#they both lead with their heart and I love that

[nasa]

Love Letters from Space

Love is in the air, and it’s out in space too! The universe is full of amazing chemistry, cosmic couples held together by gravitational attraction, and stars pulsing like beating hearts.

Celestial objects send out messages we can detect if we know how to listen for them. Our upcoming Nancy Grace Roman Space Telescope will help us scour the skies for all kinds of star-crossed signals.

Celestial Conversation Hearts

Communication is key for any relationship – including our relationship with space. Different telescopes are tuned to pick up different messages from across the universe, and combining them helps us learn even more. Roman is designed to see some visible light – the type of light our eyes can see, featured in the photo above from a ground-based telescope – in addition to longer wavelengths, called infrared. That will help us peer through clouds of dust and across immense stretches of space.

Other telescopes can see different types of light, and some detectors can even help us study cosmic rays, ghostly neutrinos, and ripples in space called gravitational waves.

Intergalactic Hugs

This visible and near-infrared image from the Hubble Space Telescope captures two hearts locked in a cosmic embrace. Known as the Antennae Galaxies, this pair’s love burns bright. The two spiral galaxies are merging together, igniting the birth of brand new baby stars.

Stellar nurseries are often very dusty places, which can make it hard to tell what’s going on. But since Roman can peer through dust, it will help us see stars in their infancy. And Roman’s large view of space coupled with its sharp, deep imaging will help us study how galaxy mergers have evolved since the early universe.

Cosmic Chemistry

Those stars are destined to create new chemistry, forging elements and scattering them into space as they live, die, and merge together. Roman will help us understand the cosmic era when stars first began forming. The mission will help scientists learn more about how elements were created and distributed throughout galaxies.

Did you know that U and I (uranium and iodine) were both made from merging neutron stars? Speaking of which…

Fatal Attraction

When two neutron stars come together in a marriage of sorts, it creates some spectacular fireworks! While they start out as stellar sweethearts, these and some other types of cosmic couples are fated for devastating breakups.

When a white dwarf – the leftover core from a Sun-like star that ran out of fuel – steals material from its companion, it can throw everything off balance and lead to a cataclysmic explosion. Studying these outbursts, called type Ia supernovae, led to the discovery that the expansion of the universe is speeding up. Roman will scan the skies for these exploding stars to help us figure out what’s causing the expansion to accelerate – a mystery known as dark energy.

Going Solo

Plenty of things in our galaxy are single, including hundreds of millions of stellar-mass black holes and trillions of “rogue” planets. These objects are effectively invisible – dark objects lost in the inky void of space – but Roman will see them thanks to wrinkles in space-time.

Anything with mass warps the fabric of space-time. So when an intervening object nearly aligns with a background star from our vantage point, light from the star curves as it travels through the warped space-time around the nearer object. The object acts like a natural lens, focusing and amplifying the background star’s light.

Thanks to this observational effect, which makes stars appear to temporarily pulse brighter, Roman will reveal all kinds of things we’d never be able to see otherwise.

Roman is nearly ready to set its sights on so many celestial spectacles. Follow along with the mission’s build progress in this interactive virtual tour of the observatory, and check out these space-themed Valentine’s Day cards.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[moonlightwritingf1]

Lost in You | LN4

��� summary ━━━━━━━ Lando accidentally comes inside Y/N for the first time.

❥ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

❥ word count ━━━━━━━ 3.3k

❥ warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, p in v, unprotected sex, accidental creampie,

Based on this request.

The first thing Lando noticed when he stepped into her apartment was her. Her scent, that soft, intoxicating mix of vanilla and something uniquely her, lingered in the air. It made him forget the exhaustion of the race, the jet lag, the chaos of Monaco. All that mattered was the woman standing a few feet away, her arms crossed, a playful smirk on her lips.

“You’re late,” she said, her voice dripping with mock annoyance. She leaned against the kitchen counter, her eyes narrowing as she looked him up and down. She was wearing that outfit—the one with the oversized hoodie that she swore wasn’t his but definitely was—and a pair of tiny black shorts that made his mouth go dry.

Lando dropped his bag by the door and strode toward her, his heart racing in a way that had nothing to do with the adrenaline of the race. “Late? I came straight from the airport,” he countered, his voice low, teasing. He stopped just inches from her, his gaze locking with hers. “Unless you’re telling me you missed me that much.”

She rolled her eyes, but the flush creeping up her neck betrayed her. God, he loved that about her. The way she tried to play it cool, like she wasn’t just as desperate for him as he was for her. He reached out, his fingers brushing against her waist, and she sucked in a sharp breath.

“You’re such a tease,” she muttered, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, her hands found their way to his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

“And you’re a liar,” he shot back, his lips curving into a grin. He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. “Admit it, you’ve been thinking about me all week.”

She shivered, her nails digging into his chest just enough to make him groan. “Maybe,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “But that doesn’t mean you’re getting off easy.”

Lando chuckled, the sound dark and rumbling in his chest. “Oh, darling,” he murmured, his hands sliding down to grip her hips. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

–

Their clothes were scattered across the floor within minutes, a trail leading from the kitchen to the bedroom. She was on her knees on the bed, her hands gripping the sheets as Lando stood behind her, his hands exploring every curve of her body. His touch was possessive, claiming, like he couldn’t get enough of her. And maybe he couldn’t.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathed, his fingers tracing the curve of her spine. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the small of her back, and she whimpered, her hips pushing back into him.

“Lando,” she moaned, her voice shaky, desperate. She reached back, her fingers tangling in his hair as he nipped at her skin, leaving a trail of kisses and bites that made her toes curl.

He chuckled, the sound sending shivers down her spine. “Patience, love,” he murmured, his hands sliding down to grip her hips. “I’ve got you.”

His grip tightened, and she gasped as he pulled her back, her ass pressing against him. He smirked, his fingers digging into her skin as he gave her a sharp slap. The sound echoed in the room, and she cried out, her body trembling.

“Fuck,” she panted, her fingers tightening in the sheets. “Do that again.”

Lando obliged, his hand coming down on her ass with a force that made her moan. He leaned over her, his chest pressing against her back as he kissed her shoulder. “You like that, don’t you?” he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

She nodded, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. “Yes,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “I’ve missed you.”

He groaned, his hands sliding around to her front, his fingers teasing her clit. “Show me,” he demanded, his voice low and commanding.

She arched her back, her body moving with a rhythm that was both desperate and deliberate. Her hips rolled against his hand, each motion sending waves of pleasure coursing through her. Lando’s breath hitched as he watched her, his fingers working her clit with a precision that made her toes curl into the sheets.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his voice rough, strained. His other hand gripped her hip, holding her steady as she pressed back into him, her ass grinding against his cock. He could feel the heat radiating from her, the way her body trembled with every touch, every stroke.

Her moans grew louder, more urgent, filling the room with a symphony of need. “Lando,” she gasped, her voice breaking on his name. Her hands fisted the sheets, knuckles white as she clung to them for dear life. “Please... don’t stop.”

He didn’t. His fingers moved faster, harder, driving her closer and closer to the edge. She could feel it building, that familiar tension coiling in her belly, tightening until she thought she might burst. And then she did. Her body convulsed, a cry tearing from her throat as she came undone beneath his touch. Waves of pleasure crashed over her, leaving her trembling, breathless, utterly spent.

But Lando wasn’t done. He couldn’t stop. Not when she looked like that—her hair tangled, her skin flushed, her lips parted as she panted for air. He leaned over her, his chest pressing against her back as he kissed her shoulder, her neck, anywhere he could reach.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he murmured, his voice low, reverent. His hands slid down her sides, tracing the curve of her waist before gripping her hips again. “I can’t get enough of you.”

She whimpered, her body still sensitive, still throbbing with the aftershocks of her orgasm. But she didn’t pull away. Instead, she pressed back into him, her ass grinding against his cock once more. “Then don’t stop,” she whispered, her voice shaky but determined. “Take me, Lando. I’m yours.”

Lando’s fingers dug into the soft flesh of her hips as he positioned himself behind her. She was still on her hands and knees, her back arched perfectly, her ass presented to him like a gift. The sight alone made his cock throb, hard and aching, desperate for her. He ran his hand down the curve of her spine, feeling the way she shivered under his touch, before sliding it lower, over the swell of her ass. He gave her a sharp slap, the sound echoing in the room, and she gasped, her body jolting forward.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. His fingers traced the wetness between her thighs, teasing her entrance, already slick and ready for him. “So fucking perfect.”

She whimpered, her head dropping between her shoulders as she pressed back against his hand. “Lando, please,” she begged, her voice trembling. “I need you.”

He didn’t make her wait. Gripping the base of his cock, he guided himself to her entrance, the tip pressing against her warmth. He paused for a moment, savoring the anticipation, the way her body trembled beneath him. Then, with a slow, deliberate thrust, he pushed inside her, inch by inch, until he was buried to the hilt.

Her breath hitched, a low moan escaping her lips as she felt him fill her completely. “God, Lando,” she gasped, her fingers clawing at the sheets. “You feel so big.”

He groaned, his hands tightening on her hips as he pulled out slightly, only to thrust back in, deeper this time. The sensation was overwhelming—her tightness, her heat, the way her body clenched around him like she was made for him. He couldn’t get enough of the view: her on her hands and knees, her back arched, her ass right there, begging for him. It was primal, possessive, and it drove him wild.

“Fuck, y/n,” he growled, his pace quickening. His thrusts became more urgent, more demanding, each one hitting that spot inside her that made her cry out. “You take me so well.”

She whimpered, her body rocking back to meet his every thrust, each one driving him deeper, harder, until she felt like he was everywhere—inside her, around her, consuming her. His cock stretched her in the most delicious way, filling her so completely that it almost hurt, but in the best kind of way. The angle was perfect, his length hitting that spot deep inside her that made her vision blur and her toes curl into the sheets. She could feel every ridge, every pulse of him as he moved, thick and unrelenting, pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

“Lando,” she gasped, her voice breaking, trembling with the intensity of it all. Her hands clawed at the sheets, desperate for something to hold onto as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in her belly. “You feel... so big. So good.”

Her words were barely coherent, but they sent a jolt through him, his grip on her hips tightening as he drove into her with even more force. She cried out, her body arching, her ass pressing back against him as if she couldn’t get enough. And she couldn’t. Every thrust was a revelation, his cock sliding in and out of her with a slick, wet sound that only heightened the heat between them. She could feel him everywhere—the stretch of her walls around him, the way her body clenched and fluttered, trying to pull him deeper, keep him there forever.

“I’m close,” she panted, her voice shaky, desperate. Her thighs trembled, her entire body taut like a bowstring, ready to snap. “Please, Lando, don’t stop.”

He didn’t. His pace became relentless, his thrusts hard and deep, each one hitting that sweet spot inside her that made her see stars. She could feel the tension building, coiling tighter and tighter until it finally snapped. 

He could feel it too—the way her walls tightened around him, the way her body trembled with the force of her impending release. He leaned over her, his chest pressing against her back as he kissed her shoulder, her neck, anywhere he could reach. “Come for me, love,” he whispered, his voice rough with need. “Let go.”

And she did. Her body convulsed, a cry tearing from her throat as she came undone beneath him. Waves of pleasure crashed over her, leaving her trembling, breathless, utterly spent. But Lando wasn’t done. He couldn’t stop. Not when she looked like that—her hair tangled, her skin flushed, her lips parted as she panted for air. He kept thrusting, driving her through her orgasm, chasing his own release.

“Fuck, y/n,” he groaned, his pace becoming erratic. “I can’t hold back.”

She whimpered, her body still sensitive, still throbbing with the aftershocks of her orgasm. But she didn’t pull away. Instead, she pressed back into him, her ass grinding against his cock once more. “Then don’t,” she whispered, her voice shaky but determined. “Take me, Lando. I’m yours.”

And with a final, deep thrust, he did. His release washed over him, hot and intense, as he spilled inside her, his body shuddering with the force of it. He collapsed over her, his chest heaving, his heart racing as they both came down from the high. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of their breathing, the feel of their bodies pressed together, and the undeniable truth that they were exactly where they were meant to be.

Lando’s body tightened, every muscle coiled like a spring as he thrust into her one final time, deeper than before, burying himself to the hilt. She gasped, her body arching, her walls clamping down around him in a desperate, pulsing rhythm. It was too much—the heat, the tension, the way she squeezed him—and he couldn’t hold back any longer. With a guttural groan, his release hit him like a tidal wave, hot and relentless, spilling deep inside her. His hips jerked uncontrollably, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself into her, filling her with every drop.

She felt it—the way he twitched inside her, the warmth flooding her, the sheer force of his orgasm rippling through him. It sent her over the edge again, her own body shuddering as she came with him, waves of pleasure crashing over her, leaving her breathless and trembling. Lando collapsed forward, his chest pressed against her back, his breath coming in ragged gasps against her skin. His arms wrapped around her, holding her close as their bodies trembled together, both of them drowning in the aftershocks.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of their breathing—fast, unsteady, synchronized—and the heat of their skin pressed together, slick with sweat. Lando buried his face in the curve of her neck, his lips brushing against her shoulder in a soft, reverent kiss. His fingers traced her waist, possessive and gentle all at once, like he couldn’t bear to let her go.

She could feel his heartbeat, rapid and wild, against her back, matching the frantic pace of her own. His weight felt grounding, comforting, like he was anchoring her to the moment, to him. He gave a shaky exhale, his breath hot against her skin, and she could feel the tension slowly leaving his body as though his limbs had given out. Even in his exhaustion, his hands explored her body lightly, caressing her soft skin as if to remind them both they were still present, and still on their high. Instinctively, she turned her head to kiss his cheek, using the hands that once clutched the bedsheets, to stroke his hand on her waist.

She knew right then—they were exactly where they were meant to be.

Lando pulled out slowly, his breath still ragged, his body trembling with the remnants of his orgasm. She gasped softly, the sensation of him slipping out of her strangely intimate, the space he left behind warm and empty. But then she felt it—the unmistakable trickle of his release leaking out of her. Her thighs twitched, a shiver running through her as she savored the sensation, strange but intoxicating. She could feel the warmth of it, slow and deliberate, sliding down her sensitive skin. It sent a jolt of electricity through her, her body still on that high, still craving more of him.

But when Lando looked down, his body suddenly stiffened. His breath caught in his throat. “Shit,” he muttered, his eyes wide with panic. “I—I didn’t mean to—fuck, I’m sorry.”

She turned to look at him, brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice soft.

He ran a hand through his damp curls, his heart racing. “I—I came inside you,” he admitted, his voice shaking. “I’m so sorry, it’s never—I never—”

A small smile tugged at her lips as she reached up, cupping his cheek. “Lando,” she said, her tone calm, reassuring. “It’s okay. I’m on birth control.”

He blinked, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

She nodded. “Positive.” Her fingers brushed lightly against his skin. “But it’s cute that you’re freaking out.”

He groaned, dropping his head onto her shoulder. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, voice muffled against her skin.

She laughed, the sound soft and full of warmth. “You’re stuck with me, Norris,” she teased, fingers tangling in his hair.

“Good,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. “Because I’m not letting you go.”

His words sent warmth flooding through her, settling deep in her chest. She felt it again—that slow, intimate reminder of how close they’d been, how much he’d given her. The weight of it lingered between them, unspoken but deeply felt.

“Don’t move,” he murmured suddenly, his voice still rough but gentle. He shifted off the bed, his movements slightly unsteady, and disappeared into the bathroom. She heard the sound of water running, a soft clatter, and then he was back, a warm, damp cloth in his hand.

She turned her head, watching him as he knelt beside her, his eyes heavy with something she couldn’t quite name—devotion, maybe, or tenderness. Gently, he pressed the cloth between her thighs, his touch careful, almost tender. She inhaled sharply, the warmth of the cloth contrasting with the cool air of the room, the sensation both soothing and intimate. His fingers lingered for a moment, tracing the curve of her thigh, and she let out a soft sigh, her body still humming with pleasure.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, his voice low, tinged with concern.

She shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “No,” she whispered. “It feels... good.” Her cheeks flushed as she admitted it, but she couldn’t help it—the thought of him inside her, filling her so completely, made her heart race all over again.

He studied her, his brow furrowing slightly, before smirking, that familiar teasing glint returning to his eyes. “Good?” he repeated, his voice dipping into that playful tone she both loved and hated. “Because you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

She rolled her eyes, but the smile on her lips betrayed her. “Not like I want to,” she murmured, her fingers brushing against his hand where it still rested on her thigh.

He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to her hip, his breath warm against her skin. “Good,” he whispered, his lips brushing against her skin. “Because you’re mine, and I’m not going anywhere.”

He finished cleaning her up, his touches tender, his eyes never leaving hers. When he was done, he dropped the cloth onto the floor and slid back into bed, pulling her into his arms. She nestled against him, her head resting on his chest, his heartbeat steady under her ear. For the first time, she wasn’t afraid of what this meant, of where they were going. He’d given her everything—his body, his heart, and now, this.

It was theirs, and no one could take it away.

She tilted her head up, her lips brushing against his in a featherlight kiss. “I missed you,” she whispered, her voice soft, almost shy.

He smiled, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her skin, the warmth of his touch making her shiver. “I missed you too,” he admitted, his voice low, raw. “More than you can imagine.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “It felt... good,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper. She looked up at him through her lashes, her heart pounding in her chest. “When you came inside me. It was... really hot.”

Lando’s breath hitched, his eyes darkening as he stared at her. “Yeah?” he murmured, his voice teasing, but there was a hint of something deeper in his tone. His hand slid down to her thigh, his fingers brushing against her sensitive skin. “Tell me more.”

She bit her lip, her body already humming with the memory. “Feeling it... inside me,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “And then, when it started to drip out...” She shuddered, her thighs pressing together instinctively. “It was so fucking hot.”

He groaned, his fingers tightening on her thigh. “Fuck, y/n,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire. His other hand slid up to her waist, pulling her closer until she was pressed against him, his lips brushing against her ear. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

She whimpered, her hands gripping his shoulders as she felt the heat of his body against hers. “Do it again,” she whispered, her voice shaky but bold. “Come inside me again. I want to feel it. I want to feel you.”

Lando growled, the sound sending a thrill through her. His lips crashed against hers in a fierce kiss, his hands moving to her hips, holding her steady. “You’re killing me, love,” he muttered against her lips, his breath hot, ragged. “But fuck, if I don’t want to do exactly that.”

She moaned, her body arching into his, her fingers tangling in his hair. “Then don’t hold back,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need. “I’m yours, Lando. All yours.”

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes blazing with intensity. “And I’m yours,” he said, his voice low, commanding. “Every fucking part of me.”

Then he kissed her again, deep and demanding, like he couldn’t get enough of her. And she knew then—he never would.

[lilianne-tarot]

PICK A CARD: Which Artist Wrote Your Future Spouse? ✮⋆˙

I. II. III.

˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁ ˖

How to Pick Your Pile: Take a deep breath, clear your mind, and look at the images below. Which one pulls you in the most? Trust your gut! Once you choose the image, The number below your chosen image is your pile. If more than one catches your eye, that just means there’s extra tea for you—go ahead and read both!

˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁ ˖

♬⋆.˚Pile l

Ooooh, okay, let’s get into this. You pulled The Magician, Page of Wands, and Ten of Swords—and lemme just say, this is already giving "main character energy meets redemption arc with a spicy twist". Like, your future spouse’s vibe is bold, restless, charmingly reckless at times, but also carrying some deep emotional baggage. So now, let’s spill the tea on which two singers could’ve written their essence into existence.This person has a very "put-together" look, almost effortlessly charismatic and stylish. they might look younger than their actual age or just have that playful, adventurous glow. (seriously, you’ll catch yourself staring for too long)

The Singers:

1. Bruno Mars – Because tell me why this person screams "Grenade" and "Talking to the Moon" energy while also somehow being the embodiment of "24K Magic"? Like, The Magician + Page of Wands together? This is someone who can literally manifest whatever they want and also a very smooth talker😉

2. Shawn Mendes – WELL I TOLD YOU the tortured yet idealistic lover-boy energy is STRONG. This person is the type to run headfirst into love, say all the right things, and make your heart melt, but (and it’s a big BUT) they also struggle with self-doubt and the fear of not being enough because of their bad past perhaps. They have that youthful, adventurous spirit, probably love travel or trying new things, and are always looking for their "great love story" moment.

What This Says About Their Personality:

this person is a natural at commanding attention. They know how to use their charm, words, and presence to get what they want (lowkey, they probably flirt without realizing it—you might have to tell them to chill sometimes. BABY, they love with their whole chest (WHY DOES THIS PERSON SOUND LIKE A KDRAMA 2ND MALE LEAD😭). But the downside? They might have a history of falling for the wrong people or giving their all too quickly, leading to major emotional crashes. Although This person has had their fair share of heartbreaks or betrayals, but instead of staying down, they come back stronger. One thing about them which i see is, They HATR feeling stuck. Whether it's their career, love life, or personal growth, they need movement. Stagnation = death to them. Tbh, they might have commitment issues at first, not because they don’t love deeply, but because they fear getting stuck in the wrong thing again. They believe in deep, soulful connections, but they’re also witty, a bit cheeky, and have a playful side.

Overall they have that mix of "boy-next-door but also lowkey a heartbreaker." Like they could be the flirty lead in a rom-com but also have that deep, emotional intensity. If they walk into a room, you’d definitely notice them, even if they’re not trying to stand out.

˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⟡ ݁₊ .Pile ll

OHHH, okay, i should say this, this spread is givinga "rich daddy aesthetic but also a secret softie"—and I am OBSESSED. This person is so layered, so multi-dimensional that you’re not just getting a future spouse, babe—you’re getting an experience😭. Now, let’s talk about singers.

The Singers:

1. Lana Del Rey – LISTEN. The High Priestess + The World combo SCREAMS "mysterious, poetic, and possibly on a higher spiritual plane than the rest of us." Your future spouse embody a WHOLE DAMN aesthetic. They have depth and an "I know something you don’t" energy that makes people naturally drawn to them. But oh, honey—this is someone who isn’t just vibing in They give off a "tragically beautiful but also rich and successful" vibe. SO LANA CODED.

Althtough i feel like this person has that hardcore LANA aesthetic and i wasn’t going for any other singer for this pile but i am also hearing hoizer???? Cuz look, This is the type of person who might have everything—money, status, power—but they’re still searching for something deeper, and if that ain’t this spread’s energy, I don’t know what is.

What This Says About Their Personality:

This person does NOT spill their secrets easily. They’re the type to just stare at you for five seconds, and you feel like they know all your past lives. It’s giving "intimidatingly intuitive," like you can’t lie to them even if you tried. Probably has a strong work ethic, maybe even runs their own business or is at the top of their field. But here’s the thing—they’re not flashy. They’re rich in a "quiet luxury" way rather than a "LOOK AT MY GOLD CHAIN" way. (Omg i feel like i am writing a wattpad fanfic😭) . they’ve been through enough life experiences to be WISE AS HELL. So that means, ther standards? High. This isn’t someone who jumps into relationships impulsively—they observe, and they only commit when it’s real. This person doesn’t do loud, over-the-top gestures Their love language is probably acts of service and deep conversations over wine while jazz plays in the background. They have a very ‘If You Know, You Know’ Aesthetic (lana reference again💅) They have this untouchable aura. Not everyone gets to see their soft, romantic side, but the few who do? Game over. People are either intimidated by them or completely mesmerized.

So overall, They might seem reserved or intimidating at first, but once they let you in, you’ll realize they’re the kind of person who loves profoundly, protects fiercely, and builds an empire while contemplating the universe. Good luck handling this one, bestie. They’re not for the weak.😀

˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁ ˖

✶⋆.˚Pile III

Your future spouse isn’t just built different—they’re built for the grind, the patience, and the long game. This is someone who knows struggle, doesn’t quit easily, and is out here crafting their legacy.

The singers:

1. Taylor Swift – I mean, COME ON. The Nine of Wands + 7 & 8 of Pentacles? This is someone who has been through battles, faced major setbacks, and STILL got back up every time. Your future spouse has that same relentless work ethic—they’re not the type to sit back and wait for things to happen; they MAKE them happen, even if it takes years. This person has had doubts, failures, maybe even moments where they felt like giving up—but they’re still here, still pushing, still thriving.

2. The Weeknd – Okay, hear me out. This person is obsessed with mastery. They aren’t just working hard for the sake of it—they want to be THE BEST at what they do. This energy is very ‘work now, enjoy later’—like they probably spent their younger years hustling, learning, and leveling up, while other people were out partying. They have discipline, ambition, and an almost obsessive drive to perfect their skills.

What This Says About Their Personality:

This person has been through hell, taken hits, and STILL keeps going. They’ve probably had moments of exhaustion, burnout, or self-doubt, but instead of quitting, they just rest, re-strategize, and come back even stronger. They’re like that one character in a movie who’s bruised, bleeding, and still smirking like ‘That all you got?’ Babe, this person is MARRIED to their work. Like, actually(you’re the third wheel) . They probably live and breathe their career or passion. Late nights, early mornings, constantly improving, never satisfied— this is someone who values progress over comfort. (Have they ever heard of a vacation? Probably not.) So by this you just know, if they are going on dates with you, giving their time to you, you’re the ONE FOR THEM🫠. This person doesn’t half-ass anything. If they’re going to do it, they’re going to do it RIGHT. They have high standards for themselves and expect the same from others. Translation: If you’re slacking, they will side-eye you.

I also see, your future spouse is strategic as hell. They’re not impulsive or reckless—they think ahead, invest wisely, and understand that real success takes TIME. (Financially stable king/queen? Love that for you.) So when they propose you, just know each of their actions were planned weeks before LOL.

˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁ ˖

Thank you so much for reading till here! I hope my reading resonated with you and you had a good time reading it! Let me know what pile did you choose and i love hearing your feedbacks of my readings♡

Note: tarot cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not predict the future in a fixed way. this is a general reading so take what resonates!

[hahashifts]

Hero POV:

It was a simple job - get to the warehouse and clear out some thugs that had been harassing the families on the far side of the river and stealing the money from their already scarce coffers. And with the king increasing rents for the third time this year... if these thugs kept stealing from the cityfolk they'd be starving before the month was out.

What I hadn't expected was to get jumped - literally - and hit over the head from above.

Yeah, someone literally jumped from a roof and landed on me. Whether it was on purpose or accidental there was no telling but all I knew was it hurt like hell and then it was lights out.

Villain POV:

I was enjoying a rather lovely stroll after dealing with some unrest in my territory when I came across a crumpled figure on the sidewalk. I was about to turn down the opposite street and retreat to the nearby gardens when a faint groan came from the figure and a familiar sensation washed over me.

No, surely it couldn't -

"You're such a complete disaster," I groaned, scooping the unconscious little hero off the sidewalk. "Like, holy hell, how does anyone let you out of their sight? Stop picking fights with people you aren't ready for."

She groaned again and her eyes fluttered open. "It wasn't a fight this time," she mumbled, her eyes closing again. "-ust bad luck."

"Uh huh. Bad luck, bad timing, bad judgement - for a hero you're sure bad at a lot of things." I snorted, trying to ignore the warmth that leeched from her into me, as if her light could fill my veins and my chest and restart the rock that resided there.

"If I wasn't so bad at all this I'd rob you of your dashing rescues. Who's the hero now," she grumbled, barely conscious. I knew I needed to keep her talking and awake, check for a concussion.

"Careful, or I'll leave you in the gutter where I found you." I tsked at her, trying to rile her awake a bit more. She could never resist banter in our clashes in the past, it was one of her less known weaknesses.

"No, you won't," she smiled faintly then and if I did still have a heart it may have flown from my chest.

This magical little halfling was carrying a dangerous kind of magic, I reminded myself as I held her just a bit further from my chest. Best not to risk bursting into flames and having us both go up in an inferno because she accidentally glowed too brightly.

I shook my head in exasperation. "You're a mess," I murmured as a breeze wafted down the alley and her hair fluttered around and tickled my nose, carrying with it the scent of her - daylight, moon orchids, and fresh water breezes all came to mind but none could quite capture her.

"Apparently I'm your mess." She grumbled, definitely more awake now than she had been. We were at the crossroads that would lead back to her side of the river, where her light and magic were treasured and valued. She'd be fine to walk the rest of the way home, if she so desired.

"Be that as it may, I'm not always going to be around when you get into trouble. We may have mutual territory in the city we fight over, but leave this side of the river alone. Trust me. Everyone here would rather snuff out your light than accept any help you try and offer them."

"It almost sounds like you're worried for me. Has that frozen heart of yours grown soft after all these years?" She teased and roused herself more. I stopped my walking and set her down on her feet, waiting a few extra moments before I released her from my grip. The absence of her warmth was a physical vacuum around me and I worked my damnedest to bury any sign of my confusion as she got her bearings and realized where she was.

"We got here so fast. It took me nearly fifteen minutes to get to that part of your territory." She admitted as she looked around.

"Long legs," I lied to ease any discomfort she may feel. We got here fast because I'd been too preoccupied with holding her in my arms and listening to her breathing and keeping her awake to keep my speed at a more normal pace.

"Well, thank you, again, for getting me out of there." She scratched the back of her head out of nervousness then winced and it was only the decades I'd dedicated to self control that kept me rooted in place several feet away from her. My instincts all screamed at me to scoop her back into my arms and whisk her back to my home and never let her leave again but I knew that was wrong. Beyond wrong. Especially for someone so filled with life.

"Don't mention it." Was the only reply that felt safe to give. Cold. Detached. Unbothered.

She gave a little half chuckle half huff and turned and started walking across the bridge. She was nearly halfway across when she turned and said, "You know, this is going to make whatever your next dastardly deed is a lot more awkward, now that I know there's so much good in you." She then flashed me a dazzling - and I mean a sun flare hitting my very soul kind of dazzling - smile, then disappeared on the other side of the bridge.

I turned only when she was truly out of my sight and in the safety of the dome and walked back home, ignoring the instincts that screamed at me to run after her and break all the treaties just to walk her to her door.

Absurd sentimentality. The lingering effects from her magic and inner light, no doubt.

“You’re such a complete disaster.” groans the villain, scooping the unconscious hero off the sidewalk “Like, holy hell, how does anyone let you out of their sight. Stop picking fights with people you aren’t ready for.”

[hueseok]

can’t stop thinking about husband!yoongi who also happens to be a ceo, the very reason why he has the ability to spoil you rotten whenever he wants to.

“yoongi, come on!” you call out to your husband, seeing him still sitting on a chair while you’ve been here in the pool for a considerably long time now, expecting that he was going to join you shortly after like he said earlier.

however, it’s been roughly ten minutes now and he’s stuck there on his patio chair, scrolling through his phone and enjoying the bottle of wine he opened before you dipped yourself in the water.

“i change my mind,” he says, a bit sheepish. “the water looks cold, babe. i don’t think i want to.”

you roll your eyes, swimming closer to him. “then why did you even book us a suite with a private pool?”

“because i know you’d love it.” he smiles. “and also because i was expecting we’d swim in the daytime.”

“what’s the fun in that?”

“uh, perhaps, feeling fresh and cool and—”

“babe,” you cut him off, leaning now on the edge of the pool, “just join me.”

“yes, ma’am.”

you laugh as you see him hesitantly standing up and taking his shirt off, soon going to the steps of the pool where it leads him deeper and where you’re already waiting for him as well.

yoongi childishly holds out his hand to you, which you take with a laugh, helping him to fully sink himself in the water.

“fuck, it’s cold,” he says with a grimace and a shiver, something that makes you grin, immediately putting your arms on his neck and wrapping your legs around his waist once he goes closer.

“you’re so dramatic.”

“it is, though. look, i have goosebumps.” he raises his arm and you glance at it, snorting.

“okay, point proven, big baby.”

yoongi looks at you and breaks off into a big smile, chuckling and encircling his arms on your waist, giving your lips a quick kiss.

“enjoying this trip so far?”

“yup.” you nod.

“good.”

the both of you kiss again, this time much longer now, with yoongi angling his face to the side so he can do it better, one hand resting on your cheek, his thumb lightly rubbing against it.

you can feel your heartbeat escalating at just the feel of him this near, your skin touching and bringing a little warmth in the cold water. it makes yoongi think that he should have just done this much earlier rather than prolonging it from happening because of his laziness at the thought of taking a shower after this.

“thanks for bringing me here,” you murmur against his mouth, your own curving up in a smile. “i never thought we’d actually go overseas for our anniversary.”

“it’s not like we haven’t done it before.” his hold on you tightens as you place little kisses on his jaw down to his neck, eventually settling on leaning your head on his shoulder. “besides, i think i need to make up for the fact i forgot last year’s anniversary.”

you laugh at the memory. “it’s okay. you already told me that you forgot it because our wedding date and the day we started dating confused you. plus, you took me to that restaurant i love.”

“still though… the first year is supposed to be memorable.”

“no, it isn’t. the first year’s supposed to be the hardest.” you pull back to smile at him. “so, you get a pass.”

“thank god,” he jokes and chuckles, you doing the same.

“but seriously, yoon,” you play with the hair on the back of his head, gazing at his eyes, “thank you. you always go ahead of yourself just to do things for me—to make me happy, you know?”

“why are you thanking me? it’s what i’m supposed to do.”

“no. you could have been a shitty boyfriend, and then a shitty husband but... you’re just the best. you’ve given me everything i could possibly want and been the man i needed. i’m so lucky to have you.”

yoongi gazes at you in absolute awe, that amazing feeling again spreading in his chest and making him feel all giddy and happy.

he wasn’t lying when he said that thanking him wasn’t needed, but the acknowledgement and the appreciation you’re showing surely makes him pleased, heart getting bigger because of it.

“you’re drunk, aren’t you?” he nevertheless asks though, teasing and taking the opportunity of you being lovey-dovey, that you hit his bare chest without hesitation.

“i’m serious,” you whine.

“i know, baby, which makes me glad. but it’s only what you deserve, okay? the reason why i’m doing this, i mean. you’ve been there for me too—when i was in the worst place, when the company almost went bankrupt… you were the one who picked me up to my feet, loved me unconditionally. so… let’s be real. i’m the real lucky one here.”

you smirk, fondly staring at every feature he has on his face, smiling wide. “are we just going to start saying our vows again?”

he snorts. “says the woman who started being sappy.”

“do you want me to apologize for letting my husband know i love him?”

“no,” he shakes his head, not helping himself as he leans closer to you so that he can place his lips over yours again, “i love it when you say that you love me.”

“and i really do, you know. i’ll never get tired saying how much i love you so much,” you agree almost immediately, melting into the kiss again.

he hums contently, caressing your sides. “i love you too, baby. you’re the reason why i thank the heavens for being alive every single day.”

under the stars and the moon that night, until the moment the two of you decide to take that intimate moment right there inside, it feels like a second honeymoon with yoongi.

you know he’s a busy man, a workaholic—and yet the fact that he can spare this much time for you to make you feel loved on the very same day you got married, makes you think all over again how fortunate you are to be with someone like him who works hard for you both but never forgets to cherish you.

[woso-story]

Alexia Meeting Your Son Theo

Alexia Putellas x Reader

The afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the park as you arrived hand-in-hand with Theo. Your little boy, excited as ever, swung your arm playfully as his eyes scanned the playground. But your gaze was elsewhere—on the woman sitting on a bench, waiting for you both. Alexia, your girlfriend of three months, stood up the moment she saw you, her face lighting up with a warm smile.

Taking a deep breath, you crouched down to Theo's level. "Remember what I told you? This is Alexia."

Theo looked up at her, curiosity shining in his big eyes. "Hi, Alexia!"

Alexia knelt to meet him at eye level. "Hola, Theo! It’s so nice to finally meet you. Your mama talks about you all the time."

Theo giggled and glanced at you. "Really?"

You ruffled his hair. "Really."

---

With the introductions out of the way, the three of you made your way to the playground. Theo ran ahead, climbing up the jungle gym with ease. Then, he turned back and called out, "Alexia, come up here!"

You chuckled, expecting her to politely decline, but to your surprise, Alexia grinned and followed him up. The sight was almost surreal—Alexia Putellas, captain of Barcelona and the Spanish National Team, crawling through a jungle gym meant for children. You couldn’t hold back your laughter when she struggled a little with the tight spaces.

"You okay there, champ?" you teased.

She shot you a playful glare. "I’ve faced defenders bigger than this, but I think this might be my toughest opponent yet."

Theo giggled uncontrollably before leading her to the slide. "We go down together, okay?"

Alexia nodded seriously, as if she had just received tactical instructions from her coach. But as she slid down, her long legs barely fitting, she landed with a dramatic plop. Theo clapped his hands, delighted.

---

As he ran off to play with some other kids, Alexia came to sit beside you on the bench, shaking her head in amusement.

"He likes you," you said softly, watching your son happily interact with the other children.

Alexia smiled. "He's an amazing kid. You've done such a great job raising him."

Warmth spread through your chest at her words. Most people had been hesitant about dating a mother, but not Alexia. She accepted everything about you, without hesitation.

Before long, Theo came running back, his clothes covered in dust and his face glowing with excitement. "Can we get ice cream?"

You exchanged a glance with Alexia, who immediately nodded. "Of course."

At the ice cream stand, Theo was set on getting his usual chocolate until Alexia ordered stracciatella. Eyes wide, he changed his mind. "I want what Alexia has!"

She chuckled. "Good choice."

As the three of you sat down to eat, Theo took one bite before exclaiming, "This is the best ever! From now on, I always want stracciatella!"

Alexia winked at you. "Looks like I’ve converted him."

---

As the afternoon stretched on, you noticed the effortless way Alexia fit into your little world. She wasn’t just there to impress you—she was genuinely interested in Theo, in his stories about dinosaurs and superheroes, in the way he built castles in the sandbox. You found yourself falling even more for her, seeing how kind and patient she was.

Later that evening, Alexia drove you both back home. You hesitated for a moment before asking, "Would you like to stay for dinner?"

"I'd love to."

While you prepared the food, Theo eagerly dragged Alexia to his room to show her his toys. Every now and then, you peeked in to see them playing together, Alexia just as immersed in his world as he was. At one point, she caught your eye and flashed you a smile so full of warmth that your heart fluttered.

"Mama, look! Alexia is really good at building towers!" Theo beamed, showing you the structure they had built with his blocks.

"She’s full of surprises, isn’t she?" you teased, making Alexia laugh.

After dinner, you took Theo to his room to get him ready for bed, but he had one last request. "I want Alexia to read me a story too."

You smiled and went to ask her. Without hesitation, she agreed. She chose a book about a brave little lion who learned to trust again after facing hardship. As she read, her voice was soft yet expressive, and Theo listened with rapt attention, his little fingers grasping the edge of the blanket.

Half an hour later, Theo was sound asleep, his breathing even. You and Alexia tiptoed out of the room, closing the door softly behind you.

---

Back in the living room, you turned to her. "Thank you. For everything today."

She pulled you into her arms and pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. "It was my pleasure. I’d love to spend more time with you and Theo."

Your heart swelled. "I’d love that too."

The rest of the evening was spent curled up together on the couch, watching a movie in comfortable silence. At one point, Alexia reached for your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours. When it was time for her to leave, she kissed you softly before stepping out into the night.

As you climbed into bed, a smile lingered on your lips. Everything had gone so perfectly. It felt like the beginning of something truly special—something real, something lasting. A future that felt brighter than ever before.

[thehighladywrites]

— “Bless me.”

☀︎ — pairing: nerd azriel x bimbo reader

☀︎ — summary: this is a little flashforward of what life looks like for you and azriel at different milestones!

☀︎ — warnings: sexual themes, fluff, pregnancy, smut

☀︎ — amara’s note: guys this is it💔 it’s been so fucking fun snd i’ve loved writing for them!!

series masterlist

The proposal

After four grueling years of college, you were about to walk the stage, hand in hand with Azriel. Both of you were dressed in matching black gowns and caps. You’d begged for a pink gown, but had to settle for pink heels, nails, and gorgeous Alaïa dress.

Azriel looked sinful in the suit you picked out while you were out shopping together. It was honestly dangerous to shop for him, that changing room was practically begging you to drag Azriel in it.

He also thought about ditching his glasses and that made you kinda sad because you loved seeing him in his glasses, he was so painfully cute in them.

“Not the glasses, baby. Please—you gotta leave ‘em on.” Honestly, you would beg if you had to. But Azriel didn’t let you beg he just nodded and kept them on.

He didn’t have time to think too much of it.

Because he was busy sweating bullets, not just from the ceremony’s heat but because of the diamond ring hidden in his pocket. The ring he had been saving 2 years for. It was for sure the most expensive thing he had ever purchased but the exclusive internship had paid well and you were going to get a good fucking ring.

As you waited to walk across the stage, Professor Lawder, looking fabulous in her academically decorated scholar gown, approached you and Azriel with a warm smile. “So, what are your plans after college?”

Azriel shyly smiled before letting her know what he’d been up to. “I’ve been offered a position at a company, Professor.”

Professor Lawder’s eyes widened with admiration. “That’s fantastic, Azriel! I always knew you’d achieve great things.”

You’re heart was overflowing with pride and joy for him as you chimed in with your signature bubbly enthusiasm, “He’s being super modest! He’s going to Synergy Tech! Dunno what they do there, but Azriel loves it there and they’re lucky to have him.”

Professor Lawder’s jaw dropped in amazement, clearly impressed. Synergy Tech was one of the worlds most leading companies in technological innovation and getting offered a job was no easy task. Azriel’s cheeks flushed a cute shade of red as he shifted nervously, his hand discreetly brushing against the hidden ring box. You gave him a reassuring squeeze, your happiness bubbling over.

“That’s very, very impressive and I wish you nothing but luck! And what about you, Ms. L/N?” Professor Lawder asked with a gentle smile.

You shrugged and gave a dazzling, slightly clueless grin. “Oh, um, well, I haven’t really thought that far ahead. College was, like, super tough, and I’m just ready to, you know, have fun and see what happens! Maybe travel with my man a bit, find some cute hobby or, like, just live in the moment. Who knows?”

Professor Lawder’s smile grew more amused and approving. “Well, it sounds like you’re ready to enjoy whatever comes your way.” Professer Lawder hugged you both before wishing you good luck one last time before you walked the stage. It was a wonderful feeling and you were so glad it was finally over. You cheered loud as fuck when Azriel was awarded with several honors diplomas and got a medal for his stellar grades.

“Sweetheart, why don’t you come with me for a moment?” Azriel asked after taking pictures with your friends and family.

“Okay! Where are we going, baby?” asked with a bright smile, your eyes sparkling with excitement as you held your diploma in one hand.

Azriel’s smile grew more tender as he led you away from the crowd and into the quiet math building, the very first place you two met. The empty hallway seemed much smaller and more insignificant than it used to be.

He gently took your hand in his, guiding you to the old seats where you first bonded. As you both settled into the familiar space, Azriel took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart.

Okay, this was it. He was totally going to do it.

Azriel looked at you with an intense, tender gaze. “I’m insanely in love with you,” he said, his voice quivering with emotion.

You put a hand on his chest, your sparkly eyes lighting up with joy. “Awww, I love you too,” you smiled, your voice filled with warmth and affection.

Azriel took a deep, shaky breath, his eyes twinkling with a mix of nerves and adoration.

“You’ve completely changed my life,” he began, his voice wavering with emotion. “From the moment we met, I knew you were someone extraordinary. You’ve brought so much joy, love and laughter into my world, more than I ever thought possible for someone like me.”

He smiled at you, his cheeks flushed with a mix of boyish excitement and nervousness. “I want to make you as happy, forever. You deserve every bit of happiness, love and devotion in the world, and I want to be the one to give it to you.”

Azriel took a deep breath, his eyes full of tender love as he knelt down on one knee as best as he could while being stuck in the back of the classroom. With a trembling hand, he opened a black velvet box to reveal a stunning ring that sparkled with every color of his affection for you.

“Please, bless me by becoming my wife,” he asked softly, his voice filled with heartfelt sincerity. “I want to spend the rest of my life loving you and making you as happy as you’ve made me. I want to be your husband and the father of our kids, your rock, your trusted. Please, allow me be yours. Marry me, my love.”

You gasped, your hand flying to your mouth as your eyes filled with tears. In no time you started sobbing. You didn’t glance at the ring, just Azriel’s eyes that were so filled with love.

“Yes! Oh my god, yes! I’ll marry you!” you squealed, your voice high-pitched with excitement. Tears streamed down your face as you flung yourself into Azriel’s arms, knocking him back. He held firm, never letting you go.

You buried your face in his chest, sobbing uncontrollably. “Az,” you hiccupped between breaths, “I love you so much. Like, I can’t even—oh my god!”

Azriel’s chest vibrated with a quiet laugh, his dimples deepening as he pressed his cheek against your hair. “I know, sweetheart,” he murmured softly, his voice steady despite the overwhelming emotion tightening his throat. “I love you too.”

You sniffled, pulling back just enough to look up at him, your mascara smudged and your eyes sparkling. “We’re gonna be, like, the cutest married couple. We’ll have an amazing life and there’s so much we’ll do! We’re so perfect and hot and we can literally do whatever because we’re married.”

His lips curved into that rare, quiet smile reserved only for you. “Whatever you want,” he assured softly, brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “I’m all in.”

You beamed through your tears, your voice bright despite the emotion clinging to it. “Duh, you kinda have to be now. I’m gonna be your wife. And I’m just gonna let you know now—I’m very high maintenance.”

Azriel’s heart flipped at the way you so confidently called yourself his wife already, and then he laughed, low and warm, because of course you were high maintenance. “So, no big changes there, huh?”

“Nope!” you said proudly, popping the p. “But I know you’ll take such good care of me and it means the world to me.” Your hand lifted, thumb gently brushing across his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. “God, Azzie, I couldn’t love someone more than I love you,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. ”You’re totally the love of my life.”

Azriel’s eyes softened as he gently took your hand. Slowly, he lifted the stunning light pink diamond ring from its velvet box and, with steady hands, slid it onto your finger. It fit perfectly, sparkling as though it had been made just for you.

You leaned in, pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to his lips. When you pulled back, your eyes drifted down to the ring resting perfectly on your finger. It sparkled brilliantly—a huge pink diamond that practically glowed in the light. Your eyes widened in awe, lips parting in delight.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, voice trembling with excitement. “It’s so perfect. I’m gonna cry, Azzie.” You blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Are ya sure you want me as your wife? Like, forever?” you added softly, the last part coming out almost shy.

Azriel’s brows furrowed slightly in confusion. The mere thought of not wanting you made his chest ache. He would’ve married you right after your first tutoring session if you’d let him.

“Of course I do. Do you have any doubts, my love?” the thought made his stomach hurt. “Do you not want to do it?”

You shook your head vehemently. “No! I mean, yes, I wanna do it. But—what if you get bored of me?” You bit your lip nervously. “I mean, I can’t exactly have intellectual conversations with you or whatever. Ya know I’m not that smart, right?”

Azriel’s lips twitched as he fought back a smile. This was all coming from the girl who had trouble pronouncing colonel.

“You’re very smart, first of all. And I’m not marrying you for debates, sweetheart,” he said softly, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “I’m marrying you because you’re my love and I don’t need anything else. Just you.”

Your heart melted as you softly kisses your future husband. “Okay, then. I wanna be your wife.”

————————————————————————

The wedding

Did anyone think your wedding would be small? Absolutely not. You hadn’t shut up about wanting a huge, fat Plaza wedding where everyone you knew would be invited, and you’d party all night with your insanely handsome husband while wearing a stunning Ellie Saab gown and sky-high Jimmy Choos. It had been your dream since you were a little girl.

You had all these plans, all these meticulously crafted visions for your perfect day, the flowers, the venue, the glitz, and glam but nothing, nothing, could have ever compared to the reality.

Nothing could have compared to Azriel.

Not the faceless groom who had always existed in your girlish dreams. Not the exclusivity of the prestigious venue or the shimmering of the evening.

Because it was him.

His steady hand holding yours as if he never intended to let go. The way his eyes never left you, not when you walked down the aisle, not when you exchanged vows, and certainly not as you danced in his arms under the soft glow of chandeliers.

Azriel made your dream wedding look trivial in comparison. He was the only part of the fantasy you’d never dared to dream up, and yet, he was better than anything you could’ve imagined.

At one point, you had actually wanted to elope. You literally couldn’t wait to marry him, pestering and prodding him every chance you got.

“Ya sure we shouldn’t just run away and get married? Wouldn’t it be sooo much fun, Azzie?” you’d asked, your eyes sparkling mischievously.

And yeah, Azriel totally wanted to marry you as soon as possible. The idea of waking up next to you as his wife was all he ever wanted. But he knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes. The way your eyes lit up when you talked about the wedding, how you dreamed of wearing a baby pink dress that wouldn’t be done justice in a courthouse was the only thing stopping him from saying yes.

“I would love to, sweetheart,” he had said, brushing his thumb gently over your knuckles. “But I know you want a beautiful wedding, and that’s exactly what we’ll have.”

And he’d made good on that promise. Because here you were, twirling on the dance floor in a stunning soft pink Ellie Saab gown that shimmered under the chandeliers, the air filled with laughter and love, all while Azriel’s gaze never left you, utterly captivated by the woman he was lucky enough to call his wife.

It was a small wedding, just your closest friends and family gathered intimately but it was still at the Plaza, still the fairytale wedding you had always dreamed of.

You beamed up at him, practically vibrating with excitement. “Can you believe we’re actually married? Like, you’re my husband. I can call you my husband now. That’s so hot, like, ‘Oh yeah, let me get my husband,’ or ‘My husband knows what to do.’”

Azriel’s lips quirked into that quiet smile reserved just for you. “I think you’ve said ‘husband’ more times in the past minute than most people do in a week.”

“And it’s only the beginning,” you giggled, leaning closer. “I’m never getting over this, husband.”

His hand found the small of your back, grounding you in that gentle, steady way only he could. “Good. Because neither am I, wife.”

Then he gave you the softest, most loving kiss ever. It was a kiss filled with the promise of your future, the one you’d spend together.

—

Sand. Palms. Warm weathers and the ocean.

You had been surrounded by your favorite things with your favorite person. It had been a few days since your wedding and you were now on your honeymoon.

The private island your father had gifted you as a married couple was absolutely perfect. It was completely magical and completely hidden away.

A single sprawling villa stood at the heart of it, with panoramic views of the turquoise ocean. Vibrant flowers bloomed in every imaginable color, their fragrance mingling with the salty breeze. Fruit trees, heavy with sweet, ripe fruit, dotted the landscape. And you were sharing it all with your husband.

That’s right, Azriel was officially your husband now, and you were his freaking wife. Sometimes it didn’t feel real, and other times it felt very real.

Like those times when Azriel made you ride him, begging you to call him nothing but husband. And he called you nothing but wife. His sweet wife, his beautiful wife, his sexy wife.

Azriel was unbelievably romantic, spoiling you left and right with thoughtful little gifts. Yesterday it was a jaw-dropping pair of diamond earrings; the day before that, a golden anklet etched with your initials intertwined. Every step you took made that anklet jingle softly, a reminder of how deeply he loved you.

It was also a cute reminder when he folded you in half, ankles in the air as the jewelry jingled. You had fucked just about everywhere. Outside, inside, on tables, in the hammock, on the beach chairs, and even right on the beach itself. That was the privilege of being utterly alone. You could do whatever the hell you wanted, scream and moan as loud as you pleased, without a single soul hearing or seeing Azriel slut you out.

That’s why you’d packed the sluttiest outfits imaginable — stringy bikinis, barely-there skirts, and see-through dresses. All scraps of fabric that Azriel would be tearing off anyway.

Your favorite ensemble was the white silk nightgown from Agent Provocateur that you’d worn on the first night. It was bridal, beautiful, and the match that lit this trip. The second Azriel saw it, he’d lost control and sanity. You’d ended up in so many positions that you couldn't walk without help the next day. He’d truly worn you out.

You still remembered the way his eyes had darkened when you stepped out of the bathroom and spun for him, showing off that sinful gown.

That was probably why you were now slipping into a baby pink lace bra and panties set — delicate and stunning. You tied it all together with a silk robe that wasn’t hiding anything, only highlighting everything. An open invitation, really.

“How’s dinner going, husband?” you asked, your freshly manicured hand grazing down his shirtless back.

“It’s coming along nicely, actually. Are you hungry, sweetheart?” he asked, pushing his glasses up his nose and scrunching it adorably as he stirred the sauce.

You smiled at the little quirk you loved so much. His glasses made your heart race every time. “Uh-huh, sure. I’m hungry. Actually, I’m reeeeally hungry.”

“Yeah? It’ll be done soon, and—”

His words faltered when he glanced down at you.

There was so much love and lust swirling in your gaze, your pupils dilated and locked on him. His throat went dry, forcing him to swallow once—then again.

“Everything okay, husband?” you asked innocently, voice soft and sweet, knowing damn well you were driving him crazy. There was nothing innocent or sweet about the way your hand dragged down his chest, all the way to his built abs and v-like that disappeared down his pants.

Azriel’s voice came out rough. “Oh, you’re not being fair, sweetheart.”

A slow, playful smile curled your lips. “Azzie, c’mon let’s fuck. Right here, right now.” you grabbed his hand and dragged him over to the kitchen island. There you looked up at him with those doe eyes, all innocent and sweet before you carefully let your robe drop.

“So, you gonna make me beg? i’ll totally do it,” you suggest with a little smile.

“Alright then, beg.”

—

“Wait—don’t hide your pretty face from me—fuck,” azriel reaches over and grabs both your hands in one of his.

God, you were being slutted out, whimpering mindlessly as you bounced in his lap. his ridiculously big dick was fittin’ just right, so snugly deep in your cunt.

“I want to see my wife’s face, so fucking pretty, might just cum from looking at it,” azriel was also a mumbling mess, groans and noises of pleasure escaping him whenever you lifted yourself and sat back down, your cunt sucking him in greedily.

The house was filled with so sinful noises, the noises were just sloppy, nasty, each ‘plop!’ and ‘pap!’ that echoed from both bodies was sending a wave of chills down azriel’s spine. The loud sounds echoing through the room only spurred him on more, making him fuck you harder, deeper, wanting to hear you cry louder.

“mm- az, there baby. righttttt there, fuck me good,” you’d weep out in a sweet whimper. he was in so fucking deep. A ring of cum had started to form around the base of his dick and dripped down his balls from how wet you were. you felt every delicious stroke, felt the way his tip kissed your cervix. fuck- you rolled your hips in circles, making his already fuzzy brain go more empty.

the combo of your sinful hips and the way your wet cunt was vacuuming each and every inch was just pushing him closer to the edge, turning him into a fucking mess. “o- oh fuck, ‘m gonna cum. keep ridin’ me, ride me good—shit, I-I think i’m gonna cum.” Azriel’s brows furrow in pleasure as he pushes the hair that fallen over his eyes back.

“ ‘s okay, azzie. you can c- cum inside,” you whisper breathlessly against the crook of his neck. he wraps his arms around you, holding you close as your hips rut into him quicker.

“god- ‘m cummin’ fuck- ‘m cumming,” he moans, and his entire body erupts. his hand snakes down between your perspiring bodies just as he rubs tight circles on your clit, the small move pushing you over the edge as your walls spasm around his leaking tip, still spurting out rope after rope as your fell against his chest.

Your eyes are glossed over in pleasure and you felt like bawling your eyes out. There was nothing more beautiful than post sex with Azriel. It was all so emotional and sweet and you didn’t miss the way he held you closer.

Your pulled away from him, just enough to see his face. Azriel was already staring at you with no less lust or love than before. You pouted a bit before kissing his swollen lips. He’s so pretty, god.

Azriel’s inside were swirling around and it didn’t help that you were looking up at him, freshly fucked with so much love and submission in your eyes. It was like your eyes were saying the words you couldn’t. Azriel’s hand carefully stroked your bottom lip from your between your teeth.

“These eyes, man. You keep looking at me like that and I might get you pregnant, sweetheart.”

Azriel as a dad? A DILF? Fuck yeah.

“Do it then, knock me up, Azzie.”

————————————————————————

The pregnancy

You stood in front of the mirror, frowning as you tried to zip up your cute, frilly mini skirt. It wasn’t fitting quite like it used to. “Hm, there must be something wrong with this skirt. It’s not fitting me anymore,” you muttered, tugging at it a little. You huffed in frustration but quickly brightened. “Oh well, I guess that means it’s time to go shopping!”

You slipped on your favorite pair of black Manolos, but as you tried to squeeze your feet into them, they didn’t quite cooperate. You wiggled your toes and huffed again, forcing them in. “No way are my Manolos not fitting. They have to. These are my favorite!” you said, your voice tinged with frustration as you took a few shaky steps, struggling to balance.

Azriel walked in, his brow furrowing in concern when he saw you wobbling. “Everything okay, love?” His gaze drifted down to your feet, then to your stomach. He couldn’t help but notice how your clothes didn’t seem to fit as they usually did.

You stumbled a little, catching yourself on the vanity. “I don’t get it, Azzie. This skirt and my shoes… why aren’t they fitting? I haven’t changed that much have I ?!” Your confusion was evident as you looked at him, a little panicked.

Honestly, it had been three years since you graduated college and two since getting married. Did you just put on some weight?

You turned your head to Azriel, hands clamped infront of you in all seriousness. God you were totally gonna die if he said yes. “Azzie, am i getting fat?”

“No, no, sweetheart,” Azriel said quickly, his hands gently brushing over your arms, his touch soothing as if to reassure you that everything was okay. “You look healthy. I promise.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “But… Azzie,” you gestured at your shoes, “these are my Manolos, they should always fit!”

Azriel chuckled softly, his smile warm and affectionate. “Do you want to get new ones?” he asked, his voice light as he gently helped you out of your clothes, clearly more focused on making you comfortable than anything else.

You let out a sigh, the panic easing just a bit. “That sounds nice, Azzie. Thanks,” you said softly, your voice filled with gratitude, feeling the love in every small thing he did for you.

Not just the small things—but the big things too. Azriel’s job was stupidly well-paying, and he was loaded. It was a reward for all his hard work in school, and it made you so proud. He was the main provider and never expected a penny from you, spoiling you rotten and taking the promise of taking care of you very seriously.

He knew you’d lived a life of glamour and glitz, and lord knows he wasn’t about to mess that up. Azriel had even told your father that he’d step up and take care of you the second he landed his job as a very important something at a tech company…thingy. You never really knew what he did, but he was so hardworking and cool that it didn’t really matter.

—

Azriel noticed the changes in you immediately. You were moodier than usual, avoiding your favorite foods—especially your beloved strawberry sweets—and, to top it all off, you’d missed your period. He knew your cycle well and tracked it enough to know that a missed period was a rare occurrence. And you? Avoiding your favorite sour strawberry candy? That was unheard of.

Azriel couldn’t help but also notice how extra clingy you’d become, but he didn’t mind in the slightest. He loved you dearly, after all. You wrestled normally very clingy but not like this. For the past two weeks, you had been practically glued to his side.

You napped on top of him like you couldn’t bear to be apart for even a second. You wrapped yourself around him as if you were a koala bear, holding on tight while he read or worked. And when he left the house—even for just a few minutes, you’d become teary-eyed, giving him a sad pout as if he were leaving for an eternity.

It was both endearing and a bit concerning for him. Azriel couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but the sudden shift in your behavior made him wonder. Was something off? Was this just a phase? Or, as he suspected, was it something more?

Either way, he couldn’t deny that he secretly loved the extra closeness. He’d never seen you so needy, and God you were needy at times, but it made him feel needed in a way that was deeply comforting. He would brush your hair from your face and kiss your forehead, trying his best to reassure you when you would cry about the most random things—like when he’d gone to grab groceries for ten minutes, or when he had to step out to take a call.

“You okay, love?” he asked softly, brushing a few stray hairs behind your ear as you curled up next to him once again.

“I just missed you, Azzie,” you replied, your voice small but full of affection as you nuzzled into his side before you sobbed again.

Azriel chuckled lightly, his fingers tracing comforting patterns on your back. “I’m right here, sweetheart. It’s okay.”

It was a little intense, but it also made his heart swell to know just how much you needed him.

He had a strong hunch that you might be pregnant, but he couldn’t say for sure yet. So, being the overprepared and cautious person he was, he did what any sane person would do: he bought eight different pregnancy tests.

“Juuuust to be sure,” he muttered to himself as he set the tests down on the bathroom counter, glancing over at you. You were sitting on the bed, still unaware of his little purchase.

He didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but he was seeing the changes in you. And it really didn’t help that you were fucking like bunnies everywhere, everyday for so long without any protection.

Azriel cleared his throat, looking far too calm for someone who had just bought eight pregnancy tests. “So, sweetheart, I think I know what’s going on with you. You might be pregnant. And I’ve bought you the market’s top-rated tests.” He said it with a certain air of professionalism, like he was pitching an idea, and it left you utterly confused.

You stared at him, blinking. “Huh? Eight tests? Ain’t that kind of… a bit much?”

Azriel, however, was completely unfazed. “You see, my love, you can never be too careful. And I also suggest we visit a doctor’s office.” He handed you a massive glass of water, like it was a peace offering. “Just to help smooth things over,” he added, his eyes darting away, a faint blush creeping across his face when you arched an eyebrow at the absurdly large glass of water.

You stared at the massive glass of water, then back at Azriel. “Azzie, this is, like, a lotta water. You trying to drown me or something?” you giggled, swirling the glass dramatically before gulping it down with determination.

Azriel’s lips twitched into a smile, but he stayed close, clearly taking this whole situation very seriously. His gentle instincts wouldn’t allow for anything less.

With all eight pregnancy tests clutched in your hands, you made your way to the bathroom. “You’re staying right outside, right?” you asked, pointing a manicured finger at him. “I need you with me, Azzie baby.”

Azriel nodded, leaning against the wall like the dutiful husband he was. “Yes, ma’am, I’ll be just outside.”

After a few tense minutes, you stepped out of the bathroom, wide-eyed, holding up the tests like some dramatic reveal on a reality show.

Each one displayed a positive result—two lines, a digital readout, even one that estimated how far along you were in weeks. No doubt about it. You were pregnant.

You blinked down at the assortment of tests, then back at Azriel, your voice trembling. “Azzie,” you whispered, tears welling up. “We’re having a baby.”

Azriel’s eyes softened, wonder filling his expression as he stepped closer, gently cupping your face. “My love,” he said, voice low and filled with awe. “We’re having a baby.”

You sniffled, overwhelmed, then suddenly let out a laugh through your tears. “Oh my god, I’m actually going to freak out! I already love her so much—I think I’m gonna be sick.”

Azriel’s lips curved into a soft laugh, his thumb brushing tenderly over your cheek. “Her? You think it’s a girl?”

You nodded lovingly. “Totally. I just know it, Azzie. You’re so a girl dad. And she’s gonna be adorable and for sure super smart, just like you.”

Azriel’s laugh deepened, warm and genuine. “Then she’ll be perfect, just like her mom,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

—

Pregnancy was unique, and Azriel found it endlessly charming. The way you waddled around in your third trimester never failed to make his heart swell. You didn’t think it was cute, but to Azriel, it was nothing short of endearing. And he made sure to let you know it every chance he got.

It hadn’t started out easy, though. Morning sickness had you in its grasp for weeks, and you couldn’t help but blame Azriel for it every time it hit. One day, after a particularly rough attempt at cooking chicken, you were hunched over the toilet, and when Azriel walked by, you just couldn’t help yourself.

“You did this to me!” you yelled, your voice a mix of frustration and nausea. “I’m sick, and it’s all your fault, Azriel. God, I can’t even eat chicken anymore and—”

But your rant was cut short when the reminder of the chicken hit you again, and you immediately had to empty your guts once more.

Azriel stood there, helpless but always ready to support you. He nodded in agreement, his face a mixture of amusement and sympathy. “It’s all my fault,” he agreed quickly, his voice full of mock guilt. “I’m so sorry for getting you pregnant. How irresponsable of me.”

You shot him a look, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, it’s totally your fault,” you said dramatically, sinking down onto the cool bathroom floor and leaning your head on his shoulder as he crouched next to you.

Azriel didn’t mind; he just wrapped an arm around you, offering comfort. Even as you faced the discomforts of pregnancy, you refused to wear anything you didn’t like. You weren’t about to settle for ugly maternity clothes, not when you could still squeeze into your regular outfits. And so what if your t-shirt was riding up your stomach? it was still cute and you’d wear just that. It was just you plus a bump.

Even with you sick and throwing up left and right, Azriel didn’t think he’d ever seen you so beautiful. You were glowing and had this ethereal beauty surrounding you at all times. It made no sense at times that someone as beautiful as you existed.

—

In these final weeks, the fear of giving birth and the reality of taking care of the baby were your biggest worries. Azriel, always attentive, made sure to check on you daily, asking if you had any pain, discomfort, or thoughts you needed to share.

You sighed deeply, looking over at him. “Well, I’m kinda scared, baby.”

Azriel scooted closer, rubbing your feet, and the second his hands made contact, it felt like a weight lifted from your shoulders. His touch was like magic, calming your racing thoughts.

“Yeah? Wanna talk about it?”

You bit your lip, hesitating for a moment before speaking. “I’m scared of giving birth, ya know? I watched some videos, and honestly, I’d rather not do it at all. Like, babies should be born painlessly, right? I know it’s gonna hurt like a bitch, and I’m just… terrified.”

Azriel leaned in, his hand still caressing your foot gently. “I won’t lie to you, honey, it’s gonna be scary,” he admitted, his voice soft but steady. “But listen to me: you’re not going to be alone. I’m going to be right there with you, every step of the way. I’ll hold your hand, I’ll be the one to remind you how strong you are. If anyone can do this, it’s you.”

You let out a shaky breath, leaning back into him, feeling his warmth and the sincerity of his words. The fear didn’t disappear entirely, but with him beside you, it seemed just a little more manageable. “I jus’ don’t wanna mess it up. I want to be a good mom, ya know?”

“You’ll be an amazing mom. The best,” Azriel said without hesitation, his voice full of certainty. “You’ve already proven that. And we’ll be doing this together, so you’ll never be alone.”

You smiled, feeling a little braver. “Thanks, Azzie. I really needed to hear that.”

“Always, sweetheart,” he murmured, his hand still holding yours with a tenderness that made you feel like you could take on anything. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You smirked, raising an eyebrow. “So, does this officially make you a dilf?”

Azriel chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Yeah, and just like that, you’re a milf,” he teased, his smile growing as he gave your belly a gentle rub.

You liked the sound of that, you and Azriel officially being hot parents.

—

“Okay, I need this baby to get the fuck out.”

Yes, that’s right. You were still very pregnant, and it was starting to drive you mad. Hot one second, cold the next, hungry then nauseous. Everything felt off, and you were so uncomfortable. You were too damn pregnant.

“Oh my god, just get out, get out, get outtttt!”

Azriel stood next to you, trying to be supportive as usual. He was breathing way too loud, and standing just a little too close. “Seriously, breathe louder, Az. That’s just great,” you snapped, throwing your hands up in frustration. Your pink diamond ring caught the light, and your eyes narrowed in irritation.

“Sorry, I’ll just stop,” he said casually, clearly not bothered by your outburst.

Great. Now you felt fucking awful. He wasn’t the one who’d been throwing up for the past few months but he’d been the one holding your hair back, rubbing your feet, and making sure you were comfortable 24/7. You definitely didn’t want to stop breathing because that would cause him to die and you just couldn’t have that.

“‘m sorry,” you said, your voice shaky as you reached for him, burying your face in his shoulder. “Didn’t mean to snap. I don’t want you to stop breathing. You’re not annoying, I’m just—” you sniffled, feeling like a mess. “I love you so much, but gods, I’m so over being pregnant. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. Please don’t hate me.”

Azriel’s eyes softened as you broke down into his shoulder, his hand instinctively moving to soothe you. He wrapped you in his arms, pulling you closer as he gently rubbed your back, his presence steady and grounding.

“I know, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low and comforting. “I know you’re done. You’ve been so strong this whole time, and I’m proud of you. But we’re almost there. Just a little longer.”

You sniffled, your face buried in his shirt, feeling the warmth of his embrace despite the chaos swirling in your mind. “I just feel like I’m going to lose it. I’m too hot, then cold. I can’t eat without feeling sick, and everything aches. I just want her here already. I love her so much, but I can’t do this anymore.”

Azriel chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood. He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering for a moment as he whispered, “How about we get her out by going for a walk and eating something spicy? Heard that works wonders. And if that doesn’t, uh… I heard sex helps.”

The blush creeping up his neck was unmistakable, and your heart squeezed at how he still managed to get shy around you.

You grinned through your tears. “How about we skip all that and head straight to the part where you fuck me real good?”

Azriel’s lips curved into a slow smile, though his face was still red. “Y-Yeah—hell yeah. Let’s do that.”

And he did. One very good fuck fest and 7 hours of labor brought your beautiful baby girl into the world. She was perfect—so tiny, so sweet, and when she opened her eyes, they were unmistakably Azriel’s.

“You did it, sweetheart,” Azriel whispered as he held her close, his voice thick with emotion. “She’s here. Our babygirl is finally here. Thank you, my love. For blessing us. For your hard work. I’m so proud of you.”

Azriel kissed you deeply and as you looked at your baby girl and the love of your life, you knew every ache and tear had been worth it.

—————————————————————————

Life

You kissed the top of her head, her soft black hair looking just like her father’s. You sat on the couch with your 6-month-old baby girl nestled in your arms. When she was born, she looked just like you, but as she grew older, her sneaky little features started looking more and more like Azriel’s.

You loved her so freaking much, and sometimes you’d just start crying out of nowhere. She was a tiny part of you, someone you made with love. It was honestly wild.

“Oh, my sweetest baby angel. You’re all mine, and I love you sooo much, yes I do! Yes I do!” you cooed, nuzzling your nose against her tiny button one, making her giggle wildly. She was seriously a masterpiece. Like, such a cutie.

After feeding and rocking her, her soft snores filled the room, and you found yourself counting each adorable little breath. Pregnancy had been… a lot. You weren’t exactly the sharpest crayon in the box, and sometimes you worried about whether you’d be a good mom. But Azzie had always been there.

Carefully, you stood up and tiptoed to her bedroom, which was right next to yours and Azriel’s so you could get to her super quickly if she fussed. You gently laid her down and pulled out all the baby monitors you had stocked up on. No way were you taking chances with your baby girl.

And sure, maybe three monitors and an Owlet sock was a tiny bit much, but whatever. And Azriel totally agreed.

You found him standing next to the door, still clad in his handsome dress shirt and slacks. Your walked over to him as you slumped your body against his, melting against his chest and wrapping your arms around his waist. "Every day I thank the gods we didn't end up with a fussy baby. she goes to sleep so easy." he smiled, placing his chin on the top of your head. 

Here’s a cleaned-up and polished version while keeping her adorable, slightly flustered tone intact:

“Right? She’s totally in sync with me, and I’m so happy she’s so calm.”

“I really missed you today. A lot.”

Your heart started beating faster. Azriel was so casual about stuff like that, and it made you blush every time. He used to be shy and reserved about sharing his feelings, but now he’d just say it right to your face without hesitation.

And, of course, it turned you into a blushing mess over a few simple words.

“Y-you did? I missed you too.”

His arms tightened around your waist, pulling you closer. His voice dropped to that low, heart-melting tone he knew drove you wild.

“I missed you very much. Very, very much. And I’m going to show you exactly how much.” You giggle and blush like crazy when be grabs your waist and carefully chucks you over his shoulder, giving your ass a loud smack.

God, you love your life.

🏷️:

[thatonegreyghost]

Jayce is a sap. But everybody knows that. It's not a shock to see Jayce getting flowers and chocolates during the week leading up to St. Valentine's feast day, but no one questions it much. Jayce is a handsome man, it makes sense that he'd be picking up some nice wine and scented candles and massage oil. The ladies giggle and gossip, wondering and whispering about who his "secret" lover could be. Everybody talks about how lucky that person must be, to be spoiled by the genius who changed Piltover.

No one expects Viktor to be a sap.

He's snippy and irritable, sarcastic and sharp, short-tempered and cold-hearted. So the first year Jayce is spotted buying chocolates, everyone is shocked to see Viktor in the corner of the shop, tucking a rather pricey box under his arm before he picks out a stunning bouquet. and again the next year. And the next. Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, three times a pattern. By the beginning of the fourth year, one of Ximena Talis' friends has enough courage to approach and ask Viktor who he was buying all that for. Viktor laughs in her face, and shuffles off to pay for the flowers he's acquired.

The next year, Viktor is nowhere to be seen, but Jayce is found buying an entire bag of rose petals and a horrendously overpriced bath bomb. This time, it's a jealous young lady asking invasive question about who that's meant for. "It's for my partner!" Jayce replies with a confused smile.

He refuses to elaborate further.

The sixth year, something strange happens. Plenty of talk has been going around already about the boys' strange habits, but when they're spotted at dinner together, at a rather well-known if lower class restaurant, on the day itself, ...well, the rumor mill doesn't spin itself. The story is halfway around the city by noon the next day. For both those young men to lose their partners, at the same time, on Valentine's day no less! It's nothing short of a tragedy.

Mel mentions it in passing, cooing softly about how disappointed Jayce must have felt.

"What are you talking about?" Jayce laughs. "I had dinner with my partner at a restaurant we both love, and then we got to cuddle and listen to a new record together. I had the best night!"

Mel puts two and two together and immediately dismisses the conclusion. It's none of her business anyway.

The next year, Jayce is found at a gala thrown at the Kiramann estate. Viktor is also there, glaring over the edge of a champagne glass any time Jayce is not by his side. As the night wears on, people lose track of Viktor, and then they lose track of Jayce.

It's Caitlyn who finds them on the balcony, tipsy and laughing at each other, Viktor holding a bouquet of stunning Noxian roses in his hand as he cups Jayce's cheek, kissing them slowly.

"What the fuck?" Caitlyn shrieks, because she isn't above swearing when her fucking older brother gets caught kissing his lab partner.

"Cait, some privacy?" Jayce huffs.

"Language." Viktor quips.

"You two are fucking making out!" Caitlyn shouts.

The whole of the gala has stopped to stare out the doors at the commotion. Whispers fly around the room, and the gossips tell their friends about what they can hear from their perfect spot next to the door.

"Cait, will you chill? We weren't doing anything gross, Vik's just not a huge fan of PDA." Jayce protests. "I would still rather be at home. Your mother had to host the stupid gala on Valentine's?" Viktor concurs. "Since when is this a thing?" Caitlyn yelps. "Since, like, 7 years ago? Cait, you were there."

"Honestly, Miss Kiramann. You would think you would know better." The gossips giggle amongst themselves, but more and more young ladies turn away with crestfallen faces. 7 years of romance is nothing to sneeze at, after all, and to think all this time, Jayce Talis has been giving his heart to someone- a man, no less! "You've been dating this whole time?" Caitlyn groans. "Why didn't you say anything?" "Well, um, actually..." "We're married." Viktor laughs. "And we did tell you. You just didn't listen." The gala goes dead silent. All whispers cease, and even the gossips go still. Did he just- there's no way he meant- he couldn't have possibly just said- "MARRIED?" Caitlyn screeches. "See, this is why we didn't tell you." Jayce snarks.

Unplanned Valentine's Day art because I cannot stop drawing them 🥰

[ecstxsyy]

2NITE? | D. GRAYSON ❦

Wanna try out some freaky positions?

based on this ask.

18+ mdni!

dick grayson x popstar!fem reader

warnings: oral (m!receiving), p in v, face-fucking, squirting, handcuff use, i just know dick talks you through it.

requests for v-day event are closed!!

cupid’s candy hearts masterlist

───── ⋆ ⋅ ꨄ︎ ⋅⋆ ─────

YOU LOVED making music, you’ve been passionate about it since you were a kid. But, never did you think you would be about to go on stage to perform in front of thousands of people. The nerves made your hands clammy, small jitters working their way through you. It was your Valentine’s Day show, so many fans were in attendance waiting to hear you sing their favorite love songs.

A countdown began in your in-ear monitor and before you knew it, the platform was rising and the stage was opening up. The backtrack to a new song you hadn’t released yet began playing in your ear and a smirk splayed itself across your face. The song playing was ‘Juno’, a song that you wrote for your boyfriend Dick, who was sitting front row in the VIP box. He’d never heard the song before, he tried to play it a few times when he would come to the studio with you, but you insisted it be a surprise.

“Don’t have to tell your hot ass a thing,” you sang through your sparkly mic, locking eyes with Dick as you came fully through the stage. “Oh yeah, you just get it.”

These words caught Dick’s attention immediately, a blush spreading across his cheeks. He listened intently, hanging on to every word that came out of your mouth.

“Whole package, babe, I like the way you fit,” blared throughout the arena as you made eye contact with your flustered boyfriend, dancing along with your backup dancers to your choreography. From the look on Dick’s face, you weren't making it home before he got his hands on you.

After your performance ended, you waved goodbye to your fans and turned to walk backstage. The stage crew greeted you with water and a towel to pat down the sweat from your forehead, catching your breath in small pants. A familiar face soon greeted you with a big smile.

“So, you like the way I fit, huh?” Dick teased, bending down to capture your lips in a soft kiss. You giggled as Dick tucked a piece of stray hair behind your ear.

“Oh I love it,” you fired back, making Dick’s cheeks bloom red yet again. His hand found yours, helping you stand as he let you lead the way to your dressing room. You opened the door to the small space and walked over to your vanity to start taking off your stage costume, Dick moved quickly to help you.

His hands unzipped the back of your sparkly dress, sliding it down your frame. Dick planted kisses on your neck and shoulder.

“You got those handcuffs you were talking about?” the dark-haired boy smirked while you nodded, grabbing them from one of the drawers in the vanity. You swung the fuzzy pink cuffs around your finger as you approached him.

“You’re under arrest, Mr. Grayson,” you said seductively, pushing him down onto the couch behind him. You grabbed both of his wrists, cuffing one before pulling it over a bar on the wall and cuffing the other. Once you were sure he was locked in place, you moved to kneel between his legs. You ran your palms up and down his thighs letting them run dangerously close to his groin.

Your small fingers moved quickly to unbuckle his belt, unbuttoning his jeans soon after. You slid his pants and boxers down to his ankles, letting his throbbing cock spring free. His tip was an angry red and leaking salty precum, standing prominent against his paler skin. Your soft tongue kitten-licked his tip, collecting the fluid and sticking your tongue out for him to see.

Dick groaned above you, trying to move to grab the back of your head but the handcuffs held him in place. You giggled and took his tip into your mouth, sucking on it softly before letting it go with a pop. His length stood hard, the vein that runs up the underside of it bulging out due to all the blood flow.

“Please, baby,” he breathed out, bucking his hips to try and push his cock towards your mouth.

“So needy,” you laughed out, taking him completely into your mouth. Your head bobbed up and down at an even pace, swirling your tongue around his tip every time you came up. Dick’s whimpers were pathetic but adorable, small whines pushing their way out of him. You were always so good with your mouth, so good at taking all of him.

You throated the length of his cock and his warmth filled your esophagus, you held your gags as best as you could to take him completely. Dick let out a loud whine you pulled off of him, taking in a deep gasp of air. He smiled at you proudly when you got straight back to work bobbing your head up and down on him.

“That’s my girl,” he moaned while watching you take your hands and use them to pump the rest of his length that wasn't in your mouth. You used both of your hands to twist while you jerked him off, Dick loved it when you did that. His hips went crazy, bucking wild off of the couch.

You could tell he was close, but you wanted some pleasure for yourself too. You took your mouth and hands off of him, standing to strip out of your tights and bra. Dick’s jaw dropped watching you strip for him, no matter how often he saw you naked you never ceased to make him feel like a teenage boy with his first porn magazine.

Once you were naked you straddled Dick’s lap, grabbing his tip and running it through your folds to collect your wetness.

“You got that wet just from suckin’ me off?” Dick asked in almost disbelief, he knew you would but the way you never got sick of it blew his mind.

“Just for you,” you whispered seductively in his ear, spearing yourself on his cock. He filled you so well, he had a decent girth but his dick was long and had a slight curve to the left. You clenched around him, slowly adjusting to his length before you started to bounce up and down on him.

You moaned at the way he felt inside of you, his tip rubbing against your g-spot. Dick tried to thrust his hips into you to speed up your pace, you tsked at him and slowed down even more. The groans that left him made you soaked, your arousal leaking out all over both of your thighs.

You tried to continue to tease Dick when suddenly there was a snap and his hands were on your hips, the pink cuffs remained on his wrists but the chain that connected them was obliterated by his pure strength. You thought he’d let you keep control but you were pinned beneath Dick’s weight in seconds. He thrust into you roughly, pounding your poor cervix with his thick tip.

Your moans were uncontrollable and went higher in pitch with every thrust, it was music to Dick's ears. Dick propped his string frame up with one hand whilst the other moved to play with your clit, your legs trembled around his waist and you were a writhing mess.

“Gotta stay still, baby,” Dick teased, grabbing both of your legs and tossing them over his shoulders to pin you in place. The new angle made you crazy, your back arching up off of the sweaty leather beneath you. Dick pounded his tip into your g-spot, abusing the sensitive bundle of nerves.

The change of position had your orgasm nearing quickly, his fingers speeding up their assault on your clit. Your orgasm hit you like a train making you nearly explode like a powder keg. Your moans came out as needy screams as your orgasm sprayed itself across Dick’s lower abdomen, you knew very well you’d never hear the end of this from your crew and manager.

“There you go, that feels so good doesn't it?” Dick coed into your easy, he removed his hand from your clit and stuffed his wet fingers in your mouth to muffle your moans. You nodded, tears of pleasure pooling in your eyes.

Dick slid out of you and pulled you up onto your knees, slapping his heavy cock against your cheek. You let your jaw fall open as he slid his length inside the warmth of your mouth, slowly beginning to face-fuck you. He used your hair as a guide, making you gag and choke on him.

Tears fell free from your eyes, smearing your mascara down your cheeks. Dick choked out a moan when you began to hum around him, his orgasm coming over him. He came in spurts, his load shooting down your throat.

“Swallow for me, princess,” Dick encouraged, stroking your cheek while you swallowed his thick load. You stuck your tongue out once you made sure you swallowed it all, showing him that you took all of it.

“That’s such a good girl,” he praised, helping you to your feet. Dick pressed a solid kiss to your lips, hugging your body against his frame.

So much for those fuzzy pink handcuffs.

───── ⋆ ⋅ ꨄ︎ ⋅⋆ ─────

[luvashli]

CRAWLING BACK TO YOU

SYNOPSIS -> Your Ex Jungwon and you share a passionate night that revives your connection. Amid the heat of the moment and the challenges of his idol life, you begin to rebuild trust and explore your bond in a deeper way.

PAIRING: idol!ex!jungwon x nonidol!ex!reader

GENRE: romance, drama, slice of life, fluff, suggestive (no smut)

STARTED: 2/13/2025

STATUS: complete

WC: 4.5k

Note: Inspired by "Do I Wanna Know?" by Arctic Monkeys. While suggestive, it focuses on rebuilding trust and connection without explicit content.

click here for the song

Masterlist

Jungwon had always been a dreamer. The kind of boy who carried the weight of his ambitions like second skin, who burned so brightly that you knew if you got too close, you’d end up scorched.

When you met him, he was already on the cusp of something bigger than himself—on the verge of debuting, of stepping into the world as ENHYPEN’s leader, of trading the ordinary for the extraordinary.

And you? You were just someone who happened to be there at the right time. Or maybe the wrong time.

It was never supposed to be anything serious. A late-night conversation that turned into another, and then another. Stolen hours between practices, secret glances in crowded rooms, whispered confessions in the dark when no one else was listening.

You loved him in the quiet moments—when he wasn’t Jungwon, the idol, but Jungwon, the boy who still got nervous before performances, who laughed until his stomach hurt, who traced absent-minded patterns on your skin when he thought you were asleep.

But love wasn’t always enough.

The distance started small. Missed calls. Unread messages. Promises of next time that never came.

Then came the rumors. The late-night schedules. The growing realization that no matter how much he loved you, he belonged to the world first.

You had never been naïve—you knew what dating an idol meant. You knew what it meant to be someone’s secret, to exist in the spaces between rehearsals and fan meetings, to never be the name in his thank-you speeches.

Still, you stayed.

Until one night, when he showed up at your door, exhausted, drenched from the rain, eyes pleading in a way that made your chest ache.

“I don’t know how to do this anymore,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

“Do what?”

“This. Us.”

Your heart cracked right down the middle. Because you knew. You knew.

That no matter how much he wanted you, he would never be able to hold onto you the way he wanted.

And so you let him go.

Or at least, you tried.

But some loves aren’t meant to be severed cleanly. Some linger like ghosts, haunting you in the songs that play late at night, in the drinks you sip too slowly, in the quiet moments where you swear you still feel his warmth beside you.

You both told yourselves it was over.

But the truth was, neither of you ever really let go.

---

Jungwon knew he should have moved on by now.

It would have been easier if you had hated him. If you had slammed the door in his face that night, screamed at him, told him he was selfish for making you wait, for loving you in half-measures. But you didn’t. You just looked at him with those tired, knowing eyes, and let him go.

And that was the problem. You never fought him on it. Never begged him to stay. You just understood—and somehow, that made it worse.

Because Jungwon had spent so much of his life fighting. Fighting to be good enough, to prove himself, to lead a group at an age where most people were still figuring themselves out. Fighting to keep up, to stay ahead, to be the version of himself that the world expected him to be.

But you? You never asked him to fight for you. And maybe that was why he couldn’t let go.

Because late at night, when the exhaustion crept in and the hotel room felt too empty, he found himself wondering—what if he had fought? What if he had been braver, had held onto you a little tighter instead of letting the weight of his world push you away?

Would you still be his?

Or had he already lost you to the life he chose?

Jungwon sighed, dragging a hand through his hair as he stared at his phone, your name still pinned at the top of his messages.

He could text you.

He wanted to.

But what would he even say?

"I still think about you."

"I still dream about you."

"I still don’t know how to let you go."

But none of those would change the fact that he had already walked away.

And he wasn’t sure if he had the right to crawl back.

---

Jungwon never drank much.

He was careful—always had been. Careful with his words, his actions, the way he carried himself in public. Careful because he had no choice but to be. As an idol, there was always a camera, always a headline waiting to be written, always someone watching.

But tonight, he didn’t care.

The bar was tucked away in some dimly lit alley, the kind of place where no one would expect to find him. It was quiet, not crowded, the low hum of conversation blending into the soft music playing through the speakers.

He sat in the corner, hoodie pulled low over his face, fingers wrapped around a glass he’d barely touched. The ice clinked against the sides as he swirled it absentmindedly, watching the liquid slosh against the rim.

He wasn’t sure why he was here.

Or maybe he was.

Maybe it was because it was late, and he was alone, and the weight of everything felt heavier than usual. Maybe it was because he kept seeing your face in the glow of streetlights, kept hearing your voice in the spaces between songs, kept feeling your presence like a phantom in the air.

Or maybe it was because drinking felt like the closest thing to recklessness he could afford.

He exhaled sharply, bringing the glass to his lips, letting the bitterness burn its way down.

It didn’t help.

Didn’t drown out the memories.

Didn’t silence the thought that if he picked up his phone right now—if he called you, even though it was stupid and selfish—you might still answer.

Would you?

Would you pick up, or would you let it ring? Would you be annoyed, or would you already know why he was calling?

Would you tell him to stop? To move on?

Or would you let him come back, just one more time?

The thought made his chest tighten.

Jungwon ran a hand over his face, pushing his hair back as he leaned against the wall. He knew he should leave. Should go home before someone recognized him, before this turned into something it shouldn’t.

But he stayed.

Because here, in the haze of alcohol and dim lights, it was easier to pretend that he wasn’t an idol. That he wasn’t ENHYPEN’s leader, that he wasn’t someone with expectations suffocating him at every turn.

Here, he was just a boy with a broken heart, drinking alone in a place where no one knew his name.

And for now, that was enough.

The bass of some distant song rattles the walls.

It’s your song. The one that somehow became yours, the one that drags him back to you no matter how far he tries to run.

He leans against the counter, fingers curled around the rim of a half-empty glass. The ice has melted, watering down whatever courage he thought he had. His phone sits beside him, screen dimmed, your name perched at the top of his messages—untouched but never ignored.

He wonders if you feel the same. If your fingers hover over his contact late at night, if his name lingers on your lips when no one else is around. If you ever get that ache in your chest, the one that stays like something stuck between your teeth—impossible to shake, impossible to ignore.

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair before grabbing his phone. His pulse thrums in his ears as he types, erases, types again. He’s never been good at this—at closing doors, at walking away, at pretending he doesn’t dream about you nearly every damn night.

Jungwon: Are you still awake?

The message sends before he can second-guess himself, before he can remind himself that maybe you’ve moved on. That maybe he should move on.

Three dots appear. Vanish. Reappear.

You: Shouldn’t you be sleeping?

His lips curve, a bitter smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Jungwon: Shouldn’t you?

A pause. Then—

You: Where are you?

It’s an invitation. Maybe not the one he should accept, but the one he wants. The one he always will.

___

The city hums beneath him as he walks, hands in his pockets, breath curling in the cool night air. He doesn’t have to think about where he’s going—his feet already know the way.

Your door is unlocked. A small act of trust, or maybe just a quiet expectation.

You’re there, curled up on the couch, the glow from the streetlights painting soft shadows on your face. There’s a drink on the table, condensation pooling around the base. You don’t say anything as he steps inside, don’t ask why he’s here—because you both already know the answer.

Maybe tomorrow, he’ll regret this. Maybe tomorrow, he’ll tell himself it should’ve ended a long time ago. But for now, with your warmth seeping into his side and your scent filling his lungs—

For now, he’s yours.

The air in your apartment is thick—humid from the warmth of too many emotions left unspoken, heavy with the scent of rain-soaked fabric and something undeniably him.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you whisper, but there’s no real conviction in your voice.

His lips curl into something that isn’t quite a smirk, isn’t quite regret. “You let me in.”

You don’t answer, because what is there to say? That you knew it was a mistake the moment you saw his name on your phone? That even after everything, after the distance, the silence, the aching months of trying to forget—you still wanted him?

Jungwon exhales, stepping further inside, closing the door behind him. The sound of it clicking shut sends a shiver down your spine.

It’s always like this. Always him showing up at your doorstep with the weight of the world on his shoulders, always you letting him in even when you shouldn’t.

“Jungwon—”

But you don’t get to finish, because suddenly, he’s closer. Close enough that you can see the way his damp hair clings to his forehead, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from him despite the chill outside.

His fingers brush your wrist—barely there, like a question, like he’s waiting for permission. Your breath catches.

“Tell me to leave,” he murmurs.

You should. You know you should.

Instead, your fingers curl around the front of his hoodie, tugging him forward, and that’s all he needs.

He exhales sharply, as if he’s been holding his breath all this time, as if this—you—is the only thing he’s been aching for. His hands find your waist, sliding beneath the hem of your sweater, fingertips ghosting over your skin, sending heat curling down your spine.

Your back hits the wall, his body pressing against yours, and suddenly, there’s no space left between you. His breath is warm against your cheek, his nose brushing against yours, his lips hovering—so damn close—

“You’re drunk,” you murmur, but you don’t push him away.

Jungwon chuckles, low and rough. “Barely.”

And then, finally, he closes the distance.

His lips are warm, insistent, tasting faintly of whiskey and something undeniably him. He kisses you slowly, like he’s memorizing the way you feel against him, like he’s trying to make up for all the times he had to pretend he didn’t want this.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging slightly, and the sound he makes in response—deep, breathy, almost desperate—sends a shiver straight through you. His hands tighten on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, until you can feel every inch of him against you.

It’s dangerous, the way you fit so perfectly together.

His lips trail down to your jaw, your neck, lingering just long enough to make your breath hitch. “I shouldn’t be here,” he murmurs against your skin.

But neither of you stop.

Because in this moment, with his hands on your body and his lips leaving a trail of heat in their wake, there is no past, no future.

There is only this.

And neither of you want to let go.

Jungwon’s breath is hot against your neck, his lips ghosting over your skin like a question he already knows the answer to. Your fingers tighten in his hair, and he exhales sharply, his grip on your waist shifting—tighter, hungrier.

Your back presses further into the wall as he leans in, his body fitting against yours like he belongs there. Like he’s never left. His hands slip under your sweater, fingertips tracing slow, deliberate circles against your bare skin, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, but the way his lips brush over your pulse, the way his fingers flex against your hips, tells you he’s praying you won’t.

You don’t.

Instead, your hands slide beneath the hem of his hoodie, pushing it up, desperate to feel more of him. His skin is warm beneath your touch, muscles tensing slightly as your palms explore the familiar planes of his back. You feel the way his breath stutters against your neck when your nails drag lightly down his spine, the way his lips part as if he’s about to say something—

But then he kisses you again, and this time, there’s no hesitation.

It’s slow but deep, like he’s savoring every second, like he’s afraid this moment might slip through his fingers if he doesn’t take his time. His hands move to your thighs, gripping them just hard enough to make your breath hitch before he lifts you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist like it’s second nature.

You feel the sharp inhale he takes against your lips as your body presses flush against his. His fingers dig into your skin, holding you steady, his grip possessive—like he’s scared you’ll disappear if he lets go.

But you’re not going anywhere.

Not when his lips trail lower, not when he murmurs your name against your collarbone like a prayer, not when his teeth graze over sensitive skin, leaving a mark that neither of you will acknowledge in the morning but both of you will remember.

Your hands push his hoodie up further, your fingertips pressing into his toned stomach, feeling the way his muscles tense beneath your touch. He groans softly at that, the sound vibrating against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Jungwon,” you whisper, and it’s all it takes—

For him to press you harder against the wall, for his lips to find yours again, for the heat between you to grow unbearable, undeniable.

For a moment, nothing else exists. Not the past, not the consequences, not the inevitable morning that will come too soon.

There is only this.

Only the way he kisses you like he’s never stopped wanting you.

Only the way your body responds to him like you were made for each other.

Only the way neither of you say the words lingering between you—

"I never stopped thinking about you."

"I don’t know how to let you go."

“Stay."

Because right now, neither of you need to say it.

Right now, you’re both exactly where you want to be.

Of course, let's continue with them in a more emotionally intimate setting after their intense connection. We'll focus on their emotional bond and the resolution of their feelings afterward.

---

After everything, the room feels quieter, almost serene. The weight of their shared silence lingers, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s the kind of silence that says everything needs time. Both of you, tangled together, breathing in sync, a gentle hum of the city filling the background.

Jungwon pulls you close, his hand resting on your back as you both lie on the couch, the warmth of his body enveloping you. His hoodie, now discarded somewhere on the floor, leaves a faint smell of him on your skin, a reminder that tonight was not just physical, but something much more profound.

His thumb runs gentle circles along your back, and you can feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, a rhythm that calms the racing thoughts in your head. There’s an ease in the way he holds you, a comfort in the way he breathes like he’s found something he’s been searching for. Something he’s been missing.

The night still feels alive between you, the intensity of it lingering in the way his fingers trace your skin. But there’s a tenderness now. An unspoken promise.

“Y/n,” he murmurs softly, his voice barely above a whisper. His words hang in the air like they’re fragile, like he’s afraid to break the moment. “I know we’ve been through a lot... I’ve been messed up for so long, I didn’t know how to fix it.”

You turn your head slightly, just enough to meet his eyes, and you can see the vulnerability in them—the raw, unguarded part of him he rarely lets anyone see. The part that aches for connection, for understanding.

“I’ve missed you, Jungwon,” you say softly, your voice cracking just slightly. “I didn’t want to let go, either.”

He sighs, pressing his forehead to yours, the touch comforting, grounding. His lips brush against your skin in a gesture that’s almost reverent. “I never should’ve let you go. I’ve realized that now.”

You nod, closing your eyes, trying to fight back the emotion threatening to spill over. The pain that had existed between you two for so long now felt like it had been washed away—washed away by this night, by this quiet moment, by the understanding that, in the end, it wasn’t about the time lost, but the time you were still willing to give each other.

“We don’t have to figure everything out tonight,” you whisper. “But we can start again. Together. If you want that.”

Jungwon’s eyes soften, his hand gently cupping your cheek as he brushes his thumb over your skin, his gaze never leaving yours. “I do. I really do.”

And that’s all you need to hear. The future feels less uncertain now, even if it’s unclear exactly where it will lead. Right now, all that matters is that you’ve found your way back to each other.

As you settle deeper into his embrace, the night stretches on—quiet, gentle, full of new beginnings. The warmth of his body beside you is all the reassurance you need.

No more questions. No more doubt.

Just the certainty that, this time, you won’t let go.

---

The days after that night are a blur of quiet efforts and small, meaningful gestures. Jungwon wants to show you—wants to prove that this time is different, that this time he’s really ready to do the work.

It starts with the flowers.

One morning, you wake up to a soft knock at your door. When you open it, a delivery man is standing there, holding a bouquet of white roses, tied with a delicate ribbon. The note is simple, but it’s enough to make your heart skip a beat.

For you, always. - Jungwon.

A smile tugs at your lips. You can’t help it. His sincerity is overwhelming. He’s always been careful with his words, but now there’s something more—something genuine in the way he’s making an effort to show you, not just tell you.

Later that day, your phone buzzes with a message from him.

---

Jungwon:

Good morning, y/n. I hope your day’s as beautiful as you are. I was thinking about you. I know things haven’t been easy, but I’m here, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work. No more running away. I’m staying. ❤️

You feel a warmth spread through you as you read his words. The night you shared feels so fresh in your mind, but it’s these little moments—the flowers, the messages—that help ease the heaviness you had been carrying. Jungwon isn’t just saying the right things, he’s showing you the changes, taking action to rebuild the trust that had been shaken.

---

Jungwon’s members start to notice the difference too. His smile is brighter, lighter, and there’s a certain determination in his step. They can tell something’s changed, but it’s not just because of his mood—it’s because he’s clearly trying.

One evening, Sunghoon, Ni-ki, and Sunoo are all hanging out in the dorm when Jungwon walks into the room, a slight nervousness in his eyes but also a quiet sense of contentment.

“Hyung, what’s with you today?” Ni-ki teases, raising an eyebrow. “You’re glowing, man.”

Jungwon grins, rubbing the back of his neck. “I, uh… I’m just... trying to make up for things.”

Sunoo squints at him, a playful smirk forming. “Is this about y/n?”

Jungwon hesitates for a split second, but then he nods, his cheeks going pink. “Yeah, we’re... we’re back together.”

Sunghoon’s eyes widen in surprise, then he smirks. “Back together, huh? Didn’t see that coming.”

Sunoo laughs, clapping Jungwon on the back. “Honestly, I’m glad to hear it. You’ve been all over the place, man. I can tell you’re really trying now.”

Jungwon nods earnestly, his voice softer. “I’m not taking any chances this time. I really want it to work.”

Ni-ki, who had been watching Jungwon closely, finally smiles. “Well, if you’re going to do this, do it right. We’re rooting for you.”

There’s a quiet moment where Jungwon just absorbs the words from his members, a warm sense of belonging flooding him. He’s not alone in this. They’re behind him, supporting him. And that feeling of solidarity, of knowing that his efforts to redeem himself are being noticed, makes him more determined than ever.

As the days go by, Jungwon continues to send you messages, little updates, sweet reminders that he’s here and he’s serious. Sometimes, it’s a simple good morning text. Other times, it’s a song he’s found that reminds him of you. He keeps his word, showing you that his feelings are genuine.

With each message, each gesture, he’s slowly chipping away at the wall of doubt you’d built around your heart. And, bit by bit, you’re beginning to trust him again.

---

The weeks after Jungwon’s apology are a gentle progression. Both of you take your time, step by step, to rebuild what had once been broken. It’s not perfect, nor is it always easy, but the foundation is there. With each passing day, the cracks between you start to heal, the trust slowly returning as you both work toward a fresh start.

Jungwon makes the effort. He’s present. He’s here. And this time, when he tells you he loves you, you feel it in every action he takes—whether it’s a text at the start of the day, a song he dedicates to you during a live broadcast, or a spontaneous surprise like a hand-written note hidden in your coat pocket.

But you both know that the biggest hurdle you face isn’t just about trust—it’s the reality of his life as an idol. The public eye. The need to keep your relationship quiet, for both your sakes.

At first, it’s an adjustment. There are days when he’s gone for hours, sometimes even days, caught up in the whirlwind of schedules, rehearsals, and performances. You’re used to seeing his face on TV, his smile on stage, but it’s also a reminder of how careful you both have to be. Any hint of your relationship could lead to rumors—rumors that could hurt both of you in ways you’re not prepared for.

Jungwon is the one who sets the boundaries early on. He tells you, quietly, one night when he’s sitting next to you on the couch, his hand gently holding yours.

“I know it’s hard,” he says, his voice low and serious, “but we have to be careful. If people find out… it could mess everything up. For me, for you. I want us to be happy, but I also need to protect this, protect you.”

You nod, understanding the weight of his words. It’s not just about the two of you anymore. His career, his public persona, is something neither of you can ignore. It’s a balancing act—a dance between holding on to what’s personal and keeping it under wraps, for the sake of your relationship and his career.

“I get it,” you reply softly, squeezing his hand. “We can make it work. We’ll be careful.”

And you are. You spend most of your time together behind closed doors, in quiet, private moments. But every once in a while, when the chance comes, you steal moments in public. Small touches that go unnoticed by most. A hand brushing against his when you walk side-by-side, a quick kiss on the cheek when you think no one’s looking. It’s subtle but meaningful, the little things that remind you both of the love you’ve found again.

There are days when the stress of keeping everything a secret weighs on you. It’s hard. It’s lonely at times. You can’t go out for spontaneous dates or hold hands in public like normal couples do. But in those moments, Jungwon reassures you, reminding you that you’re not alone in this. He texts you when he’s on the move, always finding a way to check in, even when his schedule is packed. Sometimes it’s a quick “I miss you,” other times it’s a photo of a sunset he’s caught from his hotel room—anything to bridge the distance between you.

But what makes it work is the trust. You trust him now—completely. You know that he’s serious, that he’s not going anywhere. He’s shown you that, not with grand gestures, but with quiet, consistent love.

You’ve learned to navigate the highs and lows of his idol life together, understanding that there will be tough days when he’s exhausted or when the pressure of fame gets to him. You’ve learned to give each other space when needed, but you’ve also found comfort in those shared moments—those quiet nights when he comes home after a long day, finally free to unwind in the safety of your shared space.

When things get difficult, when the rumors or the pressure of his public life start to weigh heavily on both of you, Jungwon is always the one to remind you why it’s worth it. “We’re in this together,” he’ll say, his hand resting on your shoulder, his voice steady and unwavering. “This is real. What we have—it’s worth everything.”

And you believe him.

The key to making it work is balance. You’ve learned how to stay grounded, to protect each other’s privacy while also nurturing your love. It’s not always easy, but in the end, it feels worth it. There’s a peace that settles between you both as you continue to build your relationship, one day at a time, trusting that with each step forward, you’re stronger than before.

No matter the challenges that come with being with someone in the spotlight, no matter the secrets you have to keep, you both know that this—what you have—is real. And that’s all that matters.

Together, you can handle anything.

Masterlist

Open taglist

If you’d like to be tagged in future updates for other storys, let me know by:

- Sending me a message or

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@luvleyylina @crimson-reaper576 @d-dilemma

[funnyjb]

We Live In Time

…………………………………………………………………………….

“The treatment plan is this, you are to start chemotherapy followed by surgery to remove the rest of the tumor, then chemotherapy again for the final stage of treatment.”- doctors Adams

Joe and yourself sat in the two blue chairs in front of Doctor Adams. His voice sincere and mellow.

“So, chemotherapy then do the surgery and after surgery chemotherapy again?”- Joe

“Yes, correct.”- Doctor Adams

Joe looked at you.

You were still and quiet, picking at your fingers. Do you even want to go through all of this again? Should you? You knew you had to fight, but didn’t know how much strength you could give.

“How…how long would the treatment be?”- you

“Probably around 5 months.”- Doctor Adams

You nod.

“What times would she need to come in? Does she-”- Joe

“What happens if I don’t do the treatment?”- you

Joe looked at you confused.

“Then you will enjoy time with your family and friends. You still can while in treatment.”- Doctor Adams

“Right.”- you nod

——————————-

You guys were walking to the car hand in hand. The weight of the conversation weighed on both of you.

“Joe, I don��t know if I can do it.”-you

Joe stopped.

“I don’t know if I have enough strength to give. I went through this before. I don’t want to go through it again.”- you

“Y/n, it’s your choice, but at least try. You are the strongest person I know. You can do whatever you set your mind and heart to”- joe

“I just…I will do it. I just don’t want to have my last moments on this world having to be inside a hospital room filled with ill people. I want to be able to watch you at games and cheer you on with Bella. Not be in some hospital room.”- you

“Y/n don’t talk like that. You’re not going to die. You can’t.”- Joe

“Joe! Wake up. This is real. I know it sucks and it’s sucks to think about but it needs to be said.”- you

“I know. Let’s talk about this later, but I hear you and I see you. Whatever you decide I will stand by you..”- Joe

Joe kisses your forehead.

“I love you.”- Joe

“I love you too, let’s go home.”- you

Joe opens the car door for you to get in.

————————————————-

7 years ago

The room was filled with sweaty kids and the lingering smell of cigarettes and weird alcohol beverages.

“Y/n! Come here!”- Lily called you over

You nod.

Wearing your black Jean skirt with white tank top and obviously paired with your black converse.

“Y/n, meet Joe and Sam.”- Lily smiles

Sam reached out his hand for you to shake.

“Hi, I’m Sam.”- Sam

“Y/n,Nice to meet you!”- you

Joe then reached his hand.

“Joe.”- Joe

“Nice to meet you, Joe.”- you

You noticed he was kind of quiet.

“They play football. They are pretty good. I was telling them we are going to next week’s game.”- Lily

“Oh! Cool. I’m excited for the game, heard it’s a big one.”- you

“Yeah, against Michigan. Hate those guys.”- Sam

You laugh

“Oh, Sam, let’s go play beer pong!”- Lily

Lily pulls Sam away.

Now it’s just you and Joe.

“So, you play football. What position?”- you smile

“QB2.”- joe

“Wow! Not bad, Joe.”- you

Joe laughs

“I’m a back up. Nobody cares about me.”- Joe

“Don’t say that! I haven’t seen you play, but I’m positive you are a great player.”- you

“Thanks.”- joe smiles

You nod

The music is loud and the sounds of plastic cups falling keep filling the room.

“Where are you from?”- joe

“California. Born and raised in Huntington Beach.”- you

“Wow! That’s nice. I was born and raised in Athens, Ohio.”- Joe

“Oh! Ohio native, that’s nice.”- you

God, why did I say that. “Ohio native”

“Yeah, very different from cali.”- Joe

“Yeah, very different.”- you nod

“Want to go somewhere more quiet? I honestly can’t deal with all of this right now.”- joe laughs

“Sure, it’s a bit Loud for me too.”- you

Joe leads you to his room. The only quiet place where there isn’t shouting and speakers in your ears.

“I like your room. Surprisingly clean.”- you chuckle

“Thanks, I try.”- joe laughs

You then sat on the edge of his bed. Red solo cup in hand and legs crossed.

“Do you have any siblings?”- joe

“A sister. Her name is Spencer.”- you

“Nice.”- joe plays with the pen on his desk

“What about you?”- you

“I have two half brothers. Both way older than me. Jamie and Daniel.”- joe

“Oh, that’s nice. Are you close?”- you

“Yeah, when I was born they were In college, but I try to talk to them everyday even when they give me shit.”- Joe

You laugh.

Joe kept talking. The more you listened to him the more you felt more intrigued by him. His confidence, his demeanor, his humor, and his features. The way the corners of his eyes when he smiles crinkles up. The way he is really passionate about something he will start to get a spark in his eyes and get more excited about the topic.

After that night you guys kept talking more and more. After a while both of you developed feelings. Strong feelings. You guys became each other’s best friends. You guys would always be dying laughing on the floor about something, holding each other’s hands in public, watching the office every night, and holding each other in your sleep and never wanting to let go.

———————————————

Fast forward to present

“Bella, daddy and I want to talk to you about something.”- you pull Bella onto your lap.

You guys were sitting on the couch. Joe next you.

Bella sat up eager to figure out what you wanted to tell her.

You felt tears pricking in your eyes, but you knew you had to stay strong and not scare Bella.

“Mommy is sick. It’s going to be hard for her these next couple months. She will be very tired, but I know we will take care of her and give her the biggest cuddles, right?”- joe

“Yes!”- Bella

You chuckle

“Do you have the flu, mommy?”- Bella

“Um, no sweetie. I have something on my ovaries which is making me sick. I have to get treatment to make it go away.”- You

“But you will be ok, right?”- Bella

You take a deep breath.

“Yeah…yeah I will be ok.”- you

You giver her a kiss on the head.

“Go play with your dolls, baby. Dinner will be ready soon”- Joe

Bella gets off your lap and runs to her room.

A tear drops down your face. You wipe it away hoping Joe doesn’t see.

But obviously he did.

“Y/n-”- Joe

You get up from the couch.

“I’m going to make dinner. pasta and ground turkey sound ok?”- You

Joe doesn’t respond. You’re already gone into the kitchen.

—————————————-

The next couple months was spent going to game and cheering on Joe. The atmosphere was electric. The fans. The lights. The feeling of hope. Of course there were some loses but you stood by Joe and helped him in ways that he couldn’t.

You did your chemo. Going in and out of the hospital.

One day you were sitting on the couch reading a book. A romance novel from one of your favorite authors when Joe sits next to you.

“We should get a dog.”- you

“What?”- Joe

“Or a cat. I heard it’s great for dealing with grief and life adjustments. Especially for kids.”- you

“Y/n, stop. You aren’t going to die. I can’t let you do that.”- Joe

“Joe! You stop. You have to think realistically. It could happen. And if it does I want you and Bella to be able to have an animal that will help you deal with all of it. Like a dog or cat.”- You

Joe stands up

“I CANT LOSE YOU, Y/N! I cant physically be away from you. I just can’t lose you. I wont let that happen. You need to fight.”- Joe

You didn’t know what to say.

“Joe…I’m sorry. Im sorry this is happening. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.”- you stand up

“You and Bella are my world. I fight every day. On good and bad days to be able to be with both of you. To see you laugh about a SpongeBob joke, to see you hug after a long game, to see you read bedtime stories until Bella’s eyes are tired, I want to be with you and her.”- you

At this point you were full on crying.

“I want to grow old with you. I want to see you win a superbowl and MVP. I want to see you laugh and cry. I want to see your smile the second I wake up and the second I go to bed. I love you even when we fight or argue. I love you when you come home from a loss and don’t even want to say anything. I love you so much it hurts. I’m sorry this is happening. It sucks. But it’s real and I need to realize that.”- you

“I’m sorry too. I’m sorry this is happening. I love you with all my heart.”- Joe

Joe holds you.

You wish you were in a bad dream hoping to wake up.

—————————————

12 months later

“Mommy!”- Bella

“Hey.”- you smile

Bella climbs onto your hospital bed.

“Look what I made you!”- Bella

Bella holds up a card. It you and her with flowers covering the page. It’s also filled with wonky hearts and a “get well soon!”

“Aw, baby, I love it. Thank you so much.”- you pull her in for a hug and a kiss

“You’re welcome!”- Bella

Joe walks around to the other side of the bed.

“Hi.”- Joe smiles

“Hi.”- you smile back

He gives you a kiss

“How are you feeling?”- Joe

“Tired and everything aches.”- you

Joe nods.

“How about we watch something?”- Joe

“Yeah!”- Bella

Bella cuddles in next to you.

Joe moves over the big chair to be seated next to you.

“Alright! Let’s watch Moana? How does that sound?”- Joe

“Perfect.”- you

“Yes!”- Bella

Joe hits play.

As the movie goes on Joe turns to look at you.

Bella was cuddled into your side. She was sleeping and so were you.

He took a mental picture. He held on to that moment.

———————————-

The door opens to the house.

“Teddy!”- Bella

The dog comes running over to her.

“Hi!”- Bella

Bella laughs

“Alright, let’s put your book bag down and let’s make a snack.”- Joe

“Ok, daddy!”- Bella

Bella follows Joe into the kitchen.

“Want some apples and peanut butter?”- joe

“Yes, please!”- Bella

“Coming right up.”- joe picks out the apples from the fridge.

He closes it. He stands there for a second. Looking at the picture hung up from a magnet on the fridge. A picture of you. A picture of all of you.

He smiles.

It’s been a year since you’ve been gone. A year without his wife. A year without Bella having her mom around. A year since both of there life’s been changed forever.

Joe remembered a thing you said to him before you passed.

“I want you to stay strong. I want you to move on, when you are ready. I want you to know I will always be here. In your heart. I will always love you Joe burrow. I will love you forever. I’m sorry we didn’t get to grow old together. But I’m hoping you will grow old with someone else. Someone who loves you just as much as I do. Someone who will make you happy. Someone who makes Bella happy. You are such a wonderful dad. She loves you. She looks up to you. Don’t ever forget that. I love you. I know you will go on and do great things. Stay focused and be the kind loving boy that you are. I love you with all my heart.”

————————————————————

The end.

Authors note: hi!! Hope you enjoyed! I tried to make it as realistic as I could. I don’t know if anyone of you has watched the move “we live I time” but it’s a great one! Definitely recommend!🤍

[ihadtohaveone-blog]

The demon king seemed happier recently. You couldn't help your curiosity and asked him. What he said chilled you to your spine.

"We finally got though. My spies finally got to your king. Your person chosen by God to lead you."

"Thats..." Not possible. The king was the book end of the story. He was supposed to give a speech to the valent heros, to the beautiful saint and her party. A speech of hope, perseverance, and loyalty. "Our solders would have..."

"Yes... Your solders held their line. Your allies however..." He smirked. "They folded very quickly. None of them were as disciplined as yours. Their superiors weren't fighting along side them not like you lieutenant. Rather demoralizing isn't it? I'm sure you'd agree since your saint would rather train in comfort then conflict."

That wasn't fair. Both you and him knew she couldn't join the fight as soon as her powers showed up. She would die the first fight she joined. You knew that and you hated her anyway.

"I can't wait to partake. I wonder if royal flesh is really that different from others. I'll have to host a dinner." the demon king mused. "I'll get to introduce you to my right hands. I wonder what they'll think of you."

Ah... The dinner. The incident that spurred the saint to finally join the fight. A dinner that served his most loyal. A dinner that served... the survivors and other escapees. The survivors of his first conquest.

But the king wasn't supposed to a part of it. He was supposed to be rescued after a quick plumber reference. He wasn't supposed to be brought here. He was supposed to live.

How much... How much did you change the story? Would... Would they win? Did you... Doom the kingdom?

No. No! Of course not! The demon king wanted the crown! So he would still fight the saint to try and get it. It didn't matter what his other motives were.

What... His motives... were...

He wanted the crown because he wanted the princess. He wanted someone to spoil, to cherish, to break. He wanted someone to love him, know him, hate him. He wanted her because he didn't know of anyone else. the saint was too young, the other demons to loyal, the other kingdoms too weak.

He wanted someone that could kill him, he didn't care who it was or who he had to kill to get them.

But the princess didn't join the fight and kill his subjects. She didn't ooze enough hate for him that he could sense it from miles away. The princess didn't sneak past his guards, travel his maze, or break down his doors. She didn't carry a holy object that refused her through all of that so she could stab him. So that she could carve out his heart and feed to chickens.

You did.

And now that he had you did the crown matter to him? Or would he raze the kingdom to the ground to build a new one? One where you, and only you, would live?

If you were in hell... Where was the rest of the world?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The dinner was... Grotesque.

Lady finger sandwiches. Thigh roasts. Eyeball croquembouche. Ribs staked like pyramids. Hearts arranged like apples. Goblets filled with blood.

All of them suspended in magic to keep it alive. To keep it moving. To keep it... Fresh. You felt ill.

It was different when you read the descriptions in the book. It was different when you saw the pictures in the game. It was different because now you could hear the clanking of silver ware. It was different because now you could smell the perfumes and sauces that rose from the table. It was different because now you could see them on your plate.

You didn't partake. You couldn't. They were your comrades, your friends. The only ones left from your village. Now they were dead. Leaving only you and the saint.

you could rationalize it when you were bed bound. The demon king didn't make it look like human meat. He it made into soup, or porridge. But this wasn't... You couldn't...

You were in hell and you couldn't stomach it.

Bad End: Soldier A

I'm pretty sure you know the story. Everybody does. Chosen Hero, Demon King, they fight, save the day, yada yada. Everybody supposedly lives happily ever after. Everything sunshine and roses. Puppies and farting rainbows. But... but it's NOT.

It's really fucking NOT.

I used to love reading stories like that. They were escapism. Grand adventures in a terrible, grey, slowly crushing hellscape of a world. But... but, FUCK. At least there weren't drauger! No demon wolves or skeleton soldiers! Or the FUCKING little flying bastards. God. I HATE those ones the most.

They have sharp, needle-y little claws and teeth like a SHARK fucked a TREE THRESHER. And they scream. Just... yowl and yowl in this ear splitting high pitch like they're trying to DEAFEN you ON TOP of trying to rip you apart.

That life was peaceful.

I was a fool to wish for anything else.

I am not the Chosen One. I'm not even a supporting character. I remember this bullshit little yarn, and I? Am NO WHERE fucking in it. I am just... just some rando, in this struggle of demons and Gods. The child of Some Dude. We... we had chickens. Fat, happy, lil hens.

I remember being ENTRANCED. I had lived all my life, before, in suburban sprawl. So chickens? Strutting around and chasing bugs? Tiny me was hypnotized.

It saved my life.

I half wish it didn't, some days.

That I died, sudden and without the chance to truely comprehend, along side my family. That my neighbors eldest hadn't seen me by the coop. Grabbed me desperately as he ran for his life. Our entire FUCKING village...

There were six survivors.

I was one of them.

And it's... it's all just? FLAVOR TEXT for the Chosen One's tale of Glory. A reason for why she's so NEEDED. So BELOVED. Look how AWESOME she is! Saintess, because when are they NOT? Hero, because it's all about HER. A god damned LOVE STORY thrown in, because THAT'S important, while people are suffering! Dying!

Are? You? KIDDING ME!?

Legends speak of a "Hero's Party". I know damn well it's true. That it WILL succeed. But FUCK that. FUCK waiting for her to "be ready"! To gather allies and turn from some sheltered little rose, into the warrior we ACTUALLY NEED. It's my world too. I was the one who had to help dig out survivors! Tend to the wounded! Fight off swarms! Hold back the dead!

I...! I was the one who had to LOOK PEOPLE IN THE EYE and... AND-!

B-Because sometimes? SOMETIMES?! Those bites DON'T HEAL. Can't heal! They are filled with so much demonic power, that the only thing they CAN do is corrupt. Fester. Poison. Sometimes you're already DEAD and nothing short of the oh so precious SAINTESS could possibly save you.

But she's not HERE... is she?

So you have a choice.

If you're lucky? It's JUST a limb. A chunk of flesh. But more often then not... well... The lucky ones have time to say goodbye. The unlucky ones get to be twisted and used against their friends. Their family's. And if you care. If you CARE AT ALL? You put them down before that happens.

Because they wouldn't want that.

It... it feeds a HATE in me. An ANGER.

No, that's not right... it's more like? It feeds...

A RAGE.

An ugly, burning thing. That's hollowed out my chest. Wrapped around my bones. Fueled by the memories of every innocent I failed to save. By the fear and the suffering, that just keeps dragging on and on and ON. An endless slog that seems designed to break men down. Destroy us.

I feel like it's killing the humanity in me. The kindness I once had. Like I am burning away everything but purpose. And will have nothing left when I am done. IF I am ever done. It... it used to scare me.

Now I am to angry, too tired, to be afraid.

Let me die. I do not CARE. So long as I TAKE THEM WITH ME. Burn them ALL. My brothers in arms, my sisters of war, those that fight and fight and FIGHT? They feel the same. We didn't fucking WAIT. Refused to watch the slaughter. Gaining ground only to lose it, losing ground only to claw it back.

Holding the line.

We can't actually KILL him. We know that. Only the Saintess can actually fucking END this nightmare. But his monsters? Those still fall too steel. And if we are to die regardless, why NOT in defense of our homes?

We've managed to push a path, deep into the Demonic lands. A spear point to stab the heart of HIS damned empire. We... we can hold it. MUST hold it. At all costs. For that flimsy, weak willed, half trained NITWIT of a child. So when she FINALLY gets off her ass and stops making goo-goo eyes at her trainers? She can come and finish the job.

Then get crowned queen of forever or something.

I don't know, I don't CARE. I'm going to buy some damn chickens. Fill a yard with them. Honor my parents and be the best damn farmer this world has ever SEEN.

Another crash against our shields. Screams as someone's arm breaks. As someone else is savaged through a crack in our barrier, as something probably gives. I slam my spear forward. Vital point. Vital point. Ignore the strain. The way your arm feels like a giant is stepping on it. Like some is trying to rip the shield from your grip. Hold... HOOOOLD!

Go for the eyes. Aim for the throat. Kidneys. Arteries, arteries, heart! The spear is wretched from my grip. I shout for another. Reach blindly, trusting my countrymen. I feel the grip of another one pressed into my hand. I slam my spear forward.

The fight goes on.

For hours.

It was some sort of ape-bear chimera things this time. But bigger and with spikes. No ones quite sure if they're in the "fucked up monstrosities" book yet. I'M certainly too dead on my feet to check. I sit an eat some fucking soup. Mmmmm, rations soup. Technically edible! My favorite flavor.

In the distance, sits the Demon King's fancy ass doom castle.

Any closer? And HE might be inspired to actually "deal" with us. I can't wait for the day it-An explosion of noise from the command tent. Everyone's heads whip around to stare, alarmed. But... but that didn't sound... BAD shouting. It takes us a long, long moment. It had honestly been YEARS since some of us had HEARD such a noise. But...?

W...was that?

Excitement?

I passed off my soup to a newbie. He honestly needed it more anyway. Told him to eat. Then got up and headed for command. Something was happening. As I got close, the flap was all but ripped open. A commander, actually? Smiling!? What the fresh hell?

A commander looking for someone. Spots me. Waves me over and in. I jog over. The tent is practically HUMMING with excitement. And there, on the tabke with the war map? Is an old, OLD dagger. Very... magical girl, in design. Flourishes, sparkling, and lovely dispite being what must be... what, centuries old? Worn to hell and back? What IS that?

It's the weapon of a previous Chosen One.

A Holy Blade.

Holy Shit. HOW. Where?! Where AND HOW!? I thought the royal family snapped all those fuckers up too show off! If not them, the Temple! I'm met with seni-hysterical laughs of disbelief.

A PRIEST stole it.

Nearly DIED doing so. Temple's probably FURIOUS. Gonna come to get it BACK, most likely. We're gonna have to move FAST. We're gonna only get ONE chance at this. I nod. Ready for whatever command needs me to do. Hold off some holy knights? Punch a priest? I'll get... SUPER excommunicated, but? Fuck it. If it saves lives.

No.

No they need me to wield the blade. I'm sorry?? WHAT.

It's apparently Maiden Locked. Fucking... Maidens Only! Got lucky? No holy weapon for you! Married but a virgin? Weaponless! Oh, fffffuck yooooou, creepy perv deities. There are LIVES ON THE LINE, in this, a GOD DAMNED WAR, and you LOCK the import weapons behind "mint condition pu-"!!!

The commander cuts of my, frankly, VERY understandable rant.

Hands on my shoulders. Looks me in the eyes. Will I Do This? I would have to take the knife and sneak behind enemy lines. Into the demon kings castle. And try to get the jump on him. NO ONE would be able to go after me. Help WOULD NOT be coming. If I fail... that's it. Game over. The demons would have me.

I laugh.

It is... not a cheerful sound. Not like it once was.

Is it even a choice? Of course I am. Frankly? I hope it hurts. I hope it's slow. Hurts every second and feels like eons. That he BURNS from the inside out. I'm gonna make him EAT IT.

Waiting until night would be suicide. They get stronger at night. Can blend in to the shadows. But they're cocky. They won't expect an attack just before that. So twilight is when I'll strike. Afternoon, when I head out. I... I leave my gear behind. Say my goodbyes.

I'm not the Chosen One.

Just some farmer's daughter with a grudge.

It don't think I'll be making it back. Don't really expect to even succeed. But by the gods... I plan to HURT him. Every piece we chip away, is one the soul behind us doesn't have to fight. I do this not for me. But for the child who will never know the FEAR that I did.

I will die so they don't have too.

The castle is dark. Humming with power I can FEEL but can not understand. Grand and sweeping architecture. Great windows that should let in far more light then they do. A blood red carpet upon bone white floors. The walls are black. It... some how merely stepping inside, seems to suck all color but red from the world. All heat.

I see no one here.

But I hear whispers.

I tighten my grip around the weapon. The only thing that feels WARM. These hallways are designed to make you feel small, I can tell at a glance. I refuse to give in. I am a farmer. A soldier. I do not CARE about your damn castle! I dig deep into my memories, keeping to the walls, and try to remember where the hero found her foe.

I trace the path in my head. Cut out the lost wandering as best I can. Right slightly, then forward, I think. If I am wrong, I can double back. Follow the book's path exactly. I move slow. As quite as I can.

Still... I find no one.

No servants, no gaurds, no resistance of any kind. Something like fear sighs like a specter down my spine, cold and vague. Something is not right. I do not let down my gaurd... but the longer it persists? The worse my paranoia grows.

Finally. The throne room. Magnificent beyond measure, in blood red and monochrome. Rare touches of gold glint and catch the eye. Stained glass giving it all a surreal scene from high above. The runner at my feet plush enough to render my foot steps silent. It is red... so very, very red.

The Demon King leans against one fist, resting on his throne, magnificent and beautiful like a statue brought to life. Carved of pale ivory and obsidian. Just as feeling as stone. A monster. Living testament that what's inside counts most of all. For inside him? Is nothing but a void. A malicious PIT.

I will see him dead.

On silent feet, I sneak forward. Only to freeze at the foot of the stairs to his dais, my eyes locked on his face. Horror seeps through me.

An amused smirk.

"Oh don't stop NOW, you're so close." Breaks the silence. Golden eyes open, lazy and entertained. "By all means. Try."

My grip on the dagger felt almost painful, for how hard I was gripping it. He... he wasn't even bothering to move. Didn't even see me as a threat. F..Fine. Fine then! If it was a mistake on his part or NOT, I would TAKE IT. Any chance. Any chance at ALL.

The pressure of that gaze felt immense. But I tilted my head up, put my shoulders back, and moved. One step. Then another. Up the stairs. Onto the dais. Forward, slowly. I paused, just beyond his immediate reach. Not that it was anything like real safety. I stared. Shaking. Knowing I was shaking and unable to stop.

He sat splayed. Reclined and leaning against his fist, robes rich and arranged just so. The very picture of indolent decadence. It was deceptive. I KNEW it was. A trap. But to get too him... I had to step closer. My eyes moved from the splay of his legs back up to his face. His smirk had grown teeth. I... I refused to run. I would finish this.

I stepped forward. Between his long legs, feeling distinctly like I was balanced over a bear trap, and lifted the dagger. I refused to hesitate. Wait to see if he changed his mind. I slammed it forward. Right through his heart. Glaring, as I looked him right in the eyes. The blade HISSED. Like acid meeting stone.

He laughed.

Grin full of unhinged glee, a vice in the shape of a hand clamped around my wrist, and the world SPUN. I slammed against the floor, the Demon King straddling me, at the foot of his thrown. He loomed. Behind him, above me, shown a magnificent window the lit him from behind. Like a halo.

"You didn't even HESITATE. You'd rip my heart out, if you could. Wouldn't you?" He says. Almost an whisper, nearly a groan, filthy with something that terrifies me and shouldn't BE there. "I KNEW I sensed something. KNEW you were out there."

I desperately try to push the knife deeper. Use everything I can to... to just-!

All I want... All I NEED? Is to see it come out the fucking OTHER SIDE. Please. Gods, PLEASE! End this! I'm gritting my teeth. Snarling. This BASTARD. I HATE him! I HATE HIM!

"Ah~ That's it, little one." He groans. Not even bothering to hide that he's apparently getting off on this. I'll kill him. I'll FUCKING KILL HIM! "Good~, that's right. Just like that. Give IN~♡ I'll take SUCH good care of you. I've always wanted a little pet. Focus it all on me. Give it ALL to me~"

My brain feels like it's on fire. My lungs filled with ash and flame. I hate. I hate and hate and HATE! I can't think. Something is... wrong? Wrong! The blade hurts to hold. Like it's rejecting me. No. NO! I HAVE TO KILL HIM! I may not be the Chosen One but-!

It finally becomes too much. The pain of holding the blade out weighing my hate. It's like ACID. My hand spasming away like I was trying to touch a hot stove. My palm is an ugly red. Wounded.

In one fluid movement, my wrist is released, the blade pulled free, tossed aside, and my wrist recaptured, before I can claw his fucking eyes out. I grit my teeth. Fangs grinding togeth-... wait.... what?

I stare at my hand.

At the black talon like nails where normal nails were, just this morning. And feel... horror. My... my teeth feel weird. My eyes hurt. Sides of my head too.

"Got you~"

He throws his head back in a triumphant laugh. The sound echoing like a nightmare. Even as I watch, the pigment of my skin is changing. Draining away to something even. Something almost too pale. Unnatural.

"I'm so glad you've decided to join me, darling." My hands are slammed down on either side of my head. His face inches from my. Eyes burning with something terrible. "I haven't had a bride in SO long~ following your progress has been FASCINATING. And now! Oh little thing, I get to KEEP you all to myself. Make you GOOD for me. Learn every inch of you. You should be excited, darling~"

"I'm going to make you a Queen."

[midnight--sadness]

i know u guys love inho but gihun isn't and will never be at his level.

inho willingly let hundreds of people die every year in a competition. he called the players trash, he has no regard for their well-being and he doesn't believe they are worth anything and that he is doing everyone a favor by eliminating them from society.

he lets his guard remove organs off the almost-dead players so they can be sold. he turns a blind eye to his guards raping dead female players, actually saying that they can do whatever they want with the organs and not even considering the players as anything more than unwilling donors.

inho shot his own brother. he felt remorse, yes, but he knew who junho was. he did not need to lead the guards right to him. yes, he hired captain park to rescue junho but i think we underplay how traumatic it must have been for junho to get shot by his own brother.

inho manipulated gihun just to hurt him even more, he wants to break down gihun down and bring him to his level so he can prove to himself that what he became was inevitable. that anyone who won the games becomes jaded and ruthless and uncaring.

in his mind, gihun mainting his faith in humankind, his kind heart, his belief that people are intrinsically good, is at odds with what he went through because inho himself lost that part of his personality. he will never be the man he was before, the man who had a family whom he loved and a respected job.

i'm not saying he's the devil. he's a victim of the games as well, obvious, but he is a classic story of the abused becoming the abuser. i would say he's a cautionary tale, even, a warning sign that this is what happens when the rich prey on the poor. (i see people refer to the guards as class traitors, but i can see inho as one as well. he won the prize money and believed himself to be above all those who played despite having been in their shoes.)

he has positive traits of course. for as much as he wants to break gihun down, during the games he was rooting for him. a small, hidden away part of him wants to believe that people are worth saving, that gihun's idealistic view of the world is valid and a correct way of living. but i'm also sure he's seen a lot of terrible things, both as front man of the game and as a police officer to dissuade him from that idea.

he wants gihun to be right, i think, because then it means that he can still be saved.

gihun is not like this. when faced with the choice of killing sangwoo or letting him be killed by a guard, gihun chose a third option. he chose for them both to leave without the money, because them being together was more important than the prize.

yes, gihun has done bad things. his ptsd from the strike and witnessing his friend's death caused him to develop a gamblig addiction and he was unemplyed for years; although, not that many since he had been working as a chauffer for five years and he had a chicken shop for two years before the time of s1.

he stole money from his mother and canceled her health insurance to support his addiction, he stayed out late drinking with his friends, both of which led to his divorce.

even when gihun was making plans to revolt, i don't think he was planning to sacrifice people outright. we can see his face as they die that he feels each of their deaths like they are his best friend. he feels guilty for doing this but he doesn't believe he has a choice. the Os were going to kill them either way and gihun was running out of time. waiting for the next vote would mean that their numbers would be obliterated and they would all die.

now, i'm the first to say that gihun's plan didn't make a lot of sense. but the truth is that they got very close. if it weren't for inho's treachery they could maybe have gotten to the control room or at least to a phone. gihun would call for junho's help and the mercenary team would arrive at the island. it's not a solid plan by any means but they didn't exactly have a lot of options.

he's not a saint. but he tries. he tries to be a better person, tries to see the good in others.

and that's more than inho has done since winning the games.

(disclaimer: i love inho's character! but whitewashing him is such a diservice. he's complex and morally gray and he's done horrible things. he doesn't need to be a uwu goody two shoes never hurt a fly type of character to be liked! u can love him and still think he's kind of a bad person! they aren't mutually exclusive.)

[antheyaaa]

"Escape from the World"

Tom Taylor x reader

The weight of the world had been pressing down on both of you for weeks. Between the never-ending demands of filming, press interviews, and the constant eyes of the public, it felt like neither of you had a moment to just breathe.

Tom saw it in your tired eyes, in the way your shoulders tensed more than usual, in the way your laughter—usually so effortless—was becoming rarer. He felt it too, the overwhelming pressure of being in the spotlight, of always having to be "on."

So, he made a decision.

"Pack a bag, love," he told you one evening as you both collapsed onto the couch after another exhausting day. "We're getting out of here."

You blinked at him in confusion. "What? Where are we going?"

Tom simply grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Somewhere no one can find us."

---

The next morning, you found yourself on a secluded road, the city far behind you, Tom’s hand resting comfortably on your thigh as he drove. The stress you had been carrying started to melt away with each mile.

Hours later, you arrived at a remote cottage nestled between tall trees, hidden away from the world. It was small but cozy, with a fireplace, a wooden deck overlooking a lake, and the most breathtaking sunset you’d ever seen.

Tom parked the car and turned to you with a smug smile. "What do you think?"

You looked around, feeling the tension in your chest loosen completely. "I think you’re a genius."

He laughed, grabbing the bags before leading you inside. "I try."

---

The next few days were pure bliss. No cameras, no schedules, no endless stream of messages or calls. Just the two of you.

Mornings were slow, spent wrapped in warm blankets as you sipped coffee, watching the mist rise over the lake. Tom would pull you close, pressing sleepy kisses to your temple, mumbling how much he loved you against your skin.

Afternoons were spent outside—hiking, swimming in the cool water, lying on the grass, pointing out ridiculous cloud shapes. You hadn’t laughed this freely in weeks, and Tom noticed.

"You look happy," he murmured one evening as you sat together on the deck, the sky painted in orange and pink.

You turned to him, heart swelling with love. "I am."

Tom cupped your face, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your cheek. "Then we should do this more often."

And as you leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his embrace, you knew that no matter how hectic life got, you would always find peace in his arms.

Totally in love with Tom Taylor, I'll probably write something else about him, we'll see if I come up with an idea and if I'll feel like writing it

With love-Antheya

[tusswrites]

The Pursuit Of Love (c.sc)

“Because stupid, you’re my best friend. You don’t slow dance with best friends."

PAIRING: Choi Seungcheol x fem! Reader

WORD COUNT: 21k

GENRE: angst, fluff, crack, childhood best friends to lovers, romcom, idiots in love

RATING: 18+ MDNI

WARNING: it gets angsty at some parts, the reader is high-key delusional and possesses probably one brain cell, mentions of depression, mentions of school bullying, profanity, over usage of hyphens and dots my forever allies , complete abuse of art jargon since the author refused to research for lack of time(pardon in advance), mentions of sexual acts, MDNI

SYNOPSIS : a heart’s relentless quest for love, fueled by the perfect visions of romance etched into the world around you, woven through the bittersweet tapestry of rejections, heartbreaks, and long-buried secrets. along the way, you uncover that perhaps the love you've been chasing has been quietly waiting, right beneath your nose all this time.

CREDITS: a big big shoutout to my darling eunha @svtiddiess who was with me every step of the way, cheering me on, reading through what once started out as just a thought, devolved to whatever this is and just being the best person overall, this fic wouldn't have happened had it not been for her .. so insanely grateful for you my little bugger ; bennie @miniseokminnies for the pretty banner, chee-chee darling @nothoughtsjustfic, and lovely asteria @chugging-antiseptic-dye for helping me with the fic! You were both like the angel and devil on my shoulder, encouraging and critiquing me at the perfect times when I needed it best.

A .N. : this is part of the 'lonely hearts cafe' collab by @camandemstudios. guys, go check it out.

masterlist here

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I

In a small town, away from the suburbs and nestled among gossiping aunts and children who ran around it with war cries, protecting the honor of their dwelling place, masked in the attire they wore for the games they had in mind, dwelled the Chois. Barricaded by a fence that had once been put up, your family lived just across from them.

You cannot imagine a moment when you were not joined to Cheol at the hip. Your grandfathers were best friends, and your mothers were best friends, leading to you and Cheol becoming best friends. It was dictated by the law of science after all. They joke that your mothers were resigned to having their children be best friends, to continue the tradition that they conceived at the same time, a joke your father very much likes not to take part in, thank you very much. You’ll find him bringing up the nine-month age gap between you and Cheol at every intervention. The little town you both grew up in had its fair share of weird quirks and eccentric people, as most towns do. One outlandish custom that ran in your town was the law of intermarriage between its townsfolk. You see, the prom king marries the prom queen, the gardener marries the florist, the town mayor marries the best baker in Myeongdong, and the town doctor marries the town nurse. For as long as you can remember, the quaint town of Myeongdong was shrouded with devotion and harmony among the people. Naturally, you hunger for love too. 

Which is why, one Christmas day, you wake up excited, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, decked out in your Christmas pajamas, on stealthy feet hoping to catch Santa putting the presents in your gigantic stockings at least this time. Instead, you are greeted by the sight of your father kissing your mother. Disgust should have made you crawl back, hoping to burn that image to the ground, but that day at five years old, you crave such love. A love where your parents are so disgustingly in love, that they failed to notice the kerosene in Eomma’s hand steadily pouring out from the bottle, onto the fireplace furnace, and causing the flames to be bigger than they could be contained.

 But that’s a story for another day!

What matters is that, on that day, you made a firm oath: one day, you would find a love like theirs.  ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ II

“Close your eyes, no peeking, I better not see a - Hannie, stop peeking!” you shout, stomping your foot on the ground to drive your point across to your mischievous best friend. Your best friend just giggles, clearly not taking you seriously. Doesn’t he know this is super important?

“Y/N-iee” Jeonghan draws out the last vowel, completely tired of all your shenanigans by now. “Can we stop this already? I do not want to be a prince anymore.I wanna play tag”

"Just give me one second Jeonghan, it will be over after a second.”

“Alright, that’s one second.” “What! No, it isn’t. A second is over only when the grandfather clock dings. Appa said so”

“That’s an hour you silly goose. Your Appa lied to you” Jeonghan argues, sticking out his tongue. “Hey- Don’t call me silly!” you pout, crossing your arms.

“Alright, alright,” Seungcheol pipes up, ever the peacemaker, raising his hands. “We’re closing our eyes now, okay? No peeking, Hannie.” He gives Jeonghan a look, who rolls his eyes but obediently covers his face with his hands.

Appa’s were a sore topic ever since Hannie’s father woke up one day to buy granolas and never came back. Cheol had to maintain decorum within the cardboard box the three of you were currently sitting in, the one you got with the new refrigerator your parents bought recently. The two princes, Hannie and Cheol, fought for your hand in marriage. A story made completely up by you, dragging your poor best friends who wanted nothing to do with fairy tales and just wanted to play tag. Now they were forced into this game of having to close their eyes and get kissed by you? While you decide who your future husband will be? At five years old? Barnacles!

“What are we even doing?” Jeonghan mumbles under his breath. “I just wanna run around”

“This is important!” you huff, hands on your hips. “How else am I supposed to know who my future husband is?”

Seungcheol peeks through his fingers and grins. “Isn’t five a little too young to get married, Y/N-ie?”

“Nu-uh! My Eomma said people find love at all ages!” you insist. “And you two are princes in the castle!” You gesture dramatically at the castle. It’s now a castle, complete with crayon scribbles and stickers to prove it.

“But we’re not princes!” Jeonghan groans. “I just wanna play tag!”

“You’ll play tag later!” you declare with all the authority a five-year-old can muster. “First, you have to close your eyes so I can choose who to kiss!”

“Y/N-ie I have a better idea” Hannie calls out, never one to be a slave to all your demands, unlike Cheol, your best friend who complied with everything you said.

“Why don’t you close your eyes, and whoever kisses you becomes your true love?”

‘Yeah okay.” you agreed simply. And there you sat, promptly closed eyes, eagerly waiting for the one kiss that seals your future husband.

You feel it, the slight brush, the aggressive push, the faint smell of Kool-Aid hitting your nose, all at once. It happened within a matter of milliseconds. And before you could so much as think, it was all over. You opened your eyes promptly, not heeding the instruction to wait a bit, and there you see it at five. Clear as the sun. Yoon Jeonghan, your first kiss right in front of you. 

You have it in your heart that you will marry him one day. 

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Tragedy strikes on the day you find out that Yoon Jeonghan is leaving this town with his mother and baby sister. “But you can’t leave! We have to marry each other.” This was an emergency meeting held at Cheol’s house, in the dining room, your coven for emergencies for the “Triple Devils’, a name dubbed on you three by his hyung.

“I have to go Y/N. Eomma said it's best for us if we leave this town and start in in Daegu. She said there is a fountain of chocolate milk there and I have to see that. When I come back to marry you, I will take you there Y/N.”

And so you and Cheol bid farewell to Jeonghan, waving until the last trace of his hand was completely out of sight. As soon as he was gone, your tender heart shattered, and you sobbed in the arms of Choi Seungcheol. Your ‘true love’ had left, and all you could do was mourn the loss, comforted only by Cheol. He stood there, holding you as close as his little arms could manage, gently stroking your back and cooing soothing words, trying to calm you down.

At the tender age of five, you had your first kiss, found love, and experienced heartbreak, and your comrade-in-arms was none other than Choi Seungcheol. ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ III

You were bigger (not by Dad’s standards) and wiser (not by the big red letters on your test papers). You were going to come through and find love. At eight, you had a strategy-invite the whole class. If you had a plan to entice Kwan Daniel and get him to notice you and put an end to your restless heart around him, then that’s between you and God. If your parents agreed to your wishes, although begrudgingly, to have a giant bounce house on top of a five-layered cake, then that’s none of your business too. 

So there you sat in a pristine Chanel dress—a gift from Halmeoni herself, your quirky grandmother from the town up north—poised and ready for the onslaught of guests who would soon flood this rented venue. Today, you would propose to Kwan Daniel.

The clock struck three; the clock struck four, the sun slowly lost its yellow vigor, casting an orange hue, reminding you quietly that the day was soon to set.

And when all the minutes unraveled into dusk, when the grandest birthday party your town had ever seen was reduced to scattered decorations, an untouched cake, and silence,save for the murmurs of your worried parents; you came to a gut-wrenching realization.

No one was coming.

Ignoring your parents’ concerned looks of pity, you upturn the table you were slumped against and dive headlong into the arms of Choi Seungcheol,the only other friend who had attended the party, who once again looks a little unprepared for the way you tackle him in a hug. He now has longer arms and wraps them around you, squeezing your back and soothing the agonizing wails erupting from your throat.

Heartbroken at eight years old.

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IV

There is a hierarchy that is followed in middle school- one that consists of you sitting and dining with the ‘classic weirdo’ from middle school’ Lee Hyungwon.

Kids at school avoided him, choosing to run away if he dared to make an appearance or come close to talking to him. He was a loner, but a loner that enjoyed his own presence. He didn’t mind the hushed whispers, the open disdain on his face, his tattered clothes, his rat’s nest hair, or the stinky smell that came from near him. He had no problem eating blue cheese, the odor of which will unfortunately be ingrained in your brain forever. But you, you needed him. On days like this, only he could save you. “Dude I told you Julian can be nasty about things like this,” he says, plucking the banana peel from your head.

Lee Julian, Hyungwon’s stepbrother, and the school bully, had thrown you into the trash once again. It seemed like fate had it out for you. You’d read enough Wattpad to know how this worked. ‘The boys who bully you are secretly the ones who love you,’ you had declared confidently to Hyungwon, who was still fussing over the odd pieces of dirt stuck to your clothes.

“Here”, he reaches into his cargo pants, the bulgy pocket deflating at the retrieval of an expensive bottle of cologne.

“Hyungwon, why do you have an expensive bottle of cologne in your pocket, but you never use it?”

“The same way you have the option to call Seungcheol to stop Lee Julian  from bullying  but you never do it anyway.” He deadpans.

He’s got a point there.

At the start of middle school, you and Seungcheol agreed that this time, at least, you’d separate and make new friends. You were tired of being stuck together, suffocated by the assumption that you two were a couple. You wanted more—more friends, and secretly, you wanted to find love. With Cheol always by your side, that would never happen. Everyone thought you two were a thing, and honestly, that was disgusting to you.

Except, you didn’t consider how unpopular you would be in middle school and how popular Cheol would be. While you resided at the bottom of the middle school food chain, he reigned supreme in school- a local celebrity in his own rights.

Cheol knew about the last time Julian dumped you into the trash. You heard this when the news of Cheol’s parents meeting their principal over the infamous incident of Julian being hung on the door by a wedgie spread like wildfire. But you had threatened Cheol, insisting he leave Julian alone. ‘It’s all in the name of love. He’ll come around and see me one day,’ you told him, ignoring your best friend’s accusations that you were ‘crazy’.

As Cheol's best friend, you didn’t want more attention to yourself. You were fine with the fame you would eventually get, being Julien’s girlfriend and all that. This way you get a head start on the marriage plans you have in sight. You need to ask Julien about where he wants to have his honeymoon. Your Halmeoni has told you that Bali is best enjoyed during winter.

It didn’t look like this new setup was any difficult on Cheol, who seemed to do just fine with his new clique. On the days that Hyungwon skipped school, Cheol would come in and sit next to you, hating the sight of you lonely when you were scarfing down your cheeseburger. ‘Cheol go away. I will be fine.”

“Shut up Y/N”

Well, you can’t always be the boss.

But then Cheol’s visits to the lunch table dwindled with the arrival of a girl latched onto his arm- Saerom Burner, his new girlfriend. An absolute doll face, and an absolute bitch to you. For no reason at all.

♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ “Y/N, why is the necklace Halmeoni gave you broken?” Your mother stood in the doorway of your room, completely ignoring your warnings of ‘knock before you enter’ privacy. She held a string of beads in her hand, looking at you with concern.

Well, oops. You hadn’t meant for your mom to find out just yet.

Your mom had better things to worry about right now, though, especially seeing your hasty attempts to rub away the tear stains on your face. She quickly wrapped you in a tight hug, her movements careful not to wrinkle her perfectly ironed outfit. No questions asked, she just pulled you in close.

“Sh-she’s just so mean,” you managed to stutter out, still wiping at your face.

“Who is, little chica?”

“S-Saerom B-Burner.”

“Burner? You mean Jieun’s daughter, Saerom Burner?”

You nodded quietly, watching your mom carefully. Her immediate questions made it seem like she already knew something.

“Do you know her mom?” You were sitting up now, hands on your knees, eager to hear any tidbit of information your mom might have about this situation. Your parents were never shy about gossiping about the townsfolk in front of you—although they tended to forget you were just fourteen and probably didn’t need to know the ins and outs of every drama in Myeongdong.

“You know your dad is a handsome stud don’t you?” Your mom gave a little smirk. Your dad was balding faster than a speeding bullet, but back in the day, he was a heartthrob. At least according to the proof in the many prom king photos that lined the mantelpiece, all of which your dad loved to reminisce over.

“Well, back then, your father and Jieun Burner were the couple of this town—Prom King and Queen, the perfect pair. That was until I moved here. Your dad fell for me, and we became the new hot couple. But the town never forgot. They gave your dad—and mostly me—hell for messing up their perfect little plan. They called me the city witch who bewitched your father. I learned to live as an outsider, hated by a town that’s supposed to be so warm and welcoming. Your dad always told me to ignore their stares, but it was easy for him to say. If it wasn’t for him, I probably would’ve left. Jieun still hasn’t let go of that grudge against me.”

Your mom’s voice faltered, as though this memory still stung after all these years.

“I think she might have—”

“Wait a minute!” You interrupted, your eyes lighting up as everything suddenly clicked. You shot up from your spot on the bed, excitement bubbling in your chest. “So, Appa dated Jieun Burner?”

Your mom hesitated, then sighed. “Yes. And before the town could convince your Appa to marry Jieun, I was already pregnant with you. They didn’t have a choice but to marry us.”

“Wait, you were pregnant with me? Was I—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence!” Your mom’s voice was stern, though there was a soft edge to it. “You’ll always be our darling child. Always.”

You quickly held up your hands in mock surrender. “No, Ma, I’m not upset. I just want to know.”

She swallowed, clearly uncomfortable but eventually confirmed what you’d pieced together.

“So, that’s why Saerom Burner is mad at me!” Your glee was so obvious it might’ve been a little disturbing for your mom to watch, but you couldn’t help yourself. “She’s not mad at me. She’s mad at you! The whole town probably thought you and Appa cheated on her mom, but I was born before that. Your marriage was kept a secret so no one knew! I have to tell Saerom about this. Oh, Ma, this makes so much sense now! I must tell Saerom about this. I must ma”

You bounced on your feet, practically bursting with excitement.

“No, you foolish child,” your mom called after you, her voice heavy with concern. “You don’t understand how malicious Jieun can be when she wants to be.”

But your mother’s warning fell on deaf ears as you dashed into your closet, grabbed your camouflage jacket to match your new mismatched ensemble, and rushed out the door to the café where you knew Cheol was meeting Saerom Burner.

Your mother sighed, crossing her heart as she sat down on your unmade bed. “Bless that silly child’s heart,” she muttered to herself, hoping you wouldn’t stir up too much trouble.

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“Saerom” you shriek out. You had run a mile a minute, wanting to clear up all the confusion you could before it got any further. Running in the cold with no ear muffs had knocked some sense into you. You had to clear everything up before this misunderstanding spiraled any further. You could feel the sharp sting of realization hit you as you ran, remembering how Saerom had gotten the whole class to skip your birthday party back in elementary school. Now it made sense—her mom must have poisoned her against you, and you were determined to fix it.

“Y/N, what are you doing here,?’ Cheol looks concerned, navigating the perimeter of the cafe shop, rushing to you and immediately placing his warm palms on your cheeks. You look flushed, with the exertion you placed on your body and the cold biting at your skin. 

His touch was bringing some warmth, giving you that momentary relief from the cold that had seeped into your bones. You closed your eyes for a brief second, savoring the warmth of his hands against your flushed skin. 

Oh right, you were here for a different purpose. “Saerom!” You called out again, more urgently this time. Saerom was sitting at a table with her friends, and as soon as she spotted you, the look of disdain that crossed her face was unmistakable. You figured you’d interrupted some sort of date, but when you scanned the table, you realized there were three of her friends with her.

Weird idea for a date, you mused, before shaking your head. This was no time for distractions.

“Saerom, my mom was married to Appa before I was pregnant. Appa didn’t cheat on your mom- “Y/N where the hell are you going with this? Cheol had placed his full palm around your wrist, locking you in before you took any more steps toward Saerom, who looked baffled at the information coming out of your mouth. You shrug his hand away, ignoring the tight grip he had, and continue to further your advances, not reading the room despite all that education Cheol has bestowed on you.

“Saerom,” you continued, undeterred. “Your mom must have told you that my parents—”

Saerom Burner, thoroughly and utterly disgusted by your strange propositions and your ungraceful manner at which you whirred into the room with so much less of a courteous gesture to enter the room, sent you one last disgusted look before leaving the scene, hand in hand with her two best friends side by side.

Cheol’s palm landed more firmly around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. “Y/N, let’s go. Come with me.”

“No wait I-:”

“I said, let’s go.” The tone in his voice left no room for argument, not that you had any, this was the first time Cheol had ever raised his voice at you, he was always the calm soul to play along with all your whims and goofs.

And just like that, your one chance to reconcile with Saerom Burner or anyone at all in high school, was gone. Freshman year had barely started, and you’d already managed to make a complete mess of it.

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V

Not to be dismayed, you reminded yourself that this was your senior year of high school—the final stretch. The year when everything should come together, even if it didn't always feel like it was. You could sense the eagerness of your teachers, waiting for you to finally graduate and leave school behind. If only they knew how much you were dreading that moment.

School has never been your strong suit. Academia was hard for you—English grammar confused you, math made your brain ache, and you could never quite remember formulae. You scraped by with summer school to make up for what you couldn’t grasp during the regular school year, with Cheol always by your side, patiently guiding you through the labyrinth of equations and essays.

Unlike the teachers who shook their heads and called you ‘too slow’ , Cheol was a pretty patient teacher. He took his time before every test day, to come home and help you prepare for the quizzes, otherwise you were sure to fail.

This was your final year in school, if you can’t find love you must at least find something you are good at.

So you try hard.

You try your hand at running for student president but with terrible grades such as yours, you have no option but to give up in the first leg. You were not the sharpest tool in the shed, and that was alright by your parent's standards. As long as you were ‘trying your best’, which again, you weren't. 

Then, you tried volleyball. But it wasn’t your sport. Instead of passing the ball, you kept instinctively catching it in your hands—totally not the point. You tried soccer next, but an unfortunate incident where you accidentally tripped Haewon during a game ended your hopes there. The glee club seemed like the perfect fit until the music teacher begged you not to sing. And dance? Well, you got kicked out after a week, not from lack of enthusiasm, but from knocking into people and causing chaos during every practice. You might’ve been bad at sports and singing and dancing, but you weren’t one to give up.

There was one thing you were sure of, though: art. You may not have been the best at academics or extracurriculars, but you had a knack for art. When you picked up a pencil or paintbrush, everything else faded away. Your creativity was your escape, and even if it wasn’t something that made you the most popular kid in school, it was something that grounded you.

But beyond your art, your greatest strength was your spirit. No matter how many times you failed, you always got back up, even if it was awkward and clumsy. Your resilience was something no one could take away from you, and you were grateful for it. Little did you know, someone else was incredibly proud of your determination too.

Choi Seungcheol, the captain of the football team, has never been prouder than when his biggest cheerleader shows up decked out in clown clothes, mismatched socks, and a megaphone hanging around their neck, carrying the biggest banners ever seen at a school soccer game—his most dedicated trooper- you.

Everyone is confused as to how Cheol and you are best friends, the logic always seemed puzzling,

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“Did you see the way he smiled at me?”

“No, but I saw a grimace in your direction.” “Cheollie! He was totally smiling at me. Okay, let’s do this scene by scene. When I asked him out for the Prom dance, he said yes. He’s too shy; he’s not going to tell me directly! You have to read it from his face! There was genuine excitement on his face.Real excitement, Cheol!”

“Y/N, the only expression I saw on his face was relief. When you left. “

“What are you a mind reader these days?”

“Not so much a mind reader as someone who listens with their ears and can recognize contempt when it’s practically blaring from someone’s eyes.

“Okay, you are very cranky today. What’s wrong? Are you gassy? I know we all need to let a - “Y/N, I am begging you, do not finish that sentence, I am trying to eat these twisters!”

“Cheol, these are bad for you! It’s going to cause you more issues than what you-” “I am leaving Y/N.”

“Wait, no! Don’t leave me alone here.” 

“Y/N, this is a girl's locker room. You texted me our safeword, and I ran here expecting the worst. Not to fangirl over your delusions.”

“They are not delusions, Cheollie. He’s just playing hard to get. It’s obvious!”

“Y/N, I am leaving, I am late for practice. Coach Johnson is going to make me do extra laps today. I’d love to stay and chat but I have to leave right now.”

‘Wait, before you leave.”

‘Y/N, you better have a bloody good reason as to why you are holding me back.”

“Just unhook my bra. This new one has too many hooks, and I can’t reach back to get them all. I hurt my hand Cheollie.”

“Y/N, are you for real? Just ask some girl love”

You look down at the ground, a deep flush on your face. “Oh no, I don't like that face! Y/N what did you do?”

‘Look, it was a mistake, alright? “

“Uh Huh. I believe you. Out with it”

“Coach had us pick partners again. As usual, I was the last one picked. I got paired with Saerom, and she was not happy about it. You know how she is.”

“Wait, how did you get paired with Saerom? No offense, but after last time? I didn’t think she’d be caught dead near you.”

“You’d think that, right? Yeah well, she came late. I saw her giving head to Cameron by the bleachers, it seems to me she lost track of time.”

“Y/N, you can’t just say that out aloud.” Cheol was sputtering, embarrassed at your uncouth mouth, blabbering shit for no reason at all. “Yeah well, by the time she came, I was on the bench, and she got paired up with me. We had to do stretches together, and you know my body is not that flexible. I accidentally kicked her right in the eye, she screamed bloody murder, Coach had to call off practice because now Saerom Burner has a black eye. And they are all mad at me and no one wants to talk to me. So will you please unhook my bra? “That is a lot of information to take in one go! But also not surprised coming from your mouth. Turn around. Let me help you”

“Yes, but close your eyes, please, I don’t want you to be the first man to see my boobs. It’s sacred peaks for my first time.”

“I am going to pretend you did not just say that.”

“Can you close your eyes, please Cheollie?” “Y/N, realistically, how can I help you with my eyes closed.”

“You have a girlfriend, don’t you? Aren’t you supposed to be educated enough to do all this blindly?”

“Correction, I have an ex. An ex that seems to hate you very much by now. And no, I did not practice the art of unhooking bras with zero vision. Now will you please turn around? You are landing me in hot waters”

“Fine, but don’t be turned on by seeing my naked back, I can’t give you a ‘Saerom special.’”

“Y/N, please. Stop talking. For the love of all that is good in this world, stop talking.”

“Fine. Wait, you did it! You genius! Now, can you scratch my shoulder too? The straps are driving me crazy.”

For the sake of his sanity, Cheol does as commanded, unperturbed by your weird demands. “I knew it! Knew Cheol was cheating on me with this chick. I feel so sick!” You hear a sickly voice call out and a small part of you is frightened at the shrillness of it. 

“Saerom what are you-”

“Save it Cheol. All you men bleed the same blood, chasing behind any living thing with legs”

“Saerom, wai-” you begin. And before you can so much as explain, Saerom struts out of the locker room, looking a little silly with that weird patch in her eye.

“Please don’t go behind her.” Cheol has a tight hold against your hip, preventing you from running behind her and ruining things again. 

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You knew this wasn’t your fault, but that didn’t stop you from feeling the weight of Saerom’s hatred. She’d forever be mad at you, probably for swooping in and stealing her boyfriend, or for somehow being the reason they broke up, although that happened well before she saw him unhook your bra. Cheol had refused to give you any explanation then , insisting it was "none of your business" despite your constant nagging.

“It really is none of your business, Aegi,” your mother had sharply chided when you tried to pry information from Cheol’s mother. So, you let it go.

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Maybe Byun Michael had openly rejected you, turning down your invitation to prom without hesitation. No worries. You still had time to ask someone else. You figured they were just too shy to ask you first anyway.

Inspired by To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before, you had a plan.

Up in the treehouse, you worked diligently, letters neatly stacked, paperweights keeping them from flying away.

“What are you doing up here?”

You shrieked, nearly toppling over in your rush to cover the evidence.

“Cheol! You’re not supposed to be here.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by your flimsy excuse. “Last I checked, this is my treehouse too.”

You huffed, still trying to block his view. “How’d you even climb up here?”

“The same way you did. Up those rickety stairs.” He smirked. “Now, scoot. Let me see what you’re being so secretive about.”

Reluctantly, you moved aside, revealing a pile of carefully written letters, waiting to be tucked into envelopes and sent to every boy you had ever crushed on.

“Y/N, love… what is this?”

You stayed quiet, hoping your eyes could explain for you.

Cheol picked up a letter, flipping through it. His disbelief grew with every word.

“You wrote love letters? For what?”

“I wanted to send them to Jungwoo, Nick, and Max. Hoping they’d, you know… see my invitation and ask me to prom.”

He blinked. “So you… what, wrote two-page essays? Front and back?”

“Shit’s romantic,” you countered.

“Says who?”

“Lara Jean”

He let out a low hum, dripping with sarcasm. “Mhmm.”

You decided to ignore him.

“What are you doing, Cheol?”

He smirked, mischief sparking in his eyes. “You wouldn’t happen to know the combination to Nick’s locker, would you? Let me help you send this to him.”

“Cheol—”

“Now, move. I’ll be inserting this letter into the purple envelope titled ‘Nick, My Love.’”

You stared at your best friend in awe. He caught your silence and turned to stare right back.

“Quit drooling, perv. Get back to work.”

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“Hey there, sexy.”

You cringed at the sleazy voice slithering into your ear, too close for comfort.

“What do you want, JJ?” you muttered, rubbing your ears as if you could erase the sound of his voice.

“I heard you’re looking for a prom date,” he said, grinning. “Your letter to Jungwoo was found in the dumpster. Figures if he can’t take you, I can. There’s a price though”

Your stomach twisted. “And what, may I ask, is the price?”

His smirk deepened.

“Flash me.”

Your blood ran cold.

Without a word, you turned and walked away, disgusted and dejected. Now you knew exactly where your third letter had ended up, after the first two were sent back to you with rejection. 

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The eve of prom week, you stared longingly at the dress you had picked out at sixteen. This was supposed to be the night—the night you’d be wooed, twirled under sparkling lights, and dance until your feet ached. But with no date, the magic had faded.

You sighed, sinking deeper into your bed.

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“Psst. I know you can hear me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Good. Can you also see that I’ve been trying to ignore you?”

Jin, your annoyingly nosy neighbor—home from college for reasons unknown—leaned against your doorframe, arms crossed. “What are you doing here moping when you should be at prom?”

You stiffened. He must have noticed because his voice softened as he stepped closer, squeezing your shoulder lightly.

“Why are you even back? It’s not summer yet.”you complained at his sudden unwelcome appearance in your room. 

“Got kicked out.”

Your head snapped up. “You are a straight-A student.”

He gave you a humorless smile. “Well, this straight-A student is also very depressed and very nosy. So, tell me—why is my chatterbox neighbor, who wouldn’t shut up about prom, still in her pajamas when she should be having the night of her life? Making babies or something.”

You groaned. “That was disgusting.”

“Potato, patootie. Now, spill.”

You inhaled sharply before mumbling under your breath, “No one asked me out.”

Jin blinked. “Seriously, speak a little softer, the ghost of Myeongdong shivered at the timber of your voice. ”, he states sarcastically.

“No one asked me out for prom,” you repeated, louder this time.

“So what? Since when do you wait for other people to ask you?”

“Yeah, well… the ones I asked rejected me.”

Jin let out a low whistle. “Even Seungcheol? Now that’s a shocker.”

“I didn’t ask Cheol,” you admitted, avoiding his gaze. “He already has a date.”

Silence. Then—“Wait. You’re telling me 'The Seungcheol' asked someone else out before asking you?”

"Why does your tone sound like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like a pipsqueak?"

"Is this your way of trying to avoid the subject? By hurling knives at me? This poor soul who became an outcast? Is someone a little mad their diaper buddy has a date and they don't?"

“No, that’s not—” You fidget, hoping to dodge whatever conclusion he was about to reach.

Jin wasn’t having it. “Unbelievable. Alright, how about this—I’ll take you.”

You blinked. “What?”

“One condition.” He pointed a finger at you. “You go out and have fun. If no one dances with you, you dance by yourself. But you’re going to have a good time. You won’t get another night like this.”

You stared at him, squinting hard, trying to detect a trap. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch. Just some good ol’ friendly behavior.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Liar. Jin never does favors for free. You have an ulterior motive.” Then, a thought struck you. “Oh my God—you're hoping to see your ex, aren’t you? Miss Ronalds?”

Jin immediately turned pink.

“I KNEW IT! I got played again by a conniving little—”

“Hey, hey, no need to throw hands. Let’s all calm down.”

“Calm down? You literally used me as a ploy to get back with your ex! How do you stoop that low?”

Jin scratched the back of his head. “Okay, in hindsight, this looks bad—”

“It is bad!”

“But,” he interjected, “hear me out. I will drive you to prom. I will escort you to the dance floor. I will sit there the whole night like a damn chaperone. No advances toward Maggie. None at all. Cross my heart.”

You folded your arms. “I don’t believe you.”

“Look, I—see?”

And then, in one swoop, he pulled off his hoodie.

You shrieked, covering your eyes. “What the hell are you doing?!”

“Relax, drama queen. I just took my hoodie off. No one is going to dance with me wearing just this.” He smirked, showing you his baby pink tee. “Here’s a deal—I take you to prom, and you treat me to a seafood boil tomorrow. There’s this new place I’ve been eyeing, but my parents cut me off for dropping out of uni.”

You gawked. “So you ask a high schooler? Wow.”

“Correction—a loaded high schooler.” He grinned. “Besides, a deal is a deal.”

You sighed. “You are insufferable.”

“And yet, here you are, about to go get dressed.”

He’s got you there.

"Also Y/N?"

"What now?"

"You are paying for gas."

You couldn’t believe it. Your eternal pursuit of love, on a night that was supposed to be magical, was now reduced to paying your annoying neighbor gas money just so he could talk to your art teacher—who just so happened to be his ex.

So much for that bucket list.

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So maybe you don’t get asked out for Prom, but that’s okay. You’re still here, you show up and that’s all that matters for now. 

Or things could go a little differently. 

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You hadn’t seen Cheol all night, but true to his word, Jin remained on his best behavior. No sneaking off to find his ex, no sleazy antics,just snapping embarrassing pictures of you mid-bite while you stuffed your face with appetizers.

Halfway through a fast song, a hurried “There you are!” breaks through the noise.

You barely have time to turn before you’re met with the sight of a breathless Seungcheol, his hands gripping your shoulders as if you were seconds from vanishing into thin air.

“Where were you?!” he demands, shaking you slightly as if the answer will fall out of you.

You scoff. “Where was I? Where were you? I’ve been looking for you for the past hour!”

“I was at your house! Trying to pick you up for prom!”

You blink. “Why were you trying to pick me up? Don’t you have a date? Where’s Yunjin?”

Cheol shrugs, unbothered. “I canceled on her.”

Your jaw drops. “You what?”

“She’s going out with JJ anyway.”

Your horror intensifies. “And you let that happen?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “He wooed her with those movie lines copied from your letter.”

You gasp. “What?! And you didn’t tell her that??!”

“It's not my fault she fell for it.” He shrugs again. “Besides, why does it matter? We get to be each other’s date now.”

Before you can protest, he grabs your wrist, pulling you onto the dance floor—cracker still half-eaten in your mouth. You barely register the moment before the upbeat track fades, replaced by the slow, familiar melody of All of Me.

Uh-oh.

“This is awkward,” you state, chewing hastily.

Cheol tilts his head, a pout forming. “Why is it awkward?”

“Because, stupid, how can I slow dance with you? You’re my best friend. Best friends don’t slow dance together.”

He rolls his eyes. “Throw your stubborn beliefs out the window and just dance.”

Before you can react, his hands find your waist, pulling you in close. Then—without any warning—he dips you.

You gasp, clutching onto him for dear life, heart racing.

“Where did you learn to dance like that?!” you ask breathlessly, still in shock.

A smirk tugs at his lips, a dimple appearing. “You’re not the only one who attempted a dance major.”

You narrow your eyes before reaching up and poking his dimple.

Cheol laughs, swaying with you gently. “I got kicked out, though.” You supply. 

He snorts. “I can tell. Also… can you tell I stuffed cotton in my shoes?”

You blink. “Wait. That’s the soft, pudgy thing I’ve been stepping on?”

“Yes. And thank God for that.”

This time, when he dips you again, your hands instinctively go around his neck. You’re still a little scared but fully reassured that he won’t let you fall. As if to reward you for your full trust, he leans a little and pecks your forehead.

“What was that for?” 

Cheol shrugs, his grip on your waist steady as he sways you both to the rhythm. "Felt like it," he says simply, a teasing glint in his eye.

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VI

Two semesters into college, you called your parents to inform them that you were quitting. There was no way you could make it through another day, not with the constant stress pressing down on you. Every class felt like a foreign language, and no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t grasp the material as effortlessly as everyone else seemed to. It was exhausting, frustrating, and, worst of all, demoralizing.

To compensate for your sudden lack of education, you threw yourself into the workforce, picking up not one but two daytime jobs.

Your first attempt was at a front desk at a restaurant,‘Meogeulle’ but that didn’t last long. Your tendency to chat up customers and “waste company time,” as your boss put it, quickly earned you a demotion. Instead of greeting guests with a bright smile, you were sent to the back, where your words wouldn’t slow down business.

And so, you became a dishwasher.

But if your boss thought exile to the kitchen would dull your spirit, he was sorely mistaken. You became the jolliest dishwasher ‘Meogeulle’ had ever seen. You hummed through every shift, cheerfully tackling the greasiest plates, and scrubbed even the dirtiest surfaces with the enthusiasm of someone discovering hidden treasure. Your energy was infectious, and before long, the entire kitchen staff had grown fond of you.

Old Ralph, the head chef, took a particular liking to you. He often snuck you free meals, much to your delight—and Cheol’s. The two of you practically survived on those meals, stretching your modest incomes to cover rent in a far-too-luxurious apartment complex that neither of you had any business affording.

Looking back, maybe telling your parents that you could fend for yourself hadn’t been your brightest idea. But somehow, you made it work. The dimes you earned, the laughter shared over steaming bowls of ramen topped with every extra ingredient you could get your hands on—it was enough. More than enough.

You were happy. Content with your life and your job.

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VII

“Cheollie, be honest. Does this make me look fat?”

“Oh no, babe. You look fantastic as always!”

“Cheol, you haven’t even looked up for one second. How can you tell?”

He sighs. “Y/N, this is the fifth dress you’ve tried on. How different can this one really be?”

“What if I’m naked?”

“Then you’re naked.”

“Arrgh! You are so frustrating, Cheol!”

Finally, he shuts his laptop with an exaggerated sigh and looks up at you. “Fine. Hit me. Show me what you got. Parade around. Let’s make you the princess of the evening, okay?”

This was your seventh date in two months. Ever since your discovery of Tinder, you had been speed-running through men like it was a game.

So maybe you didn’t have the best track record with relationships—or dates in general—but your Halmeoni always told you to try men of every flavor.

“The one,” she’d say, “is either right around the corner or has been under your nose all this time.”

Cheol watches with an amused grin as you do a slow spin in front of the mirror, arms crossed. “Well?” you demand, hands on your hips.

He tilts his head, pretending to think it over. “I think,”

You hold your breath.

“I think you look like someone who’s about to make another poor life decision.”

You gasp and throw a pillow at him. “Cheol!”

He cackles, dodging with ease. “What? Am I wrong?”

“You don’t know that!” You huff, turning back to the mirror. “This one’s different.”

Cheol raises an eyebrow. “You said that about the guy who tried to split the bill when he invited you to dinner.”

You glare at him through the reflection. “It’s called equality, Cheol.”

He snorts. “It’s called being broke.”

You roll your eyes but bite back a smile. “Whatever. I’m going, and you’re going to hype me up properly before I leave.”

He sighs dramatically before pushing himself off the bed. “Fine.”

He opens your chaotic wardrobe and starts fine-tuning it with the precision of someone who knows exactly what they’re doing. After a few moments of rummaging, his hand stops on a sundress—something he’d picked out for you last summer when you decided to take an impromptu vacation.

“Aha!”

Stepping behind you, he rests his chin on your shoulder, placing the floral dress over your current outfit, meeting your gaze in the mirror. “You look stunning.”

You blink. His tone is… sincere.

Before you can say anything, he flicks your forehead. “Now go, little Casanova. Go ruin another man’s life.”

Laughing, you shove him away. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” he calls after you as you rush into the washroom to run and change.

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Cheol sinks onto the bed with a sigh, tossing aside his laptop, ready to mourn the night away. He knows fully well that no studying is going to happen tonight—not after he gave you the blessing to go on this date and even picked out a dress for you.

Every time you go on a date, a little part of his heart sinks, hoping that just once, you’d turn around and see him, instead of all the men you were speed dating.

“What do they have that I don’t, Y/N? Why won’t you just look at me?”The thought lingers as he watches your peaceful face. When all he’s met with is the quiet sound of your snores, he runs a gentle hand over your face, brushing the baby bangs from your eyes. It’s then that he realizes—he’s talking to a sleeping form, rambling out his feelings after long hours at the library. He must be losing it.

But just as his woeful flashback drags him deeper into his stupor, he feels the sting of a powerful flick to his forehead.

“Ow,” he winces, clutching his forehead and pouting at you. You’re standing there,dressed in the outfit he picked out back in a record two minutes. “Why are you lookin at me like that?”

You don’t say anything, just fluttering your eyelashes and dramatically kneeling on the floor, clasping your arms together as though begging.

He jumps up in alarm. “No. What are you doing? Get up. Why are you on the floor? Get back up.”

With surprising strength, he pulls you up, not liking the image of you kneeling before him. “Stop looking at me like that, tell me what you want” he mutters, his voice a little unsteady, nerves prickling.

“Please, Cheol. Take me to McDonald’s.”

“What? Your date is supposed to take you there, Y/N.”

“I know, but he’s new to the city, and he doesn’t have a car yet. Please, Cheol, just this one time. I’ll owe you.”

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And so, there sits Cheol in the car, at the parking lot of Mcdonald's, his hand tapping uncontrollably against the steering wheel as his thoughts race. 

He’s usually a lot better at controlling his urges around you whenever you are consumed by your current hookup. But tonight, seeing you in a dress he gifted you, in a hairstyle he likes best on you, on a day that marks significant importance to him, he has the all-consuming urge to just get out of the car, pull you close, and keep you with him all for himself.

Joshua, his best friend from uni, had grown tired of hearing him constantly name-drop you. So, in a rare moment of frustration, Joshua had begged him—in fact , offered him money—to ask you out.

“She doesn’t like me like that,” Cheol had protested.

“And whose problem is that? Look, from what little I know about her, she sounds daft-.”

“Hey, careful there,” Cheol had growled.

Joshua didn’t back down. “See? Right there. You’re this possessive over a girl you say is just your best friend. She’s not going to know how you feel until you tell her, Cheol.”

Cheol shifted uncomfortably. “I can’t, Shua. You should see the way she looks at couples—always moping about her lack of a boyfriend. Yet, she never sees me.” He could feel his voice cracking as the weight of his emotions surged. He was close to tears, overwhelmed by everything that had been building up.

“Hey, don ’t cry, alright? She’ll come around,” Joshua had said, trying to console him. “Why don’t you just ask her? The worst she can say is no. Maybe try being open about your feelings, don’t beat around the bush. Lay it out for her, plain and simple.”

“Alright, I will,” Cheol had said, determination settling over him.

This was a conversation he had three months back. If Joshua saw him now, he would not be proud. But here he was, still sitting in the car, the weight of Joshua’s words fresh in his mind. He knew he had to do something—something bold, something decisive. But the nerves, the fear of rejection, they still had him frozen.

And now, watching you through the windshield as you make your way toward the restaurant , a small part of him wonders if it’s already too late.

Xxxxxxxxxx

‘Couprang” 

His world froze seeing the safeword text from you. All it took him was five seconds before he was out of the car and rushing into the restaurant trying to locate you.  Unimaginable red blinds his vision when you were crying softly, trying to reduce your tears to your napkin. 

“Y/N-ie?”

When he sees you look at him with your red rimmed eyes, he ignores all the questions in his mind and flies to bring you close to him, letting you cry once again on his shoulder.

Your date was a lucky man that Cheol didn't know his name. 

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VIII

Maybe your last failed date with a man who physically harassed you at McDonald's—because you refused to put out on the first date—had slowed your interest in dating for a while. Something about the constant chasing love, the rush, and the way everything kept slipping through your fingers every time you thought you’d finally attained it, had worn you out. Maybe friends were all you needed right now. Thank God for Cheol, your best friend, who was lying on your lap, his head resting there as you sleeplessly drifted away, drowning in the white noise of Singles Inferno.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“You got a minute?”

“Me? I’ve always got a minute. You’re the one busy with college.”

Cheol sighed deeply. “How I wish I had a trust fund that could promise me a lifetime of staying away from calculus. Every day, I hate myself a little more for thinking I could do this.”

“You can do this, Cheollie. You’re so smart. I believe in you.” You give him a soft smile, your fingers gently brushing through his hair. “Besides, you're always welcome to take me up on my offer to stay with me whenever you need a break. Bet my future kids would love to have you as their uncle.”

When you’re met with silence, you glance down at him, wondering if he’d fallen asleep. He hadn’t. Instead, he was staring intently at the leg of the sofa, his face lost in thought.

“Cheollie?” you prod again.

“Hmmm?”

“What were you going to tell me again?”

“Oh. Never mind. It can wait another day.”

“Fine by me,” you reply, settling back into the couch, feeling the weight of the quiet moment between you both.

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After the phone call with your grandma, you had your slow revelation moment.

“Where’s grandpa?” you asked, worry seeping into your voice.

“He’s just driven to the pharmacy to get my medications for this month,” grandma answered, the usual warmth in her tone.

“But I thought the doctor said he needed bed rest for at least another month, with his back injury?” you pressed, concern growing inside you.

“Hush, child,” she chuckled softly. “You know how the old man is. He doesn’t trust anyone else to get my medicine. He believes it’s his right as my husband. No matter how much I scold him, he insists he’ll be in and out in no time.”

The image of your elderly grandfather, frail from his injuries but still determined to fulfill a task so simple, so mundane in your eyes, made something inside you freeze. There was something incredibly beautiful about his unwavering devotion to your halmeoni—a love that had lasted decades, built on shared memories and routine, something he couldn’t entrust to anyone else, even in his weakened state.

That thought made you stop, your mind quieting as you sat there, blankly staring at the wall in front of you, long after the call ended. The longing in your chest grew, and the ache of wanting to find that kind of love—the kind that would last a lifetime—began to blossom. Your eyes drifted to the opened  drawer, where you caught sight of a small, old journal buried among other forgotten things. The little lock that once felt so important was still intact, and the key was nestled on your charm bracelet. With trembling hands, you unlocked the journal and flipped it open. The pages were yellowed with age, but your handwriting—clumsy and childish—was still legible. The words on the first page were familiar, words you hadn’t thought about in years.

"To Yn-ie from the future, I am so curious to find out who he is, your lover. Is he as funny and charming, and does he steal your breath away like we had imagined? Does he know your insecurity over being called dumb? Does he know your fear of being quizzed on the spot? Does he scold you for eating too much candy but sneak in your favorite Twizzlers? Does he entertain your idea of ten children and settling on a farm with Beth the cow and Rony the moose? Does he pick you up and carry you around the house, the way we secretly hoped? Does he sneak up on you and kiss you dizzy, ignoring the world around you? Is he making you smile? Oh, I am so curious, but I know you’ll be okay, because you have your lover by your side. Give him a kiss from little me."

You stopped reading, the block in your throat getting heavier by the second until you found yourself unable to swallow at all. The slow sinking feeling that maybe you’d die alone, with regrets on your mind, terrified you. Before you could calm yourself down, the tears began to cascade, streaming down your face as you bawled uncontrollably.

Cheol found you in the closet after a frantic five-minute search around the apartment, tears drying on your puffed-up cheeks. Quietly, without a single question, he placed you against his chest and rubbed your back, soothing your sadness away, rocking you side to side.

“I just don’t understand, Coupsie,” you whispered, calling him by the nickname you used as a child, “It’s so silly, it’s childish, I know.” You paused, a sharp breath catching in your throat. “I just want to feel butterflies, want to feel wanted, needed, in a way that’s not linked by blood. In a way someone other than the people who have to want me back. I am a good person, Coupsie, all I—” Your voice breaks, cutting your words short, but his steady back rubs comfort you, urging you to continue.“All I need is to just have someone for me. Someone to be my person. To love me. Someone like Mom has Dad, and you have Iseul. Someone for me, worthy of love." 

You look up at him, an see earnest doe eyes looking back at you, closed with sadness perhaps the echoing the one you have etched in your face.You are happy for Iseul, his new fling that gets to have a boyfriend who loves so passionately that he cares for everyone around him. 

“Right. Iseul.” He finally repeats after a shared minute of silence. 

“Is everything alright?” His voice was shaky, like he is hiding something from you.

“Nothing, everything is perfect!”

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IX

As the months passed, your once burning desire to get married slowly dwindled. The weight of adulthood was becoming heavier, and the pressure to figure things out seemed to increase by the day. You made the decision to find another job, anything to ease the growing strain. But somewhere between job hunting and adjusting to the grind, over a simple stroll to get a hot dog, you got distracted by a street musician. His saxophone echoed through the air, pulling a crowd around him. The way the notes flowed effortlessly from the instrument, the smooth cadence of his playing—it was mesmerizing and one odd conversation later, you found yourself becoming a street artist. 

To Choi Seungcheol's chagrin, of course.

He had warned you countless times about befriending strangers, especially the ones with shady jobs.

“Don’t be so snooty, Cheol,” you’d said when he expressed disapproval.

“I’m not being snooty! Haven’t your parents taught you anything about stranger danger?”

“Relax, Cheol. Not everyone catches the virus!” You waved your hand dismissively. “Besides, Brenda offered me a way to kill time during the long hours you spend at the library. I get to draw people’s faces, something I love doing, and no one’s going to file charges against me for staring long enough. Plus, the better I get at it, the higher the tips.”

“Aha. And why is it that I’ve never seen you bring any cash back here?”

You said nothing, your gaze fixed on the floor.

“Exactly. Stop letting people misuse your kindness, Y/N. Don’t let that be your weakness.”

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“Will you please stop twitching?” “You’re taking too long!” Mingyu whines from across your sketchpad. One more movement, and you're tempted to throw the entire paper at his face. You have no patience for a model who can’t sit still for more than five minutes.

“Are you done, Noona?”

“Mingyu, I haven’t even properly started because you keep moving too much and ruining the angle I have set in place. I am a sketch artist not a magician!”

“Fine,” he drawls. “But make sure you get my good side.”

“Mingyu, I promise I will. If you could just—” You stand up with great discomfort, your body stiff from sitting in the same position for too long, and walk over to him. You tie his arms together, fixing him in place. “There, sit like that for some time now.”

For the better part of an hour, you sketch his features, including the smile lines on his face and the creases by his eyes. Some men were crafted so beautifully, it almost made you jealous.

A small break to stretch your neck and shoulders has you catching sight of him again. You can’t miss it, his telltale knowing smirk—one that could lure you in and lead you into his deceptive ways, even if it was just child’s play. His hair, black and magnificent, was now trimmed short since the last time you saw him—over two decades ago. It had been too long, yet you couldn’t escape his mischievous glinting eyes that screamed at you: it was indeed Yoon Jeonghan himself.

Ignoring all common sense about traffic ingrained on you by Cheollie, you dive headfirst into the crowd, weaving through a thick mass of busybodies. It’s difficult to navigate, but you follow his luscious hair like a beacon.

“Jeonghan! Jeonghan!” you scream.

The man turns around. Without warning, he’s suddenly caught in an armful of a woman he’s never seen in his life—someone clinging to him, screaming, “Happy to see you again!”

“Who the hell are you?” He shoves you away from him, a valid reaction considering the situation. What person wouldn’t be confused at such an abrupt embrace?

You ignore all societal cues, clutching tightly to his arm and jumping up and down with excitement. In one firm grip, he pulls you along, and you gasp at the tightness of his hold as he leads you into a nearby bar, dim and quiet in the midday. His beady eyes flicker with irritation, narrowing as he glances at you.

"Lady," he says, voice strained, "I am one second away from calling the cops if you don’t—

“Hannie, it’s me! Y/N-ie, I am from Myeongdong, you me and Cheollie were best friends, remember?

Somewhere, a flicker of recognition started to show in his eyes, and you could see the slow struggle as he tried to piece everything together.

“Y/N?” he asked, his voice tentative.

Excitement surged through you, and you couldn’t help but grin widely, your heart racing. “Yes! It’s me, Y/N-ie! From Myeongdong!

I’m sorry… I know I’m supposed to remember, but I… only remember bits and parts. The only thing I remember is the town and Daddu?” His words stung,knowing he remembered Cheol more than you but you tried to hide the hurt. You three were inseparable as kids, but even back then, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. Cheol and Hannie’s families hung out more than yours ever did. It took you time to understand why your parents were never included in those cookouts, and while you had come to terms with it, it still hurt to realize that Hannie seemed to remember Cheol—the one he called ‘Daddu’—more than you.

“Is Daddu around? Do you know where he is? Maybe I can get in touch with him?” He asked, hopeful.

Pushing the jealousy down, you nodded eagerly, eager to make him feel welcome. You grabbed his hand, guiding him out the door.

“Yes, yes, follow me. Daddu—I mean, Cheollie and I are roommates now. He’s probably home, unless he’s busy kissing Iseul, which… let me tell you, Hannie, I love them both to death, but watching them make out is, like, a very disgusting sight to see. I had to establish the red sock on the doorknob after the last time I caught them on the carpet Hannie. The carpet! Who does it on the carpet? "Like animals, they are going back to caveman times, I think . Well anyway like I—". You stop mid-sentence when he halts, suddenly still.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

Jeonghan is staring at you in horror, his eyes wide as he watches the woman who just jumped on him in the middle of a crowd, declaring herself his past best friend and promising to take him to see his old best friend. A woman who speaks a mile a minute. This is surely one of the craziest days he's ever had.

"Why is there a tall man running over to us screaming ‘Noona,’ and why is he looking at you?" he asks, another burning question clouding his mind.

You glance over and see Mingyu sprinting toward you with urgency, and without hesitation, you pull Jeonghan’s arm, directing him to ‘ignore him’. 

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Cheol is taken aback when he opens the door. Instead of your face, there's a very beautiful man standing next to you.

“Hi, I’m Cheol. You must be—?”

“Daddu?” Jeonghan interrupts, his voice almost a whisper.

“Hannie?” Cheol responds, his surprise evident.

Maybe you shed a tear, watching the joyful reunion between two best friends who embraced each other like they hadn't seen one another in ages—and, in truth, they hadn’t. But of course, you know it's Cheol's right to embrace any happiness he finds, and you can’t help but be pulled into the moment.

 He grabs the back of your neck and pulls you into the hug, sharing the warmth between you, Jeonghan, and him. For a moment, you feel Jeonghan stiffen, but just as quickly, he relaxes, his arm wrapping around you as he squeezes you tightly. A bit of your heart warms at the gesture.

"I can’t believe it! The Triple Devils have reunited! Where did you find him, Y/N?" Cheol exclaims, grinning from ear to ear.

Jeonghan gulps, looking at you, unsure if he should recount the chaos of his day with the crazy woman. Instead, his eyes wander around, and he notices—

“Is this the sock you show to signal sexiling?”

Cheol looks mortified, narrowing his eyes at you. “You can’t just spring that on people, Y/N!Also I just got off the phone with Mingyu.You definitely can’t walk out on Mingyu in the middle of drawing a subject. It's your job!”

“It’s a side job!” you defend, shrugging casually.

“Still, Y/N! And Mingyu is my cousin, I owe him this!”

“Wait, is M-Mingyu the tall man who came charging at us, yelling ‘Noona,’ and you grabbed my hand and told me to run? I was going to call the cops on him!”

“Y/N,” Cheol calls out, exasperated.

“I’m sorry! I’ll call him, apologize, and reschedule a meeting tomorrow.”

“Do it now, Y/N.”

“B-b-but—”

“No excuses. Now.”

“Fine!” you huff, grabbing the phone Cheol pulls out of your pocket. You opt to text Mingyu instead.

“No, call him. Put him on speaker. I need to ensure you’re not distracted.”

“I’m enjoying this,” says a third voice from the corner.

Both you and Cheol turn to look at the silent accomplice, who’s standing there with a smug grin on his face. If you had any doubts before, you can firmly conclude now that indeed —that’s Jeonghan.

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How you ended up on a double date with Cheol, Iseul, and Jeonghan still baffles you. Iseul had made reservations with her best friend and boyfriend, who canceled at the last minute, giving you the perfect opportunity to try the new spot. Cheol, ever the orchestrator, invited Jeonghan as your date. A part of you can’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, the universe is finally making things right. Perhaps Jeonghan’s return to your life isn’t just coincidence, but a reminder that the boy who once promised to be your husband and gave you your first kiss could one day come back into your life, not just as a memory, but as a lover in the present.

“I love your outfit, Y/N. Really brings out your eyes. Where did you get it from?” Iseul asks, placing a serving of pickled onions on Cheol’s plate.

“You do? Cheollie got it for me last Christmas. We have an ugly sweater competition every year, but last year, the doofus thought it’d be funny if he outsmarted me and got me this instead.”

“Remember when your mom scolded you for getting me that hideous jumper with the ‘dank memes’ slogan on it?” Cheol interjects, slapping his knee in the middle of a fit of laughter.

“You were always her favorite, and you knowingly took advantage of it.”

“Oh, yes, I did! Remember that time you broke the stairway to the treehouse and blamed it on me so you'd escape Eomma’s wrath?”

“And did she scold you?”

“No,” he says smugly.

As Cheol absentmindedly picks at his plate, you reach for the pickled onions he always complains about. "Oh, Cheollie," you tease, grinning as you scoop them off his plate and onto yours. “You know you hate these.”

“Show off! Hey, remember that time—?”

“Ready to order?” The waiter interrupts, and the sudden break in the banter catches you off guard.

Jeonghan watches with quiet amusement, faint memories sparking to life as he observes his childhood best friends laughing, reminiscing over their mischief. They’re so caught up in it that they forget Cheol’s date and you’re startled by the waiter’s interruption. For someone like you, who claims to want to find love, you sure are blind to the obvious kind.

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XI

Jeonghan’s breakup text arrives on a warm, sunny morning—when you least expect it. You’re in the middle of planning a trip to the florist, excited to pick out a bouquet of his favorite flowers, imagining the way his eyes would light up at the surprise.

The past few months had been nothing short of euphoric—nights spent poring over old photographs, watching as Jeonghan slowly reconnected with the life he had left behind in Myeongdong before adulthood burdened him with responsibilities: caring for his mother, his sister. One month of dating later you had asked him to be your boyfriend, something he had gladly accepted. 

And with Cheol talking about finally moving out, you had begun to picture a future with Jeonghan in your apartment. A future where he wasn’t just your boyfriend but your home. The next step in your fairytale.

Then, without warning, the fairytale shatters.

A cold, detached message: "I am breaking up with you."

No explanation. No foreshadowing. No emojis. Nothing.

Your hands tremble. The glass of milk slips from your fingers, hitting the floor with a sharp, deafening crash—shards scattering like the pieces of your heart.

The noise jolts Cheol and Iseul awake. They rush out of his room, still groggy, eyes wide with panic, scanning the space for an intruder, a break-in—anything but what it actually is.

"Are you okay?" Cheol is at your side in an instant, gripping your arms, searching your face for answers.

But you can’t move. Can’t speak. You just stand there, frozen, the weight of those four words crushing the breath out of you.

"Y/N," Cheol tries again, shaking you gently.

Then, softer—"Baby," Iseul calls out. Cheol turns at the sound of her voice, and that's when he sees it.

Your phone, still opened to the text messages, in her hands, the screen aglow with the message that just ended everything.

Five seconds. That’s all it takes before Cheol bolts for the door, barefoot, jacket forgotten, fists clenched, his voice a low growl as he mutters, "I’m going to kill him."

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Enraged, visions of red cloud Cheol’s periphery. He pays no heed to speed limits, no caution to the laws he’s about to break. None of it matters. Yoon Jeonghan is a dead man standing.

It almost feels like Jeonghan was expecting him—because the moment Cheol rings the bell, the door swings open.

There he is.

Draped in a silky bathrobe, coffee cup in hand, not a single trace of guilt on his face.

"Ah, Cheol," Jeonghan drawls, taking a slow sip. "Looks like you came to thank me."

"You better have an explanation for this," Cheol grits out, fists shaking, "or I swear to God, Jeonghan, you will—"

Jeonghan’s breakup text arrives on a warm, sunny morning—when you least expect it. You’re in the middle of planning a trip to the florist, excited to pick out a bouquet of his favorite flowers, imagining the way his eyes would light up at the surprise.

The past few months had been nothing short of euphoric—nights spent poring over old photographs, watching as Jeonghan slowly reconnected with the life he had left behind in Myeongdong before adulthood burdened him with responsibilities: caring for his mother, his sister.

And with Cheol talking about finally moving out, you had begun to picture a future with Jeonghan in your apartment. A future where he wasn’t just your boyfriend but your home. The next step in your fairytale.

Then, without warning, the fairytale shatters.

A cold, detached message: "I am breaking up with you."

No explanation. No foreshadowing. No emojis. Nothing.

Your hands tremble. The glass of milk slips from your fingers, hitting the floor with a sharp, deafening crash—shards scattering like the pieces of your heart.

The noise jolts Cheol and Iseul awake. They rush out of his room, still groggy, eyes wide with panic, scanning the space for an intruder, a break-in—anything but what it actually is.

"Are you okay?" Cheol is at your side in an instant, gripping your arms, searching your face for answers.

But you can’t move. Can’t speak. You just stand there, frozen, the weight of those four words crushing the breath out of you.

"Y/N," Cheol tries again, shaking you gently.

Then, softer—"Baby," Iseul calls out. Cheol turns at the sound of her voice, and that's when he sees it.

Your phone, still opened to the text messages, in her hands, the screen aglow with the message that just ended everything.

Five seconds. That’s all it takes before Cheol bolts for the door, barefoot, jacket forgotten, fists clenched, his voice a low growl as he mutters, "I’m going to kill him."

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Fury coursed through Cheol, his vision tinged with red as his anger flared. He pays no heed to speed limits, no caution to the laws he’s about to break. None of it matters. Yoon Jeonghan is a dead man standing.

It almost feels like Jeonghan was expecting him—because the moment Cheol rings the bell, the door swings open.

There he is.

Draped in a silky bathrobe, coffee cup in hand, not a single trace of guilt on his face.

"Ah, Cheol," Jeonghan drawls, taking a slow sip. "Looks like you came to thank me."

"You better have an explanation for this," Cheol grits out, fists shaking, "or I swear to God, Jeonghan, you will—"

"You will what?" Jeonghan interrupts smoothly. "Kill me? For breaking up with your girl?"

"She is not my—she’s—"

"Maybe not yet," Jeonghan smirks. "But we’ve all seen it, Daddu."

Cheol’s jaw clenches. His hands curl into fists at his sides.

"I don’t like that stupid smile on your face," he finally whispers, voice low, dangerous. "Take it off."

Jeonghan chuckles, tilting his head. "Seems like you’ve finally calmed down. Want to come in?"

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“Cheol, does she know?” Jeonghan asks, looking at him with knowing eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cheol replies, trying to brush it off.

“You know,” Jeonghan smirks, “you don’t make a good liar. Neither you nor Y/N. You’re too prim and proper to lie about the small things. Maybe you can fool Y/N for decades, but not me. I see right through you.”

Cheol sighs, not meeting his gaze. “I’m not sure what to do.”

“You’re in love with Y/N,” Jeonghan continues. “It’s time to come clean. Stop holding back. Just tell her.”

Cheol shakes his head. “It’s not easy, Hannie.”

“It is,” Jeonghan insists. “It’s very easy, Daddu. This is Y/N, your best friend. There’s no malice in her. She’ll either say yes or no—that’s her call. But for the most part? She’s in love with you too. She just doesn’t know it yet. You have to be the one to break it to her.”

Cheol stumbles over his words. “I-I—”

Jeonghan cuts him off. “You know, Daddu, being in love with one girl and leading another one on? You’re breaking three hearts—yours, Y/N’s, and Iseul’s.”

“Iseul?”

“Yes. Your girlfriend. The one whose name you haven’t said once since you’ve been here. But you didn’t avoid Y/N’s name.”

Cheol freezes, his mind racing. "Iseul. I forgot she has an interview scheduled today at 9, and I have to drop her off—"

“Well, if you leave now, like actually fly down the elevator, you might have a shot. Go,” Jeonghan says, a slight grin on his face.

Cheol doesn’t waste another second, dashing off in a panic, muttering apologies under his breath, as if he were the one wronged in the situation.

Jeonghan watches him go, shaking his head. “The lovesick idiot,” he mutters to himself, amused by the chaos.

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You were stuck working the big pots tonight.

Meoguelle had a big party pull up to the restaurant, which meant twice the usual number of dishes to wash. So there you sat, hair tied up, sweat lining your forehead, a small trickle of tears mixing with the steam rising from the sink. Your hands were elbow-deep in a greasy, murky mixture—just the perfect way to end the night after your breakup fiasco.

"L/N F/N, is that you?"

Truthfully, you weren’t in the mood to socialize. Not with a stranger, not with a friend—no one. But after the fifth attempt at scrubbing stubborn gunk off a caked-up pot, you figured now was as good a time as any for a break.

You turned toward the voice, your brain scrambling to put a name to that oh-so-familiar face.

"Jun? Wen Junhui? Is that you?"

"In the flesh and blood," he said proudly, confirmed.

“It’s good to see you! What are you doing here?"

"I came to pay my compliments to the chef, which I’m assuming is—"

"Oh, no, that’s him out by the back door, filling his lungs with smoke. I’m just a mere dishwasher."

Jun blinked. "Oh. Is that why you’re c-crying?"

You let out a small, bitter laugh. "Huh? Oh. No. I, uh— I got dumped."

Jun’s brows furrowed. "Oh. I’m so sorry to hear that. But honestly, I’m also really surprised. I never thought Se—Seungcheol would be the type to dump someone over text. Aren’t you two closer than that?"

"Seungcheol?" You frowned. "What? No. He’s my best friend. My roommate. We never dated. Why would you assume that Cheol was my boyfriend? I could never date him—"

"Could’ve fooled me."

You stared at him. "What?"

"Huh? What did I say?" Jun repeated, scratching the back of his neck, eyes darting around guiltily, looking for anything—anything—to distract himself from this suddenly very awkward conversation.

"Look, I gotta scoot," he rushed out. "Please pass on my compliments to the chef. And Y/N? Talk to Cheol."

Your eyes narrowed. "Jun—"

"I know you were mad at me when I bailed on our date, but I also thought I was just a rebound for—"

"A rebound? Jun, you were the only guy I was seeing at that time."

He winced. "I’m sorry, Y/N. I thought I was doing you a favor."

"What favor?" You scoffed. "Texting me for nights in a row only to bail out on a date?"

Jun’s eyes widened slightly. Then he took a step back. Then another. "Shit’s escalated so far. I gotta go—keep in touch?"

And before you could respond, he jogged out of the kitchen the same way he came in—leaving you behind, confused in more ways than one

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Your conversation with Cheol about your weird encounter with Jun goes in a different direction than you had honestly anticipated.

"I saw Jun at the restaurant today."

"Who's Jun?" Cheol calls out from the couch, eyes glued to a rerun of Single’s Inferno while you blend ingredients for dinner.

"Wen Junhui. The guy Shua introduced me to?"

Cheol perks up slightly. "Oh, the anime-looking hottie?"

You roll your eyes, walking over to the couch with both dinner plates in hand. "Yes, that one. When I told him my boyfriend broke up with me, he assumed it was you. How weird is that?"

There’s a brief pause.

"Why is that weird?"

You glance at him. His hand is clenched tightly around the remote, knuckles paling. Like he has something to explain.

"You and me," he continues casually. "You’re a girl. I’m a boy. A very handsome boy, might I add." He throws in a cheeky grin, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

You scoff. "But Cheol, we’re best friends. We can’t date."

"Why not?" His response is immediate, almost defensive. The sharpness in his tone irks you.

"What are you even saying right now, Coupsie?" You frown. "I can never tell what’s going on in that head of yours. And you’re acting weird."

He exhales sharply. "Oh, good. So you’re not totally dumb after all."

Your blood runs cold."...What did you just say to me?"

Cheol's face falls. His panic is instant. "Y/N—shit—no. No, I didn’t mean that, I—please, don’t be mad, love." He rushes toward you as you push off the couch, hand covering your mouth in disbelief. "I was just— I don’t even know why I said that— Y/N,I am sorry  please, just look at me."

But you don’t.

You turn on your heel, marching straight to your room, fully intending to hole yourself in there for the rest of the night.

"No, no—" His grip catches your wrist just before you can slam the door. Before you know it, he’s pulling you back out, standing in the threshold of your room, looking like a man pleading for salvation.

"Please," he whispers, hands cradling your face, thumbs brushing away the tears threatening to spill. "Please, love, just listen to me. If you want to shut me out after, I won’t stop you. But please. Just hear me out."

You exhale shakily. "Fine. But one condition."

"Anything," he answers without hesitation.

"You need to tell me what went down at Jeonghan’s." Your voice is firm now. "Ever since you ran out of here that morning, you’ve been avoiding me. And don’t give me some crap excuse about being busy. I know your schedule by heart, Cheol. You have nothing coming up that’s remotely important."

Adam's apple bobs as he swallows hard.

Slowly, his hands shift, thumbs gliding up to smooth your furrowed brows. The back of his fingers ghost over your cheeks, his touch light, tracing over your features like he’s memorizing them.You don’t move away. His gaze locks onto yours, wide and searching his fingers running over. Your eyes. Your nose. Your lips.

"Ch-Cheol, what are you—"

"Shh." His breath is warm as he leans closer, lips parting, barely a sliver of space between you.

Your heart hammers against your ribs.

And then—The doorbell rings.

Both of you jolt back, like the universe itself just yanked you out of whatever that moment was.

For a beat, neither of you speak. Your breathing is uneven, adrenaline rushing through you like you’ve just run a marathon.

Cheol is the first to break the silence. He looks down, almost ashamed. "It’s Iseul," he mutters. "She’s crashing here for the night."

 Iseul. His girlfriend.

"Right," you echo weakly, stepping back into your room and shutting the door behind you.

You lean against it, exhaling slowly, trying to steady your racing heart.

Even as you hear Cheol’s footsteps retreating, hear the front door opening, hear his soft voice greeting Iseul—you don’t move.

Instead, you replay the last few seconds over and over in your head.

Grateful the doorbell rang when it did.

Or were you grateful?

Weird.

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You never talk about that day.

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Two weeks after the almost kiss—Cheol moves out.

“We both knew we were delaying this,” he says, rolling his suitcase toward the door. “I got a new apartment closer to work. I’ll save on transportation.”

His voice is light, casual. But there’s something else beneath it. Something heavier.

“Besides,” he adds with a small smirk, “you can finally have that guest bedroom all to yourself. You know, in case you feel noble and want to take in another one of your homeless buddies for the night.”

It’s a weak joke. His dimple is in place, flashing his usual pearly whites, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“See you, love,” he says.

And as always, he steps forward to give you a forehead kiss—just like he’s done a thousand times before. A simple, familiar gesture.

But this time, you flinch.

Like his presence is suddenly too much.

“Oh.”

His voice is quiet. Almost hurt.

He hesitates, then pinches your cheek lightly—just for a second—before turning away and walking out of the apartment.

“Don’t be a stranger love”

And just like that, he’s gone.

And you—standing in the middle of your now too-big apartment, in a too-cold city—are left with nothing but the hollow ache in your chest.

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It’s been three months since the incident.

Three months since you last saw him.

Time has given you some clarity. Some distance. But on days like today—when the loneliness creeps in, when the silence in your apartment feels deafening—you sit and wonder.

What once was.

What could have been.And whether or not you made the right choice at all. To ignore what happened that night before and keep living it didn’t just happen. 

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“Noona?”

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me! Mingyu, why are you here? Don’t you have a girlfriend to nail down?”

“First of all, hurtful. I don’t have a girlfriend. Secondly, I came here to thank you, Noona.”

“For what? I didn’t do anything.”

“Yes, you did,” he insists, huffing with a stubborn pout. “Your sketches are the reason I got to add something to my portfolio. The ones you drew of me, all the photos you took—you helped me put together a solid submission for ‘Hayfer’ magazine. It meant a lot.”

“You’re welcome, Gyu,” you say, shaking your head. “But again, like I said, it’s literally your face that did all the work. You wouldn’t have gotten this far if you didn’t go around looking the way you do.”

“Are you saying I’m handsome? Is this Noona’s way of flirting with me? I can’t believe it,” he teases with a charming smile.

“Stop fishing for compliments. Don’t push your luck, loverboy.”

“Once again, to clarify—I am bitchless.” He places a hand on his chest in mock sincerity before grinning. “However, if you’re down to—”

A year ago, you’d have gasped in disbelief that a tall, dashing man with a heart-stopping smile would be openly flirting with you—more so, inviting you on a date. You probably would have jumped at the first opportunity, said yes, and sealed the deal. Maybe even called your grandparents and let all six of your cousins know.

But you’ve grown.

The childishness hasn’t completely dissipated, but a part of you knows that to a man like Mingyu, you’d be just another passing fling. So you shake your head, slowly, ignoring the flicker of disappointment in his eyes.

Guys like him will always have a second chance.

Not with you, though.

“That’s okay,” he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I kinda knew you’d say no. Just wanted to dip my toes in.” Then, as if remembering something, he fishes out a card from his wallet and hands it to you. “Here—this is for you.”

“What is this, Gyu?” you ask, flipping the card between your fingers, reading the name printed on it.

Xu Minghao.

It rings a bell.

“Who is this? If this is another attempt to set me up with someone, I swear to God, Mingyu—”

“Relax,” he interrupts, laughing. “I would never set you up with someone else. I know who you belong with.”

Your stomach twists in questioning knots. Before you can respond, he continues.

“This is my friend from uni, Hao. He’s opening a new gallery downtown, and he wants to showcase underrated classics—graffiti artists, doodlers, glorified vandalizers apparently. He saw your sketches of me and was impressed. He asked if I could pass his number to you so he could call and discuss featuring your art in his gallery.”

Your heart stutters.

Xu Minghao.

Why does that name sound so familiar?

Mingyu smirks. “You might know him as The8.”

“Shut up. No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did.” He looks all too pleased with himself.

“You’re telling me ‘The8’ saw my sketches and wants to showcase my artwork?”

Mingyu barely gets to nod before you launch yourself at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his broad frame. He chuckles but holds you just as firmly, his warmth grounding you in this unreal moment.

For so long, you’ve grasped at mediocrity, believing—like your teachers always warned—you’d never amount to anything. School and college have failed you. Your lack of focus, your inability to stay interested in one job for too long, had always made you feel like you were wilting.

You knew you were lucky. The money from your grandparents has secured your future. But beyond that? You had nothing.At least, that’s what you thought.But this—this moment, this opportunity—someone actually wants to see more of your art.

You.

And for the first time in your life, it feels like you’re winning at something. Like you’re not a total disaster. And in the midst of your overwhelming joy, your thoughts drift—back to Cheol.

For so long, his victories had felt like your own.

When he won class valedictorian, you were the first to scream his name in the crowd, your voice hoarse from cheering too loudly. When he made football team captain, you stayed up late helping him tape up his bruised ankles, lecturing him about overexertion while he only grinned, too proud to care. When he got accepted into his dream university, you decorated his house with fairy lights and posters, making it feel like home before he even unpacked his bags. And when his first girlfriend asked him out, you teased him relentlessly, calling him a blushing mess, even as you secretly watched from the sidelines, unsure why your heart twisted at the sight.

For every milestone, every achievement, every moment of happiness—you were there.

And now, finally, when the universe decides to deal you a good hand, when something extraordinary happens for you, you find yourself alone in your joy. There is no Cheol grinning beside you, no knowing glance exchanged between you both, no shared celebration where he lifts you off the ground in a tight hug and says, See, love? I always knew you were meant for more. The realization strikes you like a gut punch.

For so long, his triumphs had been yours, but now, yours don’t seem to be his.

And the thought sobers you much quicker than you would have imagined.

Before Mingyu walks away completely, you ask him the burning question that has been eating away at your brain. “Gyu?”

“Yes Noona?”

“What did you mean when you said you knew I was meant for someone else anyway?”

“I think it’s up to you to figure that out Noona” he says with a wink and a smirk and leaves. 

The questions in your heart don't settle down.

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You are frantic, beyond yourself with worry, and the urge to heave out your organs into a trash can grows stronger by the second. A phone call with Minghao had confirmed that the gallery opening was tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

Your mind spins. Were you supposed to create something in mere hours, something worthy enough to be displayed in a gallery? The only other paintings you had were hung up in your family house back home, and it would take hours to retrieve them—there was no way you’d make it in time. The stress manifests physically, your nails bitten down to the quick, your pinky finger bleeding as an unfortunate casualty of your nerves.

Your phone buzzes in your trembling hands.

Cheol: Congrats, Y/N. Look inside the study room.

Your breath catches in your throat. You stare at the text, reading and re-reading it as if the words might rearrange themselves into something different if you blink enough times. What does he mean? Did Mingyu tell him about the gallery? It makes sense—they were cousins, after all, and Mingyu had always been terrible at keeping secrets.

But if Cheol knew, then… why hadn’t he called? Why hadn’t he come?

The thought makes your stomach twist. Was he still so awkward about that almost kiss that he decided to forgo two decades’ worth of friendship and reduce his congratulations to a text message? Was that really all you amounted to in his life?

You feel hurt. Disappointed. But also—relieved.

Relieved, because a tiny part of you has no idea how to face Choi Seungcheol after three months of radio silence. Your ex-best friend.

Shoving those thoughts aside, you take a deep breath and make your way to the study room.

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You are frantic, beyond yourself with worry, and the urge to heave out your organs into a trash can grows stronger by the second. A phone call with Minghao had confirmed that the gallery opening was tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

Your mind spins. Were you supposed to create something in mere hours, something worthy enough to be displayed in a gallery? The only other paintings you had were hung up in your family house back home, and it would take hours to retrieve them—there was no way you’d make it in time. The stress manifests physically, your nails bitten down to the quick, your pinky finger bleeding as an unfortunate casualty of your nerves.

Your phone buzzes in your trembling hands.

Cheol: Congrats, Y/N. Look inside the study room.

Your breath catches in your throat. You stare at the text, reading and re-reading it as if the words might rearrange themselves into something different if you blink enough times. What does he mean? Did Mingyu tell him about the gallery? It makes sense—they were cousins, after all, and Mingyu had always been terrible at keeping secrets.

But if Cheol knew, then… why hadn’t he called? Why hadn’t he come?

The thought makes your stomach twist. Was he still so awkward about that almost kiss that he decided to forgo two decades’ worth of friendship and reduce his congratulations to a text message? Was that really all you amounted to in his life?

You feel hurt. Disappointed. But also—relieved.

Relieved, because a tiny part of you has no idea how to face Choi Seungcheol after three months of radio silence. Your ex-best friend.

Shoving those thoughts aside, you take a deep breath and make your way to the study room.

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The study room had always been Cheol’s sanctuary.

On nights before exams, when he wasn’t holed up in the library, this was where he spent his time—books open, highlighters scattered, and an energy drink within reach. And since you were practically allergic to textbooks and anything resembling academic effort, you never once bothered to step foot inside. Apparently, he knew that.

Because when you finally open the door, stepping inside for the first time since he left, you are shocked at what you find.

The room is covered—inch to inch—in your artwork. Your heart lurches violently in your chest.

Every doodle, every absentminded scribble, every torn-out sketch that you had long forgotten was here. Pinned up on the walls, carefully arranged, like a private gallery curated for no one but himself. Your hands shake as you step forward. Some of these sketches were from years ago—random doodles of cartoons, silly little portraits of him, even rough, messy charcoal attempts at landscapes you had made out of boredom. You had discarded them without a second thought, but he had kept them all. Your throat tightens.

Then, your eyes land on the lone easel in the center of the room.

It’s covered by a large cloth, dust collecting on the edges. Something about it makes your pulse quicken, a thrumming sense of anticipation running through your veins. With trembling fingers, you grip the cloth and pull.

And your heart stops beating.

There, pinned on a massive canvas, are twenty-three years worth of tradition.

When Cheol turned six, he had demanded something special for his birthday—something unique, something made with your own two hands, your custom gift for him. 

You had been stumped then.

For days, you had scoured the house, pestered your parents for ideas, and even sulked on the couch in frustration. Eventually, you had stared so long at the framed wedding portrait above the fireplace that inspiration had struck.

With unpracticed, wobbly hands, you had drawn a simple stick figure doodle—of you and Cheol. Two little figures, standing side by side, holding hands, smiling wide enough to split their faces.

Cheol had loved it. He had squealed, hugged you tight, and thanked you over and over again, clutching the tiny drawing like it was the greatest treasure in the world.

And from that moment on, a tradition had begun.

Every year, on his birthday, you drew a new one.

At first, they remained simple, just stick figures with slightly better proportions. Then, slowly, they evolved—features becoming clearer, the lines steadier, expressions more detailed.

By the time you turned eighteen, they weren’t just doodles anymore. They were art.

And now, staring at the canvas before you, you realize—He never lost a single one.

All twenty-three drawings, pinned carefully in chronological order. Each crease, each faded line, each awkwardly drawn hand—it was all there.

Your breath comes in short, sharp gasps.All your life, you had thought of yourself as forgettable. A mediocre student. A directionless dreamer. A girl who hopped from one hobby to another, unsure if she’d ever be good at something.

Yet, here was proof that he had never once forgotten you.

Every drawing, no matter how childish or ridiculous, was a testament to the fact that Choi Seungcheol had cherished every piece of you. Your heart aches.

Is that why he had warned you never to touch this room? Had he planned to show you this someday? Had he sent Mingyu to deliver the gallery invitation because he knew you would come here and find this? But if that was true, then why wasn’t he here now?

Why wasn’t he here to help you carry this canvas—to celebrate with you, to tell you he was proud of you? Why was he gone?

A sob catches in your throat as you reach out, fingers tracing the lines of your own childhood artwork. The weight of twenty-three years presses down on your shoulders, heavy and bittersweet. As if sensing the despair you were feeling, you hear a doorbell ring and your heart leaps with joy. Maybe he had come after all. 

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He hadn’t. Mingyu had sent Soonyoung and Jihoon, apparently, to pick up your artwork and drive it to the gallery for tomorrow. Serves you right for getting your hopes up after all.

“Where’s Cheol?” you finally ask, just as they’re about to bid their farewells at the threshold. You knew they all knew each other, being friends from university days. All these boys had hounded your shared apartment at night for drinking sessions back in the day.

“Oh, haven’t you heard—Che—”

“Soonyoung!” Jihoon warns, cutting him off before Soonyoung can continue. Soonyoung now looks guilty for almost blurting it out.

“No, what happened? What don’t I know? There’s something you’re not telling me, and I want in.” You sound frantic, anxiety bubbling in your chest.

“Relax, Y/N. Cheol’s alright. Mingyu sent us to pick this up and drop it off. Don’t shoot the messenger, okay? Now, if you don’t need us for anything else, we’re going to take our leave.” Jihoon gives you a quick, reassuring smile. “And Y/N? Congratulations.” He tips his head at you, then waves goodbye, leaving with Soonyoung.

But Soon still wears that guilty look, and your nerves start to spike.

You try calling him, texting him, but to no avail. Finally, you send a text to Mingyu, who assures you that Cheol is sleeping after a football match. You know it’s a lie, but it’s probably the best you’ll get. Cheol clearly doesn’t want you to know something, and he’s put up boundaries, and all you can do is respect that. Maybe he has a new girlfriend. Maybe he’s hiding that from you.

Whatever it is, you know the days of being his top priority are long gone. All you can do now is get ready for tomorrow. You’ve got a long day ahead, and no one—not even Cheol—can take that away from you.

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“So, you must be L/N Y/N, the one I’ve heard so much about,” Xu Minghao says, his voice smooth and confident. You try not to gasp at the sight of him, standing before you in the flesh. He’s dressed immaculately, a well-tailored suit hugging his frame perfectly, a tie adding a touch of refinement to his coat. His dark hair is styled just right, and his eyes—sharp, calculating, yet inviting—scan you carefully.

You inhale a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. You hadn’t been prepared for how to interact with a man so stunning, let alone one you’ve admired from afar. It seems he understands the sudden shift in your demeanor, offering you a small, reassuring smile to let you gather your thoughts. In the past, you would’ve slapped your hand to your forehead at your sudden shyness, but with him, it feels different—something about his presence seems to elicit butterflies in your stomach. You nod slowly, trying to regain composure.

“Ah, well then, shall we?” He gestures to the canvas paper, where a new cloth is draped over it. It’s just two hours away from the gallery’s opening, a small exhibit showcasing the works of budding artists—people like you, who’ve never had the opportunity to display their artwork to the public. It might not be a grand affair, but it means everything to you.

He steps forward, his eyes scanning each of the drawings. They’re neatly arranged, pinned chronologically, and you notice the way his eyes soften as he takes them in. "This is all your doing?" he asks, genuinely impressed.

“Well, yes and no," you respond, a little shy. "I drew these, but um… I did it for my bes–" You cut yourself off, correcting your words. "For a friend," you finish. "Apparently, he collected all of them and had them stored up like this. I had no idea until yesterday."

Minghao’s eyes widen as he examines your work. "Well, he should. Look at the detailing on some of this. I can’t believe you’ve never been to art school. Look at the precision with which you drew his eyes. He must be a stunner, this 'friend' of yours." He wags his finger in disbelief, and you can tell he’s not convinced that the situation is as simple as it seems.

“What did you do on your 16th birthday?” he asks, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studies you.

“How can you tell that?” you ask, confused, but your eyes instinctively flicker to Cheol, who’s standing a little further off. He does look a bit annoyed, his brow furrowed at you, but you can't quite remember why. Maybe you’d finished his favorite juice or something.

“Wait, are these pinned?” Minghao asks, bending down to get a closer look.

“Yeah, they are. I told you, my friend had all these pinned to a canvas.”

"Hmm." Minghao hums thoughtfully. “So, does that mean—” Before you can ask him what he means, he pulls the pin from one of the drawings, the second-to-last sketch you’d done of him. He takes the paper in his hands, examining it carefully.

“Oh, what’s this?” You stand on your tiptoes, trying to get a better look at what’s written behind the sketch. You hadn’t even realized there was anything written on the back—your contribution had only been the drawings, not the words.

You recognize those scribbles anywhere: the familiar curves of his handwriting.

“Age 26. The year I cried the hardest when you went on that date with Jeonghan. The night I crossed out your name from my heart when I realized you would never look at me like that.”

Your heart stops in your chest. What? You blink rapidly, disoriented, as the words on the back of the picture send a sharp, unsettling ripple through your thoughts

Urgently, you tug down another picture, your hands trembling as you uncover another heart-wrenching note, written in the same familiar handwriting.

“My 19th birthday. As per my demand, you drew this picture based on the photo we both took together at the beach. When you laid your head on mine, my heart stopped still, Y/N. Don’t know if you could tell that over your loud snores, but I sat still for all six minutes, scared that if I moved for one second, the moment would burst.”

The words feel like a punch to your chest, and before you can even process what you’ve just read, your eyes begin to sting, your breath faltering as tears stream silently down your face. You reach to unpin yet another drawing, your hands shaking from the weight of it all.

“Year 9. The year I dared to hope. We both sat in the garden, planning our future lives, our kids, and our dogs and cats. You asked me why I didn’t name my future wife when you had decided Bogum would be your future husband. I was too scared to show you that I left that blank open to fill it with your name.”

The realization hits like a wave, pulling you under with a force you can’t fight.For every year of his life with you, he had written down his feelings for you in that stage of life. How could you not have seen it? How could you have missed everything he was giving you, how he had loved you, from the very start?

Desperately, you unpin yet another drawing.

“Year 24. When you got bored and asked me if you could draw on me, I gave you my hands and pretended to fall asleep. But I couldn’t. My thudding heart would not let me rest because the feel of your hands on my skin, drawing on me, grazing my hands, made me yearn. For you.”

A sob catches in your throat, and you clutch the drawing to your chest as if it can somehow absorb all the emotions you’re trying to hold inside. But the dam is breaking. The weight of his unspoken love, of everything you never saw, is crashing over you like an unstoppable force.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you whisper hoarsely, your voice cracking with a mixture of pain and longing. You look to Minghao, who stands quietly beside you, watching you with deep concern etched into his features. “I—I need to go. I need to see him. I need to tell him…”

You trail off, your mind spinning, your heart thrumming with the urgency of it all. How had you been so blind? How could you have let all of this slip through your fingers for so long?

Minghao’s gaze softens, his expression serious, but his voice is gentle when he speaks. “You have my word. But before you leave, tell me, Y/N, what would you title this?”

You blink, still reeling, but the question lingers in your mind. What could you even call this? This painful, beautiful mess of emotions, tangled, raw truth that had been hiding in front of you all this time You take one final, steadying breath as you turn to the artwork, your gaze falling on the scattered drawings before you.

And then it comes to you—the answer so simple, yet so profoundly fitting for everything you’ve just uncovered.

You meet Minghao’s eyes, your voice quiet but steady.

“The Pursuit of Love.” 

It’s perfect. A pursuit that has no end, a love that’s been waiting for you all along.”

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“Pick up, pick up, pick up. Why isn’t he picking up?” you mutter to yourself, panic rising in your chest as you hold your phone, dialing Cheol’s number again. Your fingers are trembling. Your heart is hammering in your chest.

You had hailed a cab and rushed straight to Cheol’s apartment, but there was no sign of him. No one was home, and the door remained stubbornly closed. You tried calling both Cheol and Mingyu, but neither responded. Your worry started to morph into something much darker, and you knew something was wrong.

Without giving it a second thought, you dialed the one person who might know what’s going on—Jeonghan.

"Y/N?" His voice comes through the phone, calm but confused.

“Where is Cheol?” you ask, your voice breaking as sobs catch in your throat. The bad feeling you’d been fighting all morning is growing rapidly, an overwhelming sense of dread that something had happened to Cheol, something he was keeping from you, something his friends were also hiding from you.

"Y/N—" Jeonghan begins, his voice soft, almost like he’s trying to soothe you. But you're too far gone, too scared, and you can't bear to listen.

"Please, Jeonghan, just tell me the truth. You owe me that much." You can barely hold back the tears now, your voice shaking.

There’s a long pause on the other end before Jeonghan finally speaks, his voice filled with quiet concern. “Cheol’s at the hospital.”

You freeze, your heart stopping for a moment as the words sink in.

♡

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“Choi Seungcheol?”

“Room 317, ma’am. Down the corner and to the left—MISS, NO RUNNING IN THE HALLWAY!” The nurse’s warning falls on deaf ears as you rush past her, your heart pounding harder with every step.

You don't care about the rules right now. All you care about is seeing Cheol.

You turn the corner, practically flying down the hallway, your breath coming in short bursts as you approach the door. And then you see him.

Cheol, lying in the hospital bed, looking pale, with a slightly annoyed Mingyu sitting next to him. You come to a halt in the doorway, chest tight with the realization that he’s hurt.

“Y/N?” Cheol’s voice is hoarse, and his eyes widen in surprise as he sees you standing there, tears streaming down your face.

“Love, please don’t cry,” Cheol says, his voice soft and comforting. He lifts a hand, wincing slightly, but you’re already at his side, leaning over to wrap your arms around him, your sobs muffled against his hospital gown. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

You pull back just enough to look at him, your voice shaking with anger and relief. “Damn right, you’re sorry, Choi. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I knew you had your art gallery today,” he says, his voice apologetic. He gestures vaguely at his bandaged body. “Sorry I couldn’t come with my ruptured appendix and all.” He tries to make light of it, but his sheepish smile only makes your heart ache more. “But I wanted to be there for you so badly, Y/N. I’m really sorry.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head as tears still slip down your cheeks. “Don’t you dare apologize for a surgery you didn’t cause.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he smirks at you, and you can't help but smile despite yourself, the weight in your chest easing just a little.

You look at him again, really look at him—his tired eyes, the way his face looks a little drawn, the exhaustion evident in every line. He might be joking around, but you can see that he’s been through a lot.

“I’m okay. Don’t worry about me, Y/N,” he says, almost like he can read your mind. He’s always known how to ease your worries, even when it’s not about him.

“I will always worry about you, Cheol. Always.”

A beat of silence stretches between you both, the words hanging in the air like an unspoken promise. Then, you hear the door creak open and Mingyu’s voice drifting away as he leaves to give you both some privacy.

“Y/N—” Cheol starts, but you beat him to it.

“Cheol—” you both speak at the same time, then laugh awkwardly.

“Please let me? I’m the coward who didn’t have the guts to tell it to your face all these years, choosing instead to pour my heart out into bits of paper.”

“And I’m the dumb idiot who couldn’t see what was right in front of me all this time, choosing to chase other men, when all I had ever wanted was under my nose. I named the artwork, you know. ‘The Pursuit of Love.’” You blink, trying to steady yourself, trying to find the right words. “Aching for a love that was always right there, and all I had to do was just accept that. It’s you, Cheol. I—”

“I love you,” he blurts out quickly, cutting you off. He looks sheepish as soon as the words leave his mouth. “Sorry. I kinda had to say it before you did,” he says with a small, sheepish smile, dodging your playful hits on his uninjured shoulder.

“OW! Don’t hit the injured man!” He laughs, though it’s slightly strained.

“You are such a dork. And for the record, your shoulder seems fine. It can handle one or two beatings.”

There’s another awkward silence, one that feels comfortable despite the tension. You both sit there for a moment, not knowing quite how to move forward, but both knowing something has shifted.

“Come here?” He silently calls out, his voice softer now, almost pleading. He pats the space beside him on the bed, his eyes searching yours.

“I- I don’t want to hurt you,” you murmur, hesitant.

“Relax, you won’t. I should be good to go by tonight,” he lies, his voice trying to convince both you and himself. But you can tell that he’s not quite as okay as he wants you to think. Still, you slide down onto the edge of the bed, cautiously scooting closer until there’s a small space between you, enough to give him space .

Very slowly, you slide your hands up to his chest, travelling upward till you rest on his face. Curiously he leans a little forward, angling himself in a way that makes it easier for you to continue your ministrations across his body. His patience wears out after nearly ten seconds because he quickly cups your face and smashes his lips to your face, his naturally dominant self taking over, you gasping into his mouth with a sudden yelp. Urged on by your little mewls, his tongue takes over inhaling your every whimper and moan you were trying to speak out. All too soon,you give up, fully submitting to let him do whatever he wants with you, as he devours you wholly, in ways that make your brain turn into mush.

His hands descend down onto your fisted palms, that were clutching on the bed sheet, slowly unlocking them from their tight grip and instead slowly rubbing your knuckles in gradual touches. Not wanting to be upped by him, your hands quickly perch onto his hair grabbing a fistful of hair, eliciting a low grunt from his mouth, making you smirk in victory.

When you pull a little harder, Cheol understandingly pulls away, knowing your need for space, giving you a sliver of space to finally breathe, his forehead still pressed to yours.

You see his doe eyes watching your every move, like he couldn’t believe you were right there. But you also notice the slight lethargy in his gaze, a subtle sign that he could really use some rest. You know the nurses will come in any second, and you’re sure they’ll give you an earful about staying too long, but you can’t bring yourself to leave him just yet.

With a gentle hand on his chest—one he immediately grasps—you push him back down into the pillows, surprised when he falls back with the sudden shove.

“No,” he murmurs petulantly, his grip tightening as he tugs you down with him.

“Coupsie, there’s no space—” you start to protest, but he cuts you off with a small pout.

“I don’t care. We’ll make space,” he mutters, sticking his lower lip out like a child. His fingers wave at you, a silent plea for you to come closer.

You have no choice but to follow, falling into his arms as he pulls you in. His hands are warm and steady as he gently guides you into position, placing your head on his tricep like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You settle there, the softness of his arm the perfect pillow, as his chest rises and falls in rhythm with your own breaths.

“So,” Cheol starts, a mischievous smirk forming on his lips as he looks down at you. “Was this kiss better than last time?”

You blink in disbelief, pulling back just slightly to stare at him, utterly confused. “Last time? Dude, this was my first kiss! Are you high?”

Cheol’s goofy smile only deepens, like he knew a hidden secret

“Remember when you were five and got us to play prince and princess?” he teases, the grin still plastered across his face.

“Yeah, when I had my first kiss and—wait, that was you?” The memory hits you like a ton of bricks, slowly coming back as Cheol continues to look at you, enjoying your turmoil.

“Aha,” he replies, smugly satisfied that he has finally cracked your mind open with that one detail.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you ask, now almost feeling betrayed by your past self. “All my life, I believed Jeonghan was my first kiss, and he’d be my forever-first kiss!”

Cheol’s expression falters slightly, his eyes dropping as a soft sadness creeps into his voice. “This might sound stupid, but I wanted you to come to me. You had all these ideas about love, these superstitions about it—that it had to be your first kiss, or the guy who teased you, or the one who asked you to prom. You believed in love the way fate sets it up, like a fairy tale. And I wanted you to fall for me, not because it was meant to be, but because you wanted it to be.”

His words hit you hard, and you can feel the weight of everything he’s said. He continues, voice low and steady. “That day, a long time ago, I begged Jeonghan to let me kiss you. I wanted you to open your eyes and see me. But you opened them too soon, and all you saw was Jeonghan. All you pined for was him, after that kiss you thought you shared with him. Which, now, you know, was me all along.”

You hold your breath, the sudden clarity overwhelming you. He goes on, his voice soft, almost a whisper. “You had it in your head that he was going to be your husband after just one kiss. But I- I wanted you to see me. The things I’ve done for you. How I’ve always been there, showing you that it was me, loving you all these years. It took over two decades for you to finally see it. But you did, even if it came at the cost of me lying here, in this hospital bed, after surgery.”

Cheol chuckles bitterly, but there’s no humor in it. “That’s why Jeonghan’s been up my ass all this time. He knew from day one that I loved you, and he didn’t want to get in the way of it. Though it was a dick move to break up with you over a text,” he adds with a small wince.

You’re speechless, unable to find the right words to express how overwhelmed you feel, how everything suddenly makes sense. “I- I don’t know what to say,” you admit.

“Say you love me,” Cheol jokes, his voice playful again, but there’s a vulnerability.

“I do love you, Cheol,” you confess, your voice thick with emotion. “And I’m sorry it took me so long to see that. I can finally see it now. I can finally piece it all together. You were always there for me. The birthday where no one showed up, and a few years later, when you found out what Sally’s mom did, so you broke up with her. You punched Julian for me, ditched your date to be with me, and even broke up with Iseul after you almost kissed me—yes, Mingyu told me. All this time, everything you did was to show me you loved me.”

You’re rendered speechless by the look in his eyes, the deep love and warmth that radiates from him. This is the man who has watched you fall for so many others and stayed loyal to you. 

Cheol doesn’t say anything for a moment, his eyes glistening as they stay fixed on you. “Say it again” he softly demands

“Coupsie,” you whisper.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice cracking. “I’ve been looking forward to hearing those words for so long that I- I can’t believe you said them. Please, say it again.”

“I love you, Cheol,” you say, your voice a little steadier now.

Cheol’s face crumples at the sound of your words, and before you know it, tears are streaming down his face. He sniffles, clearly overwhelmed, and you see the moment his dam breaks. His tears flow freely, and he lets go of everything he’s been holding in for so long.

“Again,” he pleads, his voice trembling.

“Cheol, what—” you begin, but he interrupts.

“Please,” he whispers, his voice almost breaking.

You close your eyes, letting the warmth of the moment wash over you, feeling the weight of Cheol’s tears against your chest. This time, it’s your turn to hold him tight. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer, letting him cry freely into you.

It feels strangely comforting to be the one providing the solace for him, after all the years he’s been the one to offer his shoulder for your tears. The roles have reversed, and yet it feels so natural, so right. You let him pour out all his emotions, feeling the quiet tremors in his body as he lets go of everything he’s held in for so long.

♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ 

One day, long ago, sitting high on the roof of your house overlooking the town you grew up in, you wrote a few words in your journal to your future self about who you wished your future lover would be.

When you get back home, you can write to your younger self, letting her know that the man you love is none other than Choi Seungcheol. He surpasses all the expectations set by your aching heart.

♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ 

A.N: I am gonna sleep now.. i'll wake up and fix the tags and edits out the space. this fic killed me

update: shoot i forgot to tag

tagging : @skzbangchanniee @ariananotgrandeee

teaser interactions @bobathi @sailorsoons

okay night night for real

[fashionteahouse]

out of your league - paul x reader

AN: glad you guys enjoy are enjoying parts of this story. hugs and kisses xoxo💜 <<prev

Your body sways a bit over as you were nudged. You balance your body back.

“Are you good? You’re so quiet.”

You look up at Jacob’s face. You nod.

You continue to look at the road to Bella’s home.

She comes out of the home with a big smile. He picks her up as he says to her, “Hey, beautiful.”

“Hey, Y/N.” she says to you after her face leaves his.

You snap out of it and display a slow smile, “Hey.”

She eyes you carefully and you let her sit in the passenger seat.

They chatter as you look out of the window. You eventually stick your headphones in. The moving car made your stomach uneasy. You’re confused, you’ve never had issues with being car sick.

The smell of popcorn was usually your favorite thing about the movie theater, but you stay in the bathroom until the movie starts.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Bella’s voice rings out.

“Yeah.” you say in a small voice.

You stared blankly at the light spotting in your underwear before cleaning yourself up.

You couldn’t focus on the movie. The loud booms of the movie made you get a headache.

It felt like you were ovulating a bit, the cramps in your pelvis weren’t painful, but they were bothering you. It made you uncomfortable.

You slowly crawl on the bed when you got home. Face down in the pillows.

Feeling a tug at your clothes, you were too tired to speak.

“You’re scaring me, Y/N.” he whispered.

“Sorry..”

A deep chuckle came from him as your eyes were now closed.

“I didn’t even tell you why.”

“What’s wrong?” you whisper.

“You smell..Different.”

“Hm…” you say. If you were more awake, you would’ve questioned it. You were sucked into the sweet world of slumber.

You woke up late afternoon, your bladder was so full, it almost hurt.

You check your underwear and you were confused on why there was no period blood. You sigh as you walked back to your empty room, Emily calls.

Deep in thought, you drive slowly. You felt nauseous as you sat in front of her home. You didn’t throw up.

“This is my niece. Claire.” Emily says with a smile. The girl was shy as she hid behind Emily.

“Aw.” came from both Angela and Bella.

“Say hi, Claire.”

“Hi.” she meekly says and you grin a bit.

“She’s acting shy but she’s a bundle of energy, really.” Emily says to you both with a light chuckle.

Emily kneels and says, “Do you want to color?”

Claire nods.

Emily leads her to the table and gets her crayon box that has markers in it.

“I’m glad the boys aren’t here. They would scared her.” Angela says and you all chuckle as you know it would’ve been true.

“Okay. Shall we talk about the wedding?” Emily asks and you all join Claire at the table. You sit next to her.

You eye her sheet of paper as she draws stick figures. You didn’t know why, but it made you a bit emotional. Innocence was flashing in your face. You felt your heart melt as you realized that you were her age when you fell in love with art and colors.

“I’m thinking of just having it in the backyard.” Emily says and the girls hum in agreement.

You were the only reason who knew why she was rushing. She was pregnant. She wanted the wedding to happen as quick as possible before she started showing.

“Should I make the boys wear shirts?” she then asks.

“No. Just let them wear bow ties while shirtless.” Angela says with her elbows folded on the table and Bella laughs at this.

“No. No. It should be nice. They should wear something. Not a full on tux but a button up with be nice.” Bella says.

You noticed that Claire pushed a crayon to you when she looked up and found you watching her.

You hesitantly take it. You hold it in your fingers as you look at it in your lap.

“What’s your name?” she asks innocently.

You look up and she’s waiting for your answer.

“Y/N.”

“Can you draw clouds?”

You nod.

She smiles and pushed the paper to you, “Draw it.” she says excitedly.

You take the paper and idly make simple but neat clouds as Emily then goes into what color scheme it should be. Claire watched you closely as she leaned close to your hand and the paper.

“Can I color them in?” she asks when you were finished. You smile, “Yeah.”

She colors them in and asks, “Can you make…..Grass?”

“Yes.”

“Can you make….The sun?”

“Yes.” you say while chuckling.

“Can you make….People?”

“Yes.”

“Draw a person!” she says.

“Claire, leave Y/N be.” Emily says.

You chuckle a bit, “No, it’s okay. I don���t mind.” you tell Emily softly.

That’s when the boys trickled in. Paul’s hand came in front of your chin while you were sitting at the table, tilting your head back and bent down to give you a kiss and he sits next to you.

“Where’s Leah?” you ask Seth.

“She’s eating dinner with mom and dad.”

You nod.

Food was being passed around the table. A large hand swiped the dinner roll that you spread a perfect amount of butter on.

Your jaw is dropped as you look at Quil eating it. His smirk faded as soon as he saw your face.

“Dude, you’re really crying?”

He looks at you with an inquisitive look.

You blink and scoot your chair back.

“Where are you going?” he asks as he felt bad and put another roll on your plate.

“Bathroom.” you rush out to say.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you hear Paul hiss at him.

You heard an anxious but faint, “I was just joking around-”

You shut the door before you could hear any more.

You look in the mirror and wipe away the small streak of tears with some toilet paper.

You rest your hands on the sink as you sniff quietly.

“It’s just food.” you thought in your head as you shake your head.

Coming back out, you continue eating. You then help yourself to another plate. This time, you weren’t high. You didn’t have the munchies. You were just really hungry.

Paul takes you and his empty plate to the sink.

On the couch, Emily tried to talk back up the wedding plans.

“Come on, let’s talk some more at the table.” Emily says.

Kim, Angela, and Bella gets up but Emily looks to you.

“Y/N, are you coming?”

You stop looking at Claire who’s sitting on the floor on her stomach as she’s kicking her feet back and forth as she colors and hums.

“Um…I’ll be in..Just a minute..Is that okay?” you quietly ask. You were very clingy to Paul and he didn’t care at all. You anxiously rubbed your hand up and down his arm that you were intertwined with. It felt like you haven’t seen him in a long time.

“Y-yeah.” she says and they retreat.

You end up falling asleep with your cheek on his chest. You felt yourself moving and you blink awake as you felt the wave of Paul walking.

You felt the outside air as the door shut.

You rub your eyes as you sat in the passenger seat as Paul opened the car door on his side.

“I shouldn’t have fell asleep. Emily wanted me to help her.” you say in a husky voice from waking up.

“It’s alright. Claire kept bugging her, she couldn’t get a word in even if she wanted to.” Paul explained.

You softly chuckle.

Seeing Paul bent in the fridge, you shake your head as you lean against the counter.

“You’re hungry still?”

His plates at Emily’s were piled.

He munches on something, “I’m a wolf. Of course I’m hungry.”

He puts it close to your mouth as you take a bite as you look at him.

You move around him and enter the bedroom to put something on to get ready for bed.

You lay on your side and you felt the bed dip beside you. A set of warm lips touch your ear before it speaks, “I know you’re awake.”

Silence is what you still choose. You blink.

You’re on your back looking at him as he then hovers over you but you push him. He freezes.

“I-…..I’m still tired.” you stammer out in a whisper. You felt exhausted but you were scared. You wanted to lay and think.

He looks at you and you hated when he did that at times. It was like he could see right through you. He doesn’t say anything before he's out of the bed.

You hear the bathroom door shut and you put the covers to your eyes as you sighed.

Just a couple more days. Then you would know.

You wake up early and look over. Paul is facing you with his mouth slightly cracked open as you hear him quietly sleep.

You rise up and immediately you’re dizzy as you sit back down with a quiet groan. You stare at the floor as you sit on the edge of the bed, waiting for it to pass. Rising back up, you cook something simple but the coffee you took a sip out of, made you grimace. You raise it to your nose and smelled it.

It smelled strongly like coffee. You look at the cup to see if it was washed out correctly. It was. It was you who washed it after all.

You take another sip to be sure and you spit it out in the sink as your taste buds didn’t agree to it.

You dump the drink out.

Paul was dead asleep.

You shake his arm.

“Hm.” he says with his eyes still closed.

“Come on. I made us something to eat.”

He shoveled food into his mouth as he rubbed his eyes.

“I’m so fucking tired.”

You blink as you realized that you were too.

“Me too.” you whisper.

“Why aren’t you eating? I thought you liked eggs.”

You look down. The bites that you did take were so small that it looked like you didn’t even touch it.

“I do..” you trail off. He eyed you carefully.

“Do you want them?” you then ask as you push your plate towards him.

“Then what are you going to eat?” he questioned.

“The coffee I drunk while cooking must’ve curbed my appetite…Plus the taste.. I think it went bad.” you say with a grimace as you scooped it onto his plate.

“You just bought it last week. It didn’t go bad.” he says. You don’t say anything as you rise to set the dish into the sink.

You walk slowly into the room where Paul watched you. It was as if he was watching to see if something would happen. Something did happen.

Your mouth filled with drool as you move hastily to the bathroom. You almost didn’t make it to the toilet before your stomach is being pushed in and you puke up everything that you had put in your mouth.

You cough as you then spit into the toilet bowl. You wince because you felt your stomach push in again. Nothing else would come up so you were gagging on air.

You felt a wave of heat beside you as you slam the toilet bowl down as you pant.

“You’re sick again?” he asks worriedly as he flushed. He helped you up and you clean your mouth.

“I told you the coffee was bad.” you mutter, “I didn’t want you to see that. Go away.” you say as you leave the sink.

“Kinda hard for me not to see, since we live together.” he says as he follows you back to the kitchen. You look at the box of coffee and read the expiration date.

It was still good.

Your eyes widen and you then blink to sober yourself up.

You don’t say anything as he watched you enter your art room with the door shut.

You lift your laptop up and scroll through your emails.

A submission was sent and you read the description of the piece that they wanted.

“A woman who is inside of a clam but she’s caressing or tending to a newborn baby. Her baby. Her private areas are covered with delicate seashells. Could you please have other small children surrounding such clam?”

You slam your laptop down.

“Of course.” you whisper with your eyes closed.

You didn’t know what you would do if you were-

You didn’t even want to say the word. You look around your room. Things would change. A lot. You didn’t know if it would be good or bad, but you and Paul as parents was something that you thought would happen way further down the line.

Blinking back tears, you scolded yourself to pull yourself together.

You prep the canvas and sketch the idea with a piece of charcoal.

You sigh as you were finished with your underdrawing, you squeezed paint onto your palate.

Slowly, you dab and start with the shadows. You yawn as you were finished with the shadows. You rise up and take the jar that was for your water and carry it to the kitchen.

“Why are you acting like that?” a deep voice says behind you.

You slowly pour out the discolored water. You blink. You didn’t know that he was still home.

“Like what?”

“Y/N, dont fuck around with me.”

You sigh a bit and turn your head to the side, speaking with no enthusiasm, “I’m not.”

“You are!”

You turn your head back and rinse the jar out. Slowly.

You didn’t expect him to still be staring dead at you when you turned around from the sink.

“Tell me what am I doing.” you say.

He blinked.

“You’re pushing me away and I did nothing to you.”

“I didn’t mean to…I’m sorry.”

He stares at you.

“Did you have patrol today?”

“Tonight. I just have to check the area.” he says.

“Oh.” you say as you look out the window and you grab your jar to set it on your desk but he halts you with a hand on your arm as you walk past him.

You stop but don’t look at him.

“What’s going on?” he asks as he peered down at you.

“I got an emotional…Submission.” you say and he immediately shakes his head.

“Y/N, what is wrong?” he asks but it’s now a demand.

You sighed.

“It’s nothing to be worried about. Okay? I just…I don’t know..I feel weird. Like…Not myself.”

“How?” he asks.

“I feel like I’m going crazy.” you whisper but then continue in a regular voice, “I’m just going to finish this-“

“You look like you’re about to crash.” he says and takes your jar. You follow him to the art room but he’s fast as he closed the door.

“I’m tired too. Let’s just get some sleep.” he says.

“See…I don’t get it. I got enough rest but I’m still feeling fatigued.” you say and he carried you into the bedroom, your face is in his chest.

“It happens to all of us.” he says in your ear and you both are under the covers, mushed against each other.

You yawn and close your eyes. You feel him shift. You open your eyes.

“What are you doing?” you whispered.

“I’m getting comfortable, you know this. Take your shirt off.”

You sit up and throw the shirt in a chair before laying back down. You hear a tear and realize your underwear was now tore. You didn’t flinch, you just looked up at the ceiling with a tired blink as you only turn your head to him with a serious look.

“Paul..I thought we were sleeping.”

“We are. Just after this.” He covers your mouth once more. It felt like he was tickling your soul. His hands overwhelmed you and felt like you were getting shot by love.

Your chest brushed against his chest with a breathy noise and you reach over to his side of the nightstand.

You felt the head of him brush along your entrance and you stick the packet in his face.

He pretends like he doesn’t see it, as he takes your hand to stroke him. You do for a bit, you felt a surge of lustful energy pulsate through you, but you let go of him. He groaned.

You hold up the packet as you start to open it.

He pauses.

“Are you…Serious?” he asks in genuine surprise.

“I…I don’t want any mistakes…I can’t do it.” you whisper.

He sits up.

“We don’t have to fuck.” he says as he was focused on just having you ride against his erection. You slide off of him. He hovered you and gave you his soft touches to open your legs but you clenched them.

“Y/N.” he whispered to you as he smoothed his hands down your thighs to relax them. It worked but you fought hard to focus.

“I…You’re gonna want to, after you…” you whisper as you gestured to him getting ready to lick and taste the ache away. The excitement for you, lurched, but the smell of consequence was all that you could focus on. You actually could actually smell the cloud of sex strongly, it scared you.

“I’ll just use my fingers…How about that?” he says oh so seductively and leans forward. You scoot back with reflex that you didn’t know you possessed. He looks concerned now. You never acted like this.

He sighed through his nose softly as he takes a look at you. You don’t look at him.

“What did I do?…Huh? I just want to touch you, Y/N.”

“Nothing. I told you already..I don’t feel like myself.” you say with reassurance as your eyes became wet and you’re frustrated that he wouldn’t move out of the way. You’re just stuck there as he looked at you. Naked. Vulnerable.

“Why won’t you just talk to me?”

“We weren’t doing much talking.” you say with quiet frustration as you look up at the ceiling. He’s now caressing your arm as he stared down at you.

“I just want to make you feel better…It’s more than what you’re telling me. I’m trying to be patient and let you come to me but it’s clearly not what’s going to happen.”

“Let’s just go to sleep.” you say.

“And then what? We wake up and we’re right back to where we left off.”

“Just get off of me.” you whisper in quiet frustration.

He looked upset. Like as if he was mad that his feelings were hurt. You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment as soon as you saw how rock hard he was.

“l’ll be in the bathroom.” he mutters and shuts the bedroom door behind him.

You shut your eyes then. You forced yourself to sleep.

You woke up to it being dark and empty. You smushed your face back into your pillow and silently cried.

You found yourself sleep again. You woke up in the morning, still tired. It was as if you didn’t sleep at all.

You grudgingly get up and you’re bent back over the toilet bowel.

As the toilet flushes, your back is leaned against the wall.

Paul walks right in and squats next to you. Taking a look at you. You eventually turn your head and meet his eyes. He had a quick twinkle in his eye with a soft smile.

“You really do smell different.”

“Just say I stink.” you say as he helped you up and you clean your mouth.

“No..You smell like…A good different..You kind of smell like me...” he says with a hint of happiness as he looked at you through the mirror.

Spitting out the toothpaste, you chuckle, “Okay.”

His rubbed a smooth hand on your back. You slowly walk out the bathroom with him behind you.

“I don’t have to leave today.” he says. You felt a soar of happiness.

“You don’t?”

He shakes his head.

“I don’t..Have any plans either.” you say quietly.

He raked his eyes on you and you turn away from him.

“I will be working on the piece if you need me.” you say as you open the door to your sanctuary.

“You trying to get away from me or something?”

You freeze as your hand was still on the door handle.

“No. Why would you say something like that?” you ask.

He doesn’t say anything and you turn to look at him.

“Okay. Do you want to do something together?”

“Let’s eat.” he says with suggestion. You then nod. You felt like you were starving.

You sit at the table as he moved about on the stove. You covered your nose at times while trying to keep your cool because the smell almost made you gag. He ate as if it was his first time ever eating. You ate slowly even though you were very hungry. You were afraid of throwing everything back up.

“You don’t like it?”

“I do. I just don’t want to throw up.” you say as you hold your breath to swallow the food.

“Do you want me to take you to a doctor?” he asks as his back hand is on your forehead. You shake your head eagerly.

He doesn’t look convinced.

After you help him clean up, he gives you a look. A look that made you ridiculously shy. He noticed as he chuckled deeply but quietly. The sound brought on butterflies that soared in your stomach.

Hot pair of hands were firm on your waist and you jolt a bit from his lips kissing the weak spot on your neck. Your arm are around his neck.

His hand immediately goes into your underwear and he moaned in your mouth. It made your ache grow viciously. You don’t think you’ve ever been this horny before. The ache between your legs was so prominent, it almost hurt. You actually grinned at him for making you feel this way right in that moment.

Underwear down your ankle and with hands plastered on the table, he’s leaned over you, behind you as he feels on you with his middle finger while kissing both your ear and neck.

You grip the table as he moved his talented hips. You shudder as you tried to catch your breath. Your legs were shaky and you felt like you were going to fall. You didn’t know which one it was. The breathy words, the touches, the open mouth kisses on your ear, you just didn’t know.

You then find yourself moving backwards as he sits in a chair. You moan at the sky with your eyes squeezed shut with as he leans your back against his chest with his possessive hands. Up and down, your body greedily takes all of him. You both move your hips as you both now groaned and moaned in sync.

He nipped your neck. He cupped and caressed your puffy chest with his large and strong hands. He traveled his hands down to keep your legs open. Your brain was melting as he was now stimulating the nub that was swollen without shame. Pure erotic. You came as you clenched your legs.

He turned you around and you both kiss sloppily as you grip the back of his chair as your hips were now bucking forward. His hands were gripping and caressed up and down your sides as he helps you sink back down on him.

He grunted and you grunted. Hips were meeting each other like a choreographed dance. You gasp as he gripped your bottom after bringing your legs up against his chest. You whine like never before at such new position as he holds onto you while thrusting, not letting fall.

You both rode out your high together. You both still sit there, still connected as you catch your breath. He sits you up straight as keeps your chest against his as you moan at the change of position as you realize he’s still connected in you.

He snaked his hand on the nape of your neck.

“Feel better now?” he says in your ear.

“I believe so…” you whisper you say as you accept the slow tongue filled kiss he then decide to give you.

You rise up a bit and a small gush of semen spills from you. You freeze and look at him. He looked at you with a heated look. He wanted to go again, even moving his hips upwards. You gasp as you clutch to his shoulders as it felt like a whole new level.

The touches were intense as everything that was taboo was out of the window. It was so easy for him to slide in and out which made the rhythm so smoother as you both roll hips to each other. He brings you to his chest, hands firm on your back as you both move together.

It was slow. It drove you crazy. You whined for him. He responded with rich caresses on your skin.

The moans you two made had a magical touch that you couldn’t even describe. You’ll never get it out of your head. Same with the wet noises, the squelchy noises of lovemaking.

The climax scared you. You don’t think you’ve came that hard. Neither did Paul.

Wobbly legs and all, you scramble away from him. You look for your underwear but he has them in his hand. You snatch it from his hands. You enter the bathroom and your lip wobbled. The bathroom door opens back up.

“What?” he asks calmly.

“W-W-Why didn’t you wear a condom?” you say emotionally.

“We never have.” he says.

“Still!” you say as you freak out and sniffle.

“Y/N, calm down-“

“No!…No!” you say and shove him but he doesn’t budge but he looks at you curiously. He was calm. Too calm.

You shake your head. Turning on the shower, you glare at the shower.

“Paul, I need time to myself.” you say emotionally.

“That’s all that you have done.” he says quietly but humorously and you didn’t like how your body responded to him pulling you to him. You were weak as he kissed your throat as your head dropped back. The ache was starting to come back. It was like you were possessed with his love.

He looks at you as you hear him softly inhale. He hummed a bit. He inhaled again as he held the nape of your neck possessively. It was quiet for a moment before he dropped the big question that tickled in your ear. You could hear the smirk in his voice.

“You pregnant?” he whispered as if it was a juicy secret.

You freeze and blink slowly. One look at his excited eyes. Tears fell without your permission. He cupped your cheeks. He was clearly happy. He didn’t understand why you wouldn’t be too.

“What’s wrong?” he cooed.

You try to move your face but he wouldn’t let you so you give up. You breathe heavily. He shuts the water off.

“It’s all starting to make sense.” he says with a grin as he sits on the toilet lid.

“W-what is?” you whisper through tears.

He brings you in front of him as he kisses and caress your stomach. You closed your eyes as more tears fell.

“The sickness, you being so emotional and anxious…I knew it was something…Us sleeping a lot, us eating a lot, your smell, god your smell, your dream..” he whispered to your stomach, trying to cheer you up.

He looked up and didn’t like how you didn’t meet his gaze.

He spoke in the most sickeningly sweet voice, “Baby, look at me.”

You blink your eyes open.

“Do..You not want this.?” he whispered.

“I smoked hella weed!” you say with shame as you remember your detours with Leah. He chuckled.

“You didn’t know. It’s okay.”

“And we don’t know now.” you say robotically.

“You are.” he says confidently with a smile.

“We don’t know that.” you say in total denial.

“You are. I can smell it. You smell…Like me.” he says with him slowly touching your body and pulling you to him. You shove his hands away. You didn’t see his face fall as you turn around and face the shower. He stared at the floor in front of him.

“You don’t want this.” he stated. You stare sadly at the tile wall.

“I…Don’t.” you admit very quietly. It felt like his heart was stomped on. It didn’t make sense to him. You were rejecting a piece of him. He wanted to cry with anger right then and there but instead he cleared his throat.

“So, what are you going to do?” he asks in a harsh voice as he’s looking at you. Deep with betrayal.

“I’m going to talk to Sue tomorrow.” you whisper.

“You’re fucked up.” he says harshly and close to your face which makes you blink and he walks out, slamming the door behind him. You blink at the door.

When you came out of the shower, he wasn’t home.

You sat on the edge of the bed as you clenched your fists. There was just no way you two could raise a child. Especially not now.

Plus, you wanted to think about a kid once you two were married at least. Things weren’t going to plan.

A knock startled you. In your robe, too lazy to get fully dressed, you answer the door.

“Oh, hey. How are you?” you say politely. You moved out of the way for Paul’s dad, Terrance.

“I’m good, Y/N. Yourself?” he answered.

“I’ve seen better days but I’m not complaining.”

You gesture towards the couch for him to have a seat.

“Paul isn’t home by the way. Are you..Thirsty?”

“No. I’m good. I um…I came to talk to you..” he says and you have a feeling of what.

“To…Me?” you still ask in surprise.

“Yeah….Um…Paul came over and…He told me what happened but I’m not getting into what you two got going on so….”

“Of course he did.” you whispered as you look to the floor.

“Look, I’m not here to drill you or anything. You can just go talk to him. You can get whatever off of your chest. He’s at the house right now and I told him to cool off. If what he’s saying is true, then I don’t mind giving a word of advice or something. I can give you two that.”

You swallow while you still don’t meet his gaze.

“I don’t feel confident. I don’t feel confident that…Us being parents is a good idea…I feel like we have a lot of growing to do before we jump in that boat.”

“But you’re confident in marriage ..?”

“It would be just us….This is different. Another being will now be involved….Whats going to happen when we clash? What’s going to happen when I have to leave town? What’s going to happen when I have to meet a deadline and I can’t do what I have to do because he’s at patrol….I don’t feel confident.”

“You should tell this to him.”

“….I don’t want to hurt his feelings. I only want him to know.. Just, not now.”

“You should still talk to him…His feelings are hurt either way, Y/N. At least, be real about it.”

You don’t say anything. He stands up.

“Come on over. I’m making dinner.”

“Okay.” you say quietly.

After saying your goodbyes to him, you take off your robe in your room. You just stare into the mirror.

“You would look pretty pregnant.”

Paul’s statement rang in your head. A hand goes to your stomach with a sigh.

You twist open the door to his old bedroom. It was dark. You heard the faint noise of snoring. He was face down in the mattress. You find the lamp and click it on since you knew that the main light would bother his eyes. There was nothing left in his old room except his bed.

You sit down and he immediately opens his eyes. He blinked and rubbed his eyes and shifted on his back.

“How much trouble am I in?” you ask softly. He gives you a disappointed look but it didn’t last long. His eyes softened as they flickered down to your midsection. You wrap your arms around it self cautiously.

He shakes his head a bit as he rolled his eyes a bit. He sits up after he yawned.

“Paul….Im not ready.” you whisper.

“You made that perfectly clear.” he says.

“In a way that…Should’ve been less harsh.” you admit you say with a soft grin that quickly faded at his hardened look at you.

“What is it that you want? You’re so fucking wishy washy. I’m starting to feel like you’re being immature. You’re acting like we’re teenagers still.”

“I just…” you sigh.

“One minute…It’s like you’re down for me…..Then the next, you’re ready to just walk away from it all..I don’t even know with you, Y/N.

“Another human being will be with us. It won’t just be us…What’s going to happen when you’re at patrol and there’s things I need to get done? What if I have to leave town?”’

“It’s not just an human being, Y/N. It���s our kid. Our kid that me and you have made together….Unbelievable….You hang with people each and everyday who would, I’m sure, would hold you down and you don’t even see that you would be okay………………Then, you even have my dad….You’re just making excuses at this point.” he says with a flick of his hand in disapproval.

“Not everyone is ready to have kids yet.”

“Okay.” he says and sits back and doesn’t look at you.

You get up and you groan with a hand on your head as you tried to regain your balance from being dizzy. He immediately guides you to the bathroom and you empty out the vomit in your system. You clean your mouth at the sink.

You sit back on the floor on your butt with your arms resting your knees as you look down sadly. He flushed the toilet and sets the toilet seat down and haves a seat.

“What are you really afraid of?” he whispered to you. He still wanted to understand. He was still determined to get fears out of you. Financials weren’t a problem. Babysitting wouldn’t be an issue.

“When we butt heads…I don’t want our…kid, to be a witness to such thing.”

He blinked at you. You continue.

“If they come…I will love them…I swear I will…I just wanted us to be married, Paul.”

“But we love each other immensely already. Marriage is just a piece of paper. This proves our love.”

“Yeah…I know, but…” you couldn’t think of another reason.

“And we will love them immensely. I love them already.”

A silent tear slides down. He reached over and quickly swiped it with his thumb.

“This is a gift, Y/N.”

It’s just like your dream.

You squeeze your eyes shut as more tears fall. He lets you get it out. Your breaths shuddered as you silently sob. You hiccup as you stand up in a slouch. He stands as well.

“You don’t even want to mark me.” you whisper as you look up to him with wet eyes.

“Is this what this is about?” he whispered as he wiped your tears with his hand.

“You seemed so for it. You didn’t even say anything when I asked you.”

“I can’t just out and do it…I have to do it when my wolf’s ready to do it. I wish you would’ve just told me. Here you were, pushing me away and he wants to spend more time with you. He’s happy you’re ready..The fucker was even excited when you said it.. I guess he knew you were pregnant before you even put two and two together…He wants to wait…After the baby is born.” he calmly explains.

You look down.

“Why didn’t you just say something?” he says.

“It’s hard…Maybe I am immature…This all feels too…Grownup.” you whisper.

“We did a lot of grownup things…A lot.” he whispered and his knee is between you as he quietly chuckled at your jumping heart.

“We’re gonna be alright, Y/N.” he reassured clearly.

“I hope so.”

“I know so.”

You both ate with joined hands at the table. Paul’s father, Terrance, takes his glasses off as he smiled, “I finally get to be a grandfather.”

“Only us in this room know….Okay?” you say softly.

“Why don’t you want to tell anyone?” Paul asks you.

“Because…I don’t want to be bombarded… Just not right now..If we’re going to do this…I want to enjoy it intimately.” you say quietly as you look down at your plate.

“I understand. I get it.” Terrance says with a supportive grin. You thank him with a smile.

You crawl into bed and turn over as soon as you came home. Your eyes are closed and you felt a hand snake over on your lower stomach. You open your eyes.

A pair of lips meet your neck. His fingers felt the warm mush that was between your legs. You move off of your side and onto your back. He was able to open your legs wider as he stared down at you.

With a soft groan, he sucked off the wet fingers before rubbing and circling you again. You grip his arms as you sighed out at the sight of him burning his focused eyes in yours. Your hips buck up as he thrusts his fingers in a rhythm that made unholy sounds.

You pant with an high octave as he filled you up with the heavy and deep pumps. His hands cupped your breasts that were slightly sensitive. You hold onto the headboard as he groans lightly in your ear. Your back was arched against him as he moved his hips to deepen himself in you.

He gripped your facial cheeks with one hand as he turns your head and keeps you in a kiss you with such eroticism.

You shake as he lays you down with him. Your eyes couldn’t stay open. He glided his hand sensually down the side of your body before lining himself up with you. You grip the side of his thigh as you moan out at the rhythm he was now pumping.

You’re shaken awake and you lift up lazily as you felt kisses on your face and you blink your eyes open to find yourself directly on top of him.

You lay back down. You didn’t want to move. You felt so tired and comfortable. He rubbed your back slowly. You almost fell back to sleep until he spoke.

“I have to go to patrol soon.” he says tiredly.

“That sucks.” you whisper.

“I got patrol with Sam. Are you going to hang with Emily?”

“Mm..Sure.” you say as you don’t bother to open your eyes.

Paul dropped you off at Emily’s while Sam goes with him to patrol. Sam looked right at you and Paul with a weird look but he continues to walk. You stop looking at him disappearing into the woods with Paul because you heard your name.

“Y/N!”

You felt small arms wrap around your side and you look down.

You smile as the small child looked up at you with a smile.

“Claire!” you say and bend down to give her a quick hug.

“Can we color again? Pwease?” she begged as she bounced her knees in excitement. You nod and she immediately takes your hand, “Okay, come on.”

She stayed under you. The entire time. You didn’t mind. She liked to ask a lot of questions. You answered patiently.

Many pictures were made.

“She stole you away from me.” Emily says as she tells you that lunch is ready.

“Oh..Sorry. I really came over for you.” you tell her quietly as you help her in the kitchen to make Claire a plate of what she made.

Emily only chuckles, “It’s alright, Y/N.”

As you ate with them, Claire gushed about Emily taking her to the beach, you felt a kiss on your cheek. Paul is sitting next to you so you get up to hand him a plate.

“I got it, Y/N.” Sam says as he grabs both you and Claire’s empty plates.

“Thank you.” you say quietly.

“Come on, Y/N.” Claire says tugging on your hand.

“How did she not run out of crayons?” Emily asks.

You laugh as Claire tugged on your arm. Paul just watched curiously.

He watched as you got down on your knees with Claire in the living room and drew and color with her. He didn’t understand it. He didn’t understand your insecurities.

Sam watched Paul watch you.

Your eyes drooped as you look at the picture Claire drew.

Her short and stubby finger points to one stick figure to the next. They were holding hands with smiles.

“This is me and this is you!”

“Wow…Very nice!” you coo to her.

“Y/N…”

You look up with a hand covered yawn.

“Yes?”

“Let’s go for a walk.”

“Sam, shes not walking.” Paul says after him before you could have the option to agree or disagree.

“I need to talk to her.”

“About what?…Come on, you ready?” Paul then says to you. You get up with Paul’s hand in yours.

“Why can’t I talk to her?” Sam asks calmly as he stops Paul.

“Because we’re going home.” Paul says with nonchalance and extends his hand that you end up taking. He tugged you towards the front door as he grabbed your keys.

As he drove, you put your head to window as you hold your midsection.

You lift your head as you cover your mouth with your hand.

Paul quickly pulls over.

You get out and throw up on the side of the road. Everything that you ate for dinner was on the pavement.

He rubbed and pat your back as you make sure to keep some of your hair away from such mess.

“Are you alright?” he asks after you start to try to walk back to the car.

“Yeah.” you say in a shaky whisper.

He helps you in the car.

He starts puts it back into Drive and makes the rest of the way home.

You flop on the couch and lay down after using bathroom to throw up again and clean up.

He moved your feet out of the way as he sits down and places both of your legs across his lap.

“Why wouldn’t you let me talk to Sam?” you ask curiously.

“The walk was to question you down…I think he knows…On patrol he slid in a remark of your smell.”

“Oh.”

“You see the way he was looking at you? He kept looking like that at me….Fuck..I forgot he could smell you.”

“So…Maybe I should just hang out here….Stay away from the wolves for a while.” you say.

“Yeah…” he says as he’s rubbing your legs.

You close your eyes but you’re up in his arms.

“Where are we going?”

“To bed. You’re not sleeping on the couch.” he says and he strips you and you’re asleep before you could finish.

Sue smiles as bright as the morning sun as she lets you know that everything is going well.

Paul was spot on.

You were indeed pregnant with his baby.

It was a look you never seen on Paul before. You’ve seen him content but this look, was much more than that. Completeness.

She prescribed prenatal pills and vitamins. She tells you let her know if you feel any pain, discomfort, or have any questions. She scheduled a follow-up appointment for you.

As you both were leaving out of the clinic, Paul asks you if you’re hungry. You nod.

That smile. You just wanted to rip it off of her face.

“Paul! I haven’t seen you in like forever!”

“Yeah…” he trails off as he’s more focused on looking at the menu.

“What are you getting? I got you…” she says as she whispered the last part. She’s displaying a cheesing smile as she bounces a bit in her stance as she looks at him.

Paul orders more food than he originally was planning to and the girl prints out a receipt after bypassing him paying. She grabs a pen. She scribbles.

“Hold that for me?” she tells him as she extends the small white paper to him.

“Keep it.”

Her face fell.

You slowly sip your drink as you sat across from him.

“Come on, eat. I thought you were hungry.” Paul insisted as he’s offering you the first bite.

“I need to use the bathroom.” you whisper. You get up and walk off. You slowly wash your hands and you hear the door open and close.

The same employee goes to the sink and fixes herself up in the mirror. She uses the soap that’s in front of you instead of her own.

“Excuse you.” you say.

“I’ve been excused.” she says with nonchalant intensity.

“Asshole.”

She laughs. You glare at her.

“What a shame..I was gonna be nice..You know, come to you as woman to woman..But you seem to have it all.” she says with a smirk with defensive hands.

Throwing the wet paper towels in the bin, you scoff, “The fuck is your problem?”

“What?…Please, tell me you don’t think this is…End game, do you? Do you not know him?…It’s…Paul.” she says with a laugh as if it was an inside joke. She looked at you as if this is information that you should’ve been able to pick up on.

“We are endgame. I know him well.” you say with a quick smile and raise your hand and before you touch the door to leave, you hear her bitterly laugh. She laughed as if she figured out a mystery that was worth digging. She points a bit at you a bit.

“You’re pregnant, aren’t you? That’s the only way Paul Lahote, on God’s green Earth, is gonna lock down and marry someone. And then.. You can’t even trust that.” she laughs again.

Your heart race but you don’t let her see you sweat. It was too early for you to show anyways.

“Nothing but trust with us. We’ve been together for about two years now.” you say with a nonchalant shrug with a relaxed smile and yank the door open.

Walking back to where Paul was, you flop down with your arms crossed. One look and he knew something was wrong.

“What is it?”

“Are you finished?” you ask as you hold the car keys. He leans back in his chair.

“You didn’t even eat.”

“I’m not hungry.” you say as you pinch the bridge of your nose for a moment.

“Eat, Y/N.”

“Paul-“

“You literally said you were hungry so-“

“Could you just stop?” you demand fiercely in a hushed but cruel tone.

He stared at you. He then leans forward a bit as he slowly pushed the food towards you.

“Just. Eat.” he says carefully.

It seemed as soon as he said it, your stomach roared with hunger. You chew. You didn’t bother to savor the taste in the food.

“Where are you going?” he asks as you walk to your art room when you both arrived home.

“I’m behind.” you say. You stare at the unfinished piece of work that sat on an easel.

He joins you and opens the window. You sit on a stool. He sits in there with you.

“What are you doing?”

“What? I can’t watch you?”

“I never let anyone watch me.” you say as you pour leftover water from a water bottle into your water jar.

“Why not?”

“It throws me off my game…I need peace.” you say with slight frustration as you squeeze paint onto the palette.

“I don’t give you peace?”

You look at the ceiling with your head back for a moment.

“Don’t twist my words. I hate it when you do that.” you say.

“I’m not. I’m trying to understand.”

“Paul. Leave.” you say in frustration. He looks at your unfinished picture.

“Who is that for?”

“Are you trying to fuck with me or something?”

“Y/N, what’s your problem? You went to the bathroom and came out a different person. Are you the correct Y/N?” he speaks out with assuagement.

“You’re being annoying. I just want to work and you’re being distracting. Why can’t you just allow me to do what I need to do?”

“I am…I just want to be around you. Is that so bad? Is it bad that I just want to be around you, Y/N?”

It tugged at your heartstrings. You look down.

“Then shush….If you’re going to stay.” you whisper.

He grinned.

You felt nervous. Every time you peaked over, he was watching.

“I’m not an art critic, Y/N, calm down.” he chuckled quietly.

“This has to be perfect.” You say as you look closely at the layers you were adding.

“It looks perfect to me.”

You shake your head a bit as you couldn’t help but crack a little laugh.

“You think…They will pick up our skills?” you ask curiously as you color in the newborn baby laying with its eyes closed. The mother was finished and looked like a goddess.

“No. He’ll have your skills.”

“He?”

“I think it’s a boy.”

“Dr. Paul.”

“I’m serious. I don’t know, I just have a feeling.”

“You can draw too.” you say quietly. They were erotic but they were still good.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“W-what?” you ask as your heart started to race.

“I only drew because of you.”

You stare at him. He stared back.

“Bullshit.” you say while laughing but he was serious, “It’s true.”

“But…Such little time…You drew as if..You've been doing it for so long.”

“I appreciate that compliment. Especially, from you.”

“You scare me sometimes.” you joke.

“You were always hunched over your sketchbook…” he reminisced.

You chuckle and nod in agreement as you knew it was in fact true.

“And now look…You’re witnessing me being hunched over my easel.” you say.

Paul quietly chuckled as he’s indeed seeing your awkward position on the stool as you now paint without nerves.

“I want to black mail you.”

“I like the sound of that.” he says but he’s listening closely.

You tap the wooden part of your paint brush on your chin in a thinking matter as you look up a bit.

“If you could go anywhere, where would you go?”

He reached over tried to pull on your pants but you swat his hand away.

“I’m serious. Just answer.” you say as you get back to work and he sits back at the fact that you didn’t look at him.

“Hm…” he takes his time to think. He tells you.

“We can go..When you don’t have patrol.”

“Who do I have to kill?” he asks suspiciously.

You smile, “We get married there.”

“Okay.” he immediately says as he sits up straighter. The excitement caught you off guard.

“Wait…Really?” you pause.

He doesn’t leave eye contact, “Yeah.”

“Wait..I-…Okay.” you stammer as you twirl your paint brush in the jar to get the paint off.

“What? You thought I was gonna say no. I’m the one who proposed.” he says as he nudged you with a slight chuckle.

“Yeah. I’m relieved actually.” you say as you pretend to wipe sweat away from your forehead with your forearm.

“All of this crying..All of this fighting..You just wanted a husband.” he grins as he titled his head.

“Well yeah. I want you to be my husband. It’s more exciting. I’m being tied to the love of my life. Marriage is like…Probably the best when it’s your imprint.” you say shyly for a moment.

He leans close to you with a sappy grin as you speak out your statement, “Yeah. It should be.”

After watching you make the clam more vibrant, he speaks after it’s quiet, “It will be just us?”

“…Who all do you want there?” you ask as you’re focused.

“My dad…That’s it for me.” he says.

You nod as you look at him for a moment.

“What about you?”

You chuckle a bit, “Larry.”

“Y/N, seriously?”

You chuckle again.

“You haven’t been around him long enough to know that he’s not going to take it lightly if he’s not invited.”

“Alright, alright.” he says lazily, “What about Bella?”

“Marriage freaks her out. Look, we can always have a big ceremony or whatever but I just want something for just us.” you say. He smiled.

“That’s what I want too. Something for just us.”

You set your brush down as you feel him get close. You stand next your easel as you looked at your signature.

A wet kiss chased your mouth. Your knees almost buckled.

“Looks good.” he says softly and looks to what you did.

You wrap your arms around his neck and lean your body against him.

“So, you’re done?” he asks you.

“I have to shine it up when it’s dry.”

“Alright, let’s wait for it to dry.”

Open mouth kisses are on your neck and you’re immediately soaked but you move away.

“It doesn’t take long.” you say with a shy grin.

He lifts your chin and tilts his head to capture your lips.

“I love you.” you tell him as soon as he pulled back.

The smile melted your heart, you couldn’t help but match it.

“I love you more.”

Your eyes fill with tears and you sniff.

“What’s wrong, babe?” his eyes softened.

“I didn’t understand…A thing about..Parenthood and I got scared. I love you so much. I really love you, Paul. I was going to discard a piece of you and-“ you take in a shaky but thick breath, “I’m sorry..I’m happy that we are together. I’m happy that you imprinted on me…I’m happy with you.” you start to hiccup, being very close to hyperventilating.

You felt bad, he swayed you in his arms, keeping your face to his chest. He didn’t care about the snot and tears that was on his shirt. He just smiled down at you.

“I love you more..I’m happy with you too. I wouldn’t trade what we have for anything…I’m so happy you came to the park that day..We wouldn’t be standing here right now. This feels like a dream I don’t want to wake up from.”

You pace back and forth in your living room. Paul was gone, you were making a new commission piece and you saw a text from Jacob saying that he was on his way to pick you up.

You told him not to. You told him a lame excuse of why you two couldn’t hang out today. All he had to do was take a whiff of you and he would know. You weren’t ready for anybody else to know.

“Bullshit. I’m coming over.”

“Jacob, stop! Alright?” you say as you pace.

His persistent nature picks up the desperation in your voice and he paused.

“Y/N, what’s going on?”

“I just need to finish my work. Okay? I’m backed up..I literally promised myself that I would get them out of the way. I swear Jake, you will be the first person I call.”

It’s quiet. Before you hear him intake a breath.

“Bravo. Bravo.”

“What?” you ask in confusion.

“An artist and an actress. I’m impressed..I almost clapped like we were at the Oscars.”

“Jacob, respect my wishes or..No pool.” you threaten with gritted teeth.

“Like I can’t just hop over your fence.” he says and hangs up. You stare the phone in horror.

Not knowing what else to do, you just grab a random jacket and grab your keys.

“Do you mind if I just chill out here for a while until Paul comes home?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Terrance says as he gestured with his hands to do as you please.

You lounge on the couch and read. Well, try to read. You had to turn your phone off from the constant buzzing from Jacob.

You check the time from the television, it was at night but not midnight yet.

You hear the door close and you look at the figure staring down at you on the couch.

“Why haven’t you been answering the phone?”

“I turned it off.” you say into Paul’s chest.

“Why?” he questioned as the seatbelt clicks into place across your chest.

“Jacob almost busted me. He was bullying his way over.”

“That kid.” he muttered with a shake of his head but he managed to quietly huff out a chuckle.

“Guess what?” he smirked at you.

“What?”

“I don’t have patrol all day tomorrow. The day after that, I have it late at night.”

You’re not tired anymore.

“Do you wanna..?” you whisper excitedly.

“I told you I’m down for it.”

You grin and look out the window.

As you put things together, Paul persuaded his dad to take off for a day. It took a lot of listing pros. His father wasn’t budging. He knew his father could do so, so easily. As long as he’s been under his father’s roof, he’s never seen him use any of his paid time off.

“Come on, dad. Have you ever even rode first class before?”

You smirk to yourself once you knew that that’s the final thing what won him over.

You and Paul, both hovered over the computer as you then show him the flight information.

Terrance grabs the bags and sets them in the car that you ordered for both you and Paul.

Alone in a room in a five star hotel with Paul, you both didn’t bother to be separate. The a.c blew, letting out a lullaby like whistle.

“It’s bad luck…If the couple see each other the night before they get married.” you whisper to him.

“I don’t know who made that stupid shit up.”

You both chuckle.

His hand rest possessively on your stomach as he then felt your breasts but you wince.

“What is it?” he whispered.

“I’m just sore.” you say. He bit in lip in conflict from within because they were swollen and puffy.

“Will it hurt if I’m just gentle?”

“I..I don’t..Know..They just hurt when they’re touched..” you whisper. He trails a hand between them as they are on display for him.

You blew out a quiet breath as his tongue delicately flicked upon a swollen nipple. His hand is caressing your stomach. The ache between your legs pierced you.

You couldn’t take your eyes away as he was now gently circling his tongue. A shaky breath comes out of your mouth as he’s now massaging the ache from between your legs, away.

The breathy begs sounded like music in his ears. The breathy groan that you both produced as he ate at you.

Your brain was mush as he held you tight to keep lapping at you. Both of your hands gripped his hair as you arched your back and gasp out in overwhelming pleasure.

He held your ankles with one hand as he stroked inside of you. You were shaking, thinking it was going to go on forever. Deep down, you did want it to. He wanted it to as well. His head was tilted up as he snapped his hips into you, while you whined out as another climax creeped through your body.

You both pant as you watch as it trickled out of you. He rubbed and inserted his fingers with the extra lubricant.

You grip his arm so hard, you were sure you broke skin. He didn’t care. He moaned at the sight and the moist sounds.

He takes his wet hand and grab yours and makes you feel what he felt. You gasp. He guides your finger to rub yourself and you’re stuck as you sigh out at the feeling. You never did that before. He covered your mouth with his as he you both kiss sensually with tongues and moans. Soon, he takes his hand away and you were moving your hand on your own.

He breaks away and he glided himself a bit as he moves himself along your entrance. He moaned to himself as he then sinks in with ease.

He pushed your legs back next to your head and you shake like never before. Deep strokes that made you feel like you died and came back to life. You grip onto his back as his hips roll fluidly forward with a steady rhythm.

His voice was tender, just like his touches. You didn’t know how his breath was even while saying it. The rich statements were said in Quileute.

“I love you.”

You hold onto him tighter as you moan out.

“I love you too.”

You felt connected with him. Both insides enjoyed each other.

Thinking that you were going to be nervous, you were surprised that it was instead a feeling of you two both trying to keep yourselves together as you walked down the aisle.

You found yourself almost tugging on Larry’s arm just to walk faster to Paul, down the aisle. The way that he looked at you made you feel like you owned the world in the palm of the world. You just wanted to touch him. Most of all, kiss him.

You stood next to him as you were in a dress and veil that Larry brought from a fashion agency. A new high fashion collection. You don’t know how he got it done but, you didn’t ask. He seemed to know anybody from anywhere.

You stood there with tears silently rolling down your face as Paul happily gives you his vows. He vowed to always love you as long as your heart is beating. He vowed to love you and his future children with you, forever. He vowed to always protect you and never leave your side. He promised to be the best husband he can ever be to you.

You speak confidently but it’s quietly, Paul didn’t care. He could still hear you due to his hearing. He gives you a breathtaking smile as you vowed to love him forever. You vowed to never let any circumstance tear you both apart, to be the best wife that you could be and do anything you can do to make him happy.

Not being able to look away, you watch as he held up the beautiful ring.

“With this ring, I vow to love you always and forever.”

Your hand didn’t shake as he slid the ring on. He raised the hand up and pressed a kiss on it with his eyes closed before looking back into your eyes.

His gaze watched as you raise his ring, you swallow as you felt like it was just you two in the entire world at that moment.

“With this ring, I vow to love you always and forever.”

You keep his hand in yours as you slid it on. You brush your lips back and forth on his ring finger. He then cradled your face. He wiped the sneaky tear with a warm and tender smile, that was for you.

You both didn’t hear the officiator speaking, you just heard womp womp womp. You were lost in Paul’s eyes.

It wasn’t a peck. Paul didn’t care as he grabbed your waist possessively. He kissed you as if you both were at home. You kissed him as if you were kissing him for the very last time. You would’ve been embarrassed any other time, but you genuinely considered it to be the happiest moment of your life.

“Wow, kid. You two are intense.” Larry says as he takes a sip of a drink.

“Love is intense.” you say quietly.

He pushed some alcohol your way but you wave it away.

“It’s champagne.” he says with a grin.

“Yeah..I know.” you say as you look down. He looks at you.

“Holy…Hell….You’re pregnant aren’t you?”

“What? I got a big sign on me or what?” you ask annoyed but he chuckled.

“Damn..Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

“So, I take it that I get early invite to the baby shower?”

“I’ll think about it.” you say with a smile. He wrapped an arm around you and gives you a heartfelt hug.

“I’m proud of you. I heard what you’ve been up to.”

You smile and nod.

“You think you can come to New York again? I talked to some fashion designers. Some of them heard your name before.” he winked.

You look down at what you had on. You narrow your eyes at him.

“You did that on purpose.” you say while chuckling.

“Custom made for a custom artist. Their words not mine.” he says smiling. You roll your eyes but started to think.

You were unsure. You didn’t know if the Cullens were still residing there.

“Yeah, well…This will be a great opportunity.” he adds in persuasively.

“When? I don’t want to go when I’m swelled up and I can’t do anything.”

“The end of the month.”

“I..I have to talk to Paul about that.” you say quietly.

“Talk to Paul about what?” Paul asks as he comes over.

Larry gives you one more hug with another congratulations before leaving off.

“Um..We can talk about it when we get home.” you say. He opens his mouth to say something but Terrance comes over. He placed an arm around the both of you.

“Allow me to take you both out for dinner.”

You both agree.

You both go back to the hotel and you’re both changed as Paul stands in front of you.

“So, what did you say you needed to talk to me about?”

“I’ll just tell you when we get home.” you say as you chew with a slight shrug.

“You can tell me now.” he insisted.

“Another business trip.”

“Where?”

“Back to New York.”

He’s silent.

“I told him I’ll talk to you about it.”

He nods.

“Come on, dad’s waiting.”

You take the hand that he held out.

“Hopefully, this will be much better and healthier than me and your mother’s. The love you have for each other is at least evident.” Terrance says at the table as you all ate.

Paul takes a look at you. It was like you were cloud nine.

“Oh..When we get home, I have to show you two what I got for the both of you.” he continued.

Both you and Paul nod.

It was a crib and a bassinet. You loved it.

At home, you tidy up the walls and floor in the empty bedroom. Paul put both things together, not forgetting to brag about not needing directions. How it was common sense.

You take a last look of the room before shutting the door. You have a small smile on your lips as you place a hand on your stomach.

Paul was sitting up in bed as he waited for you.

You move in front of him and planted a kiss on his lips. You lean back as you noticed he didn’t take over the smooch. He looked at you.

“Can you wait?” he speaks quietly in the dark.

You thought for a moment as you knew what he was talking about.

“….Time waits for no one.”

“Y/N.” he says your name with attitude.

“I don’t understand. If it were you, I would let you-“

“This isn’t about me. You seriously think I want to go through what we went through? Again? Seriously? But this time you’re carrying my child…You’re crazy.” he snaps out with a hushed tone.

“That’s not fair.” you state with zero energy.

“I can name a lot of shit that isn’t fair.”

“Like what?! It’s always about you!”

“Did I say anything about me?” he says not matching your temper with slightly narrowed eyes.

“I’ll just bring someone!”

“That’s not the point….You're not going out of town like this.” he says filled with dominance.

“You’re not my father.”

“You’re right. I’m your husband.”

You frown as you felt a jolt of unexpected excitement flow through your body at his statement. He noticed. You caught the subtle smirk as he watched you.

“And you get on my nerves.” you hiss at him.

“I don’t care.” he says quietly. You two just stare at each other.

“Welcome to parenthood. You have to sacrifice shit for the sake of what’s best. It’s not just my wolf that’s going to go crazy when we separate, but you will too. You’re carrying our pup.” he continued.

You then turn over with an attitude and face away from him as you lay on the pillow.

“Why have you been handing me your ass?” he whispered in your ear. You fought the smile that threatened to form on your face at his teasing as you grit your teeth.

“I haven’t been that mean.” you whispered.

“You’ve been meaner than me..That's a record.”

You turn your head a bit, “Shut up.”

He quietly chortles.

He brings your body to lay on your back. He kissed your cheek. You close your eyes in satisfaction.

He kissed your stomach before whispering to it.

“Tell mommy to stop being mean to daddy.”

You chuckle as you run your fingers through his hair.

He hovered over you as he slow burned a kiss with you. You both fall sleep tangled in each other.

Jerking awake, tears slide out the side of your eyes. Warm hands wipe them away as he then holds you.

“Y/N, what wrong?” he asks softly.

“Nothing.”

“Y/N, please.”

You silently hiccuped. You were hyperventilating into his chest.

He deeply rubbed your back.

You blink with dry eyes as soon as you calmed down.

“I just had a dream…Sue said it’s common to have pregnancy induced dreams…I had a dream…I dropped our baby, Paul. Fuck…It felt so real.” you croak out as you keep a hand over your eyes as you lay back on the pillows.

“Damn.” he says quietly as he rubbed your stomach in a soothing manner.

“I did like this..” you say and motion your hands in a careless drop.

“That’s not going to happen. You would never do that.” he whispered as he takes a glance at you.

“You just never know..I could be a horrible mom and that dream just proved it.” you whisper back.

“Y/N, you gotta stop talking like that. Your child can hear you talk bad about yourself…My wolf and myself know..Deep down…You’re going to be a great mother. You don’t have to keep having doubts because it’s simply not true.”

You two share a kiss.

“Are you hungry?”

You blink at him.

“What time is it?”

“Time to eat.” he says and you’re up and out of the bed.

You lounged on the couch as you sketched.

The food was easy on your nose. You were so hungry, you started drawing food.

You felt like you were being annoying by how clingy your were to him. Paul didn’t say that, but you were in your head about it.

“I’ll…Stay back.” you say quietly after he suggested sitting with his dad.

“Okay..I’ll just see you when I get back home.”

You nod and he smiled after the kiss you two shared. Your feelings were uneasy. It showed that you would be waiting for him but you didn’t want him to go.

He didn’t want to leave either.

He leaves for patrol.

You sat in the tub as your hands rested on the growing skin. Attachment wasn’t even the word.

You started to feel a bit guilty for not wanting such thing, it was something that both you and Paul got to share.

“That’s dangerous to fall asleep like that.” Paul says as you blink awake.

The water was cold.

“It’s barely to my chest.” you gesture to the height of the water, but he shakes his head.

”I want to cook you dinner.” you whisper as he carried your naked but wet body out of the tub. The heat of his skin made a towel be unnecessary, but you knew what he had in mind.

“Dinner wouldn’t hurt to wait for a few more minutes.”

“Yeah, but it won’t just be minutes.” you say as you roll your eyes a bit but he only grinned before hovering over you to place a small but passionate peck on your lips.

You hold his head as trailed kisses and his large hands down your body. You couldn’t front the soft noises that floated from your mouth.

He stopped. You sat up as he stared at your stomach.

“Y/N…I hear a little heartbeat.” he whispered. You cradle his cheek. He kept kissing your stomach.

His hands never felt your stomach as you whine out from his tongue that danced between your legs. You were moaning gibberish as he licked through your climax.

“Im full.” you say as you push the plate back.

“You’re not full..Y/N, eat.” he persisted as he chewed.

Chuckling softly, “Paul, I feel like I’m about to burst.” you say with two hands resting on your swollen stomach.

”It’s just us, Y/N.” he says. He heard the quick flutter of your heart.

“I know.” you say.

He suggested being naked. It was both of your house. Why be embarrassed? Well, Paul was very comfortable.

It made you comfortable.

In bed, he pulls on what you have in your hands. You grip it.

You clutch the sketchbook to you.

“Just let me see.” he says softly with a devilish smirk.

“No. Just..Leave me alone.” you say trying to hide your embarrassment.

“You let me see everything you make.” he says, not letting up.

You turn it around slowly with shaky hands. He points at it as his eyes are glued to the page. Oil pastel made it vivid.

“Should be in the Louvre.”

“Stop it.”

“I’m serious…If you paint it…”

“You’re giving me a big head.”

“Good. You can make it happen. It’s real.”

“Yeah..” you say in a dreamy expression. It was so intimate.

Two naked figures, one of them with a small bump. Laughing while eating in a kitchen. It was as if you took a peak into what love looks like. You took a peak into what comfortability looked like.

Emily’s child was cute. You received the photos and texts from everyone.

You stay on the phone with Leah as you kept her laughing.

“I miss you..You just curved me.”

“I didn’t. I promise. I have a lot to tell you but as soon as I’m not so busy I’ll make it up to you.” you promise her.

“You better.”

You smile.

Paul lifted your shirt as you look down.

“It’s just milk Y/N, it doesn’t gross me out.” he says as he tossed your wet shirt in the dirty clothes bin.

“I know..It just happens a lot.” you whisper. The kiss was heated.

You then step back with a jiggle of your leaking breasts as Paul gives you a look. He was guiding his mouth to them.

“You say that they hurt, right? I’ll relieve them.” he promises.

You gasp and sigh out as you lay there in bed while Paul fed on your breasts. His tongue swirl your nipple and attaches his whole mouth. It did feel relieved. You were worried about becoming addicted to the feeling.

Lately, you’ve been cleaning a lot. Paul placed the very last thing that completed the child’s modeled room.

You left one wall white. A free canvas for your child for when they get older. Paul joked that since permission was given to draw on the walls, they actually won’t do it.

You chuckle.

Paul almost got in trouble with Sam. He stalled going to patrol. You’ve never seen him so anxious before. He says he felt it deep within him that you were going to go into delivery. You felt fine.

“I’ll be okay.” you say.

“It’s going to come. I’ll play Sam off.” he says.

You give him a somewhat hopeful smile, “It will happen when you come back.”

You wake up out of your nap in pain. And wet.

You sharply breathe in and out as you try to hold on as much as you could.

You moan in pain as you cry out. You call Paul’s father. He knew exactly what was happening, claiming he was on his way. You then press on Jacob’s contact number, you didn’t know who else to call.

Jacob was faster.

He answers the phone, he only heard you in pain before he hung up quickly and he’s carrying you in his arms.

“I got you, Y/N.” he says as he buckled in your seatbelt. You whine in pain as you hold your stomach.

As he drives, trying his best to not go over any bumps, he’s dialing and yelling into the phone. There was so much authority in his voice.

“Someone get Paul!”

You were so much pain, you were about to pass out. You heard his voice.

“Paul.” you whine out his name.

Your face is being cradled and kiss as he whispered, “I’m here. I’m here, baby.”

You gripped his hand as you he encouraged you to push. And push. And push. The sound of crying ring out in your ears.

The baby is laid on your chest for skin to skin connection.

You couldn’t believe it. You started crying.

“What’s wrong?” Paul asks thickly.

“Nothing. Nothing at all. Just beautiful.” you choke out. He smiles.

Sue takes them and cleans them up and wraps them up.

Jacob then speaks, you forgot for a second that he was still there.

“Y/N, why didn’t you tell us?” he whispered. He seemed hurt.

“It’s nothing against you or Bella..I just wanted to enjoy it with just Paul for the time being.”

“But one have us could’ve already been there. What would’ve happened if we came too late?” he grilled you. You look down as you knew it was true.

“Jake, watch it.” Paul says fiercely but quietly.

Jacob was about to say something to him but you cut in, “I’m sorry, Jake. Plus, Emily was pregnant too. I would've stolen her shine.” you say with a slight chuckle.

“That wouldn’t have mattered….”

“I don’t want the others to know before I come home. You can call Bella.”

Jacob then smiles, “I texted her. She’s on her way. She’s more pissed at you than me.”

You then smile.

Paul looked down at the squirming and small human being.

“Y/N…You see ‘em?” he whispered. His smile melted your heart.

“Yes. I do.” you whisper back.

They were beautiful. You would protect this little person with every fiber of your being. Paul was right. They were a gem, the proof of love that you and Paul shared with each other.

Paul looked at you with that same smile.

The small suck of your breast felt like they were pulling at your heart strings.

You then let Paul hold them when you were finished breastfeeding.

Terrance comes in.

“Shit, I flew here as fast as I could. I came straight from work.” he says. But softened at the sight of his grandchild.

“Watch your language, dad. Wash your hands.” Paul says quietly but passed the baby to his father when he was finished drying his hands.

“Sorry.” Terrance whispers, “Hey…Hi…..I’m your grandad…I love you so much….” he cooed softly to the child in his arms.

You don’t say anything to the unshed tears that belonged to Paul’s eyes.

“This is us.” he whispered to you.

You couldn’t help but kiss him. He kisses you back. You then take a look at the small sleeping child in your father in law’s arms. An adorable bundle of joy that really was proof of you and Paul’s love that existed. You both now had a small person to share you and Paul’s love with.