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[dtc-express-packers-and-movers]

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[soleilapproves]

Mechanic Sukuna purposely lies about your car so he can see you again.

Notes: not proofread, fem!reader

main masterlist

Sweaty, grimy, and greasy. Three adjectives you’d use to describe the local repair shop. It was always filled with muscled men who always seemed to have a permanent scowl on their face, intimidating anyone who wanted help with their vehicle.

Which is why you always sent your (only) male friend there to order any kind of complicated repair work on your behalf. As a woman, you did not want to be subject to all the scrutinizing stares and intentionally inflated prices for services that would otherwise be cheap or free of charge.

Your car was your baby. A haven if you will. It was much better to take naps in there rather than sit and do homework in the library during the long gaps in your class schedule. It was the best to use in the late months of spring, with the AC blowing right in your face as you dreamt about sleeping on an iceberg.

But alas, it also had to break down when the heat was at its highest and your friend had gone on a trip with his partner.

You were now conditioned to go to the place you dreaded most. You got rid of all your pretty accessories stuck and dangling off of different parts of your car. You were not going to be a victim of chauvinism. Especially not by mechanics- it just hurts more with them of all people.

As expected, all eyes were on you (mainly because you were the only girl in the shop and you looked like you had seen a ghost). All the men there looked like they belonged to a gang- brutish, crass words slipping out of their mouths like it was nothing, grease all over their faces, and regular safety uniforms altered to show off their muscle tank tops.

Your eyes just shifted around the place. You weren’t even sure how the system worked. Were you supposed to walk over to them or did they just come to you? Did you have to get an appointment before arriving like it was a doctors office or-

“I recognize that dump.”

You turned to see who in their right mind had to say that about your ass. You hadn’t been hit on a lot in your life, but you knew how to differentiate between flattery and sexual harassment. The other men were quick to go back to their tasks, not wanting to watch your reaction.

“Excuse me?” You squeaked out with as much anger in your voice as possible (you were more like a yipping Pomeranian).

The pink haired man in front of you looked like the definition of bad news. Stark black tattoos against his pale skin, burn and cut scars all over his arms, and his pink hair was pulled back by a black bandana. With the way him and the other men looked, it seemed like all mechanics had to do a course in ‘Intimidation 101: how to look like a convict.’

“Talkin’ ‘bout your car, sweetheart. Some guy is always comin’ in here with that thing.”

Sweetheart. Passive aggressive prick

“Oh, I’m sorry. That guy’s my friend. This is actually my car and the AC is just not working properly. I think it’s broken.”

You watched as he walked over to your car and examined the interior. “Flaps are fine. I think we might have to open it up and take a good look inside. Might even have to replace the thing.”

He noticed your shifty gaze, probably worried about how much you were going to have to pay for the whole thing. Adorable.

“I know a guy who gives discounts for it. You a college student?” His unnaturally handsome face looks concerned for you. You weren’t expecting it but you welcomed it. With caution of course. You nodded meekly while looking at him. Maybe mechanics weren’t scammy towards women after all.

He clapped his hands and grinned, sharp canines visible in all their glory. The man looked like the human version of a tiger. “Then it’s basically free. Don’t worry about the cost. You can leave your car here. Want me to call an uber for ya?”

He noticed the not-so-discreet glances from his coworkers but kept his eyes trained on your wimpish face.

“I’m alright. Um, thank you. Do I have to leave my number or do you guys have that on file?”

“We do have a number but I’m guessing that belongs to your friend cause he’s always the one to come here and pick your car up after service.”

“You’re right. I think I might have to give mine.”

As stupid as it sounds, he wanted to do a cartwheel, it’s like everything was falling into place. Cute girl with car problems, no boyfriend (as far as he knows), and he gets her number.

He was going to get a celebratory beer after work.

His colleagues could see the pep in his step but didn’t bother to say anything knowing that you were still there- even if you looked like your mind wasn’t present.

He returned with a clipboard and bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from scaring you with his beaming smile.

“I’m Sukuna by the way.” He smirked as he noticed the deep blush on your cheeks. You stammered out your name to him and he swore that he could almost envision it on an elegant white card a few years from now.

“See you soon,” he said before walking away with a new air of confidence around his gait.

After you left, his friend, Toji, abandoned the car he was working on to follow Sukuna to the office. “There’s no way in hell you know someone who can install a new AC for free. I paid hundreds to fix mine.” Sukuna didn’t even look at his friend while he was talking. He just kept staring at you through the window while you were getting into your cab.

“There’s nothing wrong with her AC. She just needed to clean the filters.”

__

New serie- who said that? 👁️👄👁️

[apute11as]

Everything happens for a reason part 2 - Alexia putellas x pregnant!reader

Author note: Hey as requested this is part 2 to my alexia x reader pregnancy fic! Sorry if it’s not great but I’ve got ideas for further chapters that I’ll work on soon! Also please send ficlet requests if you’d like more consistent posts as they take significantly less time :)

Warnings⚠️: mentions of vomit, tiny bit of suggestive content, angst

Part 1- https://www.tumblr.com/apute11as/733631966220582912/everything-happens-for-a-reason-alexia-putellas

~~~~~~

As you strolled through security, your mind flickered back to the conversation you’d had with the mother in the plane. Unease overtook your body as you couldn’t help but wonder if she were right, but she couldn’t be, surely? Yes you and Alexia had been trying but you’d taken a test after the last round of IVF and that test read a strong negative.

Casting the thoughts out of your mind, you decided to shift your focus to the important upcoming tournament. Getting though baggage control was yet again, a thankfully unproblematic task and you’d found your driver with minimal effort. These were further signs that you’d simply been overthinking the spontaneous sickness from this morning which was mostly likely due to fatigue or anxiety.

Having had help from your driver with hauling your luggage into the back of the black car, you finally sat down in the back of vehicle and allowed yourself a breath of relief as the most difficult part of your journey had been achieved. This moment of peace finally allowed you to check your phone, where of course you were met with a text from Alexia that read:

“I hope you had a safe flight bebita, I left you a suprise in the top pocket of your bag, te quiero mucho amor ❤️xx”

Smiling down at your phone, you clicked her icon to reply with a simple

“just got in the cab, can’t wait to see it te quiero más bebé xx”

The journey from the airport to St George’s Park was relatively short and you’d surprisingly managed to occupy yourself well enough that not once did your mind shift to your impending potential pregnancy. Upon arrival, you thanked your driver, giving him a generous tip for his good service and further help in hauling your heavy bags from out of the car. Thinking, you had another moment of peace, you reached down to look at a message which was a short lived attempt as you felt yourself being almost plowed down by a body being thrown at you.

“HOLA CHICA” bellowed none other than Mary Earps, the English goalkeeper wrapping you into a tight hug.

“Hiya Mary” you sighed after getting over the initial shock of her entrance, recovering from the near dropping of your phone onto the concrete floor below.

“How’ve you been, we’ve missed you at home, how’s Spain treating you?” she exclaimed, bombarding you with questions.

“Let the girl breathe Mary” rung the voice of Millie bright, the defender taking a much more gentle approach to you welcome.

“hey Mill, I’ve missed you all so much it feels like ages since I’ve seen you all” you replied.

“Clearly you’ve found some superior company though” stated Leah Williamson who now entered the scene, greeting you with a hug.

“What are you talking about?” you questioned, confused.

“well if the marks on your neck are anything to go by then I’m sure you’ve been just fine with Putellas” Leah jeered teasingly.

“oh shit I totally forgot, it’s been such a hectic morning I didn’t even realise” you stuttered although thinking back, your wife would surely have noticed your failure to cover up the less than subtle marks that littered your neck. Although, knowing Alexia she would have watched you walk out with pride, knowing that everyone would know you were hers just by taking one look at you. Typical la Reina.

“don’t get all stressed now, some of us a just single and miserable” the Chelsea defender gestured to Leah.

“haha very funny bright” retorted the younger blonde, and with that the pair of defenders wandered off inside.

“you said this morning has been hectic but I thought travel was smooth?” questioned Mary with a furrowed brow.

“Yeah yeah travel was perfect, it’s just other things.” you said with your expression visibly faltered.

“If your ever need to talk babes I’m here, it’s nothing to do with Putellas is it? Because i swear if that woman hurt you…”

“No no” you insisted, cutting her off. “Alexia has been perfect, just got a lot on my mind right now.” You assured the older woman.

“Alright hun, just don’t hesitate to reach out” she said with a smile.

“Thanks Mary I appreciate that so much” you replied.

After a further wave of reintroductions and also a couple of greetings towards the new players, you found yourself in a room with Sarina, the team and the assistant coaches.

“Right as usual of course, your rooms are to be assigned” stated the coach

“Leah and Keira”

“Georgia and Ella”

the list went on in a typical fashion.

and “Y/N and Alessia”

You let a small smile slip at the revelation, knowing that the blonde forward was easy to talk to and respected your quiet time, something you felt as though you needed more than ever, given your current stresses.

You were presented with a key card each and then made your way upstairs, having to haul your several bags into the elevator, a task that left you unusually out of breath. A fact that didn’t go unnoticed by Alessia as you hunched over, clutching your stomach.

“Are you ok Y/N?” the younger girl questioned.

“yeah thanks, I’m ok. I think it’s just a little discomfort from travel.” you replied with a weak expression.

Finally, the two of you reached the comfort of your shared room and unlocked the door swiftly. You offered Alessia the window bed as you knew that she much preferred it and felt slightly claustrophobic otherwise.

You both began unpacking your vast array of bags and unloading stuff into the wardrobes, when your mind shifted back to the text your wife had sent you earlier. You reached for your carry on bag and unzipped the pocket, to be met with the sight of your favourite Spanish chocolates with a small note that read:

“Para mi princesa. Un regalo casi tan dulce como tú. Te amo mucho mi corazon.”

You smiled softly, your wife had always expressed her love so beautifully through words, the terms of endearment making you tear up slightly.

“What’s that?” Alessia asked with curiosity.

“Just something Alexia got me to remind me of her.” you replied, wiping your eyes simultaneously. “They’re spanish chocolates” you continue “she knows they’re my favourite from our local chocolatería.”

“that’s so sweet” the younger girl replied with a smile.

“Yes it really is” you said, beginning to open the sweet treats but before you got a chance to offer some to Alessia, the smell hit your nostrils. Normally that would elicit a mouth watering response but this time you felt your stomach lurch in discomfort, similarly to the way it did this morning. You the found yourself bounding to the bathroom to throw up the small sandwich you’d eaten on your flight.

“Oh my god Y/N” exclaimed Alessia, worry evident in her tone. “I knew you looked pale earlier, you are sick!” she said holding your hair back and grimacing as another round of nausea had you further emptying the contents of your stomach into the toilet bowel.

“Sorry Alessia you don’t have to stay for this.” you managed in between the dry heaving that had replaced your sickness.

“No god I don’t mind, should I go get a staff member though?” She questioned.

“No, no definitely not I think I know what it is it’s fine.” You assured her.

Though Alessia wasn’t convinced and made a mental note to ask you again after team bonding, which you insisted you were well enough to attend.

“I thought you said those were your favourite chocolates, why did they make you feel sick?” The blonde questioned curiously.

“I’m not sure maybe they’d gone off” you offered weakly.

The two of you finally made it downstairs to the team, albeit 10 minutes late as you changed and freshened up after your spell of sickness.

“Look what the cat dragged in” shouted Beth as she attempted to rugby tackle you to the floor but before she was successful, she was stopped forcefully by Alessia.

“Careful Beth she’s not feeling great” explained Alessia.

“It’s alright Less, I’m alright now” you assured the girl.

“Anyways now that you two have finally arrived, we can start the fifa play offs!” cheered Georgia

As the night progressed, your stomach settled but your anxiety levels only heightened as the reality of your situation truly began to settle in. You were shocked out of your thoughts by a soft hand on your shoulder, that belonged to your captain- Leah.

“Woah there jumpy” she said as you flinched at her touch. “I was just checking if you wanted a hot chocolate but is everything all right?” she questioned.

That did it, the tears that had been threatening to flow came free now. You ran off hurriedly to the bathroom, Leah watching in awe as to what had actually just happened.

“It’s alright I’ve got her.” Alessia assured a couple of the team members who had gathered at the commotion.

You were now balling your eyes out in the bathroom, as the thoughts of what the pregnancy would mean dawned upon you. Ordinarily when you’d planned the pregnancy, you wouldn’t be attending the World Cup, opting to sacrifice it for your wife who’d just come back from an injury and was 4 years older than you anyways. However, now here you were, ready to go to the tournament and were potentially pregnant. You heard the door swing open and were soon met with the concerned face of your roommate, knowing you now definitely had to share your concerns with her.

“What’s up Y/N, no “I’m fine” or any nonsense, you’re struggling with something let me help you.” said the blonde, sympathetically.

“I-I think I’m pregnant” you said for the first time out loud since you began questioning.

“That’s good surely? Wait you’d have to do ivf for that, unless it’s not Alexia’s baby oh my god, oh my god is it somebody else’s, that’d explain the tears…”

“No Alessia” you urged, cutting off her rambling. “It would be Alexia’s it’s just not quite gone to plan” you continued as Alessia stared at you with a confused face.

You the preceded to explain your conversation with the woman on the plane, the negative pregnancy test from earlier this month and yours and Alexia’s plans to start a family. Alessia listening intently and comforting you as you spoke.

“Maybe the best idea would be to get a test” Alessia stated “because for all you know you’re getting stressed over nothing.” She reasoned.

“Yeah yeah that’s true, I just didn’t have much time to get one between the airport.

“We can get one tomorrow at lunch, it’s late now anyways maybe you should call alexia and tell her what’s going on?”

“No no no I can’t call Alexia she can’t know” you urged.

“why not she might be able to help you see clearly” said Alessia

“No she’ll be on a flight over here to make sure I don’t play, I really want to play Alessia” you pleaded

“Ok then let’s tell the girls you don’t feel well so we’re going to bed early how’s that?” Asked the blonde

“Yeah that sounds good thank you Less it means so much that you care.” you thanked her

“Of course Y/N anytime” she smiled.

[omegaverse-anthropologist]

going feral

i’ve mentioned feral alphas and omegas in a few posts before, but what does that mean? this post will discuss ferality,* its causes, common feral behaviors, and treatment.

*note: i will be using ‘ferality’ as opposed to the technically proper ‘ferity’ because the latter is based on the latin root and sounds pretentious, and the former is based on the english word and is more accessible

what is ferality?

ferality is a medical emergency caused most commonly by social isolation. it causes those afflicted to behave erratically, and is the most common cause of forced bites. it is one of the top ten causes of death for those over 80 years old. it is also called ‘loneliness disease’ or ‘bite fever,’ and is often euphemistically described as ‘losing oneself.’ in the past, more than a week of ferality was incurable. today, synthetic hormones and careful medically supervised management leads to over 90% of those afflicted to make a full recovery if treated before one week, and over 80% to regain most normal function if treated before two weeks. outcomes become less positive the longer someone experiences ferality, but there have only been 1,762 documented deaths directly from ferality in the US since 1980.

why does it happen?

humans in the omegaverse are pack animals not only because their ancestors saw practical advantages to living, hunting, and raising pups in groups, but because they were biologically dependent on one another. in simplest terms, interacting with pack aids the body in maintaining its optimal balance between the twelve dynamic (i.e., alpha, beta, and omega) hormones. prolonged lack of social support means that these hormones become unbalanced, leading the body to a state of multi-system disregulation.

ferality greatly reduces people’s access to the areas of the brain responsible for decision making, planning, empathy, and abstraction. it is the body’s desperate bid to regulate itself by any means necessary. those afflicted become impulsive, aggressive, and violent in some cases, so it is essential both for the afflicted person and those nearby that if you spot a feral person, you call emergency services immediately.

how do you spot it?

feral humans are fairly easy to spot based on their unusual, erratic, impulsive behavior. they may sniff the air (or other people) unsubtly, grab or touch things (or people) and fail to respond to spoken language. ferality is most commonly associated with inappropriate scent marking and biting for good reason: a feral person’s primary drive is to share scent with someone to help bring themselves back into balance. there are also some behaviors that can generally be attributed to the different dynamic sexes:

alphas

feral alphas tend to make aggressive eye contact as a posturing behavior

growling, snarling, and clicking at no one in particular

clenching and unclenching the fists and shifting from foot to foot

violence, especially toward other alphas

an acrid scent, like burning rubber or sulfur

betas

feral betas’ eyes tend to shift rapidly, settling on nothing for very long

humming, clicking, huffing at no one in particular

similar to alphas, they clench and unclench the fists and shift from foot to foot

general restlessness, moving quickly

climbing and perching inappropriately (e.g. on tables, vehicles, or buildings)

a rotting scent, like old meat or milk

omegas

feral omegas tend to make glancing eye contact—they meet someone’s eyes, hold, and look away several times

whining, purring, and clicking at no one in particular

baring the neck indiscriminately in a bid to entice a bite

hiding/burrowing (e.g. under tables or in closets. there have been several cases of feral omegas in clothing stores nesting in the clothing racks)

a chemical scent, like bleach or ammonia

how is it treated?

if you spot someone afflicted by ferality, it is essential to call for an ambulance immediately.

treatment begins in the ambulance. typically, EMS technicians anesthetize the individual for everyone’s safety. once it is safe to do so, the technicians draw blood and begin measuring vital signs and hormone levels to ensure that the individual truly is feral. in the past 30 years, rapid tests have made measuring hormone levels faster than ever. these levels are recorded and passed off to hospital triage, along with a record of any emergency hormones administered.

the hospital then brings the individual to the feral ward, where they have an individual room and nesting material marked with synthetic pheromones of all three dynamics. if the individual has been feral for less than ~three days, typically this is enough to trigger their body to begin regulating itself. in some cases, the individual may need direct scent marking in order to jumpstart regulation. if it’s necessary, a nurse or technician will swab the individual’s face and neck with a cotton swab soaked in a synthetic pheromone solution.

in more moderate to severe cases, the individual may need further assistance regulating themselves. in these cases, the individual will receive intravenous hormones and extremely frequent monitoring.

typically, after a few days of hormone therapy, the individual’s body will have reached a state of equilibrium and will be able to maintain the balance itself again. however, in some severe cases, the individual’s body may be unable to maintain the balance. these people will need hormone therapy every other week indefinitely. in some cases (especially those where there is also malnutrition or other severe condition), the issue will resolve itself with time. in others, the hormone treatment is for life.

how is it prevented?

the best prevention is maintaining healthy pack bonds. if, for some reason, this is inaccessible, clinics, health departments, and hospitals typically have nesting materials marked with synthetic pheromones. in the past five years, some nesting material companies have begun offering materials marked with synthetic pheromones. in addition, matching agencies sometimes offer scent-marked clothing or nesting materials for sale, though this practice is judged fairly harshly.

[juvinadelgreko]

a short list of things that happen to gallavich post-canon because i said so:

ian & mickey ditch the yuppy westside after a year and get a small duplex on the south side that's far enough away from either of their childhood homes to not have too many ghosts, but close enough to family and the places they know. it's 3 beds and 2.5 baths, which is the perfect size for them and any guests they may have. franny and freddie love to sleep over, and fiona enjoys staying with them when she decides she's ready to come visit.

the security business grows to the point that they file Real Business Paperwork™️ and start hiring new people. Their services eventually expand beyond just weed. Their clientele mostly consists of small family restaurants and shops that want to cater and deliver but don't have the budget to buy their own vehicles/hire their own drivers. ian and mickey's favorite client is a family run greek restaurant that sends them home with leftovers every time they do a run for them (i'm greek, chicago has a huge greek community, and it makes me happy to think of ian and mickey stuffing their faces with homemade gyros and baklava after a long day).

mickey thrives as CEO of GM Secure Transport. we know he's a math whiz, and his accounting methods, though unconventional, are pristine. he knows the city so well, has a knack for mapping the most efficient routes that keep them on time and cost effective. they set up a website and social media pages that quickly become plastered in rave reviews. he actually comes to enjoy meeting the different people that hire them, getting to know their businesses, getting free samples and leftovers. he establishes a rapport with the business on his route, and would even go so far as to consider himself friends with some of the owners.

things go so well that ian begins to consider stepping back. on the downlow, he starts doing research on a possible path back to working in healthcare. after losing his army dreams, it was the only career he ever felt passionate about. he loves helping mickey, but he misses it so much. he finds a few different legal processes by which he could return to it, and decides he's going to try. he refuses to live the rest of his life regretting not trying. he's nervous to tell mickey about stepping back from their business, but of course mickey is 100% behind ian doing what makes him happy. mickey rallies the entire family behind ian to help with the paperwork and supporting documentation. it takes months, but ian eventually receives permission from the state of illinois to go to paramedic school. he'd loved being an EMT and had always wanted to learn more. mickey draws flashcards for him and helps him study for all of his exams. ian, of course, passes everything with flying colors and graduates at the top of his class. mickey insists on throwing him a big gallagher blowout party after the ceremony. when his shifts start, mickey packs him lunch with goofy (sometimes dirty) notes in the box. (I'll forever be so angry at the writers for taking ian's EMT career from him and i refuse to believe that in shameless's wishy-washy version of the legal system he couldn't find a path back to it).

aside from their business, mickey has a small side gig as an artist. ian always knew mickey was brilliant and creative, and never passes on an opportunity to tell him so. when he went over to the milkovich house as a kid, he'd always pocket mickey's little doodles he left laying around (ian was not as slick about this as he thought, mickey 100% saw him doing it but was way too nervous to bring it up until they wound up in prison together years later). now that he has the money for it, mickey invests in some entry level art supplies, takes some classes, and really falls in love with it. he posts some of it to social media and gets way more love for it than he was expecting. people eventually ask about buying his work or commissioning pieces, leading mickey milkovich, at one time the meanest thug on the south side, to set up an etsy shop.

but what really surprises everyone is when mickey picks up knitting (thank you, @infjgemini for being the originator of this headcanon) he's always liked working with his hands, working with numbers and patterns, and the women in his art classes are always talking about their knitting. when one of them catches him looking at the patterns sticking out of their purse, she offers to share an extra set of needles and some yarn with mickey so he can learn how to do it. ian's a little intrigued when he comes from his shift and sees mickey knitting, but he just encourages mickey to keep doing it if he's enjoying it. eventually, ian stops buying sweaters, hats, mittens, etc. at the store and exclusively wears mickey couture. he can't go five seconds without telling people that his husband made one of the things he's wearing. 'oh you like this hat? my husband made it. he has an etsy store.' and 'this is my favorite sweater. my husband made it just for me, you can't have it.' franny and freddie love their custom uncle mickey sweaters. a year after he starts, mickey's christmas gift to ian is an absolutely massive knitted throw blanket that will actually cover all 6ft of ian plus mickey when they snuggle, unlike the ones at the store. it becomes ian's most prized possession, and they almost always spend their evenings and weekends curled up under that blanket watching movies on their very comfy couch. mickey's knitting of course sells gangbusters on etsy, and he wishes he could go back in time just to tell his 17 year old self that people are paying actual money for his artwork. he continues meeting with his art class friends, with the women who taught him to knit, and finds he really enjoys the low stakes gossip and chatter of their group. ian gets so hooked on all the tea he brings home, eagerly waits up for mickey to relay him the knitting circle drama for the week. he's not the only guy in the group, and there's a good enough age range that he doesn't feel like an oddball. ian enjoys meeting them, is glad that mickey has friends he feels comfortable with. some of them are elderly, and he and ian frequently go to their houses to help with chores and heavy lifting. they accidentally end up with a small cohort of surrogate grandparents, which they both really enjoy after growing up with almost no sane adult presence in their lives.

ian finds his way back to running. it's one of the many things he adds back into his routine as part of his and mickey's agreement to start taking better care of themselves. it had taken a few really loud arguments, but once the dust settled on their first year of marriage, ian insists they're going to start eating better and living healthier now that they can afford it. it takes a lot of convincing, but he manages to get mickey to quit smoking with him, to cut back on drinking, and work some more exercise into his life. mickey hates running but loves lifting (man after my own heart) so they spend a lot of time doing that together. but ian's runs are his quiet solo meditation time. he really missed it. he finds a local queer and trans run club, and once he's sure it doesn't involve caleb or any of the gay jesus kids, he joins up. he ends up getting along really well with the group, and even convinces mickey to go out for drinks with some of them. ian trains a healthy amount, doesn't push himself too hard or obsess over how fast or far he's going or how much weight he is or isn't losing--he just enjoys it. he enters in a neighborhood holiday race with the run club just for shits and giggles, and actually really enjoys the fun competitiveness and goofy holiday outfits. he keeps doing fun little races, enters a local half marathon, and then a full one. mickey always parks himself somewhere along the route with the partners of the other people in the run club and cheers like a rabid soccer mom when ian passes by. he does not care who stares. that's his fucking husband! after a few years, fiona comes home and they run the chicago marathon together. the whole entire family shows up to cheer for them, and the picture of him and fiona in their race bibs and participation medals, surrounded by the entire family at the finish line, is framed on ian's nightstand.

speaking of eating better, ian finds he really loves gardening and cooking. he starts with tomatoes, and when those go well, slowly expands. he finds that mickey's much more amenable to trying new foods if he knows ian grew the ingredients in their yard. ian loves to dig online for recipes, loves to experiment with new ingredients. one of the older ladies from mickey's knitting circle comes over sometimes to help him with new dishes. liam, franny, and freddie come to their house for dinner at least once a week just because ian's cooking is that good. liam especially takes an interest in it, and starts coming over a bunch just to cook with ian. he gets really good at meal prepping for the days he works 12 hour shifts and doesn't have the energy to cook anything when he gets home. he puts everything together beforehand and leaves mickey directions for serving it. mickey always has it ready for him when he gets home. they cook together on ian's days off. in the summer, ian will make spreads of berry pies and have the entire family over for dinner. he always hides one away for just him and mickey. for holidays, everyone pitches in to cook, but ian is the chief executive of it all, with liam as his right hand man. mickey is chief taste tester.

also--they get a dog. a few years on, mickey finds a worse-for-wear boxer-mixed-with-something wandering around one of his delivery routes, and like. he can't just leave it. he takes it to a shelter, but it sticks in his mind for weeks, until he can't resist anymore and has to ask ian about maybe, just maybe getting a dog. ian agrees, because they both really wanted a pet growing up and now they can have one because they're grownups with the space and money for one. after doing some research, they decide to go adopt from the same shelter mickey took the stray to. he's still there, and mickey never believed in fate before, but he thinks maybe he does now. they bring him home and name him Sox, both after the white sox and because his brindle coat is interrupted by four white socks. he is the most spoiled dog in the city of chicago. the 'no dog on the couch or bed' rule lasted about five seconds. he sleeps on the end of their bed every night and flops on their laps during movie time. mickey insists that dog food is dog food and people food is people food, but ian is a softie who sneaks him pieces of meat from dinner almost every night. mickey will sometimes take him on delivery runs because the customers love him and Sox loves to stick his head out the window. whenever his station does a cookout, ian brings Sox and everyone takes turns playing fetch with him. in the summer, he loves to swim with them and the kids in the above ground pool in the yard, and sit in the garden while ian works.

this is so soft, guys, but it makes me so happy to think about these two having a good life.

[iveleftitwithyou]

ruderal pt. 3 | paul lahote x reader

hey all! sorry for the delay on this, i've honestly just been so busy reading other people's fanfictions that i haven't found time to write! but i know work will be busy this week so wanted to get this out, even if it's shorter than intended. love u guys!

word count: 1.1k

warnings: slight angst, swearing

you hated that you spent all night wrapped up in Paul’s shirt again. you hated that you couldn’t stop staring at your phone, silently begging it to light up with his old contact photo. 

of course, it never did.

after a restless night of drifting in and out of consciousness, your phone buzzed on your nightstand, ringing loudly. your heart jumped before you realized it was just your alarm signaling it was time to get up for work, entirely too early, in your opinion. you’d taken a gap year between high school and college, working as a barista at the local coffee shop, lucky that your father was fine with you continuing to live under his roof while you figured out what you wanted to do with your life.

you groaned as you let your feet hit the carpet, stretching as you begrudgingly began your day. the floorboards creaked underneath your steps as you made your way to your dresser and pulled out the same uniform you wore five days a week. 

the hot water of the shower. the soft towel on your skin. the cold water on your toothbrush. the hairbrush running through your hair. the mascara brush on your eyelashes. all of these familiar sensations did nothing to slow your racing mind. 

why couldn’t you get him out of your head? why did he have to insert himself back into your life?

the engine of your old Honda sputtered to life. the familiar whines and vibrations of the vehicle were comforting. you turned up the radio to drown them out anyway.

after a few minutes of driving on autopilot, the coffee shop was in front of you. you made eye contact with yourself in the rearview mirror, took a deep breath, and flung open the car door to start your shift.

it was a normal Thursday shift. you opened the store as you always did, prepping the different areas for the day. generally, Thursdays were very slow in the morning, so it was no big deal you’d be here by yourself. your copy of The Great Gatsby was on the counter by the register, waiting to keep you company in the dull moments. 

of course, you took the few minutes you had left after getting everything prepped to make yourself your first drink of the day. working in a coffee shop had its perks, like free coffee, but the caffeine addiction you’d developed wasn’t one of them.

the first customer of the day came in shortly after you unlocked the door. it was Chief Swan, on his way to his shift at the station. he was a regular, and you appreciated the simplicity of his order.

“good morning, Chief, your usual?” you sing-songed, putting on the customer-service voice that was second nature to you at this point. 

“you know it, kid.” he’d grown pretty fond of you since you started, appreciating the lack of small talk.

there was a comfortable silence as you prepped the Chief’s order - a large black coffee. the pour-over process was tedious to some, but you found it therapeutic. the grinder whirred as it pulverized a small scoop of coffee beans. you placed the plastic funnel on top of the large to-go cup, lining it with a coffee filter and wetting it with hot water. after ejecting the grounds from the machine into a small metal cup, you scooped approximately four tablespoons of grounds into the funnel. after that, you grabbed the small metal teapot-looking vessel and filled it to the marked line with water.

now was the fun part. you poured water from the thin spout on top of the grounds, starting from the middle and working your way around in a spiral pattern until all of the grounds were saturated. the water dripped through the grounds and you waited until there was no more water visibly sitting on top of them before beginning to pour again, in the same spiral pattern. this step was repeated a few times until all of the water was gone and you were left with a full cup of coffee and some spent coffee beans.

“here you go, Chief Swan. that will be two forty-nine.”

he handed you a five. “keep the change, kiddo. get your tip jar started.” he glanced at the empty glass jar in front of the register.

“thanks, Chief. good luck out there.” you mused, flashing him a smile.

“you too, kid.” he didn’t know how much you needed it.

the next few hours drummed by slowly, customers trickling in here and there, some staying to work or read. the constant humming of the espresso machine usually helped muffle your thoughts, but not today. even your book couldn’t distract you - your eyes darted over the same paragraph over and over, mind wandering back to a familiar set of brown eyes staring at you while the waves crashed against the shore.

before you could get too lost in thought, the door chimed, signaling that someone had entered. your eyes darted from the page to the person walking in the door.

“hey, y/n,” he spoke, “i hoped you’d be here.”

“hey, Jacob,” you sighed, not bothering with the customer service voice. the only young people from the reservation that ever came in here were Emily Young and sometimes Seth Clearwater - Paul must have sent Jacob here - let’s test that theory. “what can i get for you?”

“i’m actually just here to talk to you…” he rubbed the back of his neck.

you were right. here it goes.

“listen, i know Paul hurt you, and i don’t blame you for being pissed at him. there’s a lot you don’t know about, though - a lot has changed.” a small smirk played on his face as he said that. 

“like what? he won’t tell me anything.” you deadpanned. you weren’t sure if you could trust Jacob. he was Paul’s friend, after all, and that was enough to be suspicious.

“it’s not my place to say,” a small groan left your throat before you could stop it. “but he’s going to have to tell you eventually. when he decides to, just give him a chance.” 

and who was Jacob to tell you what to do? 

“listen, Jacob. it’s really not your place to be here. i’m not sure if Paul sent you or not, but you can tell him he can either get his head out of his ass and tell me the big secret everyone is dancing around, or he can stop trying to contact me. i’m over this.” the tone was harsher than you intended, and slightly louder too, seeing as there were still other customers in the seating area.

Jacob flinched slightly before regaining his composure. “trust me, y/n. give him a chance.”

with that, the bell rang once again as Jacob swiftly exited the coffee shop.

tags: @vavafaure1994

[cheolism-archive]

his reward

✿ —  boo seungkwan x reader ❀ — summary: after a long day, seungkwan decides to seek relief between your legs ✿ —  wc is approx 4.3k ❀ — warnings/tags: minors do not interact. idol au. dom! seungkwan, service top! seungkwan, bottom! reader. pet names (baby, angel, good baby, good angel)(kwannie). mentions of video game-typical violence. oral (bsk giving), fingering, praise. pussy drunk seungkwan. spitting. face-riding. masturbation & cumming on body. intentional lowercase ✿ —  request: "no rush but it would be great if u could write something abt dom seungkwan cause there’s a drought of seungkwan fics esp dom ones . . ." ❀ — note: i tried to fit dom! kwannie, and i hope this was what u wanted plus still fits and suits him!! thank u for the request, and i hope it fulfills what u wanted !!!! <333

night had fallen on the city, the only light in your bedroom coming from the streetlight directly across your apartment building and the television. you had long tuned out the show you had put on, eyes narrowed in on your phone. 

the shower squeaked, drawing your attention away from your pubg game for just a moment. you listened as the shower door squeaked as it slid open, signaling the end of seungkwan’s shower. 

then there was a sound of a bomb from your game, and your eyes were back on it. you and seungcheol made your way around the building, crouching, your eyes on the horizon. 

“still playing that game?” 

you hummed in response, eyes darting up. seungkwan was running a towel over his hair, wrapped tight in a bathrobe. your bathrobe, to be honest, but the two of you had long dropped any attempts at organizing your wardrobes. especially after an incident where you wore a hoodie to meet with soonyoung and jeonghan at a grill, only for seungkwan to turn around and wear the same hoodie the next morning to a group practice. 

the robe, due to it being yours, was short on him. while it went to your calves, on seungkwan it brushed against the back of his knees. the fluffy sleeves revealed his fine wrists, seemingly framing them as if they were a masterpiece, drawing all your attention to the way he held his hands, the way his long fingers tousled his hair back and away from his face. 

“we’re gonna beat wonwoo for good,” you returned, looking back at your game. seungcheol’s character hopped into a jeep, the border that surrounded the map closing in. you quickly followed, letting him drive away. “we got mingyu right away.”

seungkwan snorted, turning and going back into the bathroom. “good. that jerk needs to be knocked down a few pegs.”

you grinned a little, biting down on your lip. feeling warm, you kicked off the comforter. you had already taken off your pants for the night, leaving them at a heap at the bottom of the bed. the weather had taken a turn for the better, to the point where you could now open the windows during nighttime, letting a gentle breeze fill the room.

seungcheol drove the jeep next to a cliff. you both jumped out of the vehicle, spinning your characters around to try and see if you spotted any enemies. 

you shifted, setting your feet flat on the bed and raising your knees up. 

there was a gunshot in the game and both you and seungcheol were turning towards it. you began firing in the general direction, offering a distraction for seungcheol to get the chance to snipe the enemy. 

the bathroom sink turned on and off. seungkwan began singing, his sweet voice filling the apartment and making your heart flutter a little. 

he always sang with such power, always commanding the stage. so you treasured the moments where he sang in his lower register, his voice sweet and honey-smooth, full of sincerity and making you feel as if you were the only person in the world. 

the approaching enemy defeated, you and seungcheol turned back to watching the horizon for more enemies. 

a sharp gust of cool spring wind filled the room, making your curtains flutter and your body shiver. you could feel the cold air against your clothed cunt. you stuck one of your feet back underneath the blanket, tempted to grab it and cover yourself again. 

seungkwan continued to sing as you and seungcheol shot down another enemy, the lovely lyrics to one of the group’s ballads filling your ears. absentmindedly you began to sing along, albeit quieter than seungkwan. while you constantly boasted your boyfriend’s many, many talents, you were conscious where yours were lacking. 

you didn’t notice when seungkwan stopped singing, your own voice carrying on the tune. it wasn’t until the bed shifted, his weight displacing it, did you stop and glance up. 

seungkwan was watching you, eyes sharp. his hair was still damp, sticking up at odd places. his face was slightly red from his skincare routine, and you could smell his orange blossom lotion. 

“kwannie?” you looked back down at your phone. you and seungcheol ducked into a house, the faint song of gunfire disrupting the overwise quiet bedroom. “why’d you stop singing?”

your boyfriend sighed deeply. you steered your character onto the roof of the building, laying flat on the top and watching as two enemies neared it. 

“today was really stressful,” seungkwan began in that coy voice of his that told you that your boyfriend had something in mind. so you stayed quiet, eyes still on the roaming players. “it was long and never-ending. but i endured it.”

you grinned a little, glancing up at seungkwan. he was looking at you still, body turned completely towards you. you dropped your legs, letting them splay out, knees against the sheets. “it’s hard sometimes to tolerate days like that,” you agreed, wiggling your toes. “i’m proud of you for sticking through it.”

“thank you,” seungkwan said, moving. you could see the figure of his body as he stalked up the bed, nearing you. “i think i deserve a special something for enduring it. don’t you?”

you nodded, shooting down one of the players as they tried to walk up the stairwell that led to your roof. “you do! do you wanna go to the cafe tomorrow? that little one that has the bread shaped like fruit?”

seungkwan hummed, one of his hands settling on your foot. he tapped his finger against your foot thoughtfully. “that’d be good, baby. but i was thinking about a reward more accessible, something i can have now.”

“we can have some of that frozen yogurt in the freezer,” you suggested absentmindedly. seungcheol’s character walked up the stairs, jumping for you to follow. “i think it goes bad in a week anyways.”

“frozen yogurt does sound good,” seungkwan drawled out. he wrapped both of his hands around your ankles, clenching slightly. “but i was thinking about something even better than that.”

brow furrowing, you glanced up at your boyfriend in confusion. you didn’t keep many treats in the apartment, finding that one of your boyfriend’s groupmates would sneak in at some point and eat all of them before you could even have a first. 

seungkwan liked it when you did his nails, liked it when you pampered him. maybe that’s what he wanted?

then a sly grin overtook seungkwan’s features, his eyes getting an impish glint. before you could question him he was yanking your ankles, pulling you flat on the bed. 

you squealed out his name in shock, phone dropping on your chest. you could hear gunfire from your game. 

seungkwan wedged open your legs, shouldering his way between them. he grabbed your phone, turning off the sound before he exited the game and tossed your phone down the bed. 

“seungkwan!” you gasped, eyes wide. you and seungcheol were in the top five and wonwoo was still alive and you still had to get him --  what on earth was seungkwan doing? seungcheol was going to be so pissed, wonwoo was going to win, and the two of you would have to endure another week of wonwoo silently teasing you. “what are you doing?!”

“having my special something,” seungkwan replied, hooking his arms around your thighs and pressing them to the bed, baring your pussy. seungkwan pressed forward, shoving his face into your clothed cunt. 

you were mortified, even moreso when you could feel seungkwan take a deep, shuddering breath against your cunt, breathing it in. he nosed against it, your cunt shamefully clenching and fluttering in response. 

you could practically feel the heat pool in your cunt and turn into fluid, could feel as it leaked out of your hole and stained your underwear. 

“that’s it,” seungkwan murmured, taking another deep breath as your arousal soaked your panties. he hummed a little, pressing his closed lips to your cunt. you could feel the vibrations of his mouth through your panties, your toes and fingers curling in response. 

“getting so wet for me already,” he said, pressing a closed-mouthed kiss over your cunt. you let out a gasp, your hand coming up and muffling the tail end of the noise. if you couldn’t control the way your cunt acted, couldn’t control the fluid that gushed from it as if you were at a damn waterpark just from your boyfriend sniffing it, then at least you could try and be quiet. 

“kwannie,” you breathed out, still keeping your mouth trapped behind your hand. “what are you doing --”

“my reward for being good,” seungkwan responded, burying his nose into your cunt again. all he was doing was smelling it like some sort of depraved man, as if the two of you didn’t have sex multiple times a week, as if he had been waiting all day just for the chance to smell your cunt. 

“how --” you broke off, closing your eyes and throwing your head back. you counted to five in an attempt to gather yourself. “how, seungkwan, is smelling my -- how is this a reward?”

“your pussy smells so good, baby,” he murmured, angling his head. he brushed his nose against your clit, and even though you still had your underwear on, the sensation sent a jolt through you. “i think about it all the time, you know. your pussy, how it feels around my cock. how it feels around my finger, how it tastes. fuck, how your cunt tastes.”

then seungkwan’s tongue was running up your cunt, from the bottom to your clit, sticking your underwear against your pussy. you couldn’t help the loud moan that left you, nor could you help how your back arched up into the air in response. 

“just stay there,” seungkwan said, pulling back. his hands went to the ties of your robe, pulling them undone and shrugging it off. seungkwan pushed it off the bed with one hand, the fingers of his other hand going to your cunt. he dipped his fingers around the fabric, letting his nails brush over the warmth of your cunt. “just sit still, baby. please? let me take my reward.”

you shot him a look, fingers flexing on the sheets. “kwannie --”

“please,” he whined, making his way back between your legs. he tugged at your underwear, pulling it lopsided. “lemme taste your cunt, baby. been thinking about it all day, been thinking about it since i woke up. please let me eat your cunt.”

your heart stopped, mouth dropping open at the frankness in his voice and in his words. seungkwan pressed forward, his mouth kissing your cunt through your underwear once more. 

“okay,” you gasped, hand shooting out to still him. “okay. just. just let me taking them off before --”

“before i rip them?” seungkwan finished, the mischievous smile on his face so at odds with his normal personality. he looked smug, watching as you slowly brought one of your legs up towards your chest, hooking your fingers through your underwear and guiding them down. “good baby,” he praised, eyes intently watching as you revealed your cunt. “good baby.”

seungkwan moved up to his knees again, coming to rest beside you on the bed. he cocked his head at you when you were still, patting his chest. “well? are you going to sit on my face or not?”

slowly, more aware of the way your pussy juices were leaking out and onto your thighs at a constant rate, you moved your way up the bed. you straddled his chest, standing on your knees to reach up for the headboard. 

seungkwan’s hands settled on your hips, guiding you up the rest of the way to stand over his face. he maneuvered you to how he wanted you, and when you could feel his warm breath against your bare cunt you couldn’t help the little moan that escaped you. 

“that’s a good angel,” he praised you, voice low. he lowered you until you were properly sitting on him. 

“kwannie,” you sighed, nails lightly scratching into the wood of the headboard. “don’t -- don’t get carried away, okay? remember, two taps if you can’t breathe.”

“i remember, angel,” he murmured. his fingers pressed into your skin, his touch lighting you aflame. you’ve begun to wonder when his imprints would finally sink in, when his fingerprints and hand-shape would leave a permanent mark on you. it was so often, after all, that seungkwan was touching some part of you, as if he wanted to leave his touch branded on your skin. 

seungwkan nudged his nose against your clit. immediately your muscles were tightening, your hips bucking up a little. seungkwan chuckled against you, and you could feel his arms flex against you as he tightened his hold around your middle, keeping you seated on his face. 

seungkwan ran his tongue along your cunt in one long broad stripe, the slurp that accompanied the action so lewd that it made your toes curl and nails dig into the headboard. he dug his nose into your cunt, next to your clit; his chin bumped against your cunt as he shoved his tongue inside of you, gathering your juices and sucking them. 

“kwannie,” you moaned, squeezing your eyes shut. he ran the flat of his tongue over your hole, causing a wild shiver to wreck your body. “seungkwan, seungkwan.”

your boyfriend responded by wrapping his lips around your hole and sucking, causing your cunt to clench and your back to arch. helplessly you grinded down, subconsciously seeking relief; seungkwan, ever the giver, provided, shoving his tongue back inside of you. 

seungkwan ate you out like a man parched, sucking your juices into his mouth and reverently searching for more. he ate you like a glutton, seemingly never filled, his tongue rolling along and inside your cunt endlessly, never relenting. 

your hips were constantly moving, rolling down onto his face. seungkwan’s nose kept bumping against your clit, every nudge causing your nerves to jump and your body to sink further on top of him, seeking out the electricity that only seungkwan seemed to be able to provide. 

his arms relaxed for a moment, moving to hook around your thighs. seungkwan shifted you up and off of him. you glanced down. 

your boyfriend was absolutely covered in your cunt juices, from his nose to his chin. his face was a deep red form the effort he was putting into devouring you, lips gleaming and puffy. seungkwan’s eyes were dilated, trained on your pussy still. he brought one of his hands to his face, wiping at his nose. 

his fingers came away covered in your juices. seungkwan hummed, sticking them into his mouth and suckling. 

“seungkwan,” you groaned, brow furrowing. you released your hold on the headboard to reach down and tug at his hand, drawing it from his mouth with a crude pop. “don’t. ‘s dirty.”

“no more dirty than eating out your pussy, baby,” he replied. nonetheless seungkwan hook his arms back around your thighs, squeezing as he tried to coax you back into sitting on him. “i’m not done, angel. sit back down.”

slowly you returned to your -- in seungkwan’s opinion -- rightful spot. immediately his mouth was on your cunt again, acting as if your hole was your mouth, kissing it and making out with it. he was worshiping your pussy, eating from it, ravishing it. 

seungkwan moved his arm from around you, his fingers skimming down the curve of your ass. he slid his hand between your body and his face, fingers poking at your hole. 

you couldn’t help the loud moan of approval that left you, nor could you help the way you immediately grinded down on his fingers. he slipped one inside your hole, and you were quickly overcome with the feeling of hunger. 

you clenched down on his fingers, searching for some sort of relief from this famine that was coursing through you. his name was a mantra, your chants filling the room as his finger filled your cunt. 

“‘nother, kwan,” you gasped, lifting yourself off of his face and dropping back down on his finger. you repeated this, hips searching for something to satisfy your craving. “please, kwannie, another.”

seungkwan hummed against you, his lips busy mouthing at your clit. for a moment nothing happened, his tongue rolling over your clit and slurping at your pussy juices. 

then his second finger slipped in beside his first. you moaned, quickly moving so his fingers pressed against your core. seungkwan began curling his two fingers inside of you in tandem with the movement of his tongue on your clit, trying to coax you into an orgasm. 

but you were hungry now, and it would take more than just two of his fingers and tongue to satiate you. 

“more, kwannie,” you begged, bracing yourself on the headboard. you continued to move your hips along the length of his fingers, your cunt so wet that they practically glided. “another, kwannie. another, another, please.”

seungkwan the arm wrapped around you to lift you, shifting his hand beneath you, then he hooked three of his fingers against your hole, tugging, and you couldn’t help the cry that escaped you. 

“that’s it,” he praised, pulling you back down so his nose was bumping along your pussy. “that’s a good angel.”

your whole body seemed focused on your cunt, concentrating on these points of contact between you and your boyfriend. you couldn’t think anything other than him, couldn’t sense the headboard you were grabbing or the blankets beneath your knees. you could only feel his fingers sliding along your walls, pressing down on your core, his tongue flicking at your clit. 

then seungkwan adjusted, moving and wrapping his mouth around your clit. he sucked once, twice, three times, your loud moans music to his ears, and you were collapsing against the headboard, body sagging as your orgasm finished. 

seungkwan tapped your thighs, reminding you that he was still beneath you. you shifted, moving throwing out your leg so you were no longer straddling him. you leaned back against the headboard, eyes squeezed shut, chest heaving as you fought to catch your breath. 

a dirty popping noise had you opening your eyes. seungkwan was perched on his knees in front of you, his erection red and straining against his stomach. he was wiping his face with his hand, pressing his fingers into his mouth and sucking your juices off of his digits. 

you watched, weary, as your boyfriend noticed your gaze and stopped sucking. a slow little grin overtook his face, and then he was grabbing you. 

seungkwan pulled you flat against the bed, wrenching open your thighs. you gasped, eyes wide, as seungkwan pressed himself back between your legs. “seungkwan, what are you --”

“‘m not done yet, angel,” he promised, pressing his face back into your cunt. he immediately latched his mouth around your hole, suckling and tonguing. 

still sensitive from your orgasm, your back arched and your legs flail about. seungkwan growled against your cunt, wrapping his arms around your thighs and pressing them down to the bed. 

“be still, baby,” he said, his mouth pressing against your pussy, his every word sinking into you. your cunt gushed around him in response, and his tongue quickly began lapping up your juices. 

you couldn’t do anything other than toss against him, body wriggling as overstimulation set in. you were aware of the blankets twisting around your body, of how your hands were constantly scrambling against them in an attempt to get some sort of hold. you were aware of how his tongue plunged into you rapidly, how his fingers flexed against your thighs and pressed into them, tattooing his mark onto your skin. 

seungkwan lifted his head from your cunt. he was drenched once more. he ran his tongue around his mouth, gathering your slick. you watched as he swallowed your juices, watched as his throat worked. 

then he leaned back over your cunt, pursing his lips. a wad of spit dropped from his mouth to your pussy, mixing with your juices. 

your eyes flew shut and you threw your head back, the image of your boyfriend spitting on your cunt replaying. the way his bangs obscured his eyes, how his lips, red and puffy from his devotion to your pussy, curled before he spat.

his hands went to your body, kneading into your thighs. seungkwan’s mouth pressed a kiss to your stomach and then he was trailing a path of kisses down, lips gentle as he returned to your cunt. 

seungkwan pressed more spit from his mouth to your cunt, using the wetness to slide three of his fingers back in. your body accepted them greedily, and it was only a matter of time before another orgasm washed over you, his fingers eagerly drawing it out. 

you couldn’t do much more than lay there as seungkwan pressed a final kiss to your clit, your body jerking in response. he sat up, leaning back. seungkwan reached between your thighs and gathered your slick on his hand. he then wrapped his hand around his leaking dick, hissing at the contact. 

even though you were exhausted, you couldn’t help but watch as seungkwan jerked himself off. he pressed his lips together, trying to muffle his moans, trying to keep his climax at bay. 

you splayed your legs. “kwannie,” you called, beckoning. “here.”

seungkwan shuffled to kneel between your thighs. he collected more of your juices and returned his hand to his dick. seungkwan then pressed his other hand next to you, using it to guide his body down so he could rest his stomach on your breasts. you wrapped your arms around him, holding him, fingers playing with his hair. 

you didn’t see it when he came, but you felt it. his entire body stiffened save for his hand, which was working furiously over his dick. seungkwan’s moans and groans were loud, just as loud as yours were. 

when he was done, seungkwan pressed a kiss to your chest and pulled away. his cum had joined yours between your thighs, thick white stripes painting your skin and the blanket between. 

seungkwan laughed breathlessly, his hands skimming over your thighs. “angel, your cunt --”

“no more,” you begged, flinging your head back against the bed. seungkwan’s laughter was loud this time, and he pitched forward to press a kiss to your throat. “seungkwan, you’ve wrung me dry, i swear.”

“we both know that’s a lie,” he chuckled, kisses chaste against your skin. “but i’ll ignore it for tonight.”

seungkwan settled into your hold, your skin sweaty and sticking to his. you were content like that for a few moments, holding your boyfriend, brushing his hair back away from his face and gazing into his honey-sweet eyes. 

“i love you,” you murmured, hand holding his cheek. 

“i love you, angel,” he returned, turning and pressing a kiss into your palm. 

seungkwan’s phone ringing pierced the air, and your boyfriend was muffling a whine into your body. you laughed, pushing him away. “better go answer that, kwannie.”

seungkwan sighed, flopping to the side. the phone stopped its ringing, only to pick up again. he swung himself off of the bed, movement sluggish as he crossed into the bathroom. you watched his legs as he walked, watched them flex; your eyes then caught sight of his ass, and immediately you felt your mouth water. 

“fuck,” seungkwan’s curse brought you out of your daydream. you went to your elbows, concerned. he exited the bathroom, eyes wide and frantic, phone still ringing. “it’s seungcheol! he’s worried because you aren’t picking up your phone and you quit the game suddenly and he texted and said he’s on his way and he’s going to take one look at us and know!”

you sat up completely, wincing at the mess between your thighs. “know what? that you’re some pussy hungry demon?”

seungkwan flew about the room, grabbing the discarded towel he had used for his hair. he went about drying off his body, trying to get as much sweat off of himself as possible. “this isn’t funny, y/n! holy shit, fuck, fuck, fuck --”

“i’ll get dressed --”

“no!” he whirled on you, pushing you back onto the bed. “you look like -- well you look like you’ve just been fucked. you just stay here and pretend you’re not here.”

“ah, yes,” you began dryly. seungkwan hurried to the closet, grabbing a pair of sweatpants and hurriedly pulling them on. he stumbled a big, falling against the wall. “i’m totally not in my apartment that i signed the lease on at ten at night.”

“you’ve got it!” seungkwan praised. he launched himself across the bed, reaching out for you and pressing a kiss to your lips. 

then someone -- seungcheol -- was knocking at the apartment door, and seungkwan flew off of you. he fell of the bed, the noise loud and thunderous. 

he was out of the bedroom in a flash, his feet slapping against the hard floors as he ran for the door. you could hear him, his voice high and frantic and not at all concerning, as he greeted seungcheol. 

you could hear seungcheol’s voice, as deep as it was, all the way from your bedroom. “is everything okay, seungkwan? i was playing with y/n and suddenly they disappeared. i tried getting a hold of them, but there’s no answer from their phone.”

“ah!” seungkwan shouted, voice shrill. “they’re just uh -- they fell down the stairs and dropped their phone and it smashed!”

well, you thought, flopping back on the bed, you could either have a boyfriend who gave amazing head, or you could have a boyfriend who was a good liar. you couldn’t have both. 

[mistyresolve]

| Give Me One More - Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count - 3.9k 

Warnings/Tags - explicit, swearing, 18+ ONLY,  praise, overstimulation, fingering, hj, spitplay, unprotected sex, creampie 

Summary - The reader has never dealt with the heat very well. So when it’s time for sleep and they are having a hard time staying still Simon comes up with a plan to tire them out.

A/N - i am a firm believer that our mr. simon “ghost” riley is a service top, and is really in tune with his partner. 

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It was the heat of summer, and it was hotter than the devil's anus. The original plan was to go out for a shopping day with a couple of friends, but it was cancelled for fear of heat stroke. In lieu of that, you stayed inside for the day and eat ice cubes on the couch while hate-watching "Days of Our Lives".

You had sent Simon a text midday to tell him he might have to pick up food on his way home because there was no way you were turning on the oven. He replied an hour later with: “Tacos.” He had also been oh so generous to bring you a slurpy too. The treat was so cold that there was precipitation dripping down the sides. Simon wasn’t able to tell you the flavour but it was a red one (chances were high it was cherry). It stained your tongue and lips that same obnoxious red. Simon had snuck a few sips for himself and he might have gotten away with it if it weren’t for the stain on his own mouth. He had a goofy grin when you confronted him, and he still tried to deny it.  

When Simon disappeared into the ensuite to take a shower, you had followed him in. Steam rolled out from the glass but without being asked he turned the tap a little on the colder side for you. You squeezed a little shampoo onto his open palm and he set to massage it into your hair creating a thick lather. Extra attention at the temples and pressure points are the base of your neck. He spun you around to face him before dipping your head back into the water to rinse it all away. He placed a tender kiss on your exposed throat. Despite trying you couldn’t fight the smile back and laced your finger into his hair.    

“It’s getting so long,” you commented, tugging at his scalp lightly. It wasn’t that you didn’t like it, you liked him no matter what he did. It was the fact that he never lets it get this long, knowing preferring his hair cropped for it was more comfortable under the mask, “Is it busy at work?” you asked. It would explain the hair and the tired eyes. 

You knew what his job description was but never the details. It was both a security and moral issue. The relationship was a little rocky at the beginning when you were first coming to terms with the fact that he couldn’t completely open up to you. He did the best he could but some things he held tight to his chest. 

Your gaze shifted to the copious scars and imperfections in his skin. Tracing a finger on a particularly gruesome slash on his bicep. He had told you it was from shrapnel, a rouge sheet of metal from a vehicle. Each time he returned for a mission you checked him for new injury. More often than not there was. Some wounds were smaller, little white lines peppering his arms and across his chest. Like little flecks of glitter against his skin. Some wounds were more harrowing. A few of them were nearly fatal. Like the angry stars that were left behind by bullets. Those ones you always paid extra attention to when you were on top of him. Running your open mouth across his skin. 

His dark eyes flicked to your face as he moved to work the conditioner into your hair. You ran your finger up his arm to his lips and the little fading scar there. He’s yet to tell you where that one came from, all he’s said was that it was from before he enlisted. He pressed a kiss to the pads of your fingers. 

“It’s picking up, yes,” his voice was rougher, as if it were covered in char and gunpowder.  Even today the juxtaposition of your delicacy a juxtaposition to his occupation stuns him.

“Are they going to send you away?” You closed your eyes as the water and soap started to fall over your face. He quickly washed it all out so he could pull you out of the onslaught of water. 

“Probably…not for long though. I’ll be speedy this time,” he flashed you a cocky smile, revealing faint lines around his eyes. The identical indents on his cheeks make you cup his face and turn it away from you. He was gorgeous, and sometimes it was a little too much for you to handle. 

Once out of the shower, he let you wash any remaining black paint around his eyes with your array of skin care. Envy bubbled up into your chest for the length of his lashes.  You let him smell your brand new rose toner, and he agreed when you asked if it smelt like candy. You tried to give him an overnight lip mask, but he swatted your hand away. He quibbled that if anyone found out he let you do that the damage to his reputation would be irreversible.    

You padded after him back to the bedroom, and he tossed one of his shirts over his shoulder to you. You slipped into it, catching the underwear he tossed next. You give him a distasteful look. He picked the skimpiest, laciest pair he could possibly find. He had pulled on a loose pair of grey sweatpants, forgetting a shirt. His dog tags flashed as the light from the bathroom hit them. He leaned back against the dresser, resting his elbows behind him. His chosen position allowed you a view of his chest and thick waist. How many times have you run your hands up and down that body? Fingers following each ripple and dip of muscles. You eyed him as you pulled them on, slowly. Very slowly. A muscle in his jaw twitched as his brown eyes narrowed in on the action.     

He made to grab at your waist when you hopped out of his reach. “It’s too hot for that tonight.” 

He feigned innocence with a languid shrug, his broad shoulders raising and falling, “I wasn’t going to do anything.” 

While you finished getting ready for bed he completed his nightly routine making sure all windows and doors were closed and locked. He pulled the sheets back and jumped in, holding an opening for you to slide into. He made a sound of contentment as you melded yourself against him. Wriggling a little more than you needed you. 

“Careful, lassie. Play nice,” his accent grew thick as he wrestled with sleep. 

“Always,” you purred before turning to face him. 

Now that it was night and the sun had gone down, you half expected it to cool. To your dismay, it didn't. You shifted around the bed for an hour before finally kicking the blankets off your legs. A thin layer of sweat beaded on your chest and forehead. 

The arm that circled around you, squeezed "Stop your moving," Simon mumbled into your back.

You tried to. For a full minute, you remained still but when another unbearable heat wave hits, you threw his arm off you and spread out on your stomach. Simon half lifts his head and opens a single eye to glare at you. 

"You're like a furnace," you push his way from you, his body heat becoming unbearable. 

"Are ya calling me hot, lovey?" There was a hint of humour coating his weary words. 

"No. I'm saying that you're sweaty. The air is hot," you gasp, then add, "Are you not hot?" 

"No," He echoes, "I'm about to kick you to the floor if you don't shut up," 

You groaned a "no" into the pillow. Then you felt a hand lift the hair from your neck, letting cold air onto the newly exposed skin. A delicious chill ran down your back, and a small smile grew on your lips. 

"Then stop talking," his hand returned to you but this time to lift the back of your shirt. Again a cool breeze hit your back. You coo at him. Deft fingers run up and down your back, leaving goosebumps rising in his wake. 

"We need a fan," you turn your head to him to find his eyes on you. 

He flicked your forehead, hard enough for it to hurt and leave a red mark. You cover your forehead in shock. “Stop talking,” he says before turning away from you, “Or I’ll give you something to be all hot and bothered about.”

You freeze, considering. Then shake your head and rise from the bed. Then you kick off the flat sheet that was still tangled around your limbs and kneel on the bench that was situated in front of the window. You opened the window, leaning out as far as you could without the fear of falling out.  

“Lift your shirt for me,” You hear from back within the room. 

“Just ignore me some more. You did a really good job of it earlier,” You peek back into the room to see him rising from the bed. He freezes mid-motion when he sees that you see him. Then the both of you are moving. You're scrambling off the bench and making a break for the door. He nearly pounced on you, his arm going around your waist and the other around your mouth. He was surprisingly fast for his size. Then he’s lifting you off the ground, your bare legs flailing in the air, and hauling you back to the bed. Your fingers dig into the wrist of the hand covering your mouth. 

Then the world is on its side as he tosses you onto the sheets. You erupt into giggles. His hands flip you so you're on your back. Next, he's kneeling between your legs, hoving over you. He lowered his face so it was mere inches from yours, his teeth flashing as he snarls, “You’d make an awful boot, you don't listen to anything I say,” 

Resting your hands on his chest stopping him from coming any closer. Biting your lip you wrap your hand around his dog tags, not wanting him to leave either, “It’s too hot, Simon.” you still wrap your legs around his hips, pulling his groin closer to yours. 

He tilts his head to the side, the movement predatory. His eyes were impossibly darker from beneath his silken hair. Your breathing hitched at the sight. His eyes flick to the bedroom door, his expression giving away the fact that he was devising a plan. 

His hands go to your legs, removing them from around him. You’re about to object when he says, “I'll be right back,” and he vanishes out the door. You strained your ears to hear what he was doing but since he’s trained to remain unseen it was futile. 

Now alone, you rise up on your elbows and take the moment to scan the room. Not a single piece of clothing was laying on the floor. The TV neither of you uses had begun to collect dust, and you made a mental note to deal with it later. Behind the TV was a small collection of pictures. Most of them you had taken yourself. Some were taken in secret and sent to you at a later date. Almost all of them were of Simon and yourself.  One or two of them were of your late cat. 

On Simon’s bedside table was a picture that was taken by your own mother. It was you and him sitting on the stairs to the front porch. You were looking off to something ahead of you, your hands out as you spoke animatedly about something. What you were saying you couldn’t recall now. But Simon was looking directly at you, the softest of smiles gracing his usually snarky mouth, his eyes covered by the ratty blue baseball cap. Lord have mercy, he really was beautiful. You got it framed and snuck it onto the table, he never said anything about it being there, but he never moved it from its original place. In fact, you were pretty sure he adjusted it so it was facing the bed more. 

The door creaked open and Simon reentered, closing the door behind him. He with a glass of iced water. He downed half of it before handing the rest to you. You greedily finished off the rest. Ice tinkled in the glass as he placed it on the table next to the framed photo. Still standing above you he bites down and you hear the crunch of ice. A slick heat pools low in your abdomen. 

“Oh,” it’s barely a word as it comes out. Suddenly shy, you shove your hand into the covers to keep from grabbing at him. 

“Lay back for me?” it was hardly a question, but you still obeyed him. “Close your eyes.”

With your eyes closed you could hear him come closer to you. A calloused hand roamed to your side, lifting the shirt you are wearing up to just below your breasts. You released a slow breath, moving your own hands to his stomach feeling the hard muscle. Something cold and wet was placed on your bottom lip. You gasped, pulling back from the sensation. Ice cubes, you realize. Your chest rose and fell rapidly. 

He left a trail of cold from your mouth to your neck. His own lips, cold from ice water, follow, letting his teeth drag across your skin. You tilt your head back, allowing him access to your throat. You let out a small squeak when he grabs another ice cube, this time tracing a line on your stomach. Goosebumps rose on your skin, and your eyes flew open to look at him. He was looking back up at you, analyzing every line and curve of your face. 

"Better?" He said in a low voice. You hummed in response, your hands diving into his hair. "Good. Now shut yer fuckin’ mouth," 

He moves back up and puts his lips to yours, nipping at your lip. You open your mouth to him, his tongue diving in to explore you. Once again you wrap your legs around him, pulling him impossibly closer, tugging at the elastic of his sweats. All thoughts of the heat dissipated in the want of him. He pulled away from your mouth, leaving wet kisses down the length of your jaw, to the hollow of your throat, to your collarbone. It earned him a hard grind of your heat on him. 

“Simon,” your voice was breathy and needy. 

Then he was moving, lifting you to bring you back to the head of the bed. With his knees locking you in place, he raised above you to help take off your shirt. It disappeared into the shadows, and you were left bare to him, save for the little lacy panties of his choice. He was probably planning this from the beginning. 

“Fuckin’ ‘ell” he groaned and ran a hand up from your stomach, trailing between your breasts and landing at your throat. His fingers delicately curled. You arched your back into the touch, eyelids fluttering shut. Again sweat beaded on your chest and forehead, only this time it was from a different time type of heat. Simon mumbled something as he brought his lips back to yours, but it was far too low for you to catch. The free hand drifted down the apex of your thighs, his finger digging into the bundle of nervousness there. The sound that came out of your mouth merely motivated him. 

“Please,” you plead, grabbing his wrist with one hand, not to take it away but to make sure he doesn't remove it. He was silent as he worked you, little touches and small, tight circles. He wanted to observe all that he did to you. 

If it weren’t for the slight tremble in his breathing you might have assumed he wasn’t enjoying this. That and the excitement shining in his brown eyes. His restraint was always impressive, but you wanted to see him snap.        

Reach down between you and press your palm against the hardness hiding under his sweats. You traced the outline of his cock causing him to stumble in his movements, and eliciting an all male moan. His head fell to your shoulder. 

“Slow,” he whispered into your skin, his breath fanning across your neck. Agonizingly slow you slipped your hand into his pants. He jerked at the touch. “Shit.”

He rocked his hips into your hand, timing it perfectly with his fingers. You squeezed around the head, and a dirty dirty sound escaped him. His fingers halted for a second before he could find his mind again. This time he shifted your panties to the side, dipping into your arousal, and coating his thick fingers. 

“Jesus,” he muttered, looking down at his hand, “you dirty little thing. What do you want?”

“You,” you dragged a finger up this length.

“Nuh uh, tell me. Use your words,” he made a single teasing circle around your clit. 

“I want your fingers inside me,” the words came out quicker than you expected them to. “Please.”

“Atta girl,” he’d be damned if he didn’t oblige you. Slowly moving a single finger inside, allowing you time to adjust. When you were ready you shifted your hips, leisurely rolling them. “There you go. Show me how you like it.” 

He pumped once, twice. Added another finger. Then matched your rhythm, curling his fingers so they hit that one spot every time he dragged his fingers back out. Your hands continued with their own adventure, tugging his pants down just enough to free his cock. It knocked against his stomach, twitching when you grabbed him again. He sucked in a tight breath. 

“Just like that, good girl,” he groaned. His fingers picked up speed and so did your hand. Both chasing an apex. 

All you could manage was a strangled mess of words in response. You lifted your eyes to his only to see he was already looking at you. His brows taught with pleasure. Then a brash grin appeared. He removed his fingers from you, and you almost slapped him. The thought vanished when he shoved those same fingers into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. A silent command to open up. You opened your mouth and he leaned forward to spit. The sound of it was lewd, but you revelled in it. You whimpered before closing your mouth around his digits and sucked, running your tongue underneath and between them. Showing him what you’d do if he put his cock in your mouth instead. 

“Put it in,” he gritted out if only to keep from whining. He pushed your panties off to the side again, allowing you access. You rubbed him around the wetness to make the entry easier. He was big, sometimes a little too big. Any bit of assistance you had you used when it came to him. Then you guided him in, biting down on his fingers to mediate the pain. He took his time, adjusting himself so he could place one hand on your hip and the other tangling in your hair. 

You moaned in unison as he bottomed out. You reached out to grasp his face, pulling it to yours to catch him in a hot open mouthed kiss. Teeth gnashing and tongues darting out to lick and breathe each other in. His fingers tightened on your hip, hard enough that little finger shaped bruises would appear tomorrow. The hand that was previously in your hair moved to your thigh, pressing your leg out and down into the bed, allowing him deeper inside your cunt. 

The room was filled with his guttural moans and your deprived whines. Along with the wet slapping sounds of him thrusting into your heat. You tightened around him and took that as a sign you were close because his movements became faster and deeper. One hand slapped over your mouth because you knew this apex was going to make you scream. You were already shaking, bucking against him. Your other hand grappled at the sheets, pulling at them in desperation. He shifted, bringing his knees underneath you so your hips were elevated, and both hands were at your hips, bringing you onto him. The position made it so he’d hit your g-spot, and that was the end of you. 

“Cum for me baby,” he huffed as he watched you stiffen and your eyes rolled. Your vision goes momentarily, and your back bowed off the bed. All followed by a choked sob. A hand flying to where you connected, pressing against his abdomen to try and slow his relentless pace. Before you were able to completely come down from the orgasm, he flipped you onto your stomach. “Give me one more.”

You mewed at him. His hand made a quick swipe along your cunt making you jolt and shoved himself back inside. He lifted your hips off the bed so you were on your knees. You were acutely aware of the slick that leaked down the inside of your thighs. With your ass still up for him you slid your upper half back down onto the bed, muffling your moans into the bed. He braced both his hands beside your head, the position reminding you just how much bigger he was than you. He captured one of your hand's underneath his, fingers intertwining. You used your free one to get underneath you and rub your clit. He noticed the action and lulled his forehead so it was resting on your back, his cock twitching inside of you. His own hand possessively replaced yours between your legs. 

Let me take care of you, it said.

You wrapped around his wrist, in case you needed to pull him away as you were nearing overstimulation. His breath fanned across your neck, and his lips found your skin. Sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin just below your ear.    

It felt like he was everywhere, engulfing you. All but one pillow had ended up on the floor, and you pulled it into your face, biting at the fabric as yet another climax hit you. It wasn’t long after you that Simon followed, his pace stuttering as he filled you. His last couple thrust harder and more desperate than the rest. He stifled a whimper and the sound of your name on his lips was like ecstasy. 

“Shit,” he said under his breath. Eyes watchful as he pulled out of you, and more specifically his cum leaking out. He dragged a finger up your cunt, catching it all before shoving it back inside. “Mm’my god.” 

You pulled away from his touch, even the slightest pressure right now would make you sob.

“I love you,” he turned you onto your side, his hand gentle on your skin. Skimming over your curves. 

“I love you more,” you teased, pushing his hair back away from his now-damp face. Your heart skipped at the sight of him. When he was completely at ease like this he looked so youthful. Every worry and burden lifted off his shoulders ever so slightly. 

“Want a wet cloth?” he leaned into your touch, before pulling away when you nodded. 

He returned with a warm, damp cloth. Wiping at you as gently as he could, then moved to your thighs, and stomach. Your face heated when you realized he was covered in your arousal too. The V leading down to his manhood was glistening with it. Although he didn’t seem to care it made you a little sheepish.  

“Maybe another shower,” you said, sitting up and pulling him back into the bathroom.  

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[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from RMI:

1. Batteries Become Everybody’s Best Friend

Battery prices continue to drop and their capacity continues to rise. The cost of electric vehicle (EV) batteries are now about 60 percent what they were just five years ago. And around the world, batteries have become key components in solar-plus-storage microgrids, giving people access to reliable power and saving the day for communities this past hurricane season.

2. Americans Get Cheaper (and Cleaner) Energy

State public utility commissions and rural electric co-operatives around the country are taking steps to deliver better service for their customers that also lowers their rates. At the same time, real momentum is building to prevent vertically integrated utilities from preferencing their coal assets when there are cleaner and cheaper alternatives available.

3. A Sustainable Shipping Future Gets Closer

More than 50 leaders across the marine shipping value chain — from e-fuel producers to vessel and cargo owners, to ports and equipment manufacturers — signed a Call to Action at the UN climate change conference (COP29) to accelerate the adoption of zero-emission fuels. The joint statement calls for faster and bolder action to increase the use of zero and near-zero emissions fuel, investment in zero-emissions vessels, and global development of green hydrogen infrastructure, leaving no country behind.

4. Corporations Fly Cleaner

In April, 20 corporations, including Netflix, JPMorgan Chase, Autodesk, and more, committed to purchase about 50 million gallons of sustainable aviation fuel (SAF), avoiding 500,000 tons of CO2 emissions — equivalent to the emissions of 3,000 fully loaded passenger flights from New York City to London. SAF is made with renewable or waste feedstocks and can be used in today’s aircraft without investments to upgrade existing fleets and infrastructure.

5. More and More Places Go From Coal to Clean

Around the world, coal-fired power plants are closing down as communities switch to clean energy. From Chile to the Philippines to Minnesota coal-to-clean projects are creating new jobs, improving local economic development, and generating clean electricity. In September, Britain became the first G7 nation to stop generating electricity from coal — it’s turning its last coal-fired power plant into a low-carbon energy hub. And in Indonesia, the president vowed to retire all coal plants within 15 years and install 75 gigawatts of renewable energy.

6. Methane Becomes More Visible, and Easier to Mitigate

Methane — a super-potent greenhouse gas — got much easier to track thanks to the launch of new methane tracking satellites over the past year. In March, the Environmental Defense Fund launched MethaneSAT, the first for a non-governmental organization, and the Carbon Mapper Coalition soon followed with the launch of Tanager-1. By scanning the planet many times each day and identifying major methane leaks from orbit, these new satellites will put pressure on big emitters to clean up.

7. EVs Speed By Historic Milestones

This past year was the first time any country had more fully electric cars than gas-powered cars on the roads. It’s no surprise that this happened in Norway where electric cars now make up more than 90 percent of new vehicle sales. And in October, the United States hit a milestone, with over 200,000 electric vehicle charging ports installed nationwide.

8. Consumers Continue to Shift to Energy-Efficient Heat Pumps for Heating and Cooling

Heat pumps have outsold gas furnaces consistently since 2021. And while shipments of heating and cooling equipment fell worldwide in 2023, likely due to broad economic headwinds, heat pumps held on to their market share through. And over the past 12 months, heat pumps outsold conventional furnaces by 27 percent. Shipments are expected to continue increasing as states roll out home efficiency and appliance rebate programs already funded by the Inflation Reduction Act – worth up to $10,000 per household in new incentives for heat pump installations. Link: Tracking the Heat Pump & Water Heater Market in the United States – RMI

9. China Reaches Its Renewable Energy Goal, Six Years Early

China added so much renewable energy capacity this year, that by July it had surpassed its goal of having 1,200 gigawatts (GW) of clean energy installed by 2030. Through September 2024, China installed some 161 GW of new solar capacity and 39 GW of new wind power, according to China’s National Energy Administration (NEA). China is deploying more solar, wind, and EVs than any other country, including the United States, which is — by comparison — projected to deploy a record 50 GW of solar modules by the end of 2024.

10. De-carbonizing Heavy Industry

For steel, cement, chemicals and other heavy industries, low-carbon technologies and climate-friendly solutions are not only increasingly available but growing more affordable. To speed this process, Third Derivative, RMI’s climate tech accelerator, launched the Industrial Innovation Cohorts to accelerate the decarbonization of steel, cement, and chemicals. Also on the rise: clean hydrogen hubs — powered by renewable energy — designed to supply green hydrogen to chemical, steel, and other heavy industries to help them shift to low-carbon production processes.

[bucked-it-up]

That's the thing though bc there would be portions ga who aren't here for the queer storylines are good with buck and hen have queer partners chase those partners aren't mains and so it's sort if a out of sight out of mind things but if you have 3 of the 5 mains as queer (not that more representation isn't good) it becomes a queer show and that would put more people off that it would join bc a lot of the fandom has a fundamental misunderstanding of the bulk of the audience that brings in the ratings

I agree with you ! I'm also gonna use this to bounce off of to talk about how having Buck and Eddie together would change the dynamic within the firehouse which I would say is probably one of the top reasons many people watch this show for. Whether you watch more for the emergencies or the personal moments, the dynamic between the team is the foundation to making those part work as well as they do. Changing this could affect ratings.

Rest under the cut because it got way too long

First, it's very unlikely that in the real LAFD that Eddie and Buck could work on the same shift. There would be a conflict of interest there, as much as everyone should be professional, there is always that chance that they may in times of distress priotise their romantic partner and not on the job. It's like in medicine. For example, it is against most policies to carry out any kind of procedure, examination, or consultion on a family member. Having them seen by a non related professional reduces the chance of bias, thus reducing the chance of harm or exploitation. Having them on the same team could also mean that they bring home life disputes into work, which distracting them and going on to cause harm to civilians, co-workers, or themselves. While yes, 911 is not a perfect example of the real world, I don't think this is something they would necessarily forgo. It's fun in fanfics to have it explained as okay by mysterious paperwork, but irl and in the show, it would not happen this way. (I do understand that in ls Nancy and Mateo are together while in the same firehouse, but they are also under different captains and work in different teams. As such they spend much less time together in comparison to what Buck and Eddie would be doing as they do not exclusively work on the same team and will be going on different calls and in different vehicles compared to Buck and Eddie, who work on the same team and also go to scenes in the same vehicle).

Having two main characters who are within the same team would also mess with the balance of the show. Obviously, bathena are both main characters, but they do not both work for the same service and also arguably the main characters of 911, so they will get more screen time and focus as they bring in the GA audience. Eddie and Buck are both within the fire service, and Eddie is also the bottom billed main. The focus would be off, and with how some fans see it, they want the focus to be on their relationship, ignoring that they are not the main draw of the show and thus turn away GA. The show would not feel quite right as more of the firehouse scenes may feel like there is a focus on those two rather than the whole team, and tbh I wouldn't want that. Also, realistically, as they would be likely working the same shift (in the world the shippers want), they would be around each other a lot. That would put strain on any relationship and also parenting Chris (which I will not go into as i am not a parent myself so do not understand all the nuances of it but as a child of a parents who had to work longer hours and spent time in both breakfast and afterschool clubs its hard to not be able to spend that much time with them and also increases the cost of childcare, once my dad got into teaching summers and breaks were a lot more fun because he was around more. Tldr it would be hard on chris to not be able to see both guardians for long periods if they both worked on the same shifts). Holidays all together would be hard as it is likely harder for both of them to get time off at the same time. There would be a lot of strain and stress in that relationship, of course people could make it work but as Eddie has been shown to struggle to communicate issues that would make it harder to work through issues before they turn into serious problems and Buck also has his own issues when it comes to relationships and would likely burn himself out trying to make sure the relationship worked and likely struggling with abandonedment issues etc.

I think a lot of this would lead to not fun drama to watch on the show or it would have to be handwaved away to make it all work. I wouldn't want that, and I doubt the GA would either. They don't watch the show for Buck and Eddie. I think the change in dynamics would turn away people from the show and would definitely turn away the less tolerant people. The GA also, like Tommy and Buck together they have had a good response to that, so why would they throw it away for a part of the online fandom. Buck and Tommy will be here to stay for a little while due to that alone and I think many people now (including the GA) want to see Buck settled down in a long term relationship and to see Eddie get a partner that he can settle down with, without breaking up Buck and Tommy.

It's amazing how many queer stories and characters we have gotten in 911, and while yes, I would love and be accepting of more, I don't think Eddie will be one of them.

[scotianostra]

On December 30th 1899 the Albion Motor Company was established.

What I love most about this Motor company are than names of the vehicles have a great Scottish connection, The Clydesdale, The Reiver, The Chieftain and The Claymore to name but a few.

The factory was originally in Glasgow, moving to Scotstoun in 1903 and it initially manufactured motor cars until in 1909 when they switched to commercial vehicle manufacture, trucks then buses.

Norman O. Fulton and T. Blackwood Murray founded The Albion Motor Car Company, in Glasgow, in 1902, Albion built it's first commercial vehicle. This simple vehicle was a half-ton van. A development a 3/4 ton van. More models followed, ranging in payload weights up to 2 tons.

Albion continued to build lightweight vehicles, but they built their first 3-4 ton payload commercial, the A10, in 1910.

Having been accepted by the government, some 6000 such examples were built for war service during World War I. This was to become Albions most famous truck, and continued in production until 1926.

As well as trucks Albion also made charabanc, as seen in the two pics showing a 1906 model and a restored 1912 one, aren't they great! The restored charabanc is in the Beamish Museum in Morth East Enfgland. The first charabancs were 12 seaters, they went on to build 20 and 30 saeter versions. The Model 26 30 seater was later to be named 'Viking' took just over 24 hours to complete a non-stop run from Glasgow to London and back in 1925.

From 1928, the Albion rising sun logo, was fitted to radiator tops, and in 1930, the company became Albion Motors Limited.

During World War II, Albion Motors manufactured Enfield No 2 Mk I revolvers to aid the war effort. By 1945, 24,000 revolvers were produced.

Leyland Motors acquired Albion in 1951, ensuring that all Albions used increasing amounts of Leyland components.

Political shifts in the manufacturing bodies of British Leyland dictated that the Albion name would disappear by 1972, although the Scotstoun factory that built them was destined to build medium-weight trucks for LeylTrucks and buses (single- and double-deckers) were manufactured in the Scotstoun works until 1980. The buses were exported to Asia, East Africa, Australia, India and South Africa. Almost all Albion buses were given names beginning with "V", these models being the Victor, Valiant, Viking, Valkyrie, and Venturer.and.

Glasgow born Mark Knopfler's song, Border Reiver, the first cut on his 2009 release,

Southern bound from Glasgow town She's shining in the sun My Scotstoun lassie On the border run We're whistling down the hillsides And tearing up the climbs I'm just a thiever, stealing time In theBorder Reiver.

Sure as the Sunrise’, that's what they say about the Albion

Sure as the Sunrise’, that's what they say about the Albion

[sentientcave]

Let's Riot! Otherwise known as the gay roller derby AU

Part 2

< Previous

Contains: Lesbians! Almost everyone is a woman (Alex is NB and there are like. A few men mentioned.) and most of them are gay, OCs: Readers and OCs from a bunch of my projects and also Bambi and Bricks who belong to the esteemed @dragonnarrative-writes , Roller Derby!, complicated dating histories

~3.2k - 18+ MDNI

Morgan noticed the set of big boots, and slid out from under the car she was working on. From far above, Simone looked down.

Simone was Jo's friend and teammate, a big, handsome woman, blond hair left just long enough to curl on top of his head and clipped short on the sides. Silver earrings glinted when he shifted on his feet.

"Ronnie said y'might be hirin'," he said, wasting no time with pleasantries. It was one of Simone's best qualities, in Morgan's opinion. The ability to get to the point.

"Thought you worked for Thompson's Garage, across town."

"Yeah. Did. Might've punched 'im f'r cornerin' some poor girl with a cracked radiator an’ offerin’ ‘er a discount for… services rendered. Told 'er t'come 'ere, boss told me t'get lost." He scowled, flexing his hands, clearly still upset by what had happened. It must have been a good punch, judging by the purple bruise on his left-hand knuckles.

"What do you get paid there?"

"Twenty an hour."

"Shit, he was cheating you. Alright, move so I can get up." Morgan slid the rest of the way out from under the vehicle and accepted Simone's hand up. "Come on, let's get the papers sorted. I usually pay thirty to start, but I don't think you're the type to slow roll work, so I'll start you at thirty five, go from there. There's overtime if you want it, I'm here five to five Monday to Friday. You came at just the right time, I was gonna post an ad today. But Bricks knew that."

"She's been tellin' me t'come work for you for ages. Didn't realize you paid so well."

"I'd rather pay a few competent people than deal with an army of cheap idiots. I don't have the patience for it." She led Simone into the main office, where a young woman with red-rimmed eyes was handing her keys over to Nova. She gave Simone a watery smile as they passed by.

"I thought you'd be more'f a cunt," he admitted. "Jo said you were. But I guess Ron wouldn't've become your friend if you were as bad as all that."

"I am a cunt," Morgan said, dropping into her chair and fishing her keyboard out from under a pile of invoices. "But not if you don't deserve it. Jo deserves it."

Simone chuckled as Laika unfolded herself from the dog bed in the corner and came over to sniff her boots with interest. "Well. Sometimes, yeah."

"That's Laika. She's a terrible guard dog, but perfect otherwise. She's usually with me, in here, or politely begging for someone else's lunch. Don't fall for it. I think it's clear she's very well fed. Sit, please."

Both Simone and Laika sat down and looked at her expectantly.

Morgan bit back a laugh. "Alright, let's get you set up."

Once she had all of Simone's information, she set him up at the computer to do GHS training and went back out to the garage. The radiator job was an easy patch, and she made a note to order a replacement before the thing started leaking again, and didn't charge for the temporary repair, which had her awkwardly standing there while the poor woman cried on her shoulder and unloaded about the truly terrible month she'd been having. Morgan made her some tea and sat with her until she felt steady enough to drive, and then rushed through the rest of her work so she could leave a bit early and drop by the shops on the way home. She'd asked Simone what kind of pie Jo liked, and received the deliberately unhelpful response of "Peach, prob'ly." Followed by a chuckle and a sly look.

A comedian, clearly.

She decided, perhaps a bit vindictively, to make something with a mix of blueberry, black currant and blackberry, so it would stain one of Jo's perennial white tank tops permanently if she got any on herself.

Laika hiked herself up onto the couch as soon as they got into the flat, clearly exhausted by the extra two blocks they had walked to get to the grocery store. Morgan envied her ability to relax so thoroughly so quickly.

She changed out of her work clothes and scrubbed all the dirt and oil off her skin, careful to get every bit from under her nails, and got working on the pie, keeping an ear out for the sound of Jo's door slamming closed to signal her return.

It was mortifying to walk down the hall with the still warm pie, wearing a skirt and a half un-buttoned button up shirt tied around her waist. She wasn't sure if she hated Bricks more for the suggestion that she wear something low cut, or Jo for the way her eyes instantly dropped, first to her cleavage, and then to the pie.

"Well hello. You in a better mood today, sweetheart?" Jo leaned into the doorframe, her black, sawdust covered t-shirt tight around her arms and riding up just the slightest bit, revealing a slip of skin and a peek at the elastic from her underwear.

"Yes. Much better. Thank you." Morgan held out the pie tin, trying her best to ignore the smell of wood shavings and sweat that rolled off of Jo. "Will you please let us use your warehouse as practice space until we can find somewhere else?"

"Hm. Maybe. Why don't you come in for a minute? Can't let you do all that work without gettin' a taste yourself."

“No, that’s fine, just take this and let me know what you decide.”

“Hm, no. Come in, make me some tea while I pop in the shower, then we’ll talk.” Jo gently dragged Morgan inside, then closed and locked the door behind her. “I’m sure you can find everything you need. Kitchen’s laid out just like yours.”

Their apartments were basically identical, just mirrored, and Jo’s was lacking in a certain level of coziness. She had nice furniture, solid wood kitchen table and chairs, no doubt made by her own hand, an overstuffed leather couch, nice bookcases, but there weren’t many personal touches, even though Jo had lived in the building for years longer than Morgan had. The walls were still beige.

Morgan set the pie down on the counter and glanced back over her shoulder. Jo already had her shirt off, and was just hooking her fingers under the edge of her bra as she started down the hallway. The well-defined muscles in her back flexed and then relaxed, her torso twisted back toward the kitchen. Morgan’s eyes flicked up, catching Jo’s smirk. She looked away and grabbed the kettle, hoping to avoid any further conversation for the moment.

Jo laughed, and a moment later, the sound of her shower started. Morgan turned on the kettle and sat down heavily. Jo was clearly going to take advantage of her forced civility for her own entertainment.

Well, at least someone was having fun.

Of course, getting flustered or mad was only going to encourage her. Morgan needed to get a hold of herself. Jo was just toying with her like a cat with a mouse.

She plated two slices of the pie, made tea, and sat down at the table to wait. The shower shut off only a few minutes later, and not long after that, Jo came back down the hallway, towel-dried hair finger-combed back from her face, wearing sweatpants and a tanktop that stuck to her wet skin, the white fabric just the slightest bit see-through.

“Thanks, pet. Didn’t mention before, but you look cute. Don’t think I’ve seen you in a skirt since you went on your last date.”

“I don’t have a lot of occasions to. Now, can we—”

“It’s a shame. You’ve got nice legs.”

“Jo, please. I’m going to lose my temper if you keep this up, and I’m trying very hard to be nice.”

“I’m complimenting you.”

“You don’t mean a word of it, you just enjoy torturing me. Now, about the warehouse.”

Jo hummed, picking up her fork and using the side of it to cut a bite sized piece off the slice of pie on the plate in front of her. “I suppose we can give it a trial run. We practice Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Can you work around that?”

Morgan grimaced, pulling her phone out of her pocket. “We’re Tuesdays and Thursdays right now. Billie and Dancer can’t do Wednesdays, Kitty’s got late classes Monday and Friday. I suppose it’s alright if some of us can only make one practice a week, but Kitty and Dancer are our newest skaters, they could use the extra time.”

“Are they available on Sundays?”

Morgan shook her head. “Sweetpea volunteers through her church, I don’t think she’d want to give that up on an ongoing basis.”

Jo made an appreciative sound as she chewed her bite of pastry and berry filling. “Hm. S’pose we could shuffle things about a bit. You can ‘ave Tuesday.”

Morgan nodded. “Okay. Maybe we can make it an extra long practice to make up for it.”

Jo was silent for a moment, thinking it over. “Want to make it interestin’?”

“Almost certainly not.”

“Hear me out, sweetheart.”

“Alright. Fine. What do you have in mind?”

“We’ve got that match tomorrow. If your team wins, you get Tuesday and Thursday. We’ll move things around. And if we win, I’ll still let you have Tuesdays, and we can share Thursdays.”

“That’s it?” Morgan asked. Maybe Jo wasn’t as bad as all that. “When you said make it interesting I thought you’d make it— Well, I thought you were going to be awful.”

“You want me to add some personal stakes?” Jo asked, her eyes glittering with mischief. “I can if you like. I’ve had a few thoughts. You comin’ over here all cute with baked goods gives me a few more.”

“I do not need to hear those thoughts.” Morgan stood up, smiling tightly. “That’s an acceptable wager. It would be nice to have enough people to run the occasional scrimmage with. I’ll let the girls know. Thank you.” She quickly walked out the door and into her own apartment without looking back, closing the door firmly behind her.

She picked up her phone and pulled up the Riot groupchat.

CpnMorgan: Going to the disco. Anyone up for it?

Chelsea watched the other girls move around the roller rink, sitting on the table with Bricks between her knees, her arms looped around Bricks’ shoulders. They were on guard duty while the others had fun. They’d swap back in when someone else needed a break. “Well, it’s a good start,” she said.

Apparently, Bambi and Doll had been on a double date, but they were skating in sync, moving to the music, and their dates were nowhere to be seen. Dancer was spinning like a top in the centre of the rink, ballet skills on impressive display. Billie wasn’t there yet— She had promised to read Ellie the next chapter of some story before bed, and then Roach’s mother was going to keep an eye on her so that Billie and Roach could both come out. Sweetpea, Bunny and Kitty were talking and skating, Bunny moving backward so she could look at both of them while they chatted.

Morgan was obviously pissed, despite the good news. She was doing hard laps, weaving through slower skaters like they were obstacles in a course.

“It is,” Bricks agreed. “Honestly Jo and Morgan had an entire conversation without Morgan swinging on her. That’s not nothing.”

Chelsea hummed in agreement. “Are the Femmes coming here tonight? I know you texted Simone, but you didn’t say if she responded.”

“He,” Bricks reminded her idly, picking up her phone to check. “He sent me a thumbs up.”

“Is that a yes?”

“It could be a yes, or a good to know. I’ll ask Kylie.”

“I think that’s Farah and Alex— Hey!” Chelsea waved at the couple that just walked in. They beelined for their table, hand in hand.

“This is a regular date spot for those two.” Bricks sat forward a little, beaming. “Hey kids.”

“Nice to see you, Ronnie,” Alex said, giving her a nod and a wide smile. “Princess Peach.”

“It’s been too long. Excited for the game tomorrow?” Bricks asked.

Farah dropped onto the bench beside her. "You bet. I love playing teams that don't spent the whole game trying to foul us out. And your newbies are so cute." Farah wiggled her fingers at Kitty as she rolled past, which made her stumble and nearly fall over, or would have if Sweetpea and Bunny weren't right there to catch her.

Chelsea laughed. "She is cute. Kitty gets so flustered when anyone flirts with her."

Alexis sat down as well and pulled their skates out of their bag. "You just handed us a secret weapon to get through your line," they joked. "You're so doomed now."

Farah laughed and swatted Alexis' knee. "She's a jammer. It wouldn't help."

"Damn."

"Actually, we train for all positions," Bricks said. "Morgan thinks it makes us better all round, and I think she's right. Kitty can block. She would have a hard time blocking your team, since most of you are behemoths."

"They forgot to give me the growth serum," Farah said solemnly. "I didn't make it to practice the day Jo was handing out shots. She gave Simone a double dose instead."

"That explains everything." Bricks glanced at her phone again. "Do you know if Simone is coming tonight?"

"They're at The Dragon," Alexis said. "Simone got a new job today and Jo is upset that her girlfriend of the week is mad at her or something, so Soap's gone to encourage bad behaviour and Kylie's gone to keep an eye on them. Macy works early tomorrow so she's probably already in her bonnet."

"Naturally." Bricks tipped her head back to look at Chelsea. "You mind if I do a couple circuits with these two? They love a third wheel."

Alexis grinned. "More like wheels 17-24."

Farah groaned. "You are getting as bad as Simone."

"And yet, you still love me."

"Till the end of time, habib albi." Farah reached for Alexis' hand and kissed the rose tattooed on the back of it.

The three of them stood together and zipped off for the rink, leaving Chelsea alone at the table, although she suspected not for long. Morgan was still going hard, but Dancer was meandering with the others now.

Bricks (on top of being tall, curvy, and gorgeous) was a genius. Getting the Femme41s and the Riot together just made sense. Both of them without a full roster, each team with practically opposite strengths, Jo with her very convenient access to actual space. If it weren't for Morgan and Jo's silly little fight, they would have suggested it full out.

As it were, Bricks was scheming, which was always a pleasure to watch.

Farah and Alexis were an easy sell. They could get along with almost anyone, and they weren’t intimidating like Simone or Jo.

Sweetpea and Kitty hopped out of the rink to get a drink. Kitty started unlacing her skates, clearly spent for the evening.

“This place rules,” she said. “I can’t believe it’s not busier.”

“I’m glad it’s not,” Sweetpea said. “Although I’m also concerned that means it won’t be open for all that much longer.”

“If they sell this place for condos I’m really gonna riot,” Chelsea grumbled. “Morgan talked to the owner already, said that she should talk to her if she decides to sell, or if any offers get made. I think she’s secretly wealthy or something. Sometimes she gets talking about learning to fly in her dad’s plane when she was young, or growing up travelling all over and I think, hm.”

“She also always picks up the tab,” Sweetpea pointed out.

“Then why would she work so much?” Kitty asked. “Doesn’t make much sense.”

Chelsea shrugged. “Maybe she just likes to work.”

Sweetpea hummed. “I’d believe that. But whatever. I’ve got a date Monday night and I’d like some opinions. We’re just going for a coffee and a walk by the river, so it’s gotta hit cute and casual, yeah?” She grabbed her phone to show them her outfit options.

Sweetpea was the kind of person who took pictures of every single item of clothing she had, so she could catalogue them and put together outfits paper-doll style on a picture of herself while she was bored at work. A lot of her clothes were handmade, or up-cycled thrifted items, and she sold them too. Chelsea had a rack of Sweetpea’s one-of-a-kind items in her shop, and some of Doll’s paintings on the wall. It was nice to be able to support her friends a little.

Plus, Sweetpea had custom made Chelsea’s favourite jacket, pink denim with a quilted bird on a branch on the back. She never went anywhere in it without receiving a dozen compliments.

It was so nice to have such a good group to hang out with, on and off the track. The Shadows had never really been like that, although she was so lucky to have met Billie (And Pepper, who she wished would come back from America) through them. That was a team that was all about Pippa, and doing what Pippa wanted. The final straw had been the less than subtle hints that Billie wasn’t recovering from Ellie’s birth fast enough, and that she could be replaced.

Chelsea lost her temper about it. She rarely let herself get mad, but she was pretty sure she called Pippa all sorts of names before she stormed off after a sobbing Billie. Pepper had followed.

The decision to start their own team came a little later. At first they just skated together, at the disco, down by the river, and hung out, until Billie had gone to Morgan’s garage, just a little after it opened. When Morgan returned the car, she asked about the skates in the backseat, and that had been the real beginning.

Chelsea was organized, but she didn’t always know where and how to start things. Morgan was the type of person that just ran full speed at any problem in front of her without thinking twice. So they'd put up a few flyers and booked the Reader St arena, and that had brought out Bunny and a few others, and then Bricks had joined up after the Riot had gotten slapped silly by Kortac. She'd said she wanted to be on the team that was laughing and supporting each other in a loss, rather than the one that criticized a win.

And that was the beauty of the group of people they'd brought together. It didn't really matter if they won or lost, because they had fun, and they liked spending time with each other. There was no competition amongst each other, no petty bullshit.

There was no way in hell Chelsea was ever going to let Pippa ruin that, even though the American woman had tried really hard to break up the team when she was dating Morgan. It was probably the whole reason why she started dating her.

So it probably wasn’t all Morgan’s fault that Pippa bought their arena, regardless of what they’d said the night before.

Either way, at least they’d have one thing in common with the Femme41— They all considered Pippa Graves enemy no. 1. And that was a great place to start.

Title card made on Canva - Image Credits: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 (Stickers are Canva assets) Dividers by @/cafekitsune

[justimajin]

The Solace Window

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader (ft. Namjoon)

Genre: Angst

↳ 15.8k / Older Couple AU

Summary: Kim Namjoon is no more, and you are left behind as a 75 year old widow. Stuck in between experiencing grief and mourning your late husband, your search for solace seems more and more far-fetched. That is until you stumble upon widowed Jung Hoseok.

*Warnings: Depictions surrounding death, grief, depression, spousal loss, miscarriage, fertility issues, illness, growing older, familial issues, mistreatment of the elderly, old age homes. This story will deal with heavy topics and reader discretion is highly advised.

A/N: After much contemplation, I have decided to write this fic. It is very personal to me, and one that I really wanted to share.

He’s gone. 

Kim Namjoon is laid to rest in the casket in an eternal sleep. His gray hair has been carefully combed back against his wrinkled skin, and he’s dressed in an elegant black suit, arms folded and resting on top of his chest. He wears a content expression, brows smoothed out and lips tightly shut.

He’s gone, forever. 

A handful of individuals surround him; namely a couple in their late thirties clad entirely in black. The wife clutches onto her husband’s shirt, thick tears streaming down her face and tremors shuddering through her shoulders. 

“D-Dad…” She chokes out, burying herself further into her husband’s embrace as he wraps his arms around her. 

There are two small children with wide eyes, glancing between their mother and father in curiosity. Their gazes then flicker over to the rest of the people who have gathered, before looking back at the older lady sitting on the side, who holds a somber expression and far too much anguish in her eyes. 

You can only watch as the service is completed and you have to say your farewells. You can only watch as you keep the deep ache in your chest at bay, attempting to keep yourself from crumbling. You can only watch as your loved ones are a mess, sobs echoing from the room. 

You can only watch as your husband departs from this world, leaving you behind. 

You are silent the entire ride home. 

When the multiple cars arrive at the large complex, you already begin to carefully shift out of the vehicle, not waiting for anyone to help you out. Your cane hits against the pavement and you place pressure on it, moving slowly with a hunched back. 

You trail along the sidewalk until meeting the front steps, cautiously raise your feet and walk on them one by one. Weakly pushing against the door, you tread towards the staircase, having no desire to eat and wanting to head straight to your room. 

A gentle hand on your shoulder halts you. 

Turning around, the woman stares back at you with a swollen but intentful gaze. She’s inherited your eyes and Namjoon’s smile, her expression scanning your features. 

“Mom…” She calls out, but you don’t have the strength to hear her words. 

“I’m tired, Naree.” You quietly whisper, and she moves her mouth as if to speak again, but her own words fizzle out. She simply nods, swivelling away as her eyes brim with water. 

You gradually ascend onto the steps, pushing your cane against the wood before hauling your shaking feet upward. After a couple of moments, you manage to reach the top, shuffling your feet into your bedroom. 

The bedroom you once shared with Namjoon. 

There’s a double-sized bed in the middle with two dressers, one of which has Namjoon’s medications carefully stacked to the side, a small lamp and a book with a bookmark that he was in the midst of completing. There’s two picture frames off to the side, a much younger you with a huge smile hugging a shyer and much younger Namjoon, the snapshot taken seconds before he had accidentally stumbled and taken you down with him. 

You move closer to the other dresser, the one that contains all of your belongings. Setting your cane securely against it, you slip into the covers, bringing them up to your chest until you’re completely nestled. 

As you stare at the ceiling, silence greets you. There’s the faint tick of the clock on the opposite side of the bed, the very one Namjoon had installed so it was easier for him to figure out the time without squinting and straining his eyes. It’s accompanied with a side that is now empty, his scent still lingering on the pillow that sits right next to yours. 

The silence continues to greet you the longer you stare at the ceiling, and it’s absolutely deafening. 

The tears rise before you can stop them, rolling down the crinkle of your eyes. The longer you wait, the longer you stare, the more it becomes inevitable with every passing minute. 

He’s not coming back. There’s no him arising from the door, slowly parting it as he sheepishly admits he had accidentally fallen asleep on the couch downstairs, mind growing absent these days. There’s no dim light radiating out from your side, a pair of glasses on the rim of his nose as he carefully turns the pages of his book. There’s no familiar dimpled smile wishing you goodnight, no soft kisses against your forehead before he slips into the covers with you, pulling you into his warm and comfortable embrace. 

There’s nothing anymore and it’s something that slams into you, being wide awake despite living in a walking nightmare. 

A harsh sob rips from your throat, echoing against the silent walls. 

You are numb.

You slowly peel open your eyes in the morning, the faint sunlight seeping through the same floral curtains. The side beside you still stays empty, as you continue to sleep on your own side. The belongings on the opposite dresser are untouched, small specks of dust long beginning to settle. 

A year has passed since the tragedy, and you are still numb. 

You rise onto your feet, your wrinkled hand reaching out for your cane. Weakly pushing yourself off the bed, your feet stagger as you pad through the room and head into the bathroom. 

Setting your cane aside again, you turn the tap on and the water flows. Pooling it in your hands, you splash it over your skin, the water feeling tender against it. Glancing in the mirror, a low sigh leaves your lips. 

The lines on your features have deepened and increased, small indents showcasing near the corners of your eyes and your mouth. Your cheeks have become hollow, bone beginning to surface and protrude out. The bottom of your eyes have darkened, skin sagging down.

There's a saying you’ve roughly heard in passing – one that Namjoon’s mother had echoed to you when his father had passed away and you were inquiring how she was. 

She had said that for many couples, after your spouse passes away, the grief only seems to accelerate the aging process tenfold and that it wouldn’t be too long till her own day would come. 

At the moment, the thought itself was devastating to hear. But you never thought a day would come when her words would be so utterly true, your face having aged more within one year compared to the last five years you had spent with Namjoon. 

After washing up solemnly in silence, you pad back through into the desolate bedroom, before exiting and slowly descending down the stairs. 

Naree’s voice echoes through the room.

“...–not eating on time and barely talks, I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

“It comes with age.” Her husband, Seojun, echoes, “You should know that she’s growing old.” 

“I know,” She huffs, “But she won’t even go through my father’s belongings, instead she insists on keeping everything the same and it’s been so long–” 

You quietly clear your throat, leaning against the staircase beside the kitchen. Naree spins around with wide eyes and both of them freeze, as if they had been caught. 

“Mom–” 

“I’m feeling tired.” You simply say. 

“Let me make you some tea.” She brings up immediately and you nod, turning around with another word. Naree and her husband glance at each other silently, before she moves towards the kettle. 

You walk over to sit down on the large couch at the side in the living room, the one that has enough cushions for your hunched back. Sitting down with a large heave, your gaze falls onto the window. 

A small girl stumbles into the room. 

Her wide eyes are bright, a familiar dimpled smile on her lips and a photo in her hands.

There’s a soft upturn to your lips and she beams, rushing over in an instant. 

“Grandma!” she squeals, body falling near your legs and head landing in your lap. Another younger girl pads in quietly behind, following her older sister with curious eyes.

“Nayoung.” You reach out and tenderly stroke the eldest girl’s hair, who is around eight years old, before moving your eyes to the four year old behind her, “Dambi.” 

The youngest smiles and you widen your arm, to which she pads closer and rests within your embrace.

You hug your grandchildren with all the love you have left to offer. 

“Grandma!” Nayoung excitedly rambles, placing a frame into your withered hands, “Is the baby in this Mom?” 

You take it and flip it around, eyes widening to find the picture of you, a small child in your arms and Namjoon’s hand resting on your shoulder. You’re smiling but your eyes are brimming with tears, as so are his as the baby stays rested within your comfortable embrace. 

Your eyes gloss over for a split second, but you sniffle, bringing your attention back to your granddaughter. 

“No, it isn’t.” You explain, “It’s my son…. your Uncle Haneul.” 

Nayoung stares at you with surprise, glancing at the photo frame again. “Uncle Haneul?” 

You slowly nod and she continues to stare with fascination, even glancing back at Dambi and pointing towards it like she had uncovered a hidden secret. 

“Where’s Uncle Haneul?” Dambi ponders, and your eyes soften.

“Following in his father’s footsteps.” You whisper, “He became a professor, and he’s been exploring the world for his research.” 

Ever since Namjoon passed away. – you want to add. 

You take the frame from Nayoung’s hands, “This picture is when he was first born, before your mother was.”

Haneul and Naree. After years of love and even more years of building a life together – a relationship, a marriage, a home, you and Namjoon had decided that you wanted to have kids. Through the ups and downs, the panics of pregnancy to the bliss of becoming parents, you both were blessed with two children that you love dearly. 

In return, Haneul had ultimately decided that becoming a parent wasn’t something he had desired, something both you and Namjoon had understood from afar and confirmed when he had brought it up to you. Instead, he wanted to travel and was inclined to be hungry for knowledge, much like Namjoon himself. You had to convince him to leave after Namjoon’s passing, insisting that life was too short and he should be living his, instead of fretting over the family. 

On the flip side, Naree married her husband a couple of years back, and you had met your precious granddaughters, Nayoung and Dambi, within that time frame. 

Within forty-seven years of marriage, you had seen it all, but it still comes racing back to you in a heartbeat, the memories still so vivid as you stare back at the single snapshot that captured it all. 

Nayoung watches you with a smile, and Dambi mumbles something that has light coming back to your eyes. 

“You used to be so pretty, Grandma.” The four year old states it so nonchalantly, resulting in her older sister gasping and whipping her head around. 

“Hey! Grandma is still pretty.” Nayoung persists. 

You deeply sigh, “I’ve gotten old, haven’t I?” 

“No, no!” Nayoung furiously shakes her head, “You’re not– …well, you are old, Grandma, but still so pretty!” 

A smile cracks onto your lips, long having forgotten what it felt like. Nayoung shifts, eyes growing uneasy. 

“Grandma…a-are you crying?” 

You sniffle, hurriedly wiping away your tears, The two children stare at you with rounded eyes and you softly chuckle, widening your arms. 

“How about you help Grandma feel a bit better?” 

Nayoung reacts immediately, launching herself into your arms as you bring her into your lap and rest your head against hers. Dambi crawls up the sofa and you pull her in as well, embracing the two with quivering arms.

Even in this bleak and lonely world, you are relieved to have them by your side. 

***

Naree stands by the living room entrance, a cup of tea in her hands. 

“Girls, it’s time to wash up and get ready for lunch.” She announces, and the two children glance up, before immediately rising to their feet. 

They both give you a quick wave before they’re scurrying away upstairs. 

Naree brings the cup and sets it down on the table in front of you.

“Mom.” She calls out and you turn to look at her. “Can we talk?” 

A deep sigh leaves you and you sink back into the chair, knowing it was all impossible to avoid. 

“I suppose.” You comply and she sits down on the couch opposite you, facing you directly. 

“I was talking…to Seojun…” At the topic of her husband, you shift and she continues cautiously, “I know how you feel about Dad, and he does too.” 

Your eyes downcast, “But we should really move his things into the storage room, Mom.” 

“And what about me?” You chuckle underneath your breath, “Are you eventually going to move me too?” 

“Mom.” She chides, letting out a long sigh. She looks tired, just like you. “It’s been a year since Dad passed away.” 

And a year since everyone had forgotten about him. 

You want to add, but keep silent, “I just think it’s really time to move forward…” 

There’s a deep ache within your chest, that only grows with her words. You knew this conversation was inevitable, but how were you to explain? 

How were you to explain that ever since Namjoon passed away, you’ve been consumed with an exorbitant amount of feelings that you could barely grasp?

Immense guilt that somehow through all this, you were still here while his death was so sudden. That you were still breathing and intact, all while he had struggled to do the same? 

Utter anger that he had left you here all by yourself after spending nearly half a century together, how he didn’t just take you with him, instead of you waking up everyday, longing to see him again. 

And of course – the grief. Perhaps the most painful of them all. 

You can’t go through his things without breaking down, reopening the jarring wound his demise has left over and over again when you see his clothes, his shoes, his belongings. The last remains of his existence and the last things you can desperately clutch on, mimicking a supposed fabrication of him still being with you. 

You wrap your arms around yourself, shaking your head with shut eyes. 

“My answer is firm, Naree.” 

“Mom.” She exasperatedly says, frustrated with your stubbornness that mimics her own. After all, she’s inherited your personality, except you’ve lived longer with all your experiences exceeding all of hers. 

“I’m exhausted.” You simply state, willing your shaking legs to get up. Once they do, you grab onto your cane, trudging towards the staircase.

Naree is silent as she watches you struggling to get up, unable to explain how much grief has been brought to her. Everyday she’s forced to watch her mother fall into a slump, surrounding herself with past memories and unable to break out of her shell. She’s granted only the fleeting moment of your former self when you interact with her daughters, but a part of her always wonders if a part of you had died alongside her father that day, that she ended up losing both her parents in some twisted way. 

She rubs her temples, feeling absolutely drained and tired beyond belief. 

A week passes by. 

There’s barely any change in your routine. You remain within your bedroom majority of the time, sleeping and occasionally being reminded to eat. You don’t speak much, carrying a solemn gaze and a deep frown on your lips. 

You don’t see much of Naree or Seojun, both of them occupied with their jobs and not making any effort to speak to you for the duration. 

However, one night you find them by the kitchen table, sitting opposite from each other. 

It was late into the hours and you had suddenly woken, on your way down for a glass of water. 

Naree stills. “Mom–” 

“What were you talking about?” You question, and Naree knows. 

She knows that you heard pieces of their conversation. The conversation about how drained she felt lately, work taking its everlasting toll on her, right before Seojun suggested taking a vacation and going out on a trip with the family. To the conversation shifting, Naree spilling out her worries and concerns about you, your old age and how much she could see your health deteriorating, to how much she can’t get through to you anymore, how much she’s just given up. 

However, what’s caught most of your attention is the sudden mention of a certain kind of home, one that notoriously knows how to take care of the elderly properly. 

“We should talk.” Seojun states, pulling out a chair for you. You reluctantly take it, slowly sitting down as your gaze oscillates between them.

Naree sucks in a deep breath, looking at her husband uneasily. “We were thinking…” 

“That it might be time for us to try something different.” Seojun finishes, glancing at you intently. 

You cut to the chase. “What are you trying to get at?” 

There’s a pause and Naree fidgets, eyes focusing onto her hands. 

Her next words have you freezing. 

“Mom…how would you feel about moving into an old age home?” Naree mutters.

A rigid chuckle leaves you, “So this is what it’s coming to, huh?” 

“Mom, please.” Naree insists in defense and if you weren’t so entrapped within your own thoughts, perhaps you would have noticed the fatigue running deep in her eyes or the stiffness in her shoulders, “It’s not an easy decision…but we’ve really thought about this.” 

Correction – Seojun has thought about this. You vaguely remember him bringing it up once, much to Naree’s protests and he let it slip by then. 

But now, you have grown older and gone through grief, which doesn’t make it implausible to bring up again. 

Except this time, you’re alone, not having Namjoon with you anymore to see eye to eye with Seojun as he always did and convincing him that you were better off together. 

You miss him so much. 

“Your health hasn’t been the same, Mom.” Naree explains, “And both Seojun and I go to work, the girls go off to school and–”

She deeply sighs, eyes becoming glossy. “I know, Mom…I know you’re lonely.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut. 

“Ever since Dad passed away, I think our relationship has changed,” She simply states, her next words driving a wedge through your heart “…and I don’t think we have the same capability to take care of you anymore.”

You sigh, glancing up to look straight into Naree’s eyes for the first time since Namjoon’s passing. 

“It’s the trip too, isn’t it? The girls want to go, but you’ve resisted for a while.” You mention, “You kept saying that I needed you, and that you’ll eventually go, but you had to stay behind because of me.” 

Naree winces at how direct you are, not missing a heartbeat of the reality you’ve been noticing since the past year. 

Sucking in a breath, you ignore the deep ache residing within your chest, pushing it back into the farthest corner. 

“Fine.” You solemnly state, barely having energy anymore. “I’ll go, if that’s what you want.” 

Relief breaks out onto Naree’s features and Seojun softly smiles. You suppose it was bound to happen eventually, better sooner than later, and perhaps it would do some good for you, to continue on somehow. 

That is, knowing this will be your last days within the home you had once built with Namjoon. 

The move happens within a couple of days. 

Your bags are packed, with clothes and smaller belongings tossed in. Peering around, you stare at Namjoon’s side of the bed, ready to leave it as it is. 

But you step forward, glancing down at the book he was in the middle of reading. It was another dystopian sci-fi book he was curious about, having heard good reviews about it. 

You place it into your arms, giving the room one longing look before ultimately shutting the door. 

Naree and you sit in the car in silence, as you gaze out the window and reminisce over the passing neighborhood. 

You and Namjoon were incredibly young when you had first moved here, hunting down homes and furiously checking the pricing of the housing market. It had been only a couple of weeks since your marriage, both of you fresh out of college and in entry jobs when he had stumbled upon the location, coming up to you with bright eyes one day. 

The nostalgia brims in your eyes, but soon Naree is tapping against your shoulder. 

“We’re here.” She announces and you nod, before she proceeds to come over and take out your bags.

You glance around with a frown. 

It's a small residential area, appearing more like a stretched out home with many windows, accompanied with a garden area at the front that spreads to the back. 

Stepping inside, it doesn’t seem to get better. 

The walls are a dull white, and sunlight pours in from the windows, nearly blinding you. There’s a reception area that Naree steps closer to talk to, but you stand with a frown still on your lips, peering into the room at the corner, where you can hear laughs and chuckles. 

There's a bunch of chairs, with people around your age seated and conversing. They’re smiling alongside each other, while some others are knitting as well as playing cards. It takes you off guard for a moment, not accustomed to seeing so many closer to your age range after being around your own family members for so long. 

The place seems to smit a sense of peace with a hint of melancholy, and you’re truthfully not sure about how you feel about it. 

“They’re all set-up, Mom.” Naree walks closer to you and you turn, seeing her glance at her watch. “I need to get to work soon.” 

You hum and Naree still stands in spot, as if deeply contemplating. 

“Mom…I–” 

“Have fun with the kids.” You mutter, “Take them to nice places, places they want to see.” 

She nods, not lingering for a moment longer as she reluctantly turns around – leaving you all by yourself once again.

It's… unsettling. 

Everything follows a schedule and each day repeats, constantly. You’re told when to eat, when to sleep, when to do something fun – as they would like to call it – and the worst part of it all, you’re surrounded by strangers who know each other all too well. 

You, in the meanwhile, have been already quoted as being too quiet and solemn, something that makes you want to wrap up into yourself even more. You were never good at connecting with new people, regardless of where you were. 

Namjoon was always the sociable one, effortlessly commanding a room with his charm and charisma. You would sheepishly stand next to him, but he would always manage to include you somehow, making you feel less cut off from others. 

You let out a sigh – perhaps the only time you actually feel comfort is through the night, tucked underneath the streets with a book wrapped around your cold arms, sniffling as you’re surrounded with unfamiliar things in an unfamiliar room and attempting to lull yourself to sleep. 

Because moments like those are where you finally get to welcome his presence wholeheartedly.

You blink,squinting your eyes and raising your hand to block the sun. 

Except it’s not the same hand you’re used to – rather it’s no longer wrinkled, with your veins popping out and hands no longer tremoring. 

They feel strong, and you open and close your palm a few times astonished.

A pair of small legs tumble into your own and you gasp, glancing down at the boy who has the same features as your husband. 

He grins widely, “Mommy!”

“Haneul?!” You harshly whisper, raising the boy before lifting him into your arms. He looks no more than four years old. 

Haneul is four, which means can only mean– 

You are thirty-four. 

Glancing around, your eyes are snapping around frantically – taking in the expansive backyard which you barely would step in anymore, now littered with Nayoung and Dambi’s toys. The house that you left behind, just recently newly renovated upon your insistence. And your son, who looks up at you with wide eyes, as if you’re his entire world. 

You attempt to hold him close, biting back the sobs that threaten to take over you. 

A loud yelp resonates through the air. 

Your breath hitches, knowing that voice from anywhere. Whipping your head around, your legs are stronger, and you take long strides without needing a cane, carrying your son in your arms.

For there’s a small shed in the corner of your backyard and if you’re right, if your memory doesn’t fail you. 

The shed needs to be fixed and Namjoon took upon the task himself. 

The door goes flying open and his back is the first thing you see. 

“Not again…” He sighs, a hand planting against his forehead. There’s a bucket of paint that’s fallen to the ground, along with patches of the white colour sprayed against his ankles. 

You slowly set your smiling son down, who giggles and runs to his father. Namjoon instantly looks down, his hand reaching out that Haneul eagerly takes. 

Your voice comes out in a choked whisper. 

“N-Namjoon?” 

He turns with a huge smile and you’ve forgotten. Forgotten how crystal clear your memory once was, knowing his dark hair, crinkled eyes and dimpled smile anywhere. How much that smile hasn’t changed at all, fine lines maring around the corners instead, next to his grey strands of hair and weakened eyes. 

How despite the years – he’ll always be the same man you fell in love with.

“Y/N.” He deeply enunciates, concern etching onto his features.

“You’re crying, what– …” He takes long strides towards you, whispering as his hand makes contact with your cheek, “What’s wrong?” 

You sniffle, the tears pouring down as you’re no longer able to hold them back. 

Namjoon nearly stumbles back when you grasp onto him, wrapping your arms around him tightly. He hugs you back, comfortingly resting his head against your forehead. 

“I-I missed you.” You sob out, not wanting to let him go. 

“Missed me?” Namjoon softly chuckles, threading his hand through your hair. “I’ve always been here, Y/N.” 

He separates you from him, holding onto your shoulders as he tenderly looks into your eyes. 

“I’m always here, Y/N.” 

You’re suddenly pulled away, away from his comforting embrace and eyes as a white light flashes over your eyes. 

You jolt awake, hearing only the faint sound of the heater echoing through the unfamiliar room. Reality crashes down onto you, painfully reminding you of your current location. 

The other side of the bed remains cold and empty.

The days churn by, and you are as miserable as ever. 

You sit quietly by the side and stare out the window, hearing a few others engage in conversation in small groups. There was something about doing a painting activity, but you had paid it no mind, too focused on the garden outside and grasping onto the book that sits on your lap. 

“Before I came here, my husband passed away three years ago.” A voice from afar begins. It comes from a woman, who appears much older than you. “It happened so quickly, I-I didn’t know how to deal with it.” 

There's a man sitting next to her, spotting a collared shirt and dark black hair. He looks younger than both of you, and he somberly listens to her. 

“How long were you together?” He wonders. 

“Fifty-five years.” The woman sadly chuckles, “We spent every day, every moment together…and then one day he was just gone.” 

Your heart clenches, no longer staring out the window. You don’t mean to eavesdrop, but you’ve learned it's difficult when you’re surrounded by so many others, stories from so many different phases of life pouring out effortlessly in a single room. 

“I’ve heard it all,” She continues. “That he was in a better place, that I would heal with time, even that his time was bound to come soon….I-It hurt, a lot.” 

You watch as tears fill her eyes and her sadness fills the small space you’re in, a lump in your throat starting to form. You attempt to pucker your lips, threaten to silence yourself as much as possible, but the words spill out with far too much ease. 

“My husband…” You suck in a breath when her gaze falls onto you in surprise. “He…he passed away, about a year ago.” 

Her features twist, understanding deep within her eyes. 

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” 

You give her a half-smile and she presses forward, “How many years?” 

“Forty-seven.” You state, adding with a sad note “We never got to fifty…”

She solemnly nods and something in her gaze is just too much, alleviating the tension that has been festering and brewing within you. 

“He was kind, a little clumsy and forgetful, but still very kind.” You remorsefully chuckle. “Sometimes, it’s scary, like he’s never existed…and other days, I want to see him again, almost like–”

You silence yourself, eyes clamping shut as a deep ache within your chest just spreads and amplifies. 

A voice tugs you out of your thoughts. 

“Like what?” It’s the man next to the older woman, his gaze still on you. 

Your voice comes out in an anguished whisper, “Like how he visits me in my dreams.” 

It sounds strange and bizarre, you know this. But you’re startled when you glance up, only to find that woman giving you a kind look and the man softly smiling, as if he finds the notion to be pleasant. 

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” He piques, “Seeing them again, as if they never left to begin with…” 

You stare at him in bewilderment, attempting to muster words up. 

But he beats you to it. 

“Five years.” He informs, like he knew what you wanted to ask. “Since my wife’s been gone.” 

You shake your head, not fully realizing his circumstance. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to assume–” 

“It’s okay.” He lets out a low chuckle, “I look much younger than I actually am.” 

You hum, acknowledging it right away. Alongside appearing younger, you notice his disposition appears to be the same as well, being much laid-back compared to anyone else you’ve seen here.

“What’s your name?” He asks, “I’ve seen you a couple times, but I think this is our first time talking.” 

“I-I’m not one for talking much…” You note, but he quirks his head to the side, like he didn’t believe that. “And it’s Y/N, Kim Y/N.” 

“I’m Jung Hoseok.” He introduces, gesturing to the woman next to him. “This is Lee Haewon.” 

She directs a friendly smile towards you and you attempt to return it back. 

“How old are both of you?” You wonder. 

“I’m eighty-five.” Haewon answers, squinting her eyes at the man, “Last I remember, Hoseok is sixty-seven.” 

“Seventy, Haewon.” He politely corrects, but with no malice. Almost as if he was expecting for her to get it wrong. 

She deeply exhales, shaking her head in exasperation. 

“My own name is going to be next.” 

“Don’t worry about that.” His eyes flicker to you, “When the time comes, we’ll be here to remind you again.” 

You nod in assurance and she warmly smiles, placing her cold hand on top of yours. You slowly grasp onto it and Haewon doesn’t move at all, instead ushering for you to sit closer to them. 

For once, the weight on your chest feels a bit lighter. 

The next day, you’re placed in groups again. 

However, this time the head of the home brings out various board games onto the tables, to which everyone requests for different ones and are soon creating circles. 

Despite the head asking for you to join this time, you sit in the same spot you had previously sat at, right beside the window as your eyes take in the others playing. 

The loud sound of a chair screeching against the floor startles you. 

Hoseok looks up with an apologetic smile, a packet of cards in his hands.

You watch with bafflement at how he sets up the deck before you, leaning over to hand you a couple of them. 

You take them reluctantly, wondering why he was here when he could just play with someone else, observing him lean back in his chair and cross his legs with a furrow in his brows. 

Now knowing his age, it was easier to spot his older features. How, despite having better functioning legs compared to you, his back is slightly hunched, shoulders beginning to cave in. How, despite having a majority of darker strands, there were noticeable specks of grey in his hair. How his eyes have to so occasionally squint to look at the cards, a hearing aid poking out from his right ear as he tilts his head. 

You also don’t fail to notice how as his brows furrow in concentration, two small dimples poke out from the corners of his cheeks. 

“Your turn.” He calls out, having placed a card down. 

You quickly look down at the cards, reluctantly placing one down. He continues to stare at his own intently. 

“You know, it was nice of you to talk to Haewon.” He mentions. 

You shake your head, “It wasn’t much, I was just talking about my husband anyways.” 

“It meant more to her than you think.” He exhales, placing a card down. “Most folks here either ignore her, or tell her to just move on.” 

A knowing smile crosses him, “I think we both know it isn’t as simple as that.” 

“It never is.” You quietly mumble, placing a card down yourself.

Hoseok hums at that, putting another card down. You glance around warily, wondering why you hadn’t seen Haewon yet. 

“By the way, where is she?” 

“Asleep, I overheard that she felt tired.” Hoseok does a half-smile, before it’s replaced with his usual nonchalant expression. 

You nod, curious about their proximity, “Have you known her for long?” 

Hoseok shrugs, “A bit, I just got to know her in the past couple of months. You know, the good ol’ chit chatting with one other while being in the same room.” 

His straight-forwardness catches you off guard, shocked by how settled he was.

“You seem pretty comfortable being here.” You note, observing him as he glances up. 

“I have to be.” He states with a lop-sided smile, “It’s the same for everyone here. After all, nobody came because they wanted to.” 

You freeze, forehead creasing as you stare at him blankly. Hoseok’s gaze lands on you, confusion running through it.

“Y/N?” He ponders, wondering why you weren’t playing your turn. You snap out of your daze, placing your cards down. 

“I-I just remembered something I needed to do–” You quietly say, slowly rising to your feet and locating your cane. “Maybe you should play with someone else…”

For a split-second, Hoseok tosses his cards and rises to his feet, as if to halt your steps. But you’re already walking away and he falters, slumping back down into his seat

His eyes are tinged with an indescribable emotion. 

You don’t know if you can be here any longer. 

But there’s nothing you can do about it. The days pass by and no one comes for you, no one tries to see how you are, how you’re feeling and it dawns one simple resolution to you. 

You’ve been abandoned here. Forever. 

The next day arrives and you clench your jaw, stepping out of the suffocating room that has been starting to feel more like a decorated prison than anything else. You wonder if you should come up with some excuse of staying back, preoccupying yourself with anything else rather than the activity of the day. 

But that’s until you’re informed you’ll be taken to the garden. 

Taking a step outside, it’s absolutely serene. There’s handfuls of well-maintained roses, peonies and tulips flourishing, all lush and blooming around the home. It’s both tranquil and inviting, the head informing you that there were watering cans, shovels and new seeds to be planted for everyone. 

You secure a can right away, propelling yourself forward with your cane towards the peonies. 

A small smile lines your lips. 

“Y/N!” 

You spin around, in the midst of cooing and feeding your one year daughter as she babbles on her high chair. 

Namjoon stands at the door, huffing with a wide smile on his lips. 

He raises his hand, a single purple peony sticking out. 

You gasp in astonishment, “You finally grew one!” 

“I did!” He exclaims. It had been months since he had been trying, your home littered with his bonsai collection until he wanted to try his hand at outdoor planting. 

He dashes over and scoops you in her arms, making you chuckle from his victory. Grabbing onto your hand, he edges you to follow. 

“Come on, you need to help me water them!” 

Laughing, you grasp onto Naree, letting him guide you. 

The water pours out from the small canister, sprinkling delicately onto the small petals. You watch with so much fondness, for so much love for the flower, as your hands continue to tremble. 

It slips from your hands and smacks against the pavement. 

You watch as the water spills everywhere and with a huff, quickly attempting to grasp it. But your knees violently shake, and your hands tremor far too much. You attempt again and again to bend down, but your attempts are all futile, more and more of the contents emptying and spreading out. 

Tears unknowingly prick at your eyes and your breathing is heavy, limbs aching from the sudden physical exertion. 

The smooth metal gently glides across your fingertips. 

You blink, confused eyes glancing up to meet Hoseok’s softened ones. You’re left frozen as he carefully tips it, his hand grasping the canister against yours and letting the water rain over the peonies.

You let him guide you, the water running through the remaining ones before it empties. 

“Wait here for a moment.” He directs you to a bench, holding your hands as you carefully descend down onto it. 

You observe as he saunters over to the hose, filling it with water again before letting out a satisfied hum. He then manages to grasp onto a handful of seeds and grabs onto a small shovel. 

He returns to you, “You should plant some too.” 

You quietly nod and he reaches his arm out, as if gesturing for you to hold on. You grasp onto him and he slows his pace, walking at yours. 

Everytime, you point at a certain spot, he leans down, making a hole into the dirt before dropping the seed in and sealing it with fresh water. He does it along the edge of the garden, right where the window to your room should be. 

He lets out a loud huff with the last one, chest rising and falling alarmingly. 

Your eyes widen, having completely forgotten his condition of age. 

“I-I’ll go get you some water.” 

Hoseok opens his mouth to protest that he’s okay, but you’re already propelling yourself forward, cane frantically hitting against the pavement.

He wheezes, letting out a couple of coughs before you’re standing near him, a water bottle in your hands that he gratefully accepts. 

“Are you okay?” You ask right away and he nods, turning to the flowers. 

“They’re beautiful.” He states and you hum, the wind weaving through the air. 

“I love peonies.” You quietly admit, and Hoseok grins, handing you the water bottle. 

He takes a couple steps forward, drawing closer to the older batch. Among all the colors, he snatches onto a bright orange peony, handing it to you with a soft smile. 

You bring it closer to you, the corners of your mouth upturning. 

It reminds you of the warm hues of the sun. 

Your hands tremor and shake, bone sticking out from your softened skin. It doesn’t help that the joints within your bones are incredibly stiff and deeply ache with each movement. 

A frustrated sigh escapes your lips, and the needles looped in yarn falling down to your lap. 

Hoseok chuckles, reaching out and grasping onto where you’ve left off, attempting his hardest to cross them, pushing one needle into one end and looping it around. 

“You’ve missed a stitch.” You point out and he frowns, noticing the small hole he’s created instead. 

“Now how did that happen?” He deeply ponders, and a small smile tugs on your lips as he carefully inspects the placement, staring at it up and down. 

“You have to loop it carefully,” You softly explain, reaching over to place your trembling hand on his, “It should go through this stitch and then you let go of it to create the knot.” 

He follows your instructions, observing as you slowly tug his hand away from the loop, letting it unravel into a perfect stitch. 

Hoseok beams, throwing a grin in your direction and you look at him amused. 

“I think we make a lovely team.” 

You smile lop-sidely, “I don’t know, it’s more of me telling you what to do.” 

“A very important role.” He notes, raising the yarn up in his hands, “After all, this is now our group project.”

You chuckle at that and he gazes at you fondly, eyes crinkling.

“Kim Y/N?” The sound of your name has both you and Hoseok glancing up, “There’s someone here at the front foyer asking for you.” 

Your brows furrow, but then you catch the sight of a familiar silhouette. 

You scramble up from your seat, vision fixated on the backside of the person. Hoseok notices, immediately rising to his feet and handing you your cane, observing as you attempt to hurriedly stride over to the desk. 

“Naree.” You whisper, watching your daughter turn around wide-eyed. 

“Mom.” She steps forward, and you don’t hesitate to reach out, enveloping your trembling hands tightly around her shoulders. 

“You’re here, you’re actually here.” Your eyes are glossy. “I-I thought you left me by myself, I kept thinking about–” 

You freeze, surveying the way Naree’s eyes downturn, face void of expression. 

It doesn’t take long for you to connect the dots. 

Your voice cracks, “You’re not here for me, are you…?”

Naree sighs, “I was just on my way to work, and thought I’d stop by to see you.” 

“That’s all?” You mutter, but Naree latches onto your arm. 

“Mom.” She chides, but you don’t even want to look at her, “Isn’t this all better for you? You’re not lonely anymore.” 

“You’re wrong.” You feel more abandoned than ever. “And this all isn’t better for me, it’s better for you.” 

Your words are venomous and the corner of Naree’s mouth twitches. 

“How can you say that?” Naree sharply rebuttals. The two of you don’t notice all the lingering eyes watching your interaction, including Hoseok’s. “I want you to come back, but I discussed it with Seojun and we agreed you’d be happier here.” 

“And where was I in this decision?” You snap. “Or are Seojun’s words now more important than mine?” 

Naree’s nostrils flare and she looks like she’s had enough. 

She shakes her head, mumbling to coax herself. “Here I thought that dropping by was a good idea.” Her gaze is directly on you, hurt swirling in her eyes. “But now I’ve realized I made a big mistake.”

Naree turns on her heels, her fists clenched and rage enveloping every fiber of her being. You don’t make a move to stop her, simply staring at her backside and the growing gap each of her steps creates. 

There’s a deep ache within the center of your chest, one that expands and spreads, consuming you completely as your daughter abandons you once again. 

***

Everything feels like it’s crashing down. 

You’re seated within your room, having dismissed yourself and leaving your knitting session with Hoseok behind. You desperately needed to be alone, mind plaguing over and over with the image of Naree leaving, disappointment and rage embedded into her being. 

You wonder if you should have reached out, should have begged, for her to take you alongside with her. To take you back to the home you once shared with Namjoon and your family, wanting to feel the familiarity and the warmth that home contains. 

A sci-fi book rests within your lap, fingertips clenching onto it. You wonder if he can see everything, hear everything about the family you’ve created leaving you behind, casting you away like a mere thought that shoulders over them. 

Thick tears drop down, staining the paper of the book in your hands. Anguished cries leave you, shoulders shuddering as everything crumbles. 

You want to see him again, want to wrap your arms around him as he holds you comfortingly, want to have him shield you away from all these terrifying thoughts, ones that are absent of him. You hate how fast he was taken away, and wonder why he couldn’t have just taken you along with him.

A soft knock resonates against the door. 

You peer up, cheeks stained with tears and breaths coming out choked. You quickly set the book down, raising your sleeve to wipe away any existence of them. 

Padding slowly through the room, you wrap your hand around the knob and carefully open it. 

Hoseok stands in front of you, gaze downcasted and shoulders hunched in. It takes you by surprise, never having seen such a lack of optimism in his form. 

He looks up, eyes welling with tears. 

“Y/N.” He chokes, orbs widening at your appearance. “I-I can come again.” 

Before he can turn, you reach out, barely managing to graze his shirt. 

The expression he holds draws fear out from you. “I-Is everything okay? 

He pursues his lips, like he was attempting to prevent himself from tearing up, before he breathes out the words. 

“N-No, not really…” He sniffles, a lone tear escaping him. “H-Haewon…Haewon’s gone.” 

Your breath hitches, features twisting. “S-She just passed an hour ago…in her sleep.” 

His shoulders slump, eyes squeezing shut. 

“I-I couldn’t say g-goodbye….”

You step forward, arms wrapping around him in an instant. Hoseok shrinks within them, harsh sobs shuddering through his body. Tears unleash from your eyes, fisting the material of his shirt. 

You don’t know how long you stay like that, wrapped around in your collective grief. 

You are dazed. 

You find out that aside from being widowed, Haewon only had one son who was in a different country. He doesn’t come to the funeral, and it’s simply attended by a few individuals she had the opportunity to connect with at the old age home. 

Which includes you and Hoseok, standing next to each other in black clothing as you watch her casket be buried alongside her husband. Hoseok is silent the entire time, eyes empty.

You knew you weren’t as close to her as Hoseok was, but Haewon was a woman that had given you compassion when you had been desperately searching for it, not even hesitating to listen to your story. She shared the experience of having lost her husband and you recall Hoseok mentioning that she wanted to see him again, even if it meant being in the next life. 

You didn’t speak much to Lee Haewon, but she was such a crystal clear reflection of you – a woman dwindling with so much grief that she could barely hold. 

Her casket is completely buried and you reach out as Hoseok shudders, a tsunami of emotions hitting him all at once. Your wrinkled hand slides in with his, clutching onto it. He squeezes back tightly, as if you were the only thing anchoring him to reality. 

You quietly part together, bidding her your final farewell. 

Something is never the same in you after Haewon’s passing. 

It’s difficult to explain, the tightening sensation that coils around in your chest with no means of stopping. Your mind flashes back to instances with her, the kind and friendly smile she would always adorn. Or the way her hand was cold but still so warm, ushering you to come closer to her. 

It’s crushing, unable to bear with how fast life moves, clutching onto those whose time is no longer needed on earth. 

And it’s coupled with another feeling, one that is more erratic and rapid, making you nearly hyperventilate the more you sit in your room, the more you stare at the unfamiliar walls encasing around you at all four corners. 

It feels like it’s all you’ll be left with, bidding your own time goodbye within them. 

Which is why you leave, heading out your room door and into the garden. You don’t want to follow a schedule, or do activities, simply asking for permission to escape for a brief moment so you feel like you can breathe once again.

And it seems like you’re not the only one with the same idea. 

Hoseok sits on a bench a bit farther from the garden and house, his backside facing you and against the sun that begins to rise, peeking through the grass and illuminating its rays through the orange sky. 

It draws you in, and you walk forward in a daze.

You slowly sit down, back resting against the wood and setting your crane to the side. Hoseok’s attention flickers over to you. 

You quirk up a soft smile, “Couldn’t sleep?” 

He blinks after a moment, shaking his head with a sigh. 

“No….no, not really.” 

You hum, knowingly. “The sunrise is beautiful.” 

He nods silently. 

You sit in silence, enjoying the breeze wafting through the area and the way the clouds move rotationally, drifting through the clouds. The orange hues morph into the briefest of purple, light spreading over your skin and remaining within your irises. 

You suck in a sharp inhale. 

“Kim Namjoon.” You state as Hoseok turns to look at you, “My husband, who left me a year ago. He was followed by Kim Naree, my daughter, who left me a month ago.” 

His eyes find your own. “And then followed by Lee Haewon, who left us a week ago.” 

Your voice breaks. “I-I don’t know if I can handle anyone else leaving me...” 

Hoseok’s hand reaches out, placing it on top of yours. 

The corner of his mouth remorsefully curls up. “Don’t count me out so easily.” 

You smile, for the first time in weeks, and the sunrise takes over the sky. 

Taking up the opportunity, you vocalize all your innermost thoughts, “I’m not sure if I exactly belong here…I know I feel less lonely at least, but I don’t know if I can stay anymore.” 

“You want to leave.” Hoseok states, like he understands. 

Your words hold an infinite amount of weight, “I-I’m just…terrified. Terrified that I’ll be spending my last days here.” 

“Where do you want to go?” He genuinely questions. 

“Home.” You let out a low chuckle, “If that’s even possible anymore.” 

“It can be.” Hoseok softly smiles, two dimples showcasing on his face.

You reach out, clasping onto his head. “Come with me…please.” 

You know it’s a completely selfish request, especially when he seems to be much more comfortable here. 

But you forget that Hoseok has lost as well, defeat encasing the man more and more as the days draw out. It seems like you’re still his anchor, drawing him back before he’s completely gone. 

His hand tightens his hold on you. 

“Let’s go home,Y/N.” 

You stand in front of your home. 

It wasn't easy coming here. You had to be granted permission to leave the vicinity and it wasn’t the simplest task for Hoseok either, needing to prove the two of you would be functional to do so. You suppose you could have laced it over with a visit, but you couldn’t stay any longer, not there anymore. 

A shaky exhale leaves you and Hoseok reaches out, lacing his fingers with yours and having a comforting smile. 

You knock against the door. 

The door comes swinging wide open and you’re confronted with the sight of your son-in-law. 

Seojun stares at you blankly, as if you were a mere ghost, glancing between you and Hoseok in disbelief. 

“Nice to see you again.” You state, stepping into the household. It looks the same – the same couch, the same curtains and the same memories. It’s almost like you never left to begin with. 

“You’re back.” A voice acknowledges from the staircase, and you look up. 

Your eyes lock onto Naree’s, who stands in the long hallway, arms crossed and holding a hardened gaze. 

“You look like you’ve been well.” You reply with a smile, but her gaze is concentrated on the man standing with you. 

“Who is this?” She questions, and your eyes widen. 

Hoseok immediately steps up with a friendly smile, “My name is Jung Hoseok. It’s nice to meet you.” 

Naree stares at Hoseok’s outstretched hand, not moving to shake it or say anything back. After years of raising her, you know exactly what her response means. 

She’s inspecting him, wondering why you showed up out of the blue with a man near the same age as her father. 

She doesn’t say another word, simply turning her back and walking into the kitchen. It makes you want to almost laugh, how it doesn’t take her much effort to easily disregard you at this point, so much that it doesn’t even hurt and you simply just expect it. 

Seojun glances between the two of you, clearly taken aback with the situation and unsure of how to react. 

You walk past him, heading up the staircase with Hoseok. 

“I’ll be in my room.” You declare, the door shutting behind you. 

***

All of it has been moved. 

Despite the house not changing, the people have changed, and so have the contents of the room you once shared with Namjoon. 

All of his belongings are gone, stowed away in airtight boxes. 

Like he never even existed to begin with. 

Your shaking hands reach out. “No…no, no–”

You stumble, collapsing onto the ground. 

“Y/N!” Hoseok reaches forward in an instant, steadying you. 

“Everything’s gone, Hoseok. They moved everything–”

Tears are streaming down your eyes and Hoseok is clutching onto you as you sob. 

“Shh, it’s not gone.” He coaxes, reaching out for one of the boxes. His hands are tremoring but he still claws at the tape, unraveling the plastic back and tossing it aside. The box unfolds and he shifts it over to you, wanting you to see your husband’s things first hand. 

You catch sight of one of his jacket’s.

Reaching out, you gasp onto the material, staring at it in awe. It was one Namjoon used to love to wear, tossing it on when you would ask him to go out on walks with you, or consequently the one that was placed on your shoulders when he noticed you shivering in the wake of fall. 

You wrap it around your arms, the amount of comfort from the action easing your heart a bit. 

Hoseok softly smiles, shifting over another box. He opens it to reveal a stack of books, distinctly looking similar to the one you always carried in your lap. 

“Did he like to read a lot?” He ponders, and you nod, curiously looking over his shoulder. 

It all snaps – and the excitement washes over more quickly than you can stop it. 

“He did.” You lean over, grasping onto a title, “This was one of his favorites, he used to read it all the time. And this one,” You pick up another title, “He used it for his final thesis back in college, and asked me to read it with him.” 

You chuckle, tears still streaming down your eyes. “He was always so smart, but asked me to check over everything he did.” You turn to Hoseok, who has softened eyes, “He was just an overthinker, you know? And I knew I always had to calm his mind somehow, so I would make him tea often when he was working.” 

Hoseok simply watches. Watches at how much love you pour out for your late husband, how much adoration is in your voice and the tenderness in your eyes. It’s something he’s only had the pleasure of experiencing once in life, and it’s not something he’s found easily in others. 

Namjoon is truly your soulmate.

“H-He would ask what magic I would p-put in it….all the time.” Your voice cracks at the end and Hoseok’s eyes shoot up into alarm. 

“Y/N?” He shifts closer to you. 

“I-I….” You squeeze your eyes shut, the realization donning faster than you can stop it. “I-I just can’t.”

“You can’t what?” 

“I can’t.” You gasp out. “Namjoon, he’s….he’s everywhere.” 

You can see him everywhere – in the things you hold, in the memories you’re left with, in the hopes and dreams you once had together. Your entire life had been constructed around him, and it’s something you didn’t notice until you were sitting in that very same room you shared, surrounded by his entire essence. 

It's like you’re experiencing the grief all over again, except this time it’s worse because you’ve realized what you’ve truly lost. 

Hoseok feels his own heart shattering into pieces. He can’t explain how much he knows exactly what you’re going through, how much letting go was an impossible task when you’ve had years and years, an entire timeline spent with someone after an eternal promise of forever. 

A tear streams down his own eye and he moves closer, wrapping his arms around you and leaning his head against yours. 

“H-Hoseok, I-I can’t….” You whisper, “I can’t live the rest of my life here. In only the memory of Namjoon and with a family that just doesn’t want me anymore….I-I just can’t do it.” 

Hoseok shudders, letting out a small hum as you spill all your fears out to him. 

“I-It’s okay, Y/N.” He manages to get out, “It’s okay to feel this way. I-I can’t even explain to you how normal it is to.”

– or how familiar. – he wants to say. 

You sob and he parts from you, gazing into your eyes as he cups your face. 

“What do you want, Y/N?” He earnestly questions. “What is your heart telling you?” 

“I just want to leave….and go somewhere far, far away.” Far from here. 

It almost sounds like a ridiculous fantasy, but Hoseok nods. 

“How far?” He seriously ponders, “Like can we get there by bus? Do we need to take a train?” 

The corner of your mouth curls up. 

“Maybe by train. Buses are horrible to sit on for long hours.” You note with a sniffle. 

Hoseok frowns, “You make it sound like we’re so old.” 

“We are old, Hoseok.” You chuckle and he grins at the sound of it.

“Really? Say that again for me, I didn’t hear you the first time.” He turns his head, showcasing his hearing aid. You lightly hit his chest, before resting your head against him. 

“I’ll take you wherever you want to go, Y/N.” He whispers in reassurance. 

Reaching his hand, he lifts you up, ensuring your balance is okay. You keep your hand in his, tightening your hold on him. 

***

You regain yourself, and Hoseok carefully holds onto you, taking you slowly down the stairs. He matches his steps with you, watching as your foot slowly descends down one step before planting his own down, your cane granting you the momentum. 

Naree stands by the door, arms crossed and appearing to be waiting for someone. 

Hoseok glimpses at you tenderly and you nod, alerting her attention to the sound of your cane against the ground. 

She deeply sighs, “I have time to drop you back once you’re–” 

“I’m not going back.” 

Her brows furrow “What do you mean?” 

“I’m leaving, Naree.” You declare, and that’s when her eyes snap onto yours and Hoseok’s interlaced hands. 

There’s disbelief in her eyes, “You’re leaving with him?” 

You nod and Naree shakes her head, as if her entire existence is being questioned. 

“Mom, how could you?” She spits, “It’s only been a year since Dad passed away.” 

“Naree–” 

“I know you were feeling lonely, but out of all things this?”

The door suddenly widens and Seojun emerges, two little girls by his side. 

Nayoung's eyes light up, “Grandma!”

“What’s going on?” Seojun interjects and Naree squeezes her eyes, shaking her head. 

“Oh nothing, just my mother betraying my father.” She snaps, and his eyes widen.

He pushes Nayoung and Dambi away, “Girls, go upstairs.” 

Nayoung begins to protest “But Grandma–” 

“Go.”

She doesn’t say another word, simply downcasting her gaze. Dambi follows, but you can feel their gazes linger on you, and there’s nothing more you want to do in the moment then to bring the two girls into your arms. 

“Naree, don’t do this.” You whisper, but her clenched fists are enough of an answer. 

“Don’t do what? Be upset that my mother found someone else that isn’t my father?” She huffs, “How could you do this, Mom?” 

She turns to Seojun who comforts her and you shift uncomfortably, wanting to disappear. 

“With all due respect–” A previously silent voice pitches in, “I think you’re being incredibly unfair.” 

You stare at Hoseok, who still holds a warm look in his eyes. “I’m not replacing your father, if that’s what you’re concerned about. Y/N still loves him very much, just like I do my wife.” 

“But it wouldn’t hurt to consider that your mother has been by herself for quite a while and that hurts.” Hoseok sadly smiles, “Much deeper than you could possibly imagine.” 

Naree looks at him startled and Seojun is baffled. There’s a silence that lingers and Hoseok tightens his hold on you, slowly heading towards the door. 

“It was nice meeting all of you.” He simply responds, before leaving altogether. 

There’s a multitude of words ready to tumble from you. 

“Hoseok, I–” 

“You don’t need to explain.” He insists, but then he shakes his head, as if suspended in disbelief. “I just can’t believe how they were treating you...” 

You wince, finding yourself agreeing with his words. It seemed like all your doubts, all your fears, were cemented right in front of you and now you know. 

You don’t belong there anymore.

You’re about to turn and tell Hoseok that you should collectively leave now, the desperation of going far away reaching a complete high, but that’s when your eyes catch onto movement.

“Hold on.” you quietly say, and Hoseok sends you a confused look. You carefully trudge your cane forward, slowly walking to the side of the house. 

You freeze. 

There's a silhouette of a tall man with dark hair standing by the garden, right next to the peonies and with a giant bag slung over his shoulder. His backside gives you so much whiplash at how distinctly familiar it looks and as if in a trance, you continue to move forward with furrowed brows.

You pause, the disbelief sinking in. He snaps his head around at the sound of your cane, narrowed eyes widening. 

You whisper out his name, breath coming out shaky. 

“H-Haneul?” 

You had almost forgotten just how strikingly similar he looks to Namjoon, just how much he could easily be mistaken for a younger version of the man. 

He widely smiles, expression brightening at the sight of you.

“Hi, Mom.” He takes long strides towards you, embracing you immediately. You wrap your arms around him tightly, a joyful smile on your lips.

You separate from him, attempting to get a good look at your son. “I-I can’t believe you’re here…” 

He warmly grins, eyes flickering over to Hoseok. You immediately turn, a bit flustered. 

“T-This is–” 

“Jung Hoseok.” Hoseok outstretches his hand with a smile. 

“Kim Haneul.” He states, shaking his hand with a similar smile. He gestures to you. “I’m her oldest.” 

Hoseok nods understandably, “It’s nice to meet you, Hoseok.” 

He grins and you’re a bit taken aback at Hanuel's gesture, naturally giving back the same courtesy that was given back to him. 

He hasn’t changed one bit. 

“Could we talk?” He mentions, gesturing between you. You nod immediately and Hoseok politely smiles, stepping towards the front to give you some privacy. 

Haneul holds your hand as you slowly walk, guiding you onto the bench in the backyard. He waits as you sit down, taking a spot by you. 

As glad as you are to see him, you’re curious.

“How are you here, Haneul?” 

“I came by to visit.” He explains, “I managed to get a couple of days off.” 

You nod, “Naree… she told me you were in an old age home.” 

“I see….” You fall into silence and Haneul quietly watches you from the corner of his eyes.

“Was it your choice?”

“At first, it was.” You exhale, “But then Naree never came for me, and when she did, she wanted me to stay–” Your words grow smaller, “And now, I just can’t go back anymore….”

Haneul lifts his hand, placing it on top of your wrinkled one as you heave, eyes getting glossy.

“His name is Hoseok.” You sputter out, wanting to rid him of any worries, “We met at the care home and got closer. I feel better with him around, and he understands me, but I’m not trying to replace your father in the least–”

“Hey, hey.” He softly says, “Who said anything about replacing Dad?” 

“Naree did… and I don’t blame her.” 

Her words have you thinking twice, wondering if everything you were doing was just wrong. 

Haneul frowns, “Mom, Naree’s husband isn’t dead.” 

“Don’t say such things, Haneul.” You chide. 

“Mom, listen to me.” He fully turns to you, taking your worn out hands in his stronger ones. “Dad’s gone, and you’re all by yourself now. You don’t owe anyone anything, especially not at this age.” 

He knowingly grins, “What was the advice you had given to me before I left?” 

The memory is still crystal clear to you. “That life was too short…and that you should be living your own, without fretting over the family.” 

“And you told me this after Dad’s passing.” He persists, “Why can’t you give yourself the same consideration?” 

You slowly nod, taking in his words. “You’re right…”

But then an amused chuckle leaves you and his eyes widen. 

“You know, you sound so much like your father that it’s actually terrifying….” 

He looks amused, “Well, he was one heck of a wise man.” 

He laughs and so do you, feeling your chest grow a bit lighter.

Haneul exhales, something in his gaze abruptly changing. 

“Mom, you’ve gotten older. The last time I saw you, you weren’t this weak.” He admits, “I just really want you to leave while you’re still able to.” 

You look up at him, water welling up in your eyes. There’s an unsaid message sent between both of your eyes, one that you unfortunately understand very well. 

This very well may be the last time you see him. 

You advance forward, wrapping your shaking hands around his shoulders. He leans down, holding onto you in a loving embrace. 

It makes you wonder where time went, where the boy that was running around the house with giggles and helping his dad with fixing the shed went, becoming a fully fledged adult who you could express your deepest concerns to, and lean on as you grew brittle. 

***

Haneul walks you back to the front, exchanging a smile with Hoseok who had been patiently waiting for you. He reaches his arm out and you hold onto it. 

Haneul enters the house again, insisting to bring the bags you had packed. You discuss with Hoseok about your plans moving forward, but the door comes bursting open. 

Two young girls come forth, tears in their eyes.

“Grandma!” 

Nayoung launches herself at you, embracing you immediately. Dambi is behind her, eyes flickering all over your form. 

A small chuckle leaves you and Hoseok smiles at the interaction, watching at how you comfortingly rub their backs as they sob into your floral dress. 

“U-Uncle Haneul says you’re leaving…” Dambi mumbles out. 

A sigh slips out from you and Haneul emerges with remorse on his face, appearing like he attempted to keep it a secret but couldn’t to no avail. 

“I am leaving.” You’re completely honest with them. “I know it’s hard, and I’ll miss the two of you greatly, but I….I need to go.” 

Nayoung and Dambi look at you thoughtfully, nodding their heads, “And I won’t be alone either.” 

You turn to Hoseok who smiles, causing both of the girls to be captivated with his appearance. 

“Will you be looking after Grandma?” Nayoung wonders and he softly nods, a certain fondness in his eyes you haven’t seen before. 

“I will be.” He says, “Someone has to remind her not to be so stubborn.” 

You exasperatedly shake your head with a chuckle as Hoseok grins, but Nayoung moves closer to you, a dimpled smile on her lips. 

“I’ll miss you, Grandma.” She whispers, hugging you. “Please be happy.” 

You’re astonished at her words, wondering just how obvious you had been. You know the saying that children have a tendency to see everything and there’s something that shines in Nayoung’s eyes that makes you sniffle, hugging the girl tightly in your arms. 

Hoseok helps you with your cane and you clutch onto him, afraid that a part of you will never want to leave if you didn’t. You watch as the two girls wave their hands at you, huge smiles on their lips. Haneul stands by the door, leaning against it with a grin. 

You wave back at them, even noticing Naree by the window, sticking her eyes out despite her crossed arms. You want to chuckle, amused how obvious your daughter could be at times. 

Taking one look back, you see all that you’ve built with Namjoon. Your house, your children, your grand-children, the years and years of your lifetime all showcased within your field of vision. You smile, wondering if the man was still alive, how he probably would have been standing alongside them, ushering you to be on your way already. 

Turning around, Hoseok holds onto your bags, a smile on his lips. 

You take his hand with your own.

The next couple of days are a bit of a blur for you. You find out Hoseok had booked a train for you into the nearby city, one that wasn’t luckily drawn out for too many hours. He calls a cab to pick you up and you’re soon in front of train tracks as he holds you, slowly helping you on. 

You spend the rest of the duration looking out, watching at how buildings, greenery and the life you once knew whizzes by. It makes you wonder when the last time was when you’ve done something like this, recalling the last trip you ever took was with Namjoon and years before the two of you had started finding it difficult to do. 

You arrive after a couple of hours, your joints aching a bit which prompts Hoseok to seat you down onto a bench, attempting to find a water bottle for you to drink. It amuses you a bit to see others glancing at you, seeing a much older couple traveling together rather than a youthful one. Instead of energy and fresh eyes, they see peacefulness and serene ones, and it all the more makes you want to smile once more, no longer feeling like you were being trapped or held back somewhere. 

You arrive at a small residence that Hoseok took care of.

He turns to put the bags away and you clasp onto his wrist. “Hoseok.” 

He glances at you and you sincerely look at him. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t mention it.”He warmly smiles. 

“What should we do now?” You ponder, “Everything I said was completely on a whim, but I still don’t know–” 

“Hey.” He softly calls out, slipping next to you and placing a hand on your own. “Don’t stress too much about it. I’ve booked us this place here to stay for the week, and you can take your time before officially deciding where to go.” 

You stare at him in surprise, feeling so grateful that he is here with you. 

“Okay.” You quietly say and he gets up with a grin, moving to unpack a bag. 

That night, you lay awake on a bed adjacent to Hoseok. He doesn’t sleep next to you, but still remains in the room, the sound of his soft breathing echoing off the walls. 

Your mind is brimming with endless possibilities, and for the first time ever, you fall asleep with a smile on your lips. 

You desire a home. 

A home. A place of comfort – a place that welcomes you with open arms and loosens the tightness in your chest, a place that allows you to breathe easier and fills you with warmth, a place full of solace, one which soothes your aching heart. 

It’s not much, a small house out by the fields and close to a meadow, far out from the city and next to an expansive lake. The wind ever so breezes over the numerous flowers collecting in the open fields and the sun is always shining over, reflecting over the pools of water. You have your occasional neighbors, mainly families that harbor residences nearby to spend their idle time. It’s always interesting when they run into you, assuming an entire family to be inside only to find an elderly lady smiling back at them. 

It was something you didn’t get instantaneously, searching around for the exact spot you wanted. In a way, you still thank your late husband for always advising you to keep money on the side, indicating that you would need it one day for when he was gone and you would always chide him not to bring the bad thoughts into mention. It led you to a place you would have never in a million years thought you would have ended up at, and never with the amount of pure joy it’s brought. 

You desire a home, and somehow, just somehow, you find one in Jung Hoseok.

He takes you everywhere you desire, whether it is walking down the borders of the lake, to watching the skyline of the far city. He’s always two steps ahead of you, picking up your cane when it stumbles and interlacing his hands with you, letting you lean your weight against him. He assists you with your gardening and sets up two rocking chairs outside of the cabin, sitting down for hours with you as you read. 

He’ll joke that his legs are getting too shaky when he walks with you, or that the tremors in his hands are always at a constant beat. He’ll smile with fine lines marring his forehead and the creases of his eyes when you chide him, just as he insists that he has no reason for his constant remarks around you. He’ll look at you tenderly, watching as every word spills out of you, even after you recall an eternity of memories with someone else. 

There comes a point where your small thank you’s disappear altogether, and you clasp onto his hand instead. 

“It’s so beautiful.” You whisper, watching the rays of the sun descend, catching a warm hue of orange all over the meadow. It transcends over the horizon, illuminating the delicate lines on your face and specks of your irises. 

Hoseok hums next to you on the bench, your arm around his. He watches as the sun slowly dips into the horizon, the orange submerging before a cool blue takes over. 

“It is.” He murmurs, “Kinda makes you think how small you really are.” 

You let out a soft laugh and he grins in your direction. 

“You always have such a way with words.” You remarks. 

“Well, I think it’s one of my best qualities.” He retorts, “Aside from knitting, of course.” 

You shake your head as he chuckles. The sun completely disappears and he glances at you. 

“Say, how about we head in and I brew us some hot tea?” He suggests, slipping his warm hands within your cold ones. 

You stare at him for a second, expression impassible. Hoseok frowns, a deep crease forming between his brows.

“Y/N?” He ponders at your silence. 

“I’m so lucky to have met you.” 

Hoseok blinks, but the words tumble out much faster than you can stop. 

“I was so, so alone, and absolutely terrified that the rest of my life would be like that.” Water surfaces in your eyes, “But then I met you and I never realized how much I missed this feeling of…being alive.”

A bright smile stretches on your cheeks, “I’m so happy, Hoseok.” 

You don’t have a chance to swipe away your tears, his arms coming to encase around you in an instant. A gasp leaves you, but Hoseok tightens his hold and you lean against him, arms slipping around his back. 

“Y-You don’t understand…” He whispers, voice cracking that makes you stiff with alarm. “You don’t understand how much I feel the same way.” 

He separates from you, irises glossed over. It’s a look you’ve noticed before in his eyes, a look that speaks volumes compared to his usual warm and cheerful disposition, a look that even terrifies you to a certain extent, encased within anguish and longing. 

You wonder if it’s the same look he had been seeing in you the first day he met you. 

***

You’re seated on Hoseok’s bed, watching him filter through his cabinet. 

You’ve been here a handful of times, mostly nights where you weren’t able to sleep and he sat by your side until you did. Or moments where you would ponder about him, coming by to say good morning or wondering if he had eaten already. 

However, you’ve never been here in the wake of the night, watching him open up his belongings with an unwavering gaze in his orbs.

He halts after a couple of seconds, treading slowly towards you before planting himself beside you on the bed. 

Sharply inhaling, he hands you the photograph in his hands. 

A young woman immediately flashes before your eyes, a kind upturn to her eyes and a warm smile on her lips. She appears to be within her late twenties, curly locks falling to her shoulders and dressed in a bright orange dress. 

Even through the lack of light, you don’t fail to miss the ring that sits on the third finger of her left hand. 

“Jung Euna.” Hoseok somberly confirms, “My deceased wife.” 

Your eyes widen instantly. 

Aside from the first time you were alerted of her presence, Hoseok has never spoken about her. You had never questioned him either, knowing better than anybody else the sheer grief that came with losing your sprouse. 

And in a way, a part of you always knew, being painfully aware of it since the moment you’ve met the man. 

His warm smile has always seemed to carry the weight of the world. 

“She was really pretty.” You add with a smile, peering up to see tenderness in Hoseok’s expression. 

“She was.” He hums, “I had actually liked her since high school, but I was always too nervous around her to confess my feelings.” 

You nod, and he continues. “But then one day, I was working at a department store and she walked in. Recognized me within seconds.” 

“–I knew I couldn’t let the chance slip away from me again, so I asked her out. To my surprise, she agreed right away, as if she had been waiting for me to ask.” 

He beams, “She was stubborn, but very loving. Not a day goes by without me thinking about her.” 

Your brows lift, wondering if this is how you sounded when you talked about Namjoon. If you held so much love in your eyes, so much nostalgia in every word you spoke, so much sparks of joy in your expression. 

“We…we never had kids.” He brings up, as if he knew what you were wondering. “Rather…we couldn’t have kids.” 

Shock crosses your features and Hoseok grimly smiles, “Euna…she had a miscarriage. And then we found out she couldn’t have kids anymore, and it was devastating.” He sighs, recalling the memory like it was yesterday, “We fought, a lot. She kept telling me to divorce her, or to find someone else, because she knew how much I wanted to be a dad and have kids of my own.” 

“But you see, I’m just as stubborn as my wife. I told her I wasn’t going anywhere and that it didn’t matter at the end of the day. That I didn’t vow to be with her in sickness and health at the altar for no reason, and that my desire to be with her was stronger than she thought.” 

“Euna cried a lot. She would always cry in moments like this, not realizing how clear it was that she was suffering. So, I stayed with her and we were together for years, until her death.” 

You let out the breath you hadn’t known you had been holding, “C-Can I ask….” 

A small smile curls on his lips. “Of course you can.” 

You dart your gaze at the photo, knowing this isn’t easy to talk about. “Euna…how did she…?” 

Hoseok harshly swallows, all his wounds reopening before him. “She got diagnosed with stomach cancer. We luckily caught it right away, but Euna…she got sick, very quickly. It soon turned into going back and forth into the hospital, getting treatments and scheduling surgeries, and she got better. She looked so healthy, even started smiling again and–” 

Hoseok shudders, raising a hand against his eyes. You shift closer, wrapping an arm around him as his body trembles, sobs escaping him. 

“Hoseok…” You whisper and he glances up, agony pouring out from him. 

“S-She was better, Y/N.” He chokes out. “I thought it was all real. I thought I could take her out of there, bring her back home and everything would snap back into place again, but then it s-spread…” 

You hug him tighter, squeezing your eyes shut. 

“She was gone...” You complete, “…in the blink of an eye, like she never existed to begin with.” 

Hoseok doesn’t respond, still within your arms and he knows he doesn’t need to. Not when you understand his pain so well, not when his feelings mimic yours, not when the gap in his heart that his wife left is so similar to your own, feelings of loneliness dispersing everywhere. 

That night, you lie down next to Hoseok. 

Your head rests against his chest as his breaths even out, his hand clasped onto yours. The tears have long dried but the anguish is still there, a deep furrow to his brows as he sleeps. 

Peering upward, a soft smile lingers on your lips at the photograph he holds close to his heart. 

You lean down, handing Hoseok a warm cup of tea. 

His hands reach out in an instant, a kind smile on his features. 

“Thank you.” You return it, before sitting yourself down on a chair opposite to him with your own cup. 

It had been roughly a week since that night, and Hoseok looks brighter, almost more optimistic, if it were even possible. You weren’t sure after the second night passed, his eyes remaining swollen and a somber aura surrounding the man. You hadn’t left him alone for a split second, even as he continuously insisted he was alright, accompanying him on morning walks and holding onto his cold hand. 

Hoseok had chuckled when you pushed him over, sliding into the opposite end of the bed and draping an arm around him. He smiles gently when you rest your head against his chest, listening to his slow heartbeat. His eyes turn tender when you dreamingly question about Euna, curious about her likes and dislikes, the way she spoke or the way she laughed, using him as your source to an individual you’ve never met, but feel like you know everything about. 

And he does the same for you, asking for you to show him a picture of Namjoon one day. You pluck onto an album you had kept safely stored away, one Hoseok already knew was yours from how tidy it was kept and it was always situated next to your books, the very ones Namjoon would read. 

Hoseok sees everything. Pictures of you and Namjoon smiling, much younger and with so much excitement dwelling in your eyes. Photographs of a new ring settled on your finger, bursting with so much happiness. Photographs of you crying, holding your nearly born son in your arms. 

Hoseok sees your entire lifetime before his eyes, peeking at a question that has your eyes sparkling.

“Do you think we could have met?” He glances at the photograph of you in dark robes, a wide grin on your lips as you hold your college degree. “Like bumped shoulders at one point?” 

“I don’t know.” You truthfully confess. You had lived such different lives, never once bumping into the man. It makes you wonder if you would have ever met him, having not gone to the old age home. 

“We’re what? Five years apart?” He marvels, deep in thought, “What if you were revisiting college? And you just happened to stumble into me, freshly into college?” 

You fondly smile at the sentiment. You can imagine it so clearly – a younger Hoseok, appearing curious with his surroundings as he glanced around, attempting to locate his classes. You, a couple years older, coming back to meet with one of your professors. 

“You would be lost.” You state, playing into his fantasy. “I bet you would try to ask everyone around you for directions…” 

“–until I encountered you, your confidence taking me away.” 

You laugh, smile stretching. “I would wonder why you would be asking someone like me–” 

“Someone who would be too stubborn to say no.” He grins and the image flashes before you can help it. 

“E-Excuse me?” The man mumbles, appearing to be in his early twenties. “I’m supposed to go to the Art building, but I’m not sure which way that is.” 

You turn in surprise, not having expected to be approached. In fact, your gaze was concentrated forward, attached to the office before you. 

“O-Oh.” You’re caught off guard. His eyes are flickering everywhere and you muse he could really use the help. “Of course, it’s the black building just down on the right.” 

“Thanks.” He kindly smiles, and turns in the direction of your instructions. 

You widely grin, “It wouldn’t have been anything big. Just a couple of words exchanged.” 

Hoseok halts, swiveling with wide eyes. 

“Sorry, did you say something?” He ponders, and you softly shake your head. 

“Don’t worry about it.” You mutter, “I do hope you find your class, Hoseok.” 

He nods, peering at you in confusion. You watch as he departs, whispering underneath your breath. 

“See you in a couple of years.” 

Hoseok is leaning back in his chair, a soft smile on his lips. 

“A tad unrealistic?” You were amused that he let you stray so far off, not halting the train of thoughts coming to you. 

“A bit,” He chuckles, “but I didn’t want you to stop.”

You share a knowing look, holding onto your tea cups. 

A soft knock resonates against the door. 

Hoseok gets up first, gesturing for you to continue drinking your tea. You watch as he slowly pads over to the door, revealing a woman standing with a young girl before your eyes. 

You recognize them immediately as a family that lived nearby, noticing them frequenting one of the homes during the summer. 

The young girl looks to be roughly seven to eight years old, eyes flickering around and hands fidgeting. At the sight of her mother eyeing her, she speaks up. 

 “Um…m-my ball. It went into your garden.” 

Hoseok softly smiles, leaning down to gently pat her head. 

“Let’s go retrieve it, shall we?” He implores, and the little girl follows behind, slowing her pace to keep up with his steps. 

You walk outside to the garden, standing next to her mother. Fondness spreads through you as Hoseok looks around with the girl, a tenderness to his eyes that has you smiling as he gives the ball back to you. 

Her mother draws your attention. “I’m so sorry about this, I didn’t think it would end up here.” 

“It’s quite alright.” You reassure, “Hoseok doesn’t mind either.” 

“I’ve seen you around a couple of times.” She inquires, “Did you come here recently?” 

You nod, “I wanted to move away from the city.”

She hums understandably, “That’s nice. Both you and your husband seem very loving.” 

Your eyes flicker. It had been so long since you had heard such a statement, long having buried it with Namjoon when he passed. 

“He’s not my husband…” You correct, and the woman’s eyes widen, like she hasn’t been expecting that response from you. 

You pursue your lips. You truthfully, never had an answer. Not when Naree had accused you of replacing Namjoon, not when you would encounter the other neighbors and they would inquire about you, not when there was no envy on either one of your parts when Namjoon or Euna were mentioned, just understanding of the deep love you both still hold onto to. 

Namjoon is your husband. He will always be, keeping a special place in your heart that no one else can ever fully take or replace. 

Hoseok is your radiant sun. 

His smile is comforting. His arms are warm. His presence feels so reassuring and makes you feel less lonely in this world that only has you left behind. 

He's your solace – the embodiment of your pain and understanding at the same time. 

“Hoseok…” You whisper, “He’s…he’s my partner.”

Through the thick and thin, through the laughs and the tears, through the comforting embraces and the anguished recollections. You are glad to have met him, to have experienced these new memories with him, and to have created a new path, one in which you will spend the rest of your life in together. 

Hoseok glances up with a grin, the little girl holding her ball and giggling at something he said. His eyes lock on yours and it’s almost like he knows, he knows what is dwelling inside them. 

He’ll always be your partner for eternity. 

Time is the most valuable thing to exist in the world. 

It can be a matter of a mere seconds, spinning away like loose strands without any control. It could be a matter of a few years, spanning across months at a subdued pace. 

Time is so very valuable, and you’re grateful to have spent it with Jung Hoseok. 

“Hoseok….” 

It’s your voice, weakly calling out to him. He’s by your side within a matter of seconds. 

“Y/N.” He whispers, a smile spanning on his lips with many lines creasing. 

He’s gotten much older, the dark strands of hair turning completely gray, a deep hunch caving in his back more. He wears hearing aids on both ears, enough to still hear your low murmurs from your bed. His eyes have gotten weaker, a pair of glasses resting on the bridge of his long nose. 

He still looks like the man you’ve spent so many years with. 

And what years they were. You had basked in each other’s presence, being so utterly peaceful with him staying by your side. You weren’t lonely, you weren’t numb, you weren’t terrified anymore, you were simply content. 

Even when your legs had started losing their ability. Even when your memory began to fade, panic settling in on not being able to recall anymore. Even when your skin paled with time and you had become bed ridden. 

Hoseok held onto you. Hoseok reminded you, pulling out albums for you to see. Hoseok lied down with you, letting you rest your head against his chest. He coaxes and consoles you, keeping you in one piece even though the years were threatening to crumble you. 

Even as he watches your chest slowly heave, voice growing weaker by the minute. 

“Hoseok…” You croak. He’s leaning in right away, despite having machinery that allows him to hear. “T-Thank you…Hoseok….” 

He chuckles, eyes glossed over. So many years had passed and you still had the need to express your gratitude 

“I should be thanking you.” He brings up, “Thank you, Kim Y/N. For all these beautiful years.” He whispers, as if singing you a comforting lullaby “For letting me into your life and staying by your side.” 

His voice cracks, but he still smiles.

“F-For letting this old man be your partner, for the rest of the time you had left.” 

You slowly smile, and he squeezes your hand, like he knows you feel the same way. 

“Hoseok….” You heave out, “I-I’m…I’m a little scared…” 

“I’m here, Y/N. I’m here.” He whispers, leaning his forehead against yours and shaking in your grasp.

“I-I wanted to go….” You croak, “For so long….I-I wanted to see him….” 

A low chuckle escapes you, “But not anymore.... strange, isn’t it….?” 

Hoseok is sobbing, shudders escaping through his body. His hand is clasped around yours, eyes filled with water 

But he keeps them open, wanting to encapsulate your last image into them. 

“You’ll be okay.” He chokes out. 

A warm smile graces your lips. It’s the most content he’s ever seen you, and it makes the center of his chest ache infinitely. 

A moment of silence passes as Hoseok recollects himself, leaning back to gaze at you. 

He calls out for you. 

“Y/N?” 

Your lips barely move, the shallow breaths leaving you all too soon. But you keep your gaze concentrated on him, letting him know you are still listening. 

A tear manages to slip from Hoseok’s eyes, but he still smiles, like he always does. 

“Say hi to your husband for me.” He whispers. 

It’s the last thing you hear before a brightness filling your eyes, his hold on you being the strongest it’s ever been. It rushes in, pulling you away like a tide. 

Your hand slips through his hold, and your eyes shut forever.

[hirocimacruiser]

Puma Mitsubishi Lancer Evo V

Mitsubishi TEST&SERVICE

Debuted in the second race. In qualifying, he suddenly took the first corner of R. In the finals, he was at the top for a while. 4th place in qualifying (1st in class), 4th in final (1st in class). Driver: Akihiko Nakatani/Sakae Obata.

③Suspension damper is KYB. The spring is Ralliart. ④Safety fuel tank is made by ATN. Capacity is 120ℓ. ⑤The steering wheel is MOMO buckskin. ⑥ The meter is Pi system. On the left is the Omori boost gauge. ⑦The door hinges are carved out because they hit the roll cage. (8, 9) was originally a work RS-Z (8JX 17). The tires are 225/45R17 ADVAN. 1⑩ Replace the radiator with one made by Denso. (11) The oil cooler is genuine. (12) Aero mirror is Valdisport. ⑬The rear is equipped with a differential cooler. LSD is Ralliart (viscous only in the center). (14)The roll bar passes through the bulkhead. The tower bar is Valdisport. There was a WRC plan for the ECU, but the current one is the original. Commercialization is also under consideration. (15)The muffler is thin, about 80mm. (16)The yellow part on the console is the starter, and the one below is the water spray. (17) The roll cage is for FIA-approved rallies. (18) shift is a sword. The knob is a small screwdriver, which is my preference. (19) seats are Valdisport Type II. (20) The roll cage looks like a bird cage. Please compare it with the Impreza on the right.

In the second race, they defeated the Nissan Development Team's GT-R. The tire size/tread has been expanded since Evo IV, reducing the time by approximately 2 seconds.

Exceeded IV in all aspects. There are no flaws!

``The new EVO V has solved all the shortcomings of the EVO IV . In particular, thanks to the wider tread, cornering speed has improved dramatically. It has become my specialty.'' Mr. Yamada of Test & Service maintains the ``Puma Evo,'' which achieved amazing times and came close to the G T-R. When building the vehicle, they placed emphasis on improving the suspension, which is subject to increased strain due to the increased cornering force. Therefore, in testing and service, even if a high input value is added, it cannot be accepted.

I decided to build a strong body. However, the main difference from the Impreza is that instead of welding reinforcement such as adding more spots, the main reinforcement is the extensive use of a strong roll bar that penetrates the body and is also used in WRC. Looking at each part, there are only a few welded parts. The weight is also 30kg more than the standard. This idea is common to the EVO era. With the reinforcement so far, the driver

``I can feel the movement of my feet''

It seems that the comments are satisfying. The engine has a proven track record of being packed to the hilt, starting with the Evo, and is powerful and stable enough to keep its rivals at bay. The cooling performance seems to be high, and the original oil cooler is used as is. “If we keep boiling it down like this, we can last for at least one fight.”

Nakatani seemed to be breathing heavily.

PROVA Eifel Dunlop GC8 Impreza

Debuted in last year's final race! Suddenly took first place in qualifying. This year, he will participate in the second race. 12th place in qualifying (8th in class), retired in finals. Driver: Kazuo Shimizu/Tsutomu Shibuya.

④ The fuel tank is 120ℓ. (5, 6, 7) All aero parts are Prova. The side duct is effective in cooling the brakes. ⑧⑨ The tires are DL/Formula R (205/ 50R16) and the Enkei Sports 7.5J x 16. (10) differential cooler is made by Calsonic. (11) The Prova damper and spring are Swift from Tokyo Spring. (12) Two oil coolers are installed on the engine and one on the transmission. In particular, the latter has a high calorific value and is a must-have item. The radiator is also a large capacity type. ⑬The steering wheel is Impul 913 special. (14)The engine is STi tuned. Management is the same as for WRC cars. The roll cage has been changed and the battery has been made smaller. (15)The seat is full carbon made by Mooncraft. (16) The roll cage is very simple. (17,18) meter is Pi system. On the console, from the right, there is a transmission oil pump, a differential oil pump, and a reserve tank switch for using up to the last liter. Below is a display switch for the Pi data logger. ⑲The square plate visible at the back of the rear center section is the weight. (20) The rear suspension mounting area has been fully reinforced with welding.

This is the first car that Fuji Heavy Industries has officially started working on, from rally to circuit. Once you get used to the world of racing, it can be intimidating.

Unexpected or unexpected. 4 doors are more rigid than 2 doors

``Thanks to the horizontally opposed engine, everything is symmetrical, which means excellent weight balance.This is the lifeblood and appeal of this car.Also, by making full use of the four-wheel drive provided, cornering performance is improved. However, it's the direction of the settings. Thanks to this, the advantage is that you can turn with the same feeling whether it's a rainy day or a sunny day.'' Mr. Fukushima from Bulova Race Garage will be participating in the race. However, the design is older than its rivals, and it seems that the body rigidity is completely lacking, so strengthening it is necessary for the vehicle.

The most important item in production. especially the way it twists

It is said that reinforcement has been focused on the suspension mounting area (to increase suspension rigidity). Also, since last year, the use of flashy two-doors has been allowed in Super Taikyu, but the only reason why four-doors are still used is because they are highly rigid.

The roll cage isn't used much either visually. This was done to reduce weight, and only the minimum necessary parts were included after thorough body reinforcement. The weight was 30kg lighter than the standard, and 30kg was placed as weight on the passenger seat and rear center to thoroughly improve the weight balance. The body is completely finished, but is this it?

Their problem is the engine. It's a little lacking in power. If I go up a little bit more, I can catch up with EVO. It seems like STi's hard work will determine what happens next.

[ranger-rai]

Since all three of these are sort of chained into each other, I figured I'd answer here! Let's start with Appleton and the whole Applin line.

it's pretty widely known that this line can produce edible segments of its body, with Appleton actually being happy to share it with others.

It's said that the happier they are, the better it will taste.

However, it's less commonly known that they can also produce special jams packed with tons of nutrition if their diet is changed, which can be huge for people with severe diabetes as their jams can contain little sugar, with most of it all being natural.

On top of that, Appleton is an excellent harvester and the leftover edible pieces work well for compost, so you can run a garden really well with them.

Next up is Meowstic.

They differ drastically between males and females, however they pair so well together.

Males are much more protective, while females are more aggressive.

Their quick instincts and precognitive abilities make them excellent in high-speed travel and public transport.

A lot of public transport might employ one or both of them to help with predicting driver actions, increasing the safety of the vehicle by quite a lot.

when paired together, these two are incredibly protective and nearly unstoppable, which is why they are trained to help in infant care, especially in hospitals as they watch over newborns.

It's said that the Meowstic helps guide and prepare new parents, and they might leave a psychic marker on babies who might have a more complicated life that only other psychic types can detect, resulting in a sort of unseen line of support for them in the future.

Gumshoos are great trackers, which is why they are heavily used in police and Private Eye work.

Some Pokemon are really just good at one thing, and Gumshoos is a pretty good tracker. They are tenacious as hunters and will wait and hunt down their prey for however long it takes, so training them to hunt down perps or items is cake.

If you lose stuff, they are great to have around.

And finally, we have Aegislash.

This Pokemon has been seen as a status of nobility and power for the elites, however, a lot of people don't know that Aegislash used to be the teacher of a very unique style of dance.

Way back in the day, some people would study their movements and their shifting of stance and create a dace from it.

Aegislash in return began learning from the dancers as well, and as a result, their movements have become much more sharp and precise.

You could actually still learn from them to this day and some ballerinas in Kalos still learn how to be graceful by following their style.

As a Service Pokemon, they can sense a person's life force and even boost it in a dire situation.

While it is not a simple process, people with weak immune systems who have frequent shutdowns might look to this Pokemon for support and help them pull through in serious moments.

[auto-technician]

Understanding the Auto Gearbox: Tips for Longevity and Performance

The Automatic Gearbox is a marvel of modern engineering, simplifying driving while ensuring smooth gear shifts. However, to keep this crucial component in top condition, regular care and proper usage are essential. Here are some valuable tips to maintain your auto gearbox for optimal performance and durability.

1. Monitor Transmission Fluid Levels

Transmission fluid is the lifeblood of your gearbox, ensuring smooth operation and preventing overheating. Regularly check fluid levels and quality. If it appears dark or has a burnt smell, it’s time for a replacement. Follow your vehicle manufacturer’s guidelines for service intervals.

2. Avoid Sudden Gear Changes

Shifting between reverse, drive, and park without coming to a complete stop can stress the gearbox and cause long-term damage. Always pause and let the gears settle before making transitions.

3. Use the Right Driving Mode

Most automatic vehicles offer drive modes like Eco, Sport, and Manual Override. Select the appropriate mode for your driving conditions. For example, use Eco mode for fuel efficiency during city commutes and Sport mode for dynamic performance on highways.

4. Don’t Overload Your Vehicle

Carrying excessive weight can strain your gearbox and other drive-train components. Check your vehicle's load capacity and stay within recommended limits.

5. Address Warning Signs Early

Unusual noises, delayed shifting, or slipping gears indicate potential problems. Have your gearbox inspected by a professional promptly to avoid costly repairs.

With regular care and mindful driving habits, your auto gearbox will provide a seamless driving experience for years to come.