#portable table saw

[lumberknowhow]

Choosing the Best Portable Table Saw for Your Woodworking Needs

A portable table saw is an invaluable tool for woodworkers, offering mobility and convenience without compromising on performance. To ensure you select the perfect table saw, consider a few key factors. Firstly, prioritize portability by opting for a lightweight and compact design with sturdy handles. Next, assess the power and performance capabilities, ensuring the motor is robust enough to handle various wood types. Blade size and adjustability are vital for versatile cutting, while safety features like blade guards and anti-kickback mechanisms are essential for your protection. Finally, choose a table saw built with durability in mind. By keeping these considerations in mind, you'll be well-equipped to find the ideal portable table saw for all your woodworking endeavors.

[allywthsr]

LITTLE SPOON | (l.norris)

summary: Lando’s never been the little spoon before

wordcount: 1.3k words

pairing: landonorris x fem!reader

warnings: none!

notes: it’s rather short, but I didn’t know what else to write

You’ve been dating Lando for a little over three months, in these months you‘ve tried to see Lando as often as possible, which was a bit tricky sometimes with his crazy schedule, but you still made it work.

Today wasn’t a day made for Lando, when he woke up this morning, it was raining and he noticed that he forgot to charge his phone and he didn’t have the time to charge it, his portable charger was also running low on battery, so he had to fly to England with only twelve percent. When he was at the MTC, he sat in the simulator and didn’t get the results he wanted, and Oscar was quicker in almost every sector. And in the cafeteria, they only had foods involved with fish, and the only thing that wasn’t near a fish, didn’t taste good. That almost ruined his day, the cherry on top was when he was on his way to you and stopped for a small grocery run, he got crowded by his fans outside, someone must’ve posted that he was in a Tesco in London. After taking pictures with almost everyone, he looked at his phone and saw about ten missed calls and at least twenty messages from you, asking where he was and if he could bring some extra apples. With a groan, he went back inside and prayed that no one else was waiting for him, and luckily there were only about ten people this time, he quickly said hello to everyone and hopped back into his car, which was also running low on fuel and he had to get gas, taking him even longer to be in your arms.

The last thing that almost made him cry, was when he went up the stairs to your apartment and with the heavy bags in his hands, he didn’t see a step and tripped, luckily he didn’t get seriously hurt, but the groceries were now all over the floor and his knee was hurting from the fall. After collecting it and putting it back into the bags, he had enough. Enough of this stupid day. He rang your doorbell and stomped passed you directly to the kitchen where he unloaded the food, with a surprised look you followed him.

“Hello to you too, my darling.”

“Sorry, bad day.”

And with that, he turned to you and fell into your arms, you caressed his back and kissed his neck and cheek repeatedly, wanting to comfort him.

“What happened?”

“It all started this morning with me forgetting to charge my phone, being shit in the simulator, bad food, and don’t get me started on the huge crowd that stood outside of Tesco, I also fell up your stairs.”

You immediately pouted and pushed him away to look at him, “My angel, is there anything I can do?”

“Make me food and cuddle”, Lando said after a while of thinking.

You nodded and kissed his lips with a smile, you knew he needed to be babied now, you sent him to the couch where he put on his favorite show, while you made dinner. You didn’t waste too much time preparing a fancy dinner, some pasta, and a sauce, but you knew that was his comfort food, your pasta.

Normally you sat down at the dinner table to eat, but you figured he needed his comfort show and the couch tonight, the day clearly wasn’t nice to your boy, so you could be to him.

With two plates in your hands, you made your way to him, he was lying on the couch with a small pout while checking his phone every now and then.

“I‘m finished with dinner, can you sit up so you can eat?”

He nodded and scooched a little to the right, so you could sit next to him and share the coffee table, you placed the plates on said table and sat down. You kissed his shoulder, “Enjoy your meal, Lan, after that, we can cuddle or whatever you’d like.”

“I‘d like that, thank you for making dinner, I wanted to help you.”

“Don’t worry, we all have bad days sometimes.”

You both started eating and silently watched the show Lando put on, you let him be in his head and think about the day he had. Lando and you quickly finished your meal and he immediately leaned back against the soft cushions, you knew he wouldn’t be doing anything today.

“Can I put the dishes in the dishwasher quickly or do we want to cuddle now?”

“If you hurry with the dishes?”

“Always.”

So you quickly put the dishes in the dishwasher and grabbed a kinder chocolate bar that you could give to Lando, maybe that would cheer him up a little, you always kept a small stack of these in case that Lando gets a sweet tooth and needed chocolate.

When Lando saw you coming back, he laid down and opened his arms, for you to lay in.

“Don’t you wanna be the small spoon today? I want to comfort you.”

“Nah, I‘ve never been the little spoon, I get comforted when I hold you in my arms.”

“You’re a walking cheeseball, aren’t you? I brought you a kinder chocolate bar.”

He quietly mumbled a ‘Thank you’ and already opened the package of the small chocolate before you could lie down.

You moved in front of him and he closed his arms around you and snuggled with his face in your neck, inhaling your scent he loved so much. Your hands found their way to his‘ and you caressed his knuckles and played with his long fingers, both of you were silent and enjoyed the peace that lingered in the living room. You knew Lando was exhausted so it was no wonder that he fell asleep pretty quickly.

You hated to wake him up, but you knew if he would sleep on the couch he would have back pain tomorrow, so you carefully turned around in his embrace and kissed his chin. Slowly caressing his cheeks and repeatedly kissing his face, everywhere where you could reach him. Slowly he opened his eyes and groaned, he needed his sleep and hated getting disturbed.

“Should we move this to the bedroom? You‘ll be more comfortable there.”

Lando nodded against your neck in which he had put his head after opening his eyes. You got up and pulled on his hand, he got up after looking at you with a pout and you walked into the bathroom where you two did your little night routine. When you went into the bedroom, Lando laid down on his side and opened his arms again, waiting for you to slip in.

“What if I‘m the big spoon tonight, you’re still not feeling too good, and it can be very comforting.“

“I don’t know Y/N, I‘ve never been the little spoon, I want to protect you and hold you close.”

“I‘m still close to you when I cuddle you, come on, let’s try it out, we can switch back if you don’t like it.”

“You won’t give up, will you?”

You shook your head and he scooched a little more to your side, you laid down and wrapped your arms around his body, caressing his tummy, you also slipped a leg between his. It felt good having him in your arms and cuddling like that.

After a few minutes you felt him moving, “And? What do you think?”

“It’s the best fucking thing ever, you’re never gonna be the little spoon ever again, only if you have a bad day, baby.”

taglist: @millinorrizz @jamieeboulos @loxbbg @noneofyourfbusinessworld @myownwritings

[shoku-and-awe]

Saw this bunny rabbit handwarmer at the Peabody Essex Museum and I don't know whether to stage a heist or throw myself into the sun, it is so CUUUTE

Also, fun fact: this kind of brazier is called a hibachi 火鉢, literally fire + bowl. Coals go in and it keeps you warm.

The North American use of the term hibachi, like at Benihana, doesn't really exist in Japan (and neither does that style of cooking). That kind of inlaid table grill is called a teppan 鉄板, iron + plate.

The other North American use of the term, for a type of portable charcoal grill, also does not exist. That one's called a shichirin 七輪, seven + rings, and if that sounds familiar to you, this is probably why.

[hedgehog-moss]

Update on the French protests: we've had a well-known expert in contemporary political history call the situation we're in "the worst democracy crisis France has known since [the end of the 4th Republic]" and meanwhile the government is trying its hardest to maintain a façade of normal functioning by a) hiding from protesters, b) hiding protesters from view, and c) banning saucepans and other means of drawing attention to the protests that are being swept under the rug.

I mean casserolades are an old tradition in this country but they wouldn't have been needed if Macron &co hadn't started almost systematically banning protests in entire districts of the towns they visit and setting up police roadblocks to prevent peaceful protesters from going anywhere near them. (Too bad because these are the kinds of images the media get (these 2 are from Le Monde) when protesters get to talk to Macron <3) :

Protesters corralled away where they can be easily ignored started banging pots and pans so the protest could at least be heard in the background of TV footage, and then pans started being confiscated.

French courts have repeatedly struck down the bans as illegal but police prefects keep churning new bans out every time Macron goes somewhere anyway, trying to publish them at the last minute so there's no time for a judicial review. (I saw a sign at a protest last week that went "Stop with all the bans we no longer have time to disobey all of them")

After boldly banning saucepans by calling them "portable sonorous devices" last week, today a police prefecture banned "festive gatherings of a musical nature" in a town Macron will be visiting tomorrow. They're (ab)using counter-terrorist legislation for all this, so these days we get to read unheard-of court rulings that go like "We are suspending this prefectural decree as we do not consider festive gatherings of a musical nature to pose a significant terrorist threat to the President."

If Macron had people showing up in support I don't think we would see so many pissy protest bans because then the media could show backers vs. opponents and things would look normal (and not like 70% of the country is very pissed off with Macron). But there's not much for them to show if they don't show the angry people banging pans and it clearly rankles Macron—we learnt yesterday that he sent a letter to 200,000 political supporters of his essentially ordering them to start making appearances all over the country, to show they are "proud of what you are and of what our country has become [since I got elected]." That seems a bit desperate.

For months Macron &co have been predicting that people would get tired of taking to the streets in large numbers, and now that people are going like—right, let's try a new strategy, small local protests greeting gov members everywhere they go!—we're hearing a clear "no not like that, that's not what we meant :l " reaction from the government.

They've also been trying the strategy of announcing stuff at the last minute, like on Monday the Minister of Education announced at noon that he would visit a higher learning institution in Lyon 2 hours later, and a hundred of protesters still showed up and tried to force their way into the building. They were held off by cops using tear gas and trying to block entrances (there's a pic that made me smile, showing cops trying to barricade university gates with garbage bins—how the tables have turned...!) and the Minister ended up not showing up and moving on to the next step of his schedule (protesters tried to follow him there but police vans were blocking the street.)

The first half of the video is at the uni in Lyon; the second half is in Paris later that day. When he returned to Paris the Minister was greeted by protesters with saucepans at the train station, it's like a national relay race of protesting at times. He had to go back through the train to leave via the other end of the platform under police escort so as not to meet any protesters (god forbid).

Macron commented that this was "uncivic" behaviour and I agree, civic behaviour on the part of gov members would be to at least face the people they choose to fuck over, instead of hiding behind cops and fleeing. Obviously Macron was condemning the 'uncivic' protesters though, and the Minister said he felt "physically threatened" by the "violence of [the protesters'] speech" which is a shit thing to say considering on the same day that he was mildly inconvenienced by having to take a different exit and felt physically endangered by words, yet another protester was mutilated after being shot at by police with a rubber bullet. Not a peep about this incident (or previous ones) from the government. The Minister of Education never even condemned that time high schoolers trying to protest got tear gassed and threatened with riot guns by cops in front of their school earlier this month.

But while people continue protesting despite the actual violence from cops, our ministers are looking pretty scared of citizens banging pots and pans. Here's a list of official visits that got cancelled "for safety reasons" (saucepan terrorism) in the past week:

1. Minister P. NDiaye cancelled a visit in Lyon 2. Minister F. Braun cancelled a visit to Evrard Hospital 3. Minister Delegate O. Klein cancelled a visit in Bobigny 4. Minister Delegate O. Grégoire cancelled a visit in La Baule 5. Minister S. Guerini cancelled a visit in Castelnau 6. Secretary of State B. Couillard cancelled a visit in Rochefort 7. Minister S. Retailleau cancelled a visit to the Paris Saclay University (electricity trade unionists cut the power in the building she was supposed to inaugurate, so) 8. Minister C. Grandjean cancelled a visit in Toulouse (this article says it was probably because the visit was quite near a big highway protest where protesters among other things were building a concrete wall on a national road)

In the same bullshitting vein as "portable sonorous devices", gov spokespeople have been insisting that visits aren't being cancelled, ministers are just "adjusting the course of their trips" which is funny to me. I guess we never beheaded any royalty we just adjusted the course of their necks. I also read a newspaper article that made me laugh, that went like "Minister cancels visit; trade unions disappointed" and I thought it was because the cancelled visit was a meeting with the unions which they wouldn't get to have, but the article said it was actually because they had a good protest planned and wouldn't get to hold it...

Watching protesters mess with the government in small ways on a daily basis has been good for morale—on Twitter the hashtags #IntervillesMacron and #IntervillesduZbeul popped up (zbeul = chaos, mess, and Intervilles was a TV game show that aired for over 50 years, where French cities competed against one another in goofy challenges). I only mentioned cancellations above, but fun things also happen on non-cancelled government visits, like a Minister having to leave a building via the emergency exit because of protesters blocking the building entrance (which some people argued is worth more points than a cancellation as it's more entertaining):

Various websites were created to keep track of all these smaller protests and to officialise the point system that ranks cities on their efforts to fuck with the government:

(the first symbol means a protest, the second means a casserolade, the last one means protesters managed to get inside a building where a visit was taking place)

(Translation: Ruckus (saucepans, heckling...) 1pt Protest: 1pt Creative action (chasing minister in the woods, etc): 2pts Measures of energy conservation (= power cuts by unions) 3pts Action that leads to a political figure fleeing: 4pts Cancellation of a visit: 5pts — then there's a weighting system where the score is multiplied by 3 if it's a Minister, by 5 if it's the Prime Minister, by 6 if it's Macron.) (I also saw an interesting debate on Twitter this week—since our leaders often embarrass themselves, how should the government's own goals fit into the point system?)

Right now the Hérault department is winning because on top of protests, power cuts and casserolades, protesters greeted Macron with a giant "MACRON FUCK OFF" sign hung from a cliff (!) and took over a highway display so it'd say "Welcome to [region] Butthole Ist"

These past few days I've been discovering unknown French cities (and Ministers) thanks to them showing up in the hashtag after a good protest. I discovered a mediaeval castle I'd never heard of when unions hung banners featuring our most famous revolutionary dates from the castle's battlements. (Two days later, another protest with eloquent banners in the Musée d'Orsay in Paris:)

People are very creative—last week we heard that protesters got prosecuted for giving Macron the finger and insulting him during one of his official visits (< we are a healthy democracy), so protesters in another region tried a more sarcastic approach, and greeted a deputy from Macron's party at a strawberry fair this week with clapping and confetti and "Thank you for making us work 2 more years, thank you for police repression, thank you!" The deputy beat a hasty retreat. Then said he would file a complaint against the harassment and intimidation he had been subjected to. (The tear gas and riot guns and arrests and protest bans are not intimidation of protesters on the other hand. Or the fact that another deputy from his party recently said on TV that they were "ready for war"... They're ready to wage war, but run and hide when people clang saucepans and throw confetti.)

Anyway. I'm enjoying the fact that they can't even attend a small strawberry fair without getting heckled right now. In one of my first posts about the political crisis in March I wrote something like "How will Macron and his gov have any legitimacy to speak about any issues after this?" and it cheers me up to see a lot of people across the country agree that they have no legitimacy to talk about anything, not even the strawberry harvest.

The next nationwide protest is of course for May 1st, but in the meantime it's been really fun following the smaller protest actions all over the place. Members of government & Macron's party keep making whiny statements along the lines of this is terrorist behaviour, we can't go anywhere, why are people not getting tired of fucking with us and the answer is, because it's really entertaining!

This was the last sentence of a recent Le Monde article about Macron's situation and it has such a sinister, end-of-reign tone:

"I'm moving forward," Macron concluded, on April 20th in the Herault department, while behind his back echoed the sound of saucepans.

[bvidzsoo]

Love Me Like A Rockstar (Epilogue)

ー☆ Epilogue

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

ー☆ Warning: suggestive language, cursing, smut ー☆ Word count: 8.7k ー☆ Genre: university!au, enemies to lovers!au, rockstar!au ー☆ Rating: mature ー☆ Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?

A/N: I chose no song for this chapter, so everyone is free to listen to whatever or not listen to anything at all, however, while doing the moodboard I was listening to Power and I actually started sobbing, so uh, you can give it a listen if you wish to! I won't yap here, so see you at the end of the chapter! <3 I hope you enjoy, and as always, let me know what y'all thought of the last chapter of my beloved series. divider

Taglist: @orshii @or5i @lovely-red2 @scarfac3 @juicy-red

@sunaswifes-blog @voicesinmyhead-rc @teez-the-time @maru-matt @kyeos4ng

@deathbyyeekies @chicksmoothie @mjlbn01 @xhexy @tmtxtf

@hwashiningstar @thatfavouritesong @ateez-atiny380 @xciiiomwliah @vixensss

@catchingskzzzs @tesssaurrr @ginger-mingi @mingisbbg

⟨Series M.list ↭ Previous Chapter⟩

♫Playlist♫

3 months later

            Spring was finally approaching, the weather having turned less harsh and warmer in the span of a few weeks, slowly painting nature in its vibrant and gorgeous colors that I would never get enough of. And we were lucky the air was warmer now outside, because in the confines of the limited space of my little studio of my Arts Club at university—which is more of a storage room to be fair—the smell of fresh dye and incense mingled together almost in a nauseating way, leaving me no option but to crack open the small window of the studio. Well, since it was so high up, I had to ask Mingi to open it as I didn’t want to get on a chair as I would have had to walk to the front of the room, and I was too lazy to do that. Music played quietly in the corner from Mingi’s portable speaker as he hummed along the melody of the song, typing away on his phone as his shoulders were slouched over, head lowered.

My eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as I bit my tongue, making sure the dye spread out evenly at the back of Mingi’s head, not wanting to leave spots of his previously platinum blonde hair. Around a week ago, he and Seonghwa hung out under the pretense of watching movies and having a boys' night in which they would drink beer and maybe compose some music, however, the next day when Mingi came over to have lunch with my mother and me, his hair was short. The long strands that curled prettily against his nape and ears were gone, replaced by short spikey hair that stuck up against his head, giving him a punkish look. My mother had squealed when she saw him, touched his hair, and then cradled his cheeks, gushing about how handsome he was, making me glare at the two as they forgot about my existence. Instead, I went and set the table and left them to their usual gossiping, shaking my head when my mother told him all about the new hot doctor at work she had her eyes on.

At times, those two would get lost in their own world and forget about my existence, amusing me, but also prompting me to give them a side-eye. Don’t get me wrong, I was beyond the moon that my boyfriend and mother got along really well, but at times it almost felt like I didn’t even exist—and before you would be like Mingi and say that I am dramatic, the fact that my mother seemed to love Yunho just as much as Mingi, definitely sent me into an existential crisis after the first time she confessed she loved the two as if they were her own sons. And about Yunho, well, yes, we’ve worked out our differences—which involved a lot of explaining, invoking buried memories, and a lot of apologies from Yunho’s side—so now we were all a big happy family—family as in not to be misunderstood, we all loved each other and had a nice bond. To be honest, I felt no mal-intent towards Yunho when after a month of dating Mingi we finally decided to sit down and discuss everything with his best friend, and I even found myself now confiding in him and asking him for advice in areas Seulgi—and Wooyoung—couldn’t help, because, after all, Yunho knew Mingi best. And Yunho’s girlfriend was an absolute angel and sweetheart, I took a liking to her quite quickly and found her love for literature rather adorable as she’d often quote her favorite characters from her favorite books.

Mingi snickered as I playfully pushed his head forward as I was done dyeing his platinum hair to a regular, darker, blonde with pink hues in it. I tried to look over his shoulder to see what he found so amusing but he cradled his phone to his chest and made me roll my eyes as I walked to the sink to wash the small bowl and the brush I used to dye his hair. Mingi changed the music to something more upbeat and a lot noisier than the music he, Wooyoung, and Seonghwa made, and I came to realize the speaker was playing Limp Bizkit. I couldn’t say that I enjoyed their music too much, I preferred something more indie, but I still appreciated some of their songs. I turned on the faucet and started washing the brush first as Mingi approached me and leaned against the counter, lips pursed as he tried to hide his cheeky smile. I threw him a questioning look as I rinsed the bowl out, applying a little soap in it to wash out the dye completely as Mingi finally spoke up, “Check this out, ‘Your face is a work of art, my legs should frame it.’”

My eyebrows furrowed as I gave Mingi a confused look, quickly making him pout, “Oh, come on! It’s ‘art rizz’!”

I snorted as I placed the bowl and brush aside to dry, peeling the gloves off my hands carefully to not stain my clothes or skin, “You’ve had better ones Mings, besides, shouldn’t I be saying that to you?”

“I mean,” Mingi’s eyebrows furrowed as he pocketed his phone in his light pink jeans, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He wore a white loose sleeveless tank top today, his biceps bulged from the action and I tried not to let my eyes linger on the well-defined muscles, “I definitely like the idea you’re suggesting—”

“As if we haven’t done that already.” I interrupted with a pointed look and Mingi just rolled his eyes.

“That’s beside the point,” And then he was smirking, leaning into my space as I rinsed the soap off my hands, “wait, are you suggesting something right now?”

“I just dyed your hair, Mingi, no, I’m not suggesting anything.” I sighed, unimpressed, as I shut the faucet off and grabbed a small towel to dry my hands off in it. You see, Mingi is rather…vocal with his needs and quick in executing them, so, I cannot say we haven’t been… active, if you know what I mean.

“Pity.” Mingi pouted for a second before he moved on to the next subject, his brain sometimes moving too fast for me to be able to keep up with him, “You remember that well-dressed woman from our last gig at Outlaw?”

“I sure do, she looked rather out of place with her pencil skirt and blouse.” I hummed as I leaned my hip against the sink, facing Mingi. He grinned and then fished his phone out of his pocket again and unlocked it, clicking on something I couldn’t see. Then, he cleared his throat and raised it to a higher pitch that was definitely mocking the woman’s voice.

“Mr. Song, I am delighted to let you know that Horizon Records would love to work with Noir Zenith, and we’d like to set an appointment as soon as it fits you and your bandmates' schedule. – Hong J.” Mingi bit his bottom lip as my eyes widened, prompting me to hold onto his wrist in excitement.

“Wait,” I said, eyebrows lightly furrowing, “isn’t this that super famous and huge record everyone dreams of getting signed to?!”

And when Mingi’s smile grew into a hug grin, I felt joy and excitement fill my senses as I grabbed both of Mingi’s hands, jumping up and down as he giggled and followed along, the two of us jumping in small circles like little kids. I couldn’t believe my ears, this was even bigger than the last record they agreed to sign with for half a year—the one Hongjoong helped out with—and once their contract was over, they could sign a new one with Horizon Records.

“That’s fucking amazing, Mingi!” I exclaimed loudly as we finally stopped jumping around, my heart beating fast as Mingi nodded in excitement, his teeth visible as he couldn’t stop smiling.

“I know, Wooyoung started running laps while screaming and Seonghwa cried clinging to me for half an hour when I told them.” I chuckled at the image in my head, but quickly realized the message wasn’t fresh. Before I could go off on him for hiding something so important from me, Mingi beat me to it, a knowing glint in his eyes, “Mrs. Hong sent the text yesterday afternoon and I only didn’t tell you about it because I knew we’d meet today and I wanted to see your reaction, so, don’t be mad, please.”

And how could I be mad at him when his plump lips were jutting out and his eyebrows raised in a manner that made him look adorable and heartbreaking at the same time? I huffed and squeezed his hands before I released them, trying to play off the fact that he already knew me so well, “I wasn’t about to get mad, I’m very happy for you and the rest of the boys, my love.”

Mingi giggled and looked away, the high of his cheekbones slightly flushed, and I grinned because I could never get over the fact that calling him ‘love’ or ‘my love’ turned him into a giggling and blushing mess. It was adorable, cute, and somehow still sexy, and before I would let any stray thoughts enter my head and distract me from the plans we had, I cleared my throat, “We should eat that pizza we ordered, it’s probably already gone cold.”

Mingi hummed but didn’t speak up as I went to walk towards the white sheet we had laid on the floorboards to sit on, pizza, black nail polish, Mingi’s pink beanie, and my sketchbook scattered all over it. However, before I could take another step, my feet suddenly weren’t touching the ground anymore as I was lifted by the waist, a squeal leaving my lips as I clutched onto Mingi’s bare arms, “Mingi! Put me down!”

“No.” He giggled against my neck and I felt his warm lips press a small kiss against my nape as my hair was in a bun, then he was running towards the sheet as we both laughed, the song playing through the speaker drowned out by our loudness. He finally placed me back down on my feet when we reached the white sheet and I sat down in a crisscross position, opening the box of pizza as Mingi took his seat across me. I grinned as I grabbed a slice, my stomach growling in hunger once again, and then I took a bite of the cheesy pepperoni pizza, making Mingi chuckle as he looked less hungry and less eager to devour our lunch for today. I extended my hand for his phone and he gave it to me without a word, I typed in his password before I looked through his playlist, taking bites of my pizza in the meantime. I found a slower beat that I liked and switched the currently playing song to that and then handed his phone back after I locked it, smiling as Mingi was flipping through my newest sketchbook which had mostly drawings of him.

I didn’t expect him to flip to that particular page and I almost choked as the pizza went down a little array, making Mingi smirk as he pulled the drawing closer to himself, dark eyes inspecting his sleeping form in the drawing. Well, the drawing looked completely innocent unless you knew what happened before it, and I couldn’t help but blush harder when Mingi bit his lower lip, pizza in his hand forgotten as he traced the blanket that hung low on his naked hips, torso on display and face serene as he had been in a deep slumber. When he looked up, he didn’t look much too smug, but there was a glint in his eyes that I had become accustomed to too well. He was in awe, but he was turned on, and I couldn’t help but stuff my face more with pizza, satiating my hunger as a means of distraction from the fact that I drew Mingi post-sex not even four days ago.

“Sometimes I wish I wasn’t a talented songwriter and composer but a good hell of a painter.” His voice was deeper as he mumbled, taking a bite of his pizza as he glanced back down at the drawing, “I want to draw you too, to capture you in all forms and commemorate you for an eternity.”

Well, what a way to make me blush harder. I grabbed another slice as I had finished the first one as a means to stall for a second, ponder over my answer, “You’re good with your words though, unlike me. I always struggle to express myself concisely, yet to you it’s easy. You create beautiful lyrics and you never fail to capture my true nature in your songs, so I think I’ll always live on in your music, Mingi, you have already commemorated me for an eternity.”

That made Mingi blink in surprise as he hadn’t even realized that before, and I smiled as he gave me a lasting look before he flipped the page, the drawing of him playing with a kitten I had found outside my porch. Now, she was our kitten and she, obviously, loved Mingi more than me—just like my mother, I didn’t try to complain about this too, “You inspire me like none other.”

“You inspire me too, Mings.” Mingi’s smile was shy as he continued flipping through the sketchbook, less filled than my other ones as I decided to dedicate this one only to him. He’d seen the older sketches plenty of times before, yet he never failed to become shy when looking through them.

I finished my slice of pizza, dusted my hands off and made sure my cheeks weren’t greasy as I leaned towards the black nail polish, shaking it in front of Mingi with a grin, “Ready to get your nails painted?”

He nodded excitedly and handed me his left hand as he still held his slice of pizza in the right one. His thick fingers were smooth and decorated with rings, much like mine, and I flipped my left hand around to place his palm in mine. After having arrived at my humble studio once we were finished with our classes for the day, Mingi got to work and painted my nails. He had bought some new nail polish a week ago and convinced me to surprise me with them, so, the nails on my left hand were now almost neon green and the nails on my right hand almost Barbie pink. Sometime along, painting each other’s nails became a habit, something we both enjoyed doing and now we could confidently call it our thing.

I concentrated hard to not smudge the skin around his nails, eyebrows furrowed and teeth clamping down on my bottom lip as Mingi’s eyes were either on me or his nails, bobbing his head along to the rhythm of the song playing. He usually chewed loudly and I was thankful he kept his mouth closed this time, knowing that it would only irritate me if he started chewing on his slice of pizza aggressively—it wouldn’t be the first time he does it just to annoy me. As I finished doing his middle finger, his phone rang and Mingi reached over to his left side as he bit on the crust of his pizza, picking his phone off the floor as the music cut off. He accepted the phone call and put it on speaker as I chuckled and watched him take out the crust from his mouth so that he could talk.

“Hey! Song Mingi!” It was unmistakably Wooyoung’s voice as he screamed into the phone, making me concerned that Mingi would lose his hearing if he had just normally picked up the phone without putting it on speaker, “What’s up, bro?!”

Mingi snickered, shaking his head as I finished painting the nails on his left hand, “I told you yesterday that I would hang out with Y/N after classes.”

“Ah, right,” Wooyoung hummed as I leaned down to press a kiss against Mingi’s hand, making him grin as he finished his slice, eagerly handing over his right hand to paint his nails, “And where are you two lovebirds?”

“In her studio,” Mingi answered as I got to work, careful as always as I painted his pinkie’s nail.

“Now that you mention, Seulgi said something about not being able to work on her assignment in the studio because of you two.”

I scoffed and before Mingi could answer, I spoke up as I leaned towards the phone, “I told Seulgi to do her assignment not two days before the deadline, and I also told her a week ago that I’d be hounding the studio with Mingi today.”

“Heard that babe?!” Wooyoung’s voice was distant just for a second, then he snickered, “She says you’re lucky she loves you, otherwise she would’ve kicked you out of your studio.”

“My own studio.” I huffed and applied another coat over Mingi’s forefinger’s nail to even out the texture, “What a bitch.”

“A bitch that is forced to listen to her best friend’s constant bitching, who’s the bitch now, Y/N?” Everyone snickered and I rolled my eyes as there was the unmistakable sound of a kiss pressed against a cheek through the phone, Mingi and I shared a look of mild disgust as I went to paint his thumb’s nail.

“Don’t start making out while you’re on the phone with me, Wooyoung.” Mingi’s voice carried disgust but there was a hint of amusement, “Anyways, what’s the purpose of your call? You never call unless you need something or I ask you to remind me of something.”

“It’s neither this time,” Seulgi chuckled through the phone, and then there was shuffling and I knew she walked away. I finished Mingi’s nails and closed the bottle of nail polish, sitting up on my knees to kiss Mingi’s cheek as he bit his lower lip, grinning at me as he wriggled his fingers happily.

“Do not be late to Aurora’s opening tonight and wear something extra fancy, Hongjoong will have our heads if we don’t honor his fiancé for God’s sake.” Wooyoung sounded mildly annoyed but it was no secret that he loved Hongjoong probably almost as much as he loved all of his friends, however, he’d never admit that to anyone. Aurora became the name of Seonghwa’s studio and small gallery, and tonight was the grand opening. Everyone was excited about it, with Seonghwa being a nerve wreck as he feared people wouldn’t show up. After having talked to both him and Hongjoong, they agreed to display a few of my paintings in the front lobby and I was giddy and curious about everyone’s reaction to them. Nobody knew what I had handed over to Seonghwa, and he had beamed when his eyes took in the paintings, he getting emotional instead of me and making me chuckle as I hugged him tightly and thanked him for the opportunity.

“You should worry about yourself, Woo,” Mingi teased with a chuckle, “Y/N and I will look impeccable, as always.”

“That is for sure,” I muttered as I sat back on my ankles, watching Mingi with a grin as we had decided to match our outfits for the night.

“Talk to you later, we’ve got some business to attend to with Y/N now.” And then Wooyoung said his goodbye and they hung up as Mingi pointed towards the pizza with a pout, “I’m still hungry, will you feed me?”

And even if I said no and rolled my eyes, five minutes later Mingi had a teasing glint in his eyes as I fed him his third slice of pizza, smart enough to remain silent or else I wouldn’t have continued feeding him or helping him drink water while his nails dried.

            Barely an hour later, when Mingi’s hunger and thirst were satiated and his nails were dry, we replaced the white sheet with a huge flat canvas that we would paint over. We had agreed on painting a scenery, something similar to the creek we so much liked to visit when the weather allowed it, but sometime along my attempts at making it look like the actual creek, Mingi’s not so painter skills came into the mix and created a—whatever that did not look like the creek. He refused to admit that what was supposed to be the water now looked like the sky, making the whole painting look like it was upside down from our standpoint, and he also kept on vehemently denying that he tried to paint a dick over the trunk of the tree I spent at least fifteen minutes on to make it look as realistic as possible. All in all, I concluded that without Mingi here I would’ve been able to finish the painting in a maximum of three hours, however, now there was no future for finding a vision in whatever we have created.

But I didn’t mind, because this was Mingi’s and my work, something we created together while laughing and talking about whatever came to our minds, the atmosphere light and joyful. I had also washed out the dye from his hair and we towel-dried it, making it look spikier than usual. I couldn’t lie, this new hair made Mingi look incredibly hot, and it took me some willpower to not jump him as he looked at me with those sharp eyes and a knowing smirk, the asshole.

“But you’ll dye it back to black soon, right?” I asked while painting clouds over the once creek turned sky now. Mingi was behind me, crouched down, and his clothes still somehow miraculously not stained. I wore my old overall knowing that I’d stain myself the second I opened a can of paint, and I wasn’t wrong at all as the edges of my pants were already stained green and white.

“I mean, do you hate this color?” Mingi asked from behind me as he dipped his brush into black, terrifying me of whatever he had in mind to do with the color once I saw him.

“What the hell do you need black for?!” I exclaimed as I grabbed his wrist, making his eyebrows shoot up in amusement.

“Aren’t artists supposed to just go with the flow?” His lips jutted out as he playfully leaned closer, my eyebrows furrowing as I was ready to oppose his idea, “You’re making me question your working etiquette, doll, I don’t find you creative enough—”

“As if!” I exclaimed only mildly offended as I knew Mingi was only teasing me, “Going with the flow and trusting your instincts is one thing, love, but having no vision or idea in mind is plain terrifying.”

“I was going to sign the top of it, but never mind—”

“Fine,” I groaned, gripping his wrist to stop Mingi from twisting away. His voice was whiney and he was pouting, not even looking at me as if he was offended. I knew he wasn’t; he was just acting up to get what he wanted. And unfortunately, it was working embarrassingly well on me, “Sign it.”

“Great!” He beamed as he leaned forward, mindful of staining his pink jeans with paint and I sighed as I shook my head, making curved lines before I colored them to make them look more like clouds. I had no idea what would become of the painting, but I certainly was eager to find out.

“Back to your hair,” I spoke up as Mingi carefully drew his ‘fix on’ signature onto the canvas, “I don’t hate the blonde but I miss your natural color, it suits you more, makes you look cuter and softer.”

“Aw,” Mingi turned back to give me puppy eyes—which he learned from Yunho, no doubt, “you like your boyfriend to be all soft and cute? I thought you like it when I get all wild and destroy—”

“Do not finish that sentence, Song Mingi.” I threatened as I sat back, brush pointed threateningly towards Mingi.

“Or what?” His crooked teeth showed as he grinned, quirking an eyebrow to annoy me further. I huffed and tried to think of a good comeback, but came up empty-handed for once so I gave him a pointed glare.

“I’ll stain you with paint.”

“Bet.”

“Bet.”

And I know Mingi didn’t expect me to actually follow through with my childish threat, but as I jerked my wrist in his direction, the remaining paint from my brush flew off and, well, stained his white sleeveless tank top. Mingi’s mouth fell open as he gaped down at himself, and I laughed, giving him a smug look.

“What, did you think I was fucking around?”

“Oh, I’ll make you wish you never did that!”

And before I could prepare myself for whatever attack he had planned, he pressed his hand against his brush and coated it in black paint then sprung towards me, making me gasp as his thick fingers drew a cold line against my cheekbone. Mingi grinned as I stared at him in surprise, but I reacted soon quickly as I pressed my fingers into the fresh paint on the canvas and returned the favor, the only difference being that I drew a circle on his forehead with white paint. Mingi blinked once, then twice, and a mischievous grin spread onto his lips which told me that I was in trouble.

I quickly scrambled to my feet, but Mingi was fast as he dug his whole hand in green paint and slapped my ass painfully hard, making me cry out as it stung even through the fabric, making me give him a deadly glare, “Song Mingi! That fucking hurt!”

“You’re a pussy.” He stuck his tongue out and I tsked, leaning down to push my whole hand inside the red paint. Mingi’s eyes widened as I gave him a victorious smirk, eyes narrowing as he jumped up to his feet, holding his arms up in defeat.

“Okay, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to start a war—” But his futile attempts at saving his ass fell on deaf ears as I cackled and took off towards him, making him yelp as he tried to duck and run away, making us run around the canvas. We were both barefoot and as Mingi tried to jump over the canvas, he miscalculated where his long legs would land and landed on his freshly painted signature, making him yelp again as it was no doubt cold against his feet. I laughed as I easily caught up with him and felt up his chest, biting my lower lip as Mingi’s eyes widened.

“Oh, no, your white shirt is all stained now.” I fake pouted as Mingi froze, incredulous eyes looking between me and his shirt. I chuckled and clapped my hands together, deciding that my job was done here, but then Mingi was stepping back and leaving foot marks all over the canvas on purpose. I scoffed but didn’t care much, the poor painting had been long ruined. I crossed my arms in front of my chest in defiance as he dipped both of his hands in pink paint and then gave me a grin as he beckoned me over with a finger. I huffed in disbelief as if I’d hand myself over willingly to him. And he knew that because I dipped both of my hands in light blue paint and faced him again. Our stare-off was intense and calculating as we both tried to guess the other’s next step, and thinking I’d have the upper hand, I stepped in the middle of the canvas just as Mingi moved too and I raised my hands to dirty his tank top even more when he cupped my cheeks and made me squeal.

The paint felt cold against my skin and I knew it would dry it out once it started drying itself, but I was far too amused to worry about something so insignificant right now. Wanting revenge, I grasped his hair and massaged my hands well into the freshly dyed darker blonde strands, making his hair look like cotton candy due to the pink hue mixing with the light blue of the paint.

“My hair! Y/N!” Mingi whined loudly slapping my hands away, but I wasn’t finished as I dirtied his jaw, neck, and tank top too. Mingi was pouting hard and glaring at me at the same time, already sharp eyes turning sharper and full of revenge as he flushed his body against mine and cupped my ass over the fabric, gripping tightly and kneading the flesh.

“Mingi!” I exclaimed, content with being so close to him, but also annoyed that he kept going for my ass, “Leave my ass alone, you idiot!”

“You ruined my hair!”

“I told you to dye it black and not a different shade of blonde.”

“I thought you were a firm believer in people doing whatever they want.”

“I am, but you’re my boyfriend and I find you hotter with black hair.”

“Well, you’re my girlfriend and I find you hotter with my dick down your throat.”

We both paused as my eyes widened and Mingi caught himself a second later, cheeks flushing as he looked sheepish, finally releasing my ass as his hands settled around my hips instead, “Oopsie, that went too far but it’s the truth—”

He cried out as I whacked him over the head, giving him a fierce look, “Yeah? I also find you hotter gagged around my fingers—”

“We only did that once!”

“Are you afraid it makes you less masculine?”

“I agreed to let you peg me, bro.”

“I know, bro, and you fucking enjoyed it.”

“So, what’s the issue here?”

“That you keep slapping and kneading my ass, leave it alone.”

“Okay, princess, my bad.”

“You’re the princess, Mingi, not me. You’re always whining.”

“And you’re always beating me up, Y/N.”

“Am not!”

“Yeah, you are!”

I scowled at Mingi and pushed him back by the chest, by no means aggressively or harshly, but his dramatic ass pretended to stumble and then he fell back, splaying out across the canvas. I huffed and pinched the bridge off my nose as he made fake crying noises, blinking up at me slowly, “See? I’m huwt.”

I closed my eyes to compose myself and control the need to kick him in the balls for being cringy, “Don’t talk like that, oh, my God.”

“Do you hate it?” He grinned evilly as I walked off the canvas, and to look at me, he turned onto his stomach as he cupped his chin and raised his legs to swing them in the air. He looked like a mess with the paint all over his hair, face, and body, some having gotten onto his pants too now that he was laying on the canvas. I chuckled and shook my head as I eyed my boyfriend, knowing that I looked probably just as messy as him.

“I do, actually, you’re only cute when you’re not trying to be cute.” I deadpanned and Mingi huffed dramatically, letting his arms fall as he pressed his forehead against them. Eyes falling on his round ass, I knew it was my time for payback, and I moved swiftly before he could realize what I was aiming for—it wouldn’t be the first time—so I quickly kneeled next to him and leaned down, baring my teeth as I opened my mouth wide. At first, Mingi jumped when my teeth made contact with his jeans and then when I bit down hard, he yelped, soon turning into loud cries as I continued to bite his left ass cheek harder and harder. He started flailing around and I pulled back with a cackle after I made sure my teeth had sunken in deep enough. But, I had no time to react as he quickly turned around and leaped onto me, landing on top of me as I fell back onto the canvas, no doubt smudging even more whatever paint hadn’t dried yet.

Mingi got on top of me, sitting on my hips as he crossed his arms in front of his chest, pinning me to the floor. I smirked as I raised my eyebrows tauntingly at him, watching his eyes slowly rake over my body to take me in.

“That hurt.”

“Fair enough, it hurt too when you slapped my ass.”

“Well, you have no right to whine so much about it anymore.”

“I do if you keep slapping it, and I also have the right to bite your ass as revenge.”

Mingi’s eyes narrowed and I giggled as he slowly leaned down, placing his hands on both sides of my head to prop himself up, effectively caging me between himself and the floor. I continued looking at him challengingly as he bit his bottom lip, eyes never settling as they searched my face for even a fraction that showed that I would back down. But I wouldn’t, and he knew that by now as he suddenly smirked too, leaning so close our lips brushed against each other.

“I think I won, doll.”

“I didn’t know we were in a contest, love.”

And then he sealed his lips against mine, shutting up the both of us in the most effective way as our lips moved slowly, savoring each other’s taste and lips. Mingi shifted above me and I eagerly opened my legs to let him settle between them as I hugged his torso, hands raking up and down his back slowly as his hips pressed firmly against mine. I smirked against Mingi’s lips when his breath hitched in the back of his throat due to my fingers tangling into his short strands now a little crusty from the red paint in it, it was no secret that Mingi liked it when I pulled on his hair. He cupped my chin with one hand as he pressed his weight on his left arm, the only cue I needed to open up my mouth to grant him access. We both sighed in contentment as his tongue slowly glided against mine, my legs coming up around his hips to lock Mingi’s body against mine.

Mingi moaned when I tangled my fingers just a little harder into his hair, letting him lap at my tongue as he explored my mouth, my body growing hotter as the seconds passed by, hands slipping under his loose tank top to feel up his warm skin. The skin of his back was smooth and I pressed my nails into it as I slowly racked it up his back, feeling Mingi shiver against my body as he jerked his hips forward, making me hum against his mouth as he pulled my bottom lip between his teeth and clamped down on it, sucking hard. I groaned and dug my nails into his shoulders, pulling my head back to be able to lean up and press kisses against his lean neck, his cologne mixing with the paint that was smeared all over us. My lips were hot as I parted them to press wet kisses against his flesh, sucking in the areas I knew Mingi was sensitive to, making him groan and jerk his hips forward again. With a hand slipping down to his hips, I gripped him firmly and prompted him to grind against me, Mingi’s head buried in my hair as I continued to press kisses until I reached his collarbones, gripping the hem of his tank top. He wasted no second as he pulled back just slightly, slipping the fabric off his torso, leaving it bare for me as I grinned at him, feeling his chest and abs up as he worked at the clips of my overall.

I kissed the skin between his pectorals and then pressed up on my elbows as Mingi made quick work of slipping the overall down to my waist and ultimately out of them as goosebumps covered the bare skin of my legs. We threw the overalls off to the side and Mingi was then moving back, down between my legs as he hovered above my thighs, eyes boring into mine as he pressed a feather-like kiss against my left thigh. I gulped and fisted my palms as heat pooled in my lower stomach, his lips always featherlight as he advanced higher up on my thighs with nips and kisses, sometimes licking at the skin teasingly. I knew my cheeks were flushed as I felt hotter by the minute and I shuddered when his lips pressed against my core through the fabric of my panties, making the breath hitch in the back of my throat. Mingi smirked and did it once again before he licked a slow strip upward, closing his eyes to hum, and I let my fingers tangle in his hair as he tapped my inner thigh, moving away from where I wanted him most.

He sat back to undo the buttons and zipper of his jeans, and I watched in anticipation as he slipped the fabric off his thick thighs and ass slowly, in a teasing manner, bottom lip between his teeth as he was half hard already, eyes hooded once he was done with his half-assed striptease. I chuckled and he was all over me again, hips flushed against mine again as I wrapped my legs around his hips, eager to feel his heavy body press me down into the floor. Mingi’s fingers gingerly traveled from my waist up to the hem of my blouse and then he brought it over my head and arms, landing in the pile of clothes to the side. And then his lips were over mine again, licking into my mouth and biting my lip messily as he slowly ground his hips against mine, making me hold onto him as it was easy to feel him in just our underwear. One of my hands went to tease at the elastic of his boxers and, despite him talking shit about it, I knew he liked it when I kneaded his ass, the skin sensitive for him there.

Mingi moaned and ground just a little harder against me, making me burn for him more as he cupped one of my boobs through the bra, pinching the bud as our tongues moved messily without much purpose or goal, too focused on how our bodies felt with the ministrations done to it. As he pressed himself up on his elbow, the hand that grabbed my boob traveled lower on my body until it was inside my panties and rubbing circles against my clit, making me moan out his name loudly, his length grinding up against my thigh as he bit my collarbone, making me screw my eyes shut as I was throbbing for him. But he was a little shit and he only teased, rubbing but never quite letting his fingers slip inside as he chuckled against my ear, making me grit my teeth at him as I gripped his wrist to keep him pressing against my clit as my hips kicked off the floor.

“You’re wet, doll.”

“And you’re not doing enough, love.”

Mingi chuckled again and I moaned as he teasingly slipped just the tip of his finger inside, his rings cold against my burning skin, my nails digging into the flesh of his ass. Mingi groaned and pulled back, making me groan in frustration as I glared at him, but he quickly silenced me with his lips as I felt him pull down my panties, I shimmied my hips to help him get over with it faster. He grinned and nipped at my bottom lip as I pushed his boxers off too, grabbing his dick to teasingly rub at his slit, making him hiss against my lips as our eyes fluttered open.

“What? Only you can tease?” Mingi’s eyes were dark and narrowed as he bucked against my hand, my pace awfully slow in jerking him off, “I could tell you to get off me and I would go on with my merry day—”

“Sure,” Mingi grinned, lips ghosting against my ear as his voice had dropped lower than usual, grabbing my wrist to stop my movements, “but you love my dick too much to pass up on it.”

I scoffed but said nothing, perhaps a little too desperate to have it inside me finally. I hated it when he teased me too much, and because Mingi knew this, he never passed up on the opportunity to get on my nerves even when we were having sex. He enjoyed it perhaps a little bit too much. But the teasing was finally over as he had gotten enough of it, eager to push in as he lined himself up with my entrance, pressing a kiss against my lips.

“I don’t have a condom.” He whispered, eyes searching mine.

“Just pull out, I’m fine.” I circled his shoulders, embracing myself as my core throbbed, eager to have his size expand my walls. Mingi hummed and then pressed another kiss against my lips as he slowly pushed inside, having to take it slow as he didn’t stretch me out with his fingers first, the burn insistent despite our active sex life. I still haven’t gotten used to it, but I didn’t mind as it only made me wetter for him, more eager to take him. Mingi’s bottom lip was between his teeth as he kept his breath labored, concentrating on not hurting me and taking it slow until I said so. I let my fingers run through his hair as I sighed, trying to relax my muscles and just melt into his arms, pressing a kiss against his cheek when he paused abruptly, shuddering.

“You’re so tight,” His voice was barely above a whisper and strained, “I’m about to burst.”

“So soon?” I asked with a chuckle, teasing as it earned me a sharp glare, “And whose fault it is I’m so tight? Your fingers are there for a reason.”

“Shut up.” Mingi groaned and then pressed in fully, a gasp leaving my throat at the sudden move, eyebrows scrunching up as he pressed in deep, making me feel fuller than before. My walls clamped down against his dick and Mingi pressed his forehead against mine as I embraced him, letting my fingers tangle in the short hair against his nape. I nodded, eyes boring into each other, and then Mingi was moving, slowly at first, pulling out only halfway before he was pressing back in, sighs leaving my lips as the pleasure was slowly building up, my hips moving in an attempt to meet his thrusts.

He secured his knees better against the canvas and pressed up on his elbows, hovering over me as his cross necklace dangled in my face, and the image was way too good and hot, knocking a moan out of me as he started thrusting faster, hips slamming back against mine as our pace got faster and more urgent, our breathy moans falling against each other’s lips as I nipped on Mingi’s bottom lip. I hooked a finger against the silver chain as his nose scrunched up, hips slamming back against mine with more purpose, more power, and eagerness as he looked down between our bodies, a grunt leaving his lips as he enjoyed the view. I hooked my legs tighter around his hips and prompted him to move faster, most of my moans were swallowed as we had to remember that we were at university still, in my own studio, so we couldn’t be too vocal. The walls here weren’t soundproof like in Mingi’s studio, yet staying quiet proved to become harder and harder as Mingi started pistoning his hips, grunts turned into low moans as he slammed his lips against mine, our breaths getting swallowed as our teeth knocked together, saliva gathering in the corner of our mouths as I pressed my hands against the small of his back, my own arching off the floor for an even better angle, keening his name when he finally reached the spot that had me seeing stars.

But Mingi was a diligent man who took his time in everything he did, even sex, and if he could prolong our orgasms, then he certainly would, so I had no doubt we’d be at it for a while, subsequently making us late to Aurora’s opening. And we couldn’t have that happening, but our brains were too fogged up and busy with something else to notice Wooyoung’s insistent texts on Mingi’s phone or my mother’s call to remind me I had to be home in fifteen minutes to start getting ready. Oh, well.

            Turns out, we got there just in time and nobody screamed our ears off—I’m looking at you Wooyoung—and Seonghwa was certainly overwhelmed when he saw the number of people that showed up for the opening. It was a mix of all age groups and people who knew Seonghwa and Hongjoong from different places, like Hongjoong’s employees or Seonghwa’s colleagues from his major, and there were even more fans of Zenith Noir that showed up, surprising all three of the guys. Seulgi and I stood to the side with grins on our faces as their fans swarmed them and gushed about the beautiful designs Seonghwa had displayed, some put behind glass to protect the expensive material Hongjoong’s team had worked on, and some even put out to be tried on and bought if someone desired to do so.

Seonghwa’s speech had been an emotional one in which he thanked everyone for their support and Hongjoong for believing in him and offering him opportunities he thought were real only in a far-fetched dream, and then I got teary-eyed when Seonghwa’s family surprised him with cake and hugs and praises, making me extremely happy for being able to chase his dreams. The matching rings Hongjoong and he had on their ring finger were eye-catching to those who didn’t know about their engagement, and it was Hongjoong who proudly announced it to the whole room while Seonghwa flushed and tried not to hide behind Hongjoong despite being taller than his fiancé. It was a sight to behold and I wasn’t surprised to feel Mingi cuddle up into my side and sniff loudly as he watched his friends with a proud smile on his lips, Wooyoung amusingly quiet for once.

When everyone was done appreciating Seonghwa’s efforts and creations, he announced with a cheeky smile that the next time anyone visited, the front lobby would be decorated by other artists’ works, but because I had a special request, tonight my works were displayed in the room adjacent to this. I felt my heart in my throat as Seonghwa led us towards the dark room, then our eyes met and I nodded with a small smile, biting my bottom lip as the light switch was flipped on, coating the room in light. I turned to look at Mingi in anticipation as his eyes widened, and he broke free of the crowd, hurrying inside to take in the entirety of the room, from being incredulous to teary-eyed and then looking like the happiest man on Earth, I couldn’t help it but let my heart swell in happiness and pride as I watched him chuckle and look at me with eyes filled with pure and honest love.

The soft sage green walls were decorated with two portraits of Mingi I had sketched out right at the beginning when I had met him, when I wasn’t so familiar with all of his features yet. Then it progressed to the moments I had captivated as our relationship slowly progressed into that of friendship, us sitting in his car, Mingi driving, Mingi laughing at making me flustered, Mingi’s sharp eyes watching me in a faceless crowd, Mingi up on stage shining like the star he is, Mingi gazing at me with yearning in his eyes, Mingi hugging me warmly into his chest, Mingi chewing on his bottom lip in concentration as he sat in his chair in his studio, working on his music, Mingi looking upset because I rudely disregarded everything that’s happened between us, Mingi angry because I was too stubborn to admit my feelings for him, too afraid to move on from Yunho, and at last, Mingi smiling so widely his eyes disappeared, nose scrunched up and his front teeth showing a little more than usual, pure happiness painting his face.

There was a low murmur amongst the crowd as everyone took in the sketches, drawings, and paintings, but I was only focused on Mingi and his reaction to seeing the stages of our relationship displayed through my eyes, my feelings, and my thoughts. And then, more towards the end of the exposition, there was an old sketch of Yunho I had done while still mulling over the failure of our relationship, and right next to it was a painting of both Yunho and Mingi as they sat next to each other, laughing about whatever was funny at that moment. I had captured the moment when Mingi, me, Yunho, and his girlfriend had gone out for dinner, and then I decided I wanted to paint it twice and gift it to Mingi and Yunho for Christmas. I suppose Mingi would get his sooner than Yunho, I’m sure neither would mind.

Seonghwa announced that I was the artist behind the creations and the room erupted in cheers and claps as people complimented me on my talent, but my eyes were on Mingi only as his blazer was glittery underneath the white light, matching my floor-length glittery black dress. He opened his arms and I didn’t waste any more seconds to approach him and let him crush me in his arms, his embrace warm and reassuring as he pressed his face into my hair, exhaling loudly as I embraced him back just as tightly, closing my eyes as my heart was racing. These past three months I spent next to him had been the best time of my life ever, he made me happier and feel safer than anyone else ever. He helped me get better at controlling my explosive emotions and he helped me slowly break down the walls I so defensively built up after Yunho’s departure. He made me unafraid to love and to receive love, he made me want to spend the rest of my life with him.

I wanted a forever with him.

“I love you, Mingi.” And it was the first time I voiced those thoughts, voice clear but quiet so that only he’d hear it. I felt Mingi freeze, a gasp leaving his mouth as he pulled back, holding me at arm's length as I smiled at him softly, “I love you.”

Mingi gulped as his eyes suddenly turned teary, and he cupped my cheeks as he lowered his head to press his forehead against mine, inhaling deeply as he nodded his head. He’d said those three words to me before, unafraid and unashamed to let me know how he truly felt towards me, and I finally found the courage to say it back. I finally was ready to let him know just how much I felt for him, that I loved him just as much as he loved me.

“I love you, Y/N, so much.” His voice trembled and he kept his eyes closed out of fear of having the tears escape them, and I hummed, resting my hands on his shoulders as I gently rubbed the skin of his neck in an attempt to soothe him.

“I love you just as much, Mingi.”

And he smiled, pressing his warm lips against mine with the unspoken promise that this would last forever, that this was what we both had been searching for. Safety, contentment, honesty, friendship, and freedom, a love that was honest and unafraid. It seemed like our future was rather promising, next to him, I could take on anything. We won’t forget to look at the moon tonight.

I love you, Song Mingi.

A/N: So, hello once again, I am so-so grateful if you made it 'til the end. I cannot believe I'm actually finished with this story and it's a really bittersweet feeling actually, because I am as happy as sad, no joke I kinda cried a little bit. I absolutely love the character and personality I have created for Mingi in this story and I love MC and his dynamic so much, that I find it so freaking hard to let go of them omg, what's happening to me?!

I just really really want to thank everyone who stuck around from start to finish, or from the middle of the story, or showed up as we neared the end of it, I am so so grateful to you all for being patient with me and showering me with love and making me look forward to posting. I was always so excited about a new chapter because I wanted it to be the best, and when I felt like it wasn't, you reassured me that it was and it made me really happy.

I started this story nine months ago, back on the 15th of December, which is funnily enough my sister's birthday so now I will never forget the date I posted it lol, and I find it so freaking crazy that this whole story came from a random brainstorming with my best friend in my car (@orshii), right as we finished our classes at university, brains fried off and ready to end everything, and yet, here I am, trying not to cry again ffs because of how much I grew to love every character in the story.

A little insight: the story at first started out as a random plot that was somewhat similar to 10 Things I Hate About You (which is one of my favorite movies) as Mingi was inspired by Patrick's character and our MC by Kat's, but as time went on, the story and our characters became their own and thus this is how Love Me Like A Rockstar was created. Back at that time I was also obsessed with this song, which played a part in the story becoming a rockstar!au beside Mingi acting like a whole ass rockstar during Crazy Form era lol, and even the title is inspired by the censored version of the song.

I think I made this note already too long, so I'll try to wrap it up. I really want to thank absolutely everyone who reads the whole story, to my loyal readers who were here for every chapter and for all of your thoughts and theories and for making me smile, really. Those who stumbled upon this when it's already finished, I hope you enjoyed each chapter and had fun exploring the world I created (this applies to those too who stuck around while it was still on-going) and I always appreciate your feedback, it's never too late! Thank you everyone, and I hope to see you back for my other stories! <3

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[gladiatorcunt]

MARLBORO REDS - ANAKIN SKYWALKER

cause good men die too, so i’d rather be with you

summary: mechanic dilf!anakin x gender neutral kindergarten teacher!reader

wc: 8.4k

cw: “soft” dark content, made padme’s death vague on purpose, anakin has the vibes of a married father of 4 hitting on you while you’re waiting on their table at olive garden, daddy kink, anakin imagines killing someone, MALE MASTURBATION (the most graphic fantasies are skull fucking and anakin kinda hoping you’ll tear when he puts it in), bra mention (reader does have a fem style but i’m nb so that’s how i see it and men can also have a fem style), it’s not mentioned but anakin is going through cigarette withdrawals, anakin’s canon typical inability to be in a healthy relationship, possibly predictable plot twist (?), i wanted to be a lot grosser, anakin is 42 and he’s depicted as such, age gap (reader is in their early 20’s), this takes place in the U.S.

requests are open (read the rules first)

block & move on if uncomfortable

do not repost or translate!!

The exhaust fumes transported him for a moment, somewhere tropical with a cigar in one hand and a tit in the other as a wet body slid adjacent to his. His hard-earned vacation went up in flames as a shrill car horn hunted down his eardrums. Anakin snapped out of it and stared through his brittle bangs with dead eyes. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks, how to act like a normal human being one of them. 

"Alright, that should be everything. Since we just needed to rotate your tires and do an oil change, we're looking at about 142 dollars."

"Thank you so much, I'll just go pay at the front desk. Have a good one!"

Anakin sighed and gave a half assed wave that she didn't even see. He has nowhere near as much spunk as he did back in the day, but his energy is always shot to hell long before he sees his last customer of the day. Luckily it was just a routine maintenance type of thing, he would've just bashed his head in with a wrench if it was anything more. 

Puddles of blood trot after said customer, he’s amazed that they can drive so well considering they have a bullet in their head. 

There’s no bullet or rivers of blood in actuality, but a man can dream. 

His knee joints creaked as he got out of his squatting position. He groaned from the effort while smearing his fingers in more grease trying to wipe them off on the pants of his overalls. The whole workshop smelled like garbage and he probably smelled even worse. His trusty grease rag was subsequently discarded on top of his portable tool tower. He noticed that a tub of lighter fluid was on its side so he prevented that big mess waiting to happen and screwed the cap shut, picked it up, and set it back on the shelves in the storage room. He had to remember to leave one of his employees a post-it notifying them that they were almost out. 

His sleeves were shucked up his soft muscular forearm to check his watch. His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets like moles in a whack-a-mole machine when he saw the time. 

SHIT! 

It was 4:30, the time he's expected to be at Alderaan Apples Elementary to pick up his twins. He didn't have the time it would normally take him to drive 20 minutes back to his place for a 10 minute shower, and then drive 30 more minutes to be at his kids' school. He normally didn't work that late, since he owns the shop he can choose his own hours. But Anakin lost track of time obsessing over work and now he'd have to embarrass his kids by showing up covered in it. Their teacher would probably be there to chew him out, but in his defense this really didn't happen all that often. 

That teacher being arguably the biggest reason why he hated that they’d see him looking how he did right then. They're awfully pretty, with a chest that he's pictured slapping and sucking while their thick ass recoils from bouncing on his uncut cock. They had just moved to their average sized town at the start of the year, they told him at the parent teacher conferences at the beginning of the school year. Something about yearning to get away from their lackluster small town but also being too afraid to venture out into any kind of big city on their own. 

They were making the cutest little gestures when they were shyly talking his ear off too, shifting their thighs together as they swayed and never letting their eye contact stray too far away from their freshly polished mary janes. Anakin was very careful about remembering everything he could about Luke and Leia's first real school year. Hell, he was more scared than they were. But there was just something in the way this new teacher did their best to soothe any worries the kids might have. 

"It's okay, we'll be going on this new adventure together. And I'll do my very best to be there for you every step of the way. I hope you can be brave and look after me too!"

Luke nodded timidly but with a newfound sense of determination. Leia shouted an affirmative, being more extroverted in comparison to her brother. 

Their teacher was young, somewhere in their early 20's. Most likely having flown into town right after getting their degree. It made something in his gut swirl and simmer, imagining their delicate finger tracing his crow's feet and tugging on the gray in his hair. Their head nestled gently in between his squishy pecs, some of his muscle definition was lost with age but he had a feeling you'd like how much the slight softness of his belly highlighted the muscle underneath. 

The cliche apples in the blouse their teacher was wearing seemed to have Anakin in a trance as he zoned out. He grunted in acknowledgement when he needed to and slipped every form and newsletter he was given into his satchel. When it was time to head home, Luke and Leia clung to their teacher's legs. Anakin rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and bent over to pry them off. He explained how sorry he was, being a single dad meant that whether or not he meant to, the kids still looked for a mother figure. 

He'll never forget the way your eyes widened by a fraction, flicking up to make eye contact with his feigned nonchalant stare. You seemed.... happy to hear that he was single. But that could've just been an old man getting wrapped up in the delusions that he still has it. 

"I'm so sorry to hear that, Mr. Skywalker. I'm sure you don't need me to tell you how hard it is to do what you do everyday, but let me just say that I think you're doing an excellent job."

He thinks you'd do even better. 

By the time he had finished reliving that fond little memory, he could spot the street sign for the street the school was on. Ruffling his hair, he made a sharp right turn and slowly pulled into the parking lot. His black chevy truck performed beautifully like always so he gave her a solid pat on the hood. He turned on his heel, immediately seeing his children hugging either one of your legs. He was only 10 minutes late, it wasn't any better but he would never make his kids feel like he abandoned them. He never wanted them to go through what he had gone through when he was their age. 

He adjusted his collar and made a last ditch effort to wipe his fingers off on his clothes. He heard a  quiet cough. He shot his head up to catch your unamused eyes. A wry smile appeared on his face as he jogged over to you. When he reached  the three of you, he immediately crouched and placed a hand on Luke and Leia's shoulders. 

"Dad's really sorry, okay? He just lost track of time but he rushed over here as fast as he could as soon as he realized what time it was."

Luke peeked out from behind your leg, "Like the Flash?"

"Yes, Luke, like the Flash." Anakin chuckled, slowly opening his arms wide in the hopes that his kids weren’t too mad at him. 

Thankfully he was instantly overwhelmed by two bodies slamming into him, almost knocking him onto the ground and tumbling down the concrete steps. Luke was clutching onto him so tightly and Leia was giggling up a storm. He stood up and gently ushered his kids into holding one of his hands so they could stand beside him. 

He cleared his throat a few times before finally addressing you. 

"I'm so sorry, I don't know if you overheard but work was really hectic today and I didn't want to waste more time cleaning up. Please just think of me how you did before, I won't look like this tomorrow."

You sighed, shaking your head with a small smile. Your blouse had a floral pattern today, blue covered in peonies and apple blossoms. Your pants were some kind of plaid thing but you make them work so well. Anakin had  to actively keep his eyes from eye fucking your wide hips and oggling the expanse of your butt in the tight pants. Just thinking about how little must be left to the imagination made his cock ache in his overalls. But he restrained himself, he was going to ask you out when he was in a much better and.... cleaner state. He pushed the thoughts down and settled himself down with daydreams of the near future. 

"It's alright, Mr. Skywalker. I understand your situation, so long as it doesn't happen frequently and the children don't have to wait too long, we won't have a problem." You gently admonished the older man, not hiding the protective tone in your voice but still looking up at him with bashful warmth in your eyes. 

Stars, the way you were already so protective over his kids made him even harder. He briefly wondered how you'd be with their younger siblings. The image made his heart flutter and a wide smile stretched his lips. He shuffled from one foot to the other, praying to whatever God is out there that he's able to hide his boner in his baggy overalls. He still had quite a few years before he even wanted to think about having the birds and bees talk with the kids. He adjusted his overalls quickly and reached out a greasy rough palm to you. 

"I swear this won't happen everyday, thank you for being so kind. I definitely won't forget it." He murmured with a wink that was open to interpretation. 

You bit your lip as you leaned forward to slip your smooth palm into his. A sharp shiver traveled up Anakin's body and butterflies erupted in your stomach at the contact. You clicked your heels together and shook his hand, the weight of it made certain kinds of thoughts pop into your head that you'd rather not deal with at the moment. 

Reluctantly Anakin pulled his hand away, making sure it lingered more than was necessary or appropriate. He put his back to you and double checked that Luke and Leia had one hand in each of his and their other hands on the strap of their backpacks. Luke had one with planets on it while Leia had one with dinosaurs. He looked down at their feet to make sure that they were going slow and steady on the steps. They reached the bottom of the steps and walked across the parking lot to Anakin's truck. He opened the back seat, lifting Leia first and waiting for her to settle in before nearly throwing out his back bending down again to help Luke in. He buckled them up and made sure their seatbelts were fastened properly. He took a few steps back and gingerly closed the backseat door on Luke's side. His back was screaming at him on the trip around the back of the truck, it especially burned when he haphazardly threw his door open and climbed up into the driver's seat. 

The drive home was the same as it was everyday. Leia excitedly told her father all about every single detail of her day and Luke needing less coaxing to talk about his as the school year progressed. Luke was upset when they ran out of apple juice at lunch because that meant he had to have grape. Leia bragged about the rock she painted during craft time. Anakin listened intently, no matter what kind of depraved shit he felt for their teacher, he wanted to take extra care that both of his kids felt heard and appreciated at the end of the day. He responded with jokes and questions to keep them talking, it distracted them from realizing how long the drive was to the house.

They pulled into the house's garage half an hour later. Anakin was about ready to collapse into a pile of bones in his recliner. Luke and Leia ran like bats out of hell through the door and up the stairs to their bedrooms. He could hear the sounds of them putting their backpacks on their hooks and unzipping them to go through the jungle of papers they stash in them. 

The fridge was fresh out of Dr. Pepper so Anakin grumbled and got a can of bud lite from his locked minifridge on the counter. He managed to make it to the couch before he let himself fall face first onto the cushions. 

The pitter patter of tiny feet bounding down the stairs yanked him from sleep so he sat up and leaned his cheek against the arm of the couch.

"Dad! Dad! Dad! Look!" Luke blurted out, shoving some kind of paper in his dad's smushed face. 

Anakin grimaced but made himself sit upright. He reached out and took the paper from Luke, holding it at a good distance away from his face and at a downwards angle so he could read it properly. 

"What's this, buddy?"

"It's a paper for the party, Dad! The Valentine's day one that's um.... this Friday, i think.” Luke nervously wrung his hands in his striped shirt as he spoke. “I want to get something for my teacher too…” 

Anakin rubbed his shaved chin as he read the paper. Luke was right. It was a newsletter informing parents about the Valentine's Day party each class would be holding on Friday. There would be no working or classes and instead every class would have an all day party for both the children and their parents. Students were allowed to bring any snacks of choice, but they had to bring a box of valentine cards for their class and give one to every student in their class.

"That must be nice, having no school for a day. Well, i'll be there on Friday and tomorrow we can go to the store and get the supplies for you and your sister." 

“And we can get something for my teacher?”

“Of course Luke, that’d be a very nice thing to do for them.”

"Okay! Thanks, dad, love you!" Luke cheered, bouncing on his feet and kissing Anakin on the cheek while giving him a second long side hug before running back upstairs. 

The next day the Skywalker family was back in the truck on the way to the biggest local supermarket in the area. It wasn't too far, just in the next town over. They could've gone to the smaller store back home, but the kids liked having options and liked car rides that were like little road trips. (Why they hated the longer drives when they were to school but liked them in situations like this, Anakin could sympathize. 

Anakin shut the radio off when they pulled into the large parking lot of the supermarket. He put his car in park and turned the engine off. The wind chill smacked him right in the face as soon as he stepped out of his seat. He rubbed his hands up and down his arms to warm himself up and walked over to get Leia and Luke out of the car as quickly as possible without freezing his ass off. They did the standard routine of holding their dad's hands while they crossed the parking lot. Anakin was telling them to look both ways to watch out for any cars that were coming as they walked along the crosswalks. Mercifully they weren't in the cold long before they entered the store.

The bright white LED overhead lights made Anakin want to pass out but he followed closely behind the kids that were already running themselves ragged all over the place. He reminded them what they were here for and his arms were pulled to their breaking point all the way to the card aisle. There were so many options of valentine card packs. There were Bluey ones, Spiderman, ones that looked like the cootie catchers you fold and pull apart, et cetera. 

Luke ended up choosing Spiderman ones that came with pencils. Leia chose a kitten design for her cards. 

Anakin almost fell asleep on the ride home. He let the kids pick out drinks from the little displays in front of the registers so they were miles away in sugar rush land. He made a note to pop a couple ibuprofens before he went to bed. Some days are easier than others but since his wife passed away when his kids were newborns, he’s never known what it was like to be able to depend on someone else to always be there to help. His childhood friend Obi-wan stops by every so often to stay over, his mom and step-dad babysit when he stops being stubborn, but that’s once in a blue moon. The sunset casts light onto the sunspots and hair on his arms. He rolled both of his sleeves up because his body typically runs hot and global warming making the temperature 65 degrees in the middle of February does him no favors. 

The McDonald’s they drove through got the kids happy meals wrong three times, something that was clearly a sign of the apocalypse. 

He had to remind Luke and Leia not to run too fast as they clammored out of the truck with his assistance and bolted to the front door. Anakin sighed his millionth sigh of the day and clamped a hand on Leia’s head to steady her as he searched his rusty old keyring for their house key. His steady hand inserted the key into the lock, ushering his kids inside with his free hand while he pushed the door open. His long legs moved at a sloth like pace, Leia and Luke ignored him and shot up the stairs like two little rockets.

“Guys, slow down. Marshmallow feet, remember?” He reminded them and leaned around the corner so they could hear him, shaking his head in exasperation when all he gets in response is a couple “Okay, dad!”s. 

The white and orange ibuprofen bottle stored in one of the many dark wood cabinets over the fridge beckoned him with a come hither motion. He’s little more than a slave to his baser instincts so he dutifully heeded the call. The cabinet creaked when he cracked it open but he couldn’t give less of a fuck as he dove for the pill bottle and shook out a few orange pills. He exhaled in relief in a way that would suggest he was smoking weed when his adams apple bobbed as the pills hit his stomach. 

With that mindless task out of the way, Anakin slowly journeyed up the stairs to get Leia and Luke ready for bed. He kept a stern eye on them to ensure they brushed their teeth, used their mouthwash properly, and washed their faces. After the kids completed their bedtime routines, he tucked them into bed while humming a lullaby Obi-Wan had taught them when he held them as infants. He gave them their time to say goodnight to their mom, Luke looked at the glow in the dark stars on his ceiling when he said it and Leia clutched her stegosaurus plushie when she whispered her goodnight. 

Anakin didn’t contribute but he warmly kissed his twins on their foreheads and tucked the corners of their comforters around their shoulders. 

His heavy work boots thundered against the hardwood floor of the hallway as he walked out of their room and down the carpeted stairs to the den. He unhooked the buttons holding up his overalls on his shoulders and shimmied his ruined overalls down to his ankles. His hairy thighs expanded as he stepped out of them so he could kick them to the other side of the room. He was left in only his boxers and a white tank top that would never be white again. So he flexed his arms as he took that tank top off too. Grease stains were all over his body but he could at least take a shower now. 

His boxers joined the towels from yesterday’s shower on the floor as his soft cock flopped out. He gave it an absentminded stroke that injected something molten into his bone marrow. He bent over to reach the faucet and turned the water on. The shower didn't start until the water babbling over his thick calloused fingers was hot enough to cook a lobster in. 

He rolled his shoulders back as he stepped into the shower. His mouth dropped open in a silent exclamation and his neck popped as his head lolled back. The onslaught of boiling hot water pin pricked his skin in a pleasure-pain sort of way that made his thoughts temporarily quiet down. 

His cock gave a couple twitches but Anakin elected to wait until he had at least washed his hair before he rubbed a much needed orgasm out. 

3-in-1 shampoo that smelled like some dior cologne was all up in his hair, his hands unhurriedly glided through his short-ish soapy strands. He angled his head back and let the lather he had worked up be drowned out by the shower head. He grabbed his vanilla & shea butter body wash and let the spout rest against his glistening pecs as his fingers curled around the stocky bottle and squeezed. The smooth liquid spurted out over his pecs and dripped down his body. He reached his hands right up under the steady stream and soaped up his pecs, ghosting his thumbs over his puffy nipples before spreading his hands out and spreading the soapsuds all over the rest of his body. 

Squelching sounds echoed off the shower floor as Anakin widened his stance. His right hand was subconsciously traveling closer and closer to his half-hard cock. He had worked so hard, finally being able to relax and luxuriate in the silence made the blood in his body migrate further south. 

A certain teacher flashed through his mind, his head whipped down in shock to discern how greatly his flushed cock swelled up faster just at the single image of his kids’ kindergarten teacher. 

An aurora borealis of fantasies swirled in the air. 

You’re kneeling on a pillow (he would be at serious risk of getting more brow wrinkles if you had to touch the harsh dirty floor with your bare skin.) and bobbing your head up and down the fat cock making a bulge in your cheek. Your sparkling eyes have this glazed over look to them as he anchors his hands on the back of your head. He widens his stance and bullies your throat with his heavy cock. You squeak and sputter but you take it like such a good pet. Your plump lips slide off of his meat a couple inches but before he can do anything, you’re groping his taut ass as you wiggle your head down to the base of his cock. Your eyes flutter shut as your brain shuts off; your nose is buried right in his musky bush. His face scrunches up in the best kind of pain, but he locks his gaze on the way your eyes roll back when he begins to skull fuck you.

Thank god for oral fixations. 

“Gonna let Daddy soak this warm throat pussy?” Don’t worry, he knows you can’t exactly use your vocal chords properly at the moment. So he nods your head for you, deepening his thrusts into slow sharp jabs. 

He’d baptize you in cum if you let him, your skin would look so pretty and glossy covered in it. He’d help you wipe it off after he cements the image of your eyelashes sticking together in his mind. 

Now he’s grabbing your love handles while his cock builds his dream home in your guts. Your ass shakes back against his hips as you try to steady the phone in your hands and face it towards the overhead. He grabs your hair in one fist and gently tugs your head up so you can pay attention properly. He didn’t go through all this just to let you hide away from him. In a perfect world, the kids would be staying with his mom so you’d be more than welcome to lose your voice.

The vision in his mind shifts to you being on your back, hands trembling trying to hold your legs as close to your chest as possible. You’re looking up at him like he was born in the center of the sun. He’s looking back at you like you’re the moon made flesh, eternally encapsulated in his sea of stars. Anakin smiles triumphantly but with a heady passion in his gait that threatens to burn his lungs to ash, coughing them up over your open heart. 

“You’re doing so well puppy, that’s my brave baby.” He coos and pries your hands off your thighs finger by finger. 

Once your hands are free, his larger ones ardently seek out yours like a dog going after a bone. The rough texture of his digits feels like an uncomfortably pleasant caress as they lace together with your own. He doesn’t look at anything else; can’t think of anything else when you make the cutest little watery gasp as his cock humps along the crack of your hole. The red tip of it gets caught against your outer sweet spot as if trying to give your crotch small pecks. His eye wrinkles crinkle when his smile widens and he offers a breathy laugh. 

He squeezes your hands tightly as he wraps a hand around his cock and directs it to its northern star. Your nails digging into his knuckles don’t distract from your hole stretching itself wide to suckle at his encroaching length. 

And if in the shower he spilled into his feverishly fucked fists at the concept of crimson liquid mixing with cum to make a pink swirl where your bodies meet, you’d never know. He thumbed at the glans under his cock tip as he came down from his high, skirting a fingernail up a vein on the side and wishing he was mouthing the space between your shoulder blades; preening your white feathers with his scratchy tongue. 

The next couple days were gone with a couple of blinks. He never deviated from his routine; wake up, wipe off the drool on his face, get kids ready and take them to school, go to work, clean up, go pick kids up from school, help with whatever work 6 year olds would have, put them to bed, jerk off in the shower till his legs ache, fall asleep on his stomach with his the right side of his face smushed into a pillow. 

He did find some time to put together a teacher’s appreciation basket for you. You more than anyone else deserved a few something somethings on a day meant to represent love. The gifts were packed nicely and neatly in a vintage wicker basket wrapped in a red gingham bow and covered in see through red plastic wrap. Your reaction would regrettably have to be viewed from afar, but he’d know how to move forward depending on what adorable expression you had all over your face.

The night before the party, Anakin allowed Luke and Leia to stay up a smidge later than normal so that they could get all of their things ready for the party. Anakin’s special present slept soundly in the seat next to his in front of his truck. An additional gift from Luke was tucked inside along with an item from Leia who had insisted on it when she found out Luke was getting you something.. The basket being hidden away for the time being allowed him to focus completely on helping his children with their gifts at the coffee table. 

Luke’s eyes were droopy as he wrote down the names of his classmates in the hearts made to look like Spiderman’s mask in his cards. He inserted  most of the pencils in the intended slot on the left of the cards by himself before he slumped against Anakin’s arm and weakly pushed the pile of cards towards his dad. Anakin chuckled as he ruffled Luke’s fluffy blonde hair and teasingly whispered that he didn’t know a boy could be so sleepy. His son blinked at him as if to say how unfunny his dad was before yawning and snuggling further into his father. 

Anakin pushed the rest of the pencils into the card slots and sealed all of the cards with red heart stickers. He lifted his head to look across the glass coffee table to check in on how Leia was doing. For how fiery his daughter was already at such a young age, she wasn’t immune to getting tired before 8:30. The signature buns on her head that she loved begging him  to do for her had loose hairs poking out of them because of how Leia had buried her head in her arms. 

Anakin blew a breath out in fond chagrin as he easily reached over the table and delicately removed the pins holding the buns in place. He fluffed out the hair that fell down so her scalp wouldn’t feel weird when she woke up. 

He hoisted Luke up in one arm and Leia in the other (something they were getting a bit too big to continue doing) and slowly but surely deposited them on the couch. He snatched a white plush blanket from the linen closet and settled it over them before turning back to the massive amount of paper cards on the table. He finished the last of Leia’s cards a short while later. He sorted the cards into orderly piles and put them in sandwich bags that he took to the kids room so he could put the bags in their backpacks. 

Anakin came back to the living room as he tried to shoo the sleep away by digging his knuckles into his eye sockets in a lazy rub. He opened the cabinet and took out a package of pink frosted sugar cookies with red heart shaped sprinkles, a pack of capri suns, and a tupperware bowl full of mini brownies. With a long drawn out yawn he set the snacks out on the counter so that he would remember them tomorrow morning. He got a set of paper plates and a sectioned set of cutlery in case you needed any extra. Maybe you’d give him one of those corny gold star stickers as a thank you. 

Friday morning was ushered in by  two children risking their dad’s life by flopping on his stomach with all the strength they had while he was sleeping. 

“OH FU-“ He shouted before he remembered who was in the room and gently rolled them off of his stomach. “What exactly do you two think you’re doing?”

 "It's time to wake up dad, we're gonna be late for school!" Leia said with a dismayed look on her somewhat chubby face. 

Anakin looked away and meekly mouthed a 'sorry' as he looked at the led clock that he had forgotten to set an alarm on. 

Fuck, not again. 

He sat up in bed and hunched over; his head buried in his hands. Luke and Leia crowded around him as they tried their best to comfort their father, giving his back light pats. He let them pull his hair so that he'd look up at them. He smiled in gratitude and crawled out of bed as quickly as he could to get the day started. 

He made a comical sight; hobbling around the floor with his ripped jeans pooled around his feet as he raced to get his kids ready for school in time. His belt was a fairly new black leather piece that he'd been keeping for a special occasion, but the anxiety of the morning made him grapple with getting the buckle in place. Once that was done a shameful amount of time later, he shoved his clothes to the side in his closet as he searched for a nicer, more "classy" dress shirt. Anakin gnawed at his bottom lip and eventually decided on a black silk button up that matched his belt. He crouched, chanting in his head that he hoped he wouldn't tear a muscle, and chose a pair of italian leather slides that his mom had gotten him for Father's Day a couple of years ago. The bathroom mirror held back no punches when it showed Anakin the state of his head. He crossed his fingers and smoothed back his hair with the tiniest glob of gel; the water he splashed on his face would have to do some serious charity work. He could only hope that you liked the naturally unkempt but not too unkempt kind of look, a striking sort of ruggedness. 

"Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad..." Luke droned, understandably fed up with waiting on his dad to deal with another one of his mini mid life crisis episodes. 

"I'll be right there Luke, hold on a second, please."

Anakin gave into his son’s begging and let him brush his teeth with the birthday cake flavored toothpaste today. Even though the dentist moaned about how hard it was to clean out when they introduced it to Luke at his last appointment. His Spiderman toothbrush played a jingle meant to sound like the theme song when Luke did his 2 minutes of brushing. Anakin stood protectively behind him as he spit in the sink, his hand hovered over his head so he wouldn't hit it. He took Luke's toothbrush and ran it under the water before he put it back in the clear organizer next to the faucet. He poured the recommended amount of mouthwash from the bottle and passed the lid that acted as the cup to Luke. Luke grimaced but he tipped the cup up so the blue liquid would pour in his mouth, he swished it around and then spat it out too. He sipped from the glass of water that was handed to him and proudly beamed at his father.

"Good job, Luke. I'm so proud of you." Anakin congratulated him, Luke was still finicky about floss so today would not be the day that he attempted to get him to use it. 

Being a parent means knowing how to pick your battles and what time to schedule them. 

Anakin brushed Luke's hair and fluffed it out a bit like a surfer (how Luke likes it). He grabbed his son by his underarms and lifted him off of the step stool. The mirrors in their house were still a bit too high for his kids to see properly so for now the stools had a purpose. He would be sad when they no longer needed them. 

Anakin quickly dipped into the twins room to grab their backpacks. He had already gotten them dressed after he got out of bed earlier. He helped Luke put his on and then repeated the same process with Leia. Her toothbrush made a loud roar when she finished brushing, and she had a fit of giggles in response. His daughter preferred straightforward mint toothpaste so morning routines really weren't that much of a struggle with her. Once she put the glass of water down on the sink, she eagerly turned her back to her dad and pointed at her loose hair. Anakin saluted as he began shaping her hair into the buns she loves so much. He reminded her not to mess with them too much or they'd fall apart, and she always responded that she knew that already. 

They got in a single file line on their mission out the door. Anakin nabbed the containers of snacks and briefly freaked out wondering if he lost the cards before he remembered that they were in the kids' backpacks. He double checked if his keys and wallet were in his pockets, and to his relief everything was where it was supposed to be.

Well, mostly everything. He'd never forget about you, don't worry. 

He put his phone on do not disturb before tossing in the front seat next to his along with the basket already sitting there. 

Anakin told Luke and Leia to buckle their seatbelts as he inserted his key into the keyhole and started the car. He heard them buckle up and waited for the tell tale clicks before putting his car into drive. They had to leave than some of the other kids in their school would have to since they lived farther away, but because it was so early the twins could only yawn and hold onto the other twins' booster seat. Anakin thanked the cosmos and turned the radio on but kept it a low volume; Frank Sinatra's rich voice was the best company on a drive like this. 

The school entrance was abundantly decorated. A large white banner along the front entry archway announced the festivities. A flurry of red, pink, and white ribbons hung across the ceiling of the lobby. Every door had hearts representing the students in their class covering them, the kids's names scrawled in their own messy handwriting with cheap crayons. 

The door of your classroom was the last one on the left. You kept a bottle of hand sanitizer in front of it because you were very particular about hygiene, a trait that served you extremely well in your job. Luke and Leia pointed out where on the door their hearts were as they waited for you to open the door. The Skywalker family were the first ones there so Anakin wasn't sure if it was okay to just drop in on you unannounced. He wished that you would drop on him unannounced. He cradled his gift basket  in his arms as if it were a fragile baby.  

A few minutes later, your heels were heard clacking against the tile floor. The silver door knob jiggled before it stopped moving and the door took its sweet sweet time opening. Your head poked out and your face brightened when you saw who was at the other end. You sunk down into a squat, putting your hands on your knees as you addressed the children. 

"Why, hello Leia; hello to you too Luke. You're a tad early, but you can go ahead and hang your backpacks on the hooks in your cubbies. I haven't finished setting everything up, so you can sit down on any of those chairs at the front of the class." You greeted them and shook their hands before pointing out where they could sit. 

The twins obviously sat together. You didn't have assigned seating in your class, and you felt that Leia and Luke would be more comfortable sitting together during their first year at school. It wasn't guaranteed that they'd be in the same class next year. You were too sensitive to try to separate them. You cried a lot because of how scary school was when you were in their place, so you couldn't imagine being the cause for any tears your students shed.

Anakin was once again too caught up in studying your outfit. You had on a fitted shirt with a cardigan on top, it had thin strings that could unwind with no effort from him if he reached out and just pulled.

But that could wait. 

The kids scattered off to choose their seats. Your classroom had three circular tables with five small red chairs. Each chair had a small blanket on the back with a valentine's pattern. The table at the front where Luke and Leia were sitting had heart shaped placemats with a lace trim that looked like it should've been a doily, but in a… good way. You had red and pink plates on the smaller table next to your desk, as well as clear forks and spoons that looked like they had confetti inside of them. You figured that the parents would bring all of the refreshments and you didn't know what your students would want; you thought that the safest bet would be to hang back. 

Anakin did the most he could to soften his gaze when you straightened up and automatically locked eyes with the older man. He clocked how you instantly glanced down at the floor for a split second. You adjusted your collar, for some reason, and gave him the world’s smallest smile. Anakin was so certain that if he leaned in close enough, he would be able to hear your heart racing at the same accelerated pace as his.

 Some say that means it’s love. 

You fluttered your eyelashes, “Hi, Mr. Skywalker, thank you for coming. It’s always a pleasure to see Luke and Leia, but i’m glad that you could be here for them”

“Believe me, no one’s more happy about me being here than I am.” He blurted out without thinking, ‘Uh, I brought some snacks and drinks for everybody.”

You took in the capri suns and the desserts as your smile grew. Your hand curled around his bicep subconsciously, “Oh my gosh, that’s so nice of you! I’ll just put those over the-“ 

You couldn’t even finish your sentence before Anakin sauntered past you to put the food down on the table next to your desk. He placed the frosted sugar cookies down first, followed by the capri suns and brownies. 

He turned to face you and his shirt seemed to tighten over his chest as he rested his hands on his hips. His fingers flexed absentmindedly, like they wished they were gripping something else. 

“I can handle it, sweetheart. I’m 42, not 72.”  He chided you, strolling back over and chucking you under the chin; you were cute if you thought you’d be lifting a single finger the entire day. 

The way you nearly fell head over heels trying to fix your assumed faux paus was even cuter, “No, no- I- I didn’t mean anything- I just- Y-you look very capable to me, sir.” 

If your brain would let you, you would rip your face off to hide from your big mouth. Why the hell would you tell the much older father of two of your students that you think he looks “very capable”? WHAT POSSESSED YOU TO CALL HIM “SIR”? 

Anakin scratched his chin and decided that he’d let you off the hook with no more teasing from him. That’s a lie though, he was confident that you could take whatever he gave you. 

“Careful, don’t stroke my ego too much or I'll have to stroke yours. And please, I'd hate to have to remind you again, my name’s Anakin.” He was flirting a little too shamelessly for where you were, but he was still thinking with his upstairs head and guided you to a back corner. 

“I actually got you something myself, but uh,  if it’s all the same to you, I'd wait to open it until you’re nice and snug at home.” 

He gladly took a short walk to your car with you and helped you set the basket down safely in the trunk. He told you to stand back as he slammed the trunk door shut; slapping it for good measure to make sure it was properly closed. 

The two of you returned to your classroom and like the good little helper Anakin wanted you to know he could be, he helped you greet the incoming parents and students. He even took any concessions they brought and put them with the others

By 8:15 everyone you expected was in your classroom. A few kids were without their parents so you asked some of the other students to invite them to enjoy the party; a party’s no fun alone. 

At some point around 9:00 you had the stray daydream of Anakin pinning you against the wall outside of your door as he savagely plundered your mouth with his teeth and tongue. Finger shaped bruises and a promise to ‘see you at home, baby’ would keep your usually freezing cold body warm. You glance at the man out of the corner of your eye to see that he was already staring. He looked like he wanted to teach you a lot of things.

Whatever that meant. 

The morning half of the day consisted of the cafeteria delivering breakfast and watching a couple of movies that the class voted on. The Lego Batman Movie was first (a unanimous decision), and Wreck-it-Ralph was picked after that (some kids wanted to watch the minion movie like always but you were secretly happy that they weren’t the majority.) 

Lunchtime was when you decided to let the students have the snacks, they were welcome to go down to the cafeteria with a guardian if they wanted actual food but they didn’t have to. You weren’t surprised when none of the seats became empty. 

Anakin had to wrench the small plastic chair away from his ass before he winked charmingly and speed walked to the snack table to help you. The air between the both of you had inexplicably become charged with insurmountable tension. The chaos didn’t give you much chatting time so you could only glances and brush your arms together; how accidental those touches were was up for debate. 

Especially when he needed to get through to the plates and forks behind you. 

“Sorry, let me just squeeze past you.” He whispered in your ear, his big hands using your waist to steady you as he pressed his back flush against your chest. 

In the blink of an eye he was gone. The invisible hands chained to your skin remained. You fanned your face with one of the cheap paper plates as you floated back to your body and got a hold of yourself.  

You looked over at the Skywalker trio to see Luke and Leia point at you as they tirelessly tug on their dads sleeves until he caved. You saved him the trouble and went to them, bending down so you could hear the twins properly.

“Do you two need something? I could see you making a fuss over here.” You teased. 

“Dad forgot to give you our presents….” Leia mumbled and Luke nodded sharply. 

Your eyes widened, “Oh! You didn’t have to get me anything, but the day’s not over yet. You can give them to me now.”

“I did not forget, Leia.” Anakin shook his head, fidgeting in the uncomfortable chair. “They’re in the basket Dad brought, and your teacher has it in her car outside, okay?” 

You nodded and confirmed their fathers words, “He’s right. I didn’t know that there were things from you and your brother in it too but it’s safe and sound. I pinky swear.” 

Two much smaller pinkies met you halfway and wrapped around yours. The Skywalker twins giggled as they turned it into an impromptu arm wrestle competition and beat you easily. (You felt they were going to snap your finger off if they kept tightening their hold so you bowed out.) 

Anakin watched with hearts in his eyes and his head propped up in his hand, his eyes crinkled at the inherent domesticity of the act. 

Luke and Leia agreed to call their exhibition match a draw. 

The sun had already set by the time you got home. You were so tired that you nearly dropped your keys down the stairwell; you didn’t want to spend your night fishing them out of the grass.The wicker basket in your arms was at risk of falling too but you got your door opened and you crumpled on the loveseat.

 “Oof, I should probably get this sorted out now or I'll just forget about it.” You said as your body protested you moving a single inch from your sunken spot. 

You grabbed your emerald green pair of scissors and cut the top of the plastic wrap off.The wrapping  squealed as you tore it off the rest of the basket. You peered into it and thankfully it looked like a run of the mill teacher’s appreciation gift; for a valentine’s day it was a little strange but since it was from Anakin… you’d slip on your rose colored glasses. 

There was a medium sized teddy bear, a couple three wick candles; your favorite was the one that smelled like the conversation hearts candy. There was also a custom made box of chocolates from the bakery you frequented, and three burgundy roses that you trimmed properly before dropping them in the vase on your kitchen island. 

The ‘world’s best teacher’ stood out like a sore thumb but it made you smile anyway. 

The teddy bear was incredibly fluffy and bubblegum pink; it’s holding a sparkly red heart with the word ‘princess’ sewed in hot pink thread in the center. You swept the fur away from its black eyes so it could see. The bear was pretty cute, and you had a problem handling your stuffed animal addiction, so you headed to your bedroom and laid it down with the rest of your plushies. 

You yawned and your mouth stretched like a goldfish when it does the same thing. The strings of your red cardigan came undone by your hands and you let it slide off of you and hit the floor. Your pink ribbed top joined it when you gathered enough energy to give a damn and move your arms. 

Your white bra was so plain but like hell if it didn’t make the man palming himself over his jeans rock hard. The kids were sound asleep in bed and the walls were thick so he could be as loud as he wanted. But this particular session wasn’t about achieving some grand climax. No. He just wanted to take things slow tonight. If he happened to gradually tumble over the edge along the way, he wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Anakin loved you, every inch of your body would soon be blissfully aware of that. 

The miniscule camera in the dot above the i in Princess loved you just as much. 

The fire that would wait to invite itself in for a surprise visit until you had left for work loved you more. 

a/n: i had this in the drafts for a bit but i was having a moment so i didn’t post it until now. happy valentine's day 💞

[itsgreti]

BENEATH THE MASK

pairing. simon "ghost" riley x f!reader

summary. (Y/N), Task Force 141's medic, saw Ghost's face for the first time while patching up his injuries.

warning. descriptions of gunfire, explosions, scenes depicting injuries, medical treatments, and blood (typical cod theme)

word count. 2.3k

a/n: english is my second language, so if you find any mistakes, don't hesitate and text me!

The desert wind howled across the rocky terrain as the Task Force 141 team moved swiftly through the night. (Y/N), their medic, felt the weight of her gear as she kept pace with Captain Price, Soap, Gaz, and the mysterious Ghost. She had been with the elite unit for a few months, but Ghost remained an enigma to her, a silent, masked figure whose presence was always felt but never fully seen.

Their mission that night was simple in concept: infiltrate a heavily guarded compound and extract crucial intel regarding a new shipment of chemical weapons. But as they approached the compound under darkness, their plan quickly unravelled. A patrol they hadn't anticipated stumbled upon them, leading to a chaotic firefight.

Bullets whizzed through the air, accompanied by the sharp cracks of rifles and the distant thunder of explosions. (Y/N) took cover behind a crumbling wall, her mind racing as she assessed the wounded. Soap and Gaz held their ground nearby, providing cover fire as Captain Price barked orders over the radio.

Suddenly, Ghost appeared beside her, his presence as silent as ever. He motioned towards Soap, whose shoulder was grazed by a bullet. Without a word, (Y/N) nodded and hurried to assist.

The firefight continued for what felt like an eternity, but the team managed to eliminate the immediate threat. With the area momentarily secure, they regrouped in a small, dimly lit room within the compound. Captain Price leaned over the map spread out on a makeshift table, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"We need that intel," Price said grimly, his voice low yet commanding. "Ghost, find it. (Y/N), patch up whoever needs it and be ready to move out."

(Y/N) nodded, her focus shifting to Soap and Gaz as she pulled out her medical kit. Soap winced as she began to clean and dress his wound, but Gaz remained alert, scanning their surroundings.

As (Y/N) worked, she stole glances at Ghost, who was hunched over a computer terminal in the corner of the room. His movements were precise and deliberate, his gloved hands flying over the keys as he accessed the encrypted files.

The tension in the room was palpable, broken only by the occasional click of Ghost's keystrokes and the muted sounds of the ongoing battle outside. (Y/N) couldn't help but wonder about the man behind the mask—his past, his motivations. But such thoughts had to wait. Right now, their survival depended on securing the intel and getting out safely.

Just as Ghost seemed to make progress, an explosion rocked the building, sending debris flying and knocking everyone off balance. (Y/N) stumbled, but Ghost was quick to steady her, his gloved hand gripping her arm firmly. For a brief moment, she felt the weight of his presence, his strength beneath the mask.

"Ghost!" Captain Price called out, his voice urgent. "We're running out of time. Can you get that intel or not?"

Ghost nodded, his masked face unreadable. With renewed determination, he returned to the terminal, his fingers moving faster now.

Outside, the gunfire intensified, drawing nearer by the second. Soap and Gaz exchanged worried glances, their weapons at the ready. They knew they couldn't hold out much longer.

"Almost there," Ghost muttered under his breath, his eyes fixed on the screen.

Suddenly, the screen flickered and then displayed a map with a blinking marker. Ghost's gloved hand hovered over the keyboard as he extracted the data onto a portable drive.

"We've got it," Ghost announced, his voice calm yet triumphant.

Captain Price wasted no time. "Good. (Y/N), pack up. We're moving out–"

Before Price could finish his sentence, a barrage of gunfire erupted from outside the room. Bullets tore through the walls, sending chunks of debris flying. (Y/N) ducked instinctively, shielding her head with her arms.

In the chaos, Ghost acted decisively. He grabbed (Y/N)'s arm and pulled her towards him, shielding her with his own body as they sought cover behind a thick concrete pillar. His masked face was just inches from hers, his eyes intense behind the tinted lenses.

"Stay down," Ghost ordered, his voice low yet urgent.

(Y/N) nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the heat of his body against hers, his presence a comforting shield amidst the chaos. For the first time, she found herself grateful for his silent strength.

Captain Price and the others returned fire, their shots echoing through the room. The enemy was relentless, their numbers seemingly endless. But Task Force 141 was relentless too, fighting tooth and nail to hold their ground.

As the firefight raged on, (Y/N) couldn't help but steal glances at Ghost. His mask remained firmly in place, betraying nothing of the man beneath. But now, with the adrenaline coursing through her veins, she found herself drawn to him in a way she hadn't before.

"We need to move," Captain Price shouted over the din of gunfire. "Ghost, (Y/N), cover us. Soap, Gaz, with me!"

Without hesitation, Ghost and (Y/N) provided covering fire as Price and the others dashed towards the exit. Bullets whizzed past them, impacting the walls with deadly precision.

"Go!" Ghost called out, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of battle.

(Y/N) nodded and followed Ghost as they made their way towards the exit, their backs pressed against the cold stone walls. The air was thick with smoke and the acrid smell of gunpowder, their lungs burning with each breath.

Just as they reached the exit, a stray grenade sailed through the air and landed at their feet. (Y/N)'s eyes widened in horror as she realized they were trapped. Without thinking, Ghost pushed her behind him and shielded her with his body once more.

The grenade exploded with a deafening roar, sending shrapnel flying in all directions. (Y/N) felt the force of the blast against her back, but Ghost absorbed the brunt of it, his body tensing with the impact. She could hear him grunt in pain, but he didn't falter.

"Ghost!" (Y/N) screamed.

"(Y/N)..." Ghost's voice was strained. He was conscious but clearly in pain.

"Ghost is down!" she shouted into her comms, her voice filled with urgency.

There was a brief crackle of static before Price's voice came through, sharp and focused. "Gaz, Soap, fall back to Ghost's position! (Y/N), get to him now!"

As the smoke cleared, (Y/N) peered around Ghost to assess the damage. His mask was scorched and cracked, revealing a glimpse of his face beneath. Blood trickled down his neck from a gash caused by a piece of shrapnel.

"We need to get him out!" she called out, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

A few moments later the team managed to get to the position of (Y/N) and Ghost. Soap and Gaz provided cover as Price helped lift Ghost. They moved quickly, bullets whizzing past them, the sounds of battle all around. Outside, the night air was cool against (Y/N)'s skin as they regrouped with the extraction team and jumped into the helicopter that was waiting for them. As everyone was situated, (Y/N) immediately went to work, her focus solely on saving Ghost.

Captain Price and the others scanned the area around the helicopter, holding off the enemy as they flew off. (Y/N) didn't hesitate, knelt beside him. Ignoring his initial resistance, she gently pushed aside his damaged skull mask, and her hands went to his fabric mask that was under the other one.

"I need to see the wound," she said, her voice steady despite the panic rising within her.

Ghost caught her wrist instinctively, his gaze locking with hers. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

"It's alright, I need to patch you up," (Y/N) said softly, her voice barely a whisper.

Ghost hesitated, his grip on her wrist loosening ever so slightly. He gave a barely noticeable nod, allowing her to proceed. (Y/N) peeled back the mask, revealing his face for the first time. His face was a canvas of battle-hardened features, each scar telling a story of survival and sacrifice. A deep, fresh gash ran from his cheek down to his neck, the wound raw and bleeding, but the older scars drew her gaze – the jagged line across his left eyebrow, the faded burn mark along his jawline, and the small, puckered scar near his temple. His skin was pale, almost ghostly, contrasting sharply with the dark stubble that shadowed his jaw. But it was his eyes that caught her attention – dark brown, filled with a mix of determination and vulnerability.

Carefully, (Y/N) cleaned the wound on his neck and applied pressure to staunch the bleeding. Ghost felt a strange mix of emotions. He was not used to being exposed, his face a closely guarded secret. The sensation of her hands, gentle yet firm, was foreign but strangely comforting. Despite the pain, there was a sense of relief, a small crack in the armour he had built around himself.

Even though the severity of the situation, she remained calm, her training guiding her every move. Ghost winced, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he watched her with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine.

"There," (Y/N) said gently, securing a bandage around his neck. "That should hold for now."

Ghost's eyes met hers, a mixture of pain and gratitude in their depths. "Thanks," he muttered, his voice strained.

"I've got you," she replied firmly. "Just hang on."

As (Y/N) finished, Captain Price stepped over the duo, his expression a mix of concern and relief. "How is he?" he asked, his eyes on Ghost.

(Y/N) looked up, exhaustion evident in her features. "He'll be okay. The wound was serious, but he's stable now."

Price nodded, his respect for (Y/N) clear in his eyes. "Good work. You saved his life."

(Y/N) offered a tired smile. "Just fulfilling my duty."

Price clapped a hand on her shoulder, a rare gesture of affection. The helicopter blades whipped through the night, and (Y/N) stayed beside Ghost, her hands steady as she pressed the bandage on his wound. The field dressings had been held, but the ride was rough, so she kept a close watch to ensure he stayed stable. Despite the dire situation, Ghost’s eyes remained sharp, and focused, a silent testament to his resilience. (Y/N) looked at the others and Ghost knew that she wanted to check on them. He nodded and without another word, he moved (Y/N)’s hand from his gash and pushed her to go to the other injured comrades.

Once she agreed, (Y/N) turned her attention to Soap. She barely took care of his shoulder which took a hit during the firefight, and although he didn’t say anything, she knew he must be in pain.

“Soap,” she called, her voice cutting through the hum of the helicopter. “Let me see your shoulder.”

Soap glanced at her, his usual bravado dimmed by exhaustion. “It’s just a scratch, doc,” he muttered, but he didn’t resist as she moved closer.

(Y/N) carefully peeled back the torn fabric of his sleeve, revealing the graze. The bullet had grazed his shoulder, leaving a raw, bloody scar. She winced at the sight but quickly set to work, cleaning the wound with practised efficiency.

“You need to take it easy,” she said, her tone firm but gentle. “This might not be serious now, but it could get worse if you don’t let it heal.”

Soap grinned, a flicker of his usual humour returning. “Don’t worry about me, lass. I’m tougher than I look.”

(Y/N) smiled back, shaking her head. “Maybe, but even tough guys need to let their medics take care of them.”

As she bandaged his shoulder, Soap’s grin softened into something sincere. “Thanks, doc. We’re lucky to have you.”

She finished securing the bandage and patted his good shoulder. “Just doing my job, Soap. Now sit tight, we’ll be back at base soon.”

She glanced around the helicopter, checking on the rest of the team. Gaz was alert, his eyes scanning the horizon, and Captain Price was deep in thought, already planning their next move. Despite the weariness and the injuries, there was a deep sense of unity among them. They had faced the fire together and come out stronger on the other side.

As the helicopter touched down at the base, the team began to disembark, their movements slow and weary. (Y/N) remained beside Ghost, her presence a steady anchor amidst the chaos. His mask was back in place, hiding his features once more. But now, she knew the man behind the mask – a warrior with a haunted past, driven by a sense of duty and honour. She held his hand gently, ensuring he felt her support. Even through the pain and exhaustion, Ghost’s eyes flickered with a rare vulnerability, acknowledging her silent strength.

As the other medics arrived and began to transfer him onto a stretcher, Ghost’s grip on her hand tightened slightly. “You don’t have to stay,” he muttered, his voice strained but sincere.

(Y/N) smiled softly, squeezing his hand in return. “I want to. You’re my patient and my friend. I’m not leaving you now.”

Ghost’s eyes softened, a flicker of gratitude passing over his features. “Not used to... this kind of care.”

She chuckled lightly, adjusting the blanket around him. “Well, get used to it. You’re stuck with me.”

There was a brief silence as the medics prepared to move him, the sounds of the bustling base fading into the background. Ghost looked at her, his expression serious. “Thanks, (Y/N). For everything.”

(Y/N) leaned closer, her voice gentle but firm. “Just focus on getting better, Ghost. We need you.”

He nodded, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his mouth behind the fabric mask. “I’ll do my best.”

“You better do,” she said, walking alongside the stretcher as they moved him towards the infirmary.

[thedensworld]

Bucket of Happiness | J.Ww

Pairing: Businessman! Wonwoo x reader ft. Mingyu

Genre: Angst, fluff, friends to lovers

Summary: After the divorce settled, you immediately moved to Canada for your treatment. Meanwhile, Wonwoo has to run away from his parents who couldn't stop forcing him to get married.

Here's the part 1 | part 2 (Falling Flowers Series)

Wonwoo couldn't believe his own eyes when he saw a familiar figure step into the elevator. Both of them froze, realizing they could meet each other even after traveling thousands of miles. Awkwardly, Wonwoo bowed his head in greeting as you entered the elevator, the tension palpable between them.

Neither dared to say a word, letting only the jazz music fill the silence. When the elevator stopped at the 8th floor, you bowed your head before stepping out, revealing that you lived right behind his floor. Wonwoo sighed with the revelation, realizing you were in Canada, the same country as him.

It had only been two months since Wonwoo drank with Mingyu, his friend, right after Mingyu's divorce with you was settled. It wasn't a celebratory drink, Wonwoo assumed, but Mingyu didn't say anything about why he was drinking like a madman after his divorce request was accepted. Wonwoo didn't dare to ask, but he always sensed that something was up.

Meeting you in this country was a surprising revelation for him. He hadn't expected to encounter anyone he knew from Korea after deciding to leave the country for a few months following a huge fight with his parents. Leaving his business to his workers wasn't the same as being there himself. His trust had decreased, with too much monitoring, and he felt alone. He craved solace but not solitude.

Mingyu and Seungcheol had been calling him since he landed two days ago. He wanted to tell them he had safely arrived in Ottawa, the capital city of Canada. However, he didn't want anyone to know his whereabouts after the controversy his parents caused at their charity ball two weeks ago. They announced a future wedding for Wonwoo with a woman he had never met, without his consent.

Now, he was taking a risk by leaving everything behind in South Korea, choosing to live his life in peace here.

As the doorbell rang at 8 p.m., Wonwoo, engrossed in monitoring files sent by his secretary, stood up and opened the door. His eyes widened in shock as he saw you standing there with plastic bags filled with vegetables and a portable stove in your other hand.

"Hi..." you said, and Wonwoo nodded in response, his gaze shifting from you to the items in your hands, then back to you.

"I remembered Mingyu mentioned you like hot pot, want to have some?" you asked, raising your hands higher to show him what you brought.

Wonwoo, surprised but curious, accepted the offer, taking everything from your hands and inviting you inside. He stepped aside to let you in, and you followed, heading straight to the dining table and starting to prepare the ingredients for the hot pot.

Wonwoo assisted with the portable stove, marveling at your deft hands as you worked quickly. No words were exchanged beyond simple requests for utensils or ingredients.

Feeling the silence stretch, Wonwoo finally asked how you knew his unit. "The elevator," you explained simply, and Wonwoo nodded in acknowledgment, realizing you must have seen it stop at the floor above yours earlier that day.

"Enjoy the meal," Wonwoo said as you both sat down to eat, and you nodded, smiling.

The two of you enjoyed the food in a calm and quiet atmosphere, and once it was finished, you tidied up together before leaving his apartment, no words exchanged between you.

*

Wonwoo saw you again after a week. He was reading by the window when he saw you walking on the other side of the street with a few bags in your hands. Wonwoo's lips lifted at the sight; for a petite figure like yours, you were indeed strong. It reminded him of Mingyu's words about how you were physically and emotionally strong.

However, Wonwoo noticed something different about you that he couldn't quite tell. He watched you until your figure was out of his sight. "Did you cut your hair?" he thought. He was sure your hair was pretty long the last time you met. What he saw earlier was you with shoulder-length hair covered with a cap, making you appear younger. "A little appearance change might be good after a divorce," Wonwoo thought.

When Wonwoo decided to go for a run, he noticed another bag hooked onto his doorknob, just like the other day. Today, it was filled with fruits, the same ones you had in your hands earlier. Last time, you had given him a homecooked meal with a note to warm it before eating, which he found kind and thoughtful. Perhaps you had heard about what happened to him back in South Korea.

The other day, it was a salad bowl. Wonwoo intended to reciprocate the gesture. On his way back home, he picked up some sour bread and left it on your doorknob with a note of thanks, hoping you would know it was from him. This exchange continued, each giving to the other, until Wonwoo found himself constantly thinking about what he should get for you, even while he was away in another city.

It had been a month since he moved to Ottawa. He explored most of the city by running and taking public transportation, using stops at coffee shops to make calls and emails for his business. Despite the change in scenery, he remained a diligent businessman, ensuring every investment was worthwhile.

Now, standing in front of the liquor store, Wonwoo pondered whether to get you a bottle of whiskey or wine. He couldn't recall Mingyu ever mentioning your drinking habits. In fact, Mingyu rarely brought you up in conversation unless it reminded him of Nari, their best friend who was now married to Seungcheol.

This reflection brought Wonwoo back to the time when Mingyu mentioned that you reminded him of Nari. Indeed, as Wonwoo got to know you when you and Mingyu were still married, he noticed the physical similarities and the same calm and peaceful vibe you both emanated. You and Nari shared a protective nature towards others, seeming to care deeply about everyone else above yourselves.

Despite the exchange of gifts, you and Wonwoo hadn't met or exchanged words since the hot pot that night.

Wonwoo was just about to place a box of wine in front of your door when it swung open, revealing your figure, which shockingly appeared thinner than before. He momentarily mistook you for someone else, taken aback by your hollow cheeks and thin frame. Quickly dismissing his thoughts, Wonwoo retrieved the box and handed it to you personally.

"I just got back from Quebec for business. They said this is their best," Wonwoo explained.

You accepted the wine with a nod of thanks. "You don't have to," you said softly.

Wonwoo shook his head, insisting, "How could I not? You've been so thoughtful to me. Thank you so much, by the way."

You offered him a polite smile, and Wonwoo noticed two large trash bags filled to the brim sitting in front of your door. Without hesitation, he asked, "Are you going to recycle? Want me to help?"

"No, no, it's okay!" you refused, but Wonwoo insisted on helping.

Walking side by side with you, Wonwoo lifted both trash bags, not allowing you to carry them. "Have you had dinner?" you asked him, and Wonwoo shook his head. You then kindly offered him a meal as gratitude, and Wonwoo nodded, glad that you were starting to engage in conversation.

While waiting for the budae-jjigae to cook, you locked eyes with Wonwoo, causing him to bite his lip nervously. After a moment of silence, he finally mustered the courage to ask, "How are you?"

You took a moment to respond before saying, "better than before?" Wonwoo couldn't help but wonder what Mingyu had done to elicit such a response from you.

"And how about you, Mr. Jeon?" you asked in return.

Wonwoo shook his head. "Please call me Wonwoo. You're not Seungcheol hyung's secretary anymore," he said, smiling. "I'm great. I feel comfortable here, despite being far from home."

You mentioned that Nari had told you about his disappearance and how everyone was searching for him. Wonwoo's smile turned bitter. "So you heard about that," he said, nodding as you bit your lip.

"I'm sorry for what happened to you. Your parents... They were in the wrong, and I understand your decision to seek peace," you said softly.

Wonwoo took a deep breath before exhaling. "Are you doing the same thing here? Seeking peace?" he asked.

"I don't know. I came here for another reason, but I have found some peace," you replied with a smile, noticing that the meal was ready.

"Please, help yourself," you offered.

Wonwoo smiled and lifted his spoon and bowl of rice. "Thanks for the meal," he said warmly.

*

Wonwoo found relief after talking with you that night. He called his mother and informed her that he was doing well in Canada. Following your suggestion, he calmly explained his feelings about the marriage agenda his parents had been pushing, expressing his disappointment about the last event. After that call, he never felt so light-hearted.

He continued to get you things, whether it was food, cake, or books. Sometimes he saw you bringing home stacks of books, so he assumed you liked reading just like him. Tonight, he had just returned from meeting an old friend. As he walked to the elevator, a crew of medics rushed in. When they pressed the button for your floor, his heart sank.

"Is something happening to someone in that unit?" Wonwoo asked one of them.

"Do you know her? She was dialing an emergency call before she collapsed," one of the medics replied.

Wonwoo's brows furrowed in concern. He immediately followed them after they gave him permission, explaining that he was a friend of yours. With the help of the building's staff, they opened your door and entered your apartment. There you were, collapsed on the floor with your phone lying beside you. He felt a wave of relief knowing that you had managed to dial the emergency number.

As you arrived at the nearest hospital, Wonwoo offered himself to be your guardian. Holding his phone tightly, he felt an urge to call Mingyu, but he hesitated, wanting to respect your privacy. He couldn't help but notice the loss of your radiance after your sudden weight loss, and he couldn't shake the thought that it might be a result of the divorce.

When Mingyu informed him of his intention to divorce you, Wonwoo wasn't surprised. There had been signs that something was amiss in your marriage with Mingyu. It was a Friday night when Mingyu decided to stay at Wonwoo's house.

"You don't want to come home?" Wonwoo asked, puzzled by Mingyu's decision to stay the night.

"I'm divorcing Y/n," Mingyu blurted out.

Wonwoo stopped in his tracks. "Why?" he asked, unable to comprehend Mingyu's reasoning. "Is it because of the rumors?" he continued, pressing Mingyu for an answer.

Mingyu shook his head. "I intended to divorce her long before the rumors," he confessed.

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow. "Is it because of her miscarriage?" he asked.

Mingyu was silent for a moment before exhaling heavily. "It wasn't a miscarriage," he began. "She aborted them."

Wonwoo remembered how Mingyu had cried after confessing his intention to divorce you. However, months later, after the divorce was finalized, Mingyu called him for a drink, and Wonwoo could see regret in his friend's eyes. Many questions remained unanswered. Did Mingyu still love you? Was Mingyu happy during your marriage? How did you feel about the divorce?

"Y/n Ji's guardian?" Wonwoo was called, prompting him to swiftly make his way to the nurse station. He listened attentively as they briefed him on your condition.

"Ms. Ji's condition is stable, but she'll need to stay in the hospital for a few days. Please fill out this form and send it to the administration station," the nurse instructed.

Wonwoo nodded, but before taking the form, he inquired, "May I know what happened to her?"

"Nothing serious. She collapsed due to exhaustion and is undergoing medical treatment. It appears she may have taken the wrong dose of medication. The doctor will explain in detail," the nurse replied.

After handling the administrative tasks, Wonwoo accompanied you to your room. The doctor informed him that you had taken an incorrect dose of medication, causing you to lose consciousness. The doctor also mentioned that you would need to remain in the hospital until your chemotherapy appointment, which caught Wonwoo off guard. Chemotherapy? Were you ill? Did Mingyu know about this?

"I'm sorry to have caused you trouble," you said weakly, but still grateful.

Wonwoo shook his head. "No need to apologize. I'm just glad you're okay. You did well to dial the emergency number."

Handing you back your phone, he said, "I've put my number in as your emergency contact. Please call me if anything happens."

You accepted the phone with a weak smile. "Thank you."

There was a pause before Wonwoo cautiously asked, "Are you sick?" He didn't want to offend you with his question.

You smiled, not directly answering, but Wonwoo understood. Yes, you were sick, and it seemed serious.

"Are you here for treatment?" he asked, and you confirmed it.

"Have you told Mingyu?" Wonwoo inquired, and you nodded.

"So you're still in communication?" he assumed, but you shook your head.

"Mingyu knew. He knew before we were officially divorced," you revealed.

Wonwoo scowled. Mingyu knew about your illness and still went through with the divorce?

"Is it serious, your illness?" he asked with concern.

You thought for a moment. "I don't know, but it could be life-threatening. I've worked hard to get to this point," you explained, mentioning that this hospital was the only one with the procedure for your cancer.

"If you're wondering why Mingyu still divorced me despite knowing this, it's because I asked him not to stop the divorce process," you added, answering another question in his mind.

Wonwoo shook his head, his worry evident. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry."

You smiled. "No need to apologize. You're Mingyu's friend, so it's natural for you to wonder. I understand."

"It was the best decision for both of us. In fact, it wasn't difficult to divorce," you said calmly.

Wonwoo sighed, feeling a pang of sadness. You had no idea how much Mingyu had loved you when you were still carrying his child.

*

Wonwoo took a moment to absorb Mingyu's flurry of questions and colorful language, a mixture of relief and amusement washing over him at his friend's outburst. After two months of silence, he couldn't blame Mingyu for being a tad dramatic.

"I'm in Ottawa, enjoying my life here," Wonwoo finally replied, a smile evident in his voice despite the distance.

There was a brief pause before Mingyu dropped the unexpected bombshell. "Y/n is in Ottawa as well."

Wonwoo's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Actually, I live right above her apartment," he admitted, his tone tinged with intrigue.

Mingyu's chuckle resonated through the phone. "What a small world, right?"

The conversation lulled into silence before Wonwoo decided to break it. "Hey, would you like to know how she's doing? I see her around quite often."

Mingyu's response was immediate, tinged with a mix of concern and uncertainty. "Yeah, please... Is she alright?"

The conversation shifted, and Wonwoo could feel Mingyu's apprehension when he broached the topic of your well-being. It was clear that you held a special place in Mingyu's heart, even if you were no longer together.

Mingyu's next question caught him off guard, stumbling over his words in typical Mingyu fashion. "Um, is she... still the same? I mean, does she still look the same? Gosh, I know this is a stupid question—"

"Yeah, she's doing great," Wonwoo reassured him, sensing Mingyu's relief on the other end of the line.

"She's improving, Mingyu," Wonwoo answered, understanding Mingyu's concern.

"She looks thinner, but her health is improving. She cut her hair. It falls easily after a month of chemo," Wonwoo informed Mingyu, his voice gentle yet tinged with concern.

Mingyu's response was subdued, his words trailing off as if lost in thought. "So, you know..."

"Yes," Wonwoo replied softly, choosing not to divulge the full extent of your recent struggles, not wanting to burden Mingyu further.

"Thanks... Please take care of her for me," Mingyu requested, his tone heavy with a mix of gratitude and resignation.

"Why don't you come here and do it yourself if you really care about her?" Wonwoo wondered, unable to suppress the hint of reproach in his voice.

"I... I don't deserve her," Mingyu confessed, his admission laden with regret and self-doubt.

"What do you mean?" Wonwoo's eyebrows furrowed in surprise, puzzled by Mingyu's sudden self-deprecation.

"Hyung..." Mingyu's voice cracked, and to Wonwoo's shock, he could hear the sound of Mingyu sobbing through the phone, his heart sinking at the raw emotion in Mingyu's voice.

"Hey, don't cry... Are you at the office? Home?" Wonwoo asked, concern flooding his tone as he worried about Mingyu breaking down in public. The revelation of Mingyu's vulnerability added another layer to their conversation, deepening Wonwoo's sense of responsibility towards both Mingyu and you.

"Home, I took the day off," Mingyu admitted.

Wonwoo sighed heavily, his heart aching as he realized the depth of Mingyu's inner turmoil. He knew all too well that Mingyu rarely took days off, throwing himself tirelessly into work as a way to distract himself from the pain of loding Qp your unborn child.

"I just don't deserve her. I'm an asshole! So please... Take care of her for me," Mingyu pleaded, his voice cracking with emotion.

Wonwoo shook his head in disbelief, struggling to comprehend Mingyu's self-condemnation. "Mingyu..."

"She did indeed have a miscarriage. She kept our baby, but she miscarried because of cervical cancer," Mingyu revealed, his words weighted with sorrow and regret.

Wonwoo's eyes widened in shock at Mingyu's revelation, his mind struggling to process the gravity of the situation. "What?"

"I was about to cancel the divorce request, but she insisted." Mingyu confessed, his voice heavy with guilt and remorse.

As the truth sank in, Wonwoo felt a surge of empathy for both Mingyu and you, realizing the complexity of the emotions swirling beneath the surface. The weight of Mingyu's confession added another layer of complexity to their friendship, leaving Wonwoo grappling with the tangled web of love, loss, and regret that bound them all together.

Wonwoo closed his eyes, his hand unconsciously going to his heart, feeling a sharp pain in his chest as if something inside him was being torn apart by Mingyu's confession. The weight of Mingyu's words hung heavily in the air, suffocating Wonwoo with a mixture of sorrow and disbelief.

"I'm sorry I told you this. I couldn't think straight after the divorce. I can't stop thinking about how much I hurted her," Mingyu admitted, his voice laden with remorse.

Wonwoo didn't say a word. He couldn't find the right words to express the turmoil raging inside him. With a heavy heart, he ended the call, tears streaming down his cheeks unchecked. His chest felt like it was being crushed under the weight of Mingyu's confession, his heart shattered into a million pieces.

As he sat alone in the silence that followed, Wonwoo couldn't shake the feeling of overwhelming sadness that engulfed him. He had thought you didn't deserve Mingyu, but now he realized that it was Mingyu who didn't deserve you. The depth of your love and the pain you had endured only served to highlight your strength and resilience in the face of adversity. Wonwoo couldn't help but feel a profound sense of admiration for you, realizing that you deserved nothing less than the world.

*

Seungcheol introduced a woman he brought to Wonwoo's birthday as his new secretary before Wonwoo could jump to any assumptions about her relationship with Seungcheol. Having just broken up with Nari before she went abroad to continue her studies, Seungcheol was keen on avoiding any misunderstandings. So, when Wonwoo saw a woman who bore a striking resemblance to Nari accompanying Seungcheol, he almost blurted out, "You have a type, hyung."

"This is Jeon Wonwoo, a friend of mine," Seungcheol introduced Wonwoo to you, offering his hand for a shake.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Jeon," you said, your voice resembling Nari's, causing Wonwoo's eyes to widen as he shot a glance at Seungcheol.

Seungcheol then left you to enjoy the party while he engaged in conversation with Wonwoo. "How did you find her?" Wonwoo inquired.

"She applied. She used to be an intern at JIS Corp," Seungcheol replied, knowing that Wonwoo's mother had connections to JIS.

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow. "Did she graduate from JIS as well?"

"I can't recall, but she did attend JIS Senior High School. She's a Seoul University graduate, though," Seungcheol recalled.

Wonwoo chuckled. "You've found yourself quite a catch, hyung."

Seungcheol nodded in agreement. "She's exceptional, and it's only her first month."

As Wonwoo scanned the room, his eyes sought out your figure once more. He observed you engaging in conversation with an older guest, wearing a smile that seemed all too familiar. Suddenly, a face from his high school days flashed in his mind—his long-time crush.

Wonwoo never knew her name; she was just a girl he had noticed during his final year of high school, the year he was preparing to apply for college. In truth, Wonwoo had never spoken to her, never heard her voice. It was simply her beauty that captivated him, locking his gaze onto her whenever she came into view.

She was a quiet girl, content to smile and nod in the company of her friends. Wonwoo's first real interaction with her occurred during a volunteering event at the Foster Home. There, he saw her engrossed in a book, surrounded by children hanging onto her every word. Her pretty eyes sparkled with each motion she made while reading to them, and in that moment, Wonwoo couldn't help but fall for her.

He wished love were that easy, that it wouldn't be as complicated as his parents' strained relationship, held together by financial ties. He wished it wouldn't be as tangled as Mingyu's feelings for Nari, who loved Seungcheol instead. He longed for love to be as effortless as breathing, as simple as yawning.

Yet, as he grew older, Wonwoo watched those around him experience divorce, breakups, and constant quarrels. He began to lose hope, yearning for nothing more than peace. All he wanted was tranquility amidst the chaos of love's complexities.

*

Mingyu often sought Wonwoo's counsel regarding your rights within your former father's company, a topic that shed light on your background. Wonwoo was surprised to learn that your father was Ji Sunggi, the former president and founder of JIS Corp. Despite the shock, Wonwoo couldn't deny a sense of expectation; your association with such a prominent figure hinted at a background far from ordinary.

At another one of his birthday parties, doubling as the launch for his label JW Entertainment, Seungcheol brought you as his plus one. After years of dedicated service as Seungcheol's secretary, Wonwoo witnessed your brilliance firsthand as you seamlessly assisted Seungcheol throughout the event. With your quick and comprehensive briefings, you ensured that Seungcheol was always well-informed, making him the center of attention and admiration.

From his vantage point, Wonwoo observed you gracefully mingling with the other guests, your presence exuding a natural elegance that could rival even the most seasoned conglomerates. However, amidst your confident demeanor, Wonwoo couldn't help but notice moments of discomfort, subtle signs betraying a vulnerability beneath the facade of confidence.

As he watched you navigate the social landscape with poise and tact, Wonwoo couldn't shake the feeling of admiration that stirred within him. Despite any insecurities you may have harbored, your ability to shine in the spotlight was undeniable, leaving Wonwoo marveling at the depth of your talent and resilience.

As Wonwoo exited the restroom, he inadvertently overheard two women engaged in a hushed conversation about Mingyu and another person, presumably you. Their expressions were tense, and their whispers carried hints of disdain and resentment.

"How could she talk to us like that?!"

"She thinks she's better than us?"

Wonwoo, with a soft smile on his face, politely approached the two women. "Good evening, ladies..."

Startled by the unexpected presence of the party's host, the two women grew flustered, their demeanor shifting uncomfortably under Wonwoo's gaze.

"I'm so sorry for disturbing, but the person that you're talking about," Wonwoo motioned towards Mingyu and you, "are my friends. So I would appreciate it if you refrained from discussing them in such a manner."

The women scowled, clearly displeased by Wonwoo's intervention.

"Who is she?" one of them dared to ask, emboldened by Wonwoo's calm demeanor.

Wonwoo let out a soft chuckle, his hands slipping into his pockets as he considered his response. "She's related to Choi Seungcheol from Choi Corp. Didn't you receive an invitation as a plus one from their company?"

With that, Wonwoo left the women behind, his steps quick as he made his way towards you. However, before he could reach you, he noticed Mingyu approaching, his hand reaching out to pull you closer to him from Lee Jaewook. The intimate gesture caught Wonwoo's attention, sparking a flicker of concern in his mind.

Did he just see Mingyu pull you into his embrace?

Wonwoo sighed, a mix of disappointment and apprehension clouding his thoughts. Whatever intentions Mingyu harbored towards you, Wonwoo couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach.

*

As Wonwoo glanced around the room, his eyes fell upon a picture hanging on the wall, drawing his attention with a sudden pang of curiosity.

"Who's this?" he asked, pointing to the photograph.

You turned towards him, your movements graceful as you approached, a soft smile playing on your lips. "That's me and my high school friends," you replied, your voice a gentle melody that seemed to stir something within Wonwoo.

"Which one is you?" Wonwoo inquired, his voice barely above a whisper as he leaned in, his heart racing with anticipation.

Your finger delicately landed on a girl with a ponytail, her smile radiant as she was hugged by a friend. Wonwoo's breath caught in his throat as he turned to look at you, seeing a resemblance between the girl in the photograph and the person standing before him.

A sudden realization washed over Wonwoo, and he couldn't help but chuckle softly. You tilted your head in confusion, unable to comprehend the amusement dancing in Wonwoo's eyes. Little did you know, Wonwoo had just uncovered the reason behind his inexplicable attraction to you since the moment you first crossed paths. In you, he saw echoes of his first love, a connection that had been unknowingly tugging at his heartstrings all along. It was you after all.

"Let's go, I'm ready," you said, flashing a bright smile at Wonwoo, who couldn't help but admire the resilience and courage shining in your eyes. It had been your wish to have your picture taken before losing all your hair due to chemotherapy, and Wonwoo was more than willing to accompany you, grateful for the opportunity to spend time together outside of their usual routine.

As Wonwoo watched you pose for the photographer, his smile grew wider, his heart swelling with admiration for your strength and positivity in the face of adversity. He couldn't resist capturing the moment himself, pulling out his phone to snap a picture of you, a small gesture of appreciation for the beauty he saw in you.

Unexpectedly, the photographer suggested taking a picture together, catching Wonwoo off guard. It wasn't part of the plan, but when you nodded and motioned for him to join you, Wonwoo couldn't bring himself to refuse. There was a spark in your eyes and a genuine warmth in your smile that melted his defenses, reminding him of the feelings he harbored for you since high school.

As the photographer snapped a few shots of the two of you together, Wonwoo couldn't shake the surreal feeling of standing beside his long-time crush, realizing just how much you meant to him.

After the photoshoot, as you approached to review the results, Wonwoo stepped aside, feeling a pang of sadness tugging at his heart when you joked about wanting a good memorial picture. The weight of your words hung heavy in the air, reminding Wonwoo of the fragility of life and the preciousness of every moment spent with you.

Wonwoo and you stopped at a cozy coffee shop before heading home. You sipped your hot coffee while gazing out the window, lost in thought. Wonwoo watched you intently, noticing how you seemed to grow thinner day by day.

"How's the treatment going?" Wonwoo asked gently, breaking the silence and for the first time broaching the subject of your cancer treatment.

You put down your cup, a faint smile playing on your lips. "It’s just started. The doctor said I might start losing a lot of hair after the next chemo session. She suggested I cut it shorter to make it easier."

Wonwoo nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "It’s just started?" he repeated softly, trying to gauge how you were truly feeling.

"Yes," you replied, your voice tinged with a mix of resignation and courage. "The hurting phase is about to happen." You smiled bitterly, your eyes drifting away from his to the pedestrians passing by outside. The vibrant life beyond the window contrasted sharply with the quiet battle you faced, making Wonwoo's heart ache for you.

Wonwoo bit his lips, lowering his head as he gathered his thoughts. "You shouldn't pass away," he murmured, his voice filled with emotion.

You turned to him, puzzled. "What?"

Wonwoo sighed deeply. "I heard your conversation with the photographer earlier. You should live for a long time," he said softly but with conviction. "A lot of people care about you. Seungcheol hyung, Nari, Mingyu... I care about you too. So, please, don’t give up."

A soft chuckle escaped your lips. "Wonwoo, if I had given up, I wouldn't be here," you joked lightly. "Getting treated was my decision. When Mingyu asked for a divorce, I realized the only person I could rely on was myself. That's why I'm working hard to get healthy again."

You paused for a moment, the weight of your thoughts heavy on your mind. "But," you continued, your voice trembling slightly, "I don't know, Wonwoo. I might die tomorrow."

Your gaze dropped to your fingers resting on your lap, tracing the lines absentmindedly. "I just want to spend my life doing the things I want," you said softly.

Wonwoo cleared his throat and immediately straightened his posture. "What do you want? Let's do it," he declared with enthusiasm, prompting a soft laugh from you.

"I want a baby," you said, your eyes twinkling mischievously.

Wonwoo blinked, taken aback. "I can't help with that one," he responded, stepping back slightly and giving you a startled look.

You laughed at his reaction, shaking your head. "Adopting. I was thinking about adopting a child."

Wonwoo sighed in relief, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "That sounds great. But are you sure though? I mean, with all the treatment and... taking care of a child..."

You blew out a breath, nodding thoughtfully. "Right, I didn’t think about that."

"Actually," Wonwoo began, his tone shifting to a more hopeful note, "my mother has been fundraising for a foster home in Seoul. We could pay them a visit if you want." He pulled out his phone, scrolling to find the pictures, and showed you an image of the foster home he was referring to.

Your eyes lit up as you looked at the photos. "That sounds wonderful, Wonwoo. I’d love to visit."

Wonwoo’s heart warmed at your response. "Great! We can plan a trip soon. It’ll be a nice break for both of us," he said, already thinking about how to make the visit special for you.

However, he noticed the color of your face change. He raised his brows, questioning your condition just in case you felt under the weather. He had mentioned that you should wear something warmer.

"Are you okay though? I saw the news," you asked him carefully, bringing up Wonwoo's situation that had brought him to Ottawa in the first place. Where media has been focused to Wonwoo since he left Seoul.

Wonwoo nodded in acknowledgement. "You saw it," he mumbled. "You might have heard about my parents. They're pretty particular about everything, including my love life. They kind of crossed the line," he explained in a subtle manner, not wanting to overshare his sudden engagement announcement that made by his parent months ago.

You could sense the weight of his words, the tension behind his calm exterior. "I'm sorry to hear that. It must be tough dealing with so much pressure from family."

He sighed softly, appreciating your empathy. "It is, but it's something I've gotten used to. Still, it helps to have someone who understands."

There was a silence from you before you stated, "It's better than having no family at all, right?" You pointed to yourself, eliciting a smile from Wonwoo.

Wonwoo knew about your family situation. He knew how you were adopted, how you lost your father, and how your stepmother had abandoned you.

He nodded thoughtfully, the smile lingering on his face. "You're right," he said softly. "I guess we both have our own struggles with family, just in different ways."

You gave him a small, understanding smile. "Yeah, but it makes us who we are. Stronger, I suppose."

Wonwoo's eyes softened. "Exactly. And it's good to have friends who get it."

Then Wonwoo raised an eyebrow. "Are we friends, though?" he asked playfully.

You rolled your eyes and dramatically gasped, placing your hand on your chest. "I can't believe what you've just said. You're paying!" You motioned to the coffee and desserts on the table.

Wonwoo smiled widely and stood up. "Alright, alright." He grabbed his wallet and walked to the cashier. As he did, he felt a sense of relief and happiness wash over him, knowing you were a true friend now—not just a crush like it used to be.

*

In two weeks, both you and Wonwoo flew to Seoul with a clear decision to visit the foster home Wonwoo had mentioned. Your decision to adopt a child had been wavering, but you knew you were mentally ready, and Wonwoo had been an incredible support system for you. Wonwoo mentioned that Mingyu missed you and wanted to meet, but you decided to visit your mother first after going to the foster home.

Upon arrival, Wonwoo greeted everyone warmly and politely. The staff remembered him fondly, mentioning that he often visited the foster home from high school through college. It was heartwarming to see how much he was loved and respected there.

"Why?" you asked him, wanting to know the reason.

Wonwoo shrugged, a nostalgic smile playing on his lips. "I had good memories visiting here when I was a kid. I remember always thinking it was fun to play with the kids," he explained, before running off to join a group of children, his laughter blending with theirs.

Walking through the halls of the foster home, you could feel a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. The children's laughter echoed through the building, filling it with a sense of hope and innocence. You exchanged a glance with Wonwoo, who squeezed your hand reassuringly, reminding you that you were not alone in this journey.

As you met the children, your heart swelled with emotion. Their bright eyes and genuine smiles touched you deeply, and you felt a connection you hadn't expected. The idea of adopting one of these wonderful children began to feel less daunting and more like a calling.

"Do you remember how you were as a kid?" Wonwoo asked as the two of you waited for the director.

You thought for a moment. "I don't really remember much, but I think I was pretty cheerful. My father used to say he loved hearing my cheerful voice whenever he came home from work."

Wonwoo chuckled, his eyes softening. "I can tell. You do have that cheerful side sometimes," he retorted, and you raised your brows in confusion.

"Really? When?" you asked, genuinely curious.

However, Wonwoo didn't pay attention to your curiosity, as his focus shifted to an elderly woman, seemingly in her 70s, approaching both of you.

"Long time no see, ma'am," Wonwoo said, bowing politely to the director of the foster home.

"This is Ji Y/N. She's from Canada and has been wanting to visit here," Wonwoo introduced you to the director.

You smiled and bowed at the director, but what you gained from her was something unexpected.

"Y/N? Is it really you?" she asked, her eyes widening in surprise and recognition.

You blinked, taken aback. "Have we met before?" Your eyes shifted to Wonwoo, silently asking for help. However, Wonwoo looked as clueless as you felt.

The director, named Kim Jaewha, approached you, holding your arms with eyes that showed disbelief. "Are you really Y/N? The girl who was adopted by the Ji family?"

Wonwoo's eyes widened at the revelation, questions flying through his mind. "Were you raised here?" he asked, his voice tinged with shock.

Ms. Kim's eyes softened as she continued, "Do you remember me? I'm Ms. Kim, your nanny!"

You shook your head, struggling to recall any memories from before you were adopted. "I barely remember anything from that time," you admitted.

Ms. Kim's expression grew tender. "You were so young when you left. It's understandable that you don't remember much."

A flood of mixed emotions washed over you—surprise, confusion, and an unexpected sense of connection. You glanced at Wonwoo, who offered a supportive smile.

"How's your mother?"

*

Wonwoo had insisted on driving you to your mother's house, but you preferred to take a cab. It had been an emotional roller coaster earlier, and you didn't want to burden him any further with your tears and disappointment. Not toward your stepmother, but your real mother.

Kim Jaewha, who used to be your nanny, had dropped a bombshell that you had never heard before, and you were ready to confront your mother about it. All the revelations from the two-hour visit to the foster home had brought back the childhood memories you had lost due to a car accident.

On your way to your mother's house, the cab driver occasionally glanced at you through the rearview mirror as you sobbed in the back seat. You stepped out of the car and immediately walked up to the house.

"I'm sorry, but Mrs. Ji has requested no guests today," the maid said firmly.

You sighed, trying to steady your voice. "I'm no guest. I'm her daughter."

A quarrel ensued between you and the maid, your raised voices echoing through the hallway. The commotion caused your mother to step out, her expression stern as she took in the chaos.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I warned her about no guests today," the maid apologized, bowing deeply.

Your mother ordered her to leave with a sharp glance. As she approached you, her eyes scanned you from head to toe, a mixture of curiosity and irritation on her face..

"It's been half a year since your divorce, and only now do you decide to visit me?" your mother said, her tone laced with the usual disdain, as if your presence disgusted her.

You gulped, trying to steady yourself. "It's not your business," you replied, hearing her laugh—a cold, hollow sound.

"It is my business because your ex-husband, Mr. Kim, got involved in my business to secure your rights in the company," your mother retorted. She walked to her desk, grabbing the phone to call her secretary. "I need Mr. Yang for Y/N's rights administration. It's past the due date, so make sure he handles everything."

You looked at her in confusion. "What do you mean?"

She rolled her eyes. "Your ex-husband saved my business on the condition that I grant you your rights after a year."

You blinked, processing this information. You thought it was supposed to be two years. What had Mingyu done behind your back?

"He was an amazing man. I don't understand why you two divorced," your mother mumbled.

"Anyway... I heard about your condition," she said, sitting on the couch and watching you from three meters away.

"Which condition?" you asked, your tone more defiant than you felt. She seemed surprised by your courage to talk back, but you noticed her face almost softened as she observed your changed appearance.

"Your health," she said after clearing her throat..

You took a deep breath before deciding to sit in front of her. "I also heard something about your condition," you started. "That you abandoned me at the foster home."

Your mother’s eyes widened slightly, but she said nothing.

"Was that why you tried to kill me after finding out the girl your husband had adopted is the daughter you had abandoned?" you asked, finally letting out the revelation you had just discovered.

You watched her tense up at your confession. "I always disgust you, right?" you asked, your voice trembling.

"As a woman, I pity you," you continued, your tone steady but filled with emotion. "Having to raise a daughter that you got from a man you couldn't marry before you abandoned her. Fate is so mean to you."

You paused, swallowing the lump in your throat. "However, as a child... I hate that you had to ruin mine just because yours was ruined."

You stood up from your seat. "I refuse the rights," you declared firmly.

"Let's not meet each other after this. Let's act like strangers, like you always wanted. Let's act like we have died to each other," you said, your voice breaking slightly as you turned and walked out of the house.

As you stepped outside, the weight of your words hung heavily in the air. The confrontation, painful and necessary, marked the end of a chapter that had caused you so much pain. You felt a strange sense of liberation, knowing that you had finally stood up for yourself and set the boundaries you needed.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you walked towards the gate. You saw your mother's figure standing at the door, her eyes filled with a mix of regret and resignation. She had started to chase after you but stopped, knowing it was too late. She had abandoned you long ago. Letting you go now wouldn't be difficult for her.

As you neared the gate, you spotted a familiar car parked by the side of the road. Wonwoo stepped out and immediately came to you, his eyes widening in concern when he saw you crying. He knew he should have been there to support you from the beginning.

He walked to you slowly, his eyes softening as he took in your condition. You looked into his eyes before leaning into his embrace, finally letting yourself cry harder on his chest.

"I'm so sorry for what happened to you," Wonwoo whispered, his voice filled with empathy and regret. "I'm so sorry..."

His arms tightened around you, providing the comfort and support you so desperately needed. In his embrace, you found a moment of solace, knowing that despite the pain and revelations, you weren't alone.

*

Wonwoo sat on one of the couches in Mingyu's office, guilt weighing heavily on his chest. Mingyu had greeted him excitedly earlier, offering him drinks and meals, and had even canceled his plans for the day to spend time with Wonwoo. Wonwoo felt restless; Mingyu shouldn’t be going out of his way like this.

"How are you? Is Ottawa nice?" Mingyu asked, his tone warm and curious.

Wonwoo nodded casually. "The lifestyle there fits mine. No difficulty in adapting," he explained simply, and Mingyu nodded in acknowledgment.

There was a pregnant pause before Mingyu asked about your condition. "She's fine, right?"

Wonwoo raised his brows and immediately nodded. "Yes, she's great. She visited her mother yesterday. She said she's going to meet Seungcheol hyung and Nari today."

Mingyu smiled weakly. "How's her treatment? Has she ever shared anything about that?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

Wonwoo sighed. "Why don't you ask her yourself?" he suggested, but Mingyu took a deep breath and shook his head.

"I told you, hyung. I couldn't face her after what I found out," Mingyu explained, referring to the miscarriage you had suffered while married to him. "I miss her, though."

Wonwoo's mind wandered to your confession about knowing Mingyu's feelings for Nari, Seungcheol's wife and Mingyu's first love. How much guilt would Mingyu bear if Wonwoo revealed that fact?

"Trust me, she's doing great. Treatment, life—she's even taking a writing course," Wonwoo informed Mingyu, which lifted a slight smile on Mingyu's lips.

"She always loved writing," Mingyu murmured, his eyes distant as he thought about the past.

Wonwoo watched Mingyu, feeling the weight of unspoken truths between them. He wished he could ease Mingyu's guilt, but he knew that some wounds had to be dealt with in their own time. "She really is doing well," he reassured softly, hoping it would bring Mingyu some peace.

Mingyu nodded, but the sadness in his eyes remained. "Thanks, hyung. It means a lot to hear that from you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Wonwoo watched the younger man, a mix of emotions swirling within him. "You loved her, didn't you?" he asked playfully, trying to lighten the mood.

Mingyu chuckled softly. "Of course, I married her because I loved her."

Wonwoo leaned closer, searching Mingyu's eyes. "Did she know it?" he asked.

Mingyu nodded. "I told her every day. That I loved her."

Wonwoo took a deep breath, his mind replaying your confession about knowing Mingyu's feelings for another woman. His head spun with the complexity of the situation. "She's really like Nari, isn't she?" Mingyu asked, his voice tinged with wistfulness.

Wonwoo could only nod in response, feeling the weight of the comparison. While Mingyu always thought that you resembled Nari, Wonwoo couldn’t see it that way. When he saw Nari in the past, she reminded him of his first love, the girl with the ponytail from high school—who turned out to be you. But when he looked at you, he saw no trace of Nari.

Was Mingyu experiencing the same confusion? Was it right to compare?

Wonwoo couldn't answer that. The lines between past and present, love and memory, were too blurred. He sighed deeply, feeling the burden of secrets and unresolved feelings between them. "It's complicated," he finally said, his voice heavy with meaning.

When you were still married to Mingyu, Wonwoo couldn't shake the jealousy that simmered in his chest at the thought of Mingyu being the one to have you. Your graceful movements, your soft-spoken tone, the beauty that radiated from your face—it all stirred a tumultuous mix of emotions within him.

Wonwoo could only watch you from afar whenever you attended events with Mingyu. His heart broke when he caught sight of the baby bump under Mingyu's hand as he walked you around, introducing you to his friends.

He couldn't explain the depth of his worry when he saw you running around in heels while pregnant during his visit for Seungcheol's wedding preparation. He remembered calling Seungcheol, pleading for him to involve you less, knowing the strain it could put on your health.

"I was surprised to hear you were the one who asked, not Mingyu," Seungcheol had remarked.

Wonwoo chuckled at Seungcheol's words. If only he knew the truth. "Mingyu asked me to ask you. Do you think he would have the guts to ask himself?" Wonwoo had replied, trying to be diplomatic.

If Mingyu weren't his best friend, Wonwoo would have been tempted to confront him when he visited to discuss your rights at your father's company. He had seen the baby items being moved from Mingyu's house, followed by your tearful attempts to stop them. It was then that Mingyu had confessed about your abortion plan.

"So your feelings are the only ones that are valid?" Wonwoo froze when he overheard your conversation with Mingyu that night. He knew he should let Mingyu know he was there, but he couldn't bring himself to interrupt.

"You don't know the kind of sorrow I've been hiding until they turned into anger," he heard you say to Mingyu, your voice rising for the first time.

Feeling like an intruder, Wonwoo discreetly retreated, watching as you stormed out of Mingyu's office. He heard you speak to one of the staff, requesting to have your bed prepared separately from Mingyu's.

As he stood there, grappling with the weight of the emotions he had witnessed, Wonwoo couldn't help but feel a surge of protectiveness towards you. He knew that despite the complexities of your relationship with Mingyu, he would always be there to support you, even if it meant standing silently in the shadows.

Wonwoo sighed heavily, the weight of his unspoken feelings pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket. He loved you so much that it hurt him to see you suffer, especially while Mingyu lived his life seemingly unaffected.

"If Seungcheol hyung and Nari suddenly separated, would you marry her?" Wonwoo asked Mingyu, the question seemingly coming out of nowhere.

Mingyu frowned, taken aback by the unexpected inquiry. "Don't talk like that," he warned, but Wonwoo persisted, assuring him it was just a hypothetical scenario.

"If Seungcheol hyung and Nari, for whatever reason, had to separate, would you ask to marry Nari?" Wonwoo pressed again.

After a few moments of contemplation, Mingyu nodded with determination. "I'll marry her," he affirmed.

Wonwoo nodded in acknowledgment, his mind swirling with questions. 'If I marry Y/n, will it be okay?' The thought lingered in his mind, unspoken yet ever-present.

Unable to contain his impulsivity any longer, Wonwoo blurted out, "Can I take care of Y/n?"

Mingyu's eyes widened in surprise at the sudden request. "What do you mean?" he asked, trying to comprehend Wonwoo's intentions.

Wonwoo swallowed nervously, feeling exposed and vulnerable. "I mean... things didn't work out between you and Y/n... I want to be there for her. I want to take care of her," he explained, his voice filled with sincerity and longing.

Mingyu studied him for a moment, sensing the depth of his emotions. "Are you sure about this, hyung?" he asked, concern etched on his face.

Wonwoo nodded, his heart pounding with determination. "I've never been more sure about anything in my life," he confessed.

As the weight of his confession settled between them, Wonwoo braced himself for Mingyu's response, hoping against hope that he would understand and support his decision.

*

After marrying Mingyu, you never purchased a house or an apartment. So, Wonwoo generously offered you a room in his penthouse while you were staying in Seoul. To ensure your comfort, he even gave his staff time off so you wouldn't feel uneasy about your presence, especially when you were in the kitchen preparing a meal for dinner tonight.

As you were setting the table, the sound of someone stepping into the penthouse caught your attention. Assuming it was Wonwoo, you softly called out, "Dinner's ready," while meticulously arranging the silverware. However, when you looked up, your heart skipped a beat. It wasn't Wonwoo standing there, but his mother.

You froze and almost dropped the pot in your hands. Wonwoo's mother looked as surprised as you. Her eyes widened, and her steps halted as she saw a familiar woman wandering around her son's house.

"You! You're Mingyu's ex-wife, aren't you?" Mrs. Jeon exclaimed, her finger pointing directly at you. The rings on her finger sparkled under the chandelier's light, and her clothes exuded an air of wealth and sophistication. Her presence made you feel small and vulnerable.

"Yes," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. You bowed your head respectfully, hoping to convey deference to the older woman.

A tense silence filled the room as you stood there, feeling the weight of her gaze. The memories of your past with Mingyu and the uncertainty of your current situation with Wonwoo surged within you. You could sense Mrs. Jeon's scrutiny, as if she were measuring every aspect of your being.

You watched her face closely, unable to discern whether it was disgust or confusion that twisted her features. Perhaps it was a mix of both.

"What are you doing in my son's house?!" Her voice was loud, startling you. Before you could respond, the sound of the elevator arriving filled the room. Moments later, Wonwoo appeared, breathless as he approached both you and his mother in the kitchen.

"Mother, I told you not to visit," Wonwoo exclaimed, quickly moving to pull his mother away.

She shrugged off his hand and chuckled bitterly. "What is this woman doing in your house? She's your friend's ex-wife."

Her voice faded as Wonwoo forcefully guided her towards the living room, their words growing muffled with distance.

Left alone in the kitchen, you felt a wave of emotions crash over you—embarrassment, confusion, and a tinge of sadness. The warmth of the meal you had prepared seemed to dissipate, replaced by a cold knot of uncertainty in your stomach. You sank into a chair, trying to process what had just happened, wondering if your presence here was more of a burden than a gesture of kindness.

The muffled argument between Wonwoo and his mother continued in the living room, the tension palpable even from the kitchen. After what felt like an eternity, you heard the front door open and then close with a decisive thud. The silence that followed was heavy, almost suffocating.

Wonwoo returned to the kitchen, his expression a mix of frustration and remorse. "I'm so sorry about that," he said, his voice laden with sincerity. "I didn't expect her to show up unannounced."

You looked up at him, trying to muster a reassuring smile despite the turmoil inside you. "It's alright, Wonwoo. You don't have to apologize for your mother."

"But I do," he insisted, taking a seat across from you. "I never wanted you to feel uncomfortable here. This was supposed to be a safe space for you."

You sighed, glancing at the meal you had prepared, now feeling like a symbol of the awkward situation you had inadvertently caused. "I appreciate everything you've done for me, Wonwoo. But I can't help feeling that my presence here is only causing trouble for you."

Wonwoo shook his head, his eyes earnest. "You're not a burden. You've been through a lot, and you deserve a place where you can feel at ease. My mother's reaction was out of line, and I'll make sure she understands that."

You appreciated his words, but doubt still lingered in your mind. "I don't want to come between you and your family. Maybe it’s better if I find somewhere else to stay."

Wonwoo reached across the table, gently placing his hand over yours. "Don't make any decisions based on one uncomfortable encounter. Please, stay. Let me handle my family. You have a place here for as long as you need it."

You looked down at his hand resting on yours, feeling a comforting warmth that you hadn’t felt in a long time. Slowly, you pulled your hand back, your heart heavy with a mix of gratitude and hesitation.

"I appreciate your kindness, Wonwoo," you said softly, avoiding his gaze. "But I'm not ready for this. I've just faced a divorce, and I'm still dealing with my treatment. Everything feels so overwhelming right now."

Wonwoo nodded, understanding flickering in his eyes. "I get it. You’ve been through so much. I just want you to know that you don’t have to go through it alone."

You gave him a small, appreciative smile. "Your presence has been a spark of hope for me, but I need time to heal and to figure things out for myself. I don't want to lean on you too much or become a source of conflict in your life."

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. "You’re not a conflict. You’re a friend who needs support, and I'm here to offer it. But I respect your feelings and your need for space."

The sincerity in his voice was undeniable, and it touched you deeply. "Thank you, Wonwoo. For everything. I’ll stay, but I need to take things one day at a time."

He nodded again, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "That's all I ask. We'll take it one day at a time, together."

"Now," Wonwoo said, glancing at the table, "let's not let this dinner go to waste. It smells too good to ignore."

You chuckled softly, feeling a bit more at ease. "Alright, let's eat."

As you both sat down to share the meal, the conversation flowed more naturally, the earlier discomfort slowly fading into the background.

*

Mingyu’s secretary almost tripped over himself when he saw you walking toward his desk that afternoon. The last time he had seen you was almost half a year ago, when you and Mingyu were officially divorced, and he had assisted with the administration alongside Mingyu's lawyer. You didn’t appear as vibrant as you used to, but he didn’t want to speculate on the reasons. Not that his boss looked any better; he often thought about how you two had seemed so happily married.

"Good afternoon," he began hesitantly, "Ms. Ji."

You smiled faintly and asked if Mingyu was available. Unfortunately, he was in a meeting with the directors that would take another hour to finish. You told him you would wait, and he offered you a drink or snack, which you politely refused. He escorted you to Mingyu's office and left you alone, immediately running to the meeting room to inform his boss that his ex-wife was here.

Mingyu abruptly concluded the meeting upon hearing the news. He stood up and walked quickly to his office, not bothering to knock before stepping in unannounced, startling you.

He observed you in silence for a moment, his expression a mix of surprise and concern. After a deep sigh, he bit his lip, seeing you standing a couple of meters away from him.

"Please, sit," he said, his voice strained.

You chuckled softly, the sound tinged with a hint of nostalgia and sadness. "Don't speak to me as if I'm your client or something," you joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Mingyu managed a small smile, though his eyes betrayed the turmoil inside him. "Old habits," he said, gesturing to the chair. "What brings you here?"

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the past months pressing down on you. "I needed to talk to you, Mingyu. There are things we never resolved, and... I need closure."

He nodded, taking a seat across from you, his demeanor shifting to one of earnest attention. "I understand. I've been thinking about our last conversation too."

For a moment, the office seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you and the unspoken words that had lingered since your divorce. You felt a lump in your throat but pushed through, determined to find some semblance of peace.

"I’ve been struggling, Mingyu," you confessed, your voice trembling. "Not just with the divorce, but with my health. I’m still undergoing cancer treatment, and it’s been... difficult."

Mingyu's expression softened, his eyes filling with regret and concern. "I'm so sorry to hear that. I wish I had known sooner."

You shook your head, tears threatening to spill. "It's not your fault. I just... I needed to tell you. To clear the air between us."

He reached out, his hand hovering uncertainly before finally resting on the table between you. "I'm here now. Whatever you need to say, I'm listening."

"I'm refusing my rights to my father's company," you confessed.

"Why? We fought so hard for that," Mingyu said, disbelief evident in his voice. Refusing your rights?

You nodded. "It's complicated. I want to say thank you for everything you did. You fought for me, but I took it for granted by refusing it. So, I'm sorry."

Mingyu was silent, deep in thought, before finally speaking. "There's nothing to apologize for. I believe you have your reasons. But what about your future? Is the divorce allowance enough for living abroad and for your treatment?" His concern was evident as he tried to be realistic.

You sighed. "That's also what I wanted to discuss. I don't think I can take it, Mingyu. It's too much for me, and there's no need to provide for me... We don't have a child together." The last sentence hung heavy in the air, still breaking your heart every time you thought about it.

Mingyu shook his head, unable to believe what he was hearing. "No, you deserve it. It was written in our prenup that I'm going to provide for you until you find someone else."

"I won't stop the allowance," he continued, his voice firm yet considerate. "But if you're overwhelmed by the amount, I'll decrease it."

His consideration touched you deeply. "Thank you, Mingyu. I appreciate your understanding."

"Y/n," Mingyu called your name softly. "I've been thinking about the reason why you insisted on divorcing, even after I wanted to cancel it." He let out his thoughts, gulping as he faced the harsh reality.

He cleared his throat, recalling a conversation he had with Wonwoo the other day. Nari... you... Mingyu couldn't shake the feeling that you knew about his feelings for Nari. It was obvious, Wonwoo had said. But deep in his heart, Mingyu wanted to deny it. He was certain his feelings for you were sincere. However, he couldn’t escape the thought that you would always remind him of Nari, his first love.

"You..." Mingyu hesitated, "you knew about my feelings for Nari, didn't you?" He guessed, but you remained silent.

Mingyu felt a wave of nervousness wash over him. He prayed you had no idea, hoping it would ease his conscience. But then you smiled—a bittersweet smile that told him everything.

"I couldn't act like I didn't know, Mingyu," you finally said.

"I'm sorry, Y/n."

"Don't be..."

"No, I’m so sorry that you had to think our relationship wasn't worth fighting for because I loved someone else."

You smiled bitterly and said, "You always loved her." Your words broke Mingyu's heart.

"You deserve someone better, Y/n," he whispered, his voice filled with regret.

"I know," you replied, your voice steady despite the pain.

For a moment, the air between you was thick with unspoken emotions. Mingyu's regret and your quiet acceptance mingled in the silence. It was a painful truth, but acknowledging it brought a sense of closure.

"Thank you for your honesty," you said softly, breaking the silence. "It hurts, but it's something I needed to hear."

Mingyu nodded, his eyes filled with sadness. "I hope you find happiness, Y/n. Real, genuine happiness."

"And I hope you do too, Mingyu," you replied, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. "We both deserve it."

As you turned to leave, there was a sense of finality in the air. This conversation had been long overdue, and while it was painful, it also brought a sense of release. Both of you could now move forward, carrying the lessons of the past but no longer burdened by it.

As you both stood up, there was a moment of shared understanding and mutual respect. It wasn't just about the financial arrangements or the company—it was about acknowledging the past, making amends, and moving forward with as much grace as possible.

Mingyu walked you to the door, his hand lingering on the handle for a moment. "Take care of yourself. And if you ever need anything, you know where to find me."

"I will. Thank you, Mingyu. For everything."

As you left his office, you felt a bittersweet mix of emotions, but also a sense of relief. The conversation had been difficult, but necessary. It was a step towards healing and a chance to look forward to the future with a bit more hope and strength.

*

You arrived at Wonwoo's place late at night, the streets of Seoul still bustling with life even in the darkness. Throughout the evening, you had roamed the city alone, visiting familiar spots from your past, meeting old colleagues, and reminiscing about the times you spent working with Seungcheol. Wonwoo was still awake when you arrived, sitting alone at the bar and sipping on what looked like wine, patiently waiting for you. You realized your phone had died, leaving him unable to reach you.

"Want to join?" he asked, gesturing to the glass in his hand. You shook your head, reminding him that you were on prescribed medication. "But I'll keep you company," you added, taking a seat beside him and undoing your coat and bag.

"Where have you been today? Seems like quite the journey," he remarked, noticing the bookstore bag you had placed on the counter.

"I met Mingyu," you replied quietly.

Wonwoo nodded in understanding. "How was the meeting?" he inquired, genuine curiosity in his voice.

You hesitated, searching for the right words. "It went well... But I wish I hadn't said anything stupid."

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow. "You? Say something stupid? That doesn't sound like you."

You chuckled at his remark. "I did say something unnecessary. But overall, I'm relieved the meeting went well. We found a closure that we both needed," you explained, recalling Mingyu's heartfelt wish for you.

'I hope you find happiness, Y/n. Real, genuine happiness.'

"That's great, then. I'm proud of you," Wonwoo said sincerely, reaching for a cranberry juice box on the counter and handing it to you. He motioned for you to cheer with him, and you chuckled, following his lead.

As you clinked your juice boxes together, a sense of gratitude washed over you. In Wonwoo's company, you found comfort and understanding, a reminder that even in the midst of uncertainty and closure, there were still moments of warmth and connection to cherish.

"How about you and your family? Is everything settled?" you asked him, genuine concern in your voice.

"It'll take time, I believe. But I'm patient enough to make sure that everything will be fine in the future. My family is important to me, but myself is my priority at the moment. So... I gotta prioritize my wants and my needs," Wonwoo replied, his tone tinged with a hint of resignation.

You smiled softly. "You're doing a good thing. I'm glad that I became your friend, Wonwoo."

"And I'm glad I became your friend too, Y/n," Wonwoo confessed, the alcohol in his system encouraging him to speak his mind. "It's better than lingering on the first love term."

You looked at him, confusion evident in your expression. "What's the first love term? Am I your first love?" you chuckled, not fully understanding his words.

Wonwoo nodded, a vulnerable smile playing on his lips. "Yes."

His admission hung in the air, a moment of raw honesty that caught you off guard. You felt a surge of emotions, a mixture of surprise, disbelief, and a hint of warmth at the thought that you had held such a significant place in Wonwoo's heart.

"I... I didn't know," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

You met his gaze, seeing the sincerity and affection in his eyes. In that moment, the barriers between you seemed to melt away, leaving only the shared connection and understanding that had grown between you over time.

"When we were at the foster home, director Kim showed us your old stuff, right?" Wonwoo began, his voice soft with reminiscence. "There was a photo when my family visited for the first time, and I remembered having a bad day. But there was this little girl who came to me and asked what was going on. I ended up sharing my day with her—failing tests, parents nagging at me, getting bruised after falling from my bike. And she said she wished I could be happier that day."

You listened intently, feeling a sense of familiarity creeping in as Wonwoo's story unfolded.

"And the girl I met was you," Wonwoo continued, his smile warm yet tinged with sadness. "We met again on my last year at JIS Senior High School."

"You had just entered high school, and I was planning on studying at State. I had no chance to talk to you, but we met again at the foster home for volunteering. Do you remember?"

Your heart skipped a beat as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place, realizing the significance of those chance encounters.

"Is that why you asked about my high school photo back at my house?" you asked him, the revelation sinking in.

Wonwoo nodded, his gaze earnest. "Even after Seungcheol hyung introduced you, I still liked you. If loving my best friend's wife is a sin, then I must be a sinner for a long time. But... I love you, Y/n... What should I do?"

His confession hung in the air, heavy with emotion and uncertainty. You felt a whirlwind of emotions—surprise, confusion, and a hint of warmth at the realization of Wonwoo's feelings.

Taking a moment to gather your thoughts, you reached out and gently placed a hand on his. "Wonwoo, I... I don't know what to say."

He looked at you with pleading eyes, his vulnerability laid bare. "I understand if you can't reciprocate my feelings. I just needed to tell you the truth."

You met his gaze, feeling a surge of compassion and understanding. "Thank you for being honest with me, Wonwoo. Give me some time to process everything."

Wonwoo nodded, a flicker of hope in his eyes. "Of course. Take all the time you need."

As you sat together in silence, the weight of Wonwoo's confession lingered, but so did a sense of possibility—a chance for both of you to navigate the complexities of love and friendship with honesty and care.

**

Wonwoo was visibly stressed as he tried to get Sora to sit still and eat her lunch. You had stepped away for a brief break with Minseo just two hours ago, leaving Wonwoo to handle the lunchtime routine on his own. However, Sora, their spirited four-year-old daughter, seemed more interested in playing with the toy house Wonwoo had bought for her the night before than in eating her meal.

Four years ago, after you had completed your treatment, you and Wonwoo had made the decision to start dating and settle down together. It had been a tumultuous journey, marked by highs and lows, but through it all, you had remained steadfast in your commitment to each other. When the time came to expand your family, you both knew adoption was the right path for you. Wonwoo had eagerly embraced the role of husband and father, supporting you every step of the way.

Sora had come into your lives when she was just six months old, a bright light in the midst of uncertainty. As she approached her second birthday, you and Wonwoo had faced numerous challenges as parents, but your love for each other had only grown stronger. As a mother, you had made it your mission to give Sora the love and care you had longed for as a child, and in doing so, you had helped to heal Wonwoo's own inner child.

Watching Wonwoo spend time with Sora—playing, talking, tucking her into bed—had always brought tears of joy to your eyes. His unwavering love and devotion to both you and Sora had filled your heart with gratitude and pride. And whenever you found yourself overcome with emotion, Wonwoo was always there to wipe away your tears, his presence a constant source of comfort and reassurance.

On Sora's fourth birthday, she surprised you and Wonwoo by asking for a sibling, a request you hadn't anticipated. While you and Wonwoo had discussed the possibility of expanding your family, his response was unexpectedly cautious. He expressed contentment with just you and Sora, masking his deeper desires. You knew he longed for a child of his own, one with your eyes and smile, but he was too considerate to voice his true feelings.

Deep down, you shared his yearning for another child, but the prospect of pregnancy brought with it a sense of unease. The doctor had warned you of the risks, hinting at potential complications that made Wonwoo worry for your health.

Five months ago, your fears were realized when you collapsed while waiting to pick up Sora from daycare. It was a terrifying moment for Wonwoo, his concern palpable as he hovered over you in the hospital. Despite your reassurances, he couldn't shake the fear that something was seriously wrong.

Then came the unexpected news—the doctor's confirmation that you were eight weeks pregnant. It was a moment of shock and disbelief, followed by overwhelming joy and relief. Wonwoo's face lit up with a mixture of emotions, his worries momentarily forgotten in the excitement of impending parenthood once again.

As you and Wonwoo sat in the hospital room, the news of your pregnancy still sinking in, a whirlwind of emotions washed over both of you. Wonwoo's initial joy was quickly overshadowed by worry and uncertainty, his brow furrowing with concern as he looked at you.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with anxiety.

You nodded, trying to muster a reassuring smile despite the lingering fear in your heart. "I'm okay, Wonwoo. Really."

But Wonwoo wasn't convinced. "But what about the risks the doctor mentioned? What if something goes wrong?"

His questions echoed your own fears, the uncertainty of the future looming large in your minds. Yet, amidst the worry, there was also a sense of certainty—a belief that together, you could weather any storm that came your way.

"We'll take it one step at a time," you said, reaching out to take his hand in yours. "We'll face whatever comes our way together, as a team."

Wonwoo looked at you, his eyes reflecting a mixture of fear and determination. "I just want you and the baby to be safe," he said softly.

"I know, Wonwoo. And we will be," you reassured him, squeezing his hand gently. "We'll make sure to take all the necessary precautions, and we'll lean on each other for support every step of the way."

As the weight of the news settled upon you both, you found strength in each other's presence, a reminder that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you were in this together. And as you sat there, hand in hand, a sense of peace washed over you, knowing that with Wonwoo by your side, you could face anything that the future held.

As the news of the pregnancy settled in, Sora's reaction was nothing short of ecstatic. The thought of having a sibling filled her with joy, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she listened intently to her mother's words about the new addition to the family. With each passing day, she seemed to hang onto your every word, eager to learn all about what it meant to be a big sister.

However, as much as Sora embraced the idea of becoming a sister, her attitude toward Wonwoo didn't quite resonate with the same enthusiasm. Despite his attempts to share in her excitement and involve himself in her daily activities, she seemed to distance herself from him, preferring instead to cling to you, her soon-to-be mother of two.

Wonwoo couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment at Sora's behavior. He had dreamed of sharing this special moment with his daughter, of watching her excitement grow as she prepared to welcome her new sibling into the world. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to break through the barrier that had formed between them.

"Sora, let's eat your lunch. You need a lot of energy to take care of your little brother later," Wonwoo said, trying to coax his daughter into eating as he sat beside her.

"Sora," he called her again, his tone serious. For a brief moment, she paused, her fingers hesitating before she continued to ignore him.

Feeling stressed and unable to watch his daughter starve herself, Wonwoo reached out to you for help. You immediately rushed home with her favorite food, and he watched with relief as she eagerly savored every bite.

"I'll talk to her about this," you reassured him, your words a balm to his worried heart.

The next day, after a long and busy day, Wonwoo finally returned home to you and Sora. As you greeted him, he couldn't help but feel a swell of pride at the sight of your growing belly, a visible sign of the new life you were both eagerly anticipating.

After changing into more comfortable clothes, Wonwoo settled in beside you and Sora, feeling a sense of contentment wash over him. When you asked Sora to show him her drawing from school, he eagerly accepted, a smile playing on his lips as he admired her artwork.

But as he examined the drawing more closely, a sense of confusion washed over him. It was a drawing of him and Sora, but you were conspicuously absent. Aren't you her favorite? The question lingered in his mind, casting a shadow over what should have been a joyful moment.

As he struggled to make sense of his daughter's actions, Wonwoo couldn't help but wonder what had caused this sudden change in her behavior toward him. And as he looked to you for answers, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach.

"Sora, tell dad what you told me earlier on our way home," you whispered to your daughter as she approached you affectionately.

Sora shook her head vehemently, her little hands clinging to you as she refused to meet her father's gaze.

"You tell dad," she mumbled, her pout adorable even in her sadness.

You smiled at her innocence before turning to Wonwoo, who looked on with curiosity. "She's sad," you began, your voice gentle.

Wonwoo's attention sharpened as he listened intently, his heart already bracing for what was to come.

"She's sad because she thinks you might love her brother more since he's going to be your child," you explained, your words heavy with emotion.

The weight of your revelation hit Wonwoo like a ton of bricks, shattering his heart into a million pieces. How could his precious daughter ever think such a thing? What had she heard or observed that led her to believe that her father's love could be divided?

As he looked at Sora, his heart ached with guilt and regret. He had never meant to make her feel this way, to doubt the depth of his love for her. And yet, here she was, bearing the burden of her own insecurities at such a tender age.

As both you and Wonwoo opened up to Sora about her adoption, you wanted her to understand that love could transcend blood ties. You emphasized that family was about the love and bond shared, not just biological connections. Sora seemed to grasp this concept well, embracing the idea that love could be varied and strong, extending to both her adoptive and biological family members alike.

However, despite her understanding, Sora couldn't shake the nagging doubt that had been planted in her mind by her friend's mother. The idea that the baby inside her mom would be her father's "real" child troubled her deeply. Was she not "real" enough for her dad? Without realizing it, she began to distance herself from Wonwoo, fearing that his love for her would diminish once her brother was born.

Seeing the pain in his daughter's eyes, Wonwoo approached Sora with a heavy heart. "Baby, I'm sorry that you had to feel that way," he whispered, his voice filled with regret.

"You know that I love you and your brother equally. We talked about this," he added, his words a gentle reminder of the conversations they had shared about love and family.

The touch on Sora's back prompted her to voice her deepest fears. "But people said I'm not your real child," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion.

You exchanged a tearful glance with Wonwoo, both of you sharing the same pain and frustration at the hurtful words that had wounded your daughter's heart.

"No, baby. That's wrong," Wonwoo said firmly, his voice trembling with emotion. "You're my daughter, and you will always be my daughter."

With a gentle tug, Wonwoo pulled Sora close to him, his arms wrapping around her trembling form as tears streamed down her chubby cheeks. Sora buried her face in her father's chest, seeking solace in his comforting embrace.

"You'll always be my oldest daughter, baby," Wonwoo whispered, his voice filled with love and reassurance. "You're my first child, and nothing will ever change that."

Desperate for reassurance, Sora looked up at her father with tear-filled eyes. "Promise me that you'll never treat me differently?" she pleaded.

Wonwoo's heart ached at his daughter's plea, and without hesitation, he vowed, "You know that I would never do that, even without a promise."

In that moment, as father and daughter held each other close, the bond between them grew stronger than ever. And as you looked on, tears of gratitude and love filled your eyes, grateful for the unwavering love and support that surrounded your family.

*

As the day of the delivery approached, tension hung heavy in the air, a palpable mix of excitement and apprehension swirling around you and Wonwoo. Despite the joyous anticipation of welcoming their son into the world, there was an underlying sense of worry that gnawed at Wonwoo's heart.

With each passing hour, his anxiety grew, his mind plagued by fears of the unknown. He paced the hospital corridors, his footsteps echoing in the empty hallways as he anxiously awaited news of your condition.

Hours stretched into eternity as the labor progressed, each moment feeling like an eternity as Wonwoo's worry deepened. He felt helpless, unable to do anything but wait and pray for a safe delivery.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the moment arrived. The sound of a newborn's cry filled the air, and Wonwoo's heart leaped with joy and relief as he caught sight of his son for the first time.

But his relief was short-lived as he watched the medical team spring into action, their urgent movements betraying the gravity of the situation. You were in unstable condition, and the room was filled with an air of urgency as the medical team worked tirelessly to stabilize you.

In those agonizing moments, Wonwoo felt his heart constrict with fear, his mind racing with a thousand worries. But as he stood by your side, holding your hand tightly, he found strength in your unwavering resilience.

With your delivery behind you, Wonwoo's focus shifted entirely to your recovery. He hovered anxiously by your bedside, his eyes never leaving your face as he waited for any sign of improvement.

Days blurred into nights as Wonwoo remained steadfast by your side, his presence a constant source of comfort and support. He held your hand gently, offering words of encouragement and reassurance as you fought to regain your strength.

Each small improvement filled Wonwoo's heart with hope, a glimmer of light in the darkness of uncertainty. He celebrated every milestone, no matter how small, knowing that each step forward brought you closer to full recovery.

But as the days stretched on, Wonwoo's patience wore thin, his worry mounting with each passing moment. He longed to see you healthy and strong, to hold you in his arms once again without the specter of illness looming over you.

After what felt like an eternity of uncertainty, your recovery from the delivery was a slow but steady journey. Each day brought small victories, from sitting up in bed to taking a few steps around the room with Wonwoo's supportive arm around you.

Wonwoo remained by your side throughout it all, his unwavering presence a source of strength and comfort. He tended to your every need with care and devotion, never once faltering in his commitment to your well-being.

As the days passed, your strength returned, and with it, a renewed sense of hope and gratitude. You marveled at the resilience of your body and the love that surrounded you, knowing that you had weathered the storm together with Wonwoo by your side.

And when the day finally came for you to leave the hospital and return home, it felt like a triumph. With Wonwoo's hand firmly clasped in yours, you stepped out into the world, ready to embrace the new chapter of parenthood with gratitude and joy. And as you looked ahead to the future, you knew that with Wonwoo by your side, there was nothing you couldn't overcome.

"Are you happy?"

"Like always, i'm happy."

Then, it's the end.

[lumberknowhow]

Table Saw for Beginners - A Must-Have Tool for Woodworking Enthusiasts

If you're a woodworking beginner, a table saw is a tool you must consider adding to your workshop. With its versatility and precision, a table saw opens up a world of possibilities for creating impressive projects. From cutting large boards to crafting intricate details, this tool delivers professional results. However, safety should be your priority. Always wear the necessary protective gear and learn how to operate the table saw correctly. Ensure your workspace is well-organized and free of distractions. Remember, practice makes perfect, so start with simple projects and gradually build your skills. With time, you'll gain confidence and develop a deep appreciation for the table saw's capabilities. Embrace the journey, and let your creativity soar as you embark on your woodworking adventures with a table saw for beginners.

[awkward-imaginations]

| First Impressions |

tetsuro kuroo x f!reader

The first time Kuroo saw you was when he noticed you sitting with Kenma, happily playing video games together. Intrigued by how close you and Kenma seemed, Kuroo asked about you on their walk home. Kenma described you as a fellow gamer and new student at Nekoma High. Kuroo's curiosity grew so he decided to introduce himself.

warnings/notes: highschool romance, fluff (maybe suggestive?), slight angst, I do NOT write fanfictions or storys normally, this is a first, so I am generally sorry for everything. CRINGE. def will be cringe in some parts. I'm a big sucker for Kuroo, him and Kenma may be ooc but I don't care this is my story and I just need to get it out of my head so I can finally write my Master's Thesis in peace. Also, english is not my first language. This has been "proofread" by my friends (who are also non-native speakers, lmao). If you find any mistakes, you can keep them.

word count: 1784

masterlist | next chapter

The first time Kuroo saw you was when he walked past your classroom. You were sitting across from Kenma at his table, happily chatting and playing on some sort of portable console. Your laughter was soft but infectious, causing Kenma to occasionally glance up from his game with a rare smile.

"She must be the new student Kenma was talking about," Kuroo thought as he paused to watch for a moment. He would have been lying if he said he wasn’t surprised when Kenma mentioned he had made a friend on the first day of the new school year. Kenma didn’t share much about you, but Kuroo knew you had transferred to Nekoma High in the second year because your father had a new job, prompting your family to move to Tokyo. He also knew you liked video games and were a bit of a recluse at times. However, discovering you were a pretty girl was news to him.

Naturally, he brought it up with Kenma on their way home. “So, why didn’t you tell me your new classmate is a girl?” Kuroo asked, intrigued. Kenma looked at him, puzzled. “Does it matter? Besides, I had a feeling you'd be annoying about it.” Kuroo feigned shock, placing a hand dramatically on his chest. “What? Me? Annoying?!” Kenma rolled his eyes. “You're exaggerating.” Kuroo couldn’t help but smile. “Oh, you think so?”

They continued walking but were suddenly startled by the sound of a ringing bell. Kuroo turned around to see you riding past them on a bicycle. “See you tomorrow, Kenma!” you called out with a beaming smile, waving to him. Kenma raised his hand briefly and nodded. “See you tomorrow,” he said quietly in return.

Kuroo watched you with growing curiosity as you rode away. He couldn’t help but stare a bit. Your hair blew gently in the wind, and you seemed to be in your own little bubble of happiness.

“Looks like she’s really nice,” he remarked, still looking after you. Kenma shrugged. “Yeah, she’s all right. Someone who loves games as much as she does can’t be too bad.” Kuroo grinned mischievously. “Oh, is that so? Maybe I should talk to her sometime.” Kenma sighed. “Do what you want but remember she’s new. She might need some time to adjust to everything.” Kuroo nodded with a smirk. “Sure, I’ll be nice.”

 “Ah, not too hot and not too cold,” you said as you sank down next to Kenma on the bench outside the next day. He grinned and held out a bottle of green iced tea from the vending machine. “Yeah.” You thanked him and took a sip before returning to your Chemistry Book. “I really don't know why you're still doing school stuff during break,” Kenma remarked, switching on his console. “My dad bagged my PSP last night because I was playing for too long. Sorry, dad, but time travel is basically cheating, and I didn't want to miss an event.” Kenma had to stifle his laughter while you looked at him with an offended pout.

For a while, you sat next to each other in silence, reading, playing and occasionally taking a sip of iced tea. After a few minutes, the conversations in the schoolyard became a vague background noise. The letters blurred before your eyes as you began to lose yourself in your thoughts. Since the end of school yesterday, you couldn't stop thinking about the student Kenma shared the walk home with. Even in the brief moment you passed the two of them, you realized how incredibly familiar they seemed with each other (an how attractive Kenmas friend was), why didn't they spend time together during breaks? Was Kenma just hanging out with you out of pity because you were the new girl?

Before your thoughts could spiral any further into a negative direction, they were interrupted by Kenma's voice. “Is everything alright?” You turned your head directly in his direction, his gaze fixed on the screen of his PSP. He noticed you not saying anything and continued, “I haven't heard you turn a page for a while and thought you might need some help.“ You blinked a few times into space. “Um, yeah. No. Actually... I must've spaced out; I wasn't really thinking about anything.” Except your cute friend. Disbelieving, Kenma looked up from his console briefly. You felt your cheeks heat up at the lie you just told and quickly returned to staring at your book, which you lifted a little to hide your face. “Right,” Kenma finally said and returned to his game.

Not sharing your thoughts just caused them to stir up in your head again. You felt the need to express them verbally, otherwise you wouldn't be able to concentrate all day. But before you could breathe in enough air (and courage) to ask Kenma about his friend, he came running towards you, grinning broadly. “Oy, Kenma, why haven't you introduced me to your new friend yet?”

While Kenma didn’t seem bothered to look up from his game at all, you turned your gaze to Kuroo. Your eyes met for a second, but before he could say anything else when he came to a halt in front of you, Kenma sighed and answered, “Because you spend way too much time on your university prep courses, nerd.” Kuroo gripped the back of his neck with one hand and put on an apologetic look before shifting his attention back to you, “I’m Kuroo Tetsuro,” he said his voice deep and smooth.

You noticed that your heart was beating a little faster and for an uncomfortably long second you couldn't get a sensible sentence together in your head. “I'm L/N Y/N, nice to meet you”, you finally brought forth, still looking at him. Your first impression wasn't wrong, he looked really good. Tall, broad shoulders with an athletic posture, dark, messy hair with piercing eyes. Had Kenma really just called him a nerd? Him?

Kuroo's smile widened as he noticed your lingering gaze. “Likewise. I’ve heard you’re quite the gamer,” he said, trying to keep the conversation light. You shrugged. “I dabble. Although my father has just banned me from it so that I can concentrate better on school.” 

“Ah, I see,” Kuroo remarked. “No wonder you two befriended each other rather quickly.” Kenma, still focused on his game, muttered, “Yes, but now Y/N reads boring text books during breaks and I have to take on the bosses alone.“ You laughed nervously, the sound drawing Kuroo’s attention even more. “I'm sure I'll get my PSP back soon if I get better grades this school year”, you said, your confidence evident.

„If it’s nothing else, maybe I can help you with that?“ Kuroo asked, leaning in a little further towards you. It was then you noticed his uniform, which he wore in a laid-back, effortless style. His tie was loosened, the top button of his shirt undone, and his sleeves casually rolled up to his elbows. He had even ditched the blazer altogether, giving him a relaxed and approachable look. Your face must’ve given away, that you had no idea what he was getting at.

“By tutoring, of course,” Kuroo added with a playful smile, leaning back slightly as if to give you some space again to process his offer. You blinked, feeling a mix of surprise and curiosity. “You would help me with my studies?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. “Of course,” Kuroo replied smoothly. “Anything to help a friend of Kenma's.“

Kenma, still immersed in his game, shot Kuroo a quick, knowing glance but didn’t comment. You looked at Kenma, seeking some sort of silent approval or encouragement, but he remained focused on his screen. “Um, that would be great, actually,” you said, a small smile forming on your lips. “I could definitely use some help with chemistry.”

“Perfect,” Kuroo said, his grin widening. “We can start tomorrow after school, if that works for you.”

“Sure, that sounds good,” you agreed, feeling a flutter of nervous excitement. “Thank you, Kuroo.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, waving off your thanks. “I’ll make sure you get your PSP back in no time.”

Kenma finally looked up from his game, giving you both a thoughtful look. “Just don’t let him distract you too much,” he muttered, though there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

You laughed softly, feeling a bit more at ease. “I’ll try my best.”

As the bell rang, signaling the end of the break, you gathered your things and stood up. Kuroo and Kenma followed suit, and the three of you started walking back to the school building together.

“By the way,” Kuroo said, falling into step beside you, “have you joined any clubs yet?” You shook your head. “Not yet. I’m still getting settled in and figuring out what I want to do. Why are you asking? Did you want to advertise yours?“ Kuroo noticed your teasing tone, but ignored it for now. “No, well, maybe a little. I’m the captain of the volleyball team. You should come watch us practice sometime.“

You hesitated for a moment, you knew volleyball from you friends at you former highschool, but their team wasn’t very good. To be precise, "good" was never a word you would think of in connection with their team to begin with. That's why the sport has remained uninteresting to you so far but the idea of watching Kuroo during practice was too tempting to resist. The thought of seeing him a little sweaty and worn out from training made your heart race. You could already picture his shirt clinging to his toned body, hair damp and falling into his eyes. The image made your cheeks heat up, but you quickly pushed the thought away, trying to stay focused on the conversation.

You nodded frantically. “Sounds interesting. Maybe I will check out your team.” Kuroo looked at you, smiling, he porbably noticed your little mental excursion. “Great! From next week on we practice after school every day. Just drop by the gym anytime.”

“Just be prepared for Kuroo to show off,” Kenma added and Kuroo chuckled. “I don’t show off, Kenma. I demonstrate. There’s a difference.”

As you reached your classroom, Kenma turned to Kuroo. “See you after school?”

“Yeah, see you,” he said, giving both of you a small wave before he added with a wink, „Ah, Y/N-Chan! Don’t forget about our study date tomorrow.”

“I won’t,” you promised, watching him go with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. As you settled back into your seat, you couldn’t help but smile. Maybe there was also a good side to your father taking your console.

[leanxooo]

L O S T P U P P Y — rick grimes x black!fem reader x daryl dixon

“is it so bad i just wanna be around you two?”

✷ : One day a unknown named girl shows up to the atlanta camp, when she gets settled; she takes a liking to daryl and rick, following them around like a lost puppy and they dont know why.

✷ : chapter one: lost puppy interlude [ see other chapters ]

cw: mentions of daddy issues, walkers, pet names ( pretty, darling, sweet girl, princess ) , rude!daryl at first, a little sexual content ( dry humping, dirty talk, kissing ), age gap ( reader is 19 - 20 and Rick and Daryl are 30 - 40 ).

xoxo note: in this apocalypse the haves phones and anything modern, don't like it? keep it pushing honey, also ntm on me! I haven't written in a while.

Silence. That was the only thing heard around the camp as the group watched the young girl walk up in a baby pink skims set with pink Asics and a black book bag with a purse on her side.

"Who the fuck-" Daryl started to say out of his mouth as the girl walked up breathing heavy, "holy shit bro" she said as everyone looked at her.

She looked behind her, wondering what everyone was looking at "what we looking at?" she asked confused "who are you" Rick asked as he put his hand on his gun.

"oop- lets chill... okay?" she said giggling nervously, "my name is y/n and I was just walking and I saw the camp." she shifted from side to side as everyone just stared at her.

"Well welcome to our camp, your more than welcome to stay pretty girl," Carol walked up and smiled at her "I'm Carol."

The young girl smiled at the older lady, "thank you Carol!"

Rick and Daryl silently watched the scene unfold, Daryl was looking the girl up almost drooling at the sight of her, her pretty brown legs, her slicked back ponytail, the way the skims fit her body.

"Daryl wipe ya mouth for me real quick!" t-dog and Glenn laughed together as Daryl muttered profanities under his breath and walked off.

The conversation between Carol and the girl continued, not even paying attention to the boys. "Well as of right now.. we don't have any tents and there's like three to a tent and there is only one tent that only has two people.." Carol rambled.

Y/n nodded her head and followed Carol to the tent, "you're going to have to share this with Rick and Daryl.. at least for right now till we go on another run" Carol said and motioned for y/n to follow her to a table where two boys were sitting.

"Y/n, this is Rick and Daryl your temporary roommates! their very sweet and respectful guys," carol spoke but y/n wasn't listening she was just staring at the two man before her.

She was already having unholy thoughts about Rick's beard tickling her legs as he-

Y/n's thoughts were interrupted by Carol when she whispered in y/n's ear, "you don't wanna get on Daryl's bad side so I suggest you stay out of his way and rick is going through something with his wife so don't be surprised if he's cold towards you." Y/n nodded her head and waved at the two.

"Its nice to meet you guys, Im y/n, I promise not to be your way" she smiled at the two, only Rick returned the smile.

Carol walked y/n back to the tent she would be staying in and left her alone, they ended up putting a cot in the tent next to two other cots.

Y/n sat up her side of the tent with pink and sparkly things, the blanket on her cot was pink and so was her pillow. She re-organized her bookbag and sat it in the corner.

She pulled out her phone and portable charger turning her phone on to watch TikTok, it was currently 10:40 and Carol called everyone out to eat.

Y/n walked out the tent with her same skims on but changed her Asics to her pink Kurt slides, she walked up to everyone sitting in a circle and sat next to a young boy.

"Hi I'm carl" the boy put his hand out to the girl, y/n reached her hand out and shook it. "I like your nails!" Carl smiled and held her hand for a bit as her admired her pink duck nails.

"Thank you! I do them myself" she smiled "foreal?" he asked, letting her hand go in the process.

She nodded her head and looked at everyone that was staring at her, "so y/n.." Andrea started "what's your story?"

Y/n looked around, "well I'm from Las Vegas.. I came to Atlanta to visit when the apocalypse started," Rick looked her up and down "how did you survive alone out there?" he asked.

"My dad is a cop, he taught me a few survival things" she giggled "he also had alot of guns." she stopped real quick, got up and ran to her tent.

Everyone was confused but she came back with her bookbag, she pulled out a pink hand gun.

"Why the fuck is it pink?' Daryl spoke "well first off.. I like pink and secondly I hate the color black so.."

"Your so interesting.." Andrea said "yea I get that alot" y/n said admiring the gun.

"How old are you y/n" t-dog asked as he ate the stew Carol made, "I'm 21, my birthday just passed." She smiled at him and he nodded his head.

AFTER AWHILE OF SITTING BY THE FIRE AND GETTING TO KNOW Y/N EVERYONE HEADED TO BED, dale let y/n use the bathroom in the RV to get ready for bed.

Y/n walked out the RV in hellokitty pants and a white cropped tee, she walked to where carols tent was and saw Carol was with her husband and daughter.

"Good night Carol, thank you for everything" y/n smiled and Carol smiled back but her smile quickly dropped after her husband gave her a stern look.

Y/n looked at him with a stank look, "the fuck be wrong" y/n thought. Before y/n left the tent she blew a small kiss at Carol and her daughter.

While y/n was walking to her tent she saw Rick's wife, who she learned was Lori and Rick's friend, shane sneaking into the woods.

"This is a weird ass place," she thought as she shook her head. Y/n walked to her tent saying her good nights to everyone.

She got into the tent and saw Daryl and Rick staring straight at her, "well shit, I got something on my face?" she giggled, Rick slowly shook his head.

"Oh-" she was going to say something but was interrupted, "what the fuck is your deal?" Daryl asked rudely but y/n only laughed.

"Fuck is you talking about?" she asked in the same tone. "You popped up outta' nowhere with ya' lil expensive clothes and ya bags."

Y/n rolled her eyes, Rick only watched the interaction from his cot, "you sure nobody sent you?" Daryl asked "nigga- who the fuck would have sent me?" y/n pulled her phone out of one of her purses and set it up, taking a scarf out of her black bag.

She pulled up her camera and tied the scarf around her fresh edges, "I mean I don't know-" Daryl stated sarcastically as he moved his hands in the air.

Y/n just laughed at him and turned her phone off to charge, "no one sent me dummy."

She layed in her cot and got under her cover, "goodnight boys." She smiled and rolled over.

"Oh and Daryl next time you wanna drool over me-" she turned around "dont do it when I'm around love."

[tavolgisvist]

At Laudate in Newdigate I decided that Saturday to take a very modest 250 milligrams of LSD in a final cup of tea with Joan before setting off for St John’s Wood to pick up Paul McCartney and Peter Asher and Tony Bramwell, the Apple team due next day at Bradford. <…> Paul seemed very positive and played us some rare recordings; ‘dubs’ he had made of songs, written by him for others, dubs on which he was singing for the first and last time. Maybe one day they will make an album of them, but maybe it will have to be over his dead body for I don’t see him wishing to complete that particular symphony in his lifetime. I said I had taken a dollop of the dreaded heaven-and-hell, and Paul said it should be an interesting journey, and it was. We stopped at a pub on the way up and I astonished myself by coping remarkably well up until the point where I asked the barman if I could buy a filthy table which stood in a corner covered in cigarette burns and the stains of long dead pints. <…> ‘Drink up,’ said Paul, seeing the signs and playing Dad. ‘Write your name here please, Paul,’ said the barman and we left.

We arrived in Bradford after dark. Some disabled people were operating rowing machines in a charity marathon in a local showroom. We wandered in and looked, leaving some silver in the collecting boxes, neither the first nor the last of the small spenders. It was midnight as we checked into the hotel. There wasn’t a soul or a sound except for the red-nosed night porter, as old as Moses. Paul had brought Martha (My Dear) with him – the sheepdog of the same name. ‘Can you shampoo her?’ he asked the porter who recoiled in terror. ‘It’s her arse,’ said Paul, and he put his fingers in the thick curls around Martha’s back passage and pulled off a cluster of clinkers. ‘Look!’ I nearly fainted. ‘I’m afraid not,’ said the porter. It was very late after all. Next morning, another lovely day. I felt very nice and clean around the brain, always have a lovely morning after acid. A few months earlier Paul and I had gone shopping for suits; he had told me navy blue pinstripe was already on the way back (meaning that he wore it) and I fell for it – and ordered one. I had taken it with me to Bradford; just right for Bradford I said. I wore it down to breakfast and then we went off to the Victoria Hall where the Black Dyke Mills Band were waiting on hard wooden chairs, looking bloody marvellous and real and solid and honourable and stocky and lots of other words like that. Paul had on a magenta shirt and a white jacket, double breasted, with black trousers (no one had ever told him they were on the way back), and the Black Dyke Mills Band was quite stunned by his charm and by the way he handled the music. Marvellous recordings were made, indoors and later in the street, of both ‘Thingumybob’ and ‘Yellow Submarine’. It was a good morning for everyone because the portable recording unit worked, the band and McCartney worked, and the press worked out beautifully – I saw dozens of old friends and we had a few pints and then lunch. At around three o’clock, as we filmed the last TV interview (‘How do you like Bradford?’ ‘It’s great …’; fast-moving stuff like that) I decided to off the suit and black shoes, put on a pair of red corduroys and a white Mexican cotton shirt from Olvera Street, Los Angeles, a couple of beads, an Indian scarf and down my throat went another 250 milligrams of the dreaded heaven-and-hell drug. What a day for a daydream. ‘Should be an interesting journey,’ said Paul. The chauffeur said: ‘Back to London?’ and we said ‘yes’, not sure that it was the right answer.

<…> As we rolled away from the South Midlands and approached the Northern Home Counties the acid really started to bounce. It was late afternoon and if there was a heaven to be found on this soil, then I reckoned it would be found this evening, in the green and gold of this divine countryside. ‘Would you like to swing on a star, carry moonbeams home in a jar?’ ‘Yes,’ said Peter Asher. ‘Where would you like to go?’ I asked. ‘AA Book,’ said Paul. ‘Pick the most beautiful name in Bedfordshire,’ I said, ‘that’s where we should go.’ Peter looked at the map for what seemed like two hours or more. ‘Harrold,’ he said, after fifteen seconds. ‘Harrold?’ said the driver, naturally knocked out with delight to leave the M1 and crawl down B, C and D roads to a village no one in the car, including himself, had ever heard of. We wound through Bedfordshire checking off the signs steadily until we reached the village sign: Harrold. Oh, it was a joyful Sunday sight. It was the village we were supposed to have fought the world wars to defend, for which we would be expected to fight the third when told to, but won’t. It was a Miniver hamlet on the Ouse and there were notices telling of the fete next Saturday, and a war memorial which made me weep. Thrushes and blackbirds sang and swallows dived into thatches and a little old mower wheezed as we walked down the only street there was past the inn which was closed, past the church which was open, nodding to a sandy man with a 1930s moustache and khaki shorts as he clipped his hedge and stared at these city people with funny hair and clothes. It was seven o’clock and acid or no acid, it was opening time and I steered us into the most beautiful village inn the world has ever known and there were three or four people in there, or more or less; magical antique villagers with smocks and shepherd’s crooks and also there was a fruit machine offering Jolly Joker tokens. Through the dancing lights, past the sparkle of the green and tawny bottles, I saw the sandy man with the khaki shorts. <…> ‘Welcome to Harrold, Paul,’ said the sandy man, the local dentist, downing the rich gold beer he had earned with his shears. ‘I can hardly believe it, in fact I think I’m dreaming.’ We next found ourselves in his house, below dipping oak beams, a banquet provided for us, hams and pies and multi-jewelled salads, new bread and cakes, chicken and fruit and wine; and the dentist’s wife, a jolly lady, still young beyond her maddest fantasies, bringing out her finest fare. Paul McCartney was at her table in the village of Harrold.

Hiding at a turn on the crooked staircase stood a little girl, shy and disbelieving. But she had brought a right-handed guitar and landed it in Paul’s (left-handed) hands but the wizards were producing this play by now and floating with the splendour of this, the strangest Happening since Harrold was born, the dentist and his wife, and the neighbours as they crowded the windows and the parlour, and the children, all caught their breath as Paul McCartney began to play the song he had written that week: ‘Hey Jude,’ it began. I sat peacefully, full of the goodness you can find within yourself when goodness is all around and the dentist’s wife picked up on it and asked why life couldn’t always be like this and I told her there was nothing to fear, nothing at all and the dentist brought out the wine he had been saving for the raffle at the fete next Saturday and we drank that to celebrate the death of fear and the coming of music to Harrold and then, and gradually, the dentist was freaking and he asked me what I thought I was talking about and for a moment it was very tough, very. Ah, but Dr Leary’s medicine was good that day and we came back to a good position again, but I didn’t feel quite right about the dentist after that, and I don’t think he felt quite right about me, but how was he to know and what was I to do? You don’t just tell strangers you’ve been taking that naughty old heaven’n’hell drug. It was now eleven o’clock and we were still in the house and the inn was closed but a winged messenger came to say that as this was the night of nights, never to return, the inn was to be re-opened. ‘In your honour, Paul.’ It was 11 p.m. Paul had The Look on his face, the ‘do we don’t we?’ I nodded: tonight we should. The pub was absolutely full. The whole village was here. Paul played the piano until at three o’clock a woman stood and sang ‘The Fool on the Hill’ and he left the piano to dance with her and kiss her on the cheek and then I went and sat in the little garden and cried for joy that we had come to Harrold. It was a most beautiful garden, with hundreds of old-fashioned flowers, lupins, foxgloves – that sort of thing, and Alan Smith came out, pissed as a newt and said, ‘Why so sad, old friend, why so sad on such a night?’ ‘Not sad,’ I said, ‘not sad, old pal, just happy to be alive.’ We left then, waved away by the Harrolds, by all of them, and we never went back and I never looked at the map again, not even to see if Harrold was there.

(As Time Goes by Derek Taylor)

(Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI)

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[kiyosw]

can i request with kafka, and himeko. where the reader was like always looking at people with a blank look but one day reader finally shows them a smile also showing their dimples for the first time, and kafka, and himeko has added another thing they love about you on their list. apologies if you're not accepting requests right now, aswell as if it's too short. but, i just love your writing so im interested.

TANGLED AND LOVE STUCK BY YOU, FROM THE GLUE.

CHARATCER/S: KAFKA, HIMEKO

WARNIG/S: GN READER, SLIGHTLY POSSESIVE (KAFKA), STELLARON HUNTER READER (KAFKA), EXPRESS CREW MEMBER READER (HIMEKO)

NOTE 1: OHOHKGL WAIT THIS IS SO CUTE AND YES MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN AND ITS NOT TOO SHORT! TY FOR THE COMPLIMENT THANK YOU SO MUCH I LOVE YOU the fact that I LOVE THESE TWO WOMEN just makes it cuter but ANYWAY!!

Himeko as your lover knows you rarely, barely smile.

Even when it's just the two of you on her room cuddling and enjoying eachothers presence, you would just comfortably hum while snuggling into her deeper.

She sometimes wonder if she makes you feel gloomy, or uncomfortable so that's why you rarely smile. But you reassured her that she never made you feel like that.

And on the express too, when you're talking to your fellow trailblazers (march, danheng, welt etc.). You would just stare at them with a blank, but not an intimidating expression.

She asked you one time on why you don't often smile, but you didn't really know why, really. You just told Himeko that you didn't even noticed it.

"Oh? Okay then, but do remember that I'll be more than fine to see you express your feelings more often, my dearest."

When she first saw you smile because of a corny but worth to laugh at the joke that march made, she was taken aback. Shocked, she's head over heels for you over again at that moment.

The way your dimples appeared while you're softly smiling melted her heart. She indeed, fell inlove again at her sweet lover.

After the conversation between march and you, she approached march and asked if she took a picture on her portable camera while you we're smiling and looking so effortlessly pretty.

"March, have you taken a shot of y/n while they're smiling? You did? Great! Can you please make me a copy of it? Just one will do."

This woman would TEASE you for not smiling. Endless teasing. She would jokingly call you an "emo", "bladie the 2nd", and you would simply blush in embarassment from her silly nicknames for you. She's the only one allowed to call you that.

After a long and sweet kiss from her, you would just simply sigh in satisfaction while burying your face over her neck instead of smiling over her neck.

Nevertheless, she still loved your way of affection towards her even when you're not showing your enotions through your reactions.

Even when talking to your fellow co-stellaron hunters, you would just give them a blank, but not threatening expression while having a chat with them.

Blade likes to chat with you more often than the other hunters since you're not annoying and loud, just listening and giving out a few words for what he said. He's like your sibling, that's how some of the people around you see.

But as jealous as kafka is, she would literally snatch you up, pull you and kiss you while blade is just sneering at the both of you.

After what just happen, she then ushered you away.

"Aww.. is my little emo preferring that dead vampire looking blade over me?"

She was jokingly pouting and satirically giving you puppy eyes while saying her thoughts at that moment.

After she said that, you just simply chuckled with light pink hues scattered over your cheeks, then later on pecked her lips while smiling.

"Of course not.. even if you are a bit annoying with your nicknames, I'll never prefer anyone over you."

Oh how the tables have turned. Now she's the one blushing not just because of what you said or the peck, but because of your smile.Your damn smile.

Those dimples of yours got her blushing like a lovestrucked fool. She knew she won't forget this side of you easily.

After that she just shushed you and pulled you to kiss her again.

NOTE 2: AHHHH I hope this was what you expected, I apologize if I may not so thats why I made the two scenarios of them different so you can pick at the two. BUT ANYWAY! HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED!! :3

[swissboyhisch]

You Can't Be Serious

Pairing: Matthew Tkachuk x OC

Summary: A night out celebrating brings co-workers closer than what they thought possible. With the help of a little alcohol.

Word Count: 1346

Warnings: Probably crossing work boundaries. Alcohol. Kissing. Blurry consent.

A/N: This is for @offside-the-lines Birthday Bingo!! Happy birthday to one of my favourite Aussie girlies. I know it was a couple weeks ago but Birthday month is the best thing to celebrate!

My choice of four bingo boxes were:

Drunken Confessions

Dancing

Rivals (enemies) to Lovers

Mistaken Identity

Sorry it's so late but work became a little stressful and unpredictable. But I got it in just in time! I really hope you enjoy this as it definitely had me writing tropes I haven't before. Happy birthday Rox <3

Also shoutout to @mp0625 for being my beta. Always can count on you!

THE MASTERLIST JOIN THE TAGLIST HOCKEY DISCORD

Cora sighed happily as she finally stepped foot into her apartment, taking off her shoes and collapsing onto the couch. Even though it was a lost cause as she’d be leaving again to meet the boys at the bar, they had organized to celebrate the team clinching a playoff spot. Some country bar that the boys liked to go have a good time at when celebrating a win.

As one of the off-ice fitness trainers, she spent a lot of time with the players, creating great friendships. Cora was the only woman in the facility's fitness physio and trainers team and the youngest by far. She had done a traineeship last season, and when the head physio left, he suggested that she come onto the team as one of the other men would be taking his position. As the only woman, the boys had taken to her like family, and suddenly, she had 22 brothers. 

Notice the 22 and not 23? Well one of the team decided she was annoying and just looking for attention. Even when she was just doing her job. Matthew Tkachuk, ever since she started her traineeship, had taken a liking to pissing Cora off whenever he could. If she had to spot him while he did weights, he would do the opposite. She was younger than him and telling him what to do? Yeah right. 

But he had been injured for the last 4 weeks so the two had been spending more time than usual working together making the tension peak. Hopefully, with Matthew being back on the ice tonight, he will have simmered back down before he said something to make Cora strangle him. He was holding it against her that he wasn’t allowed to play yet. Like it was solely her fault for not clearing him to play.

Instead of wallowing and thinking about the dumbass that was Ratthew, Cora pulled herself off the couch and into her bathroom where she could shower and get ready. She was thankful that quite a few of the girlfriends, wives and family members were also coming so she wouldn’t be the only woman within the group.

Cora chose to wear a red lacy bodysuit and a black denim skirt with a leather jacket to finish off the look. A bold red lip and simple smokey look with curled hair made her look out of this world. Something the boys weren’t used to as they only ever saw the woman in athletic clothes and team gear. She traded in her worn pair of Nikes for a pair of trusty black heeled boots. She knew by the time she ordered her uber and got to the bar, some of the players and family would already be there so she grabbed her clutch that had her phone, portable charger and ID in it. The uber luckily wasn’t that long for a Friday night. 

“Cora!” Yana Tarasenko yelled as the young woman climbed out of the SUV.

“Yana,” She laughs, being brought into a hug. 

The pair intertwined their arms and made their way through the security with Vlad to where there was already a group gathering in the back corner around multiple booths and tables. Players, partners and family alike were all chatting away happily, nearly all with some kind of drink in their hand. Whether it be alcoholic or not. 

“I’m going to get a drink,” Cora yells over the music to Yana who nodded and waved her off. 

Yana found a seat with some of the other girls in a corner booth tucked behind the boys. Cora found herself at the bar, ordering her usual vodka cranberry along with two tequila shots. If she was to get through this social gathering, to be what she deemed as a normal, she needed a few drinks. Hence the shots. When she wasn’t paying attention, a body slid into the bar right beside her. 

“Your lips look lonely. Would they like to meet mine?” A familiar voice spoke up over the Carrie Underwood song that was blaring. 

Cora turned slowly, not wanting to believe what she had heard. There beside her, and apparently hitting on her, was an already tipsy Matthew Tkachuk. What the actual fuck? Those words did not just come out of his mouth.

“Tkachuk,” Cora muttered uninterested.

“So you’re a fan?”

Cora laughed, “You can’t be serious…” The curly-haired boy looked confused for a moment. Which to Cora was comical. “Matthew, we literally–” 

“Cora!” Barkov shouted when he saw her at the bar. He brought her into a hug, but she didn’t miss the shocked look that crossed Matthew’s face.

“Cora?” He gasped.

Instead of wasting time, she disappeared onto the dance floor with some of her friends dancing and sipping her cocktail. A few of the girls were cheering her on when she shook out her hair that she had put into a clip for the trip to the bar. They were all having fun, enjoying themselves. When the first few notes of Kesha’s song Take It Off played, Cora let out an excited squeal. She had practiced the line dance a heap after seeing it on TikTok. 

“Go Cora!” The girls yell as she races to the middle of the circle with quite a few other bar patrons. 

As the chorus came up, Cora stripped off the jacket she was wearing and waved it around in the air above her head. She thrived on the attention of all the girls and their partners cheering her on. Matthew had stepped up beside them and watched the girl he had come to be so frustrated with. After the song came to an end the group pulled her into the circle, showering her with compliments on the side of her she’s never shown to the team.

“You make not liking you hard when you move your hips like that,” Matthew whispers, coming up behind the dancing girl as the attention turns elsewhere. 

She could faintly smell the beer on his breath but she was probably just as drunk. “Matt…”

Cora leant back against Matthew’s body as his arms came to wrap around her waist. His fingers tickled her skin through the lace bodysuit. Save a Horse Ride a Cowboy started to play as the two swayed together in time with the beat. 

“Wanna get out of here?” Matthew yelled over the music after another hour of drinking and dancing. 

Cora giggled, “Let’s go.”

Without saying goodbye to any of the team or partners, the two slipped out of the bar and into the back of an Uber that Matthew had ordered. The two laughed and whispered on the journey back to his apartment. Cora was helped out of the car by Matthew and led up to the 11th floor of the apartment complex. 

“You frustrate me to no end,” Matthew mumbles against Cora’s lips as he pushes her to the now-closed door. 

Cora frowns at the words, “What? Why?”

“You held me off the ice even when I was all good to play.”

That made Cora step away. Even though the two were definitely tipsy, probably drunk if you look at the true definition, it hurt to hear that. “I can promise you it was for the best.”

“But I was good to play…”

“We knew we’d make the playoffs, why risk you getting injured and missing the playoffs? Why risk our best player?” 

Those words coming out of Cora’s mouth made Matthew’s thoughts flip. He had only thought of himself that Matthew hadn’t considered the team and the future of the season of he had made his injury worse. 

The silence was worrying to Cora. What was running through his head? “Matthew?”

The curly-haired boy pulled her close again and pressed his lips to hers. It was addicting… For both parties. The two stripped off clothes, leaving a trail to his bedroom.

“I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you,” Cora slurs as they fall onto the bed together. 

Matt grins, “I know I’m in love with you.”

TAG LIST:

@findapenny @mp0625 @hischierhaze @11zegras @lvrzegras

@francesfarhadi @cixrosie @dasiysthings @dancerbailey3 @puckmaidens

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[soupandsimple]

background crowd immediately chanting: JAMES! JAMES! JAMES! JAMES! when I saw this video!!!

* James being an absolute sucker for his daughter anytime she cries for him

…………..

His daughter is just sooo soo sooooo wrapped around his finger and boy does baby girl know it!!! Anytime she’s in need of James’s attention she knows all she has to do is cry and he’ll be at her reach in seconds!

You’re cleaning off the table by the entryway of the house to make room for the new seasonal decor you picked up while out shopping that morning and have baby girl in the carpeted area of the living room, locked in by her portable rainbow colored safety gates. No lack of entertainment of course as she’s surrounded with her favorite toys and has a show playing for her on the television screen.

During this time, James gets home from work and walks in from the kitchen door that’s connected to the garage and since nothing gets past little missy miss, she immediately starts whining for her dada once she hears the very familiar sound of his car keys hitting the kitchen counter.

“Who’s that I hear?” he calls in a bubbly voice.

Baby girl silences but when James doesn’t come around fast enough, she lets out another little cry.

“What’s wrong baby, mama got you locked up?” James asks, walking over to the living room area where he sees baby girl in the midst of the gates.

At his questioning, he gets nothing but a silent stare from her before she releases another calculated string of whines.

James frowns, kicks off his shoes and pads onto the carpet. “Don’t worry darling, daddy to the rescue,” he heroically assures.

Although baby girl can’t stand yet, she excitedly coos and stretches her little arms up in her sitting position, indicating she indeed wants to be picked up by him.

You walk over with your cleaning cloth in hand and shake your head. “You know she’s been in there for probably less than ten minutes right?” you informatively tease.

“Well that’s ten minutes too long” he states matter of factly, smushing one of baby girls cheeks against his as she gives you a twinkle eyed smile. <3

[tilebytiles]

when the sun goes down - a.t. (part 1)

summary: your favorite barista is ... a vampire? word count: 5k warnings: animal death, mild violence

You didn't like going to the café near your flat much. For one, finding the energy to even drag yourself out of bed was difficult most days, but topping that off with interacting with and being surrounded by complete strangers? It was like a circle of Hell reserved for the socially inept and the painfully anxious. Still, you couldn't deny that the barista that made your drink nearly every time you did go there made it worth it.

You were pretty sure his name was Alex; you had never thought to read his name tag properly, since you thought it would be weird if you barreled in, going, "Hey, Alex, get me that mocha latte! And make it with oat milk!" However, the brief glimpses you'd gotten out of the corner of your eye told you his name, if it wasn't Alex, for sure started with an A. Andrew? Anthony? Adam? Aidan? Alan? None of those really fit him, and the first two didn't even seem like they'd fit on his name tag. Alex seemed the most appropriate.

It wasn't like you two had spoken beyond formalities. You came in, exchanged the usual greetings, recited your order, and then he asked for payment and called your name once your coffee was ready. That was the most you ever spoke to one another. You, being so socially awkward that even your therapist cringed on your behalf sometimes, could never work up the courage to go beyond the script you two had developed. You wanted to - he seemed interesting. His hair sat a bit shaggily on his head, getting in his eyes sometimes and only being restrained by the hat all of the baristas had to wear. He had big brown eyes and arguably one of the prettiest smiles you'd ever seen.

The barista that was possibly named Alex had been the subject of a number of artworks, some being simple sketches and some being full-fledged paintings. There had been a couple of times where you'd gone to the café just to study him. You were aware it was all probably quite creepy, but in your defence, he was an easy subject to study and also your favourite. Everyone was made differently, you were well aware, but you didn't think you'd ever seen anyone that looked like him. The fact that he was so unique made you want to devote entire sketchbooks to studies of him. Besides, no one except you ever saw the pages of your sketchbooks or the canvases lying around your flat, so it wasn't like you were trying to get attention from his likeness. It was mostly just for your own enjoyment.

"Y/N?" The sound of your name being called made you jump a bit, and the pen you'd been mindlessly sketching with jutted across the paper awkwardly. You dropped the pen onto your sketchbook and got up from your table, heading to the counter. As you approached, you made sure to read his nametag this time - it was Alex.

You took the portable cup from him, and even with the sleeve it sat in, it still warmed your previously cold hands up. Your name was scrawled on the sleeve in the handwriting you'd come to recognise rather quickly. You smiled at him. "Thank you. You could have just left it on the counter, you know."

He returned your smile and shook his head a little. "Nah, it's alright," he said. "I just don't want a repeat of the time your coffee almost got stolen."

Brief glimpses of Alex trying to get the attention of the customer that had taken your coffee, mistaking your name for hers, without being any louder than he had to flashed through your mind, and you had to stifle a laugh. You'd felt bad for him - you could tell he wasn't the greatest in social situations, either, even as a barista, and since he couldn't really leave his spot behind the counter, he was left awkwardly calling, "Ma'am? Um, ma'am, excuse me - ma'am?" until she finally turned around and realised he was talking to her.

"So," he said, shifting his hat atop his head, "will you ever show me what's in that sketchbook?"

He'd seen you with it before, and he'd asked about it, too. You had been vague every time, too embarrassed by the idea of him opening it just to find dozens of sketches of his face from all angles. There were a few full-body sketches, and you used those to draw out different outfits on him; you wondered what he'd look like in a suit, or clad in leather, or in a cosy jumper. You imagined him in different poses, too; crouching, kneeling, sitting thoughtfully with his head in his hand, leaning against a wall. Some of the sketches had the privilege of being coloured in, but the rest were just line drawings with some shading.

You sighed. "Probably not."

His lower lip jutted out in what you guessed to be a pout. "Why not?"

"It's not very interesting. I don't know why you want to see it."

"Because I'm sure you're a great artist."

You snorted at that. "Just drop it, please."

He didn't. Instead, his pout only seemed to intensify, and his eyes practically glimmered in the light. You couldn't tell if they were just naturally that way, or if he was about to start crying. "Please?"

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, trying to fight his pleading, but it was no use. You groaned and said, "Fine."

His face did a complete 180, and he practically beamed at you. "Thank you."

You quickly looked away before you started staring.

You remained in the café for the rest of the day, something you’d only done once before. It felt a bit strange to watch customers come and go, come and go, come and go, and then just go. About twenty minutes before closing, you began packing up your things to head home. You hadn’t brought much; just your bag, your sketchbook and a few different pens. Your coffee cup had long since been drained, and you made sure to throw it away before heading out the door, a small chime signalling your departure.

You made a swift left and went down the sidewalk, subconsciously avoiding any cracks you encountered. Sometimes, you counted how many steps it took to cross one square, although you weren’t sure why you did it. You weren’t very far from the café, however, when you heard a metallic thumping. The sound made you turn, but when you looked around, you couldn’t immediately see anything wrong. You were about to dismiss it when you heard it again. It was coming from the dumpster by the café.

You knew there was the chance for you to become something out of a horror film; a ruthless killer would jump out from behind the dumpster and stab you to death, then throw your body in, and eventually, you would end up compacted into a trash cube like the ones in Wall-E and no one would ever find your body. Despite that, you approached anyway, albeit rather slowly. You figured if you didn’t rush over, you’d have more time to see if there was a killer waiting with the feasting mice. Your shoes were virtually silent as they moved along the asphalt lot. You heard a faint snapping sound, like bones breaking, which made you cringe.

When you got close enough, you could make out a figure that was crouched down beside the dumpster, turned away from you. You squinted at them and studied their attire … the knot of what you guessed was an apron, pressing into their lower back … an unruly mess of hair that swept against their shoulders … wait. “Alex?”

The figure froze and turned to face you. It was Alex, but something was very, very wrong. There was a dead mouse in his hands, the white fur of its neck stained red with blood. Blood was smeared on his hands and around his lips, and glinting in the light of the nearby street lamp were two perfectly pointy fangs. Your eyes widened, and every synapse in your brain seemed to fire at once, screaming at you in a ghastly choir to get the hell out of there. You remained stuck in the same spot, though, with you and Alex just staring at each other.

You finally opened your mouth to scream, and Alex jumped up, dropping the mouse. “Don’t,” he said in a low voice. The seriousness that coated his features now, creasing his brow and darkening his eyes, scared you so much that your mouth immediately snapped shut. He sighed and looked down at his hands. He moved to wipe them on his apron, then seemed to think better of it and held them awkwardly away from his clothes. “I know this looks bad.”

“Of course it does!” you hissed. “What are you doing?”

“Uh.” He looked off at the street, watching a car as it sped by. He was still tucked away in the shadows of the building, meaning only you could see him. “If I told you,” he said slowly, his gaze sliding back over to meet yours, “you wouldn’t believe me.”

You released something that was between a scoff and a laugh. “And I’m just supposed to pretend I didn’t just see you covered in blood with a dead mouse in your hands?” He nodded slowly. You wanted to smack him. “I’m not leaving until I get some answers.”

He sighed and nodded, looking down at the asphalt. “Fine. I’m a vampire.”

You blinked. “A vampire,” you repeated slowly. “But … I thought vampires killed people.”

“We can. Some do. I don’t.”

“So you feed on the mice instead?”

He nodded. “I don’t feel great doin' it, but it’s the only way I can survive.”

“Right.” You tried to keep your voice level, but you still wanted to scream. You wanted to scream at the top of your lungs and run down the road, flailing your arms, and if you accidentally got hit by a car in the process, would that really be so bad?

“I need you to promise me something.”

Your jaw worked slowly. You wanted to be snarky and demand something in return, but you were too nice to try and blackmail him. “What?”

“You can’t tell anyone.”

“I was totally planning on telling my therapist,” you replied sarcastically.

The joke drew a small chuckle from him, but the hint of a smile that came with it was instantly gone again. He sighed and tilted his head back, looking up at the endless void of stars. “I’m sorry, really. I … I hate when people find out like this.”

That caught your attention. “This has happened before?”

“Not exactly like this, but my, um, my friend, he - he found me with a mouse in his flat. It had gotten caught in one of those wooden mouse traps, and I hadn’t fed in a couple of days by then, and I felt weak, so I took it out and … and then he came in. He was nice about it, but, you know, it still sucks.”

“Was that a pun?”

He blinked and lowered his head to look at you. “You know, I hadn’t even realised when I said it.”

"Right. So ... how long can you go without feeding?"

He looked off towards the road again, seeming to think about it. "A few days at most, maybe. I eat normal food, but if I don't get blood, it's like ... dyin' of dehydration."

That made you wince a little. You'd always heard of how terrible dying of dehydration was, and you felt bad knowing that was basically what he was at risk of all the time. It wasn't like he could go around and kill mice every day, and he seemed reluctant to go after anything else. "Are your friend and I the only people that know?"

He shook his head, still staring at the road. Another car sped by. "My parents know, along with a couple more friends of mine. You're the only stranger that knows."

"Am I really a stranger if you've made my coffee for months?"

That made him smile again, and this time, it stuck around longer than the previous one had. "That's true. I know you hate regular milk, you love lattes, and you never order iced coffee 'cause you're cold all the time."

You were surprised he'd even remembered you nervously rambling about that once. That wasn't important, though. You let out a quiet sigh. "It ... it's getting late. I should head home. Will you ... be alright?"

He finally looked at you again and nodded. "I can get myself cleaned up just fine."

You nodded. "Okay, um ... goodnight, Alex."

"Night, Y/N."

You slowly turned and began to walk back to the sidewalk, your mind still reeling from all the information you'd just received. When you glanced back to see if Alex was still there, he was already gone, and the mouse had been left near the dumpster.

•••••

Lucky for you, you had therapy the next day.

Your leg bounced anxiously as you sat in the waiting room, nestled into the far right side of one of the leather sofas. Your elbow dug into the arm of the sofa, and you had your head in your hand while you stared out the window, observing all the passersby. You saw a man on a bike; a woman with a child; a couple, holding hands as they went; two girls chatting and presumably laughing (you couldn't hear them) that you were 99% certain you went to uni with. All sorts of people passed by the window every time you were here, and it was slowly getting to the point where you could pick out the ones that made this sidewalk part of their regular route.

"Y/N, you can come on in, I'm just gonna pop off to the bathroom first," your therapist said, making you turn your head. You watched as she walked across the waiting room and into the bathroom, pulling the door shut behind her with a soft click. Her name was Mary, and she'd been your therapist for the last two years. Initially, you were hesitant and reserved with her, having never done therapy before and being unsure of exactly how much you were supposed to share - revealing personal details about yourself to a complete stranger scared you, anyway, even if they were there to help you. She was understanding, though, and after a couple of fluke sessions where you didn't say much, you finally began to step out of your shell with her. Initially, you'd thought you'd only do it for a few months and then cope with the rest yourself, but it turned out that your brain was like the world's biggest jumble of cords and it would take a lot more than a few months to unravel it. Two years later, and there were still some rather stubborn knots that needed taking care of.

You pushed yourself up off the sofa and walked out of the waiting room, heading down the hall and into the first door on the left. The office was an old house that had been bought and remodelled, meaning that every room had a homely feel to it. Mary's office was no exception; in fact, you were convinced the at-home feel was entirely her idea. There was a sofa pushed up against the wall the door was in with a couple of throw pillows on it, and across from it was Mary's desk. There was also an armchair directly across from the door that she sat in during your sessions; she only sat in her desk chair when she was scheduling your next appointment. There was a window that let you see out onto the street, and a tall plant of some sort beside it; her degrees were framed and hanging up on the wall above her desk; she had a number of pictures, both on the wall, on her desk, and on the bookshelf that was beside the sofa; and in the center of the floor was a fuzzy circle rug that you wanted to run your hands through. You never did, though.

You plopped onto the sofa, sitting in the center this time, and lifted your legs up, crossing them beneath you. You waited a couple of minutes, and then Mary came in, shutting the door behind her with the same gentleness she'd shown the bathroom door. She grabbed her teal-coloured tumbler and sat down in the armchair, smiling at you. "How have you been?"

You thought back to what you'd seen the night before and quickly tried to shove that memory out of the way; you might have joked to Alex about it, but you were absolutely not telling your therapist the barista you had a small crush on was a creature of the night. "I've ... been pretty good," you said slowly.

She rose an eyebrow at your hesitancy, but didn't say anything. "Have you been working on getting out of your flat every day?"

You nodded. "It's helped my mood a lot, surprisingly."

"Well, I wouldn't tell you to do something if I didn't think it would help." She offered you another smile, then asked, "And the nightmares?"

You tensed up a little and looked down at the fuzzy rug, wishing now more than ever that you could lie facedown on it and never get back up. "They've gotten worse recently. I'm not sure why."

"Has anything happened?"

You quickly racked your brain for any potential triggers and slowly shook your head. "Not that I can think of."

"Any additional stress?"

"No."

"Hmm." She sat back in the armchair and took a sip of her drink, glancing out the window. "What are they about?"

There it was. The question you'd been secretly dreading. "It's like ... I'm stuck in a building, and I can't get out."

"Describe the building."

"It was ... it was kind of old looking, at least inside. It reminded me of one of those old Victorian houses. The walls were a dark red, and there weren't many lights. It was like a maze. I kept running through halls and making different turns, but no matter what I did, I couldn't get out."

"And then what?"

"I ran into him again."

"The tall man?"

"Yeah." The man that had been appearing in your nightmares with increased frequency over the last few months or so was only referred to by you and Mary as "the tall man." You couldn't recognise him at all, but every time you saw him, he terrified you. And then you'd wake up. The first time you'd mentioned him to Mary, she grew worried that he was from a traumatic event you'd blocked out. You didn't think he was, but his recurring presence in your sleep still scared you. Sometimes, you wondered if you were just going insane.

Mary sighed. "I still worry it's from trauma, Y/N."

"I don't know," you said. "If it was, I feel like I would have nightmares about the same thing. I don't, though. Every time he shows up, it's in a completely different place."

"Did he say anything this time?" You shook your head. "Right." She looked down at the rug, chewing on the inside of her cheek, and then looked back up at you, managing a small smile. "What about that boy?"

You blinked. "That ... boy?"

"You know! The one from the café? How are things going with him?"

Ah. Alex. "Well, I mean, he makes my coffee. Uh ... he asked about my sketchbook yesterday."

"And what did you say?"

"I said no."

"Y/N!"

"What? I don't need him thinking I'm a creep!"

"I think he would be flattered," she said with a shrug. "It's not every day that someone gets whole sketchbook pages dedicated to them."

You looked away as your cheeks flushed. You had to admit, you'd had that exact line of thinking before, but you could never convince yourself of it. You got the feeling that the flattery would take the backseat in comparison to the creepiness of it all. It felt stupid and weird to even have a crush on him in the first place (you were barely willing to admit you had a crush on him at all); you two only spoke to each other because you had to. If anything, maybe he found you annoying. Maybe he didn't like how often you'd started coming in accordance with Mary's "get out of the flat" regime. Maybe he hated making your coffee. Maybe he hated you. Now that you knew he was a vampire, maybe he'd break his no-humans rule and kill you and suck all the blood from your body until you were nothing but a lifeless husk.

"Earth to Y/N."

"Huh?" You looked at Mary, who just smiled and shook her head. "Sorry, did you say something?"

"You zoned out on me. I was starting to think you'd never come back into orbit."

"Oh ... sorry."

She shook her head again. "It's fine. I was just saying that I think you should try and talk to that boy more often."

"But I only ever see him at the café."

"Then work out a way to meet up with him outside of work."

"I don't know."

"You need the social interaction. Your resolution this year was to be less of a hermit, right? You can't really do that if you don't talk to anyone."

You knew she was right. She tended to be. "Fine," you mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest. "I'll talk to him the next time I see him. But what should I say?"

"Try to find common ground. Figure out his interests and go from there."

The rest of your session went about as smoothly as any therapy session could go, and your next appointment was exactly three weeks out. Although you were tempted to just head straight home, you decided to finally bite the bullet and get the conversation with Alex over with. You weren't sure how stable any friendship you might form with him could be, considering you knew his darkest secret before you knew his last name, but you tried to remain optimistic. You took the bus to the stop that was closest to the café and forced yourself to take a couple of deep breaths to keep calm before walking inside.

The café wasn’t that busy, which immediately made the tension in your shoulders lessen. There were a few people already in line, though, so you slowly made your way to the counter, suddenly finding it impossible to stand still. Your eyes darted to every crevice of the café they could possibly reach, although you avoided looking at any faces on the off chance someone would look at you at the same time and you’d have to awkwardly look away. When it was finally your turn, Alex looked up from the till, his face falling slightly. “Y/N. What can I get you today?”

Fuck. He was already annoyed that he had to deal with you after last night. “Uh, just the usual, please.”

“Will that be all?”

Yes. “No.” What? “Uh, I wanted to ask, um …” He stared at you, waiting for you to finish, and you blurted out, “What do you like?” Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Maybe today was the day you’d run into traffic.

His brows knitted together as he seemed to process what you’d just said. You wanted to sink into the floor. “You wanna know what I like?” he asked slowly. You nodded. “Alright, well, uh, I think the croissants are pretty … swell. I like the cakes, uh-“

“No,” you interrupted, “that’s not what I meant. I meant, like … interests.”

You watched as realisation dawned on his face, his brows raising and his mouth forming an ‘o’ shape. “I like music. I like, uh, readin’ books. Um … I write sometimes, too, although I think I’m shite at it. I like those old black and white films. Why are you askin’?”

“I was going to see if we could be friends, maybe,” you mumbled, looking down at the counter. This was all suddenly incredibly embarrassing. You felt like a child again, and you absolutely despised it.

“Oh.” You looked back up at him, rather hesitantly, expecting him to look annoyed or disgusted. Instead, he was smiling. It was faint, but it was still there. “We can be friends, Y/N. You coulda just started with that, though.”

“Al, you better not be flirtin’ with the customers.” The sound of someone else’s voice startled the both of you, and you both looked at the barista that was currently frothing milk. His name tag said Miles, if you were reading it right.

“I’m not,” Alex said sharply, glaring at him. Miles just grinned and winked at you before turning his attention back to the device he stood in front of. Alex rolled his eyes and turned to face you again. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” you said, although the implication of Miles’ wink that Alex could flirt with you made your cheeks go red. “Um, is it alright if I give you my number?”

•••••

Alex stretched himself out on the grass, letting out something between a groan and a sigh. A beam of sunlight filtered through the branches of the tree you were underneath, casting him in an otherworldly glow and turning his irises into pools of honey behind his sunglasses. "God, I love sunny days," he sighed.

It was the next day, and after the two of you had exchanged numbers, Alex had suggested hanging out since he didn't have work that day. It wasn't like you had anything else to do besides rotting away in your flat, so you agreed. Another day of getting outside meant another sticker on your calendar. February was almost complete. You'd stopped by the café beforehand anyway, though, just to get coffee and a snack. You were sipping at your perfectly toasty mocha latte, and Alex had already managed to down half of his black coffee.

He looked up at you as you bit into your cookie, catching the crumbs with the white paper bag your treats had been slipped into. He didn't say anything for a few moments, just watched you. Then he asked, "You haven't told anyone, have you?"

You lowered the cookie back into the bag. "No," you said. "I saw my therapist yesterday, funnily enough, but I kept my mouth shut."

Amusement danced in his eyes as he remembered your remark. "I'm sorry you have to deal with this now."

You shrugged a little. "It's fine. Adds a bit of excitement to my life." Now it was your turn to eye him. "If you're a vampire, how come you're not a pile of ashes right now?"

He barked out a laugh at that. You quite liked the way his laugh sounded. "Honestly, I was scared to go outside when I got turned, but when I finally did, I was ... fine. I guess it's 'cause I'm not a purebred or anything."

"Oh. So what vampire perks do you get?"

"Well, I can run really fast, although I don't really use that one 'cause I don't run anywhere. I can see in the dark. Erm ... I can sunbathe and not get burnt?"

It was your turn to laugh. "No wonder you're so pale."

"My skin glistens. Like I'm covered in a bunch of tiny crystals."

You set the paper bag down in the grass, deciding to forget about your cookie for now. "Does all the regular stuff still hurt you?"

"Yeah. I mean, I haven't tested a stake to the heart, and I don't plan to, but everythin' else ..."

"Do you not age anymore?"

He shook his head. "I mean, it's hard to say. You don't change much in your twenties, I don't think. But after I got turned, I just ... knew. It was a weird feeling. It still is."

That made you frown a little. You were beginning to wonder if he even enjoyed being a vampire. "I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess that you were turned against your will."

He nodded slowly, turning his head ever so slightly to stare up past the branches, watching the clouds as they drifted by. "It was over a year ago. There was ... there was this man in my dreams." His hands, which had been supporting his head, were now waving around in the air, adding gestures to his words. "Every time I saw him, it freaked me out, although I didn't understand why. It was like seein' him triggered somethin', and I'd immediately wake up. It went on for a few months, and then one night, when I was walking home from work, someone jumped out of an alley and knocked me out. I don't remember anything that happened afterwards, but when I woke up, I had the strangest craving for blood."

Although his story did make you sad, your mind immediately latched onto one detail in particular. "Wait, you saw a man in your dreams?"

"Yeah, he was a fuckin' creep. Dunno who he was."

"Was he tall and wearing a black cloak with his hair gelled back?"

"Yeah." He looked back at you, his brows furrowing. "What are you gettin' at, Y/N?"

"I ..." You gulped. "I've been seeing that man in my dreams since November."

Slowly, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, still staring at you. If you looked hard enough, behind those sunglasses, you were pretty sure there was a hint of fear in his eyes. "November?"

You nodded. "I didn't know what to think of it, and my therapist thought that maybe it was related to trauma, and-"

"Y/N," he interrupted, his voice much graver than it'd ever been, "you're not safe. They're gonna come for you."

tags: @elexnorislingtxn / @edandmollydeservebetter / @sagegreensimmr / @billyseye / @supernaturalandpain / @not-a-big-slay