you're turning to stare at him, mouth already opening to tease—

but the words die in your throat.

because beomgyu is frozen, his breath caught, his eyes wide and dark and fixed on you. your fingers are still wrapped around his arm, your nails pressing crescent moons into his skin, and you can feel the way his pulse jumps under your touch. the air between you is thick, heavy, the silence stretching taut like a wire about to snap.

your own breath stutters.

beomgyu's gaze drops to your mouth, just for a second, so quick you might have imagined it—but you didn't. you know you didn't, because your heart is suddenly pounding loud enough that you're sure he can hear it, your skin buzzing where you're touching him.

then—

the moment shatters.

beomgyu clears his throat, jerking his arm away like he's been burned, his cheeks flushing pink. "you—you scared me," he mutters, avoiding your eyes.

you blink. then, slowly, a grin spreads across your face. "i scared you?" you echo, leaning closer. "beomgyu. you squeaked."

"i did not—"

"you did," you crow, poking his side. "like a—like a mouse or something—"

beomgyu groans, covering his face with his hands. "oh my god, shut up—"

"a tiny, terrified little mouse—"

"i will end you," he threatens, but there's no real heat behind it, not when he's peeking at you through his fingers, his lips twitching like he's fighting a smile.

you laugh, bright and loud, and something in beomgyu's expression softens, his shoulders relaxing as he drops his hands. "you're the worst," he grumbles, but he's leaning into you again, his arm pressing against yours.

"you love me," you sing-song, nudging him with your knee.

beomgyu doesn't answer. just rolls his eyes and turns back to the movie, but you don't miss the way his fingers flex against his thigh, the way his breath hitches when you shift closer.

the movie plays on, the tension between you easing back into something familiar, something comfortable. but beneath it all, beneath the teasing and the bickering and the easy touches, there's something new. something fragile and unspoken and achingly sweet.

and you can't wait to poke at it some more.

the moment your selfie goes up, you know it's trouble. not because there's anything particularly scandalous about it—just you in your favourite going-out top, hair styled a little more carefully than usual, lips shiny with that gloss beomgyu always says smells like candy. but something about the angle, the way the light catches your collarbones, the hint of a smirk playing at your mouth—it feels dangerous. like you're dangling bait in front of a very specific, very excitable predator.

your phone vibrates in your hand before you can even set it down.

beomgyu: ???? beomgyu: where are you going looking like that

the message burns through you like a live wire. you can practically hear his voice—that particular tone he gets when he's trying (and failing) to sound casual, the way his pitch jumps just slightly when he's flustered. your fingers fly across the screen before you can think better of it.

you: why? you wanna come with?

beomgyu: thats not— beomgyu: i was just asking bro

you bite your lip to keep from grinning. the three dots appear and disappear three times before you finally get:

beomgyu: ...are you meeting someone?

there it is. that tiny crack in his usual bravado. you're about to respond with something suitably teasing when your doorbell rings, an insistent, impatient buzz that could only belong to one person.

when you swing the door open, beomgyu is standing there looking unfairly good for someone who supposedly rushed over on a whim. his hair is slightly damp, curling at the ends like he just showered, and he's wearing that stupid tank top that shows off his arms, the one that makes your mouth go dry. in his outstretched hand dangles your charger—the one you're 90% sure you didn't leave at his place.

"you forgot this," he announces, pushing past you into your apartment and into your bedroom, like he owns it. the scent of his cologne, something warm and expensive that clings to all your hoodies after he wears them, fills the space between you.

you raise an eyebrow as you shut the door. "did i?"

"yes," he says, too quickly, already making himself at home on your bed. "you're so forgetful. it's a miracle you function without me."

you don't call him out on the obvious lie. instead, you lean against the doorframe and watch as he tries (and fails) to look casual, his fingers tapping an uneven rhythm against his thigh. the neckline of his tank top slips slightly with every movement, revealing more of his collarbones than strictly necessary.

"so," he says, eyes scanning your outfit with poorly concealed interest, "where are you going?"

"nowhere special," you say, moving to sit beside him. the bed dips under your weight, forcing his knee to bump against yours.

"then why do you look like that?"

"like what?" you lean in closer, watching with satisfaction as his breath hitches.

beomgyu's throat works as he swallows. "like... like you're trying too hard."

you gasp dramatically, pressing a hand to your chest. "rude. maybe i just wanted to look nice."

"for who?"

the question comes out sharper than he intended, his fingers twitching against the pillows scattered on your bed. something warm and pleased curls in your stomach at the possessive edge in his voice.

before you can answer, beomgyu suddenly flexes his arms, his biceps straining against the thin fabric of his sleeves. "you see this?" he says, grinning that stupid, cocky grin that makes you want to kiss it off his face. "this is what peak performance looks like."

you roll your eyes. "please. i could bench press you."

his eyes light up with that competitive gleam you know all too well. "oh, you wish."

"prove it."

the challenge hangs in the air for all of two seconds before beomgyu grabs the nearest pillow and smacks you square in the face with it. you shriek, more out of surprise than actual pain, and immediately retaliate by grabbing another pillow and swinging with all your might.

beomgyu blocks it effortlessly, laughing as you growl in frustration. "weak," he taunts, dodging your next swing. "come on, is that all you've got?"

in a flash of inspiration, you toss the pillow aside and lunge at him instead. beomgyu's eyes widen comically as you collide with him, sending you both tumbling across the mattress in a tangle of limbs. you end up straddling his hips, immediately going for his most vulnerable spots; his sides, just above his hips, where you know he's ticklish.

beomgyu shrieks, actually shrieks, his whole body jerking beneath you as he dissolves into breathless laughter. "s-stop—fuck—" he gasps, trying in vain to squirm away, but you've got him pinned, your fingers dancing mercilessly along his ribs.

"give up," you demand, grinning down at him.

"never," he chokes out between laughs, his face flushed pink, his hair a wild mess against your cushions.

you're both laughing so hard it hurts, the sound filling your apartment, and for a moment everything feels perfect. light. easy. like this is exactly where you're both meant to be.

then you realise.

your hands are splayed across his stomach, his abs flexing beneath your touch with every ragged breath he takes. his own hands have somehow found their way to your waist, his fingers pressing into your skin through the thin fabric of your top. the warmth of him seeps into you, his chest rising and falling rapidly beneath you, and suddenly you're hyper aware of every point of contact between you.

because—

oh.

oh no.

beomgyu is hot. like, stupidly, unfairly hot. the kind of hot that makes your mouth go dry and your thoughts scatter. his lips are parted as he tries to catch his breath, his eyes dark and fixed on you with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. the muscles in his arms are taut where they bracket your thighs, and suddenly all you can think about is how badly you want him to choke you.

before you can finish the thought, beomgyu moves.

in one smooth motion, he flips you over, reversing your positions with embarrassing ease. your back hits the plush mattress of your bed, his weight pressing into you just enough to make your pulse skyrocket. then his arm slides around your neck in a playful, but surprisingly firm chokehold, his biceps flexing against your throat.

your mind whites out.

your mouth, unfortunately, does not.

"god, that feels so good," you moan, the words slipping out unbidden, your voice embarrassingly breathy.

beomgyu freezes.

you freeze.

beomgyu stumbles back like you’ve just set him on fire, his entire face burning so red it’s a miracle he hasn’t spontaneously combusted. his mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, his hands flapping uselessly at his sides as he chokes on air. you’ve never seen him like this—beomgyu, who’s always so loud, so obnoxiously confident, reduced to a stammering, malfunctioning mess because of you.

your own heart is hammering so hard you’re surprised it hasn’t burst out of your chest yet, but the longer he stands there looking like his brain has short-circuited, the more the initial panic starts to melt into something dangerously close to amusement. because god, he’s such a loser. your loser. and before you can chicken out, before you can backtrack and play it off like a joke, the words are tumbling out of your mouth—

“i think i like you.”

beomgyu’s jaw drops. like, actually drops. his eyes go comically wide, his entire body freezing like you’ve just hit him with a stun gun. for a second, you’re terrified you’ve broken him completely, that he’s going to turn around and bolt out the door and never speak to you again. but then—

“what?” he chokes out, voice cracking embarrassingly.

you swallow, suddenly feeling exposed. “you heard me.”

“i—no, say it again.”

“no.”

“please.”

“beomgyu—”

he makes a noise that’s half-groan, half-whine, dragging his hands down his face before pacing across your room like a caged animal. his fingers keep tugging at his hair, his breathing uneven as he mutters to himself, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head, smoke nearly coming out of his ears from how hard he’s thinking.

you should probably be more nervous, but mostly you’re just endeared. and a little annoyed.

“you’re freaking out,” you point out, trying to sound casual even though your palms are sweating.

“yeah, no shit,” he snaps, spinning to face you with wild eyes. “you can’t just—you can’t just say that and expect me to be normal about it!”

“i didn’t expect anything! i was just—”

“just what? just casually dropping the bomb that you like me after moaning when i choked you—”

“oh my god, shut up—”

“no, because what the fuck—”

you groan, flopping back onto your bed and covering your face with your hands. this is a disaster. a nightmare. you should’ve just kept your mouth shut, should’ve played it off like a joke, should’ve—

“i like you too, idiot.”

your hands drop.

beomgyu is standing at the foot of your bed, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his cheeks still flushed but his gaze steady now. your breath catches.

“...what?”

he exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair again. “i like you. like, like like you. have for—fuck, i don’t even know how long.” his voice drops, softer now. “i just didn’t know how to deal with it. thought you didn’t see me that way.”

you sit up slowly, your pulse roaring in your ears. “...are you serious?”

“yes, i’m serious,” he mutters, looking away. “you think i’d be this much of a mess if i wasn’t?”

you stare at him. he stares back. the silence stretches between you, thick and charged, until—

you burst out laughing.

beomgyu’s face does something complicated, caught between offence and confusion. “why are you laughing?”

“because you’re such a disaster,” you wheeze, wiping at your eyes. “all this time, and you were just—god, you’re pathetic.”

“excuse me—”

“you heard me.”

he growls, actually growls, before closing the distance between you in two long strides. his hands cup your face, rough but gentle, and then his lips are on yours—hot, insistent, perfect.

you melt into it immediately, your fingers tangling in his hair as you kiss him back with all the pent up frustration of months of pining. beomgyu makes a noise low in his throat, something between a whimper and a groan, his grip tightening as he nips at your bottom lip. you gasp, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that makes your stomach flip.

his hands roam your sides, slipping under the hem of your shirt to trace the bare skin of your waist. his fingers are warm, calloused from playing guitar, and the way they dig into your hips sends shivers down your spine. you arch into him, pressing closer, and he lets out this noise���this pathetic, whiny little sound that goes straight to your core.

you freeze for half a second. “bro, you good?” you whisper, half teasing, half wrecked yourself.

beomgyu groans, hiding his face in your neck. “do i look good?”

“fuck,” you breathe against his lips.

beomgyu pulls back just enough to look at you, his pupils blown wide, his lips swollen and shiny. “you—you’re killing me,” he whines, his voice wrecked already.

you grin, dragging him back down. “good.”

he kisses you again, messier this time, his hands sliding up your back to fumble with the clasp of your bra. he’s terrible at it, his fingers clumsy, and he groans in frustration when he can’t get it undone.

“help me,” he mumbles against your mouth, his cheeks burning.

you laugh, reaching behind you to undo it for him, and the way his eyes darken when he realises what you’ve done is priceless. his hands slide up your bare back, his touch hesitant at first, like he can’t believe he’s allowed to do this.

“you’re so pretty,” he murmurs, his voice shaky as his fingers trace the curve of your spine. “fuck, you have no idea—”

you cut him off with another kiss, rolling so you’re straddling his hips. his hands immediately fly to your waist, gripping you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. you grind down experimentally, and the way his breath hitches, the way his fingers dig into your skin—god, you could get addicted to this.

“please,” he whimpers, his hips jerking up involuntarily. “please, i—fuck, i can’t—”

you lean down to nip at his earlobe, grinning when he shudders. “can’t what?” you whisper.

“you know what,” he groans, his hands sliding up your thighs. “you’re evil.”

you laugh, kissing him again, slower this time, savouring the way he melts under you. when you finally pull away, his forehead rests against yours, his breathing ragged.

“fuck, fuck—” he’s babbling now, his usual eloquence completely gone as he kisses down your neck, your collarbones, his teeth scraping lightly over your skin. “you’re—shit, you’re so pretty, i can’t—fuck—”

you tug at his hair, pulling him back up to kiss him properly, swallowing his desperate noises. his hands are shaking where they grip your thighs, his breath coming in ragged pants against your lips.

“beomgyu,” you murmur, your voice low and teasing. “you’re such a mess.”

he groans, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. “you did this,” he mumbles, his lips brushing your skin. “you turned me into this.”

you hum, running your fingers through his hair. “and you love it.”

he lifts his head just enough to glare at you, but there’s no heat behind it—just fond exasperation and so much want it makes your chest ache. “yeah,” he admits, his voice rough. “i really fucking do.”

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[y2beom]

𝜗ৎ 𝐛𝐮𝐭 , 𝑖 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝑦𝑜𝑢 !

⌗ being woonhak's older sister was not easy ... it kinda was , until it wasn't . you had to juggle time for your younger brother while working on your debut . on the other hand , hanging out with woonhak was the best — that was until you were on his vlog , camcordoor .

──── ‧˚꒰🎥꒱༘⋆ ────

⤷ don't pmo kim woonhak .

⤷ first ever appearance !

⤷ who is that ?

⤷ loverly — debut !

⤷ koz friendship !

⤷ woonhak's celebration !

⤷ coming back home .

⤷ yn’s birthday !

⤷ special collaboration ?

⤷ summer yn hate

⤷ dad and daughter .

⤷ koz world .

⤷ mystery ? mister lee .

⤷ new emcees !

⤷ ynsan’s first monthsary !

⤷ yn’s unreleased track .

⤷ taesan's glares .

⤷ ynsan's first argument ?

⤷ yn's crash out .

⤷ taesan's backstory ?

⤷ ynminju show !

⤷ loverlynextdoor comeback ?!

⤷ gongfourz on ynminju !

⤷ ynsan's hangout ?

⤷ oasis concert !

⤷ ynsan's first official date ?!

⤷ yn's emo era .

⤷ loverlynextdoor vacation !!

⤷ cover blown ..?

⤷ ynsan's time apart .

⤷ yn's stress relief !!

⤷ loverly's comeback !

⤷ yn's surprise fancall ?!

──── ‧˚꒰🎥꒱༘⋆ ────

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[y2beom]

MASTERLIST

✧*̥˚ CHOI BEOMGYU ✧ IN BETWEEN THE LINES ⎯ summary: y/n, a university student with selective mutism, finding solace in solitude. when beomgyu, a curious music student, starts noticing her, their paths cross, and he learns to navigate her silence. parts one . two . three

[y2beom]

i just ascended

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

[y2beom]

fuck this was so beautifully written, i actually cried so hard omg 😭😭😭 i love you for writing this my heart hurts

𐙚 FROM ME TO YOU.

— beomgyu looked up at the sky, where the sun was beginning to set, painting the world in soft pink and oranges.

genre: heavy angst, slice of life, tragedy, strangers to friends

pairing: patient!beomgyu x patient afab!reader

warning: major character death, terminal illness, grief, emotional distress, let me know if i forgot anything !!

wordcount: 2k

now playing: the 1975 — about you ୨ৎ

beomgyu met you on a day that smelled of antiseptic and the crisp, too-clean air of a hospital ward. he had just been transferred from another wing, still getting used to the new surroundings, when he noticed you by the window in the common area. you were sitting alone, gazing out at the world with an expression he couldn’t quite place—a mixture of calm acceptance and quiet yearning. when you caught him looking, you smiled, a gentle curve of your lips that didn’t quite reach your eyes but was warm nonetheless.

“new here?” you asked, your voice soft, as if you didn’t want to disturb the stillness around you.

“yeah,” beomgyu replied, walking over to sit across from you. “just moved from the east wing. i’m beomgyu.”

“nice to meet you, beomgyu,” you said, your eyes returning to the window. “i’m y/n. this place isn’t so bad once you get used to it.”

and so, it began. every day, beomgyu found himself drifting back to that window, where you would be sitting, waiting for him with that same serene smile. he started bringing snacks with him—chocolate-covered almonds, your favorite, he learned after a few conversations. soon enough, it became routine for beomgyu to stop by your room, snacks in hand, ready to share another afternoon with you.

“you’re spoiling me,” you teased one day, accepting the almonds with a grateful smile.

“just making sure you’re not stuck with the hospital food,” beomgyu grinned, opening the pack for you. “besides, it’s more fun eating with someone.”

you laughed, a sound that seemed to brighten the sterile room, making the cold, clinical space feel a little more like home. it was easy, the way you two fell into step with each other. beomgyu didn’t know much about your illness, and you didn’t offer any details. it was an unspoken agreement to focus on the present, to savor the time you had together without the weight of what might come.

the hospital grounds became your escape. every afternoon, you and beomgyu would sneak out, sometimes with permission, sometimes without, to find a quiet corner in the garden. there, under the shade of a large oak tree, you would sit and talk for hours, sharing stories about your lives outside these walls. beomgyu told you about his friends, his dreams, the things he missed most while being stuck in the hospital. you listened intently, asking questions, laughing at his jokes, and sharing your own stories in return.

“when i get out of here,” beomgyu mused one day, lying on the grass with his hands behind his head, “i’m going to eat the biggest bowl of ramen i can find. no more bland hospital food.”

you chuckled, sitting beside him with your knees drawn up to your chest. “ramen sounds amazing. i think i’d go for a huge slice of chocolate cake. with extra frosting.”

“we’ll do it together,” beomgyu said, turning his head to look at you. “first meal after we’re both out of here.”

“deal,” you agreed, though there was a hint of sadness in your smile that didn’t go unnoticed by beomgyu.

as the days turned into weeks, your bond grew stronger. you became each other’s lifeline in that place, finding comfort in your shared moments. beomgyu’s health improved, his strength slowly returning, but you... you were growing weaker. it was subtle at first—the way you needed to rest more often, the way your laughter became softer, less frequent, and the light in your eyes dimmed bit by bit. but beomgyu noticed, and the realization gnawed at him.

one evening, as you both sat under the oak tree, watching the sun set over the hospital grounds, you turned to him with a seriousness that made his heart clench.

“beomgyu,” you began, your voice quiet, “there’s something i need to tell you.”

he sat up, concern etching lines across his forehead. “what is it?”

you took a deep breath, your eyes fixed on the horizon. “they’re going to try surgery. it’s... it’s risky, but it’s the only option left.”

the weight of your words settled between you, heavy and suffocating. beomgyu reached out, his hand finding yours, squeezing it gently.

“you’re going to be okay,” he said, more to reassure himself than you. “you’re strong.”

you smiled at him, but there was a sadness in your eyes that he couldn’t ignore. “i’m scared, beomgyu. but if this works... maybe i’ll get more time. more time with you.”

“we’ll get through this,” beomgyu promised, his voice thick with emotion. “and when you’re better, we’ll go eat that ramen and chocolate cake, okay?”

“okay,” you whispered, squeezing his hand back.

the days leading up to your surgery were filled with quiet moments and unspoken fears. beomgyu tried to stay positive, cracking jokes and keeping the conversation light, but the tension was palpable. you spent more time in your room, resting, and beomgyu would sit by your side, holding your hand, talking to you even when you were too tired to respond.

the day of the surgery came too quickly. beomgyu was there when they wheeled you away, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched you disappear down the hallway. “i’ll see you soon,” you had said, giving him a weak smile. “don’t worry about me.”

but he couldn’t help worrying. hours passed, each one dragging slower than the last. he paced the waiting room, unable to sit still, his mind racing with all the things he hadn’t said, all the moments he wished he could relive.

when the doctor finally emerged, the look on his face told beomgyu everything he needed to know. the surgery had failed. they had done everything they could, but your heart had given out.

the world seemed to stop in that moment. beomgyu didn’t hear the words that followed, didn’t feel the hands that tried to offer comfort. all he could think about was the promise he had made to you—a promise he would never get to fulfill.

your room, once filled with your presence, was now empty, stripped of the warmth you brought. your mother came to collect your things, her face a mask of grief. it was then that she found the pink envelope tucked under your pillow. “to my bravest beomgyu,” it read in your familiar handwriting. she handed it to him with trembling hands, her eyes filled with unshed tears.

beomgyu’s heart clenched when he saw the small note on the back. “please open this after one year :)).”

he didn’t know how he managed to get through that first year without you. everything reminded him of you—the oak tree in the hospital garden, the chocolate-covered almonds he couldn’t bring himself to eat, the ramen shop you had both planned to visit. he missed you with an intensity that took his breath away, a hollow ache that never quite left him. nevertheless, he waited.

and then, the first anniversary of your death arrived. beomgyu found himself standing by your grave, the pink envelope clutched in his hand. the sun was warm on his skin, the sky a clear, endless blue. with trembling fingers, he opened the letter, unfolding the paper carefully as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

dear beomgyu, if i die, i will make sure that you will get shaded by every cloud wherever you go. remember that day we spent hours in the sun, complaining about the heat? you joked that the clouds should be more considerate and give us some shade. i’ll make sure they do that for you.

beomgyu’s breath hitched as he remembered a day last summer when he was out running errands. the sun had been unbearably hot, and he’d thought of you, wishing you were there to complain with him. out of nowhere, a cloud had drifted over, offering him the perfect shade just when he needed it most. it had felt like a small miracle, a fleeting comfort that now made perfect sense.

if i die first, i will make the prettiest flowers bloom every summer because i know how much you love how they smell. the tree by your house—do you remember? you told me it hasn’t bloomed in years, but i’ll make sure it does. i’ll make sure it’s full of the brightest flowers, and their fragrance will remind you of me, of us, of the times we laughed until we couldn’t breathe.

tears welled in beomgyu’s eyes as he thought of the old tree in his backyard. it had been lifeless for years, barren and dull. but that summer, the summer after you passed, it had suddenly burst into bloom, its branches heavy with the most vibrant flowers he’d ever seen. the scent was intoxicating, filling the air around him, he could almost hear your laughter in the rustling leaves. and every time he walked past it, he had thought of you.

if i die first, i will be the brightest star in the sky, guiding you home on nights when you feel lost. when you can’t sleep, look up. i’ll be there, twinkling just for you, reminding you that you’re never alone.

there had been nights when beomgyu couldn’t sleep, nights when the emptiness of his room was too much to bear. he would go outside, sit on his porch, and stare up at the sky. one star, brighter than the others, always seemed to catch his eye, its light unwavering. it had brought him a strange comfort, a sense of peace, as if you were right there with him, watching over him.

if i die, i will be the song that plays on the radio when you least expect it, making you smile when the world feels heavy. music was always our escape, wasn’t it? i’ll be that familiar melody, bringing back the memories of our time together, making you laugh at the silly lyrics we made up.

and then, there was that song. it was a quiet afternoon, the kind where the world felt just a little too big and a little too empty. the radio played softly in the background, and then, out of nowhere, your favorite song came on. the same song you used to hum when you thought no one was listening, the one you both sang along to on those rare, carefree days. he hadn’t heard it in so long, but as the familiar melody filled the room, he felt a warmth in his chest, a comfort that wrapped around him like a blanket.

if i die, know that i wished for more time. i wished we had met before i got sick, before all this. but even in this short time, you made my life so much brighter, so much fuller. thank you for being my friend, for being my light in the darkest days.

and most importantly, if i die first, i will make sure to be waiting for you when your time comes. so, don’t be afraid. live your life fully, and know that when you’re done, i’ll be there, waiting with open arms, ready to show you all the places we didn’t get to see together. love, always, from me to you.

with tears streaming down his face, beomgyu clutched the letter to his chest as his hands trembled, his heart breaking all over again. tears blurred his vision, but he didn’t try to stop them. he sat there for hours, reading and re-reading your words, feeling your presence with him even in your absence. your words, your promises, they filled the empty spaces in his soul, offering him a solace he hadn’t known he needed.

as he sat by your grave, beomgyu looked up at the sky, where the sun was beginning to set, painting the world in soft pinks and oranges. he smiled through his tears, whispering to the wind, “thank you.”

and as the last rays of sunlight dipped below the horizon, he felt a gentle breeze brush past him, as if you were there, right beside him, just like you promised.

gyo's note: hello, everyone. this story is another heavy one. today, while I was walking in the sun, i noticed how a cloud seemed to follow me and give me shade. it made me think of my late dog, as if they were still watching over me. that thought inspired this story, where the presence of a loved one lingers, offering protection and comfort even after they’re gone. i hope this story resonates with you as much as the idea did with me. if you made it to this part, thank you so much for reading. you will be loved, xoxo!

✮ 2024 gyorouis, all rights reserved.

[y2beom]

𐙚 BIGGEST PLOT TWIST - CBG.

— it takes you a moment to register who you're looking at, but when you do, your heart skips a beat, it was choi beomgyu.

genre: angst, romance, slow burn (?), fake dating, crack

pairing: playboy!beomgyu x afab!reader

warning: mild language, emotional tension, mentions of avoidance and regret (if i missed anything, pls lmk!)

wordcount: 14.4k (now what...)

now playing: silent sanctuary — kundiman ୨ৎ

“who?” you ask your friend as you hurry to the next class, adjusting the strap of your bag that’s slipping off your shoulder. “who were you talking about again?” you repeat, a bit more impatiently this time, your mind still half-focused on the upcoming quiz.

“beomgyu,” your friend replies nonchalantly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “i think he’s interested in you.”

you stop dead in your tracks, nearly causing a traffic jam in the hallway as students swerve around you. “choi beomgyu?” you ask, voice tinged with disbelief. “that choi beomgyu?”

your friend just nods, her expression suggesting she’s surprised you hadn’t noticed sooner.

“no way,” you mutter, shaking your head as you start walking again, though your pace is slower now, thoughts racing. “why would he—”

before you can finish the thought, you crash into something solid. something very solid. you stumble back, muttering a quick apology as you bow your head, but the words catch in your throat when you hear a low, almost lazy voice.

“meet me at the field later.”

you look up, startled, and find yourself staring into a pair of dark brown eyes, the kind that seem to see right through you. it takes you a moment to register who you’re looking at, but when you do, your heart skips a beat. choi beomgyu. the choi beomgyu.

he’s taller than you expected, his messy hair falling over his forehead in a way that’s almost annoyingly perfect. headphones hang around his neck, the kind that scream ‘i’m too cool to care about anything.’ you’re too busy taking in the details of his face—sharp jawline, slightly upturned lips, a faint scar on his eyebrow—to realize he’s still waiting for a response.

“so?” he prompts, raising an eyebrow.

“so?” you echo, still trying to wrap your mind around the fact that choi beomgyu is standing in front of you, talking to you.

“meet me at the field later,” he repeats, his voice dropping to a lower, more serious tone that sends a shiver down your spine.

“why would i?” you manage to say, though your voice doesn’t come out as confident as you’d hoped.

he just shrugs, like it doesn’t really matter to him whether you show up or not. then, without another word, he starts walking past you, his presence as overwhelming as the scent of his cologne lingering in the air.

“beomgyu!” you shout after him, more out of frustration than anything else. in a fit of impulse, you grab the nearest thing—your book—and throw it at him. it hits him square in the back, but he doesn’t even flinch. he just glances over his shoulder, smirks, and keeps walking like nothing happened.

“no way… you’re his target for this month?” your friend whispers, eyes wide as she watches the scene unfold.

“what the fuck is wrong with that guy?” you grumble, stomping over to pick up your book, your cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and anger. you clutch the book to your chest and head to your room, already dreading whatever chaos beomgyu is about to drag you into.

after a day of mentally wrestling with the absurdity of the situation, you find yourself standing in the middle of the field, arms crossed, glaring at beomgyu who’s leaning casually against a tree. the late afternoon sun casts a warm glow over the grass, but you’re too irritated to appreciate the scene.

“all right, i’m here,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady despite the anger bubbling under the surface. “let’s get this over with. what do you want?”

beomgyu straightens up, a lazy smile spreading across his face as he saunters over to you. “i’m glad you came,” he says, his tone almost too cheerful for your liking.

“don’t get used to it,” you snap back. “just tell me what you want so i can get on with my life.”

“well,” he starts, dragging out the word as if he’s savoring the moment, “i want you to be my girlfriend.”

you stare at him, blinking once, twice, as if you misheard him. “what?”

“you heard me,” he says, leaning in closer, his smile never wavering. “you. girlfriend. me.”

you can’t help but burst out laughing, the sound echoing across the empty field. “hell no! why would i do that? you can use any other girl on campus, why me?”

beomgyu’s smile fades slightly as he sighs, a sound that’s surprisingly genuine. “because if you don’t, i’ll tell your mom that you smoke.”

your laughter dies in your throat as the threat sinks in. “you wouldn’t.”

he raises an eyebrow, that infuriating smirk returning to his lips. “oh, i definitely would. you know how much your mom loves her position at the church. i see you every sunday, acting all sweet and innocent. i don’t think she’d be too happy to find out her little angel has a rebellious streak.”

your mind flashes back to that afternoon a few weeks ago. you were behind the campus, hidden by the trees, sneaking a cigarette to calm your nerves after a particularly rough exam. you thought you were alone—until you heard footsteps and turned to see beomgyu standing there, watching you with a knowing smirk. you had cursed under your breath and quickly stubbed out the cigarette, but the damage was done. he had seen you. and now, he was holding it over your head.

“you’re blackmailing me with this?” you ask incredulously, trying to wrap your head around the ridiculousness of the situation.

“desperate times call for desperate measures,” he says with a shrug, as if this is the most normal thing in the world.

“why?” you demand, crossing your arms tighter as you glare at him. “why do you even need a fake girlfriend?”

he sighs again, running a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. “i want to win her back,” he admits, his voice dropping slightly as if he’s embarrassed to say it out loud.

“who?” you ask, though you already have a sinking feeling you know the answer.

“mari,” he says, confirming your suspicion.

you scoff, remembering the campus gossip from a few weeks ago. everyone was talking about their breakup, how mari had dumped beomgyu out of the blue. some said she had grown tired of his playboy ways, others whispered that she had found someone better. you hadn’t paid much attention to it at the time—beomgyu’s love life was the least of your concerns—but now, it’s coming back to bite you.

“and you think dating me is going to make her jealous?” you ask, still incredulous at the audacity of his plan.

“exactly,” he says, a hint of desperation in his voice now. “she’s insecure about you. she’s envious of your achievements, your grades, how everyone seems to think you’re perfect. i know she’ll want me back if she thinks i’m dating you.”

you stare at him, mouth slightly open in disbelief. “are you fucking kidding me? why the hell would she be insecure about me? she’s mari. the girl who dumped you because you couldn’t keep it in your pants.”

beomgyu winces at your bluntness, but he doesn’t deny it. “look, i know it sounds crazy, but it’s true. she always felt like she couldn’t measure up to you, and if she sees us together, it’ll drive her nuts.”

you shake your head, backing away from him. “no way. i am not getting dragged into your drama. go find someone else to be your fake girlfriend, because i’m not interested. fuck off, beomgyu.”

you turn on your heel, ready to march off and leave this ridiculous conversation behind, but beomgyu calls after you, desperation creeping into his voice. “please. you’re the only one who can make this work.”

you pause, not because you’re considering it, but because you’re genuinely baffled by his persistence. “why me? why does it have to be me?”

he hesitates, then mutters, “because you’re the only one she’s ever seen as competition. if she thinks i’ve moved on to you, she’ll come running back.”

you blink at him, then let out a disbelieving laugh. “are you seriously asking me to pretend to date you just to win back some girl who’s insecure about me? you realize how insane that sounds, right?”

“i know,” he admits, looking genuinely frustrated now. “but it’s the only plan i’ve got. please, just think about it.”

“no,” you say firmly, shaking your head. “it doesn’t even make sense. i don’t know you, and you definitely don’t know me. there’s no way anyone would believe we’re actually dating. it’s just not going to work.”

you turn away from him for good this time. “i’m not going to be your pawn in some stupid game. you can deal with your own problems, beomgyu.”

and with that, you walk away, leaving him standing alone in the field, still trying to figure out how his plan went so wrong.

you walk away, determined to end this bizarre conversation, but beomgyu isn’t one to give up so easily. the next morning, you find him waiting for you outside your first class, leaning against the wall with a smug grin on his face.

“good morning, girlfriend,” he greets you, loud enough for a few students nearby to hear.

you glare at him, refusing to dignify his greeting with a response. instead, you push past him, but he quickly falls into step beside you, still grinning.

“so, did you think about it?” he asks, as if you’ve been considering his ridiculous proposal.

“not for a second,” you reply flatly, quickening your pace, but beomgyu easily keeps up with you.

“come on,” he coaxes, his tone almost teasing. “it’s not like i’m asking for much. just a little fake dating, a few hand-holding sessions, maybe a staged kiss or two...”

you stop walking and turn to face him, your patience already wearing thin. “beomgyu, do you honestly think that’s going to convince me? i have no interest in being part of your weird love triangle.”

“it’s not a triangle,” he corrects, as if that’s the main issue. “it’s more of a... strategic partnership. we both get something out of it.”

“and what exactly do i get out of this?” you ask, folding your arms. “other than a headache and a reputation i don’t want?”

“i’ll make sure you never have to stand in line at the cafeteria again,” he offers, grinning like he’s just proposed the deal of a lifetime. “plus, you’ll have the most popular guy on campus as your boyfriend. that’s gotta be worth something, right?”

“you mean the most annoying guy on campus,” you mutter, shaking your head. “no thanks, beomgyu.”

“okay, okay,” he says, raising his hands in mock surrender. “how about this: i’ll do all your homework for a month.”

“you can barely do your own homework,” you point out, continuing to walk.

“true,” he concedes, quickly catching up to you, “but i can get someone else to do it for me. i know people. you’ll get straight A's, guaranteed.”

“beomgyu, do you seriously think i’m that desperate?”

“desperate? no. smart? definitely,” he replies, that infuriating grin never leaving his face. “i mean, who wouldn’t want a personal assistant to take care of all the boring stuff?”

you stop again, turning to him with a deadpan expression. “do you hear yourself right now? do you really think any of this is convincing?”

he shrugs, not the least bit deterred. “i’m just trying to make it worth your while. besides, think about all the fun we could have. we can prank mari together, stage a dramatic breakup when it’s all over. i’ll even let you be the one to dump me in front of everyone.”

“tempting,” you say sarcastically, “but still a no.”

“you’re really making this difficult,” he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “what do i have to do to get you to say yes?”

“nothing,” you say firmly. “because it’s not happening. i’m not interested in fake dating you, or real dating you, or anything that involves you.”

he’s silent for a moment, his usual cocky demeanor slipping just a bit. “you know, i’m actually a decent guy when you get to know me.”

“i’m sure you are,” you reply, rolling your eyes. “but that doesn’t change the fact that i don’t want to be involved in your plan. besides, i don’t even know you, and you don’t know me. there's no way it would make sense that we would date.”

“then let’s get to know each other,” he says, a spark of determination in his eyes. “who knows? maybe you’ll actually like me.”

“highly doubtful,” you retort, turning to walk away again. “find someone else, beomgyu. i’m not interested.”

“but you’re the only one who can pull this off!” he calls after you, but you don’t bother responding.

you keep walking, determined to put as much distance between you and beomgyu as possible. but as you head to your next class, you can’t help but wonder how long he’s going to keep this up—and just how far he’s willing to go to get what he wants.

it’s a friday morning, and you’re already running late for your first class. the last thing you need is another encounter with beomgyu and his relentless pursuit of your agreement. as you swing open the door to your dorm room, ready to dart out, you freeze.

there he is. choi beomgyu, standing right outside your door with a bouquet of slightly wilted flowers in his hand. you groan inwardly, ready to tell him off again, but then you notice something—mari, the girl of his dreams, is also there, coming out of the room next door.

beomgyu straightens up immediately, his usually confident expression tinged with nervousness. he steps forward, holding out the flowers like a peace offering. “mari, these are for you,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

but mari doesn’t even glance at him. she just walks past, not even sparing him a second look. the flowers droop in his hand, along with his hopeful expression. he watches her walk away, the defeat so clear on his face that you almost feel bad for him. almost.

you find yourself stuck in place, watching this whole scene unfold. beomgyu’s shoulders slump, and he looks down at the flowers as if they’ve personally betrayed him. for a moment, he just stands there, staring at the empty hallway where mari disappeared, looking more lost than you’ve ever seen him.

against your better judgment, you feel a pang of sympathy. maybe he’s not just the arrogant playboy you’ve pegged him for. maybe he’s just a guy who got his heart broken and is trying desperately to fix it.

before you know it, you’re walking toward him. “beomgyu,” you call out, and his head snaps up, surprise flashing in his eyes when he sees you.

“hey,” he says, quickly trying to mask his disappointment with that familiar smirk. “come to finally say yes?”

“no,” you reply, but there’s less bite in your voice than usual. “i came to talk.”

his eyebrows shoot up, clearly not expecting that. “talk? about what? because if it’s about how ridiculous my plan is, i’ve already heard it.”

you roll your eyes. “no, idiot. i’m reconsidering your offer.”

he blinks at you, completely thrown off. “wait, what? you’re... considering it?”

“don’t make me repeat myself,” you snap, though there’s no real heat behind your words. “but before i say anything, we need to lay down some ground rules.”

beomgyu’s smirk returns, and he looks like a kid who just found out christmas came early. “oh, i’m all ears. name your terms.”

you cross your arms, trying to ignore the weird flutter in your chest as you meet his gaze. “first of all, no public displays of affection unless it’s absolutely necessary. and by necessary, i mean only when mari’s around.”

“deal,” he agrees instantly, like he’s already won.

“second, you keep your hands to yourself. no holding hands, no random hugs, and definitely no kissing.”

he holds up his hands in surrender. “got it. i’ll be on my best behavior.”

“third,” you continue, “this ‘relationship’ ends the second mari comes running back to you. no strings attached, no drama, we’re done. understood?”

“crystal clear,” beomgyu says, his grin widening. “so... does this mean you’re in?”

you hesitate, glancing down at the sad bouquet in his hand. it’s clear how much this means to him, even if it’s for the most ridiculous reason. you sigh, knowing full well you’re going to regret this.

“fine,” you mutter, avoiding his eyes. “but this is strictly business, okay?”

“of course,” he agrees, though you can see the glint of amusement in his eyes. “strictly business... with maybe a little bit of fun on the side?”

“no fun,” you correct him, trying to stay firm.

“right, right,” he nods, though his playful grin suggests otherwise. “so, when do we start, girlfriend?”

“don’t call me that,” you grumble, already regretting your decision.

“too late!” he singsongs, spinning around with a dramatic flourish. “oh, this is going to be so much fun.”

you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “what have i gotten myself into?”

“don’t worry,” beomgyu says, turning back to you with a wink. “you’ll thank me later. just wait till you see how jealous mari gets. she’s going to be begging me to take her back.”

“you’re delusional,” you mutter, but there’s no denying the tiny thrill of excitement that courses through you. maybe this won’t be so bad. or maybe it’ll be an absolute disaster. either way, you’re in for a wild ride.

“let’s get one thing straight,” you say, stepping closer to him, “i’m only doing this because i feel bad for you, not because i think it’s a good idea.”

“oh, i know,” beomgyu replies with a cheeky grin. “but by the end of this, you might just find out that fake dating me isn’t the worst thing in the world.”

“we’ll see about that,” you retort, but there’s a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “just don’t mess this up, okay?”

“me? mess up? never,” he declares, puffing out his chest like a cartoon character.

you shake your head, already wondering how you’re going to survive this ridiculous arrangement without losing your mind—or worse, your heart.

you’ve barely had time to wrap your head around this whole fake-dating scheme when beomgyu drags you to meet his friends. the walk to their usual hangout spot is filled with his relentless chatter, and you try to mentally prepare yourself for the chaos you’re about to walk into.

“okay, remember,” beomgyu says, stopping just outside the door to the coffee shop. “just act natural. they’re going to love you.”

“they better,” you mutter, crossing your arms. “if this blows up in our faces, i’m blaming you.”

he just grins, as if your words are a challenge he’s more than ready to take on. “don’t worry. you’ll be fine.”

before you can reply, he pushes the door open, and you’re hit with the sound of laughter and the smell of coffee. the coffee shop is cozy, filled with a mix of students and locals, but your attention is immediately drawn to the group of guys at the back, who are currently in a heated debate over something that sounds like video game stats.

“yo, guys!” beomgyu announces with an exaggerated flourish as you walk in beside him. “look who i brought!”

you’re greeted by a chorus of surprised, then curious, expressions. soobin is the first to speak, his eyes widening as he takes you in. “whoa, beomgyu, did you finally bring someone who isn’t a disaster?”

“hey!” you protest, though you’re more amused than offended.

“don’t worry,” beomgyu says, nudging you with a smirk. “she’s definitely not a disaster. this is y/n.”

yeonjun squints at you, then at beomgyu. “wait, you’re dating now? i thought this was all just a bad joke.”

“it’s not a joke,” beomgyu says smoothly. “we’re officially... pretending to be a couple.”

hueningkai blinks at him, then bursts into laughter. “oh, this is going to be good. you two look like a sitcom couple.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“don’t worry about it,” taehyun says with a grin. “it’s just hueningkai being hueningkai. so, what’s your story, y/n? what made you agree to date our resident playboy?”

you start to explain, but soobin cuts you off, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in his eye. “i bet you didn’t know beomgyu is a world-class procrastinator, right? he’s probably going to forget to call you or something.”

“hey!” beomgyu protests, looking genuinely offended. “i’m not that bad!”

“so, tell us,” yeonjun asks, his gaze shifting between you and beomgyu. “what’s the deal with this fake dating? is it a revenge scheme or something?”

“more or less,” you say, giving them a quick rundown of the situation. “beomgyu wants to make someone jealous, and he’s roped me into it.”

taehyun snorts, shaking his head. “classic beomgyu move. always the dramatic one.”

“hey!” beomgyu says again, though he’s trying to hold back a smile. “i’m not dramatic. i’m just... creative.”

“creative?” hueningkai asks, looking genuinely puzzled. “is that what we’re calling this?”

“let’s just say,” you say, deciding to join in the fun, “it’s been an interesting experience so far.”

as the conversation continues, it becomes clear that beomgyu’s friends are a lively bunch, each adding their own flavor of chaos to the mix. there are jokes, random interjections, and a lot of laughter. by the end of the meal, you’re starting to feel like part of the gang—or at least, like you’re not completely out of place.

as you and beomgyu leave the cafe, you find yourself laughing more than you expected. “your friends are... something else,” you say, shaking your head.

“they’re the best,” beomgyu says with a grin. “you did great, though. handled them better than i expected.”

“don’t get used to it,” you reply, though there’s a hint of warmth in your tone. “i’m just here to do a job.”

“sure, sure,” beomgyu says, nudging you playfully. “but i bet you had fun.”

“maybe,” you admit, smiling despite yourself. “just don’t make me do this every day.”

beomgyu's plan to make mari jealous starts to take on a life of its own. what began as a strategic move to win her back morphs into something more complicated as you and beomgyu spend more time together.

you two are in the library, ostensibly studying, but the moment mari walks by, beomgyu wraps his arm around you, pulling you close. you pretend to be engrossed in your notes, but you can’t help but notice the satisfied smirk on beomgyu's face as he leans into you.

“this spot is really quiet,” he says, his voice low. “better for studying together, don’t you think?”

“sure,” you reply, trying to sound disinterested but feeling the warmth of his closeness. “if you say so.”

mari glances over, her eyes narrowing slightly before she walks away. as soon as she's out of sight, beomgyu lets out a dramatic sigh and releases you.

“that was exhausting,” you say, rolling your eyes. “i’m pretty sure we were laying it on thick.”

“hey, we have to sell it,” beomgyu says with a grin. “besides, you did great. mari’s definitely jealous now.”

later that week, you find yourselves at the campus cafe, where you and beomgyu have a standing routine of grabbing coffee after class. beomgyu is, as usual, trying to make you laugh with his ridiculous anecdotes, while you’re genuinely enjoying his company.

“so,” beomgyu says, leaning across the table with a mischievous grin, “what’s the verdict? are you having fun pretending to be my girlfriend?”

“oh, definitely,” you say sarcastically. “it’s like living in a sitcom where i’m the unwilling star.”

“hey, i’m not that bad,” beomgyu protests. “i can be quite charming when i want to be.”

“sure,” you reply with a smirk, “just make sure you don’t charm yourself into a real relationship. i’d hate to see you fall for me.”

“not going to happen,” he says, shaking his head. “but thanks for playing along. mari’s definitely noticed.”

beomgyu starts driving you home after class, a gesture that feels almost normal by now. he’s blasting music and singing along, much to your amusement.

“do you always sing like you’re auditioning for a reality show?” you ask, laughing as he hits a high note.

“only when i’m with you,” he says with a wink. “keeps things interesting.”

when you arrive at your place, you both linger outside your door, chatting casually. but as soon as beomgyu’s car is out of sight, you find yourself glancing at your phone, half expecting a text from him.

one day, you’re waiting outside your last class for beomgyu to show up, and you spot him walking towards you with a bouquet of flowers. it’s all very cliché, but it’s also kind of sweet.

“seriously?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “flowers? is this part of the act?”

“yep,” beomgyu says with a grin. “i figured it might add a nice touch.”

you take the flowers, laughing despite yourself. “thanks, i guess. though i’m pretty sure this just makes us look like we’re in a rom-com.”

“yeah, whatever works,” beomgyu replies, shrugging. “besides, you look cute holding them.”

the more you two spend time together, the more natural it starts to feel. one day, you’re both in the middle of a heated debate about which pizza topping is superior. as you argue, you realize that you’re genuinely enjoying his company, and maybe you’re even starting to forget that this is all supposed to be fake.

“pineapple on pizza is a crime against humanity,” you declare, laughing as beomgyu tries to defend his preference.

“you’re just not cultured enough to appreciate it,” he says, rolling his eyes. “i bet you don’t even like pineapple in general.”

“it’s not about liking pineapple,” you reply. “it’s about the fact that putting it on pizza is just... wrong.”

“you’re wrong,” beomgyu says with a smirk. “and i’m right. end of story.”

“we’ll see about that,” you say, sticking out your tongue playfully.

as the weeks go by, the lines between fake and real start to blur. you catch yourself feeling excited when you see beomgyu, and you even start to look forward to his antics. one day, taehyun catches you and beomgyu in one of your usual playful arguments.

“so,” taehyun says with a smirk, “how’s the fake dating going?”

you and beomgyu exchange a glance, and beomgyu shrugs. “it’s going well. why do you ask?”

“just curious,” taehyun says, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “it looks like you two are having more fun than you let on.”

“we’re just getting into character,” beomgyu says with a grin. “nothing more, nothing less.”

“uh-huh,” taehyun says skeptically. “i’ll believe it when i see it.”

beomgyu’s plan to win mari back is working better than expected, and the fake dating is starting to feel oddly real. you and beomgyu have settled into a rhythm of constant interaction, and your fake relationship has begun to blur with reality.

one afternoon, you’re hanging out at a local park, where beomgyu has suggested you both go for a “romantic stroll” as part of your act. it’s a beautiful day, and you find yourself genuinely enjoying the time spent together.

“i have to admit,” you say, smiling as you walk side by side, “this isn’t half bad.”

“see, i told you,” beomgyu says with a grin. “it’s all about making the best of it.”

you’re both casually chatting about your favorite movies when you spot mari walking towards you. immediately, you cling to beomgyu, leaning into him with exaggerated affection. beomgyu plays along, draping his arm around you and pulling you closer.

“hey, did you miss me?” he asks with a playful wink.

“oh, absolutely,” you reply, looking up at him with faux adoration.

mari’s eyes flicker with annoyance before she quickly walks past. as soon as she’s gone, you and beomgyu burst into laughter.

“that was something,” you say, trying to catch your breath.

“yeah, she definitely noticed,” beomgyu agrees, still chuckling. “good job.”

sometimes, though, you both forget about the act entirely. one evening, you’re lounging on beomgyu’s couch, the room dimly lit by the flickering glow of the TV. the movie is playing softly, but neither of you are paying much attention to the plot. instead, you find yourselves more engrossed in the warmth of each other’s presence.

beomgyu is sprawled out comfortably, and you’re leaning against him, your head resting on his shoulder. the fabric of his hoodie feels soft and comforting against your cheek. you both shift slightly, trying to find the perfect angle that makes the moment feel even more intimate. his arm drapes over your shoulders, pulling you closer. the gentle rise and fall of his chest with each breath creates a soothing rhythm, and the scent of his cologne is faint but pleasant.

“wait,” beomgyu says suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence. he glances over at you with a mischievous grin. just as you were about to shift away, he gently cups your face in his hands, his palms warm against your skin. you freeze for a moment, your breath catching as his fingers lightly brush your hair away from your face. beomgyu’s touch is tender and surprisingly intimate, and he adjusts himself to make you more comfortable, guiding you back into a position where you can both settle in.

“you’re not going anywhere,” he murmurs, his voice low and soft. his touch lingers just a bit longer than necessary, and you can feel the warmth of his hands spreading through you. as you look up at him, his gaze is steady and affectionate, making you feel unexpectedly cherished. the room seems to shrink around you both, leaving only the gentle hum of the movie and the comforting presence of each other.

when taehyun sees you two like this, he can’t help but tease.

“hmm…” he murmurs with a smirk, “looks like the fake dating has become a bit too real.”

you and beomgyu exchange a glance, and beomgyu shrugs with a grin. “maybe. or maybe we’re just really good at this.”

“sure,” taehyun says, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “just remember, i’m watching.”

the night was comfortably cool, the perfect backdrop for a sleepover at soobin’s place. the living room was strewn with blankets and pillows, snacks scattered on the coffee table, and the remnants of a half-finished pizza sat in a greasy box nearby. the boys—yeonjun, soobin, beomgyu, taehyun, and hueningkai—were lounging around, their limbs tangled in a mess of relaxed exhaustion. they’d spent the evening playing games, arguing over who had the best strategy, and yelling at the screen during the latest action movie they’d decided to watch. the room buzzed with the warmth of camaraderie and the occasional burst of laughter.

“i’m telling you, that boss was a complete cheat,” yeonjun groaned, stretching out on the floor with a hand thrown dramatically over his eyes. “like, how are we supposed to beat something that can regenerate every five seconds?”

soobin chuckled from where he was sitting against the couch, a game controller still in his hand. “you just have to be good, yeonjun.”

“says the guy who died like five times before i even got to the boss fight,” yeonjun shot back, making the others snicker.

“hey, i was figuring out the strategy!” soobin protested, but even he was laughing now.

“yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that,” taehyun added with a smirk as he sprawled out on the other side of the couch, idly tossing a pillow in the air and catching it.

hueningkai, who had been uncharacteristically quiet for a while, suddenly piped up, “so, beomgyu, how’s the whole fake dating thing going with you and y/n?”

at the mention of your name, all eyes turned to beomgyu, who had been absentmindedly scrolling through his phone. he looked up, a slightly startled expression on his face, before a casual smile spread across his lips.

“oh, it’s going pretty well, actually,” beomgyu replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “we’ve been doing our thing, you know, making sure mari sees us together and all that. she definitely seems to be noticing.”

“is she jealous yet?” yeonjun asked, leaning in with a mischievous glint in his eye.

beomgyu hesitated for a moment before shrugging. “i think so? she’s been giving us weird looks every time she sees us together. i’d say the plan is working.”

“but how’s it working for you?” soobin asked, an eyebrow raised. “like, do you actually enjoy spending time with y/n, or is it just all for the show?”

beomgyu opened his mouth to respond, but hueningkai beat him to it, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched his friend. “you seem to be enjoying it a lot,” hueningkai said, his voice light but pointed. “like, when you were just talking about it now, you looked… happy.”

beomgyu blinked, caught off guard by the observation. “what? no, i mean, yeah, it’s fun. y/n’s cool to hang out with and all, but it’s just for the plan, you know? to make mari jealous.”

“is it, though?” taehyun asked, tilting his head with a curious expression. “because you seemed way more into talking about y/n than you did when you mentioned mari.”

beomgyu frowned, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. “what are you talking about? of course i’m focused on mari. that’s the whole point.”

“but are you?” soobin chimed in, leaning forward with a thoughtful look. “because from what we’ve seen, it looks like you’re more focused on y/n these days.”

“you even stopped mentioning mari’s name in the group chat,” yeonjun added with a teasing grin. “but you bring up y/n all the time. and don’t think we didn’t notice you humming that song she likes the other day.”

beomgyu’s mouth opened and closed, struggling to find the right words. “okay, maybe i’ve been spending a lot of time with y/n, but that’s because of the plan. we have to make it convincing, right?”

hueningkai shook his head, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “you’re convincing someone, all right. but i’m not sure if it’s mari.”

“oh, come on, guys,” beomgyu said, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his tone. “you’re reading way too much into this. i’m just playing my part.”

“sure,” taehyun said, his voice dripping with skepticism. “but here’s the thing—sometimes people get a little too into character, if you know what i mean.”

beomgyu’s gaze flickered between his friends, his mind racing to come up with a counterargument. but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that they might be onto something. lately, he had found himself looking forward to spending time with you, even when it wasn’t necessary for the plan. he enjoyed your banter, the way you laughed at his stupid jokes, the way you leaned into him when you were watching movies together. but surely that didn’t mean anything… right?

“i’m not… i’m not falling for her, if that’s what you’re trying to say,” beomgyu finally said, though his voice lacked the usual confidence. “i’m just… having fun with the whole thing. it’s all part of the game.”

“hmm,” yeonjun hummed, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “if you say so, but don’t be surprised if you wake up one day and realize you’re actually into y/n.”

“that’s not going to happen,” beomgyu insisted, crossing his arms over his chest. “we have an agreement. we’re just helping each other out.”

“whatever helps you sleep at night,” soobin said with a chuckle, shaking his head. “just don’t come crying to us when you realize you’ve caught feelings.”

“i’m not catching feelings,” beomgyu muttered, though his voice sounded less convincing by the second.

the conversation drifted to other topics, but the doubt lingered in beomgyu’s mind. he replayed his interactions with you, trying to convince himself that it was all just part of the act. but as his friends continued to laugh and joke around him, beomgyu found his thoughts drifting back to you, to the warmth of your smile, the comfort of your presence.

and for the first time, he wasn’t so sure if he was just playing a part anymore.

as the week went on, the lines between what was real and what was pretend began to blur for beomgyu. it started subtly, with small moments that seemed insignificant at first but gradually became more difficult to ignore.

the first time was when you both were walking home from campus. the sun was setting, casting a warm glow over everything, and for once, you weren’t paying attention to whether mari was around. beomgyu had his hands shoved in his pockets, trying to act casual, but then you stumbled on a crack in the sidewalk. without thinking, beomgyu reached out and grabbed your hand, steadying you. instead of letting go, you kept your fingers intertwined with his, and you both walked the rest of the way like that, your hands swinging gently between you. neither of you said anything about it, but beomgyu couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at his lips.

a few days later, you invited beomgyu over to your place to help with some studying. you had an important test coming up, and beomgyu had offered to help you review the material. you both sat on your bed, textbooks spread out in front of you, but as the hours passed, the studying slowly turned into something else. you started playfully quizzing each other, turning the most boring facts into jokes that had you both laughing until your sides hurt. at some point, beomgyu’s head ended up on your lap, and you absentmindedly started running your fingers through his hair while you talked about everything except the test. it felt natural, easy—like you’d done this a thousand times before. neither of you even noticed the time passing until it was late, and beomgyu found himself reluctant to leave.

another day had passed, you and beomgyu are slumped at your place again for another study session. the day had been long and exhausting, and you both needed a break from the relentless grind of academic life. you set up in your room, where you both sank into the comfortable chaos of textbooks and notes strewn about.

as you worked side by side, the air between you felt charged with a different kind of energy than usual. your conversations had taken on a more personal tone, and you found yourselves laughing and teasing each other more frequently. the proximity of being so close, sitting on the edge of your bed with barely any space between you, felt oddly intimate.

eventually, you found yourselves lying back against the pillows, the study session long forgotten. the room was dimly lit by the soft glow of your desk lamp, casting shadows on the walls. you were discussing something trivial, your faces only inches apart, when the conversation started to drift away from the mundane and towards something more personal.

beomgyu’s gaze dropped to your lips, his eyes dark with something you couldn’t quite place. he reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, and the touch was surprisingly gentle. your breath caught, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause around you.

he moved closer, and you felt the warmth of his breath against your skin. it was as if the entire room had shrunk to just the two of you. his lips were so close to yours that you could almost feel the softness of them, but just before the kiss could happen, you instinctively pulled back.

“beomgyu…” you began, but your voice trailed off, unsure of how to voice the confusion and intensity of the moment.

beomgyu didn’t pull away. instead, he held your hand to the side, his fingers intertwined with yours. his eyes were searching yours, and then he slowly lowered his forehead to rest against yours. the touch was light, almost electric, and it made your heart race in a way you hadn’t expected.

he smiled, a goofy, tender smile that seemed to light up his whole face. “we should probably stop before we both do something we’ll regret,” he murmured, his voice warm and soft.

you couldn’t help but smile back, despite the whirlwind of emotions stirring inside you. “yeah,” you said, though the word felt inadequate to describe the mix of feelings bubbling up.

you stayed like that for a while, foreheads touching, hands clasped, sharing a quiet, intimate moment that felt like it was suspended in time. it wasn’t quite a kiss, but it was something that seemed to say more than words ever could. the tension between you both was palpable, but for now, this closeness was enough.

by the end of the week, you both had a habit of texting each other goodnight, a ritual that wasn’t part of the original plan. it had started as a simple check-in, a way to make sure you were both still on the same page with the whole fake dating thing. but soon, the texts became longer, more personal. you’d talk about your day, share random thoughts, and sometimes even vent about things that were bothering you. one night, as you both lay in your respective beds, you texted him about how stressed you were about an upcoming project. without thinking, beomgyu called you, his voice soft and comforting as he reassured you that you’d do great. you talked on the phone until you were both too tired to keep your eyes open, and as you said goodnight, beomgyu realized that he was looking forward to these conversations more than anything else.

each of these moments felt like something more, something real, but neither of you acknowledged it. you both continued the act, telling yourselves that it was all for mari’s sake, but the truth was becoming harder to deny. the time you spent together wasn’t about making someone else jealous anymore—it was about enjoying each other’s company, about the comfort and happiness you found in each other. and the more it happened, the less beomgyu could ignore the fact that his feelings were beginning to shift.

you’re sprinting down the hallways to beomgyu’s dorm room, the excitement bubbling inside you like a pot about to boil over. you’ve agreed to have dinner together, and for some reason, today feels different. the anticipation is almost palpable, and you find yourself grinning as you approach his door.

when you reach his room, beomgyu is already standing outside, waiting for you. as soon as he sees you, his face lights up with a warm, genuine smile. his arms open wide, and you don’t hesitate to leap into his embrace. the hug is snug and comforting, and you relish the moment, closing your eyes and breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne. it feels like a slice of normalcy in the midst of everything else.

but after a few moments, the cozy warmth of the hug starts to feel a bit too intense. you pull back slightly, your mind suddenly racing. why did you react so eagerly? and why were you so excited to see beomgyu in the first place? there’s no way in hell that mari is here, so why did you just jump into his arms like that?

you push the thoughts aside and try to focus on the dinner ahead. beomgyu chats about the new place he found for dinner, and you laugh at his enthusiastic descriptions. but the question lingers in your mind, gnawing at you throughout the evening.

as soon as you woke up the next morning, you decide you need to talk to someone about these confusing feelings. you meet up with your friend in the library, a quiet spot where you can discuss things without too much interruption. you settle into a corner with a stack of textbooks and a cup of coffee, you spill everything. you recount the moments with beomgyu, the playful arguments, the unexpected intimacy, and the recent realization of your growing attachment. you talk about how he’s started to feel like more than just a partner in a fake relationship.

your friend listens intently, her expression shifting from curiosity to something more knowing as you speak. when you finish, she leans back, taking a sip of her coffee before giving you a serious look.

“uh… girl,” she starts, her tone a mix of sympathy and amusement, “you like him.”

the words hit you like a ton of bricks. you stare at her, feeling as if the ground beneath you has suddenly given way. flashbacks of your time with beomgyu flood your mind—his laughter, the way he looked at you, the way he made you feel. the memories you’d convinced yourself were just part of the act now seem so much more significant.

“no,” you say, shaking your head, trying to deny it, but the truth is clear in your heart. “no way. it’s just—”

“it’s not just anything,” your friend interrupts gently. “you’re not just pretending anymore. you’re feeling something real.”

the weight of her words settles over you, and you find yourself sinking into a deep realization. everything you’ve felt for beomgyu, the warmth, the excitement, the moments of genuine connection—they’re not just part of the act. they’ve become something real, something beyond the pretense you started with.

you sit in silence, trying to process the overwhelming truth. the fake relationship you thought was just a game has turned into something you can’t ignore. and now, more than ever, you’re forced to confront the fact that your feelings for beomgyu are anything but fake. your friend reaches over, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “so what are you going to do?”

before you can answer, beomgyu walks into the library, a casual smile on his face. he’s clearly lost in thought, and before you can react, he leans down and plants a soft kiss on your forehead. the gesture is so natural, so unguarded, that it makes your heart skip a beat.

your friend’s eyes widen at the sight, and you feel yourself blushing furiously. you force a smile and quickly stand up, pulling beomgyu out of the library. “hey, let’s go. we’ve got plans.”

beomgyu looks at you with a puzzled expression, but he follows your lead. as you walk down the hall, you can’t help but replay the kiss in your mind, your friend’s words echoing in your ears. you’re left grappling with the realization that your feelings for beomgyu are more than just part of the fake relationship you started. you’re walking side by side with beomgyu, your mind racing with thoughts and emotions. the kiss on your forehead from earlier still lingers in your mind, and the weight of your friend's revelation feels heavier with every step.

as you reach a quiet corner of the campus, you finally stop, turning to face beomgyu. he looks at you, his expression open and curious.

“beomgyu,” you start, trying to steady your voice, “why do you keep doing things like that? like kissing me on the forehead or hugging me? it’s starting to feel... more real, and I need to understand why.”

beomgyu’s face flushes slightly, and he looks genuinely perplexed. “what do you mean? i thought we were just playing the part. i didn’t think it was a big deal.”

“it is a big deal!” you snap, your frustration boiling over. “i thought this was just a game, but it’s like you’re crossing lines without realizing it. and now, i’m confused about everything. about us.”

beomgyu’s eyes widen in surprise, and he opens his mouth to respond, but you cut him off. “you keep acting like you care, but when i try to talk about it, you just brush it off. what am i supposed to think?”

the argument escalates, voices rising as you both express your frustrations. emotions are raw and tangled, and neither of you is entirely sure how to untangle them.

just as you’re about to turn and walk away, beomgyu reaches out and grabs your hand, his grip gentle but firm. “wait,” he says quietly, his voice almost a whisper. “i… i don’t know why i do that myself.”

the simple, honest admission hits you hard. your eyes fill with tears, and you struggle to keep your composure. you were expecting something that would make you want to run into his arms, to hear something that would make sense of your feelings. but instead, his words are a confirmation of your fears—that he’s just as confused as you are.

you pull your hand away, your tears threatening to spill over. “if you don’t know why you’re doing this, then how am i supposed to understand? i need more than uncertainty, beomgyu. i need to know where we stand.”

beomgyu looks at you, his own confusion evident. “but... i thought... i thought we had something. i wanted to... i don’t know, i wanted to be close to you. is this too much?”

the sincerity in his voice makes your heart ache, but you can’t ignore the clarity you need. you take a step back, shaking your head. “well then i need to figure things out for myself, i guess. let go of my hand, please.”

with that, you turn and walk away, leaving beomgyu standing there, his face a mixture of hurt and confusion. he watches you go, the weight of the moment settling heavily on his shoulders. he’s left alone, grappling with his own tangled feelings and the realization that he doesn’t have all the answers.

as you disappear from view, beomgyu is left in a storm of his own emotions. he’s unsure of what he really wants or why he’s acted the way he has, but he knows he misses the clarity and the connection he had with you.

just like that, you were gone from beomgyu’s life. each day without him felt like a piece of you had been torn away, leaving a raw ache that settled deep in your bones. it was an emptiness that you didn’t know how to fill, a gnawing pain that woke you up in the middle of the night and made your days feel like a blur. you tried to push it away, to ignore the memories that crept in at the edges of your mind, but they were relentless. the way beomgyu had looked at you, the way he had said he thought you had something—it haunted you. it made you feel sick to your stomach, a twisting, nauseating sensation that wouldn’t leave.

this wasn’t what you had planned. none of this was supposed to happen. you were supposed to play the part, help him out, and move on. you weren’t supposed to fall in love with him.

the last day of the week finally arrived, and with it came the same dull ache that had been with you since you last spoke to beomgyu. you had been avoiding him, avoiding his friends, avoiding everything that reminded you of him. but it was impossible to avoid your own thoughts. they swirled around you, suffocating and relentless.

you hadn’t planned on seeing beomgyu again so soon, but he had tried to talk to you just a day after your confrontation. you had thought that maybe, just maybe, you could clear the air. but it had only made everything worse.

the memory of that conversation played over and over in your mind like a broken record.

“what are we, really? what do you want us to be?” you had asked him, your voice trembling with nerves. you hated how vulnerable you felt, how exposed.

he had looked down, his brows furrowed as if he was deep in thought. but to you, it felt like he was stalling, like he didn’t know what to say—or worse, like he didn’t care enough to say anything.

“you’re still in love with her, right?” the words had slipped out before you could stop them. you had forced a smile, trying to lighten the mood, but it felt hollow. “funny of me, i almost forgot why we’re here in the first place.”

he didn’t respond, and his silence felt like a knife twisting in your chest.

“well,” you had said, standing up to leave, “i guess we can let everybody know that we’ve already broken up, yeah?” you tried to sound casual, but your voice wavered.

that’s when he had finally looked up, and you had seen it—his eyes were red, swollen, like he had spent the night crying. your heart had twisted at the sight, but you couldn’t bring yourself to ask him about it. you had convinced yourself it was because of mari.

“what?” he had whispered, his voice cracking.

“let’s break the deal. this is where we draw the line, beomgyu.” you had forced a smile, trying to hide the tears that were threatening to spill over. “one of our deals was not to fall, right? well, it broke. i broke it.”

you had laughed bitterly, trying to brush it off, but the pain was too real, too raw.

and then, in the softest whisper, he had said, “and if i told you i broke it first?”

you hadn’t heard him clearly. the wind had chosen that exact moment to gust past, carrying his words away. “what?” you had asked, your heart pounding in your chest, desperate to understand, but at the same time terrified of what he might say.

he chuckled to himself, a bitter, hollow sound that made your skin prickle with unease. it was as if the universe had conspired against him, against the both of you, making sure that this moment, this crucial confession, was lost to the wind. the absurdity of it all struck him, and his chuckle turned into a resigned laugh, a sound that held no joy, only the weight of what could have been.

“what?” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper, the situation feeling more and more surreal by the second. the laughter that bubbled out of him only deepened the confusion, as if the universe was playing some cruel joke on you both.

but he had stayed silent after that, his gaze dropping to the ground, a heavy, unspoken truth lingering in the space between you. it was like he had accepted the inevitable, that the universe had already made its decision, and fighting it was pointless.

you stood there for a moment, waiting, hoping he might say something—anything—that would make sense of this mess, but nothing came. the silence was deafening, a void that swallowed any last remnants of hope you had left.“i’m going now,” you finally said, your voice trembling as you turned your back on him, trying to keep your composure. you couldn’t bear to stay any longer, not when the weight of unspoken words hung so heavily in the air. “congrats on winning her again in advance.”

and with those words, you walked away, leaving beomgyu standing there, the echo of your footsteps fading into the distance as he watched you disappear. a part of you hoped he would call out to you, stop you, explain himself. but he didn’t, and that silence spoke louder than any words ever could. you didn’t see the way beomgyu looked at you, didn’t hear him whisper, “fucking coward…” to himself.

since that day, you had done everything you could to avoid him. but rumors had a way of finding you, and when you heard that mari had been seen with beomgyu again, it had felt like a punch to the gut. you had told yourself it was just gossip, that people were reading too much into things. but now, standing there in the hallway, frozen in place, you couldn’t deny what you were seeing.

there they were—mari and beomgyu, walking together, her arm looped around his as if nothing had ever happened, as if you had never existed in his life.

fuck.

the sight of them together sent a wave of nausea crashing over you. you barely made it to the nearest bathroom before the bile rose in your throat. you retched, your stomach heaving violently, but nothing came out. it wasn’t food poisoning or heartburn. it was heartbreak, pure and simple, tearing you apart from the inside out.

you gripped the edge of the sink, breathing heavily, trying to steady yourself. you couldn’t let this get to you. you were stronger than this. you knew these feelings would fade eventually, but right now, they felt like they were drowning you.

you splashed cold water on your face, trying to wash away the tears that had mingled with your sweat. when you looked up into the mirror, you barely recognized the person staring back at you. your eyes were red-rimmed, your face pale, and you looked… broken.

“get a grip,” you whispered to yourself, your voice shaky. “you’re more than this. you’re more than him.”

but even as you said the words, you didn’t believe them. the image of mari wrapped around beomgyu was seared into your mind, a painful reminder that you had fallen for someone who was never yours to begin with.

you took a deep breath, trying to gather your strength. you couldn’t fall apart now. not when you had been so close to moving on, to putting this all behind you. but the truth was, you weren’t ready. you didn’t know when you would be. all you knew was that the pain was still there, lurking just beneath the surface, waiting for any excuse to pull you back under.

as you stared at your reflection, you realized that you had two choices. you could let this destroy you, or you could find a way to move on. but how do you move on from something that was never real to begin with? how do you heal from a wound that was self-inflicted, from a love that was built on lies?

the questions swirled in your mind, unanswered and unrelenting. you didn’t have the answers yet, but you knew one thing for certain—you couldn’t keep going like this. something had to change. you had to find a way to let go of beomgyu, even if it felt like tearing your own heart out in the process.

the days passed slowly, each one dragging you further into a state of numbness. it was as if the world had lost its color, everything dull and muted in the wake of your heartbreak. and every time you saw beomgyu with mari, that numbness would briefly be shattered, replaced by a sharp, stabbing pain that left you breathless.

the first time after that hallway encounter, you saw them at the coffee shop near campus. they were sitting at a table by the window, mari laughing at something beomgyu had said. you froze in your tracks, heart pounding in your chest. and then beomgyu looked up, his eyes meeting yours. there was something in his gaze, something you couldn’t quite place. it wasn’t guilt, but it wasn’t indifference either. it was something that made your stomach twist in knots, something you didn’t want to identify, didn’t want to recognize.

you quickly turned away, pretending you hadn’t seen them, and hurried out of the coffee shop, your chest tight with the effort of holding back tears.

the next time, it was in the library. you had been trying to focus on your work, burying yourself in your studies to distract yourself from the thoughts of beomgyu that never seemed to leave you alone. and then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw them—mari and beomgyu, walking down one of the aisles, his hand resting lightly on her back as they searched for a book.

you tried to look away, to focus on the words in front of you, but your eyes betrayed you, flickering back to them again and again. and then, as if he could feel your gaze, beomgyu looked over at you. again, that look. that look that held something you couldn’t decipher, something that made your heart clench painfully in your chest.

you quickly gathered your things and left the library, your hands shaking as you tried to hold yourself together.

and then there was the time in the cafeteria, when you saw them sitting together at a table, sharing a meal. beomgyu’s eyes met yours as soon as you walked in, and for a moment, it felt like the whole world had stopped. there was that look again, the one that made you feel like you were on the verge of understanding something, but the moment you reached for it, it slipped away, leaving you more confused and hurt than before.

you didn’t stay in the cafeteria. you couldn’t. you turned on your heel and walked out, the ache in your chest growing stronger with each passing day.

it was unbearable, this constant reminder of what you had lost, of what you had never truly had in the first place. and every time you saw them together, it felt like a fresh wound, reopening the pain you had been trying so hard to heal.

but what hurt the most was that look in beomgyu’s eyes. that look that you couldn’t understand, that you didn’t want to understand. because deep down, you knew that if you tried to figure it out, if you tried to decipher what it meant, you would only end up hurting yourself more.

so you avoided him as best you could, avoided the places you knew he would be, avoided the people who might mention him. but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t avoid the memories, couldn’t avoid the thoughts that haunted you day and night.

and every time you saw him, every time you caught that look in his eyes, it felt like the ground was slipping out from under you, like you were falling all over again. but this time, there was no one to catch you. no one to stop the pain from tearing you apart.and so, you kept running, kept trying to escape the feelings that threatened to consume you. but no matter how far you ran, you couldn’t outrun the truth. you had fallen for beomgyu, and now you were paying the price.

you were tucked away in the quietest corner of the library, the soft rustle of pages turning the only sound accompanying your thoughts. you’d chosen this spot deliberately, hoping to escape into your books and leave everything else behind. but even in the silence, your mind was anything but quiet. every word you read seemed to dissolve into thoughts of him—of beomgyu, and the way he had infiltrated your every waking moment.

the door to the library creaked open, but you didn’t look up. you heard footsteps approaching, slow and deliberate, until they stopped right beside you. the chair opposite you scraped against the floor as it was pulled out. you didn’t need to look to know who it was. you could tell by the way the air seemed to shift around you, by the way your pulse quickened involuntarily.

“mari’s not here,” you said flatly, eyes still fixed on the page in front of you.

“i know,” beomgyu’s voice was quiet, almost hesitant. “i’m not here for her.”

“then who?” you finally turned a page, though you hadn’t read a single word.

“you. i need to talk to you.”

you clenched your jaw, refusing to look at him. “we’ve already talked.”

there was a brief pause, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer. “please?”

“what did i say?” you mumbled, your resolve wavering slightly.

he shifted in his seat, leaning closer. “can you at least look at me while you say it?” he whispered, the proximity of his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

you took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words pressing against your heart. “fine,” you said, finally lifting your gaze to meet his. “no. i don’t want to talk to you.”

beomgyu’s eyes searched yours, as if trying to find something, anything, that might contradict your words. “come on,” he said softly, his voice laced with a kind of desperation you weren’t used to hearing from him. “one last time?”

you stared at him for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest. “say it here,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

beomgyu bit his lip, his expression troubled as he looked down at the table, gathering his thoughts. He took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling as if he was about to say something that had been weighing on him for a long time. “look, i know you’ve been seeing mari and i around these past few days and—”

“and i don’t care,” you cut him off, the words coming out harsher than you intended. you looked away again, trying to ignore the sting of tears that threatened to spill.

he pursed his lips, his eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. “i know you don’t,” he said quietly. “but i… i care about what you think.”

his words hit you like a punch to the gut, knocking the air out of your lungs. you froze, your mind reeling as you tried to comprehend what he had just said. there was something in his voice, something raw and vulnerable that you hadn’t expected. and just like that, all the walls you had built around your heart started to crumble.

panic surged through you, and without thinking, you stood up abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. you didn’t care that people were staring, didn’t care about the noise you’d made. all you cared about was getting away from him, from the confusion and the pain that threatened to consume you.

you ran out of the library, your footsteps echoing through the empty halls as you made your way to the school field. the sky was already painted in hues of gray and blue as the sun began to set, but you barely noticed. you stopped in the middle of the field, doubling over as you tried to catch your breath, your heart pounding in your chest.

you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to force the tears back, but it was no use. they fell anyway, hot and heavy, as you let out a shaky breath. you hated this feeling, this sinking sensation in your chest that made you feel like you were being swallowed whole. why did he have to say that? why did he have to make things even more complicated when you were already trying so hard to move on?

you exhaled loudly, swiping at the tears that kept escaping despite your best efforts. and then you heard it—the sound of footsteps pounding against the grass, getting closer and closer. you didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. you could feel his presence before you even saw him.

when you finally did turn, there he was—beomgyu, panting as he stopped in his tracks a few feet away from you. his hair was slightly disheveled, and there was a desperate look in his eyes that made your heart twist painfully in your chest.

“why do you have to do this?” you asked, your voice cracking.

“do what?” beomgyu said, still trying to catch his breath.

“this,” you gestured between the two of you, your voice thick with emotion. “why can’t you just leave me alone?”

he looked at you, his brows furrowed in confusion. “what do you mean?”

“fuck, can’t you understand that i’m avoiding you?” you said, your voice rising with frustration.

“i know,” he admitted, his eyes never leaving yours. “that’s what i’m wondering.”

you let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “wondering? you’re actually wondering why i’m avoiding you?”

“yes,” he said, his voice tinged with desperation. “why? why are you avoiding me?”

before you could answer, a loud crack of thunder echoed in the distance, and as if on cue, the sky opened up, rain pouring down in thick sheets. you could barely hear anything over the roar of the storm, but you could still hear him. you could still hear the hurt in his voice, the confusion, the desperation.

“you’re supposed to be fine now,” you said, your voice trembling. “mari’s back. you have her back already. don’t break a sweat over me.”

beomgyu took a step closer, the rain soaking through his clothes, but he didn’t seem to care. “why did you stop seeing me after that day?” he asked, his voice barely audible over the downpour.

you shook your head, refusing to meet his gaze. “didn’t you hear me? go back to mari now.”

but he didn’t move. instead, he took another step closer, his eyes locked onto yours. “why did you stop seeing me after that day?” he asked again, his voice firmer this time, demanding an answer.

you swallowed hard, your heart racing in your chest. you could feel the tears mixing with the rain on your cheeks, could feel the way your resolve was slowly crumbling under his gaze. “because i crossed the line,” you finally whispered, the words barely making it past your lips.

beomgyu’s eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, he was silent, the rain continuing to pour down around you. then, he spoke, his voice soft, almost tender. “did you even ask if i crossed the line too?”

you looked up at him, your breath catching in your throat. “what?” you asked, your voice barely audible over the rain.

“you didn’t even ask if i crossed the line too,” he repeated, his eyes searching yours for some kind of understanding.

“why would i?” you asked, your voice wavering. “why would i ask that?”

“because i was waiting,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “i was waiting for you to ask me. until now. i was waiting, y/n.”

you stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. the rain was coming down harder now, soaking through your clothes, but you barely noticed. all you could see was him—all you could hear were his words, echoing in your mind.

“waiting for what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, could feel the way his words were slowly breaking down the walls you had built around your heart.

beomgyu took another step closer, and now he was only inches away from you. his hand reached out, hesitating for a moment before gently cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear that had mixed with the rain. “i was waiting for you to ask me,” he repeated softly, his voice full of emotion. “because i wanted you to know that i crossed the line too. i crossed it the moment i realized i cared about you more than i ever cared about anyone else.”

your breath hitched in your throat, your mind reeling as you tried to process his words. “what are you saying?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“i’m saying that mari and i aren’t back together,” beomgyu said, his eyes locked onto yours. “we never were. we both decided we didn’t want to get back together. and do you know why?”

you shook your head, unable to speak, unable to think.

“because i realized that what i wanted—what i needed—was you,” he said, his voice breaking slightly on the last word.

you felt your heart skip a beat, your breath catching in your throat. “beomgyu…” you started, but he cut you off.

“no, listen to me,” he said, his voice urgent. “i know i’ve hurt you. i know i’ve made mistakes. but i need you to understand that this… this thing between us, it’s not something i can just ignore. it’s not something i want to ignore.”

“but i can’t…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“why?” beomgyu asked, his eyes searching yours, desperate for an answer.

“yeah, i was also wondering why?” yeonjun’s voice snapped him back to reality, breaking the heavy silence with an uncomfortable question. his arm was lazily draped around his girlfriend’s shoulder, fingers tracing slow circles on her arm like it was the easiest thing in the world.

beomgyu’s shoulders tensed. he tried to shrug it off, but the weight of the past still clung to him, suffocating. “i don’t know,” he muttered, forcing a weak smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “can we just... change the topic?”

his friends exchanged glances. the table fell into an awkward silence, the kind that makes you painfully aware of every second dragging by. beomgyu could feel the weight of their stares, each one laced with concern, curiosity... and pity. god, he hated pity.

soobin was the first to speak up, his voice soft but probing, “don’t tell us you still haven’t moved on?”

beomgyu’s jaw clenched. he didn’t answer. instead, he dropped his gaze to his phone, scrolling aimlessly through the home screen—anything to avoid meeting their eyes. the memories of you, of that night, of your final words, were like ghosts that refused to leave him alone.

“come on, gyu,” taehyun chimed in, leaning forward with that look of hesitant sympathy. “it’s been years. you can’t keep... holding on.”

but beomgyu didn’t respond. his thumb hovered over the screen, frozen. he couldn’t tell them that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t let go. that the thought of you—your voice, your smile, your scent—still haunted him.

and then, he heard it. a voice. not just any voice, but a name, your name, cutting through the low hum of the party like a punch to the gut.

his heart stuttered. slowly, he lifted his head, searching through the crowd, scanning faces. and that’s when he saw you. or rather, your back—long, wavy hair cascading down, brushing just above your waist. you were wearing a black silk dress, elegant and simple, the kind of dress that made you look effortlessly beautiful.

he blinked, trying to convince himself he was hallucinating, that it couldn’t be you. but then you turned.

and there it was. that smile. the smile he hadn’t seen in years but could still picture perfectly.

the room around him seemed to blur, the voices of his friends fading into the background. everything, everyone, became a distant hum as his eyes locked onto you. it was like the world had pressed pause, and all that existed was you.

“gyu?” yeonjun’s girlfriend whispered, gently nudging him. “you okay?”

he wasn’t. he wasn’t okay at all.

because there you were, laughing, hugging someone, completely unaware of him, and it hit him all over again. the overwhelming realization that you had moved on, that your life had continued without him in it. the years of unanswered questions, of wondering what could’ve been, came crashing down.

“is that...?” kai trailed off, squinting at you from across the room.

“it is,” soobin said quietly. “it’s y/n.”

beomgyu swallowed hard. his throat was dry, his palms clammy. he didn’t know what to do, how to react. he had imagined this moment—seeing you again—a hundred times in his head. but none of those versions had prepared him for the way his heart would ache, seeing you look so... happy.

he caught a glimpse of your face as you turned, your smile lighting up the room—god, that smile. it was the same one that used to make his heart race, the one he’d replay in his mind for years after you disappeared. but this time, something was different. you weren’t just any girl in the crowd; you were you, the one person who knew him in ways no one else ever could.

his heart pounded in his chest as your eyes flickered over to him, and for a split second, your gazes locked. there was a flash of something in your eyes—something unmistakable, like recognition mixed with longing—but then, almost instantly, you looked away, breaking the connection as if it had burned you.

beomgyu’s breath caught. he saw it, that hesitation, that tiny crack in the facade. it wasn’t just indifference; it was fear. fear of what? of him? of the past? or maybe—just perhaps—of the feelings you were trying so hard to bury.

you turned to the friend beside you, laughing at something she said, but beomgyu knew. he knew that look, that nervous shift in your posture, the way your fingers tugged at the hem of your dress as if grounding yourself. you were avoiding him—not because you didn’t care, but because you cared too much.

and that realization hit him harder than he expected.

he wanted to walk over, to say something, anything that could close the distance between you, but his legs felt like lead. the years of unresolved tension, the things left unsaid, all weighed down on him, keeping him rooted in place.

“gyu?” soobin’s voice broke through his daze, soft and full of concern. “you okay, man?”

but beomgyu barely heard him. his mind was consumed by the look you had given him, the way you’d turned away, not out of indifference, but out of fear. you were scared—just like him.

and now, for the first time in years, he wasn’t sure whether that made things easier... or infinitely harder.

you knew it was only a matter of time before the inevitable happened. after a few polite exchanges with old classmates and empty laughter at jokes you weren’t really listening to, you slipped away from the crowd. outside, the cold gleam of the moonlight bathed the night, offering a quiet escape from the chaos inside.

you leaned against the railing, the cool night air brushing against your skin, making it prickle. the muffled sounds of laughter and conversation from the party felt distant, like they belonged to someone else’s life. out here, everything seemed easier—away from the noise, away from the weight of the past. but then you heard footsteps approaching, and you knew that brief moment of peace was about to end.

you felt his presence before you even saw him. it was the way the air subtly shifted—the familiar, electric tension that always seemed to fill the space between you and him.

and now, here he was, standing just a few feet away, the same intensity in his gaze that always made your heart race. there was no avoiding it this time. this conversation, this closure—it had been hanging in the air for too long, waiting to happen.

beomgyu stopped beside you, his presence unmistakable, even without a word. neither of you spoke for a moment, both too aware of the unfinished business lingering between you. it was inevitable—you knew this conversation was coming the moment you saw him tonight. you just didn’t expect it to feel this hard.

“been a while,” he finally said, his voice quiet, like he didn’t want to disturb the fragile calm of the night.

“yeah,” you replied, eyes still fixed on the skyline ahead. “it has.”

more silence. you could sense him struggling to find the right words, just like you were. it was strange how, after everything, the words seemed harder now than they had ever been.

“i saw you inside,” he started again, hands shoved deep in his pockets. “wasn’t expecting that.”

you let out a small breath, not quite a laugh. “neither was i.”

his gaze flicked over to you, and even though you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, you could feel it—could feel the weight of it, how he was waiting for something. an explanation maybe. or maybe just permission to ask the questions he hadn’t been able to all this time.

“why did you leave?” he finally asked, the question hanging between you, unfinished and unresolved.

your grip tightened on the railing, and you stared hard at the city lights, hoping they’d provide some kind of answer. “i don’t know,” you said, though you both knew that wasn’t the full truth. “i guess… it was too much. everything. you and me, what happened… i couldn’t handle it.”

beomgyu didn’t say anything right away, and you could tell he was processing it, trying to figure out what you really meant. “but you never gave me a chance to fix it,” he said quietly, almost like he was afraid of sounding bitter.

you nodded, biting the inside of your cheek. “i know. i thought… if i left, maybe it would be easier for both of us.”

he let out a low, humorless laugh. “easier? is that what you thought?”

“i don’t know what i thought,” you admitted, finally turning to face him. the way his expression shifted when your eyes met—it was like seeing all the pieces of something broken but still sharp, still able to cut. “i wasn’t ready, gyu. i couldn’t keep up with how fast things were going, and instead of telling you that, i ran.”

he watched you for a moment, his lips pressed together like he was holding back everything he’d wanted to say for years. “and what about now?”

the question was simple, but it carried so much weight. what about now? were things really any different? had time changed anything? you wanted to say something definitive, something that would make sense of the mess you’d left behind, but the truth was, you didn’t know. you hadn’t let yourself think about it for so long.

“i don’t know,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

he let out a long breath, his shoulders sagging just a little. “you know, it wasn’t about me choosing you back then,” he said, his voice more measured now, quieter. “i chose you, but it felt like you didn’t choose me. and i get it, i didn’t know what you were going through. but you didn’t give me a chance to understand.”

his words hit hard because they were true. you hadn’t chosen him, not really. not when it counted.

“i was scared,” you admitted. “of what we had. how much it mattered. i didn’t want to mess it up, so i thought leaving would keep things from getting worse.”

he nodded, a slow, deliberate motion like he was processing the layers of it. “and did it?”

you shook your head. “no.”

the silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was heavy with everything unsaid. you both stood there, letting the moment stretch between you, the years of distance and unresolved feelings catching up.

“so what now?” he asked, the question open-ended, without any pressure or expectations behind it. he wasn’t asking for a second chance. he wasn’t asking for you to make a decision right here, right now. it was more like he was asking if there was still a way forward, whatever that might look like.

“i don’t know, gyu,” you said honestly, looking down at the space between your feet. “i don’t know what happens next. but i didn’t come here expecting… this. to talk to you. to face all of this again.”

“me neither,” he said softly. “but here we are.”

another pause. you both knew this wasn’t something that could be fixed tonight, maybe not even ever. but there was a calm in the way he was looking at you now, like he wasn’t trying to fix it. he just wanted to understand, to finally have some clarity, even if it was incomplete.

“i didn’t expect seeing you again to still feel like this,” you said quietly, more to yourself than to him.

he smiled then—not a wide smile, not even a particularly happy one, but one that showed a kind of quiet acceptance. “yeah. me too.”

you weren’t sure what to say next, if there was anything left to say. but the air between you felt lighter now, less heavy with the weight of what you had both been carrying for so long.

“maybe we weren’t ready back then,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence. “maybe we needed the time apart. but if i’m being honest, i never stopped thinking about what could’ve been.”

you looked at him, really looked at him this time, and saw the quiet honesty in his expression. “me too,” you admitted.

beomgyu let out a small sigh, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, like he wasn’t used to being this open. “it’s weird, right? how time changes things, but also doesn’t. i thought by now i’d have it all figured out. but here i am, still trying to make sense of it.”

“i guess we’re both still figuring it out,” you said, offering a small smile.

he glanced at you, his expression soft but serious. “whatever happens next… i just want you to know that you didn’t mess anything up. at least, not in the way you think. maybe we didn’t work out back then, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t important to me. you still are.”

the weight of his words settled between you, but it wasn’t suffocating. it felt… freeing, in a way.

“thank you,” you said quietly, not knowing what else to say, but feeling the sincerity of his words sink in.

beomgyu’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, then he nodded. “i guess this is where we leave it for now.”

you nodded in return, knowing that this conversation wasn’t about a grand reconciliation or a definitive ending. it was just… what it was. two people who had shared something, acknowledging that they didn’t have all the answers but were willing to let the uncertainty hang between them without needing to force it into something more.

“take care of yourself,” you said softly, the words feeling right even though they were simple.

“you too,” he replied, and for a moment, you could swear there was a flicker of something more in his eyes. not hope exactly, but not closure either.

and as he walked away, disappearing back into the party, you stood there, feeling lighter than you had in years. the future was uncertain, but for the first time, that uncertainty didn’t feel so heavy.

maybe, just maybe, there was room for something new between you both—whatever that might be.

and for now, that was enough.

gyo's note: hey guys! first off, i owe you all an apology for not posting in such a long time. uni has been absolutely hectic, and balancing everything has been a bit overwhelming. i’ve missed being here and sharing my stories with you all, but i needed to focus on my studies for a bit. i hope you understand. to make sure i stay consistent without falling behind in uni, i’ve decided to post twice a month—every tuesday and thursday. this way, i can still share updates and new stories with you all without compromising my schedule too much. i hope this works for everyone!

✮ 2024 gyorouis, all rights reserved.

[y2beom]

smau ; right place, wrong person.

pairing ; idol!beomgyu x gn!reader

summary ; in which a failed proposal at a txt send-off leads y/n to beomgyu, who can't help but meddle a little bit.

genre ; idol!au, strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff & crack, beomgyu being a menace.

featuring ; txt(ofc), sunghoon & jay and jake from enha, dino from svt, probably more enhypen and svt cameos.

warnings ; profanity, suicide jokes, attempt at humour, secondhand embarrassment (only first chapter lol), limited to no knowledge of an editor job, this plot started as a silly little joke in a conversation with my friend - fangs lu 4 da help!1

author's note ; this is my first fic pls dont eat me. also ignore time stamps pls the app is hard to manage T_T

start ; 24 june 2024 status ; in progress

profiles

⤷ enha kidnappers ‼️ ⤷ TUBATU TEAM

zero ; hybe hates ME

one ; this is awkward (written 1.06k)

two ; i sent a spy

three ; pack your bags x

four ; dig a hole and rot in it

five ; he'd start barking and snarling

six ; hot enough to steal my girlfriend

seven ; JAKE and others

eight ; beomgyu's a loser

nine ; choi beomgyu in your dms

ten ; you div

eleven: bro's begging

twelve: just got scammed by enhypen

thirteen: this y/n person

fourteen: WHY IS THERE A TIGER IN Y/N'S HOUSE

fifteen: y/n in da washig machine

sixteen: i've lost the battle

seventeen: seungcheol giving bias

eighteen: ok alpha calm down

current taglist ; OPEN @serenityism00 @choppedballoondetective @starchasing-cryptid @lun4kazumii @xoxobela @calx-bdo @junhuicosmo @noraimp @isa942572 @huethusiasm @miyawwn @kumabeom @darlingz99 @redsockssuck @woncheecks @flowzel @sugawara-levi @20-cms @paradiseoflosers @222brainrot @blossommi

[y2beom]

— coffee :: c.bg

warning(s): gn!reader x idol!beomgyu, reader is insecure and never had a healthy relationship before, mentions of work stress, insecurity, vulnerability

wc: ~600

voice laced with honey. eyes as dark as a shot of freshly pressed espeesso. hair similar in softness to the foamed milk.

he brought that cozy cafe smell and aura to your life, helping you settle in a safe and comfortable way you previously thought impossible.

“what are you thinking about?” beomgyu smiles from behind his cup, taking a sip of the hot coffee he ordered not too long ago.

you place yours back on the table you two were sitting at, “nothing, really… but if i was being completely honest— you.”

his eyes grow bigger, filling with love and sparkling with curiosity, “me?”

“yeah,” nods you. “just how much you really helped me.. how much you remind me of this place really.”

“we met here, baby. of course i’d remind you of this cafe,” beomgyu laughs a bit, face crickling up.

“i know,” a smile appears on your face. “you’re just... safe to be around. does that even make sense? i’ve never felt that way about anyone. you make it easy to be myself and be vulnerable. it’s something i’ve found hard to do in the past.”

a hand suddenly comes to caress your cheek, thumb rubbing against your skin like it’s trying to remember every little detail, “you have no idea how much i feel the same about you.”

your world stops, freezing in a time where it’s just you and your boyfriend touching your face. both sets of eyes are looking into each other, filled with admiration towards the other. neither of you move or say anything for what seems like hours.

that is until he gives you a smile, patting your cheek with his pointer finger a couple of times, “drink your coffee or it’ll get cold.”

“no,” you whisper once the warm touch disappears. without a second thought, your hand grips his wrist, forcing his touch to return back to it’s rightful place. “i want to be in the moment… please, beom.”

he gives you a soft smile and nods, moving closer to you. the gentle rub of his thumb returns after a few seconds, giving the comfort that you needed. “you make me want to drop everything so that i could do this with you forever.”

“what’s stopping that?” you mumble, face leaning into his touch a bit more as he laughs.

“work.”

a simple statement, but carries a heavy load on the both of you. it was all he needed to remind you just how stressful his life could be. but instead of fighting back with a playful manner that you usually would, you close your eyes and breathe in the scent of his touch.

he finds solace and safety in you, knowing that when he comes home after a stressful day, you wouldn’t press as many demands on him like his work would. surrounding himself with the peace of you grounds him and reassures him sometimes that he does enjoy his work— he just needed a break.

meanwhile you find comfort and safety in him. you haven’t been in a relationship that has worked in your favor until you met beomgyu. his words of affirmations calming your insecurities and they reassure you that you are indeed loved and not being taken advantage of in the slightest.

beomgyu tests the waters after a while and nudges your hand with his free one towards your coffee cup, “finish up so we can go home, yeah? we can cuddle all you want then.”

[y2beom]

made me curl my toes stop

SLEIGHT OF HAND | LYNEY

summary you will not let lyney get to you. unfortunately, lyney already got to you the moment you met eyes. after all, what is a magician if not an expert in stealing hearts?

or, local sumeru architect goes to fontaine looking for inspiration and comes out of it with three rainbow roses and a crushing magician.

warnings 13+, gn!reader, follows the fontaine archon quest, so there are major spoilers throughout the entire fic! MURDER (lyney trial spoilers) + feminine french pet names ough + bff!Aether loml + sweet talker lyney + KISS SCENE (suggestive)

notes 8K words. thank u to my french bff art @aanobrain who said lyney is a magician he would say mon lapin 🤧❤️ + other various french pet names. thank u to ellie hyomagiri & earthtooz too for hyping this up, my supporters…

“500,000!?”

Sumeru streets are always bustling with its people—from children skipping around the neighborhood to frantic scholars who zip back and forth before returning to their homes when the moon is high. However, the sun is beating down on everyone right now: street vendors are making a profit, dogs are barking as they play fetch with laughing children, and you stand across the blond traveler and his floating companion.

You wince at the volume of Paimon’s shrill voice, inciting bypassers to send miffed glances your way. Embarrassed, you cover the side of your face with a hand, whispering, “Is—is that not enough? I can—”

“No, no, it’s not that!” Paimon’s arms flail around, eyes blown comically wide. “It’s just, you know, more than what we earn from our daily commissions combined!”

“Oh, I see.” you nod, relieved. “Well, I can lower—”

“No, no, no, no,” Paimon interjects hurriedly, and even the traveler shakes his head. “Pleasure to do business with you! Paimon and Aether, at your service!”

“Really?” you can’t believe your luck—the traveler himself agreed to escort you to Fontaine! Or does it count if Paimon agrees on his behalf? “That's a relief. Even Katheryne of the guild had a strange expression when I posted my commission.”

“It’s probably because of the amount of zeroes you might’ve accidentally put,” Paimon murmurs.

Aether tugs on her foot as if warning her. “We'll be leaving soon. Are you prepared?”

“Oh, yes. My stuff’s over there by the bench, you see?”

Aether and Paimon’s faces simultaneously fall. “All of that?” Paimon starts counting it, gaping when she has four little fingers held up.

They sure complain a lot. “You can still back out.”

Aether takes a deep breath, making his way over to your luggage. When he brushes past, you hear him chanting 500,000; 500,000; 500,000 under his breath. He wordlessly carries all of them, his chest puffed and expression grave.

“They’re heavier than I thought,” Aether wheezes out as Paimon flits worriedly around him. “How long are you going to be staying in Fontaine?”

“Oh, just a day or two, maybe,” you say, taking pity and taking one bag from him. “Most of what’s inside are art supplies.”

“Ah,” Aether says.

“500,000,” Paimon reminds him.

“We’re close,” Paimon says, flying back to where you and Aether are still walking behind, him heaving and you offering water now and then. “I saw a huge ravine-looking view! It was like a city on a waterfall!”

“R-Really?” Aether puffs out a breath, sweat rolling off his temple.

You tried prying some of your bags away from him when it seemed like there were monsters up ahead, but he refused instead to fight them with one hand on his sword. He still won. You guessed that he was trying to make traveling easier for you, yet all you felt was immense worry.

“Are you feeling okay, Y/N?” Paimon asks, floating beside you. “You look unwell.” You should ask your companion that, instead.

“I’m a bit nervous. After all, it’s my first time traveling outside of Sumeru.” You smile, patting her head. She doesn’t seem to mind, beaming back. “But I need to get out of my comfort zone to be better, right?”

“That's right! Paimon has a feeling you’ll enjoy Fontaine!” You and Paimon glance at Aether when he heaves a heavy breath, yet he only waves the pair of you off with his free hand. “Before you know it, you’ll be itching to travel again once you’re back in Sumeru.”

“I'm only there for work. I just need to learn a lot, and then I'll enjoy it.”

“Still a student through and through, huh…”

“I can see it,” Aether chimes in, looking all too relieved to rest his arm finally. “I can see Fontaine up ahead.”

You feel the cool breeze brush against your face, a refreshing change from the past hours you and the other two have been trudging through the desert. You could strip off layers and dive if you could. You can make out the harbor even miles away, pouring water out like an endless waterfall stretching for miles.

Arriving in Fontaine is introducing yourself to the rustle of layered skirts, the water-kissed smell, and citizens left and right babbling about tragic endings and thrilling climaxes.

Aether sets your bags on the floor with a heavy exhale. Paimon feeds him with another jug of water.

“I guess we’re here now.” You pull out a heavy pouch you’ve been keeping in one of the bags Aether had been holding over his shoulder. Paimon takes it with greedy, greedy hands. “Thank you for keeping me safe and carrying my luggage, Traveler— are you even listening to me?”

“There’s a girl over there,” Aether says, now staring ahead.

You and Paimon turn to look; sure enough, someone is standing by the edge, looking forlornly over the water. Half of her foot is off the platform, making Paimon fidget.

She gasps. “She isn’t going to jump into the water, is she? Maybe we should go check on her…”

Halfway through Paimon’s sentence, you gathered the courage to speak to the girl with the cat ears.

“Hey, miss.” Her ear twitches. “Is something the matter?”

She turns, looking faintly surprised. If you weren’t so close to her, you wouldn’t have been able to tell there was a change in her expression. “I'm fine. thank you.”

“Oh.” Now things are a little awkward. “Is there something in the water you’re looking at? You might slip if you keep tipping forward.”

She peers below, unworried—silent.

“As long as you’re okay, I guess,” you sigh, awkwardly hovering above her shoulder when realizing it might come off strange if you touch her. “I’ll leave you be.”

Her lips twitch, something close to a smile. You don’t stick long enough to admire it, heading back to Aether and Paimon and shrugging at their inquisitive looks. “She says she’s fine.”

“I think it’s time for me to separate,” you say. “I want to take all of it in as much as possible. Paimon has my payment. Thank you both so much for keeping me safe.” Mostly Aether, though. But Paimon was there, emotionally.

“It’s no problem,” Aether says, his smile warmer than when you first met him. “Stay safe out there. You can look for us if you need anything else.”

“I don’t always pay 500,000 for each of my commissions.”

Paimon wilts. Aether flushes, stammering, “Not what I meant.” You laugh heartily as they wave when you walk off to the aquabus, hopefully, prepared for what Fontaine will give you.

Your sketchbook is a page away from completion when you hear about a magic show at the Opera House. Not that it was hard to miss—everyone and their grandmothers were prattling about nothing else but the entire day.

Fontaine is known for its love for dramatics, but the twins they keep mentioning must be a one-of-a-kind spectacle to have half their region’s population speak about them so reverently.

After wandering for hours, taking in the endless sights of fresh water streaming and grand castle-like modern buildings, you find yourself in the Fountain of Lucine. You’ve heard of Fontaine being somewhat titled the ‘City of Love,’ but seeing couples surrounding each nook and cranny of the tourist spots was still astonishing.

(You console yourself by thinking that there’s something romantic in sketching frantically while the rest of the crowd are sucking faces.)

To your luck, you spot three familiar heads in the fountain plaza.

Aether senses you before you can even say anything, glancing to the side and smiling when you wave at him.

Paimon flutters excitedly. “Y/N! We didn’t think we’d see you again this early. You look like you’re glowing.”

“Was it that obvious?” you laugh sheepishly. “Fontaine is beautiful; I couldn’t even stick too long in one place before I see something else that catches my attention.” You look to the girl you met earlier, who nods politely. “Hello. Are you three acquainted now?”

“Mhm!” Paimon says, hands on her hips. “This is Lynette! She’s inviting us to the show they’re holding here!” She gasps, “Speaking of—”

“Ah,” Lynette says quietly, “I couldn’t get an extra ticket. I’m sorry.”

Lynette is the magician you keep hearing about? With her seemingly reserved personality, you wouldn’t have guessed it. “Oh, no, it’s fine. I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Paimon,” Aether speaks up. “They gave you your ticket, right? Why don’t you just float next to me or sit on my lap?”

Paimon’s eyes sparkle. “Great idea! That way, I can give my seat to Y/N, right?”

“You guys…” Your chest feels warm as Aether hands you one of the two tickets in his hand. “You really didn’t have to.” Is this what 500,00 gets you? The loyal companionship of Aether and Paimon?

“It’s a good idea,” Lynette says. “My brother wouldn’t want you to miss the show. He’d be devastated.”

“If you insist, then I suppose I can’t refuse.” Aether and Paimon do a cute little cheer. “But I need to return to the hotel; I can’t be watching a magic show carrying all these.” Surely Aether can understand.

Later, with your hands finally empty and charcoal-free, you rush back to the Opera Epiclese, the person standing guard kind enough to open the doors despite being a minute late.

“Welcome, one and all, to the Opera Epiclese!” The audience roars with cheers as the spotlight illuminates a figure on the center of the stage. You hurry to your seats, brushing past Aether and Paimon. “I am the star of today’s show, Lyney.”

Lyney bows, then stands upright with a Cheshire cat grin.

The thunder of the crowd’s applause is deafening. If you weren’t able to see it, you’d think that you hadn’t been clapping at all—senses numbed and your fixed stare all on the boy on the stage.

Your eyes catch on the small braid on the side of his head before the gleam of his eyes hypnotizes you.

He’s handsome, you think dizzily at the back of your head.

“Don’t blink,” he says, his voice lower as if meant to be a whisper, “or else you might miss it.”

The show proceeds. A dove soars away from inside as he flips his hat; you flush at hearing the soft laughter that slips from him after. The cards that materialize out of nowhere descend to the floor. His fingers shuffle the cards while talking to keep the audience satiated; they fly off his hands, yet he doesn’t lose focus, stretching them mid-air with a sleight of hand. They fall apart and come together neatly and precisely.

His stage presence is demanding. It would be as if Lady Furina herself would accuse you of committing a crime if you were to look away for even a second.

Then, when he scans the crowd, busy twirling his cards in his fingers, his gaze catches your awed ones.

Something in the air shifts. Or maybe it’s that it slows.

A card slips from his grasp. A mistake. He blinks and breaks eye contact, laughing heartily to play it off. But you don’t believe it—not when you swore your limbs locked in place as well when lilac drilled into your soul.

You breathe, hands bracing against your chest. What was that?

You would’ve played it off as something you imagined if not for Lyney continuing to glance at you occasionally. His slip-up had been forgotten, as though it was all part of the show.

(Is it also part of the show when it seems he’s unable to tear his eyes off of you?)

Of course, the twins prove their worth. They showed you exactly why the people of Fontaine adore watching them through theatrical magic, cards in their sleeves, and defying logic.

You’ve shuffled to the edge of your seat as Lynette disperses into bubbles and comes back alive. You’ve held your breath as Lyney emerges from the box across he was in a moment earlier.

You’ve also been witness to the murder of Cowell.

CRASH.

The shatter of glass resounded along with the horrified gasps of the audience. Sickeningly enough, you could almost hear the crack of bones if you hadn’t been crying out in alarm. Yet, as they gape and shriek over the sight of a limp arm popping out, you find your gaze tracing back to Lyney, who stands motionless in front of the box.

When Lady Furina points fingers and has everyone siding against him, the guards escort the audience from the Opera House. All evidence presented left Lyney in a spotlight unlike his performance: with a disgusted and unamused crowd. Even you have to agree that it isn’t looking well for his case at all.

Yet all you can think of as you leave the room is that Lyney looked as terrified as everyone else was—much too raw of an expression for someone to accuse him of anything at all. He looked young and scared.

(His hands were shaking.)

The rest of your Fontaine trip is admittedly duller when you’re a little more familiar with its city and don’t have a yapping little fairy and a capable Traveler by your side. It’s hard not to hear chatter about the events that went down: Lyney’s trial, Aether volunteering to be his lawyer, and the truth behind the real murderer.

It solved a case beyond the murder of Cowell. Fontaine sure has its mysteries, and the crowd sure loves them as they would a magic show.

You keep your hands busy. Last night, you found yourself thinking back to the magic show, to deft fingers weaving through cards, to violet eyes that kept on flickering to you. By the time you snap back to reality, you’ve subconsciously drawn shapes and lines that suspiciously look like the magician himself: the curve of a smile, piercing eyes, and you entranced by it all.

Flustered, you crumple his face staring back at you out of sight. Yet you can’t bring yourself to throw it away.

You shove the last bit of garlic baguette in your mouth to furiously bat these unwanted thoughts away.

“Isn’t that Y/N?” Paimon’s voice is unmistakable, a short distance off.

You jump out of your skin, spinning to see Aether and Paimon waving and walking over to you. You thought they'd already left Fontaine after that; you wouldn’t blame them if they did.

“Y/N! We haven’t seen you since the Opera House performance,” Paimon exclaims, twirling around your head like a thrilled fly circling a trash can.

You hold onto her back, hoping she’ll stop making you dizzy. “We were escorted out before I could say goodbye. I couldn’t watch the court trial but heard it all turned out fine.”

“That’s right!” Paimon nods proudly. “Paimon helped a ton during it; you should’ve seen it! What have you been doing?”

“I found a fellow architect while visiting the cafe nearby, and we chatted for hours,” you say, remembering that your voice is hoarse for that reason. You also don’t tell them you couldn’t get a certain magician off your mind. “I learned a lot. I don’t regret coming here one bit.”

Paimon says something else that you’re sure you’ve nodded absentmindedly at while your gaze wanders over to the two familiar people a few feet behind, watching you three with cat-like eyes—and it’s not just because of Lynette’s unique features.

“Those are the magicians, right?” you gesture behind Paimon and Aether as if you haven’t already familiarized yourself with their faces.

Paimon nods. “Uh-huh. You should introduce yourself! They look like they want to talk.”

Something about that feels foreboding. “Um, no, it’s fine. I don’t want to be rude and interrupt your conversation.”

“No,” Aether says firmly. He seldom speaks; you might as well play along if he says so. “Besides, Paimon is right. Lyney wants to talk to you, you know?”

“Oh, yeah! He kept mentioning seeing someone sitting beside us! And it couldn’t have been Neuvillette because he said it was an unfamiliar beauty that bewitched this weak magician’s heart.” Paimon nods, even recalling how he’s enunciated each syllable theatrically.

“I’m sorry?” you blurt. “Lyney recognizes me? What did I do?”

“Paimon thinks it’s because Lyney is curious about who Lynette met! He was like that with us, too.” Paimon changes her pitch to match Lyney’s. “Are these your friends, Lynette?”

Aether’s eyes feel like they know something you don’t. “It won’t hurt to strike up a conversation with Lyney. He’s been shaken up since the trial.”

There’s something unspoken hidden in his words. “What does that mean?”

Paimon doesn’t wait for an answer, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you to where the twins are waiting. Aether chuckles as he jogs behind.

“Paimon, Aether,” Lyney says, almost sly, “You haven’t introduced us to your friend here.”

“Paimon can do it!” She floats on top of your head and does a bit of jazz hands. “This is Y/N, the one who commissioned us to escort them from Sumeru up to Fontaine.”

“Generously,” Aether adds.

It’s a little embarrassing to have the legendary Traveler and Paimon introduce little old you to a famous magician such as himself, but his grin is still excited.

“From Sumeru?” Lyney repeats, smiling wider when you nod—as if that crumb of attention is enough for him. “I see.”

He performs a bow around the same height as where your hands rest; he takes one, kisses the back of your palm, and smiles against your skin. “I’m Lyney, and she is my sister, Lynette.”

“It’s nice to see you again.” You smile at Lynette, who nods in return. Lyney straightens to look at his sister.

“We met when the Traveler and Paimon just arrived at the harbor,” Lynette sighs even without looking at her brother.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you say, meeting Lyney’s eyes. The spot where he kissed is still warm—tingling. “Your show was incredible, despite what happened. I’m glad that the truth revealed itself.”

“Thank you.” Lyney’s gaze sharpens. “I saw you at the performance, yes. I was worried for a second you might steal the show if you were to come up on stage.”

You blink. “Are you saying—”

Lyney grins, “I apologize that the night had to end that way; it must’ve been horrifying. Say, what if I give you a little show right now to make it up to you?” Did he make it up to each one of his audience, too?

This is not a man acting “shaken up,” as Aether put it.

“You really don’t have to.” You glance at Aether and Paimon, silently asking for help; however, they’re too far gone, urging you to say yes with gestures and encouraging nods.

Lyney tilts his head, demanding your attention on him once more.

You sigh. “I would love to see it if you don’t mind.”

“Of course!” Lyney looks like he’s the sun bursting personified. “It would be a pleasure, ma chérie. Not to worry, it’s nothing life-threatening. I just need you to focus on me.”

Not that it’s hard. The others have become a dull buzz in your mind as Lyney holds your gaze. “Okay.”

Lyney smiles, much softer, satisfied. “Good. Now,” he tips his hat, “recently, I’ve received a little lesson from someone about the language of flowers. Are you familiar with them?”

“Not in Fontaine, no,” you mumble, watching his hands closely. You were expecting a rabbit to hop out of that hat any second now.

“Shame. But I suppose I wouldn’t want to spoil the fun.” Lyney snaps his finger, then deposits his hand inside his hat. “Hmm… Oh? Something’s not quite right. Would you mind looking into this hat for me to see if the flower is here?”

You hesitate. The hat is so close to him.

Swallowing, you nod, leaning in to inspect his hat at a careful pace. All you can sense is the faint scent of heat Lyney is emanating, the breath you two share, and the pounding of your chest. You swear you could also hear his, matching yours.

“The hat’s empty.”

Lyney smiles wider. “Yes, perhaps because you already have it.”

You jump back in surprise, your hands patting your body to see where he could have snuck the flower in. With your frantic movement, the flower falls off from what seems to have come from your head—Lyney catches it.

His mouth carves into a smirk, leaning to invade your personal space, his free hand coming up to tuck hair behind your ear. “Careful.”

Your face is burning. Plucking the flower out, the delicate and tender pink sears into your palm. “What does this flower mean?”

“What does it, I wonder?” Lyney whispers thoughtfully. “I suppose you’ll have to tell me once you find out.”

And when he inclines backward, it feels like you can breathe again. Time flows normally, and the people passing by seem much louder than before—as though you’ve surfaced from underwater.

Lyney clears his throat. “Shame I haven’t prepared myself a grand show for you, but I suppose that would call for another time, wouldn’t it?”

Lynette is looking at Lyney as if he is stupidly amusing.

“Thank you,” you say, burning, burning. “For the show, I mean.”

“That was a little weird,” Paimon whispers to Aether, but she is terrible with keeping volume and has everyone turning to her with varying expressions. “P-Paimon means that was good! Wow, Lyney! Isn’t that a different flower you gave us? That’s the flower Charlotte was talking about, right?”

“Rainbow rose?” Aether supplies.

“Yes! It means—”

“Ahem.” Lyney is quick to interrupt. “Lynette and I must take our leave now, if you don’t mind. It was fun catching up with you two.” You have to hold your ground and not look away when he hones in on your figure. “And it’s a pleasure meeting you. Don’t be a stranger. Look for me if you want more.”

His smile is a little devilish, you now realize.

“Bye,” Lynette says blankly, following after her brother, who seemed to be hurrying to exit.

His ears were red.

“You’re still staring.”

“I am not,” you rebuke hotly, flailing to cover Aether’s mouth with your hands. Yet all it does is bring your attention back to where Paimon and Aether are staring—the rainbow rose on your person.

Paimon and Aether yelp when you drag them away despite Lyney having already left the scene.

“Hey—! Don’t just go dragging Paimon around like a balloon like that! Did Lyney get to your head that much?”

“He did not.”

Paimon tilts her head, frowning. You shy away from her worried gaze, glaring at the flower instead. You still don’t know how Lyney managed to get it there; you hold it to your chest, where your heart is racing miles per minute because of his stupidly smug smile.

“What does this flower mean, Paimon?”

Paimon seems elated to be of help. “Easy! Charlotte told us that Rainbow Roses mean ‘passion’ and most notably ‘romantic encounters’!”

“Passion,” you curse. The rose seems as if it is staring back innocently, unknowing of the turmoil you’re going through because of it. “Romantic encounters.’ ugh.”

You can still remember how Lyney’s eyes twinkled as you felt his breath against your face.

“Ooh, he thinks he can trick me. He thinks he can affect me just because it pleases him to do so. I’ll show him. I’ll show him! I am not a blushing maiden!”

“You’re already very affected by this,” Paimon says, yet it’s lost by your newfound determination. Two can play at this game.

You’ve definitely been staying in Fontaine longer than what you told Aether and Paimon, but you can’t leave yet. Not when you found yourself walking to a flower shop to purchase a vase, fiercely digging through soil, turning gentle when your fingers reach for the Rainbow Rose. Not when you see it in the corner of your eyes as you try to sleep, and you find yourself daydreaming about a charming violet-eyed virtuoso.

It’s for research, you excused lamely at the hotelkeeper who didn’t ask why you’re extending your stay. In truth, not that you’d tell anyone. It was because you were hoping for another grand show from him. A farewell show for you—closure.

If you were to travel back home and get too drunk to think straight, Kaveh would learn about your crisis (romantic awakening?) and laugh at your face.

In hopes of looking for your Fontaine architect friend, you spot Lyney instead, on the side of the street surrounded by cheering kids. They clap and jump, and Lyney laughs. “One more, one more!”

“Again?” Lyney does an exaggerated sigh. “I’m starting to run out of cards in my sleeves. I’ve guessed my entire deck from your hands by this point!”

“But, Mr. Magician,” one of them whines, pouting up at him and blinking, “we want to see more! We want to know how you do it!”

“Alright, how about this, hm?” And then Lyney peers right at you. Ironically, you’re the one startled when you’ve been watching that entire spiel, and he hasn’t acknowledged your presence beforehand. “Y/N, would you mind giving these children a little show with me?” He gestures for you to come closer.

“What show?” you ask suspiciously, taking slow steps in case he pulls out another flower out of nowhere.

“You don’t have to worry,” Lyney laughs. “Will you be my assistant for this show? You are very familiar with this trick.”

“Please, we want to see!”

You falter at the little kids’ excited grins, especially when paired with Lyney’s pout and round eyes. “Okay, tell me what to do.”

His eyes do the little gleam again. “Stand in front of me, mon lapin.”

Your heart is skipping beat after beat, making itself known as you shuffle until Lyney is directly behind you.

“Relax, chérie, you just need to stand still.” It’s a little hard to relax when you feel his breath against the back of your neck, but you won’t give him the satisfaction of admitting that, so you keep your chin high and relax your shoulders. “Good.” 

He begins to speak louder to his awaiting audience. “I know it’s hard to keep your eyes off this beauty before me, but watch the hat for a surprise, alright?”

He flips it for his little audience, one hand resting on your waist and the other extended to hold his top hat. The proximity is almost suffocating. You watch with bated breath, and they complain about it being empty.

“Oh, is it?” Lyney hums, twirling the hat until it’s flipped upside down, presented right before you. “Perhaps I need my assistant’s help.” You snap out of your daze when you realize he’s talking to you. “Y/N, do me a favor and show them the flower inside.”

You reach inside the hat and, much to your surprise, feel a stem. You pull it out; the Rainbow Rose stares back at you, almost mocking you, saying he did pull out a flower out of nowhere. It's this trick again.

The kids gasp in awe and confusion—it’s all the same for Lyney, who snaps his fingers and creates magic like he was made to. Like magic was for him to summon with his hands.

“What? It was empty!”

“Where did that come from? I was watching Mister Magician’s hands the whole time!”

“Are you a magician, too?”

“No,” you say lamely, holding the rose, feeling Lyney still patiently standing behind you. Heat crawls up your neck. “No, I’m not. It’s all Lyney.”

“It’s all me,” Lyney echoes in amusement. “You’re quite magical yourself.” Finally, he spares you, pulling away to stand beside your figure. He doesn’t take the rose back—maybe even give it to one of the children. He knows exactly what he’s doing. “That’s enough for today. The sun is setting, and your parents might get worried.”

They pout and slump their shoulders, but Lyney has this older brother's sternness to him that has the children scurrying back home anyway.

You then realize having to stand in front of Lyney was unnecessary.

The flower is warm. Lyney’s eyes slip to yours.

“I didn’t even have to stand in front of you like that,” you complain, heart inclined to race off your body.

“Yes, but I feared that I would slip up again if I were to catch a glimpse of your face,” Lyney admits smoothly. His lips curl into a smirk when you stare wordlessly. “What? Don’t believe me? I had to improvise when I saw you watching from afar.”

“A great magician such as yourself? Making a mistake? I doubt it.”

“You already have such high expectations placed on me, chérie,” Lyney says, his smile easy, but his ears are a little red, poking out from his hair. “That’s no good. With no audience, I’m just plain ‘Lyney’ to you.”

“No trickery? No cards up your sleeves?” you play along.

Lyney doesn’t miss a beat. “No, though I do have a few more roses begging to be held by your hands.”

“They can keep begging.” Lyney grins wider when you glance down at his hands. “Do you give them off to everyone you meet?”

“Who do you take me for?” Lyney isn’t offended; he laughs, delighted. He is preening under the sunset—or maybe it’s your attention. “Of course not. At least, not like this.”

You stare, unimpressed. “Sure.”

“So cold, chérie,” Lyney sighs, plucking the stem from your fingers to slot it behind your ear. It seems he likes doing that. “Here I am, trying to get you to warm up to me, and you treat me like this.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll be going back home soon anyway.”

Lyney’s expression shifts into something more unrecognizable, his eyes dipping down to somewhere below your nose. “Oh. Avoiding attachment?”

You nod.

He grins, and he’s still so close. He knows how to entrance his audience, pulling you in until you forget to resist. Always watch the hands; yet Lyney could be digging a dagger to your side at this moment, and you wouldn’t even notice.

“I’m flattered you even want to avoid me because you know you’d get attached,” he purrs, tilting his head. Is Lyney just big on personal space? 

“Don’t assume,” you retort. “I know how guys like you think. Even a magician as great as yourself can’t trick someone who’s already seen through it.”

“It would be easier if it were just a trick, wouldn’t it?” Lyney sighs, much to your confusion. “I take it that someone has told you what this flower means?”

You’ve nearly forgotten all about it. “Yes.” You find yourself unable to look directly into his eyes. “I know.”

But even with that, you can still feel his heavy gaze, pinning you down and threatening the strength of your knees. You suppose it comes with being a performer—watching his audience carefully, pinpointing each micro expression to say the right words.

“There doesn’t have to be any attachments.”

“What are you trying to say right now?”

Lyney’s reaches for your hip, sharing your gaze like he doesn’t know how to do anything else. “That you enamor me. That I am holding back from wanting you. I know you feel the same—you can never hide anything from a magician. But if you’re concerned,” he mumbles, “then this doesn’t have to mean anything. You may call it infatuation.”

You want to laugh. Or maybe you want to cry. Most of all, you want to nod helplessly, wrap your arms around his neck, and give in. It’s hard not to when he looks at you like that. “You want me that bad?”

“I almost want to disagree.”

“Almost?” Lyney gets closer, and you stop him with a palm on his chest. “We’re outside.”

Lyney grins. “Have you forgotten what Fontaine is also known for? No one would bat an eye. Love is in the air, and all that.”

“Absolutely not.”

“So still you’re letting me?”

You laugh this time. Letting him, as if you aren’t the one itching to pull him close and find out what he’s like behind the curtains. “Are you asking me as plain old ‘Lyney?’”

Lyney brightens, clearly pleased there wasn’t a ‘no’. “Yes.”

“No tricks?”

“No tricks. No strings.”

You let him lead you away into some dark alleyway. He kisses you like he was longing to do so all his life. You have only met him that fateful day, not even a week ago. But you claw at him like you get it—like he’s ruined you for anyone else the moment you shared gazes in the Opera House.

Romantic encounters, you quietly recall as Lyney swipes a thumb over your aching bottom lip.

You don’t see Lyney the day after that. And for some reason, it makes the itch worse. (Perhaps it’s because you’ve gotten a taste and can’t get enough.)

It’s mostly your fault, the sudden disappearance—you’ve cooped yourself up in the hotel room, buried your face in pillows, and screamed. You berate yourself for giving in, but another part of you—one that’s louder than any other thought in your head—wants to do it again. Wants to hold his handsome face in your hands and have him kiss you breathless. That was nothing like you had ever felt before.

You groan. It’s another new day. You might as well make some progress with your portfolio.

There’s a Café you’ve been visiting more often than not. Ordering a drink and spending a good chunk of your day sketching the view. Instead, you find yourself staring at Aether, Paimon, and Lynette seated at one of the tables.

Lynette’s eyes flick up to yours as she sips tea. She murmurs something to the other two, and you watch with amusement as Aether and Paimon’s heads snap to face you.

You let your gaze wander, eventually landing on Lyney, who is reciting his order with his charming-act-on smile, who is present because of course he is. You want to turn and run away, but that’d be letting Lyney win, and you’re nothing if not stubborn and prideful.

“Y/N!” Paimon greets once you’re within earshot, kicking her feet happily. “Good morning! What are you doing here?”

“Breakfast,” you reply, waving at them. Aether pulls a chair from the other table and gestures for you to sit. “Did I interrupt something?”

“Nope!” Paimon swipes a fork from the table and digs in on the Ile Flottante, leaving nothing for Aether. “Lynette and Lyney told us about another show they’re holding to make up for the previous one.”

“Mouth full,” Aether reminds her, a little too late as the Ile Flottante spews from her mouth.

“Really now? Maybe I can pay properly for a ticket this time,” you laugh, nodding at Lynette. She smiles faintly, hiding it behind the rim of her cup. Lynette sure is the polar opposite of her twin brother.

A shadow looms from behind, the silhouette of a figure with an unmistakable top hat. You tilt your chin and see Lyney peering down at you with a sweet smile. You will yourself to keep your gaze focused on his eyes only and nowhere else below the nose.

Speak of the devil…

“Sweetheart,” Lyney says instead of exchanging pleasantries like a normal person.

“Lyney,” you reply in kind. Then you look away upon realizing that Aether, Paimon, and Lynette had been silently watching the exchange with muted, stunned expressions.

Lyney, holding a tray of drinks and food in both hands, scoots the chair next to yours with his ankle. “I wasn’t informed that Y/N would be joining us,” he says, setting the drinks and plates down like a waiter with a flourish. “You can drink mine. Let me order another.”

You hold onto his wrist as he makes his way back. He turns to you, surprised. “Let me at least pay for my own breakfast.”

Lyney grins, delicately withdrawing from your grip. He places a loud kiss on your hand. “Don’t worry about it.” And then leaves, because he can’t take no for an answer.

“Is it just me,” Paimon starts as you resign yourself to finishing Lyney’s drink (It’s your favorite, the one you always order), “or is Lyney acting weird around Y/N?”

Aether laughs. “There's definitely something going on. Don’t end up staying too long in Fontaine, now. What was it you told us? ‘A day or two’.”

You huff, your face turning unbearably warm. “Shut up, you two. I am here to do research, not to find a summer fling.” You’ve already failed, but they don’t need to know about that.

If you were to touch your lips with your fingers, you’d think of no one else but Lyney’s hands on your hips and his mouth swallowing your words.

Lynette clears her throat, a quiet but noticeable thing. “Don’t be fooled by my brother, Y/N.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m still keeping my safe distance.”

She shakes her head. “That’s not what I mean. Don’t be fooled by my brother.” She stares at you from the rim of her cup—something about that has you listening obediently. “No matter what he tells you, he always cares too much. No matter what you may think, he always gets hurt first.”

“That’s not…” You can’t imagine that. From the start, it’s always felt like he was the one who could do what he wanted.

No tricks.

Lynette is his twin, after all. She knows him best.

No strings.

Defeated, you sip on the straw with the same fervor of an aggravated hilichurl, and that’s the end of that.

Conversations during breakfast are much lighter when Lyney returns with a full meal as his treat. Celebration, he says. Celebration for what? Who knows? Lyney winked, but his glance directed to you said enough.

“You say that you don’t want to get attached, but you’re awfully close to the Traveler, of all people,” Lyney says offhandedly once the others have left for their own matters.

You lean against your seat, grinning. “Are you jealous?”

He doesn’t say anything, instead upturning his nose as if scrambling to regain control. You laugh, oddly endeared. Lyney turns his head away, trying to hide the smile that curls his lips upon hearing it.

“Hey,” Lyney says seriously, reaching for your hand. “Where have you been yesterday?”

“Why? Missed me?”

And because he’s Lyney, he takes his time kissing each of your knuckles. It’s more intimate than the whole ‘no strings’ arrangement you agreed on, but you suppose Lyney thinks that any physical attention is free reign. “What would you do if I said yes?”

“You’ll be fine,” you say slyly. “You’ll have to get used to it if you want to risk your heart just to get laid.”

He rolls his eyes, tugging you closer. “I’m not risking anything to get laid. Do you think so lowly of yourself, chérie?”

“Isn’t this all there is to it? Physical attraction,” you ask, genuinely confused.

Lyney blinks. “Of course, but—” His eyes flicker down, and his words trail off.

When you speak, you feel your breath bounce back from his skin—a testament to your proximity. “Lyney,” you whisper. For what? Urging him to continue? Urging him to close this distance? You’re not sure, either.

You have so much to ask. What do you mean? Why can’t you finish your sentence? Why don’t you just kiss me already? But it’s hard to speak; Lyney’s name is all you can think of. 

You whisper his name again. His grip on your hands tightens and loosens, a frustrated frown creeping up his brows.

Your hand shoots out to reach for the back of his head and give in. He flinches for a second before relaxing completely.

His lips almost taste sweeter than his words. Almost as sweet as how he finds purchase on your waist and holds your chin during every kiss.

You pull away to breathe, missing how he leans closer to chase after you and pouting when he can’t. “Yeah. That—That didn’t have to mean anything. I just wanted to know what it felt like again.”

“Yeah.” Lyney licks his lips, his gaze unable to tear away from where yours are swollen. “Yeah, I know. You taste like my drink.”

Really, no one’s surprised you gravitate towards each other again, feeling like you’re soaring and melting into a puddle at the same time. Lyney doesn’t touch you where you both know would cross the line, but he grips near possessively to what he can, as if breathing you in and worshipping your skin.

You know after this, he’d go back on stage, fooling his audience with what’s invisible to the average eye, as if this never happened. You know this because this is your deal: satiate the feverish attraction you have with each other and leave once you’re satisfied. (But you also know that you’ll be thinking of his touch and his lips while you stare at the vase beside your bed.)

Lyney is a magician, first and foremost.

He hooks you in, and keeps all your attention to himself like he’d die without it. Then he disappears with a snap of a finger. He’s finished his trick, leaving you befuddled in your seat with more questions than answers.

As you drift off to sleep, all you can think of is that there are two roses now.

“Brother.”

Lyney looks up from where he’d been entertaining Rosseland, seeing Lynette with a stern face. “What? What happened?”

Her tail flicks. “You said you weren’t going to get attached.”

Lyney exhales softly, his eyes slipping shut. “I’m not.”

Lynette finds herself smiling softly. “I may just be your assistant, but you can’t lie to your own twin.”

He buries his face in his hands. With his sight gone, images of your face while whispering his name flash in his mind. His eyes fly open, mortified, his whole face red. “I don’t know how it happened. I didn’t think it’d be deeper than that.”

He was the magician in this, but it felt as if you were the one who tricked him instead.

It’s been two weeks since you first arrived in Fontaine. By this point, you’ve grown more familiar with its views than your own city. Having Aether, Paimon, Lynette, and even Freminet around doesn't make it any easier for you to feel at home.

And then there’s the Lyney Situation. You meet up most nights, more than that when he’s free from shows. He keeps seeking you out, and you keep letting him in. There was one night where Lyney spent the night instead of heading straight to the door—and those nights turned into two, then three, and then he finds any excuse to keep doing it.

It’s not like you could stop. He told you look for me if you want more, and you always want more, because how could you not? Lyney treats you like he’s never had to take care of anything more precious but still manages to render you breathless like you’ve never experienced thrill the way he gives it to you before.

But you still have to go back home. And Lyney still has his own life, has his secrets. He feels untouchable even when your arms are wrapped around his neck.

No strings attached can still work for summer flings, doesn’t it? And what are summer flings, if not just that?

Lyney hovers above with his hands caging your face. He’s grinning so wide—and you’ve seen all kinds of smiles on him with your time spent together, but it was never this genuine.

“You’re bad for me.” He says it like a confession, a prayer.

You raise an eyebrow. “What did I do to you?”

His hand trails down until he’s rubbing shapes on your hips. “Make me feel like I’m myself whenever I’m with you.”

At your silence, Lyney clears his throat. “But it’s not like that, don’t worry. I just mean—”

And how does that even make sense? He pours his heart, then later reveals it’s nothing but a decoy to keep this facade realistic.

“Oh,” you say.

That was the final act you’d been waiting for. The final trick—the farewell show.

And so you pack your bags—shoved your sketchbook back inside, face forward, and promise not to look back. Leaving Sumeru hasn’t even been this hard.

Aether and Paimon shouldn’t be surprised if they find you missing; they’d been the first to know that your stay in Fontaine isn’t meant to last forever. And you’ve warned Lyney about this. Avoiding attachments? It felt more like running away from your problem.

Lyney is a busy man on his own; you’re nothing but some architect from a different region who happened to get caught up with him at the right time.

You sigh and call for the aquabus.

A hand clasps around your wrist, pulling you to collide against a familiar chest. Lyney’s eyes are wide, almost insane. Sweat clings to his forehead, and his breath comes in frantic pants.

“W-What—”

Lyney’s eyes search your face. Or maybe it’s him trying to convince himself that you’re right there, in front of him. “You didn’t even tell me.”

“I—I’m sorry—”

“Were you just going to leave like that? Don’t you think I at least deserve a farewell?”

“Lyney, I’m sorry. I know, that was stupid.” You haven’t seen him with an expression like this before—so raw and broken, begging to be glued together with your hands. “I didn’t want to formally say goodbye because I knew I'd want to stay.”

“That’s stupid,” he repeats in agreement.

You breathe shakily, eyes scanning the stunned crowd. What’s The Great Magician Lyney doing here? Holding some stranger in his arms? That must be what they’re thinking.

“How did you even know I was leaving?”

Lyney’s eyes cut down to his hand, gripping a crushed rose. “I was paying a visit to an empty room.” Embarrassed, he tries to toss it away, but you take it before he can.

You wordlessly place it in its home: the spot behind your ears. You don’t tell him that the two other roses he gave you serve as bookmarks in the sketchbook you’ve used all up in Fontaine. Where you’ve drawn his face more often than not.

Lyney groans in frustration, his hands curling around your waist. “Is staying so bad?”

“It’s not like I’m leaving forever.”

And then you notice Lyney’s hands. They’re shaking uncontrollably, not unlike how it did during that incident—and with it came the frantic exhales, as if natural human breathing alone is already hard enough for him.

“Oh, Lyney,” you say softly. You drop your bags and embrace him fully.

He doesn’t hesitate in pulling you closer, burying his face on your neck. “Don’t—don’t,” he gasps, “don’t just try to leave like that.”

It’s hard seeing Lyney like this. He’s usually so composed and easy-going. He gulps in a deep breath, and his voice cracks as he calls for you. This must be something out of his control—something deeper than the back of his stage.

“Y/N,” he whispers.

“Lyney,” you call back as gently.

He swallows your surprised noise with his mouth, moving against you like you’re his last meal on Teyvat. He’s still shaking, but it has subsided the longer you stay pressed against each other. You’re not sure if it’s his Pyro vision or if it’s your skin burning at the thought of Lyney’s skin against yours. It’s searing.

This is different from the last kisses you shared.

Passion, you think dizzily, breathless from his hunger. This is passion.

“What was that for?” you ask, embarrassingly winded.

Lyney brushes his thumb over your bottom lip. He looks sad. As though he only comes alive when you’re with him. “A kiss to make up for your absence in the following weeks.”

“I can always come back,” you say. “No, I will come back. I promise. I just need to get home for a bit.”

“Okay.” Lyney nods, exhaling heavily. “Yeah. I know, I understand. Once you come back, come straight to me, alright?”

“Of course.” You lean in to kiss his cheek. You’ve never done it before because it always came off too intimate. And judging by the blush that explodes on his face, he thinks the same.

It all doesn’t matter. The line has been crossed days ago; you’ve just been turning away from seeing it.

He kisses you again. Then again. “Have a safe trip,” he says in between kisses. “I almost wish you commissioned me to escort you, regardless of the price.”

“What, you want 500,00?” The aquabus has arrived; Lyney grips you a little tighter, childishly willing himself not to see it.

“500,000 kisses, and more.” Lyney rests his forehead against yours, his captivating eyes keeping you still, the way it always does. “But you can give me that when you come back.”

( Before they were taken away from the stage for an investigation, Lynette comes up to her brother and asks, “What happened back there, Lyney? I thought you were about to twist your own fingers.”

He is unsure how to tell his sister that he saw your awed expression and nearly lost his wits.

“It was nothing,” Lyney admits, his face growing hot at recalling his slip-up. 

It wasn’t out of embarrassment, no—not when the memory of your wide-eyed beaming expression and how his mind blanked along with the skip of his heart plagued his mind.

“It was nothing,” he repeats numbly. It’s not. It was the start of something. )

a/n ok just a quick rant this fic BROKE ME. it was like every other day i hated then loved writing this fic. im not used to writing fics this long so pacing is not my forte </3 but i just feel proud of myself for finishing this so HOPE U LIKED IT. if ure still reading until here ily ❤️

more a/n two lyney fics and two kissing scenes. i can’t even lie to myself. everyone can tell.

more more a/n it was halfway through writing this fic that i rewatched the magic show and only noticed lyneys hands were shaking and i GOT SO SAD OMF 😭😭😭😭

[y2beom]

this idea is so djfhshfhs i'm excited for this!!!

♯ chasing that feeling

synopsis beomgyu likes you, he like likes you; and everyone knows except you. but how can he attempt to convey his feelings when you hate romance?

pairing choi beomgyu x fem!reader

genre crack, slice of life, fluff, mall employee!au

warnings this smau is based off a few of my previous smaus, the usual warnings for smaus such as threats of violence and mentions of bodily fluids and the usual swearing, i'm not funny, further warnings will be added to each chapter

➸ notes i've had this smau idea on my mind for weeks so i'm attempting my hand at it 🫡 if you've read my previous smaus, this is a mashup of lisgo, lfil!, and cool it! bc i am the least original person and cannot come up with any good ideas

the park family shopping center is tucked away in the suburb of richland, washington. somewhere in the mall is a grand food hall, three of which are staffed by the stupidest people on earth.

introductions : ghosting fried chicken / poppin star boba / little caesars

schedule : every monday, tuesday, thursday at 10am mst

chapters :

teaser (tba)

one (tba)

two (tba)

three (tba)

taglist :

send an ask to be added to the taglist!

[y2beom]

hehe i'm excited for these 🙏🙏🙏

꒰ #oh shit, we’re soulmates?! mlist ꒱

series tag + spotify playlist

ׂ╰┈➤ at the age of eighteen, each person on their birthday will receive a trope in which will help them find their soulmate. five friends go through the motions of receiving their tropes and finding their soulmates, even if they believe it’s a bunch of bullshit.

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˚₊‧꒰ა pocket full of sunshine ; choi soobin ໒꒱ ‧₊

▶︎ synopsis: the last thing soobin expected was a stranger to sit beside him on the bus full of empty seats and clinging to his arm. due to a toxic ex, you beg soobin to come on vacation with you as your step in boyfriend for the week. ▶︎ genre: fake relationship, strangers to lovers.

˚₊‧꒰ა take a chance on me ; choi yeonjun ໒꒱ ‧₊

▶︎ synopsis: you and yeonjun grew up as best friends, always looking out for each other with literally everything. due to you not approving of his current relationship, the two of you end on bad terms. until years later you both reconnect. ▶︎ genre: second chance trope, childhood friends to lovers.

˚₊‧꒰ა playing video games ; choi beomgyu ໒꒱ ‧₊

▶︎ synopsis: you and beomgyu are in a gaming unit together along with your mutual friend. while you’re aware of gyu’s feelings toward you, you’re crushing on the other unit member. ▶︎ genre: love triangle trope, friends to lovers.

˚₊‧꒰ა had me at hello ; kang taehyun ໒꒱ ‧₊

▶︎ synopsis: out of all five boys, taehyun hated the thought of fate or destiny deciding his love life. soulmates? it was all bullshit anyways. until he laid eyes on you. ▶︎ genre: love at first sight trope, strangers to lovers.

˚₊‧꒰ა birds of a feather ; huening kai ໒꒱ ‧₊

▶︎ synopsis: kai was enjoying his summer internship job at the brand new aquarium working with the penguins, that was until he saw your application on his boss desk and forced to work on a project for the penguins together. ▶︎ genre: forced proximity trope, enemies/rivals to lovers.

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[y2beom]

omg i have to read these

✎ LOVE ENTRIES — an anthology | gojo satoru

a series of episodes of your life with the strongest sorcerer throughout the past and present

genre: canon compliant (2006-2018), mostly fluff, suggestive content, hurt/comfort

more: moodboard | extra scenarios 💌 | reader’s CT | ko-fi

p.s. got an idea for the next entry? drop it in my askbox!

☆⌒.*･ entry year : 2006—2009

entry # attraction ➴ to think it started with your crush on his best friend...

entry # rivals... in love? ➴ gojo is in shambles—so suguru might have a crush on you too?

entry # say no! ೀ valentine's special ➴ valentine's is around the corner and word has it that you're going on a date with geto...? no way! gojo is going to make sure that you're saying no! ever wonder how gojo finally gets you to become his? be prepared for a confession of a lifetime!

entry # stupid liar ➴ no way. impossible. you couldn't possibly be jealous of gravure idol gojo likes so much now... or could you?

entry # unconcealable ➴ your boyfriend may not show it, but the six eyes are his burden to bear. you know it firsthand when he falls into your arms for the first time

entry # love wins all (soon!) ➴ haibara's death. geto's defection. nanami's leaving. when everything goes wrong in your third year, the last thing you would expect is your boyfriend breaking up with you. but to gojo, this is a moment of truth—and through this, you'll realize why he chooses to stay with you for good

⭑ — ☁️ side stories

rivals... in love? — extended cut!

☆⌒.*･ entry year : 2010—2017

entry # finally mine 18+ (soon!) ➴ gojo says he’ll make you droll when you have your first time together. you are determined to seduce him to turn the tables!

entry # stay with me (soon!) ➴ comes the biggest conflict in your relationship when you realize that you might be pregnant. this event, for better or worse, will change the trajectory of your relationship forever

entry # wife her up (soon!) ➴ it's a canon event that animals and babies aren't particularly fond of the strongest sorcerer… but you, you’re always going to be his no matter what

entry # insatiable 18+ ➴ your boyfriend is hot and wild, and he has one problem: he always finds you too pretty to resist

entry # forever ➴ the three times he asked you to marry him

entry # newlyweds 18+ ➴ you and your new husband make out in the most inappropriate place possible

entry # my wife, all mine ೀ valentine's special ➴ years pass, but one thing that's constant is how annoyingly your husband is in love with you. with the new school year comes a fresh batch of first years, and gojo is determined to make you look at his way—he's way better than those youngsters, and he's going to show you just that!

entry # wedding anniversary 18+ ➴ seven years of dating, two years of wedded bliss, and gojo is having his greatest existential crisis yet... all because this year, you apparently have forgotten the most important day of your lives

entry # daddy-to-be ➴ in which you're worried about how he'd react to you carrying his baby

entry # sweet felicity ➴ what do you get the man who already has everything for his birthday?

entry # protect ➴ the word “protect” now means so much more to him

⭑ — ☁️ side stories

07.55 A.M — gojo cheated on you last night

12.34 A.M — blindfold play 18+

12.55 P.M — first ultrasound

04.18 A.M — six weeks pregnant with gojo’s baby

08.45 P.M — cockwarming 18+

11.07 P.M — what if you get a divorce?

03.12 A.M — ungodly hour cravings

07.30 P.M — gojo vs your pregnancy hormones

before the dawn — finding out about geto's ultimate betrayal hits you hard

08.25 P.M — at the end of this pregnancy journey, you fall in love with your husband once again

⭑ — extras 💌 pregnancy diaries ❀

☆⌒.*･ entry year : 2018—present

special entry # through megumi’s eyes (soon!) ➴ megumi’s life ends and starts when the strongest sorcerer takes him in. see your love story through his eyes, his hidden feelings, and extended scenes of several love entries!

entry # baby ➴ a domestic life with your husband and baby

entry # heaven's fury ➴ sometimes you forget that your husband has burdens as the strongest sorcerer alive. when he goes back home from a bad day and you're the first person he comes contact to, you're made aware of it once again

entry # wife ➴ in which the new batch of first years are unaware that their eccentric teacher’s wife is the pretty woman roaming the school grounds

entry # sick days ➴ who holds the fort when you fall sick? of course, it's your lovesick husband and baby!

entry # mission: baby steps! (soon!) ➴ the three times gojo tried to make his baby love him (and how he miserably fails)

entry # the babysitters club ➴ in which yuji, megumi and nobara are tasked with the most important mission ever by their teacher—watching over his baby son!

entry # throughout heaven and earth ➴ a sudden mission. a curse beyond your grade. all hell breaks loose when gojo realizes that there are hidden machinations behind the incident that befalls you

entry # baby to the rescue ➴ in which gojo recruits your baby son to “save” you from a credit card salesman

entry # treasure ➴ the strongest sorcerer meets his match in his petulant son, who inherits his six eyes and is having trouble with them

entry # curiosity 18+ ➴ when gojo is found out by his own son during your nighttime activities

entry # all of me (soon!) ➴ you understand that some things in marriage just needs compromise. and he soon understands too, when you're at your most vulnerable and he fails to be by your side when you need him the most

⭑ — ☁️ side stories

09.45 P.M — how scared he is to lose you

11.10 P.M — meeting the newborn for the first time

06.27 A.M — gojo with his baby in the morning

06.20 P.M — baby doesn’t let gojo kiss you

11.52 A.M — gojo will show baby who is here first

10.00 A.M — gojo trying to get his baby say his first word

02.33 P.M — baby going to the aquarium for the first time

07.02 A.M — morning with you and his toddler son

© CHULUOYI. do not copy, repost, modify, or translate my works in any platforms.

[y2beom]

EXPOSE THREAD

gojo satoru x gender neutral reader

you’ve been dating gojo, a member of the idol group INFINITY, for a few years now. satorus company has paid off paparazzi to keep your relationship private. but for fun, you open a stan account for him and post about meeting him and all your interactions. you grow a following over this but things start to turn when people start accusing you of being a stalker and try to cancel you.

side note, shoko is the only one of ur followers that knows ur dating satoru as she’s a friend. you guys are 22ish, lmk if anything is hard to read

notes — did u guys like 😊 hope this made sense el oh el

[y2beom]

hehehe this is so cute I DESPERATELY need a part 2 omg 😭😭

"drunk wishes"

fluff, clingy gojo, friends in love

high school!gojo satoru x reader

Synopsis: years ago, satoru's habit of drinking on school nights constantly led him to ask for you, desperate for your company. of course, you couldn't blame his constant need for you on anything but the alcohol... right?

to sum it up: seventeen year old satoru was a clingy drunk & suguru and shoko always left him for you to take care of

WC: 5,665

Warning(s): alcohol use

The second your phone rang, screen lighting up to reveal the group picture of you, Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko squeezed into frame, you knew that the book you were currently halfway through would have to wait.

With a sigh, you tossed the book to the side and picked up the group call, dreading whatever was about to greet you next.

Shoko’s contact bubble was blank, for she was likely asleep at this hour. Satoru was the first to stick his head into the camera, followed by a pending bubble from Geto that eventually revealed his exasperated expression.

“(Y/n)!” Satoru slurred, grinning cheerfully into the phone. His snowy hair and bright eyes peering over round glasses were the only thing in frame as he stared intently down at his screen. The scene behind him was dark. It looked like he was standing outside somewhere, and it took you a few seconds to notice that Geto’s background resembled the very same place. “Where’re youuuuu?” 

You pursed your lips in amusement, entirely too familiar with this situation. “Hi, Toru. How are you feeling?”

“Amazing, now that I get’to see y’er pretty face,” he grinned, his persistent flirting doing very little to surprise you. “D’you know that new bar down the street does’t ID check?!”

“No, I didn’t know that. You had some fun there, huh?”

“S’much fun,” he sighed, words blurring into each other. “But then I got bored, s’we went to th’ store ‘nd got snacks. Isn’t that right, Sugu-boo?”

His phone shook with the wobbling of his feet, revealing his black haired best friend standing close by as he turned to look over his shoulder at him. 

You held back your laugh, glancing at the time to see that it was nearly two in the morning. Not only that, but the three of you in addition to Shoko had class in about six hours. Why the hell those two were out this late, you had no idea, but you couldn’t have said that you were surprised. After all, they did this at least three times a week, per Satoru’s influence, of course. 

Suguru shook his head with a tired exhale, holding the camera down. “He’s driving me insane,” he grumbled, brows angled with irritation.

You were quick to move from your bed and shuffle across your dorm to grab a sweatshirt. You already knew where this call was leading. “What the hell are you guys even doing?” you asked. “You know what time it is, right?”

“Yeah, we do,” Suguru hissed, turning to eye a babbling Satoru. You could see the black haired boy’s eye twitch. “But someone dragged me out of bed because he didn’t want to be out alone.”

“Figures,” you laugh. “Where are you now?”

“The convenience store around the corner,” he answered. “We’re literally five minutes away, but Satoru said he wasn’t going to walk any further unless you were here.”

The said boy raised his phone up over his head, the camera peering down at the two tall men from a high angle. Satoru’s eyes went wide and mouth gaped in childlike awe, as if he were showing you some whimsical discovery through the lens of his camera. He dangled a small bag in his free hand, showing off his haul. 

“Look, (Y/n)! C’me see what we got you ‘nd Shokoooo! Suguru, sh-show her y’re stuff,” he urged, a lazy smirk dancing across his face. He nudged Suguru in his chest, the contents of the strongest student’s bag knocking against his best friend repeatedly. A vein bulged in Suguru’s forehead. His bedtime was supposed to be two hours ago, and he was steadily growing more agitated. 

“I’m gonna kill him, (Y/n). Please come take him off my hands.” 

“What about me, huh? I could’ve been asleep, you know. Or studying, like how you two are supposed to.”

“Oh, shut up. I know you weren’t doing anything important.”

You glared at him through your screen. “This is how you treat me, huh? The designated walker for when you get tired.”

“You know how it goes,” Suguru smirked lightly. “Satoru’s needy.”

“(Y/n),” he groaned. “Sugu doesn't love me anymore, s’you have to come take care of me the way- y’know how-to- how you always do,” the blue eyed seventeen year old droned on dramatically. “Pleeeaaaaaase, I miss youuu-”

His singing was disrupted with the tumble of his phone from his hand to the ground, the device hitting the pavement with a smack. His screen went black after landing face first and you watched Geto look down at Satoru boredly, for he had likely been expecting just that to happen. 

Satoru gasped loudly, bending over to retrieve his phone clumsily. Suguru panned his camera to show the sight to you, the white haired boy’s long legs spread stiffly as he leaned from his torso to pick up his phone. “(Y/n)! NOO! M’so sorry!” he cried out.

There was shuffling on his end and a dizzy spin of the camera before Satoru’s face came back into view in his small FaceTime square. “I didn’t mean’ta drop you, pretty, don’t be mad,” he whined. 

You shook your head, swiping your dorm key from your desk and heading to your door. “I’m on my way, Suguru,” you said, ignoring Satoru’s drunk babbling. 

“Please hurry, I can't take much more of this.”

You were quick to rush out of your dorm when you ended the call, cutting off whatever sweet talk your intoxicated friend was about to pull out next and the agitated ‘Shut the fuck up!’ that boomed from Suguru.

You knew this routine like the back of your hand. Either Satoru, Shoko, or Suguru would call you or the group chat, depending on who was out on a given night, to ask you to come over and babysit drunk Satoru, who had always found himself pleading for you the moment liquor settled into his system. 

Though Satoru was the strongest sorcerer and overall person you had ever met, his tolerance for alcohol was painfully low, which you all supposed was why he liked to drink so much. Satoru was so used to being the best at everything, to not having to struggle or experience every day pressures and trials of weakness that the rest of you had to endure. 

Nothing in his life posed a challenge for him, so when he stole a moment to find something that lowered his inhibitions and eased him into a state of malfunction and playful instability, it was like taking a break, a breath of fresh air after having been submerged underwater. He liked the way alcohol buzzed through his brain, melted through his bloodstream, and dumbed him down to a simple, wasted mess. 

It reminded him that he was still flesh and bone in a world that raised him up as a god. 

So he went out and drank quite a bit, and you, naturally, were his caretaker during those frequent times. 

You never thought Satoru meant anything by his clinginess toward you. After all, he was Satoru Gojo. He was fawned over by all women, and as one of his closest friends, you had witnessed his constant indulgence in their infatuation over him. 

Satoru never acted beyond his captivating smiles and provocative words. It was all a game to him, something to keep him entertained and to raise his already astronomically large ego. 

Therefore, when he called you over and over, told you that you were gorgeous, and blabbered about how much he loved to have you by his side, you thought nothing of it. Satoru was your friend, and you would look after him over and over again solely because of that fact. 

The four of you were bonded, closer than anyone else on your campus. You may have been a bit too cliquey for others’ taste, but you all loved each other dearly, and that’s all you assumed Satoru’s drunk words were: love for a friend being portrayed incorrectly due to the alcohol. 

And boy, did you love Satoru dearly, as much as you loved Shoko and Suguru. You loved him so much that you’d rub his back every time he’d throw up into your toilet and bring him fresh clothes for the morning every time he was too hungover to make it back to his dorm. 

You loved him so much that you’d take care of him as long as he allowed you, as long as when you were sober and he was intoxicated, he needed you in a way he would never need you when his mind was clear and alert. You loved him so much that no matter how each compliment and loving gaze he tossed your way in the midst of his drunken stupors sent butterflies swirling through your tummy, you’d allow yourself to bury your feelings deep down.

After all, the sun would always rise and the haziness of his eyes would always disappear, and he would always have to go back to being Satoru Gojo. The strongest who needed no one.

You arrived outside the convenient store a few minutes later, approaching your two friends slowly. The 24-hour convenience store sign provided the only source of light amidst the darkness and buzzed softly over the boys’ heads. 

Suguru was leaning beside the store entrance against the wall, hands in his pockets, eyes closed, and head resting against the brick. Satoru was sitting on the curb with his legs splayed out before him and his bag to the side, humming some song loudly to himself. 

He was quick to catch sight of you once you stepped into his vision. His face lit up and he jumped to his feet, stumbling to the side before rushing over to you sloppily. He clung to you immediately, long arms circling around yours from the side and pulling you to his chest. He leaned his head atop yours, his glasses crashing against your forehead painfully.

“Finally, y’took forever,” he moaned, leaving you very little room to breathe. You huffed, clenching your jaw and craning your neck out to try to find some space for oxygen. You patted his arm with your hand stiffly, unable to move much more than that.

“I know, I know. Five minutes was just so long,” you agreed sarcastically, to which Satoru nodded aggressively.

“Way too long.”

Suguru pushed himself off of the wall when he heard your voice, opening his eyes and sauntering tiredly over to the two of you. You looked up at him from where you stood, trapped, and you could see a smugness dancing in his fatigued eyes despite his agitation. “Don’t look at me like that, dick,” you seethed. “Your lazy ass couldn’t walk him back?”

“I told you, he wanted to see you,” he shrugged. “Besides, you and I both know it’s physically impossible to get Satoru to do something he doesn’t want to do. He’s such a big baby.”

He eyed the blue eyed sorcerer who poked out his tongue childishly, tugging you closer into him. 

“Just tell m’you hate me, Sugu,” Satoru frowned. 

“Yeah, yeah.” The dark haired student leaned down to grab Satoru’s bag and hand it to you. “Here. I’m walking in this direction,” he pointed behind him.

You scrunched your brows. “That’s gonna add like fifteen minutes to a two second walk,” you pointed out.

“If it means peace and quiet, so be it,” he sighed. 

“Awee, tired a’me already?” Satoru giggled, raising an arm to poke Suguru’s stiff shoulder. 

“Yes,” he deadpanned. “Good night, you too. Be safe and text me when you’re in. And for the love of god, get this idiot to sleep when you get back,” the seventeen year old sweatdropped.

“You say that like it’ll be easy,” you seethed. 

“Mhm.”

With that, Suguru turned over his shoulder and walked off, leaving you and Satoru alone once again. 

“God, he’so moody,” Satoru chuckled. “W’don’t need ‘im anyway. Got all I need right’here.”

“He’s your best friend, Toru. You’ll always need him.”

“Mmmaybe, but dn’t tell ‘im that. It’ll go to his big head.”

You laughed.

“Alright, Toru, come on,” you nudged yourself away from his embrace. He released you, but was quick to sling his arm over your shoulders as you guided him around with your hand on his back. He leaned slightly over you, causing you to trip under his weight. He was so tall and heavy, draping himself comfortably over your figure. He already had absolutely no concept of personal space, but it was so much worse when he was under the influence. “Okay, yeah, one step at a time. Let’s get you home,” you guided sweetly.

“‘Kay,” he mumbled. “Mmm, some ramen would b’good right now, don’t y’think?” he murmured. “Should’make some when we- when we get back.”

“Sure. Okay. We can make some ramen,” you lied. You silently prayed he’d forget the suggestion once he was in his dorm. 

Satoru spent the entire walk yapping, swaying back and for and bringing you along with him. He’d almost made the two of you fall about ten times, and what was meant to be a quick walk lasted double the original time. You were sure that Suguru had already made it back to his dorm by the rate the two of you were moving.

The sight of Satoru’s dorm room was like seeing the gates of heaven open before you. You exhaled in relief when you approached his door, which was irresponsibly unlocked. The guy had been out for hours and hadn’t even bothered to secure his room. 

You shoved the door open, pulling Satoru in with you. He removed his arm from around you after what felt like hours and stumbled forward, falling face first on his carpet. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath after setting his bag to the side, for you knew that you would not be getting to bed soon simply from that action alone.

Satoru groaned, turning his head to the side to breathe. His glasses had risen up over his forehead crookedly, revealing his glassy ocean eyes and snow white lashes fluttering sleepily over them. “I could sleep right’here,” he mumbled, limbs spread out like a starfish.

You shook your head and closed his door behind him. You pulled out your phone quickly, pulling up Suguru’s contact and snapping a picture of the ridiculous sight before you. You sent it along with a message letting him know that the two of you made it safe.

Seconds later, Suguru responded with a ‘yeah, good luck with that.’

You put your phone on the dresser, crouching down over him. “Well too bad you’re not going to,” you said. You grabbed his arm and tugged at it. “Come on, big guy. Let’s get you on the bed.”

“Why?” he pouted, closing his eyes and poking out his glossy bottom lip. 

“Because you’ll regret it in the morning when you wake up with an aching back.”

“But I don’t wanna get up,” he groaned, allowing his body to go limp as you mustered up all your strength to pull at him. You grunted, tugging him backward as best as you could. 

“Don’t make this so difficult,” you groaned. “Get up!”

“Noooooo,” he whined. 

“What the hell have you been eating?!” you asked breathlessly. “You weigh like two hundred pounds!”

“Maybe y’re jus’ weak,” he snickered to himself, and you almost dropped his hand and walked out of his room. 

“Maybe I should just beat your ass,” you grumbled. 

He turned to smirk at you, eyes glinting with hazy mischief. “Try it. I won’t go easy on you.”

You couldn’t help the blush that fought its way to your cheeks under his gaze. Even drunk, he knew how to get under your skin.

“Shut up,” you grumbled and he laughed. 

You tried again, yanking his arm, but to no avail. He wouldn’t budge. 

“Ugh! Satoru!” you shouted in frustration. “I can’t stand it when you get like this.”

The Gojo’s smile fell, brows curving in distaste. “Who the hell’s Satoru?” he frowned.

You blinked, lowered his arm and leaning down by his side. “What?”

“Y’call me Toru. What happened’ta Toru?” he repeated, childishly, eyes gleaming with impatience. 

“Yeah, well, when you’re not pissing me off, you’re Toru” you tilted your head to look him in his eyes. “Why?”

He groaned loudly, his dramatics so boisterous that they could probably wake up the rest of the hall. You cocked a brow, releasing his arm as he shifted around, twisting himself onto his back and flopping about. “Why d’you do this t’me,” he complained, lifting his arms up and into the air.

You sighed. “What are you on about, drama queen?”

“Pick m’up.”

“Oh, now you wanna get up, huh?”

“If’t means ’m Toru again, yes,” he pouted again. “Pick m’up,” he demanded once more.

You scoffed a laugh, standing to your feet and leaning over him. “So dramatic,” you said as you grasped his outstretched hands, leaning back to pull him up. He assisted you this time, bringing himself to a seated position before you helped him onto his feet. He stumbled again and you held onto his hands, leading him over to the edge of his bed.

“F’ryou,” he responded, plopping down onto his comforter. He leaned over unstably and you caught his head, guiding him back upright. He hummed softly, leaning into the warmth of your palm, eyes half lidded. “Thank you.”

“I got you, Toru,” you smiled, bending down to tug his shoes off. When you did, you missed the wide beam that stretched across his face at the sound of his nickname rolling from your lips. 

After setting his shoes at his door, you went to move about his space familiarly, walking over to his bottom dresser drawers and pulling out an old tee and sweatpants. 

Satura watched you lazily, eyes dragging along your figure as you so carefully picked out his clothes. He could feel his heart thrumming in his chest like a rhythm, his flushed cheeks growing warmer simply from the sight of you.

You walked back over to him, clothes folded over your arm. He smiled up at you in a daze, appearing like a giddy school boy sitting there patiently for you. You gave him a strange look, placing his clothes next to him on the bed and removing his glasses from his head, setting aside on his lamp lit nightstand. 

When you turned back to him, his eyes hadn’t left you. His pupils were blown wide and his lips stretched into a dumb grin. He spread his legs out and leaned back on his elbows tiredly, admiring you, for the first time tonight, with no words.

“Why are you staring at me like that, weirdo?” you rose a brow.

His smile widened. “Y’just so pretty.”

Just like that, butterflies swarmed as if on cue. Your brows drew together as you looked at him, examining his face for any detection of mischief or deception, but you found none. His gaze upon you was so raw, so full of ardor and sweltering tenderness. He looked like a puppy dog watching you in such a way, and you tried your very hardest to keep your legs from turning to jelly beneath you.

You cleared your throat, looking down and busying yourself with unfolding his clothes. “You’re drunk.”

“On you.”

God, he just wouldn’t stop. His presence was so suffocating, it filled the room with its weight. You felt as though you were going to lose your breath if he kept looking at and talking to you like that.

“Stop,” you sighed, tossing his shirt at him. It hit his face softly, rolling down into his lap. Even that hadn’t been enough for his eyes to rip from your face. He simply reached blindly for the fabric, gaze unwavering. 

“You gon’help me change, pretty?” he asked gently, looking to you expectantly.

“Now what makes you say that?” you questioned, though you both knew full well that you were going to do just that. 

“Cause’you’ve done it b’fore. When I was black’out.”

You whipped your head up at him to find a teasing expression on his features. “There’s no way you remember that?!” you said, incredulously.

He giggled to himself slightly. “No, Shoko tol’me.”

You internally cursed the brunette for betraying you in such a way. “Asshole,” you muttered to yourself, leading Satoru to laugh louder. 

As if on instinct, sat up straight and held his arms out. “M’ready,” he cheesed.

“You’re such an idiot, you know that?” 

He didn’t respond as you walked up to him and stood between his spread legs. He was suddenly silent, observing you closely. You could feel those eyes glued to you, burning into your skull like a line of blue fire. You held your breath, keeping your eyes on your fingers as they reached for the top bottom of his collared shirt. 

You had done this so many times, on so many nights, and the majority of the time, he was either passed out or too drunk to keep his head up and pay attention to what you were doing. This night, however, he was more alert than he had been at this stage of his intoxication. He must not have gotten very far into his drinking, you had thought to yourself. 

He was still pretty drunk, but the gleam in his eye made you question if he would forget this moment like he usually did when you helped him into more comfortable clothes. 

His chest rose and fell delicately under your hands. You popped one button open, then the next, and the next. Your soft fingers brushed against the smoothness of his skin occasionally, the white haired boy jumping slightly every now and then at the contact. 

Satoru broke his eyes from you for just a second, looking down and following the buzzing vision of your fingers working down his shirt, freeing his abdomen for you to see. You could hear his soft breaths, deep and long, as though he were breathing manually, desperately finding a way to recall how to inhale and exhale properly. 

He looked back up at you once the entire shirt was undone, a bashful tint on his cheeks. You were so careful with him, so attentive, so patient and loving with your touch. Shoko and Suguru had always looked after him when he drank by making sure he got home safe when you weren’t around, but they never took care of him the way you did so gently, so earnestly. 

Flashes of your touch and your face would strike him during those early morning hangovers, feeding into the initial yearning he already harbored for you within his chest and his gut. He knew you were always there, in his dreams and his fragmented memories, but he could never recall how or why so clearly.

So now, he soaked you in, devouring each feather light touch and tug at his clothing. He was captivated by the way you moved around his room as though you lived there, like you’d been there a hundred million times over in this exact position. How you talked to him with a tinge of coddling and kindness in your voice that he rarely detected through your normal day to day. 

You handled him with such care, as if he were going to break, and it baffled him. It baffled him how he, one of the strongest individuals to roam this earth, was nothing but putty at your loving hands. He felt so vulnerable sitting there before you, staring intently at your face as you tugged his sleeves down each arm and pulled his shirt from his body. He had expected to feel cool, but he was surrounded by nothing but warmth. Whether it was you or the liquor, he wasn’t sure, but he could feel himself slipping into a trance induced by your beauty and your care. 

Everything in his vision was vibrating except for the vision of you, constant and comforting. He wanted nothing more than to melt into you, to allow you to envelope him within your arms. He wanted to stare at you until he couldn’t see anymore, to memorize every curve in your jaw and dent in your brows, the twitch of your nose and the hitch of your breath, the swipe of your tongue over your lip and the flutter of your lashes over mesmerizing, gentle (e/c) eyes. 

He was so drunk, yes, but you were doing very little to sober him up. He felt like he was floating and falling into you all at once.

You grabbed his t-shirt in your hands and spread it out, reaching your hands through the hole to stretch it over your friend’s head. He poked his head through the neck hole, hair messily sprawling over his forehead as a result, and pulled his arms through the sleeves, disorientedly. 

You still hadn’t looked at him. You were already moving to grab his sweats when you felt a hand reach up and snake over your waist. 

You jumped, snapping your eyes up to his finally. His brows were pinched together and his lips were parted, the blue of his irises a stark contrast against the pink shade of his face. You were close, your legs bumping the edge of the bed while Satoru’s legs caged around you. You stopped suddenly, his touch catching you off guard.

He didn’t say anything. He only snaked his other hand around you, settling them on your hips, leading your heart to slam into your chest.

“S-Satoru, what…” you trailed off, losing yourself in his eyes. There wasn’t a single thought behind them except you. “What’s wrong? You want me to stop?”

His Adam's apple bobbed with a gulp he took, thumbs rolling over your hips experimentally. He looked down, over your body, watching his hands grasp your waist gently as if the feeling and the sight of it weren’t real. He could hear your heart pounding, see your blood rushing, practically taste your nerves despite his drunken state.

You were so overstimulating. Worse than the five shots he’d tossed back.

“Toru?” you called him again. He saw your lips move before the sound registered within his brain, the sweet address sending shivers down his spine. He could barely keep himself upright, but he needed more of you. 

“Why’dyou do’this?” he mumbled, unsure of what he was even asking.

Your nose scrunched in that cute way it did when you were confused. “Huh?”

“Y’always… look after’me. Always’take care’a’me. Why?”

You were growing nervous. Your heartbeat was loud enough, you were sure Satoru could here, and your face was hot to the touch. “Because… because you’re one of my closest friends, Toru. I care about you.”

He shook his head slightly. “‘S’not th’same.”

“What do you mean?”

“S’not th’same as Sho ‘n Sugu. S’different. You’re different.” 

“I…” you weren’t sure what to say. He had you cornered, trapped into him with no escape. You were hyper aware of his fingers gripping your waist softly and his eyes eating you alive. Your senses were through the roof, and you wanted to run and break away from this contact, from this feeling, but you couldn’t. You were frozen. 

You could feel him tugging himself closer, leaning into you, pressing you closer. 

“You’re drunk, Satoru. You should get to bed. We can talk about this tomorrow, when you’re sober,” you tried to change the subject.

“No,” he refused. “Please, no. Please.”

His hands trailed up your waist, feeling all around your body. You were perfect, too perfect. He couldn’t get enough of you. 

His hands reached your arms, then your shoulders, and finally your face, cradling your cheeks softly within his warm palms. 

You pursed your lips, eyes scattering over his face as he gazed at you. He drew your face closer, his sharp nose brushing yours. He was so close, you could smell the alcohol on his breath. 

You lifted your hands to grasp his wrists, preparing to pull his hands from your flustered face.

“Satoru,” you warned. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t want y’to’go,” he whispered, thumbs smoothing over your hot skin. You shivered, your mind battling against itself as you tried to decide what to do.

He was drunk. He had no idea what he was doing. He was just being clingy.

“Please. Please stay, (Y/n). Need’you.”

“I’m not going anywhere, love,” you told him, meeting his eyes directly. “I’m right here.”

“But’don’t leave tonight. Y’always leave. Don’t. Stay. Sleep w’me.”

Your heart swooned, ached, swelled. Satoru was always so needy, but never to this extent. He was practically falling apart before you. 

He stared at you longingly, brows curved as if he was going to cry. “Please, pretty. Please.”

This boy had you so weak. There was nothing he could have asked for that you wouldn’t have said yes to. It was why you were always showing up at his side in the middle of the night when he called for you, why you let him lounge around your room at any hour of the day when he was bored, why you brought him snacks when he was too busy training to eat, why you let him drag you and the others about simply because he wanted you all to tag along with him everywhere. 

Satoru Gojo could have asked you for the moon, and you would have pulled it down by a rope just to see him smile at you and feel his arms wrap around your frame as he pulled you into an overbearing hug. 

You loved him to death. You loved him more than you thought your teenage heart capable of loving anyone, and you feared his knowledge of your feelings because of how prideful he was, because of how many girls harbored the same crush, and because of how many confessions he received on a daily basis. 

You wanted to protect yourself from heartbreak by the world’s most desirable boy. You didn’t want to make yourself look so pathetic before him, more so than any ordinary person already was, but the way he begged for you… the way those big eyes drew you in and his hands framed your face, the way he looked at you as if you were the only thing that could save him from his mental torment had you giving in completely.

“Okay,” you nodded, releasing his wrists to cup his face in return. He swooned, hands falling into his lap as he submerged himself in your touch. “Okay, I’ll stay.”

A whimper fell past his lips as he fell into you, head collapsing into your chest and hands gripping around your thighs. Your hands moved to his back, stroking him soothingly as he clutched you to him, murmuring nonsense. You could tell his intoxication was tipping into exhausting by the way he slumped into you, and you sighed. He was going to be the death of you, this one. 

The time ticked closer to three once you had managed to get him to let you change him out of his pants and gurgle some mouthwash before going to bed. He kept himself close to you for the rest of the night, whether it was by clinging to your shirt or holding your hand or leaning his head over your shoulder. He had gone completely nonverbal, relying on his actions instead to convey his desperation for your closeness to him. 

You had finally managed to get him into bed at 3:30 am. He plopped down into his messy sheets, face smothered by the pillow and feet hanging off the edge of the bed. He was too tall for his own good. 

You were busying yourself with turning out his lights when you saw his hand twitch out, grasping through the air. You knew what he was asking.

You slipped your shoes off and pulled your sweatshirt over your head, leaving you in your night tee and shorts. You carefully climbed onto the soft furniture, grabbing Satoru’s outstretched hand. He turned himself to face you immediately, yanking you down into him. You squeaked, collapsing beside him on the bed. 

He didn’t let you move to grab the comforter to pull it over your body. Instead, he threw his arms around you and buried his face into the crook of your neck, securing a leg over yours and trapping you against him for the final time that night. 

You tensed, Gojo’s hair brushing softly against your chin as his warm breath fanned contently against your neck. He curled himself into you, clutching you as though you were his last lifeline. 

He stroked his hair softly, scratching his scalp as the beat of your heart lulled him into sleep. 

You exhaled softly, staring up at the ceiling as sleep slowly overtook your body. You prayed that Satoru wouldn’t remember this night. He normally woke up late, so you hoped that you would at least have had time to slip from his room in the morning and disappear into yours. 

You wanted to forget everything. You wanted to forget the way he looked at you, the way he held you, the way he touched you. You wanted to bury it all deep down, to move on as friends like you always had been and always would be. You wanted to leave it all behind, but Satoru had a hold on you that you could not escape. It was the effect he had. Consuming, powerful, and entirely too dangerous for you to indulge.

Satoru was a needy drunk. That was all you could chalk him and the intimacy of this night up to be. A consequence of his intoxication.

But somewhere deep within you, somewhere you did not bother to explore, a spark of hope glimmered for your love, a spark that made you believe just for a moment that Satoru loved you too.

[y2beom]

pls support my new beom oneshot 😓😓🙏

☆ colours - c.bg

synopsis - despite everything you two have been through, all good things must come to an end right?

-> beomgyu x reader

-> listen to colors by halsey for an experience 🤍

-> friends to potential lovers to acquintances, highschool au

-> warnings! beomgyu pushes reader away, angst, talks on mental illness and eating disorders, yn becomes an insomniac, beomgyu's a year older than you

-> notes! i've gotten back into jjk for the 7th time, and i saw like 3 edits abt stsg to the song colors, so i just wanted to LET IT OUT. GEGE AKUTAMI WATCH OUT

love is the most twisted curse of them all

tired eyes scanning through the folder of memories on your phone, your head dipping into the fluffy cushions underneath you. you didn't want to go through it again, but you couldn't stop your fingers from moving. your eyes watered, tears dripping from the corner. this was at least your 50th time rereading past messages, past folders, and old voicemails you had with choi beomgyu

choi beomgyu, the man that he was. talented, charming, and pretty. he was constantly bombarded with the squeels from your schoolmates along the hallways. however, he would always stick to you like glue, to him, you were everything he wanted. what a trope, maybe opposites do attract.

he was the light to your darkness, even if he stuck onto you like a emotionally attached puppy, you appreciated his presence. as much as you wanted to ignore his pestering, you enjoyed it, too much, to the point where your heart starts beating rapidly whenever he's around.

"ynn, let's go to the arcade after school. you don't have anything after right? let's go." the way he drags his words to persuade you into doing something he wants to do with you, and how your name rolling off his tongue perfectly, has an effect on you. his arms leaned on your desk, giving you puppy dog eyes.

"beomgyu, we have a test next week, i can't just waste my time playing games with you." you closed your textbook, placing your pen back into your pencilcase, making eye contact with beomgyu.

"come onn, you've been studying so much this entire week, you've barely hung out with me." beomgyu whined, using the tip of his shoes to kick your shins.

"beomgyu. this test is important for my final grade." you firmly stated your point, hoping that it'll get through beomgyu's thick skull. you sigh when beomgyu continues to look at you with the same puppy eyes, your words going deaf to his ears.

"fine.." you muttered out, you could have sworn that you saw beomgyu's eyes sparkle when you said that. he jumped out of the random chair he stole from the person who sat infront of you.

"i'll wait for you outside your class! see you!" beomgyu beamed, messing your hair before skipping out of the class like a lunatic. you watched as he left your class, smiling to yourself.

"are you giggling over choi beomgyu like everyone else?" your tablemate, natty, commented. knowing the teasing glint she had in her eyes, you glared at her.

"shut up."

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

"i'm graduating in a month, will you miss me?" beomgyu smirked, biting on the straw of his drink. you took small bites out of the bread beomgyu got for you, giving him a disgusted glare.

"what's with that look." beomgyu gasped, swinging his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. the side of your body was completely squished against him, you could feel your heart about to jump out of your throat. he was too close, too close for your liking.

"i'm going to miss my favourite junior ever, you know that right? you're my favourite junior, no one can ever compare to you." beomgyu reminded you, your lips pursed into a line, pushing his body away from yours.

"don't you have other juniors to care about? why me?" you asked, your eyes not leaving his own round ones.

"isn't it obvious.." he mumbled, not loud enough for you to hear.

"huh? speak up."

"it's nothing! come on hurry, i have a new song to play for you on the guitar." beomgyu grabbed your hand, running towards the direction of his house. you screeched as he pulled you at a speed you were not ready for. you felt like you were running a track competition at this point, just how much stamina does choi beomgyu have?

your head was dizzy, you haven't ran in such a long time at a distance you don't even want to remember. the click of beomgyu's door caused your head to look up from your phone.

"sorry for making you run, i was just excited." beomgyu apologised, placing a plate of fruits and a cup of water on the floor, finding himself on the floor beside you.

"it's fine." you shook your head, poking the fruits on the plate, not having an appetite for them. beomgyu noticed your odd behaviour throughout your entire conversation with him, from the way you just took small bites of the fruits and taking huge gulps of water.

"have you been eating these days?" the sudden question had you panicking, is he always this observant? your eyes darted around his room.

"i ate the bread earlier, doesn't that answer your question?" you replied non-chalantly.

"i meant like proper meals, when was the last time you have eaten an actual meal?" his face has gotten serious, you thought to yourself, your nails dug into the flesh of your thigh, trying to think of a plausible answer.

"i can read you like a book yn, you can't lie to me." beomgyu sighs, his hands reaching out for yours, pulling them away from your thighs.

"i know i'm always not serious around you, but this has to stop soon okay? don't starve yourself, it's unhealthy, and i'm worried for you okay?" beomgyu carressed the knuckles of your fingers. slowly, you calmed yourself down from the unsettling thoughts that were eating you alive, smiling at beomgyu,

"i'm sorry, i'll stop. i don't like seeing you all worried because of me."

beomgyu's lipped tugged up into a smile, standing up, "i'll make something for you to eat, wait here."

from that day on, you knew you could rely on beomgyu with whatever problems you had. he's your best friend either way, opening up to him was easy. he was your solution to everything.

that was until a week before beomgyu's graduation, you've noticed that his radiant aura was turning dull, his eyes slowly getting more tired by the time. despite that, he has been wearing a fake smile around his batchmates, smiling whenever he was with them, returning the same energy they were giving him. your eyes squinted at his odd behaviour, you too, could read him like a book.

"you're not actually that optimistic right?" you stated, trailing behind beomgyu. beomgyu paused in his tracks, turning to face you.

"what are you talking about yn?"

"you know what i'm talking about. if you need it, i'm here to help you." you inched closer to beomgyu.

"please, if you're hurting let me help you too. let me return that favour. isn't that what friends are for?" you gagged at your words, friends? of course. you two were just friends, nothing more.

"aren't you cute? don't worry about it yn, i'll tell you everything soon." beomgyu patted your cheeks, waving a quick goodbye to you before disappearing into his classroom. you stared at the empty spot infront of you, why isn't he telling you anything after everything? didn't he tell you that he trusted you with all his life, if not, why isn't he opening up to you?

you bit your lips, trying to suppress the tears that were about to flow out. you groaned, walking back to your class as if nothing happened, but your mind was overthinking, again.

what you failed to notice was that beomgyu was watching you from the window of his class, his heart ached seeing your pained expression. he then felt a tug on his sleeve.

"when are you going to tell her?" seungmin whispered, his eyes watching beomgyu's actions carefully.

"soon enough."

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

it was finally the day every senior had been dreading or anticipating. you stayed back after school to watch the ceremony, in hopes of seeing your seniors for one last time before they leave, including choi beomgyu.

you felt so proud for him, he's finally done with this hell, and now he can follow his dreams. however, you couldn't escape the feeling of emptiness, without him, what were you? ever since he started distancing himself from you, you felt horrible, you felt like shit.

before you knew it, the ceremony was over, the crowd screamed in joy, running to find their best friends in the crowd. you did the same, dashing to where beomgyu might be at. you hated running, but in order to talk to him in school one last time, you ran as fast as you could.

finally, you found him, your eyes watched as he took multiple pictures with the girls from his batch and yours. your face fell as you realise that the crowd practically engulfed him, you probably wouldn't have enough time to have a decent conversation with him.

however, your eyes met his, your body tensed up, he looked exhausted, yet he was still able to flash you a cute smile that you reciprocated. he signalled you to go towards him, telling the crowd that he needed to leave soon, and that was when you walked towards him.

"congrats on graduating." you hugged him, feeling his body slowly soften under your touch.

"lovebirds, wanna take a picture together?" seungmin shouted, his hand stretched out, asking for your phones. both you and beomgyu handed him your phones. seungmin smirked, snapping numerous shots for the two of you.

when he returned your phones, he whispered something in beomgyu's ear, causing him to blush and yell at him to shut up.

"don't mind him. come with me, i have something to tell you." beomgyu shoved his phone back into his pocket, dragging to towards a familiar direction.

the walk was comforting, you talked about everything that came to mind. beomgyu stared as you rambled, watching you as if you hung the stars in the sky, you were stunning.

"sorry, was i saying too much?" you mumbled, sitting beside beomgyu on a bench at the park where you first met. beomgyu shook his head.

"i like hearing you talk don't worry." reassuring you.

"what did you want to tell me anyways?"

"before that, take this, i want you to cherish this forever, as if your life depends on it okay?" beomgyu pulled out a ring, placing it on your pinky. your heart raced, the butterflies in your stomach turned into a whole zoo, your face felt warm.

"what for..?"

"i'm leaving daegu to pursue my dreams, i may not be able to see any of you again, so i just want you to have this as a reminder of me." beomgyu suddenly announced. your eyes widened, a lump formed in your throat, leaving your mouth dry.

"what are you saying? can't you at least keep in contact with me? that's stupid, you can't just cut everyone out of your life like that." you argued, biting back the tears that were watering your eyes.

"you're making this harder for me." beomgyu laughed, "you'll distract me from achieving what i want, my priority isn't you."

you were smacked with the hard truth, beomgyu was more determined to pursue his lifelong dream, and in order to do this, he has to let go of one of his dreams, and that dream was to be with you forever. your goals were completely different, you would only hinder his progress towards success. your eyes stung with tears, it hurts.

"gyu, you can't do this, maybe we can figure something out?" you pleaded, you couldn't live without him by your side. beomgyu wiped your tears with his thumb, making you look at him.

"you know i love you right? if you love me back, promise me that you'll let me go." beomgyu forced a smile, trying to calm you down.

"you? what? why didn't you tell me this earlier? we could have spent more time together as a couple." your voice was shaky, you wanted to leave, but you wanted to stay by his side till the end.

"yea i could have, but i guess i was too scared, so were you though." beomgyu shrugged, laughing dryly to himself. he hated this, he hated the fact that you were crying because of him, he hated that he can't do anything to stop you from crying. beomgyu watched you sobbed, his eyes beginning to sting, but he blinked the tears away.

"this is just a bad dream right?" you looked at beomgyu. beomgyu held your hand, shaking his head slowly, your eyes tearing up once more.

"sometimes love can be the most twisted curse of them all." beomgyu chuckled, looking off to the side.

"then at least curse me a little at the end." you hiccupped. beomgyu's eyes widened, softening once he made eye contact with you. he pulled you into a kiss filled with longing and desperation. you were quick to kiss him back, you didn't want this to end, you wanted him to stay by your side forever. you slowly pulled away from him, wiping off the dried up tears from your face. beomgyu took your pinky, intertwining them with his,

"i'll go now, take care of yourself for me okay? please eat well." beomgyu kissed your lips once before walking away from you. leaving you to cry by yourself on the bench, at the park where you first met, and now you've ended it at the same spot.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

bonus!

beomgyu started sobbing when he walked away from you. you must have endured so much pain when he left you in the dark for so long. his first love, a love where it could have blossomed into something more than friends, crumbling down like that. he hated himself for that, he hated seeing you hurt, but you would still suffer the same fate if you stayed by his side. thus he made his decision that week prior to his graduation.

perm taglist! (send an ask to be added) @mrsyawnzzn @tinyelfperson @woncheecks @boba-beom @naveries @be-argyu @defnotleee

[y2beom]

UNDER THE CHERRY BLOSSOM TREE ˒˒ 최범규

it’s confession day and you want nothing more than to receive a crush from your longtime friend, beomgyu.

pairing ‎⸝⸝⸝ choi beomgyu x fem!reader 𓄷 iηcℓudᥱs 𓈓 yeonjun, soobin, and yeji from itzy

genre﹙📄﹚⸝⸝⸝ toothrotting fluff, friends to lovers, mutual pining but you both are oblivious, highschool au ???

kipo’s note ‎⸝⸝⸝ literally watched beomgyu’s cover and music video and was struck by sudden inspiration and motivation and i just had to write something based off it! ❀ so here is a super cute little drabble in honor of beomgyu’s cover, i hope you enjoy!! all feedback and reblogs are welcome! ♡

∿ [ 1.7k ] ⋆ [ continue on to . . . masterlist ]

today was a day you both loved and absolutely hated—confession day. the day where you confess your feelings to the one who you like most.

the hallways were giddy with excitement and you couldn’t help being lured to the feeling. everyone was alight with what the day could possibly behold. as you made your way to your locker to put your bag away, you heard various snippets of conversations:

“i’m scared to open my locker! what if there isn’t any note inside?” “—and he wrote for me to meet him on the football field after school!” “who do you think yeonjun will confess to? i heard from hana that he was eying her, but mina said the same thing!” “well i heard hana say that jake was going to confess to her today on the rooftop!” “—to meet near the school gates!”

a soft smile made its way onto your lips. confession day—at least the start of it—was always one that made you happy inside. you loved seeing other people finally confess their feelings to to each other. it was also fun for you and your friends to make bets on who would confess to who.

just as you reached for the lock of your locker, you friend yeji ran up to you with a thrilled expression, her black hair flying into her face as she came to a sudden stop. “it’s confession day!” she squealed repeatedly, brushing her hair out of her face and linking her arm with yours once you got your books out. “who do you think will confess to who later today?”

“apparently hana has many suitors,” you shrugged and the two of you giggled slightly as you walked the halls slowly to your homeroom. suddenly yeji turned to you, a playful grin lighting up her face with a scrunched nose. oh god, you thought, what is she about to say?

she tickled your side, making you squirm away with a laugh. “do you think beomgyu is going to confess to you today?” she asked. you swatted her hand away, heat creeping up your neck as you looked forward to try and hide how flustered the question made you. you shrugged again, hopeful smile curling your lips.

beomgyu sat at his desk surrounded by his two friends, yeonjun and soobin. he shifted a sealed envelope from hand to hand, “to y/n” written on it. the red striped tie and dark blue blazer of his uniform suddenly seemed so constricting. “—and tell me exactly what you wrote in the letter,” he heard the tail end of yeonjun’s sentence.

beomgyu had already told soobin just minutes prior and he sighed softly as he dragged his eyes up from the letter. nerves flowed through him as he recounted the letter again for yeonjun.

dear, y/n

would you meet me under the cherry blossom tree by the train tracks after school?

beomgyu

it was a very simple letter, really. beomgyu had wanted to give his confession in person to you rather than through a letter or any other means. yeonjun’s face contorted in thought. “maybe spice it up a little?” he suggested.

“i like it. it’s simple and right to the point. besides, he said he wants to confess in person,” soobin cut in before beomgyu could. yeonjun hummed before nodding slowly. “i guess it could work!”

just as yeonjun finished talking, the homeroom door opened. you and your friend—yeji, who he’s come to know of—stepped through; arms linked as you leaned into each other to whisper something he couldn’t hear. a low laugh emitted from you and beomgyu swore it was the prettiest, most melodic thing he has ever heard.

the sunlight from the open blinds of the classroom cascaded down onto your frame, illuminating you like you were on a stage. beomgyu just couldn’t believe how pretty you were. your eyes connected with his, that bright smile of yours still on your face, and you waved your hand slightly to wave at him. your bright smile turned sheepish as you quickly looked away and you and yeji made it to your seats.

from just one look, beomgyu could practically see your future together. he wanted to be yours and you to be his so desperately. he wanted to do simple day to day activities with you, like helping you with homework and putting your books into your locker. he wanted to take you to the movies and talk about what you decided to see and walk you home after, fingers just barely brushing past each other. you were just so cute.

“look at him, there’s literally hearts in his eyes,” beomgyu distantly heard yeonjun say. his eyes were still on you until fingers snapped in his face, startling him back to reality. soobin pulled back his arm with a laugh and beomgyu rolled his eyes. he glanced back to you briefly, small smile forming on his face before returning his attention back to his friends.

beomgyu looked down again at the letter in his hands. he had meant to put it in your locker this morning before you arrived, but chickened out at the last second. that’s why he was here, enlisting the help of his two idiot bestfriends to ensure everything goes off without a hitch.

soobin laid a hand on beomgyu’s shoulder and patted it comfortingly, “you got this, man! it’s so obvious that the two of you like each other!” yeonjun nodded in agreement. beomgyu sighed and tucked the letter under his books. he hesitantly let their words fill him with confidence and hope. i really hope she does, he thought.

you turned slightly and looked over your shoulder, just barely catching a glimpse of beomgyu. you turned back towards yeji with a lovesick smile. “it’ll happen, don’t worry! it’s so obvious that the two of you like each other!” yeji comforted you. you just sighed and directed the conversation to a different topic. i really hope he does, you thought.

when you were grabbing your bag from your locker, mid conversation with yeji, a small white envelope fluttered to the ground at your feet. yeji gasped as you bent to pick it up with wide eyes. yeji drew closer to you, hiding the letter from the view of the other students making their way towards the entrance of the school. “open it, open it!” she exclaimed.

with a deep breath you carefully opened the envelope that had “to y/n” written on it in familiar handwriting. carefully you opened up the delicate letter and read the contents, yeji beside you taking in every word as well. you froze in shock for a split second before a wide smile broke out onto your face and it took everything in you to keep from jumping up and down.

“he wants me to meet him under the cherry blossom tree by the train tracks…” you breathed lowly, shock still reeling you. you repeated yourself, each word getting louder as you turned and grasped yeji’s hands with excitement and almost crinkling the letter, “he wants me to meet him under the cherry blossom tree by the train tracks!”

you had gathered the attention of the students walking by and heat suddenly spread across your face and immediately calmed you down. unfortunately, just as you shrunk into your locker, your eyes briefly connected with beomgyu’s bestfriend and resident golden boy of your school—choi yeonjun.

he looked in your direction and you just barely managed to catch the smile he gave to beomgyu’s other bestfriend—choi soobin—and the words forming from his lips.

your grip on yeji’s hands tightened as you quickly pulled her towards the girls restroom. “oh my god!” she exclaimed and began jumping the two of you up and down. excited giggles left both of your lips and echoed off the walls of the restroom.

“oh my god,” yeji repeated, suddenly serious. “he means meet him now. you have to go, like, right now!” worry suddenly broke through all your emotions at the possibility of beomgyu thinking that you wouldn’t show. yeji started pushing you towards the door of the restroom.

“oh my god!” you worriedly repeated yeji’s words. in response, all she repeated was, “go, go, go!”

you booked it out of the restroom and out of the school, running all the way until you saw the familiar cherry blossom tree down the hill in front of where the school sat. distantly, you saw beomgyu’s figure waiting for you and you inhaled deeply as you made slow strides towards him. you held the letter close to your heart and tried to control your nerves the closer and closer you got to the tree.

at your incoming footsteps, beomgyu turned to you and you gasped softly and how beautiful he was. a flustered—and somewhat sheepish—smile spread across your face and you stepped just mere inches from where he stood. “i got your letter,” you said as you looked up into his eyes.

the falling cherry blossoms around beomgyu’s head and soft afternoon light framed him perfectly and it made you wonder just how lucky you were that you were the one he chose to confess to.

beomgyu opened his mouth, only to close it and have a matching sheepish smile overtake it. just as he went to open it again, a cherry blossom fell onto his head, caught in the dark strands of his hair. he looked up, just as you did as well, and you both chuckled. “can we start seeing each other?” beomgyu ask you quietly, plucking the flower from his hair and holding it out to you.

if it were even possible, your smile widened and you accepted the outstretched flower. from the corner of your eye saw yeji, yeonjun, and soobin huddle together behind a bush directly across from the two of you. yeji nudged them out of the way to get a good look but accidentally ruffled some of the leaves of the bush. you saw the three of them drop down quick as lightning behind the bush before you or beomgyu could see them.

you nodded and softly spoke, “i would really like that.” a toothy grin spread on beomgyu’s lips. finally, the one he adored the most was his.

∿ [ continue on to . . . masterlist , taglist , request ] all feedback and reblogs are welcome! ♡

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[y2beom]

i'v3 been wwiting omf eg

나비 / NABI — [preview].

SYNOPSIS. in which you’re trying your damned best to willfully ignore your feelings for your friend of over twenty years, but— as always— life seems to have a different plan paved out for you.

PAIRING. choi beomgyu x female! reader. GENRE. childhood friends to not quite friends (derogatory) to not quite friends (endearment) to lovers, romance, humor, hurt/comfort but more on comfort, coming of age, slowburn, college! au, “it’s always been you” trope, pining, tons of denial, beomgyu is the only man ever, featuring a large ensemble of idols from various groups. WARNINGS. swearing, mentions of sex, hospital scare, ghosting, rumors as a plot device, what may be considered as bullying, mc refuses to monologue about her feelings, the works. WORD COUNT. preview: 1.2k words | full fic: est. 30k.

RELEASE DATE. end of may or within the month of june. TAGLIST. send an ask/dm/reply to be added.

NOTE. this is a sequel to 모기 / MOGI. remember when i said i wasn’t planning on writing a part two to this? haha, remember? well, this might be my best work yet gosh darn, life works in mysterious ways! i poured my entire fucking soul into this! 

something i’d like to mention is that i’ve already planned out this entire sequel before beomgyu’s sukidakara cover came out, before i revisited his other two covers. the timing was crazy because there’s three major arcs to this fic— and somehow, all three songs fit the themes. really really well i started crying at some point HAHAHAHAHHA. there’s so much i want to say about this story, but i’ll bite my tongue until its release. enjoy!

preview under the cut.

YOU STILL DON’T LIKE CHOI BEOMGYU. Ever since you and he reconciled and publicly became friends again, your life has never known quiet— all thanks to the countless insects constantly buzzing around him, and by consequence around you, every damn day. And it’s not like you can keep avoiding him. Choi Beomgyu has made the executive decision to take advantage of the guilt you’ve been feeling, so for the past month, you’ve been a slave to his whims. 

Responding to 3AM ice cream runs even though you’re swamped with assignments. Going to parties hosted by people you don’t know the fucking names of because he keeps calling you a boring loser. And, the cherry on top, having to deal with Lee Heeseung’s even more annoying presence, just like how you’d predicted he’d behave if he ever finds out you and Beomgyu are friends.

Which he did. Much to your despair and agony.

“Beomgyu, your girlfriend’s here to see you.”

Case in point. You spare him nothing but an eye roll when he lets you in the clubroom for the, ahem, coding club. You’re here because Beomgyu texted you to fetch him a matcha latte and since you’re playing as his slave at the moment (and until your patience runs out), you obliged out of the kindness of your heart, only to get a truckload of teasing in return.

“Oh, hey, what’s up,” Yeonjun throws you a peace sign from their worn out sofa by the door the moment you enter. He’s accompanied by a good number of chip bags on the cushions.

“Hey,” Hanbin greets you as well when you pass by their alleged meeting table. Which, by the way, has stacks of leftover takeout containers and some empty, some half-empty plastic jugs of water. “Beomgyu is on the computer.”

“Thanks,” you tell him. This clubroom is a fucking gremlin hole.

“You know what.” Your path towards Choi Beomgyu is interrupted by Hyunjin, suddenly popping out of the half-wall separating the lounge area from the computers at the back. You jump, because what the fuck? “My heart races everytime you come here. I still get flashbacks from the day you threatened to wreck our safe haven. I think you gave me PTSD.”

Ah, yes. That day. That was eventful. It was the first time you’ve seen Choi Beomgyu cry.

“Serves you right, gossip snorter,” you say. “Out of the way, I have business to deal with.”

Hyunjin indeed gets out of your way, and there he reveals a row of four computers lined up against the wall with their assigned nerds mashing on the keyboards and yelling profanities at matching game screens. You zero in on the one on the far left corner. Surprisingly, Beomgyu is relatively calm compared to the others. You tap on his shoulder. Beomgyu turns his head around.

“Oh,” he says, pulling his office chair back from out of the desk with a swivel while removing the headphones from his ears and letting them rest around his neck. You notice Jeongin seated beside him, who looks up at you only for a moment only to flinch back to the screen. “You’re here?”

No, shit. You jangle the latte in front of his face, head cocked, and he reaches out for it. But then you quickly jerk back your hand before he can snatch it from you. “Nuh-uh. Pay up.”

“Tch,” Beomgyu clicks his tongue and shoots you a bitter look. “Hyung, can you toss me my jacket?”

Someone from behind does indeed toss him his jacket, and at that very moment as well, Heeseung decides that it’s a great time to indulge in his newly founded hobby. “Hey, how about me? Why didn’t you get me a drink?” He joins the already crowded crevice in the back and swings an arm around your shoulder. “You get a boyfriend and forget all your friends. Have you forgotten that you two got together because of me? I’m hurt, I’m so hurt.”

Your face scrunches up. “Literally, how many times do I have to tell you he’s not my boyfriend.” You elbow Heeseung off, eliciting another whine from him. When your eyes snap back at Beomgyu, you see that he’s preoccupied with going through wallet. You kick his chair. “Say something, dipshit.”

Beomgyu hands you a bill and exchanges it with the matcha latte. You wait for him to speak. He takes a long sip, pulls his face away from the straw with a grimace, hands back the drink to you, then says, “What she said.”

You look at him, drink now back in your hands.

“What the fuck?”

“Keep it,” he says, putting his headphones back on. “Don’t you have class?”

Your jaw clenches. Fucker made you run an errand for nothing. He gives you an asshat smile of goodbye then spins his chair back to his computer. You scoff and smack the back of his head, causing his headphones to slip off. “Bye.”

“Hey!”

“Later,” Heeseung bids you off, and it’s followed by a chorus of goodbyes from the inhabitants of the testosterone infested, stinky gamer cave. Seriously, every time you drop by here,, you feel an ounce of your soul shriveling up and rotting away. Yeonjun very politely opens the door for you. You hear one of them yell out before you leave.

“Come over tomorrow. Hanbin hyung’s treating us to pizza!”

And with that, you’re finally free, matcha latte in hand and a desire to breathe in some fresh air. You’re pretty sure the air is polluted in there. But still, it’s been a lot easier to breathe recently than when you two weren’t on good terms.

“Saved you a seat.”

You make it to class two minutes before the schedule. Minjeong proudly taps on the seat next to her, and you take the invitation. “As you should,” you hum, taking out your notes from your bag, and not long after Sungchan arrives and lands on the spot next to you.

It’s the week before finals. Prof Shin starts the class and decides to fuck all of your study schedules by giving a last minute assignment due next week as well. 

“Does this guy want to give us depression before the summer or some shit?” Minjeong complains the moment your professor leaves the lecture hall.“I swear to god, if another prof gives us an assignment due over the break, I’m killing myself.”

“You two have plans over the break?” asks Sungchan, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and the three of you head out for lunch, funneling out into the hallway along with the rest of your blockmates.

“I’m going home,” says Minjeong.

“I have summer classes,” you answer..

Sungchan stops in his tracks. “You serious?” 

“Yup.”

“You bet on it.”

He looks at the both of you like you’re a bunch of withering old ladies and he’s very much unimpressed. “Make some time for the last week. I’m throwing the wildest summer rager and you two can’t miss it.”

You’re pretty sure you replied with something along the lines of an agreement, but you’re not quite sure. The thought completely slips out of your head throughout the next week because, well, finals. And before you know it, your first semester of uni comes to a close, and summer comes crashing in at full swing.

나비 / NABI. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.