#I might elaborate upon this later. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

improbable-outset · 4 months ago

Text

📂 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭.𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞

I don’t think there’s any trigger warnings needed for this. But I just wanna give a heads up that I did not write these in order so there might be some HC that looks rush— I couldn’t elaborate on some, sorry 😢

𝐔𝐥𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

📄 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Kenji’s past experiences and personality traits shape how he shows affection. Having lived in America for most of his life, his way of showing love blends both American and Japanese elements

In America, people are generally more direct with their affection, and public displays of affection (PDA) are more socially acceptable, or at least not that frowned upon, including hugging, kissing, and hand-holding. While gift giving is important in American culture, it doesn’t carry the same significance as in Japan (cuteeeee).

In contrast, Japanese culture often values subtle and indirect expressions of affection, with intimate gestures usually kept private. Kenji’s approach combines both culture seamlessly

Kenji might express his love in a mix of direct and indirect ways. His approach to PDA might vary depending on his surroundings. As a star baseball player that’s constantly in the public eye, he might save more intimate gestures for private moments. However, he won’t shy away from holding your hand or giving a quick peck on the cheek

Drawing from Japanese culture, Ken will give gifts as a way of showing his love— and given that this man is loaded, they do tend to be pretty extravagant. He might also embrace more grand gestures typical in American culture

Though he appreciates your thoughtful gestures too. Whether it’s leaving small gifts or notes in his duffle bag before a game or making him breakfast, he cherishes these moments with you

Overall, Kenji is grateful that you love all aspect of him, appreciating the different ways he shows his affection and your understanding and acceptance of his unique blend of cultural influences

📄 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝.𝐝𝐨𝐜

I’m glad that there are more people acknowledging the struggles Kenji faced as a Japanese person newly moved to LA. In his first interview with Ami, he stated how he was made fun of for the way he looked and talked, indicating he had a hard time making friends in America. This was a difficult adjustment period for him.

But if you thought that was bad, moving back to Japan presented its own set of challenges. Despite returning to his home country, Ken struggled to fit in with the Japanese crowd. We’ve heard the unwarranted comment from the catcher: “We’re waiting for the Japanese version of this guy,” highlighting his continuing struggle with acceptance.

So it is canon that this man is lonely. Given everything he has been through, you would expect him to have a bitter attitude and be more closed off. However, that’s not the case.

Ken can be sociable when he wants to be. He often masks his internal struggle with his cocky exterior, which might add another difficulty in making friends, but it doesn’t define his character entirely.

Beyond his bravado, Ken has the potential to be a great friend. We’ve seen the way he warms up to Ami later on in the story. He can be fiercely loyal when he wants to be and stand by those he cares about and be there when they need them.

The real question is: will he let you be there for him? How long will it take for him to let you in his psych? This is a complex layer of his character that we’ll explore later on in the alphabet

📄 𝐂𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Oh, this man definitely needs to be held. At the start of your relationship, Kenji would always be the one holding you close. His arms would wrap around you while you nestled on his chest. He found comfort in the role and didn’t think much about needing to be held himself, until you gently asked him about it

He was reluctant about it at first but eventually he relented, allowing you to hold him close. Feeling your heartbeat near his ear and your arms around him, he quickly grew enamoured and melted into your touch.

It took him a few cuddle sessions for him to adjust to this new dynamic, but once he did, he embraced it fully (all puns intended)

As your relationship deepened, Kenji became more comfortable with initiating cuddle sessions himself. He’s not shy about expressing when he needs to be held

I can see him climbing into bed and nuzzling into your neck, seeking closeness. From being the one who held you, Kenji appreciates the reciprocity of being held by you. Knowing someone cares for him deeply gives him a sense of contentment

📄 𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Over time, Kenji’s desire to settle down grows stronger the more he spends time with you. Seeing the stability and fulfilment a settled life can bring, he envisions a secure, private home environment where you both can unwind away from the public eye

Kenji’s cooking skills are basic but heartfelt. He learned to cook out of necessity while living in the America, often preparing meals with his mother as a way of spending quality time together.

He sees cooking together as a way of bonding and creating lasting memories. Despite having an advanced automated delivery system in his home, he often prefers to cook with you, valuing the personal touch. He is open to learning new recipes and techniques, often taking lead in the kitchen

While Kenji prefers to keep his living space organised, he isn’t fond of the labour of cleaning. He relies on his high-tech home and Mina to handle most of the household chores efficiently. He appreciates the comfort and peace that a well-maintained home provides

He utilise the technology in his home to make his life easier, ensuring that everything is kept in order.

📄 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠.𝐝𝐨𝐜

The way he handles your break up really depends on the situation, but he would always prefer to do it face-to-face for clarity and honesty

If it was you at fault, it might be because he feels like there’s a lack of support from you or because you betrayed his trust.

He may seem resentful on the outside but is shattered on the inside. After you both go your separate ways, you’ll never hear from him again, but you won’t know that he’s holding back from contacting you and forgiving you. However, his pride won’t allow him to.

But if you do something seriously bad, like continuously disrespect him or, worse case-scenario, cheat on him, he’ll be colder towards you. Don’t expect him to give you another chance after that

If he’s the one that’s at fault here, it’ll probably be because he prioritise his career and baseball over your relationship and has unintentionally neglected you. He’ll be upset and pissed off.

He’s not angry at you, but more at himself for not being better. He’s already dealing with his mother’s absence and now he has lost another important person in his life.

But unlike his mothers disappearance, he had control over the situation, and it could’ve been avoided if he changed

In this case, he won’t beg you to stay but rather wish you well for your future and would seek to provide closure

📄 𝐅𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Kenji take’s commitment seriously, especially given everything he has been through while moving the the US and back to Japan, often feeling lonely. Despite his loneliness, he won’t make a move unless he’s fully committed to building a future together, and ensure that you’re both are emotionally ready for the next step

However his career in being in the spotlight and having eyes on him might impact his decision. He has already mastered separating his personal life concealed from the media, but having a partner might spark some unwanted attention and an uproar of press conferences asking about his love life.

Kenji is acutely aware of the intrusive nature of the media. He wants to protect his partner and any future children from unwanted attention. Kenji will find a way to navigate through the chaos and maintain a balance with his career and his personal life

He’ll openly discuss with you how you could balance his career and future together. This includes talking about the timelines for your marriage so it won’t clash with his professional commitment

He values your input when making decisions and wants to ensure that you’re both are on the same page

📄 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Kenji’s gentleness shines through both in action and his protective nature. We’ve seen the way he cradled and soothed Emi at Tokyo Tower after he accidentally fractured her arm, all while trying to keep himself calm after she got tranquillised by the KDF. Despite his strength as Ultraman and his athletic build, he still takes great care not to cause harm.

His physical gentleness extends to his interactions with you. Whether it’s the tender way he holds you or his carefulness during physical activities, Kenji ensures that his doesn’t go overboard with his strength

However, the same can’t be completely said for his emotional gentleness. While he has a good heart, he struggles to find the right words for reassurance. He tries emulating what his mother would say when she comforted him, hoping it would have the same effect on you as it did to him, even as an adult

He draws from his mother’s influence, replicating her warmth and security she provided, hoping it would bring you the same comfort

📄 𝐇𝐮𝐠𝐬.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Okay, we’ve seen how Kenji was literally running and jumping around with Emi outside of his cabin, you can’t tell me he doesn’t love hugs. After watching that scene, I can definitely see him sweeping you off your feet and spinning you around in his embrace during a moment of celebration or excitement (maybe when he finally wins a championship or when you accept his marriage proposal hehe)

His hugs have a grounding effect, making you feel safe in his arms. Given his athletic build, it’ll be a mixture of firmness and softness. And with his height, his hugs would be a full-body embrace, where you would be completely held

📄 𝐈 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮.𝐝𝐨𝐜

He’s not shy when it comes to verbally expressing his love to you; however, it was definitely you who said it first before he had the confidence to say it back. As your relationship deepens, he starts to initiate it too and uses other affirmations more freely, especially in private

Phrases like “aishiteru” are used sparingly and are usually reserved for serious committed relationships. He’ll probably use that every once in a while but not always, so he won’t overuse it and it’ll still hold its value

📄 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Kenji doesn’t have a lot of relationship experience. This is the first time he has build an emotional connection with someone (if you don’t count Ami, though I wouldn’t call that a true connection) so if he feels like the relationship is threatened by anyone, it’s only natural for him to feel some jealousy

Not saying that he doesn’t know how to act or handle his emotions— rather, he just doesn’t want to lose you. His relationship with you represents a huge step from his lonesome life, and though he does trust you deeply, there’s still some underlying doubt and insecurities.

Despite his confidence in many areas, when it comes to the matter of heart, he’s still navigating uncharted waters. However, as your relationship strengthens and he becomes more secure with your love, these jealousy moments become less frequent

📄 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬.𝐝𝐨𝐜

According to the wiki page trivia, Kenji is approximately 6 feet tall (no surprise). So forehead kisses are a given, especially if you are shorter than him. He loves doing it at the most unexpected moments, it’s not too intimate for the public yet still tender.

He adores your kisses too, even if they aren’t as passionate— good luck kisses before his game, before bed, and surprise kisses.

You shared your first kiss at his place, alone together. He appreciated the privacy and having you to himself that night without any watchful eyes. You were the one that held his face and guided him, since he doesn’t do this often, or at least not in this scenario

📄 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐞𝐬.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Before Emi stumbled upon his life, the thought of having children never really crossed his mind. His initial reluctance and emotional breakdown when he had to take care of Emi shows how unprepared he felt for the role of fatherhood. Despite eventually embracing the role and finding joy in caring for Emi, he still feels a bit iffy about having his own children (biological or adopted)

A human baby is much smaller and more delicate than a kaiju. Human infants are more vulnerable, and this amplifies Ken’s insecurities.

Every new parent will have the typical fear of not being good enough or making mistakes, and I think Ken’s insecurities stem from his past.

Ken’s strained relationship with his father, even though it was eventually resolved, left a lasting impact on him. As a child, he felt abandoned when his father stayed in Japan while he moved to America with his mother.

I feel like the sense of abandonment is a deep-rooted fear he carries into his own potential parenthood. He’s anxious that his double life as a star baseball player and Ultraman might leave his own child to feel the same way he did— confused and abandoned.

However, this might give him determination not to repeat history and ensure his child never feels the same way he did. Furthermore, the thought of his child watching him play, whether through TV or in person, might inspire him to excel in his baseball career.

He hopes that his kid will look up to him with admiration just as Emi did when she watched him practice and supported him

📄 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Unless you’re an early riser, he’s usually up before you, around 5:30-6am. He quietly gets out of bed to avoid disturbing you. His morning starts with either a run or a home workout (That scene of him jump-roping in front of the rising sun will forever be etched in my mind). He probably uses his simulation to replicate the workout scene, just like how he does with the baseball pitch

Once he completes his workout, he showers and changes into his casual clothes. By now, you would definitely be awake. He loves these little moments with you, so he puts effort to make breakfast together instead of relying on Mina to use the automated delivery system— just as he did in the scene when he was trying to feed Emi for the first time

After breakfast, Mina provides his schedule for the day and updates him on any threats, just in case he needs to leave for an unexpected mission. By 8:00 he’ll leave for his baseball training facility

📄 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Every night is not the same when it comes to living with Ultraman. Some nights, Kenji will come home late after another mission, protecting Tokyo. But if he doesn’t need to be out, he’ll be home by 6pm and will greet you with a tired smile

He will take a few minutes to unwind on the couch before he showers and changes to his loungewear. You’re always on your toes, checking for any injuries, and maybe even give him a massage if he needs it

He might rewatch some of his old video with his mom with you and share those special memories. This is significant because you’re one of the important people in his life, and sharing these moments means a lot to him

You’ll have dinner at around 7/8pm, sharing stories about your day. If he did have a good game, be prepared to hear him ramble and boast about it like you didn’t just watch his game on the TV

By 9pm, you both start to wind down, taking it slow and turning off any screens and by 10pm you’ll head to bed, cuddling together

📄 𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐧.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Kenji won’t open up to you immediately, especially regarding his vulnerabilities about his mother and how he doesn’t fit in. At first he’ll come off with his blasé attitude, brushing off or downplaying sensitive topics to make them seem less significant

But with your efforts, you create a safe space for him to express himself and his fears, something he’s still getting used to. You offer him constant reassurance (and trust me, be patient with him), reminding him that he can lean on you

After several sessions of you healing his wounds from a baseball game or another mission and constantly checking if he’s okay, he slowly warms up to you and grows more comfortable in opening up

You’re gonna make him weak on the knees if you keep on doting him like that and encourage him to take care of himself. He’ll have no choice but to spill everything to you because he knows you won’t think of him differently

📄 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Even before you got together, we’ve all seen how he was with Emi, teaching her baseball and her rehabilitation training after she got injured. He never gave up on her, his patience blooming naturally.

He’s never the type to get easily angry unless you really do something that genuinely pisses him off or constantly doing something that you bothers him

After everything you’ve done for him, it’s only fair that Kenji give you the same level of patience as you do with him. The way you treat him inspired him to be better in your relationship

📄 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐞𝐬.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Having an AI assistant that helps him keep track of his schedule and special dates makes it easier to remember anniversaries and other important events. But beyond that, Kenji is quite sentimental and has a keen eye for the little details about you.

He keeps momentous from your time together similar to how he treasures videos of his mother. These trinkets might include small souvenirs from places you’ve always wanted to visit

He uses his keep memory to choose thoughtful gifts that show how well he knows you. He might surprise you with something that reminds you of a special day you shared

Overall, Kenji’s attention to detail means he remembers and cherishes little things about you, making you feel truly seen

📄 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫.𝐝𝐨𝐜

One of his favourite memories in your relationship is when you came to watch one of his games live. Although he couldn’t see you in the audience, the thought alone of you being there gave him the boost to perform better. He probably flaunted a little just because he knew you were watching and wanted to impress you

Another memory he loves is when you made him his favourite green tea when he was sick. It sounds mundane, but it felt good having you take care of him and knowing you’d be by his side, even at his lowest. Also you tea-making skills is impeccable

📄 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Kanji’s Ultraman duties include protecting the city from any threats. When the baby kaiju egg hatched in his hands, his protective instincts kicked in when the KDF were actively searching for it. He brought it home without thinking about the consequences (fuck around and find out)— so it’s only natural that he’s protective over you too

There are different ways Ken would be protective over you. He would physically shield you by placing himself between you and the threat. I don’t know if he had any special ‘training’ as Ultraman but he is well-versed in combat and because of his athletic physique, he can handle physical threats effectively

He will probably teach you some basic self-defence techniques or emergency protocols, like having Mina track your location, just in case he’s not around

But even with all of this, he still respects your independence and personal space, the last thing he wants is to smother you. He trusts that you can handle situations on your own but always makes it clear that he’s there when you need him. He just wants to make sure you’re safe

📄 𝐓𝐫𝐲.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Having never been in a real relationship before, Kenji finds himself making an effort to make every moment special. Because he’s never had a deep connection with anyone like this, he will tend to ensure his partner feels valued and appreciated. Though he will go overboard as his fear of losing you drives him to go above and beyond

For dates and anniversaries, Kenji will plan every detail, from the venue place to the different activities. He booked a rooftop dinner that gave a view of the city for your first anniversary. His gestures can sometimes be grand and extravagant, as he wants to make you happy and create memorable moments

His dedication and efforts partly stems from people-pleasing tendencies that are shaped by his past loneliness and desire for acceptance. There’s a lingering fear of falling short and being left behind because he didn’t do enough which leads to him overextending himself, even if it is with good intentions (poor Ken…)

However, you remind him that he doesn’t need to do all of that to make you happy; you love him for who he is, not for his grand gestures. It’s an added bonus, but not a foundation of your relationship

While Kenji does struggle to maintain a balance of his grand gestures with the simplicity of his affection, his heart will always be in the right place. Your reminder that his love and presence is enough gives him a peace of mind and helps him enjoy your relationship more organically

📄 𝐔𝐠𝐥𝐲.𝐝𝐨𝐜

We all know that at the end of the film, Ken sheds some of his arrogance from the beginning, but that doesn’t mean he’ll be completely free from it immediately. Sometimes his cockiness can get in the way, making him seem dismissive.

It’s not that he’s intentionally doing it, but he’s still learning to break away from his habits, especially if it’s harming your relationship. The last thing he wants is to ruin things because of his old character that he’s trying to fix

Just as mentioned earlier, he has never had this kind of connection with anyone, so he’s also new to being emotionally available. He struggles to communicate his feelings openly since he is used to concealing them, especially from the press and the public.

This might lead to misunderstandings and unaddressed issues. But together, you work through it, and slowly, he warms up to it

📄 𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲.𝐝𝐨𝐜

This man has a whole car collection in his crib so he is definitely loaded. You can’t tell me that he doesn’t spend his money on his outfits, looking the best of the best. Kenji is fully aware of his good looks and he knows how to use them to his full advantage

He takes great pride in his appearance, not only because he’s often in the spotlight as a professional baseball player but also as way of expressing himself and his achievements

We’ve seen his outfits when he was in that interview with Ami— the blazer with the necklace. His confidence shines through in every aspect of his appearance, whether through his sharp outfits, that are perfectly coordinated, to his sleek jewelry collection

In your relationship, you appreciate his confidence and the way he takes care of himself. His vanity and fashion sense become a shared joy, with you sometimes helping him pick out outfits and new accessories. It adds to the charm and closeness to your relationship

All in all, Kenji’s vanity is a blend of his confidence and self-expression— it’s a reflection of his personality and journey.

📄 𝐖𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Although Kenji does value his independence, and even though he sometimes gets lonely, there are elements in your relationship that make him feel complete and fulfilled. Having a human companionship to come to, rather than just an ai assistant (sorry Mina, still love you), means a lot to him

Your presence provides Kenji the emotional support he craves. After a tough day, he knows you’re always there to listen to him. You both celebrate his victories, whether on the field or in his Ultraman duties. Same goes with challenging times, you both lean on each other for support

Your relationship has contributed to personal growth for both of you. Kenji has learned to be more open and expressive with his feelings. You both encourage each other to be the best version of yourselves

📄 𝐗𝐭𝐫𝐚.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Ken is definitely a foodie. While living in America, he found comfort in food and developed an appreciation for various cuisines. Because he struggled to fit in, he often turned to food as a source of solace.

He particularly loves Hispanic and South Asian food (<<self indulging here, can’t tell me he doesn’t like pani puri) for their rich traditions, even if they differ from the Japanese cuisine

When you’re together, Kenji enjoys replicating these dishes and sharing them with you. They hold a special place in his heart. His love for food isn’t just about the different flavours but the memories they bring

📄 𝐘𝐮𝐜𝐤.𝐝𝐨𝐜

One thing Kenji can’t stand from his partner is someone who always broadcasts everything about their relationship. He would prefer to keep matters like that private, especially when he has an image to maintain. The only reason he shared his mothers message at the end of the film with Ami was because it was a memory he cherished deeply

Speaking of family, after reconciling with his father, Kenji values his relationship with his family immensely. Having a partner who doesn’t respect or get along with his family would be problematic for him

Finally, one of the most important aspects is his passion for baseball and his duties as Ultraman. A partner who belittles or doesn’t support his career or responsibilities would not work out. Ken needs someone who understands and respects his dedication to both his professional and personal missions

📄 𝐙𝐳𝐳.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Okay we all know that it’s canon that Kenji sleeps shirtless :)))) yeah I don’t have to elaborate on that

I feel like he was a heavy sleeper before his Ultraman duties has taken a toll on his sleeping habits, he has to be more alert so he’ll probably become more of a light sleeper

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @clonedrone @f3r4lfr0gg3r @aise-30 @luneariaa @prettygirleli

@trasshy-artist @beabadobeee @doodlenoodleboi @just-me-and-my-world @mitski9328373

@ilovehobi101 @moonjellyfishie @unhingedsillygod @stfuchaase @myrootsgrowdeep

@mitskicain @graham-mckrackers @coinduck @n4muqr

I was surprised to see how many ppl asked to be tagged in this 🥹🥹 hopefully we have the same energy with the nsfw version

#★— ayrus writes #my yoinky sploinky <3 #ultraman rising #ultraman x reader #ultraman ken #ultraman #kenji x reader #ken sato #kenji sato #kenji sato x reader #kenji sato x you #kenji sato x y/n #ken sato x reader #ken sato x you #ken sato x y/n

614 notes · View notes

p1hypen · 1 year ago

Text

TERRIBLE TWOS — P. SUNGHOON

SYNOPSIS! A rash decision on your end causes you and Sunghoon to break up. What you think is for the best turns out to be the complete opposite, actually. Cue two years later when a random encounter with your ex forces you to revisit past feelings that has never quite fully departed from either of you. PAIRING! Chairman!Sunghoon x Fem!Reader WC! 11.4k (Got carried away)

GENRE/CW! Exes getting back together, fluff, slight angst if you squint, smut (fingering, brief mentions of fem oral receiving, sunghoon has a 7 inch cock; i headcanon that, unprotected sex, missionary, creampie, lots of tongue kissing), swearing, reader is in denial just a tad bit, ft. non-idol!yunjin, reader is a struggling fine arts major, etc. MDNI

A/N: originally, i intended for this to be a simple one shot but it somehow turned out to be greater than that in the end lol. this was also my first attempt at writing smut; i've always wanted to try it but damn is it kinda hard. i feel like the title doesn't match or capture the story as good but whatever-- it used to be called 'seasons,' yet that didn't make sense either so... terrible twos it is! i hope you enjoy <3

“Y/n?”

A trace of uncertainty laces the man's voice, his mind racing with the possibility that he might have mistaken a stranger for someone from his past. Internally, he winces at the prospect of this awkward mix-up, dreading such an encounter with a random person. He clings to the hope that his intuition proves accurate.

Could it really be her? Amid the bustling crowd, she always managed to stand out, an unmistakable aura surrounding her. Her presence eclipsed even the most vibrant of settings, radiating a unique energy that outshone a field of flowers.

When he tentatively calls out her name in a hushed tone, she spins around on her heel, and for an ephemeral moment, Sunghoon feels as though he's stepped into a scene from a classic romance film.

Time stills and so does he.

Each of your movements steals his breath away. The way your hair dances in harmony with the wind, and how your eyelashes cast the most delicate shadow upon your high cheekbones. Your gradual unveiling leaves him struggling to swallow past an inexplicable lump in his throat.

Sunghoon notices the moment your eyes widen. Behind those enchanting orbs, he discerns a flicker of nostalgia and a touch of melancholy. During your time together, he had the uncanny ability to read those emotions hidden within the depths of your eyes.

“Sunghoon…” You say no louder than a mere whisper that could easily get lost in the summer’s wind that passes through the both of you.

Your heart throbs in your chest. The biological response is far too overwhelming that you can feel your stomach tying itself in double knots. You think you might need to be pointed to the nearest bathroom so you can barf up the swarm of butterflies that disturb your system. No doubt, does crossing paths with an ex whom you share a long history with manage to do that to you.

“H-how are you?” You’re the first to strike up a conversation despite that being Sunghoon’s unspoken responsibility.

How am I? Sunghoon has to brace himself to collect his messy thoughts.

“I’m pretty good, and yourself?”

His response is curt and short. In any other setting, he would have elaborated on his answer but he wasn’t sure how much information was too much to reveal to an ex regarding the state of his well-being. You nod at his words, not really expecting much nor having high hopes that he would give you more to work with in this conversation of playing catch-up between an ex.

See, your relationship ended amicably, with both of you acknowledging that the spark kindled between you two had faded out. With your mind elsewhere, too focused on your academics (so you like to say), and Sunghoon preparing to inherit his family’s business, there was little room for romance in either of your daily routines. Your typical weekend dates were swapped out for meetings with major corporations and other soon-to-be-chairman-related activities so that he could fully understand what the rest of his future held for him.

Even though you missed having your boyfriend's undivided attention, you refused to act as a temporary roadblock that prevented him from making significant progress. Despite your heart and brain being at war with each other, you made the conscious decision to slowly back down from being his lover and tucked your face in the pages of your academic textbooks.

With Sunghoon too busy to even acknowledge that his girlfriend was distancing herself from him, you were the first to come forward, bearing the news that breaking up would be the optimal solution to your and his fading presence in one another’s lives.

That night when you bid goodbye, he felt half his heart shatter inside of him. Little did you know that you carried the other part wherever you went, but now that you were no longer capable of sheltering that missing piece, it almost made him want to die inside more than just a tad bit— a lot, actually.

He pretended to play it cool as your back turned to him and he watched you retreat to your car, feeling both helpless and defeated. With an unflinching countenance, a tightly clenched jaw, and fingers gripped at his sides, Sunghoon longed for his feet to have chased after you, preventing your departure from his life. He yearned to undo whatever had driven you away, to rewrite his mistakes and reshape your shared history.

Sadly, not even the first star in the sky he saw at night could grant him something as demanding as that.

On the contrary, had those things happened, he wouldn’t be here today on a Thursday afternoon rekindling a connection that got tossed up in the air and fell through his fingertips.

“I—“ Before you get a chance to deliver your sentence Sunghoon’s hold on your arm prompts him to draw you to his chest.

Your breath hitches in the back of your throat, eyes simultaneously widening for the second time thanks to a certain ex. You look up at the taller one with crinkled brows. A mixture of confusion and a looming feeling in the deepest pit of your stomach that hasn’t quite left, tugging at your heartstrings. His intoxicating scent of Dior Sauvage is all too overwhelming for your nose to take in. You swear your head could start spinning any minute now.

He’s so close to you. You’re so close to him. If someone were to come by and accidentally bump into you, you would be pressed up against his chest, breaking what limited distance is keeping you two apart.

A bike rider disrupting pedestrian traffic on the sidewalk whizzes by, obnoxiously ringing the bell attached to their handlebar as if they aren’t to be blamed for riding on the concrete pavement, and it’s only then do you realize that Sunghoon was protecting you from getting hit. His body relaxes once he declares that it’s safe for you to comfortably stand in the open from any oncoming obstructions.

“Sorry… acted on impulse.” His grasp on you immediately retreats to the inside of his pant pockets and you swear that his touch leaves a ghosting sensation on your skin.

Sunghoon refuses to meet your lingering gaze, eyes averting to some random couple walking their dog across the street from where the two of you are standing. It’s almost funny how he fully believed two years ago that one day both of you would be exactly like that: dog owners who take their beloved fur baby on walks together and enjoy the simplicity of the little things that a relationship has to offer.

“It’s okay, thank you,” You murmur, unsure of where things should go from here.

A beat of silence comes and goes before Sunghoon has the chance to take the initiative to prove he’s different from his past self.

The past self you witnessed throughout the duration of your shared romanticism. The past self who failed to convince you to stay because he never wanted you to leave his side. What he wanted was to work things out and to understand what he could do to change and make things better for the two of you.

Even if that meant you breaking up with him first to realize this.

“Listen, why don’t we…” He suddenly starts. Sunghoon analyzes your face and when your features evidently show that you’re all ears for what he has to say, he takes a deep breath to compose himself. “Get dinner. Together.“

Although the question comes out more like a demand rather than a request, you’re slightly taken aback because you were almost certain Sunghoon probably resents you for the breakup— at least that’s what you tell yourself— and that he doesn’t want any business involving you entering his life for a repeat performance. The only different thing is that you’re his ex.

Can you blame him? It was so sudden.

The concealed hurt he tried to mask but failed to do so when you told him you wanted to end things, hoping it’d be left on good terms, rambling about how much you do and will continue to care for him no matter what he does in life or who he chooses to love after you. It seems you did more talking than he got the chance to, and Sunghoon wasn’t sure if you had this all planned leading up to that moment, or if he should’ve seen it coming.

Whatever it was, Sunghoon could never hate or repent you, but you’re no telepathic mind-reader and wouldn’t know how he feels about you now unless you asked.

Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth as you ponder the idea of sitting in a fancy restaurant with Sunghoon and sharing a long conversation over an expensive meal that is highly overpriced for its ridiculously small portions.

“On one condition,” You quip. Sunghoon gestures for you to keep going and you clear your throat. “No five-star Michelin places, okay? I just want a simple dinner to make up for lost time.”

The older male chuckles, nodding his head sensibly. If there’s one thing Sunghoon learned about you is that you were never hard to please and preferred the opposite of a high-end luxury lifestyle that he naturally grew up with.

“Tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at 8, how’s that sound?”

“That’s perfect but um—“ you purse your lips. “Do you… Do you still remember where I live?”

“Of course. It would take a lot more than time and distance apart from each other, for me to forget your every being.”

Sunghoon leans in to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The underlying intimacy hiding beneath his actions has you contemplating what the course of your relationship would have looked like for the two of you, had you not broken up with a man as sweet and thoughtful as him.

Was calling it quits between you two a mistake? Should you have stuck it out just a little longer?

You can only shove those thoughts to the farthest point in the back of your mind and recenter your focus to the handsome ravenette.

Sunghoon, sporting a warm grin that gradually grows into a pearly white showcase of his perfect teeth and adorable canines, makes it worth marveling if second chances are a thing that people still stand by.

The next evening, Sunghoon unexpectedly arrived at your front door 20 minutes ahead of your readiness. While you were trying to situate yourself into your cami dress that paired well with the current season, a knocking sound coming from the entrance to your studio unit startled you in its wake. You tapped on the screen of your phone to check the time and crinkled your nose when the numbers staring back at you read 7:40.

Sunghoon’s habit of arriving for an occasion earlier than expected was not unusual for his character. The taller's mannerisms crept into other facets of his social life after years of being trained to believe that "early is on time" and "on time is late." However, 20 minutes ahead of schedule was definitely new to you, and part of you can’t help but think if this is stemming from anxiety or if that’s just you projecting your nerves onto his much early arrival.

“Just a sec!” You struggled to reach for the zipper to your dress, stress-sweating due to the pressure of having to rush through the rest of your routine.

After what felt like a millennia you finally managed to seal yourself shut into your attire and scurried to the front door where poor Sunghoon was waiting for you to answer.

“I’m so sorry, I couldn’t get to the zipper of my dress and I don’t think me flashing you or my neighbors in semi-public is socially acceptable.” You awkwardly laugh, strands of hair sticking to the back of your neck and forehead from the accumulated sweat you managed to produce.

Sunghoon chuckles, shaking his head at your guilty tendency to overshare too much information for the dramatics.

“No worries. I know I showed up earlier than expected. Don’t worry about me, do what you need to do.” He smiles softly and for a second it almost slips your mind that you’re no longer romantically involved with each other.

Oh, how you wish you could leap at him and smother the dashing man with kisses all over his Greek god-like, beautiful face…

“Here,” The taller unveils a bouquet of flowers that he attempted (underline, attempted) to hide behind his back. In reality, you could already see bits of it peeking out but chose to play coy about the item he was holding back from giving you.

You fawn at the striking arrangement of tulips that come in different shades of the prettiest of pinks. Tulips. Of course, he would remember that those are your favorite. His words from yesterday ring in your ears, and believing them, you truly start to confide that Sunghoon could never boot you out of his memory as easy as a snap of his fingers.

“The prettiest bunch of flowers for the prettiest girl.” Sunghoon cautiously says, unsure if that would be stepping a line. To be fair, there isn’t an official handbook on what you should or shouldn’t say to an ex— except for some of the more common phrases; whatever that may be.

You let out a lighthearted laugh at the bold, yet cheesy, compliment and invited Sunghoon into the safe haven of your apartment, ignoring the way your heart practically skipped a beat when he said that.

He’s been here on plentiful occasions so he’s really no stranger to the arrangement of your flat and could probably draw out an entire floor plan if he wanted to. At one point he almost committed to the thought of moving in with you, but you were a firm believer that it would be best if he stuck to the minimalist mansion he decorated himself; it was passed down to him from none other than his father. Needless to say, Sunghoon was a pouty puppy that day.

“I’m almost ready I promise.” You say. “I just need to add some finishing touches and then I’m all yours for the night.” Immediately your hands fly to your mouth when realization dawns on you about the delivery of your words.

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow, and luckily, you miss the faint smirk that tugs at the corner of his plump lips teasingly.

“You know what I mean!” You panic, waving off the metaphorical atmosphere that surrounds both of you.

You excuse yourself and escape to your room as the tips of your ears start to flush with embarrassment.

Once the door leading to your bedroom shuts behind you with a mellow thud, your back presses up against the surface of the entryway. A loud sigh that you weren't even aware you were repressing since Sunghoon arrived breaks out past your tinted lips. With your mind a foggy mess and your heart threatening to leap right out of your chest, you’re under the impression that you resemble the stereotypical anime school girl the way your entire demeanor changes when you’re around him.

But that’s the thing.

It’s only Sunghoon.

It’s just Sunghoon.

So what if you guys dated in high school and partially during college? So what if he was the first and only guy you’ve been with, and even though you have no one to compare him to, he would still be the best ex you could ever have? So what if you regret breaking up with him because you got ahead of yourself and refused to be transparent with him?

So what if you want him back…

You pat both sides of your cheeks to wake yourself from a philosophical dilemma. you refuse to go down a rabbit hole of emotions especially when you’re about to go out to dinner.

You shuffle through your wardrobe in search of a certain pair of Converse that a special someone gave to you as a birthday gift. When you find it neatly stored away in its original packaging and the box that it came in you’re almost too eager to slip your feet into the collar of the Chuck Taylor’s.

You halt in your steps when you reach your vanity and grab your everyday bottle of perfume, spritzing one pump, then two, then three, and four more of the floral scent, that you’re showering yourself in it at this point.

When you've deemed that you’re completely ready and satisfied with your appearance for the evening, you exit the inviting comfort of your cozy chambers. Sunghoon’s back is facing you as you ascend into the living room. You can’t make out much of what he’s doing and he’s seemingly too preoccupied to notice your footsteps stalk across the wooden paneling. His neck is craned downward looking at something on the decorative table where you have a neat arrangement of framed pictures.

“You still have this?” He turns around revealing the photograph that he was referring to, now in his possession. There’s a distant glimmer of emotion that you can’t quite make out peeking around the curves of his irises.

You let out a resigned sigh.

You’ve been caught red-handed for leaving a single trace of the past out in the open.

Of all the furniture and miscellaneous objects that collect dust on different surfaces in your flat, Sunghoon chose to go for the photograph of you and him standing under a cherry blossom tree in Ilsan Park. Your arm was hooked around his waist and his was wrapped around your shoulder. The brightest of smiles stretched across your faces as petals danced around you. It was the perfect moment captured in stillness and you wish you could leap through pictures to relive that special day. A distant memory that feels like it happened not too long ago.

“I couldn’t get rid of it. It’s— That’s one of my favorite pictures of us.” You simply explain.

It was true, because out of all of the selfies, candid photos, and other pictures you shared together with Sunghoon, your date to Ilsan Park remained your number one core memory as a couple.

You watch intently as Sunghoon places the photo back where it originally belonged on the console.

“I think that’s one of my favorites, too.” He says as a matter of fact. “That or the one where we went to Lotte World and wore matching uniforms together.” The taller laughs.

You giggled, the recollection of your amusement park date flashing across your mind. You dragged him to go on each and every attraction with you as he stumbled in your tracks, struggling to keep up with your social battery. You felt like two high schoolers in love at the ripe age of 20 because being with Sunghoon gave you the impression that you were your 15-year-old self again.

“I like that one as well! I thought I looked pretty cute in that uniform.” You grin sheepishly.

Sunghoon chuckles and it causes you to whip your head to survey him. His eyes crinkle before they’re no longer crescent and back to their original doe-eyed shape.

“You’re still cute, y’know that?”

The comment sends your heart ablaze along with the blood that rushes to the surface of your cheeks. You can only hope that the thin layer of makeup and blush you applied is strong enough to camouflage the effect that sunghoon has on you. It’s no secret that he was always a smooth talker and still is. It makes you wonder if he’s ever used that flirtatious skill on other women he’s come across after you— or if he has.

You tut your tongue at him and reach for your crossbody purse draped on the couch that you lazily tossed aside yesterday after coming home.

“Ready, m’lady?” Sunghoon twists the knob and pushes the front door open, supporting the weight with his broad frame to keep it from closing in on you two when you exit.

“Wait!” You pip, halting in your steps. You briskly retreat to your room and grab the bouquet of tulips you left on the side table next to your bed.

You scurry over to Sunghoon, cradling the arrangement of florals like it was your baby. The haired boy opens his mouth to say something but you’re too fast to retort,

“I wanna show it off. They’re too pretty to be left at home.”

He nods and motions his hand for you to leave the unit first. The taller gives himself a mental pat on the back for inquiring in a floral shop before coming to retrieve you for dinner.

Tulips are a girl’s best friend, after all. For you, at least.

Coincidentally dinner happens to occur at the one restaurant you frequently visited when you and Sunghoon were dating. It was a simple ma and pa spot only locals in the area knew of. They were popularly known for their cold noodles and ginseng chicken soup. You like to think of it as a secret only two of you know about and continue to gatekeep it from your friends or families from ever coming across of it.

The owners grew familiar with both of you through your frequent visits and friendly conversations. your rapport with them resulted in a warm welcome every time you returned, often accompanied by a generous discount as a token of their appreciation. Since your last visit to their restaurant, a while has gone by, and you both have been overdue to make an appearance at the restaurant.

“Aigoo, Sunghoon-ah, it’s been so long!” Mrs. Kim exclaims, wearing the biggest and brightest smile that brings out the crinkles in her complexion when she notices two familiar faces. “And Y/n, it’s good to see you too!” She turns to you with the same mien still permanently plastered on her face.

You bow your head. Her contagious smile has you mirroring her grin.

“Come, come, sit.” She waves her hand for the two of you to follow in her trail as she leads both of you to your— undesignated but designated— table that you and Sunghoon would constantly sit at.

Before you even have a chance to pull out your chair, Sunghoon beats you to it with surprising swiftness. The aged wood scrapes gently against the floor as he courteously pulls the chair back for you. A warm smile tugs at your lips as you appreciate this chivalrous gesture, unable to contain a soft giggle of delight.

Mrs. Kim watches the interaction between the two of you and smirks, completely out of the loop that you have broken up; still under the assumption that you’re both dating to this day. Who could blame her when in her eyes you were the perfect missing piece for one another in this world like you were made for each other from the start.

“The usual?” She asks despite already knowing the answer to her question.

“Yes please,” Sunghoon nods.

He sits after folding his blazer in half so that it can rest neatly on the chair's backrest. To add some fuel to the flame, he unbuttons the cuffs to his long sleeves and rolls them past his forearms so that they stop an inch below his elbows. The expensive watch that rests snugly on his wrist glistens, almost blinding you. You’re reminded that the man sitting across from you is responsible for an entire company under his name and capable of powerful things.

You gulp. You feel like you’re watching something you shouldn’t be and instead take an interest in the condiments that are pushed to the side of your table.

Soy sauce, vinegar, napkins…

When you think that you’re ready to re-center your attention onto Sunghoon once your racing heart has calmed down from its high, the taller has his eyes closed as he combs his fingers through his hair. His lips are parted ever so slightly and there’s a shine to his plush tiers.

He has to be doing this on purpose now.

You watch the way his Adam apple bobs when he swallows and you swear it should be a sin to look this effortlessly good in warm overhead lighting.

You huff, a little too audibly for the male across from you to hear and his doe eyes flutter open. The sudden eye contact catches you off guard and you’re struggling to maintain yourself from the tension your mind is projecting. You shift around in your chair trying to find a more comfortable position.

This is going to be a long dinner.

After Mrs. Kim returned with your delectable dishes, the food vanished quickly as you guys delved into stories and shared the exciting highlights of your respective journeys. You and Sunghoon spent the rest of your meal at the table reminiscing about the past two years including the many ups and downs you’ve dealt with.

You learned that a month after your breakup, Sunghoon’s father officially stepped down, handing over the reins of the company to his son as the new successor. The ravenette confided in you, revealing that even though he had been groomed for this role his whole life, the transition wasn't as smooth as he had envisioned. The weight of responsibility felt overwhelming. Taking charge of a major company brought with it a level of pressure he had never experienced before. The expectations were high, both from the company's board and the employees who had known him since he was young.

As he grappled with the complexities of his new position, Sunghoon couldn't help but reminisce about a simpler life. He missed the carefree moments he used to share with you, the laughter, and the ease of his unannounced visits when he would turn up at your door with snacks he bought from the corner store and canned beer.

Eventually his determination and drive to persevere kept him standing strong in the face of these obstacles. With his family behind him, a supportive workforce, and you in the back of his mind, he knew he had people to look back on and make them proud.

You praised the older for his character development, gushing at his transition from uncertainty to confidence, while sympathizing with the initial troubles he first started off with. Being a chairman at his age is bound to weigh heavily on his mental and emotional health, and you can’t help but wish that you had stayed by his side through it all in order to be that support pillar he needed at immediacy.

“So, what about you? I didn’t really get to hear your answer yesterday.” Sunghoon asks.

You blinked. “Me? Well, uhm…”

A bubble of insecurity creeps into your stomach. Your mind races through a mental checklist of your own achievements, or rather, the lack thereof, especially when compared to Sunghoon’s impressive journey. While your lives have taken very drastically different paths, you can’t shake the feeling that at the end of the day, the two of you are worlds apart from each other. He’s the chairman of a highly respected company. And you? You’re just a college graduate with a bachelor’s degree in fine arts. A pursuit that feels miles away from Sunghoon’s milestones.

During the period that he was absent from your everyday life, all you managed to build was your art portfolio, which you eagerly sent to numerous galleries in a desperate bid to gain recognition as a struggling artist. Rejection letters became an all too familiar sight, each offering the same hollow praise— impressed but not interested. Those were dark times, where self-doubt loomed large.

Thankfully, your situation started to improve when you summoned the courage to step out of your comfort zone. You took to social media, opening art accounts on Instagram and Twitter, and sharing your artistic odyssey on TikTok. Yunjin, one of your closest friends and best friend since middle school, commissioned you to paint a mural inside a cafe she was working at. “I begged my boss for this to happen!” She said enthusiastically over the phone the night she asked you for the favor. Everything to you was a leap of faith, a glimmer of hope that prompted you to fully believe in the light at the end of every tunnel.

In spite of your situation turning out for the better, it was impossible to ignore the inescapable sense of solitude and loneliness that clung to you like a shadow. It followed you everywhere you went. A mental reminder that, no matter how bright life was starting to seem, you still felt trapped and not completely content with yourself.

You convey these exact thoughts and feelings to Sunghoon in a messy ramble, hoping that this unintentional therapy session you’ve turned dinner into won’t scare him off. You can only hope that you’re not ruining the evening with a sob story of another art kid struggling to make a name for themselves in a society, where choosing art as a career path is at a greater disadvantage in comparison to your stronger counterparts.

When you find yourself coming to the end of your rant, a wave of silence washes over the table, and you grab the nearest cup of water to gulp from. Ignoring the condensation that sweats around the glass and soils your palms. Your eyes look everywhere, purposefully avoiding Sunghoon and the tragic visage he’s probably giving you right about now.

“Y/n, look at me.”

You raise your head, complying to his soft demand.

“I’m proud of you,” he begins, and in that instant, a surge of emotion that has been suppressed for far too long wells up within you. “It takes a lot of courage and willpower to continue to follow a path you’re uncertain of.” The comment makes Sunghoon chuckle dryly, closely reminded of himself, shaking his head. “But look at you, you’re doing so great.”

The warmth in his voice, the sincerity in his eyes— they combine like a gentle storm, and suddenly, tears brim your eyes, begging to spill over. Your vision is splotchy and you refuse to blink, save for ruining your mascara. You weren’t planning on being an emotional wreck tonight, especially over dinner with your ex.

“I understand how hard it must have been dealing with those struggles alone, and I wish I was there by your side to help support you when it happened.” Sunghoon continues. He pauses to take in a breath before resuming, “But I’m here now… I’m not going anywhere, and if you’d let me— I want back into your life again, Y/n.”

A solitary tear breaks free, followed by another, and then another, until suddenly your eyes unleash a torrent of waterworks like a relentless downpour from a stormy sky. You hide your face in a handful of napkins you hastily grabbed, unaware that Sunghoon got up to move from his seat and slipped into the chair next to yours. His touch catches you off guard but you immediately relax as he guides you into his embrace, allowing you to hide yourself in his arms; your face tucked away in his chest. He caresses your hair, his slender fingers thread through your styled locks as he lulls you to comfort from your shaken state.

The two of you stay rooted in that position until you confidently and mentally reassure yourself that you are okay; you’re going to be okay. Your breathing has calmed down from its high and returned to a normal, healthy rate as your tears subsided and are non-existent.

No longer conscious of your makeup— a matter far from substantial to care for anymore— you wipe away the mess around your eyes. Black clumps of mascara and some concealer transfer onto the napkin. Seeing the stains garner a weak laugh to emit from you. Sunghoon cranes his neck to survey what you’ve become engrossed with. He sees the ruined makeup and laughs lightly into your hair.

You’re thankful that there aren’t many customers dining in tonight and that it’s just you, Sunghoon, and three other parties who are far too busy drinking, conversing, and laughing amongst themselves to acknowledge the young couple tucked away in the corner.

Mrs. Kim leads both you and Sunghoon out of the restaurant with a warmth akin to a grandmother bidding her grandchildren farewell, her heartfelt wish for your safe return home evident in her loving smile.

“Goodbye, Mrs. Kim. Thank you, again, for another delicious dinner.” Sunghoon bows at a 90-degree angle and the formality stirs a boisterous laugh from the frail old lady. You mimic his actions, also expressing your gratitude for the lovely meal and free dessert she served to you guys ‘on the house.’

“When you guys come back I better see a wedding ring on her finger, Sunghoon-ah.” Mrs. Kim scolds lightly. You almost choke on your own saliva at the remark, coughing awkwardly to cover up your bewilderment. Sunghoon does his best to maintain his composure for the sake of the elder’s oblivion.

“You guys disappear for two years and still no diamond in sight. I was hoping some big change happened!” She clicks her tongue on the roof of her mouth, crossing her arms.

Sunghoon dips his head again in an apologetic manner. “You and Mr. Kim will be the first people we come to with a wedding invitation.”

You whack the taller’s arm giving him a what-the-fuck-are-you-talking-about look, eyebrows scrunched with perplexity. The last thing you want is to continue to feed into Mrs. Kim’s false reality that the two of you are still a couple. Who’s to say that Sunghoon isn’t actually on the same page as you and everything is just a facade? I mean, sure, he’s been flirty here and there, bought you flowers, comforted you at dinner, and practically asked you to take him back…

Your trust in Sunghoon has clearly waned, a result of your fluctuating self-confidence that leads you to confide in the pessimistic "what ifs." Your clouded judgment and self-doubt gnaw at your thoughts, casting doubt on the possibility of a reunion between the two of you.

Sunghoon ignores the daggers slicing at the left side of his face and the buzzing pain you inflicted on him from the harsh impact of your hand. His digits dig gently into your side, drawing you closer to him. You stumble ever so slightly and flash an unconvincing awkward smile to the old lady.

You situate yourselves into the driver and passenger seats of his Hyundai Ioniq. You’re quiet when you pull the seat belt over your upper half, and for the first 10 minutes, not a single word was uttered from either you or the male sitting behind the wheel. Your mind loiters as you watch the building lights illuminating the dark troposphere of Seoul whizz by at 2x speed.

You and Mr. Kim will be the first people we come to with a wedding invitation.

Yeah right… You almost roll your eyes but catch yourself prolonging the idea of a hypothetical engagement and wedding ceremony with Sunghoon as your groom.

Would he have gone down on one knee to propose to you had both of you remained lovers?

You shake the contemplation loose from your prefrontal cortex.

“Is it okay if I roll the window down?” You’re the first to break the ice. Sunghoon nods, his attention still focused on the road in front of him. Without looking, his fingers find the car’s air-con button to turn it off and he gives you the ‘go’ to proceed with your desire.

The tempered glass descends and you’re immediately greeted with the beating rush of the summertime air. You giggle and rest your arms on the weatherstrip trimming of the Hyundai, your head poking out like an excited dog who’s riding in the car with its tongue hanging from its mouth. You close your eyes, taking in the wind that messes with your hair and brushes past your skin. It’s enough to transcend you into a different headspace, almost forgetting that you’re in a moving vehicle and not on some speedboat skidding across the water in Europe.

Sunghoon looks your way, unable to suppress the natural smile that lights up his face whenever he sees you. You truly are a surge of energy he needs when he wants to uplift himself if he’s feeling down. You’re his happy pill— so much so, that he wishes he could keep a chibi version of you for him to carry in the pocket square of his suits and let you rome on the wooden surface of his office desk to help him get through the work day. It’s silly and love-sickening, but Sunghoon only knows how to act a fool with you around him.

His fingers drum against the padding of the steering wheel, waking you from your daydream. You hadn’t realized that you’ve already made it back to the city and are soon approaching your apartment complex. Your neighborhood is only a couple of turns away from your current destination as the two of you sit at a red light. You roll the window up, at least it was fun for the duration it endured.

When he pulls up on the side of the street in front of your building, you try to find some lame excuse to stay with him for another minute longer, not wanting to say goodnight to him. You’re scared that this evening will be a one-off event and you'll return to your old ways, enveloped once more in the arms of self-isolation that consumes you completely.

Your grip on the door handle tightens.

“Sunghoon,” you shift your view in his direction. “You don’t mind walking me to my front door, do you?”

The male smiles with his eyes.

“Who am I to not accompany a lady when needed.”

Sunghoon makes quick work to unbuckle himself from the driver’s seat and rounds the front of the car to open the door for you. He holds out his hand for you to take, which you generously do so, and grants him the unspoken permission to whisk you away into the levels of your residential building.

The elevator ride is a close resemblance to the trip back to your place, however, there’s a contrasting atmosphere waiting to burst like a champagne bottle and spill over. Sunghoon’s holding your hand the entire way and you don’t resist the notion.

When you approach your unit at the end of the hall, you fish for your keys that are sitting at the bottom of your bag. Sunghoon’s hand slips out of your grasp and you almost whine at the loss of his warmth and touch, but you know he’s only doing it for you to use both free hands to ultimately unlock your door. The click! of the lock coming from the other side is an indication that you can push past the door once the knob is turned.

You stand there, hesitant to enter your own home.

“I guess— this is it?” You murmur tentatively to yourself and the taller. You rock on your heels purposefully stalling time as you force both him and yourself to stare a little longer at the iron numbers detailing your front door.

You let out a rigged breath.

“Tonight was great. The longest I’ve been out of the house in a month, really.” You cringe pathetically at the confession knowing that a month ago Yunjin was the one who pulled you out of bed to get some fresh air and sunlight because you were hiding away like a vampire. "Thank you... Sunghoon, for treating me to dinner and spending the evening with me..."

He remains stoic and unusually quiet, making it challenging to decipher what he’s thinking or feeling. You wish you could enter his mind to get a glimpse of how his brain functions. You’d hate to seem pitiful for hoping that his advances from today were, if at all, genuine.

If what he said at dinner was coming from the heart.

As you contemplate what might be your last encounter with your 'the one who got away,’ Sunghoon astounds you with yet another trick up his sleeve, when he secures your wrist in his delicate grasp. Forever one step ahead of you, his lips collide with yours in a passionate fervent. The only appropriate reaction that you can give him in response is to return the kiss with just as much fervor. The strap to your purse slides off your shoulders and lands below you with a little thud thanks to Sunghoon’s antsy hands pushing it out of the way.

He cages you against the surface of the door, your back bumping into it when he forces the distance between your bodies to dissipate. Bothered by the tiny gap that prevents you from being as close as you possibly can to him. The only active barrier is now the layer of clothing he’s wearing and the tiny dress that nearly clings to your every curve. He can’t wait to impatiently rip you out of it and slip in a “I’ll buy you a new one, princess.”

Your hands find sanctuary in his soft hair. How you missed tugging at their roots when he’d go down on you in bed, on the kitchen counter, and in the shower with your one leg supporting your entire weight as Sunghoon made the other side dangle over his shoulder. Those positions are tempting, and biologically the flashbacks of your sexual activity with the male feed into the expansion of your slick that gradually soils your panties.

You squeeze your thighs together. The pressure of your inner fat is an empty feeling of pleasure that you wish Sunghoon could replace with his tongue, fingers, cock, or all three one at a time. The male notices this cry-for-help and trails his right hand down the sides of your waist. He stops at the lace hemming of the cami dress, bunching the material to provide easy access to your mid-thigh. His fingers dance on your skin, traveling upward ever so slowly in an antagonizing fashion that almost infuriates you for his teasing manner in the heat of the moment.

Sunghoon reluctantly breaks the kiss. The evidence of your already smudged matte lipstick has left a faint trace on his plump tiers. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, mouth ready to latch onto the sensitive area he knows best that will cloud every crevice of your mind with nothing but want and lust. At the end of this night, all that you will know is how to be his obedient cocksleeve like the good girl he’s conditioned you into.

The sound of someone clearing their throat on the opposite end of your apartment’s hallway is akin to a record player scratch. You’re grateful that the construction workers, or whoever built this place, designed the structure of your building to be a certain way so that the split-off point from the elevator wasn’t a simple corridor style where you could see both fire exits at each side. Instead, it was more so a wide V-shape.

In other words, no one really caught you and Sunghoon in semi-public eating one another’s faces.

You stop to share a quiet laugh with Sunghoon and ultimately enter the safe space of your flat, out of your neighbors point of view where they could have had a free, front-row seat to some juicy content. The door closes behind you, you can barely get out of your shoes and make it past the front step leading to your living room when Sunghoon’s haste to have you underneath the sheets with him in your bed has you stumbling backward. He catches you before you can register that you would have fallen onto your ass against the hardwood. His lips serve him well, contributing to the situation as a distraction that redirects your every inner thought bubble.

Sunghoon casually kicks off his shoes, adding them to the haphazard pile alongside yours— the least of his concerns at the moment.

The kiss from outside repeats itself, and this time, Sunghoon can contently resume what he intended to do had another tenant not interrupted the mood. But the voyeurism exploration kink in him would have liked either sequence of events.

His tongue traces a wet stripe up your neck, sending a shiver cascading down your spine. You dully bite down on your bottom lip, trying to stifle the whimper that is sanctioned at the back of your throat, trapped by a surge of lust and anticipation. Sunghoon’s mouth ghosts over the shell of your ear, and his hot breath tickles.

“I wanna hear you, baby.” He slurs. “Don’t be shy on me now.”

Sunghoon’s lips sheathe that sensitive spot on your neck, causing you to gasp. Your shoulders tense at the foreign feeling of his mouth on your body, and you’ve forgotten how good it was to receive a hickey. You relax under his touch when he gives the soft fat of your waist a reassuring squeeze.

His canines graze your skin while he sucks on the same patch, switching interchangeably to lap his tongue at the area when he begins to see a blossom of red and purple hues mix together, creating the prettiest bruise that would surely take more than a couple of days to fully heal. You groan when his teeth apply the right amount of force onto your flesh, leaving indents in their wake. His perverted mind relishes in the fact that only he is capable of marking you in ways that no other man could ever come close to.

He steps back to fully appreciate his canvas, that is you, and the absolute masterpiece that you are to him.

He leans in, pressing another kiss to your lips, this time with a gentler, more tender spirit, devoid of any sloppy motions. It’s delicate, a striking contrast to the heated lip-locking session the two of you were entranced with just moments ago on the other side of your apartment door. His larger palms cup your face as the pads of his thumbs caress the apples of your cheeks, making you feel loved and cared for.

Sunghoon lures your tongue into his mouth, clamping his lips around the muscle. He suckles at it, eliciting the cutest whimpers that he missed hearing from you since you’ve been gone.

“Hnngh… Hah,” you pry yourself off of him, a string of your shared saliva connects the two of your equally moist lips.

Your puffy lips shimmer in the moonlight streaming into your livingroom, as if the moon itself decided to play a starring role tonight. You squeeze his bicep, noticing that the muscle has doubled in size since you last touched it. You peer up at the taller through your eyelashes and Sunghoon has to conceal his primal instincts from fucking your throat with his raging hard-on.

Your fingers graze the fabric of his long-sleeve collar, tracing delicate patterns across the black tie donned around his neck. Something about being able to witness a man up close in a suit never failed to provoke a flood of arousal from overwhelming your erogenous zone. Specifically, Sunghoon. It’s a shame— not really— that it eventually has to come off. With a deft touch, you begin to unravel the four-in-hand knot, a testament to Sunghoon’s meticulous self-preparation. The silk unravels, revealing its intricate texture beneath your fingertips.

You assist Sunghoon in removing his suit jacket next, observing it gracefully descend to the floor. You briefly wonder why he's so nonchalant about leaving such an expensive garment on the ground, but he dismisses your concern with a wave of his hand. After all, as a chairman, he has the means and privilege to easily replace such clothing items.

You decide that it’s your turn to take the lead for once and initiate another heated session of sultry lip service. Your mouth kisses Sunghoon’s with primal hunger. Teeth clash, and you see no remorse for your hostility sponsored by pent-up sexual frustration and longing for some sort of relief that only Sunghoon can render.

In a poor attempt to unbutton the last layer of clothing that shields Sunghoon’s upper half, your fingers fumble with the small disks that are fastened by the slits. You whine frustratedly against his lips once you realize you’re not making much progress. It is incredibly hard to multitask when your tongue is being manhandled by his.

“Here, lemme do it.“ Sunghoon mutters in a low growl.

He tears open the placket just like he would to a bag of chips, and the buttons you were struggling to relieve him of pop off in ease, taunting you for your lack of efficiency at getting him out of his attire. He wriggles his arms free from the restraints of his sleeves and shrugs the apparel from the summit of his shoulders, allowing the ruined piece to join his suit jacket on the floor.

“Your turn, babe.”

He twirls you around, your back fully pressed against his front as the tent in his pants pokes at your globes. The thrill of his length nestled between your ass spurs you to grind yourself on him, a staggered exhale of his hot breath fans the curvature of your trapezius, prickling your skin. The cotton material of your underwear cultivates a sticky sensation the longer you stay trapped in it.

“S-shit baby, you’re a fucking tease.” Sunghoon grabs your chin, forcing your head to turn his way so that he can seize your lips in an inconsistent kiss. Alternatively, it’s a tongue duel of him wanting to shove the muscular organ down your throat.

“A-ahh,” You moan helplessly.

He yanks the zipper of your dress. The item peels off of your bust, exposing your bare skin and naked torso simultaneously. You have to wriggle your hips past the remaining fabric in order to fully reveal your bare figure to Sunghoon— besides your damp panties that is.

“No bra today? It’s almost like you were expecting this to happen…” Sunghoon taunts.

“N-no…” You squeak, shaking your head.

“No? Use your words baby.”

You turn to face him, your perky mounds that come into his view are a sight for sore eyes. Even in the dark and scant amount of natural lighting from the celestial object in the night sky, is Sunghoon competent at reading your flustered features. How you manage to be cute yet look so lewd all at once is beyond his comprehension.

“I-I didn’t wear a bra because I thought it’d be easier to go without one.” You mumble, telling the truth.

“That’s better,” Sunghoon coos. He pecks your cheek and you smile at the reward.

“Eeek! S-Sunghoon!” You burst into a fit of shared laughter and giggles when said name scoops you into his arms, your body cradled against his chest, as your legs dangled over his one arm while the other supports your back.

“Just practicing when we’re both walking down the aisle at our future wedding.” Sunghoon jests.

Tenderness fills your eyes when you look up at him. He’s joked about the hypothetical conception of marriage twice in the night that you’re fully convinced it wouldn’t be all that bad of an idea. Given that both of you are ready and first rekindle the status of your relationship, of course.

Sunghoon grins. There’s a gentle kindness to his pearly whites, and you reach up to press a chaste kiss to his jawline.

He relocates to your bedroom. Gently, he lays you down on the bed, your body propped up on your forearms, bearing the weight of your upper half. With an unwavering gaze, you study Sunghoon closely, every detail of his expression and every nuance of his presence.

His eyebrows knit and meet in the middle, fixated on undoing his pants to escape from their restraints, followed by his underwear soon after. His stiff member rebounds off his lower abdomen, precum leaking from the mushroom tip. A satisfied exhale leaves his mouth. He stalks over to you with a sly smirk, towering your smaller frame when he crawls on top of the bed, his knees plant themselves into the mattress and his additional weight dips the space where you lay.

You whine when his length ghosts at the expanse of your inner thigh, suspense and arousal continue to bubble inside of you. Sunghoon murmurs for you to lay back. “Make yourself comfortable,” were his initial instructions before hooking the waistband of your panties with his fingers and dragging them below your legs. The undergarment was tossed to the side.

You nibble at your bottom lip and screw your eyes shut when a slender finger circles the perimeter of your labia.

“You’re so wet babe,” Sunghoon purrs.

Your breath hitches at the back of your throat when he slides his index finger through your inner lips, gathering an abundance of your slick to bring to his mouth for a taste. Both eyes flutter open in time to witness Sunghoon suck at the digit drenched with your arousal. The sight is sinfully lewd, nearly too much for you to handle. Your face reddens and you fight the inclination to hide behind your hands.

“You taste so good, too.“ He licks at his lips. “Wanna try?” Sunghoon cocks his head to the side, and you can’t find it in you to turn down his offer when he looks so innocent— yet acts like the devil himself when he’s overcome with lust. You nod your head with approval.

His duality needs to be studied at Harvard, you think in the back of your mind.

Sunghoon plunges his index finger past your hole, triggering your back to arch an inch off the bed. He chuckles lowly and watches as your hands grab desperately at the sheets beneath you to steady your sanity. The singular digit curls inside of you. Your unforeseen shock is vocalized in the form of a moan and Sunghoon repeats the motion several times.

“O-oh my god—“ You gasp.

The ravenette withdraws his finger and taps at your mouth, signaling you to open. You submit to his implicit dictation. Your lips encase his pointer, tongue swirling around it like a piece of sweet candy you’re tasting for the first time.

You bat your eyelashes prettily and moan. “Mmmh…”

“Dirty girl,” Sunghoon sniggers. He retracts his finger and you let it slip past your mouth with a ‘pop’ sound.

“Can you please give me your cock now?” You plead with a pout, doing your best impression of an endearing set of puppy eyes.

Sunghoon chuckles. “Let me at least prep you first, baby. How long has it been since you’ve had someone’s cock inside of you, anyways?”

You part your lips but close it just as quickly. To be candid, you've never been one to actively immerse yourself in the 'I'm single' scene. Your only foray into it was with Yunjin, roughly three weeks after your split with Sunghoon. The two of you ventured to a club, but it proved to be a brief endeavor. Within two hours, the fifth shot became a catalyst, turning you into an unending fountain of tears.

“Y/n?”

“Huh? Oh. Sorry…”

“I’m sorry baby. Did I overstep your boundaries?” Sunghoon cups your face with his right hand, his eyes scan yours, sincerity and concern laced in those chocolate orbs of his.

You stifle a giggle. Of all boundaries he could have crossed he draws the line at asking for your body count and not him fingering you.

“What? What’s so funny?” He asks.

“Nothing just… I think it’s ironic you ask me that now and not before we did all of this.” You motion to your bare bodies when you say ‘this.’

Sunghoon’s ears redden.

“But don’t worry, Hoonie.” You hook your arms around his neck and pull him closer to pepper his face with several reassuring kisses. “I don’t mind it all. Now can you please fuck my brains out!”

Your ex (whatever he is to you at this point) throws his head back to share a quick laugh, shortly pressing his forehead against yours.

Without warning, he buries three fingers in your pussy; your hips twitch at the sentience. They slide in and out without strain and together the two of you watch as he finger fucks your hole to “prep” for his cock. The squelching noise of your juices fill the room in addition to your moaning, and Sunghoon confronts a hurdle of his patience wearing thin, wanting to fuck you senseless.

His digits leave your hole and you whine immediately at the loss. Sunghoon uses the mass quantity of slick as a substitute for lube to lather on his angry cock. He shuffles against the bed, forcing your legs even further apart to fit himself in between them. The stretch burns your muscles but is soon forgotten when the tip of his length is rubbing your folds, occasionally bumping your swollen clit which generates a needy whine.

Sunghoon’s face screws with ecstasy when his shaft inches past your entrance. Your walls hug his length and he whimpers at the tight muscles that suffocate his erection. You squirm under him, tensed and breathing heavily. It’s hard to relax when seven inches feel like it’s splitting you in half after a long hiatus from sex. Sunghoon notices your discomfort and stills his hips from pushing further, allowing you the necessary time to adjust.

“Sorry baby, I know it’s been a while. You can take it, right? Like the good girl you are?”

You nod. He kisses your forehead, cheek, and lips to soothe your anxiety, using his lips as a distraction to keep your mind from zoning in on his cock. He seizes the opportunity to fit the rest of his length inch-by-inch, and you feel like a virgin all over again when the burn of his cock stretching you open is almost too unbearable.

“Sshh, it’ll be alright, baby.” He wipes away a loose tear. “I’m gonna move, tell me when and if it’s too much, okay?”

“O-okay, Hoonie…”

Steadily, Sunghoon recedes his hips, cock following in suit, just enough for the tip to be the only thing that your pussy clenches on. He snaps forward, your boobs jiggle at the motion and your eyes are rolling to the back of your head when he repeatedly thrusts at a steadfast pace. The pain you were once scared of is no longer a fear you have to worry about, as pleasure is the only thing you know how to feel.

“F-faster, harder, p-please Hoon.” You fight through broken moans to let your voice be heard.

“Shit—“ He curses.

Sunghoon’s fingers dig into the plush fat of your waist while his other hand presses into the space of your bed next to the side of your head. His eyebrows knit, focused entirely on increasing the speed of his thrusts. He continues to piston fuck your pussy, abusing your hole in the utmost gratifying procedure. Your thighs jiggle each time that his balls slap against your skin. Everything reminds him of an amateur homemade video he’s seen from other couples perform on Pornhub. He’ll have to ask you some other day if you’d ever be open to filming your own tapes to watch back.

“Mmh, right there, Hoonie.” You sigh dreamily, locking your legs around his waist and linking your ankles together. “You’re fucking me so good— Aah!” A high pitch squeal slips from your vocal box when his tip probes at your G-spot.

“F-fuck,” Sunghoon leans in close, relying only on one forearm to hold himself up from crushing you with his entire weight. He hides his face in your boobs, tongue flicking at the sensitive bud that hardens in response. He persistently thrusts deeper, his cockhead pressing against your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Hnngh… Y-yes, yesyesyes!” You chant. Your fingers tangle themselves in his hair, scratching gently at his scalp and tugging whenever his mouth would suck or massage at your breasts. “You’re gonna— make me c-cum!“

Sunghoon’s unrelenting despite your warning. He can feel your walls clamping around his shaft, signaling your impending orgasm, and it taunts him to force himself deeper within your warm cavern at every jerk of his hips. Your hands fall to his biceps. Nails digging into his skin as your face distorts into extreme pleasure.

“I’m so close too, baby.” He groans. “Just.” Thrust. “A.” Thrust. “Couple.” Thrust. “M-more!”

“I’m cumming! I’m c-cumming—“ Your hips tremble with a frenzied urgency as your pussy pulsates around Sunghoon’s cock. Your mouth opens in a silent gasp and a long, impassioned moan escapes your lips. The sheer intensity of the moment leaving you incoherent and lost in ecstasy.

Sunghoon twitches inside of you. “Hah— you’re so— fuck!— s-sexy,” He grunts. Your head thrashes at the overstimulation of his length continuously pumping into you and you push at Sunghoon’s chest weakly, crying on his cock for him to slow down. You whine, whimper, plead for mercy so that your pussy can recover from the intense orgasm you just experienced not too long ago. In spite of that, he ignores your pleas and concentrates on finishing. It isn’t until white ropes of cum are shooting at your walls when his thrusts start to get sloppier and progressively come to a stop.

“Fuck.” Sunghoon exhales through gritted teeth. Both of you are a panting mess trying to catch your breaths as your chests rise and fall synchronously. The ravenette pulls out slowly and he groans when he sees his seed spill out of your hole, it closely reminds him of those hentai comics he’s read through illegal websites.

“I’ll get something to help clean you up.” Sunghoon lifts his weight from the bed but you reach for his forearm to grab him. You don’t have to say anything for him to understand that you don’t want him to leave your side. He brings a hand to yours, the pad of his thumb grazing the hills of your knuckles soothingly. “It’ll be fast, I promise.”

Not even 30 seconds has gone by when he re-enters your room with a damp cloth. He wipes at the areas where a mix of your cum and his seed litter your skin with sticky residue. He discards of the ruined cloth before joining you in bed where you welcome him with open arms. He plops down next to you and you turn to lay on your side so that you can get a proper view of his handsome face in post-sex afterglow. You reach out to gently touch his moles that adorn his features. The moles you missed seeing as the first thing in the morning when you’d wake up with him by your side. He grins lazily and cranes his neck to bring his lips to your forehead.

“Sunghoon…?” Your faces are merely inches apart from one another. Though the close proximity is not a foreign situation— especially after just having sex— you speak to him with a hushed tone.

“Yes?” He inquires.

“At the restaurant, you implied that you wanted to get back together again… Is it true? Do you really mean it?” Your lips are quivering and you mentally berate yourself for being so soft hearted in these types of scenarios where emotions are high, vulnerable, and transparency is called upon.

Sunghoon breathes shakily. “I really mean it. I miss you, Y/n.” He tucks away loose strands of hair that fall on your face. “These past two years without you have been hell. The first couple of months were so bad, I almost reconsidered being the chairman for father’s company so I could fight for us. Fight for you. I’m sorry if that part of my life got in our way as a couple, and I wish I had made more of an effort to be around you.”

You sniffle, “It wasn’t just your fault. I should’ve communicated instead of thinking I know better and that I thought what I did was for the greater good— because it wasn’t. And you’re right, the two years I spent without you were awful. I never wanna go through that again.”

Sunghoon loops an arm around your waist and guides your head to bury against his chest.

“We don’t have to.”

Morning rays gently infiltrate the room as Sunghoon stands before the full-length mirror in your shared master bedroom. His voice carries across the space as he greets his loving wife, 'Good morning, Mrs. Park,' while he meticulously adjusts his tie.

You stir in bed. The unwelcome intrusion of sunlight forces you awake despite the supposedly blackout curtains you requested when you first moved in with Sunghoon. You sigh in irritation. Dismissing the hope of another ten minutes of sleep, you push yourself upright, your arms stretching above your head, accompanied by a vibrant yawn. Sunghoon, amused by your morning ritual, chuckles softly.

“Still sleepy?” Your husband turns to face you after successfully finishing the Windsor knot of his tie. You blink away the fog of grogginess from your eyes and grin when you get a clear vision of your husband clad in his usual work uniform.

“Mmm… you’re so handsome.”

Sunghoon's face lights up with a genuine smile, touched by your kind words that always seem to set the perfect tone for his day. He approaches your side of the bed with a confident saunter and takes a seat beside you.

“Any plans for today, my lovely wife?”

You can't help but giggle at his endearing habit of calling you 'wife' and 'Mrs. Park.' It's become a sweet tradition between the two of you, a reminder of your loving bond that has grown since your wedding day. You twist your hand to observe the silver band that ornaments your ring finger. The diamond twinkles back at you in the bask of the light.

“I think Yunjin and I are getting brunch, then we’re going shopping right after, and later in the evening we’re gonna drink some wine and paint as we gossip about our husbands.”

Sunghoon laughs. “You’ve got a busy day ahead of yourself then.” He nudges your side playfully and you giggle. “Don’t forget to fit me into your schedule. Let’s go out for dinner tonight.”

“Cold noodles and ginseng chicken soup?”

“Where it all started.”

You envelop yourself in your husband's embrace, showering him with affectionate kisses. Starting from his moles and moving to both cheeks, his nose, forehead, and, ultimately, his irresistible lips, you express your love and absolute adoration for him with each tender peck.

“I love you, Mr. Park.” You murmur against his plush tiers.

His fingers delicately sweep aside the loose strands of hair obscuring your face, as he lovingly takes in every captivating feature, examining them with deep worship.

“I love you more, Mrs. Park.”

Two years ago you and Sunghoon sealed the knot in California. The ceremony took place at the Alila Ventana wedding venue, perched on a cliff along the rugged coast line of Big Sur. It offered a dramatic landscape, nestled amidst towering redwood trees, and a breathtaking view of the Pacific Ocean; the perfect picturesque backdrop for photos and videography. The outdoor spaces, gourmet dining, and coastal elegance were truly significant factors of your reception.

Sunghoon kept his promise to Mrs. Kim when the time came to send out the wedding invitations. Her excitement was beyond words as both of you entered the restaurant, radiating a newfound delight. Her gaze immediately fixated on the sparkling diamond ring on your finger— the same one she had scolded him for, which was now complete.

Come time to exchange your vows, Sunghoon's heartfelt declaration to cherish and devote himself to your love made it extremely difficult to keep your makeup in tact. Yunjin, your appointed maid of honor, had to step in to hand you tissues one after the other. The audience laughing to themselves at your showcase of emotions.

True to his words, Sunghoon carried you bridal style as he stalked down the aisle. Your families and friends cheering from their seats, their joyous applause resonating through the air. The warmth of their smiles and the happy tears in their eyes mirrored the love that enveloped you both in that moment.

Since then, life with Sunghoon after marriage was anything but dull.

#cgi-aenergy #enhypen fluff #enhypen smut #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen #enha #park sunghoon #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon smut #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon enhypen #minors dni

2K notes · View notes

whorediaries-09 · 1 year ago

Note

oneshot in which reader is drunk and desperate for sex but james feels like she'd give her consent drunkenly so it wouldn't be proper consent, but she's begging, and he eats her out and she's babbling out thank you's

hi love, thank you for sending in the request. i quite literally am in love with it.

meddle about;

pairing- fdad!james potter x reader warning(s)- age gap (nothing borderline illegal), 18+ content, mention of alcohol. (let me know if i should add more) a/n- might make a part two if ya'll want to.

ps- okay so for better understanding, reader is harry's friend and is as the same age as oliver wood.

the slut club early winter event

'cause it's not just a figure of speech you got me down on my knees

you're warm. you don't know whether it's because of the alcohol stimulating every inch within you, or because you can feel your friend's dad's toned thighs underneath yours. either ways, it's a nice feeling that fills you up. to be on a motorbike, your shoulders clad in a sweater that isn't yours, riding under the stars under the lucent light of the streetlights. it's blinding you think, how your heart beats with how tightly pressed you are against his back.

it wasn't supposed to be him picking you up. you had called harry, and somehow his dad was there, a few moments later. you were drunk, and similarity of their features had fogged you for a few moments. you'd successfully stopped yourself from hugging him like he was your best friend. he'd smiled at your dumb found expression, before his eyes raked over your figure, the skimpy dress upon your body. mid november, you stood, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself. he took of his sweater and made you wear it.

you remember yourself asking what he was doing with sirius' motorbike. you remember his grin while he elaborated his explanations, slowly so you could catch up,

'i'm learning how to ride one. and besides my car is at the mechanics. the broom wouldn't exactly be okay if i just carried it to a muggle bar, and well disapparating is really complicated when one is drunk.'

so that's how you ended up here, on the warm couch of james potter, exhaustion dripping of your body.

'hi,' you blink, as he appears with a bunch of things on a tray. he offers you a subtle smile, setting the tray on the coffee table. his hands cup your cheeks, while he makes sure you're watching him, and your subconscious is with the moment.

'hey, dove. i'll wipe your makeup off okay?' he asks, the question tearing off softly from his lips. you stare at his lips longer than you intended to, longer than it was appropriate,

'yeah, yeah,' you nod. his hands work with the packet of wipes, slowly rubbing the cleanser soaked sheet over your face, wiping off your unsettled makeup.

your mind swirls south. his hot breath is fanning over your face, hand holding your face in place while his tongue prods out from between his lips. you inch closer to him, your knees touching with his. you feel the edge of his nose almost touch yours and you shudder. it's a weird feeling of warmth that pools in your stomach when you think how his lips would taste against yours. you wonder how his strong hands would grip you, while he'd rut his cock into you. you wonder how his voice would sound while he'd whisper sensual words in your ears.

with utmost adoration, you look into his hazel eyes. the moonlight beams through the window, enlightening the softness of his eyes. you feel his breath hitch as you move closer to his face, tilting your neck. he gulps, his heart beating against his throat.

'we shouldn't do this...' he whispers. but he doesn't let go of your face.

'but i want to. i need you mr. potter, so bad,'

your world collapses. his lips entangle with yours, as he pulls you closer to his body. he ravages your mouth with his tongue, exploring every bit there is left untouched. he sucks on your teeth, bits on your lip, and caresses your body as if he's got it memorized, as if he's got you written across his mind. he kisses you as if you'd flee if he left you. he devours with his passion, consuming you whole.

you think he might kiss you till you're lips are blue. he tastes of cinnamon and oranges. you're breathless by the time he leaves you, with a little shake. he grunts, trying to scoot away from you, but the beauty of your swollen lips and disgruntled sighs leaving your mouth leaves him mesmerized.

'fuck,' he says. you raise an eyebrow, moving towards him. he stands up.

'what's wrong?'

'no...i don't think we should do this-this is wrong-'

'i need you, please, please have me,' you beg. he's standing against the wall, your hands wrapped around him, pushing him towards the wall behind him.

'no no, you're drunk,' he says. you bite your lip,

'i maybe drunk, but i want you. i wanted you sober, i want you drunk,' you insist. he looks down upon you, contemplating your words. your fingers reek over his chest, trailing up to his neck. your finger entangle with his curls, and you bring his face down.

'feel my cunt, it's so wet, just for you,' you mumble against his lips. his breath shudders. he takes a deep breath, inhaling in you. his hands arm around your hips, wrapping your legs aground his hips. he dives into your mouth, pushing away things strewn across the hall, taking you to his bedroom. his hand fumbles with the door, as he locks it.

he pushes you on his bed, his hands not fast enough to get rid of the dress you're wearing.

*****

it's maddening, the pace his tongue works on your clit. you're over the edge of the bed, your legs spread apart, his face buried into your pussy. filthy moans leave your mouth, as his tongue dives into your cunt, devouring you better than your wildest dreams could ever. you'd dreamt about his face buried between your thighs, while he ate you out and made you scream till your throat was raw.

'ple-please,' you beg, rutting your hips into his mouth. you feel him smile against you, the frame of his metal glasses cold against your hot skin. his finger circles over your clit,

'you taste so good sweetheart,' he croons. you numbly nod your head, fondling with your breasts.

'thank you,'

he shoves his finger inside your sopping cunt, diving his mouth between your legs again. he licks a stripe up your slit, curling his finger inside you as he sucks upon your sensitive bud. he swirls his tongue, spitting on your cunt, rhythmically moving his fingers. your breathing rate increases, stomach rising and falling as you feel the coil of orgasm build within your guts. your hand reaches his head full of curls, pushing his face closer to your dripping cunt. your thighs wrap around his head, and you scream.

'fuc-fuck i'm so close,'

he hums, the vibration sending chills down your spine. he increases the pace of his fingers, feeling your walls clench around him.

'oh fuck, fuck, thank you, thank you-' you slur, as your toes curl, and eyes roll backwards. your hips rise, and he growls,

'god cum on my tongue,'

you vigorously nod your head, moving your cunt against his splayed out tongue, letting your orgasm grip you. you release your juices on his tongue, and he devours you, lapping up every inch of your juices on his tongue.

'thank you, thank you, fuck, thank you,' you babble, mindlessly.

he stands up, his cock erect and huge in all its glory. he holds you by your neck, making you sit on your knees, the fabric of the carpet digging into your skin.

'now you're gonna return the favor won't you, love?' he whispers.

#james potter fluff #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #marauders #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #marauders era #marauders headcanon #the marauders #james potter x you #james potter smut #james potter one shot #james potter fic #james potter x regulus black #marauders fanfiction #james potter fanfiction

925 notes · View notes

myrquez · 4 months ago

Text

In Motogp there’s so much money involved, performance anxiety dominates and builds up barriers. Everyone retreats into their own pack, nothing is done together anymore. And I just adapt to it, according to the theory that it’s better to be alone than to be in a group full of fake smiles. But relationships among athletes aren’t only the ones made via some direct, classic form of communication. In sport you can actually enter into communication with someone through other ways that are more mediated but, in some cases, even more profound. With Márquez, for example, we aren’t technically friends. We think highly of each other, we respect each other, we smile to each other when one sees the other one, over the past year he’s been very fair to me, often defining me as an ideal opponent. I think it’s because he knows that I can race him very hard, but always within the rules. Which is, even if for many may not seem like it, exactly the same thing he always did while racing against me. Marc may look crazy, but he actually stands out from clichés and defies physics laws in good conscience. Unlike other riders — those reckless ones with no sense of limit, who after a crash often say “I don’t know why I crashed” — Márquez knows very well why he crashes. He often precisely crashes on purpose, just to explore that limit. He does some experiments first, then goes on to elaborate his theory. In a way, he’s an empiricist exactly like my dad was, when he purposely kept taking more and more steps forward on the track to teach me how and where to brake. It’s just that in this case, it’s the rider that does it. I like Marc. And I interpreted our famous duels in 2017 as a means to get to know each other better. In Austria and Japan we indeed were extreme, but not crazy. Adventures-seekers who like to push themselves to the limit, but not insane and neither unfair to each other […] Deep down, he isn’t irresponsible, even if he often looks for some maneuvers that have no rhyme or reason. Theoretically, and practically, they don’t make any sense. Yet I never get angry about it, not even that time in Zeltweg when it looked like I told him to fuck off. It surprises me, instead, to see what he tried to do to get a win, something like “I can’t believe it”, an amazed curiosity to see how he tried to move into this uncharted territory, the same one where, thanks to him, I consequently went into as the well. And it’s so cool. As if we both dug together a whole new vein of gold: we won’t share the prize, of course, because to keep the gold is my goal, but we still dug through it together as if we were pioneers. And this indeed does create a bond, whatever is it.

And it’s even more incredible because I exactly know what Marc is going to do in that last turn in Zeltweg. Theoretically, he doesn’t have any more weapons to attack me: at this point his Honda has less traction, worn-out tyres, less power; generally speaking, Honda is less suited to this track than Ducati. And yet he got this far, in the end […] I well know that to have Marc right behind you while going through the last corner is way too much of a problem, the worst thing it could happen to you: he’s going to try it anyway anywhere. So I’ll be there, waiting for him […] Even if we’re going at 200 km/h, I can feel upon my skin how meters get marked bit by bit. One after another. I force myself to focus on his engine’s sound to understand when and where he will attack. And when the noise is there, almost unbearable, I brake hard and leave him a bit of space on the inside line, to force him to exaggerate a bit and then overtake him in acceleration. It’s almost as if I just accepted his invite, just to deceive him later. It might look like it’s just a technical challenge, or a stunt one, but it’s actually about mind games, an hand in glove tied relationship in which our minds get connected. As in bull and bullfighter kind of way. Or, in a I know that you know that I know kind of way. To get a win in this way is a much more difficult thing to achieve, but it is much more cooler as well. When Marc gets on the inside Iine I just know that I made it, because he’s a champion, but he cannot overcome the laws of psychic. My plan gets fulfilled and the dissolving noise of his bike as he goes wide resonates with liberation. That’s when I make that gesture, automatically. Fuck off, you just got played! Real subtitle is: what did you make me do, you bastard? It’s my third win this year. It’s now clear that I am the one challenging Márquez for the title. But to me this doesn’t matter. Like it doesn’t matter that much how I just won against the one who is recognized as the hand-to-hand duels master […] What matters most is that this race has been a way to get to know each other better. Márquez, with his usual Joker smile, confesses that if he hadn’t tried to surpass me he wouldn’t have slept at all that night. That’s what perfectly defines what he is: as long as he is breathing, he will try to pass you even if he had to go through a wall.

In Motegi it isn’t that different. Here, as well, Márquez is struggling a bit more than me, but I am sure he is going to try it in the last corner. Why shouldn’t he? We’ve been “beating” each other as if there was no tomorrow for the last six laps, in some apocalyptic conditions: heavy rain, curling-like grip, no visibility at all […] Ten minutes ago I wouldn’t have thought we’d get to this point, but as soon as Márquez did a little mistake I got back on track and now we’re here, us again. Ehi, Marc, how are you doing? Our connection in Zeltweg has been restored on the other side of the world. It’s now clear that everything that is going to happen now would not be possible without the other’s collaboration. Like two alpinists in a rope team, we will get ‘till the last meter together. We overtake and we get overtaken. We give and we take. We sting like bees, fly like butterflies, and more than anything we hit like blacksmiths. At Turn 10, I change my trajectory: I’ve been studying Marc for quite a lot from behind and now I imitate him, going a bit wider. This allows me to get into Turn 11 very fast, ready for my strong suit: braking. That’s how I easily overtake him. The Ducati is very stable, everything is under control. I’d be sure to get a win at that point but an alarm goes off in my mind: I won’t give it to you this easily. Exactly. Last corner is on the right. Giving my position it’s obvious that there isn’t any physical space to get on the inside, but imagine if he does really give a damn. When I’m about to lean into the Turn, Marc abruptly arrives out of nowhere as gracefully as Hulk in a china shop. It’s not even a dirty try, more like a circus number: his engine’s noise getting closer echoes into my helmet like the drum rolls that comes just before a trapeze artist jumps. Ladies and gentlemen, Marc Márquez! Where the fuck do you want to go? You’re still sitting straight, I’m already leaning: don’t you see that we’re touching? I don’t know how, but I keep the bike in control. I suspend my maneuver for a millisecond, just enough to let him slide on the outside as I go on riding through the apex. At that point he’s way too wide, he pulls half of a miracle by leaning all on the right to keep his bike on track but has no margin for anything else. Farewell, bye, goodbye. I win today. Again. After the finish line, we stop near the track side by side. Our gloves touch. Contact. Knowledge of the other has deepened. Relationship was preserved. Despite everything, no one cut the rope and we got to the mountaintop together. It’s an awesome feeling. That’s exactly the sport that I would always like. Especially because I won. On TV I eventually admit that to win against Márquez in what he does best really excites me: this is the boost that I need for the climb to the championship, at only 11 points from the lead. Marc showers me with compliments and says that it’s awesome to battle with me for the title, the living proof that professionalism and hard work pay off. He calls me a good guy as well, and I forgive him. Actually, no. Why should I be ashamed [of being a good guy]? To pretend to be a bad guy is something that everybody can do. To actually be one when it’s needed, and to do it with a certain style, it’s something for the few.

— andrea dovizioso talking about his relationship and his duels with marc márquez in asfalto (2018)

#THIS TOOK ME WAY TOO LONG i gave away my sweat tears and blood #andrea made my life SO difficult in just three pages #this is a very (un)serious dovquez masterpost #still speechless. wish i could translate it better. he’s insane #andrea dovizioso #marc marquez #dovquez #asfalto

151 notes · View notes

astralnymphh · 1 year ago

Note

do you prefer dom or sub ellie? I’m soooo conflicted >.<

like subtop!els or softdom!ellie are certified hood classics but i love being thrown for a loop lol

gahhhj ellie is definitely a switch at heart at mind and at coochie but it's so brain–conflicting cuz like.. AUGHH!!

subtop!els whos constantly throttled by your sole demeanor and just the way you prance about regarding the heres and theres of your teasing. a demure trace of skin, such as your wrists, how they flick and roll your hands everywhere but her soft and dampened folds– fuck you, she would think, for elusively guiding her to a place of eagerness. how she sheds away her typical 'domineering' slice by slice, orgasm by orgasm, cause you wouldn't stop unsheathing her silicone girth from your pussy, eyeballing your folds recoiling back together as you hoist from straddling her. "n–no.. put it back in, please– fuck, babe.." such a fucking loser, whining for you to bounce on her. being under your thrall, she dares not to draw her hands down and fuck you herself. no no no, poor baby would never. might elaborate on this in a separate ask if I get one regarding like reader riding ellie but tortures her with their lack of actual putting her cock inside. kinda like.. cockteasing?? ish?? ౨ৎ

but then..

dom!els who foregoes all sense of tenderness and teases you instead. shifting only the cap of her dick between your labia and constantly pulling it out only to plug you up again. tipfucking, i guess. will legit shank her fat cock deep inside you, pushing out an ooze of your slick as it draws upon the back wall of your pussy– skin slap included, only to yank it back out and begin fucking you with the tip only again. oh my god, and then let's say, at dinner– you sit across from her, poly–cotton table cloth downpours over your legs nicely enough to conceal what goes on below the oak~. footjob. i said it. reader thinks that they'll be able to feint a move, play around with her clit, be the boss, but unbeknowningst to them, one press of your sock–clad toes (raw dogs later) to her crotch dresses a discovery up in the form of a bulge, hard in her jeans. you palpate your feet around it, flatten to the heel, and mold her size in the curve of your foot. ellie would give the topmost haughty glare ever– glad she was one step ahead of you. furthermore that leads to the tipfucking tease mentioned earlier. "didn't expect this, hmm? oh~ mhm, yeah.. buck back into me all you want, m'not fuckin' that pussy yet." ugh just the thought of dom!ellie being chock full of surprises and leading you on the notion of being in charge, when in coldly served facts, you would not be. ౨ৎ

i got so off track thinking of scenarios damn. guess ill elaborate on either of these if i ever get asked abt it lol

428 notes · View notes

iandoubt · 27 days ago

Text

I know we usually use the crane wives as like the go-too fandom songs, and no hate there love the crane wives, but I also think it’s fun to consider other bands for fitting the life series. Like, I would love to see everyone taking their absolute favorite band and making a metaphorical conspiracy board with red yarn and a crazed look in their eyes as they stab the thing in the middle that all the string leads to and everything for how it connects to the life series. For instance, I love My Chemical Romance and I think their music fits really well with the life series, so here are six wips that I will hopefully improve upon and color later connecting some specific songs to, well, really just the bad boys and their double life pairings at the moment, just cause it worked out that way that those are the ones I got into posting shape first, but I have tons more in the works and I’m really excited to share^^! Also sorry for the really long rambling post lol

I’m probably most proud of the boat boys one, but over all I’m really proud of these in general and hope to finish this project at some point, although given the scale that I’m going for that might not be for a while lol. Also if you wish for me to elaborate on my choices, I will gladly do so!

songs below cut vvv

66 notes · View notes

cuubism · 8 months ago

Text

physical therapy, part 6.

Hob's been wavering on things like timeline with Dream because, well, he doesn't want to push, but he does obviously want more. There's a lot that he wants, and he thinks Dream wants it too. But Hob can be patient. Definitely. For sure. He's the epitome of patience.

In any case, after a few more dates which are oh so very patient, and in which Dream seems to be gradually coming more and more out of his shell, Hob finally takes the plunge and texts him:

If you want, come over to my place this weekend and I'll cook for you, and adds his address.

He paces nervously while waiting for a response. Dream coming over... he doesn't know how that would end. Well, it would hopefully at least end in Dream eating a proper meal, but other than that...

It's really not so long before he gets a response, though it feels like an eternity.

Okay, writes Dream, with a smile. 🙂 Should I bring anything?

Just yourself, writes Hob.

A shame, for I was planning to arrive incorporeally.

Hob smiles to himself at the comment. Dream is so much brighter once he decides he’s allowed to be.

On the agreed-upon date, Hob spends a truly excessive amount of time getting ready. He’s not even cooking anything elaborate, as he felt convinced he’d wind up fucking it up out of nerves if he did. But really, the quality of his food isn’t the wild card. What he’s nervous about is Dream’s response to being in his home. To being alone. Whether he’ll be okay with it. He doesn’t want to make Dream nervous.

But Dream arrives on time, and he’s smiling when Hob opens the door. He’s also carrying a huge canvas.

Oh!” Hob says, distracted from even kissing him hello. “What have you got there?”

“It is for you,” Dream says, and turns the canvas around so Hob can see it.

It’s a large painting of a rather clever-looking cat, bright colors and bold swathes of paint. It reminds Hob of Dream’s finger paintings, actually, but far more precise in technique. It’s lovely. It’s so cute. And much more playful than Dream’s older art, the pieces he had shown Hob from before his injury.

“Oh, it’s gorgeous,” he says, and Dream smiles shyly. “I take it your grip’s been feeling steadier, then?”

“Somewhat,” Dream says, following Hob deeper into the flat, as Hob takes the painting and sets it on top of a low bookshelf, propped against the wall. Later he’ll have to hang it up properly. “I am. Enjoying painting again. I think.”

It’s so good to hear. Each time Hob sees Dream he seems incrementally better. Less frozen. More outgoing. And it always makes Hob realize that he’s only gotten to see a fraction of the life that truly exists inside of him.

“I’m so glad to hear that, darling,” he says.

It hurts to think of the version of Dream that might have been there before being hurt. But Hob likes the Dream that he gets to know now.

He leads Dream into the kitchen and bids him to sit down at the table while Hob serves their food, which is staying warm on the stove. Normally, when he invites someone over, he’d offer them wine, but he doesn’t want Dream to get the wrong idea. God, he’s probably massively overthinking things. He’s being totally paranoid, he knows it. But it feels so important that it be right. He’d never forgive himself if he made Dream feel unsafe around him, even if it was by accident.

“I am curious what you’ve prepared to attempt to persuade me to change my habits,” Dream says, after taking a sip of the water Hob’s handed him.

“Something with a lot of butter,” Hob says, and Dream laughs softly. Dream needs it, though. He needs something that’ll stick to his bones.

What he has is tarragon chicken—fried in, truly, an excessive amount of butter—served over rice with string beans. If this can’t encourage Dream to eat real meals, nothing can.

And, gratifyingly, he’s right. Dream devours it, and has seconds. As he eats his own serving more sedately Hob wonders when the last time was that somebody actually cooked for him.

They barely even talk, but Hob doesn’t mind. He just wants Dream to eat.

“You can cook,” Dream says, and Hob laughs.

“Was that in question?”

A light blush graces Dream’s cheeks. “When you first mentioned cooking for me, I had the thought that you were a catch. For that reason among others.”

Hob can’t help himself from smiling—and perhaps blushing a bit, too. “I’ll have to keep it up, and maybe you’ll keep me.”

Dream looks down at his food, but murmurs, “I would like to.”

So Hob takes his hand on the table and squeezes it.

Later in the evening, when they’ve been ensconced on the couch for a while watching mindless telly, Dream’s head on his shoulder, Hob says, “You can stay over if you want. No expectations. Just don’t want you walking home in the dark.”

He’ll walk Dream home if that’s what he really wants, but it’s already midnight and it really might be easier to just stay put.

“Am I allowed to stay over in your bed?” Dream asks, and Hob’s pulse jumps.

“That’s what you want?”

Dream nods.

So, heart still beating hard, Hob says, “Alright. Come on, then.”

And Dream takes his hand as Hob draws him up.

He gets Dream situated with some of his pajamas, which are far too large on him, and with a spare toothbrush and so on, and when they’re finally ready he tries not to be too awkward or nervous as he climbs into bed and gestures Dream to follow, saying, “Come on, love.”

He expects Dream might hesitate, but he doesn’t, just crawls into bed after him and presses himself all up against Hob’s body, laying his head on Hob’s chest. And— God. He’s really decided that he trusts Hob. It puts a lump in Hob’s throat.

He feels like a fucking teenager again, stomach all fluttery just at the feeling of Dream lying against him. In past relationships, Hob had mostly jumped in sex-first, questions-later. But maybe there are more benefits to taking things slow than he thought. It makes every tiny thing feel monumental.

“Comfortable?” he asks, and Dream nods, hair brushing Hob’s chin.

“Yes, thank you.”

Hob pulls the blankets up over them, pets his hair. Dream lets out a long, happy sigh, and snuggles closer.

I’m going to keep you, Hob thinks. “Goodnight, Dream,” he says.

#a nice moment before ANGST #you didn't think we were done with angst did you XD #physical therapy fic #dreamling #my writing #tarragon chicken is a family recipe--thin chicken cutlets breaded and fried in butter with white wine wash and tons of chopped tarragon #i recommend

193 notes · View notes

emberwritesinsight · 10 months ago

Text

(Ramble below, not very structured)

I'm watching episode 9 again and losing my mind over the scene where Saionji fucking kidnaps Anthy because. I forgot how actually upset Anthy is?

Like. The way Anthy is fucking shouting as Saionji drags her up to the arena. The way she tries to physically stop him from getting in! What the fuck!

The way he just bats her out of the way and we get a shot of her from behind, kneeling on the ground with a hand to her face, but we don't see her face. That's... not normal! Most of the time when Anthy gets slapped in the early series, we get a shot of her afterwards with a bruise.

Here, we don't see her face. But we can see that she's shaking, and the first-watch assumption would be that she's crying, but... I'm not inclined to view it that way given everything that happens after.

The way I read it, Anthy is pissed.

The next time we see Saionji, he's face down in the water. How did he get there? We don't see. On a first viewing, one might just assume that's a negative reaction the arena has to being opened at an inappropriate time- along with all the crazy shit going on inside the arena once Utena gets there. But given Anthy is later shown to have more control over what the arena does than she lets on, and noticeably does her flashiest magic (the sword pull, the transformations) in or on her way to the arena, I think Anthy is behind almost all of that. And I'd say she's also behind the Saionji-almost-drowning bit. You guys might remember the half-joking drawing I made of Anthy, uh, dragging Saionji into the water by his hair, and while she might not have gotten as hands-on about it as that drawing suggests, I still think she's responsible.

So, like... why?

Why does this piss her off so much? I mean, sure, Saionji absolutely has it coming, but Anthy's been through worse. She clearly doesn't like Saionji and messes with him whenever possible, but to attempt murder and then set up an elaborate illusion designed to upset him as much as possible is... a little extreme. I don't think she even goes that far with Nanami, unless you consider the elephants to be legit murder attempts (which I do not- I think that was Anthy scaring Nanami, not trying to kill her, because I can't believe Nanami would survive that many encounters with elephants that actually wanted her dead).

I think the answer is that, for all the shit she takes from the duelists, Saionji is one of the only ones who breaks this many rules. Not only does he mistreat her when they're engaged- something she's used to, but that seems to be at least frowned upon, if not outlawed (given Touga felt the need to call a "stop hitting your girlfriend" meeting in episode 1)- he mistreats her afterwards. He refuses to let her go, he acts as if she still owes him something. And then he goes and pulls this. He kidnaps her, takes her to the arena without a duel scheduled, and tries to enter the arena- all things that are against the rules of this stupid game that Anthy, however much she knows it is a stupid game, lives her whole life around. And he tells her End of the World is responsible, which Anthy knows isn't true, because if Akio were planning something this batshit, she'd know about it! Of course she's angry, this goes well beyond the threshold of nonsense her job usually entails!

I don't know if she was aware of Touga's plan to play the hero for Utena and get Saionji expelled- if so, she obviously wasn't aware of all of it. The freakout on the way up to the arena is too intense for me to read it as anything but genuine. She's shaking with effort trying to stop Saionji from opening the gate. Things do fall perfectly into place for Touga to get between Saionji's sword and a defenseless Utena, but I honestly think Touga's plan may have been to just...

1) Impersonate End of the World and tell Saionji the castle is coming down, this will incentivize him to go up there and break the rules.

2) Tip Utena off that Saionji has kidnapped Anthy.

3) The castle doesn't come down, upsetting Saionji and heating up his inevitable confrontation with Utena enough that he tries to kill her and Touga can step in at the perfect moment.

4) Profit.

I don't think he knew Anthy was going to Do That. For one, the plan was to get Saionji expelled, not kill him- Anthy's stunt there could have ruined the entire plan if Utena hadn't dragged Saionji out of the water. And Touga is drinking the "Rose Bride doesn't have feelings" juice. Evidently, he doesn't put two and two together after this, because he's still beating that drum in episode eleven!

I don't think Akio knew much about this either. Touga is telling him about it over the phone, so Touga didn't tell him, and Anthy didn't know, so she couldn't have either. I think he probably got woken up in the middle of the night by all the chaos and had to dial Touga up after the fact to ask him what the fuck was going on.

#revolutionary girl utena #shoujo kakumei utena #rgu #sku #anthy himemiya #himemiya anthy #kyouichi saionji #saionji kyouichi #touga kiryuu #kiryuu touga #akio ohtori #ohtori akio #utena spoilers

221 notes · View notes

bradshawsbaby · 1 year ago

Text

My Birthday Baby

Pairing: Rooster x Wife!Reader

Summary: You always do everything in your power to make sure that Bradley’s birthday is as perfect and special as he is, but it’s much harder to do this year when you’re seven months pregnant with his baby.

Word Count: 5.7k

Author’s Note: I can’t believe it’s been over four months since I’ve written a proper story for the Bradshaws! That feels criminal! Naturally, I couldn’t let Bradley’s birthday pass by without some type of celebration!

Warnings: Pregnancy, implied sex, subtle innuendos, a dash of angst, and a whole lot of signature Bradshaw fluff.

Barring perhaps Christmas, today was one of your absolute favorite days out of the entire year.

To most people, June 27th might not be any particular cause for celebration, but to you, it was one of the most important days on the calendar. If you could, you’d turn it into a national holiday so that everyone could commemorate it. Why, some might ask? Because it was the day your incredible husband had entered the world, and Bradley Nicholas Bradshaw deserved to be honored and celebrated more than anyone else you knew.

For as long as he had been in your life, you had done everything in your power to make sure that each and every one of Bradley’s birthdays was as special as he was, and that he could feel just how loved he was.

“My mom always made a big deal out of my birthdays,” he had told you early on in your relationship, shrugging it off and blushing slightly, like he was almost a little embarrassed about it. “She used to tell me that the day I was born was the best day of her and my dad’s lives, so we had to celebrate big. After she passed, I kind of just pretended like it was any other day. Didn’t feel right celebrating with her and my dad both gone.”

It was then that you realized he wasn’t embarrassed about the big birthday parties his mom had thrown him—he missed them. Even though the two of you had only been dating for a few months, you were coming to know him like the back of your hand and you could pick up on the subtle clues that revealed how he was feeling. The pink hue to his cheeks and ears, the way he shrugged it off like it was no big deal and kept averting his gaze, the tightness in his jaw as he swallowed a few times—he was trying to mask the emotion his admission had dredged up.

“Your birthday is a special day,” you’d told him softly, reaching out and placing your hand over his, your fingertips lightly dancing across his knuckles. “And I think your parents would want you to celebrate that. I know that I want to celebrate it.”

He had just kissed you in response, burying his face in your neck to hide the fact that his dark eyes were wet.

But a few weeks later, when his first birthday as your boyfriend rolled around, you surprised him with tickets to a Padres game and you were certain that you had never seen a bigger smile on anyone’s face. The way he beamed at you, his eyes brimming with the love he never failed to shower upon you, would be engraved on your heart for the rest of your days, you were sure of it.

After that, every time June 27th rolled around, you made sure to make it the big celebration that Carole would have wanted. From weekend trips, to surprise parties, to special gifts that brought your big, tough fighter pilot to tears, nothing was too elaborate or too good for your Bradley.

“Thank you, honey,” he had whispered in your ear on his last birthday, his arms wrapped tightly around you as you held each other close. “Thank you for always making this day better than I could have dreamed.”

And this year was going to be the best yet. It might look a little different than previous years, but you were more determined than ever to shower your husband with all the love and affection that he so deserved.

Rolling over onto your back gingerly, you placed both hands on the rounded mound of your belly and smiled sleepily. A cursory glance at your alarm clock had revealed that it was a few minutes after six, the sun just barely starting to break through the morning clouds outside your bedroom window. Rubbing the underside of your bump tenderly, you felt a small kick and your smile grew wider.

“It’s Daddy’s birthday today, Baby B,” you whispered, poking your belly playfully. “Are you going to help me celebrate?”

As if in response, you felt another firm kick and you had to bite back a laugh to keep from waking up Bradley. At seven months pregnant, you could feel the baby kick all the time now and it always made your heart burst with excitement.

Bradley, knowing how much you always went all out for his birthdays, had been concerned this past week, wanting you to rest instead of tiring yourself out on his account.

“Honey, I mean it,” he’d told you just the other day, his large hand splayed across your belly as the two of you sat together on the couch. “Don’t overdo it this year. We can just have a nice dinner, a little cake, and that’s all I need. You and the baby are the greatest gifts I could ever get. Nothing’s going to top that anyway,” he grinned, kissing the tip of your nose and then dropping a kiss on your stomach.

You knew he was right, but that hadn’t stopped you from spending all day at the grocery store yesterday, picking up all the ingredients you needed for Bradley’s birthday dinner and homemade cake, or from staying up all night last night to prepare and pack a special birthday lunch for him to take to work today.

“Do you really have to go to work tomorrow?” you’d asked him as the two of you were preparing for bed last night. “It’s your birthday!”

Bradley just laughed, wrapping his arms around your swollen middle and pulling you towards him, your back pressed firmly against his broad chest. “Honey, it’s not like it’s a federal holiday,” he grinned, peppering your cheek with kisses. “Can you imagine Cyclone’s face if I requested a day off just because it’s my birthday?”

“It should be a holiday,” you grumbled, erupting into a fit of giggles as Bradley began nibbling playfully on your neck, his mustache tickling your skin.

“It’s still going to be a perfect day, because I have a perfect wife I’m coming home to, and she’s carrying our perfect baby,” Bradley smiled, cupping your chin in his hand and tilting your face towards his so that he could drop a proper kiss on your lips. “Not to mention the perfect birthday cake my perfect wife is baking me,” he teased, pecking the corner of your mouth.

Bradley loved your baking, and every year he liked to request a different flavored cake for his birthday—”They’re all so good, I can’t choose just one favorite!” he’d told you. This year, he’d opted for a chocolate chip cake with vanilla frosting and a fudgy center. You’d made it once for a barbecue at Penny and Mav’s house and Bradley hadn’t been able to stop raving about it. You knew it was the number one thing he was most excited for this year.

“Mmm, really sucking up, aren’t we?” you teased, wiggling your hips against him with a laugh. “Don’t worry, I already have all the ingredients for your birthday cake.”

He groaned softly, kissing your collarbone as a sign of his appreciation. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

“Yes,” you smiled, snuggling up against him as the two of you fell asleep.

Now you were awake, your internal clock hardly ever allowing you to sleep in late these days. Turning your head on your pillow, you looked over at your husband, still fast asleep beside you—his alarm wasn’t set to go off for another forty-five minutes or so—and felt your heart flood with the warmth of an adoration that had only continued to grow since the moment you had first met him at The Hard Deck all those years ago.

His ruddy cheek was pressed against his pillow, his soft lips parted slightly as he breathed in and out, the soft whir of it a soothing sound. His dark hair, which had turned a shade of golden brown in the heat of the San Diego sun, was rumpled and messy and you had never felt more inclined to tangle your fingers in those tantalizing curls. With his eyes still firmly shut, his dark lashes were kissing the tops of his sunburned cheeks. You had to force back a laugh at the sight of his reddened skin. How many times had you scolded him for spraying sunscreen directly into his face like a madman? And yet, despite his best efforts, he somehow always managed to get burned to a crisp.

Still, he had never looked more handsome to you.

Rolling slowly onto your side, the added bulk of Baby B making you a bit more clumsy, you reached out and traced intricate patterns onto the bare skin of his back, shivering with pleasure at the feel of how warm his body was.

Letting out a soft and sleepy moan, Bradley slowly started to stir and you stilled your hand for a moment, your lips curving up into an affectionate smile. Admiring the way the morning light was cascading down his sunkissed skin, you couldn’t resist leaning forward and pressing delicate kisses to the delicious freckles that were scattered across his shoulders, always made darker after hours spent shirtless in the sun.

At the feel of your warm lips brushing against his back, Bradley stirred further, his dark eyes cracking open as he let out another soft groan, one of pleasure this time.

“Good morning, birthday boy,” you whispered against him, your lips continuing to trail kisses across his upper back as your fingers danced slowly down his side.

“Mmm, happy birthday to me,” Bradley grinned, his voice still raspy and hoarse from just waking up. The deep timbre of it sent shivers all the way down to your toes. He lifted his head slightly, his eyes blinking the last vestiges of sleep away. “What a way to start the day,” he chuckled.

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” you apologized, returning to your position on your back as your husband rose up on one elbow to gaze down at you, wrapping his other arm around your waist.

“No apologies necessary, honey,” he assured you, dipping his head low so that he could kiss you more thoroughly, his tongue slipping into your mouth as you knotted your fingers in his messy curls.

“You’ll have to get up and get ready for work soon,” you panted when he finally tore his lips away from yours and began sucking softly on your neck, his large, calloused hands slipping beneath the oversized T-shirt you’d worn to bed last night. You bit your lower lip in pleasure as you wrapped one leg around his, loving the way his body still found ways to meld to yours, even with your growing belly.

“Mmm, soon,” he murmured, nodding in agreement as he nipped gently at your collarbone. “But not yet,” he smirked, reaching for the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head.

Making love to your husband as the early morning light began breaking through the gossamer curtains of your bedroom window seemed like the perfect way to kick off his birthday celebration this year. Judging from the sated, blissful expression on his face as he collapsed on his back beside you, Bradey certainly thought so anyway.

“Damn, now I really am regretting not asking Cyclone for the day off,” Bradley laughed breathlessly, tugging you closer to his side and kissing you deeply.

“Told you so,” you smirked playfully, nudging his side as you kissed him in return. You sighed as you glanced over the alarm clock and saw that it was almost seven. “You should probably start getting in the shower. I’ll make you breakfast,” you told him, starting to rise up in bed.

“Uh-uh,” Bradley replied, shaking his head and stopping you in your tracks with an arm across your chest. “Forget breakfast. I’m not showering without you,” he grinned, climbing out of bed and scooping you up into his arms.

“But they say breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” you joked, wrapping your arms around his neck as he carried you to the bathroom.

“You’re the most important meal of the day,” he shot back with a mischievous wink, his face splitting into a huge grin.

You threw your head back laughing at that one, swatting at his chest with one hand. “What a line that was, Lieutenant,” you grinned.

“Did it work?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Only because it’s your birthday,” you giggled, leaning forward and kissing him sweetly.

After a shower that was certainly longer than Navy regulation, Bradley reluctantly got dressed while you hurried to the kitchen to make him some toast and a quick cup of coffee. Grabbing his lunch from the fridge, complete with the little handwritten note you’d tucked inside for him, you handed it all to him as he got ready to walk out the door.

“I love you so much,” he murmured, resting his hand on the back of your head as he pulled you in for a kiss. “This is already an amazing birthday, honey,” he added with a wink.

“It’s just getting started,” you smiled, smoothing down the collar of his uniform and giving him one more quick kiss. “Have a great day at work.”

Bradley nodded, giving you one last squeeze before juggling all his things and heading towards the door. “I promise I’ll be home as quickly as I can.”

“We’ll be here,” you told him, grinning as you rested your hand on your belly and felt another strong kick.

“Don’t let Mommy work herself too hard, Baby B!” Bradley called with a laugh, and then he was gone.

“Listen, I promise I’m not going to overdo it, but we have to make the day special for Daddy,” you whispered conspiratorially, looking down at your growing bump. When you felt a little nudge in response, you grinned. “See? I knew you’d understand.”

Changing into a pair of stretchy yoga pants and one of Bradley’s old T-shirts, you set about pulling out all the birthday decorations you’d secretly ordered to decorate the apartment with. From balloons to streamers to confetti to a large “Happy Birthday, Bradley!” banner, within a couple hours, you’d managed to make your home look like an advertisement for Party City.

“Whew,” you breathed out, pulling your hair back from your now sweaty neck and tying it up into a quick ponytail. You were breathing harder than expected after hanging everything up, and a quick rest on the couch seemed like a good idea. “You’re kind of heavy, you know that?” you teased affectionately, poking at your belly. “Mama used to be able to do all of this without breaking a sweat, but now I feel like I just ran a marathon. But you’re cute, so I’ll let it slide,” you laughed, massaging your stomach as you leaned back into the couch cushions with a sigh.

You didn’t have much time to relax, however. If you wanted everything to be ready for when Bradley got home from work, you had to start working on dinner and his cake now.

“Alright, Baby B, back to work we go,” you murmured, lifting yourself up off the couch with a soft groan and rubbing your lower back as you waddled into the kitchen. After trying for so long to get pregnant, you could honestly say that you loved and appreciated every moment of your pregnancy thus far, but you’d also be lying if you said that it wasn’t taking a lot out of you physically, especially as you headed into the final stretch.

It was also becoming harder and harder to wrap your head around the fact that this would be the last birthday you and Bradley celebrated together, just the two of you. Come next year, you’d have an almost one-year-old, which was still too crazy to think about. It would be wonderful, but different, which was why you wanted to make today so particularly special.

Now that all the decorations were up, you turned your attention towards dinner. Considering your oven was only so big, you had to manage your time wisely to ensure that both dinner and Bradley’s birthday cake would be ready in time. But you’d timed it all down to the last minute, so you were confident everything would be fine.

Since you were making Bradley’s birthday dinner yourself this year, you’d decided on the chicken pot pie that he loved so much. His mom had made it for him all the time when he was growing up, and you’d spent a long time trying to perfect Carole’s recipe until you got it just right. The day Bradley’s face had lit up and he’d told you that it tasted just like his mom’s was still one of the proudest moments of your life. In addition to the pot pie, you were also preparing a fresh garden salad, creamy mashed potatoes, and cornbread.

As all that was finishing baking, you pulled out the ingredients for Bradley’s chocolate chip cake and began mixing them together until the batter was thick and tasted like heaven—you could never resist stealing a little lick. Wiping the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand, you moved back and forth between checking on the food and preparing the cake pans until you felt a bit dizzy. Once everything was settled, you told yourself, you’d take a quick rest.

At the sound of your phone buzzing on the counter, you turned and smiled when you saw that Phoenix was texting you a ton of pictures.

Don’t worry, we’re taking care of your boy until he can get home!

Your smile widened as you swiped through photo after photo of the little party the Dagger Squad had thrown for Bradley. The rec room on base was decked out with balloons and a small sign that looked like it had been written in Bob’s firm hand. Bradley was sitting in front of a cake that had come from his favorite bakery, everyone else gathered around him for a big group shot. There were also individual pictures of him with Mav, Phoenix, Payback, Fanboy, Bob, Coyote, Hangman, Hondo and some of the others. You even thought you spotted Cyclone in the back of one photo, a slice of cake in hand.

Amazing! Looks like you guys are having a great time! Thank you for organizing it!

Of course! He’s having a good day, but he can’t stop talking about getting home to you! You’re not overdoing it, are you?

Did Bradley tell you to ask me that?

Maybe. But the question still stands.

I’m fine. I’m going to take a break once dinner is ready and I get the cake started in the oven.

He’s lucky to have you! Talk to you soon!

A few minutes later, dinner was finished, the chicken pot pie and cornbread sitting on the counter to cool while you grabbed the pans full of cake batter and set them on your baking tray in the oven.

Rising up with a slight wince and a yawn, you held your back with one hand while cradling your belly with the other. “Okay, Baby B, time for a short nap while Daddy’s cake bakes,” you murmured, checking the oven one last time before making your way to the bedroom, where you promptly crawled under the covers and passed out.

You had thought for sure that you’d set a quick alarm on your phone before falling asleep, but evidently your exhausted brain had been playing tricks on you because you suddenly woke with a start when the smell of something burning hit your nostrils. Gasping, you shot up in bed and looked at the clock on your bedside table, horrified to see that you’d been asleep for over an hour.

“No, no, no,” you mumbled frantically, slipping out of bed as quickly as your cumbersome body would allow and hurrying to the kitchen, where the smell of burning grew worse, tendrils of smoke starting to drift out of the oven.

Clutching your face in your hands, you let out another gasp before shutting off the oven and hurrying to open all the windows in the apartment, terrified of setting off the smoke alarm. When you walked back into the kitchen, you opened the oven slowly, holding your breath as a ton of smoke was released into the room. As it cleared, you waved your hand back and forth in front of your face and were devastated to see the burnt remains of Bradley's birthday cake, crusted inside your baking pans, the top layer blackened from being left in the oven for more than double the amount of time it should have been.

“Oh, no,” you whimpered softly, feeling your eyes and throat burn with unshed tears as you grabbed a pair of oven mitts and reached for your ruined dessert, your heart plummeting inside your chest as you lifted it up for closer inspection. It was completely beyond salvaging.

You could fix this. There was still time. You could jump in the car, hurry to the store, pick up fresh ingredients, and—

The sound of the key turning in the lock made your heart sink even further as you stood frozen in the middle of the kitchen, the remains of Bradley’s ruined birthday cake still in your hands.

“Honey, I’m home! I managed to get out a little early and—honey?!” You could hear the playful tone of Bradley’s voice quickly turn to panic as he clearly smelled the evidence of your disastrous mistake. A second later, he was running into the kitchen, eyes wide with worry. “Honey!” he exclaimed again, rushing to your side and checking you over until he was satisfied you were unharmed. “What happened?”

Your chin wobbled miserably and you couldn’t even look him in the eye as you held out the cake pan you were still grasping onto tightly. “I burned your birthday cake,” you confessed, your voice quaking as you fought to get the words out.

Bradley’s eyes softened and he reached out to cup your cheek gently, brushing his thumb against your skin. “Oh, baby, it’s alright,” he assured you, carefully prying the singed pan out of your hands and setting it down in the sink.

“No, it isn’t!” you burst out, suddenly breaking down in tears, your entire body trembling as you were wracked with sobs. “You were so excited about that cake! And it’s your birthday! I ruined your birthday!” You buried your face in your hands as you cried and turned away from him, so disappointed in yourself for having made such a stupid mistake.

“Hey! No, you didn’t!” Bradley insisted instantly, immediately coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around you. “You didn’t ruin anything, honey,” he cooed softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head and rocking you gently in his embrace.

When you just continued to cry, shaking your head as if to refute his words, he reached for your shoulders and turned you slowly until you were facing him, though you still wouldn’t look at him. “Hey,” he said again, grasping your chin between his thumb and forefinger and lifting your face until you had no choice but to gaze into his eyes, so warm and compassionate as always. “You decorated this whole apartment for me,” he told you, indicating all the decorations you’d spent hours putting together. “You made me an amazing lunch and an incredible dinner from what I can tell,” he went on, pointing his chin in the direction of the counter where the chicken pot pie and cornbread were resting. “And are you forgetting this morning?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows in an attempt to make you laugh. “That alone made it my best birthday yet. How could you think that you ruined it?”

He was trying to make you feel better. Your sweet husband was always so quick to cheer you up whenever you were feeling down, even if it was over the silliest thing. But you still felt awful. He was so excited about his chocolate chip birthday cake. He’d been talking about it for days. Bradley never asked for anything on his birthday, but he had asked for that. And you’d completely ruined it.

“It was what you wanted,” you replied tearfully, your face crumbling as you began crying anew. “And today was supposed to be special!”

“It is special,” Bradley countered, attempting to thumb your tears away. But they were falling too fast at this point.

“No! It isn’t!” you cried, whirling away from him and hiding your face behind your hands once more.

Bradley sighed, watching you silently for a moment or two. As well as you knew him, and could read everything he did and said, he could do the same for you. And he knew the reason you were so upset wasn’t just about some cake getting burned.

Stepping closer to you, he rested his hands on your shoulders and waited until you lowered your hands slowly before murmuring gently, “Why don’t you tell me what this is really about?”

You let out a shaky breath and looked up at him with watery eyes, and you could practically hear his heart breaking as he gazed back at you.

“Oh, honey,” Bradley whispered, rubbing your back soothingly as he pulled out a chair at the small kitchen table and settled you down in it before crouching in front of you, his big hands resting warmly on your thighs. “What is it?”

“It’s your last birthday with just the two of us,” you told him slowly, feeling a bit silly as you voiced your thoughts aloud. “I just—I wanted it to be special. Next year, things are going to be so different.” You instinctively moved your hand to your rounded belly.

“Baby,” Bradley breathed out, rubbing his hands up and down your thighs slowly. “You’re right, things are going to be different. But it’ll be a good kind of different,” he comforted you, lifting your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

You felt your face scrunch up as more tears started to fall. “I know,” you nodded, even as a few fat tears rolled down your cheeks and spilled onto your shirt. “God, I must sound so awful, like I don’t even want our baby around, after how long we spent—”

“I don’t think that at all,” he told you firmly, cutting you off before you could even finish your sentence. “I think you’re exhausted, and that you’ve been pushing yourself way too hard, that’s what I think.”

“I’m just—I’m scared,” you confessed quietly, your voice almost like a whisper, like it was some kind of shameful secret. “I love our baby more than anything, and I’m so excited that we’re starting a family together, but now that we’re getting close, it just feels like everything’s changing so quickly and there’s nothing I can do to control it.”

Bradley chuckled softly, reaching up to cup your face as he looked directly into your eyes. “Honey, there’s nothing in this life we can control. I know you hate to hear that because you love to take care of everything and everyone, but it’s the truth. It’s something I’ve learned over and over and over again. No matter what we do, no matter how tightly we hold onto things, we can’t control anything. We just have to enjoy this life, moment by moment, for what it is and hold onto all the good bits. Our life is beautiful now, and it’s going to be even more beautiful whenever Baby B decides to make his or her grand entrance,” he grinned, tenderly running a hand over your belly. “I know it’s scary. Trust me, I’m scared, too. But we’re in this together. Always.”

Smiling through your tears, you leaned forward and pressed your forehead against your husband’s, holding his precious face in your hands as if you were holding a priceless treasure. “How’d you get to be so smart, huh?” you asked softly, laughing as you pressed a light kiss to his lips.

Bradley smiled as well, resting his hands over yours. “Well, you know what they say. Another year older, another year wiser,” he teased.

Letting out a soft sigh, you wrapped your arms around his neck and nuzzled your nose against his, trying to soak in how grateful you were for this particular moment in time and for the gift of your husband’s life, which was what today was really all about. “I still feel terrible about your birthday cake,” you admitted, the corners of your mouth turning down slightly as you glanced over at the oven. “I just meant to take a short nap, but I must have forgotten to set an alarm, and when I woke up, I could smell it burning.”

“I’m just glad you’re alright,” Bradley said seriously, stroking your cheek as if to ensure that you really were safe. “When I walked in and smelled that—well, you had me really scared there for a minute, honey.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, feeling even worse that you’d worried him and then forced him to be the one to comfort you on his special day. “Your birthday is—”

“Honey, my birthday is just a day,” he told you, taking your hands in his and squeezing gently. “What makes it special is how loved you always make me feel. The decorations, the parties, the cake—they’re all amazing, sure, and I’m always so thankful for them, but they wouldn’t mean anything without all the love and the care you put into them. That’s what I love most about my birthday. Just getting to be with you. Everything else is icing on the cake.”

“Ugh, please, no cake references for a little while,” you murmured, your eyes glistening with tears at your husband’s words. Smiling, you leaned forward and kissed him, then laid your head on his shoulder. “I love you so much, Bradley Bradshaw. You deserve to be celebrated every single day. I would be so lost in this life without you.”

“Ditto, honey,” Bradley grinned, rising slowly and lifting you up with him. He smoothed your hair back from your face and dropped a loving kiss on your forehead. “You’ve given me the greatest gift anyone could ever give, just by loving me and walking through this life with me. Not to mention making me a dad,” he said softly, his own eyes glistening as he cradled your swollen stomach with one hand. “I love you more than words could ever describe.”

Wrapping your arms around each other, you and Bradley stood holding one another in the middle of the kitchen, swaying back and forth, for what felt like hours. Or maybe it was only seconds. Time didn’t seem to matter anymore. When you finally pulled back, Bradley smiled and kissed your tear-stained cheeks.

“Not to ruin this moment, but I think that chicken pot pie is starting to call my name,” he laughed, his stomach grumbling as if on cue.

Giggling, you nodded and stepped around him to grab the dinner you’d prepared. “Sit down and I’ll get it all ready,” you told him.

“Nope,” he shot back, stepping up beside you. “It’s my birthday, and I insist on serving you. You sit down and I’ll get everything ready.”

“But Bradley, I—”

“No arguing with the birthday boy,” he grinned, steering you towards the table.

Knowing it was no use arguing with him, stubborn man that he was, you just smiled and sat back as he laid out the chicken pot pie, salad, mashed potatoes, and cornbread. Thankfully, you’d already set the table earlier in the afternoon.

“Happy Birthday, my love,” you told him before the two of you dug into your meal.

“Thank you, baby. It’s been a great one,” he smiled.

You and Bradley enjoyed dinner, Bradley praising your cooking about a hundred times before the meal was through, and then hopped into the Bronco to make a quick trip to the grocery store, where you picked up some birthday cake flavored ice cream.

“This will have to do until I can make you that chocolate chip cake,” you told him ruefully, holding it up once the two of you got home.

“Sounds good to me,” Bradley replied, pulling two spoons out of the drawer with a wink.

Between the two of you, you ended up polishing off the container of ice cream before cleaning up the kitchen and getting ready for bed. You had just finished stripping off your yoga pants and T-shirt when Bradley came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle and pressing a kiss to your neck.

“You know,” he whispered, his mustache scraping against your skin as his lips began descending down your neck and across your shoulder. “The ice cream was great and all, but I kind of had another dessert in mind for tonight.”

You smiled as your head fell back against his shoulder, your body already feeling like putty in his hands. “Oh, yeah? Not the chocolate chip cake, you mean?” you asked teasingly.

“Uh-uh,” he mumbled, catching your sensitive skin lightly between his teeth as he nibbled his way back up to your ear. “Something even sweeter.”

A laugh bubbled up in your chest as his hands began stroking your sides, and you turned your head to look up at him. “What a line that was, Lieutenant,” you smirked, echoing your words from that morning.

“Did it work?” he smirked in return, clearly catching on to what you were playing at.

“Only because it’s your birthday,” you beamed, giggling as he lifted you up into his arms and carefully laid you out on the bed.

Grinning mischievously, Bradley pulled his shirt over his head and climbed onto the bed a moment later, his arms on either side of you as he hovered over you and pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Best birthday ever.”

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #x reader #x female reader #rooster x wife!reader #top gun #top gun: maverick #miles teller #mr. & mrs. bradshaw

577 notes · View notes

llondonfog · 7 months ago

Note

OK so Baul and Lilias friendship lives in my mind rent free, so I think that a few days after silver gets sick for the first time and mama and papa zigvolt manage to teach lilia the proper way to care for a sick infant after he comes over to their house tembling with poorly restrained panic, Baul goes over with v little persuasion from his daughter to check up on them.

What he sees is a happy and healthy Silver just quietly smiling up at him from Lilias arms while Lilia is passed out in his rocking chair fevered and red from catching baby's first cold.

Baul immediately assigns himself caretaker duties, doesn't even bother trying to move Silver from Lilias arms and instead just picks them both up to deposit them both in Lilias bed for a proper nap before checking the fridge for tomato soup ingredients.

When he first heard from his daughter that Lilia— Lilia Vanrouge, the once General of the Right, feared commander of the fae armies and scourge of humankind— had adopted a human child and had been caring for it for several months now, Baul had roared with laughter so hard that he split a scale wide open on his cheek.

It was certainly a poor excuse for a joke, the very kind of rumor that the castle fae still bitter over Lilia's persistent existence four hundred years later might spread. The very idea that Lilia, Lilia Vanrouge, would debase himself to care for a human child not of his blood, to stoop so low as to toil over its screeching and wailing demands when he had bathed in the screams of its own kind with a mad vengeance after the tragedy of Lady Meleanor . . . not even four hundred years of honeyed peace was enough to sweeten that wound.

Time, it seemed, had forgotten what was so cruelly emblazoned in the very depths of Baul's mind, in Lilia's own memories, and the nightmares of all those surviving fae who stalked the forests during those blood-soaked nights. Those born in kinder years had never known the horror of human avarice, and even his own daughter had taken up residence with one of their kind despite her father's immense displeasure, simpering, soft-hearted fool that her husband was.

At least, to Baul's proud credit, their lineage rippled strong and true through his grandchildren— and with his daughter due any day under the weight of a third, he's only too certain for another healthy, bouncing, scaled Zigvolt.

So when she had simply stared back at him with crossed arms and an arched brow while he had laughed and laughed and laughed, a sinking kind of horror began to creep into his heart— surely . . . she wasn't serious?

Months— hardly the blink of an eye for faekind, but everything to humans. Months, Lilia had kept a child for several months, and not once had tried to rid himself of it? Not once tried to deposit it upon the stoop of a human village and wipe his hands clean of the responsibility of child-rearing? He had been taking advice from Baul's daughter and her wisp of a husband on how to pacify and coddle it? He had barged into their home, fretful beyond measure with a colicky babe clutched in his arms, and all but demanded them to cure the child?

("Or what?" Baul found himself asking, utterly bewildered and needing to find some kernel of normalcy in the fact that surely Lilia had menaced his daughter's husband some into obeying his whims.

"Or nothing, Father," she said, the taunting ghost of a knowing smile playing about her lips. "In all the years that I've known him, I've never seen him quite so distraught. He stayed by the crib all night, frozen— we had to tell him it was alright to breathe and to hold Silver's hand if he wanted, it was as if he was afraid to hurt him.")

Silver? Lilia, afraid? Holding the hand of some human child?

It simply couldn't be true.

It couldn't be, this had to be some elaborate, poorly executed prank.

He clung to that belief even as his daughter shoved a bundle of medicine, food, and knitted blankets into his arms with the stern instruction to deliver them to Lilia's home (Home! He had never heard the forest cottage to be described in such terms! The place was a hovel, a storage shed for Lilia to dump his treasures before venturing off to the next location, how could it be considered a home?).

He clung to it even as he emerged from the woods to the path that led up to the cottage's door, casting unnerved glances to the strange and new abundance of woodland creatures skulking about the thatched roof and scampering along the thick tree trunk supporting the cottage like a lean-to, soft little animals that would have darted away in fright from Lilia's presence before Baul's own.

He clung to it until he could no more, when he threw open the cottage door with an odd tightness in his chest to see his oldest friend collapsed on a worn and lumpy armchair with a honest-to-goodness human baby snuggled safely within his arms and sucking happily on a stray piece of ruby-stained hair. Beyond them, a soothing glow flickered in the fireplace where a kettle of milk quietly steamed, and the scattered presence of cloth toys littered the living room floor along with (Baul shuddered) well-thumbed pamphlets, their covers illustrated with the cheerful faces of frolicking human children.

What had this child done to Lilia Vanrouge?

#lettie's asks #lettie writes #twisted wonderland #twst spoilers #lilia vanrouge #twst lilia #baul zigvolt #twisted wonderland silver #twst silver #diasomnia #ughhhh baul is so FASICNATING TO ME #i like to think that he's absolutely disgusted at first that lilia's adopted a human child #and he cares for it by the sheer virtue of his friendship and loyalty to lilia #BUT THE SIGHTS IN THAT HOME!! THE SHAKEN FOUNDATION THAT IS HIS BELIEF THAT LILIA WOULD NEVER CARE TO INVITE HUMANITY UPON HIMSELF #TO SEE ALL THE TOYS AND SOFT BLANKETS AND THE EVIDENCE THAT THEY SLEEP SNUGGLED TOGETHER #get WRECKED you useless old men #that child is lilia's BABY #HIS BABY BOY AND BY GOD SILVER DOMESTICATED HIM WITHIN 24 HRS #lilia: oh how could i ever love a human will i ever know #silver: exists #and now im off to nap bc these cramps are Winning

110 notes · View notes

chirpsythismorning · 1 year ago

Text

Mike's character regression can be explained in large part by one emotion in particular: guilt

Just want to preface this by saying that, this is not Mike slander. I love this dude. In fact, I think what makes Mike such an interesting character is that a lot of his behavior throughout the series can be explained in part by previous moments, and after really looking at all these moments together, what you end up with is a pretty fucked up story.

So while some might want to take this as Mike slander, these points I'm making are a part of Mike and things he has done and said and whether they were intentionally harmful or not, it's Mike. It's all shaped him and his role in the story. The fact that we're seeing a visible shift in his behavior at all, with plenty of moments from the show to back up what brought us here, makes it compelling enough to talk about.

So, without further ado, back to our roots:

Ah yes, the infamous canon proof disputing Mike's I think my life started that day we found you in the woods, claim during his monologue. Not only that, but in this original scene from 1x02, it turns out Mike actually intended to send her away the next day (all of which El could hear Mike saying from the open bathroom door).

Mike outright calling El a weapon, again telling the others they need her because they stand no chance at getting Will back otherwise.

I wont elaborate on this now, because there is way too much to unpack that'll honestly be more worthwhile discussing further on.

For now, this is a secret tool that will help us later.

These next couple scenes right here though, are pretty painful if I'm being completely honest. The way its shot, specifically El's very visible exhaustion, accompanied by the varying priorities of others around her, leaves me feeling pretty unsettled upon rewatches.

I obviously can't remember how I felt when I watched these scenes for the first time, but I imagine I viewed them as this huge romantic moment for Mike and El (I was tricked by heteronormativity, okay?). But, again, upon rewatching them since then, I've realized I get this sort of sad feeling by the end. You'll see what I mean.

El obviously just went through something extremely traumatic. She tried to go find Will and Barb in the void, only to find Barb dead and Will presumably alive, but then slipping through her fingers at the last second (no, literally).

We then got a moment where Joyce held El while the others sat by quietly because she clearly needed a moment of comfort given what she just endured.

Then in this scene shortly after, everyone is leaving to get ready for their final attempt at saving Will.

Now, notice how not only Lucas, but also Dustin make the effort to reach out to El to comfort her affectionately after that traumatic event, with those twos' actions specifically being showcased in sequence?

Lucas, who spent the better part of the season being critical of El, is now ending the season rubbing El's shoulder to warm her up, literally soothing her to make her feel better.

Then there's Dustin, who right after Lucas' gesture makes a gesture of his own, putting his hand on her knee reassuringly, to show her he's there and he's happy she's okay.

And lastly there's Mike, who is so kindly allowing El to rest her head on his shoulder. This placement of Mike and El here is definitely a testament to the fact that Mike has vouched for El this whole time in contrast to the others and so, understandably, she put her head on his shoulder for reassurance, because out of the three of them, he's the one whose been looking out for her the most. (Right?)

Now you might be thinking that this sequence's only purpose was to show Lucas and Dustin's development with El, and that it wasn't intentional that they focused on Lucas and Dustins' priorities in this moment in contrast to Mikes'. And I raise you, this next scene.

Here we have a focus on Mike looking on to where everyone left, while the others beside him are presumably just processing what went down and taking a rest (and boy oh boy do they (El) need one).

Mike on the other-hand decides to take this moment of rest to display the most cliche and universal forms of distracted unrest known to man: he checks his watch.

Mike then stands up abruptly, causing El to fall without his shoulder there for her to rest on anymore, all while her and Dustin are looking on after him, sort of like... Okay?

It's small. It might seem insignificant. But if you actually pay attention to what this scene is trying to make you feel, after really looking at it for what it is, it's kind of sad.

In a moment that chooses to highlight the other boys' acknowledgment of El after what just happened, and not only that, but at the tale end of their final battle of the season, Mike is... distracted?

Mike, who has been presumably looking out for El more than the others in the party this whole time, is conveniently out of commission? And right now when El is looking for his reassurance the most? Mike doesn't even have a moment to say, 'Hey I'll be right back, I just want to check something. Can one of you?--', asking Lucas or Dustin to sit next to her in his place. No. Dude just stands up without even acknowledging her.

If it was any other moment in the show, under less post-traumatic circumstances for El, then I wouldn't even think much of it. But it's at this point in the story when El is essentially at her most exhausted and quite literally seeking out support from others, specifically Mike, that makes his distractedness so eery.

Again, you might still be thinking that this isn't that deep. However, I think based on the events leading up to this, and what follows right here, could quite literally hold the answer to the guilt Mike is still keeping to himself to this day.

So... How are we feeling?

Are we feeling like Mike None of you are thinking about El's wellbeing right now! She could get brain damage from using her powers too much! She's not a weapon!* Wheeler is a little bit of a hypocrite? (I told you that tool would come in handy!)

It's actually quite terrifying how similar this scene is framed to the scene in Hopper's cabin in s3, where Mike pretty much says the exact opposite. In s1 Mike goes from being one of the first people to refer to El as a weapon within the context of them using her powers to find Will, with him being completely un-attuned to the fact that she is exhausted in this moment while the others are saying El's rest and safety is the most important, to then in s3 completely flipping script and saying El was using her powers for nothing, blaming the others for treating her like a weapon and not taking her wellbeing into consideration.

It would be one thing if Mike had a little arc where he acknowledged this script flip. Because that's what it is. It is them having Mike use a word in s1 to describe El, that being weapon, only to say the others are treating her like that with that same word being used. It is them having Mike not agknowledge El's well being after overusing her powers, only to say the others aren't taking her wellbeing into consideration for overusing her powers.

And it would be one thing if Mike had spoke to El or literally anyone about how he felt like he wronged El for planning on sending her away the next day after they found her so that they could go back to looking for Will, or how he said she was a weapon that they needed in order to find Will, essentially being no better than the people she just escaped from, who also used her for her powers. But we don't get that (actually we do.. but it's not acknowledged for what it is aka survivor's guilt. It's instead seen as romantic... another tool for later...)

Now, don't get me wrong, I don't think any of Mike's behavior takes away from what Mike did do for El, because yes he was kind and accepting when the others weren't. But even despite all of that, at the end of the day, he was often at the forefront of expecting El to risk her life for them, even if he wasn't outright asking that of her.

Before you freak out, No. I don't think Mike, a literal child, was capable of fathoming that El was going into these situations risking her life. She's a superhero. El's alternative was literally going back to the lab, running, or staying with Mike. This was her safest option.

After a bunch of rewatches and putting together a lot of these moments as a whole, I've come to a point where I believe that Mike's behavior throughout s1 was him thinking that because of who El was, she's already in danger at all times. That is a constant reality for her. And so why not have her help them find Will, because she is able to, all while he can also help her. And El clearly wanted to help them, because she wanted to help good people and finally do something meaningful with her powers for a change. Unfortunately, she also had to endure PTSD flashbacks almost every single time Mike and the boys had her use her powers to help find Will.

Speaking of Will, he is currently missing and possibly dead. Will also, in contrast to El (for now...), does not have any sort of superpowers.

Mike's concern over the threat of Will's livelihood is much greater than Mike's acknowledgement to the true risks El is exposing herself to each time she uses her powers to help them. That is s1 canon.

Is there times when Mike is focused on El and her well being. Absolutely! But is there also times when Mike is not showing any display of concern to El's well being in the moment, in complete contrast to the other characters around him... Also yes.

And so the events happening the way they did, with Mike himself not fully comprehending the severity of what's been going on during these high stake situations going on around him, makes sense.

And that's what makes it all the more sad that when Mike finally does realize what he's truly been asking of El this whole time, which is to risk her life for them, it's too late.

This whole scene is obviously very emotional. All of the boys are crying, but the focus on Mike calling out for El painfully is heartbreaking.

But what's even more sad to me, is that El has been sort of used to mistreatment her whole life. She's used to having to find any comfort she could get from people in her life, all the while they were using her for her powers. I mean even despite Brenner being who he was and doing what he did, she still showed these signs of wanting to love him despite it. Which is very very fucked up. But knowing what she's gone through, makes sense.

Mike on the other-hand does greatly contrast Brenner because he was one of the first people to actually treat her with genuine kindness right from the start (before he even knew she had powers), making it a lot easier for her to care for him even despite that pesky trait of using her for her powers being almost synonymous with Brenner's very similar trait.

So when she looks back at Mike, and points him out specifically before sacrificing herself, it feels like a few things at once.

It feels like her acknowledging the fact that she appreciated him specifically for taking her in and supporting her more genuinely than anyone has in her entire life.

And yet it also feels like her, either intentionally or unintentionally, acknowledging the unfortunate side affect caused by days of Mike leading the efforts to find Will, with the expectation of her to do things to achieve that, which could have all lead to her demise technically. And so now when it all comes down to it and the stakes are at their highest yet, same as the risk, she's got to a point where she believes there is no other choice but to do just that, risk her life, especially if it means saving them.

While this is happening, Mike is backtracking in real time. He is trying to get El to stop and it's because he doesn't want her to die. Obviously.

But that's the fucked up part isn't it? When he finally realized what he's been asking of her this whole time, it's too late.

Which takes us to S2 Mike Wheeler, known by many for being a boy whose been calling his true love everyday for almost a year now because he's just so in love, but is actually in fact a boy suffering the most intense form of survivors guilt, one that involves a person who genuinely feels responsible for the persons death...

But that will probably take at least another 2,000 words so I'm thinking maybe I better split this into multiple parts.

I will tease that the next part involves one specific detail in particular that I never see anyone talk about, a detail that I think, in combination with what's discussed in this post, is so important to understanding Mike's breakdown for what it truly was at the end of season 2. I will also probably do more posts beyond that for s3-4, to delve into the impacts these moments from the first two seasons have basically put in place a perfect recipe for what is currently going down.

So feel free to stay tuned for those nonsense updates.

Continued

393 notes · View notes