#and i have had!!!! no success!!!! what do i need to do to up my salesman game??

[sb-essebi]

Hi @owwllly I loved this comic so much I wrote fic about it!

(Some angst slipped in, sorry about that)

Me and my ✨genius partner✨

Jayvik | Teen and Up | 1k | Complete

No Archive Warnings Apply | Tags: #Fluff #a dash of angst #Getting Together #Friends to Lovers #First Kiss #Pent-up Feelings #Insecurity #Self-Worth Issues #internalized ableism #(Viktor thinks something very ugly about himself) #Author is disabled #Implied Sexual Content

[Read on AO3]

OR

“Incredible,” Viktor said, awed, staring at the newly-refined, perfectly round gem.

“It worked. We finally turned the crystals into gemstones!”

The excitement in Jayce’s voice was palpable. Even if the experiment hadn’t been as successful as this, that alone would have been enough to make Viktor happy. Jayce’s shoulder was amazingly warm against the back of Viktor’s.

“See,” he said gently, extricating himself from Jayce and taking off his goggles. “Your theory was solid, it was just the execution that needed some refinement.”

“Amazing…” Jayce’s eyes were exhaustion-soft and joy-bright, and Viktor had to force himself to look away. “And we pulled it off a week ahead of Progress Day!” Viktor put his goggles down on the workbench, and felt the air behind him shift as Jayce rose and bolted for the door. “Sit tight! I’ll bring Heimerdinger over and show him our new invention.”

Turning to watch Jayce go, Viktor spotted the thick, scruffy stubble that had taken over Jayce’s face in the days and nights spent working ceaselessly in the lab.

It looked quite fetching on Jayce, and Viktor felt some heat rush to his cheeks at the thought.

“Eh, Jayce, wait!”

Jayce stopped at the door and looked back, smiling.

“Yes, V?”

Viktor pointedly tapped a finger against his own cheek to signal Jayce to check his.

Jayce’s eyes and mouth went wide.

“Oh! Almost forgot.”

Puzzled, Viktor watched Jayce walk back over to him.

Then, Jayce planted a firm, resounding kiss on his cheek.

“I’ll go tell the professor what me and my genius partner have created!”

With a wave and a wink, he left.

As if nothing had happened. As if Viktor’s cheek weren’t burning still from the touch of his lips. As if he hadn’t left Viktor speechless with his whole face growing hotter and hotter by the second. As if Viktor’s right hand weren’t glued to the spot Jayce had kissed as though to keep that easy affection trapped against his skin.

“I… I meant your beard,” Viktor said to the empty room.

Next thing he knew, Viktor had bent over the workbench, face buried into one of his forearms while the other clutched at the back of his hair, shaking, with a blush searing itself down his neck and chest.

Normally, he could handle his feelings for Jayce. He could handle Jayce’s unfairly good looks and his utterly perfect body. He could even handle Jayce’s tactile nature, the hands on his arms, the shoulder touches and the half-hugs.

But this… this casual intimacy, however accidental, this he couldn’t handle. Not on three hours of sleep in as many days. Not when it ushered in thoughts of what if. What if it could be intentional, what if he were Jayce’s life partner, what if he could have Jayce-

He curled in on himself until it hurt, and a horrendous, needy whine left his throat.

“Viktor, I am so sor- Viktor, are you okay? Oh God, you’re breathing so fast-”

It was humiliating, to be caught wanting so viscerally. Especially to be caught wanting as someone like him, defective and deteriorating and dying, wanting someone like Jayce, who was— everything. Who was perfect. Who deserved better and more and longer, who Viktor had vowed to leave alone, to spare him an even worse heartbreak when Viktor would inevitably pass—

Viktor thought he might start crying.

And that was when Jayce decided to put both hands on his shoulders.

“Viktor, are you okay? Please, talk to me. Do you need medical attention? I’m so sorry about- that was so out of line-“

Later, Viktor would not know what came over him. He would blame the lack of sleep, temporary insanity, arcane influence, anything but the fact that he just couldn’t take it anymore. Couldn’t take the gentleness and concern in Jayce’s voice. And his every resolve crumbled to dust.

He straightened up, swivelling on the stool when Jayce recoiled in surprise, punted his good leg on the floor to stop himself once they were face to face, grabbed Jayce by the tie and kissed him squarely on the lips.

Jayce stood stock-still. For some reason, presumedly out of shock, he let Viktor kiss him long and lingering and desperate, and catalogue the heat of his body and the taste of his lips and the feel of his beard against the corner of Viktor’s mouth while the rest of the world faded from Viktor’s awareness until—

Until Jayce kissed him back.

Cupped Viktor’s face in his large, warm, calloused hands, melted into him and kissed. Him. Back.

Viktor’s breath was promptly punched out of his lungs. He kissed Jayce breathlessly then, needing him far more than air, pressing his tongue past Jayce’s parted lips and kissing him until black spots were dancing behind Viktor’s eyelids and he had to forcibly pull himself back with a gasp.

Jayce was breathing hard, cheeks and ears crimson.

“I was gonna say I was sorry for kissing your cheek,” he said with a chuckle, one hand rubbing the back of his own neck. “But, um-”

Viktor took a great gulp of air and kissed him silent.

Surely, when he ran out of oxygen again he would know what to say. Something that wasn’t ‘I love you’. Surely, after this kiss.

Or after the one that followed.

Or the one after.

Surely he could face Jayce then, question him as to why he was even indulging Viktor.

Certainly, after they’d finished putting the lab’s workbench through new and unspeakable abuses, Viktor would be able to field Jayce’s inevitable inquiry of his behaviour, respond with something that wasn’t that he adored Jayce and wanted to spend every second of his however short life with him.

Surely.

Definitely.

Doubtlessly.

Doubtlessly, there was an explanation for Jayce lying on the floor and gathering Viktor into his arms and on top of him to spare him the cold hard stone, holding Viktor tight and frantic and gentle, alternating between peppering his face and neck with kisses and whispering sweet nothings into his ear -my partner, my beautiful perfect partner, my Viktor- that didn’t include mutual, requited, wholehearted romantic love for one another.

Wasn’t there?

sleepless nights

[woso-dreamzzz]

Second Time's The Charm XI

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: An old face watches a match

She wasn't as young as she once was.

Teaching hadn't originally been her first choice as a job but after finishing school and spending a few years bored senseless as a receptionist, at age twenty-five, she'd made the change to teaching children in their first year of school.

Now, twenty-five years later, she was getting older and her students seemed to be just as wild and excitable as they always had been.

This school trip hadn't exactly been planned by the school, not fully anyway but a generous donation from who knows where had her and a few other teachers taking a three classes of wiggling and excited five year olds to a home match for the Barcelona women's team.

"Let's get to our seats now," She says, trying to get everyone in her class seated and happy but it's like trying to fight a group of wet cats - a losing battle.

"Miss, he pushed me!"

"Miss, I want to sit with my friends!"

"Miss, I can't find my bracelet!"

"Miss, my Mami gave me spending money!"

"Miss!"

"Miss!"

"Miss!"

She sighs to herself, rattling off instructions in a way that only a practiced teacher could.

"Lucas, stop pushing people. We use our nice hands with people. Isabella, you can sit next to your friends if there's space. Ana, your bracelet got put into your bag. Pedro, spending money can be used at half time. Now, everyone needs to sit down or else they won't start the match!"

It takes a little while to get all the kids settled and she briefly thinks about how this would be a hell of a lot easier if the school had more people who could chaperone.

It's a fleeting thought because she knows she can't do anything about it now but still, it would be nice.

Nice like it is now to watch one of her old students walk out as one of the most well known footballers not only in Spain but the world as well.

Alexia Putellas, the captain of Barcelona, leads her team out - head held high and back straight. A far cry from the little girl that used to slump in her seat in class and cry when someone took her ball at breaktime.

There weren't many students that she remembered so well - a handful that have ended up in politics, one that somehow ended up at the UN and one whose arrest made national news.

But Alexia was one of the good ones, helpful and polite most of the time.

She can remember though, with startlingly clarity the second day of classes.

It had been her second day as a teacher ever and she'd been supervising the playground at lunch when Alexia had appeared and dragged her off.

She'd dragged her all the way to the slide where you'd been waiting.

"You have to marry us, Miss," Alexia had said, eyes wide and incredibly earnest," We want to get married."

"Er..."

"You have to, miss," You'd joined in," Because we're in love and my Papa always said that people in love get married."

She'd been speechless then but still done as you and Alexia said, a little charmed by those two little girls begging to be married under the slide.

Alexia was easy to follow now, her exploits known throughout the country on and off the pitch. You'd faded though and your old teacher wasn't quite sure where you'd ended up.

Likely something successful and important.

Even as a little girl, you'd had a good work ethic. Work before play, always, was something you'd abided by.

She could see you as something important now. Your parents were doctors, she's pretty sure, so maybe you followed in their footsteps.

It would suit you, she thinks as she watches Alexia slam the ball into the net for a third time today.

Barcelona wins.

But that's entirely to be expected.

What isn't expected though, is for the staff from the team to invite the classes down onto the pitch to meet the players.

"Carlos, don't run! Mia, don't yell over someone! Lucas, again! Stop pushing people! Everyone will get a turn!"

"Some things never change then."

She turns with a smile. "Alexia."

"Hi, Miss."

"You don't have to call me that anymore."

Alexia's brow wrinkles. "What else would I call you? You've always been my teacher."

"You're an adult now, Alexia. You don't have to call me that anymore if you don't want to."

"But I do. Is that alright?"

"That's okay. So long as you want to."

Alexia beams, the same big smile she had as a five year old when she would come to the desk with a picture she drew of herself in the Barcelona kit.

It's still strange to see that exact image in real life.

"I'd like to introduce you to one of my daughters. This is Maya."

"She's beautiful."

"Mi Amor is just changing our other daughter. They'll be out in a minute."

"It's nice to see that you're doing so well. A good job. A nice family."

"We have dogs too! And my wife's old cat! She built me a house, you know? My wife, that is. Not her cat."

It's nice to see that Alexia's word vomit from her childhood hadn't changed much either. She was so stoic and quiet most of the time but any topic that drew her interest could be (and would be) talked about for hours at a time.

"That's nice to hear, Alexia."

"And we bought a villa in Greece for our next holiday! And I bought her this nice matching bracelet and necklace set! But! You can't tell her because it's going to be a surprise!"

"A special occasion?"

Alexia looks affronted at the idea. "I don't need a special occasion to show my wife how much I love her! Just my love!" She turns, glancing over her shoulder and her whole face lights up. "Oh! Amor, you're back! Look, Miss Rivera is here!"

Miss Rivera looks over to the tunnel where you have emerged from, a babbling baby on your hip and a rock of a ring on your hand.

"Oh, hi, Miss!"

She sighs. "I told Alexia that you two don't need to call me that anymore."

You frown. "But you've always been our teacher. What else would we call you?"

"Miss, this is our new baby Elena." Alexia puffs out her chest proudly. "My wife gave birth to her. Doesn't she look good for giving birth a few months ago?"

You slap her on the shoulder before pressing a kiss to where you just slapped. "Don't listen to her, Miss. She'll take any excuse to talk about it."

Alexia nods solemnly. "It was very scary because there were complications but she's doing so well now. Both Elena and my wife. Right, Amor? She's a doctor, you know. Very successful."

Again, Alexia seems to preen like a peacock as if you being so successful and so smart brought her such pride.

"You've both been very successful," Miss Rivera says," I'm so proud. A long way from that marriage under the slide, huh?"

You grin, intertwining your fingers with Alexia's.

"But still married."

[sunny-knight]

What Kind Of Monster Was He?

A @forgettable-au fan (colored) animatic

MINOR BLOOD WARNING!

*Was he the kind to do too much, or not enough?

…OK, SO WHAT HAD HAPPENED WAS-

I had planned to finish this into a full fledged animation, but a lot of the parts I did end up finishing just didnt live up to what I imagined…I waited for more motivation to happen, but it just didnt so HERES THE COLORED ANIMATIC CAUSE IM REALLLY HAPPY WITH WHAT I HAVE and ive sat on posting this for like a 2 weeks 😭 which is an eternity in my time

Im gonna post the unfinished “finished” part on my side account @o-sunny-day though! and probably have people yell at me cause it actually isnt that bad AND IT TOTALLY ISNT I just… art. You get it. ENOUGH YAPPING! ITS TIME TO YAP!

except not yet, MORE BACKGROUND INFO HUCDHUC- but its background info on explaining the lore…

The explaining is much less expansive than in Dear My Dear just because I didnt work on it long enough to think every bit of it through. This is just a clean, nicer looking, and colored version of the very first storyboard.

I usually think about and put more effort into the little stuff while making the FINISHED bits since ive had so much more time to think about that in all the preppin n sketching.

BUT I liked the explaining format I did for Dear My Dear so im sticking with it!

The main idea for this was to do a study of Wingdings’ character from what we’ve been given, mainly focusing in on the expectations he puts on himself because holy shit the lyrics for this works so stupidly well it makes me mad LOOK AT THIS???

its ridiculous. i love it. I didnt know Jack Stauber helped write Forgettable AU???? woww!!! ANYWHO thats the gist of it, not much context is needed past that. Onto the sillies!!!! (per usual excuse the shitty quality of the pngs idk why Tumblr does that-)

Did you know love? Will you rest in peace?

Wingdings and Sans holding hands as kids, before turning to a casket like appearance for adult WD. The flowers hes holding are pretty important too, Marigolds to represent grief, Lilys, new life, and Forget Me Nots for this lovely little line I found when looking up good flowers to use-

“a promise to always remember” ….stop that.

That actually also has a double meaning in this case too. 1, ofc the forgetting of Wingdings. But ALSO Wingdings forgetting something himself. Forgetting who he is. Almost like a Zuko ATLA situation.

Did you have a family?

Who knows where theyre parents are, but this is HAPPY TIME and we’re gonna assume they were so awesome and very kind but had to leave or went to a farm in the sky for whatever reason.

The colors here I had a lot of fun with. Their parents had warm colors but the boys have cold, still with warm accents. Its said they more or less raised each other being very independent as shown in the second part with them running out the door by themselves.

How was the view from the shelf? Did you ever believe in yourself?

Before, we started with the beginnings. The good things, the only thing Wingdings cares to even recall. Now we’re seeing his life really start to turn upside down- making first contact with The Player :D

He’s hesitant to reach out, but is intrigued, before getting a rushing revelation of his reality and how it isnt “real”

Rather than feeling crushing existential dread, he more feels pressured to be BETTER, to figure a solution, to do something. Thats what white represents here

WHAT KIND OF MILK WERE YOU?

We then switch to more examples of how Wingdings is taking this pressure (not well) The soft tones of yellow that were shown before, turn to way brighter, intensifying that feeling that he should be fine, he should be happy, drowning in success of being the Royal Scientist.

But he just desperately wants to just go back to a time of nice coldness.

The warm vs cold tones in this I had so much fun with, coldness is supposed to represent hostility usually, while warm is nice and happy. (same with Black and white. Scary, relieving,) But these points often contradict each other, its hard to tell what you’re feeling vs what you’re supposed to be feeling. Just like Wingdings!

WHAT KIND OF LIFE DID YOU LIVE THROUGH?

The white lab coats, the expectations, theyre on all of them. But Wingdings has essentially become his expectations.

He questions what life he wants to live, one being himself and alone (speaking in wingdings) or not himself and with company (speaking in a “normal” font) Still, he frames it in past tense as he believes theres no going back now, based on what he knows.

“One of the last happy moments they had together” stop that. (i cant find a link to when that was said but I know it was once, about them taking a photo together….)

DID YOUR LIFE RUN RICH WITH CALCIUM?

Calcium….bonesss :3 Hehehehdhehfhehehheheheh still dont know why he has holes in his hands so we’re movin on

DID THEY LAUGH AT YOU OR DID YOU LAUGH AT THEM?

Compared to the childhood Wingdings remembered, heres the sadder, bleaker, more realistic version. He always thought they were laughing at him but… maybe they werent.

DAIRY BELOVED. YOUR DAYS ARE GONE,

It doesnt matter now though. Because in the NOW, Wingdings has become consumed by his expectations of himself, seeing this has the “only option” to do the only thing that he feels will give his life meaning and purpose, establishing connection with THE PLAYER

But the grocery list goes on…

And yet life continues on without him, and his room is transformed into a more livable space now that someone is…living in it. Always hurts so much making the differences between Wingdings and Papyrus’ room. It feels like making something out of the man Wingdings COULD HAVE been. Because honestly thats just what Papyrus is,

Thank you to my bestie @fruitytrip for helping me with all of my art in general but especially the storyboarding on this :3 <3

[p0orbaby]

A little blurb request for princess 👸 wally : wally wins an award and has to fly to receive it maybe a ballon dor or Swiss award (completely up to you 🥰). Reader isn’t able to travel with her as she’s just had acl surgery and is beyond gutted and feels like she is letting her gf down. When Lia receives the award she mentions reader and then the hosts says he has a surprise for her which is a pre recorded video from r congratulating wally and telling her she knew she could do it etc. when wally gets back to her hotel room r has also arranged for some balloons and food with a card from her. Lia is left speechless

i skipped the message at the ceremony because i found it hard to fit everything in to something blurb size. i hope you still like it !

-

The flight back to Zurich had been uneventful, a blur of recycled air and weak coffee. Lia isn’t sure why she feels so restless; the award ceremony was a success, She should be happy. Proud, even. Instead, she feels the hollow ache of missing you, heavier than the trophy tucked underneath her arm.

Her phone buzzes as she steps into the elevator at the hotel. It’s you, naturally.

“Hey,” she answers, her voice soft.

“Lia!” Your voice is warm, comforting, but there’s something brittle underneath it. “Are you back at the hotel yet? How was it? Did you eat? Did you—”

She laughs, cutting off your ramble. “I’m fine, schatz. I’m just getting to my room now. You really don’t have to fuss”

“Well, I do,” you retort, but there’s no bite to it. She can picture you on the couch, leg propped up on its designated cushion tower, your brace a stark reminder of why you couldn’t come. The guilt twists in her chest again.

She slides her keycard into the door and pushes it open. At first, nothing registers; she’s still distracted by your voice in her ear, telling her how much you wish you’d been there.

And then she sees them.

Balloons. Not a modest handful, but a full bouquet of them, bright and gleaming, tied to the back of the desk chair. There’s a spread of food on the table—her favourites, she notices immediately: rösti, a neatly arranged charcuterie board, and a small chocolate cake that looks almost too perfect to eat.

“What the…” she murmurs, trailing off.

“Lia?” you ask, confused.

She sets the trophy down slowly, her movements deliberate, and walks over to the desk. There’s a card nestled among the balloons, your handwriting unmistakable. She picks it up and opens it, reading the words to herself:

To my Lia,

Congratulations, my love. I’m so proud of you. I wish I could’ve been there to see you shine, but I know you made everyone in that room feel lucky just to be near you. Enjoy this little surprise—I thought you might need a proper celebration. Love you always xx

Her throat tightens. She presses the card to her chest and exhales deeply before raising the phone back to her ear. “You did this?”

There’s a pause on your end. “I thought maybe the balloons would distract you for a bit”

“How did you even manage this?” She asks, her voice tinged with awe.

“Magic,” you reply lightly, but she can hear the pride in your voice. “I just… I hated the thought of you coming back to an empty room after such a big night. You deserve to feel celebrated, Lia”

She sits on the edge of the bed, staring at the balloons, the food, the card. It’s silly, really—she’s the one being recognised, and yet you’re the one making her feel like the luckiest person alive.

“I don’t know what to say,” she admits, her voice softer now.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you reply. “Just eat something. You must be starving.”

“I am,” she concedes, reaching for a piece of cheese from the board. “But you’ve completely ruined me, you know. How am I supposed to top this?”

“You don’t have to top it,” you say simply. “You just have to come home”

The ache in her chest softens, replaced by a warmth she can’t quite put into words. She takes another bite, the flavour rich and comforting, and smiles.

“I’ll be home soon,” she promises. “And then I’m taking care of you, okay?”

“You already do,” you say, your voice so sincere it leaves her momentarily speechless.

She looks around the room again, taking in every detail of your carefully planned surprise. The balloons catch the light, their glossy surfaces shimmering, and she decides that maybe, just maybe, the world isn’t so bad after all.

[all-by-myself98]

OK I'm gonna rant for a second

When I was sick with covid last Feb, I watched the Malcolm X movie and I mentioned the Angela Bassett phenomenon in a Letterboxd review I was basically like.

This woman has such an interesting range of works. Not a predictable range like from comedies to actions to horrors. But like from what would be considered high brow vs low brow film and TV.

She's done like the serious Oscar tier kinda shit like the Tina Turner biopic, Boyz n the Hood, the Malcolm X movie as I mentioned, and a lot of other like. Really successful really like. The kinda shit that might be considered high brow or like. cinema shit, you know? Shit that wins awards and stays in people's minds because of how highly regarded it is

And then she's kinda gradually tapered off of that, which is fine! I think if I was an actress and I had a shit ton of success earlier in my career, I might also branch off and look at other projects. A lot of the stuff she's been in nowadays isn't really classified as high brow. It's mostly drama television or cartoons or, of course, action stuff. Like there was Meet the Robinsons, there was American Horror Story, there was fucking. ER! She was in ER for like two years(?) as a main role! And then of course that itty bitty foray in the failed Green Lantern movie, and then her actual success with the Black Panther movies.

Like... They're less dramatically intense, more just. Fun! She got her bag of money early on and now she's doing whatever the fuck she wants which is so valid of her, I would do the same thing if I ever went into that line of business. Earn your security, then have fun and do what you want!

And honestly this might not have even been her intent. There could have been other stuff going on. Her wiki link mentioned that after her Tina Turner biopic she wasn't getting any calls for roles for like a year and a half. So maybe people were just being idiots and skipping over her, maybe there was some dumb fucked up Hollywood politics involved, or maybe she's genuinely letting herself have fun with her roles now, OR maybe she noticed that there's just as much integrity and potential in a role like Athena Grant or Queen Ramonda or Marie Laveau than there is in her earlier character counterparts.

Again, this is also relying on this backwards and outdated idea of high brow vs low brow film and television. I don't subscribe to these ideas, and I think it's low-key kinda ridiculous and I think people should just have fun watching what they want without feeling like what they want to watch isn't good enough or doesn't command the same respect... But sadly other people do absolutely subscribe to these ideas and you can tell because it's difficult not to notice a difference in the tone or nuance of two different works, and why some works are not nominated for awards as much as others because some Hollywood awards panel either don't see it as serious or as respectable enough to be in with the so called "big leagues".

All visual work is valid and all visual work is capable of eliciting the emotions they need to elicit to keep their audiences hooked.

ANYWAYS that's the end of my little blab

I love Angela Bassett and whatever is the reason for her shift in her filmography, girl you are not gonna hear me complain one bit. As long as she's happy, I'm happy for her. I just find it fascinating to think about is all

And thus. The Angela Bassett phenomenon (copyright pending)

trying to understand a show you don’t watch only through gifs you see on your dash

[homeofthelonelywriter]

Are you sure you don’t want to move in with me?”

A smile spread on your lips, though it quickly shifted into a frown as you gently set down the heavy cardboard box, holding the rest of your belongings. It had been two months since your father’s monthly payments stopped. Two months since, no matter what you tried, you couldn’t reach your dad or anyone close to him. Two months since you’ve been trying to find a job, but no luck so far. In the end, you decided to move out of the apartment your dad had insisted on you renting, and moved into a smaller and cheaper one.

“Nah, I’ll be fine, I promise.” Your best friend frowned, concern painted across her face. For someone who was usually so carefree, she now looked like she was about to suffer a breakdown.

“I know you don’t like my roommates, but they aren’t so bad once you get to know them. And I’m really worried about leaving you here. This part of town just isn’t safe.” You chuckled and nodded. She was right after all.

The only place you could afford with the rest of your savings was in the part of town everyone was warned to stay away from. The part with the highest crime rate in the entire city. The part where just a few weeks ago, a dead college student had been found. But what were you to do? As much as you loved your friend, her male roommate was creepy and you didn’t like the way he looked at you. No way you’d survive moving in with them. So, the cheap apartment in the creepy part of town it was.

“I’ll be fine, I promise. I have pepper spray and my dad had me learn self-defense. If anyone tries something funny, you’ll have to worry about him, not me!” A grin spread across your lips as you gave her a thumbs up, trying to look as confident as possible. In response, she just rolled her eyes.

“Fine, but…you better facetime me whenever you’re walking home. And have your location on at all times, you hear me?” You nodded and pulled out your phone, quickly turning the location share on, so she would stop worrying. As much as you loved her, it was starting to get repetitive.

Your friend continued to help you, before you ushered her out, telling her to get home safely and before it got dark out. Then you continued to move in, unpacking and slowly getting comfortable. Well…as comfortable as you could get when there were what felt like constant sirens and other noises you weren’t too happy to hear. Banging and moans from your next-door neighbors, screams and crashing from upstairs, and weird gurgling from the hallway. Good thing you had some noise-cancelling headphones, sounded like you would need them.

You had to admit, the first few nights, you didn’t sleep much. The noises and the general paranoia were enough to keep you up, but after a week or so, you got used to it. You put a knife on your nightstand, put a chair against the door, and glasses against the windows. To be honest, you developed your own little routine, which you quite enjoyed. And if you added the job hunt - which had still not been successful - and the work for college, you rarely had the energy to truly care about your situation at the end of the day.

Another week or so went by and you found yourself in the cafe on the campus, sending out more job applications, but it seemed like no one wanted to hire a college student who could only work odd hours. Frustration wafted through you, so you decided to grab another drink and quickly got in line, not paying attention to your surroundings. You promptly gave your order and went to pay, but before you could, the person behind you spoke up, “I got it.”, and before you could interject, they placed tapped their card, and your order was paid for.

When you turned around to thank the kind stranger, you quickly realized it wasn’t a stranger. “Mister Riley?”

A/N: Since it's been almost a year since I posted the idea, let's try this. Let me know what you think!

@alilstressyandlotdepressy @brickwall035 @trampondemand @inarabee @blinca @rileys3dworld

[elryuse]

Evergarden Familia

Yandere Gahyeon X Male Reader

Tags : Mafia Boss Gahyeon, Dark Gritty Romance, Dominant Gahyeon, Blood n Gore, Submission, Forceful Sex, Branding, Creampie

Words : 7,5k

This is a Commission for My Friend @starconstruction on Tumblr and Ko-fi. Hope you Liked it Buddy.

Blood. The thick, metallic scent clung to the air like a curse, searing itself into Y/n's memory as he crouched behind the tattered sofa. He was seven years old, too young to understand why men with guns had stormed into his home, but old enough to know that his life would never be the same.

"Please!" his mother's voice cracked, raw with desperation. She shielded him with her frail body, her arms trembling as she pleaded. "We don't owe anything! We've paid everything back-please, don't hurt him!"

The man standing before her tilted his head, a smirk curling across his scarred face. Lee Sang-hyun, a name Y/n would never forget. Dressed in a tailored black suit, he looked more like a businessman than a killer, but his eyes-cold and devoid of mercy- betrayed his true nature.

"You think I care about your payments?" Sang-hyun sneered, his voice smooth yet laced with venom. He stepped closer, his polished shoes crushing broken glass beneath them. "This isn't about money. It's about power. And no one disrespects the 3 Crows."

Before Y/n could blink, Sang-hyun's fist crashed into his father's face. The sickening sound of bone breaking echoed through the small apartment. His father fell to the floor, coughing up blood, but he still tried to rise, defiance flickering in his eyes.

"Run, Y/n!" his father choked out, his voice a mix of pain and urgency.

But Y/n couldn't move. His legs felt like lead, his small hands clutching the sofa's fabric as if it could anchor him to safety. He wanted to run, to scream, to do something-but terror had paralyzed him.

"Stupid man," Sang-hyun muttered, wiping the blood from his knuckles. "Let's make sure your son learns what happens to those who defy us."

The next few minutes were a blur of violence. Sang-hyun didn't use a weapon; he didn't need one. His fists were brutal, his kicks merciless, and he seemed to relish every second of the beating. Y/n's mother screamed, trying to shield her husband, but Sang-hyun shoved her aside like she was nothing.

Y/n squeezed his eyes shut, tears streaming down his face. He didn't want to see, but the sounds were inescapable-the grunts of pain, the dull thuds of fists meeting flesh, the horrifying crack when his father's ribs gave way.

When it was over, silence fell.

"Clean this up," Sang-hyun ordered his men, gesturing to the broken bodies of Y/n's parents. His voice was calm, as if he had just finished a routine task.

"Boss," one of his underlings said, pointing to Y/n, who was now sobbing openly. "What about the kid?"

Sang-hyun turned his gaze to the trembling boy, his lips curling into a sinister smile. "Oh, he's coming with us. A little rat like him needs to learn his place in the world."

Two men grabbed Y/n by the arms, dragging him out of the apartment. He kicked and screamed, calling for his parents, but they were gone, their lifeless bodies lying in a pool of blood.

That night, Y/n's childhood ended.

The years that followed were a nightmare. Sang-hyun didn't kill Y/n-not yet. Instead, he broke him, shaping him into a weapon for the 3 Crows.

Beatings were a daily occurrence, accompanied by harsh training that pushed Y/n's body to its limits. He learned to fight, to steal, to kill. Failure was met with pain, success with indifference.

"You're not a person," Sang-hyun told him once, after forcing him to clean the blood off his first kill. "You're a tool. Tools don't have feelings. Tools obey."

Y/n hated him. He hated everything about the 3 Crows-their cold, ruthless hierarchy, their obsession with power, their complete disregard for human life. But hate wasn't enough to break free. Not yet.

By the time he was eighteen, Y/n had become one of the most feared enforcers in Seoul. His name was whispered in the underworld, his reputation as a silent, efficient killer unmatched. But no matter how many lives he took, the ghost of his parents haunted him, their blood staining his hands.

It was a rainy night when Sang-hyun gave him the order that would change everything.

"I have a job for you," Sang-hyun said, reclining in his leather chair. His office was lavish, filled with expensive furniture that contrasted sharply with his brutal nature.

Y/n stood before him, his expression blank. He had learned long ago that showing emotion was a weakness Sang-hyun exploited.

"What is it?" Y/n asked, his voice devoid of warmth.

"An S-class target," Sang-hyun replied, sliding a folder across the desk. "Jung-hwa. Chaebol heiress. But that's not the interesting part."

Y/n opened the folder, his sharp eyes scanning the documents. Jung-hwa was beautiful, with long dark hair and a confident smile that seemed out of place in the grim world of organized crime. But as he read further, he realized why Sang-hyun was so interested.

"She's part of the Delacroix family," Y/n muttered, his stomach twisting.

Sang-hyun grinned. "Exactly. Killing her would send a message to Gahyeon. It's time that tyrant queen learns not to mess with the 3 Crows."

Y/n's fingers tightened around the folder. The Delacroix were the 3 Crows' biggest rivals, a Mafia family just as ruthless and powerful. But Jung-hwa wasn't just a pawn in their game-she was a person, a young woman with her whole life ahead of her.

"Do it," Sang-hyun said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "And don't screw this up. You know what happens if you fail."

Y/n nodded, his face a mask of calm, but inside, a storm raged. He didn't want to kill Jung-hwa. He didn't want to kill anyone anymore. But Sang-hyun's leash was tight, and disobedience meant death.

As he left the office, rain pouring down around him, Y/n felt the weight of his choice pressing down on his shoulders. He had two options: obey and lose what little humanity he had left, or rebel and risk everything.

In the end, he knew there was only one path he could take.

The rain hadn’t let up. Seoul’s neon lights reflected off the wet pavement, casting an eerie glow that matched the unease in Y/n’s chest. He stood in the shadows of a busy intersection, his hood pulled low as he watched her.

Jung-hwa.

She stood near the entrance of a luxury boutique, her bodyguards forming a tight perimeter around her. Even in the pouring rain, she exuded an air of elegance, her long black coat cinched at the waist, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders. She looked every bit the heiress she was—untouchable, radiant, and confident.

But Y/n knew better. No one in this world was untouchable.

For three days, he had stalked her, learning her routines, her quirks, and her vulnerabilities. He knew she preferred her coffee black with a single sugar cube. He knew she always stopped to feed the stray cats outside her apartment complex, even when she was running late. And he knew that beneath her polished exterior, there was a flicker of loneliness.

She reminded him too much of himself.

“Focus,” Y/n muttered under his breath, shaking his head. He couldn’t afford to humanize her. She was the target, nothing more.

Yet, as he trailed her through the crowded streets, he couldn’t suppress the guilt gnawing at him. She wasn’t like the other marks he’d been assigned to. Most of them were criminals, just as corrupt and ruthless as the 3 Crows. But Jung-hwa… she seemed different.

Still, Sang-hyun’s words echoed in his mind: “Don’t screw this up.”

Y/n clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He had to do it. If he didn’t, Sang-hyun would kill him—or worse, send someone else after her.

That evening, Jung-hwa returned to her penthouse in Gangnam, her guards sweeping the area before letting her inside. Y/n watched from a nearby rooftop, the scope of his sniper rifle trained on her balcony.

It would be so easy. One shot, and it would be over.

But his finger hesitated on the trigger.

Instead of pulling it, he lowered the rifle and pulled out his binoculars, watching her through the glass doors of her living room. She was sitting on the couch, a glass of wine in one hand as she flipped through a book. The sight was so ordinary, so human, that it made his chest tighten.

What was he doing? Was he really going to take another life just because Sang-hyun ordered him to?

Y/n’s mind raced. He thought about his parents, about the countless people he’d killed, about the weight of Sang-hyun’s control over him. He was tired—tired of being a tool, tired of the bloodshed, tired of losing pieces of himself with every mission.

He let out a shaky breath and packed up his rifle.

Not tonight.

The following day, Jung-hwa’s routine took her to a quiet park on the outskirts of the city. Y/n followed at a distance, blending seamlessly with the other pedestrians. She sat on a bench beneath a cherry blossom tree, watching the petals fall as she sipped her coffee.

Y/n approached cautiously, his hands stuffed into his pockets. He wasn’t sure why he was doing this—why he was stepping out of the shadows instead of staying hidden. But something about her drew him in, like a moth to a flame.

“Mind if I sit here?” he asked, his voice low but steady.

Jung-hwa looked up, startled, but quickly composed herself. “It’s a public bench,” she replied, her tone polite but guarded.

Y/n sat down, leaving a respectable distance between them. For a moment, neither of them spoke. He could feel her eyes on him, studying him, trying to decide if he was a threat.

“You don’t seem like the type who frequents parks,” she said, breaking the silence.

Y/n smirked faintly. “And what type do I seem like?”

“The brooding loner type,” she replied, her lips curving into a small smile.

He chuckled, though the sound felt foreign in his throat. “Fair enough.”

Another pause settled between them, but this time it was less tense. Y/n found himself relaxing, though he knew he shouldn’t.

“I’ve seen you before,” Jung-hwa said suddenly, her voice soft but sharp.

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat. “Have you?”

She nodded. “You were at the café yesterday, weren’t you? Sitting by the window.”

Damn. He hadn’t realized she’d noticed him. “Maybe,” he said vaguely, trying to deflect.

Jung-hwa tilted her head, her gaze piercing. “You’re not very good at blending in, you know.”

Y/n bit back a retort. She was testing him, probing for information, and he couldn’t afford to slip up. But before he could respond, she stood up, brushing cherry blossom petals from her coat.

“Well, whoever you are,” she said, turning to leave, “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

Y/n watched her walk away, his chest tightening. She was sharper than he’d given her credit for. But more than that, her words lingered in his mind.

What was he looking for?

That night, Y/n sat alone in his dingy apartment, staring at the photo of Jung-hwa that Sang-hyun had given him. The more he thought about her, the more conflicted he felt. She wasn’t just a target anymore—she was a person, someone who had shown him a glimpse of a life beyond the darkness he lived in.

But he knew that sparing her would come at a cost.

As if on cue, his phone buzzed. It was Sang-hyun.

“Y/n,” Sang-hyun’s voice came through the line, cold and commanding. “You’ve had enough time. Finish the job, or I’ll finish you.”

Y/n’s jaw tightened, his grip on the phone trembling. He didn’t respond.

“You hear me?” Sang-hyun growled. “Do it, or you’re dead.”

Y/n hung up without a word.

For the first time in years, he made a decision for himself. He wouldn’t kill her. He was done being a tool, done living under Sang-hyun’s control.

But walking away wouldn’t be easy.

And as the first knock sounded on his door—heavy and deliberate—he knew that Sang-hyun had already set his sights on him.

The knock on the door came again, louder this time. Y/n's breath hitched as he scrambled to his feet, every muscle in his body tensed. His small apartment was dark, illuminated only by the dim glow of the streetlights filtering through the blinds. He reached for his pistol, his fingers tightening around the grip as he moved silently toward the door.

"Y/n," a voice called from the other side, low and menacing. "You think you can walk away from this?"

It was one of Sang-hyun's men.

Y/n's heart pounded in his chest. He had known this was coming, but he hadn't expected it so soon. They weren't here to talk-they were here to kill him.

The doorknob rattled, and then, with a deafening crash, the door splintered open. A team of three men burst inside, weapons drawn. Y/n didn't hesitate.

The first man went down with a single shot to the chest. The second lunged at him with a knife, but Y/n sidestepped, grabbing his arm and twisting it until the blade clattered to the floor. A swift kick sent the man sprawling, unconscious.

The third was smarter, firing off a shot that grazed Y/n's shoulder. Pain flared, but he didn't let it slow him down. He ducked behind the couch, returning fire. The man cried out as a bullet struck his leg, dropping him to the ground.

Silence fell, save for the ragged breathing of the wounded. Y/n stood, his pistol still trained on the men. Blood dripped from the graze on his shoulder, but he didn't flinch.

He had to go.

Y/n grabbed a bag he had packed earlier, slinging it over his shoulder as he stepped over the bodies. He didn't look back.

The streets of Seoul were alive with activity, but Y/n moved like a ghost, blending into the crowd despite the pain in his shoulder. He had to get out of the city, away from Sang-hyun's reach.

But Sang-hyun wouldn't stop. He had made that clear.

As Y/n turned a corner, he caught a glimpse of a shadow moving toward him. He ducked just in time as a knife swiped past his face. His attacker-a man in a leather jacket- lunged again, but Y/n blocked the strike, delivering a sharp punch to the man's throat.

Another assassin.

Y/n didn't wait for him to recover. He darted into a narrow alley, his footsteps echoing against the walls. Gunfire erupted behind him, the bullets narrowly missing as he weaved through the labyrinth of alleyways.

He emerged onto a quieter street, his breath coming in harsh gasps. His leg burned, and when he glanced down, he saw blood seeping through his jeans. A bullet had grazed him there, too, though he hadn't noticed in the chaos.

He was losing strength.

"Damn it," he muttered, stumbling as his vision blurred. He leaned against a wall, his fingers pressing against the wound in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding.

"Help. " he rasped, his voice barely audible.

The world spun, and then he saw her. A silhouette against the dim light, her figure commanding and unyielding. She moved closer, her steps deliberate, until she was standing before him.

"Y/n," she said, her voice soft yet chilling.

His knees buckled, and he collapsed. As darkness consumed him, the last thing he saw was her face-a face both beautiful and terrifying.

Y/n woke to the scent of antiseptic and the feel of soft sheets beneath him. His head throbbed, and his body felt heavy, but he was alive.

He opened his eyes slowly, taking in his surroundings. The room was luxurious, with dark wood furniture and velvet curtains. A fireplace crackled in the corner, casting warm light across the space.

"You're awake."

The voice was familiar, and when Y/n turned his head, he saw her sitting in a chair by the fire. Gahyeon.

Her presence was magnetic, her dark eyes studying him with an intensity that made his skin prickle. She wore a tailored black dress, her posture regal, her expression unreadable.

"You should be dead," she said, her tone matter-of-fact. "Sang-hyun's men don't leave loose ends."

Y/n forced himself to sit up, wincing as pain flared in his leg and shoulder. "Why am I here?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

Gahyeon leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other. "You intrigue me," she said simply.

"That's not an answer," Y/n shot back, his eyes narrowing.

She smirked, amused by his defiance. "You spared my sister."

"Sister?"

"Jung-hwa," Gahyeon clarified, her gaze piercing. "You were sent to kill her, weren't you?"

Y/n didn't respond, but his silence was answer enough.

"I expected you to try," she continued. "But instead, you hesitated. That's not something Sang-hyun's lapdog would do."

"I'm not his lapdog," Y/n said through gritted teeth.

"Not anymore," Gahyeon said, rising from her chair. She walked toward him, her heels clicking against the floor. "But that doesn't explain why you're here, bleeding out in my territory."

"I didn't have a choice," Y/n admitted, his voice low. "Sang-hyun put a bounty on my head."

"And now you're a man with nowhere to go," Gahyeon said, stopping beside his bed. She reached out, tracing a finger along the edge of his jaw. "Except here."

Y/n flinched at her touch, his instincts screaming danger. "What do you want from me?"

Gahyeon smiled, a dangerous glint in her eyes. "I want you to work for me."

Y/n stared at her, disbelief and suspicion swirling in his mind. "Why would I do that?"

"Because I saved your life," she said, her tone turning icy. "And because we have a common enemy."

Sang-hyun.

Y/n's jaw tightened as he thought about the man who had destroyed his life. Gahyeon was dangerous, but she wasn't wrong. If he wanted to take down Sang-hyun, he couldn't do it alone.

"And if I refuse?" Y/n asked.

Gahyeon's smile widened. "Then you die. But I think you're smarter than that."

Y/n closed his eyes, exhaustion and pain weighing on him. He didn't trust her, but for now, he didn't have a choice.

"Fine," he said finally. "I'll work for you."

"Good," Gahyeon said, her voice soft but triumphant. "Welcome to the Delacroix family, Y/n."

Y/n spent the next few days confined to the lavish room in Gahyeon’s mansion. His wounds were healing faster than expected, thanks to the skilled care of her personal medic. Yet, every time he looked at himself in the ornate mirror across the room, he saw the scars Sang-hyun had left behind—marks of a life he wanted to leave but couldn’t escape.

The door to his room opened one morning, revealing Gahyeon. She stepped inside, a commanding presence that instantly filled the space.

“Get up,” she said briskly. “Your recovery time is over.”

Y/n pushed himself to his feet, biting back a groan as his injured leg protested. “What now?” he asked, his voice tinged with suspicion.

She smirked. “Now, you prove that I didn’t make a mistake saving your life.”

Gahyeon led him to an underground training room, its walls lined with weapons of all kinds. A group of her men stood at attention, their expressions wary as they eyed Y/n. He didn’t blame them—he was an outsider, an enemy until recently.

“This is Y/n,” Gahyeon announced, her voice firm. “He’s under my protection now, which makes him one of us. Anyone who has a problem with that can leave.”

Her men exchanged uneasy glances, but none of them moved.

“Good,” she said, her eyes flicking to Y/n. “You’re going to spar with Jae-hyun.”

Jae-hyun, a towering man with a scar running down his cheek, stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. He was clearly the group’s enforcer, and Y/n could tell this wasn’t just a test—it was a warning.

Y/n squared his shoulders, ignoring the throbbing pain in his leg. He didn’t need to win; he just needed to survive.

The fight was brutal. Jae-hyun was stronger, but Y/n was faster, using his agility to evade the worst of the blows. Still, he couldn’t dodge everything. A particularly hard punch sent him sprawling to the ground, blood trickling from his split lip.

“Enough,” Gahyeon’s voice cut through the air like a blade.

Jae-hyun stepped back, his chest heaving, while Y/n struggled to his feet. He wiped the blood from his mouth, meeting Gahyeon’s gaze with a defiant glare.

“You’ve got grit,” she said, a hint of approval in her tone. “But you’ll need more than that to survive in my world.”

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” Y/n shot back, his voice steady despite the pain.

Gahyeon’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile. “Yes, you are.”

Over the next few weeks, Y/n trained relentlessly under Gahyeon’s watchful eye. She pushed him to his limits, forcing him to confront his weaknesses and hone his skills. At first, their interactions were cold and formal, but gradually, something began to shift.

One evening, after a particularly grueling session, Gahyeon handed Y/n a towel and a bottle of water. He accepted them silently, too exhausted to argue.

“You’re improving,” she said, her tone softer than usual.

Y/n glanced at her, surprised. “Was that a compliment?”

“Don’t get used to it,” she replied, though there was a faint smile on her lips.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And yet, here you are,” she countered, her eyes glinting with amusement.

Y/n couldn’t help but smile back, the tension between them easing for the first time.

Their bond deepened during their first mission together. A shipment of weapons bound for the 3 Crows had been intercepted by a third-party gang, and Gahyeon was determined to retrieve it.

The operation was risky, requiring stealth and precision. Y/n and Gahyeon worked side by side, their movements synchronized as they navigated the enemy’s stronghold.

When they were discovered, chaos erupted. Gunfire echoed through the building, and Y/n found himself covering Gahyeon’s back as they fought their way out.

“Stay close!” she shouted, her voice cutting through the noise.

“I’m not going anywhere!” he replied, firing at an approaching thug.

At one point, a gang member managed to sneak up behind Gahyeon, his knife raised. Y/n reacted instinctively, tackling the man to the ground and disarming him.

“Watch yourself,” Y/n said, his tone half-scolding, half-concerned.

“I had it under control,” Gahyeon retorted, though her expression softened as she looked at him. “But… thanks.”

They escaped with the shipment intact, their victory cementing a newfound trust between them.

That night, back at the mansion, Y/n found Gahyeon on the balcony, staring out at the city lights. He joined her, leaning against the railing.

“You’re quiet,” he said.

“Just thinking,” she replied, her voice uncharacteristically subdued.

“About what?”

“About why I do this,” she admitted, her eyes distant. “Why I fight so hard to hold onto power, to protect what’s mine.”

Y/n studied her, seeing for the first time the vulnerability she tried so hard to hide. “Because it’s all you’ve ever known,” he said gently.

She turned to him, her expression guarded. “And what about you? Why do you keep fighting?”

Y/n hesitated, the weight of his past pressing down on him. “Because I don’t know how to stop,” he said finally.

For a moment, they simply looked at each other, the distance between them shrinking. Gahyeon reached out, her hand brushing against his.

“Maybe we can figure it out together,” she said softly.

Y/n’s breath caught, her words stirring something deep inside him. For the first time in years, he felt a flicker of hope.

“Maybe we can,” he agreed.

The Delacroix estate was abuzz with activity, its halls alive with the chatter of operatives preparing for a major operation. Y/n, now firmly entrenched in Gahyeon’s world, was reviewing the mission details with Jung-hwa in the library.

Jung-hwa leaned over the map spread across the table, her dark hair brushing against Y/n’s arm. She was explaining the security patterns of their target—a 3 Crows warehouse—when she suddenly laughed, a soft, melodic sound that made Y/n smile despite himself.

“You’re terrible at this,” Jung-hwa teased, pointing at the notes he had scribbled.

“Hey, it’s not my fault you talk too fast,” Y/n shot back, his grin widening.

Their playful banter was interrupted by the sound of footsteps. Y/n turned to see Gahyeon standing in the doorway, her expression unreadable.

“Jung-hwa,” Gahyeon said coolly. “Shouldn’t you be overseeing the preparations in the armory?”

Jung-hwa straightened, a hint of unease flickering across her face. “I was just—”

“Now,” Gahyeon interrupted, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Jung-hwa glanced at Y/n before nodding and leaving the room, her heels clicking against the marble floor.

Y/n raised an eyebrow at Gahyeon as she walked toward him, her steps measured. “What was that about?” he asked.

“Don’t waste your time on her,” Gahyeon said, her voice sharp. “She’s too soft for this world.”

Y/n frowned, crossing his arms. “She’s your sister.”

“And she’s not your concern,” Gahyeon snapped, her eyes flashing.

Realization dawned on Y/n, and he couldn’t help but smirk. “Are you jealous?”

Gahyeon’s jaw tightened, her composure cracking for a fraction of a second. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You are,” Y/n said, his tone teasing. “You’re jealous.”

She glared at him, her cheeks tinged with the faintest hint of color. “Focus on the mission, Y/n,” she said, turning on her heel and leaving before he could say anything else.

Later that night, Y/n found himself on the training grounds, practicing his aim with a set of throwing knives. The rhythmic thud of metal sinking into wood was oddly soothing, a temporary reprieve from the chaos of his life.

He didn’t notice Gahyeon approaching until she spoke.

“Still awake?”

Y/n turned to see her standing a few feet away, her arms crossed. She looked different in the moonlight—softer, almost vulnerable.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he admitted, gesturing to the knives. “Figured I’d make myself useful.”

Gahyeon stepped closer, her gaze fixed on the target. “Your form’s off,” she said, picking up a knife from the bench. “Let me show you.”

She stood behind him, her hands lightly brushing against his as she adjusted his grip. Y/n froze, acutely aware of how close she was. Her perfume was subtle but intoxicating, and he found himself holding his breath.

“Like this,” she murmured, guiding his arm.

He threw the knife, and it hit the center of the target with a satisfying thud.

“Not bad,” Y/n said, turning to face her. “You’re a pretty good teacher.”

“I’m good at everything,” Gahyeon replied, a sly smile tugging at her lips.

Y/n chuckled, shaking his head. “Modest, too.”

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the air between them shifted. Gahyeon’s gaze softened, and Y/n could see something flicker in her expression—something she quickly masked.

“We should get some rest,” she said abruptly, stepping back.

“Yeah,” Y/n agreed, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had just changed between them.

The mission the next day was a success, but it wasn’t without its complications.

As they regrouped at the estate, Y/n found himself surrounded by members of the Delacroix family, all eager to congratulate him on his role in the operation. One of them, a young woman named Hana, lingered longer than the others.

“You were incredible out there,” Hana said, her admiration clear in her voice.

“Just doing my job,” Y/n replied, though her enthusiasm made him uncomfortable.

Gahyeon entered the room then, her eyes immediately zeroing in on Hana.

“Hana,” Gahyeon said, her tone icy. “Don’t you have reports to file?”

Hana blinked, startled. “I-I was just—”

“Now,” Gahyeon ordered, her glare leaving no room for argument.

Hana scurried away, and Y/n sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You really don’t like anyone talking to me, do you?”

“I don’t like distractions,” Gahyeon retorted, her voice clipped.

Y/n stepped closer, his expression challenging. “Or maybe you don’t like sharing.”

Gahyeon’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t deny it. Instead, she turned and walked away, leaving Y/n to wonder just how deep her feelings for him ran.

The halls of the Delacroix estate hummed with tension. Gahyeon sat at the head of the long mahogany table in the war room, her sharp gaze scanning the reports laid out before her. Y/n stood by her side, arms crossed, his instincts prickling with unease.

"Something doesn't feel right," Y/n said, his voice low.

Gahyeon glanced up at him, her expression unreadable. "What do you mean?"

"There's been too much silence from the 3 Crows," he replied. "Sang-hyun isn't the type to sit idle."

Gahyeon's lips pressed into a thin line. "I've strengthened our defenses. If he tries anything, we'll be ready."

Before Y/n could respond, the door burst open, and one of Gahyeon's trusted lieutenants stumbled in, blood staining his uniform.

"They. they turned on us," he gasped. "Some of our men. they're working for Sang-hyun."

Gahyeon's eyes narrowed, fury sparking within them. "Who?"

Before the man could answer, gunfire erupted outside, echoing through the estate. Y/n grabbed Gahyeon's arm, pulling her to her feet.

"We need to move. Now."

As chaos engulfed the estate, Y/n and Gahyeon fought their way through the corridors. Their enemies were ruthless, attacking with the precision of trained operatives. Y/n's mind raced as he pieced together the betrayal.

"This was planned," Y/n muttered, firing at an approaching enemy. "Sang-hyun's been planting seeds in your ranks for weeks."

"I'll kill him," Gahyeon snarled, her tone venomous.

"We'll kill him," Y/n corrected, his voice firm.

They found Jung-hwa in the west wing, cornered by a group of traitorous guards. Y/ n and Gahyeon dispatched them swiftly, their movements seamless as they worked together.

"Are you okay?" Y/n asked, pulling Jung-hwa to her feet.

"I'm fine," she said, her voice trembling. "But we need to get out of here."

"No," Gahyeon said, her eyes blazing. "We're not running. This ends tonight."

Hours later, under the cover of darkness, Y/n and Gahyeon infiltrated Sang-hyun's stronghold. The once-imposing estate of the 3 Crows now reeked of desperation and greed.

Sang-hyun was asleep in his lavish bedroom, unaware of the storm creeping toward him. Y/n entered first, his footsteps silent as a shadow. Gahyeon followed, her knife glinting in the moonlight.

Y/n stood over Sang-hyun, his heart pounding as memories of his parents' brutal deaths flooded his mind. This was the man who had stolen his childhood, who had twisted his life into a nightmare.

Without hesitation, Y/n pressed the blade to Sang-hyun's throat. The man's eyes snapped open, panic flashing across his face.

"Y/n." Sang-hyun choked, his voice weak.

"This is for my parents," Y/n said, his voice steady, though his eyes burned with fury. "And for hurting Gahyeon."

With one swift motion, he slit Sang-hyun's throat. Blood spilled across the sheets as Sang-hyun gasped for air, his hands clawing at his neck. Y/n held his gaze until the light faded from his eyes, then stepped back, his breathing heavy.

"It's done," he said, turning to Gahyeon.

She nodded, her expression unreadable as she wiped the blood from her knife. "Let's go."

The death of Sang-hyun marked the end of the 3 Crows. Without their leader, the remnants of the organization crumbled, leaving a power vacuum in the underworld.

Y/n stood in the Delacroix estate's main hall, watching as Gahyeon addressed her people. She was a commanding presence, her voice steady and authoritative as she announced the formation of a new family-Evergarden.

"Together, we will rebuild," Gahyeon declared. "We will rise stronger than ever."

The crowd erupted into cheers, but Y/n felt only a deep weariness. He had done what he set out to do-he had avenged his parents and dismantled the 3 Crows. Now, all he wanted was peace.

That evening, Y/n approached Gahyeon in her office. She was seated at her desk, reviewing a stack of documents.

"I'm leaving," he said, his voice firm.

Gahyeon looked up, her eyes narrowing. "What?"

"I've done my part," he continued. "I gave you the power to take down Sang-hyun. Now I want a new life."

Gahyeon rose from her chair, her hands gripping the edge of the desk. "You think you can just walk away?"

"I'm not asking for permission," Y/n said, meeting her gaze.

Her expression darkened, a dangerous glint in her eyes. "You belong to me, Y/n. I won't let you go."

Before he could respond, she stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You've given me everything. Your loyalty, your strength. your heart. And now, you'll give me forever."

Y/n's breath caught as Gahyeon leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear. "You're mine, Y/n. Always."

A week later, the Delacroix family officially merged with the remnants of the 3 Crows, forming Evergarden. Gahyeon declared herself the leader, solidifying her position in the underworld.

In a grand ceremony held in the estate's ballroom, Gahyeon stood beside Y/n, her hand entwined with his. Her smile was triumphant as she announced their marriage, sealing their union and her control over him.

As the crowd applauded, Y/n felt the weight of her obsession pressing down on him. He had thought he could escape, but Gahyeon's love was as inescapable as it was dangerous.

And deep down, he wasn't sure if he wanted to leave.

Evergarden thrived under Gahyeon’s rule. Her ruthless efficiency and unyielding leadership made the organization a dominant force in the underworld. Y/n, now her husband, found himself at the heart of the new empire.

But the power, wealth, and influence came at a cost.

Y/n stood in the grand dining hall, watching as Gahyeon conversed with her lieutenants. She was as commanding as ever, her every word dripping with authority. Yet, whenever her gaze fell on him, it softened, her possessiveness evident in the way her eyes lingered.

“Y/n,” she called, motioning for him to join her.

He approached, his movements slow and deliberate. “What’s the matter?”

Gahyeon’s lips curved into a smile. “Nothing. I just like having you close.”

One of the lieutenants, a young man named Min-joon, chuckled. “Boss, you’re going to spoil him.”

Gahyeon’s smile vanished, her gaze turning icy. “Watch your tongue, Min-joon.”

The room fell silent, the air thick with tension. Y/n placed a hand on her shoulder, a silent gesture to diffuse the situation.

“Relax,” he said, his voice calm. “He’s just joking.”

Gahyeon’s expression softened again, but the warning in her eyes remained. “Careful, Min-joon. You wouldn’t want to upset me.”

Later that night, Y/n found himself alone in the garden, seeking solace among the flowers and moonlight. The estate was a fortress, its walls impenetrable, yet Y/n felt trapped.

He lit a cigarette, the smoke curling into the cool night air. He didn’t hear Gahyeon approach until she spoke.

“You’re avoiding me,” she said, her tone accusing.

Y/n exhaled slowly, not turning to face her. “Just needed some air.”

Gahyeon stepped closer, her presence magnetic yet suffocating. “You don’t need to hide from me, Y/n.”

“I’m not hiding,” he replied, though his voice lacked conviction.

She reached out, her fingers brushing against his arm. “You belong here. With me.”

Y/n turned to her, his gaze searching hers. “Do I? Or am I just another piece in your game?”

Gahyeon’s eyes flared with hurt and anger. “You think I’m using you?”

“I think you don’t know how to let go,” he said, his voice steady.

She stepped back, her jaw tightening. “You’re mine, Y/n. I won’t lose you.”

Her words hung in the air, a chilling reminder of her obsession.

The following weeks were a whirlwind of meetings, missions, and public appearances. Gahyeon ensured that Y/n was always by her side, a constant presence in her life and her plans.

But her possessiveness began to manifest in more overt ways.

One evening, during a gala hosted by Evergarden, Y/n found himself in conversation with Hana, a former member of the Delacroix family. She was friendly, her laughter light as they reminisced about the old days.

Gahyeon watched from across the room, her fingers tightening around the stem of her wine glass. The crystal felt cold against her skin, but it was nothing compared to the icy fury settling in her chest. Her eyes followed Y/n as he laughed softly at something the woman beside him said—a laugh that once belonged to her, or so she had thought. His hand brushed the other woman’s arm, a casual gesture, but Gahyeon’s nails dug into her palm. How dare he?

When Y/n finally returned to her side, his expression was calm, almost indifferent, but Gahyeon’s sharp gaze caught the flicker of guilt in his eyes. She smiled—a tight, practiced curve of her lips that didn’t reach her eyes. “You seemed to enjoy that conversation,” she said, her tone light, almost casual, but there was no mistaking the venom lacing her words.

Y/n hesitated, his shoulders stiffening as he met her gaze. “She’s an old friend,” he replied, his voice steady but cautious. He could sense the storm brewing behind Gahyeon’s composed facade.

Her smile turned colder, sharper. “Don’t forget who you belong to.”

The words sliced through the air like a blade, and Y/n flinched, though he held his ground. “I haven’t forgotten,” he said, his voice firm despite the unease creeping into his chest.

That night, the tension between them crackled like a live wire, heavy and unspoken, until Gahyeon finally broke the silence. She stood in the doorway of their bedroom, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her dark hair falling in loose waves around her face. The dim light cast shadows across her features, highlighting the anger simmering in her eyes.

“You think I don’t notice?” she said, her voice trembling with barely restrained rage. “Every time you talk to another woman, every time you smile at them… do you think I’m blind?”

Y/n sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Gahyeon, you’re overreacting.”

Her eyes flashed, and she stepped closer, her movements deliberate, predatory. “I’m not overreacting!” she snapped, her voice rising. “I’ve given you everything, Y/n. Everything. And you still look at them.”

He stared at her, searching for the right words, but all he could see was the pain etched into her expression—pain masked by anger. “This isn’t love, Gahyeon,” he said quietly. “This is control.”

For a moment, her composure wavered, and the mask slipped. Pain flickered across her face, raw and unmistakable, before she quickly rebuilt the walls around herself. “I love you,” she whispered, her voice breaking. Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “I can’t lose you.”

Y/n’s resolve softened as he stepped closer, his hands reaching out to cradle her face. “You’re not going to lose me,” he said gently. “But you have to trust me.”

Gahyeon looked up at him, her vulnerability laid bare in the depths of her dark eyes. “I do trust you,” she said, though the possessiveness lingering in her gaze betrayed her words.

The space between them crackled with unspoken tension, the air thick with desire and conflict. Gahyeon’s hands slid up his chest, her touch searing through the fabric of his shirt. “Prove it,” she murmured, her voice low and husky. “Prove that you’re mine.”

Y/n’s breath hitched as her fingers traced the line of his jaw, her touch both tender and demanding. He could feel the heat radiating from her body, the way her pulse quickened beneath his fingertips. “Gahyeon…” he started, but she cut him off with a kiss—hard, desperate, and possessive.

Her lips were soft yet unforgiving, claiming him with a ferocity that left no room for doubt. She pressed herself against him, her curves molding to his body as her hands tangled in his hair. Y/n groaned, his resistance crumbling under the weight of her need. His hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer as he kissed her back with equal fervor.

Gahyeon broke the kiss, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps as she looked up at him. “Say it,” she demanded, her voice a sultry whisper. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” Y/n replied without hesitation, his voice rough with desire. The words spilled out before he could stop them, driven by the fire burning in her eyes.

A small, triumphant smile curved her lips as she pushed him backward toward the bed. He sank down onto the mattress, his heart pounding as she climbed onto his lap, straddling him with effortless grace. Her dress pooled around her hips, revealing the smooth expanse of her thighs, and Y/n’s hands instinctively gripped her hips, anchoring himself to her.

Gahyeon leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, “Good boy.” Her breath sent shivers down his spine, and he swallowed hard, his body responding to her dominance with an intensity that surprised him.

She rocked her hips against his, the friction eliciting a low groan from deep within his chest. Her hands moved to the buttons of his shirt, working them open one by one with deliberate slowness. Each brush of her fingers against his skin stoked the flames of his desire, and by the time she pushed the fabric off his shoulders, he was already achingly hard.

Her eyes darkened as she gazed at his exposed chest, her fingers tracing the lines of his muscles with a possessiveness that made his breath catch. “Mine,” she murmured, her voice a sultry purr that sent heat pooling low in his abdomen.

Y/n’s hands moved to the hem of her dress, tugging it upward until it slipped over her head and fell to the floor. She sat back on his lap, clad only in delicate lace that did little to conceal her body. His mouth went dry at the sight of her, her curves illuminated by the soft glow of the lamp beside the bed.

Gahyeon reached behind her, unhooking her bra and letting it fall away. Her breasts spilled into his hands, and he couldn’t resist the urge to lean forward, taking one hardened nipple into his mouth. She moaned, arching into him as his tongue flicked over the sensitive bud.

Her hands gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as she ground against him again, the thin barrier of his pants doing little to muffle the electric sensation coursing through them. “Y/n,” she gasped, her voice tinged with desperation. “I need you.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. With a swift motion, he flipped her onto her back, pinning her beneath him as he kicked off his pants and boxers. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, and he positioned himself at her entrance, the tip of his cock pressing against her slick folds.

“Look at me,” Gahyeon commanded, her voice soft but firm. He obeyed, locking eyes with her as he slowly pushed inside, inch by torturous inch. Her breath hitched, her body stretching to accommodate him, and she bit her lip to stifle a whimper.

When he was fully seated inside her, they paused, savoring the feeling of being joined together. Gahyeon’s nails raked down his back, leaving faint red trails in their wake. “Fuck me,” she whispered, her voice dripping with desire. “Show me who you belong to.”

Y/n growled, gripping her hips as he began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first but quickly building in intensity. Gahyeon’s moans filled the room, mingling with the sound of skin slapping against skin as he drove into her again and again.

Her legs tightened around him, urging him deeper, and she arched her back, crying out as pleasure rocked through her body. “Yes,” she gasped, her voice breaking on the word. “Just like that…”

Y/n’s hips pistoned relentlessly, each stroke bringing them closer to the edge. Gahyeon’s nails dug into his shoulders, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she clung to him. “Don’t stop,” she begged, her voice a desperate plea. “Please, don’t stop.”

He obliged, his pace increasing as his own orgasm loomed dangerously close. Gahyeon’s walls clenched around him, and he knew she was teetering on the brink. “Come for me,” he growled, his voice rough with need.

Her answer was a strangled cry as she shattered, her body convulsing around him as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over her. The sight of her unraveling pushed him over the edge, and with a final thrust, he spilled himself inside her, his release intense and all-consuming.

They collapsed together, their bodies slick with sweat and trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure. Gahyeon’s fingers traced idle patterns on his back, her breathing gradually slowing as she nuzzled against his neck. “Mine,” she murmured sleepily, her voice soft but unwavering.

Y/n didn’t argue. For now, he was content to let her claim him, even if the cost of her love was his freedom. But deep down, a part of him wondered how much longer he could endure the weight of her possession…

[luckykiwiii101]

OK HERE'S SOME ADVICE + SUCCESSFUL STORY ??

The moment I started to be more faithful with the law of assumption was when I finally decided to stop using tumblr or reddit everyday. Even when I was scrolling out of boredom, I still absorbed every piece of information I read unconsciously, which is why I kept doubting my power as the creator.

I only stuck to one method: repetition. I affirmed calmly for days, visualized for less than 5 mins whenever I felt like it, plus there were days when I didn't put much effort (I was confident that in the end, I was going to have it no matter how much time I invested, in other words, "I have it right now whether I can see it or not since imagination is true reality." This helped me stop caring about circumstances and remain patient as I enjoyed what I was given).

Then this happened – I slept without expecting much and woke up in my waiting room!!!!! Which is what I aimed for!!!

At first, I struggled with what I should do to manifest after I stopped using tumblr. I didn't know I had become so dependent on other people's methods and advice.

Throughout my journey, I was left with only my own intuition and the information I had collected for months (WHICH I didn't put to good use when I was using tumblr/reddit, I just kept going back and forth). Due to my dependency on relying on different sources, I felt desperate, but I had no one but myself to assure me I was doing the right thing. I kept assuming I was doing everything as it was meant to be everytime I needed it, without having to check someone else's post about my issues.

You can't fail the loa, you can't do the loa wrong, you just can't. Step back, and realize you're the one assuming it as such. You have full control of your conscious mind, so you're the one to blame. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (srry for the tough love bit)

If you ever feel impatient (which was one of my problems), you have to look at the end goal and realize it's yours! You don't have to feel anything, you have to recognise and know that the reality you're living in is the one you've been looking for! This way, you don't have to look at how much time has passed, knowing that you're gonna have it anyway.

TL;DR: trust yourself folks. It may not be necessary, but it is essential to stay sane imo.

And now that I have access to my WR whenever I want, I will eat every food I always wanted to try/repeat and stop worrying about life. 😝

SUCCESS STORY

XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GRL

THIS IS AMAZING!! I love it!! Your hit the nail on the head with the advice there!!! Manifest on your OWN terms. Nobody can tell you what to do and how to do it. God does what God wants!!!

[elixirfromthestars]

In His Embrace

Pairing: Agent!Bucky Barnes x Journalist!Reader

Summary: As a new day begins and the snow cascades beyond your windows, you know there's no place you'd rather be than in his arms.

Word Count: 1.4k

Warning(s): none. pure fluff.

Prompt/Event: @the-slumberparty december daze -> it's too cold, stay in bed

a/n: This fluffy drabble is my holiday gift to you my beloved Kat @elvenrin ♡♡♡ When reading your history major Bucky, it felt like I was getting a warm embrace from autumn, so I hope this can be a cozy winter hug for you!! ( っ˶´ ˘ `)っ This fic is written as a standalone piece, but I will link below the pairing this fic is based on, if anyone would like to read more! Thank you everyone for reading! ₊˚⊹♡ Likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated!! ♡♡♡

how their love story began ♡ || fluffy winter drabbles masterlist ❆

The wind howls beyond the windows, blowing the snow across the sky in white streaks. A few flurries land upon the glass pane, perching themselves as if looking into the bedroom. Bucky cradles you against his body, your head resting on his chest with the steady rhythm of his heartbeat acting as a lullaby.

Whereas a frigid dawn inhabits the outside, inside on the plush bed, the arms of your beloved and the sheets that envelop your body keep you in a bundle of safety and warmth. Protecting you from the harsh winter and whatever else may ail you. 

What a shame it is you have to get up soon…

There is not one muscle in your body that wishes to move, but tonight is possibly one of the most important nights of your life and you would be lying if you said you weren’t stressing over how the night would go. In and out of a restless slumber as the moon departs for the day and the sun greets you once more. 

For the first time since you moved in together, you and Bucky are hosting a dinner for your friends, his family, and your family. It would be a gathering of at least ten others, not including yourselves, and neither you nor Bucky had ever taken on such a large hosting. Not only that, but you were finally meeting his parents and you wanted—no you needed—so desperately to make a good first impression. 

Everything had to be perfect—it just had to be.

Your limbs thrum with a heavy reluctance as you slowly slide your arms above his, attempting to gently pry them off from around you. However, Bucky has a strong hold on you even in his sleep, so your gentle prying does little to nothing to get him off. 

The last thing you want to do is wake him as he’s had a few hectic weeks at work. His client load went from two high-profile celebrities to seven, ever since he became one of the most successful agents at his talent agency. Thankfully, he’s taken the holidays off and getting some much-needed rest. Hence why finding a way to break free and not disturb his sleep is your main objective.

Since you couldn’t pry him off, you decide to try and slide out of his hold. Wiggling your hips ever so slightly to gradually scoot downwards on the bed. It seems to be working, but as soon as you free yourself he lets out a heavy sigh, causing you to freeze. You slowly tilt your head until you can catch a glimpse of him, relaxing when you notice he’s still fast asleep.

That is until his arms go to wrap themselves around nothing. The warmth of your body missing against his is enough to stir him awake. His eyes groggily blink open and when he sees the space next to him empty, they immediately search for you. When he spots you further down on the bed he frowns, his mind too dozy to register what you were trying to do.

“Hm? C’mere…” Bucky mumbles out, his morning voice gravelly with a gentle edge. He doesn’t let you move further away as he scoops you back into his arms, tucking your head into the crook of his neck and nuzzling his head on top of yours, before promptly going back to sleep. 

You huff out something between an annoyed groan and a soft laugh, realizing he wasn’t going to make this easy for you. As soon as you were back in his arms you found yourself snuggling into his warmth. You couldn’t help it as your body acted on instinct. Whenever he held you, you felt the utmost sense of belonging, almost like you had finally found your place in this world and it was wherever he was. It's a feeling you have lost yourself in from the moment he became yours.

“Bucky, I have to get up,” you whisper against his neck, placing a soft kiss on it. He responds by grumbling out a muffled no. You keep pressing sweet kisses into his skin with every whispered explanation and plea, hoping that would be enough to get him to listen. He doesn’t though, your plan backfiring as he basks in the kisses, even more determined now not to let you leave his side. 

“Sweetheart, I really have to go. There’s an errand I have to run,” your tone is slightly firmer when you notice the kisses are having the opposite outcome you want. At your tone, his eyes fly open, narrowing at you suspiciously, “I thought we agreed to take the holidays off.” You ignore the way his morning voice makes your heart stutter, brushing a few strands of tousled hair from his forehead while you nod, “We did. This isn’t work-related. There’s a list of things I have to go pick up from the store.”

At your explanation, his gaze softens, gently taking your hand from his forehead and placing a tender kiss into your palm, “You don’t need to worry about that. I bought everything already.” His response causes you to frown, unsure if you heard him right. 

“You what? No, I made a list and—”

“I know, darling. I saw the list and went out to get the items yesterday while you were reading in the study. You were so lost in your novel you didn’t notice I left.”

You stare at him with affectionate astonishment, a part of you still has trouble wrapping your head around not having to do everything on your own anymore. Bucky has always been attentive and supportive—even from before you moved in together—acts of service from him were a regular occurrence. Regardless, you sometimes struggle to let go of that control and mindset of doing everything on your own. Years of being independent and living alone—not only as a means of living but also as a way to prove yourself to others—had cost you the habit of relying on anyone when you needed it.

Despite that, Bucky has always been patient with you. Showing you time and time again that you can rely on him—that he is your person and the one who will always be there as a guiding light in the dark.

He smiles softly at your reaction, the ocean in his eyes hazy with exhaustion, and yet glimmering with a profound devotion. He leans forward to capture your lips in a deep kiss that eases your awe and reminds you how much he loves you.

He pulls away, his nose brushing against yours as he whispers, “You deserve rest, my love. You’re not alone anymore, you have me now. Always.” Your eyes drift away from his gaze, your apprehension returning for a brief second, “I know I have you, Bucky. I know that. It’s just…everything needs to be perfect tonight. If you bought everything already then I should get up and—” He silences you with another kiss, one that starts at your lips and then travels all across your face, showering every bit of you with a dose of love until your brain can only focus on him.

“We should get some rest, and later we’ll get up and prepare everything for tonight’s dinner,” he continues to pepper kisses across your face, trailing them down to your neck as he adds, “Everything will be fine. The dinner will be perfect because you’ll be there and I’ll be there and all those who we love and love us will be there too. That’s all we need, darling. We don’t need anything else.” He assures you kindly, his actions and words an effective remedy to your anxiety.

“And here I thought I was the one who had a way with words…” you laugh softly, giving in to his persuasion. A dreamy smile dances on your lips as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and snuggle closer to his body. He lets out a soft chuckle, pulling you in impossibly closer, “What can I say? I’m a man of many talents.” You can hear the grin in his voice, your eyelids growing heavier as the lullaby of his heartbeat returns.

“Sleep, my darling. We’ll figure everything out later. Together,” Bucky presses a tender kiss to your forehead before closing his eyes. You whisper out the quietest echo of the word together, before drifting off to sleep. Your heart is at ease, wrapped in the kind of peace only his embrace can offer—the feeling of home.

[obsessedhoneycomb]

Cool Daddy Russell

George Russell x fem!reader

Summary: While watching your son grow up and supporting his racing career same as his father’s, you need to find balance in your family life. Being pregnant again, with the possibility of your husband retirement (he’s just joking, but you never know), it looks much easier this time.

Warnings: none, just love and pregnancy

A/N: To be honest, I really struggled with how to name this one. Started this between Christmas, when I saw some photos of George from earlier years of his career, and woke up today to finish it. I really love the idea of being pregnant with George, so… Enjoy it!

Please don’t use my writings without my permission! Pictures found on Pinterest.

———

As much as you adored your son, it was really exhausting to attend the races, now F3. Apart from your super successful husband George Russell, who was in his last years of the F1 career (as he liked to say for most of the time), you were the one to be with Alex, your fifteen year old son, at his races. He practically grew on the grid, when you were accompanying George through the seasons, his own desire to start karting grew rapidly, same as his feet out of his shoes.

Now you stood at the sideline, watching the practice session, where your son participated. George promised to make it, to jump from his tight schedule. Alex really wanted his father to be there, because this weekend he had the best chance to win a championship, being only a few points behind his leading teammate.

When you nearly lost a hope about George’s presence, he just appeared next to you with a wide and proud smile, looking over the track for the sign of his son.

“Well, hello, Mr. Mercedes.” You let out an amused chuckle at the nickname you used from the time he won his first F1 championship. His smile grew into a grin, kissing your cheek, while his hand rested on your baby bump.

“How’s our little girl doing?” Whispering into your ear, while he nuzzled his nose into your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo he immensely loved, he still managed to hold his gaze over the track.

“She’s good, but mommy is tired.” You chuckled, enjoying the much needed closeness of his body.

“I know, I’m sorry. I tried to be here yesterday already, but you know how it goes..”

“That’s okay. Alex nearly had a panic attack and was about to lose his mind, at the idea of you not being here.”

You said it so casually, that it made George back off a little to look at you with concern.

“Well, happy to be here.”

The age gap between your kids really didn’t bother you, you were happy to be pregnant again after that long time, because there wasn’t time for parenthood with George’s hectic life. You spent so much time at the sidelines with your son, that idea of having another child hadn’t crossed your mind. You were grateful that your due date was at the end of the F1 season, when your son and husband will be home with you, waiting for arrival of a new addition to your family. What was worrying you more, was that with Alex possible move up to the F2, there would be no one to accompany him on his races as you did to this time.

“You’re worried again. What is it this time?”

George’s voice interrupted your thoughts.

“Just.. who will be with Alex next season? It surely can’t be me.” Your look dropped at your swollen belly.

George fixed his cap, thinking for a few moments, his face having that strange expression he always had, when he hid something from you.

“George?”

He looked at you, then over at the track, when he caught a glimpse of the car of his son’s team. Smiling proudly, he now stood in front of you, his left hand over your shoulder and the right over your belly.

“I wanted to tell you later, but.. I was thinking about it for a long time, I’m practically champion again, but it’s not as it used to be. Through those years I managed to win it for five times, and now I feel that it’s enough. That I want to spend more time with my family, with you. Time fly by so fast and I really don’t remember the last time we had a time for ourselves only. Oh, yeah, I remember, it was that night that resulted in you being heavily pregnant now.”

You let out a soft laugh, his smug smile flashing at you, caressing your belly proudly.

“So… what I’m trying to say is, that I want to retire. And I’ll be there for Alex next season. He’s gonna have the best couch he can get.”

Looking into your eyes, he tried to catch on your reaction. But you were shocked at first and then relieved.

“Finally..” you teased him with playful smile.

“Hey! I’m not that old.” George pouted innocently.

“Being nearly forty is not that old.” You were still making fun of him.

“Well, yeah, I was talking about retiring for past years, but it was just a joke. Now it’s not.”

Placing your hands over his cheeks, you kissed his nose sweetly, taking in his growing facial hair.

“You really plan on to stop shaving your face?”

“I look more cool now. Cool daddy Russell.”

George smirked and you just bursted into laughter.

“You’re surely daddy, but cool…”

“Little miss, you’re enjoying this too much, don’t you?”

“I love to tease you, baby.”

———

Alex stepped out of the car, his frustration clear, he was concerned about his performance next day, he needed to qualify on top positions to win a championship.

“Great job on the track, buddy.” George’s voice interrupted his thoughts, he couldn’t believe that his dad was there.

“Dad.. you’re here.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss your big weekend.”

George hugged him tight, always being proud of him, even though he didn’t score, he was still proud that name Russell was present at the motorsport.

Alex wrapped his arms around him too, nearly losing his emotions.

“But what if I won’t get it? What if I’m not good enough to be a champion?”

George gave him a reassuring pinch on his cheek with smile. Alex was like his carbon copy, but he had your eyes and smile.

“Son.. you were always enough and surely there’s always place for being even better, but don’t underestimate yourself. You’re strong, you have a great mind, you’re determined driver. I believe in you.”

“Thanks, dad. This means so much to me.”

“I’m proud of you already, Alex.”

You were watching them from afar with wide smile, happy to have your little family reunited.

———

With Alex’s F3 championship and George’s F1 championship now secured, you were ready for Christmas but also for the birth of your baby girl.

George’s retirement was wild, everybody on the grid was shocked but understanding. He was enjoying his time with the family, being glued to your side now, when the baby was about to come.

Day before Christmas your water broke and you went into labor, the birth being quick and easy, which was like a gift for you.

Laying on the hospital bed, propped against the pillows, your face being slightly exhausted, you were holding your baby girl against your chest, while she cooed from her sleep. George, sitting beside you, his finger caressing the small soft cheek of the baby, was smiling proudly. The room was quiet, holding the peaceful moment of the new life.

“Well… we named Alex after your best friend. So, what do we have in mind this time?”

You chuckled softly at the memory of naming your firstborn after Alex Albon.

“What about Charlotte?” George smiled, looking at you.

“Mmm… that sounds nice. Charlotte Russell. And who do we honour this time?”

“This name stuck in my mind lately. But some would say that it’s close to Charles Leclerc.” George rolled his eyes annoyed.

“Still not over that year he stole your championship?”

“I will never- hm. Even though you had a hard time birthing our baby, you have energy to tease me.”

You let out a soft laugh, kissing his cheek. “It wasn’t that hard. Quite easy.”

“Yeah. I saw it on your face.”

George scrunched his face in slight frown, his eyes now full of worry.

“I hate to see you in pain. Even though I’m making fun of it later. Because I’m trying to lighten up the situation.”

“I know you, George. I know that you care for me. But I’m good now. Healthy and safe, same as our little girl. I won’t be in this situation again.”

George gave you a mischievous smile. “You sure? With me home now, retired, I’m ready to give you more babies. I kinda like you pregnant.”

You gave him a feigned offended look saying ‘I just gave birth, are you kidding me?!’

He started to laugh, placing a soft kiss to your temple, looking down at their daughter.

“Don’t worry, just kidding. It’s up to you. I’ll be just a donor.”

“George!”

With your voice raised up, and his loud laugh, the baby started to cry again.

[aemondapologistfrfr]

I Just Need You

jace x innocent!f!reader

Summary: You seek comfort from Jacaerys during a storm and he does everything he can to help settle you. 

Warnings: 18+ mention of a glass of wine, swearing, masturbation(m), fingering, nipple play, oral(f), face sitting, p in v, loss of virginity, Jacaerys the Generous 

Authors Note: first time ever writing for jace - i’ll allow a public crucifixion if i butchered this 🤗 anon request! also nothing specific about reader but she does live with them on dragonstone

Word Count: 3.5k 

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It had been storming all day and you had hoped that it would let up before you had to retire to your chambers for the evening. But of course, you had no such luck. Your handmaidens had tried a steaming bath and tea to calm your nerves but to no avail your heart still pounded rapidly with every crash of thunder. 

You tried and tried to convince yourself it was just the dragons below but with every strike of lightning you would jump and pull the covers closer. The breeze from the window has been blowing out your fire and the cold has begun to creep in. Slowly your nerves begin to rise again and the shadows cast by the bolts in the sky send shivers down your spine. 

After an hour of tossing and turning fitfully on your bed, you push the covers off and rise. The stone floors chill your feet and only make your adrenaline spike. Grabbing the candle almost burnt out from your side table, you step into your slippers and walk over to your chamber doors. You pull open the heavy door and peek out and sigh in relief at the empty hall. 

Lightning flashes illuminating the stone walls and send shadows dancing far above your head. You hold tighter to your candle and start in the familiar direction as fast as your feet allow. 

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Jace loves the sound of the rain beating against the stone. Sleep has escaped him, not that he cared because it allowed him to have more time to relax and let his mind wander to what has truly been keeping him up. The dress, a generous term, that you wore to dinner was nothing more than a napkin. You had coo’d and preened about how your handmaidens had worked dutifully to make your vision come to life and he wondered if that vision was to be the temptress of this desolate island. 

When you reached across the table he was sure your breasts were going to spill out and he cleared his throat, standing to reach the wine for you. When you looked up at him with your sweet smile he felt his trousers begin to tighten as he filled your cup. Gods and the way you squeezed his arm and let your hand linger there sent his head spiraling. Regardless that the touch was innocent or not it still left him wishing your hands were elsewhere. This line of thinking is the exact reason he’s spread out on his bed with his cock in his fist and his eyes screwed shut. 

His grip is light and teasing as he envisions you looking at him with a tilted head and a furrowed brow, asking if you’re doing it right. His stomach tightens when he swipes against his tip imagining it’s your lips placing a soft kiss on it. “Fuck, just like that.” the breathy words leave his mouth as he jerks his hips up into his hand. His grip tightens when he pictures you wrapping your warm mouth around his cock. “You’re doing-“ there’s a quick succession of knocks at his door. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, grabbing his sheets as the door starts to open. “Give me a mo-

“I’m sorry.” you shut the door behind you and pad over to his bed. Jace groans, shoving a pillow over his cock as you set the candle on his table. 

“What’s wrong?” he tries to control his breathing. He looks over the length of you and wishes he didn’t. Your nipples are poking through your flimsy nightdress and the hem barely reaches past your small clothes. “Are you okay?” his eyes make it back up to your face and he looks at the pout gracing your lips. 

“The fire went out in my room.” you chew your lip. 

“Why didn’t you call your handmaidens?” he doesn’t mean for his voice to sound so clipped but the feel of his cock pressing against his pillow is less than desirable right now. 

“I’m cold.” you whine wrapping your arms around you. He swallows knowing you’re not doing it intentionally but you're pushing your breasts out further and he has to look away. 

“Have your furs escaped you as well?” he looks out his window at the storm still waging on.

“I’m scared of the storm.” your voice barely a whisper. “Jace please,” you push your bottom lip out and he slowly turns back towards you. “Please.” he sighs and pats the empty space next to him. 

“Come on then.” he gasps as you pull the sheets back. “Hold on.” he fists the sheets still covering himself, groaning at the pillow sliding against his cock.

“You always let me under the covers.” you whine pulling on the sheet again. 

“Yeah but- I-“ he mentally berates himself at this situation. He sighs, meeting your pleading eyes once more. “I’m not wearing anything. Just go sit on the couch and I’ll find some pants.” he nods at you. 

“If you prefer to sleep in the nude I can too.” you offer him a soft smile and start to pull up your nightdress. 

“No, no. Wait. That’s not-“ the thin piece of fabric is pooled on the ground before he can finish his sentence. What the fuck is going on? Jace's head spins as he looks at your bare chest and watches you grab for your small clothes next. “Fuck, stop.” he sits up and stops your hand and he groans as the sheet and pillow fall away from him. 

“Did I do something wrong?” your face deflates and he wants to jump out his window at the expression. 

“You’ve done nothing wrong.” he cups your face. “I promise.” he nods. “I’m going to go get a pair of pants and you’re going to put your nightdress back on and we’ll lay down. Okay?” he searches your eyes. 

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” you blink up at him. 

“Why would I be uncomfortable?” he furrows his brows. 

“Cause this looks like it hurts.” you start to reach for his cock. “It’s red and looks like it’s crying.” he grabs your wrist before you can grab him and looks at you with wide eyes. He’s rendered speechless as he blinks at you trying to form a sentence. “Does it?” you tilt your head and start to move your other hand towards it which he stops once more. 

“It does. A bit but it’s not your fault.” not intentionally anyways. “I don’t..” he shakes his head, still trying to find the words. “Fuck it.” he mutters under his breath. “Get in bed and I’ll go get my extra furs.” he watches a smile start to form on your face as he releases your wrists. 

“Thank you.” you pull him into a hug and he freezes. “You’re so warm.” you hold him closer, burying your head in his neck. “Maybe I don’t need furs. I just need you.” your soft words go straight to his cock. 

“I’ll be right back.” he starts to pull away. 

“No.” you hold him closer and start to crawl onto the bed. 

“You’ve abandoned your furs and nightdress for a sheet?” he holds your hips to stop you from sitting in his lap. 

“I’ve abandoned them for you, Jacaerys.” your hand’s make their way to his curls. “For your warmth and embrace. You always hold me when it storms. Why is tonight so different?” you try to scoot closer and he groans feeling your chest press against his.

“Cause my cock is out.” you let out a whine at his words. 

“If it hurts so bad let me make it feel better.” before he processes your words you have your fingers wrapped around his shaft. 

“Gods.” he groans, wrapping his hand around yours. 

“I’m sorry,” you gasp, pulling back. “Did I hurt you?” you search his face. 

“Quite the opposite.” he lets out a breathy chuckle. 

“So you want me to touch your cock?” you tilt your head. 

“I mean yes but- 

“Tell me how.” you wrap your fingers back around him. “I want to help you.” you pump your hand once. Jace's head is soaring trying to figure out if this is real or the best dream he’s ever had. When your thumb brushes against his leaking slit he decides he doesn’t care and stops your hand once more. 

“Let’s lay back.” you nod and follow him up to his pillows before curling against his side. You bring your hand back to his cock and his fingers wrap around yours. “Like you were doing before. You can go quick or slow.” his stomach tightens as you both pump him. “You can tighten your grip.” he gets out between his teeth as you follow his instruction. 

“What about the part that’s crying?” you look up at him as you swipe your thumb against it. 

“Fuck,” his hips jerk up. “You can do that.” he nods. 

“Okay. Let go. I want to try on my own.” he removes his hand and you both look down and watch your hand stroke against him. You try different speeds making sure to swipe at his crying tip every once in a while and your head snaps up when a soft sound comes from his lips. “Am I doing it right?” you chew your lip. 

“Yes. Gods, yes,” he pants and you watch his stomach flex as you stroke him faster. “Fuck just like that.” he tilts your head up to him. “Can I kiss you?” his hips jerk helplessly up into your hand. The second you nod he’s pressing his lips to yours. 

You lean into him more and he brings a hand up to one of your breasts, pulling a gasp from you. “Is this okay?” he mumbles onto your lips and your quick nod has him kneading against you with more fervor. You bring your other hand down to swipe against his tip while you stroke him quickly. Jace pulls back from your mouth gasping as you continue your movements. 

“Oh,” you look down as his cock starts to cry more. “Is this-

“Yes this is good. So good, fuck,” he curses lowly as his pleasure washes through him. “Okay, you can slow down.” his voice breaks as you continue with your pace. “Please, I-“ he whimpers and feels his legs start to shake as his pleasure still lands against his stomach. He grabs onto your hands and pries them off of him. 

“I’ll get a cloth to clean you up.” you hum and go to sit up. 

“No,” Jace shakes his head. “We can just use..” he looks around not wanting you to leave his bed anytime soon. 

“Mm, we can use my small clothes.” you nod quickly and scoot back to pull them down. He catches a glimpse of your slit and he feels his cock twitch. “Oh,” you look at your small clothes. “It looks like my cunny is crying too?” you look up at him and take in his parted lips. 

“Why would your cunny be crying?” Jace chuckles watching your cheeks flush. 

“I don’t know. It felt warm when I was touching you. Now it feels kinda sticky.” he looks down and sees you rubbing your thighs together. 

“I can,” he clears his throat. “I can help if you want.” you nod at him with a small smile. “Come lay down.” he helps you lean back against his pillows. 

Jace presses his lips to yours softly before licking along your bottom lip. He slowly presses his tongue into your mouth and you gasp holding him closer. As he’s occupying your mouth his fingers roll one of your nipples earning him a soft whimper from you. He brushes his thumb against the hardened peak while you writhe beneath him. His hand travels down your body and he lets one of his fingers ghost up the side of your slit. 

“Jacaerys,” you whine, spreading your legs wider for him. He dips his finger into your wetness and slides it up to your slick bud and you jolt looking up at him. “Mm yes,” you gasp, holding on to his arm as he slowly circles around your bud. He leans down and wraps his lips around one of your nipples and you whine. 

He chuckles as he takes the hardened bud between his teeth and feels more pleasure seep out of you. One of his fingers trails down and slides along your entrance and he groans as he feels it fluttering around nothing. His thumb rubs quickly at your bud as he teases your core all the while his tongue is lashing against your chest. 

“Jace, I don’t know, I-” you whimper arching off the bed when he speeds his fingers up. “Something- I, Jacaerys.” you cry as your pleasure slams through you. 

“How did that feel?” he kisses back up your chest to your mouth. 

“Can you do that again?” you whine into his mouth. “I’ll help you with your cock too. Please, please.” you grab his hardened length once more. 

“I can take care of myself.” he chuckles, removing your hand. “We can try something else.” he leans back to search your face. 

“Yeah, anything.” you nod, chewing your lip. You watch him lay back on the bed and he starts to pull you over. “What do you want me to do?” you tilt your head looking down at him. 

“I want you to sit on my face so I can kiss your cunny.” he chuckles watching your eyes widen. 

“Jace.” he chuckles at your scandalized tone. 

“If you don’t like it we can do something else.” he rubs his thumb into your hip. His chest swells as you start to straddle his head and he places his hands on your hips leading you down to his waiting mouth. He licks up your center and you shutter above him. “Is that okay?” he looks up at your face. 

“Yes.” you pant nodding your head. He repeats the action and listens to your soft whimpers. He pulls your hips down and presses his tongue into your center. “Mm, Jace, I-“ you gasp as your legs start to shake. He slowly starts to rock you against his mouth and broken moans fall from your mouth. 

The sounds you're making are going straight to Jaces cock. He takes one of his hands from your hips and brings it down to his leaking cock. His hips jerk into his hand and he groans into you as you slowly start to rock against his face. The whine that comes from you when he encases your bud only spurs him on more. His tongue flicks against you quickly and your body goes taut. 

“Jacaerys, I- please, Gods please,” you cry out as your pleasure washes through you. 

He continues to lash his tongue faster and your whines and gasps become more high pitched. You’re pleading above him and he tightens his grip on his cock wishing it was your crying cunny. He groans when your legs tighten around his head as your pleasure starts to seep out of you. 

“Jace please, I- It’s,” a small scream comes from you and your eyes roll back as your body is pushed over the edge. He pulls back as your pleasure coats his face and his shoots across his stomach. He slides his tongue against your slit once more and your hand tangles in his hair. 

“Okay, okay.” he chuckles, rubbing his hands up your back. “You doing okay up there?” his fingers trace down your spine. 

“I wanna lay down.” you loosen your fingers in his hair. 

“Then come lay down with me.” he starts to lift you off his mouth. “How are you feeling?” you curl against him and he pulls the covers over the both of you. 

“Good.” you press your lips to his chest. “Tired.” you look up at him and he scoots you up to press his lips to yours. “But I just wanna keep kissing you.” you start to crawl on top of him. 

“We should get some sleep.” he chuckles, digging his fingers into your waist. 

“We will.” you press your chest against his. “Later.” he groans and wraps his arms around your back. He lets his hand slide down to your ass and squeeze. “Jace,” you gasp, pressing against his cock. 

“Fuck.” he digs his fingers into you. “I think we-

“Oh,” you gasp as you rock your hips and feel him slide through your wetness. You press your lips against his and continue your movements as his fingers try to still you. “I like this.” you bury your hands in his hair. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” he kisses down your neck. “We should go to bed.” he mumbles, loosening his grip and letting you rock against him again. 

“I want more.” you whine rubbing yourself on his cock. “Jace please,” you softly plead and he lifts your hips up trailing his hand between your thighs. 

“Let me know if it’s too much okay?” you nod, burying your head in his neck. He circles his finger around your entrance before slowly pushing it in. 

“Mm,” you whimper and his breathing deepens listening to your soft noises. “Jacaerys,” your voice cracks when his thumb brushes against your bud. 

“How does it feel?” he whispers, pressing his lips to the side of your head. He listens to your small gasps and rubs his other hand on your back. “Tell me.” he coaxes, pumping his finger faster and your legs start to shake. 

“Good,” you whine. “More.” you plead and you gasp feeling a second finger pushing at your entrance. “Yes, Jace,” you moan at the stretch of the second finger and push your hips down onto his hand. 

“Your cunny feels so good.” he chuckles, starting to move his fingers faster. Your gasps become higher pitched and he smirks hearing your pleasure louder than the storm outside. 

“I want your cock.” you lift up from his neck and take in his flushed face. He pushes his fingers faster and watches your eyes close as the most ethereal sound leaves your lips “Please.” your head falls and he feels you pulse around his fingers. 

“Are you satisfied now?” he smirks as you collapse against his chest with your cunny still fluttering around his fingers.

“More.” you plead breathlessly, kissing across his chest. “Please.” you whine when his hips jerk up. 

“You’re sure?” he rolls your hips into his. 

“Yes.” you nod your head. “Please.” you whine letting him lift your hips, he grabs his cock and slides it up your slit. “Ja- mm,” he slowly presses his tip in, groaning at the way your cunny envelops him. 

“Are you okay?” he rubs your back and you nod your head. “You feel so good.” he pushes another inch in while listening to your whimpers. You softly press your hips down and whine at the stretch. 

“Jacaerys,” you whine and he holds his arm around you tighter as he starts to press into you again as you kiss across his chest. He pushes the rest of the way inside lowly cursing when your walls tighten around him. “Feels so full.” you whisper. 

“Let me know when I can move.” his breath catches when you roll your hips. “Gods,” his fingers dig into you. He slowly lifts your hips and slides you back down watching your face twist with pleasure. 

“Yes.” you shake in his arms as he starts a slow pace. 

He pumps into you listening as more whimpers spill from your mouth as you slide against his chest. He’s trying his hardest to hold off on his pleasure but the feel of you squeezing him and the sounds you make are sending him closer to the edge. You start to push your hips down to meet his and he starts to hammer up into you. 

“Jace, I,” you claw into his chest. “I’m, please, Jacaer-“ you let out a small sob as your pleasure rips through you. 

“Fuck,” he groans slamming up into once more before he spills inside of you. You’re fully collapsed on top of him as his hips still softly jerk up into you. Small whimpers come from you as he holds you closely and pets your hair. “Are you ready to go to sleep now?” he hums, lifting you off his cock. 

You nod your head and he pulls the blankets over you before wrapping his arms around your back, letting you sleep on his chest. He presses his lips against your forehead and rubs your back until he hears your even breathing when sleep takes over. 

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masterlist 🔌

noooooo dont let me fall for jace rn

taglist ✍️

@ka1afbr @ninihrtss @daintylittlesunflower @primroseluna @alexxavicry @misspendragonsworld @papichulo120627 @ashovertheriver @gabriella-aesthetic @moonymoo1 @faenyra @uwuuness @lizzylovebooks280501 @nostalgiagoth03 @multilover19 @summer-and-sunflowers @eternalwinters

[catchastarorten]

—More than anything.

Pairing: Cho Sang-woo x lover!fem!reader

Summary: You had supported him through everything, but when you fell sick, he couldn't save you because of debt, so he participated in the games. The blood, the violence, it was all worth it because it was all for you, but he still couldn’t save you, even after winning.

Warnings: angst, illness, death, grief/loss, mentions of violence, guilt/sacrifice, emotional distress, Sang-woo won the games in this au, english isn't my first language, mistakes should be present, sorry!

Word count: ~ 1.9k

The first time you met Sang-woo, it was in the bustling hallways of Seoul National University, your books pressed against your chest as he nearly toppled over you in his haste. Apologies poured out of him, flustered but composed, but it was the soft smile that followed that made you pause. You didn’t know it then, but that clumsy encounter would change both of your lives forever.

From that moment, he had become everything to you. And soon enough, you realized you were everything to him too. Sang-woo was the kind of man who always seemed in control of himself. But with you, that cool demeanor softened. He would laugh more, touch your hand absentmindedly, watch you as if you were the only thing in the world worth looking at.

You supported each other through the tough years at university. His mind was brilliant—quick, sharp, and endlessly determined. It wasn’t hard to see why he was the pride of his family, the hope of his mother. He was going to do great things, you always believed that, and you reminded him every chance you got.

Sang-woo always spoke of a future where he’d be successful, where his mother would never have to work a day in her life again. And somewhere in that future—he said with a tentative smile—was you.

Years passed, and the challenges of adulthood crept in. Sang-woo’s ambitions, once so pure and noble, became entangled in desperation as he fell into debt. It started small—a few bad investments, a loan here and there, promises that he’d make it all back soon. But soon, the debts piled into something worse, a mess that loomed over both of your lives.

He had so much promise, so much potential, and you wanted to see him succeed. So when he started to falter—when the world wasn’t as kind, when the debts began to gather up, and his once-unshakable confidence began to fracture—you did what you thought any partner would do. You helped him.

You saw the way the guilt ate away at him. He tried to hide it, but you knew him too well.

“I’ll pay off this part for now,” you’d told him gently, holding the bank statement in your hand. He had stared at you, his expression tight, his hands gripping the edge of the table so hard his knuckles turned white.

“No,” he had said firmly. “You’ve done enough. I should be the one taking care of you, not the other way around.”

But you didn’t care about that. You knew he felt ashamed, that his pride was bleeding, but you loved him too much to let him drown. “Sang-woo,” you whispered, reaching out to place your hand over his. “I’m doing this because I want to. Because I believe in you.”

He looked at you like you were his lifeline, the only light in his darkening world. He kissed your hand and said nothing more, but no matter how much you reassured him, the guilt lingered. He began to withdraw, the weight of his mistakes crushed him.

Then, as if the universe wasn’t cruel enough, you fell ill. It started with fatigue and a persistent ache in your chest. You brushed it off at first, telling yourself that it was just stress, but when the symptoms worsened, you finally went to the hospital.

The diagnosis was a gut punch. The doctors spoke in clinical terms, but all Sang-woo heard at the moment was that it was serious. You needed treatment, the treatment was possible, but expensive.

The hospital bills mounted quickly. You had always lived sparingly, but this was different. The treatment you needed was far beyond what either of you could afford, especially with Sang-woo already drowning in debt. You had tried to remain strong, tried to reassure him even when your body weakened and the days became harder to endure.

But Sang-woo wasn’t strong. At least not in the way you were. He didn't want to put up the pretense of having a "perfect" reputation anymore, he just wanted you.

One night, as you lay in your hospital bed, pale and shivering despite the blankets covering you, he dropped to his knees beside you. He gripped your hand so tightly it hurt, his head bowed, his shoulders shaking.

“I’ll get the money,” he said, his voice trembling with determination. “I’ll find a way. I promise.”

You looked at him then, really looked at him, and for the first time, you saw the man you loved falling apart. His face was gaunt, his eyes bloodshot, guilt and desperation consuming him.

“Sang-woo,” you whispered, your heart breaking for him. For both of you. “I’ll be okay... don’t do anything reckless.”

But he shook his head, his jaw set in that stubborn way you’d come to know so well. He pressed his lips to your forehead, a lingering, desperate kiss.

“I’ll come back,” he said. “With the money. Just hold on for me.”

You wanted to believe him, but as you watched him walk away, a part of you knew that he was heading down a dangerous path.

At first, you tried to think light. You thought he had simply left to clear his head. Maybe he was meeting someone to talk about loans or some other last-ditch effort to save you. But then the days turned into weeks, and Sang-woo didn’t return.

You tried calling him, but his phone went unanswered. You asked the nurses, his mother, even some of his old university friends, but no one had seen him. You didn’t know whether to be angry, scared, or heartbroken. All you knew was that he wasn’t here, and you were running out of time.

The nurses came and went, offering kind smiles and gentle reassurances, but it wasn’t enough. What you needed—what you wanted—was him, by your side.

You missed his voice, his laugh, the way he’d hold your hand and promise you that everything would be okay. You told yourself that he was out there fighting for you, but as the days stretched on, doubt began to creep in.

In your quieter moments, you wondered if he’d given up on you. If the burden had become too much and he just left without a trace. But deep down, you knew Sang-woo. You knew how much he loved you, how determined he could be. He’d find a way back to you. He had to.

In your final days, you thought about him often. You tried to convince yourself that he had a plan, that he would come rushing through the hospital doors at any moment with that look on his face, telling you everything was going to be okay, that you could heal properly now. But he didn’t.

Instead, you were left with an empty chair by your bedside, your heart aching with the absence of the man you loved more than anything in the world.

On the last night, you couldn’t fight the tears anymore. You whispered into the quiet room—“I just wish you were here.” Your voice cracked, and you closed your eyes, letting the exhaustion finally take over. You dreamed of him one last time—of the way he smiled when you first met, of his hand in yours, of the warmth that had once filled your life.

What you didn’t know—what you couldn’t know—was what Sang-woo was enduring.

He had entered the games through a salesman with a suitcase and a card with a number on the back. The games were a deadly competition where the stakes were higher than anything he’d ever faced. Life and death were decided in brutal, messed up versions of childhood games.

At first, he told himself he was doing it for you, for the money that could save your life. But as the games progressed, as blood stained his hands and the faces of those he’d sacrificed haunted his dreams, the lines began to blur.

How much of himself was he willing to lose to save you?

Every decision, every betrayal he made, weighed on him. He thought of you constantly, your smile a light in the darkness. When he felt the weight of his actions crushing him, he clung to the hope that he could still save you. That he could win, come back to you, and make everything right, no matter how exhausted he was, no matter how much pain he had to endure, it was all for you. Because how could he call himself a man—your man—if he couldn't even keep you by his side? If he couldn't even get the money to save you and have you in his arms again, healthy and full of life?

When Sang-woo finally emerged from the games, clutching the blood money that was counted from each of the lifeless bodies of the other players, he felt hollow. His actions, the lives he’d taken, the people he’d betrayed—all of it threatened to suffocate him. But he pushed it aside. None of it mattered now. All that mattered was you.

He rushed to the hospital, his heart pounding in his chest. He imagined the look on your face when he walked through the door, how you’d smile and tell him that he’d always been your hero. And for the first time since the games, he smiled. He smiled.

But when he reached your room, he froze, and everything inside him seemed to shatter.

You were still, too still. Your chest didn't rise or fall, your lips were pale, and your eyes—those eyes he had loved so much—were closed forever.

The nurse had pity in her eyes as she approached him. "I'm sorry... she passed away a few hours prior. We... we tried calling you, but..."

“No,” he choked out, he staggered to your bedside, falling to his knees onto the mattress of the bed, his hands reaching for you. “No, no, no… please, no…”

He pulled you into his arms, cradling your lifeless body as tears streamed down his face. “Wake up,” he begged, his voice breaking. “Please, wake up. I have the money now. I did it. I got it for you. You can get better now. Please, just… open your eyes.”

But you didn't. You couldn't.

“I got the money,” he whispered, tears falling from his eyes. “I have it. We can pay for your treatment now. You’ll be okay. You’ll be okay…”

Sang-woo's hand trembled as he cupped your face. Your skin was cold to the touch, a stark contrast to the warmth he remembered. He pressed his forehead to yours, the card that contained all the prize money laid forgotten on the floor, a cruel reminder of what he had to sacrifice to save you—of the blood, the death, and the lives he had destroyed in those games. He had told himself it was all for you, that he could endure anything if it meant seeing you smile again. But now, as he held your cold body in his arms, he realized it had all been for nothing.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’m so, so sorry. I should’ve been here. I should’ve stayed with you. I thought… I thought I could save you.”

He had done everything he could to save you, but in the end, it wasn’t enough. And now, he was left with nothing, because you had been his everything.

[tuesdaykiss]

“touching toes”

rafe cameron social media au

“he’s over more and more, had to give him a whole drawer. to be honest, kinda like seeing his trainers by the door.” — olivia dean, ‘touching toes’.

synopsis: after finishing her fashion studies at college in nyc, y/n moves to outerbanks to live with her grandparents. she worries about the loneliness that comes with being in a new place, knowing only her cousin topper and other relatives… that is until she is acquainted with a certain cameron.

part — 19 | 20 | 21

masterlist

“it’s not that complicated, though is it?” sarah pushed on, “i mean, you like him, don’t you?”

your head snapped to look at her, completely taken aback: was it that obvious? her face filled with curiosity and a glint of mischief as she ushered you to answer.

“i… i think so,” your voice barely above a whisper as you finally admitted it aloud. saying it made it feel more real causing heat to rise in your cheeks.

“oh my god,” her tone equally filled with shock and delight, “you like him!”

realisation hit you, your best friend was smart… too smart. she didn’t actually know if you liked her brother, but in stating her assumption as fact she had managed to encourage a confession from you.

“don’t make it a big deal!” you said quickly, as she clamped her mouth shut with her palm, a grin poking through, “it already feels complicated enough.”

sarah laughed, sitting up, “how is it complicated? i mean you’re into him… rafe’s into you. seems pretty straightforward to me.”

“rafe’s into me?” you echoed. of course, he’d confessed it to you earlier, but you were a strong believer in actions speak louder than words. hearing it aloud, from someone else, ignited butterflies in your stomach.

“he doesn’t just post anyone’s arse,” sarah burst out laughing as you took a pillow from behind you, swatting her with it, “okay, okay! i’m joking, i just mean he seems different around you, i’ve noticed it.”

you bit your lip, nodding slightly, “it’s just new, and messy, and we’re still figuring it out…”

there was a silent pause between you both, allowing your thoughts to simmer, “i’m sorry… for lying about it. when you asked me earlier, i said there was nothing going on—”

“hey, you don’t owe me anything,” she smiled, holding your cheek, “it’s a weird situation, i get it. if it makes you happy, i’ll support you… even if it is with my brother.”

her words helped relieve the weight building in your chest, “thank you.”

“just promise me,” sarah started, her tone more serious suddenly, “you tell me if he screws this up. immediately.” a chuckle erupted from you, smiling as she continued, “i’m serious, y/n. if he hurts you, i will absolutely kick his ass.”

“deal,” the pair of you shook hands, cementing the ‘deal’, an immense feeling of gratitude settled between you.

“good,” she returned to lying back on the bed, pulling the blanket over herself. “now, go to sleep. i need my best friend looking fresh and fabulous at my show, tomorrow.”

“love you, sarah,” you mumbled, as you settled back in the covers and turned on your side.

“love you too.”

what a success: you’d told your best friend about your antics with her brother, and she didn’t threaten to saw your head off… you highly doubted you’d have the same outcome when it came to your cousin, but that was a problem for another day.

johnbr

liked by yourusername, sarahcameron and 52 others

johnbr wishing my darling @/sarahcameron immense good luck for today, you will smash it! ❤️

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sarahcameron i love you ❤️

heywardpope do us pogues proud!

itscleo she’ll smash it, no doubt

jjmaybank sarah putting the pogues on the MAP

the next morning, soft sunlight filtered through the curtains of the hotel room, casting a warm glow in the scattered clothes and open suitcases from the whirlwind of sarah’s preparation. you were sitting on the edge of the bed, sipping coffee, while sarah hummed to herself, pacing back and forth as she readied herself for the fashion show.

a knock at the door pulled both of you from your respective tasks, sarah glanced at you, raising an eyebrow, “room service?”

you shook your head. “i didn’t order anything.”

“can you get it?” she shrugged, returning to what she had been doing.

you set your coffee down and crossed the room, opening the door to reveal rafe. he was dressed casually, his hair tousled like he’d just rolled out of bed. he gave you a crooked grin as his eyes swept over you.

“morning,” he said, his voice low and teasing, “miss me?”

you smiled, but before you could respond, sarah’s voice cut through the room, “who is it?”

you hesitated for a moment, stepping aside to let rafe in. he walked in casually, but the moment sarah saw him, her eyes narrowed.

“of course,” she muttered under her breath, crossing her arms as she glared at him. “you couldn’t even wait until after the show, could you?”

you watched as rafe glanced between you and sarah, clearly confused by her sudden hostility.

you sighed, stepping closer to him. “she knows,” you said softly, you voice low enough that sarah wouldn’t overhear as she continued getting ready.

his eyes widened slightly, “knows? about us?”

“yeah,” you admitted, biting your lip, “i told her last night. she kind of figured it out after… well, after the post.”

rafe groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “great,” he muttered, “and how mad is she?”

“not that mad,” sarah cut in, clearly eavesdropping on the conversation. she stepped closer, her arms remained crossed but her expression was softer now. “just annoyed that you couldn’t keep it under wraps for, like, five minutes. you do realise your ‘fan girls’ are already sniffing around about this, right?”

rafe shrugged, leaning against the wall of the hotel room. “it’s not like i planned it, sarah. i just posted a silly picture. i didn’t think it’d turn into this big thing.”

“of course you didn’t,” sarah said, rolling her eyes, “but you’re not exactly known for thinking things through, are you?”

“hey!” he protested, but his tone was light. he glanced at you, as you watched the siblings bicker in front of you, his lips twitching into a smirk, “well, at least she didn’t threaten to kill me.”

sarah sighed dramatically. “don’t tempt me,” but her lips quirked into a small smile, her irritation fading, “look, i don’t care what’s going on between you two as long as you don’t mess it up. and rafe? if you hurt her, i swear to god —“

“i know,” he interrupted, holding his hands up in surrender, “you’ve got a whole speech ready, i’m sure.”

“damn right i do,” sarah muttered, before turning back to her mirror, effectively ending the conversation.

rafe took the opportunity to step closer to you, you back pressed up against his chest as his large bicep covered the front of your torso, pulling you close. “so… she’s cool with it?” he questioned, in between the kisses he was placing down your neck.

you nodded, feeling the warmth of his touch, as you turned to look at him.

small smiles painted the faces of you both, as rafe leaned in. your heart skipped a beat, and you felt all your anxieties about the situation melt away.

“go and get ready,” you started, attempting to pull out of his grasp — it was no use — as you giggled, “and i’ll see you at the show, yeah? save you a seat.”

your story

rafecam

liked by yourusername, sarahfan101 and 62,081 others

rafecam thanks 4 dressing me @/loewe

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loewe our pleasure ❤️

yourusername bro looking fine asf

sarahfan101 bro? 🤔

user3 she ain’t fooling no one

ilovesarah they're just friends!

user my MANNNNNNNN

user2 WOOF WOOF

boykelce lookin good bro 😎

sarahupdates

liked by user, sarahfan101 and 48,231 others

sarahupdates rafe and y/n heading to the loewe show after party!

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user that should be ME!

sarahfan101 i think they did it but i just can’t prove it

user2 why is she always there!

user3 fr go away

ilovesarah it’s so cute that sarah has such supportive people around her ❤️

user2 she’s no real friend she’s just there to get with rafe

a/n: got this written with an hour to spare, we’re almost done with the LA segment so we can go back to obx 😜

thinking this will be about 30 chapters total?

i already have ideas of what i want to write next - i’ll be more planned out next time, this one was just a test… i’m going with the flow

taglist: @my-name-is-baby @yesshewrites1 @urbrunettebombshell @leather-n-velvet @fruitcakerafe @littlefreak-liz @wdwbts101 @akobx @lossfairy @marleymarleymarleymarley @jjmaybankmylovee @mbella607 @scream4mami @mrsdrewstarkeyy @honeyluvsatj

[marie-swriting]

Here For You - Emily Prentiss

Masterlist

Summary : Emily claims she doing fine after everything she's been through but you know the truth and you let her know you're here for her.

Warnings : based on 7x12, mention of Doyle and Emily dying, Emily struggling, angst, hurt/comfort.

Word count : 1.2k

French version

Song inspiration : Let Me by Jade LeMac

Comfortably in Morpheus’ arms, you turn around and unconsciously start searching for Emily’s arms without any success. With difficulty, you open one eye and find an empty spot next to you, lightly illuminated by the corridor light. Not knowing where your girlfriend is, you quickly get out of bed. Since she came back from the dead, Emily acts differently which is understandable, but it also means you’re even more stressed than before. Emily has always been secretive, now it’s just worse. You can’t decipher her anymore and you fear the worst. You trot around, following the light and you find Emily in the kitchen, her back facing you. You hear sniffing as soon as you call her name.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.” Emily says, faking a smile.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I was just thirsty.”

“Did you have another nightmare?” you ask her, worried.

“No, it’s been two weeks since my last one as you know.”

“You know, you shouldn’t feel ashamed if you still have some, especially after what you’ve been through.”

“Please, don’t start,” she sharply retorts. “I’m already seeing my therapist tomorrow, it’s enough… Sorry, I didn’t mean to be harsh.” She then adds with a softer tone.

“It’s okay.”

“I was just thirsty.” Emily affirms, putting her glass in the sink though you can see right through her. “I’m fine, I swear. Let’s go to sleep.”

Without replying, you take her hand she’s holding out and you walk back to your shared room. As you lay in bed, Emily gets closer to you and puts her head on your chest. It’s a habit she has had since she came back. Emily needs to hear your heartbeats to make sure she isn’t alone. Emily’s muscles relax when you start stroking her hair. The second Emily’s head gets heavier, you finally allow yourself to fall asleep, holding her close to you as if she’d disappear in the next second.

Yet, this is what happens the next morning. Emily left earlier because she has therapy before going on a case. You sigh, noticing her absence, though you know it’s for the best. It reassures you to know Emily is talking to a professional after everything that’s happened, you just wished she would have said goodbye before leaving.

You try to regain control of your emotions during work. You have to take care of a class of thirty seven-year-old students, you have to be focused. However, it doesn’t mean you don’t check your phone at every occasion, hoping to see a text from Emily.

It’s at the end of the day, after you finished eating, that your girlfriend finally calls you and without wasting a second, you pick up the phone. 

“Hey, Em’, how are you? Is the case complicated?”

“Always a bit at the beginning, but we have some leads. What about you? How was your day?”

“Oh, you know, I had to explain the same thing fifteen times, a kid sneezed on my sweatshirt and another one said I was pretty even if I was old. Nothing new.” you say lightly while Emily laughs.

“Another eventful day.”

“How did it go with your therapist?”

“She said everything was alright, she cleared me for work.” she informs you after taking a breath.

“Good. I mean, if it’s the truth.” you add and you can feel Emily rolling her eyes. “I know you, Em’, I know how you struggle to admit it to me when you have a nightmare so I guess it’s harder for you to tell your therapist.”

“It doesn’t affect my job, even Hotch said so.”

“I’m not saying otherwise…” you start carefully, “Look, I know I’d never be able to understand what you went through but I know one doesn't get over this that quickly. You’re allowed to not be okay, to struggle to move on.”

“I’m getting my life back.” she retorts.

“I know and I’m not saying you don’t, however Emily, you only worry about how Derek, Penelope, Spencer and everyone else around you feels since you came back but you don’t worry about the most important person. You. And I’m here for you, to support you. I’m not saying I’ll always have the right words, nonetheless I’ll do my best. You can come to me when you’re not okay.”

“I’m okay.” Emily repeats with a neutral tone.

“Your shrink might believe you when you say it but I know the truth. Emily, stop pushing away the people who love you. Stop pushing me away. You don’t have to go through this alone, especially when you can’t ignore what happened. Let me be here for you.”

Emily stays silent, only her breathing breaks the silence. You hear another voice coming from her end though can’t make out what they’re saying then Emily clears her throat.

“I have to go. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Emily hangs up and you sigh with tears in your eyes. You don’t know if what you said will make Emily react, you hope it will. You can’t handle this situation anymore. You know she needs support but how can you do it when she doesn’t ask for it? You don’t like this feeling of powerlessness. You wish you could take all of her scars so she could finally live freely. 

Throughout the case, Emily keeps her distance. She only sends you a text once a day to say she loves you, a habit you’ve had since the beginning of your relationship. Considering her risky job, you never stay a day without saying it to each other, more particularly since Doyle happened. However, when you reply to her message and you try to create a conversation, she quickly cuts it off. 

The more the days go by and the more worried you are for Emily. Something is wrong, you’re sure about it. You wish you could check on her, however you don’t want to be too overbearing. If you keep insisting you might do the opposite of what you want by creating an anxious atmosphere for Emily; therefore, you try to stay at a good distance, close enough to support her but far enough so she doesn’t push you away. 

As a way to distract yourself, you put all your energy on your work, redoing your lessons, correcting exercises. It only works for so long, your mind quickly finds a way to make you think about Emily.

One evening, about a week after Emily left, you’re at the kitchen table, working and eating when you hear the door opening and a bag loudly falling on the ground. Without waiting, you put down your fork and go toward the entrance rapidly. There, you find Emily with sad eyes. You’re about to talk though she beats you to it.

“I’m not okay.” she admits with a trembling voice.

And in a split second, she burst into tears. You run to her and hold her against you, trying to soothe her. You can tell her legs aren’t supporting her anymore, so you make Emily sit down on the floor while keeping her close. You tenderly stroke her hair and whisper sweet nothings. Emily’s tears run down her cheeks more and more while instinctively she puts her ear against your chest and listens to your heartbeats. In your arms, Emily finally allows herself to let go of all her emotions and to face all the pain she went through. You both know it’ll take time for Emily to heal but you’ll make sure to be here for her and to support her every step of the way.

Masterlist

[accio-victuuri]

xiao zhan - kai xiao zao’s director (Xi Lou) Weibo update : letter to xz to celebrate 6 years of cooperation

"Six Years" To the late-maturing of "Us”

One year, two years, three years, four years, five cold and hot seasons, six springs and autumns; how beautiful is Chinese, there are so many interesting quantifiers to describe 365 days, time is like sand between fingers, no matter how tightly you hold it, it still slips silently from the gaps, piling up into the tall or low sand dunes full of stories on the long river of life, and the wind blows, and the past is flying.

2024 is a year of precipitation. "WM", which has been prepared for a long time, finally meets everyone. We met "WM", and the old friend showed his versatility as a singer. I still remember the first day the album was launched, a friend of mine on QQ com said to me: I haven't seen such a lineup for a long time. Looking at his appearance that had never seen the "world", I calmly said: "Nothing else, just use your heart", turned around and left, hiding my merits and fame. Thinking of the Excel spreadsheet five years ago, we were also new to the world. Actually, I want to say that I know what "WM" has experienced. Its success is not accidental, but the result of the gentleness of spring breeze and rain, and it is inevitable that it has accumulated over the years.

The birthday in 2024 was spent in the crew, which is not unusual. After all, most of the year, greetings were basically in the crew every time, but no matter how busy you are, you have to have a sense of ceremony. Xiao Zao specially customized a birthday cake and sent it to the crew. Then a friend in the studio sent me a picture of many cakes and picked Xiao Zao. Sure enough, the one who understands XZ's heart the most is XZ. After receiving the picture, I praised Xiao Zao because I know that it is easy to work hard for one year on the same thing, but it is difficult to work hard for six years.

I just got back from a business trip. It is now 22:42 on January 4th. I am sitting in my study table. As I write this, the phonograph album happened to play "Confessions of a Night Person". There is a sentence in Mo Yan's "Late Bloomers": "People with good natures mature late, and are forced to mature by bad people. Although they become wise later, they are still kind and sincere." I sometimes wonder why we can walk hand in hand for six years. Are we all a group of late bloomers? "When others are smart, we are stupid and dull; when others weigh the pros and cons, we are sincere; when others have exhausted their scheming and gradually fallen into a state of decline, we just happen to be wise." We are all a group of simple people, which may be the ultimate reason why fate can continue. If there is a chance, I will sing "Confessions of a Night Person" for everyone. This is my favorite.

Some friends told me in private that the 2024 Xiao Zao is a bit dull. In fact, I want to say that compared with the short-term and vigorous forgetfulness, I prefer the long-term mutual support. Companionship is the longest confession. This affection beyond commercial endorsement is worth cherishing forever.

Do you still remember the "Legend of the Condor Heroes" mentioned in "Five Years"? This one-year agreement will finally be fulfilled in 23 days. Xiao Zao invites everyone to watch the movie together in 9 major cities across the country, feel the swordsmanship, and regain childhood dreams together. Oh, by the way, the hero Guo Jing should also be a late bloomer.

We still need to give the "old couple" some sense of ceremony. Today, let's roll up our sleeves, tie up our hair, open our hearts, learn from the hero, and cook with him as wine.

As usual, toast a bowl:

Cheers to simplicity

Cheers to peace and safety

Cheers to health

Cheers to eating well

May the flowers be the same year after year, and the people be the same year after year!

Sixth year, please give me more advice.

[dangermousie]

People complaining about the Argan plot on my TL. I'm indifferent to it because it does follow the novel and it's not one of those novel things that don't adapt well for TV.

But I can see the complaints about it being in the last episode. I'd rather it be in the penultimate episode and then have the last episode dedicated to them rebuilding their new life. Like choosing the Yu-yeon name.

Overall, I didn't hate the last episode. The leads carried the episodes. I think the ending with the SLs was pointless. I get that anything happens in a time jump, but we've seen no progression really of their relationship. It's like a quick way to wrap up their storylines. But SFL literally had no storyline or purpose. SML at least had a storyline, and he had a purpose in the first half (to indirectly help our couple be a couple).

That's the only choice I question, the need for the SFL (and SML). The SFL was especially a mess that even the writers clearly didn't know what to do. One minute she's fangirling over ML and gets excited and acts like she has a date with the married ML (which she knows he's married), then after that, nothing. She suddenly stops fangirling and acts normal and this is before she learns about HJ as his wife.

People like to complain, it’s human nature.

I liked the Argan thing because it was in the novel and also because I was already a kdrama fan 15 years ago when so many dramas liked to send their OTPs to exotic war torn locations for make outs and torture (see Swallow the Sun, IRIS and Lobbyist among others. Side note - STS had a secondary OTP of a mercenary and suicidal stripper that was very matter of fact and they got a happy ending to boot; when people say nowadays kdramas are so more frank about things - well no they are not.) So that was yet another delicious throwback about this drama.

Anyone who complains (as I saw) about this being unbelievable or too OTT has clearly not been paying attention to the genre - this was a crack melo from ep 1. It stayed in genre until the end. I totally get if it’s not someone’s thing but it didn’t really pull a genre rug on anyone.

I was quite happy with the amount of post-plot fluff we got. We got half an ep and seeing that dramas have a long tradition of giving us 1 minute before the end in terms of happy stuff, that felt downright luxurious (even in the novel, the bulk of post-plot fluff is in the extras not the novel proper.) To be fair though, I am not really a fluff person and don’t have much interest in watching fluffy happy dating moments of even my favorite OTPs unless it’s narratively done in the middle as we we watch in knowledge the hammer of doom is coming. So this take is informed by that. (Shen Li remains close to unique for me in loving the fact that the entire last ep is dedicated to their cottagecore bliss post the plot resolution. But Shen Li is an outlier for me in many respects - when something hits well enough even my normal preferences melt away. I mean I love Suppli and that’s an office drama.)

As to second ML and second FL agree they weren’t as developed as they could have been (esp SFL) but I am just happy they weren’t ship interlopers. I rarely care much for SML/SFL unless they have their own interesting narrative not revolving a love a square so my expectations are usually low.

Ultimate while I did have some niggles (where is my naming scene, where?!?), Phone ended up my favorite kdrama of 2024 by a large margin, over even Lovely Runner, Black Out and Goryeo Khitan War.

I hope its success makes kdramas make more of those type of old school, intense, romance melos but I have my doubts.