sowhatwereyousaying

[sowhatwereyousaying]

[sowhatwereyousaying]

“Let me guess..he’s older?”

God FORBID a girl is tired of boys and wants a man.

[sowhatwereyousaying]

I wonder what life’s like without anxiety

[sowhatwereyousaying]

Just Venting Here.

These days, just haven't been feeling amazing. Right now, everything seems so dull and sad. This is the worst I have felt since March 2024. I finally thought I was coming out of a period of feeling down, because honestly, it had started looking and feeling better. However, my life is still better than it was back then, but I just don't know what is bothering me. I don't feel like I am who I am, and I just feel like it's my battle that I'm fighting alone; honestly, it feels like I'm losing it. I don't know if this is depression or what, but I honestly need to know what keeps messing with my head. Whenever I am with people I cherish, my heart just feels full, and I wish I could just be able to stay in that moment, but the moment I am alone, it feels like my life and everything about it has been stripped of happiness and it's just now me and sorrow around me. I honestly don't even understand how to get over this anymore, because I kind of feel ashamed of how I could feel this way, when I thought I got over it. The issue is I can't seek therapy just because I don't know, and I can't put my thoughts in order either. I just know I have a lot of things to say, but I don't to whom or how to say it, like right now, I was feeling down, and I thought maybe I could just try to put my thoughts in place here, but when I try to write, try to make it concrete, it just doesn't work. I want to feel better. I want to be better. I want to feel like myself.

[sowhatwereyousaying]

A Promise - Part 7

summary: Maybe it's time for you to finally have what you needed

warnings: age gap (reader is in their 20s and gong yoo is in his 40s); fake dating, pr

It had been three days since the gala. Three days since Gong Yoo leaned in, smiling like he knew exactly what he was doing, and said the kind of thing that changes the temperature of your blood.

“Maybe I don’t want it to be fake anymore.”

He hadn’t said anything after that. Just smiled, all maddening mystery and moved on to the next guest like he hadn’t just cracked my brain in half.

I, on the other hand, had spent the last 72 hours doing one of two things: 

Replaying that moment on loop and avoiding every attempt he made to reach out.

Texts. Missed calls. A ridiculous flower delivery with a note that just said:

“For someone who almost ran me over with a shoe. Call me, menace.”

He was giving me space, which I appreciated. Kind of.

Until the knock came.

It was a Thursday evening. I was wearing mismatched socks because I was too lazy and drained to find the other one and one of those oversized tshirts that had survived five years of laundry trauma. The knock came again gentle, like he knew I was standing on the other side, heart hammering.

When I opened the door, there he was. Baseball cap. Hoodie. Takeout in his hand. Like a very casual hallucination.

"Before you slam the door," he said, holding up the bag, "I brought dumplings. And I promise not to say anything confusing or vaguely romantic. Unless you want me to."

I blinked. Then stepped aside.

"You're lucky I'm hungry."

We sat on the floor like we’d done before dumplings between us, his hoodie sleeves pushed up, mine still drowning in that tragic tshirt.

The silence wasn’t awkward. It was... thoughtful. soft.

"I meant what I said, you know," he said, after a while, gently. "At the gala."

I nodded slowly, eyes on the food. "Yeah. I figured."

"But I also meant it when I said no pressure," he added. "I’m not trying to make this weird."

"You’re doing a terrible job," I muttered, and he laughed.

There it was again that thing he did. Made everything feel easy and heavy at the same time. Like gravity, but warmer.

"So what do we do now?" I asked, finally brave enough to look him in the eye.

"This whole... ‘accidental relationship that might be real’ thing?"

He looked at me like I was a question he liked trying to answer. And then, without saying a word, he scooted a little closer. Just enough for his shoulder to brush mine.

"I thought maybe we could just get to know each other," he said. "You know. Wild idea."

I laughed softly, feeling the heat creep into my cheeks. "Okay. Fine. What do you want to know?"

He tilted his head. "What’s your comfort movie?"

I blinked. "That’s your question?"

"It’s important," he said seriously. "Says everything about a person’s soul."

We went back and forth like that for hours. Comfort foods. Pet peeves. Weirdest injuries. First crushes. Each answer peeled back another layer. Each laugh felt closer.

By the time I realized how close we were sitting, his knee was brushing mine deliberately, steadily and my heart had lost all sense of rhythm.

At one point, the room went quiet again. The kind of quiet that means something.

He looked at me, that soft half smile playing on his lips. And this time, when he reached out fingers barely brushing my cheek I didn’t flinch.

The laughter had quieted to a comfortable hush. That kind of stillness where the world feels like it’s leaning in; listening.

Outside the window, the city glowed in soft, flickering lights. Inside, everything else had dimmed except for the warmth sitting between us.

Gong Yoo looked at me, really looked at me, like he was cataloging every micro-expression, every quiet shift. His eyes weren’t full of questions anymore. They were full of quiet certainty.

"You still look like you’re trying to run," he said gently, his voice just above a whisper.

I swallowed. "I’m not." "I just don’t know where I’m running to."

There was a flicker in his eyes then something tender, something sure. And instead of saying something slick or teasing, like he usually did, he leaned forward, closing the space between us inch by inch.

"Then stay here," he murmured. "Just for a little while. Just with me."

I didn’t answer right away. I didn’t have to.

Because my body moved before my brain could trip over all the reasons I shouldn’t, and I leaned in first.

It wasn’t a fireworks kind of kiss. It wasn’t rushed or clumsy or dramatic.

It was… careful. Warm.Unfolding like something delicate.

His hand came up to the side of my face, slow and steady, like he was memorizing the shape of me. His thumb brushed my cheek once, and I swear I felt it in the soles of my feet.

I kissed him back with the kind of hesitation that comes from wanting something too much and the kind of wonder that comes from realizing you might actually have it.

He didn’t try to deepen it right away. Didn’t pull me closer too fast.

He just stayed there close, soft, like he was letting me decide how much to give.

And when we finally pulled apart, just a breath away, his forehead rested gently against mine.

"You okay?" he whispered.

I nodded. Then I laughed breathless and small.

"I think I forgot how to function for a second."

His lips brushed against my temple, and I felt him smile. "Same."

We didn’t talk much after that. Not because there was nothing left to say, but because everything that needed to be said had just passed between us in silence, in stillness, in that impossibly soft kiss.

I curled up beside him on the couch head resting on his shoulder, his arm gently wrapping around me like it had always belonged there.

And somehow, the chaos of how we met… didn’t feel so chaotic anymore. Not here. Not now.

Because this didn’t feel like a game. It didn’t feel like a PR stunt.

It felt real.

Slow and uncertain, sure but real in the way that mattered most, and for the first time since this wild thing began… I wasn’t scared of what would happen next.

a/n: So, I am aware that even if the story says that it was three days after the event, it's been much much longer than that and I am extremely sorry for that. It's just that life hasn't been "lifeing" recently and I just honestly haven't been able to be the best version of myself. This was written a while back, when I said I was going to be posting it but then, I came back home and it's not been the best. I am working on Part 8 as we speak and I PROMISE you guys that it will be out in a days time hehehe. I hope yall enjoy this and THANNK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE!!

taglist: @preppyfella @muchwita @shadow-tumbler @dyingswanpavlova @ririgy @lariem-blog2 @uurtekass @elliette-laine1 @breakmeoff @sarah-bear706318 @voxslays @celestialstar111

[sowhatwereyousaying]

A Promise - Part 7

summary: Maybe it's time for you to finally have what you needed

warnings: age gap (reader is in their 20s and gong yoo is in his 40s); fake dating, pr

It had been three days since the gala. Three days since Gong Yoo leaned in, smiling like he knew exactly what he was doing, and said the kind of thing that changes the temperature of your blood.

“Maybe I don’t want it to be fake anymore.”

He hadn’t said anything after that. Just smiled, all maddening mystery and moved on to the next guest like he hadn’t just cracked my brain in half.

I, on the other hand, had spent the last 72 hours doing one of two things: 

Replaying that moment on loop and avoiding every attempt he made to reach out.

Texts. Missed calls. A ridiculous flower delivery with a note that just said:

“For someone who almost ran me over with a shoe. Call me, menace.”

He was giving me space, which I appreciated. Kind of.

Until the knock came.

It was a Thursday evening. I was wearing mismatched socks because I was too lazy and drained to find the other one and one of those oversized tshirts that had survived five years of laundry trauma. The knock came again gentle, like he knew I was standing on the other side, heart hammering.

When I opened the door, there he was. Baseball cap. Hoodie. Takeout in his hand. Like a very casual hallucination.

"Before you slam the door," he said, holding up the bag, "I brought dumplings. And I promise not to say anything confusing or vaguely romantic. Unless you want me to."

I blinked. Then stepped aside.

"You're lucky I'm hungry."

We sat on the floor like we’d done before dumplings between us, his hoodie sleeves pushed up, mine still drowning in that tragic tshirt.

The silence wasn’t awkward. It was... thoughtful. soft.

"I meant what I said, you know," he said, after a while, gently. "At the gala."

I nodded slowly, eyes on the food. "Yeah. I figured."

"But I also meant it when I said no pressure," he added. "I’m not trying to make this weird."

"You’re doing a terrible job," I muttered, and he laughed.

There it was again that thing he did. Made everything feel easy and heavy at the same time. Like gravity, but warmer.

"So what do we do now?" I asked, finally brave enough to look him in the eye.

"This whole... ‘accidental relationship that might be real’ thing?"

He looked at me like I was a question he liked trying to answer. And then, without saying a word, he scooted a little closer. Just enough for his shoulder to brush mine.

"I thought maybe we could just get to know each other," he said. "You know. Wild idea."

I laughed softly, feeling the heat creep into my cheeks. "Okay. Fine. What do you want to know?"

He tilted his head. "What’s your comfort movie?"

I blinked. "That’s your question?"

"It’s important," he said seriously. "Says everything about a person’s soul."

We went back and forth like that for hours. Comfort foods. Pet peeves. Weirdest injuries. First crushes. Each answer peeled back another layer. Each laugh felt closer.

By the time I realized how close we were sitting, his knee was brushing mine deliberately, steadily and my heart had lost all sense of rhythm.

At one point, the room went quiet again. The kind of quiet that means something.

He looked at me, that soft half smile playing on his lips. And this time, when he reached out fingers barely brushing my cheek I didn’t flinch.

The laughter had quieted to a comfortable hush. That kind of stillness where the world feels like it’s leaning in; listening.

Outside the window, the city glowed in soft, flickering lights. Inside, everything else had dimmed except for the warmth sitting between us.

Gong Yoo looked at me, really looked at me, like he was cataloging every micro-expression, every quiet shift. His eyes weren’t full of questions anymore. They were full of quiet certainty.

"You still look like you’re trying to run," he said gently, his voice just above a whisper.

I swallowed. "I’m not." "I just don’t know where I’m running to."

There was a flicker in his eyes then something tender, something sure. And instead of saying something slick or teasing, like he usually did, he leaned forward, closing the space between us inch by inch.

"Then stay here," he murmured. "Just for a little while. Just with me."

I didn’t answer right away. I didn’t have to.

Because my body moved before my brain could trip over all the reasons I shouldn’t, and I leaned in first.

It wasn’t a fireworks kind of kiss. It wasn’t rushed or clumsy or dramatic.

It was… careful. Warm.Unfolding like something delicate.

His hand came up to the side of my face, slow and steady, like he was memorizing the shape of me. His thumb brushed my cheek once, and I swear I felt it in the soles of my feet.

I kissed him back with the kind of hesitation that comes from wanting something too much and the kind of wonder that comes from realizing you might actually have it.

He didn’t try to deepen it right away. Didn’t pull me closer too fast.

He just stayed there close, soft, like he was letting me decide how much to give.

And when we finally pulled apart, just a breath away, his forehead rested gently against mine.

"You okay?" he whispered.

I nodded. Then I laughed breathless and small.

"I think I forgot how to function for a second."

His lips brushed against my temple, and I felt him smile. "Same."

We didn’t talk much after that. Not because there was nothing left to say, but because everything that needed to be said had just passed between us in silence, in stillness, in that impossibly soft kiss.

I curled up beside him on the couch head resting on his shoulder, his arm gently wrapping around me like it had always belonged there.

And somehow, the chaos of how we met… didn’t feel so chaotic anymore. Not here. Not now.

Because this didn’t feel like a game. It didn’t feel like a PR stunt.

It felt real.

Slow and uncertain, sure but real in the way that mattered most, and for the first time since this wild thing began… I wasn’t scared of what would happen next.

a/n: So, I am aware that even if the story says that it was three days after the event, it's been much much longer than that and I am extremely sorry for that. It's just that life hasn't been "lifeing" recently and I just honestly haven't been able to be the best version of myself. This was written a while back, when I said I was going to be posting it but then, I came back home and it's not been the best. I am working on Part 8 as we speak and I PROMISE you guys that it will be out in a days time hehehe. I hope yall enjoy this and THANNK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE!!

taglist: @preppyfella @muchwita @shadow-tumbler @dyingswanpavlova @ririgy @lariem-blog2 @uurtekass @elliette-laine1 @breakmeoff @sarah-bear706318 @voxslays @celestialstar111

[sowhatwereyousaying]

Hey is everything ok? You said you had a lot of stuff going on and haven’t posted in a while

Hello, I can’t say its going amazing, but I was travelling for almost this whole month, and once I came back home, I haven’t been the best.

Thanks for checking up on me ✨

[sowhatwereyousaying]

The person I reblogged this from deserves to be happy

I tried to scroll past this. I really did

[sowhatwereyousaying]

part 7??? 💔 💔 💔 💔 💔 💔

oohhhhh, I am so so so sorry for being inactive lately, lotta stuff going on, but I think I will post it in a two or days time

[sowhatwereyousaying]

Prologue

summary: The calm before the storm...

warnings: age gap (reader is in their 20s and gong yoo is in his 40s); fake dating, pr

Her Perspective

I just wanted to go home.  

That was the only thing keeping me sane as I wrapped up one of the most stressful presentations of my career. Weeks of preparation, late nights, early mornings, and more caffeine than the human body should consume had all led to this moment.  

I should have felt proud. I should have wanted to celebrate.  

Instead, I was exhausted.  

As soon as the meeting ended, I barely held back a sigh. The moment I stepped out of the conference room, I knew exactly how I wanted to spend my night:  

Step 1: Get into the comfiest pajamas I owned.  

Step 2: Open a bottle of wine because, frankly, I had earned it.  

Step 3: Put on a feel-good rom-com to fill the gaping void of love in my life.

Step 4: Pass out halfway through and get the best sleep of my life.  

It was a perfect plan.  

Then Mia happened.

The second I pulled out my phone, her message popped up.  

📲 Mia: I JUST GOT A PROMOTION. WE’RE GOING OUT. NO EXCUSES.   📲 Me: CONGRATS!!! But also, no. Pajamas and wine are calling my name.   📲 Mia: Do you think I care??? You’re coming. I will drag you out of your apartment if I have to.   📲 Me: …I hate you.   📲 Mia: Love you too. Be at my place in an hour.  

I groaned, already knowing there was no escaping this. When Mia made up her mind, there was nothing in this world that could change it.  

So instead of heading home, I found myself begrudgingly making my way to Mia’s apartment, wondering how I had let myself get talked into this.  

By the time I got to Mia’s place, she was already in full celebration mode. Music blasted through the speakers, her vanity was covered in an explosion of makeup, and three different outfit choices were laid out on her bed.  

The second she saw me, she shoved a dress into my hands.  

"You’re wearing this."  

I held it up. It was short. It was tight. It was not what I had planned.  

I blinked. "This is a crime against comfort."  

"This is hot. And you will be HOT in it." Mia grinned. "Now go change before I do it for you."  

There was no winning.  

I sighed and changed, trying to ignore how much of my legs were on display.  

As I did my makeup, Mia absentmindedly flipped through TV channels before stopping on a celebrity talk show. 

I barely paid attention—until I heard his name.

Gong Yoo.  

I glanced at the screen. There he was, looking annoyingly good, lounging in his seat like he owned the world. His expression was somewhere between amused and exasperated as he stared at the talk show host.  

"You’ve had quite a reputation over the years," the host teased. "Lots of flings, lots of rumors. But no serious relationships."  

Gong Yoo smirked, lazy and completely unbothered. "I didn’t realize I was here for a life intervention."  

The audience laughed.  

"But seriously," the host continued, "are we ever going to see you settle down? Or is this playboy phase permanent?"  

Gong Yoo leaned back, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. "Tell you what—the next person I kiss? That’s it. I’ll marry them."  

The audience erupted.

Mia let out a dramatic gasp. "Oh my god. Whoever that is, Oh they will be lucky."  

I snorted. "Yeah, because look AT him"  

Little did I know, fate was planning a little something

His Perspective

I was supposed to be fishing right now.

That was the plan.  

I had just wrapped up my latest drama—a massive hit that had drained the life out of me—and was finally ready to disappear for a while.  

No cameras. No interviews. No scandals. Just me, a boat, and absolute peace.

Then the internet decided to ruin it.  

An old fling—someone I barely even remembered—decided to go viral.

💬 "I thought we had something special, but I never even got a callback." 💬 "Typical Gong Yoo, right? He’ll flirt, he’ll make you feel like the only girl in the world, and then—poof. Gone."

By the time my PR team got involved, the damage had already spiraled.

"You need to fix this," my manager said, pacing around my living room. "We need an interview. A statement. Something."  

I groaned. "I don’t care what some random woman says about me online."  

"Yeah, well, the public does."  

And that’s how I ended up on that stupid talk show.

The host wasted no time.

"You’re known for being a bit of a heartbreaker, aren’t you?"  

I forced a smile. "That’s what they say."  

"Do you ever plan to settle down? Or is this just who you are?"  

I clenched my jaw, already done with the conversation.  

If I denied it, they'd say I was lying. If I played along, they’d say I was an arrogant jerk.  

So I made a joke.  

"Tell you what—the next person I kiss? That’s it. I’ll marry them." 

The audience went wild.

I thought that was the end of it.  

I had no idea what I had just set into motion.

At The Club

I wasn’t supposed to be there.  

But my friends insisted. "One night out," they said. "Relax a little," they said.  

So I went.  

I stood in the corner, minding my own business, until—  

She crashed into me.

Soft lips. The scent of perfume and something sweet.

It was so fast, I barely had time to react.  

But then—then—I realized: she had no idea who I was, at least not right now  

And just like that, something in me clicked.  

So I kissed her back.  

And when she finally opened her eyes and realized her mistake—when she looked at me like she was about to have a full-on breakdown—I smirked.  

"Guess that means we’re getting married."

It was meant to be a joke.  

Then the flashes started. The whispers. The cameras.   And suddenly, it wasn’t a joke anymore

a/n: I knew I wanted to give a lil background of what happened before the lil club incident, and the trashy tv program viewer in me LOVES to build suspense hehehehehe. I hope yall enjoy this <3

taglist: @preppyfella @muchwita @shadow-tumbler @dyingswanpavlova @ririgy @lariem-blog2 @uurtekass @elliette-laine1 @breakmeoff @sarah-bear706318 @voxslays @celestialstar111

[sowhatwereyousaying]

Prologue

summary: The calm before the storm...

warnings: age gap (reader is in their 20s and gong yoo is in his 40s); fake dating, pr

Her Perspective

I just wanted to go home.  

That was the only thing keeping me sane as I wrapped up one of the most stressful presentations of my career. Weeks of preparation, late nights, early mornings, and more caffeine than the human body should consume had all led to this moment.  

I should have felt proud. I should have wanted to celebrate.  

Instead, I was exhausted.  

As soon as the meeting ended, I barely held back a sigh. The moment I stepped out of the conference room, I knew exactly how I wanted to spend my night:  

Step 1: Get into the comfiest pajamas I owned.  

Step 2: Open a bottle of wine because, frankly, I had earned it.  

Step 3: Put on a feel-good rom-com to fill the gaping void of love in my life.

Step 4: Pass out halfway through and get the best sleep of my life.  

It was a perfect plan.  

Then Mia happened.

The second I pulled out my phone, her message popped up.  

📲 Mia: I JUST GOT A PROMOTION. WE’RE GOING OUT. NO EXCUSES.   📲 Me: CONGRATS!!! But also, no. Pajamas and wine are calling my name.   📲 Mia: Do you think I care??? You’re coming. I will drag you out of your apartment if I have to.   📲 Me: …I hate you.   📲 Mia: Love you too. Be at my place in an hour.  

I groaned, already knowing there was no escaping this. When Mia made up her mind, there was nothing in this world that could change it.  

So instead of heading home, I found myself begrudgingly making my way to Mia’s apartment, wondering how I had let myself get talked into this.  

By the time I got to Mia’s place, she was already in full celebration mode. Music blasted through the speakers, her vanity was covered in an explosion of makeup, and three different outfit choices were laid out on her bed.  

The second she saw me, she shoved a dress into my hands.  

"You’re wearing this."  

I held it up. It was short. It was tight. It was not what I had planned.  

I blinked. "This is a crime against comfort."  

"This is hot. And you will be HOT in it." Mia grinned. "Now go change before I do it for you."  

There was no winning.  

I sighed and changed, trying to ignore how much of my legs were on display.  

As I did my makeup, Mia absentmindedly flipped through TV channels before stopping on a celebrity talk show. 

I barely paid attention—until I heard his name.

Gong Yoo.  

I glanced at the screen. There he was, looking annoyingly good, lounging in his seat like he owned the world. His expression was somewhere between amused and exasperated as he stared at the talk show host.  

"You’ve had quite a reputation over the years," the host teased. "Lots of flings, lots of rumors. But no serious relationships."  

Gong Yoo smirked, lazy and completely unbothered. "I didn’t realize I was here for a life intervention."  

The audience laughed.  

"But seriously," the host continued, "are we ever going to see you settle down? Or is this playboy phase permanent?"  

Gong Yoo leaned back, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. "Tell you what—the next person I kiss? That’s it. I’ll marry them."  

The audience erupted.

Mia let out a dramatic gasp. "Oh my god. Whoever that is, Oh they will be lucky."  

I snorted. "Yeah, because look AT him"  

Little did I know, fate was planning a little something

His Perspective

I was supposed to be fishing right now.

That was the plan.  

I had just wrapped up my latest drama—a massive hit that had drained the life out of me—and was finally ready to disappear for a while.  

No cameras. No interviews. No scandals. Just me, a boat, and absolute peace.

Then the internet decided to ruin it.  

An old fling—someone I barely even remembered—decided to go viral.

💬 "I thought we had something special, but I never even got a callback." 💬 "Typical Gong Yoo, right? He’ll flirt, he’ll make you feel like the only girl in the world, and then—poof. Gone."

By the time my PR team got involved, the damage had already spiraled.

"You need to fix this," my manager said, pacing around my living room. "We need an interview. A statement. Something."  

I groaned. "I don’t care what some random woman says about me online."  

"Yeah, well, the public does."  

And that’s how I ended up on that stupid talk show.

The host wasted no time.

"You’re known for being a bit of a heartbreaker, aren’t you?"  

I forced a smile. "That’s what they say."  

"Do you ever plan to settle down? Or is this just who you are?"  

I clenched my jaw, already done with the conversation.  

If I denied it, they'd say I was lying. If I played along, they’d say I was an arrogant jerk.  

So I made a joke.  

"Tell you what—the next person I kiss? That’s it. I’ll marry them." 

The audience went wild.

I thought that was the end of it.  

I had no idea what I had just set into motion.

At The Club

I wasn’t supposed to be there.  

But my friends insisted. "One night out," they said. "Relax a little," they said.  

So I went.  

I stood in the corner, minding my own business, until—  

She crashed into me.

Soft lips. The scent of perfume and something sweet.

It was so fast, I barely had time to react.  

But then—then—I realized: she had no idea who I was, at least not right now  

And just like that, something in me clicked.  

So I kissed her back.  

And when she finally opened her eyes and realized her mistake—when she looked at me like she was about to have a full-on breakdown—I smirked.  

"Guess that means we’re getting married."

It was meant to be a joke.  

Then the flashes started. The whispers. The cameras.   And suddenly, it wasn’t a joke anymore

a/n: I knew I wanted to give a lil background of what happened before the lil club incident, and the trashy tv program viewer in me LOVES to build suspense hehehehehe. I hope yall enjoy this <3

taglist: @preppyfella @muchwita @shadow-tumbler @dyingswanpavlova @ririgy @lariem-blog2 @uurtekass @elliette-laine1 @breakmeoff @sarah-bear706318 @voxslays @celestialstar111

[sowhatwereyousaying]

The Salesman × wife reader (a child)

꣑୧ — 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your child is clinging on you

Warning : none

The second you walked into the room, the baby reached out for you, little hands grabbing at the air desperately.

You smiled, lifting them into your arms. "Oh my everything…" you murmured, kissing their forehead.

Meanwhile, he stood off to the side, arms crossed. "You see them every hour of the day, I just got home, and yet—" He pointed at their child clinging to you, "This."

You chuckled. "They're just a mama's baby."

"Clearly." He sighed. "Unbelievable."

You smirked. "Jealous?"

"Of a baby? Absolutely."

__________________________________________________________________________________

[sowhatwereyousaying]

A Promise - Part 6

summary: It's your first red carpet, will you take it in stride or-?

warnings: age gap (reader is in their 20s and gong yoo is in his 40s); fake dating, pr

Waking up to chaos had become a daily routine.

If it wasn’t my phone buzzing with notifications from people I barely knew, it was the sound of reporters stationed outside my apartment, still hoping for a juicy update on the world’s weirdest accidental engagement.

And if it wasn’t them, it was—

knock knock knock.

—him.

With a deep sigh, I trudged toward the door, mentally preparing for whatever nonsense Gong Yoo had decided to throw at me today.

Sure enough, as soon as I opened it, I was greeted by a smug grin and a paper bag full of food being waved in my face.

“Breakfast,” he announced, stepping inside before I could protest. “You’re welcome.”

I blinked at him. “Do I... owe you money for this?”

He gasped, dramatically clutching his chest. “What kind of fiancé would I be if I charged you for food?”

“The kind who isn’t actually my fiancé.”

“You wound me.”

I rolled my eyes but took the bag anyway.

This was how it had been for the past few days. He just kept showing up and bringing food, sticking around, and acting like he belonged in my apartment and in my life.

And unfortunately, I was getting used to it.

That morning, between bites of ridiculously expensive pastries, Gong Yoo casually mentioned,

“I need you to come to a red carpet event with me.”

I nearly dropped my coffee. “Excuse me?”

“Event. Red Carpet. Fancy. Celebrities. Cameras. You know, the usual.”

I narrowed my eyes. “And why, exactly, do you need me there?”

He tilted his head, looking far too innocent. “Because I like your company?”

I snorted. “Try again.”

“Because if I show up alone, people will start asking if our engagement is fake.”

I crossed my arms. “Which it is.”

“Shhh.” He placed a finger over my lips—an actual finger on my actual lips. It's crazy how just one finger made a shiver run down my spine.

I swatted his hand away, ignoring the heat rising in my face and the unholy thoughts in my mind. “Fine. But you owe me.”

He grinned. “Deal.”

The event was insanely glamorous—the kind of place where everyone looked like they belonged in a movie.

Which made me feel like an imposter.

I tugged at my dress, glancing at Gong Yoo, who had just stepped out of the car beside me. He looked...

Ridiculously good.

Like he was born to wear a tux. Like he’d just walked off the cover of a magazine.

I, on the other hand, was still trying to figure out how to step out of a car without face-planting gracefully.

“You okay?” he asked, offering his hand.

I stared at it.

Then at him.

Then at the sea of flashing cameras waiting for us.

I sighed and took his hand.

And just like that, we were holding hands in public, like a real couple.

Inside, things weren’t much better.

I quickly realized three things:

Every single person here knew Gong Yoo and wanted to talk to him.

Every single person here was staring at me, whispering about who I was and why he was with me.

Gong Yoo was doing nothing to stop the rumours.

He seemed to be enjoying this.

“Gong Yoo, my man!” Some actor I vaguely recognized clapped him on the shoulder. “And this must be the fiancée!”

Gong Yoo smiled, sliding an arm around my waist. Around my actual waist.

I nearly jumped out of my skin.

“Yup,” he said smoothly. “She’s incredible, isn’t she?”

The actor nodded enthusiastically. “Lucky guy.”

Gong Yoo turned to me, grinning like he’d just won something. “I am, aren’t I?” It sounded far too genuine than I expected it.

I stared at him. He was enjoying this.

Two could play that game.

I turned to the actor, smiling sweetly. “You should hear how much he snores.”

Gong Yoo’s smile froze.

The actor laughed. “That bad, huh?”

“Like a chainsaw,” I said innocently.

Gong Yoo shot me a look. “Oh, you’re evil.”

I grinned. “You love it.”

Later that night, as we stood on a balcony overlooking the city, I found myself... relaxed.

The chaos of the evening had settled. The cameras were gone. The lights from the city twinkled below us.

Gong Yoo leaned against the railing beside me, hands in his pockets.

“This wasn’t so bad, right?” he asked.

I thought about it.

“No,” I admitted. “Not bad.”

“Good.”

I glanced at him. “Why do you keep doing this?”

He turned to me, eyes searching mine. “Doing what?”

“Showing up. Bringing food. Dragging me to events. Acting like this is real.”

For once, he didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he reached for my hand, threading his fingers through mine.

My breath hitched.

And then, softly, he said, “Maybe...I don’t want it to be fake anymore.”

The world felt too still.

I swallowed. “Gong Yoo—”

“You don’t have to say anything now. It's just that..ever since the day we went on that date, I can't seem to stop thinking about you, everything I do, everything I eat, everything I read, everything makes me wonder if you would like it, if you would find it funny, if it would make you smile. I don't know what it is, what this feeling is, but I definitely don't want to give up on it because god knows I haven't felt like this before."

He squeezed my hand. “Just... think about it.”

My heart was doing dangerous things.

And for the first time since this entire mess started, I realized...

Maybe I wanted to think about it.

Maybe I wanted to stop pretending, too.

a/n: I was away for TOO LONG for my liking, these past 2 weeks have been A LOT to say the least, but everytime I see one of yall like a chapter I am like "YAYAYAYAYAYYA" I wrote this at 2am yesterday and am finally posting it. Sorry if yall don't enjoy it but I really hope yall do. LY

taglist: @preppyfella @muchwita @shadow-tumbler @dyingswanpavlova @ririgy @lariem-blog2 @uurtekass @elliette-laine1 @breakmeoff @sarah-bear706318 @voxslays @celestialstar111

[sowhatwereyousaying]

two dilfs that always die in the projects they star on and make every female they work with feel safe and comfortable around them <3

if you love pedro pascal and gong yoo, entiendes toda la puta vibra 🚬

[sowhatwereyousaying]

A Promise - Part 6

summary: It's your first red carpet, will you take it in stride or-?

warnings: age gap (reader is in their 20s and gong yoo is in his 40s); fake dating, pr

Waking up to chaos had become a daily routine.

If it wasn’t my phone buzzing with notifications from people I barely knew, it was the sound of reporters stationed outside my apartment, still hoping for a juicy update on the world’s weirdest accidental engagement.

And if it wasn’t them, it was—

knock knock knock.

—him.

With a deep sigh, I trudged toward the door, mentally preparing for whatever nonsense Gong Yoo had decided to throw at me today.

Sure enough, as soon as I opened it, I was greeted by a smug grin and a paper bag full of food being waved in my face.

“Breakfast,” he announced, stepping inside before I could protest. “You’re welcome.”

I blinked at him. “Do I... owe you money for this?”

He gasped, dramatically clutching his chest. “What kind of fiancé would I be if I charged you for food?”

“The kind who isn’t actually my fiancé.”

“You wound me.”

I rolled my eyes but took the bag anyway.

This was how it had been for the past few days. He just kept showing up and bringing food, sticking around, and acting like he belonged in my apartment and in my life.

And unfortunately, I was getting used to it.

That morning, between bites of ridiculously expensive pastries, Gong Yoo casually mentioned,

“I need you to come to a red carpet event with me.”

I nearly dropped my coffee. “Excuse me?”

“Event. Red Carpet. Fancy. Celebrities. Cameras. You know, the usual.”

I narrowed my eyes. “And why, exactly, do you need me there?”

He tilted his head, looking far too innocent. “Because I like your company?”

I snorted. “Try again.”

“Because if I show up alone, people will start asking if our engagement is fake.”

I crossed my arms. “Which it is.”

“Shhh.” He placed a finger over my lips—an actual finger on my actual lips. It's crazy how just one finger made a shiver run down my spine.

I swatted his hand away, ignoring the heat rising in my face and the unholy thoughts in my mind. “Fine. But you owe me.”

He grinned. “Deal.”

The event was insanely glamorous—the kind of place where everyone looked like they belonged in a movie.

Which made me feel like an imposter.

I tugged at my dress, glancing at Gong Yoo, who had just stepped out of the car beside me. He looked...

Ridiculously good.

Like he was born to wear a tux. Like he’d just walked off the cover of a magazine.

I, on the other hand, was still trying to figure out how to step out of a car without face-planting gracefully.

“You okay?” he asked, offering his hand.

I stared at it.

Then at him.

Then at the sea of flashing cameras waiting for us.

I sighed and took his hand.

And just like that, we were holding hands in public, like a real couple.

Inside, things weren’t much better.

I quickly realized three things:

Every single person here knew Gong Yoo and wanted to talk to him.

Every single person here was staring at me, whispering about who I was and why he was with me.

Gong Yoo was doing nothing to stop the rumours.

He seemed to be enjoying this.

“Gong Yoo, my man!” Some actor I vaguely recognized clapped him on the shoulder. “And this must be the fiancée!”

Gong Yoo smiled, sliding an arm around my waist. Around my actual waist.

I nearly jumped out of my skin.

“Yup,” he said smoothly. “She’s incredible, isn’t she?”

The actor nodded enthusiastically. “Lucky guy.”

Gong Yoo turned to me, grinning like he’d just won something. “I am, aren’t I?” It sounded far too genuine than I expected it.

I stared at him. He was enjoying this.

Two could play that game.

I turned to the actor, smiling sweetly. “You should hear how much he snores.”

Gong Yoo’s smile froze.

The actor laughed. “That bad, huh?”

“Like a chainsaw,” I said innocently.

Gong Yoo shot me a look. “Oh, you’re evil.”

I grinned. “You love it.”

Later that night, as we stood on a balcony overlooking the city, I found myself... relaxed.

The chaos of the evening had settled. The cameras were gone. The lights from the city twinkled below us.

Gong Yoo leaned against the railing beside me, hands in his pockets.

“This wasn’t so bad, right?” he asked.

I thought about it.

“No,” I admitted. “Not bad.”

“Good.”

I glanced at him. “Why do you keep doing this?”

He turned to me, eyes searching mine. “Doing what?”

“Showing up. Bringing food. Dragging me to events. Acting like this is real.”

For once, he didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he reached for my hand, threading his fingers through mine.

My breath hitched.

And then, softly, he said, “Maybe...I don’t want it to be fake anymore.”

The world felt too still.

I swallowed. “Gong Yoo—”

“You don’t have to say anything now. It's just that..ever since the day we went on that date, I can't seem to stop thinking about you, everything I do, everything I eat, everything I read, everything makes me wonder if you would like it, if you would find it funny, if it would make you smile. I don't know what it is, what this feeling is, but I definitely don't want to give up on it because god knows I haven't felt like this before."

He squeezed my hand. “Just... think about it.”

My heart was doing dangerous things.

And for the first time since this entire mess started, I realized...

Maybe I wanted to think about it.

Maybe I wanted to stop pretending, too.

a/n: I was away for TOO LONG for my liking, these past 2 weeks have been A LOT to say the least, but everytime I see one of yall like a chapter I am like "YAYAYAYAYAYYA" I wrote this at 2am yesterday and am finally posting it. Sorry if yall don't enjoy it but I really hope yall do. LY

taglist: @preppyfella @muchwita @shadow-tumbler @dyingswanpavlova @ririgy @lariem-blog2 @uurtekass @elliette-laine1 @breakmeoff @sarah-bear706318 @voxslays @celestialstar111

[sowhatwereyousaying]

this is my favourite thing ever. It helps me whenever I feel absolutely worthless.

If anyone else out here is feeling the same way, remember you are worth everything in this world,

and I’ll always be open to lend an ear.

[sowhatwereyousaying]

I wanna be held like that too 🙂

the Salesman × Blind wife

[she found out about his job—part 1]

why do you have a gun?"

Part:1_____________________________________________________________________________

Married life with him had been wonderful—comforting in ways she never thought possible. Every morning, he kissed her before leaving, his touch lingering just long enough to make her wish he’d stay. Every evening, he returned with the same warmth, wrapping his arms around her, whispering some teasing remark in her ear. She had memorized him in ways beyond sight—the way his presence filled a room, the subtle way his breathing changed when he was tired, the way his heartbeat steadied whenever she curled against him.

But there was something she didn’t know.

His job.

The vague answers, the late nights, the way he avoided talking about work. The secrecy didn’t bother her—he was her husband, and that was enough. He made her feel safe in a world she couldn’t see, so why would she doubt him?— she didn't care.

Until today.

It started with something small.

She was tidying up after he left for the day, running her hands over the couch cushions when she felt something tucked between them. Smooth. Rectangular. She frowned, tracing the embossed edges with her fingers. A business card?

Curious, she brought it closer, running her fingertips over the raised print. It wasn’t in Braille, but she recognized the shape of numbers. A phone number, maybe? There was a circle, something that felt like an emblem—she couldn’t be sure.

Her stomach twisted.

Something felt wrong.

She knew every detail of their home by touch, and this didn’t belong here.

Her fingers tightened around the card.

It was probably nothing. Just some client’s card, or maybe something he had forgotten to throw away.

But then—her hand brushed against another object wedged between the cushions.

A metal case.

Cold. Heavy.

Her heart pounded as she pried it open with trembling hands. Her fingers brushed against something smooth. Familiar, She reached inside, expecting something insignificant—maybe his phone, maybe a set of keys.

Instead, her fingers met something cold. Hard.

Metal.

Her stomach clenched. She swallowed, running her fingers along the shape. It was smooth, heavy, too familiar.

Her breath hitched. Her hands trembled.

A gun.

Why would he have a damn gun?

Her mind raced, a strange unease creeping into her chest.

And then she felt it.

A crisp stack of paper, bound together with a rubber band. Money. A lot of it.

The realization crashed into her like a tidal wave. This wasn’t normal.

She knew the weight of cash. She knew when there was too much of it.

Her breathing grew uneven, her hands shaking as she backed away from the couch.

No. No.

This was just her overthinking, right? There had to be a logical explanation.

But deep down, something in her whispered—you already know.

She stumbled backward, knocking into the coffee table. Her cane was out of reach, and suddenly, the walls of their home felt unfamiliar, dangerous.

The door opened.

She jumped violently.

His footsteps were light, controlled—too controlled.

"Sweetheart?" His voice was casual, but she could hear the subtle tension beneath it. He had seen the mess she made.

Her throat tightened.

"What… what do you do for work?"

A pause.

"Why are you asking that?"

She clenched her fists, trying to steady her breathing. "Because I just found a lot of money hidden in our couch. And a metal case. And something that feels like a business card. I can’t read it, but it doesn’t belong here—and a damn gun"

Silence.

Her pulse roared in her ears. "Tell me the truth."

His voice was eerily calm. "I recruit people."

"For what?" she demanded.

He sighed. "For an opportunity."

"What kind of opportunity comes with hidden money and a gun?"

He didn’t answer.

Her breath hitched. "No. No, you tell me right now. What the hell are you involved in?"

Still, he said nothing.

And that silence—that terrifying silence—told her everything.

Her knees buckled. She felt dizzy, like the world was tilting. She reached out blindly, her hands grasping for the wall, for something real to hold onto.

"You—" Her voice came out in a whisper. "You're the one who—"

She couldn’t finish the sentence.

He stepped closer, but she flinched back so violently that she stumbled, nearly falling.

He caught her before she hit the floor, but she struggled in his grip, pushing at his chest. "Let me go!"

"Calm down," he murmured.

"Don’t tell me to calm down!" She was shaking now, panic clawing up her throat. "You trick people into… into what? A game? A death game?"

His grip tightened for a second before he exhaled. "I don’t kill anyone."

"But you send them there."

He didn’t deny it.

Tears burned behind her useless eyes. Her breathing was too fast, too shallow—she couldn’t breathe.

How long had she been sleeping next to a monster?

Her husband—the man who held her, who kissed her, who whispered that she was the best thing in his life—he was the reason people never came back.

A choked sob escaped her lips.

She turned and ran.

She didn’t know where she was going—she just needed to get away.

But his arms caught her before she could take three steps.

"Stop—!" she gasped, struggling.

He held her tighter. "I’m not letting you run."

"You—" Her voice broke. "You lied to me. You lied."

He didn’t answer.

He just held her, steady and unyielding, while she fell apart in his arms.

_________________________________________

@dyingswanpavlova 🎀