#nothing can burst my bubble today

[falderaletcetera]

okay who wants a fucking great country-ish song about the 401 highway, apparently the busiest highway in both canada and the US and an absolute nightmare to drive on?

(because I didn't think I needed this but apparently really do, and it has single-digit likes on youtube, so I figure it can stand to be seen by more people.)

this guy has minimal online presence and only two songs actually for sale anywhere but @darkfinch managed to find this, which has some info and songs on it.

and now if you'll excuse me I'm gonna go relisten, because this song goes hard and is quite happily stuck in my head <3

~

lyrics:

this is a long highway and it might take a day to drive from detroit back to montreal where the big rigs roll down through ontario and cars go speeds they should never go (never go, never go) take a look ahead flashing lights of red another crash out on the blacktop run on the news it says another driver's dead that brings the toll this month to twenty one (twenty one, twenty one) I took a ride today out on the king's highway from montreal to toronto bay justice will have its day with your life you'll pay better pay heed, so the people say keep your hands at ten and two do what you have to do keep them there until the drive is done or you may walk this road a lost and lonely soul another death out on the 401

just between you and I how can you justify the life you took with the pedal down (pedal down, pedal down) the ghosts they roam the road looking for their home and if they spoke you never hear the sound (sound, sound) I took a ride today out on the king's highway from montreal to toronto bay justice will have its day with your life you'll pay better pay heed, so the people say keep your hands at ten and two do what you have to do keep them there until the drive is done or you may walk this road a lost and lonely soul another death out on the 401 another death out on the 401

~

[ja3yun]

Our Life | P.JS

jay x reader warnings: fluff, angst, smut (mdni), unprotected sex, cum plugging, oral (f.rec), major theme of death and grievance, character death, mentions of alcoholism (very slight, not for mcs), descriptions of pregnancy and birth, strangers to married couple trope, insane amount of fluff, verging on soulmate au, hopeful ending even though it's sorrowful, some parts not proof read, anything else lmk! wc: 34.8k synopsis: one year after his wife passed away, jongseong reflects back on his life, causing him to miss you more than ever a/n: hi! writing this jay fic has come at a really funny time in my life. it's just a fic, i know, but for some reason i'm writing it so personally - a lot of this has to do with me or how i view things, the relationships i have had with my loved ones etc. this fic is the manifestation of the love i want and love i hope everyone experiences. i know we all deserve to have someone care about us so much that we feel safe and cherished. you deserve to be happy, i hope we all find that person. as always, reblogs, comments and feedback is all welcome! i also cried like 5 times writing this so...be warned.

*this fic has serious themes of death, please do not read if this upsets you or makes you uncomfortable! nothing is murder and nothing is violent, but i understand this theme can be upsetting for people!

As Jongseong hears the door of his house gently push open, he can already hear the familiar sound of tiny feet racing towards him. Moments later, the littlest one, Minji, bursts into the room, her laughter bubbling over as she makes a beeline for her great-grandfather.

“Poppy!” she cries, her small arms already outstretched, launching herself into his lap. Thankfully, Jongseong is seated in his favourite recliner so that helps him catch her. A warm smile plasters on his face, ready for her joyful embrace. Minji, at just five years old, is a whirlwind of energy, always eager to shower her great-grandfather with affection. She’s a bundle of life that never fails to brighten the room.

Minhee, her older brother, is a little more restrained. At nearly eleven years old, he’s beginning to see himself as too grown-up for such open displays of affection, though Jongseong catches the fond glint in his eyes. Minhee hovers near the door, perhaps torn between maintaining his cool exterior and giving in to the pull of family warmth.

The children call him “Poppy,” a sweet nickname coined by their mother, Ara, when she was a child. Grandad and Poppa had apparently been too much of a mouthful for her, and the name stuck through the generations. Jongseong smiles to himself, recalling how it all began.

As he waits for Ara to follow them in, Jongseong is pleasantly surprised when Jeyou steps through the door instead. His son, of course, a father himself, offers him a smile that’s full of love and history. Jongseong’s eyes twinkle as Jeyou enters, taking in the sight of his son with a mixture of pride and nostalgia. So many years had passed, and yet, in moments like this, they seemed to collapse in on themselves, leaving just the simple pleasure of being surrounded by family.

And this day a little more bearable.

"Got yourself a couple of shadows today, haven’t you, Dad?" Jeyou says, glancing at Minji who has made herself comfortable on her great-grandfather’s lap, her head tucked under his chin.

"Ah, wouldn’t have it any other way," Jongseong replies, his voice low but full of warmth. He places a gentle hand on Minji’s back, feeling her soft breathing as she calms down from her excited entrance. "Though, I expect you’ll be getting the same treatment soon enough with your old age."

Jeyou chuckles and shakes his head. "Oh, she’s all yours for now. Ara’s just grabbing some things from the car, but she’ll be in soon. Couldn’t resist having her kids run ahead."

Jongseong nods. That sounded just like Ara. Always the one to let the children take the lead, full of the same unbridled energy she’d had as a child. Even now, as an adult, she managed to keep that spark.

"Minhee," Jeyou calls, his voice gentle but nudging. "Aren’t you going to say hello to Poppy?"

Minhee hesitates for a moment, then steps forward. His gangly limbs betray his preteen awkwardness as if he's still adjusting to his growing frame. He shuffles over, his eyes on the floor, before glancing up at Jongseong with a shy smile.

"Hey, Poppy," he mumbles, and though his words are quiet, there’s warmth in his gaze.

"Come here, son," Jongseong beckons, and Minhee approaches. He leans down for a brief hug, one that’s a bit stiff but no less genuine. Jongseong pats his great-grandson on the back, feeling the familiar ache in his chest - an ache that comes from seeing the passage of time so vividly in the people you love.

Minhee quickly retreats to the sofa, where he pulls out a book from his rucksack, burying his nose into it as if he hadn’t just shared a tender moment. Jongseong chuckles softly, knowing well that Minhee’s quiet affection is just as real as Minji’s exuberant embrace.

"Just like you at his age," Jongseong remarks to Jeyou.

Jeyou raises an eyebrow. "Was I that shy?"

"Not shy, just...reflective," Jongseong murmured, his gaze softening as memories of Jeyou’s childhood flashed before him. Even as a boy, Jeyou had always been deep in thought, though there had never been a shortage of mischief hiding behind those thoughtful eyes.

But before they could slip too far into the past, the familiar sound of the front door creaking open stirred the present moment. Ara swept in, arms full of bags, her bright smile instantly lighting up the room.

"There’s my favourite man," she called out cheerily, her voice as warm as always. She placed the bags by the door and, in her usual way, let her gaze travel from her children to her father before finally settling on her grandfather. The fondness in her smile deepened as she approached him.

"Hello, Poppy," she said softly, bending down to press a kiss to his cheek. "How are you feeling today?"

Jongseong reached for her hand, his grip gentle but steady. "Better now that you’re all here," he replied, his voice tinged with a quiet sincerity.

Today wasn’t an easy day, and everyone in the room knew it - except for Minji, who was too young to understand the weight the date carried. The family had gathered not just for the usual visit but to offer comfort, to keep his mind occupied. Jongseong had been dreading this day for over a week, the memories from years past creeping into his thoughts, but seeing his loved ones around him made it a little more bearable.

Ara steps back to look around the room, her hands resting on her hips as if surveying a scene she knew by heart. "Right, then. Who’s up for a cup of tea?" she announced, though she didn’t wait for a reply. She already knew her answer.

Disappearing into the kitchen, she busied herself with the kettle, placing three cups in front of her and tossing teabags into each. The familiar clink of porcelain and the hum of the kettle filled the air, blending with the gentle sounds of the family settling in. Jeyou, already feeling at home, sank into the couch, his gaze drifting to his father.

"So," Jeyou began, his tone casual but laced with concern, "has the doctor called you yet about your heart? Your review’s coming up in a few weeks, isn’t it?"

Jongseong let out a soft sigh, not wanting to weigh the room down with his health concerns, but knowing it was pointless to brush it off. "Not yet. They’re supposed to get back to me soon, but you know how these things go."

In his mind, his heart is as fit as a fiddle despite the pieces shattered and medical scans telling him otherwise. Being seventy-six puts him at that age where he doesn’t quite fuss over the little things anymore, knowing that when he starts to go, it’s his time. His family don’t quite see it that way, but they always had a knack for worrying.

They get that from you.

Ara returns from the kitchen with a tray of steaming mugs, setting two on the coffee table and one on the side stroller Jongseong uses as a side table. It’s old and it’s definitely not supposed to be purposed for keeping his things close by, but he does it this way anyway. 

“You’re running low on milk and sugar, Poppy,” she states, smiling softly. It’s not like Jongeong to let things run to the last drop, but she supposes it’s probably the last thing on his mind these days. 

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Jongseong returns her kind expression and sits comfortably in his chair.

Jeyou’s eyes drift from the steaming tea on the table to the two untouched cups sitting beside it, their contents long gone cold. His gaze then falls on the doset box, where yesterday's and this morning's pills sit neglected in their transparent slots. A dull ache forms in his chest, growing heavier with each passing second. It’s not like his father to forget things like this. Something in his stomach twists - an unsettling feeling that only deepens when he looks over at Jongseong.

His father, seated comfortably in the old recliner, is absentmindedly running his fingers through Minji’s hair, but his expression is distant. His eyes, usually full of life, are clouded, as though he’s drifting somewhere far away. Jeyou knows that look too well, his father isn’t here in this moment, not really. He’s somewhere in the past, locked in thoughts he won’t share with anyone.

"Kids," Jeyou says, his voice firmer than usual, "why don’t you go play outside? It’s too nice for you to stay in here."

Minji, always eager for an adventure, springs from her great-grandfather’s lap and dashes towards the garden, her giggles trailing behind her like sunshine. Minhee lingers a bit longer, his hesitation clear, but a quick glance at his grandfather’s face tells him everything he needs to know. This was one of those moments where the grown-ups needed to talk. With a quiet nod, Minhee follows his sister outside, leaving the room heavy with unspoken words.

Jeyou scoots forward on the couch, his hands clasped tightly, his heart feeling as if it’s weighed down by a stone. "Dad," he begins, his voice thick with concern, "are you sure you’re looking after yourself?"

As expected, Jongseong forces out a laugh, the sound strained and far from genuine. "Of course I am. What kind of question is that?" He waves his hand dismissively, as if brushing away his son’s worry could somehow make it disappear. But Jeyou can see the cracks in his father’s defences, no matter how hard he tries to hide them.

Ara steps in before Jeyou can push further, her eyes soft but her tone direct. "You look really tired, Poppy," she says, careful not to let too much of her worry spill into her words. She doesn’t mention the state of the kitchen, though it’s hard to ignore. The counters are cluttered with dirty dishes, empty food wrappers, and crumpled paper towels. It’s a far cry from the meticulous space Jongseong used to keep, everything in its place, nothing left unattended. His once-pristine kitchen now looks like it’s seen better days, like he’s given up on keeping it tidy.

And his appearance - Ara notices that too. His hair, usually slicked back with the neatness he always took pride in, now lies flat and lifeless, as though he hadn’t bothered with it at all. Even his clothes seem carelessly thrown on, lacking the care he once put into his daily routines.

"I’m okay, I promise," Jongseong says, offering a weak smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

But they all know better. He’s far from okay, and they can see it in every little detail. His body may be failing, but it’s his spirit that seems most worn down. And that’s not something any doctor could fix with medication or surgery.

Jeyou sighs, the weight of his father’s stubbornness pressing down on him. He knows how difficult it is for Jongseong to open up, especially about something as delicate as his feelings. "Dad, I know it must be tough on you today, with Mum’s anniversary," Jeyou says softly, his voice cracking slightly at the mention of her, "but please, don’t neglect yourself. We need you here. We can’t lose you too."

The room falls silent, the air thick with unsaid things. Jongseong’s face twitches for just a moment at the mention of his late wife, and Ara, sitting by her father’s side, silently curses him with a sharp nudge to his ribs. Her eyes flicker with disapproval, not wanting to mention you so blatantly.

With his smile faltering, Jongseong’s eyes begin glazing over once more as he looks away, as though staring too long into his children’s worried faces might break him. "I’m alright," he murmurs again, softer this time, but no one in the room believes him.

It has been a year since you passed, and while it was easy to put on a brave face for months, something about knowing he has been without you for one entire year puts him in misery, the same misery he felt the day he found you laying on your shared bed, last gasps of breath already evacuated from your body.

jongseong’s heart, once full of love and purpose, now feels unbearably heavy without you. It’s not just the grief that weighs him down - it’s the love. A love that has nowhere to go, nothing to cling to. For over fifty years, his heart beat with the rhythm of your shared life, the quiet moments and laughter you wove into the years together. 

Now, without you, all that love is left to pool within him, filling the empty spaces with a bittersweet ache. He still wakes up wanting to tell you things, still reaches out for you in the night, only to be met with silence. That love, the part of him that was always meant for you, has no place to rest, and he feels its weight with every breath he takes.

He escapes to the past these days, just for the opportunity to see you again.

_____

The party is loud, an overwhelming hum of voices, music, and laughter blending together in a way that makes it impossible to think. The flat is small, much too small to hold the crowd that’s somehow crammed into every corner. 

People from all different majors are squeezed into the living room, the hallway, and even the tiny kitchen, balancing Tesco plastic cups on the edge of counters and bookshelves. It feels like the walls are closing in, the air thick with the smell of cheap alcohol and the heat of too many bodies in one space. Jongseong shifts uncomfortably, standing near the wall with his back pressed to it, hoping to stay out of the chaotic flow of people moving past him.

His friend, Sunghoon, is in his element, leaning over to chat with two girls from the science department. Jongseong can hear snippets of Sunghoon’s conversation - something about biology and "how easy it must be to share a dorm with a future doctor." Jongseong knows what his friend’s after. It’s the same for every party. Sunghoon is smooth-talking his way through the night, hoping to fuck one - or both - of the girls before the party winds down. Jongseong can't help but feel a sense of detachment from it all, wishing he were anywhere but here.

He glances down at his drink, swirling the last bit of beer in his cup, realising he hasn’t even taken a sip in the last half-hour. The music pounds in his ears and the conversations around him blur into a noise that grates against his thoughts. Everyone seems so eager to lose themselves in the moment, but all Jongseong can think about is how out of place he feels, like he’s in someone else’s world.

And then his eyes land on you.

Seated on the worn couch at the far end of the room, you look just as lost as he feels. Your shoulders are hunched slightly, arms folded across your chest, eyes scanning the room with a quiet detachment. It’s like you’re here, but not really. The party swirls around you, but you sit untouched by its chaos. There’s something familiar in the way your gaze drifts, a softness in the way you carry yourself, as if you’re silently wishing to be anywhere else, just like him. 

His heart skips, the noise of the party fading just a little as he watches you, wondering why on earth you are here, or where you even came from. He’s been dragged to enough of these house parties to recognise almost everyone; it’s always the same crowd of wasted university students, all looking for a cheap night and a place to get fucked up.

You shift slightly on the couch, adjusting your position as if you’re trying to get comfortable but failing. The small movement is enough to stir something in Jongseong, a quiet push that breaks through his hesitation of going over to speak with you. He pushes off the wall, weaving through the crowd, his gaze never leaving you. Each step brings him closer to you and further from the loud, chaotic energy around him.

When he finally reaches the couch, Jongseong stands there, smiling down at you. Up close, he notices the small details about you - the way your eyes are slightly glazed over like you're staring through the crowd rather than at it. Your posture is relaxed, like someone who's given up on finding anything remotely interesting in this chaotic scene. You’re lazily twirling a strand of hair around your finger, your other hand drumming absentmindedly on the armrest, and every so often, you let out a quiet sigh. It’s clear you’re bored, as if you're here out of obligation or maybe even on a dare, but definitely not because you're enjoying it.

Jongseong wonders for a moment if approaching you is the right move. Maybe you're waiting for someone, or maybe you'd rather just be left alone to your boredom. But he’s already here, and backing out now would be even more awkward. Besides, there’s a part of him that thinks you might welcome the distraction.

“Hey,” he says, his voice soft but just loud enough to be heard over the music. He gives you a small, tentative smile, trying to convey that he’s not like the other loser men at this party, that he’s not here to make your night more unbearable. “Is that seat taken?”

The sound of his voice pulls you from your thoughts, startling you for a split second before your eyes lock onto his face. And what a beautiful face it is. His sharp jawline, soft eyes, and the hint of smile lines add to his handsomeness. The dyed white hair that’s slicked back to showcase his fresh undercut makes your mouth dry, then water just a little as you catch yourself staring.

Shaking off the daze his looks have put you in, you nod your head and smile. “Actually, my friend, Imaginary, is sitting right here,” you joke, patting the seat next to you lightly, “but I think she might move for you.”

Jongseong smirks, charmed by your wit, and takes a seat, spreading his legs just enough that his knee brushes yours. A subtle, intentional move that sends a tiny jolt of awareness through you. The music pounds around you, and the room vibrates with the beat, but here, with him so close, it feels like you’re in a different world - a bubble separate from the chaos.

"Are you new?" he asks, his voice carrying a warmth that cuts through the cold disinterest of the party.

"No, but I don't normally come to parties like this," you admit, glancing around the crowded room.

"Why not?" His eyes stay on you, curious, almost as if he’s trying to decipher the puzzle of who you are. There is something so intriguing about you, his soul suddenly ignited by even the prospect of knowing you.

You gesture around you with a slight roll of your eyes. "Lots of drunk people with egos even though they're only uni kids? Not exactly my favourite." The words drip with sarcasm, your disdain evident in the flatness of your tone. You can’t think of anywhere worse than this - people stumbling around, half-shouted conversations about nothing of substance, the smell of stale beer and sweat hanging thick in the air. It’s a headache in the making, a mess of too much noise and not enough space, a place where everything blurs into a haze of chaos and bad decisions. You’d rather be anywhere else, where people know how to handle themselves without being obnoxious, where the air is fresh and the conversations have weight.

Your answer earns a snicker from Jongseong. He ducks his head, a smile playing on his lips, and for a moment, he looks genuinely amused - like he’s found a hidden gem amidst all the nonsense around him. He takes a second to soak it in, feeling something light and warm settle in his chest. 

When he glances back up at you, there’s a brightness in his eyes that wasn’t there before. "Okay, let me ask you another question, then - why are you here?" he asks, his tone playful but curious, like he’s genuinely invested in peeling back the layers of who you are. 

You tilt your head, narrowing your eyes at him, a smirk tugging at your lips. "I'm gonna have to start charging you for all these questions, y’know." There’s a teasing edge in your voice, but underneath it, there’s also a spark - something alive and electric, something that catches Jongseong off guard, a flicker in his heart.

He laughs softly, nodding along with a look that says he’s enjoying this more than he thought he would. It’s rare to find someone who doesn’t just play along with the usual small talk but actually pushes back a little, makes him work for it. He hadn’t expected you to have so much spunk and confidence from just watching you sit there, looking lost in thought. It’s refreshing - a sharp contrast to the superficial conversations that fill the room around him. 

In all honesty, he thought you might have pushed him off, unwilling to even entertain him, never mind willingly try and drag out the conversation with him. That’s what he gets for judging a book by its cover.

"I can pay for a meet-and-greet, don’t worry," he says, his voice low and smooth, proud yet playful. His eyes gleam with a challenge, like he’s throwing down a gauntlet he hopes you’ll pick up. There’s an unspoken dare there, a flirtatious edge that makes your heart skip a beat. It feels like you’re both dancing on the edge of something - something that could tip into something real, something interesting, if either of you is brave enough to take the next step.

“So,” he continues, leaning back slightly, more relaxed now, “why are you here?”

He takes a sip of his drink, and it’s then that he notices you don’t have one. You don’t seem to mind, though, and he doesn’t comment on it, but it strikes him as a little odd. Typically, if someone is having a fuck awful time at a party, they drown themselves in alcohol to let inhabitions go and just pray to God they don’t make a fool of themselves. He knows there has to be a story there, and he can’t wait to uncover it.

"Thought I would check it out. I hear they’re all the rage," you say with a wry smile, clearly feeling the distaste on your tongue. 

Truth is, you’re trying new things this year, pushing your boundaries to help form your character. You’re sick of hearing about all these experiences through the lenses of TikTok videos and Instagram posts from your friends; it’s time to start living out the life you want. Not everything will be your cup of tea - tonight if quite evident of that, you can certainly cross parties off your FOMO list - but there is no harm in trying different things,

“Eh, parties are overrated, if I'm being honest,” he replies, his eyes tracing the features of your face. You’re so beautiful but so fucking familiar. He doesn’t know you, he would remember someone as ethereal as you. But there is part of him that feels you deep inside, as though you’ve rocked something in his soul.

Like you’re placing yourself home in his heart.

"Okay. Then why are you here?" you challenge back, your eyes narrowing slightly with curiosity.

Jongseong leans in a little, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “I hate these parties. Can’t stand how loud and irritating they are. The noise, the drunk people who can't hold their alcohol, the same shallow conversations...” His words trail off as he glances around, his lip curling in mild distaste. “I’ve always been a people person, but…just not these people.”

Sucking your teeth, you nod, agreeing with every last syllable of his sentence. You feel this on another level, but considering he seems to be acquainted with parties enough to dissect and disregard them so easily, you still ponder your question. 

Raising your eyebrows, you silently wait for him to continue.  

“Y’know Sunghoon? The campus heartthrob?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. He hates to refer to his best friend as such, but that is literally his title within the university. Sunghoon is notorious for having girls and guys falling at his feet, kissing the ground he walks on because he has been voted Korea’s perfect face three years in a row. Jongseong doesn’t grudge it, he votes for his friend too, and he isn’t blind, he can see how attractive he is.

“Yeah?” you respond, intrigued.

“Well, believe it or not, that beautiful son of a bitch is my best friend.”

Considering the way this boy presents himself, you would have genuinely never guessed that he was friends with someone as high profile as Park  Sunghoon. However, it does explain why, even if he hates the parties, he attends nonetheless. 

You chuckle, your eyes glinting as you begin to steer the conversation in the direction you both want it to sail. “You’re saying that like you aren’t equally as pretty.”

Jongseong flushes, his cheeks dusting a faint pink. The warmth spreads across his face, and he bites back a grin, trying to play it cool but failing miserably. It’s the tiny confirmation he needed to know that you want to flirt with him. That information alone perks his confidence up, although still shy under your flattering observation. He quickly plasters on a teasing smirk, fluttering his lashes dramatically and placing his hand under his chin, wiggling his fingers. “Oh? So you think I’m pretty?”

The scene before you brings out an even bigger laugh from you than earlier, though it’s not mocking or condescending - just pure amusement and joy. It’s infectious, and Jongseong feels his heart swell at the sound. He has the sudden urge to make you laugh like that for a long time, to see that carefree sparkle in your eyes again and again. He doesn’t want to say forever, but his heart is sure screaming it.

“I think you’re pretty, yes,” you say, your smile soft and genuine, your eyes sparkling under the annoying table-side lamp with its harsh white bulb - a stark contrast to the warmth you radiate. The lamp is obnoxious and stupid, casting its ugly, sterile light on everything around it, much like several of the people at this party. But Jongseong can't help but find it almost poetic that it’s illuminating something - or rather, someone - so captivating. 

There’s a sense of irony in how this harsh, artificial light only seems to highlight the genuine softness in your expression, the way you carry yourself with a quiet confidence that makes you stand out without even trying. You shine so brightly, even in a room full of noise and chaos, and Jongseong begins to sense just why he was so drawn to you at first glance.

It’s not as if you’re ‘not like other girls’ or whatever cringe, indie-female-lead syndrome that sounds like. No, it’s that in a room full of people competing to be seen, you’re the only one who Jongseong cares to know about. There’s a magnetism to the way you occupy your space - comfortable in your own skin, bored but not bitter, playful but not insincere. You seem untethered from the superficial games playing out around you, and that’s what makes you different. It’s not that you’re trying to be; it’s that you simply are - at least, in Jongseong’s eyes.

He feels a warmth spread through his chest, a lightness he hasn’t felt for a long time. For a moment, the noise of the party fades, replaced by the sound of your laughter, ringing clear and unforced, like something rare and precious in a place like this. It strikes him then - how easy it would be to just keep listening to that sound, to find ways to make you laugh again, to see how your eyes light up when you’re amused.

“How about we get out of here?” Jongseong suggests, his voice laced with a hint of excitement that he can’t quite hide. “Grab some food, and I’ll walk you home.”

You raise an eyebrow, your lips curling into a teasing smile. “Leaving this place does sound tempting...but here’s the thing, I don’t even know you,” you say, your words playful, though the interest in your eyes betrays how intrigued you really are.

He feels a flicker of embarrassment for not having introduced himself sooner. “Shit, sorry. Let me introduce myself.” He straightens up, setting his cup down with a small, almost sheepish grin. Then, with a playful seriousness that makes you chuckle, he extends his hand, inviting and warm. “I’m Jay, I’m 22 years old, I study music technology, and I’m single.”

You can’t help but smile at his theatrics, mirroring his gesture and placing your hand in his. The warmth of his skin sends a flutter through your stomach, your insides skipping in joy all of a sudden, but you ignore it, focusing instead on the easy banter between you. “My name is Y/N, I am 23 years old, and I am also single,” you reply, your tone matching his playful formality.

His grin widens, a flash of confidence in his eyes. “Sounds like the perfect match, don’t you think?” There’s a charm to him that’s hard to resist, an easy confidence that makes you feel like you’ve known him much longer than just these few minutes.

As you hold his gaze, you find yourself drawn to him in a way that surprises you. It’s not just his looks - though there’s no denying he’s handsome - it’s his energy, his wit, the warmth that radiates from him. Never in your life has someone matched your energy so well. He’s like a breath of fresh air in a space that feels stifling, and it’s intoxicating in a way that no drink here could ever be.

You knew, from that very moment, that you wanted to know more about him, and he knew he was going to marry you one day.

_____

"A treasure hunt?" you ask, a hint of amusement in your voice as you raise an eyebrow at him.

Jongseong had thought about you nonstop since the moment he walked you home from that party. A few stolen moments in your company, a brief but memorable conversation - it had not been enough. Not nearly enough. It was as if something inside him ignited that night, a quiet but unrelenting fire, burning through his thoughts whenever your face crossed his mind. The way you laughed, the way your eyes lit up when you spoke - it was intoxicating, and he found himself craving more. So much more. 

His friends had noticed too; he wasn’t subtle in the least. Every chance he got, he’d talk about you, about the brief time you two had spent together, already analysing every moment like a lovestruck fool.

And so, he’d come up with this date: a treasure hunt. A way to get to know you, to create an experience that wasn’t just the mundane dinner or movie date. No, this had to be different. You deserved different. Something unique. He’d spent days working out the details, coming up with clues, places, and the perfect way to make this evening special. He wanted you to smile, to laugh, to feel how much thought he had poured into this. 

Jongseong grins, proud of himself, "Yep. Well, sort of. I'm going to give you an envelope, and you're going to figure out the riddle."

Your lips curve into a soft smile, the kind that makes his heart race in a way he’s almost embarrassed to admit. You're used to men putting in the bare minimum. Dinner and a movie, sometimes even just a text at 11 pm, wondering if you were still awake. But this? This is different. He’d thought about this, actually put in effort. A treasure hunt on a first date? It was quirky, yes, but endearing. It makes you wonder if somehow, during that boring party, you found a ruby amongst diamonds. The idea makes your stomach flutter slightly and anticipation build.

"Okay," you tease, holding out your hand, palm up. "Where is this magical envelope with all the answers then?"

"Well..." Jongseong steps closer to you, the air between you buzzing with unspoken tension, playful and light. He pulls the envelope from his suede brown jacket pocket and dangles it just above your open hand. As you reach for it, Jongseong pulls away at the last second, flashing you a mischievous grin.

“Really?” You huff, your voice carrying more amusement than frustration. He’s playing with you, and you can’t deny you enjoy it.

"Not so fast," he says, heart thrumming in his chest so loud because fuck you look so beautiful, he just wants to be as close to you as possible. So, he steps even closer, his body towering over yours. The warmth from his body feels almost tangible, and the playful gleam in his eyes makes your heart stutter. "You have to answer me one question before I give it to you."

You can’t help but roll your eyes, though it’s all in good fun. "So not only do I need to use my brain and solve a puzzle, I also have to divulge personal information? You really know how to get a girl talking."

"Pretty much, yeah." His smile is smug, and you can tell he’s feeling particularly clever about his little scheme. It’s adorable, really. 

"And if I say no?"

"Then this date ends very quickly," he shrugs, feigning nonchalance, though you can tell he’s trying hard to mask his anticipation. He leans in slightly, voice low and teasing. "And you miss out on my meticulously planned adventure."

His words are light, but there’s a subtle undercurrent of vulnerability there. He’s trying to play it cool, but you sense how much he hopes you’ll say yes. That small spark of emotion hidden behind his teasing makes your heart soften just a little more. There’s something so sweet in how much effort he’s putting in, and you can’t help but feel drawn to it. Feel drawn to him.

With a dramatic sigh, you nod, "Fine, what’s the question then?"

Jongseong chuckles, clearly pleased with himself and his persuading manner. "Straight to the point. I like it." He holds the envelope out again, this time a little closer to your palm. "What’s your favourite type of food?"

You pause, considering for a moment before a smile spreads across your face. "Hmm... Italian, or! Caribbean."

He raises an eyebrow at your sudden burst of enthusiasm. "Both?"

"I mean, how could I possibly choose between ravioli and kabritu stoba?" You laugh, feeling the lightness of the conversation flow easily between you. This is nice, it feels like you have somehow known each other for years.

"Fair enough," he says, nodding approvingly. He waves the envelope slightly, catching your attention. "Now, open this."

You tear it open carefully, unfolding the piece of paper inside. The words are written in neat, careful handwriting, a small clue to the meticulous planning that went into this.

"To taste where flavours meet and blend, Find the 5treet where numb3Rs enD. Look where hungry students convene, The number’s hidden in this scene."

You frown slightly, reading it over again. Riddles aren’t exactly your strong suit, but you try to piece it together. Okay, there's a 53 in there, and R and D are capatilised...hungry students? Then it hits you, a beam of satisfaction at how quickly you managed to solve it shining from your pleased grin.

"53rd Note!" you exclaim, eyes lighting up. "The food stall on campus!" You look at him, a grin tugging at your lips. "I'm right, aren’t I?"

Instead of giving you a verbal answer, Jongseong simply gestures for you to lead the way. What he doesn’t expect, however, is for you to take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his in a way that feels so easy, so natural, it takes him by surprise. His heart skips a beat, something he didn’t think was possible in a moment as simple as this. Your hand in his feels...perfect. Warm, comforting, and everything he didn’t know he needed until now.

You feel the shift too - the way the simple touch adds a new layer to the evening. There’s something electric in the air, a sense of anticipation and excitement. It’s just a handhold, you tell yourself, but there’s more to it. The quiet understanding, the subtle acknowledgement of a connection that neither of you is ready to speak about just yet, in fear of jinxing something.

As you walk together toward the diner, the city lights twinkling above, the world feels a little smaller. It’s just the two of you, hands clasped, both of you teetering on the edge of something that feels new and exhilarating. Jongseong glances at you from the corner of his eye, his heart pounding in a way he knows he won’t forget. He’s down bad for you, that much he’s realised, fuck, he even came to this conclusion when you told him your name. But now, holding your hand, walking beside you on a slightly chilly evening, the sun setting in for bedtime while the moon starts its shift, he thinks maybe - hopefully - you might be down for him too.

_

The walk to 53rd Note is relatively short, yet it feels like time expands as you and Jongseong fall into an effortless rhythm of conversation. There’s no awkwardness, no fumbling through the typical, banal exchanges that often fill first dates - no one asking about favourite colours or talking endlessly about the weather surrounding you. Instead, the dialogue between you flows naturally, easily, as if you’ve known each other far longer than you have.

Jongseong’s questions are thoughtful, pulling you into a deeper conversation that takes you by surprise in the best way possible. "Why did you pick your major?" he asks, genuine curiosity lacing his tone. You find yourself opening up, explaining your passions and dreams, not feeling the need to hold back. There’s something about the way he listens that makes you feel heard, truly heard. His eyes never wander, his attention never falters - he is fully attentive.

"Is silver jewellery your thing, or are you allergic to gold?" he asks with a chuckle, glancing at the small silver ring on your finger. The question is odd but endearing, making you laugh. And when you ask about his interest in food, you learn that cooking is one of his many hidden talents. He admits to almost studying culinary arts before choosing music tech, a decision that sparks even more questions between you both.

The conversation continues, and you feel your guard slowly falling, piece by piece. You even ask him why he decided to talk to you that night at the party. His answer is simple, yet it holds weight. "I just wanted to get to know you."

By the time you reach the little food stall nestled on the corner of the student campus, you’re both lost in conversation and laughter. The place is a campus favourite, known for its amazing food and usual agonising long queues. It’s the kind of spot everyone flocks to after lectures or late-night study sessions. But tonight, something is off. The shutters are down, and the sign on the shutter swings lazily in the breeze, declaring the stall closed.

"I-It’s closed," you stammer, disappointment heavy in your voice, not because you can’t eat here, but because you feel a twinge of guilt knowing how Jongseong must have spent time planning all of this, and now you've hit a hurdle at the first stop. The last thing you want is for his carefully thought-out plan to be ruined so suddenly.

But when you turn to face him, the smile on his face hasn’t faltered. If anything, it’s grown wider, as if he’s completely unfazed by the situation. "Come on," he says, his voice full of quiet confidence as he gently squeezes your hand and leads you towards the shutter.

The stall is small but charming, with a bright yellow exterior and hand-painted menus plastered along the walls. Colourful string lights hang above it, though they’re unlit now, swaying lightly in the evening breeze. You notice a small table tucked beside the stall, probably a place for students to gather and chat as they wait for their orders. Everything about this place radiates warmth, even though it's currently closed.

Jongseong raises his hand and knocks on the metal shutter, the sound loud enough to startle a few birds perched nearby. Moments later, the shutter rolls up with a slow creak, revealing a boy wearing an apron and hairnet on the other side. His face lights up as he sees you both, his excitement palpable.

"Two to go, please," Jongseong grins at his friend, whose eyes gleam with understanding. Jake, nods enthusiastically, already bustling behind the counter. You quickly realise this is all part of Jongseong’s plan.

"You... how did you know he was in there?" you ask, confusion and amusement blending together as you look between Jake, who is clumsily wrapping up your food, and Jongseong, who’s leaning casually against the counter, looking as if everything is going perfectly to plan.

Jongseong’s cool demeanour makes you smile. "I know the owner," he says with a nonchalant shrug. "He let me borrow the hut for a minute."

In truth, Jongseong had to beg Woobin - the actual owner - to close up shop during peak hours. It wasn’t an easy feat. He had offered everything he could think of in exchange: guitar lessons, study help, and even his favourite hoodie. Woobin had eventually relented after enough pleading, but only on the condition that Jongseong wouldn’t touch the stock. Still, it worked out, and now here he is, pretending it was all effortlessly arranged.

"The normal guy isn’t here, though?" you ask, glancing at Jake, who looks completely out of his depth as he fumbles with the wrapping paper. It’s clear he doesn’t normally work here, but you can’t help but appreciate his enthusiasm.

Jongseong shifts slightly, his posture still casual, but you notice the flicker of nervousness in his eyes. He takes a breath, his voice calm but tinged with something deeper. "Ah, well... I cooked this meal."

The words hang in the air for a moment, and you see a flash of vulnerability in him, a rare crack in his otherwise confident exterior. He’s laid himself bare now. The pressure isn’t just about whether this date is going well - it’s about whether you’ll like his food. 

For Jongseong, cooking is an act of love. Growing up, it had always been how his family showed they cared. His mum, his grandmother, they had taught him that food was more than just sustenance. It was a way to express emotion, to bring people together. And now, he’s hoping you’ll understand that.

He watches you carefully, his heart pounding in his chest as he waits for your reaction. This isn’t just any meal. It’s his way of subtly showing you how much he could care for you, not just tonight, but for as long as you’ll have him. You can feel the weight of his unspoken words, the silent hope behind his playful banter. It’s more than just food; it’s a gesture, a glimpse into how deeply he’s already fallen for you.

Jake hands over the dishes with an exaggerated flourish, grinning from ear to ear. "Enjoy, my beautiful lovebirds," he says, winking at the two of you. You stifle a laugh, watching as Jongseong’s face flushes slightly, the tips of his ears turning a light shade of pink. He’s clearly embarrassed by his friend’s teasing, and for a moment, you think he might actually throttle Jake. But you, on the other hand, find it sweet - endearing even - and thank Jake with a bright smile, not at all put off by the comment.

Being lovebirds with Jongseong isn’t hard to imagine, not really.

As you and Jongseong approach the small table near the stall, you take a moment to appreciate the surroundings. It’s a simple wooden setup, aged from the constant exposure to student life - scuffed by countless bags, elbows, and books. Yet tonight, it feels like it’s transformed into something more intimate as if the evening air and the quiet chatter in the distance have turned it into your own private dining space. The string lights above the stall, though unlit, seem to glimmer faintly in the twilight, casting a soft glow over the scene. The air is cool, but not cold, carrying the faint scent of campus greenery and the distant hum of city life.

Jongseong pulls out one of the two chairs for you, a small gesture, but one that sends a flicker of warmth through you. As you sit, he unravels the paper bag, the rustling sound filling the air, and the intoxicating aroma of the food reaches your nose before you even see what’s inside.

The first thing you notice is the kimchijjigae. The spicy tang hits you instantly, its deep red broth shimmering with flavour. The scent of fermented cabbage, tofu, and gochugaru wafts up, causing your stomach to rumble in anticipation. Beside it are two perfectly portioned servings of fried rice, golden and inviting, alongside bindaetteok - crispy mung bean pancakes that look so perfectly golden-brown, you can almost hear the crunch as you imagine biting into them.

Everything looks so carefully prepared, yet it’s simple, unpretentious. The kind of food that speaks volumes about the one who made it. Your heart swells as you realise how much thought went into this meal, into every tiny detail. It's not just about the food, it's about the care behind it.

"You made all of this?" you ask softly, your voice tinged with awe as you gaze at the beautifully arranged dishes in front of you. Despite the simplicity, the food looks incredible, and you can feel the thought and effort poured into it. You glance up at Jongseong, your eyes filled with admiration.

He nods, handing you a cup of water after pouring it carefully from the bottle Jake had given him. "Yeah," he says, his tone casual, but there’s an underlying nervousness in his eyes, as if he’s waiting for your reaction, hoping you’ll like what he’s made. "Everything’s vegan too. I wasn’t sure if you had any dietary restrictions or didn’t eat meat, so I went with the safest option."

That small detail, the consideration behind it, makes your chest tighten. He had thought of everything. You’d never mentioned anything about your diet, yet he had gone out of his way to make sure the meal would suit you, just in case. It’s such a thoughtful gesture, so full of quiet care, that it nearly overwhelms you. It’s not just the food he’s offering - it’s a piece of himself, his heart wrapped up in every bite.

Your heart swells with affection, and you smile so widely it almost hurts. "That’s...incredibly thoughtful," you murmur, feeling the weight of what he’s done settle warmly in your chest. You’re not used to people putting this much effort into dates, let alone cooking a meal tailored to your needs without even knowing them. In fact, you don’t think anyone has ever put this much effort into you as a person. It makes you feel seen, cared for, in a way that surprises you.

Without another word, you take your chopsticks and carefully lift a small piece of bindaetteok, its crispy edges crackling slightly as you bite into it. The taste is immediate; crispy on the outside, soft and delicate inside, with a rich flavour that bursts on your tongue. It’s perfect, so perfectly seasoned and balanced that you can’t help but let out a small, delighted squeal.

Your eyes light up as you look at him, your hands coming together in a quick, enthusiastic clap. "Oh my God, Jongseong!" you exclaim, your excitement bubbling over as your feet bounce under the table. "This is amazing!"

Jongseong lets out a relieved laugh, his shoulders visibly relaxing as he watches your reaction. His eyes soften, filled with a quiet joy that he can’t quite put into words. "I’m glad you like it," he says, his voice a little quieter now, the relief and warmth evident in his tone. But there’s something more in his expression, a look of pure contentment as if seeing you happy has made all the anxiety he’s been feeling completely worth it.

He wants to make you this happy forever.

You dig into the rest of the food eagerly, trying the kimchijjigae next. The broth is spicy but comforting, the heat hitting you just right without being overwhelming. The fried rice is fluffy, with a subtle but rich taste that perfectly complements the other dishes. Every bite feels like a hug, the kind of meal that fills both your stomach and your heart.

As you eat and chatter, you can’t help but look at Jongseong, this boy who’s already managed to sweep you off your feet without even trying, your heart doing most of the soaring. You see the way he watches you, the small smile that tugs at his lips every time you take another bite or tell him another story. He’s nervous, but proud, clearly pleased that you’re enjoying the meal. And in that moment, you realise how much he’s already starting to mean to you. This is more than just a first date - it’s the beginning of something, something that feels real and full of possibility.

As you finish the last bite, you feel a surge of warmth spreading through you—not just from the food, but from the entire experience. The way Jongseong has thought through every detail, from the meal to the riddles, makes your heart swell with affection. You smile, letting the emotion seep into your voice as you look up at him. "Jongseong," you say softly, holding his gaze, "this was...perfect. Compliments to the chef."

Without missing a beat, Jongseong's face lights up with pride. He stands up with an exaggerated bow, playing up his role as the triumphant chef, and gives a few playful nods to an imaginary audience. His movements are full of cocky grace, a confidence that’s both endearing and maddening in the best way. You can’t help but laugh, your body suddenly feeling warmer at how effortlessly charming he is - this is depth to Jongseong that you desperately want to unravel, layer by layer.

In more ways than one.

Still glowing with laughter, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out another envelope, teasingly waving it in front of you. "Now," he says, his smirk growing wider, "you want the next envelope?"

Nodding eagerly, you can barely contain the glee and anticipation bubbling up inside you. The treasure hunt has been so fun, and now you’re ready to see what’s next.

"Okay," he begins, placing the envelope on the table in front of you, his eyes glinting with mischievous delight. "But first, you’ve got to answer my question."

You nod again, this time pretending to adopt a serious game face, your brows furrowing in faux concentration as you prepare yourself for whatever difficult question he’s about to ask.

"Who was the first person you ever went to see in concert?" Jongseong asks, leaning in, his smirk turning a little more playful.

Your confident expression falters as you immediately dissolve into laughter, the memory of your first concert flashing vividly in your mind. You cover your mouth with your hand, trying to suppress your giggles, but it’s no use. Jongseong raises an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly in curiosity. "Oh, there’s a story here, huh?" he prompts, grinning wider. "Is it embarrassing?"

"Not embarrassing... maybe," you begin, still giggling as the memory takes hold of you. "It was... an ‘In the Night Garden’ experience. I was seven years old, and I got to dance with them on stage." You snort, remembering how excited and utterly starstruck you were as a child.

Jongseong blinks once, then twice, as if trying to process the image, and then bursts out laughing. He leans back in his chair, throwing his head back with full, hearty laughter that echoes through the quiet evening air. It’s a deep, unrestrained laugh that makes your heart skip a beat, the kind that feels as warm and genuine as everything else about him. You join in, your laughter melding with his, both of you giggling like children at the sheer absurdity of your revelation.

"In the Night Garden?" he repeats, still chuckling, his voice filled with disbelief. "The kids' show? I was expecting you to say something like EXO or SHINee!"

You hide your face in your hands, the realisation dawning on you that it is, in fact, kind of embarrassing. But you can’t help but laugh at yourself. "I did see EXO and SHINee later on, but they weren’t my first!" you protest between giggles.

"You didn’t think to lie?" he teases, his eyes dancing with amusement.

"Not at all," you say, your voice softening as the laughter dies down. There’s something wistful in your tone now, a hint of sincerity that catches even you by surprise. "I don’t want to lie to you, not about the silly stuff and…not about the serious stuff either."

For a moment, the air between you changes. The playful banter gives way to something deeper, a quiet understanding that passes between you. It’s as if, in this small moment, you’re both realising how much you want to be honest with each other - how much you want to truly know each other. You see Jongseong’s face shift, his teasing grin softening into something tender, something full of affection. He can see it, the way you’re falling a little deeper into him with every word, every shared laugh, and the joy that fills his face is undeniable. His eyes sparkle, and his lips curve into a smile so warm, it feels like a promise.

"Well," he says, pushing the envelope across the table toward you with a soft, satisfied sigh, "I think you’ve earned the next clue."

With a grin, you eagerly take the envelope, your fingers tingling with excitement as you carefully tear it open. The riddle inside reads:

"Under a bridge of lights, a river’s friend. Where music plays, the night will never end. So gather near, beneath the sky so bright, And hear the melodies that fill the night."

The moment you finish reading it, a confident smile spreads across your face. "Oh, this is easy," you say, wiggling your shoulders smugly. "It’s the Han River."

Jongseong nods, impressed but not surprised. "Of course. But there’s a little surprise waiting for you. Come on." He stands, holding out his hand to you, his eyes twinkling with proud knowing.

You take his hand instinctively, your fingers curling naturally around his. As you stand up, you find yourself moving closer to him, your bodies leaning into each other in a way that feels effortless, natural. The walk toward the river feels different, like every step brings you closer, not just physically but emotionally. The night air wraps around you, cool but pleasant, and the distant city lights shimmer like stars scattered along the horizon. The quiet hum of life around you fades into the background as your focus narrows to the warmth of Jongseong's hand in yours and the soft sound of your footsteps together.

Your heart beats steadily, not with nerves, but with a quiet certainty: you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

_

As you approach the Han River, the usual serene atmosphere is broken by the soft hum of excitement. A crowd is gathered by one section, and you spot people seated in a semi-circle, the area aglow with warm, delicate fairy lights and scattered fake candles that twinkle like stars against the night sky. Amps are neatly arranged around a modest stage setup, cables snaking across the ground as if drawing people into the intimate space. The whole scene feels like it’s been lifted from a dream—cosy, inviting, and charged with quiet anticipation.

You turn to Jongseong, eyebrows raised in question. "Is this one of those busking things?"

"Not just any busking thing," he corrects you, his grin widening as he pulls two tickets from his pocket. His excitement is hard to contain as he watches you inspect them.

Your breath catches in your throat as your eyes fall on the print: Sam Kim, filming for Begin Again Open Mic.

"How did you—?" you begin, stunned, unable to process how he’d managed to pull off something so incredible.

"I might have stalked your Instagram a bit," he admits with a sheepish chuckle, though his expression is anything but embarrassed. "Saw you post about him a few times and figured it was a sure thing.” The tickets weren’t easy to get, though, that part he isn’t telling you. He had to sell one of his precious guitars to make it happen, but the look on your face right now? Totally worth it. 

Your eyes well up, not from sadness, but from a deep, overwhelming appreciation. There’s something unfamiliar yet beautiful blooming in your chest, a warmth that spreads through you and makes your heart race in a way it hasn’t before. "Thank you so much, Jongseong," you whisper, the words falling out on their own. 

Never have you looked at a man and felt this way, and you don’t think you ever will unless it’s Jongseong.

Before you can stop yourself, you step forward and wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. At first, he seems caught off guard, his body stiffening for a moment. But then, as if the feeling clicks into place, he quickly relaxes into the hug, his arms encircling you with gentle but firm pressure. You feel him bury his face briefly into your hair, inhaling your scent, committing it to memory like it’s something precious he wants to hold onto. His warmth wraps around you like a protective shield, and for a second, the world fades away.

If this is what being with you is like, he never wants to spend another minute apart.

"Come on," he murmurs into your ear, his breath sending a shiver down your spine. "Let’s get our seats."

He leads you toward a blanket with his name written on a small tag in, neatly reserved in one of the best spots. As you approach, he helps you settle down onto the blanket, standing behind you attentively as you smooth out your skirt. It’s a simple gesture - making sure you’re comfortable, that your clothes are fixed just right and you don’t unwillingly flash the poor couple behind you - but it feels like so much more. Your skirt, a flowing, light fabric that swishes around your legs, catches the evening breeze as you adjust yourself, and you find yourself grateful for his thoughtfulness.

Once you’re seated, Jongseong slips down beside you, the space between you both comfortably close. He takes off his jacket and places it over your legs, to shield you from the biting cold wind from the river and reserve your modesty. 

Just as you settle in, the quiet murmur of the crowd dies down, and the soft strum of a guitar fills the air. Sam Kim steps onto the small, makeshift stage, his presence met with excited murmurs and appreciative applause from the audience.

You can’t believe it. Sam Kim, live and in person, just a few metres away. Your heart swells as the first notes of ‘Closer’ begin to play, the song wrapping around you like an old memory, one you didn’t realise you had been holding so close. The smooth timbre of Sam’s voice fills the cool night air, his words resonating deep within you.

You feel yourself lean instinctively toward Jongseong, and without hesitation, he wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer into his side. His warmth anchors you as the music washes over you both, your head resting lightly against his shoulder. He presses his chin softly atop your head, his hand lightly tracing your arm in slow, comforting strokes.

The tenderness of the moment, combined with Sam Kim’s voice singing about longing and love, stirs something deep inside you. As the next song begins - Seattle - its delicate melody and heartfelt lyrics unravel any composure you had left. Tears prick at your eyes, and you can’t help but let them fall as the song’s quiet emotion seeps into every fibre of your being. There’s something about the raw vulnerability in the music, in the moment, that makes it impossible to hold back.

Jongseong notices right away. Without a word, he gently tightens his hold on you, pulling you closer into him as if to shield you from the overwhelming emotion. He presses his lips softly against your temple in a tender, wordless gesture of comfort, his breath warm and steady against your skin.

As soon as his mouth makes contact with your skin, he feels sick in such a profound way, that all his love and realisation is now reaching from his toes, past his heart, and into his brain.

You glance up at him through your damp lashes, and he meets your gaze with such sincerity that your heart skips a beat. His eyes are full of unspoken promises, of quiet understanding. He doesn’t say anything, but the way he holds you, the way he looks at you, speaks louder than words ever could. In that moment, it feels like the music, the river, the night sky, and Jongseong are all blending together in perfect harmony.

The rest of the performance unfolds in a beautiful haze of music and soft touches. Each song Sam Kim plays feels like a gift, and by the time the last note fades into the night, you’re left with a feeling of warmth and connection that goes beyond the evening itself. It’s as though something shifted between you and Jongseong - a silent but profound acknowledgement that tonight was about more than just a date.

The final notes of the performance linger in the air, weaving through the soft hum of conversations around you. As the crowd begins to disperse, you wipe the last of your tears, touched not only by the music but by the entire night, Jongseong has crafted for you. His presence feels like an anchor, steady and reassuring amidst the emotional whirlpool of the evening.

"Are you okay, Y/N?" His voice is filled with concern, his gentle eyes scanning your face as though searching for any lingering sadness. You sense his earnestness, his desire to make sure every second of tonight was perfect for you. Jongseong knew you liked Sam Kim, but he hadn’t expected your deep connection to the music to stir such raw emotion in you. But now, seeing the impact it had, he’s certain Sam is officially his favourite artist too, simply because of what he’s done for you.

Smiling through the tenderness swelling in your chest, you nod and offer a playful pout. "I'm more than okay. Really, Jongseong, thank you so much for all of this. I don’t think I’ve ever had a date like this," you laugh, the joy bubbling up as you stand up, Jongseong quickly offering his hand to help you to your feet. His touch is light, but there’s an intimacy in the way he smooths out the wrinkles of your skirt, his fingers brushing over the fabric as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

A laugh escapes you again, this one softer, almost wistful. "I don’t even think I’ll ever have a date like this again."

But the truth behind your words hits deeper than you let on. You know someone like Jongseong is rare, a once-in-a-lifetime kind of soul. The universe doesn’t often gift the world people like him so easily, and yet here he is, standing before you, having planned the most thoughtful evening you’ve ever experienced. It feels like a miracle, like some kind of cosmic alignment that allowed you to meet him.

Jongseong, ever so sweet, tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear with a tenderness that makes your heart flutter. "Oh, you will," he says with a soft shake of his head, a playful yet sincere smile tugging at his lips. "Because I’m going to take you on dates bigger and better than this."

His words settle in your chest, a gentle promise that fills you with an almost dizzying sense of happiness. He’s not just thinking about tonight; he’s already imagining the future - your future together. What you don’t know is that during the mini-concert, as the singer’s voice crooned through the air, Jongseong was secretly planning the next date, and the one after that, and the next one after that one, and so many more. In his mind, he’s already picturing you both years down the line, holding hands when you’re old and grey, still laughing, still sharing moments like these. He’s jumping the gun here but that’s how much he wants you in his life, no, needs you in his life.

You reach up, your hand cupping his face, your thumb gently stroking the cool surface of his cheek. His skin feels smooth under your touch, but there’s a warmth beneath it, a warmth that spreads from him to you. "How about I plan the next one?" you offer, the words carrying a weight of confirmation - you want more. More moments like this, more laughter, more adventures. More him.

Jongseong’s eyes light up, his heart swelling with happiness. "Deal," he says, his voice low but laced with excitement. His gaze, however, drifts lower, his eyes falling to your lips. The air between you shifts, suddenly charged with a new kind of energy. He’s no longer just thinking about the next date; he’s thinking about now. The urge to kiss you swells inside him, consuming his thoughts. He wants to feel your lips on his, to communicate the emotions he hasn’t been able to fully express with words. His pulse quickens as he realises just how close you are, how easy it would be to lean in, close the gap, and make this night even more unforgettable.

You sense his desire, and a matching one blooms within you. Your heart beats faster as you step closer, rising onto your tiptoes. Slowly, almost hesitantly, you press your lips against his.

The kiss is soft at first, a delicate brush of skin against skin, but it carries the weight of all the unspoken feelings between you. Jongseong stills for a moment, his breath catching as he savours the sensation of your lips on his. There’s a gentleness in the way he kisses you, a quiet reverence as though he’s afraid to break the spell. His hand comes up to cup your jaw, his fingers threading through your hair as he deepens the kiss, but never rushes. Each movement is careful, slow, filled with a tenderness that makes your heart swell.

Your body tingles with warmth, a soft hum of pleasure spreading through you as you kiss him back. The world around you fades into the background—the quiet murmur of the river, the distant buzz of people - all of it disappearing as you lose yourself in the moment. His lips are warm and inviting, moulding perfectly to yours as though they were always meant to fit together. It’s sweet and unhurried, as if you have all the time in the world to explore the depth of this feeling.

As the kiss lingers, you feel the intensity of his emotions bleeding through, each press of his lips a silent confession. He’s telling you, without words, how much he’s already fallen for you. How he’s imagined a future with you, a lifetime of nights like this one. There’s a vulnerability in the kiss, an openness that makes your chest tighten with something more than affection. It feels like trust, like promise, like everything you’ve ever wanted but didn’t know you needed.

When you finally pull away, your breath mingles with his in the cool night air, your lips tingling with glee. His eyes are still closed, savouring the aftertaste of the kiss, as though he’s replaying it in his mind, etching it into his memory.

You both stand there for a moment, soaking in the adoration that seems to swirl around you. The Han River, mixed with the lights of the busking, and the love in the aire from the other couples, you feel it, all so immensely. Something has shifted. This isn’t just the start of something new - it’s the beginning of something deeply powerful. Something neither of you can quite put into words yet, but both of you feel it. It’s in the way he looks at you, in the way your lips just met, and in the way your hearts are already intertwining, bonding you to him for a lifetime.

Pulling himself away from the moment, Jongseong opens his eyes and grins down at you, kissing your forehead, desperate to keep his lips on you in some way. “Ready for the next one?”

“Oh, Absolutely.” Your answer is so self-assured and confident, there is no apprehension in your tone, only sheer enthusiasm to spend every waking minute with him.

Jongseong feels the same way, maybe even more than you. And he can’t wait for the day he gets to tell you how he fell in love with you in this moment.

_____

Laying in Jongseong’s bed, you slouch lazily against his headboard as you lose yourself in the words on your Kindle. The paragraphs of The Handmaiden grip you, pulling you into their twisted world, stirring a whirlwind of emotions inside you - a cocktail of disgust, hope, fear, and love. Love especially lingers on your mind, but little do you know that someone beside you is feeling that emotion just as intensely, perhaps even more, because the reason for his swirling heart is real and currently wearing his AC/DC t-shirt.

He stares at you engrossed in your book and for some strange, inexplicable reason, his chest feels tight and the pressure behind his eyes hurt, like he is a bottle of coke and there is a packet of Mentos just landing inside his soul.

"I fucking love you so much," Jongseong says suddenly, his voice soft yet undeniably passionate, carrying a depth that cuts through the silence of the room like a bolt of lightning. His body language or facial expression doesn’t change, in fact, the feeling has been inside of him for so long that speaking the words into fruition doesn’t change a thing about him. 

You freeze, the words on your screen blurring as your mind tries to process what you just heard.  Did he really say that? Maybe you misheard him. “What?” you ask, turning your head to face him, and once you see the sincerity in his face and the fire in his eyes, your heart begins to race, and your question is answered.

“I love you,” he repeats, more pointed this time so you know there is not even a wiggle of doubt, his eyes locked onto yours with a look so sincere it leaves you breathless. “More than my heart or my chest can hold in.” 

His confession takes you completely by surprise. It feels so sudden, so unexpected, that for a moment, you’re left speechless. You knew he cared deeply for you - his actions and gentle gestures have always spoken louder than words - but hearing it now, on a random Wednesday night, three months into your relationship, when you were just lounging in his bed, didn’t seem like his style at all. 

And you were right, Jongseong was always the one for grand gestures, for perfectly planned moments. He wanted to tell you over a candlelit dinner, complete with a big speech about all the reasons he fell for you, fighting the urge to tell you on your very first date. But he knew his feelings, he couldn’t deny them nor did he ever want to, however, maybe blurting out ‘I love you’ when he didn’t even know your favourite colour was a bit quick, so he decided to wait for the perfect moment, which he had guessed would be planned.

But there’s something so genuine about this moment - him saying it while you’re here, wearing his oversized t-shirt, your glasses perched on your nose, so absorbed in your book that you didn't even realise he was watching you. There’s no grand setup, no orchestrated plan - just pure, unfiltered feeling. Sometimes, you don’t need a big, fancy gesture; sometimes, the love is enough.

His hand reaches out to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek. His touch pulls you in, makes you forget about everything else except him and the love reflected in his eyes. Somehow, he looks even more beautiful than he did 10 minutes ago.

You place your Kindle to the side, giving him your full attention, and clasp his fingers with yours, feeling the steady thrum of his pulse under your touch. “You love me?” you whisper, almost as if saying it too loudly might shatter the magic of this moment.

“Of course I do,” he replies, his voice as easy as breathing, because that’s exactly what it feels like to him. Falling in love is supposed to be scary and daunting, placing your heart in the palms of someone who could break it with one wrongdoing is enough to put people off giving and receiving the emotion. But Jongseong? He would give you every part of his body for you to keep hold of - for you to own. You are everything he needs in life, the only person he would start a war for, he trusts you completely; he has never felt anything this strongly before. 

Your chest feels like it’s suddenly desperate to connect with his, to close the gap between you both and merge yourselves as one whole being. His words sink into you, filling spaces you didn’t even know were empty. 

With a shaky breath, you hold back a tiny sob, the aura in the room too overwhelming for your heart. But not overwhelming enough to stop you from saying how you feel. “I love you too, Jongseong,” you confess, your voice trembling slightly, but not with uncertainty - rather with the sheer intensity of the truth.

He looks at you, searching your face for any hint of doubt. It’s not that he doesn’t believe you, but it’s just the slight thread of insecurity in being so vulnerable with someone. "You mean it? You aren’t just saying it out of obligation? Because you do-”

You interrupt him, squeezing his hands tighter. “I mean it. More than anything else that has ever left my mouth. I love you.”

A Cheshire smile breaks across his face, bright and unrestrained. He grabs your face in a rush, his big hands enveloping your cheeks as he begins to pepper kisses all over your face - your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, every inch of skin he sees squished between his palms - until you’re giggling uncontrollably. 

“Jongseong!” you squeal, your laughter infectious, and thus he keeps going, pinning you down gently, his weight warm and secure over you, his lips finding every spot that makes you laugh even harder until your sides hurt. This is what love is supposed to feel like, childlike and free, just as you two always are.

You are in love. So incredibly in love.

When he finally stops, he rests his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “I will love you until my dying breath, Y/N L/N,” he promises, his voice low and solemn. The serious current that accompanies the joy in his voice tells you all you need to know, instilling you with confidence that this man means every word and every emotion he is pouring into you.

A grin spreads across your lips, and you can’t help the heartfelt response that tumbles out: “I’ll love you until we’re food for the worms to eat.”

Your morbid but romantic description makes his heart thump, his expression turning even brighter. He laughs, a rich, melodic sound that fills the room, and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, looking at you like you’re the only girl in the world. “Had to one-up me, huh?” he jokes.

“You know me, always one step extra,” you tease, pulling him down by the collar of his shirt.

The kiss starts slow, tender - a soft press of lips that speaks of newfound confessions and the quiet promise of forever. His lips are warm, moving gently against yours, and you can feel the way his breath hitches like he’s savouring every second, every little brush of skin against skin. Your hands find their way into his hair, tugging slightly, eliciting a low, rumbling groan from deep within his chest.

The kiss turns heated, a spark catching flame as his hands slide down your body, tracing the curve of your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. He slots his body between your legs, his hips situated on yours as his member hilts against you. Your legs spread wider to let him fully lay on top of you, your boyfriend’s heart kissing your own with each beat.

His lips part, deepening the kiss, and you respond in kind, matching his intensity. The world around you blurs; all you can feel is the heat of his body against yours, the way his lips mould perfectly with yours, and the electric current that courses through you with every touch, every breath. 

Jongseong’s hand grips your hip, fingers digging in just enough to make you shiver, and his lips move with a hunger that matches the rapid beat of your heart. He’s pouring everything into this kiss - all his love, his need, his promise - until you’re both breathless and burning with a desire that you never want to end.

The kiss breaks for just a moment, enough for both of you to catch your breath and him to discard your t-shirt, but Jongseong’s lips don’t leave your skin for long. His forehead rests against yours, and the two of you share a lingering moment of closeness, eyes locked, hearts pounding in sync. There’s an unspoken understanding between you, a shared desire that flows in the charged air between you.

With a soft, almost reverent touch, Jongseong begins trailing kisses along your jawline, slow and deliberate, as though he’s memorizing every inch of your skin with his lips. Each kiss is a whisper of warmth, igniting sparks of pleasure that ripple through your body. You tilt your head back, giving him access, and he doesn’t waste a second. His mouth continues its descent, moving down to your neck where he plants open-mouthed kisses, his tongue brushing lightly against your pulse point, causing a shudder to run through you.

His hands, warm and steady, explore the curves of your body as he works his way lower, lips grazing the sensitive skin of your collarbone. He lingers there for a heartbeat, nipping gently before soothing the spot with his tongue. Your fingers tangle in his hair, urging him on, and he responds with a low growl that reverberates against your skin, sending a fresh wave of heat through you.

Jongseong shifts, his lips now trailing down to the valley between your breasts, each kiss more purposeful, more heated than the last. His breath is hot, his touch sure, and every movement, every press of his lips, leaves you aching for more. You arch your back, pushing yourself into him, craving the sensation of his mouth on your body.

As he continues his descent, kissing lower and lower, until he is at the band of your panties, his breath fans across your skin, and the anticipation builds with every second, every soft press of his lips against you.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," he murmurs between kisses, his voice thick with adoration.

You giggle, hiding your face at the chanting confession. You can’t believe a man so perfect is in love with you. Gently, you run your fingers through his hair and pout down at him, “I love you, too.”

The words brush down your torso and into Jongseong’s ears, eliciting a smile from him. That is all he has wanted to hear, from the moment he met you. He knows love like this is precious, and he never intends to waste it.

Carefully, his fingers hook into the waistband of your shorts and pull them down, your legs instinctively opening, showcasing your bare, glistening pussy for your boyfriend to see. It’s delicious, succulent, and all entirely for him to devour.

"So fucking pretty," he whispers, sending chills down your spine. The room feels hotter as he settles between your legs, tongue poking through his lips oh so teasingly to wet them, your clit weaping for attention. He does this to you a lot, makes your body react in ways it never has before, even after your first date you felt your panties soaking more and more to the point you dragged him into your dorm room and fucked him. 

Was it a smart idea to fuck a man on the first date? Not usually, but you knew from that day that you were willing to spend the rest of your life with him so, what was the harm in some fun?

Kissing your clit, Jongseong looks up to watch you as he always does, loving the way your face conveys the pleasure you feel. Even the simplest of touches has you under his mercy. As he begins to lap at your core with his tongue, you can't help but clutch his hair, your fingers tangled in the strands as you grind into his face. Your back lifts from the bed as you seek even more pleasure.

Overcome with how you taste, he doesn’t even register your fingers in his hair, pulling at it harshly when he circles your clit with his tongue. You’re so wet as he slurps you up but there’s so much it’s dripping onto his chin. It serves as motivation to keep going, to pleasure you as much as possible, to show you how much he wants to devour you, both body and soul.

Jongseong doesn’t get pussy drunk with girls, but he does with you. Addicted to the taste and smell of you, he just wants to rub himself all over you, covering himself in your slick as if to scent him, like you’re both wolves in some ABO universe.

“Don’t stop, Jongseong,” you groan out, the backs of your feet digging into his back as you pin him down as best you can, signalling to him your need for more. 

Smirking at your desperation, Jongseong’s tongue runs itself along your entrance and it makes you buckle, pushing his head in further. He continues his effort, making you a panting mess. His tongue was a gift from God and you’ll need to thank the big man later when you meet him for blessing you with a sex-god boyfriend.

A sex-god boyfriend who is in love with you.

Dipping his tongue in a few times helps him gauge how tight you are, seeing how much prep he needs to give you before he can fuck his love into you. As if reading his lewd thoughts, he feels your pussy squeezing, his tongue taking advantage and swirling around to hit more circumference of your walls. 

“I can’t wait to be inside of you, baby. To show you how much i really love you.”

It’s funny that he thinks sex would showcase his love any more than his eyes and heart already do. You know he loves you, you might have been shocked at how abruptly he said it tonight, but you’ve always known. It’s in the way he kisses you, how he cooks dinner for you even after long days, and it’s in how he would give up anything to see you happy.

Your clit is suddenly being simulated by his nose, it poking at it slightly the more bountiful he inserts his tongue. It feels otherworldly, “Jongseong, s’good, so good, fuck,” Your fingers harshly massage his scalp as you wiggle, close to cumming.

He knows it too, you’re dripping so much it’s leaking over half of his face. It’s so fucking hot how you’re a mess like this, just for him, only for him. Jongseong switches his tactics, lips now encircled around your clit and sucking harshly on it, the new sensation causing you to cry out, a new wave of your juices dripping down his chin and onto his bedsheets 

And just a few seconds later, you’re coming undone. 

Jongseong, ever pleased with himself, cleans you up with his tongue, sucking up the slick that’s flowing form your hole and drinking it greedily. You taste so good he could spend hours down here. But unfortunately, and selfishly, he needs to fuck you. Right here, right now.

Wiping your essence from his mouth, Jongseong crawls up over your body, placing gentle kisses up your torso, past your heaving chest, and back to your lips. He stares at you with something deep in his iris’, a promise that he will always make you feel this inspired, this gleeful, and never cause you any harm. 

When you’re so in love with someone, all the emotions come with it. And while you both encompass the very being of adoration and love, sometimes that red that represented your passion for one another, turned into a shade none of you liked.

_____

Your heels slam against the tiled floor of the hallway as you march through the dimly lit corridor of your apartment building, the sound echoing like the beating of a war drum. Every step sends a jolt through your aching feet, but the pain is nothing compared to the simmering rage boiling in your veins. You fumble for your keys, hands trembling with a mix of exhaustion and fury, the metallic clinking of the keyring mocking your every failed attempt. When you finally manage to fit the key into the lock, it sticks, just like it always does. You curse under your breath - a small, infuriating reminder of the list of things that should have been fixed, but like so many other things lately, were neglected.

You give the door a sharp push, the old wood groaning in protest as it swings open, the gust of night air brushing over your flushed skin, cooling the anger that’s blazing just beneath the surface. Without thinking, you slam it shut behind you, the force sending a jolt through your arm as the door rebounds off something - or rather, someone. Your boyfriend. The door collides with his face, eliciting a pained grunt as he catches it just in time to prevent further damage.

“Really, Y/N?” he groans, rubbing his jaw where the door had made contact. His voice is strained, more exasperated than angry, but it only fuels the fire burning inside you.

You toss your clutch onto the nearby table with a careless flick of your wrist, the sharp clatter slicing through the tense silence. Kicking off your shoes with more force than necessary, you whirl around to face him, your vision clouded by a searing flash of red-hot anger. You know you should apologise, at least for the door, but the apology sticks in your throat, smothered by the bitterness that’s bubbling up like a storm ready to burst.

Raking your fingers through your hair, you grip tightly at the roots, desperate to hold onto something, anything, to stop yourself from unravelling completely. “I don’t even want to look at you right now,” you spit, voice thick with venom, every word dripping with the weight of betrayal. Your expression twists into one of pure disgust as if just the sight of him is enough to set you off all over again.

You spin on your heel, determined to escape, but before you can make it to the sanctuary of your bedroom, you feel his gentle grip on your elbow. It’s a light touch, but it might as well be ironclad, and despite every fibre of your being screaming to pull away, you find yourself turning back to him, drawn by a force you can’t quite resist. You wish you could fight it - fight him, fight this magnetic pull that always seems to reel you back in - but your heart, traitorous as it is, weakens at his touch.

His eyes are steady, calm even, but the way his jaw tenses betrays the storm brewing beneath his composed exterior. You can see the flicker of frustration in the tightness of his clenched teeth, but it’s not directed at you; it’s aimed at the mess that’s wedged its way between the two of you, threatening to tear apart everything you’ve built together. He’s not angry with you, not even a little, but you can see the weariness in his gaze - the weight of a thousand unspoken words hanging between you like a fog.

“Too bad, because I don’t care if you don’t want to see me. We’re talking this out right now,” he says, his voice low but firm. He is not letting you stew in this mess, he hates the way your brain works, how it overthinks for hours, creating a mountain out of a molehill when he knows that one simple conversation can solve all problems.

He does fear that this might not be solved with a quick debate and kiss. This is going to take more than that.

You yank your arm away, swallowing the painful lump forming in your throat as you catch the brief flash of hurt in his eyes, like a knife twisting deeper. “Oh, sorry,” you snap, sarcasm dripping from your words, the sound bitter in your mouth. “What would you like to discuss first? The fact that you embarrassed me in front of my entire family and ruined my sister’s engagement party, or the fact that you punched my dad?”

Each word leaves your lips like a punch, each accusation sharper than the last. You watch as his calm exterior fractures, his eyes flickering with a cocktail of regret, anger, and something you can't quite place. The room feels like it’s closing in, the air heavy with the weight of things said and unsaid, as the silence between you sharpens, poised to snap at any moment.

Jongseong flinches, his expression flickering for a moment, the crack in his composure barely visible but unmistakable to you. He’s always been so unshakable, so infuriatingly composed during moments like this, and for a split second, you see the vulnerability beneath the mask - the guilt, the pain, the anger at himself. But he quickly steels himself, his gaze locking onto yours with a resolve that sends a shiver down your spine.

“You think I wanted that to happen?” he shoots back, his voice low and rough, trembling slightly with the effort of keeping it steady. His eyes bore into yours, dark and intense, as if searching for some kind of understanding in the sea of your fury. “You think I planned to lose it like that? That I wanted to make a scene in front of your whole family?”

His words hang heavy in the air, every syllable a plea for you to see him, to see the mess of emotions churning inside him, but all you can feel is the sting of humiliation, the sharp edge of betrayal slicing through your chest. 

The scene replays in your mind like a broken film reel, each frame more painful than the last. Your father’s slurred words, the way Jongseong’s posture stiffened, the moment things spiralled from heated words to fists flying. You remember the sickening thud of your father hitting the ground, the horrified gasps, and the wave of whispers that rippled through the room. Your heart had dropped to the floor along with him, and in that split second, everything had shattered - your sister’s engagement, your mother’s fragile composure, and the image you’d built of the man you loved. You can still hear the murmurs, each one laced with judgment, each one a knife twisting deeper.

Your dad has always been a kind man at heart, but the bottle changes him into someone unrecognisable, a man who lets the worst parts of himself spill out. You remember the nights as a child, hiding in your room while your parents fought, your mother’s angry voice telling him to sober up or get out, how he would vomit over the living room floor and have no recollection of it in the morning. It’s those memories - the helplessness, the fear, the shame - that have kept you from ever picking up a drink. 

You vowed never to touch the stuff, never to let alcohol turn you into someone altered, and Jongseong understood that about you from the start after you trusted him with your memories. He made the promise to you that night, quitting the moment you told him how much it meant to you, swearing he would never touch another drop again. You didn’t ask him too, he simply did it because that’s how much he loves you.

You step back, folding your arms across your chest, a protective barrier against the storm brewing between you. “You punched my dad, Jongseong!” you shout, your voice cracking under the strain of holding back tears. “You humiliated me in front of everyone. My mom was crying, my sister - God, do you even know what you did to her tonight? It was supposed to be her moment, and you ruined it!”

He steps forward, reaching out as if to touch you, to comfort you, but you take another step back, the distance between you widening. The urge to let him hold you, to fall into his arms and let the weight of tonight melt away is so strong it hurts, but you can’t. Not yet. Not when everything is still so raw, so jagged.

Jongseong breathes out and calms himself, “Listen to me,” he steps forward once again and he’s relieved that you don’t move. “I should not have acted like that, and that is what I am sorry for. But I will not let a man who has caused you so much pain talk about you like you are less than what you are. As long as my heart is beating, even when it stops, I will protect you from anything and anyone. I do not care if it’s family, or a stranger, or even yourself. You mean more to me than any other person on this planet and if I think for a second your heart is in danger, I am willing to do anything to protect it.”

His words hang in the air, raw and intense, vibrating with a passion that cuts through the tension like a blade. His gaze is locked onto yours, unwavering, filled with a fierce, almost desperate determination that pulls at something deep inside you. He’s closer now, just a step away, and you can feel the heat radiating off him, mingling with the cold ache of your own heartbreak. For a moment, all the noise in your head quiets, leaving only the thundering rhythm of your own heartbeat and the weight of his promise.

The room feels smaller, the walls closing in as the intensity of the moment settles around you. You’re torn between the anger that still simmers beneath your skin and the undeniable pull toward him, the man who’s both your solace and, tonight, your greatest source of pain. Jongseong’s words are like a salve, and though they don’t erase what happened, they start to soothe the jagged edges of your hurt. You can see the fear in his eyes - fear of losing you, of becoming the person you’ve always dreaded. There’s a vulnerability in him now, raw and unguarded, and it stirs something soft within you.

You take a deep breath, letting the tension drain from your shoulders, just a little. Your grip on the anger loosens, and the tight knot in your chest begins to unfurl, replaced by a slow, tentative warmth. Your fingers twitch, wanting to reach out, but you keep them at your sides, not quite ready for the full embrace of forgiveness but open to something gentler, something that feels like understanding.

“Jongseong,” you start, your voice quieter now, less a weapon and more a tentative bridge. “I know you meant well. I know you were trying to stand up for me. But you have to understand… that’s not what I need. I don’t need you to fight for me like that. I don’t need you to get angry on my behalf. I just need you to be here, to help me feel safe. Not like…” You trail off, your eyes dropping to the floor as you fight to find the words. “Not like this. We’ve been together for 5 years now, I told you my dad has his moments like this and as a family, we all chose to stick by him and support him, for mum’s sake. He is trying and sometimes he slips. Punching him and lashing out because he said some stupid shit he won’t remember in the morning isn’t the answer, it’s not what I want from you.”

Jongseong’s expression softens, the fierce determination in his eyes giving way to something deeper, more regretful. Honestly, he hates that you’re all so kind to a man who has caused you grief and misery your entire life, but you, your mum, and your sister are the kindest souls in the universe, it’s in your nature to see the good in people. Jongseong wishes your dad saw you all that way too, rather than taking advantage of the chances you give him.

He steps closer, his hand finally making contact with your skin and you instantly calm, the weight of his palm on your cheek grounding you. “I’m so sorry, baby,” he repeats, his voice breaking slightly, carrying the weight of his remorse. “I know what I did was stupid. I still don’t regret it,” he admits, his honesty ringing clear despite the regret in his tone. “I’d fight anyone who tried to hurt you, physically or emotionally. That’s how much you mean to me.”

You look up at him, the tears you’d been holding back now spilling freely. His confession doesn’t erase the pain, but it does offer a window into his heart - a heart that, despite its flaws and mistakes, beats fiercely in your defence. You can see the struggle in his eyes, the conflict between his protective instincts and the reality of his actions.

“I know,” you whisper, your voice quiet but unwavering. “I know you’d do anything to protect me. But if we’re going to be a family - when we get married - you’ll be part of all this. You have to understand that. You have to respect my mum and dad’s needs.” Your words are a bridge between your love for him and your love for your family. “If you can’t do that, then I can’t let you be a part of their lives. I need you to know that.”

Your voice trembles slightly at the weight of what you’re saying, and the look in Jongseong’s eyes shifts. He doesn’t speak right away, but his silence is filled with understanding. You can see your words land like stones in his chest, the gravity of your family’s importance settling in. He knows how much they mean to you, and the unspoken warning lingers: if he messes this up again, there’s no way forward. The very thought of a future without you sends a ripple of fear through him. He’s never imagined that possibility because, to him, there is no option. He won’t let it happen.

His stomach churns at the idea of losing you, but his hope brightens as you say ‘when we get married’ rather than ‘if’. “I’ll do better, Y/N. I promise, I’ll support you in whatever way you need me to.” His shoulders drop slightly as if conceding to the truth you’ve laid bare between you. “You’re strong. I should’ve known that, and I’m sorry for not trusting that strength.” His remorse is palpable, and you can feel the weight lifting slightly from your chest, the anger and hurt that had clouded your mind beginning to dissipate.

The room seems to settle, the tension slowly dissolving into something calmer, something more manageable. You look up at the man you love, really look at him, and see how much he truly cares - how deeply he regrets what happened, not just for you, but for everyone. His eyes are sincere, remorse shining in their depths, and for the first time since the night began to spiral, you feel a sense of peace.

You exhale, your own apology forming on your lips as the fog of anger clears from your brain. “I’m sorry too. For lashing out, for hitting you with the door…it was childish. I shouldn’t have acted like that.” A flush of embarrassment heats your face, the shame of your actions making you feel small.

Jongseong reaches up to rub his jaw, faking a wince, and thankfully, the playful gesture lightens the air between you. “Nothing a kiss can’t sort out,” he teases, his lips quirking into a small, pouting smile, trying to bring a bit of levity to the conversation.

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “Let’s just make sure we don’t cause a fiasco at any more engagement parties, okay?”

Jongseong chuckles slightly, his grin widening as he tilts his head. “What if it’s at ours? Do I get groom rights to cause chaos then?”

You raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you play along. “Well, you’d have to propose first for me even to consider that.”

Jongseong’s eyes twinkle with mischief and that same love that has always projected through from his soul as he leans in, lowering his voice to a playful whisper. “Just you wait, baby.”

_____

The heavy wooden doors of the chapel creak open, and Jongseong straightens his suit jacket, his fingers smoothing over the fabric of the black suit you had so carefully picked out for him. It’s tailored to perfection, hugging his broad shoulders and tapering down to a sleek fit at his waist. The crisp white shirt underneath feels a little too tight around his collar, not because of the fit, but because of the sheer enormity of the day. He inhales deeply, gathering all the breath he knows he’ll lose the second he begins his walk down the aisle.

At 34 years old, he’s finally getting married, and it still feels surreal. Even this morning, as he stood in front of the mirror, carefully adjusting his tie, it all felt more nerve-wracking than he could have imagined. His hands trembled slightly, not with doubt but with anticipation. It isn’t cold feet - far from it. Marrying you is the most certain thing he’s ever felt. In fact, the only thing weighing on his chest isn’t whether or not he’s making the right choice - it’s the fact that, for the first time in what feels like forever, you’re not by his side.

Last night, the night before your wedding, was the longest you’ve spent apart in years. You’d stayed with your sister, following the superstition that the bride and groom shouldn’t see each other before the ceremony, and while it seemed trivial at first, Jongseong missed you more deeply than he ever thought possible. Since that party so many years ago, he’s spent every moment he could by your side, and now, after sharing a home, building a life together, the thought of you not being there in his bed last night left an ache he hadn’t expected.

It wasn’t the marriage that was causing him anxiety. He couldn’t wait to marry you—to say the vows, to see you in your wedding dress, to call you his wife. No, what had his stomach in knots was the thought of walking down the aisle with all eyes on him. The idea of being the centre of attention, of every gaze following his every move, from the ball of his foot to the tip of his toes, made his skin crawl. Even as a kid, Jongseong hated being the focus of a room. 

You’d always been the one to handle social situations with grace, navigating crowds, talking to guests, and subtly keeping the two of you out of the spotlight when he needed it. God, he wished you were here right now to hold his hand and whisper something to ease his nerves.

But of course, you weren’t. Tradition had stolen you away from him this morning, and now, he had to face this moment alone. The chapel, though filled with friends and family, felt overwhelmingly empty without you by his side. His heart pounded harder in his chest as the reality of the moment hit him.

Suddenly, the soft notes of music swelled from the organ, pulling him from his thoughts. It was the cue the wedding planner had told him about, the signal that it was time for him to make his way down the aisle. He stood still for a moment, nodding to himself as he acknowledged what lay ahead. The attention, the eyes on him, the anxious fluttering in his chest - it would all be worth it the second he saw you at the other end of the aisle.

With a deep breath, he steps forward. His polished black shoes make a quiet click against the stone floor of the chapel, the sound echoing in the stillness of the room. Jongseong’s gaze flickers up briefly, catching sight of familiar faces in the pews. His mother, sitting proudly near the front, offers him a warm, reassuring smile. He tries to return it, but it feels stiff, nerves still crawling beneath his skin. His father gives him a subtle nod of encouragement, and Jongseong straightens his back, feeling the weight of their support behind him.

As he continues to walk, the scent of lilies and roses, the same ones you picked out together for the ceremony, fills the air. Sunlight streams in through the stained-glass windows, casting vibrant colours across the chapel floor - deep reds, purples, and golds dancing around his feet like blessings from above. He hears the faint rustle of fabric as guests turn their heads to watch him, but he keeps his eyes forward, focusing on the path ahead.

His palms are sweaty, and his pulse quickens with each step. The aisle feels impossibly long, like a steep hill with a drinking fountain waiting at the top. The rows of guests stretch on and on. Jongseong fights the urge to tug at his collar, to loosen the tie just a bit, but he knows it won’t help. Nothing can calm the storm inside him except you.

But as he nears the front, something shifts. The nervousness, the anxiety of being under watchful eyes, begins to ebb away, replaced by something else. Anticipation. Because just after this walk, after these few moments of discomfort, comes you. The love of his life. His future.

He greets your family with fondness and love as he reaches the end. Each one has become integral to his life, the definition of his second family. Jongseong's smile softens as he approaches them and offering a slight bow in respect. 

His future mother-in-law is sitting to the side, her eyes filled with warmth. Her hands are clasped tightly in her lap, fingers intertwined, though her expression is calm and composed. She has always been a strong presence in your life, and he feels the same quiet strength radiating from her now. She nods to him, her lips curving into a gentle smile that puts him a little more at ease. There’s a silent understanding between them - one forged through shared moments, family dinners, and heart-to-heart talks that had transformed Jongseong from a visitor into a son.

Standing next to your other bridesmaids is your sister, fidgeting slightly with the lace of her dress, her excitement palpable as the number one supporter in this relationship. She beams up at him, her eyes twinkling. She’s always been the one to bring lightness into any room, to ease tension with a well-timed joke or a teasing comment, and seeing her now, vibrant and full of life, reminds him of all the times she’d teased him for being so nervous about today. Her laughter and encouragement had helped him through many anxious moments, and her unspoken support right now is a comfort he hadn’t realised he needed.

They are his family now, just as much as his own parents sitting a few rows behind, and knowing that fills him with a sense of belonging.

Jongseong takes his position at the altar, trying to shake off the nervous tension building inside him. His friend Sunghoon is already there, waiting with a grin that’s equal parts mischief and pride. Sunghoon, who had been there for every milestone in his relationship, claps him on the back. It's surreal for both of them; after all, it was Sunghoon who dragged Jongseong to that dreadful party where you first met. Sunghoon had refused to let Jongseong skip it, even though Jongseong had dramatically declared he’d rather run naked through a field of nettles than attend. Now, Sunghoon stands by his side, proud of the role he played in bringing you both together and wearing the title of groomsman like a badge of honour.

"You look like you're about to get married," Sunghoon teases, laughter dancing in his voice. From where he stands, Sunghoon sees his best friend transformed. Jongseong’s usual cool demeanour is present, but there’s a deeper layer today - one of anticipation and raw emotion. His usually steady hands are clenched slightly, his jaw a little tighter than usual. Sunghoon notices all these small signs, but underneath them, he can see that Jongseong is just waiting to call you his wife, the need to call you Mrs. Park is what’s making him shake.

"Yeah? Too overdressed?" Jongseong jokes, trying to mask the nerves that refuse to leave him completely.

"Just a little," Sunghoon nudges him playfully. His smile fades into something more sincere. "You ready?"

Jongseong takes a deep breath before responding, his voice quiet but confident. "I don’t think I’ve ever been more ready in my life." He ignores the whispers and murmurs from the crowd, sounds he can't quite decipher. Will they be bad? Probably not, but that doesn’t stop his brain from trying to twist them into something else. What if they all think you’re settling? Still, he pushes it all aside, focusing on the one thing that matters: you.

He is so excited to see you. You had kept everything a secret - your dress, your hair, even down to your nails. He had tried every trick in the book to get even the smallest detail out of you, from sweet persuasion to playful pestering. He’d casually ask while you were busy with wedding plans or playfully guess what colour you might be wearing, trying to gauge your reaction. Each time, though, you would just smile coyly and shake your head, refusing to give anything away. Jongseong had groaned in mock frustration, but deep down, he knew it would be worth the wait. He was absolutely certain you’d look breathtaking, no matter what. You always look like the most beautiful person in the world, like the earth around you, only blooms to keep up with your beauty.

Sunghoon grins, breaking Jongseong’s thoughts. "I saw her earlier, y'know. Tried to talk her out of making a massive mistake." His tone is light, there’s no mistaking the fondness in his eyes. Sunghoon had actually visited you before the ceremony, not to convince you of anything, but to tell you how happy he was that you had come into Jongseong’s life. He had joked that he wanted a child named after him, but beneath the teasing, he was sincere. He told you how lucky he felt to witness true love up close, to see two people so in sync that it was like watching a real-life fairytale.

For Sunghoon, it was like one of the bedtime stories he read to his daughter, tales of love that transcended everything else. Sometimes, when he read those stories, his mind would drift to you and Jongseong, imagining the two of you as the characters destined for each other. Even his wife is amazed by the connection you share - two people who fit together so effortlessly that it was hard to believe. Sunghoon and his wife love one another so much, but they can recognise that you and Jongseong’s love is once in a lifetime, and they learn so much from you.

"Yeah? How did she look?" Jongseong asks, his voice tinged with hope. "Nervous? Cold feet? She’s definitely coming, right?"

Sunghoon throws his head back, laughing loudly, the sound echoing through the quiet church, eliciting some confusion on the faces of the guests. "She looks way out of your league, but no, she’s not nervous. She’s ready. In fact, she told me to let you know that you should cry when you see her. If you don’t, she’s marrying Jake instead."

Right on cue, Jake, the other groomsman, pops his head over Sunghoon’s shoulder with a wide grin. "And I will marry her in a minute, so you better get those waterworks going."

Jongseong can’t help but laugh, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it all. But he knows you’re serious about the tears. Your man is not one for crying, he rarely feels the need for tears, but he has a sneaking suspicion you’re going to get your wish.

The music starts, and Jongseong stiffens, his heart slamming against his ribs as if it’s trying to escape his chest and rush down the aisle to meet you. It’s only been a night since he last saw you, but to him, it feels like an eternity. The shared bed had felt too big, too cold without you beside him, and in that quiet space, he realized just how much you completed him. He missed you, and though it might seem dramatic, the longing reminded him that this wasn’t just about nerves. It was about the indescribable excitement of committing himself to you, completely and forever.

He had wanted to do this years ago, perhaps two years into your relationship rather than waiting twelve. But you had been the practical one, insisting that you both build your careers, settle into life without the added pressure of a wedding. He hadn’t minded too much; after all, what was a few more years when you had forever to spend together?

As the soft strains of music fill the chapel, Jongseong freezes. It’s an original piece - the one he had composed for you way back in the beginning of your relationship. The ballad, a quiet testament to the love he held for you even then, was something he’d never expected to hear today. Each note flows seamlessly into the next, blending together like the way his love for you has always been: fluid, effortless, natural. 

For him, loving you has never been complicated. It’s as though the melody was written not just with the keys of the piano, but with the strings of his heart. The tears, which you had so eagerly asked for, begin to gather at the corners of his eyes.

Then he sees you.

You appear at the end of the aisle, and his breath catches. Words escape him because they’re not enough to describe how radiant you are. The light from the stained-glass windows dances across your white gown, making you look as if you’re wrapped in sunlight itself. The lace of your dress hugs your figure delicately, each intricate detail shimmering as if woven from the stars. Your veil, soft as gossamer, floats behind you, catching the gentle breeze that filters through the open chapel doors. Your eyes, bright and full of love, meet his, and in that moment, Jongseong knows - if ever there was perfection, it is you.

Your beauty is beyond anything he could have imagined, like a dream come to life. You are the embodiment of every love song, every poem, every whispered promise. As you walk toward him, it feels like time slows, like the world pauses to let him savour every second, every step. You are grace personified, and all he can think is how lucky he is that this is real, that you are his.

Beside you, your father walks proudly with his arm linked through yours. His face shines with pride, his entire being glowing with joy. Jongseong feels a surge of pride for him as well. Their relationship had a rocky start, but now, four years into his sobriety, your father has become someone Jongseong admires deeply. 

The way you and your family never gave up on him taught Jongseong valuable lessons in patience, compassion, and what it means to truly love someone through their struggles. Watching your father today, standing tall and proud, Jongseong knows that all the hardships were worth it. He understands now that loving someone through their demons isn’t easy, but it’s something only the most special people can do - and you are one of those people. You have made Jongseong a better man, and he is and always will be eternally grateful for that.

When you and your father finally reach the end of the aisle, Jongseong’s breath hitches as he sees you up close for the first time. He’s lost for words, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. The tears that had gathered in his eyes finally spill over as he gazes at you. Your smile is so bright, most likely happy at his reaction, and he suddenly feels like his heart is trying to burst through his chest just to meld with your own; he is so privileged you hold his heart this way.

“You look…” he starts, but the words catch in his throat.

“Like I’m ready to be your wife?” you finish with a teasing smile, your voice warm and steady.

Jongseong shakes his head, his voice cracking with emotion. “Like my everything.” 

The way he says this, so pure and genuine, your smile falters just ever so slightly, your face now wanting to express an earnest love, the kind of expression you only look at the love of your life with.

Your father, watching the exchange, beams with satisfaction. There’s a tenderness in his expression as he shakes Jongseong’s hand, pulling him into a firm embrace. “I know you’ll look after one another,” your father whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so proud to call you my son.”

The words settle deep within Jongseong’s heart, and when your father steps back to take his seat, the ceremony begins.

As the officiant begins speaking, his voice soft but clear, Jongseong can’t help but marvel at how your hand fits so perfectly in his, your fingers warm and familiar, yet somehow new, in this moment. Every word that spills from the officiant’s lips feels like background noise; all Jongseong can focus on is you. The way you stand before him, radiating beauty and calm, is enough to make his heart swell to the point of aching. You squeeze his hand softly, pulling him back to the present. His thumb brushes over your knuckles in response, a silent message of reassurance, of love. It feels as if the two of you are existing in your own world, tethered together by this secret moment amid the hum of the ceremony.

Even in a room full of people, he will always only see you.

He glances at your face, catching a fleeting look of emotion dancing in your eyes, and it takes everything in him not to pull you into his arms right there. You’re holding it together so well, but he knows you too well. The slight tension in your grip, the way your breath catches every now and then - it all betrays the storm of emotion beneath the surface. And it matches his own.

When the officiant calls for the vows, Jongseong inhales sharply. This is the part he’s been waiting for, and yet, the part that terrifies him the most. Not because he’s unsure, but because there’s so much to say, so much love to express, and he hopes he can convey it all with the right words.

He turns to face you, both of your hands now clasped together. He can feel the slight tremble in your fingers, mirroring the nervous excitement coursing through his own veins. The vows - this is where he gets to tell you, in front of everyone you both love, just how much you mean to him. But even as he opens his mouth, his heart beats in time with yours, each pulse echoing a silent promise of forever.

Clearing his throat, he pulls the paper from his suit pocket, calming himself.

“Y/N. I should start by saying how in love I am with you. I think it’s pretty obvious, I don’t think my heart is even mine anymore with the way you hold it. I remember the first time I ever saw you, so bored and begging to be saved from that god awful party. But it’s funny if you think about it because I didn’t save you from anything at all, you saved me - in more ways than I could ever thank you for.

You are my heart, soul, courage, fear, wonder, and love. I am you and you are me. ‘Love is a condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own.’ I remember hearing that quote and never fully knowing what it meant. But since we are two people sewn together with the thread of fate, I began to understand that for me to be happy, to live in this world without regret or misery, I need to make sure I love you with every fibre of my being, to make sure you’re happy, safe, and cherished until the very end.

So today, my love, I vow to love you exactly as you are. I vow to protect you, not just from the world, but from any doubts or fears that ever try to steal your light. I vow to be the one who stands by your side when life feels too heavy, to hold you when you need comfort, and to celebrate with you when life brings you joy. I promise to love you on the days when life feels effortless, but more importantly, I vow to love you even harder on the days when it’s not.

I promise to cherish the smallest moments, the quiet mornings and the late-night talks, the laughter and even the silences that only we understand. You have made me a better man, and every day with you feels like a gift I don’t deserve, but one I will never take for granted.

I vow to never let a day go by without reminding you just how much you mean to me. To wake up every morning and choose you, choose us, over and over again. I vow to be your protector, your partner, your best friend, and your greatest supporter. Whatever life brings our way - whether it’s joy or challenges - I will be there, by your side, holding your hand through it all.

And above all, I vow to love you endlessly, fiercely, and without reservation, because you are my heart’s home, and there is nowhere else I would rather be.

Today, tomorrow, and every day after, I am yours. Forever.”

As Jongseong finishes his vows, his voice steady yet laced with emotion, you feel tears slip down your cheek. Despite your best efforts to stay composed, the overwhelming love in his words makes it impossible to hold back. You mourn the people in the pews who don’t get to experience Jongseong’s love because it is unfiltered and pure, the love people dream of and never have. He watches you closely, his eyes softening the moment he notices your tears.

Without missing a beat, Jongseong reaches up, gently brushing away the tear with the pad of his thumb, his touch as tender as his words. His fingers linger for a moment, his smile growing fond and warm as if he’s silently telling you that it’s okay, that he’s here, and that he understands how deeply his words have touched you.

Jongseong leans in just slightly, close enough for you to hear him whisper, "Maybe I should have vowed to never make you cry." His playful tone does little to hide the way his own eyes glisten, the deep emotions brimming just below the surface. 

Your lips tremble into a small smile through your tears, feeling both overwhelmed and reassured by the way he’s looking at you - as though you are the most precious thing in his world. And in that moment, you realise, you don’t have to hold anything back. You’re standing here, with the man who will cherish you for the rest of his life, and there is no need for composure, no need to hide the tears or the love that pours from you so naturally.

The officiant gives a gentle nod, signalling it’s time for your vows, but Jongseong keeps his gaze on you, his hand still cradling your cheek as if to give you strength. His smile never falters, and in his eyes, you see nothing but encouragement, affection, and a quiet promise that he will be right here, every step of the way.

You take a deep breath, your fingers trembling slightly as you hold your vows, and the room quiets in anticipation. You glance at Jongseong, your heart swelling as you realize you’re about to marry the love of your life, the man who has been your everything for so long.

“I kinda wish I went first now,” you laugh softly, stepping back to wipe your tears, earning a round of laughter from the guests. Even Jongseong chuckles, his eyes full of warmth, and the pressure lifts just a little as you prepare to speak from the heart.

“I really can’t believe I’m standing here today, two seconds away from becoming Mrs. Park. Though, let’s be real - I’m never going to be the best Mrs. Park. That title is clearly reserved for your mum,” you say with a playful smile, looking over at Jongseong’s mother. She places a hand on her heart, her eyes shining with affection, and nods back at you.

“Jongseong, standing here before you feels like a dream I’ve had my entire life. It feels like everything in the universe has led me to this moment, to you. You are my heart, my home, and the one person who makes the world feel safe and beautiful just by being in it.

People think a soulmate is your perfect fit, and that’s what everyone wants. But a true soulmate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life. And you have changed my life Jongseong, so beautifully so. I am more confident, resilient, and passionate about my life because I have you beside me. 

There is so much love inside my body that is only reserved for you. Love is the reason we all continue to live, even through tragedies and heartbreak, we seek love in all of those moments because it’s worth living for. Jongseong, you make life worth living.

I vow to honor you with every beat of my heart, to cherish you with every breath I take. I promise to stand by you in every season, to be your unwavering support when the world feels heavy, and your biggest cheerleader when you need encouragement. I will hold your hand through the trials and celebrate with you in the triumphs, always knowing that together, we can face anything.

I vow to love you as deeply as the ocean, to be your steadfast anchor when the waves of life try to pull us apart. I promise to nurture our dreams, to build a life filled with wonder and discovery, and to always remember the simple, profound joy of being together.

You have taught me that love is not just a feeling, but a practice - one that grows and deepens every day. It is in the way we laugh together, the way we support each other’s dreams and the quiet moments when we simply hold each other close. I promise to practise this love with you, to make it a living, breathing part of our lives, one that we can carry into the afterlife and know that even if our bodies are apart through death, our hearts are always linked.

I want to be a wife who deserves you, one who never takes you for granted and gives you back tenfold the love you have for me, and God knows your love is vaster than anything else in this world. You are my heart’s truest song, and I vow to be the harmony to your melody, the gentle refrain that sings of our forever. I promise to be patient, to listen, to understand, and to always come back to you with an open heart.

Jongseong, today and every day, I choose you, not just as my partner but as my greatest adventure, my greatest joy, and my deepest love. Together, we will write a story that is uniquely ours, filled with love, laughter, and a bond that only grows stronger with time. You are my most cherished muse, wholly and completely.”

As you finish your vows, your voice quivers with emotion, and the room seems to collectively hold its breath. Jongseong’s eyes glisten with tears of joy and admiration as he kisses your forehead, his touch is tender and reassuring, and he smiles at you with a look of pure, unadulterated love. The room sighs with appreciation, moved by the heartfelt exchange.

The officiant, his own eyes misty with the beauty of the moment, clears his throat to address the couple. “Having heard these vows of unwavering love and commitment, it is now time for us to proceed with the ring exchange.”

Jongseong and you gaze deeply into one anothers eyes, the ceremony reaching its most poignant moment. The officiant gestures to Sunghoon, who steps forward, holding the rings with great reverence. With a knowing smile, he hands the rings to Jongseong, who looks at them with a sense of awe. This is it. 

“Jongseong,” the officiant prompts, “please place the ring on Y/N’s finger and repeat after me.”

Jongseong’s voice is steady but filled with emotion as he recites the traditional vows, “With this ring, I thee wed. It is a symbol of my love and devotion, a promise to cherish and honour you all the days of my life.”

As Jongseong slides the ring onto your finger, you feel its weight - a tangible representation of his love and commitment. You repeat the same words to him, your hands slightly trembling with the depth of your feelings.

The officiant smiles warmly at the couple. “May these rings be a constant reminder of the love you share and the vows you have made to each other.”

With the rings exchanged, the officiant addresses the gathering. “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Jongseong leans in, his gaze locked with yours, and the world seems to fall away, leaving just the two of you in this perfect moment. His lips touch yours with a tenderness that is both electrifying and soothing. The kiss starts softly, a gentle brush of affection, but it quickly deepens into something more passionate and heartfelt. His hands cradle your face, his thumbs gently brushing along your cheekbones, anchoring you both in the intimacy of the moment.

The warmth of his breath mingles with yours, and as the kiss unfolds, it feels like a dance - delicate and full of emotion. Jongseong’s lips move with a tender urgency, conveying the depth of his love and the gravity of the vows you’ve just exchanged. There’s gentle pressure, a shared promise in the way his mouth moves against yours as if he’s pouring all the love he holds into this one kiss.

The chapel’s applause and cheers seem distant, fading into the background as you’re wrapped in the warmth and sweetness of Jongseong’s kiss. His fingers gently trace the curve of your jaw, adding a touch of reverence to the moment. You can feel the thrum of emotion in every touch, every caress, as if he’s imprinting this perfect moment onto both of your souls.

As you slowly pull away, Jongseong’s eyes are filled with a mixture of joy and reverence. The intensity of the kiss has left both of you breathless, your hearts racing with the shared exhilaration of this new chapter. His gaze holds yours with profound happiness, and you see in his eyes the same depth of feeling that you’ve always known was there.

“I love you so fucking much, Y/N,” Jongseong confesses with more earnestness than you have ever seen in one human being. 

“I don’t think you’re supposed to swear in church,” you giggle, pecking his lips to rid him of the sin.

But he’s unbothered, his emotions outweighing etiquette. He shrugs and takes your hand in his. “I think the big man upstairs will forgive me this one time.”

As Jongseong takes your hand, the two of you walk down the aisle together, the applause from your friends and family echoing through the chapel, though it now feels like nothing more than a distant murmur. His thumb gently strokes the back of your hand, and every glance he steals your way is filled with an overwhelming sense of love and pride. The weight of the moment lingers sweetly between you, as if you’re both walking on air.

Once outside, the soft sunlight bathes you both in warmth, and you can’t help but let out a contented sigh. This is everything you could want. 

Jongseong, ever the gentleman, jogs to reach the car first, dramatically pulling the door open with a playful grin. “After you, Mrs. Park,” he gestures with a flourish, eyes turning into sweet crescent moons as the light beams from him.

You raise an eyebrow and chuckle at his antics. “You’re enjoying this, huh?”

“Can’t help it,” he winks, guiding you gently into the car. “I love how it sounds on my tongue,” he leans down until he’s level with your face, “Mrs. Park, Mrs. Park, Mrs. Park.” 

He will repeat it until he gets bored of hearing it, which will be never and a day.

As you settle into the seat, he quickly slips in beside you, and before the door is even shut, his lips are on yours again, more urgent this time. The kiss deepens with a fervour that wasn’t quite there at the altar, and you can feel his restraint fading. He pulls you closer, his hand resting possessively on your waist, as if he’s making up for all the time he spent holding back earlier - he would have gone all in but something about tonguing you down in front of a priest and about 30 of your closest friends and family didn’t sit well with him. His lips move hungrily against yours, each kiss more intense than the last.

You let out a soft moan in response to the sudden heat, and Jongseong smirks into your mouth, pulling back just enough to catch his breath, but not before brushing his lips teasingly against yours once more. The car starts moving, but his focus is entirely on you. His forehead rests against yours for a moment, his breath coming in shallow, heated bursts. The playful glint in his eyes returns as he taps the driver on the shoulder.

“Could you take us back to the hotel for a quick pit stop?” His tone is mischievous, eyes twinkling with intent.

You blink in surprise, your thoughts returning briefly to the chaos of the wedding day schedule. “But…we need to get our certificate signed, take pictures…the reception?” You eye him curiously, though a part of you already knows where this is going.

Jongseong just shrugs, utterly unbothered. “That can wait a minute. Do you have any idea how hard it was not having you last night?”

His words send a ripple of heat down your spine, and despite your initial protest, a smile tugs at your lips. “It was one night, Jongseong,” you laugh incredulously, though you know deep down you shared his struggle. There’s a certain magnetic pull between you that’s only intensified since the moment you exchanged vows.

But before you can say anything else, his mouth is on your neck, his lips trailing heated, deliberate kisses along your skin. He finds that spot just beneath your ear, the one that always leaves you breathless, and you melt into him instantly. Your earlier concerns about timing and schedules vanish, replaced by the undeniable, almost primal need for him.

Every touch, every kiss, is fuelled by the weight of the day’s emotions, and soon you’re lost in him entirely, giving in to the desire that’s been simmering between you. From love to passion, your relationship flows seamlessly between them.

Jongseong’s kisses are searing against your neck, sending shivers down your spine, and any remaining thoughts of the day’s schedule fade into nothing. His hands grip your waist firmly, pulling you closer as you feel the heat building between you both. The car ride blurs by in a haze of stolen kisses and whispered promises, the tension growing heavier with every touch.

Before long, the car pulls up outside the hotel, and Jongseong barely waits for the driver to open the door before he helps you out, his grip on your hand tight, his thumb brushing your wedding ring with fondness despite the heat pumping through him. 

The hotel lobby is a blur, neither of you paying attention to anything around you as he tugs you towards the lift. Once inside, his mouth is back on yours, pushing you gently against the wall, his body pressed up close, a low groan escaping his lips.

The moment the doors open to your floor, you’re both stumbling down the hallway, hands roaming, clothes being tugged at impatiently. The urgency is palpable, as if every second spent not touching is a second wasted. By the time you reach the room, Jongseong fumbles with the key card, barely able to keep his lips from yours as he finally pushes the door open.

You stumble inside together, the sheer size of your wedding dress catching between you as you attempt to navigate the small space. Jongseong laughs softly into the kiss, but neither of you cares as you pull at each other, the weight of your emotions taking over. His hands work swiftly to find the buttons and zippers hidden beneath layers of fabric, and you can feel his need for you in every motion.

Your lips part briefly, just long enough for you to gasp out between kisses, “We need to be quick, baby.” Your breath is ragged, your voice barely above a whisper, but the desperation in your tone mirrors his own.

“Quick…right,” he mutters, though there’s no sign of him slowing down. His hands are everywhere - your waist, your back, your hips - gripping and pulling as though he can’t get enough of you. He presses you up against the nearest wall, his lips finding yours again, deeper and more urgent than before.

As you pull him closer, the fabric of your dress rustles and tangles between you, but it only adds to the delicious mess of the moment. His hands slip beneath the lace, fingers tracing the sensitive skin of your thighs, making you gasp. He smiles against your lips, that same playful glint in his eyes, but his kiss is nothing but intense.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity of fumbling, Jongseong’s fingers work the last clasp on the back of your dress. The fabric slips from your shoulders, and the sensation of it gliding down your body makes you shiver. He steps back just slightly, allowing the gown to pool at your feet, his eyes following every movement with hungry intensity.

The moment he sees you standing there in nothing but the white lace lingerie beneath, his breath catches, and a flicker of pure desire ignites in his gaze. His hands, which had been so impatient before, now pause in reverence, as though he’s taking in every detail, committing this moment to memory.

“God,” he breathes out, voice thick with awe and hunger. “You’re fucking perfect, have i ever told you that?”

His words send a wave of warmth through you, your heart racing even faster under the weight of his gaze. Before you can respond, his hands find your waist again, pulling you to him. His lips crash against yours, the intensity of the kiss somehow even more fervent now that there’s nothing between you but the thin lace of your thong and his trousers.

His fingers trace the delicate patterns of the fabric, teasingly brushing over your skin in a way that makes your pulse quicken. His lips move from your mouth, trailing down your jawline to your collarbone, then lower, each kiss deliberate, driving you wild with anticipation.

“Jongseong…” You gasp, your body reacting to every touch, every kiss. The urgency from before still lingers, but there’s something deeper now - a need not just for passion, but for connection. The feeling that you’ve finally, truly become his in every way.

He smirks against your skin, clearly enjoying the way your body responds to him, his hands sliding over the lace as though he can barely restrain himself, feeling how wet you are for him. His lips find yours again, but this time slower, deeper, as if he’s taking everything in, the moment, you, all of it.

“Quick, right?” he teases softly between kisses, but there’s now no rush in his movements now. The two of you are lost in each other, and any notion of time or urgency is forgotten as he continues to explore you, making every second feel endless and yet not nearly enough.

Jongseong’s teasing words hang in the air, and you can’t help but smile against his lips, your heart pounding in your chest. The fire between you is still blazing, but there’s a tenderness now, an unspoken understanding that this moment is more than just physical. It’s the culmination of everything - every shared glance, every whispered promise, every touch over the past 12 years.

“I’m gonna fuck you, fill you up and have you walk around the reception with my cum inside of you,” he breathes out, his hands busy undoing his dress trousers, fingers fumbling before pushing them down, the fabric pooling to his ankles, quickly making friends with your wedding dress.

The mere thought if it has you deperate, and instantly, you’re jumping up and wrapping your legs around his waist, your heat craving his touch.  Jongseong lets out a low groan as you cling to him, the weight of you pressing against his cock driving his need to the surface. He catches your lips again, this time more fervently, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he practically traps you between the wall and his chest. The coolness of the hotel wall contrasts with the heat of his body, and the sensation sends a shiver down your spine.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he mutters against your lips, his voice a mix of frustration and affection. His breath is heavy, matching the rapid beat of your heart. He needs to be inside of you, and he needs it now.

As he adjusts his grip on you, his hand slides between your thighs as he pushes your thong to the side, lining himself up. The anticipation builds, and you moan softly, arching against him, silently pleading for more, the tip of his cock poking at where you need him most. He pauses for a moment, his eyes locking with yours, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips.

“Ready?” he whispers, his voice low and gravelly, as if daring you to answer.

You don’t need to say a word - your body tells him everything he needs to know, but your nod anyway. “Yes, fuck, Jongseong please.”

With one smooth motion, Jongseong thrusts into you, filling you completely. A gasp escapes your lips as your bodies meld together, the intensity of the moment sending sparks of pleasure coursing through you. He groans deeply, his breath ragged as he begins to move, each thrust deliberate and powerful, driving deeper into you.

Each thrust sends waves of pleasure through your core, your senses overwhelmed by the feeling of him inside you. The curve of his cock drags down your tight walls, each bump of your inner core being kissed by his bell, making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

His pace quickens, the need between you intensifying. Your nails dig into his back, holding him closer as he drives into you harder, deeper, the friction and heat building to an unbearable crescendo. The way he looks at you, his eyes dark and intense, filled with raw need and adoration, makes you feel like you’re the only thing that matters to him in this moment.

“God, you feel so good,” he breathes out, his voice hoarse with desire. His hips snap against yours with more urgency, his hand gripping the back of your neck as he presses his forehead to yours. “Gonna fill you up, yeah? Give you all of me just like you deserve.”

You can’t hold back the moans that slip from your lips, your body trembling as you near the edge. Every thrust, every touch, every breath sends you spiraling closer to that sweet release, and you can feel it building, tightening in your core.

“Can’t wait to start a family with you, baby,” he confesses, the sentence thoughtful yet primal, “What if I got you pregnant right now, huh? Would Mrs. Park like that?”

“Fuck, yes!” you mewl out, the way he says your new government name along with the promise of a family is all too overwhelming as it mixes in with the utter lust your body feels. You need him to fill you to the brim, to have each inch of him buried to the hilt of you while he pumps his seed deep into your womb. “I need you… so close…” you whisper, your voice trembling with desperation.

Jongseong's thrusts become more urgent, each one deeper and harder than the last. Your bodies move in perfect rhythm, his name slipping from your lips in a desperate moan as pleasure coils tighter within you. The world fades away, your senses filled only by the heat of his skin against yours, the heady scent of desire, and the raw intensity in his gaze as he watches you unravel beneath him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Mrs. Park,” he whispers, “So pretty, and all mine.” His tone is loving if through gritted teeth, parts of the syllables coated in the desire he has running through his veins.

“I love you, Jongseong,” you whisper, kissing all over his face as you feel yourself getting closer to the brink of euphoria.

He chuckles softly, eyes almost filling with tears. “I love you too, Y/N. So fucking much.” And without another word, he kisses you with so much passion and devotion that if you weren’t already breathless from the raw fucking he is giving you, you definetly would have felt the air escape your lungs.

The pressure inside you builds relentlessly, your muscles clenching around him, drawing him deeper. He groans, a low, guttural sound that sends a thrill of electricity through your veins. His lips trail back up your neck, leaving a burning path in their wake before they crash into yours again, his kiss filled with hunger and need, as if he can’t get enough of you.

"You're perfect," he breathes against your lips, his voice strained, thick with lust. His hands tighten on your hips, pulling you down harder onto him with every thrust, making you feel every inch of him. “Ready to be a mum, baby? Ready for me to fuck you senseless each and every day and use the excuse of trying?”

“Fuck yeah, Jongseong, I can’t wait.” The grin on your face contorts with pure pleasure as he takes your words and runs wild with them, making good on his promise. If it isn’t today, or tomorrow, or even in the next year, he will make sure he keeps fucking you, until both of you create something wonderful, until you create a family that’s bigger than what you both are now.

You cling to him, nails scraping against his back as waves of pleasure crash over you with every buck of his hips. His pace is relentless now, hips slamming into yours with raw, unfiltered passion, each motion pushing you closer to the edge. Your vision blurs, the world spinning as the sensation intensifies, your body trembling uncontrollably.

You can feel him pulsing inside you, the tension in his body telling you that he's close, just as you are. His name is the only word you can form as your release builds to a peak, the pressure inside you unbearable. He presses his forehead against yours, his eyes locked on you, completely focused as he watches you fall apart in his arms.

"Cum for me," he growls, his voice a rough command that sends a shudder through you.

At his words, the coil inside you snaps, and you let go completely. A cry escapes your lips as the orgasm tears through you, your entire body trembling violently as pleasure floods your senses. You grip onto him like he's the only thing grounding you, your nails digging into his skin as wave after wave of ecstasy courses through you.

Jongseong’s own release follows soon after, his body shuddering as he empties himself inside you, his groans of pleasure vibrating against your neck. His movements slow but remain deep, deliberate, prolonging the sensation as both of you ride the aftershocks of pleasure. You can feel his warmth spreading through you, just as he promised, and the thought of it sends a final tremor through your body.

For a moment, neither of you move, the heat of the moment still clinging to you as Jongseong’s weight presses you gently against the wall. His chest heaves against yours, and the only sound is the ragged rhythm of your breaths mingling in the charged air.

Slowly, Jongseong pulls back just enough to meet your gaze. His fingers trace softly over your flushed skin, and the intensity in his eyes gives way to a tenderness that makes your heart flutter. A satisfied smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he leans in to kiss you again, this time with a slow, sweet tenderness that deepens the connection between you.

“You okay?” he whispers, his voice soft and reverent as his thumb caresses the curve of your jaw.

You nod, breathless and still tingling from the afterglow. “More than okay,” you murmur, your lips brushing against his as you speak.

“Good,” he chuckles, his eyes glinting with mischief. He sets you down gently, supporting you until your legs regain their strength. “We have a reception to get back to, after all.”

With a deft, almost intimate touch, his fingers slip between your sensitive folds, gathering his essence before gently pushing it back inside you. His gaze remains locked with yours, a mix of possessiveness and adortation. “Keep that in there until I can steal you away again and give you more.”

Giggling, you nod, biting your lip. You really cannot wait for the day you have this man’s child.

_____

Jongseong bursts into the hospital, his breath ragged, his vision blurred by the panic that clogs his thoughts. The fluorescent lights overhead feel too bright, their sterile, clinical glow only exacerbating the coldness gripping his chest. A sharp antiseptic smell wafts through the air, mingling with the faint hum of machinery and the occasional cough from sick patients in the waiting area. The beeps of heart monitors and distant murmurs of conversation all blur into a single cacophony, lost on him as his sole focus narrows to one desperate objective: finding you.

His eyes dart wildly across the expanse of the lobby, scanning for some kind of guidance. There, tucked away in the corner, is an oak reception desk. The receptionist, a middle-aged woman with a sympathetic smile, taps away at her computer, unaware of the storm about to come her way. Jongseong rushes over, his heart pounding, each thud reverberating in his ears like the ticking of a countdown he can’t afford to lose.

"Excuse me, do you know where the maternity ward is?" The words tumble from his mouth in a breathless jumble, barely coherent even to his own ears. It doesn’t sound like him - this frantic, uncollected version of himself - but he doesn’t care. He can’t afford to. His gaze flickers briefly to the woman behind the desk as she begins to reply, her voice gentle, almost calming, in stark contrast to the chaos raging inside him.

"You're in the wrong section, sweetheart. Maternity is ward 48, it's down the ha-"

But he doesn't wait for her to finish. Her words are cut short as he spins on his heel, legs propelling him down the long, seemingly endless corridor. His heart is racing, but not from the sprint. It’s the weight of fear, the gnawing dread that tightens his chest and churns his stomach. He might miss it. He might miss you. Miss being by your side when you need him the most. The thought alone makes his insides twist, as though someone had reached into his ribcage and clenched his heart in a fist.

This is supposed to be a joyous moment - the birth of his son, your son, the culmination of months of waiting, preparing, and dreaming. But right now, all he feels is the gnawing anxiety that he won’t make it in time. That he won’t be there to hold your hand, to look into your eyes and tell you that you’re doing great, that everything will be okay. 

His mind races back to when he received the call from your sister, the news hitting him like a freight train. He had been at work, neck-deep in paperwork and deadlines. He had barely believed it at first. You weren’t due for another two weeks; surely, this was a mistake. Yet, here you were, two floors above him, about to deliver his precious son into the world.

But none of that matters now. What matters is getting to you, being by your side before it’s too late. 

His legs burn as he pushes himself forward, following the overhead signs that guide him toward ward 48. The corridors stretch out before him like a maze, every turn only amplifying the desperation pooling in his chest. The sharp click of his shoes echoes loudly in the silence, but all he can hear is the blood rushing in his ears, the frantic beat of his own heart drowning out everything else.

When he finally crashes into the ward’s front desk, it’s not graceful. His body slams into the counter, breath heaving, his muscles taut with adrenaline. He grips the edge of the desk as though it's the only thing keeping him upright. "Excuse me, what room is Y/N Park in?" The words come out strained, his voice thick with tension. Every fibre of his being feels stretched to the breaking point, as though his body is barely containing the swell of emotions surging through him.

The receptionist looks up, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her lips. There’s a knowing look in her eyes, one that says she’s seen this before - fathers on the verge of breaking, desperate to be there, to not miss the moment that changes everything. "Down the hall, third door on your left," she says kindly, nodding toward the direction he needs to go.

He doesn’t wait. With a sharp intake of breath, he pushes himself off the counter and bolts toward your room, his legs moving on autopilot, every step pounding with urgency. His mind races, imagining you lying there, scared or in pain, and it tears at him. You shouldn’t have to go through this by yourself. He swore to be there, to hold your hand through every step of this, and now he’s running on borrowed time.

The corridor leading to your room feels impossibly long, each door blurring past him as he counts them off in his head. First door, second door...third door. His hand trembles as it reaches for the handle, the weight of the moment crashing over him like a wave. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but the truth is, nothing can prepare him for this. The surge of love, fear, and anticipation battling inside him is overwhelming, but all of it pales in comparison to the thought of you.

When he opens the door, his heart nearly stops. There you are, lying in the hospital bed, your face flushed with exertion but glowing with a strength he has always admired. You look up, and the moment your eyes meet his, it’s as if time itself stops. Relief floods your features, and he rushes to your side, gripping your hand as though it’s the only tether keeping him grounded.

"I’m here," he breathes, his voice cracking with emotion, kissing all over your hand. "I’m here, baby."

And as you squeeze his hand, the world narrows to just the two of you. The chaos of the hospital fades into the background, replaced by the steady rhythm of your breathing, the soft murmurs of encouragement from the midwife, and the quiet reassurance that, despite everything, he made it. He’s here.

“Okay, Y/N, I need you to push again for me. You’re doing so great, hun.” The midwife's voice is soft, almost a lullaby amidst the storm of chaos within you. It’s as if her words offer you a momentary anchor, a delicate thread of calm amidst the crashing waves of pressure building up inside your body. You nod, gasping for breath, your entire body trembling with exhaustion, but her voice mixed with the familiar warmth of Jongseong’s hand in yours somehow gives you strength. His fingers, strong and steady, wrap around yours, grounding you in this moment of overwhelming intensity.

He whispers soothing words, his thumb brushing over your clammy skin, wiping the sheen of sweat from your brow. But you barely register them. The noise of the hospital fades into the background as your body screams for release. It’s all-consuming, this pain—a deep, primal ache that makes you wonder how anyone could endure this more than once. You’re making a vow to yourself in this very moment: this is definitely the last time you’ll be giving birth.

The midwife’s calm encouragement pulls you back into the moment. “That’s it, you’re doing brilliantly, sweetie! He’s crowning!”

Her words send a jolt of both fear and anticipation down your spine. He’s almost here. You’re almost at the end. But it hurts - God, it fucking hurts. You can feel your body stretching, tearing, and it feels impossible, like your entire being is being pulled apart at the seams. You wonder how anyone survives this. You wonder how people choose to do this again and again. But the end is so close now, you can feel it, and it’s that thought, that hope, that pushes you to dig deep into a reserve of strength you didn’t even know you had.

Jongseong leans in, his face inches from yours as he wipes the sweat off your forehead. His touch is gentle, careful, as though you might shatter under the intensity of what’s happening. “My beautiful girl, you’re doing so well,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. His words are meant to comfort you, but in your overstimulated state, they fall flat, like a pebble tossed into a stormy sea.

"You did this to me!" you cry out, your voice a strangled mixture of rage, exhaustion, and raw pain. The agony, the pressure, the sensation of your body trying to expel a living, breathing being from your core - it’s all too much. The frustration bubbles up and spills out as you glare at him through half-lidded eyes, loathing him, if only for a second, for putting you in this impossible situation.

Jongseong doesn’t take offence. Instead, he chuckles under his breath, a sound almost swallowed by the sheer intensity of the moment. He presses a tender kiss to your knuckles, seemingly immune to the iron grip you’ve got on his hand, your fingers squeezing so tightly it’s a wonder his bones aren’t crushed. “I’m sorry, baby,” he says with a grin, trying to lighten the tension. “I’m a bad man for giving you the best fucks of your life and putting you in this situation, aren’t I?”

Despite the searing pain wracking your body, you manage a weak, breathless laugh. His words, paired with the earnest yet amused look on his face, somehow cut through the fog of agony. For a brief, fleeting moment, the tension in the room eases, and even the nursing team joins in with a soft chuckle, their eyes sparkling with fondness.

“You’re the worst,” you retort, your voice strained, yet the humour dances between you like a fleeting lifeline. You don’t mean it, and once your beautiful baby is in your arms, you’ll forget every resentment towards your husband, the pain long gone and only love clouding your senses.

But the pain comes roaring back in full force, and the midwife’s voice cuts through the moment. “Alright, Y/N, I need you to push again. Just one more big push, okay?”

You nod, though you don’t trust your voice to respond. Your entire body tenses as you prepare for the final stretch, the last hurdle. The pressure builds, an unbearable weight pushing down on you, and with one last groan - deep, guttural, like a battle cry those old vikings used to do - you bear down, gripping Jongseong’s hand with all the strength you have left.

“You’re doing it, Y/N! That’s it, keep going!” The midwife’s voice is urgent but encouraging, guiding you through the overwhelming sensations. The room seems to blur at the edges, your vision tunnelling as you focus on nothing but the task at hand. You feel the burn, the rawness of your body stretching beyond its limits, but you push through it, every fibre of your being screaming for this to be over.

And then, with one final, agonised push, it is.

A high, piercing cry fills the room, cutting through the tension like a blade, and suddenly the world stills. The pain, the fear, the exhaustion - all of it fades away as you hear the first wail of your son, your precious baby boy. You collapse back against the pillows, your chest heaving, tears slipping down your cheeks as the reality of what just happened sinks in.

Jongseong is crying too. His hand is shaking as he wipes his eyes, his gaze locked on the tiny, wriggling figure in the midwife’s arms. “He’s here,” he whispers, his voice breaking with emotion. “Our boy… he’s here.”

The midwife checks your son over for a moment, and once she deems everything is perfectly healthy and fine, she offers you a small smile. “Would you like skin-to-skin?”

Without hesitation, you nod, exhaustion clouding over you. “Yes, please.”

The midwife places your newborn son on your chest, his tiny body warm and wet against your skin. You feel a rush of emotions - love, relief, awe - all of it crashing over you in waves so powerful they steal the breath from your lungs. Jongseong’s hand is reaches up to your face, his fingers trembling as he brushes a tear from your cheek.

“You did it,” he breathes, his eyes shining with pride and wonder. “You really did it, my love.”

You look down at your baby, his small hand curling against your chest, and despite the exhaustion weighing down your limbs, you can’t stop the smile spreading across your face. “We did it,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of your son’s soft cries.

And in that moment, as the three of you are cocooned in the quiet warmth of the hospital room, the world outside ceases to exist. There is only this. Only the love, the relief, and the overwhelming sense of joy that, despite everything, you’re finally a family.

Bringing life into the world is a moment of pure wonder, filled with a sense of awe and joy that nothing else compares to. The arrival of a new soul, fresh and full of potential, feels like the universe itself holding its breath in reverence. It’s beautiful chaos, tears of relief, the quiet weight of a newborn in your arms, the sweet fatigue that follows the storm of labour. There's a rawness, a vulnerability to it that makes it sacred. The start of life is an unspoken promise, a beginning with endless possibilities stretching out before it.

But as beautiful as the act of bringing life into the world is, it's devastatingly cruel when life is taken away. 

_____

Jongseong ascended the stairs slowly, each step sending a dull ache through his brittle bones. His knees groaned under his weight, no longer the strong, agile legs that had once carried him with ease through the vigours of life. The years had settled deep into his joints, a reminder of a long life lived. At seventy-five, his body had become an archive of memories, each wrinkle and creak a testament to the passage of time. But he didn’t mind, not really. He knew aging was inevitable, and while he wasn’t the fit man he used to be, he had grown accustomed to the slower pace, to the small sacrifices his body demanded. Today, though, his knees seemed to be protesting more than usual.

The morning was still quiet, the kind of peaceful stillness that only early dawn could bring. Jongseong had woken up earlier than you, something he had done a bit more often lately. Your still frame lay blissfully as he slipped out of bed, careful not to wake you. He wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed, nothing extravagant, just something simple and sweet. Toast, a little bowl of fruit, and your favourite yoghurt arranged neatly on a tray. And, of course, a tiny daisy from the garden, a little burst of yellow and white placed beside the cutlery - a small token of the love he still carried for you, as bright and fresh as the day he’d first met you.

He smiled to himself as he finally reached the top of the stairs, breathing out heavily. His chest rose and fell slowly as he gathered the air back into his lungs, a satisfied chuckle escaping his lips. “Y’know, baby, maybe we should invest in that stairmaster,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head at the thought. “My knees are giving up on me here.”

He pushed open the door to your shared bedroom, the familiar scent of lavender and old wood welcoming him in. The room was a sanctuary, a place where the two of you had spent decades creating a life together. The walls seemed to hum with memories - of laughter, whispered arguments, nights spent comforting a scared baby Jeyou when he was small, his little body tucked between the two of you as you soothed his fears. Even now, the room felt like a cocoon of warmth, filled with the quiet reassurance of a life well-lived together.

Jongseong’s eyes softened as they landed on you. There you were, lying so peacefully, your grey hair splayed across the pillow, half of your face buried into its softness. Your lashes rested delicately on your wrinkled cheeks, and even now, after all these years, you looked so beautiful to him. He’d always loved watching you sleep, loved the way your face relaxed into a soft serenity. He stood there for a moment, tray still in hand, just looking at you, his heart swelling with the same love that had carried him through all the challenges, all the joys and sorrows of life. Every wrinkle on your face told a story he cherished, every line a map of the life you had built together.

But as he stood there, something shifted. The quietness in the room felt...different. The silence was deeper, more still than usual. He tilted his head, waiting for the familiar soft snort you made when you exhaled in your sleep, or for the small rise and fall of your chest that always reassured him. 

But none of that came.

His heart, which had been so full just moments ago, plummeted in his chest. A chill washed over him, the warmth of the room suddenly replaced with a growing panic.

“Love?” His voice was uncertain, his body moving on instinct as he placed the tray down on the dresser by the door. His legs, tired just a second ago, suddenly felt weightless as he rushed to your side. “Y/N?” He sat on the bed, his voice trembling now. “Baby, come on, wake up.”

He reached out, brushing the hair from your face, the strands falling softly between his trembling fingers. His hand lingered on your cheek, feeling for the warmth he had always known, but your skin felt cool beneath his touch. Too cool.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice cracking. His other hand found your shoulder, shaking you gently at first, and then with more urgency. “No, no, no. Come on, baby, stop joking around. Wake up. Please.”

The stillness of your body was a stark contrast to the frantic tremor in his hands. He shook you again, harder this time, but you remained as you were - so peaceful, so unbearably still. His chest tightened, the tears pooling in his eyes blurring his vision. He blinked rapidly, as though he could chase away the truth that was slowly sinking in, but it was there, gnawing at the edges of his heart.

“Please, baby, please. Don’t do this. I need you to wake up.” His voice was barely a whisper now, broken and fragile, like a child pleading for a nightmare to end. He pulled you closer, his trembling fingers gripping your arms as he collapsed over you, his body draped across yours as the sobs tore through him. The tears fell freely now, landing on your skin, tiny droplets of his heartbreak mingling with the softness of your stillness.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered into your hair, his voice strangled by grief. “Please. Don’t leave me. Not now. I’m not ready.”

The room, once so full of love and warmth, felt unbearably cold now. The silence stretched on, suffocating him, pressing down on his chest until he could barely breathe. He held you tightly, his arms wrapped around your lifeless body, as if by sheer will alone he could pull you back, make you breathe again, make your heart beat again. But you didn’t move. You didn’t stir.

Jongseong’s tears soaked into your skin, his sobs shaking his frail frame. His heart felt like it was being ripped apart, every beat more painful than the last. He pressed his cheek against your forehead, inhaling the faint scent of your skin, the scent that had been a constant comfort to him for all these years. But now, even that was fading, slipping away like you had.

“I can’t do this without you,” he cried, his voice breaking as he held you tighter. “We’ve always done everything together. How am I supposed to keep going if you’re not here? Please, baby, please...just come back to me.”

But there was no response, no stirring beneath his touch. Only silence. The kind of silence that comes with finality, with the weight of something precious being stolen away forever.

He stayed there, curled up beside you, his tears flowing unchecked, his heart heavy with the unbearable realisation that the love of his life, the woman who had been his everything for decades, was gone. The weight of it settled into his bones, deeper than any ache he’d felt before. This wasn’t just the weight of age, but of loss - a weight that would never truly lift.

For a long time, Jongseong didn’t move. He stayed wrapped around you, whispering soft apologies, broken words of love, promises that no longer had a future. His tears mingled with the daisy he’d picked for you, now wilting beside the untouched tray on the dresser, a small, fragile symbol of the life that had once bloomed between the two of you.

Jongseong's sobs gradually gave way to a trembling stillness as he lay beside you, his breaths coming in ragged, shuddering gasps. The tears had begun to slow, leaving trails of salt on his cheeks, mingling with the remnants of the breakfast tray that had once held such promise. The quiet of the room felt like a heavy blanket, oppressive and final. It was the kind of silence that seemed to stretch endlessly, a cruel reminder of what was now lost.

He pulled himself up slightly, lifting his head from where it had been buried in your shoulder. His eyes, red and swollen, scanned the room - the room that had been a sanctuary of shared dreams and countless memories. He looked at the framed photographs on the bedside table: the smiling faces of a younger you and him, the family portraits, snapshots of Jeyou through the years. It was all a tapestry of a life lived together, and now, it felt like a cruel joke.

“C’mon, love,” he said, his voice hoarse but resolute. He took your hand in his, holding it gently, trying to draw strength from the familiar warmth that was no longer there. “We still have so much more to do.” His voice cracked, but he pressed on, his mind desperately clinging to the plans they had made, the future they had envisioned.

He cleared his throat, trying to compose himself, his fingers tracing the lines of your hand with a tenderness born of countless shared moments. “Remember, we were going to finish the garden? We talked about planting those roses in the front yard. You always said you wanted to see them bloom better than the witches next door. And the trip to the lake -  Jeyou’s been asking about that fishing trip for ages. You promised him, remember? We were going to take him and Minhee out there and teach them how to catch those big trout.”

Jongseong’s tears began to flow again, mixing with the desperate, pleading edge in his voice. “What about Jeyou?” he continued, his voice breaking. “You can’t leave him behind. We’ve always been a family. He needs you, just like I do. He’s grown up so much, and he still needs his mum. We were going to watch him grown old and brittle like us, how can you do that if you don’t wake up, huh?”

He bent his head, his forehead resting against the cool, unmoving surface of your hand. “Fuck, baby,” he whispered, the words barely audible through the sobs that wracked his body. “If you can’t come back for me, come back for him. Please, please, please. Don’t leave him with just memories of you. He needs you. I need you.”

His pleas hung in the air, a desperate cry to the silence that had become so final. He squeezed your hand, the small, gentle action a futile attempt to make you respond, to bring you back. The room felt impossibly cold now, the warmth of shared dreams replaced by the chilling finality of loss.

He stayed like that for what felt like hours, holding your hand, whispering promises and plans that would never come to pass. The light from the morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room, but it seemed to mock him now. The day they had planned, the future they had envisioned together, was slipping away, drowned in the ocean of his grief.

Jongseong’s heart felt like it was breaking into a thousand pieces, each shard a fragment of a life that would never be. He tried to imagine moving forward, but every vision was tainted by your absence. The world outside, with its ongoing rhythm and pulse, felt distant and irrelevant compared to the hollow ache that had settled within him.

_

Jongseong stood by your grave, the ache in his chest so profound it felt like it had hollowed him out completely. He had known, of course, that your funeral would be difficult but nothing, not even the endless condolences and the gentle words from well-meaning friends and family, could have prepared him for this kind of pain. The grief gnawed at him, relentless and unforgiving, leaving him feeling raw and exposed. It was the kind of hurt that no words could soothe, no embrace could soften. Nothing - except you.

His black suit hung loose on his frame, a stark contrast to the confident man he had once been. His posture, usually straight and proud, was slouched, his shoulders weighed down by the unbearable burden of loss. His face, pale and drawn, was a shadow of the man who once carried the light of the world in his heart. That light, he feared, had been taken with you. Since the moment you passed, the world had dimmed, and he wondered if he would ever feel warmth again. When the earth loses the sun, there is only darkness that remains.

He hasn’t slept. How could he? The bed is too big, too cold, too empty without you. Every night since your passing, he had lain awake, staring at the ceiling, his hand reaching across the bed to where you used to be, only to be met with nothing. He would run his fingers over the cool, empty space, the ache in his heart growing stronger with each passing minute. The silence was unbearable, the kind that swallowed him whole. He wondered how he was supposed to go on without you when every reason for his existence was tied to you. You had been his purpose, his love, his everything.

Since he was twenty-two years old, he had known nothing but being your other half. You had been there with him through every step, every joy, every heartbreak, every victory. Now, you weren’t here, and it felt as though half of him had been torn away, leaving a void that nothing could ever fill. His hand felt empty, void of your comforting squeezes, the way you used to reassure him with just a touch. He would never feel that again. He would never hear your laugh, never see your smile light up a room, never feel the warmth of your embrace. The thought was unbearable, a suffocating weight on his chest that made it hard to breathe.

Choking back a sob, Jongseong clenched his jaw and squeezed his throat shut, trying desperately to keep himself together, if not for himself, then for the family who stood around him. He knew they were hurting too, how could they not be, when you had been the centre of their lives as well? But it was hard. It was so hard to stand there and be strong when his insides were crumbling, when every fibre of his being screamed for you. He stared at the ground, his vision blurred by tears, the earth below looking so final, so cold.

The sky overhead was grey, a dull blanket of clouds that seemed to mirror the grief that hung in the air. The wind was gentle, but even the breeze felt like it carried sadness, the chill sinking into Jongseong’s bones. It felt as though the world itself had lost its colour, its vibrancy, ever since you had gone. The trees that surrounded the cemetery stood still, their leaves barely rustling, as if even nature was mourning. Every corner of the graveyard seemed muted, the flowers on the graves dull and lifeless, the headstones stark and lonely. Even the birds seemed quieter today, as though they too understood the magnitude of the loss.

Jongseong forced himself to look up, his eyes finding Jeyou across the gravesite. His son stood beside his wife, his shoulders shaking as he sobbed, his gaze locked on the casket that had been lowered into the ground. Jongseong’s heart ached even more at the sight of him. 

He wanted so desperately to be strong for Jeyou, for your son. He wanted to walk over and put a hand on his shoulder, to tell him everything would be alright, to hold him the way he had when Jeyou was a little boy, scared and unsure of the world. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t be anything for anyone right now, because the one person who had always given him the strength to carry on was gone.

Ara came up beside him then, slipping her arm through his. She didn’t say anything, after all, what could she say? There were no words that could take away the pain. Jongseong felt her presence beside him, her quiet support, but even that couldn’t bridge the gap that had opened up in his heart. Ara’s touch was gentle, her hand squeezing his arm, but the void inside him was too vast, too deep for even the love of his granddaughter to reach.

The priest’s voice droned on in the background, speaking the final words of the burial, but the words seemed to drift away, lost in the weight of the moment. Jongseong could barely hear them over the pounding of his heart, over the sound of his own ragged breaths. He clenched his fists, trying to hold back the sobs that threatened to break free again. He didn’t want to fall apart, not here, not in front of everyone. But how could he not, when the love of his life was leaving him forever?

Jongseong bit his lip, his eyes glassy as he glanced down to your coffin-covered body, as if searching for some kind of reassurance. But there was none to give. This was it. This was the end. You were gone, and there was no miraculous happy ending where you would come back to him, where you would smile and tell him you were never going to leave. There was only the harsh, brutal reality that he would have to live the rest of his life without you.

Jongseong’s knees buckle slightly as the final prayer is spoken, and he feels Ara tighten her grip on his arm, grounding him, keeping him upright. He wants to collapse, to lie beside you and never get up. He wants to close his eyes and pretend that this was all just a terrible dream. But it isn’t. The casket in the ground is real, the earth that will cover it is real, and you are truly gone.

Jongseong let out a shaky breath, the air catching in his throat as he continued to stare at the grave. The casket, now partially covered by the earth, felt like a cruel finality, the last barrier between him and the love of his life. The flowers scattered around the site seemed dull in the overcast light, their once vibrant colours muted by the grief that hung over the cemetery like a thick fog. Everything seemed too quiet, too still, as if the world itself had paused in reverence to the enormity of his pain.

His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing with the agony of knowing that this was the end—no more shared mornings, no more gentle touches, no more stolen glances. The weight of it all made his chest tighten, a crushing force that left him gasping for breath. He could hardly believe that this was real, that the woman who had been his reason for living for so many years was now gone, leaving him to navigate a life he no longer knew how to live.

Ara tugged gently at his arm, her silent plea to move, to take a step forward. Jongseong hesitated, his feet rooted to the ground, unwilling to leave the spot where you lay. His eyes remained fixed on the grave, as if by staring hard enough, he could will you back into existence, could bring you back to him. But he knew it was futile. You were gone, and no amount of wishing or hoping could change that.

With a deep, ragged breath, Jongseong finally allowed Ara to lead him away. His feet dragged against the soft ground, every step feeling like a betrayal, a distancing from the life you had shared. Ara’s head stayed resting on his shoulder, her silent support both a comfort and a reminder of the family you had built together. He felt the weight of her love, the warmth of her presence, but it wasn’t the same. It would never be the same without you.

As they moved slowly away from the grave, Jongseong couldn’t resist one last glance back. His eyes, swollen and red from the tears that had yet to stop, locked onto the casket once more, now almost completely covered by the earth. It looked so final, so unbearably permanent. The soft hum of the wind through the trees seemed to carry with it a whisper of the life they had once known, a life that was now out of reach.

The grey sky overhead mirrored the dull ache in his heart, its heavy clouds hanging low as if they, too, mourned the loss of something irreplaceable. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and fresh flowers, but even that felt too bittersweet, a cruel reminder of the beauty that could still exist in a world where you no longer did.

As Jongseong allowed himself to be guided away, his shoulders hunched under the weight of grief, he knew that a part of him would forever remain at that graveside, buried alongside you. The rest of the world moved on around him, but for Jongseong, time had stopped the moment you left. Each step he took felt like a journey into an unknown future, a future without you by his side.

And as they walked further and further away, the image of your grave growing smaller in the distance, Jongseong couldn’t help but whisper under his breath, a final, desperate plea to the universe. “Wait for me, love…just wait for me.”

His words faded into the wind as Ara squeezed his arm gently, and together, they walked away from the place where his heart now lay, buried with you.

____

"I miss her," he says, his voice trembling slightly, breaking the stillness. It’s not just a simple statement—it’s a confession, raw and unfiltered, the kind that makes his chest ache as though his heart is being twisted by an invisible hand. He can feel the familiar sting of unshed tears burning behind his eyes, but he fights them back.

The living room is quiet again, but the kind of quiet that suffocates rather than soothes. Jongseong sits on the edge of the worn couch, his eyes fixed on the photographs that line the mantle. They are still - frozen moments of a life that once brimmed with joy and love. His mind drifts back to the present after the painful journey through memory, and he sighs, his heart heavy with the weight of a year without you.

The pain, sharp as it is, feels like a key turning inside him, unlocking emotions he thought he had long buried. A year. A whole year without you. Not a single day has passed where he doesn’t think of you. The mornings are the worst, when he still, out of habit, sets out two cups for coffee. He never drinks the second one - it just sits there, untouched, a quiet tribute to your absence. The daytime programmes you loved continue to play on the television, though they bring him no comfort, just the dull hum of voices filling a void. Visiting your grave has become his ritual, the only place where he feels some semblance of peace, though even that is shadowed by the overwhelming loneliness.

Jeyou shifts beside him, his own expression mirroring his father’s grief. He reaches out, gripping Jongseong’s hand with a firm, comforting squeeze. "I can't imagine what this day is like for you, Dad," Jeyou says, his voice soft, heavy with understanding. After all, he lost his mum, the one woman who sacrificed everything for him to attend the best schools, follow his dreams, and always made him feel like he belonged in this horrible world. 

He misses your soothing words, particularly on days like today, when he would give anything for your advice.

Jongseong swallows the lump in his throat, shaking his head slightly. "I only pray that you go first before your partner, so you don’t have to deal with this suffering," he replies, his voice hoarse but sincere. He knows how morbid it must sound, talking so freely about his son’s death, but he means every word. Losing the love of your life is an agony he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy, let alone Jeyou. It’s not something you ever get over. The pain is deep, cutthroat, and unrelenting, carving out pieces of your soul until you’re hollowed out, just an echo of who you used to be.

They continue talking for the next few hours, the conversation a gentle distraction, though the sorrow lingers in every pause, every shared glance. Minji and Minhee return from outside, running about the room, their laughter a bright but distant sound in Jongseong’s ears. He watches them, a small smile flickering on his lips. Their energy, their innocence, is a reminder that life does go on, even when it feels like yours has stopped.

As the night begins to peer it’s head, it’s time for them to go. Jongseong hates goodbyes now, even the small ones. Ara looks particularly reluctant to leave, her brow furrowed in worry as she watches her grandfather. She’s always been able to read him like a book, even as a child, and now she can see the light fading from his eyes, just as it has been ever since you left.

"I’ll pop around tomorrow, okay? We’ll get you some shopping in," Jeyou says, standing up and shrugging into his jacket, his eyes lingering on his father’s frail form. Jongseong looks thinner these days, the years catching up to him faster than ever before.

"Thanks, son," Jongseong replies, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. He knows how much of a burden it must be, looking after him, checking in on him. He should be the one taking care of everyone, the way he used to, but these days, it’s hard just to get out of bed in the mornings. The world feels heavier.

Minji and Minhee run up to their Poppy, throwing their arms around him in a tight hug. He leans down, pulling them close, inhaling the sweet scent of their hair as he squeezes them back with as much strength as he can muster.

"Be good, okay? I’ll see you soon," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. Minji giggles and gives him one last squeeze before darting off towards the car, while Minhee sighs in compassion for his great grandfather before following his little sister. He doesn’t know the full extent of everything that goes on, but he knows the old man is hurting. 

Jeyou lingers a moment longer, his eyes searching his father’s face. There’s concern there, etched deep into his features. "Look after yourself, Dad. I mean it," he says, his tone firm but filled with love.

Jongseong nods, offering a faint smile, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. "I will," he says quietly, but they both know it’s more of a promise to make Jeyou feel better than a commitment Jongseong truly believes in.

As the door closes behind them, Jongseong stands by the window, watching as the car pulls away, his heart sinking deeper into the loneliness that has become his constant companion. The house, once filled with life and laughter, feels far too quiet now. He turns, his gaze drifting back to the photographs on the mantle - snapshots of a life well-lived, of love shared, of a happiness he fears he will never feel again.

With a sigh, Jongseong walks to the mantle and gently picks up the frame holding your picture. His thumb brushes over the glass, tracing the contours of your face, his chest tightening with the ache of missing you.

‘Look after yourself,’ Jeyou had said. But how could he, when the one person who made life worth living was gone?

As the silence wraps itself around him once more, Jongseong sets the picture back in its place, his heart heavy with the weight of another day without you.

Climbing up the stairs, he makes his way to your bedroom, the day draining him of everything he has left. Jongseong steps into the bedroom, the air feels heavier, thick with memories and the lingering presence of you. The familiar scent of lavender still clings to the room, though it’s faded over time, much like the vibrant colours of the quilt you both once shared. He pauses by the doorframe, his eyes falling instinctively to your side of the bed. It’s exactly as you left it - untouched, sacred. He’s been afraid to disrupt it, afraid that even the slightest disturbance might somehow break the fragile connection he feels with you, like it might shake you wherever you are in the universe.

But tonight is different. Tonight, the ache of missing you is unbearable.

Slowly, Jongseong crosses the room, each step feeling heavier than the last. His heart hammers in his chest, his breath shallow as he reaches the bed. He hesitates for a moment, his trembling fingers reaching out to touch your pillow, the one that still sees your head laying upon. Tears well up in his eyes, blurring his vision, but he doesn’t wipe them away. He lets them fall freely, each drop a testament to the love he’s carried for you all these years, a love that still refuses to fade even in your absence.

With a shaky breath, Jongseong lowers himself onto your side of the bed, feeling the mattress dip under his weight. It feels strange at first, like he’s intruding on a space that should remain untouched, but the yearning to feel close to you again overpowers the guilt. He lies down, resting his head on your pillow, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths as his tears soak into the fabric.

“I love you, Y/N. More than my heart and chest can hold in,” he whispers into the empty room, the same words he had once said to you all those years ago when he first confessed his love. It feels like an echo, like his heart is trying to reach across the vast distance between him and wherever you are now, hoping that you can hear him, feel him.

He swallows the lump in his throat, his body trembling with grief. "I don’t know how to do this without you, Y/N. Everything... everything is so hard now. Even getting out of bed in the morning. There’s no joy in anything anymore." His voice lowers to a near whisper, almost as though he’s confessing to the universe itself. 

The room feels impossibly quiet, the stillness pressing down on him. His mind races with memories of you, of your laughter, the way your smile could light up even the darkest day, how your hand in his made everything feel right. He presses his face into the pillow, inhaling deeply as if he could somehow capture the last remnants of your presence.

Jongseong closes his eyes, exhaustion creeping up on him, though it’s not the kind that can be cured by sleep. It’s a soul-deep weariness, the kind that comes from carrying too much pain for too long. He hasn’t allowed himself to cry like this in a while, always trying to stay strong for the family, but here, in the silence of your bedroom, he finally lets himself feel the full weight of his grief.

"I'm sorry, love," he whispers, his voice barely audible now. "I don’t know how to live in a world without you. I miss you so much it hurts... I just want to feel you beside me again, even if only for a moment."

He feels the tears slip down his cheeks, hot and unrelenting, but he’s too tired to wipe them away. His body sinks deeper into the bed, the familiar warmth of the blankets enveloping him, though it’s not the same. It’ll never be the same without you.

Jongseong closes his eyes, his hand clutching your pillow as if it were you, as if holding on tight enough could bring you back. The exhaustion weighs heavier on him now, pulling him under, and before he knows it, he’s drifting off to sleep - something that has eluded him since you passed.

Jongseong lies still, his breath slowing as the quiet of the room wraps around him like a blanket. The familiar scent of your pillow soothes the ache in his chest, though not entirely. His hand remains clutching the pillow, his knuckles white against the soft fabric, as if holding on just a little tighter might somehow bring you back.

His frail body begins to relax, the weight of the years and grief easing off his tired shoulders. His eyelids grow heavy, the darkness behind them more inviting than the empty, lonely room. He inhales deeply, filling his lungs with the scent of you; he swears he can feel you surrounding him.

Jongseong’s heart, worn and bruised by your absence, finds a strange calm. The sharp pain of loss that has haunted him for so long softens, as if your presence - though unseen - soothes him, guiding him gently. He can almost hear your voice, soft and familiar, calling his name from somewhere far off, yet so close.

Exhaustion weighs heavier now, pulling him further into that quiet space between sleep and memory. His body sinks deeper into the mattress, the aches in his bones easing as his breathing slows. In the stillness, each breath comes softer, more rhythmic, like the gentle ebb of a distant tide.

As sleep pulls him in fully, a peaceful expression settles across his face. The lines of grief soften, replaced by something close to serenity. His grip on the pillow loosens, his hand falling gently to his side.

And in that stillness, Jongseong rests, his breathing gentle, his heart finally at peace, as though in the silence of the room, he has found his way back to you.

_____

“Dad?” Jeyou’s voice echoes through the house as he steps inside, the door clicking shut softly behind him. A strange, unsettling quiet fills the space, not the kind of silence that welcomes you home but the kind that makes your skin prickle. There’s no familiar sound of his father calling out from another room, no clattering of dishes in the kitchen or the hum of the TV from the living room. It’s still. 

Too still.

He pauses at the base of the stairs, staring up as if expecting his dad to appear at the top, grinning, telling him to come up. But nothing. The quiet presses down on him, growing heavier with each passing second. Everything in the house looks exactly the same as it did yesterday - the framed photos of family lining the hallway, the shoes left in a pile near the door, and the faint scent of yesterday’s lunch lingering. Something feels...off.

Jeyou swallows hard, dread settling in the pit of his stomach as he places his hand on the bannister, fingers trembling slightly. He starts up the stairs slowly, the soft creak of each step the only sound breaking the silence. With every step, his heart pounds harder, his breath growing more unsteady. The house, once full of warmth, now feels cold, unfamiliar.

As he reaches the top of the stairs, the hallway stretches before him, just as it always has. But the air is different. It feels heavier, like it’s holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. Jeyou walks toward the bedroom, his pace quickening as he reaches the door. His hand hovers over the handle, the knot of anxiety twisting tighter in his chest. He pushes the door open slowly.

There, lying on the bed, is his father.

Jongseong is still in the clothes he wore yesterday, his body lying peacefully on the bed, his hand hanging limply off the side, fingers curled and unmoving. His face is calm, serene even, as if he’s just fallen into a deep sleep. But the sight is all wrong. His chest doesn’t rise and fall with the steady rhythm of breath. The colour in his cheeks has faded, his skin now ashen and pale.

Jeyou’s breath catches in his throat, his chest tightening painfully. "Oh... no..." he whispers, the words trembling as they leave his mouth. His jaw clenches, trying to hold back the wave of emotion crashing over him, but it’s no use. His eyes burn, tears pricking painfully at the corners before spilling over, running down his cheeks before he can even bring himself to step closer.

He drops to his knees beside the bed, his hands shaking as they reach for his father’s limp hand, the warmth long gone. His fingers brush Jongseong’s skin, but there’s no response, no twitch, no familiar squeeze. His father is gone, and Jeyou feels the reality of it shattering through him like a blow to the chest.

He leans over the bed, resting his forehead against his father’s hand, the sobs he’s been holding back finally escaping his throat in broken gasps. “No... please... not yet, Dad,” he chokes out, his voice strangled by the tears, the grief clawing at his insides. "Please..."

Jeyou lifts his head, staring at his father’s peaceful face, and for a moment, it feels like he’s just sleeping. But the quiet, the terrible, awful quiet, tells him everything he needs to know. His father, the man who had been his rock, his guide through life, is no longer here.

There is a sweet irony in this moment.

As Jeyou's sobs echo softly through the room, Jongseong’s spirit hovers nearby, watching his son with a tender, bittersweet smile. Although he mourns the pain of his son, there’s no longer any weight on his heart, no sense of loss or longing. Instead, there’s a warmth, a gentle, reassuring presence by his side. He feels it before he even turns. A familiar hand slips into his, fingers intertwining with his in the way they always had, fitting perfectly, like pieces of a long-lost puzzle finally reunited.

He turns, and there you are, standing before him with that radiant smile that never failed to brighten his darkest days. It’s the smile that spoke of every quiet moment you shared, every laugh, every whispered confession of love. His heart, which had carried the unbearable ache of your absence for so long, suddenly feels whole again. The years of sorrow and longing melt away in an instant, replaced by the purest form of joy.

“Took you long enough,” you say with a soft pout, your voice light and teasing, just as it had been in life. There’s no hint of sadness or bitterness in your tone, only the playful warmth he’s missed so much, the kind that had always made his heart flutter.

Jongseong smiles in return, a gentle, peaceful expression settling over his face. For the first time in a year, he feels truly at ease. “I was caught up, sorry, baby,” he replies softly, his voice filled with love as he gazes at you. His hand squeezes yours gently, his fingers brushing over your skin as if to reassure himself that this moment is real, that you’re really here.

And then, without hesitation, he leans in and presses his lips to yours in a kiss so tender, so full of longing and relief, that it feels as though the time apart vanishes in an instant. The kiss is soft yet meaningful, filled with all the words he could never find to express how much he had missed you. It's like coming home - like slipping into the warmth of an embrace that was always meant to be. 

The sensation of your lips against his is more perfect than anything he remembers, as if all the love he ever felt for you has been distilled into this one beautiful moment. The warmth of it spreads through him, igniting his soul with a peace he hasn't felt in a long time.

Jongseong pulls back just enough to look at you, his forehead resting against yours. His soul feeling light yet beautifully full, free from the ache that had weighed him down for so long. He finally feels whole, finally feels like he’s where he belongs - beside you, where he’s always meant to be.

For a moment, he glances over his shoulder, back at Jeyou. His son kneels by the bedside, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs, the pain of his loss fresh and raw. Jongseong watches him with a soft expression, understanding the weight of the grief that will soon settle into Jeyou’s heart. But even in his son’s sorrow, Jongseong knows he will be okay. Time will heal the wounds, and Jeyou has the strength to carry on. He has a family, a loving wife, beautiful children, and the memories of both his parents to guide him.

Jongseong’s lips curve into a sad yet hopeful smile as he watches Jeyou. ‘You’ll be alright, Jeyou' he thinks, though no words leave his lips. He knows Jeyou will heal, just as he himself did once, after his own parents passed. There will be sadness, yes, but there will also be love, laughter, and life to carry him forward.

With that comforting knowledge resting in his heart, Jongseong turns back to you, his grip on your hand tightening just a little, as if to reaffirm the bond you’ve shared for decades. The past, the pain, the loneliness - it all falls away, leaving nothing but peace and love.

“Ready?” you ask softly, your eyes sparkling with a familiar warmth, as if you’d never been apart.

Jongseong nods, a contented smile playing at his lips. “Always,” he replies, his voice steady, filled with a quiet, unwavering certainty. With your hand in his, he takes the first step forward, leaving behind the world of sorrow and stepping into forever with you.

And as the two of you walk together, the light grows brighter, the burdens of the mortal world disappearing entirely, now walking hand in hand, just as you were always meant to.

_____

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[formulawolff]

“my favorite driver!” - t.w.

pairing: fem driver!reader x toto wolff

word count: 1.9k

warnings: cursing, mostly fluffy content, jack being a little shit (unintentionally), some tension between an ex-wife and the new girlfriend, mentions of divorce, toto being clueless, yadayadayada

a/n: well, well, well. here we are. a busy day of karting complete with jack, toto, golden girl, & susie! lemme know if you guys enjoyed this one! <3

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺

"are you ready?"

exhaling, you adjust your cap, praying that it will somehow keep your identity protected. after all, you wanted nothing more than to keep a low profile today.

"as ready as i'll ever be."

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺

"be careful, schatzi," he rolls his eyes, "if you sound any more ecstatic you may burst like a little bubble."

"oh yeah," you scoff, lingering in the passenger seat. your hand hovers above the handle of the door, palms clammy as your fingers wrap around the cool surface, "i'm filled to the brim with excitement."

"hey," fingers grasp your chin, forcing you to maintain eye contact, "it is not going as terrible as you think."

"it sounds like it's going to be an absolute shit show," you cringe internally as a whine escapes from lips, "i have to sit next to your ex-wife all weekend! we both know that i am the last person she wants be seen with."

toto tuts, shaking his head, "can you at least push through? for me? for jack? he's been chattering about this all week. you have no idea how much this means to him."

"i'll try my best," shame ripples within you, cheeks burning as toto nods, shooting you a wink.

"that's my girl. now, let's get going. he starts in about an hour."

the illustrious team principal slips out of the car, shutting the driver's side door. before you know it, he's on the other side of the coupe, a breeze rolling through as he opens the passenger door, prompting you to come on out. swallowing the lump in your throat, you oblige, ensuring that your bag and sunglasses aren't forgotten.

keeping your head low, your heart skips a beat as you feel his fingers find yours, intertwining them together. he squeezes tenderly, a signal that he was there for you, no matter what.

with that anxious sensation growing in the pit of your stomach, you couldn't be more grateful for his reassurance.

since there was a brief break in your schedule, you agreed to accompany toto to a weekend of karting. well, mostly because of jack. the little one was constantly buzzing about you, often inquiring when he was going to meet you. due to the nature of both of your bustling lives, toto conferred with susie on what a good time would be.

the two ended up settling on a weekend between singapore and austin, a couple of weeks before the united states grand prix.

it was a simple outing, really. hanging out with your boyfriend on a beautiful autumn day. you would be introducing yourself to his kid, a little one who absolutely adored you. yet, there was one factor that weighed heavy on your mind.

susie.

the f1 academy founder and racing mogul would be in attendance today in support of her son.

and god, did the thought of facing her for the first time since the news broke have you absolutely reeling.

what would she say? would she be kind? or rather, would it be a sickeningly sweet sort of niceness? would it all be a facade? would she even acknowledge you? would she let you meet jack?

no matter how much toto told you that she was over it, there was still that anxious feeling. it was ever-present, gnawing away at you.

and now, as you approach the garages, hand-in-hand with toto, that anxiety heightened, almost paralyzing you with fear. with every step, it felt as if you feet were concrete, barely moving at all.

"it's okay baby," a voice, his voice, floods your ear. it's barely a whisper, almost inaudible as you grow closer to the throng of parents and children, "i love you."

chewing on your lower lip, you manage to croak out a response, "i love you too."

you hadn't even spoken with susie yet and you were already bristling with fear. only five minutes had passed since you got out of the car and your palms were slick with sweat, armpits damp as well.

fuck, was this going to be torture.

you could manage to get behind the wheel of a vehicle that topped speeds of over two hundred miles an hour but meeting an ex-wife and former acquaintance was almost too much.

how fucked was that?

for a moment, you couldn't but admire toto's initiative to keep your nerves at bay. how he had pulled you closer, looping your arm through his. how his thumb traced soothing circles into your skin, his mercedes cap situated on your head.

he was doing everything in his power to keep you calm. and god, did you love him for that.

the team principal comes a halt, your heart thudding as scans the garage. he pauses, eyes forming slits as he searches for susie. after all, with her blonde bob and striking smile, she was pretty distinguishable.

you couldn't forget a stunning face like susie's.

"ah," toto sucks in a breath, "guten morgen!"

your head swivels in the direction of his voice, picking out a blonde. the woman turns, lips pulling into a grin as she recognizes toto.

"good morning!"

your hand trembles, knees almost buckling as she strolls towards you, little one in tow. for a moment, you squeeze your eyes shut, hoping that maybe this was some sort of a dream. praying that you would simply wake up, wrapped up in your lover's arms.

yet, his hand breaking away from yours reminds you that is real. very real.

you remain still as toto's arm envelop susie's frame, bringing her in for a warm embrace. he pecks her cheeks, the words indistinguishable. you recognize them as german, cursing yourself slightly for not keeping up with your courses.

"and good morning to you," susie bears a bright smile as she turns to you, opening her arms up for a hug. you return the gesture, awkwardly placing two kisses on either cheek.

"it's nice to see you again."

"papa!" a voice squeals, bursting with joy, "she's here! my favorite driver is here!"

at that, you notice susie's right eye twitch. toto kneels, scooping jack up. he hoists the little one into the air so that he was at your level. at the interaction, you feel your lips curl, forming a quaint smile.

"guten morgen, jack! i can't believe i'm finally meeting my favorite kart racer. i think i'm a little starstruck."

jack's eyes widen, his cheeks tinged a rosy pink. his hands fly to his face, shielding his shyness. toto leans in, whispering something in his ear. in turn, jack peeks out, stars glistening in his gaze as he peers at you.

"did you come to watch me race today?"

"i did," you nod, "i figured i would give your dad some company today."

"mama says that you keep my dad company too much and-"

"let's not worry about what mommy thinks," susie cuts in, "let's just worry about racing today, okay?"

toto arches a brow, yet holds his composure, "let's go check out the kart and let the women gossip, yeah? what do you think about that?"

jack nods enthusiastically as toto sets him down. taking his father's hand, he leads him to the other end of the garage, buzzing about a mile a minute. for a moment, there's a beat of silence, susie inhaling a sharp breath.

"i am so sorry."

"about?" your brow furrows, "ms. wolff, you have nothing to be-"

"it's stoddart now," susie's lips form a tight line, her eyes squeezing shut, "did toto not inform you? the divorce was finalized."

"i-" you stammer, swaying slightly, "i-i had no idea."

the blonde rolls her eyes, bringing a hand to her temple, "he has a knack for forgetting important events like that. i apologize for putting you on the spot. i hope you know that i have no ill-will or grudge toward you. it's just... different, you know? he is so different now that he has you."

"what do you mean by that?"

susie motions her head, pointing in the direction of toto and jack, "just look at him. i have never seen him so loving or careful with anyone until you came into the picture. i have never seen him so proactive in jack's life. you have changed him. you truly are his golden girl."

in that moment, your heart swells, bliss rippling all throughout as you watch toto and jack. the little one's hand was wrapped around toto's finger, the child showcasing all of the new modifications to his kart. toto couldn't look any more proud, his gaze brimmed with affection, dimples apparent as jack toted him along.

"susie," you begin, attempting to form some sort of response that would truly express your gratitude, "thank you, for that. you really have no-"

"don't thank me," a chuckle bubbles up in her throat, the blonde resting a hand on your shoulder, "just stick around, yeah? i don't know if i can handle anymore drab and depressed toto. also, i wouldn't mind if you wanted to stop by the academy sometime. we miss you around there."

"i could probably fit that in sometime," you beam, "there isn't much more of the season left. i would love to come by and see how things are progressing."

"don't feel like you have to just because of me," susie sticks outs a hand, "i know you're fairly busy at brackley in your free time."

after her statement, she winks, heat billowing into your cheeks the moment you realize what she meant.

so she had heard the rumors.

"well," the blonde clears her throat, fishing her phone out of her pocket, "my partner is going to be here any minute now. i need to go meet up with her so she doesn't get lost. you think you can keep the boys out of trouble?"

"i sure can," a giggle flows from your lips, "i'll go see what they're up to. isn't the first lap going to start here soon?"

"yes," susie responds, spinning on her heel, "if i can't find you two around here, will you text me from toto's phone?"

"of course!" you chirp, flashing her a thumbs up, "we'll meet up with you soon!"

"great," susie flashes you a grin, waving at the boys one last time.

as she disappears among the growing crowd of parents, children, and family, you make your way towards toto and jack. the moment jack spots you, he waves you over, "i need help!"

"what is it?" you fold your arms across your chest.

"will you give me some tips?" the little one cocks his head as toto zips up his racing suit.

"what sort of tips?" there's a cozy sensation blooming in your chest as you kneel to the ground.

"racing tips, duh!"

"i'll tell you what," carefully, you place your hands on his shoulders, maintaining eye contact.

"the most important thing i can tell you to do is to believe in yourself. if you can do that, then you can do anything."

"anything?" jack's lip purse, toto hovering with his helmet in his grasp.

dipping your head, you take the helmet, placing it on the child's head, "anything. no go kick ass out there. i know you'll do great!"

at your words, you can't help but notice the way jack brightens. his mouth forms a radiant smile. for a minute, he's a spitting-image of his father, the sight tugging at your heart.

"okay! i'll go kick some ass! only cause you said i can!"

as toto helps him into the kart, you rise to your feet, a singular thought buzzing in your mind.

maybe one day a little toto wouldn't be so bad.

just maybe.

[holybibly]

Today's unholy hour is inspired by this post. Hey, @pixlpxie it seems there are so many unholy thoughts in your pretty head, I will be glad to see you in my inbox.

Life sucks, but you suck better. Or your mafia daddy needs to relax and you're more than happy to oblige.

A low, cooing growl emanates from San's plump lips as he reclines in a luxurious leather chair; it's licking your heated bare skin and causing your hips to slowly sway from side to side in depraved, sweet pleasure.

"That's right, Gongjunim, take it deeper." San's hand gently runs through your hair, brushing a few stray strands away from your pretty face so that he can get a better view of how your little kitty tongue runs along the entire length of his big, thick cock, before he tightly clenches a large handful of your silky locks in his fist. In response, you obediently relax your throat and allow San to slowly move your head up and down the velvety length of his cock, gradually stretching your throat before he pushes his cock sharply into the tight, hot wetness of your larynx. 

You gag on it; the slippery walls tighten around his cock, pressing down on the sensitive, swollen veins that stretch tantalisingly along the massive, heavy length, the sensation making him curse and pull your head back. As his entire cock leaves your mouth, you smack wetly at the swollen, red head of his cock, the viscous, frothy saliva inflating like a bubble before it bursts and runs down on his dick and over your chin. You blink away the tears that are forming in your eyes and look up at him with a look of pure innocence in your eyes. This is what San loves so much about you—your fucking saccharine sweetness that literally sticks to his tongue.

"Damn, you were made to suck my dick, kitten. What a beautiful little girl you are. Always be so good for your daddy. Look at this doll mouth, covered in drool and cum. Aren't you a sight for sore eyes, Gongjunim?" He purrs in a sultry and hoarse voice, his muscular thighs jerking upwards and his wet dick slapping against your open mouth. 

His sweet praise causes your little hole to squeeze around nothing, and your clit begins to pulsate faintly, as if San had just licked it with his tongue. You let out a pitiful moan at this, batting your long, fluffy eyelashes at him and planting small, sucking kisses on the sensitive, pink flesh of his dick, which is shiny and wet with pre-cum and sticky with your saliva, and you're convinced once again that your daddy's cock is the most delicious. In fact, it feels amazing on your tongue—hot and hard, just the way you like it. You dip the tip of your tongue lightly into the oozing slit at the top of his thick head.

San leans back on the back of his chair and moans so loudly and so vulgarly that any porn actor would be completely ashamed. His black hair is matted, his chiselled, sharp jaws slack, his lips parted, and his eyes dark and heavy as he hungrily watched your plump lips stretch around his cock.

When his sharp cat eyes meet yours, he gives you a slow, predatory grin—a beautiful, cocky look that makes you squirm in your spot between his spread legs.

Determined to give your daddy more pleasure, you drag your tongue around the head of his cock before wrapping your lips completely around it, sucking in your cheeks, and pulling back until his dick pops out of your mouth with wet sucking sounds.

San hisses and grits his teeth. He throws his head back, exposing his thick neck to your gaze, glistening with sweat and with bulging veins.

"Fuck, you're killing me, Gongjunim. My precious girl, the best cocksucker of all time.".

Encouraged by his words, you repeat this action a few more times; the disgusting slurping sound that you make when you do it is muffled by the massive size of his cock in your mouth. You take a deep breath through your nose and drag his cock along your tongue until the head hits the back of your throat, and you choke slightly, trying to control the urge to gag. 

Looking down at you, San laughs darkly; the sound is hoarse and absolutely evil. His large, slightly coarse hands begin to massage your shoulders and the sides of your neck.

"Perfect, finest Daddy's toy. I love you so much, Princess."

You whimper at his words and leave wet, smeared kisses on the sides of his big, beautiful cock. You don't look at him anymore. You're too busy licking up the pre-cum and pressing the swollen, wet head of his cock against the inside of your cheek, the way you know San likes it.

You let out a pitiful moan as you try to swallow him whole, pushing his thick girth deeper and deeper into the narrow tunnel of your throat as you go. As you look up at him again with your tear-filled eyes, you take a deep breath before you relax your jaw completely and swallow him down as far as you can. The outline of his cock is clearly visible on the back of your neck, which only serves to excite San even more.

"Fuck, kitten; that's right. Always be so hard-working for your daddy. Do you love Daddy's cock so much?" His fingers dig into your skin in a painful way, and you let out a half-squeal and slap San on one of his veiny forearms. He mumbles something and apologises, then relaxes his fingers to grab you by the hair instead and set his own pace the way you suck him off.

San holds your head in place, his strong, muscular thighs tightening on either side of your head before he lifts them up, thrusting roughly and briefly into your malleable, soft mouth. San doesn't go as deep as he could; he stretches out his pleasure and just uses you as a nice, tight sleeve for his cock. He gives you a few more quick thrusts before he pushes your head down with all his might until your nose is pressed against the smooth, wet skin of his pubic area. Your lips are stretched out around the base of his cock in the most beautiful way possible, while his balls are pressed tightly against your chin.

You swallow thickly and heavily around it, choking completely on his thick cock as you feel the distinct pulsation of his hot length on your tongue.

"Oh my God, you're so goddamn good, Gongjunim, fuck! You make Daddy feel so good. Do you enjoy gagging on my cock, gorgeous?" San moans, practically choking to death as you mooe incoherently around him, causing his cock to press even harder against your airway. "You take all of my cock like a fucking champ, huh? I'm so proud of you, beautiful. Do you know that?" He hisses, and it makes your pussy clench up with the need to be filled with his sperm.

It's all dirty and disgusting, and as you lift your head up and slide your lips along his cock, viscous saliva coats his silky skin and stretches to your lips in long strands as you pull away completely to take a breath, looking at him with wide eyes as you move your jaw to ease the pain a little.

"Do it one more time, kitten. Deepthroat again." He exhales, his feline eyes darkening and becoming heavy, completely clouded with lust and needing to please.

San wraps his arms around the warm nape of your neck from behind and pulls your flushed face back down onto his cock. You immediately give him a sweet kiss on the head of his cock before you allow San to take his wet, drooling and pre-cum covered cock back between your swollen lips, stretching them out around the hard flesh and pulsating veins. "You can handle this, Gongjunim. I am absolutely sure of it."

His broad shoulders tense, his muscles straining and clenched under his sweaty golden skin, and he holds his breath, watching as you lower yourself onto him again, his lips parted, his breathing heavy and uneven, and San watches in fascination as you roll your eyes in pleasure, enjoying the slight pain of his huge cock pushing back down your throat and even deeper into the hot tightness of your larynx to choke you completely.

His moan is long, low, and purring like a predatory big cat, so depraved that it causes a thick stream of wetness to flow from your tiny hole. And that's another thing San adores about you. Your hole is so tight and small that even though he fucks you non-stop, each time San has to make an effort to push his massive cock inside your pussy.

San's hand slides over your shoulders, the short nails leaving red lines on your skin as you swallow extra hard and choke, leaving your own possessive marks in the shape of crescent moons on his thick thighs and the perfect six-pack of his abs. Your daddy is all yours, and you love to mark him in every possible way.

His stomach tightens just as much as his luscious thighs do, and you lean back for a bit of a break as you feel the twitch of his cock in your mouth.

"God, you're going to make me cum." He growls as he pulls you back into him. Your eyes flutter, tears streaming down your plump, hot cheeks. You moan loudly, opening your mouth and sticking out your soft, slobbery tongue desperate to please your daddy.

He pushes into your mouth again, sharp and deep, his hot length sliding between the tight walls of your throat. San rolls his hips a little as he fucks your face; his rhythm is steady and slow.

"You have fun with that, don't you?" He asks as he wraps his long fingers around your neck so that he can feel the bulge of his cock in your throat. It also cuts off what little space you had left to breathe in.

You go completely still and enjoy all the attention that your daddy is giving you right now. His big hand pulls you even closer to him until your chin is resting on his balls once more. 

"Do you want my cum, kitten?" You nod weakly with his cock still in your mouth, feeling the drool running down your chin from your rocking movements. San purrs in a sultry way and runs his thumb over your hot, red cheek, enjoying your wet, husky sigh as his fingers relax around your neck. "Oh, sweet girl, I will give you all of it, I promise. Daddy is going to feed his little kitty with his milk."

There is a dark promise lurking in his voice, and it makes your whole body tremble. Your toes curl with a sharp wave of desire, and you shake your bottom from side to side. San calms you down and pats you gently on the shoulders. "Don't worry, I'll make you feel so good afterwards. I'm going to try you too, Gongjunim. Daddy is going to lick your dripping, sweet cunt, my baby.".

You lower your mouth onto his cock again, and San can't take it any more. He moans lustfully, throwing his head back and rolling his eyes, his hands beginning to massage your shoulders and neck again, sending the sharp heat of pleasure sparkling through your skin.

His thick, luxurious thighs suddenly begin to tremble, and he growls like a fucking animal as your tongue presses against the bulging vein on his cock, his beautiful stomach flexes, and his toned pecs rise and fall with heavy, raspy breathing. You feel his abs twitching under your hand, and at that moment, your mouth is filled with his cum. It's a thick, copious stream of warm liquid that rushes down the back of your throat and causes you to choke. You have to step back so that you can drink all of his cum and get a good taste of it.

You purr sweetly as you lick the throbbing head of his cock with your tongue, lapping it, slurping it, and swallowing all of the bittersweet, milky liquid. The sperm leaks out of your parted mouth and runs down the silky length of his cock. You chase after the sticky drops and suck them, retracting your cheeks as hard as you can and wrapping your lips around his cock to suck him dry. God, if it were possible, you could drink his cum instead of water. You're so fucked for your hot Mafia daddy.

You lower your mouth onto his cock again, and San can't take it any more. He moans lustfully, throwing his head back and rolling his eyes, his hands beginning to massage your shoulders and neck again, sending the sharp heat of pleasure through your skin.

His thick, luxurious thighs suddenly begin to tremble, and he growls like a fucking animal as your tongue presses against the bulging vein on his cock, his beautiful stomach flexes, and his toned pecs rise and fall with heavy, raspy breathing. You feel his abs twitching under your hand, and at that moment, your mouth is filled with his cum. It's a thick, copious stream of warm liquid that rushes down the back of your throat and causes you to choke. You have to step back so that you can drink all of his cum and get a good taste of it.

You purr sweetly as you lick the throbbing head of his cock with your tongue, lapping it, slurping it, and swallowing all of the bittersweet, milky liquid. The sperm leaks out of your parted mouth and runs down the silky length of his cock. You chase after the sticky drops and suck them in with your cheeks as hard as you can to suck them dry. You suck his cock like you are the best girl in the world. God, if it were possible, you could drink his cum instead of water. You're so fucked for your hot Mafia daddy.

Through it all, San lets out deep, aching moans as he says your name, showering you with praise and compliments. He whispers sweetly to you, ‘My sweet kitten,’ ‘The best cocksucker ever,’ ‘My little slut queen,’ as his sperm continues to spurt onto your tongue. His hips arching languidly forward in time with your movements of your mouth as he cupping the back of your head and squeezing the base of his big cock with his other hand, as if he could squeeze more cum out of himself for you.

When you finally pull away from him, you swallow thickly and greedily, looking up at him with huge, watery eyes before you open your mouth and stick out your tongue to once again run your tongue over the pink head of his cock. He hisses in hypersensitivity, grinning at you and stroking his cock sluggishly. Another lazy stream of cum leaks onto your tongue and runs down the tattooed knuckles of his fingers, which you eagerly lick. As if San could sense that you couldn't get enough of more cum, it bursts out of his slit like a viscous, white thread. It lands on your lips and wet chin, covering your pretty face with a milky, pale glaze.

"You always know how to give a good blow job, my princess." He mumbles lazily as he watches your licking of your lower lip. You smile at him and nod your head, moving slightly away from his hips as they spread apart.

He grabs your hair in his fist before you can get too far away and bends his arm to pull you up against his strong body so that he can kiss you. He pushes his tongue into your mouth, causing you to whimper and moan into his lips, your small hands wrapped around his thick, tight neck as he kisses you. San explores your mouth with sighs and moans, his hands caressing your breasts and moving down your back, massaging your ass, your hips, and your waist. As his strong fingers dig into the aching muscles of your neck, you feel as if you are melting away beneath him.

San releases you from his grasp, only for a change of position. He pushes you down to the floor and folds you in half so that your knees are close to your head and your wet little pussy is completely open and at his disposal. Your hips arch as his tongue flicks over the soft, sensitive skin of your pussy and you gasp, "Daddy!" and clutch his beautiful silky hair. His hands are gripping your hips tightly, thick fingers pressing into the flesh to force your writhing hips into his face so that he can bury his nose in your aching, slutty сunt.

"Now it's my turn, kitten." He growls as he licks up the thick juices that are pooling between your folds before he plunges into your clit with a disgusting, lewd slurp.

[alvojake]

Under The Surface | P.JS

「prompt」 : perfect 「pairing」 : husband!jay x fem!reader 「word count」 : 0.8k

「synopsis」 : you and jay have always been seen as the perfect couple to everyone, but what really happens behind closed doors?

「genre」 : angst

「warnings」 : cussing, mentions of an arranged marriage, arguments, lmk if I missed anything!!!

「notes」 : man I'm ngl I feel like this could be a good full fic... but again sorry this is a little late, but I'll be on top of my game for the rest of angstober!

masterlist ─ navi. ─ angstober list

To the outside world, you and Jay were seen as the ‘perfect couple’, the couple that everyone wished they could be. You lost count of how many times people complimented you both while you were out in public. It was almost too good to be true to some people, and well…

They would be correct.

Everything that everyone saw outside of the four walls of your and Jay’s shared home was just a front. The ‘love’ that others saw was nothing more than a ploy, and the happiness was a farce.

It was all for the sake of your families. Even if you and Jay absolutely despise each other, it wasn’t like you could just break up. No, you and he were both bound by a contract that both of your families put together.

As long as you and Jay were together, your families would profit from each other, becoming the wealthiest families in all of Korea. In the beginning, you thought that it might work out that you and Jay could get along.

Boy, were you wrong.

A good day would be when you were able to go about your day without running into Jay at all, meaning you avoided any and all arguments. However, a normal day would always end in some kind of argument, sometimes ending more severely than others. Today just happened to be one of those severe-level days.

You had just finished eating dinner and were heading to your room, hoping to miss Jay when he got home from work. As luck would have it, you didn’t even make it up four steps before the front door opened. As soon as his eyes landed on you, a scowl fell on his features, causing you to roll your eyes. Not really wanting to argue with him, you started up the steps once more. But of course, you didn’t make it very far without him saying something.

“Where’s my dinner?” He asks, eyes glaring up at you as you stop once more.

“It's in the fridge; if you want it warm, put it in the microwave," you told him blandly before taking another step.

“The least you could do is make sure it's ready for me when I get home.” He scoffed, and you felt your blood start to boil.

Your tongue jutted out, wetting your lips as you turned around to face him, “I’m not your maid, Jay; if you want your dinner ready when you get home, have her do it. I’m going to bed.”

Jay threw his coat onto the rack before kicking his shoes off, grumbling under his breath about how he just wanted this to end so he could go back to his normal life. You honestly found it so laughable whenever he talked about going back to his ‘normal’ because all that meant was him being able to stick his dick in whatever bitch he could get his hands on.

“Ya know, if you want your normal life back so bad, you can talk to our parents.” You turned to look at him once more, arms crossed over your chest, “go back to sleeping around with random whores and throwing dirt on your family name.” You shrugged, a look of indifference on your face.

You had to bite your tongue as you watched rage wash over his features. A vein in his forehead looked as if it was a split second away from bursting. He glared at you, and boy, if looks could kill, you would be well over six feet in the ground.

“As if you were much better, a bitch who kicked those who she deemed underneath her.” He growled, and you could feel anger bubbling in your gut, but you refused to give in to him this time. “Unlike you, I was popular among the people.”

You couldn't help but let out a short laugh, which only angered the male more: "Yeah, and unlike you, I was actually making a name for myself that didn’t involve sleeping around.”

That hit a nerve, and you could tell by the dark look in Jay’s eyes as if he were ready to tear your head clean off of your neck, but you didn’t give him a chance as you waved him off. Turning back around and starting your way back up the steps once more.

“Oh, and if you talk to our parents, make sure to let them know that it was your idea.” You looked over your shoulder one last time, missing the deadly look in Jay’s eyes.

“You are the one thing I hate more than I hate myself,” His words cut deep into your heart because as much as you act like you don’t care, you do, and you wanted nothing more than for this marriage to work out, but it was just wishful thinking at this point.

So, inhaling deeply, you nodded your head and left him with a few words before disappearing up the stairs and into your room. You left him to stop dead in his tracks and stare at the spot where you once stood, a conflicted look crossing his features.

“And I could never hate you as much as I would like to.”

@alvojake | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

[jaehunnyy]

Ateez and the things they do for you while on tour

Genre: established relationship, floof—lots of it, crack-ish?

Word count: 1.9k

Pairing: idols!Ateez x gn!reader

Warnings: pet names (+ reader calling Mingi princess), possible grammar mistakes

Taglist: @shakalakaboomboo, @pocketjoong-reads, @nebulousbrainsoup, @justhere4kpop, @bluehwale, @bluisheye93, @ssaboala, @i-luvsang, @ad0rechuu

Networks: @cromernet 🤍

Hongjoong - falling asleep on face-time

☆ Hongjoong keeps track of every single difference between his and your timezone, having it as a daily reminder on the world clock.

☆ It doesn't matter how tired he is after performing and melting million hearts;

☆ He could never be too tired for his love.

☆ Calls you when he's on his way to the hotel room if it's at a suitable hour;

☆ If not, he would settle for napping for a bit and set an alarm so he can call you at a reasonable time.

☆ Loves having your voice playing in the background for whenever sleep gets too hard to fight against (and if you start talking about your day, it's simply music for his ears).

☆ Smiles contentedly, even in his sleep, when you tell him how proud you are and how much you love and miss him.

☆ "You shined today too, baby. I am so, so, proud of you, and I hope you know that."

☆ Even when he's drowsy—droopy eyes, mouth slightly open, almost slipping into the dreams' world, he would never be too tired to mouth an "I love you too, love; thanks for being by my side,"—might come off as a mumble, but the intention is there.

☆ And that's the tutorial on how to make your sleepy Joong happy. :)

Seonghwa - buying souvenirs

☆ Seonghwa would buy the whole shop for you if he could. 

☆ Not that he didn't want to, but Yeosang—his shopping companion, didn't allow that to happen. 

☆ Whenever he sees a cute object, be it little or big, his eyes gather the whole universe in them, an excited smile creeping on his face, as the only thing he can say is "Y/n! :D" 

☆ Magnets? "These would look amazing on their fridge!" 

☆ Clothes? "I remember they said they needed a new cardigan." 

☆ Plushies? "Y/n's shelves have been pretty empty lately, these would look great in there :D." 

☆ And who are you to burst his bubble? It's not like you didn't try to tell him that he should tone it down; but he didn't even bother to listen to you, stuffing more and more into his luggage for when he comes home to show you. 

☆ When unboxing, he would just smile and proceed to take more out of his suitcase. 

☆ "Honey, you don't need to spend so much money on me…" You say, looking at the suitcase he claimed was filled with only souvenirs. 

☆ "Can you blame me, starlight? Let me spoil you." He smiles, settling himself on the floor as he keeps on unpacking, making you accept your fate and smile as well.

Yunho - sending you dancing videos

☆ This man is all but leaving you alone—not that you're complaining or anything. 

☆ He would send you videos of him practicing every single hour, maybe call you too, just to show (and maybe flex) his fantastic dancing skills. 

☆ Sometimes, he would even call you and ask you to learn something together—he just loves to see you dance with him, okay? 

☆ Always asks for your opinion first, on every cover he wants to post. 

☆ "I think that's good enough to post, Yun—" Wooyoung would try to say, but his friend would brush him off quickly. 

☆ "Let me ask Y/n first! :D" 

☆ The moment the warmth of your praises engulfs him—he becomes a malfunctional boy; smiling from ear to ear, continuously staring at your texts, making everyone around him ask him if he is okay, if he needs to see a doctor or something (it's just his friends being the teases they are)—yet he wouldn't care, he is in love <3. 

☆ "Of course it's amazing, Yuyu. You're doing amazing everytime <333." 

☆ He would melt into a puddle. 

☆ "No words can explain how thankful I am for you, my darling." 

Yeosang - delivering sweet nothings

☆ Yeosang would send special deliveries for his significant other.

☆ He has to make sure his baby is being well taken care of even when he's away, doesn't he?

☆ If you randomly get up due to the sound of your doorbell—know that Yeo planned something; again.

☆ Sometimes it's fresh food from your favorite restaurant; sometimes flowers bouquets.

☆ Sometimes, even your favorite hoodie of his—to remind you of him, and his scent.

☆ He would be sneaky and innocent about it too—he would never admit it's him (he would, you just have to be cute enough for it).

☆ "Yeoooo, the flowers you sent yesterday are still there! Where am I supposed to place these ones?"

☆ "What flowers, sweets? I didn't send you anything though?" The lie would slip through his lips, soon curling into a mischievous smile.

☆ Secretly—he enjoys it way too much—seeing how happy you are after the warm meal, how you couldn't stop smelling the flowers he chose for you.

☆ He loved you so much and he had to prove it somehow, even if he was miles away from you.

San - hugging his phone while face-timing

☆ San loves physical attention; he craves it—a lot.

☆ And though there's no way you can give it to him, he finds one, 'cause he's your smart boyfriend.

☆ He came up with the sudden idea of you hugging your phones at the same time, as silly as that might sound.

☆ Hugging the devices to your chests was giving him enormous comfort—not so much of a physical one, but one for the heart, at least.

☆ At first, you didn't expect him to want this to be a regular thing, you thought he would do it one time and then forget about it—or simply leave it aside.

☆ No. Your boyfriend started doing that every single call.

☆ "Y/nnnnn, do you feel it? The warmth?" He asks, his eyes shaped into little crescent moons, while the joy would dig little dimples into his cheeks.

☆ "Sannie… all I feel is how hot my phone got after three hours of continuously face-timing you," you say, looking at his pout through the screen.

☆ "Can you at least pretend? It's the only thing that unites us right now, so please pretend it's me you're hugging, sweets."

☆ With time, you came to understand what he was talking about—it felt nice to imagine him cuddled into your arms, counting the days and hoping they would pass faster and give you your boyfriend back.

Mingi - sending you voice texts

☆ Mingi would send you cute voice texts, and expects you to answer in the same manner.

☆ He would send one right after he woke up, the hoarseness of his voice echoing through your ears and making you giggle.

☆ Would also send you lots of them when he reaches the comfort of his hotel bed, telling you about his day and waiting for you to call, for the live experience.

☆ Sometimes, he would send some in the middle of the day, and when you play them, you're met with the beauty of his singing voice, playing one of the songs he had written, just for you.

☆ Along with comfort, they would usually make tears prickle at the corner of your eyes—because you miss him, and because the depth of the lyrics makes you want to give him the biggest hug ever.

☆ Mingi would also send you vocal texts of him silly laughing at random jokes, or funny videos, claiming that he doesn't want you to forget his laugh (don't forget he wants to hear yours too).

☆ And hearing him laugh would automatically make you cackle too, recording it just in time.

☆ "Princess? If I had a superpower, I wish I could teleport," you said, sending the short voice message to him.

☆ "And why is that, sweetheart?" He asks, in the same manner.

☆ "So I can come there and give you the biggest hug ever," and that was enough to make him melt and think about how much he loves you.

Wooyoung - recording daily vlogs

☆ Wooyoung would be recording silly little vlogs for you at every single step.

☆ No one and nothing could hold him back from turning his camera on selfie mode and pressing the rec button (but also, no one can stop him when he's about to fall 'cause he doesn't see where he steps).

☆ As soon as he gets into his hotel room, he will start making the room tour for you, explaining every detail he notices about it.

☆ Sometimes, he would trick some staff members into showing him the stage outfits beforehand, just for you to wake up with an outfit check vlog made by your boyfriend, exclusively.

☆ He could be anywhere—restaurant, preparing to eat; backstage, preparing to go on stage, or simply walking around the city—it wouldn't matter, his hand is always able to hold a camera or at least his phone.

☆ Oh, and don't you dare interrupt him—he gave San the nastiest look when he called Woo for game night.

☆ "I'm recording my daily vlog for Y/n, can't you see, San? When did you become so heartless?" He asked, hand holding his heart as San raised his arms, defeated.

☆ "Sorry, angel. San is bothering me. Back to you now! :D"

☆ If you could ever make time to send him one of your own daily vlogs too, he would be the happiest man; saving it and staring at it all along, like a lucky charm.

☆ "I decided I should send you a daily vlog from work too, can't let my pookie forget my face and voice," you said, and his lips stretched into the widest smile.

Jongho - singing lullabies for you

☆ Jongho's honey-like voice would melt into another lullaby you asked him for, despite the late hour you were talking at.

☆ You missed your boyfriend's presence—his beautiful gummy smile whenever you told him you loved him, his hugs, everything about him.

☆ And, last but not least, you missed his voice.

☆ You found it hard to sleep without him talking to you, or without hearing him practice another melodious ballad again—and you craved it.

☆ And it seemed like he missed doing these acts of service for you as well;

☆ 'Cause, the second you told him that you wanted to hear him, he didn't hesitate to immediately call you and start to sing another soulful song for you, smiling whenever you complimented him.

☆ His passion was something great to watch too—from the way his eyelashes would stroke his skin whenever he closed his eyes, the way his mouth opened whenever he hits any high notes, to the confidence on his face.

☆ You could swear that your admiration for him painted his cheeks into a crimson blush, yet he couldn't complain, he was proud to have you by his side.

☆ "Can you sing the chorus one more time, please? I don't want it to end before I fall asleep." You asked, looking at him before closing your eyes in order to fall asleep while he was still singing for you.

☆ He let a soft smile appear on his face, singing for you once again and only stopping when you finally fell asleep, whispering a sweet "Good night, sunshine."

[tasteracha]

a/n: i'm still taking a little tumblr break but the combination of things i've seen today and @astraystayyh and @forlix had me.......is this chan? is this hyunjin? who knows. also this was written very quickly and not proofread.

you’re on top of him before he can blink - still wearing that sinful outfit and wearing an annoying confident smirk that makes your blood bubble up and threaten to burst out of your veins. 

it takes only a few minutes of a nasty makeout and heavy petting before he’s touching your core through your shorts and you’re jerking in his lap. 

you unbutton his pants and free his cock from his boxers in what must have been record time, him returning the favor to your shorts like he can’t last one more second without being inside of you. 

of all people, you understood the sentiment, especially when he looked like that. 

you take advantage of your spot on his lap and position yourself over him, sliding slowly down and savoring every centimeter of his cock as it enters you. 

“oh, fuck,” he curses under his breath when you’re seated fully, his entire length throbbing against your walls. your knees are already wobbly from just one taste of him inside of you, and yet you work past it to roll your hips against his. 

he lets you have your fun for a few moments, looking up at you with a twistingly confusing mix of adoration and condescension. you can almost see the moment he tires of your slow pace, his eyebrows furrowing as he weight out his options before deciding on your fate. 

his hands circle your waist, tight in a bruising grip as he steadies you. you barely have time to whine in confusion before he starts fucking up into you, keeping you still on top of him. you felt weightless, the only stimulus hitting your empty head was the feeling of him sliding in and out of you, over and over. 

“eyes on me,” he all but growls out when you drop your head to his chest, starting to pant a bit. “i want to see you fall apart on my cock.” 

you meet his eyes and almost fall apart on the spot - his pupils are blown out, dark possessiveness overriding everything else as he keeps you in place. you feel like a puppet, taught on his strings and there is nothing else running through your head other than his name chanting like a prayer. 

you don’t realize that you’re saying it out loud until he moves one hand to tangle into your hair, pulling your lips into his to shut you up. 

you come together and it’s brighter than the sparks of fireworks behind your eyelids. you sob into his mouth as he fucks you through both of your highs until the only sound echoing through the room is your harsh breathing mingling with his. 

you can't stand straight when he lifts you off and you almost stumble back onto him; and he laughs at you and you shoot him a glare, reaching for his softening cock in retaliation. the sound of his panicked shout when he curves away from you sends your heart soaring through the skies. 

[justauthoring]

Shadow of Yourself [14/18]

Prompt: “You’ve changed, Eli. I barely even know who you are right now.”

A/N: we delve into the reader's past a little bit more the episode and eli is an absolute sweetheart about it <3

Based off of: Cobra Kai 05x05, 05x06, and 05x07 Warnings: some swear words (because tumblr apparently doesn’t like that), poorly written fight scenes (i swear, i struggle so much) Pairing: Eli Moskowitz x F!Reader

Tag List: @moonydrafts - @ashwhowrites - @traveleraroundsworld - @truly-abysmal - @likecherriesinthespring - @hollxe1 - @asonofpeter - @scarlett-verse - @musically-ambiguous - @kayda1 - @moon-zoons - @dwcode - @day-dreamsinthedark - @leilani788 - @silvermagnolias - @hawkinsavclub - @animewolflover278 - @gruffle1 - @b-tchymoon - @maggiecc - @beetea38 - @hawkinsavclub1983 - @crpytids - @embersparklz - @kimilight - @httpjiikook - @marauderssmut - @fyckcore - @multinci - @lqveabby - @oh-well-whatever-nevermind - @redskull199987 - @silvermagnolias - @shortneko - @okjaeminn - @thecyclonetragedy - @vamproq - @siriusfahey - @cobrakaigirlie - @kaylinfayezink - @oursuh - @aphroditelxver - @minl0u - @cherrywinepoison - @bath1lda - @fixalice - @fallsofserinity - @maisieibae - @ssrcsm​ - @notplutos - @kaitieskidmore1​ - @httpvomitello - @nichmeddar - @rafaelajonerr - @lazyneonrabbitt - @belleoftheball28 - @httpvomitello - @nichmeddar - @rafaeljonerr - @lazyneonrabbitt - @harrysnovia - @dopepersonacloudllama - @fluffybunnyu

THE FRIENDSHIP WE'VE BEEN WAITING FOR.

“I made a new friend today.”

“Did you?” Your uncle Elijah calls over the sound of the water running in the sink, his hands frothy and wet from washing the dishes. This was your regular routine after dinner; he’d wash and you’d dry and when your mother was home, she’d put the dishes away. There’s a glaring pile of dishes building to your right that both of you ignore that, as of recently, has been more common. “That’s great, what’s her name?”

Biting your lip, you take the offered dish from his hands; “it’s a boy.”

That gives your uncle pause. With a teasing grin, he turns to you, quirking a brow; “oh? Is that right?” You flush at his wiggling brows, shaking your head as he flicks some soapy water at you before caving. “So, what’s his name, then?”

“Eli,” you answer, grinning from ear to ear. “Eli Moskowitz.”

“What a name,” your uncle laughs, nudging you with his elbow lightly. “He nice?”

You nod instantly, “very.”

“Good. Because no boy will be disrespecting my daughter.”

You flush at your uncle’s words, rolling your eyes; “dad, he’s just a friend.”

Eyes distinctly focused on the pan he’s washing, your uncle hums knowingly; “mm-hmm. And how did you meet Mr. Just-A-Friend Moskowitz?”

You just snort, focusing back on your own task like your uncle and ignoring his teasing because it was nothing new. Your uncle was a funny man and he was the best at jokes, and he liked to tease you – but you didn’t really mind, because it always made you laugh in the end anyways.

“I stood up for him,” you say, with a certain air of pride and an eye on your uncle for his reaction. “From a bully.”

Setting down the pan, your uncle turns to face you; “is that right?”

You mimic his actions, nodding; “yup.”

In the next second, before you can even blink, your uncle is moving his wet, soapy hands to your sides and moving to tickle you relentlessly. A giggle bursts from your lips instantly, carrying on as you desperately swat your uncle’s torturing hands away from you, gasping as you try to catch your breath.

“Elijah!”

“That’s my girl!” Your uncle cheers, clasping you by the waist and hefting you over his shoulders as he moves to run around the dining room, your cackles the only thing that can be heard in the otherwise silent house. “My little niece, standing up to bullies just like I taught her!”

“Elijah!” You call, grinning wide, “put me down!”

He obliges, finishing one last race around the dinner table before setting you on your own two feet. A laugh bubbles from your throat as he does, breathless and quieter, before you meet his waiting gaze and watch as he moves to crouch in front of you, hands on your shoulders.

“I’m incredibly proud of you, Y/N,” your uncle smiles, all sincerity and love in his eyes. “You know that, right?”

Beaming, you hum; “of course, Elijah! You tell me all the time!”

Shaking his head, your uncle places his hand on the back of your head before leaning forward and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

The moment is flooded with a gentle and comfortable silence as you lean into the kiss, heart racing and belly aching from your laughing but more happy than you could ever be.

It doesn’t last long.

The next day your uncle falls over at work and is rushed to the hospital.

Two months later, he passes away.

That is the last good memory you have of him.

-

You stare at the date that glares at you from the top of your phone screen.

July 14th.

July 14th.

The anniversary of your uncle’s death.

And you’re completely alone.

You frown when you see a message pop-up, the frown deepening further when you see who it’s from.

If you need to talk today, let me know. I can try and find some time to chat.

A second later, another text pops up.

Love you, honey.

With a sigh, you let your phone fall to your bed before collapsing against your pillow yourself.

You don’t have the energy to reply to your mother. Not after all that had happened and certainly not when today is… today. 

She couldn’t even be here—

Clenching your eyes shut, you roll over to your side, staring at the wall of your bedroom and ignore the buzzes that rumble from your hip where you’d left your phone. You have no doubt it’s your mother, probably irritated or worried that you weren’t replying to her messages.

It’s early-ish, sometime mid-morning, but you haven’t gotten out of bed yet.

Classes at the dojo were a little… well, nonexistent right now because of everything and it was the summer which meant that you didn’t have school. You knew Yasmine and Moon were doing something but pretending everything was fine and smiling with them didn’t seem like the solution to the pain in your heart either. Sam was too busy ‘finding’ herself, Miguel and Robby were spending the day with Johnny last you heard and you could only imagine how that was going. Demetri was maybe with Yasmine and Moon, maybe not, though honestly, you loved the guy, but you didn’t think being with him today would help any.

Honestly, the only person you did want to see was Eli but after your fight in the waterpark parking lot, you didn’t know where either of you stood and you were too scared to find out. Eli hadn’t tried to reach out to you and neither had you, afraid that if you did, he’d officially break it off with you.

Maybe you were being dramatic but this always seemed to happen when you two started dating. You loved Eli, you knew that, and you didn’t want to just be friends but maybe Eli didn’t feel that way anymore. You had been a tad bit cruel at the waterpark and hadn’t tried to see any of it from Eli’s point of view. Cobra Kai had been traumatic for Eli and even if you stood by your opinion that the students at Cobra Kai weren’t your enemies, it still stood to truth that some of them had done horrible things and hadn’t apologized for it.

Nor did it look like they planned to.

Letting out a dejected moan, you shove your face into your pillow.

This was awful.

All you wanted to do was see Eli but you were too afraid to make the first step in case it meant you losing him, permanently this time. Realistically, you knew you couldn’t avoid him forever but for now, you figured, you could at least try.

And all of this was ten times worst because… because—it hurt too much to think.

Your father would know what to do. He would have all the right answers, you knew he would. But he wasn’t here to tell you.

A knock echoes from the front door, startling you out of your thoughts as you jump, moving to sit up as you stare in the direction of your bedroom door and the stairs you can see through it. Who could possibly be at your front door right now?

When you don’t move, another knock follows and with a slight frown, you finally push yourself off of the bed and to your feet before making your way down the stairs. You stare at your front door for a moment longer, confused, before finally moving to unlock it, glancing over the edge of the door to see who it is.

Your eyes widen when you see it’s Eli, with a bouquet of flowers.

“Eli?”

“I know we’re fighting or… something, but I didn’t think you’d want to be alone today.”

Lips parting, there’s a flutter that resonates from your heart at Eli’s words; they’re said with a certain softness of hesitation, eyes flickering from meeting your own back to his own feet as he shuffles on your front porch. You feel your heart melt then and there, all anger or doubt you’d had previously disappearing in a single second.

Eli had been the one person you’d wanted to see and here he was.

“You remembered,” you mumbled, still stunned as you reached your hand out, taking the offered flowers that Eli eagerly gives to you. There's a beam of hope that floods his gaze as you take them, pressing them to your nose where you smell the sweet and natural scent of the assorted bouquet, before glancing up at Eli with warm cheeks.

“Of course,” Eli says with ease, without hesitation. “I wasn’t sure if I should come but I knew your mom still wasn’t home and it felt wrong not to come. I’d texted you but you, uh… weren’t answering them.”

Oh, you think guiltily, so he’d been the one texting. Biting your lip, you hug the flowers; “thank you, Eli.”

He smiles; “you’re welcome.”

There’s a moment more of silence before you snap out of your own thoughts, shuffling back to make room for Eli. “Here,” you offer, “come inside.”

Eli is quick to abide, shuffling into your house as you shut the door behind him. You smile at him, a little unsure, as you descend into the kitchen to grab a vase, filling it with water before delicately setting the flowers inside and leaving them to rest on the windowsill where a bit of sun shines on them.

“They’re beautiful,” you smile softly at Eli, “seriously, thank you.”

Eli shakes his head, brushing off your continued thanks; “it’s the least I could do… you know, as your boyfriend.” Then, his gaze shifts, standing an awkward distance away from you as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his joggers and glances at you warily. “If I still am?”

He asks it with a sense of doubt, obviously not sure where you both stand in regards to your relationship. Honestly, you know it’s a little wrong, but it’s a bit of a relief to you that Eli had been having similar concerns as you in regards to your relationship. It made you feel a little less silly knowing that Eli had also been unsure of whether the two of you were still dating or not.

And even more, it made you feel better that it seemed Eli still wanted to.

Letting the first real, genuine beaming smile curl onto your lips, you quickly cross the distance over to Eli, wrapping your arms around his shoulders eagerly. “Of course you are!”

Eli stumbles back at the sudden force, his hands quickly coming to grab you by the hips as he lets out a soft ‘oof’ at your sudden embrace. Still, there’s an eased grin that curls onto his lips all the same and he’s leaning into your hug with a certain fervour of passion.

When you pull back, just enough to meet his eyes, Eli’s laughing; “i’m glad,” he assures. “I felt bad after we fought and I wanted to turn back around instantly but I saw you with Robby and I wasn’t sure…”

“Oh,” you breathe, not having realized he’d seen that. “Robby… he, um… saw me crying after our… and was just making sure I was okay. He walked me home, but that was all.”

Something pained crosses Eli’s eyes but he doesn’t speak on it and the expression is gone as quickly as it came. You watch on in concern, but then he’s squeezing your hips and shaking his head, as if getting rid of the thought, before focusing back on you. “I really am sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” you exclaim, “I shouldn’t have made that comment about you and Cobra Kai…”

“Nah,” Eli brushes off with a shrug and a light chuckle. “You were right. I was a jerk, just like they are now. It’s not fair of me to act like I wasn’t.”

That wasn’t exactly the point you’d been trying to make, but, you figure, one step at a time. Besides, you were tired of fighting with Eli and you’d desperately missed him for the few days you hadn’t been speaking. You needed and wanted Eli, especially for today, so you decide to leave it for now.

“You know,” you speak up after a moment of silence, clasping your hands behind Eli’s neck as you pull him closer. “My uncle was the first person I told when we became friends.”

Eli blinks at you, surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you nod eagerly, “he was the closest thing to a father I had and at the end, it was usually just the two of us… He’d said he was proud of me.” Then, frowning, you meet Eli’s eyes. “I really wish you got to meet him.”

Eli’s face softens. “I wish I'd met him too.”

Lowering your gaze, you hesitate for a moment. “You think he’d still be proud of me?” The question comes pouring from your lips before you can stop yourself, but Eli’s always been good at bringing that vulnerable side of you out that no one else really ever saw. And, truthfully, you didn’t really mind if it was Eli. “I feel like I never know what I’m doing and so much is happening all the time. I mean, we’ll be done with high school soon and I don’t even know where I want to go for college. Not to mention this whole karate thing…”

Eli raises his hand, softly brushing a strand of hair that had fallen in your face in the midst of everything and therefore, pulls your gaze back on him. His gaze is soft, adoring as he glances down at you and there isn’t an ounce of hesitation or doubt as he says; “of course he’d be proud of you.”

Smiling, enough that your cheeks hurt from how wide, you lightly nudge Eli; “I’m glad you’re here. I didn’t want to spend his anniversary alone.”

Eli grins, ear to ear, and there’s a shared understanding between the two of you as he nods;

“I’m glad to be here too.”

-

“So… back at Miyagi-do, huh?”

Laughing, Robby shakes his head as he makes his way over to you, having just walked into the dojo. You knew that most of the people there might not be happy to see him back, at least not at first, so you figured that you’d be there to greet him so he didn’t feel so isolated and singled out.

“Yeah,” Robby breathes, coming to a stop in front of you, winking teasingly at you. “The place you’ve never left.”

You snort; “what can I say? I’m loyal.”

Robby rolls his eyes but the smile on his face is undeniable. 

“How did… uh, everything with Miguel and your dad work out?” You ask after a moment, unable to help yourself. Ever since Robby had texted you letting you know, despite everything else, it’d been on your mind. There was a lot of bad history between Robby and Miguel, and you honestly had no idea if there ever wouldn’t be.

But… Robby was back in Miyagi-do and Miguel hadn’t seemed as angry about it as you’d expected.

So you hoped it went as well as it seemed it had.

“Went okay,” Robby shrugs, “as okay as it could’ve, I guess.”

“Seems better than okay,” you offer, hopeful. “I mean, you’re here and the two of you aren’t at each other’s throats. So… that’s a good step, right?”

Robby just snorts; “yeah.” And you beam, grin turning wider, until you notice Robby’s gaze over your shoulder and he adds; “but just because Miguel and I are okay, doesn’t mean others feel the same.”

Following his gaze, you freeze when you realize Robby is talking about Eli. He’s stood with Miguel and Demetri, but there’s a particularly nasty glare on Eli’s face as he glances your and Robby’s way. When he meets your eyes, the glare softens considerably, but there’s still an edge to his expression.

“No more deadly of a glare than Tory sends me,” you try to joke, turning back to Robby nervously. Robby just raises a brow, shaking his head as he crosses his arms over his chest and you sigh. “Look, don’t worry about Eli. He’s having a harder time seeing past what happened before the All Valley… you know, with his mohawk.”

Robby just lets his hands fall by his sides. “No worse than he’s done.”

“Robby.”

Robby’s eyes snap back to you at your sharp tone, wincing slightly at the look you send him.

“Okay, okay,” he huffs, “I’ll play nice.”

“Thank you,” you sigh, somewhat relieved. “We’re all on the same side now and Eli will calm down. I promise.”

“It might also help if he realizes I’m not trying to steal his girlfriend.”

Cheeks burning, you sputter, surprised by Robby’s comment as you turn to him with wide eyes. “B-But he knows you and Tory—I mean, you guys are dating. And we're friends. Just friends.”

Robby lets out a chuckle. “You said it yourself about Tory,” Robby shrugs. “Besides, I’m not so sure Hawk does know that.”

Your face falls in concern, mortified. “Robby—”

“Line up!”

-

A FEW MINUTES EARLIER:

-

“Look at them.” 

“Hawk—”

“—When did they get so friendly!”

“Who?” Demetri asks, looking up from the stretching he’d been doing.

Eli just huffs, meeting his friends eyes briefly before nodding in the direction of you and Robby. “Them,” he says sourly, ignoring the look Miguel sends him. It wasn’t his fault. He’d tried to ignore it but it was impossible – he knew that you’ve told him many times that you and Robby were just friends but he hadn’t known you guys were that close. Walking you home? After Eli had made you cry? He couldn’t get it out of his head, a constant numbing thought that was irritating him and making him see things in a different light than was true.

And yes, it was his fault because he’d gotten so defensive and made you upset. But Eli had turned around to apologize and make up, only to see that Robby had already swooped in before he could.

And now? The two of you? You’d left Eli’s side the second you’d seen Robby making his way in, eagerly rushing over to the boy and you were all smiles and giggles as the two of you talked.

What was that about?

“Oh,” Demetri calls, “Y/N and Robby?” He asks to which Eli sharply nods. 

“They’ve always been like that,” Demetri shrugs.

That catches Eli’s attention. His eyes finally leave you and Robby to turn and look at his friend, baffled; “what?”

Even Miguel looks a little surprised.

“Yeah,” Demetri nods, not seeing the problem. “Ever since she and I joined Miyagi-do. Or… I guess at first they hadn’t gotten along, but then suddenly, one day, something changed. I think it has to do with the whole parent thing… I know things are better between Robby and Sensei Lawrence now, but they get what it’s like to not really have a parent around.”

“Wait,” Miguel speaks up, before Eli can say anything. “Y/N lives on her own?”

Eli’s previous jealousy forgotten, he and Demetri glance at each other, unsure.

“Not completely,” Eli is the first to explain, voice hesitant with what to say and what not to say. Demetri didn’t even know everything either but Miguel even less it seemed, though Eli was sure you wouldn’t mind having Miguel know; even just a little. Like Demetri knew just a little. “Her dad… passed away when she was really young. And for a while her uncle helped raise her but then he passed away when we were in middle school. She still has her mom, but she leaves a lot for work. She’ll be gone for months at a time.”

“It was okay, you know, when her uncle was alive,” Demetri mumbles, glancing at you from across the dojo. “Because she had him. After he passed away, Y/N was home alone a lot. It’s been hard on her.”

“Oh,” Miguel mumbles, shoulders slumping. “I had no idea.”

“She doesn’t like talking about it,” Eli explains. “She doesn’t want people worrying about her.”

A somber air surrounds the three boys, neither of them sure what to say.

Demetri, as usual, is the first to break the ice. “I wouldn’t worry about Robby and Y/N, Eli.”

Eli turns to Demetri in surprise.

“They’re just friends,” he explains with a shrug, as if there was never any other explanation. “Besides, anyone who can see Y/N can see she only has eyes for you.”

Cheeks warming, Eli turns to Miguel, as if asking for his opinion; Miguel nods,

“Honestly bro,” Miguel laughs tentatively, trying to lighten the mood. “Y/N looks at you like you’re her whole world.”

Eli hesitates, doubting their words because of his own insecurity. Before he can help himself, his eyes naturally drift back towards you and Robby, only to pause when he sees you staring back at him. Eli freezes, panicking, as his eyes widen a fraction and he’s quick to soften his gaze, offering a nervous smile.

You just turn back to Robby, as if confused.

-

PRESENT TIME:

-

Jumping at Chozen’s suddenly booming voice, you don’t get to finish what he’d been about to say to Robby as Chozen calls everyone over to him. He shouts something in Japanese and you sigh, knowing that’s it, as you follow after Robby to make your way over. Eli quickly makes his way over to you, falling a stop next to you as he meets your eyes, sending a soft smile.

You’re quick to give him one in return, lightly nudging him with your elbow to assure him everything’s okay before turning your attention to Chozen.

“So,” Sam is the first to speak up, “where are my dad and Johnny?”

“Not here,” is all Chozen says in explanation. “Today, you train with me.” He follows by shouting something, again, in Japanese, that no one understands before sighing; “attention.” Instantly, everyone straightens out, your hands falling flat against your sides.

Again, he says something in Japanese and is met with confused gazes.

Huffing, Chozen shakes his head; “bow.”

Oh. Everyone quickly does.

“Cobra Kai gaining ground. We must prepare. Come.” Shuffling forward, Chozen moves to walk around the set up table with various things on it, and you meet Eli’s gaze curiously. “Now, we learn about Yanbaru Kuina.”

“What is that?” Chris asks, “like, some top-secret karate move? Like a throat rip?”

“No,” Chozen answers sharply, ignoring Chris’ poor imitation of having said throat ripped. “It is bird. In English called Okinawa rail. Endangered. Cannot fly.”

Demetri nods; “hence, endangered.”

Chozen grabs something off the ground, hidden behind a brown cloth, before peeling it away the second it’s set on the table. It’s eggs.

“So these are the real eggs?” Miguel asks, gesturing forward.

“No,” Chozen says, like it’s obvious. “Trader Joe’s. $3.29.” At the various looks he gets, Chozen just shakes his head, obviously annoyed; “take egg.”

Eli, Sam and Miguel step forward, grabbing a handful and passing them around; you smile when Eli hands you yours.

“So, what do we do with the eggs?”

“Yanbaru Kuina must protect egg,” Chozen answers. “From Kume Shima habu. Poison snake. You must do same.” He takes the hourglass off the table and turns it upside down. “Begin your preparation.”

“What are we protecting them from?” Robby asks.

“From me.”

-

You give yourself credit for lasting longer than Eli and Robby, but ultimately, your plan to protect your egg fails all the same.

You wince as Chozen cracks your egg, staring down at the broken yolk sadly before meeting his gaze. He simply just grunts at you before moving on, and with a sigh, you make your way over to the sparing deck where everyone else has lined up. You pause, however, when you notice Eli and Robby standing next to each other.

That cannot be good.

You finish making your way over with a certain hesitance, eyeing the both of them warily, before coming to a stop next to Eli. You smile at him warmly, before letting your eyes flicker from him to Robby and back.

“Everything okay?” You ask, tentatively.

Robby and Eli glance at each other, hesitating.

“These two?” Demetri calls out, answering you when neither Robby or Eli say anything. “Fighting like usual. Not focusing on the bigger picture,” he complains, “like, for example, the crazy guy taking us all out one by one!”

You ignore Demetri’s ramble, turning back to your boyfriend and friend; “oh.”

“No,” Eli is the first to speak up, sighing. “We’re fine. I guess.”

Your eyes widen, straightening out with hope.

“We’re good,” Robby assures, shrugging. Then he pauses, eyeing you and then Eli, before adding; “and just to be clear, Y/N and I are just friends. I don’t like her in that way. She’s great, of course,” he smiles at you, “but I like someone else.”

You freeze at that, eyeing Eli cautiously.

“Cool,” Eli says eventually, his voice even–cautious. “I knew that.”

Yeah, right, you think to yourself as you roll your eyes at Eli’s ‘cool-guy’ attitude, that’s why you spent the entire day glaring at Robby. It was endearing, though, and clearly nothing was meant from it.

Robby nods, holding back a chuckle; “just wanted to make sure.”

You watch as the two of them glance at each other one more time, just staring, before the corner of Robby’s lips twitch and then he’s grinning and to your surprise, Eli is mimicking his grin and suddenly all the tension just fizzles away.

“I will never understand boys,” you huff, bewildered by what had just happened.

Eli and Robby both look your way before bursting out into laughter, and your cheeks warm, slightly embarrassed, but still unable to fight the smile that curls onto your lips all the same.

“Now that that’s done, can we please focus on what’s happening?” Demetri calls, gesturing in front of himself wildly.

You blink, “who’s even left?”

- 

Frowning, you watch as Chozen cracks an egg and starts frying onto the portable heater and pan – right in front of you.

“You are not good Yanbaru Kuina.”

Dejected, you lower your gaze.

“Snakes will take you down,” Chozen sighs. “One by one. I have tried to tell you what you must do. But you do not listen. You must learn to adapt. Or soon, you will be extinct.” A little morbid, but you couldn’t argue against his point. “Take new eggs. Try again.”

Slowly, you all grab a new egg.

“Sensei Toguchi’s real cryptic, like Mr. Larusso,” Demetri thinks aloud, you and the rest circling around each other. “But aggressive like Sensei Lawrence.”

Chris nods; “it’s like the hardest part of both styles.”

“Definitely,” you huff, “it’s scary.”

Mitch just huffs, shuffling back; “can’t wait to get our asses kicked again.”

You turn too, following Eli, Robby and Miguel, before Anthony calls out, halting you; 

“Uh, no. No, um….” Curious, you glance back, watching as he tries to find the words. “G-Guys, uh, wait. He said that the snakes will take us down one by one. Right? Just like he took us down one by one, but… but what if we weren’t a bunch of ones? Like, what if we were…”

“Together,” Sam agrees.

“Exactly!” Anthony exclaims, nodding at his sister. “Like, um, a raiding party in Dungeon Lords.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Demetri calls, “even if you’re a level eighty-five, you can’t mount an attack on the grand realm alone.”

Eli nods at Demetri, “exactly. You need a team. And everybody has a special role.”

Grinning, you laugh in hurrah. “By working together!”

Anthony grins, nodding. 

“It’s the only way we win. As one.”

-

You walk home with a certain pep in your step, practically skipping.

The three boys walking with you watch with varying grins.

“This is amazing,” you gush, turning to the three of them and grinning from ear to ear. 

Miguel snorts; “you’re way too excited,” he brushes off but his words still come out fond. He meets your eyes with a gentle smile and gestures to Eli and Robby beside him. “We just became friends.”

You snort, shaking your head. Figures they wouldn’t understand.

“It’s much more than that,” you correct, “the three of you have been in some mini-war since this all began.”

At that, Miguel, Robby and Eli glance at each other.

“Miguel and I have always been friends,” Eli reminds, jutting his thumb at Miguel before pointing back at himself.

You roll your eyes. “Yeah but now Robby’s here!”

At the sudden attention pulled on him, Robby flushes, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully.

“I have been waiting for this day for a long time,” you explain, sending them a look. They all just laugh, shaking their heads and you fall back into place beside Eli, slipping your hand into his.  “Now all that’s left to do is make Sam and Tory be friends and everything will be good.”

There’s a pause that follows that – you’re blissfully unaware.

“Y/N,” Robby calls, somewhat hesitantly. “I feel like that might be harder to do.”

“More like impossible,” Eli snorts, pulling your eyes on him in confusion. “Those two hate each other.”

“I feel like that’s somehow putting it lightly,” Miguel sighs, obviously distressed by his ex-girlfriend and… well, ex-girlfriends hatred for each other. “I don’t think they’ve ever been in the same room without fighting.”

Robby nods, solemnly, and Eli just shakes his head.

You stare at them.

“What?” Eli asks, confused.

“That was literally you two,” you point at Eli and Miguel, “with him,” you shift to Robby, “not a week ago. Especially you two,” you single out Miguel and Robby. “Unless you guys have forgotten,” you snort, raising a challenging brow their way. “I’m sure we can get Sam and Tory to see past their differences.”

It’s clear by the way all three of them look at each other, they’re doubtful.

“Well,” you brush their doubts away, “I'm determined to make them be friends.”

[cozage]

Hello! First of all, I love your writing and your content. Can I ask for HC on Law saying to their romantic interest something like: "If you don't like how we run things here, then leave" after a heated discussion which actually makes them leave the crew, and after Law goes to great extents to amend that, Angst to comfort.

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A/N: Hi friend! This was a fun prompt and ive been working on it for a while! Thanks for your patience! (It’s not completely proofread, so I apologize for any mistakes. I may go back and edit it better later, but i wanted to get this out for you and everyone today!)

Characters: Law x gn reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Leaving

“If you don’t like how I run things, then leave,” Law spat out, turning back to the papers at his desk. “I don’t have time for you questioning my decisions.”

You stood there for a moment, dumbfounded at his words and their harshness. 

“Law-” you start.

“Leave!” He snapped, not even looking up from his work.

You turned on your heel and rushed out the door, covering your face to hide your tears. You ran to the Captain’s Quarters and threw the few belongings you had into a duffel bag, slung it over your shoulder, and left the room. You didn’t want to say goodbye to your crewmates or this life, but you had heard Law’s message loud and clear. Leave. You were no longer welcome here. 

You passed by the kitchen and hang out area, and you popped your tear-stained face in the room, trying your best to act casual. 

“Uhm-” you started to speak, but the moment that eyes turned, you burst out into tears again. 

“I came to say goodbye,” you sobbed as Shachi and Penguin rushed to you. 

“What happened?” the two of them demanded, holding you in a tight hug. 

“I was told to leave, so-” you hiccuped into Shachi’s shoulder, and pulled away from the two men. “I just didn’t want to leave without-”

“You’re not leaving,” Penguin said, looking past you to the hallway. 

“I am,” you replied, wiping your tears off your face, trying to compose yourself. “I have to.”

“You can’t!” Shachi cried, tears springing from his own eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you said, tears welling up again. You loved these people. They were your family. They were all you knew for the past few years. 

But you couldn’t live like this with Law anymore. This constant back and forth, his refusal to commit to you and his mood switches between fiery hot passion and icy cold shoulders. The way he would coo promises in your ear while you laid pressed against his chest one moment, just for him to spend the whole day without acknowledging your existence. You were going insane, and you simply couldn’t handle it anymore. 

“I love you guys,” you said, pulling away from them and heading for the door. “I’ll call when I get situated, okay?”

“Situated where?” Penguin asked. “Just stay, we’ll get the captain to reverse his decision. Please-”

“No,” you said, with painful finality. “He made his decision, Penguin. I have to go.”

And with that you climbed up the ladder and walked out the door. You jumped off the deck and onto the dock of a foreign island you knew nothing about, trying to think of your next move. You desperately wanted to look back one last time, in hopes that Law would be there, watching you go. But you resisted the urge to turn around, and you walked boldly into the village to find a new adventure, hoping the hole in your heart would heal with time. 

--

The sounds of shoes running down the hallway alerted Law that something was wrong. Then several bangs on the door. 

“Captain!!!” several voices called out, and Law quickly opened the door.

“What?” he asked, looking at their panicked faces. “What is it?”

“What did you do to Y/N?!” Shachi demanded, tears in his eyes. 

Law’s eye twitched and he grinded his teeth. “What happened is none of your business!” he shouted, slamming the door in their face. 

“Captain!!” they all cried. “Please change your mind!”

“Room,” Law said, creating a blue bubble that only encapsulated himself. “Silence,” he said, cutting off sound to the outside world. One of the many tools he had taken from Corazon. 

Law wasn’t sure how long the crew continued to bang and yell at his door, but he didn’t really care. The issue between you and him should be solved between the two of you, the rest of the crew didn’t need to be involved. 

By the time he went to bed, the crew had thankfully dispersed. He was irritated with you causing such a scene amongst your crewmates, but he would talk to you about it later. He walked to his room, and was surprised to find that the light was off. Normally you went to bed far before him, but you always left some kind of light on for him to find his way to the bed with you. He was even more surprised to find the bed completely empty and cold. There was no trace of you or your belongings in his room. 

“Y/N is gone,” said a broken voice from behind him. Bepo. 

Law turned to face the bear, confused by his statement. 

“Y/N said you told them to leave. So they left,” Bepo explained. 

“No-” Law said, looking around. “I didn’t mean to leave the ship. I just meant-”

“You always do this, captain. You always push people away when they only want to love you.”

“I don’t need a lecture, Bepo,” Law hissed. He was starting to panic now, he couldn’t lose you. You were one of the few people he trusted and let get close to him, he…

“Go. Y/N is on the island somewhere. Make it right.” 

Law could hear Bepo’s voice getting thick with tears. He knew the bear was trying to be brave, but he didn’t care at the moment. He took off down the maze of hallways and climbed up the ladder to the deck. He scanned the shoreline, looking for your frame. He prayed that it would just be a simple outburst you were throwing, a show of defiance you were putting on until he came and apologized and made it right. But you were nowhere to be found. 

He jumped off the deck and onto the dock, racing towards town. He was racking his brain on where you would have gone. You had no family or friends here. What were you thinking, going off alone with no support system? Was your plan just to abandon him and leave him alone again? The thought of never seeing you again made him sick to his stomach. 

He couldn’t lose you. Not after all you all had been through. It wasn’t fair. He was angry at you and at the world, but he was mostly angry at himself. He had been selfish, and he had put himself in this position because of it. He had to amend that. He had to make it right. 

He finally found you, sitting alone at a ramen shop. He stood in the crowded street and watched you for a moment, admiring the way you looked under the soft glow of the shop lights. 

You looked tired, but you were as beautiful as ever. You were talking quietly to the man next to you; he must’ve said something to make you laugh, because your eyes lit up and your voice rang out. Law couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy at seeing some stranger bring you joy, and he resisted the urge to run to you. 

“Do you come here often?” Law heard the man ask you. “I wouldn’t mind doing this again.”

Law saw you hesitate for a moment, weighing your options. “I actually just got here,” you finally said.

“Oh?” the man questioned, looking around. “Need a place to stay while you get settled in?”

Law’s blood boiled. He knew what the man was implying, and he needed to put an end to it. He started toward you, but before he could make it, you spoke. 

“That’s kind of you,” you started, your eyes darting around the restaurant nervously. “But I have a place at the moment.”

“I see,” said the man, looking a little dejected. “Well, I had fun tonight, and I hope to see you again.” 

You smiled politely and nodded at the man. “I did as well. I’ll see you around!” Your voice held enthusiasm that made Law’s heart pang, and he made a decision. 

He waited for the man to leave, and then quickly took the seat next to you. 

You were staring at your ramen, and didn’t bother to look at the man who had taken Jiato’s seat. One conversation with a stranger was enough for you today. You just wanted to curl up and go back to your hotel room and cry yourself to sleep.

“One pork ramen bowl, please,” a familiar voice said to the waiter. 

Your head whipped to the side to find your captain. Ex-captain, you reminded yourself. 

Law didn’t meet your eyes. He just kept staring ahead of him. “Do you actually want to leave?” he asked. 

You swallowed down the lump forming in your throat as you stared at him. You hadn’t expected to see him of all people. 

You stayed quiet for a while, and finally he turned and looked at you. You cut your eyes away quickly, opting to look at your empty ramen bowl instead.  

“Y/N-ya,” he prompted, waiting for an answer. 

“I can’t keep living like that,” you finally said. 

Law shot you an irritated glance and opened his mouth as if he were about to say something, but decided against it. 

“You can say it.” You spoke softly, your words almost drowned out in the noisy restaurant. 

He hesitated, but found the right words after a moment. “You didn’t have to leave.”

“You told me to.”

He scoffed. “I didn’t mean literally.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I did take it literally,” you shot back, trying to keep your face and your tone calm. You had just gotten out of a fight with him earlier today, you didn’t need another one flaring up again. And so publicly. “I told you, Law. I’m tired of this back and forth. So when you said leave, I just…there didn’t seem like another option for me.”

He gritted his teeth, as if he were holding back another argument to throw at you. “Well,  you didn’t have to leave. I-”

You stared at him, waiting for the words to come. But they didn’t. His cheeks pinked and his eyes averted your gaze. 

“What?” you asked, continuing to watch him. “You what?”

His pork ramen arrived, and he turned his attention to his food instead. You knew what he was doing. He was trying to get you to come back to the ship without ever actually apologizing. Or having anything change. But you were serious when you said you couldn’t live like that any more. You’d rather start a new, fresh life than keep going in this vicious cycle. 

You grabbed your bag and dropped some money on the table. “Goodbye, Law,” you said, turning away so he couldn’t see the tears in your eyes. 

“Stop,” he whispered. But you were already out on the street, out of earshot. 

“Hey!” he jumped up, chasing you out onto the street. 

He found you quickly and reached out, grabbing your arm. You turned around, shocked at the sudden pressure on your wrist. 

“Law! Sto-” He cut off your words with a kiss. Or he tried to, but as your lips met his, you pulled away. 

“What are you doing?!” you demanded. “Stop!”

Your loud voice drew several people’s gaze, everyone stopping to make sure you were okay. You could hear people murmuring around you and feel their stares. 

Law dropped your hand, giving you a confused and annoyed glare. “I’m trying to- Do you mind?!” he shouted at everyone watching you all. 

He looked back at you, his voice softer again. “I’m sorry, okay? I was stupid and selfish. Please come back to the ship. Please stay. Please don’t ever leave my side again.”

You chewed on your lip. “Law-”

“I’ll never ignore you or put you second again. I can’t lose you. You’re the closest thing to family I still have and-” his voice broke, and you could see tears in his eyes. “I love you, okay?”

You blinked in shock. You were certainly not expecting that kind of confession to come from him. You weren’t sure whether you wanted to cry or hug him. 

Law made the decision for you, and wrapped you in his arms. You could feel him peppering the top of your head with kisses, and you began to cry into his chest. 

“Don’t cry. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured in your ear, and you pulled away to wipe the tears from your face. 

“Lets go get your stuff and get back to the ship,” he offered, entwining his fingers with yours. 

You nodded, squeezing his hand. You felt more hopeful about the future than you had in a long time. A new chapter of your life truly had begun. 

[gojo-enthusiast]

Kento Nanami ~

Wake Me Up

*Sleep Sex* MDI, 18+ Only! Kento wakes you up to a sweet surprise *😉* after working a long day fighting curses. Do not read if it triggers! Anyways, enjoy my first piece 😈

Word count: <2200

PSA: did not proof read, honestly I’m always horny for JJK men, so beware and stay tuned for more disgusting pieces. Also are we gonna talk about how fucking hot Nanami is in season 2???? Follow me on X (Twitter)

Like and reblog🫶🏻

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had stayed awake until midnight, taken your shower, exfoliated, & shaved.

"Ken should be home anytime soon" checking your phone seeing the time

6:00 PM

Getting yourself all prepped and ready for him to come home to a sweet surprise. You had been aching all day long, this morning he had been loving on you, slowly caressing your thighs, and right when he was going to put his hands into your heat, his phone starts ringing,

“Fuck. Who is calling me?” He groans grabbing his phone, “What the fuck does Satoru want.” He groans once again. Your husband was not one to cuss often, only when he was upset, (usually at Satoru) or when he was fucking you.

“What is it Gojo-San?” Nanami ask begrudgingly,

“Nanamiiiiii-“ Satoru says in a shrill

You didn’t hear all that was said, but the moment the called ended, your husband stood up and kissed your forehead.

“So sorry my love, but I have to leave. I promise we will finish what we started when I get home.” He says smiling faintly.

“Everything okay?” You ask, wrapping the sheets around you as he gets in the shower to get ready to leave for another day of killing curses. A job you hated so much, but you knew that him working his office job, was only making him feel suffocated, and had no meaning to his life.

“Yeah, just some curses. Nothing to be worried about. Satoru is out of town, I have to take the new kid Yuuji Itadori with me today.” He says washing his face, you see the bubbles of the soap form, and sink down his skin to the drain. You look down, and see his member hard as a rock, he looked frustrated.

“You sure we can’t fix that before you go?” You smirk, “Don’t tease me, or you’ll regret it later on.” He groans, you watched as he slightly stroked it in the shower, you watched, knowing he was about to burst any second. He wanted to fuck you right then and there, but he knew if he did, he would be late, and he wouldn’t stop. And then there it was, he had finished all over his hand, the water washing it off.

“Fuck. I wish that was in me right now.” You moan, “Get out before you tempt me anymore.” He says as he looks away from you. You do as he says, you already know how hard working your husband is, that’s why you spent the whole day pampering yourself, getting a facial, getting your nails done, everything that would make you feel and look done up. You knew how much your husband loved to see you all dolled up and manicured. I mean he didn’t work so hard for nothing. He always wanted you to be able to feel spoiled, and go definitely spoil yourself with his money.

But little did you know, your husband would be working overtime today. And you would be passed out by the time he got home.

Hubby🩵: Baby I'm running late today, I promise I will be home as soon as I can. I love you. - 6:02PM

Your husband is always home by 6PM, so you knew if he wasn’t, it was definitely something a little more serious. But you know your husband, he’s a grade 1 sorcerer, he will be home in no time.

As you lay in bed, watching some trashy reality TV, trying to stay awake. You look over at the clock

11:46PM

You feel your eyes getting heavy, the red wine you had drank during dinner finally hit you. And next thing you know, you’re cuddled under the blankets to a pillow, asleep, wishing it was your husband.

It was 1 in the morning, and Nanami finally made it home. Walking inside the house, feeling sluggish, and ready to lay in bed next to his wife, and feel her warmth.

“I need to shower.” He mutters to himself. He steps into the guest bathroom, which he usually does after a mission, because he doesn’t want to get your shared bathroom dirty. Washing off his day, feeling his muscles finally loosen up.

His phone rings again, it’s Satoru;

“What the fuck do you want Satoru?” Nanami hisses, “hey hey calm down Nanami-San, I just wanted to thank you for taking Yuuji, and taking care of those curses. Get some rest, and some ass. Ijichi told me how grumpy you were today. Take the day off tomorrow.” Satoru giggles to himself, “Was planning on it, now leave me alone.” Nanami says back, hanging up.

His phone beeps, showing that he received a text message,

Satoru Gojo: YOUR WELCOME, have fun😼

Nanami: 🖕🏻

Satoru Gojo: 🫶🏻

He finally turns his phone off, wrapping the towel around his waist, walking out the restroom down the hall, to your shared bedroom. He knows you’re asleep, there’s no way you stayed up this late for him. He walks into the bedroom, and your bottom half is under the blankets, while your top half is completely nude, and you’re sprawled out.

“Fuck, where is your clothes?” He mutters, feeling his cock stiffen, becoming erect. He climbs into bed, leaning in kissing your lips, then kissing your cheek, to your neck. “Damn it, I can’t do this while she’s sleeping.” He groans.

You had always told him how you would love to wake up to him in between your legs, but Nanami was such a “consent” man, which you loved about him, he was so respectful to you, and treasured your body, but you sometimes just wanted him to take charge and do something that wasn’t so good boy / gentlemen behavior. He remembered the conversation as he stroked himself next to you, “fuck it.” He says to himself, taking the blanket off your body.

Seeing your white laced panties, his cock at this point was throbbing. “Such a pretty little thang aren’t you?” He whispers in the crook of your neck, climbing on top of you, placing kisses down your neck, going down to your breast, starting the suck on your nipples. Placing his teeth in between your nipple, slightly biting it. Causing a moan to come out of you, while you were asleep.

“Mmm dreaming about me baby? You should wake up so you can catch the live action.” He says swirling his tongue around your areola and nipple. He started the bring himself down to your heat, sliding your panties down swiftly. “Oh how I have craved to taste you all day.” He says opening your folds with his fingers, gently placing his tongue on your clit immediately. He knew your body more than you did, and he definitely knew where you liked it the most. He quickens the pace of his tongue, sucking on your clit, you’re moaning in your sleep. Dreaming of your husband in between your legs, he doesn’t stop, wanting to taste your juices all over his tongue. He starts to rub his index and middle finger on your clit, rubbing it up and down quickly, as his tongue dips into your hole, tasting you deeply. Your eyes start to flutter open, and you’re moaning loudly now, seeing your husband in between your legs. “Ken-kento. What are you- what- ugh yes.” You try to ask what he’s doing, but he has no desire to respond back to you, his only desire is to make you cum over and over until you have melted into him. That knot in your stomach has finally snapped, and your finishing all on his tongue, he flicks his tongue up, tasting every drop coming out. “Ffffuuuuucccckkkkkkk” you groan bucking your hips up, practically humping into his face. “Yes baby just like that.” He says, still rubbing your clit, and abusing your hole with his tongue. He had one of your legs pinned down with his free hand. And the other one, was pinned down by his elbow, as he was still flicking your clit. As he continues to abuse your poor clit into overstimulation, you feel yourself about to bust. And there it was, exactly what he was wanting. You to squirt all over him, “KENTOO-!” You loudly moan, “stop, oh my god.” You cry out in pure ecstasy. You look up and see his face dripping with your liquid.

“Fuck, that’s so hot.” He says licking his lips, wiping his face with his towel. “Nanami-“ you pant, “yes baby?” He says, moving up to you, positioning himself to enter. “I missed you.” You say, wrapping your arms around his neck, as he brings his head down and starts to kiss you, sticking his tongue in your mouth. “I missed you too baby.” He kisses down your neck, sucking on it, leaving hickies all over. Because why not?

“I tried staying up,-ugh, Kento I tried staying awake.” You moan, as he starts to slide himself inside slowly, he was big, not only did this man have a long cock, but the girth was the size of a coke can. So he always had to slowly go in, never forcing himself in too fast. “I’m sorry baby I was late- ugh, today was so-fuck, - it was- so-s-so stress-stressful.” He moans, feeling your walls clench around his throbbing cock, he felt like he could burst at any moment possible.

���Damn baby you feel so so good.” Kento says finally pushing that last inch inside of you. Stretching you out at full capacity. “This sweet pussy has been on my mind since this morning. Can’t believe I went the whole day.” He pants, starting to thrust faster, “yes Kento, just like that.” You’re moaning into his ear, “fuck me baby.” You say looking into his eyes.

And that was it, that was the string that kept your husband in control, once it snapped, he and you were done for. Your pussy was about to be his flesh light. He starts pounding into you, kissing your G-spot with each thrust, you had came 3 times in the last 30 minutes from his cock alone. He kept edging himself, you knew he didn’t want it to end. He would fuck you fast and hard, and as soon as he felt like he was about to bust, he was slowing down. “Kentoooo- cum inside of me.” You moan out, “not yet baby, I’m not ready to finish.” He groans, feeling himself overstimulating himself. “Baby you feel so good. We fit perfect for each other. You belong to me, do you understand?” He says, you know it’s not a question, it’s a fact. You are his, and he is yours. And he will kill anyone who tries to get in between you two. He even thought about killing Satoru, for calling him before he was supposed to even be up getting ready to leave.

“Kento, I love you.” You moan into his ear, cumming again for the 4th time, “yes princess, cum for me.” He moans, finally about to reach his high. He’s pounding into you, with no desire to stop. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, yes-yes, I’m gonna cum in you, princess.” He whimpers, groaning in your ear, “yes baby, cum in me.” Your moaning, and that’s when he finally does, shooting his hot cum deep inside of you. Feeling your chest go up and down. The sweat from his forehead dripping down.

“Damn, that felt amazing.” He pants, staying on top of you, not yet taking himself out of you. “It was.” Your panting in union with your husband. “I just showered too.” He laughed, finally rolling off of you, pulling you to him, to kiss you.

“I’m sorry I was so late today, today was long.” He sighs, kissing your nose. “That’s okay baby. I understand.” You say nuzzling your head into his sweaty chest, not a care in the world.

“Princess, let’s take a shower before bed. I’ll change the sheets when we get out.” He says lifting you up, seeing his cum drip from your core. “Fuck that’s so sexy.” He whispers to himself, caring you to the shower, turning it on.

“Princess?” He looks at you, as you step in the shower,

His cum is dripping down your thighs, and your cheeks are red. He felt his cock twitch in excitement, I mean you guys usually go a couple rounds, so what would hurt if you both went again.

“I know you’re tired, and I’m tired. But, I’m going to need you to bend over and hold the shower rail.” He says, you look over and you see his cock rock hard again.

“Yes daddy.” You smirk, you silently thanking the universe you told your husband to give you head while asleep. It was going to be an exceptionally long shower & long night.

[onsomenewsht]

from the vault:

but what can I say? / rules must be obeyed

》 The Winner Takes It All, ABBA

》 Alexia Putellas x Reader

》 winner takes all [idiom]: used to say that the winner of a round will win the whole contest

No one looks puzzled when a seven-year-old boy comes rushing into Barcelona’s training centre, some even high fives him or cheers as he passes them at full speed.

Rafael is well known and loved in the building, even more for his joyful personality than for the last name he wears on the back of his jersey.

The kid turns a sharp line to join the team outside. Despite his short legs and his clumsiness in most situations, he has quite control of his footing.

The perks of being Alexia Putellas’ son.

“Looks like our mascotte is back”

“The best Putellas!”

The girls notice him as soon as he sprints from the doors, dribbling around some coaches without much effort, but trampling over a discharged pair of boots. The boy lands hands first on the grass. He takes his time to get up and clean his now stained jeans, quickly assessing the damage and deciding he doesn’t really care.

Jana catches the kid as he comes running once again, lifting him up with a bit more effort than the last time she saw him.

“Jaja put me down, I wanna hug mama!”

“Ouch, I’m not your favourite tia anymore?”

“No, Mapi is”

The girls close enough to hear the exchange burst out laughing, luckily for Jana’s ego and the team’s well being the said defender is not around to brag about it.

“Ohi, mi vida!”

“Mama!”

Hearing Alexia’s voice, Rafael manages to escape the girls’ affection to literally run in her open arms. The hug is emotional even just to watch, his tiny hands holding on the blonde’s neck as she keeps him as close as possible.

“I missed you, monito”

No one wants to interrupt the moment, so your arrival is the perfect distraction.

You excuse yourself and the little troublemaker for crushing the training session to everyone you meet on your path. They assure you it’s fine, you two are always welcome, and today is a special one after all.

A lot of hugs and jokes are exchanged, you take your time to greet all the girls, holding more firmly the honorary daughters Alexia took under her wings ages ago. You missed them.

“My favourite Putellas!”, Claudia shouts as she crushes in your arms.

“You just said that to Rafa”

“He’s the best Putellas, you’re my favourite”

“I’m barely a Putellas anymore”

“I thought you were supposed to arrive tomorrow”, Alexia’s tone is nothing but happy for the change of plan, your boy secured in her arms and quiet for the first time in weeks.

“We were, but it’s your last training session and he wanted to be here”, you move closer, messing your son’s hair as you attempt an awkward half hug.

“Mum said we could surprise you! Are you surprised?”

“I’m surprised, monito”, everyone smiles at Alexia’s open laugh.

Rafael’s arrival completely shifted the atmosphere, somehow making it more emotional but definitely lighter. Jana has been on the verge of tears for days now, hiding behind Patri as the weight of their captain’s retirement comes crushing on them.

It’s the right thing and it’s the right time, but it doesn’t mean it is any easier.

Despite all, despite her family’s fear and her teammates’ concern, Alexia is at peace with the choice. Despite your insecurities, Alexia’s certainty when it comes to important decisions like this one still manages to reassure you.

“Can I go shoot at Cata?”, Rafael asks with his mastered puppy eyes, as you drop your gaze at his stained jeans and the Catalan studies the shoes he’s wearing.

Damn puppy eyes.

“You can go, but make sure an actual adult is there too”

“Is Mapi an actual adult?”

“No, ask Ingrid or Rolfo if they want to join”, you add.

He nods enthusiastically, sprinting away toward the bubble of players who are more than happy to welcome the kid as the training session ends on a high note. You’re sure it will be difficult to interrupt their game later.

It’s easy to notice the two of you are left alone, her teammates giving you space but mostly eager to spend more time with your son.

“He just wants to score”

“We’re working on his selfishness with the ball, I swear”

You smile at the blonde soft defence, still amazed about their bond and how considerate she has been about Rafael’s passion for football. Never pressuring, never patronising, always just as supporting as any other parent could be.

“Thank you for bringing him here, I know you’re supposed to be in London for the week and I really appreciate your support”

“Don’t even mention it, Alexia”, you reassure her, “It’s important for you and It’s important for him, I’m more than happy to support it all”

“How long are you staying?”

“Just a couple of days, but we’ll be at any ceremony, don’t worry”

Alexia mumbles unamused, pretending the presence of her family alone is not enough to make her comfortable and confident to face all the events she’s supposed to attend as a celebration of her career.

“He can stay longer, I’ll be back when it’s my turn again”

“Are you sure?”, she is not really able to hide her excitement.

The new and strange routine is just starting to feel like it’s working in the first place, even if dividing a kid between two countries and two parents who didn’t manage to save their marriage is the most painful thing you both ever experienced.

Neither of you wants to upset Rafael and destabilise him even more, or worse, make him feel unloved.

“I’m sure, he’s the winner”

[youlikegoodstuff]

Their anniversary (prologue)

All Might x arch nemesis! reader

Gender is neutral here. Reader is a villain called Highland Havoc

Summary: it’s All Might’s and his nemesis’s anniversary, and the fans are done waiting for the villain and hero duo to kiss.

Tw: none. Just a tensions and shipping. Swear words. Stolen stop signs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It Is Fine Now. Why? Because I Am Here!”

As always, All Might made a dramatic and enthusiastic entrance, even after years of duking it out with you.

“Took you long enough. You’re usually very early to our anniversary.” You said with a smirk on your half-masked face.

All Might’s signature smile only widened at this as his hidden eyes took on a slight mischievous look.

“My apologies, my arch nemesis! Allow me to make it up to you by making a special reservation for you in jail!” He said rather lightheartedly.

The bystanders who chose to stay looked on in anticipation, ready for an absolutely glorious battle like the ones before.

“Oh no worries! You don’t gotta make it up to me.” You said with a wicked grin before launching yourself at the man.

If it was anyone else, they wouldn’t last a second in the presence of All Might. Hell, he’d have them in front of a police station by now…

But you weren’t All Might’s arch nemesis for nothing.

Highland Havoc was the name, and causing havoc is your game.

Accurate to your villain name, you created chaos with your strength-based quirk, destroying government buildings, totaling police cars, tearing out parking meters, and stealing stop signs.

One thing that separated you from the rest of the villains wasn’t just your ability to rival All-fucking-Might, but your surprisingly noble morals.

You weren’t destroying small businesses or killing people, in fact, you’ve saved people on several occasions.

You were basically a professional villainess with standards.

You were a bad guy… but not a bad guy…

The worst you did was wreck a couple hero office buildings and steal thousands of stop signs, but you never ever stole candy from a baby.

In other words, you were just a cheeky little cunt.

You were a menace… but you were Musutafu’s favorite menace.

You casually tore out a stop sign that sat on the corner of the street (one that recently replaced the old one after you stole it) and placed it on your shoulders while smirking through your mask.

“So, what’s on the agenda today? You failing for the millionth time to land a good hit on me?” You teased.

All Might chuckled heartily, but he felt the same thrill coursing through his veins that he always felt when he was ready to fight you.

“I do hate to burst your bubble, my dear,” he began, using a nickname to tease you right back. “But I’m not about to go easy on you just because it’s our anniversary.”

“Oh I don’t expect you to hold back, I’ve been waiting for the opposite actually~” You said before lifting the newly acquired stop sign and twirled it expertly in your hand.

All Might’s eyes followed your every movement like a hawk. He never took his eyes off you these days when you were facing each other, and for good reason: you were not to be underestimated. He knew better than that.

“Still got that nasty habit of collecting those silly signs, I see.” He said with that signature smile as he flexed his thick muscles, getting ready for your first attack.

“You call them silly, but the city seems to take stop sign theft very seriously.” You said while getting into your own fighting position.

All Might scoffed as he rolled his shoulders to loosen up his muscles even more.

“And rightly so! Stop signs are important, you know.” He scolded before looking you up and down with a scoff “And that mask of yours is still downright hideous. How can you handle wearing that thing?”

“You and your issues with my mask. Always having a problem with it, lad.” You sighed and rolled your (e/c) eyes.

All Might looked around the city in feigned disbelief, as if searching for a nonexistent culprit.

”And whose fault is that?” He said, glancing at you again with a smirk. “If you just took the damn thing off, I wouldn’t complain all the time. Your face is probably the only nice part of you, but I have yet to confirm that.”

“Oh shush, you just want to be able to identify me so the coppers can hunt me down.” You said with a scoff.

All Might crossed his large arms over his built chest and let out a huff.

“Now that is the last thing I want, my dear.” He retorted, his smile faltering for a moment before a mischievous grin took over. “You’re my favorite villain to wrangle; I’d be devastated if you were taken off the streets.”

The bystanders who stayed to watch were getting restless, excited, or annoyed at the two…

All Might, the #1 hero who has been the world’s symbol of peace for years; and you: #1 super villain in the country and top ranked pain in All Might’s ass, has not once made any moves on each other.

Many years of rivalry… and their OTP still haven’t made a move on eachother…

…And it was driving the tabloids and the media batshit insane.

People were dying to know what was going on with the two, and for those who had that gut feeling, it was absolute torture for the hero/villain duo to not just fuck each other already.

Who would’ve thought the hero and villain would end up in a tango of sexual tension that lasted 15 years?

“Just kiss already!”

One guy in the gathered audience yelled loudly, saying what no one else dared to say.

All Might and you immediately both stopped what you were doing and looked over at the random citizen. You both had that “deer in headlights” look, and even with half of your face covered, the surprise on your face was obvious.

All Might actually went a shade of pink in the face.

The hero finally turned to the civilian. “S-Sir! This is a-ah-a battle! That would… be highly inappropriate in such an important moment!” He said firmly, but he looked so flustered.

“You have very interesting fans, All Might...” You muttered, glancing away from the hero.

“They’re your fans too.” All Might bickered.

Before he could retort against you, the same obnoxious idiot spoke up again.

“Maybe you two should just cut the bullshit and make out already!” He said, and several cheers came from the small crowd of onlookers.

All Might’s face went red again and he began to stammer. He was starting to get flustered by the comments. He tried to gather himself quickly, and he turned to the crowd again.

“T-This is not a performance! We’re not some dance for your e-entertainment! You people should take this seriously!” All Might protested, but the comments were getting to him.

More hollering and cat calling stirred from the audience; some were even chanting a ship name for you two.

You just deadpanned… but you were admittedly a bit amused.

“…you wanna just start the fight? Can’t really hear them over us throwing punches.” You suggested.

All Might looked back at you, a slight look of relief on his face.

“Y-Yes, an excellent idea! We’re wasting time here!” He said, flexing his arms and getting back into his battle stance.

The hero was trying desperately to ignore the chants and the cheers and whistles from the audience, which was only making him more and more flustered.

Even after 15 years, All Might was never bored of battling you. He was expecting your attack and was ready for you when you ran at him. He was also relieved that he didn’t have to listen to those insufferable comments for another second.

To add to that, Even though the crowd really, really wanted you two to finally French kiss, they weren’t disappointed when it came to you both fighting. For now, they didn’t try to push you two… for now.

You immediately launched yourself forward, leaving a small crater behind you. At the last moment, he sidestepped your attack and aimed a punch directly at your ribs.

You placed your free hand in front of your ribs and grabbed his fist as he unintentionally swung you around. Once you jumped away from him, you swung the stop sign at his head.

The man quickly blocked the blow with his massive forearm and pushed the sign away.

He wasn’t just going to accept any injury without at least putting up a fight. He was itching to actually land a solid hit on you, which was a challenge due to your strength and agility.

He took the opportunity whilst your stop sign was pushed away to aim a kick at your side.

All Might cringed inwardly when you were sent through a wall. He really was dreading the paperwork… Technically, you destroyed that building, he’s just doing his duty.

…Also, you had a tendency to let him strike on purpose so he could indirectly damage buildings *cough* *cough*-

As you were recovering from that kick and standing at the edge of the hole you left, the people in the audience were whistling and hollering at you two.

All Might stared up at you with a scoff before marching over to the new hole in the wall.

“Damnit, why didn’t you dodge???” He almost whined.

You chuckled as you placed your stop sign on your shoulder and jumped down, landing in front of him with a deep thud.

“C’mon… you know why~” You said cheekily.

Despite the mask covering your lower face, he could tell you were smiling.

He let out an aggravated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to keep his signature smile up through gritted teeth.

“You’re terrible.” He muttered.

In the background, some of the more overbearing and blunt All Might and Highland Havoc fans in the crowd started shouting again.

“Get a room already!”

“The damn sexual tension is more thick than Midnight!”

All Might was blushing furiously, trying to tilt his face away from anyone’s sight.

‘If I hear one more comment from these people…’ he thought to himself, keeping up that friendly All Might front for his fans and for himself.

Unfortunately, he was interrupted by another loud comment.

“Stop being pussies and kiss already!!” A more blunt and shameless fangirl yelled from the crowd.

All Might looked at his nemesis with a strained smile on his face.

You… You just deadpanned.

“…I’m just going to swing this at your durable head, is that okay?” You asked plainly yet genuinely, holding up your stop sign to show off your weapon of choice.

All Might let go of his restraint and rubbed the bridge of his nose again.

“That is absolutely fine.” He replied in annoyance before pulling his hand away to look at you. “In fact, could you please hit me in the face? I’d rather we got serious.”

Just then, another shrill female voice cried, “Oh come on, a kiss would be soooo much better tho-“

All Might gritted his teeth and interrupted. “Please, random citizen, I’m trying to concentrate!!”

Unfortunately, because All Might lost concentration, you took this chance to slam the sign part of the stop sign into his face.

He took the hit like a champ and stumbled back, but it didn’t knock him down, just caused him to fumble with his massive feet until he got his footing again.

He clutched his now throbbing cheek and winced.

’Note to self: keep your focus from now on.’ All Might thought to himself as he righted himself.

He smirked through the pain and glared over at you again.

“…You’re going to pay for that.” He said.

Instead of trembling in fear, you simply blinked in surprise, amazed that you actually nailed him in the face with the metal sheet so easily, before looking at the stop sign.

Your shock quickly turned into amusement after you did a double take.

“Oh my God!” You laughed from amusement and shock as you stared at the imprint of All Might’s face in the stop sign.

All Might’s glare and smirk dropped for a moment, instead looking at her with a bewildered look before following her gaze to the sign.

When he saw the All Might face-shaped imprint, he actually snorted.

The fans in the background were cheering and hollering at the scene unfolding on the battlefield between their favorite number one hero and number one villain.

You continued laughing while leaning onto the pole of the stop sign for support.

It wasn’t even one of those taunting laughs he always heard from you, it was one of those rare, genuine ones.

The hoarse sound of your laughter was so unbelievably beautiful to his ears…

In all the years he’d known you, he rarely ever heard a genuine laugh, a guffaw or an eruption of amused cackling. He always thought you were a snickering or a scoffing type.

…In all honesty, the sound of your laugh was almost more damaging than a stop sign to his face.

“I actually managed to immortalize that face you made into the sign! Definitely going into my stop sign collection!” You laughed out, wiping a tear from your eye.

Your comment luckily broke him out of his smiling stupor.

“H-Hey, I do not make that kind of face during battle…”

“The sign says otherwise.” You said while getting control of your laughter.

All Might’s face was slightly flushed as he internally pouted at you but still kept his signature smile on.

“Well… that’s obviously not my normal look!” He protested before turning to a more playful tone.

“…Though you must admit, that is a lovely face, even imprinted into a sign like that. I can see why you’d want to keep it, Havoc.” He said with a cheeky lilt to his tone, trying to tease you back.

You smirked and brought the dented part down to your face to study it.

“…actually, you’re right… even caught that beautiful jawline of yours.” You said before lifting your free hand up to tug at your mask.

You pulled the mask down, and for the first time in 15 years, you exposed your lower face to All Might and the crowd.

All Might’s eyes went the size of saucers.

He was finally getting to see your face. He had been yearning to know what you looked like beneath that hideous mask of yours for years.

A little part of him had hoped you would unveil yourself to him in battle for years, yet here you were actually doing it, Freezing the hero from disbelief and awe.

The audience had gone dead silent at the sight of your revealed face, and more than one fan was filming the historic moment.

… and It was about to get more historical… cuz you lifted the All Might face dent and gave it a little kiss before lifting the mask back over your lower face.

It was almost like a scene from a film, except it wasn’t scripted at all.

All Might’s jaw had dropped to the floor the moment you kissed the imprint, but the realization of what had just happened didn’t sink in until your mask was over your face again.

Everyone in the audience was stunned, and for a moment, no one uttered a breath. The silence was so loud, you could hear a pen hit the ground.

Then the crowd roared.

The collective roar and screams of the audience were deafening, and they rang in the ears of both the hero and the villain.

All Might was still staring at you in disbelief, a bright red blush spreading over his face.

As was expected of people who were witnessing such a sight, the fans had their phones out and were taking pictures at record speed. One or two people were actually full on crying with tears of joy.

You stared back at All Might with an amused and mischievous look in your eye as the crowd and potentially the whole world were collectively losing their mind.

All Might tried desperately to find words to say, but he was so stunned that he couldn’t even process his thoughts.

The hero’s brain had short circuited and his jaw was hanging open. All he could do was gape at you while the people in the background were gushing and crying and screaming about a number one ship in history being finally confirmed.

But then, he quickly realized that he was just standing there like a fish out of water, and there are cameras surrounding both of them, filming the whole scene.

He quickly schooled his features and placed his hands on his hips and lifted his head.

“O-OKAY, LET’S BE CALM ABOUT THIS!” he bellowed, but the fans were still making sounds like they just won the lottery.

At this, he groaned in frustration and pinched the bridge of his nose again.

He didn’t know what to do anymore. This was the worst. The fans are going to make this moment in history live on forever.

He finally removed his hand from his face and shot you a look.

“You did that on purpose….” he muttered to you.

“Oh did I?” You asked innocently while holding a dark gloved hand up to your masked face and kicking a foot up behind you.

All Might squinted his eyes at you in annoyance.

“Don’t give me that, you knew exactly what you were doing…” He grumbled.

The audience was still going berserk, cameras were flashing from all sides. The former hero was just so over it at this point.

You snickered like a little vixen while still holding your hand to your masked face. He was slowly getting more and more irritated at how amused you looked.

“…Why did you even do that!?” He demanded with a shaky tone.

The crowd was still hooting and whistling in the background, but All Might didn’t care, his focus was completely on you.

You simply shrugged.

“Sorry, my dear~” you purred out, using the pet name he used for you using your strength-based quirk to jump off to somewhere else, leaving All Might to deal with the damaged building and the crowd of shocked and excited bystanders… and a news helicopter.

All Might was so too caught off guard by his own pet-name being used against him that he forgot to give chase to you.

He eventually came to his senses and whipped around to search for you in the sky, but you were long gone by now.

Groaning and pinching his nose for the 5th… 6th time? 10th? The hero turned back to the aftermath of the confrontation and was immediately bombarded by the fans who were clambering around him.

That night…

Yagi Toshinori *hated* paperwork.

At this point, he was used to doing excessive amounts of paperwork, so he was able to get through it all rather quickly.

But today’s paperwork involved the entire incident that had occurred between you and him. His hands were cramping up from signing forms and writing down details of your little escapade.

He was just scribbling away as the TV played in the background, playing today’s news. And of course, the entire day’s events featured heavily on tonight’s broadcast.

Yagi lifted his head to take a break and watch the replay of the confrontation on the newscast. Once again, he was met with seeing himself standing on the battlefield with his jaw on the floor as cameras captured your little… display.

Immediately, he groaned and put his head down on the desk with a thump, mumbling into the wood.

“I actually can’t believe it, she really just made it known to everyone!” The news reporter said a little too excitedly for someone who’s supposed to be unbiased.

The news reporter had obviously been waiting for this moment her whole career. She was acting like a fangirl, which in a way, was very realistic of her since many people would react the exact same way.

“Who would’ve ever thought that the number one hero or number one villain would actually have some kind of affection for each other? Could it even be love?”

Toshinori was just sitting there, face on the desk, listening to the broadcast as his now deflated, fluffy hair draped over his desk.

The news reporters continued to talk about what had happened, but something said by the man reporter caught his attention.

”It’s been 15 years, today marking the 15th anniversary of All Might’s and Highland Havoc’s rivalry… it’s about damn time.” The older news reporter, a 50 year old man, said.

“Daikaku, you shouldn’t swear, we’re on live tv.” The younger news reporter said with a hint of worry.

But All Might didn’t focus on that…

15 years. 15 years of you being his nemesis…

He hadn’t even realized that it had already been that long. And he hadn’t realized that he had feelings for you for 90% of that time… that was… a really long time.

The news broadcaster interrupted the former heroes thoughts when the subject was changed to an All Might fan.

“Let’s listen now to what the fans have to say about the incident that unfolded in today’s fight.”

All Might groaned when he heard that. He just knew the first fan they were going to show was going to be an overly obsessed and delusional fan. And of course, that is exactly what he got.

“I CALLED IT! I KNEW the two of them have been dating in secret for YEARS!!” The first fan cried out through one of the speakers of the call, clearly a child.

All Might was so over it. He wanted to bang his head on the desk.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yes. That fan at the end is 100% Midoriya.

This takes place 3 years before All Might meets Midoriya, which means he’s 11 and All Might is 46.

Let me know how well I did and if you’d like more 👍👍👍👍

…or don’t. I’m planning on making a lil series anyways, like it or not.

[rogueddie]

Make A Wish T | 654 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is making a birthday extra special

For as long as Steve can remember, Valentines has always been emphasized to him as a special day. A day full of love, and joy, and connection. A day where he could tell anyone that he loves them, even Tommy, and no one would give him so much as a glance.

It's been a while since he's been able to properly celebrate the day though. With the Upside Down, the constant fear that it would come back, that people would get hurt again, always buzzing in the back of his head...

Well, it never felt right.

But, now that it's finally and truly over? He's excited to celebrate. He has his soulmate, the best friend that he could ever wish for and loves with all his heart... and he might have a boyfriend.

"You will have a boyfriend," Robin corrects. "He's been flirting with you for months. If he doesn't make a move first, he'll be stumbling over himself to say yes."

She's right.

He rushes to agree to the date when Steve asks, stuttering in his hurry. But, instead of asking Steve what he has planned, he asks if he can surprise Steve.

"I was thinking about asking you, but... I don't know, I got too nervous, I guess. But it's a good idea, so..."

"Sure, yeah. It'll be nice to be on this end for once."

When Eddie picks him up, he insists that Steve sit in the back of the van so he can't see anything before they arrive.

He climbs over the seats when they do arrive, blindfolding him.

"This way, mind your step, just a little further..." Eddie mumbles, gently leading Steve. "Ok. You ready?"

"Yeah."

When he pulls the blindfold off, there's a burst of noise and color.

They're at the Byers new place. It's covered in decorations, confetti in the air, and everyone stood around cheering.

The banner has a bubbly, colorful, "happy birthday!" drawn on.

"Happy birthday," El says, the first to step up. She holds up a present. "I am very happy to know you."

"Oh. Thanks, El. But, uh..." He glances around, until finally finding Eddie tucked in a corner. "How did you know that today is my birthday?"

"Overheard some old flame of yours one time," Eddie explains. "She was convinced that you two were meant to be, entirely because you were born on valentine's day."

"Seriously?"

"Right?"

"Steve!" Dustin calls, waving him towards the kitchen. "Nevermind that! Come on, we made a cake! And there's presents, but we should do cake first!"

The kids, as it turns out, really did make the kids themselves. It's not bad either, especially after melted chocolate and whip cream is poured over it, almost drowning it.

The gifts from the kids are all homemade.

Steve is sure that they're the best gifts he's ever received.

"Happy birthday," Robin whispers, as she hugs him goodbye. "And good luck, yeah?"

"Won't need it," he whispers back. "This night is too perfect for it to fail now."

He decides to wait until they pull up outside his house. Then, if it works out? They can go inside. If it fails? Easy exit.

But, as soon as they pull up, Eddie beats him to the punch.

"Hey," he starts, nervous. "I hope you enjoyed today and-"

"I did. Really, it was amazing. Thanks, Ed. It means a lot, more than you can imagine."

"It was nothing. It's... I don't want to ruin that if you don't- I won't take it bad, is what I mean. I just think you should know, uh... you're so loved. By, uh, me."

"You love me?"

"Yeah, Steve. I really do, so much."

"I love you too."

"Really?"

"Yeah, dumbass. I asked you on a date."

"... oh, fuck, you did."

Steve laughs, reaching over to grab his collar and drag him into a kiss.

It really is the perfect end to the perfect day.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Slimy fellow meets slimy fellow.

Also known as Fellow meets Azul.

I thought this one would be more fun to write if I immediately cut to Fellow at the Mostro Lounge (following the reader's advice, of course)! Also, I will take any excuse to write the twins--

This ended up being a lot longer than I had initially intended, it's over 2k words (blame my Octavinelle bias)... Hope you enjoy!

So tell me, do you wanna go?

"Whoa, Giddie. Check out this classy joint."

Fellow whistled as he took in the majesty of the Mostro Lounge.

Plum carpets gave rise to a set of stairs, and up the railings were several plush, quilted booths. Each table had its own lamp, a shining orb held up by a gnarled arm of coral. There was a bar area too, complete with a row of sleek stools, the shelves behind the counter well-stocked with tins of tea blends.

Overlooking the entire establishment was a massive glass wall, where the ocean itself peered in on the patrons. Shadows of seaweed and coral ran along the seabed outside, rainbow-colored fish darting by in bursts. Jellyfish lights swung from the ceiling, casting the lounge in an otherworldly blue glow. Smooth jazz emanated from somewhere in the eatery, backed by the soft accompaniment of ambient sounds--water splashing, bubbles dancing.

As Fellow and Gidel stood there gawking, they hadn't noticed two lanky shadows approach them from behind--not until they uttered a greeting in unison.

"Welcome to the Mostro Lounge!"

Fellow jumped at the hands that clapped onto either of his shoulders. He met two nearly identical faces.

"Table for two?" Jade offered.

"Can we getcha started with drinks?" Floyd asked.

Fellow jolted back, pointing a shaking finger at the twins. "H-HIEEEEEEE!! I-It's you guys!"

Jade smiled politely, feigning ignorance. “Oya, Fellow-san. You appear to be rather jumpy today. You’ve come to just the right place to put that anxiety to rest.”

“Y-You’re not gonna wail on us?!”

“Wail on ya?” Floyd’s mouth was stretched eerily wide. “Eheheh. Why’d we wanna do that?”

“Quite right, Floyd." Jade nodded. "We would never harm an esteemed guest. This is a gentlemen's lounge--there is no fighting allowed."

"You're... not mad about what happened before?"

The corners of Jade's mouth twitched. A droll laugh, suppressed. "Think nothing of it. Call it water under the bridge. Floyd and I, we are not the vengeful sort."

Fellow stared at him as though Jade had suddenly sprouted another head. I don't buy that for one second!!

"So do ya want grub or not? Hurry up, cuz we got other customers to deal with," Floyd groused, jabbing at finger at the packed tables behind him.

Fellow eyed them both suspiciously--but his gaze darted between the shady eels and Gidel, who was patting his belly. His reply came out weak and reluctant. "Well... If you're offering food..."

"Then right this way." Jade bent, gesturing with one hand. "I believe this is your first time dining with us, so allow me to inform you of our specials."

He led the way, expertly weaving between Octavinelle servers and roaming guests. Fellow followed, Gidel lagging behind him, and Floyd held the back of the line, plucking up two menus from a podium as they passed it. As they briskly made their way to an open booth, Jade rattled off facts.

"You may order a la cart, but we also offer meal sets in which we have curated the perfectly paired the dishes for you. Substitutions can be made upon request to accommodate allergies and dietary restrictions. There is a separate specialty beverage menu. The Mystery Drink is our most popular item--we highly recommend it."

"Wait a sec!" Fellow held up a hand. "Food's great and all, but I was hopin' to hear about something else too."

Jade craned his head. "Oh? And what might that be?"

The fox beastman leaned in, cupping his mouth against Jade's ear. "Word on the street is, the big shot around here has the ability to make wishes come true. I want in on that."

The twins exchanged a knowing look. Their mismatched eyes glinted with delight.

"... Of course, dear customer. We can arrange an audience with Azul for you. However, please be advised that it requires that you order a certain amount of food. The meal sets are worth 3 points each, and the drinks, 1 point. You will need to accumulate at least 50 points total in order to secure a spot with Azul."

"No problem! Together, Giddie and I could eat a man out of house and home," Fellow chuckled. "We'll take one of everything you've got!"

“Out of house and home!!” For some reason, this made Floyd laugh. It was an odd, raspy sound, like branches and the wind scraping and rustling against a ratty window.

“What’s so funny?”

"Oh, nothin’. You just made me remember a funny joke,” Floyd reassured him. “Don’t worry. We’ll get your order ready for ya in a jiffy~"

"Azul, you have a new client."

Jade held the door open for Fellow and Gidel to pass through. Floyd lingered in the corridor like a bouncer guarding the room--or a jailer ensuring they stay in it.

The duo stepped into a neat office, flanked on both sides by towering bookshelves. The carpet they treaded on bore an intricate pattern of scalloped shells and swirls. Two deep purple couches were set across from one another. A coffee table was between them, its surface layered glass. Luminescent blue colored the base of the bookshelves and the interior of the coffee table.

A large chunk of the back wall composed a massive vault. Seated in front of it was a young man at a grand desk. He had silvery hair swept to one side, and sharp eyes behind thick frames. A pile of contracts say upon his desk, along with a lamp and a pot of ink. He deposited what appeared to be a fish skeleton in his inkwell and stood, smiling at Fellow and Gidel.

“Welcome to the VIP Room,” the young man purred. “I am the dorm leader of Octavinelle and the manager of Mostro Lounge. Azul Ashengrotto, at your service.”

“Honest. Fellow Honest. And this here’s my little buddy, Gidel.”

"Oh, there's no need for introductions, Fellow-san. I've already heard plenty about you from Jade and Floyd."

"Have you now?" A slight edge formed in Fellow's voice. "It sounds like my reputation precedes me."

Azul chuckled darkly. "Indeed. Ah, but that is why you've come to seek my counsel, is it not? You're seeking something. Please, have a seat." He gestured to the couches. "Tell me of your troubles."

Gidel happily planted himself down, but Fellow stood his ground and clenched his fists.

"It's money," he blurted out. "I need money, and lots of it."

Azul blinked. He quickly composed himself and gave a laugh. "If I could materialize thaumarks out of thin air, the value of them would surely plummet. May I ask what it is that you intend on using these funds for?"

"I want to start my own school. One that'll be WAY better than this crappy establishment for entitled rich kids!" Fellow waved at the overembellished office with his cane. "A school for everyone, no matter what their background or social class is! A school that teaches practical life skills!"

(The twins, listening in from the doorway, snickered amongst themselves. Azul shot them a glare.)

"Hmm... I see that you're an ambitious man, Fellow-san. As a businessman myself, I must commend your drive," the merman drawled, "and I am willing to help make it a reality, provided you are also willing to pay the price. You can't get something for nothing, as I'm sure you know."

Fellow's stomach dropped. He had anticipated this, but it didn't make the gut punch any less painful. "What's it gonna cost me?"

"I'm not asking much. Just a token, really--a trifle! You'll never even miss it." Slime coated each of Azul's words. "What I want from you is... your unique magic."

He went cold, the color draining from him. From the couch, Gidel startled, suddenly alarmed. "Life is Fun?""

"Correct." Azul's smile seemed more like a smirk now. "From my understanding, your spell is able to enhance one's optimism, making the subject more susceptible to suggestion and taking risks. Not only that, but it is subtle enough to avoid detection. It would be a great boon to have at my disposal. I could easily dispel any doubts my clients may have about signing a contract."

"But that's...! That's...!" Fellow sputtered, unable to come up with a coherent argument.

"That is my offer, Fellow-san. It's non-negotiable." Azul looked him up and down. Not that he has much else to offer.

"Tch...!"

He weighed the options.

Riches for his magic. A magic so measly that mightier mages spat upon it. His magic for riches. Riches so vast he could jumpstart his dream, ensure a golden future for him and Gidel.

Azul's words coiled around him like constrictive tentacles.

"I'm not asking much. Just a token, really--a trifle! You'll never even miss it."

Fellow wavered.

Maybe I should take the deal...

"...!!"

Gidel rose from the couch and tackled Fellow, latching onto an arm. Fellow stumbled backwards, nearly crashing into a bookshelf.

"W-Whoa! Hey, watch it, Giddie!!" he yelped, trying to pry the boy off of him. "Can't 'cha see I'm thinkin' here?!"

Fellow abruptly stopped. Gidel gazed at him with wide, pleading eyes. Wetness coated the corners, tears threatening to spill.

It's a part of you. It's yours. Don't give it up, he begged.

"Giddie..." Fellow's hand sank into Gidel's hair and ruffled it. "... Thanks for that. I needed it."

His resolve returned to him, hardening into steel. Turning back to Azul, Fellow replied, "Sorry, I've changed my mind. I think I'll work things out on my own."

"!!" Gidel beamed proudly.

"Are you certain? These endeavors can be a challenge without sufficient financial backing," Azul warned.

"Positive. I don't wanna kiss up to some board of investors to move up in the world!" Fellow seized Gidel's oversized sleeve. "C'mon, we've got places to be!"

"Well!" Azul huffed, looking displeased. "If you think you can manage!"

"We can, no worries!"

With that, Fellow steered himself and Gidel out of the VIP Room. They skipped along, humming a jolly tune. Azul waited for their sound to completely vanish before he jerked his head to the twins.

"I thought you said they'd be easy marks," he bellowed.

"Perhaps we misjudged," Jade suggested, brows upturned. "The child appears to act as Fellow-san's conscience--and a rather effective one, at that."

"We did almost get them though!" Floyd protested. "Hook, line, and sinker!!"

Azul sighed deeply. "There's no helping it. What's done is done. This time, they got away from us--but it's alright. At the very least, we've got their money!"

Silence threaded the room.

"... I said, at the very least, we've got their money." Azul stared at the twins, who were strangely quiet. "We DO have their money, correct?"

"My, I may have neglected to disclose our prices to Fellow-san," Jade said with a smile. "It seems he was under the impression that the Mostro Lounge's offerings were as free as the cafeteria's buffet is."

"And since we know you're soooo generous, we thought it would be okay to let'm eat their fill to rack up those points~" Floyd added. "'Sides, Jade and I wanted to see how you'd get along!"

Azul's expression splintered. "... So you two allowed Fellow-san and Gidel-san to dine and dash? All to get a rise out of me?"

"You could phrase it like that, yes."

"Yup~!!"

Panic immediately set in. His mind raced, running the calculations simultaneously. How many tens of hundreds of thaumarks he was losing out on.

Azul pushed past the nonchalant Leeches and to the door. Gathering all of his breath, he hollered down the hallway.

"All Mostro Loungs staff on deck, this is an order from your manager!! I want that redheaded fox beastman and his cat accomplice captured and brought to me STAT!! Is that clear?!"

"Wow, Azul's really losin' it!" Floyd cackled. "It was worth all that trouble just to see this~"

"I couldn't agree more, Floyd. Fufufu, there is never a dull day in Octavinelle."

[luvzshy]

Please please please right some Sabrina fluff of a cute coffee date or something

Coffee Hearts

Word Count: 682

Contains: Fluff, established relationship, coffee shop vibes, sweet moments, fem!reader x Sabrina Carpenter.

The bell above the door chimed as you stepped into your favorite coffee shop, the warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. You scanned the room until your eyes landed on a familiar figure sitting at a corner table. Sabrina Carpenter, in a soft oversized sweater and jeans, looked up from her phone and smiled brightly when she caught your gaze.

“Hey, there you are!” she said, waving you over enthusiastically. The sight of her made your heart flutter, as it always did. You approached, unable to contain your grin.

“Hey! Sorry I’m late,” you replied, sliding into the seat across from her.

“Not a problem. I saved you a seat,” she said, her blue-grey eyes sparkling with affection. “I even ordered your usual.”

You raised an eyebrow playfully. “Oh really? What is my usual?”

“Caramel latte with oat milk and extra foam,” she said, her smile widening as she placed the cup in front of you. “And a blueberry muffin, just in case you wanted a snack.”

You laughed, a warmth spreading through your chest. “You know me too well.”

“I try,” she said, her voice teasing but sincere. “You deserve the best coffee and snacks.”

As you took a sip of your latte, the rich flavor filled your senses, reminding you just how much you loved these moments together. The café buzzed with chatter and laughter, but all you could focus on was Sabrina, who looked even more radiant in the soft morning light filtering through the windows.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” she asked, leaning in slightly, her elbow resting on the table.

You shrugged, a mischievous smile creeping onto your face. “I was thinking we could do something spontaneous. Maybe go to that art exhibit downtown?”

“Art? You know me so well,” she replied, feigning surprise. “I’m in!”

You shared a laugh, your eyes locked with hers, and for a moment, the world outside faded away. It felt like your own little bubble, where nothing else mattered except for the two of you.

After a few moments of playful banter and sipping your drinks, Sabrina’s expression shifted slightly. She reached across the table, her fingers brushing against yours.

“I love our coffee dates,” she said softly, her gaze serious. “I feel like we can just be ourselves.”

“Me too,” you replied, squeezing her hand gently. “You make everything feel special, babe.”

Her cheeks flushed at your compliment, and she looked down at the table, a shy smile playing on her lips. “You’re the one who makes it special, you know. I love spending time with you.”

You could feel your heart swell at her words, and before you could think, you blurted out, “You know I could get used to this—just the two of us, coffee, and maybe a bit of chaos.”

“Chaos, huh?” she teased, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. “I like the sound of that.”

With a playful smirk, you leaned in closer, lowering your voice conspiratorially. “Just think of the possibilities. Coffee fights? Running down the street with muffins? I’m all in.”

Sabrina burst out laughing, her laughter bright and infectious. “Okay, you’re definitely onto something. But only if you promise to share your muffin.”

“Deal!” you said, raising your cup in a mock toast.

As you both clinked your mugs together, a sense of joy filled the air, a reminder of the bond you shared. Moments like these were what made every coffee date feel like an adventure, even if you were just sitting in a cozy café.

When the drinks were finished and the muffins were all but crumbs, you stood up, pulling Sabrina along with you. “Ready for some art?” you asked, eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Absolutely,” she replied, her fingers intertwining with yours as you both made your way toward the door, your hearts light and happy.

[casuallivi]

The Shadow Between Us

Hello, ladies. Long time. Long, long time. I began writing this for elriel month 2023 (sheesh) and it was supposed to be a sequel to Three is a Party 🤭🤭. Unfortunately, I never finished, but today I felt like posting it anyways, trying to feel that flame of having active hobbies and all that. It's not perfect, but it was born from passion. Let's hope for the best. Love yall ❤️❤️

Summary: Elain is no strange to the possessiveness of the fae, especially when it comes from an Illyrian male. Yet, nothing could prepare her for the calling of the Shadow. For a Shadow needs his Seer, as a Master needs his Flower.

Warnings: Listen, this will be NSFW. Will not be giving explicit warnings because the act will built itself, so just imagine that any sexy thing under the sun can happen, along with curses and graphic description. Read at your own risk. (this warning makes no sense now, but that's where old stabilized me was hoping to go to 😬. enjoy anyways.) Post ACOSF.

~~~

“Oh, mother!”

The freshly-cut bouquet of chrysanthemums slipped through her hands coloring the hardwood floor red. Elain quickly turned around, palms hiding her spoked eyes, skin turning crimson as the flowers at her feet. A feverish heat crawled up her spine as her mind replayed the scene which she came across:

Azriel, half-naked, pinning what appeared to be, a very naked, Shadowsinger to the mattress. The slip of a rough groan sounding awfully sensual in her sensitive ears.

“I’m – I’m so sorry,” she stumbled an apology. "I didn't know you were," she stopped mid sentence, looking the right word to say. "Here."

All Elain wanted was to put fresh flowers on his nightstand, so he'd come back from Dawn to a cozy bedrom. Instead, she found Azriel already home, looking like he was playing with himself. Quite literally.

She tried not to fan herself.

They’d shared a bed before: Azriel, Elain and the beings concealed inside themselves that noone else knew about; the Seer and the Shadowsinger.

A forbidden and painfully delicious experience that left her insides sore and sensitive enough to get legs to stop working for the rest of the day. Not that she would go anywhere being knocked out for 24h straight. Elain never thought she would let two men – male and shadow, really – dominate her completely, use her at their will, but she had let Azriel and the Shadowsinger explore and command her, fill every hole in her body. Even the Seer she trapped deep inside had surfaced that day, eager for a taste of the darkness calling her forth.

Elain peered over her shoulder, not feeling bold enough to confront the males tangled in the sheets.

She knew the Shadowsinger was prone to roam the land when Azriel’s shields presented the smallest of crevices for him to slip through, she just didn’t expect for them to indulge in this type of activities without the intention of seducing her fueling them. She turned to the pair, heart thundering with an emotion she could not comprehend.

“Why is she reacting like that?” The Shadowsinger broke the silence first, sitting up to better look at her.

Azriel took his time to appraise Elain, the harsh murderous glint of anger that had been there a second ago being replaced with curiosity.

“She’s getting creative.” He said with the hint of a sneer.

Deadly talons, which spiked on the wall behind the bed to give him stability, retroceded slowly, black leathery wing span. “Is not what you think." He bursted her bubble, hands back on the Shadowsinger's neck. "I'm locking him back.”

“He is naked,” she blurted. Remembering later that it was not proper to be commenting on another male’s nudity in front of him. Even if the male was him. But not quite.

Snorting loudly, the male under him pumped his hips upwards, catching her attention. “Little flower, where you looking at! My eyes are up here, love.”

“He does it to spite me.” Azriel spoke over him, vexed shadows blurring in and out of existence as his shadow-self strugled to remain outside his body. "Enough now.” He snarled, being ignored. “Go back.”

“Come on! I have not been out in months! I need a breather.”

“You do not breathe.”

“Semantics.” Came the Shadowsinger strangled hiss, wings misting away in tiredness.

With a warcry he tried to throw his master away, the movement a mere diversion to his true attempt to escape by mystifying. It was no easy feature to trap a shadow. Bright cobalt shackles glowed in Shadow’s wrist, his hiss of pain unsettling Elain. Azriel fought his urge to sooth her as he registering her soft whimper, his concentration flickering, making him struggle to reabsorb the tendon of darkness stealing his shape.

The thief was reluctant to go, scraping at the walls, grabbing to gates of his mind hurling insults at Azriel, who shut him down, shoving him in. A battle he was losing to fatigue. Reluctantly, quivering shadows began to climb his hands, then his arms, the dull ache of sentient shadows sinking back into the tattoos a comforting promise of solitude. Still, his shadow-self refused to go.

A swarm of shadow covered Elain seconds before The Shadowsinger burst through the power-shackles with a raging howl, a blue wave explosion sweeping the bedroom.

“Fuck me.” Azriel heaved.

The Shadowsinger merely wheezed a laugh, punching the male in the gut, who collapse to the side. Shadows fluttered in and out of existence under the electrical haze of unusual power, the otherly being molding his body back.

Elain lowered her hands, having covered her head by pure instinct, watching the havoc in disbelief. He winked at her.

"Elain, dear, if you were waiting to give me a feverish kiss there's no better time than now."

Deep inside, there was a small part of her worried for being here, in the middle of this peculiar struggle.

The problem is the rest of her was shimmering with excitement at the sight of her males’ display of power, drunk by the dangerous enticing atmosphere. Elain cut her gaze to her Azriel, who swiped a hand over his face, finding him beautiful even amidst his frustration. Curls damp by sweat clung to his forehead, his heavy breathing provoking memories of other activities who caused him to be in similar shape on same bed. Prone on top of her, or under her, his hard body pounding–

Beside him, the Shadowsinger sat up straight as an arrow, startling Elain, who had forgotten all about him, too busy fantasizing.

“Shit, she’s dripping.” He sneered.

Too tired to sit, Azriel braced himself on his elbows, observing her with all the scrutiny usually reserved for the hidden dungeons in the mountain. Elain did not buckle, in fact, she smiled at him; a shy smile nestled between bright red cheeks, glowing doe eyes blinking a little too quickly, betraying the direction of her mind.

He cocked his head, Elain feeling the cool wisp of shadow grazing her neck, curling at her ear.

I can practically taste your thoughts. Came Azriel’s muffled deliver, relied by one of his many assistants. She batted them away.

"Busybody." She mumbled absently, knuckles turned white where she clutched her peach sundress. Elain had no idea cotton could suddenly feel so restrictive and stuffy.

Who would have thought that flowers would put her in such delicate situation? The flowers in Azriel’s room were nurtured with so much love and devotion they turned spelled, ever-bright, never-withering, flowers capable of intoxicating poor Cassian out of existence. Elain didn’t care, she’d grow them anyways, exchanged the batches – even when they had no need to be replace – to match them with the little notes she desired to pass along. It was a great shock to open his door and find Azriel, not only in the room, but accompanied of his counterpart, rolling around in bed – not that the purpose of said rolling was recreational, but her mind didn’t bother with details. All that mattered was the image of Azriel straddling his shadow-self, battling for control, the cedary musk of power dominating her attention.

Shadow back-handed Azriel's shoulder.

“She’s so easily aroused these days.” he commented casually.

Azriel cut him a glare. “How’d the fuck would you know?”

“You think you are the only one who can feel her?” Shadow smirk was evil, “Please, I can feel her. I can feel her, too.” He complemented, giving Elain a knowing look. “Writhing on the inside, clawing to break free. I can give you all that little head of your is painting. All you have to do is ask; get on your knees and ask me nicely and I give you it all."

"Come here, love." He tapped the bed.

Goosebumps tingled her arms, a subdued ring of white encasing her brown eyes. Unknown to herself, Elain took one step forward, shadows swirling beneath her feet.

“Are you fertile, love?” Black lit eyes dropped to the v between her legs, as if he could see the ruining that remains of her undergarments. “Is that little garden of yours ready to be seeded?”

He palmed his hardening dick, hands going up and down the length of it. “Want me to put a baby on you? You’d look good with a child swelling your belly. My child.”

She turned her head to the side, wide-eyed “You can sire children?”

The question was shy, whispered with wonder. Like most fae, Elain had no idea of true the extension of Azriel's abilities. Let alone his shadows.

The Shadowsinger smile was feral, predatory, oozing confidence. A smile that was vanished by a kick on the ribs, the strengh of it sending him flying out of the bed.

One second more and hands were grabbing her waist before Elain had time to gasp, Azriel throwing her over his shoulder to carry her to the door. His action was enough for a moment of lucidity to hit her. Remains of human embarrassment sparkling under the surface of her skin, the quiet demure lady she no longer was feeling taunted by his crude words. Elain gulped the thick lump clogging her throat down, feeling self-conscious. At times like this, she hated how well they could read her.

Azriel dropped her back on her feet outside the room, giving her a quick peck.

"Wait here for a minute."

[...]