#Wedding photography capturing the moment

[jass22]

Capturing Moments in Kolkata: The Best Photography Services by 12 Eyes Photography.

Kolkata, with its rich cultural heritage and vibrant lifestyle, provides a stunning backdrop for all kinds of photography. Whether it’s the grandiosity of a wedding, the joy of a newborn, or the fun of a party, capturing these moments perfectly requires a skilled photographer. 12 Eyes Photography stands out as the premier choice for capturing these unforgettable moments in Kolkata.

Best Wedding Photographers in Kolkata

A wedding is one of the most significant events in a person's life, and having the right photographer to document it is crucial. 12 Eyes Photography is renowned for its wedding photography in Kolkata. Our team of experienced photographers ensures that every emotion, every laugh, and every tear is captured with precision and artistry. From traditional Bengali weddings to modern ceremonies, we bring a blend of creativity and tradition to each shot, making your wedding memories timeless.

Pre Wedding-Shoot in Kolkata

A pre-wedding shoot is a wonderful way for couples to express their love story. Kolkata offers a myriad of picturesque locations for these shoots, from the iconic Victoria Memorial to the serene Princep Ghat. At 12 Eyes Photography, we specialize in creating magical pre-wedding shoots that reflect the unique chemistry between couples. Our photographers are adept at finding the perfect settings and lighting to make each shot a masterpiece.

Newborn Photography in Kolkata

Capturing the first few days of a newborn’s life is a precious task that requires patience and a gentle touch. 12 Eyes Photography excels in newborn photography in Kolkata, offering parents a chance to preserve these fleeting moments. Our photographers are skilled in handling newborns, ensuring a safe and comfortable environment while capturing their innocence and charm.

Kolkata Reception Photography Services

The reception is a celebration of love and joy shared with family and friends. It’s a time to let loose and create lasting memories. 12 Eyes Photography provides exceptional reception photography services in Kolkata, ensuring that every candid moment, every dance, and every toast is captured with elegance. Our photographers blend into the background, capturing spontaneous moments that reflect the true essence of your celebration.

Rice Ceremony Photography in Kolkata

The rice ceremony, or Annaprashan, is a significant milestone in a child’s life in Bengali culture. This sacred event deserves to be documented with care and respect. 12 Eyes Photography offers specialized rice ceremony photography in Kolkata, capturing the rituals and emotions that make this event so special. Our team is experienced in photographing traditional ceremonies, ensuring that every important detail is preserved for years to come.

Party Photographer in Kolkata

Parties are all about fun, laughter, and creating memories with friends and family. Whether it’s a birthday party, an anniversary, or a casual get-together, 12 Eyes Photography provides top-notch party photography services in Kolkata. Our photographers are adept at capturing the energy and joy of parties, ensuring that every significant moment is documented beautifully.

12 Eyes Photography is dedicated to providing the best photography services in Kolkata. With a team of talented photographers and a passion for capturing life's most beautiful moments, we ensure that every client walks away with memories they can cherish forever.

For more information or to book our services, visit our website at 12 Eyes Photography.

With 12 Eyes Photography, every moment is an opportunity to create something beautiful and lasting. Choose us to capture your special moments in Kolkata, and let us turn them into timeless treasures.

[perfectmoment1]

Wedding Photography Sydney: A Picture-Perfect Scenery

It's very important to pick the right venue for your dream wedding. At Perfect Moment, wedding photography Sydney knows how important it is to find a venue that not only fits your vision but also makes a great background for your love story. There are many beautiful places to get married in Sydney, from gardens to fancy ballrooms with views of the harbour.

Choose and remember your dream wedding venue in Sydney with the help of wedding photographer Melbourne. We can help you sort through the options and find the venue that speaks to your heart, whether you want a small, private event or a big party.

We make sure that every part of your venue is shown in the best light, from the architectural details to the natural surroundings. As soon as you decide on the venue of your dreams, our team will do everything they can to capture its beauty and atmosphere through our wedding photos and video services. Get in touch with wedding photographer Melbourne right away to start making plans for your dream wedding!

[sergiosandon]

[ronwestbreeze]

live in gotham they say... | birdie goes to a wedding

summary: what idiot willingly moves to gotham city of all places? you, apparently. word count: 2.8k warning: none! just chaos hehe author's note: i really appreciate the love from my first post of this! so glad y'all are enjoying it! enjoy this next one I have for you!

AO3 | previous

It was a good thing you had a backup plan—at least, that’s what you hoped it would be. Back in high school, you started a small website for your photography business. You made some good money from it back then, so you decided to bring it back in hopes of starting a small business in Gotham.

So far, it’s sort of worked.

In a couple of weeks, you’ve had about three bookings, all for some yearbook photos at three different schools in the city. The money from it could only get you gas and maybe some dinner that could work as leftovers if you were smart and knew how to make it last.

Still living in your car though, but it could be worse!

Your photography bookings were slowly gaining traction and taking off. The next booking was for a birthday party. It was a frat boy scene, not too impressive but hey, you got some good money from it.

The next event that booked you was a wedding.

This, you were a bit more nervous for, mostly because you had nothing to wear that was close to being wedding ceremony material. So, out of desperation, you dug through your boxes of clothes until you finally found a black dress you wore to your grandmother’s funeral back in your junior year of high school. Hopefully, you didn’t stick out like a sore thumb.

Turns out, you didn’t.

The venue was a boat. Like a really nice boat. Which told you that whoever was getting married was loaded.

Everyone was dressed differently yet so rich it made you invisible—which helped with not sticking out like a sore thumb. Whatever country the groom and bride were from seemed like they knew how to dress and throw a wedding. Colors burst everywhere, the dresses were over the top yet beautiful and the decorations were bright and loud. Taking pictures was easy to do with so many sights for you to capture. 

This had to be the best booking you’ve ever gotten, especially if it seemed like an A-list kind of wedding with as much security around.

At some point, you were dragged away to the second floor of the ship to get pictures of the bride and the bridesmaids.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” A shriek came from the room the wedding planner was dragging you toward. 

After pushing the door open, inside there was a woman in a puffy wedding gown the color of scarlet with women surrounding her as they did her hair and makeup. Everyone here seemed to speak Spanish and caught up in their own little worlds—except for the bride of course.

The event planner guided you toward the bride, motioning for you to take pictures of her getting ready. You carefully made your way over—mindful not to get in the way of the makeup and hair crew—as you held your camera up, “Okay, can I get a nice smile from the bride—“

“How the fuck do you expect me to do a heist without a getaway driver?! What do you mean King Shark called in sick?!” You paused, the grip on your camera tightening. A heist? Did you hear that correctly? The bride to be planning a heist in the middle of her wedding? No, maybe you misunderstood…

The bride kept going, not noticing you yet. “This isn’t Big Belly Burger! He’s not gonna get fucking PTO…” The bride trailed off once she did finally notice you and your camera. She had a phone to her ear and her eyes were wide. Oh shit. “Aw, shit…”

Shit, she knows you overheard her. Why the hell was she planning a heist in the first place—not the point. But this made you a suspect, right? What if the police got involved—what if she’d have you killed for knowing about the heist? How did this already turn to shit? 

For a moment, the two of you just stared at each other. Waiting to see what the other would do first.

“Harls? You good?” A woman’s voice came from the bride’s—Harls—phone. The woman was probably her other crew for the heist—shit, she was going to send them after you, wasn’t she? 

Think, think!

“Yeah…” The bride sighed as she reached under her dress. You blanched when you saw it was a gun. “Montez might’ve sent a little birdie—yes, don’t worry, I’ll handle it! I haven’t screwed it up yet!”

“¡sonríe para la cámara!” You blurted before taking her picture with the flash on. 

She hissed, throwing her head back in surprise, “Ow!—The little birdie blinded me!—Yeah well, it hurt my eyes so shut up, will ya?”

Quickly, you moved to get pictures of the bridesmaid, repeating the same line in Spanish, hoping to show that you couldn’t speak English and totally didn’t hear or understand anything she had said about a heist or a getaway driver, before dashing out of the room to get back to the deck.

You blended in with the rest of the guests and photographers, making sure to keep your head low and unnoticeable. But of course, you just had to notice more strange things.

The security guards standing by were all holding guns, almost as if ready to shoot anyone who would step out of line. Then there were some of the guests. Most of the men were tatted and drenched in gold chains and expensive-looking watches. The gold didn’t stop at the men but even the women were decked out in more expensive-looking jewelry. Some were even smoking cigars as they stepped straight out of The Godfather.

First, the bride was planning a heist and now you felt as if you were in the middle of a mob boss movie. Just what kind of wedding was this?

“You’re living in your car. You’re living in your car.” You murmured to yourself, trying to calm your nerves.

Suddenly the groom came down the aisle and everyone gathered in place. The distant waves of the water and the organ playing set the mood of the wedding. You snapped pictures of the bridesmaids and groomsmen walking down the aisle and snapped a few more pictures of the guests before finally the bride came out.

You subtly hid yourself behind a nearby security guard, hoping to stay out of sight as she came down the aisle. She was very pretty, that much was clear. Some of her pale blonde hair was highlighted with blue and pink and her scarlet wedding gown trailed along the floor behind her as she walked. But she seemed quite distracted, her head snapping back and forth as if she were looking for something—or someone.

Shit, was she still hoping to take you out? Maybe you’re Spanish was a bit rusty after all.

Fortunately, you weren’t the one she was worried about.

By the time she got to the end of the aisle, the minister began the officiation—and yet you couldn’t stop noticing strange things as the ceremony went on.

Some of the security guards started blocking the entrances. Some of the guests began fiddling with their holsters that were conveniently hidden under their coats and dresses. Then there was the fact a few chairs were empty of a few guests a few thuds were coming from outside the double doors the security guards were standing in front of. 

You were suddenly all too aware of the way the boat was slightly rocking. All your life, you’ve never been one to be seasick but your stomach was twisting up into all sorts of knots at the moment. You could legitimately throw up from being so anxious.

God, you really hated being observant.

“Harley Quinn, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” The minister asked, snapping you back to the ceremony.

“Huh? Oh yeah, sure.” The bride—Harley—shrugged distractedly whilst her eyes kept dancing around the room.

“And Gabriel Montez, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

You furrowed your brows at that point. Why was the minister speaking English?

Harley seemed to notice this as well. “Aw, shit.”

The minister closed the bible, “Then I hereby pronounce you—UNDER ARREST!”

And just like that, the whole room broke into utter chaos. The minister removed his fake beard and robes to reveal he was a cop. A few of the security guards did the same. You ducked under a nearby table as soon as the guns were out, the cigars were put out, and bullets went flying.

The bride, Harley pulled out two guns and joined in the gunfight. “Secure the goods! Secure the goods! We’ll get our own fucking getaway driver!”

You had to get out of here fast. 

Taking a risk, you crawled from under the table and toward the double doors leading out of this chaotic room. A body had dropped next to you, causing you to yelp and look away before you could see the blood and the lifeless eyes from them. You just kept going, no point in stopping or looking back. Everyone was distracted, you wouldn’t waste your chance of escaping.

Once you got to the double doors, one of them slammed open—nearly smacking you in the face in the process—as a few more security guards rushed in to join the chaos. You took that chance to dive through the door right before it closed, muffling the shouts and the gunshots. Stumbling to your feet, you didn’t hesitate to run.

It took a moment for you to find the path leading down under the boat where are the escape baots were. That’s the one thing you remembered when you were given the tour. There were for emergencies and you were pretty sure this counted as one. But finding it was the biggest relief. They were all either lifeboats or motorboats. And wanting to get to land faster, you went for the motor boat.

Quickly, you searched for the emergency latch and pulled it down, creating an opening wide enough for you to take one of the boats and escape. You leaped onto one of the motorboats, making sure to untie it from the anchor.

“Freeze!”

You yelped and glanced over our shoulder, seeing a cop a few feet away, pointing a gun straight at you.

Fuck.

“H-Hey! I’m not a part of this! I’m just the photographer!” You tried while raising your hands as the cop drew closer, his gun never wavering.

“Slowly, get out of the boat.” The cop ordered making your heart drop.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Carefully and slowly, you got out of the motorboat, “There must be some mistake—I swear I have nothing to do with the heist, I swear!”

The cop then narrowed his eyes, “Oh yeah, then how did you know there was even a heist if you’re just a photographer?”

You paused and realized your mistake. Okay, that one was on you.

“Alright, that’s a fair point.” You grumbled, hands still raised.

The cop never lowered the gun, “Step away from the boat. You’re coming with me.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you slowly stepped away from the boats. “Please—this is all just some misunderstanding—all I do is take pictures—um, do you have to point the gun at me? Uh…No hablo ingles?”

“Just shut up already and stand still!”

“…Que?”

Now he was pissed—which granted was your fault. “Alright, kid. One more word out that mouth of yours and I’ll—“

A gun went off and the cop fell forward. You screamed as his body fell into the water. Now a new gun was pointed at you, this time with the bride—Harley Quinn—on the other side of it.

She grinned at you, “I knew you could speak English, little birdie!”

Your hands were still raised while you trembled, “To be fair I panicked and I really didn’t mean to overhear your heist plans—I’m just a photographer here trying to make a living so, uh, please don’t kill me. I won’t tell anyone, seriously—“

Distant voices and footsteps drew near, causing Harley to groan and suddenly push you into one of the motorboats. “Enough yapping and more running!“ She dumped a duffel bag onto the boat which landed with a heavy thud with clinking sounds coming from inside it. No doubt that was the stolen goods.

“Wait, what are you—“ You furrowed your brows as she was tearing the skirts of her wedding dress.

Harley sent you a glare with wide eyes, “Whatcha waitin’ for? You wanna go to the slammer or do you wanna escape and be a free birdie, birdie?!” 

“Not with a criminal!” 

“Gasp! I’m hurt! And here I thought we bonded for a moment!”

The cops were drawing closer. You glanced toward the dead cop floating in the water, knowing that if they saw that and you were in the boat with Harley, then you were as sure as dead.

Shit, shit, shit.

“Tick-tock, little birdie!” Harley shouted as she loaded more bullets into her guns.

With that, you quickly adjusted your camera and quickly turned the engine on. The footsteps were getting closer and Harely clicked her guns into place. 

Shit, shit, shit.

The first few cops came down, guns pointed. “Stop right there—“

You slammed on the pedal and steered the motorboat out of the underboat just as Harely started blazing bullets toward the cops. 

“HAHA! Too slow!” Harley stuck her tongue out as she continued shooting at the cops the more they got further and further away from the boat.

Night had fallen and the air was cold despite the warm spring season. Gunshots echoed through the distance but you tried your best to drown it out while steering the boat away from the chaos. Though, of course, chaos itself was on the boat with you.

“Wow, you’re good at this! Have ya ever been a getaway driver before?” Harley asked once they were further away out of range of the cops and gunshots. 

You swallowed, shivering slightly from the cold. “No—I mean, I’ve driven a boat before but I’ve never done this. Boat racing doesn’t count, does it? Then again, I’ve never helped a criminal escape from the police—am I going to be wanted now? Did they see my face? Oh great, not even a couple of weeks into here and I’m already being chased by police—there aren’t going to be flyers with my face around town are there? I just wanted to get a job and a little apartment, not go to jail—“

“Wow, you’re a yapper, huh?” Harley laughed as she leaned against your shoulder. “Well, welcome to Gotham, suga, it ain’t getting any prettier from here.”

You frowned and glanced toward her, “Uh…thanks?”

Eventually, a beach came into view as you steered the boat toward it. Once you had gotten to shore, Harley leaped out of the boat with the bag of stolen goods, “You should probably get running, birdie. Them coppers are persistent little fuckers.” 

Just as she said that you heard the distant sirens stirring you to quickly scramble away from the boat and rush along the beach. Harley ran in one direction while you ran in another. 

“See ya around, little birdie!” You heard her call and could practically hear the grin in her voice.

Finally, after what felt like hours, you found your parked car and let out a huge sigh of relief. Only to groan when you realized that you wouldn’t be paid after all of that bullcrap. So much for a guaranteed buck. Maybe no more weddings for now—especially ones on boats.

You took your camera and placed it safely back in its case when you suddenly felt something heavy in the pocket of your dress. Hesitatingly, you dug into your pocket and took out the heavy object—only to gasp.

In your hands was a gold watch—one of those watches you’d seen those older tattooed men wearing at the wedding. How it got in your possession you weren’t sure….

A flash of Harley’s grin was imprinted into your mind and you gripped the watch.

You could return it. That would be the right thing to do.

But then again, you went through hell just for a photography job. And you needed another meal to last you more than a couple of nights.

Technically…you didn’t steal it.

And technically, you could look at this as your paycheck.

In the corner of your eye, there was movement. You thought someone had caught you as you quickly pocketed the watch away and looked toward the movement. 

Only you saw a cat sitting on the hood of one of the nearby cars, its indigo eyes staring in your direction curiously. You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding.

At some point, you pulled out of the parking lot. At some point, you drove past the police cruisers who didn’t spare you a second glance. At some point, the watch ended up back in your pocket and you didn’t think twice about it then.

[focusonkayjay]

Wildly Wealthy Koreans (final + epilogue); inspired by Crazy Rich Asians

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: photographer/ filmmaker! jungkook, rich girl/ fashion designer! reader, established relationship, angst, fluff, smut

Series summary: When you invite your boyfriend, Jungkook, to accompany you to your brother's wedding in your hometown, Daegu, he’s overjoyed, eager to meet your family and experience a side of your life you’ve never shared with him. However, once he uncovers the truth about who you really are, he’s unable to grasp the full extent of your reality. The situation becomes even more complicated when a certain someone makes him feel profoundly unwelcome, leaving him to question not only your world, but also his place in it.

Disclaimer: This series is heavily inspired by the movie Crazy Rich Asians, with the storyline closely following the original film's plot. However, I wanted to reimagine it as a fanfiction, where Jungkook and OC take center stage as the main protagonists. While I’ve kept the core elements and themes from the movie, I’ve added my own touches here and there, such as altering certain character dynamics and incorporating a few original settings. Some scenes are directly inspired by the movie, and I’ve worked to recreate them in a way that it hopefully resonates with the fans of the movie. Hope you enjoy!!

Word Count: 9.7k+

Chapter Warnings: your mother, talks about culture, roots etc, cultural jabs (??), some dialogues taken straight from the movie.

A/N: AHHHH, I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS SERIES IS FINALLY OVERRRRRR 🥺 i still remember debating whether writing this series was a good idea or not, and i’m so incredibly glad i decided to go for it. seeing it through to the end has been such a rewarding journey. a quick reminder (as always) to those who haven’t watched the movie, PLEASE DOOOO. it’ll help you truly capture the essence of this series and catch all the little references sprinkled throughout the story. thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to every single one of you who stuck around and read through the entire story. your unwavering support means the absolute world to me, and i hope the ending left you feeling as fulfilled and happy as i feel right now. thank you again, endlessly, for being a part of this journey. love you guys <333

final

Jungkook's eyes roam around the serene interiors of the photography museum. The space is dimly lit, with soft spotlights highlighting the carefully curated photographs mounted on minimalist white walls.

The polished wooden floors gleam under the subdued lighting, their faint reflections adding warmth to the otherwise cool and modern design.

Large floor-to-ceiling windows on one side let in streaks of natural light that mix with the artificial glow, casting gentle shadows across the room.

A faint hum of classical music plays in the background, blending with the quiet murmurs of a few visitors who walk slowly, lost in thought as they admire the exhibits.

Each photograph is encased in sleek black frames, their details brought to life by the perfect interplay of light and shadow.

Jungkook’s gaze shifts towards the entrance. His eyes narrow slightly as he spots a familiar figure entering. Her presence commanding, with large, oversized sunglasses perched on the bridge of her nose and a crisp sky blue suit that speaks of meticulous tailoring.

Her posture is poised but guarded, exuding both authority and apprehension. She glances around, as though searching for something... or someone.

When her eyes finally land on him, she stiffens slightly, her polished demeanor faltering for the briefest moment.

There’s a pause, a moment heavy with wordless tension, as their gazes lock. Then, as if deciding to confront the inevitable, she begins walking towards him. Her heels click rhythmically on the gleaming wooden floor, each step echoing faintly in the otherwise hushed space.

Jungkook exhales slowly, his fingers fidgeting in his pockets of his jecket, and forces a small, polite smile. “Thank you for meeting me here.” he says softly as he bows when she reaches him, his tone tinged with restraint.

Your mother lowers her gaze, the sharp lines of her expression softening slightly as she removes the oversized shades that had shielded her face. Her hands fold the glasses and tuck them into her blazer's pocket.

Her eyes flicker briefly to Jungkook before shifting to the museum’s visitors, who linger quietly in their own worlds. She crosses her arms, her movements calculated, and slowly begins walking further into the gallery, her gaze wandering over the photographs lining the walls.

Jungkook follows closely behind her, the faint echo of his boots blending into the quiet hum of the museum. His gaze flits from one photograph to the next and the air between them is heavy with the kind of silence that feels almost alive.

After a few moments, she halts abruptly in front of a large photograph, the sharp sound of her heels ceasing like the punctuation to an invisible sentence. Jungkook stops a few paces behind, watching as her eyes narrow, drawn to the image before her.

The picture is striking... a serene lakeside scene where the water glimmers under a golden sunset. At the heart of the image are a mother and her daughter, waist-deep in the water. The little girl throws her head back in carefree laughter, her hands splashing water toward the sky, droplets catching the light like tiny jewels.

The mother, her arms outstretched to steady the child, wears a wide, radiant smile... one that speaks of pure, unfiltered joy. The intimacy of the picture is palpable, the bond between them immortalized in the frame.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Jungkook’s voice cuts softly through the silence, his eyes also fixed on the photograph. His tone holds a quiet reverence, as though he understands the story behind the image without needing to be told.

Your mother remains silent for a long moment, her arms still crossed. Her sharp eyes scan the photograph, lingering on the mother’s expression, as if she’s trying to decipher something beyond the surface. Finally, she breathes out, her voice low. “It is.”

As they walk side by side through the museum, Jungkook’s eyes linger on the photographs, each one a silent universe frozen in a frame.

His gaze stops at a photograph of a weathered lighthouse against a stormy sky, its beam cutting through the chaos.

“You know...” he begins, his voice low but steady. “Photography has this way of teaching you about life." he says, crossing his arms.

"Every shot is a lesson of patience, perspective, and timing. Sometimes, you’re staring through the lens, thinking you’ve got the perfect frame, but then you realize… it’s not right. The light’s too harsh, the angle's too narrow. That’s when you step back, adjust, and try again.” He pauses, his hand brushing lightly against the edge of a nearby frame.

“Life is a lot like that. The things we don’t understand... the moments that hurt us or confuse us, they start to make sense when you’re willing to shift your perspective, even just a little.”

Your mother remains quiet, her gaze briefly shifting to him before returning to the photographs, her expression unreadable.

“You called me here..." she says eventually, her voice sharp and direct, breaking the delicate quiet. “I assume it’s not for a photography lesson.” She glances at him over her shoulder, her tone laced with a challenge.

Jungkook looks down, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “Well then…” His voice trails off as he walks past her taking a few steps ahead, his hands slipping back into his pockets. His eyes move over the walls, scanning each frame with a focus that seems both casual and intentional.

“I know the truth about my mother bothers you...” he says, his voice steady but quiet, his words carried by the subdued hum of the museum’s ambiance.

Your mother doesn’t respond immediately, but she follows him as her eyes settle on the photographs alongside his. Each image seems to hold its own gravity... a bustling street in monochrome, a child peering through a cracked window, a lone bird perched on a barren tree.

“But you didn’t like me the second I got here.” Jungkook continues, his steps slowing until he halts entirely. He turns to face her, his dark eyes meeting hers with an intensity that demands answers. “Why is that?” he asks, his tone calm but weighted, the kind of calm that conceals gallons of restrained hurt and confusion.

Your mother stops a few feet away as she looks at him for a long moment, her expression impenetrable. "You know..." she begins, her voice firm yet laced with an undercurrent of contemplation.

"As a photographer, I’m sure you've experienced those moments... when you’re behind the lens, capturing a scene so carefully, so purposefully, and yet, there’s just something... a detail, a shadow, or perhaps an element that doesn’t quite belong." She pauses, letting her words settle between them.

Jungkook furrows his brows, listening intently, trying to grasp the weight of her meaning, the cryptic nature of her expression.

"It disrupts the rhythm of the image... the frame." she continues, her voice almost detached now, as if the words have found their own path.

"No matter how perfectly you’ve set everything up, no matter how much you try to step back and adjust, it pulls your attention, ruins the flow, and shatters the harmony you so carefully crafted. It doesn’t blend in the way it should... it stands out, but not in a way that completes the image. It’s a blemish, an imperfection in an otherwise perfect picture."

She steps closer now, the silence between them dense, her gaze unwavering as she delivers her final words, her tone colder, yet still rich with intensity.

"You’re like that to me." she says, her eyes locking with his, the words biting with an unspoken finality. "You don’t belong in the frame."

Though the sting of her words cuts deep into Jungkook’s core, he forces a chuckle, his gaze dropping to the floor as if to shield the emotions threatening to surface. "Why?" he asks, his voice deceptively calm, as though he’s not unraveling inside.

"Because I’m not rich? Because I didn’t grow up with extravagant tea ceremonies or grandiose parties? Because I wasn’t born into a family with old money?" His head tilts slightly, eyes lifting to meet hers with a quiet defiance.

Your mother’s lips curl into a thin, airy grin, shaking her head slowly as if dismissing him before he’s even begun to understand. "You’re a foreigner." she says with finality. "American." she adds.

Jungkook’s expression falters, confusion clouding his features as he tries to digest the weight of her statement.

She gazes at him, eyes sharp, as if everything is already clear to her. "You were raised in a world where detachment is a virtue. Detached from your culture, your traditions, from the things that truly matter. All you care about is your own happiness." Her words hang heavy between them, like a wall that she’s built with her own hands, each syllable an obstacle too high to climb.

Jungkook’s brow furrows in bewilderment as he tries to reconcile the disconnect. "But... don’t you want Y/n to be happy?" he asks, his voice tinged with desperation, as if the question could bridge the vast divide she’s creating.

She laughs softly, a hollow sound, and begins walking again. "It's an illusion." she murmurs, almost as if speaking to herself. Jungkook follows, each step heavy with the weight of her words, yet unwilling to retreat.

"We understand..." she continues. "... how to build things that last. Things that matter. Things with roots, with purpose... not just fleeting, ephemeral happiness.... Something... you know nothing about." She glances back at him, her eyes sharp.

Jungkook’s jaw clenches, a storm of frustration rising within him. "You don’t know me." he says, his voice low but firm, a quiet challenge hanging in the air between them.

She stops in her tracks, eyes flickering to a large photograph on the wall. The image captures a fading sunset, its colors blurred and intertwined... beautiful but transient, as though it were about to disappear entirely. "I know you’re not what Y/n needs." she says quietly.

Jungkook stands there, a silent fury building in him, but her words cut deeper than he expected. He meets her gaze once more, eyes resolute. "Well, she asked me to elope with her yesterday." he says, his words sharp, almost defiant.

At this, your mother’s composed exterior falters, visibly cracking for the first time. Her eyes widen in shock, as though she had never expected such a revelation.

Jungkook watches her carefully, a quiet understanding crossing his mind that she had definitely not seen this coming. "She said she’d walk away from her family and you... for good." he presses on, his voice firm.

He watches her closely, observing how her shoulders tense, how her breathing catches, and how her eyes fall to the floor as she tries to process the weight of what he’s said.

A quiet chuckle escapes Jungkook’s lips, catching her attention. "Don’t worry..." he says, voice soft but tinged with something darker. "I turned her down."

At this, your mother exhales deeply, a sound of relief that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She takes a moment to regain her composure, trying to steady herself with a practiced sigh.

"Only fools fold a winning hand." she mutters, the words a hollow attempt to mask the vulnerability seeping through.

Jungkook shakes his head, a quiet frustration brewing within him. He glances at a photograph on the wall, a few feet away, its stillness contrasting sharply with the tension in the air.

"There’s no winning. You made sure of that." he replies with a nonchalant grin, though the words are heavy, laden with truth.

"Because if Y/n chose me, she would lose her family." he continues, taking a step closer to her. "And if she chose her family, she might spend the rest of her life resenting you."

She looks at him, her throat visibly tightening as the gravity of his words slowly settles in. It’s as if each syllable he speaks punctures the layers of her reality, sending ripples through her calm facade.

"So... you chose for her." she murmurs quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, almost like she’s testing the truth for herself.

Jungkook smiles softly, a tender yet sad curve of his lips. He purses them, his voice carrying the weight of something deeper. "I'm not leaving because I'm scared... or because I think I’m not enough." he says, his words slow, as though he’s carefully peeling back the layers of his own vulnerability.

Your mother tilts her head, and in the soft glow of the museum's lighting, her eyes shimmer slightly, betraying a crack in her usual strength.

"Because maybe for the first time in my life..." he pauses, his breath hitching ever so slightly. "I know I am." he continues, his voice a fragile admission of self worth.

Your mother looks at him, her expression hardened with forced composure, her gaze flickering between the raw honesty in his eyes and the vulnerability in his voice. She’s trying to hold herself together, trying to remain unshaken.

Jungkook’s voice falters, a soft sigh escaping him as he shrugs. "I just... love Y/n so much." he says, his tone thick with sincerity, tinged with sadness as his eyes glisten.

"I don’t want her to lose her family... her brother, her father, her grandmother. I don’t want her to lose you." he adds, his words dripping with the painful understanding of what it would cost you to choose him over them.

He shakes his head slightly, the words painful on his lips, each one a reminder of the battle between love and sacrifice.

"These past few weeks have shown me how much she cherishes everything she’s grown up with, and I would feel horrible if she walked away from all of that... for me." he says, his voice low but heavy with the weight of his own realization.

"I don’t want to snatch her away from her family..." he continues, his gaze locked with hers now, steady and unflinching. "I want to be accepted by her family instead." he says, his voice laced with an earnest desire to belong, not just to you, but to the life you've already built.

"So I just wanted you to know..." His voice trails off, thick with emotion, as he turns away, his gaze shifting towards the far end of the museum.

"That one day... when she marries another lucky guy... someone who’s enough... for you." he says softly, turning back to her, his eyes red-rimmed but steady.

"And you’re playing with your grandkids... when the orchids are blooming and the birds are chirping, that it was because... of me." A bittersweet smile curves on his lips, though there’s a sadness that lingers in his gaze, one that speaks of a future he knows he won’t be a part of.

"A poor, raised by a single mother, low-class, immigrant nobody." he adds quietly, the words cutting through the air with a finality that resonates deeper than anything spoken before.

Your mother stares at him, blinking rapidly as if trying to clear the fog that has settled over her mind. The weight of his words lands on her like an ice-cold splash of reality, each syllable reverberating through her, leaving her momentarily paralyzed.

She watches as Jungkook doesn’t give her the chance to respond. He turns on his heels, his back retreating from her, and walks away.

Her gaze follows him, eyes fixed on his retreating figure as he crosses the museum floor towards the exit, each movement seeming to echo the finality of their conversation.

//

Jungkook stands by the trunk of the car, his hands steady but his heart in disarray as he carefully places his luggage inside.

The conversation with your mother replays in his mind and despite the ache that seems to weigh down every fiber of his being, he knows he’s made the right decision... at least, that’s what he tells himself.

When you asked him to elope, Jungkook had nearly given in. The mere thought of a future with you was intoxicating, the idea of having you by his side every day, every night, a dream he had long held close.

For a brief moment, he was ready to throw everything else aside just to make it happen.

But the thought of you walking away from everything you’ve ever known... cut deeper than he could admit. It was unbearable.

He loves you too much, so much that the idea of snatching you away felt selfish, almost cruel. And so, despite the way it shattered him to his core, he had to turn you down, even as it tore him apart.

He remembers the way your face fell, the way tears streamed down your cheeks as you begged him to reconsider. The way your voice broke when you pleaded with him to choose you.

But deep down, he knew he couldn’t. Loving you meant protecting you, even from himself. It felt wrong... wrong to ask you to sacrifice so much, to leave behind the people and the life that shaped you.

Now, as he prepares to return to New York with his mother, the reality of his choice weighs on him. He feels the emptiness like a missing piece of himself, as if a part of his soul had been carved out and left behind with you.

But sometimes, he thinks, that missing piece is necessary. It’s a small sacrifice in the grand scheme of love, even if it feels like a gaping, unhealable wound. This pain... it’s the price of doing what’s right, even when every part of him wishes he hadn’t.

Jungkook hears the faint rolling of suitcase wheels as Yoongi emerges from the house, pushing his second piece of luggage with an exaggerated nonchalance.

Behind Yoongi, his family stands in a quiet semicircle, their expressions a blend of sadness and pride as they watch Jungkook prepare to leave.

"Good for youuu..." Yoongi drawls, his voice laced with his trademark sarcasm as he nudges the suitcase towards the car. A guard promptly steps forward to load it into the trunk, but Yoongi keeps his gaze fixed on Jungkook.

"Walking away from Y/n and her family's fat-ass property portfolio." he jokes, shaking his head dramatically. Despite the ache in his chest, Jungkook manages a soft laugh, his lips twitching upward for the first time in what feels like days.

"You’ve got no one, no net worth..." Yoongi continues, his voice quieter now, tinged with sincerity. He steps closer, his usual smirk softening into something more genuine. "But you’ve got integrity. And that’s why I respect you."

The words hit Jungkook harder than he expects, and he blinks rapidly, swallowing the lump forming in his throat. "Thank you for everything, hyung." he says, his voice low but steady as he steps forward, his arms extending towards Yoongi.

Without hesitation, Yoongi pulls him into a firm hug, patting his back once with a quiet kind of solidarity. "You’ll be fine, kid." Yoongi murmurs, his words almost inaudible but carrying a weight of belief that Jungkook hadn’t realized he needed to hear.

//

Your gaze is fixed on nothing in particular as you stand in your room's balcony, the evening sky painted in muted hues of twilight. The breeze brushes against your skin, teasing the hem of your nightgown, but you hardly notice. Your eyes, dry from crying, remain blank, and your cheeks still bear the streaks of tears long dried.

You feel hollow, like a shell of yourself, standing motionless as you think about how Jungkook's probably headed to the airport right now. The ache in your chest is so consuming that even the idea of moving feels insurmountable.

When you asked him to elope with you, you saw it... the flicker in his eyes that told you he was ready to say yes. In that moment, you felt hope surge through you, as if for the first time, the impossible was within reach.

But just as quickly, the hesitation crept in, dimming the light in his gaze. He told you he couldn’t do it, that he couldn’t take you away from your family, your roots, no matter how much he loved you.

He said he would feel wretched knowing you had severed ties with your mother, your brother, and everyone you held dear... all because of him.

And you understood.

Of course, you understood. That was the kind of person Jungkook was... selfless to a fault, someone who carried the weight of his decisions like stones in his heart. But understanding didn’t make it any easier.

You were desperate... desperate to keep him in your life, to promise him forever. After what your mother had done to him, after everything he endured, you were ready to walk away from her.

Was it a rash decision? Maybe. Impulsive? Certainly. But at the time, it felt like the only choice, the only way to salvage the pieces of your heart.

Until he said no.

Until he told you he couldn’t do it. That he was leaving. That he was going back to New York.

Suddenly, your sorrowful thoughts are interrupted by a soft knock on your bedroom door. The sound feels like an unwelcome intrusion, pulling you out of the haze of your grief. You sigh heavily, already guessing who it might be.

“Tae, I don’t want to eat.” you call out, your voice hoarse and quiet. Turning away from the balcony, you walk back into your dimly lit room, expecting the footsteps to retreat.

But the knock comes again, a little firmer this time.

You click your tongue, frustration bubbling beneath your despair. “Tae—” you start, but the words catch in your throat as the door creaks open slightly, revealing a figure you weren’t expecting.

It’s not Taehyung.

It’s the person responsible for the ache in your chest, the reason your world feels like it’s crumbling.

It’s your mother.

Your eyes widen as the door opens further, revealing her figure standing there, clutching a box in her hands. You barely register what it is but whatever she’s holding doesn’t matter, because she's literally the last person you want to see right now.

Before she can speak, you turn away, hoping she’ll take the hint and leave. You retreat to the balcony, arms crossed tightly over your chest as if to shield yourself from the storm brewing within.

Your gaze locks on the horizon, though, once again, it lands on nothing in particular... just the empty expanse that mirrors the void in your heart.

“Y/n-ah...” she calls softly, her voice careful, like she’s treading on glass. You don’t answer. Instead, you shift your weight, maintaining your focus on the skyline.

You sense her hesitating, but she doesn’t leave. A few seconds pass, and then you hear her footsteps approaching. She stops at the edge of the balcony, leaving a deliberate gap between you. It’s as if she’s giving you space while still insisting on being near.

“Y/n.” she says again, her tone gentle yet resolute as she steps just a bit closer. You don’t turn, biting down on your lower lip to hold back the urge to ask her to leave.

She exhales softly, the sigh heavy with something unspoken. From the corner of your eye, you see her glance at you... at your tense posture, your clenched jaw. She knows you won’t meet her gaze, but she stands firm, determined.

“I know you don’t want to talk to me...” she begins, her voice wavering slightly. “But just hear me out. Let me say my piece, and if you still want me to leave, I will.”

You stay silent, your resolve teetering. When she continues, her voice carries a vulnerability you’re unaccustomed to.

“When you left for New York to chase your dream… I was terrified.” she admits, her words unsteady. “My little girl was going so so far away from home... from me and the thought of you forgetting everything... your roots, your family, it scared me.”

She hugs the box she's holding a little tighter to her chest, her gaze shifting to the same skyline you’re fixated on. “I thought if you followed your happiness, you’d become… selfish. That you’d waste your potential, drift away from everything we worked so hard to build for you.”

Your jaw softens ever so slightly, though you remain silent.

“But your father and your brother... they consoled me every day.” she continues. “They told me about all the wonderful things you were doing, and I was grateful you were thriving, even though it hurt to be apart. And when you called off the engagement with Wooyoung…” She pauses, sighing deeply.

“I didn’t understand it then, but I see now that you just wanted something different... something that made you happy.”

Her lips curve into a small, bittersweet smile. “However, I thought once you came back after doing everything you dreamed of, we’d settle everything. I’d find you an eligible man, someone who was on your level. I wanted to make sure your life was perfect.”

At that, your posture stiffens.

“I wanted you to be the perfect daughter-in-law...” she adds, her voice cracking slightly. “Not like me… because, you know, I was never your grandmother’s first choice for your father.”

Your chest tightens at her words, the weight of her confession settling heavily in the room. Growing up, you’d heard fragments of the story... the disapproval your grandmother had shown, the rejection your mother had quietly endured.

Though she rarely spoke of it, the shadow of those memories lingered, unspoken but ever-present. You’d always wondered if it still haunted her, if the echoes of that rejection had ever truly faded.

“And then you came back home...” she says, her voice softening further. “But not alone. You brought Jungkook.”

Her eyes glisten as she looks down at the box in her arms. “He wasn’t what I expected. He grew up in the States, he was raised by a single mother… He didn’t fit the mold I’d envisioned for you. And it scared me. It felt like you were slipping away, choosing someone who couldn’t possibly measure up to what I thought you deserved.”

“Jungkook deserves me.” you interject sharply, finally turning to face her. Your voice is cold, your gaze piercing. “He deserves every bit of me.”

Your mother doesn’t flinch at your tone. Instead, she smiles faintly, almost wistfully, before continuing. “I see that now.” she says, her voice steady but laced with emotion.

“But at the time… I didn’t. Somewhere along the line, I started projecting all of my own insecurities onto him. My disapproval, my disdain... it wasn’t about him. It was about me.” Her voice cracks slightly, and she pauses to steady herself.

“I realize now that I was projecting the rejection I faced all those years ago. The way your grandmother looked at me, the way she thought I wasn’t good enough for your father… I passed that burden onto Jungkook.” she explains.

"I know it doesn't justify my actions..." she adds quickly, her voice trembling as she struggles to hold onto the last threads of composure. A bitter smile curls at her lips, but it falters almost immediately.

"But... I was worried about you, Y/n. And..." She hesitates, the words catching in her throat. "A part of me was dealing with my own ego... the part that never healed."

Her confession hangs in the air, heavy and raw, and you can feel your chest tighten as you process the vulnerability in her voice.

Slowly, you blink, your eyes fixed on her face. For the first time, you notice the fine lines around her eyes, the weariness etched into her features, and the way her usually composed expression is now a fragile mask threatening to crack.

"I know what Grandma did hurt you..." you begin softly, your voice carrying an edge of gentleness you didn’t know you could summon. "But, Mama..." You step closer, just enough for her to notice but not enough to touch.

Her eyes dart to yours, unsure but yearning for something... acceptance, forgiveness, or maybe just the chance to be heard.

"Dad loved you..." you continue, your voice steady now, though the emotion behind it swells with every word. "He loved you so much that he went against everything Grandma wanted. He fought for you. He chose you."

The faintest glimmer of a tear shines in her eye, and her lips part, as if to say something, but she stays silent.

"And just like Dad loves you..." you say, your voice softening, "I love Jungkook. I love him with everything I have."

Her breath catches audibly, and you can see the weight of your words settle deeply within her. The truth you’ve spoken reverberates through her, leaving her visibly shaken, even though she had always known it in her heart.

"But what you did to him... how you treated him..." Your voice falters, your throat tightening as you remember the pain, the humiliation he had to endure and a tear slips down your cheek. "It didn't only hurt him... It hurt me too, Mama. It hurt me more than I ever thought possible."

The sight of your tear breaks something in her. Her face crumbles, and she reaches out instinctively, her trembling hand brushing your cheek as she wipes it away.

Her touch is hesitant, as though she fears she no longer has the right. "I know, my sweetheart." she whispers, her voice quivering as her own tears begin to fall, mirroring yours. "I know..." she repeats. She exhales shakily, her tears now streaming freely. "And I’m so, so sorry. To you. To Jungkook. To both of you."

Her hand falls away as she takes a step back, clutching the box in her hands like it’s the only thing holding her together. She inhales deeply, her shoulders trembling under the weight of her confession.

"I met him earlier today." she says a few seconds later, her voice breaking as she glances at you with tear-streaked cheeks.

Your eyes widen in shock, but before you can process her words or form a response, she continues. "I spoke to him, and it was like seeing everything I had refused to see all this time." Her voice cracks, and she presses a hand over her mouth as if to hold back a sob.

"Speaking to him made me realize just how blind I’ve been. How cruel. How selfish." She sniffs, lowering her hand as her gaze drops to the floor.

"I was ruining something beautiful, something so pure. And I let my own pain, my own insecurities, take control. I was so afraid of losing you that I never stopped to see I was actually driving you away myself."

Her words, raw and trembling, cut through you like a knife.

"You and Jungkook..." she continues, looking back at you, her eyes brimming with remorse. "What you have is rare. It’s the kind of love people search for their entire lives. And I almost destroyed it because I couldn’t let go of my own scars."

Her voice cracks again, and this time, a sob escapes her lips while her shoulders shake as she cries openly in front of you, a sight you never thought you’d witness.

You stand there, tears streaming down your own face, as you watch your mother unravel under the crushing weight of her own guilt. It’s as if the full gravity of her actions is only now sinking in, as if she’s just beginning to grasp the depth of the pain she’s inflicted on her own daughter.

Several seconds pass and then her voice wavers, but there’s a quiet urgency as she interrupts your thoughts. "You should go to him."

Your breath catches, your teary eyes snapping up to meet hers. "Mama—"

"I won’t stop you anymore." she interjects, but there’s a newfound resolve in her tone, her trembling lips curving into the softest, most bittersweet smile, though tears continue to spill down her cheeks.

"I see it now... the depth of the pain I’ve caused you." she confesses, her voice quivering with regret. "I can’t keep standing in the way of my own daughter’s happiness. I can’t be the one to destroy something so real, so pure, and so beautiful."

Her words shake you to your core, and you feel something inside you shatter... walls you hadn’t realized you’d built around your heart crumble under the weight of her sincerity.

"Go to the airport, Y/n." she whispers, your name breaking on her lips. "Go to him, right now."

Her words are a lifeline, pulling you out of the despair you’d been drowning in for so long. Relief floods your chest, overwhelming and liberating, as tears continue to stream down your face.

You nod frantically, your breath hitching as emotions surge through you like a tidal wave.

You don’t bother to change out of your nightgown or worry about your disheveled appearance. You turn towards the door, ready to bolt out and make your way to the man who holds your heart.

But then, just as your fingers graze the doorknob, her voice calls out again. "Wait!"

You freeze mid-step, turning back to her with wide, glistening eyes. She strides towards you, holding the box she’d been clutching tightly to her chest all this time.

"Take this..." she says, her voice soft yet trembling as she extends it to you. Confused, you glance down at the box, then back at her. "What… what's this?"

Her gaze softens, her expression a poignant blend of pain and tenderness. "It’s something he needs to see..." she murmurs, her voice trembling yet resolute. "Just give it to him, sweetheart. He’ll understand."

You hesitate, your fingers hovering over the box as uncertainty flickers in your chest. But the quiet urgency in her voice, coupled with the way her hands linger on the box as though letting go is both a release and a plea, pushes you to act.

Nodding, you take the box from her, its weight pressing against your chest as if carrying not just its contents but her unspoken regrets and hopes.

Without wasting another moment, you turn and run... your feet carrying you down the hallway, your heart pounding as you descend the staircase in a blur. The house feels suffocating, every second urging you to escape its confines and race towards the love of your life.

The moment you spot the guard outside, you request him to call the driver and within minutes that feel like eternity, your car pulls up. The headlights slice through the darkness, illuminating your urgency as you slide into the back seat, clutching the box tightly.

The car hums to life, gliding down the long driveway that stretches like an endless thread leading out into the world beyond your home. The city looms ahead and you press your forehead against the cool glass of the window.

Your tears continue to fall, but this time they carry a different weight. They’re not born of despair but of something else entirely... a release, a hope, a fragile kind of determination.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you dare to believe that maybe, just maybe, this road will lead you home. To him. To a love worth everything.

//

The hum of activity in the airport lobby surrounds Jungkook, the soft murmur of voices blending with the gentle tapping of suitcase wheels on the polished floor.

The bright fluorescent lights cast a sterile glow across the vast, open space, while the large windows showcase the sprawling tarmac outside.

The quiet rush of people moving in all directions adds to the atmosphere... passengers checking in, families hugging goodbye, and the occasional call over the loudspeaker announcing boarding times.

It’s a place filled with anticipation, yet for Jungkook, the air feels heavy, weighed down by a deep ache that refuses to be soothed.

The large screens hanging from the ceiling flicker with departure times, the destinations glowing in bold text. His flight is soon, but the seconds seem to stretch endlessly as he watches the planes taxi down the runway in the distance.

Each passing minute only deepens the knot in his stomach, the looming uncertainty of what’s to come gnawing at him.

Sitting beside him, his mother watches him closely. Her gaze is gentle, understanding the turbulence within him even if she can’t fully share it.

She leans forward slightly, her voice soft and filled with concern, "Kook..." she calls, her words breaking the silence around them. "You're sure you want to leave?"

His heart aches at the question, the temptation to stay and resolve everything with you pulling at him, but he knows deep down, that this is something he must do.

He exhales deeply, glancing at his mother, forcing a small smile. "Yes, Ma." he says, the words coming out slower than he intends. "It’s the only right thing to do."

But even as the smile touches his lips, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. They’re distant, clouded by the pain of knowing he’s about to walk away from something that means more than just the world to him.

The silence settles back around him, a heavy weight pressing on his chest as his thoughts inevitably drift back to you. He can't help but wonder if he’s making the right choice, if walking away from the love he's known for so long is really the only answer.

But before he can sink deeper into the spiral of doubt, a sudden commotion at a distance pulls him from his thoughts. Loud footsteps echo through the terminal, and the sound of frantic running cuts through the usual hum of voices.

Without thinking, his head swivels to the source of the noise, his eyes narrowing as he instinctively watches the movement. What he doesn’t expect, however, is the sight of you... familiar, yet out of place, desperately scanning the crowd, your gaze flickering from face to face, frantic and lost.

His heart skips a beat. Confusion floods his senses as he watches you weave through the standing passengers, your steps quick. You’re clutching something tightly in your hands, a box, perhaps.

His feet move before he can stop them, standing up from his seat, his eyes not leaving you for even a second.

His mother, sensing the shift in his demeanor, stands up as well, her eyes following his gaze. “Kook, what happ—” she starts to ask, but her voice trails off when she sees you too. A small, knowing smile tugs at her lips, though Jungkook doesn’t notice it. He’s too lost in the storm of emotions as he watches you... his heart racing now.

You’re moving erratically, your gaze darting around as you stop by random chairs, still searching, still looking. The urgency in your movements is unmistakable, and Jungkook’s confusion only deepens.

But then, your eyes lock with his. The moment freezes in time.

“Kook!!” Your voice shatters the stillness of the moment, cutting through the noise of the airport like a beacon in the chaos, a lifeline thrown with every ounce of desperation and hope.

The urgency in your cry tugs at his heartstrings, and in that instant, Jungkook feels everything... the hurt, the longing, all rushing toward him, sweeping him into a wave of raw emotion. It’s in the tremble of your voice, the frantic search in your eyes, the way you seem to need him like air itself.

He instinctively steps forward, reaching out, but you’re already running, your feet light and swift, propelled by a determination that can only come from a heart that knows exactly what it wants.

When you stop just a few feet away, everything hits him... the disheveled state of you, the tears streaking down your face, the nightgown you haven’t changed out of, as if you’ve left everything behind, every comfort, just to be here.

His heart aches at the sight, his need to protect you overwhelming him. But before he can speak, you beat him to it.

"Kook, I'm flying back to New York with you." The words burst from you, each one carrying the weight of everything you’ve held inside, every thought, every feeling, every breath you’ve taken since he left. You’re breathless, your chest heaving with the strain of the words, and your eyes never leave his... desperate, yet filled with a certainty that makes his heart ache deeper than it already does.

Jungkook’s breath catches in his throat. This is the last thing he expected to hear. This is the last thing he ever imagined he would face at this moment, but the emotion behind your words... the sheer depth of it, strikes him like a tidal wave.

His eyes flicker to his mom, standing just behind him, her hand resting on his shoulder, as if silently telling him to breathe.

"I'll be in the washroom, okay?" His mom’s voice is soft, distant, but Jungkook barely registers it. His mind, his heart, is consumed by you. He doesn’t even notice when she slips away, leaving the two of you in this fragile, raw moment, suspended in time.

His heart races, torn between the pull to stay with you and the reality of the life he's supposed tp have without you. "Y/N... please..." he whispers, his voice thick with the weight of everything he’s trying to say and everything he can’t.

"Please, don’t make this harder than it already is." His voice cracks, betraying the vulnerability he’s trying to hide. The truth is, deep down, he knows he can’t keep you away anymore.

He knows you’ve made your choice, just as he’s made his.

But you shake your head slowly, tears glistening in your eyes, and the steady resolve in your voice pierces through the pain that’s been festering between you both.

"Kook, ever since we started dating, not a single day has passed where I haven’t imagined a future with you. Not a single day where I didn’t wonder what our lives could be like, what we could build together."

You take a step closer, and he can feel the gravity of your words pulling him in, the sincerity behind every syllable. "Since day one, you’ve been the only thing on my mind, Kook. Every single day, you’re the first thought when I wake up, the last one before I fall asleep." You let out a soft laugh, though it’s laced with a sob, and his heart breaks all over again.

"You’re all I’ve ever wanted, all I’ve ever dreamed of. You’re the one I’ve imagined growing old with, the one I’ve pictured beside me through every storm, every moment, every day. You’re the only one I see... now, tomorrow, and forever."

His breath hitches, and he feels as though the ground beneath him could collapse at any moment. You reach out, your hand trembling, and he steps forward instinctively, his hand brushing against yours in the most delicate touch.

"I want everything with you, Kook. I want the quiet mornings in our cozy little apartment, the smell of coffee filling the air, the sound of our laughter echoing through the walls. I want our own little family... maybe even a dog... a Doberman, just like you’ve always wanted." You smile, and the tenderness of it catches him off guard, but the tears that shimmer in your eyes tell him everything.

He smiles back, though he can’t hide the way his eyes glisten.

"I want the mundane moments, the everyday life, because those are the moments that make everything else worth it. And I want it all with you." You pause, your voice breaking, but your eyes never waver, never falter in their devotion.

"Because to me, Kook, you are my future. You are everything I’ve ever needed. And wherever you are in the world, that’s where I belong." You smile, caressing his cheek, and for the first time in what feels like forever, Jungkook feels like he’s home.

"And no matter who wants to get in the way, no matter who tries to break us apart, I’m not going to let that happen." You whisper, your voice low and fierce with the love that burns between you.

And as the words hit him, Jungkook feels every bit of his own resolve crumble. The only thing he’s certain of now is that you are his heart, his everything. And nothing, no one, could ever change that.

"Really?" he asks, his voice low, almost a whisper, yet filled with a fragile kind of hope. It’s as if he’s afraid the moment might shatter if he speaks too loudly. He takes a cautious step closer, his eyes searching yours for any trace of doubt.

But there isn’t any. None at all.

You nod, the certainty in your small gesture lighting a spark in his chest. His lips curve into an airy, disbelieving chuckle, the sound tinged with a kind of relief he hadn’t known he needed.

"Really." you affirm softly, a small laugh escaping you... a laugh so full of love and promise that it unravels him completely.

That’s all it takes.

Before he even realizes it, his hands are cradling your face, his palms warm against your skin, his touch reverent, as though you’re something fragile, something precious. And in truth, you are.

When his lips meet yours, it’s as though the world around him disappears... the hum of the airport fades, the distant announcements and the shuffle of hurried footsteps dissolve into nothing.

In this moment, there is only you.

He kisses you with everything he has, everything he’s held back, and everything he didn’t know he was capable of feeling. It’s not just a kiss... it’s an unspoken promise, a confession of the depths of his love, a bridge over the years of pain and longing.

Every part of him, every fiber of his being, is poured into this moment, because now, nothing else matters.

Because at this point, Jungkook knows... he wants everything with you, too. He’s always wanted it. A future where your laughter fills the air, where your shared dreams come to life.

A home that feels alive because you’re in it, your warmth lighting every corner. A family that grows in love and chaos, where his mornings start with you by his side and his nights end the same way.

It’s you... only you. The only constant in every vision he’s ever had of his future. The one person who makes him feel like he’s enough, like he’s whole.

As the kiss deepens, Jungkook’s hands slide to the nape of your neck, his fingers threading gently through your hair. It’s as though he’s anchoring himself in this moment, desperate to make it last forever, to ground himself in the reality that you’re here, with him, choosing him.

But then, you pull back, your hands pressing lightly against his chest, breaking the moment. “Wait…” you breathe out, your voice trembling slightly. The sudden shift leaves Jungkook momentarily dazed, confusion flickering in his eyes as his hands hover near you, reluctant to let you go entirely.

You bring up the box in your hand, holding it out to him. “Mama…” you start, swallowing hard as if the weight of the moment is catching up to you. “Mama told me to give this to you.” you say, your voice soft.

Jungkook’s brows knit together as he glances at the box, his confusion deepening. The mention of your mother makes his posture stiffen. “What is it?” he asks softly, his voice cautious as he hesitantly takes the box from you.

“I don’t know.” you admit, shaking your head. “But she said… it’s something you need to see.”

Jungkook lets out a shaky breath, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he stares at the box in his hands. A storm of emotions brews inside him... apprehension, curiosity, even a flicker of hope but mostly, there’s a gnawing sense of dread.

He doesn’t know what to expect, but his mind is already spiraling. Is this going to be another sign of disapproval? Another way to remind him he’ll never measure up, never truly belong?

He forces himself to stop, shaking off the intrusive thoughts as he carefully lifts the lid. His heart pounds in his chest, his breathing shallow as he peers inside. And then his breath hitches.

Inside the box is a photo frame. The wooden edges are simple but elegant, smooth beneath his fingertips as he picks it up. His eyes fall on the picture encased within, and his lips part in quiet disbelief.

It’s a photograph... a snapshot from the day of the tea ceremony, the first time Jungkook met your family.

In the picture, he stands slightly stiff beside you, surrounded by your family. At the center sits your grandmother, her expression serene yet proud, flanked by your parents on either side. Beside your mother stand Taehyung and Miyeon, their bright smiles radiating warmth.

On the opposite side, next to your father, it’s you and Jungkook. You’re beaming at the camera, your joy evident and infectious, while Jungkook offers a softer smile, his hand resting securely in yours.

Jungkook remembers that day vividly. How awkward he’d felt, how he’d hesitated when you asked him to join the family photo. He’d insisted it wasn’t his place, that he didn’t belong.

But you had convinced him, tugging him to your side with a reassuring smile that melted his defenses. Even then, he had been aware of your mother’s watchful gaze, uncertain if his presence in the frame would be seen as an intrusion.

His gaze lingers on the photo now, taking in every detail. But it’s not just the image that strikes him... it’s the frame. The way it borders the picture, enclosing the memory within its sturdy embrace.

The frame, with its polished wooden edges, doesn’t trap the image but preserves it, making it whole. In this small, simple structure, he sees the way this memory is safeguarded, cherished, and elevated.

And in that same breath, it strikes him... this is what belonging feels like. This frame doesn’t exclude him… it includes him. It holds him within its bounds, just as you do, just as your family does, and now, even your mother.

And it hits him all at once.

He belongs. He belongs inside the frame.

The realization washes over him like a tidal wave, a flood of warmth and emotion that he can’t contain. The photograph isn’t just a picture... it’s a symbol. A message from your mother.

It’s her unmistakable way of telling him that she no longer sees him as a blemish or an imperfection in an otherwise perfect picture... that he’s no longer an outsider.

This was her approval, her apology, her final affirmation that he belongs... to you, to your family, and to everything that makes you who you are.

His throat tightens, his chest swelling with an overwhelming mix of emotions... relief, gratitude, love. His eyes, brimming with unshed tears, flicker to yours. You’re watching him intently, your own emotions mirrored in your gaze.

“I belong…” he whispers, the words trembling on his lips, as though uttering them aloud might shatter the delicate truth he’s only just beginning to grasp. His gaze meets yours, and his soft, incredulous smile carries the weight of disbelief, hope, and a longing he can finally put to rest. “I… I belong.”

You nod, stepping closer until your hand gently covers his. “You always have, Kook. You’ve always belonged.” you whisper, your voice tender but certain, as though sealing a promise he hadn’t realized you’d made long ago.

In an instant, he shifts the frame and box into one hand, his other arm pulling you tightly into his chest. The embrace feels like a shield, a cocoon against the noise and chaos of the world around you.

You wrap your arms around him in return, holding on as though you might never let go. The distant hum of airport announcements fades, muffled and irrelevant, as the two of you become the center of each other’s universe.

“I love you, Kook.” you say softly, your voice barely audible against the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. He nods, pressing his cheek against the top of your head, his breath warm against your hair.

“I love you too.” he whispers and when he pulls back, it’s just enough to look into your eyes. Without hesitation, he leans down, his lips capturing yours in another kiss.

But this kiss is different. It’s not just a declaration of love... it’s everything. It’s the apology he never got to fully say, the gratitude he feels for your unwavering faith in him, and the silent vow that he’s yours, now and forever.

When you finally part, your cheeks are damp, and so are his, but neither of you care. You smile up at him, teary-eyed but radiant, and he mirrors your expression, his face soft with wonder and relief, as though the final piece of the puzzle has clicked into place.

“God...” you laugh suddenly, breaking the moment with a sheepish grin. “I just realized…I’m still in my nightgown. I probably gave everyone a show running like a maniac through the airport.”

Jungkook blinks, suddenly becoming aware of your surroundings. “Shit, baby, you should’ve changed! Aren’t you cold?” His hands instinctively move away from you and within seconds, he’s shrugging off his coat.

“Kook, I’m fine.” you protest lightly, but he’s already draping the thick fabric over you with careful precision, his brows furrowed in concern. “Still...” he mutters, stepping back to adjust the coat around you. “You could’ve caught a cold. What were you thinking?”

You slip your arms into the sleeves and laugh. “I wasn’t thinking. I just had to get to you.”

From a short distance away, Jungkook’s mother watches the two of you in silence, her luggage resting by her side. Her lips curve into a faint smile as she observes her son, who had been so weighed down by sorrow just days ago, now standing tall and glowing in your presence.

Relief floods her heart, seeing him laugh, seeing him love, and most of all, seeing him be loved in return.

The sharp crackle of the intercom shatters the stillness, the announcement of your flight echoing through the terminal. “Wow...” he murmurs, exhaling deeply. The reality of it all is finally settling in. “This is it, huh?”

“We’re going back to New York together.” you remind him with a smile, and he nods, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "Wait, though...” he says, his brows knitting together in sudden confusion. “Where’s your luggage?”

You grin, a mischievous twinkle lighting your eyes. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll have it arranged.” you say. He laughs, shaking his head in affectionate disbelief because he had momentarily forgotten who is girlfriend really was. “Of course, you will.” he says.

As the two of you turn to walk towards the gate, your hand in his, you spot his mother by the seats. She holds her luggage now in one hand, her posture relaxed, her expression warm. You offer her a shy, almost apologetic smile, and she returns it with one of quiet approval.

Just before Jungkook can lift his bag, you pause, tilting your head towards him with a playful smirk. “Kook...” you begin. “You know my family has ties with the airline, right?”

“Yeah…?” He narrows his eyes, already sensing where this is going. “So…” you drawl, dragging out the moment. “I might have upgraded our seats to business class again.”

epilogue

7 months later;

"And you may now kiss the bri—"

The words barely leave the officiant's lips before the room erupts into cheers and applause as Jungkook steps forward with a wide, boyish grin, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you into a kiss that’s nothing short of passionate.

The world around you blurs as he leans you back ever so slightly, his lips molding perfectly to yours, and the crowd’s whoops and claps grow louder, egging him on.

You can’t help but giggle against his lips, your bouquet clutched tightly in one hand while your other arm winds its way around his shoulders.

“Woohoooo! My baby sister is finally married!” Taehyung’s voice booms above the commotion, his excitement cutting through the noise like a firecracker. His dramatic declaration sends a ripple of laughter through the room, the joyful energy bouncing off every corner of the hall.

Jungkook pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he laughs softly, clearly enjoying the infectious joy of the moment.

You smile radiantly at Jungkook before intertwining your fingers with his and walking down the aisle together. The flower petals fall gently from above, catching the golden light like tiny, delicate whispers of a blessing, creating a dreamy haze that feels almost surreal.

The crowd's cheers and laughter are like a harmonious melody, and you can’t help but laugh softly as you wave to your friends and cousins, who coo and awe over the two of you.

Playfully, you lift your hand, wiggling your fingers to show off your ring, earning exaggerated gasps and more cheers. Jungkook chuckles beside you, squeezing your hand affectionately as his eyes scan the sea of familiar faces.

His gaze lands first on his mother, seated near the aisle, her hands clasped tightly together as she watches her son with pride. She’s smiling... a smile so genuine and full of love that it makes his heart ache in the best way. He smiles back, his lips curving into something soft, something grateful, and then his attention shifts.

He spots Yoongi next, standing amidst the crowd, his usual calm demeanor replaced by a grin. Yoongi raises his hand, offering Jungkook a thumbs-up with a playful holler that has the people around him laughing. Jungkook chuckles, shaking his head slightly but appreciating the support from his closest friend.

Then, his eyes drift to the other side of the room, and they find your mother. She’s radiant, as always, with an elegance that commands attention without effort. But what truly catches him off guard is her expression.

When their eyes meet, it’s not the cold, scrutinizing gaze he once feared... it’s warm. Her smile is soft, genuine, and holds something he never thought he’d see... acceptance.

The world seems to slow for a moment as she dips her head slightly, a silent gesture of approval, a mother’s quiet way of saying... Take care of my daughter. Always keep her happy.

Jungkook feels his throat tighten, emotions bubbling to the surface as he nods subtly in return with his own silent promise... I will. Always.

<-part 7

—fin. ♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

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[daysofyellowroses]

yellow rose

david von erich x afab!reader | 6.2k | 18+ minors dni | tw: language, smoking, mild smut | a reflection on your journey to the altar

so this is a complete and utter work of fiction, based on the very brilliant movie the iron claw. i knew as soon as i watched it i would have stories but i was a little surprised david came to me first. obviously harris dickinson is beautiful but i am down so bad for jaw. i got some kerry ideas too, and i always have a hundred different bear ideas on the go too so more to come | also just to note that because this is totally fictitious, i am choosing to ignore real life events for the most part and live in fanfic delusion. enjoy 🌼

-

It all seemed to happen in a flash.

In theory, you should have been used to it. Ready for it.

One minute you were heading to a local sports center on a work assignment, then in what felt like the blink of an eye, you were walking up the aisle to marry the subject of one of those photos.

But, to get to how exactly you ended up walking down that aisle, you need to go back to how it all started.

Which, like with most things when it came to you,started with a picture.

📷

From an early age, you loved photography. Capturing a moment in time, being able to look at it any time and relive the moment was always a thrill. Your childhood home was full of framed photos and photo albums, a collection of memories surrounding you.

When you turned 13, your parents gave you your own camera. It wasn't anything too technical or fancy, but it was immediately your most treasured possession. You took photos of everything, family occasions, your friends hanging out, nature, snapshots of Dallas.

As you grew older you threw yourself into studying everything about photography, worked an extremely tedious part time job to save up for a real camera, dedicated yourself to honing your skills. It wasn't difficult, your friends and family kept you busy with birthday parties, weddings, christenings, anything worth celebrating and you were there to capture the moments.

When you were in your senior year of high school, you discovered a fondness for a particular subject of your photos. You had been sitting in the bleachers after school one day with your friends, all you of chatting and laughing about something when you'd looked onto the football field and spotted two of the players talking about something animatedly, one of them slapping the other on the back as they laughed. 

You had grabbed your camera, snapping a photo and rolled your eyes playfully as your friends teased you. Sure, the players were cute, but that wasn't why you took their photo. When the shots had developed, you were thrilled that your instinct had been correct. The red of the players jerseys popped, the gold star on their helmets gleaming in the sun. They looked graceful, despite their large frames, natural and charming. 

From that photo, you began to base more of your photos on sport. It wasn't an area you had expected to become interested in, but it inspired your photography. Cheerleaders in perfectly formed pyramids, track stars crossing the line, football players clutching the ball to their chest as they threw themselves across the post.

After graduation, you applied for a journalism course, figuring it didn't hurt to have a backup plan and maybe it would get you a gig as a photographer for a newspaper or magazine. 

Leaving home was tough, especially when a big going away party was thrown for you, your friends and family coming together to celebrate your accomplishments. When the time came to leave you were sure you'd never cried so much, trying to hype yourself up for the adventure ahead.

It was a lot of fun, being at college, as it turned out. Making new friends, learning new things, having new experiences. By the time it was over it felt like you could back and do it all again in a heartbeat.

You decided to move back to Dallas after you graduated. A job opportunity at a big paper came up, and your friend Pam had found an apartment that came with a spare room so it seemed like the right move.

It was about two weeks later you were tasked with going down to the Sportatorium on a Saturday night to document the latest wrestling match. Every time you went to a sporting event for work, you were accompanied by the senior sports writer, Duke. He was older than your father, far too old for his cheap toupee to be even the slightest bit believable. He wore cheap polyester suits, too much cologne and had a fondness for calling you ‘missy’ and placing his hand a little too low on your back.

You had psyched yourself up to ask Pam to come along, preparing a whole speech in your head. If she was with you then you could avoid Duke like the plague, couldn't possibly leave your guest alone. 

Turned out Pam didn't take much convincing at all, in fact she practically jumped at the chance to come along. You tucked her excitement away in your mind, curious to see if the source would reveal itself at the match.

When the day came, you were excited to get some shots of a new sport. From what you'd seen on TV, the Sportatorium was bright and colorful, the wrestlers just as much so. You packed up your camera before getting changed into some jeans and a t-shirt. 

Pam had taken one look at you and marched you back into your room, your protests of “But I'm working!” falling on deaf ears.

A compromise was reached. Your t-shirt stayed but a denim mini skirt replaced your jeans and brown cowboy boots replaced your beat up sneakers. You felt a little ridiculous, your job had you in all kinds of angles and positions to get the best shots, the last thing you wanted was to be unable to get a good picture because you'd end up flashing tomorrow's laundry to thousands of strangers.

When you arrived at the Sportatorium, the sun was dipping below the horizon and what seemed like hundreds of cars and trucks were pulling up. People were grabbing beers out of coolers, blasting music from boomboxes, grilling up hotdogs on portable barbecues. You got a couple of shots before Pam was hustling you inside to get your seats. Well, her seat. You told her you'd meet her outside after the match, not that she seemed to be paying attention, her eyes focused on the empty ring. 

You made your way down to the ring, keeping an eye out for Duke and ready to sprint back to Pam if needed. To your relief, Duke wasn't in attendance. The junior sports reporter, Brian, had been sent in his place. The two of you weren't exactly close friends but he was much more professional. You got some shots of the crowd, feeling excited to see a match live. The atmosphere in the stadium was electric, like something incredible was about to happen. 

When the announcement came for the first tag team, you got some shots of them walking through the tunnel and into the ring, holding their arms in the air and greeting the crowd. Brian walked around the ring slowly, scribbling into a notepad, cigarette perched behind his ear.

Then they announced the next tag team, and you moved to the opposite tunnel to get shots of them. You took a breath as you snapped a shot of the taller one, his wavy blonde hair peeking out from under his back cowboy hat. He was wearing a leather jacket that he promptly tore off before he got into the ring, his back muscles rippling. 

You cleared your throat, taking more photos and trying to concentrate on what you were there for. 

The bell rang, and once the match started you had no shortage of great photo opportunities. The men in the ring moved with perfect proficiency and style, playing up to the crowd and putting on a spectacular show. You found yourself more and more drawn to the tall blonde, David Von Erich, you discovered. 

He was so graceful yet could have these huge men slammed onto their backs, his arms bulging and a cocky grin on his face. Once or twice you could have sworn he caught your eye and winked at you but you were sure it was your imagination. 

The Von Erichs won the match, you snapped a photo of the referee holding up the brother's hands as the crowd roared. Brian checked back in with you, telling you he was going to grab some quotes before heading off. You bid him farewell before going to find Pam, heading outside with the rest of the crowd.

“Hey, over here!”

You quickly spotted Pam, smiling as you waved back at her, weaving your way through the crowd to join her.

“Hey,” You smiled, laughing softly as Pam grabbed your arm, a wide grin on her face. “Are you al-”

“Come on,” Pam immediately started tugging you in the opposite direction. “let me show you something,”

You just about managed to maintain your balance and hold onto your camera as you dodged through the dispersing crowd, wondering what exactly Pam was doing.

Before long you had an answer, as you and Pam joined a large group of women hanging around the back door of the Sportatorium. Her keenness to come to the match made much more sense when Kevin Von Erich walked out the door, towel around his shoulders and bag slung over his shoulder. You had never known Pam to look at any man the way she was looking at Kevin.

“What are you waiting for?” You asked, giving Pam a gentle nudge. “Get on over there, girl.”

“I can't, there's too many girls round him,” Pam sighed. “I am not desperate. I'll wait for my time.”

“Saving the best for last huh?” You grinned, watching Pam roll her eyes playfully. “I don't think he's gonna be able to take his eyes off you.”

“You think?” Pam asked, glancing over to you. She looked genuinely concerned and you gave her a reassuring smile. 

“I know.”

A little while later, when the crowd had dispersed and Kevin was signing the last couple of autographs, you gave Pam a gentle nudge, smiling as she quickly fixed her hair.

“Good luck,” You grinned, gently squeezing her arm. “Not that you need it.”

You gave her some space, walking over to a trash can before fishing a pack of cigarettes from your purse. You lit one up, glancing over to Pam and smiling as you spotted Kevin heading in her direction. Closing your eyes as you looked away, you took a long drag on your cigarette and felt yourself relax.

“You know it's a bad habit to smoke those things.”

You opened your eyes, finding a familiar face standing close to you. He looked better in person than he did in the ring, if that was possible. 

“Well I'm sure you know that it is very rude to keep your hat on in the presence of a lady,” You raised a brow, flicking your ash into the trash can. “I could be deeply insulted.”

“I apologize,” David grinned, taking off his hat and giving you a slight bow as he did. He introduced himself properly, as did you, his hand moving over his heart as he tilted his head. “You know I was just joking, there's worse habits to have than smoking.”

You nodded, smiling a little. “Like creeping up on strangers?”

He laughed and you felt a flutter in your stomach. You willed it away, not wanting to be another simpering fan.

“You want one?” You asked, holding out the box of cigarettes. David looked like he was considering saying yes before he shook his head. 

“No, thank you. I shouldn't.”

“Fair enough,” You nodded, putting the box back in your purse. “It really is a bad habit. I'm trying to quit but I got some time to kill so..”

“Oh yeah?” David raised a brow, glancing around the quiet car park before looking back at you. “What you waiting for?”

“My friend,” You gestured in the direction of Pam, who was deep in conversation with Kevin. “she's a big fan.”

“So I see,” David grinned, looking over to his brother and Pam before focusing his attention back on you. “and uh..what about you? Are you a big fan?”

You thought about it/made him wait for a moment as you took a drag on your cigarette and raised a brow.

“I'm just here for work.”

“Really?” David looked a little surprised, lightly rubbing his jaw. “What kinda work do you do?”

You held up your camera with a smile before flicking your cigarette in the trash can. “I’m a photographer,” You explained. “for a newspaper.”

“Oh right,” David smiled, folding his arms. “I'll have to buy that, see if you got any good ones of me. Which paper is it?”

“It's the uh..huh,” You grinned as you glanced over to Pam, watching her laugh as Kevin said something to her. “Excuse me for one second.” 

You turned slightly, holding your camera up and focusing it on Pam and Kevin. You felt very aware of David's presence behind you, trying to hold your hands steady as you snapped a picture. 

“I have a feeling I may need that one day,” You smiled, settling your camera strap back over your shoulder and turning to David. “They're cute together, don't you think?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” David nodded, his gaze staying on you. “She ain't the cutest one here though.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn't fight the smile on your face and multiple flutters in your stomach. 

“Oh shut up, that's such a line.”

“I'm deadly serious,” David grinned, holding his hat over his heart. “I promise.”

You were about to say something when Pam appeared, linking her arm with yours and giggling as she went to drag you away. 

“Hang on one second,” David called, making you look over your shoulder with a smile.

“You never told me the name of your paper!”

“It's in Dallas,” You called back, walking forward with Pam, the two of you giggling. “If you find it, call me!”

📷

A couple of days later you were in the newspaper office, going over some photos for an upcoming article when one of the secretaries knocked on the door and asked for you.

“Call for you,” She explained, gesturing to the phone as you went to her desk. “They didn't give a name, just asked for you.”

“Okay, thanks Margaret,” You smiled, feeling a slight knot in your stomach. It was extremely rare someone called you at work, and you tried not to think the worst. 

Going to the phone, you picked it up and took a deep breath before holding it to your ear. 

“Hello?”

“Hello yourself.”

You let out a soft sigh of relief as you realized who was on the other end of the line, a small smile on your face.

“How many papers did you have to call before you found me?”

“That's not important.”

You rolled your eyes with a grin.

“More than two?”

“..five.”

“Oh wow,” You grinned, turning more towards the wall. “That's perseverance right there. I'm flattered.”

“Well so am I,” David replied. “I saw those pictures you took. They were great, I wanted to thank you for catching me at such a flattering angle.”

“You're welcome,” You smiled, glancing over your shoulder before looking back and lowering your voice slightly. “That the only reason you called six newspapers? Angles?”

“Not quite,” You could hear a cheeky tone in his voice, your fingers holding the phone cord. “I was hoping you'd come see me again. You don't have to take pictures this time, if you don't want.”

“As it happens I am coming,” You raised a brow with a smile. “Your brother beat you to the invite. He invited Pam, who invited me. So I'll be there.”

“Well damn,” David laughed softly. “I guess I'll just have to come right out with it then..ask you on a real date.”

“Oh?” You grinned, feeling like a teenager as your cheeks grew warm. “How about we make it interesting?”

“I'm all ears.”

You took a breath, trying to calm your heartbeat. You were aware of Margaret behind you, knowing she'd be listening to every word. 

“Alright, if you win..I accept. If you don't, no deal.”

“Hm, sounds fair,” David replied. “I guess I'll have to try a little harder this week. I'll let you get back to work, alright?”

“Alright,” You nodded, trying not too smile too widely. “I'll see you Saturday. Bye.”

You hung up the phone, turning around to Margaret with a polite smile.

“Thank you, I'll be in the office.”

Once you closed the door and found yourself alone, you let out a laugh, shaking your head and wondering what you'd let yourself in for.

📷

Saturday came around quickly, and most of the day was given over to preparing. At first you were just helping Pam, heading into store after store to find the perfect outfit. Then you started looking for yourself, realizing that you wanted to put in just a little more effort since you were going to watch, not work. 

As the evening drew closer, the radio was on full blast in the apartment as you and Pam cracked open a bottle of wine and started the beauty process. You couldn't shake the slight nerves that were settled in your stomach, but they were joined by an excitement. 

“Oh,” Pam turned from the bathroom mirror to look at you. You were sitting on the edge of the bathtub, carefully painting your toenails. “Did he ever get in touch? David? I completely forgot to ask.”

“Yeah, he found me,” You grinned, laughing as Pam gasped. “Asked me to come along tonight. I told him I was already coming.”

“And?” Pam asked, waving her hand at you. “What else? Did he ask you out?”

“I told him he can take me out if he wins,” You smiled, holding the bottle of nail polish up in the air with a laugh as Pam rushed over to hug you.

“This is so exciting! We're gonna be like sisters!”

📷

When you arrived at the Sportatorium, it seemed to be even busier than it had been the previous week. You stepped out of your truck, smoothing out your outfit. It was only a black off the shoulder top and some denim jeans but you hoped it still looked good. 

You linked your arm with Pam's as the two of you headed inside the bustling arena, your heart beating faster as you took your seats. As it turned out, watching the match was totally different to photographing it. You couldn't move about, couldn't pick one thing to focus on. It was all happening, bright and loud and thrilling. You found yourself cheering and whistling with the crowd, you and Pam both jumping up and screaming when the Von Erichs emerged victorious.

When it was all over and you were enjoying the fresh air, you couldn't help but find it adorable when Kevin couldn't keep his eyes off Pam while he signed autographs. Once he was free you gave him and Pam some space, almost immediately bumping into David.

“Hey winner,” You smiled, resting your hands in your back pockets. “Nice angles in there.”

“I hope someone was there to capture them,” David grinned, taking his hat off. “Did you have a good time?”

“Yeah,” You nodded, watching David for a moment, smiling as you realized he almost seemed a little nervous. “I really enjoyed it..though I'm a little curious about something.”

“What might that be?” David asked, moving his hat from one hand to the other. 

“Well,” You smiled, stepping closer and looking up at him. “Are you going to honor our agreement?”

📷

It was only when you were putting on your coat to leave the apartment when it dawned on that you hadn't actually been on a first date for..a while. There were some relationships in high school, a couple in college along with some dates and flings but the last had been before you graduated. 

You tried not to think about it too much, you were just going for dinner and seeing a movie. Worst case scenario, you and David didn't end up hitting it off and the world would go on as it always did. But part of you was hopeful that something would come from the date, that it would develop into something really great.

Grabbing your purse, you left the apartment and went downstairs to hail a cab, excitement starting to outweigh the nerves.

📷

“No way,” You laughed, your eyes going wide as you placed your hand over your chest. “You did not do that.”

“Yes I did,” David nodded, a serious look on his face before he laughed. “I was so sick afterwards. Never got found out though. Mom just went and got Kerry and Mike a new egg each. I couldn't eat chocolate for like three months.”

“I'm not surprised,” You laughed, picking up your drink. “You can't say you didn't deserve it.”

David laughed, nodding as he picked up his own drink. 

“I certainly did deserve it. Moment of weakness I guess.” 

You took a sip of your drink before setting the glass down and glancing around the restaurant. It was a steakhouse, but it felt like a nice one. Elegant lighting, candles on the tables, classy music playing. No sawdust or butcher paper to be found. 

“So do you think your brothers ever found out?” You asked, sitting up a little and resting your hands in your lap. “Or did you tell them?”

“No to both I'm afraid,” David sighed softly, lightly tapping his glass as he set it down. “Though I think Kev knew it was me..” He smiled to himself as he looked down. “Never said anything if he did know, though.”

“Seems like you two are close,” You smiled, your heart picking up a beat as David looked back at you with a warm smile. 

“We are,” He nodded. “We all are. I can't imagine life without them, they're amazing.” 

You felt your heart swell, trying not to get too swept up in your emotions. 

“That's so wonderful,” You smiled. “It's amazing that you're all so close.”

“Yeah,” David grinned, sitting up a little. “I just feel so lucky every day, like..” He stopped himself, lightly rubbing his neck.

“You know what, I feel like all I've done is talk about myself, my brothers, I don't want you to think I'm self absorbed or nothing, I promise I ain't like that.”

You shook your head, reaching your hand across the table and grinning when David held it with his own.

“I know you're not,” You insisted. “You're wonderful. Now tell me more about your family, I want the good stories.”

You ended up missing the movie, but neither of you cared. You talked until the restaurant was closing, David's jacket around your shoulders as you walked out into the night air. He gave you a ride home and kissed your cheek by your door  like a gentleman. 

“I had a great time,” You smiled, carefully taking off David's jacket and giving it back to him. You could tell he wanted to tell you to keep it, and you knew why he couldn't. 

“Maybe you should win another match, take me out again.”

“It's a deal.”

📷

Going to matches became a weekly event. You and Pam would cheer and cling to each other, laughing at how silly you were being. You took pictures for yourself, wanting to remember every moment. Afterwards you would meet David and Kevin, go for burgers and debrief on the match. 

It wasn't always easy for David to visit you, so you called each other when you could, spending an hour or two talking about anything and everything. You drove down to Denton a couple of times, meeting him for something to eat or just for a drive. 

He was always a perfect gentleman, opening doors for you and holding your hand, never pressing for anything more even though you suspected he was just as keen as you were to take things further.

You decided to nudge things in the right direction one night when you had gone down to visit him. Pam had come with you, and David and Kevin had taken you to the lake with their brother Mike, who you instantly adored. 

The afternoon was perfect, gorgeous hot weather and ice cold beers, floating along in the water and feeling like nothing else could possibly matter but being in that moment. 

You were sitting on the edge of the dock while the others drifted along on the huge rubber float, snapping a couple of shots of them before setting the camera aside. David appeared next to you, sitting down and resting his hand on your back. You leaned into the touch, his arm moving around your shoulders. 

“I love this,” You smiled softly, closing your eyes and letting out a breath. “If every day was like this..what a world.”

“It's perfect,” David murmured softly. “I can't think of anything better.”

“Hm, I reckon I can,” You smiled, opening your eyes and looking up at him. His eyes were already on you and you grinned as he took a breath and leaned in, his lips feeling like heaven against yours. 

You could hear the cheers and whistles, smiling into the kiss and feeling satisfied beyond belief. 

📷

“You ready for this?”

“Absolutely not. You?”

“Absolutely not.”

You flicked on the indicator and headed up the long drive to the Von Erich home, glancing over to Pam in the passenger seat.

“At least we're in this together.”

It was incredibly daunting, the thought of meeting David's parents and his brother Kerry, who had recently come home. He had told you countless times that they would love you, but it didn't ease your nerves. 

You were relieved to have Pam with you, that she was in the same boat. Mike met you both at the door, giving you both a hug and chatting away as he led you outside. 

It was a flurry of introductions, handshakes and hugs and the most perfect kiss from David that had you instantly relaxing.

By the time everyone sat down for dinner, it felt as though you had known the Von Erichs forever. The food was delicious, the weather was beautiful, the company was amazing. You felt David reach for your hand under the table when his parents talked about how they met, your heart swelling. 

When Doris forbade Mike from going to a gig that night, you glanced across the table to Pam smiling as she gave you a slight nod.

📷

“Alright, drive, drive!”.

You put your foot down, laughing as you glanced in the mirror and watched your boyfriend and his brothers gradually haul themselves into your truck. You turned the radio up when you left the driveway, rolling down the windows and cheering as you hit the road.

It didn't matter whose house the party was in, it was big and roomy and most importantly, fun. You had a beer in your hand before you knew it, hitting the makeshift dance floor. The brothers spun you and Pam around, laughter filling the air as you moved to the music, not a care in the world.

When Mike took to the stage with his band, you stood with David behind you, his arms wrapped around you. You all cheered as the song started up, swaying along as you held your hands over David's. 

Later in the evening you gently took David's hand and pulled him into a quiet corner, whispering in his ear and enjoying the slightly tipsy smile that crossed his face, a flash of worry passing his eyes.

You led him upstairs, finding an empty bedroom and closing the door.

“We..we don't have to,” David insisted as you slipped off your shoes. “I don't want you to feel pressured.”

“I don't,” You smiled, walking to the end of the bed and unzipping your dress before turning back to David. “But I will think you don't want to if you don't get over here in the next thirty seconds.”

He didn't need to be asked twice.

You laughed as you were picked up bridal style and carried to the top of the bed, letting out a soft moan as David laid you down and gave you a tender kiss.

Despite your suspicions that David was possibly a virgin, you didn't ask when he didn't bring it up. He was a little apprehensive, but once you took the lead he seemed to tap into his ring persona and the confidence in his movements had you struggling not to scream as your nails dug into his back, the sheets, your body crying out for more. 

“Oh god,” You moaned, touching David's cheek and looking up to meet his eyes as your legs hooked around his waist. “Baby..’m so close, please..”

You closed your eyes as he pushed deeper into you, his forehead resting against yours.

“Me too,” He murmured, his hand reaching for yours. “Fuck..fuck..I love you.”

Your eyes went wide at the confession, a deep moan spilling from your lips as you felt a wave crash over you, feeling David fill you moments later. You moved your hands to his neck, meeting his eyes and taking a deep breath. 

“I'm sorry,” He sighed, looking down. “I shouldn't have-this isn't the time..”

“No,” You insisted, a smile spreading on your face. “It's the perfect time. I love you, too.”

📷

“Mind if I get one of those?”

You turned around, letting out a sigh of relief as you spotted Kerry walking towards you. 

“Of course,” You smiled, taking the box of cigarettes from your purse and handing it over. “Thought you were David for a second.”

Kerry laughed as he accepted the box, shaking his head.

“Nah, your secret is safe with me. Just needed one huh?”

“Yeah,” You nodded, flicking away the ash. “I'm so nervous. I don't know why, it's not like I have to walk down the aisle in front of hundreds of people wearing this,” You raised a brow, gesturing to your dress.

As much as you adored Pam, and as thrilled as you were that she was getting married and had asked you to be her maid of honor, you did not exactly love the dress she had chosen. For a start, it was a mix of dusky pink and peach, the skirt was so big you wondered if you fit down the aisle, and the sleeves were almost the size of your head.

“I feel you,” Kerry nodded, looking down at himself as he lit his cigarette. “I think we all feel a little ridiculous. But you know the worst part?”

“Go on,” You smiled, lifting up the puffball that had slipped down your shoulder. “shock me.”

“I gotta do this three more times,” Kerry sighed, lightly prodding the flower attached to his suit. “At least you get to choose your wedding dress. I'm stuck in velvet hell.”

You laughed, shaking your head and taking a drag on your cigarette. 

“Oh come on, it ain't so bad. I think I heard Mike say he would never have velvet.”

“Really?” Kerry raised a brow, looking over to you. 

“Promise,” You grinned, holding your hand over your heart. “He said he'd have velour.”

“Oh fuck off,” Kerry laughed, shaking his head and holding his hand out. “Gimme a mint and get out of here, I'll velour you.”

“I'd like to see you try,” You laughed, getting a mint from your purse and flicking your cigarette away before walking over to Kerry. “See you inside. Don't destroy that flower.”

📷

“Isn't she beautiful?” You smiled, watching Pam and Kevin sway on the dancefloor, smiles etched on their faces as they moved to the music. 

You felt the urge to take a photo, but a professional had been hired for the day. Pam had insisted she wanted you to be in the pictures, not the one behind the camera. You had been a little disappointed, but you gave her the photo you'd taken from when she and Kevin had first met, and her reaction made it all worth it.

“She really is,” Doris nodded, looking over to you and taking your hand with a smile. “And you will be too.”

“Thank you,” You smiled, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Let me go get us another drink.”

You stood up, making your way over to the bar with a smile. While you and David weren't officially engaged, it was kind of an unspoken truth that when Pam and Kevin had gotten married, David would propose to you next. Kerry wasn’t seeing anyone, and while Mike was dating a girl, they had only been together a few weeks.

So, you knew you were next up.

As you waited for your drinks, you smiled as you felt a familiar presence by your side.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look today?”

“Yes,” You grin, turning to face David and giving him a kiss. “But I don't mind hearing it again.”

As the song ended and a new one started up, more guests took to the floor.

“Should we go for a twirl?” David asked, gently stroking your cheek. “or maybe not quite a twirl, that dress will take out anyone who comes close,” He teased.

“Oh shut up,” You laughed, lightly swatting him. “I'm getting your mom a drink, if I don't take you out first.”

“I'll take it to her,” David smiled, leaning down to give you a soft kiss. “Then you owe me a dance.”

📷

So, here it is. 

The big day. 

You thought at times it would never come, but it's here. 

A lot has happened, of course. Weddings need buildup, after all. The guests can only talk about how beautiful you look and wonder who did the food for so long. You gotta give them something. 

So what's new? It's been a minute, a luxuriously long engagement. 

The Von Erichs have gone from strength to strength, reaching the top of the wrestling game. You still go see matches, when you can. They're global now, you always feel a rush of pride when you watch them on TV at some crazy hour.

Pam is a world class veterinarian, an incredible mother to the most gorgeous baby, and still the best friend in the world. 

Kevin won the WHC belt, is the most devoted husband, father, brother, brother-in-law and son. He and Pam keep saying they're going to buy a ranch in Hawaii for everyone to live in, and you like to think maybe it could be true.

Kerry insists he's your favorite brother-in-law, and you insist that you couldn't possibly choose a favorite but deep down you think he's most likely right. He makes you laugh the most, teases you and makes stupid jokes to cheer you up when you need it. The two of you have sneaky cigarettes and know what the other is thinking when you look at each other. 

Mike has just signed a recording contract with his band, and you tell him all the time he better come to you first with concert tickets. He's going to be the next one engaged, he's so loved up and it's adorable. 

Then there's David. 

The yellow rose who called up six different newspapers just to ask you out, who let you into his life, who loves you unconditionally and makes you so unbelievably happy that you wonder what you ever did without him. You would never have pursued your dreams without him and his family, that's something you know. And let's not forget his proposal, which was the most beautiful moment of your life.

David had taken you on a surprise trip one night, insisting that you were just going for a drive after you'd been out for dinner, but you knew it wasn't true. You found yourself at the lake, David's hand in yours as you walked down to the dock, which..was decorated with candles in jars, rose petals, a bottle of champagne sitting in ice. 

Knowing that you were marrying your soulmate, joining a family you loved deeply, it made you feel so safe, so secure. You quit your job, deciding to pursue your real passion. You bought a gallery in Dallas, and displayed your own work along with other local artists, including your soon to be mother in law. It took time, but it's become a success, and you don't care what any of them say, you couldn't have done it without your family.

Plenty for the guests to talk about, right?

You take a deep breath as you step out of the car, Pam fixes your dress and you take a deep breath. Her dress is beautiful, and most importantly, simple. 

Before you know it you're walking down the aisle, your heart beating faster as hundreds of faces smile at you, but there's only one you need to see, and when you do it makes everything okay. 

You reach the top of the aisle, feeling overwhelmed with love, beaming as you turn to look at your soon to be husband.

“You know it's a bad habit to leave the bride with a veil over her face,” You grinned, watching David gently touch the hem of the silky veil and carefully move it back, a wide smile on his face.

“I do apologize,” He grinned. “Still gonna marry me?”

“Of course,” You smiled. “You look perfect from this angle.”

[4vanaa]

WHILE YOU WERE SLEEPING, meet y/n

story summary: y/n left the outer banks years ago, determined to build a life far from the memories of her childhood love, rafe cameron. now a botanist, she’s moved on—though a quiet part of her still clings to the past. when an event brings her back to OBX, she’s forced to confront the one person she never truly forgot.

when they meet again, the connection between them is undeniable. but y/n is in a new relationship—safe, steady, everything rafe isn’t. yet as their paths collide, it becomes clear that the love they shared never really faded, even if life moved on without them.

light mode !! masterlist

ꕤ

✿ she’s sunny, charismatic and optimistic, with a smile that lights up any room. she’s always looking out for others, making everyone feel seen and appreciated. her warmth makes her loved by everyone, though underneath her cheerful exterior lies a deep sensitivity and nostalgia for the past. she shares a special bond with her college roommate, mia, who’s become like a sister to her. while mia is more grounded and analytical, y/n provides the emotional support and optimism that balances their friendship.

✿ she’s passionate about nature, working as a botanist, hoping to one day, open a flower shop. she enjoys painting, writing, and photography, capturing everyday moments on an old film camera.

✿ she left the state for college, flocking across the country, to california. she majored in botany, with a minor in literature in college. known for her radiant personality, she was the heart of many campus events. she was active in her university’s gardening club, and ran her school’s garden center. because of her positivity it was easy to make friends in the unfamiliar environment. her bond with mia was especially strong, as they took on adult life together, mia helping her navigate tough situations.

✿ she met her boyfriend, noah, through a campus sustainability project, bonding through their shared passion for environmental causes. he admired her energy and passion, and their relationship is grounded in mutual trust and respect. though it’s stable and loving, it lacked emotional intimacy. she often found herself yearning for deeper emotional connection, due to noah’s inability to fully express himself. though she often finds herself feeling isolated, she remains with noah as he was her first relationship after heartbreak.

✿ she returns back to the outer banks for sarah’s wedding, she’s excited to reunite with old friends, especially cleo, kie, and sarah. it’s a time for reconnection and celebration, and she’s excited to catch up with everyone. however, being back in the outer banks stirs up complex emotions and memories she hadn’t fully confronted. though her life has moved forward in some ways, there’s an underlying sense of unfinished business with the place and the people who still hold a significant part of her heart. accompanying her on this trip back is mia.

she’s currently listening to…..

[twilghtkoo]

summary. haechan is capturing everything he loves and cherishes on his new camera and it’s mostly you filling up his sd card

pairings. haechan x reader (f)

genre. fluff, established relationship

warnings. mentions of photography/videography during sex

note. this is inspired by haechan’s recent bubble message TT he recently got a camera and he‘s been taking pictures with it a lot and even of his family ;-; also didn’t know how to end this lmfao but enjoy anyway !!

—

you are sitting backstage at the boys’ concert tonight, watching as staff frantically waking back and forth and making sure everything is going smoothly before it’s time. some of the boys are sitting down on their phone while some of the others are getting their makeup done.

haechan is one of them, sitting on a chair as the makeup artist is doing her thing. he’s on his phone as well, watching tiktoks and sending the funny ones to you even though you’re on the couch behind him. when he sends them he watches you through the mirror to see your reaction and wait for you to laugh.

jungwoo sits next to you, hair, makeup and already changed, pops his head over your shoulder. “what’s so funny?”

you show him the tiktok haechan has sent you, the short clip of a dog with a wig on and a random song playing even makes jungwoo blurt out laughing.

haechan is finished with his make up and hair, you’re helping him get changed as instructed by the stylists. you usually help the staff if they ask you to, not wanting to bother their flow or overstep, but the staff welcome you and are very kind to you.

haechan giggles. “your tongue really does stick out when you’re concentrating.” he points out.

you pause your hands, fixing the collar of his jacket carefully. “stop staring.” you try to tell him sternly, your hands moving down to his pants. making sure they sit on him right, your fingers occasionally grazing the area below his belly button that is covered by his shirt.

haechan is aware of your fingers innocently yet dangerously touching his waist, his heart reacting only for you as it beats louder than the fans that are screaming out there right now. only you have this affect on him.

“cant help that my girl is gorgeous.” he teases, biting down on his lower lip.

you scoff, patting his butt softly. “you’re all good superstar.”

“can you take a picture with me?” he asks, out of the blue. reaching for your hand to pull you back closer to him.

you tilt your head, scrunching your eyebrows. “right now?”

he nods, happily. “with my camera.”

you give in. you can’t say no when he’s looking so good in front of you and his eyes look like that. it’s the same look he gives you when he asks anything from you. whether it be to shower with him, watch a new show with him, to go check out this store he saw that had a sweater he really liked with him.

haechan recently bought a camera, an idea you suggested to him a long time ago but he claimed he wasn’t really good at taking pictures. but now he’s learning and he’s enjoying it so much. he’s been taking lots of photos of his members, concerts, family and you. capturing fond, silly memories and candids.

not sure why he wants to take a picture with you at this moment. you didn’t really dress up, only came prepared with your hair down and your makeup done. you are cladded in the boys’ tour shirt that’s a bit oversized on you, just how you like it with jeans.

“mark!– no wait, i don’t trust him. hyung!” he calls out to johnny.

“can you take a few pictures of us please?” haechan hands over his camera to johnny before pulling you to his side, his hand slipping behind you to sit on your waist, gently squeezing it affectionately.

“okay, newly wedded couple, smile for me!” johnny jokes, making you and haechan roll eyes before you slip your hand behind haechan to rest your hand on his waist. your head naturally leaning closer to him and you feel him rest his head on top of yours, warm smiles displayed.

“three..two..one!” flash.

“another one, kiss for the camera.” johnny orders jokingly, yet you both know he’s being serious.

haechan throws his fist in the air, triumphantly. “yes!” and he takes your face in one hand, placing his wet lips on the side of your face.

“perfect! three, two, one..” flash.

“yah! what kind of kiss was that?” you exclaim, wiping off the saliva with the back of your hand.

haechan looks offended, his lips turned downward in a frown. “yah, don’t wipe my kiss away.”

you fight back a smile. “well kiss me the right way fool.”

“let’s get some action,” johnny teases once again, preparing to snap the photo of the century.

one of his hands are lazily on your hips, and the other cups your cheek as the pad of his thumb is gently rubbing your skin. his eyes follow from yours down to your soft, plump lips.

your eyes meet his again, he wiggles his eyebrows making you giggle.

his warm, soft lips connect with yours in a lingering kiss.

“okay lovers, ready, three..two..one..” your eyes flutter shut the minute his lips touch yours, your hand that was on his waist now clutching onto the fabric of his jacket.

“ok i’m getting sick, take your camera.” johnny pushes his camera in between you two, both of you giggling and blushing as johnny leaves you two alone.

-

it’s early in the morning as you’re in the kitchen preparing yourself a small breakfast and your regular coffee. you’re not really a breakfast person, sometimes opting for a bowl of oatmeal or a breakfast bar. you have a class in two hours, your boyfriend is still sound asleep in your room softly snoring away. the lewd events of last night shoves it’s way into your thoughts, making you smile like a weirdo in front of your coffee machine. you take your breakfast and your hot mug alone with you towards your patio. it’s cool outside and the sun is slowly rising from its slumber.

you don’t often eat breakfast outside on your patio, you think you’ve only stepped out here about a few times since you moved in. but your thought process thinks that this is a very therapeutic way to start the day.

“good morning, beautiful.” a familiar voice spoke up from behind you. when you turn around to face haechan, the breakfast bar in your mouth still when he caught you off guard from taking a bite.

the sight of you sitting outside on the patio chair with your legs resting on the small round table, his shirt from last night riding up your thighs, exposing your bare thighs and the swelling of your breasts poking through the thin fabric indicating you’re not wearing a bra. you look the most beautiful like this, he thinks.

he’s leaning against the door frame that separates the inside of your home and the outside.

you smiled, “good morning,” your voice sounding muffled from the bite you just took.

“wait!” he exclaimed, turning around and rushing back towards your bedroom. you go back to enjoying your small, quick, breakfast and your cup of coffee, patiently waiting for him to return.

haechan comes back, his hair still disheveled and still shirtless. his sweatpants he had slept in are hanging dangerously low on his hips, occupying the empty chair beside you. and you don’t miss the reddish/purplish marks that adorn his neck collarbone and chest.

“what’s the camera for?” you quirked an eyebrow.

he smirks, “let me take a photo of you right now.”

you blink, “like, right now?”

he nods. “can you imagine waking up to look for your girlfriend and you find her in her own little word looking the prettiest in nothing but my shirt in front of a sunrise?”

scoffing and turning your head away to take another sip of your coffee to hide your face before offering him your cup, in which he gratefully takes.

“i probably have drool on my face.” you joke, but you haven’t looked in the mirror so you cringe to yourself.

“so what? you’re still beautiful.”

“okay fine, if you say so.” you respond with a shrug, acting as if his words don’t affect you.

he grins, giving you back your mug before he sets up his camera and holds it in front of his face.

you suddenly pretend to find interest at the skyline, holding your mug with both your hands. not sure how to act in front of a camera so you just sit still and take sips from your cup.

you hear multiple snaps from his camera. not sure why he’s taking so many but you don’t question him.

“can you look at me now,”

assuming he’s done taking pictures you look at him expectantly, wanting to look at the photos he’s taken of you.

snap.

“what the,” you blurt out.

he chuckles. “sorry princess, can you smile for me?” he pleads.

you sigh, but does as he says, yet immediately feeling self-conscious. “this feels weird,” you burst out laughing with your hands covering your face.

“no, no, babyyy, you look so pretty. i want to take a picture of my pretty girl.” his camera now in his lap as he reaches to grab both your wrists to pull away from your face. an idea pops into his head, his fingers still wrapped around your wrists, pulling you towards him so you’re straddling his lap, he swiftly saves his camera from you sitting on it. he spreads his legs a bit farther apart so you can sit comfortably, basically manspreading.

he leans back with a wide smile, pointing his camera at you. “how about now?”

tilting your head back as you laugh, using his chest to support your hands. “you are so slick.” not even realizing he’s capturing you in a state he often experiences when he’s with you.

feeling playful all of a sudden, you start holding up your hand, doing multiple poses. a peace sign next to your eyes as you wink to the camera. blowing multiple kisses to the camera. your wrists jointing together hold your face as if you were a flower.

and the one behind the camera was enjoying this too much.

“did you get your fix of me now?”

he hums, as he scrolls through the collection of photos of you.

you hesitate for a moment before asking, “let me take a few of you. please.” you shyly ask.

there have been times where you’re behind the camera. sometimes you’ll take photos of him and his members when haechan asks you to, or that time when you came along with him and his family for his little brother’s entrance ceremony. quickly capturing multiple family photos of him with his parents and siblings. then haechan asks a stranger to capture a family photo, this time with you in the picture.

he doesn’t refuse, handing you his camera and his hands now taking their place on your bare thighs.

you want to capture the marks you created on his skin from last night, zooming in carefully, just like he taught you.

“it’s kinda hot that you’re taking pictures of the hickeys you gave me.” he admits, biting his lower lip as he stares at your concentrated face.

“what do you think about photography and videography during sex?” he asks slowly.

you glance down at him then back at the camera. “i wouldn’t mind, i don’t know about filming though.” you honestly say.

he was shocked at your answer, thinking you would be scared with taking photos and videos and thinking the government would manage to get their hands on it. but your answer excites him.

as he’s imagining taking photos of you in an intimate situation, you sprawled out in front of him, naked, posing for his camera. god, he’d pick you up right now and continue round three from last night. but he knows you have class in an hour.

your fits of giggles snap him out of his daydreaming. “so this is that stare that johnny was talking about..god, you’re so fucking cute.” too absorbed with how handsome and cute your boyfriend is.

“so you up to a round three when you get back from class?”

[libraford]

You could probably start a website with minimal issues and advertise yourself as a wedding photographer who specializes in candid photography, capturing those special unposed moments, and just see if anyone tries to book you and build from there.

Like this?

[skywalkr-nberrie]

Anidala headcanons both wholesome and spicy? Ewe

Omgg!! Let’s do it! Buckle up cause this is about to get sort of loooong 😊

Fluffy headcanons

- anytime Anakin is away on a mission, he comes back with a gift for Padmé from the various different planets he’s missioned on. He gets her something as simple as exotic flowers or gems he’s found on those planets, sometimes they’re from the Outer Rim and sometimes Wild Space as well. He either brings them to her whole, or he makes a necklace, bracelet, some sort of jewelry out of it like he did with the Japor Snippet.

- Padmé told Anakin on their wedding night that her name means “lotus” and ever since then, Anakin buys her a Nabooian lotus scented perfume that Padmé didn’t even know existed till Anakin gave it to her. He says it reminded him of her, and it’s been Padmé’s most favourite scent from that point on.

- Padmé loves fairytales and folklores from her homeworld, and she also knows a lot about the ones from other planets too. Anakin is also a huge fan of folktales but he doesn’t know any of them outside the ones from Tatooine. So when Anakin is having a rough night, she lays him down on her lap, plays with his hair, and retells those folklores to him. It helps him calm down.

- Anakin is a huge theatre nerd, he loves soap operas, dramas, and plays! Padmé always plans a date whenever she gets word that a show will be playing at the opera house and Anakin is on his way home.

- Anakin is good at pottery and moulding (a personal HC of mine, lol.) he often makes fancy flower vases or decorative pieces for Padmé, ones that she keeps safe for special occasions like parties, meetings, formal gatherings, etc.

- Anakin and Padmé like to play fight a lot (pillow fights, wrestling, etc.)

- Anakin and Padmé enjoy training together, which results in some sparring one another as well. It usually ends in a tie because they’re both just too good. (They also shamelessly flirt during these too.)

- one of their favourite things to do together, is have dinner and cooking together. Anakin is the better cook, but Padmé is into baking! Anakin makes dinner, while Padmé prepares dessert. Padmé cakes are also very creative and well decorated while Anakin’s dinners always look mouth watering. Anakin learned cooking from Shmi, and honed his skills when he went away on different worlds and took the time to learn a couple of things from the cuisines while he was there. Padmé on the other hand has always been fond of baking since she was a young girl on Naboo.

- Anakin is an amazing artist/painter. He’s more into capturing landscapes and inanimate objects, and mapping out the design for his next mechanical project but his favourite muse will always be Padmé! Padmé has a collection of canvases with just her portrait on it. (She cherishes all of them.)

- add on to the last one, Anakin also sees photography as a way of art, so he often captures photos of Padmé in unveiled moments where she’s completely lost in her own world, unaware of what’s happening around her. Anakin keeps those photos for later, so he can draw/paint it.

- Anakin and Padmé are children at heart at times, and they’re always up for any sort of adventure and fun! When they have time, they often visit festivals, theme parks, carnivals, and even visit an arcade together if they felt daring (which they usually are.)

- Anakin and Padmé are also both into gardening, Anakin doesn’t know much about it but wants to learn because it’s a hobby of Padmé’s. They make plans together of after the war, starting a family, leaving duty behind, settling down on Naboo, getting their own property and having an entire garden beside their house.

Okay! Enough of the fluff, let’s dive into spicy Anidala!

- Padmé is huge in dressing up, so this means she’s also into role playing. She has 12 different sets and collections for her lingerie and one of them included different costumes for role play sex. She’s definitely got an angel costume in there somewhere lol.

- Anakin visits Padmé while she’s working in her senate office and knows she can’t fully focus on talking to him because she’s busy, Anakin busies himself then by sneaking under her desk to pull her panties down underneath her dress so he can eat her 🐱 Padmé completely lets him, and does her best to stay focused but she’s dying inside.

- Padmé is 10000% a screamer and a huge moaner during sex. She has to cover her mouth a lot of times when they’re in public in doing something because she knows one moan from her will let the entire galaxy know what they’re up to.

- Padmé’s favourite sex style is riding Anakin, while Anakin’s is doggy style (in front of the mirror)

- Anakin and Padmé make holovids for one another of them masturbating, stripping, or even just nudes to send over while they’re apart. And they send it through their secret comlink that Anakin made specifically for them.

- Anakin gets so jealous when Padmé uses her vibrator when she’s pleasuring herself because he’s just jealous of anything that isn’t HIS, even though Padmé is literally dreaming of him when she touches herself. She tells him that she measured her “toy” to the same size Anakin’s 🍆 is so he shouldn’t be so jealous, but it doesn’t matter, he’ll pick a fight with anything if it has Padmé’s attention. She finds it cute when he gets all possessive and jealous over her, so she keeps it just to tease him.

- whenever Anakin and Padmé are away on a retreat together, they hardly wear any clothes as there’s no point. They’re always grabbing at each other and going at it any chance they get, so there’s no use for clothes anyway, they roam around their Villa completely naked sometimes.

- Anakin loves Padmé boobs, he plays with them on top her clothes, under her clothes, and even at times he uses the Force if Padmé likes it. He just loves having his hands on her tits. And this makes Padmé feel good because shes always felt like her breasts were small and not attractive enough. Anakin is the one to demolish these feelings.

- another activity that’s a favourite of theirs is taking a bath together! Padmé soaks the bathtub in all her scents, bath salts, bubble bars, and bath bombs to make it extra sensual and romantic. She dims the lights and lights up some candles too, puts petals in the water and sinks in with him. They either spend the whole bath making out and touching each other or talking out their days, and having deep meaningful conversations.

- after sex, Anakin has a habit of taking a marker and drawing constellations on Padmé’s bare back and taking a photo of it to show her his masterpiece. She loves it so much that she doesn’t wanna wash it away, but after sex showers are a must so…

- during sex, they’re both into dirty talking and sweet nothings! They can either make love or straight just f*ck each other 🤣 Anakin tells Padmé what a tight and wet 🐱 she has, Padmé tells Anakin that he’s so hard and big, then they proceed in passionately saying the words “I love you” on repeat as they’re cumming into each other.

Okay that’s all for now! Hope that it satisfies 😅

[norrisreads]

Photograph #MS47

PAIRING: mick schumacher x reader

SUMMARY: scrolling through photos, you’ve found some photos that holds great memory and can’t help but to reminisce the moment

WARNING: FLUFF! the cutest and shortest fic i’ve written 😭💗

FC: sooyaaa__ on ig

Masterlist

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

you are the type of person who’d rather have tons of pictures of your love ones rather than yourself and being that type of person means you’d have to transfer pictures regularly to clear up space.

films and dslr wasn’t really ideally for you as you’ve never really taken photography as something you’d think of doing it for life but rather just taking pictures as a memory.

here you are laying on your bed, head laid on the headboard and your phone being supported by your pillow looking through your gallery, you were given a week break off school and since icloud have been notifying that your storage has been used up, you guessed it’s time for your monthly delete session.

the first picture, you got to was a picture of you celebrating with mick’s family on Christmas. Your family weren’t that big on celebrating Christmas, as someone who’s been born to a family with no siblings, it can be quite lonely sometimes and mick thought it’ll be a great idea for you to celebrate christmas with his family.

Corinna, Michael, Gina and you were close, you would sometimes pay them a visit when school hadn’t really taken a huge stress of you. Days when mick would go for his race, you’d be there standing alongside with his family and seeing his face in search of you and his face automatically brighten up once he sees you was something you’d enjoy seeing.

You aren’t a huge dog lover, especially when you grew up with 2 tabby cats, named after your favourite characters last name, reid and green. When you first met angie, it took quite a convincing from mick for you to be close to angie, but the more you came over the more angie had taken a liking to you.

The photo was one of the core memory, and a photo you’d always love to talk about because that was the moment between mick and you was something you will always treasure.

Then a photo of mick walking through the streets of japan with you were found. It was rare for you to be there for him in races, and when you told him that you’ve decide to accompany him to the Asia races because it was closer to your home country and you’re able to make a quick stop to your home afterwards, he was happy and quickly booked tickets for you.

The stop to japan was the first ever time you had stepped foot in Japan, and with mick knowing this was your first ever visit, he wanted to make it extra special.

But with the flight being delayed, the both of you happened to reach around 10PM where most of the shops were closed or closing soon , so mick and you were casually taking walks nearby the hotel finding for food places that was open.

In the end the both of you settled on 7-eleven food.

Mick had taken multiple photos of you which of course was taken on his phone, one photo was captured with you posing along the streets.

“stand there babe, you look beautiful, let me take a photo”

mick took out his phone from his pockets, and signalled you a countdown and took the photo.

“perfect”

After scrolling through photos you’ve selected to transfer them to your thumb-drive, you’ve finally found the one photo that you’ve been trying to find.

A photo of mick during the afterparty of your wedding, it was held privately within close friends, family and of course drivers were invited. You had ask for Daniel to take photos for your wedding, and you could say he has a talent in it.

By the end of the day, Daniel dropped you a link that had 200+ photos of your wedding and you and mick had went through all the photos in one sitting in the living room of your new home.

You settled on a photograph of mick wearing a suit being nervous on walking down the altar and mick settled on a photograph of you in the wedding dress, because the moment mick saw you walking down the altar with the wedding dress on, he realised you’re the woman he would love to be with till the end.

“still transferring the photos?”

there he was, walking towards you with a hot chocolate and a bunch of marshmallows floating around, just the way you like it.

“yeah, my storage has given up on me, which means i’ll need to transfer more photos” you took a sip and placed it by your bedside.

“these are our wedding photos right? we have these photos hung, and it’s in the folder Daniel send us, you can just delete them away my love” mick said while looking at the photos that had successfully transferred to your laptop.

“that’s cruel, i love to have them on my phone. It’s a great memory mick, if i had the chance to marry you again, i will” you gave kisses to his cheeks which led to his ears getting redder

“it’s been a year since we got married and your ears still gets red when i kiss you, Mick Schumacher”

—✩࿐ end note: this fic is highly inspired by photographs by ed sheeran! Let me know what’s your take on it, i think this might be one of my favourites because i’m someone who takes a-lot of photos for memories 🤎

[oolhan]

Snippet Sunday!

Yay! So I have enough time in my hands now that it’s the holidays, and I’ve been brewing something I wanna post on the first weeks of January. Wedding!Everlark had been plaguing my mind ever since I started writing Too Many Beds, alas I cannot escape the prompt. So here you gooo!

She feels warm from gripping the clipboard too tight against her chest. Her heels click second by second from impatience, trying to elevate her temper and plastering a tight smile as the couple happily cuts their cake few meters from her spot.

A cake that wasn’t floral like the bride wanted. It was more than floral, prettier than the outline she gave. All thanks to Peeta fucking Mellark.

Fucking Mellark changing minute details. As if it’s his wedding to plan.

As if he has any entitlement from changing anything from what she meticulously planned.

She slices her glare to the click of the camera two bridesmaids from her left, trying hard not to pose a middle finger for all the guests to see. She rolled her eyes when blue grinning ones revealed behind the camera that captured her fake posture.

As if it wasn’t enough, Prim insists he also needed to be the photographer for the wedding because ‘I love his work, Katniss, it’s good for business and the bride wants it too’ so of course no one dared to deny Prim anything. Especially not her sister who initially thought Mellark Photography were as good as Mellark Bakery.

The second wedding she was forced to work with him was a similar frustrating encounter. She likes everything be in sync with plans and outlines and blueprints she made.

He likes to ruin everything including the plans and outlines and blueprints she makes.

She swears he’s intentionally sabotaging her as she makes her way to the venue only to find decors are misplaced and the centerpiece’s floral arrangements are disarranged.

This wasn’t on the outline. She might faint.

It looks better, trust me, he says, but Katniss hasn’t trusted anyone since the day her ex gave her trust issues. So okay, he is the photographer so he knows his angles but she should’ve been informed before he started rearranging everything.

And what’s a photographer got to do with floor planning, anyway? His job was to capture the moment, not to frustrate the wedding planner.

She tells him off to Prim, who just chuckled and told her to loosen up because the bride and groom didn’t mind. But Katniss insists they should never work with him again after this. Prim sipped her wine, trying to take her sister seriously.

[austinsmutler]

The Wonder of You - Austin!Elvis x Reader

Summary: While on your honeymoon in Hawaii, you and Elvis decide to try something new in the bedroom: taking photographs. You're a little bit unsure at first but Elvis is keen to show you how beautiful and truly sexy you are.

What you’ll like: Kinky Elvis, newlywed vibes, emotional connection while also just getting railed, erotic photography, Elvis appreciating every inch of you

Words: 1,600

Warnings: None, but there is some consensual smut. Minors DNI.

Masterlist | Requests are currently open (Please tell me everything you want!)

You giggled as Elvis carried you over the threshold into the small hotel room. Small, because you had had a private wedding at Graceland and wanted to keep things private, if only for a week before he’d be back on tour. That meant a small honeymoon, far away from prying eyes.

So, one private plane trip to Hawaii later, here you were. The hotel was small, but the staff were known for their discretion, and for the first time since… ever, you and Elvis were alone. No Colonel, no screaming fans, no Memphis mafia. Just  husband and wife.

“Elvis! Put me down!”

“Okay,” he grinned as he threw you on the bed. You screamed and bounced before scowling up at him.

“Was that really necessary?”

“Definitely.” He smirked, framing you with his fingers. “Mrs Presley, you look like a pretty lil painting.”

Heat rose to your cheeks. Elvis turned and locked the door, and you couldn’t help but rake your gaze over his body. You’d traveled in simple clothing to avoid suspicion: you in a sky-blue button-up dress, him in black trousers and a matching shirt that was barely buttoned down, the hair on his chest visible. You wanted to feel that body against yours, wanted so many things only he could give you. 

Elvis turned and saw you squeeze your thighs together. He smirked, before a thought occurred to him and he bit his lip. 

“What is it?”

“There’s something I’ve always wanted to try.” 

You sat up and beckoned him forward with a finger, leading him down for a kiss. “Tell me what you want.”

He made short work of your dress, stripping you down to your lingerie in minutes. While the dress was simple, your wedding lingerie made you look like a winning lottery ticket. White lace with black detailing, shimmering with rhinestones with every shaky breath you took. 

Elvis stood above you, taking in your whole body before he leaned down and whispered, “I want to photograph you like this, honey. Just like this.”

You shuddered as hot hands trailed down your bare sides. Need shot straight to your core, pulsing in tune with your rapid heartbeat. 

“Okay.” You whispered. 

“Really?” Elvis pulled back with an almost boyish grin on your face. You bit your lip and nodded.

“Anything for my husband.”

 Elvis pulled away to rummage through your suitcase. Light filtered in through the hotel window, bathing the room in a golden sunset glow. Elvis found the camera and turned around, humming as he took in every inch of your body. 

“Mmm, My wife is so beautiful.” 

“Elvis.” You gasped out a laugh, but it did nothing to hide the flush of your cheeks. The darkness in his eyes was intense enough, but with the camera that hovered over you, unblinking, you could combust at any moment. 

“Look right into the lens, baby.” Elvis breathed, and you heard the click of the camera as he captured you, laid out on the navy blue hotel sheets. You bit your lip and he took another photo. Then another. And another. 

Elvis focused all his attention on you, hands drifting over your bare skin, caressing your sides, your thighs. Positioning the blue satin to his liking. Snap. Snap. Snap. A shiver ran down your spine with every photo. 

“Open your mouth just a little, baby. That’s it, you’re beautiful.” Elvis murmured, hardly blinking as he drank you in. 

You grew wetter with every click of the shutter, much to your surprise. This was not something you’d considered before- cameras were for public and family events, not capturing the most intimate moments of life. E

ven wearing lingerie, this was the most naked you’d ever felt. The space between you and your new husband scorched your skin, goosebumps rising as he positioned his body over yours for a close-up. 

Elvis was hard already, grinding slowly against you, capturing your every reaction as his length rubbed against you. The gasp you made when he pulled your bra down to tweak a nipple, the sigh when his tongue found the sweet spot on your neck and he sucked, turning the skin deep purple. 

You probably weren’t even in focus for half of these, Elvis’ attention focused in front of the camera instead of behind it. But the clicking shutter still urged you both on, pulling a moan from low in your throat.

“You’re so beautiful.” He put down the camera to take your face in his hands, exploring your mouth with his tongue as if for the first time. His fingers hooked your bra strings, starting to slide them down your shoulders. “Can I take these off, baby?”

You knew what he was really asking, and nodded shyly.

“If you’re not comfortable, we can stop.”

You hooked your hands around his neck and pulled him down, wrapping your legs around his waist to draw him closer. “I want it. Please, don���t make me beg.” 

He purred against your neck. “Maybe later.”

Elvis sat up in bed, taking you with him so that you were on top. “Go sit on the end of the bed.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion, but with a glance there, you understood. At the foot of the bed was an enormous mirror that spanned almost the length of the wall. 

You sat. Waited. Held your breath.

“Spread your legs.” Elvis had the camera back in hand now, the clicking of the shutter resuming. He kissed down your neck and slid the bra from your shoulders before tossing it to the other side of the room. 

You both groaned as his fingers found your wetness, rubbing you through the lace. “You like this, hmm Mrs Presley?”

You could only nod, reaching up to hook an arm around the back of his neck. “Please, E, please-”

What were you begging for? You couldn’t say. Couldn’t think as a finger dipped inside your panties and slid inside with no resistance. Before you could think of anything, two fingers curled inside you, hitting your spot with practiced ease. 

“This what you want, baby?” 

You whined, bucking your hips as his fingers stilled, waiting for an answer. You slapped his arm and Elvis chuckled. 

“Is that a no?”

“Please. Please make me cum, I need to-” Words dissolved into a moan as Elvis redoubled his efforts, bringing you torturously close to the edge before his fingers stilled again. 

“Why?” Tears sprang up behind your eyes. Elvis grasped your chin and turned you to face the mirror, where his eyes were black with lust as he scanned over your body. 

“Because, wife, when you come tonight, it’s going to be because I’m inside you. Fucking you. I could get you there with my fingers right now, but I’d rather use my cock. What do you think?”

He punctuated the question with a few slow pumps of his fingers that left you bucking your hips, desperate for more contact. 

“Fuck me.” 

Click. 

Heat surged through you as you thought of the photo he’d just taken: you were almost completely naked while he was still fully-clothed, two fingers knuckle-deep inside you. Your mouth open and panting, legs spread obscenely wide while he nibbled on your earlobe, whispering filthy things in your ear. 

Elvis spun the two of you around so you were on your back on the bed, him kneeling between your legs, taking the white lace of your panties between his teeth, slowly tugging down your last item of clothing and flinging it over his shoulder. 

His hot breath crested over your clit and had you tangling your hands in his hair, tugging desperately. “Please, you don’t need to- to-” 

You stuttered as his tongue licked a slow trail to your clit, hips bucking as he set to spoiling you with his mouth. He slowly undid the buttons on his shirt, never once taking his mouth from you until your whole body quivered. 

Elvis sat back to remove his shirt and trousers, which joined your underwear in a pile on the floor. 

He knelt upright on the mattress, gripping your hips to pull you onto his cock. You both groaned as he sank into you fully, your legs wrapping around his hips and digging into his ass. If you’d stammered before, you were completely incoherent, unhinged as Elvis tortured you with slow strokes at first, before building up until the only sound that filled the room was slapping flesh. 

“This what you wanted?” Elvis reached down to squeeze your breast. “This how you like it?”

“Deeper. Please, deeper. I n-need to feel you.” 

Elvis growled and grabbed your hips with bruising force, hitting somewhere inside you’d never felt before. Everything else in the hotel melted away, your only anchor to reality was the soft sheets fisted in your palms as Elvis pounded into you relentlessly. 

“Need you to come for me, baby.” Elvis’ blue eyes were dark with lust, body slick with sweat as he showed no signs of slowing. 

You could do nothing but nod as he sped up, thumb pressing on your clit until you came in a blaze of white light and moans. Your whole body shook as Elvis followed you over the edge, releasing inside you. 

He slowly pulled out and collapsed beside you, panting. Neither of you could speak as you caught your breath, still clenching around nothing. 

When you could speak again, you turned to smile at your husband. “Well, that was a good start. What do you want to do now?”Elvis rolled on top of you with a growl, burying his face in your neck. “Mrs Presley, we are just getting started.”

[grits-galraisedinthesouth]

Revisiting information from Tom Bower's book Revenge and current events in the House of Windsor.

Misan Harriman: All Roads lead back, to Soho House & the person Rachel described as her "gay husband," Markus Anderson.

Anglo-Nigerian photographer, Misan Harriman, was instrumental in Meghan’s 2014 post-Trevor re-brand from Deal or No Deal Briefcase Girl to faux philanthropist/humanitarian.

Allegedly he's also gay, along with the other "boys" in MEgain's Soho House Circle. All in "contract" marriages with female "beards" like Rachel Meghan Markle. All liars.

According to Tom Bower's research (Revenge p. 63), Meghan was determined to use One Young World as her launching pad to celebrity philanthropy.

She was unknown to the OYW founders and event staff so she contacted Misan Harriman to ask for an introduction to his friend, tennis star, Boris Becker.

Becker was already scheduled to speak at the Dublin conference and Misan pitched the idea of Meghan's participation.

Becker referred Meghan to HIS AGENT, Gina Nelthorpe-Cowne.

If I remember correctly, in Gina's pre-wedding articles and interviews, she mentioned that Meghan contacted her office in 2014 to express an interest in helping with the OYW conference(s). I had no idea that Meghan and Misan were friendly while Meghan cohabitated with Celebrity Chef Cory.

MEgain did not choose Misan for her engagement photographs. Misan has only been in the photography business for five (5) years.

Soho House members, the York Sisters, invited Misan to capture the moment Edo proposed to Beatrice. (sigh & smh) SAME Eugenie who told the press, "we really like her..." when someone (OMIT & Jessica) gave Camilla Tominey permission to publicize their affair. Camilla repeatedly writes that William MUST forgive Sparry. Tominey cares nothing for the Wales family or the country. Her interests are rooted in greed and irresponsible reporting to sell papers.

Notice The Meghans began paying Misan during MEGXIT. He captured the stills and video footage for Megflix. He is also paid by Invictus. There's a lot of cash flowing into Misan's bank account via The Meghan and their archeficicial business ventures. IRS, where you at???? 🤔

I'm not sure why I included the following in my original 2022 post: "Allegedly, during Harry's 2 nights in Tornto (babysat by Jason Knauf), just before he flew to the US-FL IG, Meghan (while cohabitating w/Cory & just back from spending Mother's Day weekend w/Cory's parents) Meghan told Harry about her interest in helping him with the Invictus Games."

One thing that stands out to me is how much both Meghans lied during the engagement interview:

Sparry & MEgain admitted (on international television) that they were secretly dating for 5-6 months BEFORE Tominey received the story.

Do the math. If they met in July of 2016 and had 5-6 months together in secret, Camilla's article would have been published in December or January, not October/November.

Camilla's article was published at the time of their Toronto (soho house) Halloween party with Eugenie and Jack Brooksbank: October 2016 = only 3 dating months.

If they began dating during Sparry's Spring promotional visit to Toronto for Ingriftus, then YES--- they were "together" (like spooning bananas) for five (5) months before MEgain leaked the details to Tominey

Sparry is just as much of a compulsive liar as his wife. He lies about the unnecessary details:

"we had to announce your megnantcy for the tour because you were showing..."

"It's true, you did blend in-----‐until our farewell week..."

I have future content coming about Victoria Hervey and Dan Wootton's despicable behavior during kategate. At the moment I wish she would stop extending open invitations for Sparry "to come home," when he's repeatedly been clear that America is his home & America is where he feels safe.

In my opinion, Sparry and MEgain deserve to be married to one another FOREVER!! Initially I viewed Sparry as her victim but just because Sparry is mentally & emotionally unstable and intellectually "sub-educational" (as Lady C would say), does not excuse his character issues: lying, cheating, stealing, grifting to achieve fame and fortune in America. People all over the world with low IQs know the difference between right and wrong. There is no excuse for Sparry's crimes.

Royal Families cannot expect their people to look past bad behavior. Charles got what he wanted, "Camilla." Despite the good press she receives, the majority of the world sees Charles as spoiled and feckless. I do think he will be surprised to learn just how many Brits wish he & Camilla would just go on a permanent holiday.

In a world of meritocracy, we have watched Meghan Markle, Sparry, and Andrew get away with murder. Zero on the job consequences for bad behavior------>Out of touch with everyday people.

Andrew & Sparry have caused permanent damage to brand BRF. When Charles chooses tone deafness over humility and shame, they are begging the people for a Republic.

Normal people pay a price for their unwise decisions. Selfish Charles chose Jesus' resurrection day to rub Andrew into the faces of the British people and global royal watchers.

People won't take these moments of pure contempt for the will and opinions of the people and just let it all go due to cancer. Charles is still seen as a feckless king who will ultimately destroy this monarchy because it appears he cannot or will not manage his household.

Go to church Andrew & Fergie, but not in front of the cameras and not at the expense of the taxpayers. These are not difficult situations for Buckingham Palace. Does anyone have a working brain? It's as if Charles is deliberately destroying everything his mother & father worked so hard to preserve.

I agree @sassyfrassboss and don't get me started on Sarah's health related virtue signals. Why is it so difficult for Fergie to stop talking? And why won't Andrew go away and live out a solitary life? No one wants to shake hands with Epstein's pal. No charity wants to be represented by Epstein's pal. Consequences.

Andrew is reviled and despised because he refuses to accept responsibility for his unwise choices. He has no remorse for choosing "sleazy e & co" over his family and his country. It's not complicated.

I have drafts of future content about the York's. Surmise it to say, Andrew and Sarah are just not bright people. What's worse is they are selfish and refuse to step out of the limelight to give their daughters & grandkids a fresh start.

Unfortunately, like The Meghans, Eugenie was willing to exploit the identities of other people's children while concealing the face of her own child with stickers.

Ultimately Eugenie used the Jubilee to change course. She finally held up the child to show his face. Cute child. What's not cute is the elitist mindset that "blue blood makes us extra special."

After visiting Davos, Eugenie was quick to parrot her elitist, WEF talking points. There was no critical thinking about the issue(s) (like, "hmm, my husband wears glasses"), just a regurgitation of elitist talking points.

No one wants to see Andrew on Easter Sunday or for that matter at any other holiday. Seeing him jolly on parade is a slap in the face to all who had a deep affection for Queen Elizabeth's virtues and basic human decency. It's past time for him to retire from public life.

Rolling up to Easter service as though the York's are respectable members of society who serve Jesus Christ is absolutely shameful.

Not because of a liar named Virginia and her fake photo, but because of Andrew's REAL Central Park, NYC photos and the video footage of Andrew coming and going from Epstein's NYC home. Not to mention their big Epstein dinner with guests like Katie Couric, George Stephanopoulos and Woody Allen---- to name just a few.

Andrew used tax payer's money to travel in support of Jeffrey Epstein upon his release from prison.

A man who was convicted of sexually assaulting under age girls served about 12 months in prison and upon release he threw a NYC party for his royal pal Andrew! The Palace was "too honorable" to reply, "No thank you. Have a nice life." Andrew seems too self centered to concern himself with the commandments to "avoid even the appearance of evil" and to "honor" his mother & father's legacies.

[wickedsrest-rp]

Name: Diego Moreno Martín Species: Spellcaster Occupation: Freelance Photographer Age: 25 Years Old Played By: Zee Face Claim: Froy Gutierrez

“Don't just smile for the camera—smile because it makes the world a little brighter.”

For as long as Diego could remember, the good name of the Moreno family had been sullied by unsavory rumors. Growing up, Diego was unsure how much stock to put in them—to believe them outright would be scandalous, at best. Except. There were the hushed meetings that he was not supposed to hear, there were the odd visits by relatives whose names Diego did not recognize from the family archives.

And so, Diego clung to the truth—at least, the truth as he understood it. Whatever their reputation, magical potential brimmed in the Moreno family. Old, dangerous magic tempered, presumably, by formal, dedicated training. What Diego might have lacked in raw talent was supplanted by his willpower. Magic benefits from a conduit. To that end, Diego was indulged in his pursuit of an ideal. However, that conviction would be a forebear to dissonance.

While his particular skill in protection magic was subtle, nothing so flashy as sparks or flame, Diego himself, as he grew, became known within the Pacto Áurico for his colorful personality, his frequent walkabouts, and his persistent intervention in the lives of others. Why read about the world in the book? Energy could stay in one form, of course, but it begged to change, to be worked into action. Diego was much the same. He chased the new, the exciting, the alive. Better to live a life among the people, helping as only he could.

It was no wonder, then, when Diego refused to live his young adulthood in yet another gilded cage. He argued, aggressively and successfully, until the bars were bent from the sheer force of it. And if Diego questioned why his family was so willing to let him spread his wings and leave Spain? No matter. New York was a welcome change from the traditional attitudes that had stifled Diego. Despite its reputation as a cold and uncaring city, it was easy to find warmth, to find like-minded spellcasters who wanted to protect their communities, not hide away from them. It helped that New Yorkers, more than most, were willing to look the other way when it came to the supernatural. And if extending a ward scored him a free bagel, that was between him and his local bodega.

Encouraged to pursue interests beyond his magic and eager to commit every new experience to memory, Diego took to documentary photography. There was beauty to be found in the everyday—ephemeral moments that he could capture and truths that people revealed when they thought no one would care enough to notice. After graduation, he traveled, learning more about the sprawl of America through the way light caressed the faces of its people. He expanded his repertoire, booking weddings, graduations, anything that caught his eye. And if his eye occasionally caught something he was not supposed to see, if Diego had to stretch his magical muscles to explain how he had gotten a particular shot, it was an easy marriage between the work he loved and the work he had been born into.

But, in the end, Diego did not need much convincing to return to the fold of the Pacto Áurico. When he received the letter, sealed with the Moreno family crest, it was simply good to know that he was still needed, no matter how menial the request. Observation for a seemingly routine ritual felt a bit insulting, as if years away had dulled his power. Even so, if he was truthful with himself, it was hard to be on his own as much as he was, surrounded by people living their lives in more than snapshots. Besides, a Moreno—a true Moreno—would put family above all else. While Diego had never taken that belief to mean he should enable the worst impulses of his family, it would do him no good to hide from the rumors. To put them to bed, to find the truth, he would go home, if only for a time.

But truth could be stranger than fiction. When the ritual went wrong, in the way that it was always doomed to go wrong, Diego operated on instinct, time enough only to protect the weakest from the blast. The raw magic hit him in strange waves—deep in his body, first, before it laced across his skin. Mental, before the physical. In the aftermath, he felt radioactive—sick and energized. The thought struck him, quick and fierce: How dare they make him a part of this—make this, whatever it was, a part of him. But there was no time for blame. Earthquakes, especially magical ones, brought aftershocks.

Diego felt it better to look for a solution, be a part of the solution, than putter about the manor, waiting for cosmic retribution to take its due. Leaving was easier, the second time. Traveling was second nature. However, it soon became clear that his magic, once steady and reliable, was growing unpredictable. The full picture would take time and, Diego feared, ample darkness to develop. But there was no deluding himself. If Diego could not find out the truth of this matter, it seemed, he himself would become part of the problem to be solved.

Character Facts:

Personality: Friendly, honest, impulsive, intense, nosy, observant, offbeat, stubborn

Diego is honest to a fault. His poker face is salvageable, but, if asked a direct question, he struggles to believably lie. If the truth is fantastical, he will often play it off as a joke—a joke is not technically a lie, right?

Growing up surrounded by spellcasters and magic, Diego has a tendency to look for a magical solution before a practical one. The consequences of the ritual have complicated this impulse. The potential for danger is worrisome, but so is the potential for embarrassment.

Despite specializing in protection magic, Diego was cross-trained in self-defense and boxing. Better safe than sorry. He would prefer to use his words (or a spell), but he does not shy away from a fight.

While Diego is not technologically illiterate, he has a very narrow view of what role technology can (or should) have in his day-to-day life. Computers are for word processing, complex mathematics, and sending proofs to your clients. Hacking is fake.

Traveling and freelance have left very little time for relationships of any kind. Diego is happy to flirt for the glimpse of a smile, but he becomes easily flustered if the attention is returned.