#and the happiness he never really seemed to know

[ja3yun]

Our Life | P.JS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And this day a little more bearable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They get that from you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_____

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

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

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

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

And then his eyes land on you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like you’re placing yourself home in his heart.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” you respond, intrigued.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_____

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And if I say no?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wants to make you this happy forever.

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

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

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

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

In more ways than one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_____

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You are in love. So incredibly in love.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_____

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_____

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then he sees you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_____

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_____

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

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

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

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

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

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

But none of that came.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

____

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_____

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

Too still.

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

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

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

There, lying on the bed, is his father.

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

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

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

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

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

There is a sweet irony in this moment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_____

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[mywritersmind]

SAVIOR - LN4

pt.2

summary : Y/n’s favorite place has quickly become her and Lando’s shared hallway. They grow closer and finally make it to the fresh air.

OG SUMMARY (When y/n’s absent neighbor shows up, causing her great annoyance with smoke and repetitive beeping, she marches over to tell the man off but is met with a handsome face and strong hands that are in distress.)

listen up : no warnings!! y/n is clueless abt f1. lando is silly. i’m craving strawberries now.

word count : 1878

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I haul my five grocery bags into the elevator, struggling to keep them all off the ground. I sigh when I finally still in the metal box, i’ve carried these at least two blocks and one had broken on the way.

The doors are about to close but a hand slides in between them, making them automatically open for him.

Hello my hot mysterious neighbor.

He looks relieved he made it, “Y/n!” He says cheerfully, like we’ve known each other for ages. It’s been a couple weeks since I slammed on his door and stomped through his kitchen.

The other side of the hallway had been quiet until last night when I heard keys rattling and the door opening. I can’t help but wonder what he does that keeps him from home so often.

“Lando, Hi!” I smile back as he slides beside me and presses our floor.

“You need help?” He eyes the bags as I bite my lip, not wanting to bother him. I don’t have the time to respond because he takes three bags out of my hands like it’s nothing.

“Thank you.” I sigh, “I’ve been struggling for like two blocks.” He laughs a bit with me as the numbers get higher and higher.

“I’m happy to help.” We finally reach our floor, Lando watches me go first and walk to my door, unlocking it and walking in.

Lando follows hesitantly, like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed.

“Thank you again! I put myself in a bit of a bind when I decided that my friends need fifteen types of salami and cheese.” I place the bags on the counter, Lando following.

I push back my hair and suddenly wish I had cleaned up a bit more. My friends are coming over tonight and I had decided to push back my cleaning. Looking around at the clothes and old popcorn bowls scattered around makes me want to slap myself.

“Really, I like to lend a hand! I never get to be neighborly.” He shrugs.

“What do you do for work? If you don’t mind me asking?” I start placing the cold items in the freezer.

He leans against the counter, his arms holding him up and looking alarmingly fit, “Uh… You ever follow Formula 1?”

I nod, “Kinda? I used to love it!” My mom and I would watch every sunday but I stopped in college so I don’t know any of the current grid, “So you work in the sport! That’s cool, pretty hands on?” I ask as he laughs a bit, looking awkward.

“Yeah, I work with the cars.” He looks around my place a bit, “So, why does one need this much food? I’m judging or anything it’s just… You don’t seem like the type to need a jumbo sized pretzel bag.”

I smile and snatch the bag from him, “I could definitely eat all of this by the way! But I'm having a bit of a party tonight. If anything’s too loud just let me know! It’s just old friends from college- actually.” I look up at him, a boost of confidence appearing in me, “You could join us. If you’re not busy.”

It suddenly sounds like a ridiculously stupid idea. I turn back to the fridge, placing a bottle of lemonade in it and cringing.

“I would love to.” I let out a sigh of relief, “But I've got plans…” I frown and turn back to him, finally putting away the last of my groceries.

“Aw.”

“It’s really nice of you to invite me.” I smile, a bit sad and confused why I'm disappointed. I mean I barely know the man. “What do you do for work?”

I lean against the counter so I'm across from him, “I’m a writer. Journalism right now but I really want to take a more bookish route…”

He genuinely looks so intrigued, more interested than anyone else who I've told I write articles about neighborhood drama.

He checks his watch, which I'm now realizing is incredibly expensive, and swears, “I gotta go. Have fun with your party tonight.”

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I definitely do have fun. My friends and I eat, drink, and play board games just like we’re back in dorms. I’m seeing my last and closest friend off when Lando comes up the hallway, As my friend's eyes go wide when she sees him, I shake my head.

“Goodbye!” I push her out of my apartment, “Love you!”

“Yeah love you too! Text me!” She walks past Lando, nodding at him before she turns behind his back and mouths ‘he’s hot’.

I roll my eyes at her, a smile still on my face as Lando looks at me. He’s in a full suit, holding his blazer in his hand.

“Fun time then?” God he’s hot!

“Absolutely!” I giggle, a bit tipsy, “How about you then?” I eye his suit.

“As good as I could make it.”

I slap my hand over my mouth, “God you aren’t coming from a funeral then, are you?”

He laughs at this, “No! No. A work banquet thing.”

I giggle a bit as he turns to his door, “Hey!” I say without thinking, “Would you want to come in? I have wine.”

He’s sitting on my couch thirty minutes later, a glass deep and talking about where he’s traveled too.

“That’s my dream!” I say, my feet tucked under myself as I tilt my head on the couch cushions, “Traveling. I mean- You’ve been everywhere!”

He shrugs, sipping his wine, his tie undone and shoes off, “It’s amazing but I'm not there for long so I don’t usually get to sightsee much. Honestly the most interesting thing that’s happened to me recently is this pretty girl came to save my baking disaster.”

I hum to his words, blushing a bit, “Sounds like a hero if i’ve ever heard one.” We both go silent, taking pieces of my leftover charcuterie board. “Should I start watching F1?”

“No!” He says it so quick that i’m taken aback.

“No?”

He laughs a bit, shaking it off, “It’s boring. I can’t have someone else in my life talk about it.”

I spin my wine around in the glass, “So I'm someone in your life now?”

He smirks, “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

I pretend to contemplate this, “I’ve never had a friend who hasn’t gone to the strawberry market with me.”

He makes an odd face, “So we must go then.”

I sigh, “If you want to be my friend…”

The corner of his mouth pulls, “Tomorrow at 9?”

⋆｡‧˚⋆

He’s at my door at 9:12. Thank god he’s late because I hop over to the door, pulling on my shoe and pulling down my jean skirt.

I open the door and stand up straight, smiling breathlessly. He, of course, looks perfect in jeans and an olive green shirt, “Morning.”

“Ready to taste the best strawberries you’ve ever had?” I grab my bag and keys.

“So ready.”

We make it to the market just on time. It’s my favorite neighborhood gem. Every Sunday people gather with strawberries. There are big and small, some covered in chocolate and some in honey.

I buy a box of chocolate ones, well Lando does. He insists that he still owes me. Handing one to Lando with an extra fork, he bites into it, his eyes roll, “Fucking hell.” I nod, excited that he likes them as much as I do.

“My favorite treat! Something you can’t burn your house down with.” I eye him and he eyes me right back. Being with Lando is like a breath of fresh air. I’ve never been so confident in my social skills.

He laughs with a shop owner as he buys his pack of plain strawberries. He's so nice and just listens politely as the woman goes on and on about her childhood on a strawberry farm.

He gives her a bigger bill than necessary and as she insists it’s too much, he just shakes his head and continues walking.

We settle at a park bench nearby, tasting all the pieces we’ve bought, “This is genuinely phenomenal.” He says while eating another, “How’d you find this place?”

“Had to write about something local and had total writers block… I was walking around one day and just sort of stumbled upon it.”

He smiles, I really like this smile. “You seem like the type to just stumble upon a strawberry market.”

I laugh, covering my mouth, “What does that even mean?”

“You’re just so…” His hands make these weird gestures, his fingers moving around as he laughs and gives up, “It just fits.”

I smile, meeting his eyes. They're so nice, a mix of blue and green. His gaze washes over me and I feel the need to smile even more.

“You’ve got nice eyes.” My stomach twists as he says it so calmly, “Real pretty.” I feel a blush on my cheeks and I turn away from him, looking at the park near us and being startled by the child looking up at us.

Lando follows my gaze, mumbling softly, “Shit.”

“Hi.” The kid says awestruck, I look to Lando who’s smiling and sitting up straighter. “Um- Are you Lando Norris?”

Lando scratches the back of his neck, “Yeah I am! What's your name?”

“W-William!” He says, swallowing and pulling a pen from behind his back, “Could you sign this?” I glance to what looks like his mother, she’s watching him with a smile.

Lando simply nods and takes the cap from his head, its bright orange. He signs his name and messes up the kid's hair, “Thanks a lot! My friends’ll never believe it!” The boy squeals and runs back to his mom who waves slightly and takes the boy's hand.

I raise a brow at Lando, still confused, “I’m sorry…” He looks embarrassed but I don’t even know what for.

“I’m going to assume you didn’t tell me the whole truth in what your job is?”

His cheeks get a bit red, “I do work with the cars… Just really close. Like I’m in them. One specifically.”

I nod, “Yours?”

“Mine.” He crosses his arms, his lips in a thin line, “I drive for McLaren.” I breathe out.

“Oh.” I can’t help but think I have a type because I grew up with Jenson Button posters on my wall.

He runs a hand through his curls, “I don’t usually get recognized around here- Thought we would be okay.”

“We are okay!” I reassure him, realizing he’s actually embarrassed, “That was sweet.”

He looks up hopefully, “You think? I’m sorry for lying- I just really liked that you didn’t know who I am or what I do.”

“Well, I sort of still don't. I know your full name now, that’s about it.” He smiles at this, I bite into another strawberry.

“Do you want to go out with me?”

He is yet to say something I'm not shocked at.

“Yeah.” I nod, smiling at him as he grins, “I’d really like that. Don’t you have to race soon though…? Singapore, isn’t it?”

The smirk that pulls at his lips is just plain mischievous, “I never said the date would be here.”

[writerunnamed]

note: This is something I've wanted to write for a while but I am well aware that not everyone will be into it. There are a few stories I want to tell that aren't the norm so I decided to start this nameless blog to tell them. I am not tagging anyone, if you find it then you find it. xo Joel(stepdad), significant age gap, female reader. 18+ legal, reader is 20 (warnings: pov sex, Joel spits on the 😸, boobie play, really inappropriate dirty talk, an unused sex toy [will make an appearance in another chapter], female masturbation, daddy kink, unfit parent) 5.6k word count

He takes up so much space, and it wasn’t just physically. He took up space emotionally, mentally. Mentally most of all. Your thoughts always drifted back to him. Cyclical. An elliptical pattern making him the top of every list you’d go through in your head. He seemed to know it too, in a stoic, quiet, largely unsettling way. Older, attractive men tended to do that. 

It started during that in-between time, when summer, losing your job, and having to move back home pushed you to figure out what the fuck you actually wanted to do with your life seemed to come together like the planets aligning. The precipice of a turning point, a ticking clock counting down the days until your childhood bedroom would be turned into a gym, or an office, or a guest bedroom. The lukewarm welcome from your mother would ice over and you’d really have to get your shit together. 

Your mother was what people who didn’t know her would call ‘a free spirit’, what you called her, was a fucking mess. 

Your earliest memories consist of having to remind her to buy milk or to pay the bill because the electricity had turned off while watching cartoons in front of the tiny, living room tv. You’d had to remind her, in not so many words, that she was the mother, and you were the child. 

To your friends, she was the cool mom. The party mom. Your house was the place to be because she didn’t ask questions, she left her cigarettes unattended and didn’t mind if a few went missing. She kept the bar cart stocked, even if there was nothing but flies in the cupboard and nothing but half-empty condiment bottles in the fridge. Your friends loved it. 

She flirted with the boys your age, she gave sex tips to the girls. 

You smiled when they congratulated you on having the cool mom, and when they all went home, you retreated and pretended to be happy. 

Joel settled her down. Met her in a bar and moved in quick. He came into the picture when you were fifteen and you were almost sure he’d be just like the rest of the lovers she’d taken over the years. You’d given the whole thing six months. Half a year for him to see what a fucking disaster she was. Six months to be a fucking creep, to cheat or get cheated on. 

The only differences you could clock at first were that he was self-employed, and marginally better looking than his predecessors.

He was firmer though, less malleable than the others she’d brought around, he seemed immune to her charms and that only inflamed her. It made her desperate for his approval and his attention. She would throw a tantrum, or play one of her mind games but he’d never rise to her bait. He was patient for the most part, until he hit his breaking point and his temper reared its head. A temper only she seemed to bring out in him. 

To you, it was pathetic. 

He didn’t try with you though, there was no flattery or strong hand, only a silent respect. In a sense, he treated you as the adult, and her as the child. It worked for you, if he’d expected you to call him dad he would have been laughed at mercilessly and he seemed to know this. 

The disturbing part was his respect and his healthy avoidance of you worked its own kind of magic. It made him an enigma, made you curious as to what he got out of the whole thing. A home, sure. A woman who was obsessed with him, yes. Sex–yes. You heard it enough for it to turn your stomach. By the sounds of it, he knew what he was doing.

The thought sickened the healthy part of your brain. The other part though, the part flooding your body with hormones, making it come to life with curiously intense sexual feelings, that part wanted to know what it was he was so good at. How could he pull those sounds out of anyone? It was easier to imagine him with some faceless woman. 

It was shameful to imagine yourself. 

The thought–although enough to fuel a desperate journey of self-exploration–always filled you with an insurmountable guilt. 

For those first few years you could barely look at him. Your mother took it as a healthy dose of teenage rebellion. That only aggravated you more. She never asked questions, never dug to see what the cause of your obvious distaste for her partner was about and so again, you retreated. He, however, kept to the outs of your path. He followed your lead, he let you control any and every part of all of your interactions. He didn’t ask questions. He kept the lights on. He kept the fridge full. 

He burrowed his way in, whether you liked it or not. 

When you turned eighteen, you moved out. He helped, did his ‘fatherly’ duties and moved you into the apartment, he urged your mother to take you on an extensive grocery trip, spoke to your landlord about the safety of the building. You supposed you should have been grateful, you should have said thank you, given him some sort of acknowledgement that you appreciated his help but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Instead you said your mumbling goodbyes, and promptly closed the door on them. Neither of them complained. 

The euphoria of venturing out on your own had lost its shine depressingly quick. A string of chronically unserious boyfriends came and went, the rent climbed higher than you could keep up with, and while already living paycheck to paycheck, you lost your job. Your cellphone had taken the brunt of your frustration at having to call your mother, begging her to let you come back home while you got back on your feet a little more than two years after you’d left. 

Your teeth gnawed at your lips, your fingernails dug into the skin around your cuticles in the attempt to keep your voice sweet and pleading, in the end it was his voice that you’d heard in the background, telling–no, commanding her to say yes. That he would be your champion twisted at your insides. Maybe a small, healthy part of you hoped he’d put up a fight, tell you that you were too old to be coming back home and that you had to figure it out on your own like an adult. 

A healthy part of you hoped that he’d save you again, only from yourself. Hanging up with a heavy, resigned sigh, you set about starting the trek home, ignoring the swirling mess of annoyance, confusion, and perverse glee in your stomach. 

-

The first few days were spent in a depressive episode, a seemingly inescapable loop of sleeping in late, leaving your room only when the house was empty to raid the kitchen for something to eat, scrolling mindlessly–blindly–on your phone and then staying up way too late only to do it all over again. 

They didn’t bother you, but if the annoyed sighs and narrowed eyes from your mother were anything to go by, the talk was coming soon. After the third day of the cycle, you circumvent it and wake up early-ish to shower and dress in something other than ratty old sweats long forgotten by an ex you couldn’t quite remember. 

You came down to find Joel sitting at the kitchen table. His eyes tracked the lines of you, raising an eyebrow inquisitively. 

Your heart leapt. He should have been at work by now. 

“Good morning.” It came out croaky, your voice almost reluctant to come out. 

“Mornin’.” His hair was slicked back, the gray almost sparkling in the golden light. You fiddled with the hem of your shirt. His eyes were so intense, you found yourself stuck in place, like a deer in headlights and that ever present, deep-seeded anger reared its head. It was irrational that he should frustrate you so much with his calm presence. 

“Coffee’s fresh, if you want some.” He jut his chin out to the pot, lowering his eyes to his paper once more. Once his gaze had shifted, you found you could breathe again. You mumbled a thanks and moved to pour yourself a cup, thankful, if unsure why, to focus on something concrete instead of abstract self-reflection.

“Your mama’s gon’ be late tonight. I thought I could pick up a pizza on the way home.” He says it offhand and again, your heart races. 

“Whatever.” You scrunch your face up in annoyance, it sounded like such a bullshit, teen response. He doesn’t comment on it, and that somehow makes it worse. You beat yourself about it as you root around in the fridge for the milk. The cereal you liked was in the top cupboard, and you’re not quite tall enough to reach it. 

You heard his chair scoot back and then suddenly he’s there, beside you, pressed up tight. You follow the long line of his throat as he stares up, reaching the box with ease while one big, warm hand lands on your lower back. He smells like the laundry detergent your mother insists on buying mixed with something else. Manly, smoky, with coffee laced through. Your cunt clenches nonconsensually as he stands there and stares down at you, his whole front pressed against your side, his hand still holding your lower back. Your mouth hangs open, stupidly, and he raises an eyebrow again forcing something to kickstart deep in your gut. 

“You okay there babygirl?” The endearment feels unwholesome.

It triggers something strange, strengthening the underlying conflict for him. There’s a lilt in his tone you don’t like, maybe because deep down you like it too much. Maybe you don’t want to admit that, or analyze anything about what the fuck is happening in your body. In your psyche. 

“Yeah.” You step out of his bubble, barely managing not to trip over yourself in your haste to get away and put a healthy distance between you. 

“Yes. Thank you.” You take a deep breath, pressing your lips together tight in what you hope to God is a neutral expression. 

He lets out a bemused huff through his nose, a mischief in his eyes shining out at you that you’ve never seen directed at you. You’ve seen it used on your mom. You’ve seen her go giggly and flirty whenever he looked at her like that. A half-formed escape plan starts to form but he saves you from the need, he puts his things in the dishwasher, and nods his head in goodbye. 

You practically hold your breath until you hear his truck rumble out of the driveway, and down the street. 

-

You manage to avoid him for a few days, staying out late catching up with friends, or feigning a need for rest. You’ve convinced your mother that your days are now spent job hunting, and for the most part they are. You leave in the morning, avoiding any and all contact and you get home late, creeping up the stairs much like you did in your teens even though you’d really never needed to. Your mother never enforced a curfew, and when Joel joined the picture, he didn’t pry. 

The luck didn’t last though, you got over-confident. He was sprawled out on the sofa, up uncharacteristically late one night when you padded through the house. 

“You’re up late.” You quickly check the accusatory tone, “Don’t you have to get up early?” Better, it comes out more concerned than annoyed and he nods. He wore a threadbare t-shirt, the fabric of it having been through the wash too many times to keep its shape. Light, gray sweats were stretched almost obscenely tight over his spread thighs, pooling at his crotch from being shoved up by the couch. 

“Couldn’t sleep. Come sit, we can watch some tv.” He pats the seat next to him and despite the deep desire to retreat into the Joel-free haven of your bedroom, you cannot seem to disobey him. 

You settle beside him on the couch, a little further away than was necessary. He chuckles softly. 

“I ain’t gonna bite you, girl. Not unless you ask nicely.” 

You pretend you don’t hear it, choosing instead to compartmentalize whatever game he’s playing and stare at the screen. He flips through the channels, settling on one thing for a few minutes before moving to something else until he finds a movie that’s already close to midway. There’s an electricity in the air, something about him galvanizing the space between you, charging it enough to make the hairs on your arms stand on end. You frown to yourself, barely paying attention while fighting an increasingly confusing mental battle. Why is it so hard to be around him? Why does he inspire such scorn? Is it scorn at all?

You rub at your eyes, scrubbing your hands down your face in a feeble attempt to wipe the slate clean. 

He’s just a man, a man your mother had chosen and for better or worse they seem to work. She is happy with him and he is seemingly happy with her, why then is it so hard to accept him for what he is? Something slithers around in your brain, something that laughs darkly, something pulsing through the network of thoughts and ideas that threatens to crack open your subconscious and throw it right in your face. 

“Well now, ain’t that somethin’?” You pull your hands away from your face to see a very explicit scene playing out on the screen. Heat floods every inch of your body. 

“Almost looks like she’s enjoyin’ herself.” He leaves it on, and you feel stuck, your body betraying you yet again to see the way the woman on screen moans wantonly while under a very handsome man. You let out a non-committal sound, teetering on the edge of madness. You scold yourself, you are an adult, an adult that has had sex before and this isn’t even real. 

“Looks like fake bullshit to me.” The strength in your voice lends credence to the illusion that you aren’t affected. He laughs, calm and completely at ease and that only pulls the anger to the forefront again. 

“They can’t show the real stuff on these channels. If it were real, he’d be doin’ what she needs.” 

“And what’s that?” It comes out before you can stop it. 

“Well,” He smiles to himself, winning a duel you hadn’t even known you were fighting. 

“If it were real, he’d be pressin’ on her clit, he’d be makin’ sure she felt every inch of him and make her take his cock like a good girl.” You let out a heavy breath, half shocked, half grateful it wasn’t a whimper. 

Warning bells go off in your head, just as a heartbeat starts in your cunt because you can see it. You can see him. His face twisted up in pleasure but cocky, his hips moving, his thumb dipped into your mouth and then swirling around your clit. He smiles at catching you looking at his hands and you want to yell at him. You want to smack him across the face and kick him in the balls for saying something like that to you, his partner's daughter, but you don’t. 

Your body almost catapults you out of your seat. Barely unintelligible words come out, something about needing sleep, about being tired and then you hightailed it out of there like a bat out of hell. 

The shower was cold enough to make your teeth chatter, but it did nothing to cool the heat blooming in your core and it was with a terrifying desperation that you ground against your fingers. The slick pooling at the mouth of your pussy was enough to feel even with the water washing everything away except your shame. 

You bit your tongue to keep from moaning out the taboo and entirely inappropriate name you were dying to say out loud. His firm thighs spread on that couch filled your mind, the calloused, work-roughened hands you could practically feel on your hips, on your thighs. You could feel them holding and spreading your legs open so he could make you make those same noises you’d heard over the years. Make you take it like a good girl, his good girl. 

You came with a shudder, sagging against the chilly tile. You warmed the water with a sigh, disappointed and ashamed with yourself, trying, and failing, to put the whole thing out of your mind. 

-

You doubled down on avoiding him after that. 

Your mother worked most of the time but when she was home, things were easier. He reverted to the healthy avoidance, the proverbial disinterest that she didn’t seem to have a problem with. You still heard them some nights, the bed creaking, throaty cries, deep grunts but now they haunted you in a different way. Now you heard his words on that couch and couldn’t help but picture all manner of unsavory things that both disgusted and thrilled you. 

Being unemployed didn’t help. There was nothing to keep you out of the house most of the day, and there were only so many places that would accept you looking for a job in person. 

There was only so much time you could spend with friends too, they had their own lives and jobs and relationships. Too busy to save you from unwanted free time. 

Old habits resurface, and you retreat within yourself while pushing yourself harder. A job would fix things enough to help, you could save up enough money to leave for good and take yourself out of the equation. 

-

The powers that be momentarily take pity on you, and after what seems like a lifetime's worth of job hunting you blessedly get a call back. It’s a part time job, but at this point beggars can’t exactly be choosers. It’s a steady, if insufficient source of income that hadn’t been available to you before. Determined, you buckle down, you channel every guidance counselor you’ve ever had and ace the fuck out of that interview.

It’s not taxing work, but you put your head down and focus with the hope that if you worked hard enough, if you made a good enough impression, made yourself indispensable they’d throw you enough shifts to make up a full time job. 

It helps. Time spent away from the house, from your mothers dried up welcome, from Joel altogether genuinely helps. You feel a bit lighter, less guilty, less prone to imagine the unimaginable. You find comfort in the absence of self-imposed temptation. There is peace in the mindless work, in the life outside of the house that no longer feels like a home. 

It's a double edged sword though, because at the end of every shift, the luck–the peace–runs out. If being at work and out of the house is a respite, returning home only thickens the tension. Time spent outside the house only sharpens the discomfort, clarifies the glaring wrongness of it all when you enter it at the end of the day. What it all is, you won’t name. That way madness lies. Issue is, with every interaction, with every chance encounter in the hallway, or living room, every second spent with him in the kitchen watching his lips touch the rim of his mug the thing inside grows. Parts of him fill the corners of your mind. The curve of his shoulders filling out the flannel shirts he favors. The fullness of his bottom lip when he purses them, something he does while squinting at the paper that you’re almost sure he isn’t aware of. His neck, his hands, the dimple in his cheek when he laughs at something really funny. 

These things jump out, innocent as they may be, but other not so innocent things start to creep in. The bulge in his jeans is a mental mine, it lies in wait and every so often when you think you’ve avoided it, it detonates and you catch yourself staring, both ashamed and so inappropriately curious it eats away at you like acid. 

What you needed was something to fill the emptiness, both emotionally and physically. So you did what any modern, adult woman would do; you bought a sex toy. 

Nothing too crazy, or expensive. After perusing the site for a while you finally settled on a plain, non-threatening dildo. Nothing too big, nothing noisy, just something to be able to focus on, something to use while imagining someone giving you what you need. You ignored that dark thing inside that hissed his name, shooed it away and ordered the package for express delivery. With your mom constantly working, and Joel keeping to himself you figured it wouldn’t be an issue. Neither of them would question a package addressed to you. 

You still aren’t sure whether or not you’d do it all over again had you known the Pandora’s box that little package would open. 

You all but rushed home after work. All day, you’d imagined the relief that toy would bring. You imagined yourself using it in the shower, steam swirling as you took your pleasure. You imagined yourself laying in bed in the safety of the dark, setting a towel down on your chair and riding it to your heart's content. 

Joel’s truck is in the driveway when you pull in, but it’s secondary to the excitement at the chance to sequester yourself with your new best friend and so when you walk into the house, you don’t give him much attention. Until he opens his mouth. 

“You got a package today babygirl. I put it on your bed.” He sits on his spot on the sofa, a funny little smile on his face. A bad feeling swells in your chest, and you look up the stairs before meeting his eyes again. 

“Thanks.” You drop your bag on the little bench near the front door, trying, and failing to keep the nervous feeling out of your voice. He nods, and you make your way up, stopping yourself from taking the stairs two at a time. 

Ice flows through your veins when you see the package is open. 

He’d opened your package, he knew what you’d bought. 

Blood pounds in your ears as you stand there, limbs cold and numb at the realization that he saw it. He saw it. He opened it, and he placed it here, on the very place you fantasized about using it. Sweat beaded on your brow, the bottom of your stomach fell out of your ass as you stood there, barely feeling the soft, worn carpet under your feet. 

“Little small, f’you ask me.” His voice at the mouth of your room made your head twist fast enough to hurt your neck. You hadn’t heard him follow you up the stairs, hadn’t heard him open your door and lean against the frame, arms crossed in haughty amusement. 

“Why would you open my package?” You clutched at it, as though he could forget what he’d seen if you held it tightly enough. 

“I didn’t open it on purpose, I’m expectin’ somethin’ and I didn’t read the name.” He pushes away from the door frame, making his way closer and it’s like the air thins as the space between you shrinks.

“I mean, I could tell you been frustrated, but this doesn’t seem like it’s gon’ help much.” He reaches out, and takes the package from you. You watch him do it, watch him, frozen as he plucks it from your hands and takes the toy out. 

“This all you can take?” He holds it, contemptuously–pityingly. 

You wanted to snatch it out of his hands, the dimming voice of reason urges you to push him out of your room and remind him that he needs to keep a healthy distance but you say nothing, you stand there, and watch him. He puts it all down on your dresser, before stepping a little closer, close enough for you to have to crane your neck up to look into his eyes. 

“No boyfriends around to give you what you want?” His hand comes up, the tips of his fingers sliding across the apple of your cheek, slipping down until his thumb pressed against the cushion of your bottom lip. 

“No one around to give you what you obviously need?” He steps a little closer, until your bodies meet. This is wrong, your mind screams it but your body is frozen under his eyes, under his touch. That part, the frozen part is cheering, it’s running victory laps as it floods your cunt with slick in preparation for something unholy. 

That same, writhing, traitorous thing whispers that this is your chance, the house is empty and your body obeys. You look your fill, you take in the curve of his nose and the furrow in his brow. His eyes are black as a crow's wing, lust-blown and completely focused on your parted lips and your shallow panting. 

Adrenaline spikes and you do something you cannot take back. You rise on your tip-toes and press your mouth to his. 

He hums into it, smiling and once again you get that feeling that you’d made the exact move he’d expected you to. A vague, but fleeting inkling that you were just a pawn on his chessboard. 

At any other time you would have stepped away and repented, ate yourself alive with guilt but his hands pulled you closer, his tongue swiped at the seam of your mouth and you opened up for him. That only made it all the more real, the taste of his tongue in your mouth, feeling his hands lower to hold onto your ass. 

The rational part of you shrinks down to nothing, and that other part, the wrong part–it swells and preens under his hands. He pulls away, and embarrassingly, you chase his mouth in a daze. 

“Oh honey, you’re just dyin’ for it aren’t you?” He herds you towards your tiny bed, the twin mattress that has been the stage for every taboo fantasy about this man, your stepfather. You shoo the word away with a shiver. 

“It’s wrong-” You almost whisper, but you don’t push him away, you let him lay you down in that bed and he laughs. 

“It is, isn't it?” He pulls at the hem of your shirt, you raise your arms for him and the picture of it is wrong, daddy taking off your clothes. The thought, the word,  should disgust you but it only pulls your hands to him. You join in, and pull his shirt up and off, biting your lip at the broadness of him. You take in each freckle, the sprinkling of hair on his chest, the dip of his throat calling out for your tongue like a siren. 

He presses his lips to yours again, licking into your mouth obscenely. Unseemly. 

“You been wantin’ this for a long time, haven’t you babygirl?” He pulls your bra off, and the shock of cold air hardens your nipples. He bites his lip to see it, unable to stop himself from flattening his tongue against a hardened bud. A sound you’ve never let yourself make out loud in this room fills the space between you and that slithering thing luxuriates. 

He moves, languidly, unhurried to the other breast and holds the plump of it in his big hand and sucks at the second bud, sucks as much of the peak as he can into his mouth, breathing through his nose while you slowly spiral into madness.

When he lets go, he presses a kiss to your nipple and his facial hair tickles your skin. 

He pulls your leggings off along with your underwear in one go and the reality of it all hits you when the air hits your soaked core. That’s when the urge to put a stop to it is the clearest, when he kneels between your legs and spreads them wide, stares at the place where he’s already filled a million times in your mind. The place that’s drenched at the mere thought of him. 

“Joel-” You start, but he pushes your legs up, folding you and then he lets a glob of spit fall from his mouth slowly, aiming it, a bullseye right on the lips of your cunt. It’s too much, too filthy and you let out a whimper. 

“I think you wanna call me somethin’ else right now.” He undoes his belt and his jeans, keeping his eyes on where his saliva slides down over the open mouth of your cunt, down towards your asshole. He pulls his cock out and part of you shatters. Your eyes flit to the toy sitting on your dresser, your eyes flit to the open door of your bedroom. 

“Don’t worry, your mama ain’t gonna be home for a while.” He smiles, conspiratorially. It's too real, it’s too hypnotic, seeing him there with his cock in his hand while your legs already ache from holding them up and open. He slides the blunt end of it through the mess he’s caused, through his spit and he groans at the sight of it. 

Your heart races so hard to feel him there, that you see the pulse of it in your vision. 

“Deep breath baby.” he warns before slipping inside the tight fist of your pussy, the size of him making you gasp. This is it, there’s no coming back from this and right now, with him seated deep, his groin pressed up tight and the tip of his cock kissing your womb you cannot even think of why you’d ever care.

This is where he's meant to be. This is where you need him. 

“Oh baby, that’s so good huh?” He thrusts shallowly, pulling out a little more than halfway before shoving his hips forward again. You don’t really know how to form words, you don’t know how to take in what’s happening. This is Joel, your step-dad, fucking you in the bed you grew up in. One hand sits heavy on your shin, holding it, the other slides up and holds onto your breast. 

“Look how fuckin’ wet this little pussy is for me,” he moans the words, “you like daddy fuckin’ you?” He thrusts harder and you moan despite the word hitting you in the stomach like a big drop on a rollercoaster. He shouldn’t say that, shouldn’t call himself that, not now. 

“No-” it doesn’t come out like you mean it to, it sounds wrong, like a caress. 

“No? But I think you do-” He leans forward, keeping his pace while pressing his chest to yours, his mouth all but lining up and despite your bullshit protest, you hitch your knees high on his ribs to make room because if he stopped you’d probably die. 

“I think you want me to be your daddy, don’t you baby, it’s okay, I want to be.” He speeds up and the sounds between your legs are so wet, so filthy. 

“You can say it, I want you to say it.” He holds himself up, his elbows caging in your skull and before you can complain or moan or cry he sticks his tongue down your throat again. Your hands finally join the fray and you wrap your arms around his neck, holding him tight to you. 

“Come on baby, say it for me, tell me how good daddy fucks you.” You moan, closing your eyes while your cunt floods him with wave after wave of slick, enough to drip down your ass and onto your bed, down his balls. Enough for it to soak the curls at the base of him. 

“Look at me when I’m fuckin’ you honey.” His hips speed up and it's hard now, his thrusts making your bounce, hitting a part of you that toy would never touch in a million years. 

You open your eyes, and look at him above you, sweat beading on his hairline. Never has he looked more fucking appealing than he does right then. The word is there, in your mouth and you know it’ll taste sweeter than anything in this world. 

The wrong thing wins.  

“Yes daddy.” You moan it, and the shameful thing sets off fireworks in your being, he smiles, and tucks his head into the damp crook of your neck, feeding his lovely filth right into your ear. 

“That’s my babygirl, that’s it, fuck baby you take it better than your mama.” Something inside recoils at that, but something else, another facet of that fucked up thing inside rejoices.

“Let me hear you say it again, say it when you come.” He licks a hot stripe up your neck. His words are a filthy groan, something to tuck away for later.

He reaches down, pressing his thumb to your clit just like he said on that couch and you keen, the slip and the pressure enough to toss you over the edge with an almost painfully intense orgasm. 

“I’m coming, daddy.” It’s a shuddering whisper as your cunt clenches around him. 

He moves quickly, kneeling between your legs to pull out and then he’s stroking himself over your cunt. It’s still pulsing when he paints it in his come. You catch your breath as he tugs at himself a few more times, milking himself against you with a disturbingly familiar groan. 

The fog clears altogether too quickly. The lights are too bright, you’re naked, and he’s still got his jeans around his thighs while the guilt creeps into your veins, replacing the euphoria. 

What have I done? What have you made me do?

[nerdy-hyperfixations]

Listen, I love Fiddlestan as much as the next guy, but where did we start getting the idea Ford was cold and dismissive towards Fidds during their time working on the portal???

I could totally be wrong because I haven't read every single GF related thing (hell, my journals aren't decoded because I'm a slacker), but like??? The first time he saw him, he bought him his favorite snacks *and* a whole ass banjo and said he'd make it his mission that Fiddleford would be comfortable in his home.

They go adventuring together and talk about things like fashion trends and the future and go stargazing.

Ford is *so* happy when Fiddleford returns that he hugs him immediately. Abd then he feels bad that Fiddleford feels bad about his failing marriage that he throws him a holiday party even though he doesn't celebrate and hates the holidays honestly. And he put on Fiddlefords favorite song (which he despises and honestly? ME TOO FORD. I HAVE BEEF WITH THAT SONG) and drank seemingly spiked eggnog with him despite not usually liking to drink. So that he could make Fiddleford feel better.

He also just openly adores everything Fiddleford does. Maybe it's only in his journals. You could argue he doesn't say it out loud but, like, he exclusively describes him as impressive all of the time-

And I get where it's coming from in like a "oh he's a workaholic who has the pressure of Bill breathing down his neck that he has to be working on the portal 24/7." And like yeah, but in the pages he's a workaholic he's a workaholic practically begging Fiddleford to stay up with him because he loves working along side him. Fiddleford and him work *together.*

Like the page where they're sorta fighting with each other because Ford wants to work more its not "leave me alone Fiddleford, I have to do this" it's "hey! How come you won't stay up with me! Ugh this is so unfair that you're going to bed even though you know I plan to continue working for another hour."

I'm just saying if Fiddleford wanted to cuddle, I imagine Ford's response would be "Oh! Awesome, I love spending time with him 🥰🥰🥰" but he'd just end up using Fidds' back as a table for his studies. Or they'd do that thing where one of them is working on a desk and they sit on one chair in each other's arms.

And, while we're here, realistically? Emotionally stunted, slapped by more women than He's dated, "I can't cry in front of people, and the only thing I'm good for is my fists." Stanley Pines??? He's not cuddling shit. He's got that toxic masculinity ingrained into him. It doesn't matter how incredibly touch starved he is, cuddling is too emotionally intimate and "girly" for him. Honestly if Fiddleford tried to cuddle him he'd probably throw him in a headlock because he's also been on the streets for years now with people constantly trying to attack him.

And I'm not saying this to diss on Fiddlestan. Again, I *like* Fiddlestan! But when I read "Ford could never appreciate him like Stan could" I don't understand it.

They so clearly bonded well together, and if Ford truly was being an asshole (or not an asshole, but just generally unpleasant even when he wasn't possessed) the whole time, I doubt Fiddleford would've stayed. Nostalgia and physical attraction can only get you so far, and Fidds is already facing the horrors in Gravity Falls, Stanford has to be a hell of an amazing person to make someone want to stay. Like, he's a grown adult. Sure he really wanted to impress Ford and allotted himself to be "the tech guy to Ford's smarts" but if he wanted to leave, he could've. And there didn't seem to much keeping him there. Especially when he was having doubts on the portal.

[coco-loco-nut]

007 - part two

pairing: oscar x reader

summary: maybe a soulmate isn’t the worst thing to happen to you

masterlist part one part three requests open

——————

Oscar sent you a text that night. He was a little disappointed when it took you a couple days to reply, but that was quickly made up when you sent a time and location. The mystery around you is thrilling to him.

You wait in the corner of a cafe for Oscar, sipping a flat white. Your eyes immediately find him when he walks in, locked in on him. He quickly orders and makes his way to you. Oscar barely gets in a hello before you get down to business.

“I need you to know something before anything happens. I live a very dangerous life and I don’t plan on stepping away any time soon,” you leave certain things unsaid, like the very real chances of you dying. “It’s hard for the soulmates of those in my line of work. Suddenly the danger meter means more to them, and it can disrupt their lives,” you lean forward a little, subtly emphasizing how important it is.

“I’m a Formula One driver, I am familiar with the risk of dying. I know the risks associated with being your soulmate,” Oscar says and you bite back a remark about his job still being safer than yours. You need to try and be less standoffish.

“Right. Well, I can’t say that I know how to proceed with this. I’m a bit new to the whole thing,” you are a little embarrassed.

“I am too. We can handle it together,” Oscar smiles. He wants to reach across the table to hold your hand, but he doesn’t want to push it so he sips his coffee. “Tell me more about you, all I know is that you do a really dangerous job,” Oscar prompts you.

“Bold statement coming from someone who also has a really dangerous job. I really enjoy traveling, dislike paperwork. When I’m not working, I like reading or taking small trips. Um, I have a cat who is the light of my life,” you pause as Oscar lets out a laugh. “Tell me more about you, more than what your background check tells me,” Oscar sees the playful glimmer in your eye.

“Well, I’ve been getting into cricket and basketball. When I was a kid, I went through this phase where I thought I was a car,” Oscar admits.

“I would always sneak around as a kid, acting like a spy. I guess both of our childhood fantasies worked out,” you hide your bittersweet feelings. Oscar notices but doesn’t push it.

“So I guess you would be the Holly Shiftwell to my Lightning McQueen,” Oscar tries to bring up your mood but you give him confused look.

“But they were never romantic partners?” you say, a little confused with how happy Oscar looks. He’s just happy you have seen the movies and seem to like them enough.

“Semantics. What are you doing now that you aren’t chasing down criminals in the paddock?”

“You mean your soulmate? I’m being forced to take a break from missions right now. Apparently I’ve been hogging all the action and need to help in HQ for a few months,” your distaste for the orders is clear on your face.

“You can join me at a race. If you want to,”

“Really? I don’t want to be a distraction and I don’t know anything about Formula One,” you hesitate, not wanting to impose.

“I want you there. Who better to teach you the sport than me?” Oscar reassures you.

“Well, I guess I will have to take you up on it,” you take the little leap of faith. It’s not something you would normally do. But your soulmate is worth it… right?

You and Oscar agree to a race that is around a month later, giving you time to get to know each other and for him to teach you different aspects of the sport. The month still doesn’t seem to be enough as you arrive at your first race as his soulmate.

“Hey,” Oscar pulls you into a hug as you stand at his hotel room door. He presses a kiss to your forehead before taking your bag as you walk in.

“How was media?” you ask, making yourself comfortable on the bed beside him. It’s clear that he hastily straightened up the room when he got back from free practice.

“Boring, I was counting down the minutes until you got here,” he wraps his arms around you, holding you close as you hum in response. You relax into his warmth, taking in the familiar scent that you’ve found comfort in.

“I couldn’t wait to get out of the office too,” you admit a few moments later. You left a little early to catch a flight here for the weekend.

“Still stuck on paperwork? I must admit, it’s nice not having your danger meter spike,” Oscar murmurs, a little sleepy.

“What’s on your mind?” Oscar observes your distant look when you don’t immediately reply, having learned how to read you more.

“What would you say if I left my job?” you say quietly, almost a whisper. Oscar sits up, needing to properly look at you.

“I’d be a little confused because you love it, but ultimately it’s your choice,” Oscar says, silently asking you to elaborate.

“Well, as soon as someone finds out who I am my cover is blown, putting both of us at risk. It’s a lonely life, and when it was only Boots and me that was okay, but I don’t want to be alone anymore,” you admit, not expecting to feel emotional about it.

“I’ll support you either way, but I don’t want you to quit just for me. What would you do if you left?” he asks, feeling a little guilty.

“The longer I stay in action, the more dangerous my missions will be. Most of mine before didn’t interact with targets, but things will get more dangerous from here. It’s what I’ve worked for my whole life. As for what I would do if I left…” you pause for a second, letting Oscar absorb everything. “Well, your security is seriously lacking, and as your soulmate I think I should do something about that. I was also offered a higher up position that would take me out of action for good,”

“Having my own personal security guard who is also my soulmate? That could be dangerous,” somehow you don’t think Oscar means the kind of danger that would raise your meters.

“Oscar!” Your cheeks flush as you bite back a laugh, acting scandalized. “Alright, I’m going to shower before bed,” you slide out of his arms, looking back at him, knowing what he is about to suggest. “No, you can’t join,” you laugh as he pouts. You two aren’t there yet, but he is proud at how comfortable you are around him.

Oscar leaves early in the morning for free practice, promising to meet you at the gates when you arrive for qualifying. You happily take the extra time to sleep.

Qualifying is your test run. You get a feel for the team and race environment while keeping a low profile. Arriving for the race is a different thing.

“Ready?” Oscar asks as he parks at the circuit. He looks so cozy in his hoodie, and to be fair, you woke him up half an hour before having to leave.

“Yeah, let’s go,” you nervously smile. You are never nervous, but this is different. You are dressed fashionably, but nothing that makes you stand out too much. Your dark sunglasses help hide some of your features as you walk in on Oscars arm. You both look happy as you walk in, and the media notices.

“Oscar!” Logan calls him over, you recognize the American from your initial background check.

“Hey. This is my soulmate, Y/n. Y/n, this is my best friend, Logan,” Oscar introduces both of you.

“Hi, it’s nice to actually meet you,” you hug Logan, taking him by surprise.

“Aww, you talk about me?” Logan coos at Oscar.

“You came up in her background check on me,” Oscar says causing Logan to let go of your hug.

“Weird, but I like it. We are going to be great friends, Leiter and Bond,” Logan rolls with it. He remembers the first time Oscar mentioned you and that’s enough for him.

“You are a sexier James Bond, license to kill and all,” Oscar chimes in, trying to flirt and joke at the same time.

“Oh baby, no. That is nothing like what we do,” you accidentally slip up, and Logan’s eyes widen.

“I thought you were joking. I will keep this to myself though. That’s so cool. Can we watch those movies together?” Logan quickly says, not wanting you to worry. Your initial coolness that Oscar described to him over the past month makes more sense to him now.

“We should get going, I don’t want Zak and Andrea to get mad,” Oscar says, leading both of you away.

“This is the McLaren motorhome, you are welcome to sit in the drivers lounge or in my room while I am in the meeting. Afterwards, I can introduce you to Charles and his girlfriend,” Oscar offers as you look around.

“They should have better security here,” you tut, looking at all the different ways you could easily get in.

“Don’t worry, other teams aren’t coming in and stealing our secrets,” Oscar kisses the side of your head as he leads you upstairs to his drivers room.

“I could always do some recon,” you slyly smile, anything to help him win.

“That’s okay, I don’t need that to win. I have you motivating me,” he smiles, one which falters as a man with brown curly hair comes barreling towards you.

“OSCAR! Is this her? Hi, I’m Lando,” the man, Lando, says, extending his hand.

“Y/n,” you coolly reply, defenses going up as he pulls you into a hug once you take his hand. Oscar can tell you are uncomfortable, Lando springing himself on you.

“Let me help her get settled and I will be down,” Oscar says, cueing Lando to go to the meeting without him. “You are going to look Lando up, aren’t you?” he asks with an amused smile once you are in the safety of his room.

“Yeah, get ready for all his dirty laundry to be aired,” you lightly laugh.

“I look forward to it. I need more blackmail on him. I’ll see you soon, this meeting won’t take long,” Oscar promises, leaving you alone. You spend the half hour he is away looking up his teammate and some other drivers.

“Did I do something wrong?” Lando asks Oscar on their way back to the drivers rooms.

“No, she just wasn’t expecting you. Y/n is pretty guarded around new people, it stems from her job. She will warm up to you,” Oscar replies, not wanting his teammate and soulmate to hate each other.

“Does she work for the government or something?” Lando jokes, a little too accurate.

“Or something, don’t worry about it,” Oscar says, excited to see you again. You wait at the door for Oscar.

“For a professional driver, you have a lot of traffic violations,” you tell Lando, who notices the amused glimmer in your eye and relaxes. Whatever you did during the meeting seems to have worked.

“I have the need for speed,” Lando smiles, happy that you’ve warmed up a little. “Wait, how did you-“

“Don’t worry about it, we will see you later,” Oscar cuts him off, taking you to Ferrari.

“So, Charles is your fake adoptive dad? He has a fairly clean record, I couldn’t find much on him,” you comb over what you learned in your mind.

“Oh, Max is going to love you. You both have cats and you could prep him for whoever he is meeting with,” Oscar laughs, glad that you are taking the time to know his coworkers even if it isn’t the traditional route.

“Max Verstappen? I don’t usually do hits, but I will take out his father for free if he wants,” the way you say it so casually causes Oscar to almost choke.

“I will let him know,” he says, a little unsure how one replies to that.

You are quick to befriend Charles and Alexandra, the latter offers for you to join her while watching the race. You politely decline, but promise to join another race. Oscar takes you around to some other drivers, including Max, before introducing you to more people at McLaren.

You settle into the garage as the race starts, nervous as you watch Oscar on a small screen. You are aware of cameras that are pointed at you, but you ignore them. They don’t know you, all they can do is speculate.

The race is going smoothly until lap 37. Oscar is fighting for position when you fell the sickening twinge of the meter on your arm increasing. Your eyes are glued to the screen as you listen to the team radio, feeling a pit in your stomach.

Carlos and Oscar made contact which at minimum punctured Oscar’s tires. You hear his frustration, but you are just glad that’s all it was.

“Check the front wing too,” you hear him say after confirming he’s okay. He makes it back to the garage safely due to the incident being close to pit lane, but they retire his car due to other damage. Oscar seems too calm to you as he exits the car. Even you would show more emotion in that scenario.

Oscar’s eyes meet yours and before you know it, you are on your feet walking to him. He wraps you in a hug and you gently rub his back. You hold each other for a minute, taking a moment ground each other.

“You okay?” you practically yell over the noise and he just nods, guiding you out of the garage.

“That’s not the win I wanted to give you,” Oscar sighs as you walk back to his room after he gets weighed.

“I hope I’m not bad luck,”

“Never. You are good luck, that should’ve been worse than it was,” Oscar reassures you. A small part of him is happy to be spending time with you.

“I’m sorry your race ended like that, you were driving so well,” you frown, as Oscar squeezes your hand.

“Nothing I can do now, next race is a new opportunity. I have to go do media, do you want to watch the rest in McLaren?” Oscar asks, wanting to know where to find you later.

“I’ll go to Ferrari and watch with Alexandra,” you decide, needing to have friends around here. Oscar nods, leading you to your new friend. He kisses you goodbye before you walk in.

“Hey, are you okay? Those are scary, no matter how minor,” Alexandra greets you when she notices you.

“Yeah. Osc is fine, I’m just upset for him,” you shrug. You’ve seen your partners in danger on missions, but this is a whole different ballgame.

“Grab a seat, want a coffee?” she asks, making sure you are comfortable.

“No, but maybe you can teach me better than Oscar,” you watch her face light up as she immediately dives into sharing her knowledge, explaining everything to you as it happens.

“Come and meet some of the others. Oscar will be pulled into meetings,” Alexandra says, pulling you away from Ferrari.

“Shouldn’t you be with Charles? He must be looking for you,”

“He can wait,” Alexandra waves your concern off as you galavant around the paddock.

Your great experience with the WAGs further conflicted you if you wanted to stay or leave your job. And it all came to a head when you were brought in on an emergency mission once you returned from your weekend away.

This might be your most dangerous recon mission yet. Your part is simple on paper, get in, copy the digital files, get out. It wasn’t simple in execution.

You just skimmed the files, getting crucial information that will stop the operation. Now for the hard part - getting out and getting away.

You slip out of the room, when you hear footsteps getting closer and closer. Just like the stereotype, you slide around a corner and hold your breath, praying they don’t turn your way. They are so close you can feel their body heat beside you. You focus on remaining calm, but this is the most on edge you’ve ever been. You close your eyes as you feel your stomach drop.

This is it. You can see Oscar’s face as he opens his driver room door, two agents standing outside. The agents are solemn as they deliver the news - you were captured and killed on a mission. Every word, every moment is played perfectly in your mind. And your cat, Oscar will have to take care of Boots, a constant reminder of you.

Oscar sits in his post FP2 meeting when it happens, feeling the sickening feeling of your danger meter telling him you were in danger. After it being normal for the past few days, his stomach drops at how high it is.

“I need five,” Oscar runs out like he’s about to puke. You promised in your hastily written letter that you’d try to be safe, but all you really said that you had to leave, couldn’t take your phone, and it was an emergency. He naively thought that you wouldn’t be in the field, that you were just needed on the sidelines. He wasn’t completely wrong, you helped from the side for everything but your part in the operation.

“Oscar? Hey, are you okay?” Lando asks, walking into the room where Oscar disappeared to.

“I- I don’t know,” Oscar looks at his arm, silently pleading for the meter to go down. Lando sees it and just sits beside Oscar.

“Wanna talk about it?” Lando says after a few seconds of silence.

“She left a few days ago with only a note and her cell phone behind. Got an emergency call while I was out. Poor Boots, he must miss his mom. And I know she’s not abandoning me, but I think I finally know how my mom feels about my career,” Oscar says after a minute.

“I assume she’s in the military, or like, a detective to be in danger, and that’s pretty badass of her. I know she came off as cold initially to a lot of us, except when she’s with you and some of the girls, but I can tell that she really likes you. And she seems like she holds her own,” Lando starts listing everything he likes about you from the couple interactions you had during the race day. It helps distract Oscar, calming him little by little.

You step around the corner as soon as the voices fade and come face to face with a security guard. You quickly land a few punches, knocking him out. In the moment you are grateful for your disguise and the cameras that are currently disabled thanks to your team. As you quickly exit the building, you notice another guard tailing you. You quickly get into your getaway car, turning it on and pressing the throttle. It lurches under you, making a hasty exit as they chase you.

Glances in the rear view mirror tell you that you aren’t out of the woods yet. You send a small prayer that Oscar’s talent will be enough as you speed down the street. The car just isn’t fast enough, you are being hunted and the hunter keeps creeping closer and closer. Once again you hope your luck hasn’t run out as you will the car to go just a little faster.

Lando stays seated beside Oscar, trying not to stare at the meter on his teammates arm. He watches the tears run down Oscar’s face as the meter creeps higher, higher, then drops.

[squiddy-god]

If asks are still open can I request savanaclaw with a bf who is quite literally a golden retriever? (Their a golden retriever beastmen) make it nsfw if you want but that's up to you.

I decided to keep this as cute and fluffy but i really like the idea, i was torn between having reader be a member of savanaclaw  or themes till being the ramshackle prefect who happened to come from a world with similar beastmen. I left it ambiguous but yeah ♥︎REQUESTS OPEN♥︎ cw : none, fluffy, male reader!,

Leona 

At first he thought you were an annoying dog because like, cats and dogs haha

But he warms up to you, his silly puppy

The real grumpy x sunshine trope over here, honestly you can be a bit rambunctious sometimes but he just wants to cuddle 

You seem to just have a 6th sense for finding where he is lol like you can just automatically know where he is 

Will never admit it but the happy look in your eyes when he calls you a good boy for doing anything kinda makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside

Same with when he sees your tail wag when you see him 

You can pry that from his cold dead hands tho

He really values the loyalty that you have 

He is not immune to puppy dog eyes so use that info however you want 

Claims that cuddling when you let him scratch behind your ears helps him sleep better, he's a dirty liar and just wants to pet you 

Has never gotten used to you basically pouncing on him when hes napping but makes you pay in cuddles so its fine

Thinks its really cute if you do the thing dogs do when they sleep and chase things in their dreams 

He calls you “puppy” and “mutt” affectionately but if anyone else was to call you either he will be having words (read : hands) with them. 

Ruggie 

He loves this actually 

He ends up roping you into all of his schemes because you two always seem to be together, where one of you is the other is close behind 

He loves how sweet you are, and he often makes you food as a little treat

I think he would like having little matching charms, his being a golden retriever cham and yours being a hyena because obviously 

Favorite activity is flopping your ears because you are too adorable really 

He loves when you get all excited and run up to him and almost tackle him with a hug 

Yapper x yapper 

Teaches you the true ways of the puppy eyes so that you and him can tag team leona lmao because again he is not immune to puppy eyes

You become his little helper for everything and he loves rewarding you with treats and cuddles because you are in fact his goodest boy 

I think his nickname for you would be goldie because ya know golden retriever 

Jack

The two goddess boys 

He thinks you are so cute because he is a wolf beastman and you are just a doggy lol, 

He would never admit that but its super obvious with the way his tail is wagging furiously 

Its cute because when you two hug or kiss both of your tails are going absolutely bonkers 

I think he likes to play wrestle like dogs do, but the whole time hes trying to be gentle because again he's a whole wolf lmao 

Can't hold your hand without his tail going nuts because he sees your tail going nuts and he gets embarrassed 

Another one where you can tackle him with a hug, but unlike ruggie he will just catch you lmao 

If you try to be intimidating he secretly thinks its also cute because he really sees you as too cute

[worriedvision]

Ajaw ruins his relationship with you - Kinich

Gender neutral reader, angst. No happy ending here, borderline crack BC Ajaw is a cracky character let's be honest. Ajaws a little shit here

--

Kinich had, somehow, caught your eye enough for you to successfully land a date with him. One date becomes two, and the third one ends in you inviting him over for a drink. He accepts, and before you know it your home becomes a place for him to call home as well. While Kinich wasn't very emotive, he seemed to smile just a bit around you.

However, the couple affections you would expect from him in a relationship weren't coming. Nothing like kissing or hugging, and for a while you think it's because Kinich was not a touchy person. You also knew he was very busy with his work, which was why the first few times he left and told you not to wait for him you didn't think much. At the time, in fact, you were more attracted to him because he was honest with you.

"Don't wait up." He blankly states, every morning he leaves. If you're lucky, he comes back at night time only to sleep - he doesn't make himself any food or drink from your home.

You got suspicious of him when you were hanging out with Mualani, and she brought up the fact someone called Ajaw wouldn't stop nagging at Kinich. When you ask who Ajaw was, rather if this was his boss, Mualani laughs.

"Ajaw probably thinks so, but they bickering too often to do any work together." Mualani tuts. "Do you never hear Ajaw? That voice is so... Annoying to hear!"

"No...I've never met this Ajaw." You hum out, Mualani gasping.

"Tell me your tricks!"

--

Once you get home from your interaction with your friend, you've had enough time to think. After some long thinking, you come to a decision. You move the stuff that's Kinich's, leaving them by the front door, and add temporary locks in addition to the one your key locks until you can change the lock.

To your surprise, Kinich sounds surprised when he notices his bags out. You refuse to open the door, having more than enough time to waste as you had a day off, and Kinich defeatedly picks up his few belongings before leaving.

--

"Hah! You should see your face!" Ajaw jeers, Mualani and Kinich groaning out at Ajaws harsh words. "Good thing _ wisened up and realised they can do a lot better than some mortal being that can't even get himself a group of companions!"

"Because you always ruin things." Mualani sighs.

"Hey, I can't take credit for this one! I never even once spoke around _!" Ajaw shrugs, putting some sunglasses on.

"I was hoping to finally get to spend some time with them. I've finally got enough cover for a few days." Kinich states, seeming to realise what Ajaw did. "...Mualani, you know how annoying Ajaw is. Do you know if -"

"Oddly enough no! Honestly, I'm jealous. Ajaw doesn't know when to shut up."

"...It seems they do." Kinich massages his temples, Mualani making eye contact with him.

"...Do you think they were suspicious you were seeing Ajaw? Yuck!"

"Hey, I can hear you, ya know?!"

"It makes sense though. They don't know Ajaw isn't even human, and also isn't mortal."

"Hahaha! Oh boy, even I didn't think keeping my mouth shut around your potential love interests would give this benefit!" Ajaw cackles, seeing Kinich's hand flying towards him. "Hey, what are - AHH!"

--

You keep getting asked if Kinich is single, each time you saying he wasn't seeing you anymore before they seem excited to pursue a taken man. It's quite concerning, really, you think theres little dignity in being the other person in the relationship.

Kinich tried to talk to you, but each time you saw him you'd make an excuse for being too busy before hearing some weird child cackling and screaming in retaliation to someone reacting to them. As much as his hurt expression spoke to you, you still knew in your mind that Kinich was in a relationship.

Even if he wasn't, you would know in your mind that you were the second choice.

[fallstaticexit]

Prev / Next / Beginning / Pillowfort

AN: Source for tarot reading

Transcript under the cut

Morgan: Ever done this before?

Nancy: Can’t say that I have.

Morgan: Are you as put off about this as that other bible thumper?

Nancy: [rolls eyes] We’re not all the same. I’m more than my faith.

Morgan: I don’t doubt that. I’m sure there’s many layers to you. Where are you from?

Nancy: Brindleton Bay.

Morgan: Really, I’m from Portridge, a small town south of the Bay. Originally.

Nancy: Yeah? So, how did you end up a Fyres?

Morgan: Great question. My mom was his secretary. Super scandalous shit, which would explain while the Royal Barbie hates my guts. He’s not a bad step dad though. Hell of lot better than my actual dad. So, your parents-

Nancy: Isn’t the probing developing a bias or something?

Morgan: Just a little small talk. So, is there a question you want answered? Perhaps, a question about your past, your present or your future?

Nancy: I-

Nancy Narrates: [I want to get forget my past. I want to survive my present. I want to escape my future. Could there really be an answer for all that in those cards]

Nancy: I don’t know...

Morgan: That’s ok. You intention will guide us.

Morgan: Pick three cards that call to you. Based on the three, we will see what the cards have to say about your past, present and future.

Nancy: And you believe in this?

Morgan: We believe what we believe in, right? You have your three?

Nancy: I think so..

Morgan: Let’s take a look.

Morgan: Your past—the Upright Fool. Innocence. Curorsity. Something new and exciting—perhaps a first love in your youth that swept you off your feet?

Nancy Narrates: [Already I hated this...]

Morgan: Your present- the Reversed Star. Insecurity. Self doubt. A loss of faith. Interesting. Perhaps a struggle with one’s own faith? Are you having any doubts, Nancy? About yourself? About your God?

Morgan: Your future- the Upright Devil. Lust. Obsession. Temptation. Could be for the material things of life, or maybe a desire of the flesh.

Nancy: [clears throat] That all seems incredibly vague.

Morgan: [grins] Does it? Your poker face could use some work. Let me ask you something. Who exactly did I remind you of? Someone from your past?

Morgan: Your silence is very telling. I have a real gift for reading people.

Nancy: I’m sure you believe you do.

Morgan: [laughs] I really do!

Morgan: Tightly wound, fidgeter. You bite the hell out of your nails, right at the skin on the tips of your fingers, unconsciously. You pick at it until it bleeds. It’s the only thing that’s keeping you tethered to your own body. The pain, that is.

Morgan: Right?

Geoffrey: You made it! And making friends! Sorry, am I interrupting girl talk?

Morgan: It’s cool, boy wonder. Want me to do your reading?

Geoffrey: Are you kidding? Of course I do!

Nancy: Actually, I think I want to g-

Geoffrey: Really quick, Nance, then I’ll walk you to your dorm!

Geoffrey: Upright Death for my future sounds kind of scary when you think about it, huh? She said it could mean profound change. Sounds promising.

Nancy: [tsks] That could mean literally anything. That whole practice strives on vagueness. You can never be wrong if you’re bound to be right.

Geoffrey: Yeah, but it’s about how you perceive it, right? It’s unique. She did yours, didn’t she? What did yours say?

Nancy: Yeah, I um, don’t remember.

Geoffrey: Maybe you can ask her again. You two seem to hit it off.

Nancy: [huffs] Please. I am not going back to that shabby bar. She’s a sham. Those cards mean nothing. It’s stupid.

Geoffrey: [sighs]

Nancy: What?

Geoffrey: [blows raspberries]

Nancy Narrates: [Truth was, I was more curious than anything]

Nancy: So. Those cards. Could they...I don’t know- tell me something that could happen in a week? Like if I asked if I’ll pass my Statistics exam?

Nancy Narrates: [I was completely captivated by this otherworldly experience, whether I’d admit it outloud or not]

Nancy Narrates: [and Morgan was always happy to indulge me]

Nancy: [whispers] So I past my exam. How does this even work? I mean, how could they know? The cards. Could you do another reading after the debate?

Nancy Narrates: [But of all the questions I did ask, there was one that burned inside me more]

[heavy metal spills into the hallway]

Morgan: [startled] Nancy?

Nancy: Is this a bad time? I know it’s late...I can come back another time. I just have so much on my mind and I can’t sleep.

Morgan: You want another reading?

Nancy: Is that ok?

Morgan: Of course it is, Nancy. Come in.

Morgan: Sorry for all the smoke. I can open a window.

Knox: Babe, who’s this? It’s not my birthday.

Morgan: [smirks] Want me to get rid of him? I can.

Knox: Hey! I’ll be quiet! Won’t even know I’m here.

Nancy: I don’t mind. I just had a question.

Nancy: Could you do a reading for someone else, even if they’re not here?

Morgan: [hums] Not really...not without their permission or their intention. Who is this person to you?

Nancy: [looks away] Someone from my past. Someone I need to forget but- I can’t.

Morgan: Did this person hurt you?

Nancy: [shakes head] If anything, I hurt them. I ruined them with my... [lowly] um, perversions. I just need to know if they’re ok. If they hate me for it.

Morgan: [softly] I see... Here’s what we’ll do. Just like before, I’ll do a three card spread.

Morgan: Set your intention. Clear your mind. Ask your question. The first card is ‘you’. The middle card is ‘them’. The third card is the relationship.

Nancy Narrates: [‘Vanessa, do you hate me?’ ‘Do you blame me?’ ‘Do you regret loving me?’ ‘Do you know that I never stopped loving you?’]

Nancy Narrates: [‘Do you know that I’m sorry?’ ‘Do you know that I miss you?’ ‘Do you know that I need you?’]

Morgan: [exhales] It says... that you are a filled with love, Nancy, even though the world around you wants to drain you of it. There’s just too much of it inside of you and your friend-

Nancy: [weakly] Vanessa.

Morgan: [smiles] Vanessa. She loves you all the same. She may be experiencing her own hurt in this world, but having loved you keeps her strong. You two brought something bright and beautiful into each other’s lives.

Morgan: You can’t rid her from your life, because she’s apart of you, and...I- I think that’s a love worth fighting for, Nancy.

Nancy: [between gulps] Right. Right, thank you. Thanks, Morgan.

Morgan: Wait, Nancy, you don’t have to leave. It’s ok-

Nancy: It’s fine. I uh- I should go.

[door clicks shut]

Knox: Uhh, did you just make all that up?

Morgan: [weakly] I don’t know why I did that..

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mission Control 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Height?” The officer taps the nib on his notepad. 

“Ugh, tall. Er,” you keep your hand on your head. It still throbs. “Um, six foot something? He had to be bigger.” 

“Right,” he squints. “Blond, blue eyes, and a scar. Dressed in all black...” he reads it over. “And he didn’t say anything?” 

“No, sir, I told you. Did you check with security? There's cameras--” 

“Nothing there. Checked all the footage. Some glitch. Guy’s not sure. Not his problem, I guess. Paid minimum wage to sit in a room,” he scoffs. “We can file the report but we can’t do much else. No footage, no proof--” 

“No proof? Look at my head. He ripped my hair out!” You whine. 

“Yeah, well, I’ve seen worse. Should count yourself lucky he left you alive,” he says. 

You shake your head and drop your arm, “uh... thanks, I guess.” 

“Look,” he exhales. “I really don’t have much to go on but this guy sniffs around again, call. File another report.” 

“Right,” you agree glumly. “Thank you, officer.” 

He shrugs, “have a good night. You want me to stick around while you lock up.” 

“It’s fine, I wouldn’t want to waste any more of your time.” 

You sniff and turn around. You’re not surprised by his indifference or his answers. You have friends who had men pounding on their doors and the same reaction. You saw police arresting drunk girls instead of the guys who cornered them in the bathroom. There isn’t much anyone can do, it seems. Especially not you. 

You go through the closing list. You know it by rote but that night, you’re uncertain. You check the clipboard that hangs behind the counter. You’re fractured. The whole world feels like it’s strewn before you. Nothing fits together. You feel like you’re disconnected from your own body. 

God, your head hurts. 

You stop and open up the front camera on your phone. You look at the bald patch again. Near the back. You can’t really see it head on but it’s there. Or not. He just... did that? He took a part of you. 

You close your phone and put it in your pocket. You pull on your jacket and hike your bag onto your shoulders. As you do, the Pom Pom falls onto the floor. You tossed it on top but didn’t hook it on. You pick it up, quivering. That man... did he find it or take it? 

You squeeze it and grab the keys from the hook. You pull the gate across the store front and lock it. You turn to face the empty mall. 

The idea of going out into the dark and waiting for the bus is the same as scaling a mountain with your bare hands. You make yourself move. The longer you wait, the more likely you’ll miss it.  

Your steps echo around you. You flinch and glance over your shoulders, back and forth, even spinning to make sure you’re alone. 

How are you supposed to do this? After what he did to you. Did he just see you on the bus and decide to mess with you? How did he track you to the store? You had your jacket on, he couldn’t see your name tag or uniform. You didn’t have your badge out. 

You can’t figure any of it out. Would it matter if you could. 

You slow down as you approach the doors. You look out and see the bright signs for the businesses housed in the mall and the other plazas close by, headlights shining along the street. You push through the first door and stand in the vestibule. 

You still have the fluffy pom pom in your hand. You unhook your bag from one shoulder and hook it on. You trade the store keys for your house keys and poke one out between your fingers. You’re on your own. 

You walk out into the night. You don’t stop. You almost jog across the lot out to the bus stop by the road. You duck into the shelter, the lights keeping you safe in their glow. Or so you hope. 

The bus pulls up only a few minutes after. Your relief flows out of your chest as you scan your pass. You find a seat at the back and sit. You want to see everyone else. 

The tires grind the gravel and veer back onto the road. They slow again at the next stop around the corner. You watch the passenger turn and you know him in an instant. He stalks down the center of the bus and climbs the steps up to the back level. He does just as he did that morning. 

He sits beside you. You can’t move or speak. You can’t believe it. 

He must know that no one else cares. He’s counting on it. You’re breathless as you shake, your ribs wracked as adrenaline burns through you. 

“Why?” You quaver weakly. He doesn’t answer. You lean away from him and touch your head, grazing your tender scalp. “Please, why me?”  

Still nothing. 

“Why are you doing this?” You whimper. 

He closes his eyes and lifts his chin. His hand moves from his leg onto yours and he squeezes. You tremble as his fingertips dig into your flesh. 

“Please, stop!” You cry out and slap his hand. 

No reaction. What is wrong with him? You wriggle and look at your other hand; the key poking out from your fist. You bring it down towards his hand but he’s fast. He retracts his touch and the key sinks into your thigh muscle. You screech, and he reaches across to tug the cord. 

“What’s going on back there?” The driver hollers back as he stops. 

The man stands and marches away. He doesn’t answer the driver or look back. He steps off the bus and you watch him through the window. He almost fades into the dark as he delves into the shadows of the buildings.  

“Knock it off,” the driver warns as he puts his foot on the pedal. 

You puff between your teeth and look around at the other passengers; deafened by headphones and ear buds, engrossed in their screens and pages. There’s at least ten other riders yet you’re all alone. 

You look down. You quaking as you let go of the key and it sticks out of your leg. You cringe and grasp it as tight as you can. You hold your breath as you rip it out. Argh.  

That officer was right. You’re lucky he didn’t do worse. 

[roosterforme]

Okay, but how about the first time Jake and Darling have a fight? How would that go?

I really like your stories bc while it is fiction, I feel like you show every aspect of a relationship, not only the good parts.

🩷

OMG, nonny. I'm swooning. I try to make my stories realistic (as much as they can be for fanfic). Nobody is happy and confident all the time. Everyone is stressed about something. Relationships are hard work, and dealing with someone else is sometimes weird and annoying. So thank you, I appreciate that so much.

Jake and Darlin' argue all the time about all the small things in life. They have different opinions on a lot of things, but it's never usually anything they remember by the next day. I think their first big fight would happen shortly after she moves in with him, just after she graduates from school and starts her new job. (angsty below).

"I had the longest day at work," you muttered, shoveling the last bite of the dinner Jake made into your mouth. You set your fork down and stretched as you stood. This whole week was dragging. You realized you were probably complaining more than usual, but you were just over it. "Let's go take a bath and just go to bed. I'll clean up tomorrow morning."

Jake looked at you, his lips pressed into a firm line. "Go ahead. I'll clean it up."

You reached for his hand, but he was already stacking the plates. "You cooked. I don't want you to clean up. I'll do it later," you reiterated.

"Just go get in the bath," he snapped, carrying everything back to the kitchen.

"I don't want to take a bath without you!"

Jake dumped everything into the sink and spun around. "You're not the only one who's working full-time, but you're certainly acting like it."

With narrowed eyes, you asked, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Jake took a deep, practiced breath and let it out slowly. "I know you're tired, but it would be nice for you to acknowledge that I work longer hours than you do. So just go relax in the bath by yourself while I clean up."

"Well, now I don't want to!" You were suddenly so angry, you couldn't see straight, and you also wanted to cry. "You're treating me like a child!"

"You're acting like one."

His words hurt you more than a slap across your cheek would have, and your jaw dropped open. But then his next sentence made it even worse.

"In my house no less."

"Wow," you gasped, turning and running toward the bedroom as you started crying. It wasn't like you weren't paying to be here. You knew it wasn't much, but you had been insistant about giving Jake five hundred dollars per month. And for what? So he could act like you were an unwanted guest?

You ran into the bathroom and slammed the door behind you before you curled up on the tub mat on the floor and sobbed. Work wasn't like school. Trying to figure out how you fit in with your coworkers was exhausting, and you were still learning all the ropes. You drove back here every day mentally drained, and up until tonight, Jake was always the one who seemed willing to listen. You should have just cleaned up the kitchen, because now you felt like you didn't belong anywhere.

"Darlin'." Jake's voice was as sharp as his knock on the door. You tried to dry your tears, but it wasn't working, and maybe you really were a child compared to your boyfriend. "Darlin'!"

"It's not even locked!" you shouted, but it came out as weak as you felt. Jake opened the door, and in an instant, he was curled up on the floor with you, pulling you into his arms.

"Fuck. I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry I acted like an asshole." You tried to wriggle away from him, but he wouldn't let you. "I think I'm more exhausted this week than I'd like to admit, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

In spite of the fact that you were on the floor crying, you mustered up the courage to whisper, "I'm not a child."

"You're an adult," he said firmly. "An adult who just started a very impressive job. You're holding it together better than I did when I was in flight school." He kissed your forehead. "And you're absolutely right. We should have just climbed in our bathtub and then gone right to our bed. The fucking dishes do not matter right now. They can sit in our kitchen sink until whenever the fuck we feel like cleaning up."

Jake rubbed slow, soothing circles against your lower back until you were all cried out. If you thought you were tired before, it was nothing compared to how wrung out you felt now. You wanted to put forth a peace offering and just get up and clean the kitchen, but his lips were on your damp cheek and his voice was in your ear. "I love you, Darlin'. It has been a long week for both of us. I would like nothing more than to climb in a hot bath with you, relax until the water gets cold, and then get in our bed and go to sleep."

You nodded and started the water while he got two towels ready, and then both of you undressed. Jake kissed your bare shoulder and held you while the tub filled. "You belong here," he whispered. "I don't want you anywhere other than our house."

[sukirichi]

[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 020 ]

“we who bear the burden of the crown do not need to love. you only need to stay here, with me, in power, in greed, in lust – in victory.”

cw. angst, living like criminals (lol), implied smut, unedited.

notes. you guys I can’t believe we finally reached the ending! this was such a long but enjoyable ride and I cannot thank you all enough for being so supportive in this series <3 this chapter is really long but I hope you guys enjoy it and happy ber-months!! (also just a lil note that we still have an epilogue – and yes, I’ve finished writing that too, so whatever happens in the ending… know we’ll still have some tidbits for the epilogue!)

wc. 19k

series masterlist 

[ TWENTY ] all of the small things that you do are what remind me why I fell for you. and when we’re apart and I’m missing you, I close my eyes and all I see is you and the small things you do.

You didn’t know what woke you up first – the birds chittering outside, the soft rustling of the sheets beside you, or the low groans emanating from your husband.

Sunlight streamed through the curtains, casting its golden glow as it kissed your eyelids and gently coaxed you from sleep. The soft chittering of birds outside the cabin filled the morning air with a melody so pure and light it almost felt like a dream. The world was still, bathed in an ethereal calm that seemed almost too perfect to be a real.

You wondered if it was. Real. True – you laid there, cocooned in your thin blankets that you got in a fleece market, breathing in the scent of pine and fresh morning dew, as if trying to memorize this magical peace. It was so quiet that it felt almost deafening, so different from everything you’d known before, that it was hard to believe this life was now yours. No more waking up at the same time everyday while servants bathed and dressed you. No more awkward breakfasts filled with tension as you discussed politics. Instead, your mornings felt like this – waking up whenever you liked, and having home cooked meals that was sometimes taken by leaning against the countertops, cereal bowls in hand as you discussed with your husband what you’d do for the day. Not that there was much to do – Rintaro chopped wood, you washed your clothes and prepared the meals, and he kept the house warm.

Waking up in the light of early morning, the familiar scent of pine and crisp mountain air filled the small cabin. The bed was warm, and as you stirred, your hand instinctively reached out to search for him. The roughness of his palm met yours, and you felt his fingers curl around yours gently, the gesture silently confirming that it was real – he was real – and that none of it was a dream. You turned your head, and there he was. Rintaro, still half-asleep, his eyes closed with his lips slightly curled downwards. You couldn’t stop yourself from staring at him a moment longer.

Had he always been like this? When was the last time you’d shared the same bed as him back in your old country? Looking back at it… it’d been almost a year before your wedding that you did. Despite greeting the new day by being tangled in the sheets all night long, Rintaro rarely stayed the night when you were still dating. He’d always leave with a quick kiss to your forehead, and you’d be too exhausted – bone weary and pleasured in all the best of ways – to ask him to stay. And when you had been married… there were plenty of beds, but none to be shared.

But now, he was here, as he had been for the past six months. Waking up next to you with always the same expression – his arm slung across his forehead because his eyes were too sensitive to the light, and his lips turned in a frown because he would’ve slept forever if he could. I could never be a morning person, he’d mumbled once, a mug of coffee in hand, I don’t get how you look so beautiful this early, though. Maybe that’s the only good thing about waking up.

What is? you’d teased and acted coy, and Rintaro would hide his blush behind his mug. Seeing you first thing in the morning, he’d say.

Without thinking, you leaned in, gently pushing his arm that blocked your way so you could brush your lips against his forehead. It was a simple gesture, one you had shared with him countless of times before, but it never lost its meaning. It was your silent way of saying, “Good morning,” in the hopes that it’d reassured him that, despite everything, the two of you were still together, and would stay together through thick and thin.

Rintaro grumbled beneath you, as he always did whenever you kissed him. Six months of the two of you navigating this new life together, and he still acted like a stranger at times. Today, however, he welcomed it a little bit. His grumblings were incoherent, his hand flying to rest against your waist as you hovered over him, trying to memorize all the details on his face and how he’d changed. For one, his hair had grown a little too long. It reached the nape of his neck and flared out into wispy spikes, the tendrils soft yet curling around your finger. Two, his stubble was becoming more prominent, the dark shadow present across his face. If you swiped your palm against his jaw, it’d feel uncomfortably sharp.

Not that you minded. Smiling to yourself, you reached over to press another kiss to his nose when Rintaro stopped you, your wrist caught in his arm. “Don’t,” he warns in a low voice laced heavily with sleep, “You said my stubble hurts you.”

“It’s just itchy. It doesn’t hurt.”

“Yeah, but you still don’t like it,” he pouted, and you bit back the giggle threatening to pour out of you.

The peace of the moment was broken only by the soft rumble of your stomach. You winced at the sound and slipped out of bed, padding softly across the wooden floor to the small kitchen. The pantry door creaked as you opened it, revealing nearly empty shelves. A couple of cans, a bag of rice, and some dried herbs – enough for one meal, maybe two.

You felt Rintaro’s presence behind you before you heard him, his hands snaking around your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder. You were running low on groceries again, but it didn’t worry you. This life, however simple and secluded, was a far cry from the grandiosity of the palace, but it was yours. And in this quiet cabin, up high in the mountains in a country at the other side of the world where no one knew you, you’d found a strange sort of peace.

“We’re running low.”

“Huh?” Rintaro mumbled against your shoulder, raising his eyes to eye the shelf. It was nearly empty, and he hummed to himself, confused. “We just checked our stock two weeks ago. I was sure it’d last us a few more weeks.”

You snorted, not making any attempts to remove his arm around your waist as you picked up the cans. Green beans, mushrooms, and some off-brand cheap tuna that tasted so salty you felt like you’d licked the sea. “Yeah, two weeks ago. You eat like a bear, Rin.”

“Oh. Sorry,” he released his hold around you, and stepped away. Scratching the back of his neck, he tipped his chin in the direction of the shelves. “We should go down later to get groceries. I heard there was a night market, too, and I still have some money left to get whatever you like.”

You shook your head. “No, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

“I insist,” he said, eyeing your bare neck, ears, and wrists. Just six months ago, you’d been decorated in the finest of stones and most exquisite gowns. Now? You wore whatever would fit you from the thrift shops, and you hadn’t worn any accessories aside from your wedding ring ever since arriving here. It just didn’t make sense to keep wearing your old garments when you needed to keep a low profile. So you’d stashed and kept all your old clothes at the back of some rotting cabinet, occasionally checking to see if it was still in good condition in case you needed to sell it for some extra cash. You didn’t mind the change, truth be told. But you could tell Rintaro was struggling to see you in this light – walking around barefoot, dressed in his tattered and loose sweaters that you hadn’t washed in days because soap was hard to come by, and your face bare of anything.

You didn’t look like a Princess, but you didn’t have to. You weren’t one anymore.

Rintaro sighed.  “It’s been a long time since you got yourself something you liked. I want to spoil you, even if its just for tonight.”

You grimaced, unsure of what to say. “I appreciate that but… we should really use the money for something else, Rin. You know we can’t afford to buy anything that isn’t essential right now,” you reminded him, gnawing on your lip as you both danced around the undeniable fact looming overhead. “The money my parents gave us won’t last forever.”

“I could get a job.”

“No,” you responded without skipping a beat, “Not an option. It’s too risky. You and I could be recognized and it’s just… We’re okay, Rin. What we have now? The life we have together? I can’t just let it go. There’s no way I’m letting you be exposed out there.”

Rintaro was silent for a moment. You knew he knew you were right – you could be in the middle of nowhere and still be recognized. He’d spent his entire life being in the limelight, his every move publicized on television and the media. He would be easy to point out from the crowd even if his hair grew a little longer, a little more unkempt. Regardless of the truth that he wasn’t a royal by blood, he could never shake off the elegance in which he moved with, or the mannerisms that weren’t normal in this country’s culture. Just thinking about him being separated from you because of something as foolish as a job… you couldn’t stomach the thought of it.

“But we can’t keep living like this,” he argued softly, looking around your old, dusty cabin with a weary expression. “Just barely getting by.”

“We’ll find a way, okay?” you reassured him, reaching over to cup his face. He’d been pestering you to let him go to town so he can find a stable source of income for months now, but you were stubborn. You’d watched over him like a walk just to ensure he wouldn’t leave. But he was right, there had to be something you or him could do to do more than just survive. “We’ll talk about it tonight. I promise.”

That night, you and Rintaro set out to brave through the weather. The cold winter air nipped at your face as you and Rin stepped into the grocery store, the warmth inside immediately welcoming. The both of you were bundled up in thick sweaters, scarves, and hats, trying to keep the biting chill at bay. Your hand found its way into his, and he squeezed it gently, offering both comfort and warmth as you navigated the aisles together.

This was only your third time grocery shopping, and it still felt strange, almost like playing house. The abundance of choices, the unfamiliar task of sticking to a budget, and the realization that you now had to manage everything on your own – it was all new, and both thrilling and daunting. You remembered the first time you arrived here, Rintaro had unknowingly picked out whatever he liked, careless of the prices simply because he’d never had to think about it before. But as soon as you reached the checkout counter, and your money wasn’t enough, he’d shamefully put back everything – chocolates, salty chips, wine. It left an impression to the cashiers working, and it was another two months before you both had enough courage to return.

Now, though, you were more familiar with it. You both moved slowly, scanning the shelves with a mix of curiosity and caution. Rin paused in front of a display of cookies, his hand reaching out to grab a box of your favorites. You hesitated, a mix of longing and practicality battling in your mind. “Put that back,” you said softly, glancing at the price tag. It was enough to make your pockets hurt. It was the good kind of cookies – artisan, with premium dark chocolate.

“Why?” Rin asked, holding the box up as if examining it more closely. “You like these cookies.”

“They’re way over our budget,” you explained, trying to ignore how much you wanted to take them home. God, those cookies and some hot cocoa with marshmallows on top, along with a good show playing on TV? If you had some TV! Wouldn’t that be wonderful? It’d be the perfect way to spend winter at home.

“But these are your favorite,” he insisted, and there was a warmth in his voice that made you stop and look at him.

You frowned slightly, confused. “How’d you know that? I never told you.”

A small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “You keep eyeing them each time we come down this aisle, and it’s the only thing you finish in one sitting. This is the only snack you never portion out. You last ate these two months ago.”

Your heart skipped a beat, touched by how closely he paid attention to the smallest things. His eyes were soft, full of a tenderness that made you momentarily forget the cold and the weight of everything else.

“Come on,” he urged gently, placing the box of cookies in the cart despite your earlier protest. “We’re not going to starve if you let yourself have this treat.”

You wanted to argue, but the look in his eyes made you relent. There was something so sweet, so earnest about the way he cared for you, even in these small moments. You found yourself smiling, warmth spreading through you as you let the moment sink in. And you tried so very had, you really did, to forget about the price tag. He was right that you wouldn’t starve. Still, you couldn’t afford to be careless, just as you didn’t have the heart to say no to him when he seemed like he’d be moments away from getting down on his knees and say ‘just get the damned cookies!’ It almost made you laugh, and you thought about how Rintaro was slowly becoming more like the Rintaro you’d known – before everything fell apart.

How he’d always watched you closely to know everything you liked. How you’d often find everything you were eyeing at your bedroom the next day, with a handwritten card for him that read: anything that catches your eye is yours. love, rin. How he always knew you wanted something before you even said it out loud.

The titles had been stripped off of you, and the grandeur was left behind in a kingdom that lost its glory. But he was still Rin, your Rin. And you liked him a little more when he didn’t have his Crown.

As you continued down the aisle, your hand still firmly in his, you let his warmth seep into you. You went into an automatic mode after that – just following him around while he picked out the cheapest products to restock. He struggled a little when your hand was still tightly wound in his, though he made no move to move away.

The cold, biting air greeted you again as you and Rin stepped out of the grocery store, the sky a dull gray that hinted at more snow to come. Rin insisted on carrying all the bags, despite how heavy they were, his breath growing visible in the cold as he shouldered the weight without complaint. His broad shoulders hunched slightly against the chill, but he kept his usual calm demeanor, his focus entirely on getting everything to the car.

You both had recently managed to get a car – a cheap, low-key one that didn’t attract much attention. It was far from the luxurious vehicles you were once accustomed to, but it was practical, blending in perfectly with the other cars in town. As Rin loaded the bags into the trunk, you couldn’t help but watch him. Rin kept a careful distance as he moved, his hesitance evident. Even now, after everything you had been through together, there was still a space between you –an invisible line that he seemed too afraid to cross. He was always respectful, always careful, but you could see it in his eyes, in the way he held himself back: he still felt like he wasn’t good enough for you, like he was just a nobody and you were still the princess, despite the life you were trying to build together. And he couldn’t be any more wrong.

The drive back to the cabin was quiet, the car heater humming softly as you passed through the snow-covered landscape. It felt almost like playing house, like you were a normal husband and wife just going about their day, but there was that undercurrent of tension, the unspoken fears and doubts that Rin carried with him, no matter how much you tried to show him that none of it mattered to you. Because everyone knew, the whole world knew, you weren’t a normal husband and wife. You’d been a Princess and he’d been a Prince, both destined to be great leaders only to come out like this – walking in public with your heads down, faces concealed, and desperately trying to mask your accent in the hopes no one would pick up on the recognizable Inarizaki dialects. Normal married couples didn’t go around falling for people outside their marriages, too, yet here you were. Rintaro with an ex-girlfriend he almost had a family with if she hadn’t aborted, and you… You looked out the window, shaking away any thoughts of him.

It’d been six months. Six months where you didn’t utter his name. Six months where you refused to bring up to your memory how his voice sounded like, how his curls felt so soft when you ran your hands through it. You’d lived for a good six months without him, and you were determined to never think about him ever again.

This was the life you had now – a life where Kiyoomi couldn’t fit in the puzzle pieces. He was someone you loved in the past, and whatever lingering feelings that still longed for him, whatever dreams of his face that haunted you and kept you awake at night – all of it had to be buried. Because all you had was Rintaro, and you were all he had, too. Never in a million years could you abandon your husband for a twisted, short-lived love affair.

He’s free now, you reminded yourself. If I went back to him… he would’ve never been freed from everything that made him miserable. It’s what you tell yourself when no one was looking. It’s what you prayed to believe every night, what you hoped to be real when you knew you still would’ve loved to hear from him.

When you finally arrived back at the cabin, you both worked to bring the groceries inside, setting them on the small kitchen counter. The cabin was warm, a contrast to the biting cold outside, and you could see Rin visibly relax once you were indoors. Still, he kept that distance, even as you unpacked the bags together. You handed him the box of cookies, a small smile playing on your lips.

“You know,” you began softly, watching him place the cookies in the pantry, “I don’t care about any of it.”

He paused, his back to you, but you saw the slight stiffening of his shoulders. “Any of what?” he asked, his voice careful, guarded.

“All of it,” you replied, stepping closer to him, your hand gently resting on his arm. “The money, the status... all of it.”

Rin turned to look at you, his dark eyes searching yours, still filled with that doubt, that lingering fear that he wasn’t enough. You could see how deeply it pained him, the thought that he might be holding you back, that he wasn’t worthy of the life you were building together.

“You’re all I care about,” you continued, your voice steady, hoping he could hear the truth in your words. I’ve forgotten him. I chose you. I need to forget him – I don’t want to think about him. “I don’t care that we’re not living in a palace or that we have to drive around in a beat-up old car. This–” you gestured around the cozy cabin, the groceries, the simple life you were making together “–this is enough for me. You’re enough for me.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just looked at you like he was trying to find the right words. The tension between you felt thick, almost tangible, as you waited for him to respond. Then, with a slow, almost reluctant nod, Rin let out a breath, the weight on his shoulders seeming to ease just a fraction.

“Okay,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, but there was something in his eyes –something that told you he was trying to believe it, trying to let go of that doubt, even if it would take time.

You smiled at him, feeling a warmth spread through your chest as you reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead. He leaned into your touch, just slightly, as if testing the waters, and for a moment, the space between you seemed to disappear. It hurt to see him hold himself back, to watch him act as if he had to prove himself worthy of your presence, of your love. You wished he could see himself the way you saw him: the man who had sacrificed everything, who had chosen you despite the dangers, who had stood by you when the world crumbled around you.

As you stood there, close enough to feel the warmth of his body against yours, you knew that this was where you belonged – with him, in this quiet, simple life. It wasn’t the life you had once imagined for yourself, filled with grandeur and endless possibilities, but it was a life that was real, a life built on shared struggles and small, precious moments like this. You had made your choice, and it was Rin you chose – Rin you would stay with, no matter how your heart had once pulled in another direction.

There was a time when the thought of leaving the man you truly loved would have been unbearable, when the idea of letting go of that dream would have broken you. But now, standing beside Rin, you realized that you had already begun to let go, to accept that some things were not meant to be. You had chosen loyalty, not just out of duty, but because you wanted to. You wanted to build something new, something solid, with the man who had been through so much with you. And maybe, just maybe, he was starting to believe it too.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment, averting his gaze to stare at his feet instead. “It’s not… it’s going to take me a while. To become who you want, I mean. And I’m not sure if it’s going to be worth the wait but I just wanted you to know that… that I’m trying. I really am. I don’t know if I’ll ever get there, but I hope when I do, if I do, you’re still going be there.”

You nodded, a small, relieved laugh escaping your lips. “I was always there for you, aren’t I?” Rintaro nodded, his lips pursing because your words had rang true. Even in his worst, darkest moments, you hadn’t ran away. You still went back to his arms, no matter how angry you’d been, because it had always been him without question. You just hoped that he would choose you, too. “So…” you smiled in hopes to lighten up the mood, “Are you cooking tonight?”

“Yeah, I’ll take care of dinner,” he gestured to the grocery bags, “You go and change.”

You stepped into the bedroom, the familiar creak of the door a reminder of how much your life had changed. The room was small, a far cry from the grandeur of the palace, but it was cozy, filled with the little things that had come to mean so much more to you now. You pulled off your sweater and jeans, slipping into something more comfortable –a soft, worn shirt and loose pants. The cabin was warm, the faint crackle of the fireplace in the living room filling the silence as you looked out the window at the snow-covered mountains. It was hard to believe that this was your life now, so far removed from the chaos and danger that had once consumed every waking moment.

The smell of food wafted into the room, drawing you out of your thoughts.

Rin was in the kitchen, moving around with a quiet focus. He wasn’t the best cook, but he was trying, learning how to make simple meals from scratch. There was something endearing about the way he concentrated on getting things just right, even if it didn’t always turn out perfect. Tonight, though, the food smelled good – comforting, familiar, like home. You walked back into the living room, where Rin had set two plates on the small coffee table in front of the sofa. He glanced up at you as you entered, his expression softening as he took you in.

It was these moments that made everything worth it, the quiet, unspoken understanding between the two of you as you navigated this new life together.

Smiling, you sat down beside him on the sofa, the warmth of his body seeping into yours as you both began to eat. The food was simple –some kind of stew with bread on the side – but it was good, better than you’d expected. The radio played softly in the background, the crackling voice of the announcer delivering the latest international news. You listened as you ate, the names and events pulling you back to the world you’d left behind.

The news from Inarizaki was a mix of the familiar and the unexpected.

First Prince Ushijima Wakatoshi had been appointed and crowned as King – a solid, dependable choice, just as you’d always known he would be. Third Prince Kita Shinsuke had renounced his title and become a lawmaker, a decision that surprised you, though you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of him finally finding his own path. The news of his engagement to Airi Yamamoto, a former maid of the palace, was even more surprising, but it made sense in a way. Kita had always been grounded, and maybe that was what he needed now. Besides, him and Airi finding love and coming out triumphant despite all the struggles… they really were a testament that sometimes, love could prevail all.

The next segment of the news, however, had your husband stiffening beside you.

Former Princess Iris Amari had been imprisoned, facing a lifetime behind bars, along with the former Queen Suna. It was hard to feel anything for them now – anger, sadness, pity – it all felt so distant, like a story you’d once heard but no longer cared to remember. Prince Tooru and Princess Maiko were expecting their first child, a new life that would carry the legacy of the royal family forward. The youngest prince, Tobio, had been chosen to represent Inarizaki in the Olympics for the Men’s Volleyball division – a bright future ahead of him, far away from the shadows of the palace.

The mention of Tobio's name made your heart ache. You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of him standing tall on that global stage, doing what he loved most.

But as the pride swelled in your chest, it was accompanied by a deep, gnawing sadness. Tobio had always felt like a younger brother to you, the one person in the palace who had looked up to you without judgment, who had never asked for more than your time and affection. You missed him – the sound of his laughter, the way his eyes lit up when he talked about volleyball, the bond you shared.

Leaving him behind was one of the hardest things you had to do. You wished you could have explained things to him, reassured him that your departure wasn’t abandonment. But you’d left so abruptly, without a word, and now you feared that he might think you’d chosen to disappear without a care for him. The thought of him being upset, of him feeling betrayed by your absence, weighed heavily on you.

You hoped that one day, he’d understand. That he’d see why you had to leave and that it wasn’t because you didn’t love him. You wished more than anything that you could reach out to him, but for now, all you could do was hope – hope that he was happy, that he wasn’t burdened by your absence, and that he knew, somehow, that you were still watching over him from afar, still caring for him like the older sister you’d always been.

And then there was Prince Kiyoomi.

The name hit you like a punch to the gut, even though you’d been expecting it. Recently annulled, he had chosen to return to his home country, Itachiyama, taking an official break from his royal duties. The words felt heavy, final, like a door closing that you hadn’t quite been ready to walk away from. But it was done, and there was no going back.

You tried to picture him in Itachiyama, back in that quiet, secluded farmhouse nestled among the rolling hills. The place he had always spoken of with such fondness, a sanctuary far removed from the demands of royal life. You wondered if he was happier there now, free from the suffocating expectations and endless scrutiny that had plagued his days in the palace.

Was he finding peace in the simplicity of farm life, surrounded by the familiar sights and sounds of his childhood? Or did the walls of that old farmhouse remind him of the time you were together, of the dreams you had once shared, and the future you had both believed in? The life you could’ve had together?

The thought of him there, alone, made your heart ache in ways you hadn’t expected. You could almost see him – sitting on the porch, the wind tousling his dark hair as he gazed out over the fields, lost in thought. Did he think of you in those quiet moments, or had he pushed you from his mind, determined to move on, just as you were trying to do?

You wanted to believe that he was content, that he had found some semblance of happiness in his old life. But the part of you that still loved him, that still felt the sting of losing him, couldn’t help but wonder if he was as heartbroken as you were.

Every time you heard his name, it was like reopening an old wound, the pain as fresh and raw as the day you had walked away. You had chosen this path, and you knew it was the right one for you and Rintaro. But that didn’t make the loss any less real, or the memories any less painful. The farmhouse in Itachiyama loomed large in your mind, a symbol of everything you had given up, and everything you could never get back. And in the quiet of your new life, far away from the palace and its ghosts, you couldn’t help but wonder if he, too, was haunted by the same memories, and if he, too, wished that things could have been different.

But what if it had been different? What if the police never went after Rintaro? What if… your husband simply left the Palace, knowing it was never a place to call his, and you’d proceeded with the annulment under the grounds that it was never a valid royal marriage?

The government would’ve let you go. No one would question your decisions, especially not after it’d been revealed to the world how Rintaro loved Iris first. And they’d been so close, too, to getting what they wanted. So close to living the life you believed to be yours, so close to having the family you dreamt of building with him. A life you’d long let go of, just as you’d decided to choose Kiyoomi when Rintaro no longer wanted you.

And yet, you were here, on the other side of the world and more than a thousand miles away from the quiet Prince who’d silently stole your heart with his actions more than his words. Here you were, anywhere but where he was.

If it had been different…

You took a deep breath, pushing the thoughts away as you leaned a little closer to Rin, letting your shoulder rest against his. He was here, with you, and that was what mattered now. The world outside could change and shift, but this – this quiet, simple life with him – was yours to keep. It wasn’t the life you dreamt of having. It would never be the life you would’ve chose to live had you had any other choice, but it was yours now. It was all you had. It was the only path you could’ve chosen, because you knew one thing to be true: the farther you were from Kiyoomi, the safer he would be.

As you finished your meal, you set your plate aside and turned the radio off, letting the silence settle around you both. Rin reached out, his hand finding yours, and you laced your fingers together, feeling the steady, reassuring warmth of his grip. It was a small thing, but it meant everything in between – I’m sorry, his touch seemed to say, as if he knew he’d stolen away your future. It’s okay, you squeezed back, putting on your softest smile as you ignored the desperate singing of another’s name from your heart.

After dinner, the two of you moved in quiet harmony, cleaning up the remnants of the meal and tidying the small kitchen.

The routine had become familiar, though not yet second nature. It was strange how quickly you had adapted to this new life – this simple, quiet existence where the luxuries of your past were nothing but distant memories. With the dishes done and the fire in the hearth dying down, you and Rintaro made your way to bed, the weight of the day settling heavily on your weary shoulders.

Usually, it was you who fell asleep first, the exhaustion of chores you were still learning how to do pulling you into an early slumber. But tonight, sleep didn’t seem to want to knock on your door. As you lay on your side of the bed, you noticed Rintaro’s breathing had already evened out, his body finally succumbing to the fatigue that had clung to him since morning. You watched him for a moment, his face softened by sleep, and you felt a pang of tenderness, mixed with something deeper – guilt, perhaps, or the remnants of a love that had once been your whole world.

Your thoughts drifted, unbidden, to Kiyoomi.

It was a mistake to let your mind wander there, but tonight you couldn’t help it. The realization came suddenly, hitting you with a quiet, painful intensity – you didn’t even have a picture of him. No physical reminders of the man who had once been your everything. You tried to recall his face, the sharpness of his features, the warmth in his eyes when he looked at you, but the image was already starting to blur. Time would do that, you knew. It would erode the edges of your memories until he was nothing more than a distant shadow in your mind. You would forget what he looked like, the sound of his voice, the way his touch had made you feel safe, loved. You could search for him, you supposed. His name would be easy enough to find, even without a phone, but you knew that would only make things harder. Seeing his face now, seeing him move on without you – it would be a fresh wound, one you weren’t ready to bear. And there was this dark voice at the back of your head warning you that you might grow weak, that you might succumb to your longing and run back to his arms if you caught a glimpse of his face.

So you couldn’t. You had to push him away, because you couldn’t push Rintaro out of your life.

The bed felt colder tonight, lonelier, even with Rintaro beside you. The space between you both seemed to stretch impossibly wide, filled with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. You longed for Kiyoomi in a way that was almost physical, a deep ache in your chest that you couldn’t soothe. But you were here now, with Rintaro, and this was your life. This was the choice you had made. A choice you couldn’t begin to regret now.

Just as you began to drift into a restless sleep, you heard it – a low, anguished moan coming from Rintaro. You turned to him, finding him caught in the throes of a nightmare, his body tense, his face twisted in fear and pain. He whimpered, and your heart clenched at the sound. Without thinking, you reached out to wake him, your hand gentle on his arm. But before you could, he jolted awake, eyes wide and frantic, searching the darkness as if expecting to find your side of the bed empty.

“Hey,” you whispered softly, your voice calm despite the storm inside you. “You’re okay, Rin. It was just a nightmare.”

He turned to you, his expression a mix of disbelief and relief. “You didn’t leave,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

You shook your head, reaching out to touch his face, to ground him in the reality of your presence as you brushed his bangs away from his eyes. He saw you a little better under the light, and he stared hard, scrutinizing your features as if he wondered if you were real.

“No, of course not. I’m right here with you.”

His eyes held yours for a moment, searching for something – reassurance, comfort, perhaps a sign that you truly meant what you said. Slowly, the tension in his body began to ease, though you could still feel the lingering effects of whatever horrors had haunted his dreams. You stayed like that for a while, your hand trailing down his cheek, his gaze locked on yours, until finally, he closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath.

You lay back down beside him, but sleep was still far from your grasp. Instead, you stared up at the ceiling, your thoughts spinning in the darkness.

You had chosen to stay, to forget the man you once loved and to build a life with the man beside you. But the memories of Kiyoomi lingered, just as Rintaro’s fears lingered, both of you trapped in a past you couldn’t entirely leave behind. And as the night wore on, you found yourself hoping – praying – that time would work its magic, that the wounds would heal, and that one day, this life would feel like enough. That this life would stop feeling like it was something you would want to run away from.

The mornings in the mountains were always serene, the world still wrapped in a blanket of soft mist as the sun slowly began its ascent. The forest, with its towering trees and the sound of leaves rustling in the breeze, had become a place of both comfort and anxiety for you. It was here that Rin had started his morning walks, slipping out of bed before dawn to find solace in the quiet solitude of the woods. But each time he left, a knot of worry tightened in your chest, fearing that one day he might not come back.

Today was no different.

You had woken early, as you had been doing for the past few months, to join him on these walks. The crisp morning air was cool against your skin, and the soft crunch of leaves beneath your boots was the only sound that accompanied your footsteps. Rin walked beside you, his hand warm around yours, guiding you through the familiar path.

As the first light of dawn began to filter through the trees, you glanced up at him. His face was calm, but you could see the lingering shadows of sleepless nights in his eyes. He squeezed your hand gently, and then, as if drawn by some invisible force, he leaned in to kiss your cheek, the gesture as natural as breathing.

“I’m not sure I like this morning routine of yours,” you murmured, breaking the silence that had settled between you.

Rin’s lips curved into a small, apologetic smile. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I just have trouble sleeping, and taking a walk calms my mind.”

Rin’s nightmares had become a constant presence in your lives, a dark shadow that clung to the quiet of the night. At first, they were sporadic, just an occasional disruption to your sleep. You would wake to find him thrashing beside you, his breaths ragged and shallow as he wrestled with the demons of his past. A soft touch or a whispered word would be enough to calm him, to pull him back from whatever horrors plagued his dreams. But as the months passed, the nightmares grew more frequent, more intense.

There were nights when you would wake to the sound of his strangled cries, his body drenched in sweat, the bed sheets twisted around him as if they were binding him in place. His face, usually so composed, would be contorted in fear or pain, his hands gripping the mattress as though it was the only thing anchoring him to reality. It was in those moments that your heart ached the most, seeing the man you loved tormented by memories he couldn’t escape.

You tried to help him, staying awake late into the night, watching over him like a silent guardian. But the more you observed, the more you realized how deeply the nightmares had taken root. There were times when he would mumble incoherently in his sleep, his words a jumbled mix of regret and sorrow, apologies meant for someone he couldn’t reach. Sometimes, he would wake up with a start, his eyes wide and unseeing, as if still trapped in the nightmare’s grip, and it would take him several minutes to recognize where he was, to remember that he was safe.

The worst nights were the ones where he would fall back into sleep only to be dragged into another nightmare almost immediately. You would feel him trembling beside you, his breath hitching as the terror took hold again. On those nights, the darkness seemed endless, stretching on forever with no relief in sight. You could do nothing but hold him, your own heart pounding in fear for him, wishing you could take away his pain.

It wasn’t just the nights that were affected. The lack of restful sleep began to take its toll on Rin during the day. He moved through your quiet life in the mountains with a heaviness that hadn’t been there before, his shoulders constantly slumped, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion. The spark that had once lit up his gaze when he looked at you was dimmed, replaced by a haunted expression that he couldn’t quite shake.

You worried for him constantly, the anxiety gnawing at you with each passing day.

The isolation of your new life, which had once felt like a blessing, now felt like a curse. There was no one here to help him, no one who could offer him the support he so desperately needed. It was just the two of you, alone in the mountains, and you felt helpless in the face of his suffering.

Rin tried to hide it, of course. He would force a smile when you looked at him too long, crack a joke to ease the tension, or brush off your concern with a wave of his hand. But you could see through the façade, see how the nightmares had begun to wear him down, chipping away at his spirit bit by bit.

As the year wore on, the nightmares became a fixture of your life, an inescapable reality that you both had to endure. And with each one, your fear grew.

You feared for Rin, for the toll this was taking on him, and you feared for the future, wondering how much longer he could withstand this torment before it broke him completely. You feared that the man you loved might one day be consumed by the darkness that haunted his dreams, and that no matter how tightly you held on to him, it wouldn’t be enough to pull him back.

You knew what that meant. The nightmares still haunted him, though he rarely spoke of them. You stopped walking for a moment, turning to face him fully. “Is it the nightmares?” you asked softly, your voice filled with concern. “Next time, you should wake me up so I can be there for you.”

He hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly as he looked at you. “I don’t know… You need to get all the rest you need.”

“Rin,” you said, your tone gentle but firm. “We’re not really doing anything here that takes up too much of my time. I’m pretty sure I’ve gotten all the rest that I need.”

He let out a soft sigh, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “Fine,” he relented, though there was a hint of reluctance in his voice.

“You really should’ve woken me up sooner,” you continued, your tone lightening as you tried to ease the tension. “I would’ve loved watching every sunrise with you.”

He smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was a pause, a beat of silence where you could almost feel the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him. And then, as if he couldn’t hold it in any longer, he asked, “Do you… do you still think about him?”

You knew immediately who he meant. The name lingered between you, unspoken but understood. “Kiyoomi.”

“Yeah. I do.”

“Do you miss him?”

Your breath caught in your throat for a moment, the familiar ache of longing tugging at your heart. “I do… A lot,” you admitted, your voice soft and tinged with sadness. “But it doesn’t change a thing for me. I’d still keep on choosing to be here with you.”

He looked at you, his gaze searching, as if trying to find the truth in your words. “You really don’t regret it?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You shook your head, a small, reassuring smile playing on your lips. “No. I think this is the quietest my life’s ever been, and I never thought that was possible.”

“I don’t know,” Rin said, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he tried to lighten the mood. “Your life used to be pretty dull before you met me.”

You chuckled softly, the sound carrying on the cool morning air. “That’s true. My life took an unexpected turn when you came into my world.”

His smile faltered slightly, the guilt he carried still evident in his eyes. “I know it’s not going to change anything, but I’m really sorry for everything I did to you.”

You reached up, cupping his face gently in your hands, your thumbs brushing over his cheeks. “I know you are,” you said softly. “I won’t ever forget it, you know. The pain that you put me through. But I won’t hold it against you forever, either – we both need to move on. And the past year of being here with you… you’ve been greater to me than you ever were.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, leaning into your touch, as if trying to absorb the comfort you offered. “I’m trying to make up for it.”

“I don’t regret it,” you repeated, your voice steady and full of conviction. “I don’t regret you.”

His eyes opened, meeting yours with a mixture of hope and uncertainty. “I know,” he said quietly. “I hope you never do.”

You and Rin had carved out a life here in the mountains, hidden away from the world, surviving on the money you had brought with you. It wasn’t much, and you knew it wouldn’t last forever, but for now, it was enough. Finding jobs was out of the question – exposure would be too dangerous, a risk neither of you could afford to take. So, you made do with what you had, stretching every resource as far as it could go.

Despite the limitations, you found a happiness that you hadn’t known was possible. The tension and fear that had defined so much of your past were gone, replaced by a warmth that grew between you and Rin.

You fell into a routine that was both simple yet deeply fulfilling – so domestic that you sometimes were struck in awe that it was possible for you and him to never argue. You cooked meals with what ingredients you had, experimenting with recipes and flavors that were new to you. Rin would clean up after, meticulously washing the dishes and wiping down the counters, always taking care to leave the kitchen spotless. It was a dance you both moved through effortlessly, a silent understanding that had formed over time on who took over which chores.

In this secluded life, you and Rin had grown more affectionate, the distance that once existed between you slowly dissolving.

It was as if you had been transported back in time to the days when he was still courting you, the days when every touch, every glance, had been filled with the thrill of new love. Now, there were stolen kisses in the middle of the day, hands that found each other in the quiet moments, and long nights spent tangled together under the blankets. It was a closeness that you had never imagined you would have with him, a warmth that made you feel alive in a way you hadn’t for years.

One chilly afternoon, you found yourself watching Rin as he chopped wood outside the cabin, preparing to build a fire to keep you both warm. He was focused, his brow furrowed in concentration as he swung the axe with surprising precision. You couldn’t help but smile, leaning against the doorframe as you admired the scene. It was so different from the life you had known, and yet it felt right, like this was how things were always meant to be. Just as you were about to call out to him, your mind played a trick on you. Instead of Rintaro swinging the axe back, you suddenly pictured Kiyoomi – drenched with sweat, his shirt sticking to him as he effortlessly chopped wood. It would’ve been something he did normally back at the farmhouse.

You immediately blinked the image away.

Kiyoomi wasn’t here. You had your husband instead, dressed in a brown shirt instead of a white one like Kiyoomi always wore. Rintaro’s hair was longer now, too, long enough that he could tie the ends of it in a tiny ponytail – something he’d asked you to teach him once.

“Since when have you learned to chop wood?” you teased, the playful tone in your voice breaking the quiet.

Rin paused, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. He turned to you with a grin, the familiar spark of mischief in his eyes. “YouTube teaches you a lot,” he replied, his voice light. “Look up my search history. Surviving the Wilderness: Part One.”

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. “Building a fire. Huh. I never would’ve imagined.”

He chuckled, the sound deep and warm, as he resumed chopping the wood. “Neither did I,” he admitted. “But I’m figuring it out. Just like we’re figuring everything else out. Besides, it’s almost winter, and I don’t want us to freeze our asses off.”

You watched him for a moment longer, feeling a swell of affection as you took in the sight of him – strong, determined, doing whatever it took to keep you both safe and comfortable. The Rin you knew had always been capable, but this was different. He was adapting, learning new skills, and embracing this life with a resolve that made you love him even more.

It was in these quiet moments, surrounded by the stillness of the mountains, that you realized just how much you had both grown. The struggles you faced were real, and there were days when the challenges felt overwhelming. But you faced them together, and that made all the difference. This life was far from perfect, but it was yours, and as long as you had Rin by your side, you knew you could face anything. You wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling the chill in the air, but it was a welcome kind of cold, one that reminded you of the warmth waiting inside. Watching Rin work, you felt a deep sense of contentment, a peace that had once seemed impossible. You were no longer the princess of Inarizaki, burdened by duty and expectations. Here, in this quiet corner of the world, you were simply a woman in love, sharing a life with the man who had become your everything.

You just had to stop thinking about the Prince you’d left behind, and everything would’ve been perfect.

After storing the chopped wood neatly beside the cabin, Rin finally built the fire, the crackling warmth spreading through the small living space. The cabin had become your sanctuary, a place where the outside world couldn’t reach you. As the fire roared to life, you prepared dinner, the aroma of simmering vegetables and spices filling the room. Rin watched you for a moment, his gaze soft and affectionate, before excusing himself for his daily walk.

You still accompanied him on his morning walks, but you had noticed that sometimes, he needed those walks alone. You didn’t question it, understanding that he needed time to process everything, to find peace in his own way. So, when he left, you focused on finishing the meal, knowing he would return soon.

When Rin came back, there was a change in him. For the first time in a long while, he didn’t look like he had been battling his demons. Instead, he seemed lighter, almost happy, with a hint of excitement in his eyes. You looked up from the table as he entered, curiosity piqued by the newfound energy in his step.

“Let’s go somewhere after dinner,” he said, his voice carrying an eagerness that made you smile.

You raised an eyebrow, playfully skeptical. “We can’t go to town so soon.”

He shook his head, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “We’re not going to town.”

“Then where?”

“Just trust me. You’ll love it.”

Intrigued, you agreed, and after a quick meal, Rin led you out of the cabin, guiding you through the forest paths that had become so familiar. The path to the lake was one you’d walked countless times before, the familiar crunch of leaves and twigs underfoot, the cool breeze winding through the trees, and the gentle rustling of branches overhead. You knew every rock, every bend in the trail, so when Rin had suggested taking you somewhere new, you'd been skeptical. What else could there possibly be to see?

But now, as you trailed behind him, your hand held securely in his, you couldn’t help but marvel at the way he moved with purpose, as if he were leading you somewhere magical. His broad back seemed to block the rest of the world from view, the strength in his stride grounding you, keeping you tethered right at his side. You couldn’t help the warmth blooming through your chest. A hundred times, you’d held his hand. A hundred times, you’d breathed in his scent – the smell of the soap you both shared, the scent of the cheap laundry detergent, and the hint of pine from the trees whenever he spent the day outside. A hundred times you’d had him, and still, you were caught taken aback during times like these.

He was mine now. A sentiment you had always held within your close, so confidently and so true. He was yours as you were his, even before he’d placed rings on your fingers. But this time? It felt real. Here, in the middle of nowhere where the titles are gone and your names were different on the rare times people would ask, you’d never felt more like yourself. More like his wife. Unconsciously, you squeezed his hand tighter as you let him lead you deeper into the forest.

Because you knew you would’ve followed him wherever he went.

The trees began to thin as you entered a clearing, and that’s when you saw it – a lake, nestled quietly in the heart of the woods, its surface shimmering beneath the glow of the moon. It stretched out before you, the dark water rippling gently with the breeze, reflecting the sky in a way that made the stars seem to dance on the surface.

The moonlight kissed the edges of the lake, casting an ephemeral glow that made the scene look almost unreal. The trees encircling the water stood tall and proud, their shadows dancing across the surface, adding a touch of mystery to the place. It felt secluded, hidden from the rest of the world, a secret just for the two of you. You stood there for a moment, taking it all in. The cold, biting air nipped at your skin, but the beauty of the scene made you forget the chill. Rin stood beside you now, his hand still entwined with yours.

“Oh, Rin,” you breathed, taking in the serene beauty before you. “It’s so beautiful here.”

His smile widened, pleased by your reaction. “Come on. Let’s take a dip.”

You hesitated, the chill in the air making you shiver slightly. “Isn’t it too cold for you?”

He stepped closer, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you into his warmth. “I have you to warm me up.”

The moment you both dipped into the water, a sharp chill shot through your body, making you shiver and gasp at the coldness of it. Rin winced too, his shoulders tense as he adjusted to the sudden temperature. But neither of you retreated. Instead, you splashed water at him, laughing as he sputtered in surprise. He retaliated by sending a wave of water your way, both of you caught up in a playful exchange that echoed through the trees.

“Oh, you want to play like that, huh?” he spat out water, his eyes narrowed in a threat. A squeal erupted out of you when you saw him begin to flick water your direction.

The moonlight reflected off the surface of the lake, glistening as your laughter filled the night. You moved closer to Rin, clinging to him as he waded deeper, your body shaking with giggles and shivers alike. His arms were solid, reassuring as they held you steady in the water. Instinctively, you flattened your feet against his sides, hoping to steal some of his warmth, earning a quiet grumble from him. But even as he complained, you could see the amusement dancing in his eyes, the corners of his mouth fighting a smile.

You stayed like that, the two of you laughing so hard your sides ached, your cheeks flushed from the cold and the pure joy of the moment. It felt as though time had stopped, and the rest of the world had melted away, leaving just the two of you, weightless and free in the water. In that instant, nothing else mattered. It was perfect in its simplicity, a memory you could hold onto forever.

As you swam closer to him, the water rippling gently between you, there was a shift in the air.

Something heavy, almost tangible, lingered between you and Rin – an unspoken tension that made the world around you slow. You locked eyes with him, and for a moment, neither of you moved. His gaze, dark and contemplative, held yours, the weight of it sending a different kind of shiver through your body, one that had nothing to do with the cold water. The playful splashing and laughter from earlier faded into the background, leaving only the quiet sounds of the lake and the soft rustling of the trees around you.

There was a hesitation. You’d kissed Rin before – many times. It had always felt effortless, natural, like something you did without thinking, a reflex born of the years you’d spent together. But this time, the air between you was charged with something deeper, something more complicated. Both of you stood still, suspended in that delicate moment where time felt like it might fracture under the weight of what you were too afraid to say aloud.

The past lingered in the space between your bodies, reminding you of the others who had once filled your hearts. The love that still tugged at you when you thought of those times, those people. It wasn’t something either of you could escape. You had both longed for someone else, had lives once built on dreams you thought would come true with others. Yet here you were, drawn back to one another, the years of distance and heartache only sharpening the realization that what remained between you was real.

Rin made the first move, his hand hesitantly reaching out to you under the water. When his fingers curled gently around yours, it felt like a quiet promise, a reassurance. Slowly, carefully, he pulled you closer, his eyes never leaving yours. There was no rush, no urgency. Just the steady, unspoken acknowledgment that this was different. It had always been different.

As his face neared yours, you could feel your heart pounding, not with the excitement of something new, but with the quiet realization of something you had known all along. Rin leaned in, his lips brushing yours softly, as though he were testing the waters of a deeper truth. The kiss wasn’t fiery or overwhelming. There were no butterflies, no fireworks exploding behind your eyes. Instead, it was gentle, tender—like the first sip of warm tea on a cold night. His lips were familiar, comforting, and the way they moved against yours felt like coming home after a long, exhausting journey.

You breathed him in, his scent mingling with the damp earth and crisp air around you. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, not out of desire but out of need—an unspoken need for the stability and love he had always offered. The world around you seemed to blur, fading into the soft, rhythmic sound of your breathing and the gentle splash of water as you floated together in that quiet, peaceful moment.

There was a sweetness to the kiss, but it carried with it the weight of the past—the knowledge of all you had endured to reach this point. It wasn’t the kind of kiss that sent your heart racing; it was the kind that settled deep into your bones, reminding you of everything you had been through together, of all the things that couldn’t be undone. It was as if, in that one moment, the years of distance, pain, and longing were washed away, leaving only the simplicity of what had always been between you.

Rin held you close, his touch soft yet secure, and for the first time in a long while, you felt utterly safe. The warmth of his body pressed against yours, the way his lips moved with a quiet reverence, made you feel like you belonged. Not to the world, or to the kingdom you’d left behind, but to him. To this moment.

There was no rush. No desperation. Only the slow, steady realization that the love you had for each other had never left. It had simply been buried beneath the weight of all the things you thought you needed to be, all the expectations and dreams that hadn’t worked out. And now, standing here with him, feeling the solidity of his presence, you knew that this was what you had been looking for all along.

The kiss ended softly, naturally, like the final notes of a lullaby, and when you pulled back, you rested your forehead against his, eyes closed, soaking in the warmth of his breath against your skin. It wasn’t about passion, or excitement, or even romance. It was about finding peace in each other’s presence, knowing that no matter where life took you, this moment, this love, was the only constant.

You didn’t need the world. You didn’t need anything beyond what you had right there with him. The ache in your heart for what was lost still lingered, but it no longer hurt. It was just… there, like a distant memory. Something that had shaped you, but no longer defined you.

 “I really don’t deserve you,” Rin whispered, his voice thick with emotion, the vulnerability in his words cutting through the peaceful night.

You pressed a finger to his lips, silencing his doubt. “Shhh. Nothing could hurt us now.”

He held you tighter, his face buried in your neck, and for a moment, you both just breathed, letting the quiet reassurance of your love settle between you. The weight of the past year, the fear, the guilt—it all seemed to fade in the embrace of the night, leaving only the two of you, together, stronger than ever.

For the first time in a long time, you felt truly safe. The world might have changed, your titles and riches might have been left behind, but here, with Rin, you had found something far more valuable – the promise of a marriage you’d always longed for.

Rin loved this life with you, however undeserving he thought he was.

He got to wake up next to you every morning, shared every meal with you, and could kiss and touch you whenever he liked. It wasn’t always this easy, though, he’d admit. You hadn’t always been so… giving. He knew this, because he was always watching, always looking at you whenever you thought he wouldn’t notice. And he wasn’t stupid. He’d known you for many years, had spent most of that time analyzing the slightest twitch of your brows, down to the most miniscule curl of your lip to try and decode what those gestures meant. He knew, without a doubt, you still thought of him. He also knew, undoubtedly, and with pure conviction, that you loved him still.

Just not the way you used to.

He’d long given up on that – the possibility that things would go back to the way it was. Rintaro had thrown out that absurd idea out the window. The hurt would always remain, and the lies he’d spilled would be etched bone-deep until the day he reached his grave. You wouldn’t ever forgive him, but this… having you in his home, having you in his arms, being allowed the freedom to still speak your name with that softness he’d never had with anyone before, it was enough. It would be enough, for now. He just had to pretend he couldn’t see you – the way you would tuck your cheek onto your shoulder, lashes fluttering against your cheeks as you shut your eyes, each time his arm would wrap your waist before a slight, barely noticeable grimace would settle onto your features. You always acted on instinct, to always turn away and flinch each time he got near.

You thought he’d never notice. The way your eyes turn downcast, or the way your hands go still around the cheap cereal bowl you’d gotten at a fleece market each time something reminded you of the Prince you’d left behind. Each time his name was mentioned in the radio, you would freeze, your gaze travelling off the distance even though there was nothing to see but trees beyond the windows.

You thought Rintaro wouldn’t see all those things.

Nearly two years later, Rintaro could barely recognize you.

Gone was the woman he’d laid his eyes on at Tobio’s ball, the one bedazzled with the jewelry even the former Queen couldn’t have. Gone was the woman who was pampered and beloved by all. There was just you, and the faint traces of it. You’d lost weight – not enough to worry him, but enough to remind him of the comfortable and secure life he’d robbed you of, regardless if it had been your choice, too. And during the early hours of the day when sleep wouldn’t come to him, you always cried. Always. Sometimes, you cried out for your mother. But more often than not, you would always whisper his name, the sound so broken and desperate that it almost sounded like a plea. You would clutch the thin sheet (a poor excuse of a blanket, really) up to your chest, and keep crying in your sleep. The next day when you woke, Rintaro is sitting shock-still beside you on your bed, and you wonder why he couldn’t sleep at all.

You loved him. Rintaro knew that – you wouldn’t have risked it all and came with him if there wasn’t a tiny part in your heart that held him still. But he also knew you loved Kiyoomi and missed him dearly, so much so that Rintaro often has to fight the urge to call his brother and have him take you away.

Some days, he pondered on just that.

How easy it would be to buy a phone on the rare times he went downtown, call Kiyoomi, and ask him to finally come get you. He wouldn’t know what the consequences of that would be. For all he knew, he could be putting you in more danger by exposing you to the eyes of the Kingdom. He knew, however, that you might not hate the idea so much – that you might even thank him for taking on the burden of making the decision for you. Rintaro wasn’t foolish enough to not recognize that you had this pleading look in your eyes sometimes, one that begged at him to become the bad guy again, to give you a reason to run away. Maybe you wouldn’t be so inclined to stay with him anymore if he’d just let his true colors to be revealed.

Try as he might, Rintaro couldn’t find it in himself to give you anymore reasons to hate him. If anything, it was the opposite. It took him nearly a year to realize your heart was too big, too pure. No matter how much he kept his distance, telling himself that being together didn’t have to mean being together, he would always be drawn to you – and you would always coax him out of the protective walls he’d set up around his heart.

You were always there, and he hated it. He hated how you never gave him even the smallest moment to stop loving you. It could’ve been easier for him that way. Instead, you were the first thing he laid his eyes on when he woke, his name the first thing you would utter in that sleepy, raspy voice of yours as you smiled up at him with the first stretch of sunlight. How could he do it, then? How could he fall out of love with you when he’d lost everything except you? That thought itself sometimes had him wondering, too, if you loved him out of loyalty, or if you loved him because like him, you simply had nothing and no one else.

But that wouldn’t be entirely true, could it? You had your parents. You had Kiyoomi. You had some of the Princes wrapped around your finger – one who loved you like a sister, one who had a former adoration for you, and one with an unwavering loyalty in his support.

You could still have a second chance in life.

Rintaro didn’t have that anymore.

It was that realization in mind that gave him the courage to start lying to you again. Unbeknownst to you, Rintaro had been visiting the town more often. It started off as just once a week, familiarizing himself with the shops and hidden passages he could easily sneak off to. Then he began visiting more often, twice a week to finally buy a phone and contact his not-so brother. 

Shinsuke, no longer Prince Kita, was now a lawmaker. From the few and far occurrences where he’d been in touch with the older man, he’d understood why Shinsuke made that decision. He’d had enough of the darkness and corruption of the monarchy – couldn’t see himself holding onto the respectable title of Prince now that he’d learned of everything the former Queen, and some of his brothers, did. Drowning in shame and anger at the Palace he’d once called home, he renounced his title and set out to make things better. With his goals aligned with Wakatoshi, who had now been crowned King, Inarizaki was recovering – little by little.

And they’d talked about you.

Wakatoshi wasn’t entirely pleased after finding out that you and Rintaro had upped and left. It didn’t change the fact you were both still criminals in the eyes of the Kingdom, but it was a Kingdom that was his. And as stoic as he may be, Wakatoshi wasn’t unforgiving. It took a few more months of convincing before he finally agreed to give you another chance – you. Not him. Regardless of whether Rintaro had never willingly played the part of the Queen’s pawn to secure her title, Wakatoshi and Shinsuke both couldn’t find any post for Rintaro within the Royal Family where he could return. But you did – you could return, and be forgiven. You could have a second chance in life.

Rintaro had never wanted to lie to you again, but he couldn’t stop it. For many nights, and many more months to come, he was only plagued by one thought as he counted his last day: the urge to finally give you the life you deserved.

Someday, he promised, I’ll make it all right for you.

Rintaro woke up before dawn, the faint light just beginning to creep through the curtains. You were still asleep beside him, your breath slow and steady, your face soft with peace that was rare in the waking world. For a moment, he let himself lie there, watching you, memorizing every detail – how your hair fanned out on the pillow, the curve of your lips, the way you unconsciously curled toward him.

He was living the dream. Every morning, he woke up next to you, and he could kiss you whenever he wanted. It was everything he’d ever hoped for when you first chose him, when you left everything behind to build this life together. But deep down, he knew it couldn’t last. This life, as peaceful as it seemed, was fragile. The simplicity, the isolation –  it was wearing on you.  He could see it in the way you hesitated at the store, holding back from buying the things you liked. He noticed how you’d glance at the few items in the cart and sigh quietly, as if you were measuring out not just money, but a piece of yourself each time. You were budgeting your life now, in a way that went far beyond groceries.

It wasn’t just about the material things either. You weren’t able to talk to people like you used to, to be yourself.

You were hiding. From the world, from your past, from the person you once were. You’d severed almost every connection to the ones you loved – Tobio, Kiyoomi, your family –all because you couldn’t risk being found. He’d never forget that time your mother’s birthday came around, and you excused yourself during dinner, hiding in the bathroom where you muffled your cries upon missing them. And staying here, with him, meant you’d have to keep living this way, in the shadows.

He couldn’t let it go on.

Rintaro closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing down the lump in his throat. He didn’t deserve you, he never had. And now, he was starting to see that staying with him might be ruining your life. You deserved more than this half-existence. More than the fear of being discovered, more than rationing out pieces of yourself just to survive. He wanted to keep you with him forever, but he knew deep down that this was too good to be true. One day, something would break – either the life you’d built together or your spirit. And he couldn’t bear to see you trapped any longer.

As you stirred beside him, your eyes fluttering open, he forced a smile, brushing your hair gently from your face. But in his heart, he knew what he had to do. He had to let you go. For your sake, even if it meant losing everything he ever wanted.

“Hey,” you breathed out, a small smile on your face. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” he echoed, his voice croaking more than he’d like. He couldn’t help it; he felt like there was a lump in his throat, making it difficult to speak. “I’m…” I’m sorry, he wanted to say, I love you and I’m sorry. The words never left his lips. “I’m going to prepare you breakfast, and then go out to prepare some firewood.”

The lie was easy enough to tell. It was a routine you’d gotten used to – he always woke up first to prepare your meals while you showered, so you could eat right away right after. Rintaro would share his breakfast with you, often dropping a berry or two onto your plate, urging you to eat more. Shortly after, he’d disappear out in the woods to look for firewood, and you would set out to wash the laundry, or whatever it was that you did when he wasn’t around.

You didn’t question him as he left the bed. To you, it would just be any other day. But to him, it might as well be the last time he ever saw you, so he allowed himself to indulge in the sight of you a little longer.

The straps of your nightgown were slipping down one shoulder, one of your hands on top of it as you stretched your muscles. Your eyes were closed, and with the sunlight dripping behind your languid form, Rintaro was almost tempted to stay. To tell Shinsuke he’d changed his mind. To tell your parents that he was sorry, yet again, because he wanted to stay with you a little longer.

Rintaro closed the bedroom door shut behind him, willing himself to keep walking away. He couldn’t back out – not now.

The smell of breakfast cooking puled  you from bed, and you quietly made your way to the kitchen, drawn in by the warmth of it all – Rintaro at the stove, the soft sizzle of food frying. He stood there, stirring something in the pan, but his mind seemed far away. You paused at the doorway, watching him. His broad shoulders, the gentle concentration etched on his face.

A smile tugged at your lips as you walked over, lightly bumping his arm. “Hey,” you teased. “You’re spacing out again.”

He’d been doing that more often. Just randomly staring out into space, and it’d take you more than three times to call out his name before he snapped out of it. It was slightly hilarious, you thought. How he went from being this effortless charmer to this almost shy, reserved man you called your husband. It was as if… the loss of his titles, and the identity he’d known, had given way to the appearance of this not-so new person. Someone quieter, someone gentler, someone more tender. You couldn’t say you didn’t like it. Nevertheless, it was slightly alarming at first. How someone could change so much – but you weren’t a stranger to that, were you? You’d seen Rintaro in his best and worst, and somehow, learned to love him in both.

He blinked, startled, then turns to you with a soft smile, shaking his head as if to clear the thoughts that had taken him away. “It’s nothing,” he said, but his gaze lingers on you, warm and tender. And then, without warning, he added, “You’re beautiful.”

The words hit you harder than expected. You hadn’t felt beautiful in a long time – not with the way things had been. The stress, the hiding, the weight of everything hanging over your head. But the way he looked at you just then, like you were the one who hung the moon and stars, you couldn’t help but believe he meant it. His eyes were so full of love, so full of something deep and true, warmth spread all over your skin.

You tried to play it off, hiding your smile behind your hand as you lean against the counter beside him. “You’re ridiculous,” you mumbled with a shy laugh, but you couldn’t deny the way your heart felt lighter, the way his words made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t in so long.

The moment stretched in silence, comfortable and intimate, with the soft clatter of dishes and the gentle aroma of breakfast filling the space between you. You watched as Rintaro moved around the kitchen, steady and familiar, and for a fleeting second, everything feels perfect. Simple, but perfect.

When he finally plated the food, he hands you yours first, and wordlessly drops an extra helping from his own plate onto yours. It was a small gesture, but it made you smile wider. He always did things like that – quietly making sure you were taken care of, in all the little ways that spoke louder than words.

You didn’t argue. Instead, you sat down at the table, your heart full as you glanced at him. In the smallest acts, there was love. And as you sat there, the morning sunlight filtering through the window, the quiet hum of life surrounding you both, you realized just how much he meant to you. How much you loved him, too.

After breakfast, you took the plates to the sink, rolling up your sleeves as the warm water rushes over your hands. The clink of dishes and the soft hum of your thoughts filled the room while Rintaro puts on his jacket, getting ready to head out and gather firewood. He caught your eye before leaving, giving you that small, reassuring smile that always makes your heart twist. He didn’t say much, but he didn’t need to. The weight of everything hangs in the unspoken silence between you both.

Once the door closes behind him, the house felt quieter, emptier. You wiped down the table, the counters, and then swept the floor, keeping yourself busy. There was always something to clean or tidy up, something to organize in this new life you’ve carved out together. It wasn’t much, but it was enough – at least for now.

But as you moved around the small house, thoughts crept in. You sit down at the table again, pulling out what little remains of the money your parents had given you when they sent you both off. The stack was thin, much thinner than it used to be. You counted the bills, the coins, over and over, but no matter how you add it up, it was clear that it wasn’t going to last.

A sigh escaped your lips as you pressed your fingertips against your forehead, trying to push away the rising anxiety. You’d already been careful, budgeting, avoiding any unnecessary purchases, only getting the bare essentials, but the truth was unavoidable. It wasn’t enough. Soon, it will run out, and what then? You would be lying if you said you never considered this life was going to be permanent now. You would be lying again if you also said that the thought of having children didn’t cross your mind, and how could it not? It had been nearly two years since you’d lived here, and Rintaro had been nothing but perfect. You and him were finally living the peaceful married life you’d always dreamt of – where you woke up tangled in each other’s arms, listened to each other’s stories with rapt attention, and loved each other like today was going to be your last. Especially after that one night at the hidden lake, all the feelings you’d buried beneath a mountain of pain and hurt had resurfaced. You began to want him more, began to long for the next time he’d kiss you again, and even if he’d taken you night after night until you woke up late, sore and thoroughly loved, you couldn’t get enough of it. Couldn’t get enough of him.

The fake identities your parents had provided had been your lifeline, a way to survive without being recognized. But it wasn’t enough to keep you both hidden forever. Even with new names and fabricated pasts, the constant paranoia lingered. Getting a job would expose you, especially when neither of you knew the world outside the palace or the kingdom you’d left behind. You had no skills for this life, and the fear of being caught only made it harder to even try.

You glanced around the small space, the modest kitchen, the worn furniture, and the faint scent of breakfast still lingering in the air. It wasn’t the life you were born into, but it was the life you chose. And despite the uncertainty, despite the fear that gnawed at the back of your mind, you wouldn’t trade it. Not for anything.

Still, the weight of it all pressed down. You stood up and move to the window, watching the faint outline of the forest where Rintaro had disappeared. He’d be back soon, arms full of firewood, his face a little flushed from the cold. You could picture it clearly, his warm smile as he set the logs down by the hearth, the small moments of peace you found in each other’s company.

But for now, you were alone with your worries. You folded the bills neatly and tucked them away, pushing the anxiety to the back of your mind. It wouldn’t help to dwell on it – although maybe having a child was out of the question now. Not when you and Rintaro could barely get through.

Unable to help it, your mind drifted back to the beach house he’d bought for you.

And here’s the backyard – plenty of space for our future kids to play in. I’m thinking twins, one boy and one girl, and then we’ll stop trying for another. Two little devils should be enough. The boy needs to be the eldest though, so he can protect his little Princess. You smiled at the memory, reminiscing of a time when you had the world and everything else – before everything fell apart. Gaze trailing from where Rintaro had left, you sighed. You missed him already.

So you waited, listening to the ticking of the clock, the quiet creaks of the house, and the sound of the wind outside, hoping that somehow, everything will be okay. Because despite the uncertainty, despite the fear, you trusted him. And in this quiet moment, that trust is all you have. Everything would work out. It just had to.

When Rintaro finally returned, with an armful of firewood and his boots laden with dirt, you all but rushed out the door and rushed into him. It took him a few seconds before he realized what you were doing, and hastily dropped the wood beneath his feet. A small ‘oomph’ escaped his chest as you ran into his arms, your chest colliding with his. Arms wrapped around his neck and your legs around his waist, you breathed in the scent of him – like sweat, soap, and a hint of pine. He smelled so Rintaro, and entirely all yours.

“Whoa,” he exclaimed, slightly swaying from how you nearly knocked him over.

Heat crept up the back of your neck as it dawned on you what you did, and you grimaced, burying your head deeper into his neck. “Sorry. I just missed you too much.”

“I wasn’t gone for that long.”

“It felt like a long time,” you murmured, pulling back to glance at what he’d gathered. “Did you get enough firewood?”

“I did, yeah,” he nodded, not once letting go of you. His hand ran up and down your spine in soothing motions, much like how he often did to lull you to sleep after a long night of making love. Your body reacted instantaneously at the gesture. Grinding down on him, you bit your lip, too shy to meet his gaze when your husband inhaled sharply. “I-I’ll get started on dinner.”

You tried not to let disappointment get to you when he put you down. “Wait,” you called out to him, and Rintaro stopped, briefly glancing at you over his shoulder. “Your hair’s getting long.”

“Oh,” he touched the tips of his hair, as if only realizing now he’d grown out bangs. “I guess it is.”

“Come here. I’ll give you a haircut.”

His hair had grown out a lot since you’d left everything behind, and while you loved the messy, rugged look on him, you’d been itching to tidy it up. Without waiting for a response, you grabbed a spare sheet, tied it around his neck, and led him to the chair.

He didn’t protest, just sat there quietly as you combed your fingers through his hair. The room fell into a thick silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable – it was heavy, like there was something unsaid between you. The scissors made soft snipping sounds as you worked, trimming away the overgrown locks, and you could feel his gaze on you, though he never said a word. Every so often, your fingers brushed the back of his neck, and you could feel the heat between you both rising.

You tried to focus on the task at hand, but your mind kept wandering. There was something about this moment, the quiet intimacy of it. You weren’t just cutting his hair – it was like you were touching something deeper, something that had been building between you for a while now. And it scared you a little.

When you finished, you stepped back, admiring your work. His hair was shorter than you’d intended, but it suited him. He looked different, more mature. His sharp features were more pronounced now, no longer hidden behind the shaggy locks. It made him look… handsome. More than that, he looked like the man you knew he was, someone who had been through so much, and yet, still stood strong. Not quite such a Prince anymore, yet he couldn’t look more like himself. More like the Rintaro you’d fallen for even without the pretense of titles.

Before you realized it, you had moved closer again, your body almost instinctively finding its way to his lap. You settled there without thinking, knees on either side of him as you stared at his new haircut. Your hands rested lightly on his shoulders, and the proximity made your heart race. You couldn’t help but admire him, running your fingers through the now-short strands. He looked up at you, and for a moment, the tension between you snapped tight. His eyes held yours, and it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. There was a quiet intensity in the way he looked at you, and for the first time, you truly saw him – no distractions, no walls, just Rintaro.

The way he looked at you made your breath hitch. It wasn’t just admiration – it was need, want, something that had been simmering between you both, unspoken but undeniable. And in that moment, sitting on his lap, your hands in his hair, it was clear you felt it too.

As you sat there, the air between you thick with tension, Rintaro’s hands slowly found their way to your waist, his touch hesitant at first, as if he wasn’t sure if he should. But once his fingers settled there, gripping gently, the hesitation melted away. Your pulse quickened, your breath caught in your throat, and you could feel the familiar warmth spreading through your body. The simplicity of his touch made it all the more intense.

Neither of you spoke, but words weren’t necessary. The atmosphere was charged with a mix of longing and vulnerability. You had been so close to him for so long – sharing the same space, the same struggles, the same quiet moments—but this was different. It felt like you were both finally acknowledging what had always been there, hidden beneath the surface.

Rintaro’s eyes searched yours, and for a second, he looked like he might say something, but instead, he just exhaled softly, his grip on your waist tightening ever so slightly. You weren’t sure if it was the way his breath hitched or the intensity of the moment, but you found yourself leaning down, your foreheads almost touching, the space between you growing impossibly small.

His gaze flickered down to your lips, and that was when you both hesitated again. You had kissed before, many times, but this felt different, weighted with the emotions you had tried to keep at bay. Neither of you could pretend anymore—there was no turning away from the truth. The love, the guilt, the fear, it all hovered between you, heavy and real.

And then, he leaned in, finally bridging the gap. The kiss wasn’t hurried or heated – it was slow, deliberate, like both of you were savoring this moment for what it was. His lips against yours felt comforting, familiar, and yet this time, it felt like more. The gentle press of his mouth, the way he cradled your face afterward, it all spoke of a kind of tenderness that had been growing between you for longer than either of you realized.

There were no fireworks, no sudden rush of heat. Instead, there was something even more powerful – an overwhelming sense of rightness. As his hands moved from your waist to pull you closer, you melted into him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours as you clung to him. It was a moment suspended in time, and it felt like home. You breathed him in, your fingers threading through his freshly cut hair, and in that quiet, shared space, you both allowed yourselves to be vulnerable.

The kiss ended, but you didn’t move, your foreheads resting together as you caught your breath. It wasn’t explosive or wild; it was gentle and grounding. In his arms, you felt safe, like no matter what happened outside of this moment, you’d always have this – each other.

And for the first time in a long while, you both let yourselves believe that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

“I love you,” you blurted out, and Rintaro stiffened beneath your fingers.”

“…What?”

“I said, I love you,” you repeated, feeling like a weight had been lifted off your chest now that you’d said it. Deep down, you always had. The love that you had for him never disappeared – it was always there, lingering, sometimes more of a quiet voice that never spoke. But it was definitely roaring now in your chest, threatening to claw its way out of your chest as you held his gaze. “I know that… it hasn’t been easy, and I hadn’t said it in a long time, but I thought you should know. I love you, Rin. I never stopped loving you.”

Your husband shuddered beneath you, looking equally tortured and relieved. “But you can’t,” he whispered, his voice broken. “I haven’t been good to you. I never was from the start. I lied, and I cheated, and I hurt you again and again. I’m not someone who deserves your love.”

“I know,” you admitted, and something unreadable crossed in his face. “But I can’t help it, can I?” You were crying now, feeling the tears slip down your cheek before you could stop it.

“I don’t want you to regret it.”

You closed your eyes, grazing your lips to his. “That’s my decision to make.”

As you sat on his lap, your heart raced in your chest, the quiet tension between you shifting into something heavier, something desperate. His hands tightened on your waist, fingers digging in just a little more firmly than before, and you felt the heat of his body beneath yours. The room seemed to shrink around you, the air thickening with unspoken need.

You weren’t sure who moved first – maybe it was him, maybe it was you – but the next kiss wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t slow or tender. It crashed over you like a wave, urgent and raw, as if neither of you could wait another second. His lips claimed yours with a fervor that startled you, and you responded in kind, matching his intensity as your hands moved to grip his shoulders, your fingers pressing into the fabric of his shirt.

The softness from before was gone, replaced with something almost wild. Your breath mingled in short, sharp gasps as his mouth moved against yours, hungry and demanding. It wasn’t angry, not really, but it felt like a release – of every emotion you’d been holding back, every moment of doubt, fear, and longing. His kiss was hard, almost bruising, but you welcomed it, pulling him closer, needing to feel him, to drown in him.

Your hands slid from his shoulders to the back of his neck, pulling him in as if you were afraid he might slip away. His hands roamed your back, pulling you flush against him, his touch rougher than usual, like he couldn’t get close enough, like it wasn’t enough to just hold you.

The heat between you flared, your bodies pressed together as if you could fuse into one, and the kiss deepened, growing more intense with every second. It felt like you were pouring everything you had into it – every fear, every hope, every piece of yourself that you had tried to keep hidden. His lips moved with an urgency that made your head spin, and you met him with the same frantic energy, kissing him harder, deeper, until you couldn’t tell where he ended and you began. The world outside faded into nothing, your mind consumed by the feel of his mouth on yours, the way his hands gripped you like he couldn’t bear to let go.

How you stumbled back to the bedroom was beyond you. The next thing you knew, you were being dropped onto the softness of your bad, Rintaro’s larger frame hovering over you. Your clothes abandoned on a pile next to his. Every worshipping touch on your body wasn’t sweet or careful. It was overwhelming, chaotic, and messy, filled with all the things you’d both tried to hold back. But it was real, and in that moment, you both gave in to it, to each other, with everything you had.

When you’d both crashed with pleasure, your name spoken in garbled moans, it felt like you had just stepped off the edge and found that he was there to catch you. And in that moment, nothing else mattered.

When you woke up that morning, it was with a sense of warmth and contentment you hadn’t felt in so long. The remnants of the night before lingered in your mind, and for a moment, everything felt perfect. You stretched beneath the covers, feeling the ache of last night in your bones but relishing the memory. You smiled, thinking of Rin, his touch, his kiss – how intimate you had been.

But the bed beside you was empty, and the sheets were cool. He was an early riser, so you didn’t think much of it at first. Maybe he was out on one of his usual morning walks through the woods to clear his head. You sighed, rolling over and pulling the blanket tighter around you for a few more minutes of quiet bliss before getting up.

When you finally rose from bed, the house was eerily still. You called out for him, expecting to hear his familiar voice call back, but there was only silence. It didn’t bother you at first – it wasn’t unusual that he had gone to gather some firewood; maybe he was preparing something outside. You went about your routine, washing up and getting dressed, still feeling a soft smile on your face.

But as the hours ticked by and there was no sign of Rin, a quiet sense of unease began to creep in. You stepped out into the cold, hoping to catch a glimpse of him by the tree line or near the shed. But there was nothing. Not a single footprint in the frost-covered ground, no telltale signs of him chopping wood or setting off on his usual walk.

Your pulse quickened. You hurried back inside, checking the small kitchen where he might have left a note, but there was nothing there either.

The unease sharpened into something colder and more piercing as you wandered into the bedroom and noticed it – his things were gone. His coat, once draped over the chair, and his boots, lined up neatly by the door, had vanished. The small bag he always kept packed with essentials was nowhere to be seen. The room, which had once been a haven of shared moments and passionate kisses, felt hollow, the absence of his presence rendering the space unbearably large and desolate.

A wave of disorientation washed over you, and you instinctively began opening drawers and rifling through closets, desperate to find some sign of his belongings. But each drawer you opened and every closet you searched yielded nothing but emptiness. His clothes, the few personal items that had once filled the room with his essence, were gone. It was as if he had disappeared into thin air, leaving no trace behind.

Panic surged through you, a rising tide of fear and confusion.

Your heart raced as you moved from room to room, your steps growing more frantic with each passing second. You searched under furniture, peered into corners, and even checked the storage spaces, hoping beyond hope that this was all just a terrible misunderstanding. But every corner you turned revealed only more absence, more vacancy, and the knot in your chest tightened painfully with each revelation of what was missing.

In the midst of your growing despair, your eyes caught sight of a small, folded piece of paper resting on the bedside table. Your hands trembled as you reached for it, unfolding it with a mixture of dread and anticipation. The note, penned in his familiar handwriting, offered no immediate comfort, but it was a tangible reminder that, even in his departure, he had left something behind – a final, aching fragment of his presence amid the overwhelming void.

He was gone.

You stood in the middle of the room, heart pounding in your chest as the realization fully sank in. The warmth you had woken up with was gone, replaced by a cold, hollow feeling you couldn’t shake. He’d left, and he hadn’t even said goodbye.

Exhaling through shaky breaths, you read the letter.

to my wife,

I want to begin by saying I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all the pain and confusion I put you through. I know that no words can truly convey how much I regret knowing that I’d broken your heart, and continuously trampled on the trust you’d given me time and time again. I will forever be haunted by the memory of the hurt I’ve inflicted upon you, and I will never forgive myself for the sorrow I’ve brought into your life. You never deserved any of that, just as I never deserved the love you so freely gave me.

The past two years living in the cabin with you have been the greatest of my life.

Those moments, those days when it felt as though we were truly a happy husband and wife, those days when it felt as if nothing in the world could touch us ever again, are memories I will cherish for the rest of my life. Sometimes, in those quiet evenings, I allowed myself to dream and dared to hope that this life could be real – that we could live without fear, without pain. It was a fleeting hope, nothing but a silly dream of mine. A beautiful illusion that, even now, makes me yearn for what might have been. What could have been.

But the truth is… I couldn’t bear to see us – to see you – living in this constant state of hiding and looking over our shoulders out of fear. I couldn’t continue to witness the toll that our isolation, our running away, has taken on you, knowing that it was all because of me. We fled the kingdom to escape the consequences of my poorly timed decisions, and now I am confronted with the unbearable reality that our love and our lives are marred by the very choices I made. I could only run so far from them. There is only so much distance I can put between me and the past, but the ghosts of my mistakes will always haunt me, and I can no longer stand and watch as you, too, suffer from it.

You have shown me a love and loyalty that I didn’t deserve, and for that, I am eternally grateful. Even when I faltered, when I was unworthy of your affection, you stood by me. When you learned of the lies I’ve told you, you still gave me the benefit of the doubt. Your unwavering loyalty and support has been both my solace and my shame. I cannot remain by your side any longer, not when I know that our suffering is a direct consequence of my failures. It was my fault that we had to leave our country, the place you called home and where your family was.

I know that time and time again, you’ve reassured me you don’t regret it. I know you wouldn’t have changed it for anything, that you have come to accept the reality of our life. I never doubted you, but I doubt myself. I always will. I could try my hardest to become someone good for you, someone worthy of you, and I fear that’s something I could never live up to you. Every time I look at you, I am reminded of who you are – someone who had always been too good for me. Someone who’d thrown away her life just so I wouldn’t be alone. Someone who’d betrayed her country and willingly followed me when I myself didn’t know where to go. You had always been perfect, always too loving, always putting others before yourself. You wouldn’t have chosen otherwise, which is why I decided to do make that choice for you instead.

I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye.

I had to leave while you were asleep, because I feared that if I stayed, I would change my mind and keep you in this play pretend of house. It wasn’t an easy decision, but I believe it was the only choice that will allow you to find peace and healing. I hope you will understand that I am doing this because I want the best for you, even if it means I must be gone from your life.

Please know that I love you enough that I’m willing to accept you’re going to keep hating me again from now on. My heart aches knowing that I’d left you alone in this strange place, but it was the only thing I could do. I know you miss your parents, and you miss how your life used to be. I couldn’t keep you apart from them any longer.

Don’t be scared of what may lie ahead. There isn’t much that I can do for you, but I’ve already arranged and secured your safe return to Inarizaki. Wakatoshi has reassured me of this, and sooner or later, you will be escorted to reunite with your parents. Tobio is waiting for you, too.

I hope that, in time, everything will make sense, and that you will find the happiness and freedom that you deserve. As you read this letter, I’m probably miles away already. Please do not come looking for me, because I may find it impossible to not keep you to myself a little longer.

Forever yours, in love and regret,

Rintaro

The letter trembled in your hands, each word becoming a blur as your tears began to fall.

The ink started to smudge and bleed, his neat handwriting dissolving into dark, spreading blotches. Your sobs wracked your body, each cry an echo of the betrayal and heartbreak that consumed you.

As the reality of his abandonment sank in, the air around you seemed to close in, heavy with the weight of his departure. You felt as though you were suffocating, the room closing in with the oppressive silence of his absence. The letter slipped from your hands, but you clutched it desperately as though it were a lifeline, the only connection left to the man who had left you behind.

In a frantic haze, you ignored his request to not come looking for him, a surge of determination driving you outside. Your feet were bare, and the cold ground met them with unforgiving harshness. The chill and roughness of the terrain did little to slow you down, and you pushed through, driven by a desperate need to find him. He couldn’t be that far, but then again, you couldn’t tell how long you’d been asleep for. Still, you ran, each step a mix of pain and desperation, the ground cutting into your feet until they were raw and bleeding. The physical pain was a distant second to unforgiving way your heart shattered into pieces, the vision of his face and the agony of his departure the only thing driving you forward.

Hours seemed to stretch endlessly as you searched, your hope dwindling with each passing minute.

Exhaustion began to overtake you, your legs heavy and your breaths labored. The landscape blurred around you, a twisted mirage of your torment. At the back of your head, you swore you could still see him – could still see his broad back watching the sunrise, could still feel his warm hands interlacing with yours through the morning fog. Even if he was no longer there.

Spent and broken, you collapsed onto the cold ground, clutching the letter tightly against your chest. Your bare feet, now wounded and battered, throbbed with pain, but the physical hurt was insignificant compared to the emptiness carved out in your heart.

Bone weary, you laid on the cold ground, tears mixing with the dirt, the letter your only solace. You held the wrinkled letter close to your chest, the only sound was the ragged whisper of your sobs, echoing into the forest where his presence used to be.

Hours passed you by.

You laid there, unmoving, the cold ground helping you numb your aching heart. Just as the forest seemed to blanket you within its freezing embrace, you heard the distant sound of footsteps. They grew closer, and you looked up, your heart pounding with a mix of dread and hope. You’d expected to see Rintaro, desperately hoping that he’d taken back his words and returned. That he never meant to leave, and he was here to stay. And then, as if conjured by your deepest longing and torment, he appeared – the very man who plagued your dreams, the one you had chosen to leave behind.

Kiyoomi.

The past two years had been kind to him, despite his grief. He stood a little taller, if not a little broader, too. But it was evident on his face, the misery that you were certain mirrored yours. His face that had been etched with a permanent frown darkened upon the sight of you – laid out in the floor caked in dirt, shivering in nothing but a nightgown and Rintaro’s letter clutched upon your chest. Wordlessly, he hurried to you. Crouching beside you, his movements were swift and sure, like having you in his arms was the most natural thing and he was simply reclaiming what was his. Gently, he lifted you into his arms, cradling you as though you were the most precious thing in the world. His coat, warm and familiar and still smelling like him, enveloped you, shielding you from the night’s gold.

And he still felt like home.

Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder. Just like that, the dam had broken – your sorrow flooded through, your cries erupted at the back of your throat, raw and unrestrained. Kiyoomi pulled you closer, his embrace tender yet firm, as he was afraid holding you tighter would further break you apart.

He placed gentle kisses on your forehead, rocking you back and forth as an attempt to soothe you. As you clung to him, the warmth of his body and the softness of his touch eased your trembling. His arms held you tightly, enveloping you in his embrace like a protective shield.

He felt like a sanctuary in the storm – warm and reassuring. You yearned to nestle against his chest, to bury your face in the comforting curve of his embrace, and hold on tightly while you let the storm pass. Only it never would, even if the storm had already done its damage and travelled a hundred miles away. Kiyoomi could never undo the damage it had left in its wake.

“It’s okay,” he murmured against your hair, and for once, you doubted how true his words would be. “I’m going to take you home now.”

[pdriesta]

CHAPTER SEVEN

“i want something that i know is real”

pairings — judexblack!girl

genres — fluff, slow burn, workplace romance (she’s a pt)

warnings — sexual themes (minors dni)

word count — 6.3k

summary — y/n, a rising physiotherapist, has just been promoted to work with real madrid's men's team. after a difficult breakup, she's determined to keep things professional. but when jude bellingham, the club's charming new star, sets his sights on her, maintaining boundaries becomes harder than ever. can she resist the pull, or will she risk everything for a love she swore she’d never fall for again?

an — the last chapter 🥲 i can’t even put into words how much i appreciate the love and support even after deleting my blog seeing the same accounts comment and like these chapters has never failed to make me happy! i am beyond grateful. if you’re still interested this couple, i’ll be releasing blurb series. the first one is posted and requests are open <3

masterlist

the room was a blur of activity, voices overlapping as the medical team worked efficiently around jude. he sat there, trying to focus on the steady stream of questions and instructions being thrown his way, but his mind kept drifting back to the moment it all went wrong.

the match had been intense, emotions running high, and jude had let his temper get the best of him. he remembered the argument with the opposing player, the heated words exchanged, the rush of adrenaline that followed. it was all so vivid in his mind—how he’d felt the anger simmering beneath his skin, how he’d wanted to prove himself in that split second, to win the ball, to show he wasn’t one to back down.

but then it happened. they both went up for the header, and time seemed to stretch out in front of him. the roar of the crowd faded into the background as he focused on the ball, his body moving instinctively. he remembered the sensation of losing his balance, the way the ground seemed to rise up to meet him, the sickening thud as his head hit the turf. the world tilted, the lights above blurring into a dizzying swirl, and for a moment, everything went black.

now, back in the medical room, jude felt the residual throbbing in his head, a dull ache that pulsed with every beat of his heart. his family was there—his mom, denise, hovering close by with worry etched into her features; his dad, mark, standing stoically but with an unmistakable tension in his posture; and his younger brother, jobe, sitting quietly in the corner, his wide eyes filled with concern.

y/n was there too, but she kept her distance, her eyes avoiding his. jude could tell she was upset—really upset—by the way she kept herself apart from the others, by the tightness in her expression that she couldn’t quite hide. she only stepped forward when one of the other medics called for her, her movements precise and professional, but there was an underlying tension in everything she did.

jude couldn’t shake the feeling that she was mad at him, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. maybe it was because he’d been reckless, because he’d let his emotions get the better of him on the pitch. maybe it was because she’d seen the whole thing happen, the way he went down, the way he didn’t get back up right away. the thought of her worrying, of her being scared for him, gnawed at him.

they ran through the tests—checking his reflexes, his coordination, asking him questions to assess his memory and cognition. jude answered as best he could, but his focus kept drifting back to y/n. he hated that she was so distant, that she wouldn’t even look at him. it hurt more than the injury itself.

“he’s going to be okay, right?” denise asked one of the medics, her voice trembling slightly.

“we’re running all the necessary tests, mrs. bellingham,” the medic replied calmly, “but so far, everything looks stable. we’ll have a better idea once we review the scans.”

jude’s parents exchanged a worried glance, but denise nodded, trying to stay strong. jobe looked over at jude, his young face pale with concern.

“you’ll be fine, jude,” jobe said softly, trying to sound confident, though his voice wavered just a bit.

jude managed a small smile, wanting to reassure his brother, but the heaviness in his chest remained. when the tests were finally over, his mom asked if he needed help getting home, and mark added, “we can get you settled in, jude. don’t worry about anything.”

“actually,” denise said, glancing over at y/n, “maybe y/n could take you home? you two spend a lot of time together, and she knows how to take care of you.”

the room seemed to freeze at that suggestion, the tension thickening. jude saw the way y/n stiffened at his mom’s words, how she hesitated before nodding, still refusing to meet his eyes.

“yeah… sure. i’ll take him home,” y/n said quietly, her voice tinged with something jude couldn’t quite place.

jude watched as y/n carefully checked his vitals, her fingers deftly adjusting the blood pressure cuff around his arm. even in her quiet, focused state, she was breathtaking. he couldn’t help but study her—how the light caught in her braids, the way her brows furrowed in concentration, and how every now and then, her lips would press into a thin line, as if she was holding something back. he knew she was upset with him, and it pained him more than the throbbing in his head.

he thought back to earlier, to how her distance had been like a wall between them, and how badly he wanted to break through it. it wasn’t just that she was pulling back; it was the way she did it, so carefully and deliberately, as if she was trying to protect herself from him. it killed him to think that his actions had made her feel this way, that he’d been the cause of her worry, of her pain. he’d been reckless, and now she was paying the price for it.

“baby,” he whispered, the word slipping out before he could stop it.

y/n froze at the sound of his voice, her hand stilling on his arm. for a moment, she didn’t move, and jude’s heart sank, fearing that he’d overstepped, that he’d made things worse. but then she looked up at him, her eyes filled with unshed tears, and jude felt his heart crack open.

“why are you crying?” he asked gently, reaching out to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped.

y/n shook her head, her breath hitching as she tried to find the right words. “i’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “i’m sorry for being so distant… it’s just—” she paused, taking a shaky breath, her eyes glistening as she continued, “the replay looked so bad, jude. i thought you had a brain injury, or worse… and i couldn’t stop thinking about what could’ve happened to you.”

jude’s heart ached at her words, at the raw emotion in her voice. he could see how much she was struggling, how much this had affected her, and it made him feel even worse for having been the cause of it. he shushed her gently, his hand moving to cradle her face, trying to offer her some comfort.

“hey, i’m okay,” he murmured, guiding her hand to his cheek so she could feel the warmth of him, the steady beat of his pulse beneath her fingers. “i’m right here, love. i’m okay.”

y/n let out a shaky breath, leaning into his touch as she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “it’s just… i feel it every time you go out there, every time you risk your body like that. and today, seeing you go down like that… it scared me so much. i couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.”

her voice cracked, and jude could see how much she was holding back, how hard she was trying to keep it together. he wanted to pull her into his arms, to tell her everything was going to be okay, but he knew she needed to get this out, to say what was on her heart.

“it’s not just today, jude,” she went on, her voice trembling with emotion. “i think… i think i’ve always felt this way, even before i realized it. it’s like, every time i see you, my heart just… it does this thing where it skips a beat, and i can hardly breath. i try to ignore it, but i can’t.”

she paused, her breath hitching as she tried to gather her courage. jude held his breath, sensing that she was about to say something that would change everything between them.

“i love you,” she finally confessed, the words spilling out in a rush of emotion. “i’m in love with you, jude. i’ve probably always loved you… from the moment i laid eyes on you, you just… you never left me alone. no matter how much i tried to keep things professional, to keep my distance, you kept finding ways to break through. and i’m scared, jude. i’m so scared of what this means, of what could happen… but i can’t ignore it anymore. i love you, jude.”

the weight of her words hung in the air between them, heavy and full of meaning. jude felt his heart swell with emotion, a rush of warmth flooding through him at her confession. she loved him. she loved him. it was everything he’d ever wanted to hear, everything he’d been hoping for since the moment he first saw her.

he pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight, as if he could protect her from all the fears and uncertainties that were swirling around them. “i love you too,” he whispered into her hair, his voice thick with emotion. “i’ve loved you since that day you took care of me when i was sick… maybe even before that. you’re everything to me, y/n. everything.”

she clung to him, her breath hitching as she tried to process the magnitude of what they’d just shared. jude pressed his forehead to hers, his eyes closing as he breathed her in, the scent of her hair, the warmth of her skin. he’d been so scared of losing her, so afraid that he’d pushed her too far, but now… now everything felt right.

“i’m sorry i scared you,” he murmured, his voice low and sincere. “i never want to make you worry like that again. but i promise you, y/n, i’ll always do my best to come back to you. always.”

y/n nodded, her tears slipping down her cheeks as she held onto him, her heart finally at peace. “i know,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “i know, jude. and i’ll always be here for you. no matter what.”

they stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped up in each other, the world outside fading away until it was just the two of them in that room, together. for the first time in what felt like forever, everything was exactly as it should be. they had each other, and that was all that mattered.

the morning light streamed through the curtains of y/n’s bedroom, casting a warm glow on the space as jude slowly blinked awake. the memories of last night still lingered in the air between them—soft confessions of love that had left them both feeling light and warm, a tenderness that neither of them could shake off.

jude turned his head, eyes landing on y/n, who was already up and dressed, fussing with something at her bedside table. he couldn’t help but smile as he watched her, still wrapped up in her oversized t-shirt that he had insisted she wear—one of his favorites that practically swallowed her whole, the hem brushing the tops of her thighs. she was gorgeous, and he felt a twinge of guilt for making her worry so much yesterday, the fear in her eyes when he’d gotten hurt replaying in his mind.

“good morning, mi amor,” she said softly, noticing he was awake. the endearment slipped easily from her lips, a habit she hadn’t quite realized she’d picked up. she leaned over, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, mindful of his injury. “how are you feeling?”

“better,” jude replied, his voice still thick with sleep. “could get used to waking up like this.”

y/n smiled, brushing a hand through his curls, and for a moment, they both just enjoyed the quiet intimacy of the morning.

but jude, ever the tease, wasn’t content with just that. he slid his hand to the back of her knee, tugging her gently closer. “you know, you could make me feel even better if you come back to bed…”

she rolled her eyes playfully, swatting his hand away. “nice try, bellingham. doctor’s orders—no physical activity that could aggravate your head, and that includes whatever you’re trying to start.”

jude groaned dramatically, flopping back against the pillows. “stop teasing me, baby. you can’t just look all sexy in my shirt and then not let me touch you.”

“i’m not teasing you,” y/n shot back, trying to hide her smile. “i’m just trying to keep you safe, you big baby. besides, i’m not the one who decided to start a fight on the pitch.”

“i wasn’t fighting,” jude mumbled, though he knew it was a weak defense. “just... heated discussions.”

“uh-huh,” she said, not buying it for a second. “well, heated discussions or not, you’re under my care now, so no funny business. doctor’s orders.”

jude pouted, but he knew she was right. still, it didn’t stop him from reaching out to grab her wrist, pulling her down onto the bed beside him. “just five more minutes, please?” he pleaded, his voice low and sweet, the kind of tone that made it hard for her to resist.

“five minutes,” y/n relented, settling beside him and letting him pull her close. she felt his warmth seep into her, and despite her better judgment, she let herself relax into him, her head resting on his chest. “but no funny business.”

“promise,” jude murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. he felt her sigh against him, her breath warm against his skin, and for a moment, everything felt right in the world.

as they lay there, the lightness of their confession still hanging between them, jude couldn’t help but think about how much he adored her, how every little thing she did seemed to make him fall even harder. the way she fussed over him, how she was constantly updating his family on his condition, how she’d made sure he was as comfortable as possible—he loved every bit of it.

he especially loved how close she was with his mum. every time y/n picked up her phone to send another update, jude couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. knowing that his family trusted her, that his mum was reassured by her care, made his heart swell.

“i like that you and my mum are close,” jude admitted quietly, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on her arm. “makes me so happy.”

“she’s wonderful,” y/n said, tilting her head to look up at him. “and she cares about you so much. i’m just glad i can help ease her worries a bit.”

“she likes you, you know,” jude said, his voice teasing. “she keeps asking me when i’m gonna make an honest woman out of you.”

y/n laughed softly, but she couldn’t help the flutter in her chest at his words. “oh, is that so? and what did you tell her?”

“told her that you’re mine, and that’s all that matters,” he replied with a grin, pulling her closer. “but don’t worry, baby. i’ll work on the ‘honest woman’ part.”

she blushed, the implications of his words making her heart race. “you better, my mom and aunties have the wedding already planned. you can’t put a price on me, mr. bellingham. do you think you deserve me?”

“i know i do because you love me. no other man could take care of you like i can,” jude shot back, a playful glint in his eyes.

y/n rolled her eyes again, but she couldn’t hide her smile. “yeah, yeah. now, let me check your head before you get any more ideas.”

“always so bossy,” jude teased, though there was no bite to his words. “turns me on.”

y/n huffed a laugh, gently moving his face away with a light shove. “don’t even start,” she said, though she couldn’t help the fondness in her voice. “you’re supposed to be resting.”

“i am resting,” he protested, catching her hand in his. “just resting better now that you’re here.”

y/n shook her head, a soft smile playing on her lips. “you’re lucky you’re cute,” she muttered, leaning down to brush her lips against his once more. “now behave, or i’ll have to call your mum and tell her you’re being difficult.”

“you wouldn’t dare,” jude gasped, feigning shock.

“try me,” she shot back, smirking as she sat up to check his bandage. “now, sit still, or i’ll add ‘uncooperative patient’ to my report.”

jude couldn’t help but laugh, loving how easily they fell into this playful banter. the way she cared for him, how she balanced between strict and loving—it made him fall even more for her. and as they spent the day together, with her tending to his every need and him trying to push her buttons just enough to get a reaction, jude couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, he could get used to this—a life where they shared these little moments, where she was always there to look after him, to keep him in line, to love him the way she did.

and as the day drew on, with the light fading and the warmth of their shared confessions still lingering, jude found himself feeling more content than he ever had. because in her, he had found everything he’d ever wanted—someone who challenged him, cared for him, and loved him with a heart so pure and true that he couldn’t help but love her back just as fiercely.

and for jude, that was more than enough.

the next day, y/n’s place was a full house. jude had a bit of time off to recover, and it seemed like everyone wanted to pitch in, making sure he got better. the sun streamed through the windows, filling the space with warmth as laughter echoed off the walls. y/n’s mom had arrived early, her arms full of groceries and herbal remedies she swore would have jude back on his feet in no time.

denise, jude’s mom, wasn’t far behind, bringing homemade soup that she claimed was a family secret for healing. it didn’t take long for y/n’s mom and denise to strike up a conversation, the two women instantly connecting as they compared notes on how to best take care of their kids. y/n watched them from the kitchen, her heart swelling with affection at how easily they got along. it felt right, having both families together like this.

jude, seated on the couch, couldn’t help but smile as he observed the scene. the sight of y/n moving around her home, effortlessly playing hostess, made him feel a sense of contentment he hadn’t known he needed. he loved seeing her like this, surrounded by the people she loved, comfortable in her own space. and it didn’t hurt that she kept sneaking glances his way, her eyes soft with affection every time they met his.

“hey auntie,” jude called out with a grin when y/n’s mom entered the living room, holding up a jar of some mystery concoction. “what’s that you’ve got there?”

y/n’s mom shot him a mock-serious look, her lips twitching with amusement. “this, my child, is going to help you heal faster than anything those doctors can give you.”

jude chuckled, holding up his hands in surrender. “i believe you, auntie. if it means getting better faster, i’m all for it.”

she finally cracked a smile, her eyes warm as she looked at him. “that’s what i like to hear. now, i know denise here has her soup, but you’re going to take this too. we’ve got to get you back on that pitch, don’t we?”

“yes, ma’am,” jude replied, his tone respectful, but there was a playful glint in his eyes. “you’re the boss.”

“good boy,” she said, patting his shoulder affectionately before turning to y/n. “and you, my beautiful daughter, make sure he takes this every morning. no slacking, got it?”

y/n nodded, trying to suppress her grin. “yes, mama. i’ll make sure of it.”

meanwhile, jobe and y/n’s brother, mateo, were deep in conversation on the other side of the room. they’d hit it off immediately, both sharing a love for football and an endless supply of banter.

“so, how’s it feel to be the little brother of a superstar?” mateo teased, nudging jobe with his elbow.

jobe rolled his eyes, but there was a fond smile on his face. “it’s not too bad, i guess. but don’t tell jude i said that. his ego’s big enough as it is.”

mateo laughed, clapping jobe on the back. “don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. besides, i’m pretty sure he knows it already.”

“oh, he definitely does,” jobe said, glancing over at his brother. “but you know what? he deserves it. he’s worked hard to get where he is.”

“true,” mateo agreed, his tone more serious now. “and from what i’ve seen, he’s a good guy too. you’re lucky to have him as a brother.”

jobe nodded, a small smile on his lips. “yeah, i am. and it’s nice to see him happy, you know? especially with y/n. she’s good for him.”

mateo glanced over at his sister, who was now standing with jude, both of them laughing at something y/n’s mom had said. “yeah, she is,” he said softly, his voice filled with affection. “they’re good for each other.”

as the day went on, the house was filled with warmth and laughter. y/n’s mom continued to fuss over jude, making sure he was comfortable and well-fed. denise joined in, the two women bonding over their shared love for their children and their determination to see jude back to full health.

“you know, jude,” y/n’s mom said at one point, sitting beside him on the couch, “you’re like a son to me now. you take care of my daughter, and we’ll take care of you.”

jude felt a lump form in his throat at her words, the sincerity in her tone hitting him right in the chest. “thank you, auntie,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “that means a lot to me.”

she reached out, patting his cheek with a motherly affection that made him feel warm all over. “you’re a good boy, jude. we’re lucky to have you in our family.”

he smiled at that, his heart swelling with gratitude. “i’m the lucky one,” he murmured, his eyes meeting y/n’s across the room. she smiled back at him, her eyes filled with so much love it made his chest tighten.

“he really is,” denise chimed in, her voice light and full of pride. “and we’re so grateful to have y/n in his life. she’s been nothing but a blessing.”

“oh, don’t get me started on how much i love that girl,” y/n’s mom said with a laugh. “she’s always been the best of us.”

jude listened to them talk, his heart so full it felt like it might burst. he loved that their families were coming together like this, that the people he cared about most were finding comfort and companionship in each other. it made everything feel more real, more solid. like they were building something that would last.

as the afternoon wore on, the atmosphere remained light and filled with love. y/n’s mom kept him supplied with tea and herbal remedies, while denise made sure he had everything else he needed. jobe and mateo continued their banter, occasionally roping jude in when they needed a third opinion on whatever argument they were having.

the warm hum of conversation filled y/n's living room as their families mingled effortlessly, laughter spilling into the air. y/n sat nestled comfortably beside jude, his arm slung lazily over her shoulders as they watched their families interact like they’d known each other for years. her mom and denise were in the kitchen, bonding over cooking tips, while her brothers hovered around the snack table, throwing sly glances her way every now and then.

carlos, always the one to start trouble, leaned back with a mischievous smirk. “so jude, be honest,” he called out, loud enough to grab everyone’s attention. “are you tired of how bossy y/n is? how many times has she told you what to do?”

mateo snickered beside him, chiming in. “yeah, man, because we know y/n—she’s always telling us off.”

without missing a beat, jude grinned, a cheeky glint in his eye. “oh, trust me,” he said, voice dropping suggestively, “i don’t mind her bossing me around… especially when—”

y/n’s eyes widened in horror as she shot up from the couch, grabbing at jude’s arm. “don't you dare finish that sentence,” she groaned, trying to pull away, but he only laughed, dragging her back down to his side with ease, planting a soft kiss on her cheek, to which y/n met with a playful sideways glance.

“what? i was just being honest,” he teased, his voice low but full of amusement.

her brothers looked visibly disgusted. alejandro covered his face with his hand. "we don’t need to know what happens behind closed doors, man.”

mateo pointed at them both, face scrunched in mock disgust. “yeah, no one wants to hear about our baby sister doing… whatever that is.”

“seriously, pack it up,” carlos added, shaking his head. “this is a family gathering, not… whatever this is.”

y/n groaned, burying her face in her hands. “you’re all so dramatic.”

“seriously,” jude added with a smirk, pulling her closer. “it’s just because i’m the only one here who knows how to keep a woman like y/n happy.”

y/n's eyes widened as she pinched his side, hissing under her breath. “jude, shut up or i'll kill you!”

“what?” jude laughed, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “it’s the truth.”

“god, jude,” mateo groaned, dramatically covering his face. “that’s so corny. i think i just threw up in my mouth a little.”

alejandro waved a hand in front of his face. “someone send this boy back to england. we get it, you’re obsessed with my sister.”

jude only laughed harder, leaning into the joke. “what can i say? i’m a man in love.”

carlos pretended to gag. “pack it up, hermano. we don’t need to see all that.”

alejandro shook his head, feigning disgust. “we’ll be fine without my baby sister getting mounted by her boyfriend infront of us, thanks. but really, y/n—how did you manage to do this to a man. he's too soft. it's disgusting.”

“right?” mateo agreed. “this dude was supposed to be cool. now he’s all… whipped.”

jude just laughed, squeezing her affectionately. “hey, i was always a charmer. i won you guys over, didn’t i?”

“please. just stop speaking,” mateo groaned again, holding up his hands as if to ward off more cheesiness. “i beg of you.”

y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile on her lips. despite the relentless teasing, she knew how much her brothers cared about her, and seeing how easily jude fit into their dynamic made her heart swell.

their banter continued, the playful teasing bouncing back and forth, but through it all, y/n couldn’t help but feel a warmth settle in her chest. despite the jokes and teasing, it was clear how much her brothers cared—not just for her, but for jude too. and seeing their two families blend so seamlessly made her heart swell with happiness.

as the day drew to a close, y/n found herself sitting beside jude on the couch, his arm draped casually over her shoulders. she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder as they watched jobe and mateo argue about something trivial. her mom and denise were in the kitchen, chatting and laughing like they’d known each other for years.

“if we get more days like this. i’ll die a happy man,” jude murmured, his voice soft in her ear.

“today was a good day,” y/n agreed, her voice just as quiet. “i’m glad everyone came together like this.”

“me too,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “i love you, y/n.”

she smiled, turning her head to look up at him. “i love you too, jude.”

and in that moment, with their families around them and the love they shared filling the room, everything felt perfect. they were building something real, something lasting. and y/n knew, without a doubt, that they were exactly where they were meant to be.

the next morning, jude woke up with an idea. it was simple, but it felt like the right thing to do. after the whirlwind of the past few days—the stolen kisses, the moments they shared, and y/n taking care of him when he was sick—he knew she deserved something special. something that would show her just how much she meant to him without overwhelming her with words.

his plan came together quickly, thanks to her brothers and jobe, who were more than willing to help out. while y/n was busy at the training facility, working her usual long hours, they got to work.

later that evening, when y/n came home, jude was already waiting for her at the door, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous smile.

“what’s with that look?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him, already suspicious but curious.

he chuckled, reaching for her hand. “come with me. i’ve got a surprise for you.”

“another one? you’ve been full of surprises lately,” she teased, letting him gently pull her toward the car, her heart already racing a little with excitement. there was something about the way he held her hand, firm but soft, that made her feel like whatever he had planned would be unforgettable.

they drove through the city, the setting sun casting a soft golden glow over madrid’s streets. slowly, the cityscape gave way to quieter roads, the urban sprawl replaced by the peaceful, open stretch toward the coast. y/n glanced at jude, who was focused on the road but never let go of her hand. her mind was buzzing, trying to piece together what he was planning, but her heart told her to simply trust him. whatever it was, it was going to be special.

after a while, jude pulled up to a secluded beach just outside the city. the gentle sound of waves greeted them as they stepped out of the car, the salty air filling their lungs. the beach was completely empty except for one beautiful setup by the shore—a large canopy draped in soft white fabric, twinkling fairy lights strung across the top, with a low table set for two underneath. candles flickered gently in the evening breeze, and a cozy arrangement of blankets and cushions were scattered across the sand.

y/n’s jaw dropped. “jude… what is this?”

“i wanted to do something for you,” he said softly, stepping closer to her. “you’ve done so much for me. taking care of me, introducing me to your family… i wanted to make tonight about you. no distractions, just us. and your brothers—alejandro, matteo, and carlos and jobe helped me out.”

her heart melted at the thought. she looked around the beach, overwhelmed by how thoughtful it all was. “this is… this is incredible,” she whispered.

“you deserve it,” he said, his voice gentle as he took her hand again, leading her down toward the canopy. “come on, let’s eat.”

as they sat under the glow of the fairy lights, the waves lapping quietly at the shore, jude couldn’t stop watching her. the way her eyes sparkled as she took everything in, the soft smile that never left her lips—it made his heart swell. this was it. this was where he wanted to be, with her, always.

“you really went all out for this,” y/n murmured, brushing her hand across the soft blanket beneath her.

“well, i had some help,” jude chuckled. “alejandro’s got a real eye for this kind of thing. matteo and carlos handled the heavy lifting, and jobe… well, he mostly just took notes for when it’s his turn.”

y/n laughed, the sound like music to jude’s ears. “i can’t believe you got them to do all this without me noticing.”

jude shrugged, grinning. “they love you. and i may have told them it was payback for you taking care of me when i was sick.”

her smile widened, her heart swelling even more at the thought of her brothers working with jude to make this night so special for her. “they’re going to lord this over me forever, you know. especially alejandro.”

jude leaned back, a teasing glint in his eyes. “oh, he did say something about being ‘the best brother ever,’ but honestly? i think he’s just happy to see you happy.”

y/n’s chest tightened with emotion. her brothers and jude—these were the people who mattered most to her. to see them come together like this, to make her feel so loved, so cherished, it was overwhelming in the best way possible.

they ate, laughed, and talked for hours, their conversation flowing easily as the stars twinkled overhead. the world around them grew quieter, as if the night itself was making room for just the two of them. at one point, jude reached across the table, taking her hand, his thumb gently tracing circles over her knuckles.

“i’ve never had anything like this before,” he said quietly, his voice thoughtful.

y/n looked up from her plate, her brow furrowing slightly. “like what?”

“this,” jude said, gesturing vaguely at the beach setup, but meaning so much more. “family. love. everything coming together the way it has. it’s like… everything’s falling into place.”

y/n’s heart skipped a beat, her throat suddenly tight with emotion. she could see it in his eyes—the vulnerability, the sincerity behind his words. he wasn’t just talking about the night. he was talking about her, about them. about everything they’d been building together. and in that moment, it felt like the last piece of her heart finally clicked into place.

“me too,” she whispered, her voice catching slightly. “after everything with javier… i never thought i’d feel safe again. but with you, i do.”

jude’s hand tightened around hers, his eyes never leaving hers as he moved closer, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “you are safe with me,” he murmured against her temple. “always.”

y/n closed her eyes, sinking into the warmth of him, the steady beat of his heart against her cheek. this was it. this was everything. and when jude leaned down to press a soft kiss to her lips, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

when they pulled away, her eyes met his, and for a second, everything else fell away. it was just them, under the stars, with the sound of the ocean in the background.

“i love you,” she whispered, her voice soft but steady.

jude’s eyes lit up, his smile spreading slowly across his face. “i love you too, baby. you’re my everything.”

y/n’s heart swelled with a deep, unspoken gratitude. her brothers were her world, and jude, knowing how much they meant to her, had woven them into this moment effortlessly. it was more than she could ever ask for, more than she could ever express. how does he do it? how does he always make everything feel so right?

as a comfortable silence settled between them, the waves crashing softly against the shore, a playful thought popped into y/n’s mind. she glanced at jude, her lips curving into a mischievous smile as she stood, slowly stepping towards him with an unmistakable intent in her eyes.

jude’s brow quirked up, a smirk tugging at his lips. “and what do you think you’re doing?” he teased, already sensing where this was going.

y/n settled onto his lap, her legs on either side of his hips, hands lightly resting on his chest. she leaned in, her lips just inches from his. “we’re alone,” she whispered coyly, her breath warm against his skin. “and as your team doctor... i think you’re officially cleared for physical activity.”

jude's eyes darkened with playful intent, his hands instinctively finding her hips, thumbs grazing her skin in soft, deliberate circles. “yeah? what’d you have in mind?” his voice was low, dripping with that teasing challenge that always made her heart race.

without another word, she closed the distance between them, her lips capturing his in a slow, deep kiss that left no room for questions. her fingers trailed up to cup his jaw, pulling him closer as if the entire world had fallen away, leaving just the two of them beneath the starlit sky.

jude responded immediately, his hands tightening their grip, pulling her impossibly closer until there was nothing between them but the warmth of their bodies and the shared rhythm of their heartbeats. time felt like it stood still, the only thing that mattered was the way she made him feel—like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

when they finally broke apart, breathless and flushed, jude's lips quirked into a crooked grin. “you'll have to clear me like that everytime, baby,” he teased, his voice a husky rumble that sent a shiver down her spine.

y/n bit her lip, her gaze still playful as her fingers traced the line of his jaw. “well, i take my job very seriously.”

he let out a soft laugh, his hand moving up to gently tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “you make me crazy, you know that?” his tone was teasing, but there was a depth behind it, a weight to the words that made her heart squeeze with affection.

she stared into his eyes, her heart swelling with a sudden rush of emotion she couldn’t hold back any longer. “i love you, jude,” she whispered softly, her voice barely above a breath but carrying all the weight of her feelings.

his teasing smile softened into something tender as he leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “i love you too, y/n,” he whispered back, his arms wrapping tighter around her as though he never wanted to let her go. “more than anything.”

they sat there, wrapped up in each other, the sound of the ocean serenading their quiet moment, and for y/n, there was no doubt in her mind—this, right here, was exactly where she was meant to be.

© PDRIESTA 2024

taglist — @sinners-98-world @stephiii29 @kcharlyy @landosgirlxoxo @judesthighveins @ilovelifes-world @cinderellawithashoe @imnyt @miniemonie2001 @lunamelona @treble-snot

[sleepingdayaway]

just read your majoras mask post and i wish i could hug young link so bad😭 I then thought of what would happen if its LU and reader stumbles upon Time, who hasn't seen them since Majoras Mask. The reunion would either be devastating or really cute since hes old and seeing a parental(ish) figure again😭🩷

UR SO BIG BRAIN ANON. FUCK, I CAN NEVER MAKE HIM HAPPY

making a big strong leader be sad and cry for his parental figure fuels me with so much joy

It's a quiet night for the Chain as they all chatted amongst each other while setting up camp for the night. Wild is preparing a a fire, so he could make plans for dinner with Warriors helping him by going through the recipes that he saved on his slate. Wind, Legend and Hyrule are sitting together and speaking about their homes; Wind mostly talking about how he misses his younger sister and his grandma.

Twilight has left to keep an survey the surrounding area. Separate from the group so he could transform into his wolf form without the others knowing. Sky and Four are besides the cook and captain as they had a soft conversation about Sky's sword during his time in the Knight Academy, and when he was forging the Goddess Blade/Master Sword.

Meanwhile Time is sitting a bit farther away; not too far that he couldn't hear them but he's able to have his own space. He’s been feeling heavy these days as it takes a mental toll on him. Attempting to be the voice of reason isn’t easy even though he is in a body that now matches his mind.

Time doesn’t understand the heaviness that he has been feeling as their journey continues; the years long exhaustion seeping into his bones as he watches the rest interact with each other. A small nagging in his skull refuses to allow him a moment of relief. Urging him to get up and not stay idle which causes the older man to let out a sigh.

Which turned out to be a good idea when two sets of footsteps could be heard approaching the camp. Time turned to look at where the noise was approaching which in turned caused the rest of the hero’s to tense up slightly.

If old man Time notices something first, the others will follow suit. Instead of the noise of monsters which most of them can recognize; it was instead the voice of Twilight with a familiar one in tow. Everyone relaxed when they realized it was the Rancher, but were curious on who was he bringing. It was unusual for him to bring a civilian into their camp.

Except as soon as they were in view it made sense. The civilian was roughed up and had scratches and scrapes all over their body as if they had been running away from something. Although they acted as if they were fine, smiling and making exaggerated gestures for Twilight. A slight distraction one as would a parent would to distract a child from something

It seemed to work as Twilight was fully engaged in conversation and only broke out of it when Hyrule reacted first and approached them. They smile at Hyrule and began introducing themselves as the boy checks up on the civilian, upon seeing the injuries on them.

That voice. Time’s ear gave a slight twitch upon hearing them speak, as a sudden coldness enveloped his body. He knows that voice. Holy shit, Time fucking recognized who is speaking to Hyrule and Twilight.

Time needs to step away; as he felt his own body began to tremble at the memories of his past adventures with them. He can’t show weakness in front of the others. If he starts acting up then everyone will become suspicious of them even though they have done no wrong.

Quickly he gets up before approaching Warriors and muttered some excuse about him needing to take a walk. Warriors, who understands that Time had a lot on his plate recently, agreed and reassured that he and Twilight will keep watch over everyone.

In an instant, Time is walking away from the group as he felt someone’s gaze on his back.

The sun is gone by the time he returns to the camp.

Time curses himself for leaving for so long. He wasn’t supposed to be gone for a long time; he merely needed time to recollect his thoughts and get his act together before approaching them again.

The scarred man lets out as sigh once he catches sight of the campfire. His body slowly begins to relax once he spots the rolled out bedrolls that are occupied by the rest of the group.

As he nears closer he counts the ones who a sleeping, noticing that the only one that isn’t asleep is Wild. Said man is by the fire and already staring at the older hero and quietly goes up to him, “Time, you’re back.” He states softly, trying not the wake the others from their sleep.

Time nods and scans the younger man for anything that could be bothering him, “Yes, sorry for being gone until nightfall, it wasn’t my intention I just-“

“Needed to clear your head?” Wild interrupts with a small smile of understanding. In which Time lets out a small sigh before humming in agreement.

“Is everything alright? How was….the civilian that the Ranch hand brought?” He asked.

As if barely remembering about them Wild slightly shuffled on his feet, “They’re fine! It’s just that……”

The Hero of Time raises a brow at him, “Did something happened while I was gone?” He questioned as he placed his hands on his hips.

“No! Nothing bad happened it’s just, they were determined to repay us by keeping watch and letting us all rest,” Wild responds before turning away and looks behind him; Time follows his gaze. Sitting away from them on a log near the edge of camp is them; staring out into the woods and appears to be keeping watch as Wild says.

”Huh….. I would’ve assumed that one of you would be weary of letting a stranger be in charge of your safety.” Wild lets out a slight wince at his words, and a hand comes up behind his neck as he remembers what happened a few hours prior.

“You’re not wrong, in fact the Veteran was the first one to express his distaste at the idea who was then backed up by Wars.”

Wild explains how after the two voiced their opinions and how they’re greatful at the thought, but they didn’t trust them. The civilian nodded in understanding before they began interacting with the rest. Somehow as the sun was begun to set and everyone ate their meals; did they all began to grow tired as their journey from today hit them unusually hard.

Warriors pulled Wild to the side and explained how Time was still out there and how they might need to go search from him, but that was when the Civilian spoke up. Saying how they’re sure that he’ll arrive soon and to soothe their worries they’ll stay up to wait for his return.

Reluctantly, Warriors agreed as his exhaustion doubled before crawling into his bedroll and promptly passing out. Leaving Wild and them awake as Wild fights off sleep; keeping them company as they waited for Time to return.

“I know it’s ridiculous for a group of hero’s to lower their guard to someone unfamiliar, but for some reason…. I feel as if……”

“As if you know them from somewhere?” Said Time gently, now understanding where he was coming from. Wild nodded as he looked down, finally realizing how tired he was.

Time put his hands on Wild’s shoulders and gave them a comforting squeeze, “I’m here now, go rest.” He says softly with a slight tone of appreciation, “Thank you, for waiting Wild.”

The young man nodded before walking limply to his own bedroll and collapsing as well.

He watched Wild fall asleep completely as an attempt to delay the inevitable, but Time knew it was futile and he knew that they would still be waiting. After a few moments passed did he begin to walk over to the edge of camp where they sat.

He sat down next to them without thinking twice, but didn’t look at their face. He had a feeling that string holding himself together would snap if he looked at them.

But it would be broken anyway since they made the first move.

“I’m sorry for leaving without goodbye.”

Time tenses before dropping his face into his hands, letting out a silent sob, in an attempt to hide himself from view.

A gentle hand lands in his hair as it begins to comb through it, and once more he’s pulled back into his memories during his journey through Termina. Of the same hand running through his hair in the aftermath of a battle that took a toll on him.

Losing all strength that is holding himself together; Time collapses on himself and curls up to them. Losing all rationality and just wants to be held by them again as he clings on their clothes.

“It’s okay, I’m here now Link.”

Their voice calls out to Time as their other arm wraps around his back to hold him closer. As he cries to himself as the memories of Termina returns full force, the amount of times he failed the people of the town. The moments where he messed up and had to start over again-

He failed to save that girl’s father.

He failed to reunite Kafei and Anju.

He failed to protect Romani from those monsters.

He failed-

Humming interrupts his train of thought as he opens his eyes in shock. The feeling of a hand rubbing his back and another in his hair brings him back to them, as he leans his head on their chest.

Relaxing into their hold as he listens to their heartbeat and to their humming of a familiar song.

Finally.

Someone else sings for his sorrows to heal.

[froggiewrites]

Unknown / Nth

Pairing: Shanks x Reader

NSFW

Summary: You don't know if Shanks will still be here tomorrow morning. You don't know if you should be doing this at all. But you can't help but indulge yourself tonight, if only to create another memory you'll yearn for later. Warnings: Smut, Angst (With A Happy Ending), Exes to Lovers/Second Chances, A LOT of Yearning Word Count: 4.4k

You thought you were dreaming, the first moment you saw him in the bar, head thrown back with laughter, a little sake running down his chin and catching the light. You were still convinced as you approached, vision blurred with unshed tears. It was only once he turned around, smile wide and ready, obviously aware of you from the moment you stepped in the room, and said your name that you knew that this was truly and definitively real.

You don’t know whether or not it’s a good thing, but your heart sings anyway.

“Long time no see!” His grin doesn’t waver a moment, but you can still see the slight tension in his shoulders, the unease lurking in his eyes. He doesn’t know what to say to you, not after all this time. You used to know him like the back of your hand, but the man in front of you is practically a stranger. You imagine he feels much the same about you.

“Yeah, it’s been a while.” You can’t smile as brightly as he does, no matter how excited part of you is to see him again. You’re weighed down by years of grief, of longing, and you’ve never been a good liar. “A lot’s changed.” You glance down at where his arm used to be, the hand that had once held you so tenderly.

He laughs. “Yeah, I guess it has. But not too much.” You don’t know what he’s implying with that, but there’s a weight to the words, a sort of finality to them. “You should sit down. We have a lot to catch up on.”

“I shouldn’t,” she says, already in the chair he gestured to.

He laughs. It’s such a beautiful, familiar sound, something unchanged by the years between the man she used to know and the man who is. “I’ve always been great at convincing you to do the things you shouldn’t, haven’t I?”

You don’t know whether he realizes the gravity of what he’s said. Sometimes everything about him seems so free, so spontaneous, and others it seems like he knows everything that has, can, and will happen, and his hands are the ones making the cogs of the world turn.

But he really had always been so wonderful at convincing you. You had been reluctant to take the next step to lovers. You had told him such, several times, but he had always soothed away your worries with a bubbling laugh that always put you at ease.

I'm afraid of losing you, you had told him.

And he, to his credit, didn't tell you you never could. A calculated risk, he had called it. And I have a good feeling about this one.

You had never been an excellent gambler.

How horrible, to go from friends to lovers to nothing. You didn’t know how to be someone without him. Waking up to an empty bed was one thing, but ordering one drink instead of two, hearing a joke you know he’d love and being unable to share it with him, collecting trinkets just for them to collect dust when you realize you have no one to give them to, it weighs on you. In weaker moments, you can still feel his hands on you, hear his laughter in the wind, see the sparkle of his eyes behind you in the mirror. Haunted by the ghost of all you had and lost.

You never know which to call it: the day you lost him or the day he lost you. It doesn't matter, really, since his warmth left your side all the same, but you can't help but stick on the point anyway. Who took the bigger blow? You had loved him so deeply he had etched himself into your bones down to the marrow, but you would never accuse him of loving you with anything less than his all. Maybe you both lost in the end, a mutually assured destruction that had ended with nothing left of you but scraps.

But you’ve grieved for years, years that are long behind you. In front of you is the man you loved, grinning wildly, leaning in very purposefully to give you a look at his chest and abs under his shirt. He always knew his happy trail drove you wild, and now he does everything he can to ensure you see it. You can’t help but laugh at him. “You aren’t subtle, Shanks.”

“No one’s ever accused me of subtlety. That’s not usually what I’m going for.” His eyes crinkle when he smiles, and you notice lines that weren’t there when you saw him last. You wonder if the joy you brought him helped forge them, or if maybe it was all that came after that made its mark. Is there anything left of you with him?

You move to order a drink for yourself, but before you can speak to the bartender it’s already sat in front of you. Shanks ordered for you before you even approached. “Wow, you sure were confident.”

“Of course I was! How could you ever walk in here and not come and see me?” A slight twitch of his lip, a weakness in his smile, betrays insecurity. He absolutely thought you might have left without a word.

“Maybe I would have gotten nervous and ran. I’ve done that enough in my life.”

“Not to me. You always came to me.” His eyes are soft, filled with an affection that makes you ache.

“Maybe I changed. Maybe I got worse.”

“Not possible. Not you. No matter what the world threw at you, you would never let it break you down.”

“I think you think too much of me.”

“I think maybe I just know you better than you know yourself.” His smile isn’t smug, which is almost worse. He’s being devastatingly genuine, far more than you expected when you sat down. “You never had enough faith in yourself. Has that changed at all?”

You want to lie. God, you want to lie. But staring into his eyes you know you can’t. “No, it hasn’t. It might have gotten worse.”

He sighs softly, and he’s close enough that you can feel the rush of air on your face. “I had a feeling.” He pauses for a moment, before leaning back and taking a swig from his drink. “But tonight isn’t the time to unpack that. We’re two old friends having a drink. We should celebrate!”

It stings more than you expected. “Old friends, huh? That’s what this is?”

“It certainly sounds nicer than calling you the one who got away.”

“I got away?”

“And I never should have let you.” Another sip of his drink. “But really, we should talk about something happier, don’t you think? How’s life been?”

You want to press the issue, but his eyes are slightly pleading, and you think maybe you have more sway over him than you ever expected, an ability to press onto his weak spots hard enough to hurt. You used to think he was unshakable, invincible, but now you wonder if perhaps long ago he had gifted you a knife that could perfectly slip between his ribs if you so chose, if you ever developed the penchant for cruelty.

So you don’t press. You tell him about your life, how things have been since he left. He listens with rapt attention, holding onto your every word. He doesn’t share much about his own life, but you’re too caught up in the intoxication of his attention to care. It feels so wonderful to have those eyes on you again, if only for a while. It loosens your lips, makes you say things you never thought you’d be willing to admit.

"You know, there were times in my life I was convinced you were an angel. A gift from heaven, just for me."

"What convinced you otherwise?"

"I got to know you."

"Ouch!"

"No, no. It's not...you're just so...human. It's a compliment, I promise." It doesn't come out right, as you stumble over your words like you're sixteen again, every part of you slightly too big, too clumsy, too you. You don't know how to tell him that being him is the best thing a person could be. You could never love an angel the way you loved that man.

“I didn’t think you’d have many compliments left for me.”

You don’t know how to disagree with that. You certainly shouldn’t. But there’s a place in your heart carved out in his shape, and you’ve never been able to fill it with anything else. “I have almost nothing but, really.”

He smiles, wearier this time, tired down to the bone. “You’ve always been too good to me.”

You’ve always been too good for me, so what a pair we make. You don’t let the thought leave your lips, not today. But you suspect he might be able to see it in your face. He’s always been able to look you in the eyes and know exactly what you’re thinking. It’s one of his greatest strengths, and one of the things that tore you apart. You were never on equal footing, the wonderful liar and his woefully honest love. 

“So…anybody else you’ve got nothing but compliments for?”

“That was an awful segue.”

“I’m doing my best.”

You can’t help but laugh. “If you’re asking if I’m with someone, no, I’m not.”

“Why not?”

“I thought we were supposed to keep this to happy topics?”

“So it’s a sad reason.”

“It’s a normal reason!” It’s not, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Whatever you say,” he chuckles, moving closer once again. He’s been slowly pulling your stools closer together throughout the night, inching his way into your space. With this final push, he allows himself a moment with his arm around your shoulder, so close to familiar, but not quite. He used to hold you with his dominant arm, the one he lost. You wonder if it feels strange to him, too, to be so close to the past, inches away from what was, but unable to fully bridge that gap. His drink sits on the counter, unattended, abandoned in favor of your warmth. “No matter the reason, I’m glad to hear it.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“I think you know.”

“I think I want to hear you say it.”

“Oh, well how could I ever deny a request from you?” He leans closer, brushing his lips against your ear. “I want you.”

You flush, and suddenly you aren’t a tired pirate, filled with regrets and lost in nostalgia. Instead you’re twenty, and the beautiful boy you’ve been in love with has finally looked at you with all of the longing you thought you were alone in. You’re giddy and terrified and yearning all at once, but you can handle it, because he’s right there to catch you, just like he’s always been. You remember very well what it’s like to love him. You don’t know if you ever stopped. You would tell him, had he not flustered you so thoroughly you can hardly bring yourself to speak.

“I wasn’t sure if I’d still have that effect on you.” He’s grinning, the smugness offset by his obvious boyish glee.

“How could I ever resist?” It comes out barely a whisper, eeks out of your lips before you can stop it.

“Can I do what I do best?”

“What’s that?”

His eyes glance longingly down at your lips as he mutters, “Convince you to do something you shouldn’t.”

Tomorrow, you expect to wake up to cold sheets and an empty bed. Tomorrow you will be left with nothing but a longing for what you could have had, had things been different. Tomorrow you will scream and cry and curse yourself for daring to give yourself a taste of it, knowing this time would be the last. But it is not tomorrow yet, and he looks beautiful in the light, a decade younger and kinder, just like you remember him.

You let him kiss you.

And god, how cruel he was, for kissing you like it mattered. Like he always used to, dragging it out, lips following you even as you pulled away. He always kissed you like it would be your last.

His hand grips your hip tightly, as though he’s terrified you’ll turn to smoke beneath his fingertips, as though the moment he lets you you will slip through his fingers. Your chests press together, your hearts beating loudly, calling to each other through the small amount of space that separates them. A greeting to an old friend.

Your walk to your inn room is frenzied, his hand never leaving you, your lips hardly parting for a moment. You would thank the cover of darkness for maintaining your dignity if you were capable of worrying about anything other than the feeling of his skin beneath your fingers when you slide them beneath his shirt. You hear nothing except for his frantic breath in the small moments you part, the soft sighs that leave him when his hands find another part of your body to refamiliarize himself with.

You barely feel your back hit the bed. It is only when he finally pulls back a moment that you catch your breath and realize where you are. You could still back out. Still allow yourself to go back to the numbness, the grief surrounding you like a blanket, keeping you not comfortable but certainly safe.

Your fingers find the bottom of your shirt, throwing it to the side carelessly. Your fingers struggle with the clasp of your bra for a moment, frantic to get it off, to feel his fingers and mouth on your chest again after years of dreaming of them. You look up to see him shirtless, having fought a panicked battle with fabric of his own. He’s staring at you, mouth agape, his look something resembling wonder. He’s not simply admiring you, or doing something as disconnecting, glorifying, as worship. He’s simply adoring you, taking in the sight of you and tucking it away in his heart, treating you as something to be remembered. Something he will carry with him for the rest of his life if he has the choice.

“You’re just as beautiful as I remember you.” His voice is hardly a whisper, the words feeling almost like a confession of something more.

“So are you,” you murmur, moving slowly to run your fingers across his abdomen. He’s still built sturdily, and you can feel his muscles tense slightly underneath your fingers.

“I’ve dreamed of this. So, so many times.” He comes closer, his next words nearly directly against your lips. “I might have seen you more in my dreams than I ever did in reality. You’ve haunted me.” With that he kisses you again, tenderly, like an apology. There isn’t a heat or urgency like there was before, only affection and longing. You can feel in every movement of his mouth and tongue how he has wanted you, waited for you.

He slides onto the bed, pulling you onto his lap, pressing your bare chests together with his arm wrapped around your waist. His mouth moves to your neck, nipping gently, trying to find a spot he could once find in an instant. It takes him only a moment before he finds your sweet spot, making you moan softly. When you do, he lets out a soft groan. “God, I’ve missed that sound.”

You grind down slightly on his lap, making him let out a soft surprised noise of his own. You can’t help the giggle that comes out of you, girlish and joyous. “And I’ve missed that sound.” You grind down again, electricity shooting up your spine. “And that feeling.”

“Oh yeah? Haven’t felt that a lot since…” He trails off.

“They haven’t been you.” The weight of the words don’t hit you until they’re already out, but they don’t shatter the fragile bubble you two have found yourself in. All they do is make him give you a lovesick grin that threatens to rip your heart from your chest.

“Oh, sweetheart…” Another nip at your neck, and a callused hand sliding up your torso to your chest. “I’d give anything for it to have been me.”

“It’s you now.” It’s always been you.

“So it is. I’ll make sure you never forget tonight.” His mouth moves lower, his tongue and teeth lightly grazing over your nipples, making you grab his shoulders to ground yourself as a shiver works its way up your spine. His mouth is on one breast, his hand on the other, and he takes his sweet time working you up. He’s determined to appreciate you with all of the time he’s been granted, ensure that you know how much he’s savoring this moment. It’s only once you’re panting, hips jerking lightly without permission, that he eases up his attacks and starts working his way to the main event.

He lifts you slightly, just enough to slide your pants and panties off in one go. “Show off,” you mutter, no fire behind it.

“Only for you.” What should be a cheeky grin is too softened by the mood, turning to something sickly sweet. He taps your thigh lightly, an indication to stay elevated, and starts to unbuckle his pants before your hands reach out to stop him.

“Let me.” You wish your voice weren’t so desperate, but you’ve been dreaming of this moment for years, and you want so badly to live it how you’ve always wanted to.

He chuckles. “Of course, dear.”

Your hands make quick work of his belt as it’s flung to the side, but you take your time slowly working off his pants. The tent in his boxers is huge, almost bigger than you remember, but you don’t take long to stare at it. You save that for when you finally slide off his underwear, exposing his cock to your hungry eyes. It’s exactly as you remember, long and veiny and twitching with want. You slowly reach a hand to it, wrapping your fist around it, then the other, pumping slowly and appreciating the weight in your hand. He lets out a soft groan, head falling forward, eyes falling closed, allowing for you to admire his body without fear of embarrassment.

You seize the moment you can, eyes scraping over every inch of him, updating him in your memory, adding every new wrinkle, scar, every part of him that’s new to you. You never thought he could grow more beautiful, more perfect, more him, but somehow he managed. There’s more hair on his chest now, more scars on his legs, more evidence of the hard life you knew he led as an emperor. You’re determined to memorize every inch, so now at least when you dream of him it will be him as he is instead of as he was.

He makes a strangled noise when you lean down to take him in your mouth, to see if his taste has changed as well. You’re pleased to know it hasn’t, as you slowly move up and down his shaft as your hands continue to work him. The weight of him in your mouth is almost comforting in its familiarity, something between you two that has remained wholly and truly unchanged. His moans grow deeper when one of your hands moves to his balls and his hips lurch forward slightly. You remove your mouth just to take one final long lick up his cock, one that once again causes him to shiver and groan.

He makes a quiet noise somewhere between disappointment and relief when you fully remove your hands and mouth from him and begin to straddle him again. “I really didn’t want to finish before the main event. I don’t have the stamina I used to.”

You laugh at him. “You liar. One, you’re not even forty, you shouldn’t act like an old man. Second, you’ve only gotten stronger since then. No way in hell have you lost any endurance.”

“Me, lie to you?” He places a hand on his chest in mock offense. “Never!”

“So you admit you’re weaker than you used to be? An unpracticed lover?”

“Well…maybe I was lying this one time.” He leans forward to kiss you again, a quick peck at the corner of your mouth. He reaches down to align himself with your entrance before he begins to thrust in slowly and carefully. His hand moves to your hip, resting there as you both quietly moan at the feeling of you stretching him out.

He leans your foreheads together when he finally bottoms out, both of you panting quietly and getting used to the feeling. It’s blissful, to finally be filled so perfectly after thinking about it for so very long. You fit together perfectly, two puzzle pieces made for each other.

“You ready, sweetheart?”

“Please,” you mewl.

“Of course.” With that he easily grips your hip to help you ride him, rutting up into you as you come down. The sound of skin slapping makes you feel light headed, leaning your head forward to rest in Shanks’ neck. The room feels burning hot, but despite the heat radiating off of his skin, you need to feel every inch of him. You feel as though you’ll float away if you don’t ground yourself here, with him, perfectly intertwined in a way you could never be with anybody else.

“I’ve missed this,” he gasps out as he hits particularly deep, making you cry out. “You feel so wonderful, sweetheart. So perfect.”

You try to respond, but he hits your sweet spot again, so you can only let out a choked cry against his neck. He presses his nose into your hair, and you can feel him smile against you. “That’s right, just like that. Let me hear it.”

And so you do. You don’t hold back a single sound, crying out for him louder and louder until you’re sure the entire inn can hear. You can’t bring yourself to care. You can feel the heat rising, the pulsing spreading through you, and you don’t give a damn about anything other than the man beneath and inside of you.

“So close, almost there.” Another thrust, another cry, and you are teetering on the edge, ready to let yourself fall.

“Let it out, sweetheart. Cum with me.” You tighten around him as you feel your release fly through you and Shanks’ pulse inside of you. He continues to thrust through your orgasm, ensuring you take every last drop of him as deep inside as you can. When you come back to yourself, he’s running his fingers lightly through your hair, pressing loving kisses to the top of your head. “That was perfect.”

You can’t help your smile. You nuzzle against his neck, and his hand drops from your head to your back, pulling you closer. You both lay for what feels like hours, Shanks soft inside of you, as both of you refuse to move and shatter the moment.

Eventually, Shanks pulls out, cum slowly starting to leak out of you, as he gently shifts you both so he’s laying on his back with you on his chest. You can hear his heartbeat, steady like a drum, pounding in his chest. You’d missed that sound.

You don’t remember falling asleep. You only remember waking up still feeling warm and safe, and the quiet confusion that comes with it. You were sure he would be back on his ship by now, halfway to a new island, a new adventure, and someone else to share his bed with. Someone with less baggage, or at least some that can be left by the door. Instead he’s here, in this bed, staring down at you with a tenderness that could bring you to tears if you let it.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.” He brushes your hair lightly from his face.

“Does that make you Prince Charming?”

He laughs. “God no. I’m the handsome and roguish pirate that’s here to steal his princess away.”

Your heart stutters in your chest. “Is that what you’re going to do?”

“Hm?”

“Steal me away? Is that your plan?” You try to keep the hope out of your voice.

"We're leaving tomorrow. You could..." He trails off, an uncharacteristic hesitation. You never used to do this to him, make him lose his sure footing. You don't know how to feel about changing from home to unsteady ground, somewhere he has to tread carefully lest he fall right through. He doesn't finish his question, doesn't get brave enough to risk it. Instead he looks at you with wide, pleading eyes that beg for a return to something you can't even fully remember the feeling of.

I can't, you want to say.

"I don't know," your mouth betrays, vulnerability seeping through. He's always been good at that, striping someone down to their center, exposing the softness they desperately try to hide.

"I don't know either," he mutters. "But I'd... I'd like it if you did. I've missed you."

"I've missed you too."

“You don’t have to miss me anymore. Not if you don’t want to.” His hand is gentle as it caresses your cheek. You close your eyes and lean in, soaking up the feeling. You want to. You want to so badly you could scream. But there’s a terror inside of you, a part of you where the wound he left never closed. You don’t know if you can risk tearing the rest of it open again. You don’t know if you’ll survive it.

His voice goes soft again, saying the one word that brings down your defenses instantly. “Please. Please come with me. I can’t lose you again.”

You know he could still hurt you. Could still rip you open in an instant if you let him, expose your soft insides and destroy every part of you you managed to keep safe the first time. You know this intimately. But somehow it doesn’t sway you as much as his quiet desperation, his admittance that perhaps you could do the very same to him, and he would let you.

“You don’t have to.”

“You mean…”

“I’ll go with you.”

His smile rivals the sun. “You won’t regret it.”

You might. But you can’t quite bring yourself to care.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece

[l0stfoster]

I desperately want to know more about the cursed tulsa au! Is it ok to ask you for more headcanons about it/details from the au?

Anon you have probably asked me the question that’ll give you the longest post I’ll ever have on my account because I was born to yap about this. Nothing super detailed or written out, but a lot of little things about the characters and the world around them! Take some of my written 'headcanons' with a grain of salt!! Although I'm kinda one of the writers, I don't want to call stuff canon without input from the others.

You can VERY clearly see who we talk about the most. Any additional fun facts or info will either be mentioned in reblogs or put in a new post and linked here!!

TULSA

200 years ago, the area of Tulsa was cursed by a witch. This witch stated that the poorest born will be shown just as the rest of society views them. Freaks.

A majority of, if not all, of the greasers are cursed. They have to be born in Tulsa for this effect to take place. There are very few socs who are also cursed, but it's a very spl

Those born in Tulsa can leave, but their powers are weakened (or they lose them in full until they return)- this may not be an issue for the human passing ones who just want to live life normally, but folks like Fae and Harpies will likely be hunted down by the government, as their kind isn't seen around. (At least, not to the public eye.)

(Already stated this but I'll say it again) Follows the canon plot excluding Johnny and Dally’s deaths. Johnny ‘dies’ (heart stopped, declared clinically dead— gets resuscitated though) and Dally still snaps and loses it, bolts the second after he ‘died’. Dude gets shot (non-fatally on contact) by the cops, but the gang gets him to the hospital and he lives thank god.

Animalistic traits are pretty common amongst the cursed. Some have horns, others have tails, the harpies have wings, fae have pointed ears and tails, and many of them have sharp teeth.

DARRY

Fae, his power is Emotional Augmentation/Negation & Mind Manipulation. - He can calm people down, elevate their emotions, or clamp down on people's power if they're getting too out of hand. This makes it really hard for him to identify his own emotions. He also has a bad habit of using his power when he's upset, which means it pretty much rubs off on others. He's usually pretty good at keeping it down, but he struggles. - His manipulation is pretty much a workaround for the fact that the fae cannot lie. It pretty much makes him VERY convincing, mind manipulation does that. He'll tell someone something and they'll believe it. Master Gaslighter. That comes with its own issues-- he can't tell if the relationships he's made are authentic due to his manipulation, meaning they might just be telling him what he wants to hear. It bugs him really bad, and he worries that a lot of his friendships aren't as solid as they seem to be.

He had a very messy situationship and falling out with Paul. One-sided crush on Darry's end for a while throughout their friendship (Paul was in HEAVY denial of his own feelings, while Darry knew damn well he loved Paul.) Paul, being the soc he is, didn't like that Darry was "one of those freaks". That was sort of where their friendship shattered, and everything that happened after Bob's death made it beyond repairable.

REALLY hates being fae, and has done a lot of shit to try and prevent himself from being easily identifiable as something not human. He tried cutting his ears off ((due to paul's comment calling them freaks) got caught, and one ear is fucked up now), continuously tried to get his tail injured enough to be amputated (that also didn't work, but now he's got a disabled tail that hurts to move too much), and even gave filing his teeth down a go (also didn't work- made them sharper if anything.)

He doesn't wag his tail, and the gang can’t tell if it’s because he’s never happy or because the range of motion is limited due to his injury. If you’re lucky the tip of it will flick around but he also does that when angry so you can’t tell what the fuck dude is actually feeling

Fucked up his vocal cords growling all the time as a kid when trying to be intimidating, so now his growl sounds like a broken wolf's growl; he can't do it for too long or it fucks up his voice and he'll sound like a chain smoker. (Speaking of, I headcanon he used to/does smoke, just hid it well from Pony n Soda)

Purrs very rarely but when he does, he purrs like a motherfucker. Whole ass jet engine. It is LOUD and you will vibrate if he's hugging you.

His boss is the only one unaffected by his power. "You should give me a raise" 'Not gonna happen, Darrel' "FUC-"

Stole Darrel Sr's name. It's why he's junior /silly

Literally just anxiety personified, tbh. He cannot catch a break and hates himself so bad. He's equally as feral as his brothers but is just VERY good at keeping it lowkey.

All the fae are nature-linked in some way. Darry really likes the sun and warm weather. He's got Disney princess energy too, and animals adore him. (hence Two being drawn to him as a perch /silly) He gets followed home by neighborhood strays and keeps having to tell Soda that no, they can't keep them.

Not even specifically an AU headcanon but when he cracks any bones they pop like forty gazillion times. Cracks his back and it's just a solid 5 seconds of snapping.

Speaking of, he's one of the only people who can hold Two's weight because his wings are heavy. Dude's strong as fuck here for obvious reasons, he's also a little too fast compared to a human, so.

Bites his nails to high heavens. He stopped doing it for a while trying to break the habit but accidentally clawed up someone in the gang wrestling and hasn't let them get long since.

Likes to preen Two's wings, it's the repetitive nature that calms him down. If he's stressed and Two notices then he offers.

Like all the other power havers, he gets super fucking weak and a bunch of other drawbacks when overusing his power. Still developing said drawbacks but I personally imagine he either just gets overly emotional or goes completely robotic and stoic.

Jumped Paul with Dally once bc they were trying to get back all the feathers stolen from Two-Bit. Dally didn't even finish asking who was first before he answered a very flat "Paul."

He's very friendly with Ms. Mathews. She helps them a lot throughout the years and he deeply respects her-- he also finds it very funny to see all the photo album bullshit she's got for her kids. Laughs his ass off at the stupid baby photos of Two n his sister.

HE WAS SUPPOSED TO DIE ON HIS BIRTHDAY. This will be further explained in Johnny's little section but long story short, they were supposed to get into a car accident before the train tracks and Darry would've died. He's got survivor's guilt, to an extent, as his parents wouldn't have died in the crash. Only him.

Had heightened Pony's anger during their confrontation. The guilt still eats him alive.

Unlike the other greasers who's powers weaken while they're sick, Darry's power gets very unstable due to how he's commonly repressing them. The gang knows he’s sick no matter how hard he tries to hide it physically because they’ll be around him and suddenly they’re weirdly emotional, or he’ll say something and they’ll believe him even if they know better.

In alliance with my headcanon for the normal story, I personally imagine he got jumped after his friendship with Paul ended before their parents died (since that friendship breaking apart kinda ruined his alignment with any socs)

Generally just a normal hc but he's got Autism, BPD, PTSD, and a few other things like anxiety, major depressive disorder, and sensory/eating issues. Very financially insecure too.

Used to bite as a kid. That's it. Send tweet.

SODA

Fae, his power is pretty much just a Siren Song. - He can get people to do what he wants with his voice, it's as simple as that. He used it to get Sandy to confess to the fact that the baby wasn't his, uses it to get Darry or Steve to take breaks if they're working a little too hard, etc.

Used his power to get extra cake after dinner or to get teachers to lighten up on him or his friends when they got in trouble. It works very similarly to Darry's manipulation, only Soda's is physical and makes them very compelled to follow what he says. In certain circumstances, people can tell if he's caused them to do/say something. That doesn't stop him, though!

When their parents died, everyone's powers went haywire. Soda had to either scream himself mute or force himself to be quiet so he wouldn't accidentally make anyone do something. He didn't want it to be fixed.

If he overuses his magic then he can't talk for a good few days without it hurting, voice gets very raspy.

Thinks he's a bad person due to the nature of his power. I personally like to think the only time he doesn't mind using them is when it's for the benefit of his friends. He's had to coax Two down from the roof after his jumping because watching all the harpies fly just makes him feel worse. He's stopped Steve from overusing his telekinesis after too many close calls with dropping a car.

Absolutely LOVES his ears and tail. Has a ton of piercings and tries to accessorize them a lot. The polar opposite of Darry in that regard. Likes his sharp teeth too.

His claws are probably the second sharpest, as they get sharper with age IMO.

He's probably the most expressive of the fae; constantly doing stuff since he can't sit still for the life of him. Tail's either swaying, tapping, wagging, or doing something.

Has the growl of a leopard. it is terrifying, when he growled at the socs during the rumble they almost pissed themselves. It scares the shit out of Two-Bit LMAOAO.

Soda has arguably the most average purr out of his brothers, it's basic, simple like a cat's is. He purrs super hard and at pretty much any physical affection sent his way.

When asked for his name by Mr and Mrs. Curtis, he pointed at a Pepsi bottle. Eventually, he swapped it for Soda.

He was jumped by the socs once, and they gagged/muzzled him so he couldn't use his power against them to defend himself. The gang was fucking destroyed when he came home with it, they knew they weren't perceived as equal, but that's beyond cruel.

Also slightly nature-linked. I like to think bees flock to him <3 He's also very good with botany, pretty tied with Pony.

He makes little healing pastes/oils for Darry using Pony's plants when he massages his back.

Soda learned many of his extending-the-truth-to-avoid-lying tricks from Darry, so he's very good at it. Darry is one of the only people who doesn't fall for Soda's shit. Steve doesn't either, just because he feels too bad lying to his best friend.

Soda pretty much gets zoomies. He'll be practically bouncing off the walls and going batshit bonkers. It's insane. Sometimes he's on all fours too, no one knows how he can do it so well.

Arguably the most fae-linked of the brothers; a lot of the little things that don't affect his brothers get to him. All three of them are properly burned by iron, though.

Doesn't like being thanked, as it not only implies being owed something, but he also just feels that he shouldn't be thanked for being kind/having basic empathy.

He absolutely hates salt. Too white for it /j (It's another fae thing, Soda's just most impacted by it)

He's weirdly flexible and moves in super uncanny ways sometimes. No one's sure if it's a fae thing or if he's just.. built like that.

Soda's a smooth talker when using his magic but cannot for the life of him start a conversation without it.

When he found out that Steve's dad was abusive, he nonstop asked for the fucker's full name for DAYS because he was so upset that someone was hurting his best friend.

Stevepop is canon in the writer's eyes, but if you want to you can absolutely read their dynamic as platonic (won't stop us from drawing ship art of them so whoops). I try my best to keep most of the dynamics/relationships open for interpretation (On that note, no shipping the mfs who are family coded I'll actually maim you)

When he snores it rumbles off with a purr. Also sleeps halfway draped over Pony like a bigass weighted blanket.

Yet another normal headcanon thing but he's got ADHD, Dyslexia, PSTD, and DPD. Yeah all of them are a little fucked up.

He collects rocks and crystals. It's a stash he can't bring around Two-Bit because it WILL be stolen.

PONY

Fae, his power is Nature Manipulation - It's honestly just what it sounds like. He can create plants, manipulate them, etc. He's very commonly using them, and they're heavily emotion-tied. Cacti and Venus fly traps when angry, wilted plants and dead bushes when sad, etc etc. The plants he grows most are vines, as they're super useful for him. He can use them offensively or defensively as needed. They have a huge tree in their backyard that he grew.

He's benefited positively from bright sunlight and water. He's incapable of drowning, so when Bob tried to drown him in the fountain he was kinda just,, chillin'. (Unfortunately for these fuckers, Johnny did NOT know that.)

Alternatively, he gets super weak and sluggish during the winter and cold seasons. It's misery for him, he thrives on sunlight and warmth. He's got these greenish-grey eyes when it's the summer/spring and they get super dull during the colder months. Groundhog Day is for losers, the gang knows when spring's coming once Pony starts perking back up.

Plants grow in his hair, mostly little sprouts and flowers like that. Magical flower crowns!! He makes them for Johnny every now and then.

Gets followed by bees and bugs. He both enjoys and despises it because what the fuck dude why are HORNETS chasing him.

Liked to grow flowers to give their mom as a kid, he was a little gift giver to her.

On that note, a motherfucking GOBLIN as a child. Literally, chaos incarnate, absolutely horrible to try and raise because he was so fucking wild.

Does not have spring allergies, lucky fucker.

When their parents died, the house was wrapped in vines for days. Sometimes they still start to overtake and infest due to how many there had been, but Darry usually trims them down went he notices (or when he's got the free time, busy ass)

Has the fattest beef with Steve still. Will trip the guy with his vines and he bites.

He's got a squeaky purr and a squeaky growl due to being young. He growls like a snow leopard cub.

Responds really well to physical affection just like Soda, doesn't always purr to it but does really enjoy it. Avidly avoids it from Two bc the stupid bird will try to preen him and he thinks it's goofy /silly

QPR with Johnny. Pony represents life and Johnny represents death. They hold hands, are the besties ever, and are extremely codependent. Do not romanticize their relationship I'll eat your knees.

Pony knows a lot about flower meaning, as he should. He's also very good with botany too.

Instead of Tim stepping on him in the rumble, he ate shit and got smacked really hard by harpy wings. Two and Tim still aren't too sure which one of them did it.

Very little thing but he has a tooth gap.

Pony tried doing a Darry n attempted to cut his ears to look more human while at the church. It didn't work, so now he's got two little rips that look similar to if you had a piercing torn out. He's generally got mixed feelings about his features.

Tries to keep his emotions on the down low for the sake of looking like a tuff adult, but his tail is constantly giving him away.

Pony made them a fairy around the house with his plants, and it serves as a little thing that lets any of the Curtis' know if someone enters the hours whether they're at home or not. If Pony doesn't want someone at the house while they're away then his vines will yoink them out.

Choosing his name was just him saying a random word in a very ominous voice. Darry added the 'boy' to the end of it.

He makes flower crowns for the hell of it, just likes having his hands moving. Either the gang gets them or they get tossed in a misc pile.

He is SO fucking bad at trying to extend the truth, absolutely miserable at it. He cannot gaslight at all.

Due to his power being weak at Windrixville, he had tried and failed to save Johnny with his vines. Instead, they were pulling him back in a subconscious effort to save himself; plants don't go well with flame, after all.

Had to quit smoking post-Windrixville because the smell bothered him really hard. His voice was kinda fucked up after too due to the smoke inhalation as well.

He's got little burn scars on his hands from grabbing the iron gates at the cemetery where their parents are buried too many times. Darry thinks he's a moron for it.

Clings to Ace like a motherfucker during the winter because she's naturally VERY warm.

Darry has to hold this bitch down to cut his nails when they get too sharp because he'll scratch a bitch while wrestling and play dirty.

Mental stuff again; Autism, PTSD, and Sensory Issues. Also kind of an addict.

He hasn't reached the full potential of his powers because he's still going through puberty.

Poy thrives off sugar, being plant-based and all.

STEVE

Human, but his power is Telekinesis. - It's very simple to explain. He's capable of lifting this with his mind and little physical action. There technically isn't a weight limit, but if he lifts something too heavy for too long it'll drop and he'll be REALLL fucked up, it's exhausting to use too much. Alas, that doesn't really stop him. If he gets pissed off things start floating around him.

REALLY likes to throw cars. It's just showing off honestly. He likes doing little things like that for the hell of it.

His dad makes him float beers to him and he'll very bitterly do it. One time he did it a little too fast 'on accident' and held back smiling as his dad bitched about getting covered in beer.

If substitute teachers are unaccommodating assholes he hucks desks at them. Detention is very worth it.

His telekinesis makes him seem physically stronger than he actually is. When it came to Two-Bit perching on the group, the people who could do it were Dally, Darry, and Steve-- until they found out that Steve was just using his telekinesis to hold him up. He dared to do it once without and long story short they ended up on the floor.

Steve isn't super affected by Soda's magic, but he does stuff for him just 'cause Soda's his best friend.

He uses his telekinesis to fly around with Two sometimes. That sort of stops after Two's wing ends up fucked. Every now and then, though, he'd use his power to give Two-Bit the feeling of flying again. They both go home bummed, Two because he’s no longer ‘flying’ and Steve because he hates knowing he can’t actually help

He did most of the work making a prosthetic for Two, and Soda helped a hell of a ton too.

He can't lie to save his life, just 'cause. He also can't whistle.

Arguably even more autistic for cars like this because of how easy working on them becomes with telekinesis. Floats them up himself to work under them.

Speaking of that, he'll float Soda up to the ceiling if he pesters him too much while he's working on a car. Needs to be absolutely locked in and Soda interrupts that.

He may be human passing but he doesn't... look right. His limbs and fingers are too long for a person.

Was STRUGGLING after the rumble. Had to deal with the pain of bones being too stretched plus broken ribs and fucked up knuckles.

He's got a complex that he's only good for his powers. It's a big sense of insecurity for him. It doesn't help that his powers tie to his mood sometimes too. He's had too many close calls dropping a car he's underneath and almost crushing himself because something gets to him. "You good, Steve?" (literally shaking) "Yeah I'm great"

Soda has to use his magic to force him to take a break, cause Steve doesn't want to stop because he thinks they're all he's got that makes him good at what he does.

His dad was born poor and in Tulsa. Steve isn't too sure what his curse is, but he doesn't want to find out.

He's got a crush on Soda that he, for a while, keeps mistaking for a heavy amount of admiration. You don't want to be him, Steve, you want to be WITH him.

He's got fragile bones like the harpies, the only difference is that his isn't biological and is due to his telekinesis stretching his bones out.

Yeah also mentally ill. Autism, PTSD, and CDD.

Idly floats himself for the hell of it sometimes. If Soda calls him short he'll bitterly float up to match his height or be taller.

TWO-BIT

Crow Harpy. No power besides that I think

He's got all the mannerisms of a crow and of birds in general. He likes to give his family and the gang shinies; flies by and drops bottlecaps or random little trinkets and dips. Sometimes physically throws them at people.

He dives at people in the street sometimes if they have something shiny. He’ll also dive-bomb friends and just pick them up like a claw machine. Dally’s the most common victim of this.

He's very intertwined with the bird instincts too. Nests, preens, chirps, whistles, etc. Very fucking loud and will not shut up. Clicks when he's all angry and shit.

Two’s mom is a harpy and his dad is human. Neither of them took after him, and he wasn’t happy about that. Two-Bit constantly had his needs and habits as a harpy repressed by his father; this included having his feathers clipped and not being allowed to preen or nest. His mom wasn’t able to do anything about it for a while, as she was too busy working to keep a roof over their heads.

He knows she is doing her best, and he doesn't blame her for not being able to protect him from that. Two's a huge mama's boy. he used to hide in her wings when he was little.

He taught his sister to fly and had taught himself by jumping off the roof. It’s why he’s got his tooth gap.

His mom has a photo album of him and his sister as they grew, including their feathers as they molted. "Baby's first molt!" and he looks like a blended-up cotton ball. Darry loves these photo albums.

Dally calls him Songbird and Freckles. Two calls him Dimples

He likes to bleach the tips of his feathers and dyes them with his sister, since her feathers are still light enough to dye without bleach.

He preens with the gang and will also try to preen the gang. It’s a bonding activity but bc they don’t have feathers it’s usually just him fucking around with their hair. It usually ends with them wrestling a pissy bird that by god NEEDS to get that knot out of your hair or he will tweak. Pony hates it the most, Darry and Soda are the only ones who don't resist.

If Darry whistles around him he'll shoot over and perch on the guy.

Even bigger kleptomaniac in this. Always has something, Dally's been given at least six switchblades over a week.

He can mimic voices and sounds really well. Uses Johnny's voice to get Pony's attention once. "Oh so you'd get up the second Johnny calls BUT WHEN I DO YOU IGNORE M-"

Horrible flier when drunk, it's hilarious to watch.

If you throw a piece of cloth thick enough to block out light over his head, he falls asleep.

Cannot for the life of him get through doors on the west side because they aren't friendly for wings.

His heart beats like 200+ times per minute. Everyone thinks he's having a heart attack or something when they first hear it.

Alternatively, he thought Dally was dying when he first heard how slow his heartbeat was.

He goes into torpor during really cold winter days or if he's super fucking exhausted. Went into torpor right after his jumping and Dally was convinced that he was dying.

Two gets very territorial and defensive of the gang because they're "his flock". Gives people death stares if they're getting too close. He looms threateningly over the shoulders of his friends if he doesn't like the person they're talking to. It usually scares them off.

He likes to take the gang and his family for flights. Scoops em up and just goes, most of them enjoy it, the ones with a fear of heights? Not so much.

If the younger members of the gang get sick he WILL shove them in a nest and pretty much hover over the person. He gets mama-bird traits from his mom.

Alternatively, even if Darry gets sick Two will hover over that motherfucker. He will wrap that man in a blanket and not let him leave. Just swaddles all the fuckers.

He's got good timing with dive-bombing people. Darry fell off a roof once and BAM suddenly he's in the arms of a very energetic harpy.

Was a really small kid and just shot up overnight. One day he was up to Dally's chest and the next he was at his nose. Dally hated it.

He's docile by nature but when he gets violent it's HELL. He's got sharp claws and talons along with sharp teeth, my guy can do some damage.

Two hates cats and has absolute beef with them. He and the rest of the harpies are scared shitless by Soda's growl too, if Soda growls he whips his head around 180 and looks around frantic. Soda both feels bad but laughs his ass off.

Two (and the other harpies) can't see glass. He's walked into the glass at the DX and slams his head against car windows trying to look outside. He's absolutely mesmerized by glass cups because why is the water FLOATING?

He has to sit in the bed of Darry's truck because his wings don't fit.

The gang went to a mirror maze once and Two got stuck in it for 2 hours. Came out with a busted nose all pouty because those mfs left him in there how dare they.

The Curtis boys can mimic bird sounds really well, they whistle at Two-Bit and his head shoots up at attention.

He's afraid of ceiling fans.

Harpies generally don't like eating bird meat due to etiquette and cultural stuff, but Two's dad would force him to eat chicken as a kid.

He adores seafood and goes fucking bonkers for it.

He got struck by lighting once. Walked into the Curtis' house singed and just went "So I might've made a mistake." Somehow he wasn't too hurt.

He tries to puff up to look intimidating but people just laugh because it's fucking cute. If he wants to look scary all he has to do is smile, yet he doesn't.

He emotes a lot with his ear feathers, they're constantly moving.

Like most birds and other harpies, his bones are hollow. They're arguably made of stronger bone material but the insides are hollow so you can snap 'em with ease if you put enough force behind it.

His neck is like a chicken's, if you move his body his head will stay in one spot if he wants it to.

He liked to just sit and linger on Dally's shoulders when they were kids. Dally didn't mind.

His feathers travel up to the back of his neck and hair; the ones up top closer to his hair are a bit curlier.

The gang can play one-sided fetch with him if they want to. Toss a shiny and he dives after it; he just won't bring it back.

He's got a whole drawer that's just full of the shit he collects. Bones, bottle caps, coins, broken jewelry, glass, etc.

He gave everyone in the gang one of his feathers. All of them wear it on their person.

There's a rumor going around in soc society about Mothman. It's just Two-Bit in really bad lighting. He got moth man status because a soc was closing a shop one night and turned and just saw these BIG ol glowing eyes staring through the window in the darkness of the evening.

He goes after rodents and small bugs. His mom used to have to wrestle mice out of his mouth and he'd cry after.

His baby photos are 90% blurs and heaps of feathers because he ALWAYS had zoomies. The only photos he's peaceful in are the ones where he's snoozing.

If they were invented in their time, Darry would put claw caps on Two if he's resisting having his talons cut. They'll watch him try his damn hardest to just tolerate them before eventually relenting like "oKAY FINE I'LL CUT THEM."

In terms of a specific species, he's a Fish Crow.

TWO-BIT CONT.

His jumping went REAL fucking bad in this. Bev took a lighter to his wing and put her cigarette out between where they met on his back (alongside still burning his face). They didn’t go for both wings, because something was much more cruel about taking one rather than both.

That shit fucked him up for so long, not only was he unable to fly, but there was all that physical and psychological pain that came with having his freedom torn from him. He was made for the skies and now he’s forced to wander the ground with the same people who hurt him.

He self-isolated up until the rumble because he couldn’t stomach the idea of the group seeing how ‘gross’ his wing looked. His mom cried her eyes out when he came home after being jumped, even though he tried hiding the damage from her.

She tried to preen him to make him more comfortable but they couldn't get more than halfway through before he broke down sobbing. “Why couldn’t I have just been normal like dad” when his mom’s preening him bc he doesn’t want to keep feeling the pain in his wings. For a few days after he hesitated even letting her near just because the pain scared him.

HATED Marcia for a good bit after his jumping. She didn't partake in it, sure, but she watched and did nothing. It took months before he could even stomach looking at her.

When his wings recovered, he used to climb on the roof and watch the other harpies fly. He'd feel the breeze through his feathers and against his face and try to convince himself that just maybe, he was up there with them. Soda has to coax him back down with his power because he is only making himself feel worse. Two was bitter at the other harpies for a very long time.

Can't handle the smell of smoke from cigarettes, though. Fire itself in some cases (mostly Ace's fire) is fine, it's cigarettes that bother him.

School was hell on earth for a good while because tight spaces and sensitive wings don't go well. He usually ended up late to classes bc he had to wait for the halls to clear to leave. He would've dropped out over it if he wasn't afraid of upsetting his mom.

His balance was fucked up for a good while due to the difference in weight.

Steve and the rest of the gang made him a prosthetic for his wing. He cried, and it fit like a glove.

Despite getting that freedom back, though, he kind of hates it. He has to relearn to fly, and it's frustrating it causes a lot of resentment because he used to be able to fly perfectly and now he struggles. He hates that he needs to rely on this prosthetic to be free.

Two-Bit and Johnny bond over having had a part of their freedom taken and now needing aid to regain it.

There's no canon ship for Two in this but the writers fuck with Dar-bit and Mar-bit hard lmao. I'll probably be doing a lot of Dar-bit stuff for them.

AuDHD and PTSD, send tweet. Maybe ODD but I'm still thinking about that one. Major separation anxiety.

JOHNNY

Human, he's what we've been calling Death Tied - He's got a sixth sense where he can tell if, when, and how a person will die. If a person's death is coming up, he'll get flashes of the event; what killed them, their corpse, etc. It freaks him out sometimes, depending on who it is. I like to imagine he gets ‘death chills’; which is a similar thing to impending doom, only he feels it for others.

His curse was NOT biological. As a kid his parents almost killed him; Death saw this, decided it was fucked up, and decided to take in this small child as its own.

Johnny's teeth are just a little too white and his eyes a little too black sometimes. He’s got something akin to vitiligo after he received death’s blessing, and it outlines and mirrors the shape of his skeleton.

Butterflies follow him since he's death; unlike Pony, who has beef with the bees that follow him, Johnny enjoys their presence.

Doesn’t like to use his power much but (pre-jumping) absolutely will tell a soc with a flat expression when and how they’ll die.

He’d saved Darry from dying at the cost of Mr and Mrs Curtis’ lives. Initially, Darry had been planning to join their parents on the car ride to get the chocolate frosting; and Johnny had come over early to get away from home as they were getting ready to leave. He’d barely gotten to walk past the fae when he got the flashes occurred. Johnny watched everything— saw the crash, the way windows broke and metal crumpled inwards; watched the life drain from Darry’s eyes— and it freaked him out. He couldn’t for the life of him explain what he’d seen, but he wouldn’t let Darry leave; clung to him and wouldn’t let go.

Darry tried using his manipulation to get Johnny to let go, but it didn’t work, and that’s what stopped him from leaving. Their parents went alone, and it was the delay in waiting for Darry to come to the car that caused them to be on the tracks that day.

Johnny hasn’t forgiven himself for it. He thinks that maybe, he could’ve done something different and saved them all. He apologized for weeks— and still apologizes sometimes nowadays.

Johnny has never feared death, it’s hard to when you’re related to it yourself. When Bob died, he didn’t feel remorse until a few minutes after he was stuck there with the corpse. He's the boy of death, this is his normal- it’s only when his humanity returns that he realizes what he’s done.

The only time he's feared death was during/after the church fire. His power practically disabled itself due to how weak he was, and he was terrified. This was going to be it, he was going to lose his life at 16-- and then he woke up in the hospital.

While he was clinically dead, he spoke to Death. It was a simple interaction, just a reassurance that it was not his time to go yet. There was a feeling of comfort in their words, too.

Sometimes, when he sleeps, he sees Death again. One of the first times they'd spoken was when Darry was supposed to die. "Hey bud, that fae was supposed to die-" "No."

Before they could afford to get him mobility aids, Steve and Two helped him get around.

He's got a really uncanny feeling about him, people do not usually like it- Dally enjoyed it, though, 'cause he's fucking bonkers. It doesn't help that he doesn't blink.

He can easily float on the surface of bigger bodies of water because corpses float in water after they begin to decompose.

He's unnaturally cold like a corpse, the cold doesn't bother him because of that, but he does like feeling warm.

GAD, C-PTSD, and Autism. He's also selectively mute but is very vocal with the gang

Johnny still smokes, but being around the smell of smoke for too long makes him panic.

DALLY

Human, he’s the only one of the gang without a curse. However, he’s recently discovered a bit of an,, unsettling change to his daily life.

Dally's been seeing things. Apparations, spirits, whatever you want to call them. He'll see them in the corner of his eye and in certain circumstances can engage with them directly. He's not a fan of it.

Born in New York, moved to Tulsa when he was around seven; Two-Bit welcomed him with a stupid amount of enthusiasm and they’ve been buddies since.

He doesn’t talk about his birth family, no matter how much prompting there is. As far as he’s aware, Buck’s probably the closest thing he’s felt to an authority figure— at least until he grew older and colder, ignoring the role the adult had in his life.

He’s only capable of holding Two’s perching weight because he’s been doing it since they were kids.

He's very good at coping with his chirps too. Likes to whistle and watch that bitch shoot up and stare.

Dally tries his damn hardest to downplay how much Two (or any of the other greasers) mean to him. Vulnerability like that makes him feel too weak, and after having shown that weakness once, he doesn't plan to do so again.

Met Death while unconscious after being shot by the cops. The only reason he's alive is because Johnny would've been destroyed, and Death didn't want to deal with that shit.

Sometimes he feels a little weird about being the only human, but it's more out of a sense of not necessarily belonging there. It's an unconscious thought, one that only manifests in the rare moments when he realizes he feels just as out of place as he did in NYC. Dallas Winston is merely a boy who has never felt at home.

Dally, funnily enough, doesn't pass well as a human. Everyone outside the gang is convinced he's a vampire because he's so pasty and his canine teeth are naturally sharp.

He successfully convinced the gang that he could talk to and control rats. Two is the only person who knows he lied because he bought him a rat once and nothing happened.

He finds out through Two-Bit and Ms. Mathews that Fae can't lie and uses it to blackmail the Curtis bros, since nobody else knows that.

Yknow how he can see ghosts? One time he woke up on the Curtis' couch to Mr and Mrs Curtis in the living room. It freaks him out so bad that he unconsciously blocks them out right after. Blinks really hard a few times until they're gone.

He's the most feral of the gang. It's the New Yorker in him. He's not supernatural, sure, but he will fuck shit up. Absolutely off his rocker, launches people, and rocks their shit.

Dally's the one who found Two-Bit after he got jumped. He's so pissed ab what happened with Pony n Johnny that he wants some sick gratitude by seeing exactly where Bob took his last breath, so that’s where he finds him. He didn't know how to react, panicked HARD.

He's arguably the closest with Johnny and Two-Bit, he's just more open about that connection with Johnny. He's also pretty good friends with Darry, as there are a lot of little things they've found mutual ground on.

He's got claw scars littered around from the harpies. The ones from Two are due to the fucker dive-bombing down to grab him with his talons a little too fast, and the others are from fist-fighting Tim.

He called Ms. Mathews mom once and has not walked physically into the house since out of pure embarrassment. He doesn't even stand on the lawn that's how embarrassed he is by it all.

More general headcanon stuff fuck you but BPD, PTSD, intermittent explosive disorder, and ODD too.

Also a general headcanon but Two-Bit convinced him to get a tattoo during one of his own sessions for his sleeve, so he's got a little switchblade on the back of his leg.

He thought Two-Bit was having a heart attack the first time he heard how fast his heartbeat was.

Non-Canon but a fun fact. If he did die to the cops, he would've come back as a ghost.

ACE

Human, arguably the least passing as one, and she's got pyrokinesis - As usual, it's very self-explanatory. She can create and control fire with the mind, but there are a few limits to it. She can't produce large flames from her hands, and so she usually has to carry a lighter to kickstart her power if needed.

Ace can make very small fires on her fingers but they're not usually big enough to be manipulated. She can go larger as needed, but it'll drain her out. Likes to just light people's cigarettes and make the flame jump from finger to finger.

When she gets super pissed off, her hair sets on fire. The gang uses her to roast marshmallows sometimes.

Ace is unofficially adopted by Mrs. Mathews. The general idea is that she found her coming home one day, assumed this was a lost child, bought her home, and the kids bonded while she tried to get information about the girl's parents. At dinner was told some shit like “Mommy n Daddy dropped me off n said to wait :) That was two days go!!” and. Safe to say Ace hasn’t left since.

On that note, has a very familial relationship with Two and his sister. They grew up together, how could they not be? They're absolute fucking chaos when paired, though. She likes to call him any bird other than a crow to see him puff up all annoyed.

She used to threaten to turn him into Thanksgiving dinner if he kept pestering her.

Absolute fucking goblin. She has tried so hard to convince Cherry to help her burn half of the soc's houses down. "We'll spare yours don't worry!!" "N..No."

She can't really swim and it could arguably kill her if she's in water for too long, but if she's mad the water will boil away.

VERY warm by nature for obvious reasons, literally a space heater. Pony flocks to her in the winter because she's so warm

Looks the least human of the humans. She's got horns underneath her hair that are still growing more, and her hands are coated pretty permanently in ash. She gives off a subtle glow and her eyes/teeth look way too bright in the dark. Her eyes burn brighter when she's upset.

Normal headcanon but arguably has the second-worst criminal record in the gang.

She feels very guilty about her power due to how much trauma the others in the gang have gone through relating to it.

Unrelated to the AU itself but she's a lesbian. IDGAF what anyone says.

Ace infatuates Two-Bit by putting on a ring and waving her fire fingers in front of his face. The fire's light bouncing off it makes it look extra shiny, she uses it to get him to do stuff for her. "Oo oo you wanna buy me a Pepsi soooo bad"

Literally just bullies him. They have no clue who's older because Ace doesn't know her birthday but she's self-titled him as her little brother.

Couldn’t control her powers as a kid, the gang is quite literally the first group of people who understood that and didn’t isolate her because she kept accidentally burning them when she got too excited (its emotions tied to an extent, hence why she’s started only channeling it by bottling up her anger until she needs to burst)

If Ace uses her power too much she quite literally burns out. Can’t use any part of it for days and is super fucking exhausted. Winter is her absolute beloathed because it’s a pretty similar feeling she gets. She's very susceptible to frostbite.

She used to make jokes about burning Two’s wings off whenever he’d bother her. For a good while she’s way too afraid of even being close to him after his jumping because she doesn’t want to hurt him with her flames. Two trusts her in full even after the accident but her ass is NOT taking any risk, he thinks he pissed her off somehow for a while until it clicks when he watches her extinguish whatever little flame she’s fidgeting with on her fingers the second he walks in. “I trust you." (wearily) “Should you?”

PTSD and ADHD, along with some pretty bad sensory issues & maybe Pica.

Had a really toxic situationship with Bev. She couldn't see the red flags until Bev harmed one of her own. Their relationship was broken off the mere second she found out who hurt Two. Literally blew up at Bev and burnt herself out due to being so fucking angry. It parallels Paul's "Why would I like a freak like you" towards Darry with Ace telling Bev "I can't believe I loved a monster like you."

Rarepair/Crackship time. Ace x Cherry is canon. We call them Fireworks. They're very slow burn. Cherry needs to come to terms with her feelings and Ace needs to trust another soc again after what happened with Two n Bev.

OTHER CHARACTER THINGS

All of the Shepards are Vulture harpies.

Paul and Cherry of two of the only socs with powers. Cherry's got something akin to electrokinesis and makes little sparks with her hands similar to the way a bomb with a lit fuse would behave. Paul's a witch, but his manifested pretty late; probably post-rumble.

Cherry's fingertips are calloused from her sparks, and she's got a bit of resistance to fire. Her hair sparks like a bomb/fireworks when she gets super pissed off. Ace has tried to weaponize this for the silly.

She tries to hide her sparks. Wears gloves to keep them down and if she has to have them off will clench her fists, even if it burns her.

She's desperate to be good enough to her parents. They're ashamed of her due to her sparks, and all she wants is their approval.

Cherry's got major internalized homophobia for a while, very comphet. Eventually, she comes to terms it.

Paul tweaked the fuck out at first and had a panic attack before realizing he kinda fucked with it. Still has a huge bias against the greasers, though. It's something close to a god complex, but he just thinks he's superior due to his financial status as well. He's just got basic shit like rituals and spells.

Was convinced Darry was using his power on him when he confronted him about the Fae having loved him, cause he cried. It wasn't a heavy cry, just a bitter stare, "Why would I like a freak like you?", and silent tears. Darry still doesn't know how to feel about that.

(9/18 Edit: Take the Paul stuff ab his relationship to the greasers with a grain of salt, we’re changing stuff)

The only reason it's tolerance and not raw hate is because Paul was NOT in on Two being burned 💀Turned around to see Bev with her light and was just like "Well I guess we're cooking chicken tn????"

The socs who jumped Two wear his stolen feathers. The only socs with neat feathers are Cherry and Marcia.

Two's little sister (who I call Molly) once asked their mom (who I call Carolyn) why they couldn't give Two-Bit their molted feathers to 'fix his'

Ms. Mathews has pretty much adopted the entire group emotionally by now. She tries to help Darry with financials but Darry is. Darry.

MISC STUFF

Two-Bit used to get caught in and fly around tornados and Pony always caught sight of that shit. They liked to play a game where he tried to catch him while Two avoided his vines. If they couldn't get him down, Pony would get Soda to ask Steve to use his telekinesis bc Steve would say no if Pony asked.

They also play a game where Steve will fling a member of the gang as far as he can and Two dives after them. It's like fucked up football; Dally offered to be thrown and it was the most fun the three have had-- until they had to stop 'cause Darry caught them and almost had an aneurysm.

The DX windows used to be blank and empty but Soda and Steve started putting stuff up on them so the harpies don’t slam into the glass.

Steve puts Two-Bit in air jail if he tries snatching anything shiny from himself or Soda.

Two, Johnny, and Steve bond over having shitty fathers. Two n Steve do it the most since Johnny doesn’t like to talk about it, but Steve and Two will bitch to hell and back. Johnny's a part of the conversation but just nods and listens. If they have a rough day with their dads, the three of them end up hanging out together.

Johnny, Dally, and Two make people the most uneasy. Johnny's got these blank, dead eyes, Two's smile feels predatory, and Dally's Dally.

All the greaser Harpies look out for one another. It doesn't matter if they're not from the same gang, or if their gangs have tension; you look out for one another. They may necessarily not be each other's flock, but it’s natural for them to stick together.

The harpies love to play fight. They will absolutely beat the shit out of each other and then grab lunch as if nothing happened. All of the harpies have bird habits. Most of them sleep on their stomach.

Dally took something shiny out of Two's hands when they were kids, and Two cried.

Ace makes fun of Two-Bit's choice of men because they're lesbian and bisexual solidarity. "Thoughts?" "And prayers, you'll need them." The only time she ever was like ‘Wow you made a good pick’ was when he jokingly said it about Darry. "Thoughts?” “Your only good pick, He’s got my blessing.” ">:0"

During the real cold months when Darry has to decide between heating or food on the table, Two and Ace practically move in bc a walking blanket and space heater.

{ Tags List: @nova-drawzz @timewing06 }

[2amriize]

˚⟡˖ RIIZE angry confessions

ᡣ𐭩 masterlist genre angst, fluff pairing riize x reader

ᯓ★ SHOTARO

Shotaro had been in love with you for a while, but he always felt that you only saw him as a good friend. Because of this, he decided not to confess his feelings. You two had known each other for years, and although he only realized his feelings a few months ago, he had always felt a bit strange when he saw you with other guys. Back then, he didn't admit it, but he was jealous. He couldn't understand why, despite laughing with him more than anyone else, you still seemed to prefer other guys. Deep down, he felt like he wasn't enough.

Since he realized he was in love with you, you hadn’t mentioned liking any other guys, so Shotaro hadn't felt jealous in a while—until it happened.

One day, while you were having an afternoon snack at a café with Shotaro, something you did often, you spotted a guy from your class who you thought was really cute entering the café. You couldn’t help but feel nervous.

"Oh my god..." you murmured, trying to look away.

“What’s up?” Shotaro asked, turning to see what had caught your attention.

“It’s that guy from my class… He’s…”

“Oh, do you have a crush on him?” Shotaro glanced at the guy for a few seconds before turning back around and letting out a small sigh. “He’s not good for you.”

“Huh? Why do you say that?”

“He looks like trouble. And I don’t think he’s right for you.”

Shotaro had never said anything like that to you before, and it made you a bit angry. What was he implying?

“Since when do you care about what's good for me, Shotaro?” you asked, giving him a serious look, clearly upset by his words. He looked back at you in silence for a few seconds.

“Since I…” He bit his lip and shook his head. “Nevermind.”

“Since what, Shotaro? Why do you suddenly care about the guys I like? It’s none of your business…”

“Because I’m in love with you, Y/N!” Shotaro cut you off, standing up and looking at you intensely. “That’s why, alright? Are you happy now?” He grabbed his things and stormed out of the café.

ᯓ★ EUNSEOK

It was the way Eunseok looked at you that made everyone else realize how much he liked you. Well, everyone except for you. From the moment he met you, Eunseok knew he had feelings for you, but there wasn’t much he could do about it because at the time, you were dating someone else.

When you broke up with that guy, Eunseok was there for you whenever you needed him, supporting you. But that was all he could do—be by your side—because he felt like you didn’t see him the same way he saw you. Even though everyone always mentioned how Eunseok looked at you, you would always reply with, “I don’t know why everyone keeps saying that, Eunseok looks at everyone like that…”

To be honest, sometimes you had thought about it—whether Eunseok really had feelings for you like everyone said—but it didn’t make sense to you, so you would quickly brush it off. On the other hand, Eunseok was finding it harder and harder to contain his feelings. It never seemed like the right moment to confess, especially since you had been going through an on-again, off-again relationship with the same guy for a while, something Eunseok couldn’t stand.

“You got back with him again?” Eunseok asked with a sigh as you both sat on the grass at a friend’s birthday party. You had stepped outside to get some fresh air.

“Yeah… I feel like it’s what I should do.”

“Why, Y/N? Sometimes you make the dumbest decisions…”

“Excuse me?” You looked at him, surprised by the way he spoke. Eunseok had always supported you, and this was the first time he sounded frustrated. “It’s not dumb…”

“Isn’t it? To keep chasing after someone who doesn’t treat you the way you deserve?”

“What do you mean, Eunseok? He treats me well… we just have a few little fights sometimes. Besides, I go back to him because he’s the only one who cares about me at the end of the day, because…”

“Oh my god, Y/N, how can you be so blind?” Eunseok interrupted, looking at you with clear frustration.

“What…?”

As he stood up to go back inside, he murmured, “I don’t understand how you can’t see that the person who loves you the most is right in front of you…”

ᯓ★ SUNGCHAN

Sungchan had been looking out for you since day one. You had known each other since elementary school, and ever since then, you had always been together. He was always by your side, making sure you were okay and safe. You two spent so much time together that people who didn’t know you well often thought you were dating, something you always denied immediately to avoid awkwardness.

Sungchan never took it personally when you denied it—he tried to brush it off quickly—until it happened in a situation unlike any other before. You had never had a boyfriend, mostly because you hadn’t really been interested in any guys… until now. There was this one guy you’d been noticing lately, someone you found intriguing, but you hadn’t told anyone about it because it made you a little shy.

To your surprise, your friends invited this guy to a lunch gathering that you and Sungchan were also attending. When you saw him approaching with your friends, you couldn’t hide your nervousness, which Sungchan immediately noticed. And, as usual, the guy asked how long you and Sungchan had been together.

“No, him and me? We’re not a couple. Not at all. Never,” you said quickly, letting out a nervous laugh.

Sungchan stared at you in silence. He couldn’t believe what you had just done. Normally, you would simply say, “No, we’re just friends,” but this time, it felt like you had overreacted, and it hurt him. As you continued talking more with the guy, Sungchan started to feel left out (and jealous), so he let out a small laugh and walked away to another spot.

It took you a few minutes to realize Sungchan was no longer there, behind you, where he had always been. Confused, you quietly excused yourself from the group to go find him. After searching for a bit, you finally found him leaning against a tree, sipping his drink. You approached and touched his shoulder, and he looked at you with an expression you had never seen on him before.

“Why did you leave, Sungchan? Did something happen?”

“It seemed like you didn’t need me there anymore,” he said, turning his gaze away from you.

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t know you hated the idea of people seeing us as a couple… or rather, that he saw us as a couple.”

“Sungchan, you know that’s not it. We’re not dating, you know? I always say the same thing. I don’t get why you’re acting like this now…”

“I’ve been following you around like a lost puppy since the day we met, yet you couldn’t see?” Sungchan turned to face you, locking eyes with you for a few seconds.

“What… what do you mean…?” you murmured, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“It’s… nevermind,” he said, walking away.

ᯓ★ WONBIN

Wonbin was a friend of one of your friends, and although you had met him several times before, you didn’t really start talking until a few months ago. To both of your surprise, you had a lot of common interests, which meant you had been talking more and more lately.

Whenever you hung out with your group of friends, it wasn’t unusual for you and Wonbin to spend the entire time together, which led to people starting to suspect there was something going on between you two. However, everyone knew that you had been interested in another guy for a while, a guy who constantly gave you mixed signals. But you were so blinded by the way he treated you that you couldn’t see he was just playing with your feelings.

This was something Wonbin knew, and it was starting to bother him more and more. At first, he didn’t care much, but the more he got to know you, the more frustrated he became with how this guy was treating you. And that’s when he realized that maybe he didn’t see you just as a friend anymore. The moment he came to that realization, he regretted it, knowing that you only had eyes for someone else, and he felt like you’d never notice him.

One evening, you were hanging out with your friends, and for some reason, you all decided to drink. Wonbin wasn’t very good at drinking, so it didn’t take long for him to get tipsy, his cheeks flushed. When Wonbin got drunk, he became even more affectionate than usual. You had also been drinking, but it didn’t affect you as much.

At one point, Wonbin went outside to get some fresh air because he was feeling a bit dizzy, and you followed him to check if he was okay. While outside, you started talking about the guy you liked, and unlike usual, Wonbin didn’t respond or pay much attention. When you noticed he was staring off into the distance, you looked at him.

“Wonbin? Are you okay?”

He stared at you for a few seconds, and just when it seemed like he was about to say something, he sighed and buried his face in his hands, muttering, “Do you like that guy so much that you can’t see what he’s doing to you?”

“Huh? What are you talking about, Wonbin? He treats me really well…”

“Yeah, that’s what you think…”

“You don’t have the right to talk about him like that when you don’t even know him,” you said, getting annoyed at how Wonbin was speaking badly about him.

After a few seconds of silence, Wonbin looked at you and shook his head.

“…This is why I knew I shouldn’t have gotten close to you.”

“What are you talking about, Wonbin?”

“I just… wish you wouldn’t keep seeing that guy.”

“You don’t have the right to say that.”

“I wish I did.”

ᯓ★ SEUNGHAN

Everyone, even you, knew how much Seunghan liked you. But you always ignored his feelings because you preferred not to face that reality. You had been friends for so many years that you didn't want to risk your friendship over it. Still, you couldn't deny that you treated him differently from everyone else, being much more affectionate and always relying on him when you needed someone. Seunghan was always there for you, no matter what. It didn’t matter if you were on the other side of the city and only needed a pen—he would come and bring it to you. That’s how much you meant to him, and everyone could see it.

That’s why, when he heard from others that you were starting to get to know another guy, he felt his heart break a little. He knew you two weren’t a couple and that he had never confessed his feelings, but it still hurt to find out from someone else, especially when you knew how he felt. The thought of you with another guy was something he couldn't stand.

He tried to distance himself from you for a while after hearing the news, but he just couldn’t. He couldn’t say no when you asked him to pick you up from class to take you home, even though he knew you probably had an important date. Despite knowing this date might be with the other guy, he couldn’t bring himself to refuse, so he picked you up just as you had asked.

The whole ride, he was quiet and serious, something you found odd since Seunghan had never behaved like this around you. He was always so sweet and cheerful when he was with you.

"Seunghan, is something wrong? You seem really serious," you asked when he parked in front of your house after the silent ride.

"No, don't worry," he murmured without looking at you.

"I know something’s bothering you…"

"Don't you have to go get ready for your date?"

The way Seunghan looked at you and the tone he used when mentioning your date made you realize he knew about it, and he seemed quite upset.

"Seunghan, you know I care about you a lot, but it’s just…"

"You know. You know I love you and took full advantage of the fact that I'd do anything for you. And I know that. I just kept at it, hoping that one day you'd value me just as much."

You froze after hearing Seunghan’s words. You couldn’t help but feel bad for making him feel this way, though it was never your intention. Before you could even respond, Seunghan spoke again.

"Just… get out. You’re going to be late."

ᯓ★ SOHEE

There had always been a sort of romantic tension between you and Sohee. Both of you were playful and touchy with each other, but that was all—just tension. Even though you both probably had feelings for each other, neither of you had confessed.

In fact, you were always waiting for him to confess, but that moment never seemed to come. The longer you waited, the more tired you grew of holding onto hope. Yet, despite that, you couldn’t seem to let go of the idea of him.

Knowing all of this, you still couldn’t ignore the guy who approached you at the party. You had come to the university party with Sohee, but he had gone off to talk to his friends. The guy, someone you hadn’t seen before, wasted no time approaching you once he saw Sohee wasn’t by your side.

You two talked for a while, and the guy even brushed your arm occasionally while locking eyes with you. You couldn’t deny feeling a bit nervous around him. He was charming and very attractive. After chatting for a bit, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom, promising you’d be right back.

You didn’t expect to find Sohee waiting for you outside the bathroom. You quickly noticed he’d had a few drinks.

"Sohee, have you been drinking?"

"Who was that guy?"

"Are you talking about the one I was talking to earlier? He’s a new guy at our faculty. He’s pretty nice. I was about to go back and talk to him."

"Don’t go back to him," Sohee muttered, lowering his head.

"Sohee, you can’t decide what I do."

"I know I can’t, but I don’t want you to talk to him again."

"Sohee, you’re just drunk and saying things that don’t make sense," you said, walking past him, heading back to the party.

"Y/n, I love you," you heard Sohee murmur as he grabbed your wrist, only to let it go after a few seconds. You looked at him, stunned, for a moment. "Is that what you wanted to hear? Are you happy now?" he said before walking away into the party, leaving you standing in the hallway, unsure of what to say or do.

ᯓ★ ANTON

You and Anton had been best friends for as long as you could remember. You went to the same school, and your mothers were close friends, so you spent many summers together. Even after graduating, you both ended up attending the same university, so you still saw each other daily.

It felt like you two were inseparable—until you started getting to know another guy. It took you a while to tell Anton about him since you’d never really talked about that kind of stuff before. When you finally did, you thought he took it well at first, but you noticed him starting to act strange, becoming more distant.

Although he said nothing was wrong, he always had excuses to avoid walking home with you, claiming he had plans to study with classmates in a café, something you found odd since he didn’t like studying in public. Even so, you decided to trust him and give him the space he seemed to need.

One day, as you were heading home, you spotted Anton walking in the distance. It had been a while since you’d seen him in person, so you decided to catch up with him. He smiled briefly when he saw you, but then quickly looked away and started walking faster.

"Anton, I feel like you’ve been acting weird these past weeks. Is something wrong?"

"Huh? No, you know… exams, new people… It’s just that. Nothing’s wrong."

"Are you sure? I feel like you’re pulling away from me, and if I’ve done something wrong, I want to know."

"Nothing’s wrong, y/n. You’ve just got other friends now, and I get it," he mumbled coldly. You stood there, thinking for a moment. In high school, you’d made new friends, and yet you and Anton still acted like you always had. Why was this time different?

"I feel like you’ve been off ever since I told you about Ricky…"

"Y/n. I just… don’t want to talk about it."

"Well, I do, Anton. I feel like you’re being selfish, only thinking about how you feel and not about how you’re making me feel," you said, frustrated, stopping in the middle of the street. Anton turned to look at you, serious.

"Well, I’m sorry I fell in love with you, okay? But it happened, and I can’t do shit about it."

"You… what?"

Anton stared at you for a few seconds, pressing his lips together before turning his back on you.

"Forget it, y/n. I’m just tired from all the studying."

ᡣ𐭩 masterlist taglist: @regularsuh @gacktsa @totheseok @kkumistars @taroddori