#over his view on death is insanely funny to me

[aquillwieldingmagpie]

I don't know WHY, but for some reason I've had a vision of a Golden Ratio Slay the Princess AU.

I genuinely don't know why, maybe it's because of Ratio's owl motif and one of 2.1 quests being named A Cat Among Pigeons (in reference to Agatha Christie and possibly Aventurine's role) and then later owning three black cakecats even if he's mostly associated with peacocks? Maybe it's because I somehow associate Aventurine's many masks and personas we see over the time we know him with the Shifting Mound's many perspectives and how both her and him are so confident their respective foil won't kill or betray them at the end of everything (and are even fine with it if it does happen), how both the Princess and Aventurine always, always fight for freedom and are denied it until the very end of their story when they finally are granted a true escape through their own efforts and an outside force be it through being show the way or death? How they're both connected to a being so much larger than them but have no say over it (the Princess being seen as only a part/perspective of the Shifting Mound even if she can be found at her heart, Aventurine was blessed by Gaiathra Triclops and ultimately none of that did them any good).

Or maybe it's because I can practically hear this line from the Princess coming out of Aventurine's mouth to Ratio the more close he is to knowing who the real Aventurine is after I woke up in a cold sweat from a nap to write this out:

"Have you figured out what you want to do yet, or are you going to keep trying to find a center that doesn't exist?"

(The Princess saying this about herself and how she's the heart of the Shifting Mound and hasn't really been herself or stopped playing a role through the entirety of the game, but in this context Aventurine saying that there is no 'Kakavasha' or 'No.35' or even 'Aventurine' anymore, just the many masks he wears even though he admits to himself he hasn't changed)

I have no idea if this is anything though or if it would fit their characters at all though. Maybe it's just a silly vision I'll write out one day, maybe not.

[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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[coffeegnomee]

The psychological analyses that can come from that conversation with Ash is insane. And then the convo after with chat. 

 ASH: “WAIT. ZAm is accepting hearts from people That Kill? That’s not very peaceful of you zam. That goes against your oath. You’re just accepting heart that has, that puts blood on your hands. I’m not even joking about this” 

ZAM: “I-, I don’t. I don’t think it does.” 

ASH: “You’re benefiting from the spoils of the death that you claim to be so against” 

Zam physically JUMPS away from the conversation at the same time. Visibly unsettled by what Ash just said, because this exact stance has come up in chat in the past weeks. 

But nonetheless he proceeds to talk very calmly and practically. 

ZAM: “If kills have already happened what am I supposed to do to stop it. I only care about myself not killing people” [parkouring over to the roof of the house] 

ASH: “You literally-” 

ZAM: “not other people. The server can do whatever the fuck it wants. I don’t care” 

PANGI” aaahhhhh”

ASH: “That’s the most. That’s the most selfish view”

Hold that line for future analysis. In the moment Zam moves past it instantly, settling in the safe arms of being misunderstood. Nobody understands PrinceZam. 

 PANGI: “He’s like switzerland, you know. Like trading with uh germany and trading like england and [france?] in the middle of a war” 

ZAM: “nobody understands. Nobody understands princezam.” 

ASH: “that doesn’t make. That makes you a rat more than anything” 

(A snitch betrays his teammates for something in return, but a rat goes behind his teammates back to save his own cowardly ass.)

ZAM: “[cobs ash/under ash and jumps into it] nobody understands princezam” 

ASH: “maybe I will eventually. Why did you try to do- what?” 

ZAM: “I learned from you! The best side to play is all sides, right? That’s what you said” 

This is the FIRST time Zam has accepted this role. He has debated and worried about accidentally playing both sides, worried how each team will react, it has been WEIGHING on his mind that he DOESN’T want to play all sides. But in the heat of the moment, in the face of being called a hypocrite, he EMBRACES it to get Ash off his back. 

From 7/18/24, 33:20 ZAM: “I really don’t like the idea of playing both sides, but like, like- I’m trying my hardest not to, I’m just kinda like, at spawn and people are confiding in me. It’s like really awkward. Like maybe I’m leaning into it a little bit, I think, just because it’s like, easy. You know? Like if you shove 100 dollars in my face like I’m probably gonna take it right? Like like [giggling], it’s just like, ugh, it’s so stupid [laughing] i don’t like this. I don't know, I’m opportunist I guess. I’m just an opportunist I guess because I'm pacifist and I don't wanna die. So. But like also I really just don’t like the idea of being someone who plays both sides, it’s so awkward” 

Interestingly enough, we weren’t even talking about playing all sides. We were talking about taking bloodied hearts. Goes to show what is really on PrinceZam’s mind. 

ASH: “I mean, yea. I mean. Uh. okay. I guess we’re both insects then damn.” 

[zam laughs as he stutters his way around] 

ASH: “whatever bruh” 

ZAM: “hypocritical as fuck” 

ASH: “I mean, I’m not claiming to be any good person, I’m just saying your whole oath and code of honor is” 

ZAM: “I’m not either. I’m trying to be a good person but, hey” 

PANGI: “You’re doing a really bad job I can tell you that, Zam” 

ZAM: “yea. [pauses and then swings around to confront pangi] coming from you is crazy” 

PANGI: “[indignant] what do you mean coming from me, what did I do wrong?” 

ZAM: “hey guys my name’s pangi, my bit for today is I’m going to go inside this guy’s house and then what’s it called, frame him for doing drugs and take him to an obsidian box and lock him up in there” 

PANGI: “It was pretty funny. I thought that was pretty funny” 

ZAM: [now notably staying in one place for the conversation] yea you thought it was funny? It was HORRIFYING for me. Fuck you [punches him a couple of times]” 

That Pangi bit was not lore just the other day, but now it is. And it was horrifying. Love it.

PANGI: “Did you not find that video funny?” 

ZAM: “I didn’t enjoy that one bit, no.” 

PANGI: “suuuure buddy. Sure” [zam starts parkouring again] 

ZAM: “I don’t think pangi’s a pacifist” 

Classic deflection! It wasn’t Pangi’s pacifism that was in question, it was Zam’s. But Pangi’s pasifism is on Zam’s mind, so he’ll dredge up everything that’s been on his mind to make Pangi look bad so Zam can win the moral high ground. Or the highest low ground. 

In my mind, he’s starting to subconsciously not believe in his stance. Someone who believes in their beliefs fully doesn’t need to stoop to calling out everyone else’s flaws. He’s uncomfortable with the topic, which is why it became a lore moment with chat after, but even so, this is an early sign of cracking I think. He feels BAD about playing all sides, but puffs up that he doesn’t. He was SO worried about it the day he watched the bros vs empire fight. And again on gossip city day, but now he brings it up as a defense.

And also about receiving bloodied hearts, we’ve had this debate to chat before and Zam acknowledged that it is an ethical dilemma:

From 7/20/24, 4:51:10 “imagine flame goes on a killing spree just so he can pay you to make more builds lol’ (citrus) dude. Is the blood on my hands then? That’s something I was wondering, what if this becomes bad. To where they’re like murdering people just for the sake of like, whats it called, paying me. ‘Yes youre evil then’ (sin) aw shit. It’s my fault. I mean I guess it depends on how bad it gets. I felt really bad when they killed jepex for me. I can’t lie, in the moment I thought it was really funny but looking back, it’s literally the same as like. Like I think me asking them to kill someone is the same as me killing them myself, it lowkey does not matter. So I’m lowkey like having another moral dilemma right there, on that one. I’m gonna stop asking people to fucking kill people for me that’s stupid, i don’t want to do that anymore”

And then he debriefs the conversation with chat: “‘you’ve only done build commissions for incredibly violent people huh’ (arch) that is something to consider huh, am I [sharp breath in] let me put on the lore music hold on. Am I. and I, I don’t think I’m the worst person to- okay. No. you know what? It doesn’t matter. Because there are worse people on this server. So I’m not that bad by comparison. It doesn’t matter. Heh. it doesn’t even matter like, like, by comparison I’m not that bad it’s fine. You know I’m doing better than I did last season So I’m okay. I’m happy with my choices I feel like. I dunno. I mean like gaining, gaining hearts is not the worst thing in the world, it’s kind of like the point of the server is it not? I dunno. Hmmm ‘i mean violent people are the ones who have the hearts’ (citrus) exactly! Yea, my only, the only people I CAN do business with is the violent people.”

“But by taking hearts from them am I not encouraging them to kill more? Yea, that’s something to consider as well, you know? Cause, but it’s like. Ugggghhh let me read through the oath again. ‘Are they killing other violent people’ ‘or innocents’ (arch) that’s true! I mean. They kill innocents when they feel like killing innocents it depends on the person i’m dealing with. I don't know.. How often does mapicc kill innocent people?”

Him having to reference the oath in order to figure out if he’s okay, if he’s “in the right”, whatever that means subjectively, he needs the reassurance that he’s okay. Because he does not feel okay.

“Yea, there’s no stopping the violence on lifesteal obviously that’s just how the server works so I, I’ve only, it’s only about like, me. You know? ‘Can’t extend beyond yourself or else it would drive you crazy’ (mer) exactly I can’t control what other people do. It’s not selfish [heavy emphasis. Meaning ashsawg’s comment] it’s just like, me controlling what I can control. You can only control, you should only worry about what you can control, and what I can control is limiting myself. Umm from all that stuff.”

Because this isn’t about true pacifism, this is about Zam stopping Zam from being the joker again. And he can’t be the joker again because it was damaging to the server (7/9/24, 5:28:18 “‘it was fun tho’ (chips) it was, but it was fun at the expense of others. It was fun… but it was damaging to the server.. It was. I dunno. I don’t think it’s who I want to be.”)

So Zam’s form of pacifism, not killing anyone himself, is precisely Not Selfish because it’s saving the server by preventing the joker form coming back. 

But everyone observes him as trying to be classically Pacifist, which means being against all violence.

And then new chatters start bringing up the Planet kill. 

“‘you got one kill’ ‘you killed planet’ okay okay okay you killed planet okay. I hate how many people are talking about that. Can i talk about how I hate how many people talk about that? Cause like, it’s absurd that people are even bringing that up. I shot at him and he took off his fucking armor, what do you mean!? It obviously was never going to kill him, are you stupid? Like why are we why do so many people talk about this? Like it’s an actual point. ‘YOU CANNOT DENY IT ZAM’ yes I fucking can! Yes I fucking can! Because I shot at him as a fucking like bit, because was obviously never to kill him, and he took off all his fucking armor. I’ve been over it! I have been over it like a million times it’s insane! I gave back the heart too like what. [opens statistics] Like it doesn’t even count. [closes statistics without scrolling down] It does not count. ‘You’re still killing’ [mocking] you're still killing. Okay actual like bot opinion. Bot take. Actual bot take is what this is. Insane. Like actually insane. The fact that people are still on this is craaaazy like actually crazy. ” 

I love talking about the Planet kill (not in chat tho) because it’s such an interesting character moment that Zam is trying to retcon as not being important or meaningful at all. It Should be meaningful, he was shooting that bow, he went up to the closet moments before. He came up with a sword moments before. Murder Was On His Mind. He didn’t mean to, but that just enriches the character more. But also, it is wildly interesting to have him, as a character, retconning it from a character perspective. Getting mad about it is so much better than being dismissive of it. Or ignoring the messages. He is bothered by it, that’s why he gets so mad. And that has potential.

And then my favorite part:

“‘PANGI HASN’T’ oohhhh that’s what this is about. That’s what this is about. That’s what this is about, it’s about pangi, and and pangi being better than me okay. That’s what this is about. It means nothing to me. Means nothing to me. I don’t care. PANGI LITERALLY- okay. Okay. okay. Okay. okay. Okay. okay. Okay. [giggle laugh] pangi is a pacifist because he wants to be. But that’s like. Dude, woogie 1 for 1 took my thing. Dude, it’s crazy how many people are pacifist why did everyone like take my thing. I mean like the whole point is proof of concept is prove that it’s possible, right, but like heh heh. It’s also lame that other people are taking my thing. [more deranged leaning giggles] ‘everybody wants to be princezam.’ (mer)”

Here comes out the truth as to why he turned on Pangi in the Ash conversation. It’s on his mind that Pangi and Woogie are also being pacifist, and that “by the definition” they are “better” than him. Better. That one word that boils Zam’s blood. Because incompetence is his trigger. He always gets cynical and mean when someone is dumb or messes up.

And he thinks Pangi is bad at being pacifist, kill count not included. He's removing the Dirtica walls, getting into conflict with his stream bits, he's looking for violence while not being overtly violent.

And then Pangi is talking about a villain comeback when he stops pacifism. And Zam, you can tell, has no faith that Pangi is good enough at pvp to pull it off. Is it because Zam’s self conscious about his own potential return to pvp and the scariness of just loosing every battle? Is it because he’s constantly defending himself against the “weak player” allegations from his chat? He projects his own insecurities on Pangi, and then gets frustrated at him because he’s copying his arc, the arc that he so confidently and happily said has never been done before. 

A lot is boiling up under the surface of PrinceZam. 

[jweekgoji]

kind of headcannons about yanderes, so basic warnings about kidnapping, manipulation, unhealthy dynamics, obsession, overprotective behavior.

I kind of lied about Fern being the best yandere of AT, IMO Betty would be the best choice, girl freaking holds her man like her wifey, punches weird magical creatures she saw for the first time and she doesn't give a F about some big ass red boss baby , ALL FOR A MAN!!!

as for yandere potential, I would have ranked them like this. ↓

Betty/Golbetty is a really dedicated, ruthless and determined person when it comes to saving and protecting people she loves, even as a regular human she does really scary stuff against some powerful beings, all for beloved! I also really like Magicwoman Betty, I like insane yanderes losing their mind over how to save s/o , especially if they were really sweet and caring before all the crazy stuff happened.

Lich is kind of underrated tho, his voice actor really serves, a good villain which would give me god-like yandere villain/human beloved vibes which would be like a pet for Lich. The power difference is tasty, not to mention the size difference. Would wish to extinct all the life in the universe only for you to be all alone with him :P

Simon is not like Betty, even though he totally would do the same as her, sacrifice everything he has only for his s/o, without them he is nothing and pathetic to watch. but I see him as some kind of father figure with fucked up mind. Hates himself for it, thinks he's too old for you, you totally deserve better than someone like him, but not like he is against the idea of you being around him.

Scarab, The Star somehow like Lich, if you are human or just weaker than them, they would treat you as some sort of pet too. Maybe Scarab would taunt you more, calling you pathetic, ugly and disgusting, at the same time he would be the one who bathes you all the time. He thinks he is superior, but actually freak deep inside. But I would give bonus points for the reverse dynamic, s/o who treats Scarab as a bug he is, not caring about him begging for a job as a wishmaster. step on him, squish him like a bug, but he would run to you for more.

Ooo Finn is himbo, funny guy, actually average yandere, but Jake's death really changes his view on life. It's canon that he waits for the day he dies just to see his brother again. I think he would be a really overprotective one, always on your side whenever you go, helping you with whatever you have to do even if it's something simple. I love the idea of the good loyal hero being a little too protective towards their s/o. Most of the time Finn actually can't understand what he is doing wrong, so if you tell them about it, he would laugh it off.

FW Finn is such a cherry. I would pick Ice Finn and adult FW Finn for this. Ice Finn is scary, before he goes crazy, he is a polite and cute young man, but like other crown users, he has a really deep sense of love for the one he loves enough to put that cursed thing on his head just to save them. I see him more like a creepy guy, not like Ice King tho, Ice Finn would be kind of scarier since all those buildings made of frozen people would scare off everyone. He would be a clingy guy seeking human warmth since his body temperature is too low, but don't run away from him or you will add to his frozen collection.

Adult FW Finn are much cooler in both senses, like Ooo Finn he is overprotective, might be even more since Destiny Gang is always around and he can't let his s/o to be killed by them, he already had to lose his wife, so you would be guarded 24/7. Canonically, Finn would totally hear you once you try to leave him, so don't try it. He won't hurt you, but you would lose your privilege to walk.

Minerva just like her son is the one who wants to help people all the time. Even though they don't really want her help. It will be short here, but like I said about Finn before, she is an overprotective one, and her being everywhere literally would make your life a living nightmare since it would be hard as hell to leave her.

I already made headcannons about Fern, so will be short here too. Fern>Finn in yandere behavior, Fern is violent due to grass demon influence, he has low self-esteem, he doesn't think he deserves you since Finn would be much better at protecting you from harm. But his mind is constantly changing, so in the moment of trying to prove himself, he will kidnap or kill whoever stays on his way to get you, not to mention that if you are the person who's in good relationships with Finn, he would not hesitate to take care of Finn and take his place.

Winter King is a weirdo who has too much power. He is affectionate and could mess with the brains of everyone with his charm. Look at him, such a nice and powerful King! How could you not love him, dude?? Money, knowledge, power, love, all he has and he will give it to you. Well, if you are smart enough to see him playing, his mood will turn into a more angry one, showing some traits of the Ice King. So yeah, same old kidnapping Ice King stuff...

For PB&Candy Queen it's obvious, just like Ice Kings, she is a crazy girl, the definition of yandere, but her blender thingie is actually impressive. I don't think she will be all lovey dovey with her s/o, like she could play her songs for you, keeping you trapped, but one day you will be mixed with her together. PB from the vampire world is kind of like a much cooler version of OG PB, I like her character design and how she is portrayed, I just like strong women who would dominate you, that's all.

Can't say much about Hunter, Fionna, PB, Marceline or Phoebe for now. They're kind of chill and too cute, I can't see them doing crazy stuff (for now). For Huntress Wizard, my love, I see her cool and chill too, but this girl would give you some wild presents like when she gave Finn an animal's heart 😭 well, she is a lonely wolf type, kind of don't know what couples are supposed to do and would try to express herself in her own style which would weird you out a little but she still tries!

Peppermint Butler is kind of underrated too, he's a freaking funny guy, no one would actually believe you if you say that this candy guy would do some creepy shit. I mean look at him! Kind of like more the idea where his s/o is some really powerful entity like Death or Vampire King, he would daydream about you, giggling and kicking his feet making weird fanfics about you in his journal~~~

For Uncle Gambald and Patience, I would say they're pretty strong and violent. Don't disobey those two unless you want to die or something, are you stupid?? Patience at least would try to appear like she's actually trying to be good, she wants to know you more and teach some stuff, or tell stories about the past, just don't ignore her. Uncle Gambald is a creep, stay away from him!! He's gonna make you dumb candy citizen too!!

I actually love Prismo so much, but as for yandere he would be really tied up to his work. I mean, he can't do anything with you when you are outside his time room. He is helpless. He can't touch you or feel you like others would, he can't be around you 24/7 like them, he can't give you what most people need from their partners and it is really sad. Of course, he can make you appear in his time room whenever he wants, he can make everything you wish for, hoping that maybe you will stay with him a little longer. I don't think he would appear angry or annoyed by you, he's too sweet and caring. If you want to leave just go, but he would feel like shit without you around, his work is boring as hell, people who came for making a wish are annoying him, his time room is full of garbage. But Prismo's attention focused totally on videos of you from different universes, the only thing keeping him entertained.

[world0fmadness]

CHAOS HORRIFIC

george russell x death metal vocalist! fisher! reader

♡ general dating headcanons for george with a death metal vocalist partner!

୨୧ basically, you’re the first child of george fisher from cannibal corpse and have your own death metal band in which you’re the vocalist! i need to do more for my fellow metalhead fans <3

♡ view my formula 1 masterlist here

reading music recommendations: fucked with a knife by cannibal corpse - make them suffer by cannibal corpse - evisceration plague by cannibal corpse

♡ to say he was terrified to meet your father would be a huge understatement…

୨୧ since you’re his first child, your father is extremely protective of you and soft on you

♡ his hands were shaking on the drive over despite him cracking jokes and trying his best to appear totally calm and confident

୨୧ you try to assure him that your father is literally the sweetest person you know ( aside from george ) and is actually a huge teddy bear ( no but really, he is, look it up )

♡ george just has some trouble believing it because how is a man with the stage name “ corpsegrinder ” and in a band like cannibal corpse supposed to be a teddy bear?

୨୧ the dinner went… well, it went as good as it could! george cracking jokes every now and again to help relieve the tension

♡ as you and george are leaving, your father asks to have a quick word in private with george…

୨୧ he simply tells him to look after you and treat you well <3

♡ if he didn’t… well, let’s just say he told george a list of things he’d do to him and walked him out of the room, george whiter than a sheet of paper

୨୧ it took him spending a christmas with you guys to fully realise that yeah, actually your father is just a teddy bear underneath all of the brutal shit

“ did he like the lego set i got him? i couldn’t tell, love… ” ( your father loved it, obviously… )

♡ when word got out that you two were dating… oh boy, twitter went insane

୨୧ two completely different communities colliding to ask the same question “ what the fuck? ” whilst people who were in both communities were having the time of their lives

♡ your father and your boyfriend having the same name is something you all poke fun at very often <3

୨୧ george is almost always at your concerts!

♡ usually with headphones on because he still isn’t completely used to how loud they are but he’s getting there :,)

୨୧ when you come off stage, you usually have a sore throat and a head rush from head banging, both of which george helps to relive in any way he can whilst praising your performance

♡ when you were 15, your father brought you on stage at one of his concerts to do the vocals for one of the songs, it’s one of your favourite memories from your childhood and luckily there’s a lot of video evidence of it happening

୨୧ when you showed george the videos, he was in shock… you were such a cool teenager… you would’ve absolutely been able to beat his teenage self up so bad…

“ bloody hell, look at you go! you had a deeper voice than me… ” ( you did, you still kind of do and you both find it so funny )

♡ maybe death metal isn’t something in his day to day playlist but he’s so supportive! whenever you’re practicing vocals in the house, he’ll pop into your soundproofed room to check if you need a drink or any ice to soothe your throat

୨୧ or even just coming to admire your for a bit…

♡ you get approval on how brutal a lyric is by showing it to george!

୨୧ if he makes a face whilst reading it then it’s decided to be brutal enough for your song <3 he’s just happy to help, even if it means reading things that make him feel a little sick

♡ you guys very quickly become a fan favourite couple just due to how different you are… a lot of jokes are made but people seriously just love you

୨୧ because you basically ONLY wear combat boots, more often than not, your feet hurt like hell after a day at the paddock with george…

♡ he tries to convince you to wear a different pair of shoes but you don’t budge <3

୨୧ so usually, when you’re home or in his drivers room, he’ll give you the best foot massage known to man

♡ i can see you getting along best with lewis! both of you are musical souls, even if you’re in very different genres…

୨୧ he definitely has major respect for the metal scene and he just thinks you’re such a talented person and always likes listening to you talk about a new project

♡ something you like to do for george is make him custom CDs! you’ll burn songs that you think he’ll like onto it

୨୧ he’s never gotten over it, he thinks it’s literally the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for him and always has at least two of them in his car and drivers room

♡ you probably did some voice work for metalocalypse alongside your father and every year for your birthday, deathklok sends you one of their infamous birthday cakes and a card!

୨୧ george thinks it’s the funniest thing ever and always demands to be the one to take a picture of you holding it up next to the card

“ oh! what card is it this time, love? is that hello kitty? bloody hell… right, let me take a picture ” ( it was my little pony the year before, that one was his favourite )

♡ literally no one can get over how george ended up with someone like you… he dresses so proper and you dress so boyish… his hair is always perfect and your hair is always messy… he’s so polite and you don’t hold back

୨୧ but it just works and you’re so happy with each other

♡ and you know you’ll be happy with each other for a long, long time…

[allastoredeer]

manlyman al/uwu lucifer, buff al/skinny lucifer, lucifer in a drag with al dressed in a suit - all the same crap, it's also very noticeable how much of luci in dress with al in a suit there is and how little the other way around or when they both in dresses and also luci in dress? 10000+ likes, while rare alastor in dress? well, barely 1000 or 2000. Same with any reverse of usual fandom versions of them. Very telling if you ask me. Blond, short, goofy, did a sad face few times? Of course it's the one who's we gonna make a girly girl here and there's can be only one in our mlm ship 🙄 People want fanon charlastor but without charlie in it because she's actually a female

Damn, you came in swinging.

But, like...I see no lies here. It is kind of funny that people put Lucifer in dresses more than Alastor when Alastor literally wore a nun outfit in the show. It's such a shame too because with Al's long legs and slim waist, DAMN he'd look so good in dresses.

It is very telling that in every fandom space, with at least one pairing - usually a very popular one - one of two becomes a girly girl and the other a darker, menacing, and more intimidating manly man. There's nothing wrong with feminine male characters, nor them being in mlm relationship, but when it happens to every. Single. Ship. where the characters are stripped down to basic archetypes.... ಠ_ಠ

It really is funny, because going by what we've seen in the show, Alastor is so much more of a girly pop than Lucifer is. Him and all his little wrist flicks and sassy remarks.

I mean

Look at this guy

Look at him

LOOK AT HIM

LOOOOOOK AT HIMMMMMMMM

How can people see this man as a super serious big bad muscle daddy? I don't understand. He's so unserious. So full of whimsy. He's a clowning troll. And I'm telling you, look at that thin waist and those long legs. He'd look amazing in a dress.

This actually reminds me of a previous ask I got a while back. The topic was centered around some fans saying that Alastor would never bottom and the over all characterizations of him and Lucifer, and this line here sums it up perfectly:

"shows such a patriarchal-ly drenched heterosexual view of sex, that they then apply to a MLM ship that drives me INSANE."

Particularly, the drenched in a patriarchally heterosexual view. Having one man in a mlm relationship be more feminine than the other is totally okay, there is nothing wrong with that, and there are a lot gay relationships like that.

But the way a lot of radioapple is depicted feels weirdly heterosexual, and it's because of the behaviors and archetypes that get assigned to them. Lucifer becomes this teeny tiny, wide-eyed, awkward little waif and Alastor this big dark possessive boyfriend who's always looming over his shoulder and glaring at anyone who looks at Lucifer. It reads like every other cringy straight romance I've read. Add in the trope of Alastor drinking Lucifer's blood and it's basically "Twilight" set in Hell.

Okay, not to derail, but there was this one AU that I was obsessed with. It's a Hades/Peresphone AU for radioapple, and it sounded amazing, but there were so many depictions of Alastor as Hades and Lucifer as Persephone and I was just...

I was flabbergasted.

You have Lucifer, the king of Hell, the DEVIL himself, be the goddess of spring instead of the Lord of the Underworld. I'm....whut?!!?!?! Alastor is literally a deer, he would be perfect to play Persephone. That guy would be hunting down all the people poaching and harming his domain and making them suffer, and I can totally see Niffty as a psycho little nymph that tags along on his "hunting trips."

I've seen one or two au's where Alastor is Persephone and Lucifer is Hades, and they are glorious, but every time I see the opposite I feel like I'm taking psychic damage. A year of my life gets taken away. I fear I'll be on my death bed soon.

Also this line "People want fanon charlastor but without charlie in it because she's actually a female" it's so true to fandom it hurts, but it's so fucking funny, I'm wheezing

You ate with this ask 🤌

[xmads-omensx]

CHAPTER 1 - SOAKED IN THE NEON GLOW

Content warnings: Violence, Swearing, angst, death, blood, weapons, enemies to lovers, alcohol Word Count: 5802

VANIA

The rain pattered on the ground surrounding me as I stood outside the warehouse before me. Karius always gave me the jobs that no one else wanted. I had nothing to lose. He knew that. And I can see why no one wanted to take on this job. Getting into the warehouse had been no small feat. ERRA, one of the biggest organisations here, owned the building and it was extremely evident by the sheer amount of security they had invested in.

Luckily for me, my savings came in handy when the Underground had gotten in some new Optics that I immediately got installed. My eyesight was now phenomenal and spotting ERRA’s men positioned out of view was as easy as seeing them in broad daylight.

By some insane stroke of luck, I got into the back office with little to no trouble and stole the chip Karius was paying me to grab for him. I learned the hard way not to ask questions. And trust me, I wish I had never asked questions in the first place. Questions get you killed in this line of work.

I like to work quietly. In and out. No funny business. I only kill when I have to. The less mess the better as it is harder to trace back to you. Something OMNS doesn’t quite grasp. OMNS is a crew who have been running for as long as I can remember. There are four of them. Folio was their scout, always riding ahead on his bike with his x-ray optic upgrades to… well… scout, kinda a giveaway if you ask me. Jolly was the muscle. He was upgraded to an extent I wouldn’t even be able to handle even in my wildest dreams. Nick was the crew leader’s right hand. He was the brains. Rumour was that he was a crazy good netrunner and could hack anything from over a mile away. That leaves Noah. The leader. The fucker was even more upgraded than Jolly was. Nobody knew anything about that crazy son of a bitch except from the fact that he is the most ruthless and cold fucker to ever step foot in the Concrete Jungle.

Those four men have been making my life in this line of work literal hell for years. It started when the leader of my old crew stole a job from them and ever since they have been taking it out on all of us. However, when my crew got killed a few months back, OMNS focused their rage onto me. It started with them stealing jobs from me. Then evolved into implicating me on their shitty work. As if I would ever leave that many bodies lying around. God. Men are so messy.

The rain washed away all of my fatigue and the cold reminded me that I still needed to get the chip to Karius before I got caught. I hopped on my motorbike, pulled my black and pink hair into my helmet and began my journey to meet K.

Poppy’s was a popular location for crews from all over the Concrete Jungle to meet and relax after jobs. The neon lights that illuminated the place reflected off of the puddles on the concrete ground as other crews mingled about the place. Most of them usually hung out in the parking lot outside to show off their upgrades, but due to the rain everyone had migrated inside.

The barstools are all occupied along with the booths lining the walls. The stage in the middle of the room was occupied by a cyborg woman dancing to the music blaring throughout the building. My eyes danced around the room looking for a familiar blonde-haired man so I could get in and out of here as quickly as possible.

Karius was a tall, well-built man in a grey suit. He looked out of place being in a bar like Poppy’s, full of low-life criminal crews and other people who had been forced out of the more legal side of life. The only thing that made K somewhat fit in were the projectile launcher upgrades he had fitted into his tree-trunk like forearms.

“Look who finally decided to show up.” Karius called. Not even looking up from the shitty whiskey he had been drinking.

“Yeah, well I’m not exactly going to be super fucking fast if you send me out on a job like that are you?” I snapped back at him.

His broad shoulders shuddered as he chuckled at my bitchy tone. K and I had always had a decent employer-employee relationship. Neither of us had any reason to stab each other in the back. The dynamic wasn’t close or personal by any means but we was the closest thing I had to a friend.

“You know, V, these jobs would be a hell of a lot easier if you just joined a crew.” Karius argued. He had been pushing for me to join another crew pretty much since my last one fell apart. But he just saw credits, not people. I guess that’s what helped keep that wall up between the two of us.

“Yeah, well, we both know that will never happen.” I replied with a sigh, “Now do you want your precious chip or not K? I got places to be.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Here… your payment that we agreed and a tip for your troubles.” Karius replied, taking the chip out of my hand.

I made to leave Poppy’s and head home so I could get some much needed rest when I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder. I whipped around, preparing to engage my Mantis blades, when I realised that it was Karius who had grabbed me. I relaxed upon realising that he wasn’t a threat. You never know in these parts of the Concrete Jungle.

“One more thing V.” He said with a smirk on his face as he led me back towards where he was sat at the bar, “I have another job to discuss with you. Let’s just say it’s a matter of… urgency.” The smirk on his stupid face told me everything that I needed to know. This job would be dangerous. Ridiculously dangerous.

“ERRA have doubled their security and I need something else from them. I can’t go in and get it as that would be too obvious. And besides, I’m only the middle-man. It’s my boss who really wants this. You understand right, V?” Fuck. Another ERRA job. Karius still wore his signature smirk on his face.

“Are you  trying to fucking kill me asshole?” I sighed back at him dejectedly. Alreadyaccepting that I probably won’t be seeing my bed tonight.

“Now why would I kill my best runner?” K laughed back at me. “I would never make any credits then would I? And besides, by boss would have my fucking head V.”

“Fair point.” I replied

“Okay. ERRA’s leader, Jesse, owns that skyscraper off of Coyote Park right? The red one? Tomato colour? He has an office on the second top floor. I need access. But the only way to get into the office is through a three part authentication process. Part 1: the warehouse. You did that part. Check. Part 2: ERRA also owns Electric Twilight. You know, that super exclusive club? If you get the chip, looks exactly like the one you got for me tonight, from the main office on the top floor of the building, then we are one step closer. Now, onto part 3: You will need to find a way into the basement below ERRA’s secondary base. Now security will be tight. But those new optic upgrades you’re sporting should help you. They look good by the way. In the basement there should be a safe. That is where the final chip is. Get all three of those and you should be good to get into their skyscraper.” Karius explained.

“Okay, sounds simple enough. You know, if you ignore that ERRA is the biggest fucking crew in the Concrete Jungle you fucking ass! Do you want me dead!” I replied, full of anger.

“Well luckily for you, it won’t just be your ass on the line. I have arranged back up for you this time.” Karius replied. His smirk not faltering for a second as he laughed at my outburst.

“What do you mean?” I asked, confused.

“You will be working  with a crew”

“No!”

“V please.” Karius pleaded, “You need the backup for this. And I really fucking need to get into that goddamn skyscraper.”

“Karius. I work alone. You know this. Especially after last time.” I explained through gritted teeth.

“And why might that be?” A new voice entered the conversation.

I turned around and behind me stood the tallest man I had ever seen up close. Noah. Fuck. I would quite literally rather die than work with this man. His dark brown eyes glared craters into my own as he smirked smugly down at me. He knew something that I was not yet privy to. Double fuck. I refused to be caught unawares by the man who had been making my life hell for the past five months.

 Noah wasn’t exactly unattractive. In fact, he was probably the most attractive guy I’ve seen in the Concrete Jungle. His huge, muscular frame was covered in beautiful tattoos. His cyberware was top of the line, which was rare in this line of work, and looked fucking killer. He could kill everyone inside of Poppy’s right then if he really wanted to. His eyes were the deepest brown I had ever seen. His dark hair framed his face effortlessly. He was gorgeous. I hated him even more for it.

Karius greeted Noah with a belly laugh, which was most definitely at my expense considering how both men towered over me. I was absolutely fucked.

“Noah. This is Vania.” K began, “Vania, this is Noah. He is the leader of OMNS. That crew who ran the Kingdom of Cards job oh so very smoothly about two months back. Ring a bell?”

It most definitely did ring a bell. I was supposed to do that job. Me. Not OMNS. Me. Asshole.

I rolled my eyes in response to Karius, whilst Noah chuckled at me. Fucker.

“You will be working together on this ERRA job. And V, before you start complaining, I don’t want to fucking hear it. You will work alongside them in order to get this job done.”

“Then why doesn’t OMNS just do the ERRA job and you give me something else?” I scoffed in reply.

“Because, V, OMNS need someone with your skillset. They don’t have anyone as quiet as you. And we both know those Lynx Paws were not cheap in the Underground so you may as well use them to get your credit’s worth.” Karius explained with an exasperated sigh. “And besides, we both know why you need this V.”

Fuck. There was no way in hell that K was seriously blackmailing me. Especially not in front of Noah. Right?

“As much as it pains me to say, Vania, we can’t exactly do this job without someone like you.” Noah offered. Clearly reluctant to compliment me.

“What the fuck is in it for me then?” I pushed. Needing something to convince me to actually go through with this.

“One million credits, V.” Karius stated.

Yeah, that would convince me.

“Fine. But we do this my way. Or we don’t do this at all.” I argued back. Refusing to give in and make myself look like I would just roll over for credits.

“Not gonna happen princess.” Noah barked back.

Asshole.

“Why the fuck not? You said it yourself hotshot. You. Need. Me” I snapped back. Punctuating my words with a sharp poke to his hard, muscular chest.

“Get fucked princess. You work for me now.”

“No. I don’t. We work together now. Don’t get all patriarchal just because you’re the leader of your crew. I bow to nobody.” I angrily replied, “And stop calling me princess cocksucker.”

“In your dreams princess.” Noah snarkily replied. “Sure. Try and get us to play by your rules. The others won’t agree to that. They won’t roll over to a short-ass dictator rolling in and fucking things up.”

“Fine. We work together. But don’t think I like this asshat. I’m only doing this because I need the credits.” I gave in.

“Brilliant! Here is your contract. You will be paid a small portion of the one million each following each part of the mission. That way we don’t lose any money if you guys short circuit while you’re on the job.” Karius beamed.

Both Noah and I signed the contract next to our names at the bottom of the paper. Suddenly, I was aware of five other men standing behind us. Turning around, I realised that these were the other members of OMNS. I recognised three of them as being Folio, Jolly and Nick, but the other two I had never seen before. Both had long hair, one must longer than the other, and wore what looked to be baseball caps on their heads. They must be new to OMNS I thought to myself.

I had never been this close to them before. All six men were absolutely beautiful. The world is so cruel. God I hated insufferably attractive men. They all had tattoos covering their bodies, but Noah very clearly had the most. His throat tattoo always prominent against his pale skin.

The shortest man, Folio, I now came to realise has new optics fitted. One remained as his green x-ray upgrade, but the other now glowed a vibrant blue colour. Holy shit. He had somehow managed to get his filthy hands on a tracker upgrade. Holy fuck. Now he can see people through walls and lay a target on them so he, and the others, can easily kill them. Fucking asshole. The amount of people he would have had to kill for that implant would have been insane.

A man with a goatee and long brown hair stood next to him. Jolly was significantly taller than Folio, but did not stand quite as tall as Noah did. Jolly was muscular too, but this was largely because of the sheer amount of upgrades he had put into his body. It looked like he had spent his credits on body-mod upgrades focusing on force and strength as opposed to Folio’s more techy upgrades. Jolly was practically impenetrable with his implants making him  bulletproof all over, except for his head. Those implants were risky. Anything impacting your nervous system was bound to make you go full cyberpsycho. The leader of my old crew fucked with a gnarly sandevistan implant but it… well..

The third man was smaller. He blended in seamlessly with the scene around him. Nick was rumoured to be one of the best netrunners in the Concrete Jungle. He could hack anything. His eyes glowed a soft purple hue  due to his optic upgrades. They looked fucking sick. His long, dark hair was pulled back into a bun on the top of his head, letting his amazing bone-structure be on full display. He wore a long, black trench coat that made him blend into the darkness around him perfectly.

The men didn’t bother to introduce themselves to me as they signed the contract. After signing, they all made their way to a booth in the back where they must have been sitting. Noah stayed behind with myself and Karius. Presumably to gloat or something. I snuck a glance at the tattoos that covered his muscular arms. His black tank top hid the tattoos on his chest and back.

“Like what you see princess?” Noah laughed.

“huh?” I spluttered out.

“So you weren’t just staring at my arms?” Noah mocked sarcastically.

“Of course not asshole.” I barked back

“Sure. I believe you.” Noah said with a smirk across his face. His stupidly attractive face.

“Well I see this is off to a great start.” Karius sighed as he got up to leave Poppy’s. “Oh and V! You will be staying with the OMNS guys until this job is done. Just to ensure neither of you steal this job from each other.”

Pure outrage coursed through my veins as the realisation of what K just announced pounded in my brain.

“Fucking excuse me?” I screamed.

“You heard me V. I know what you’re like.” Karius called back over his shoulder as he walked through the front door of Poppy’s.

I face-planted onto the bar and wrapped my arms over my face. The last thing I wanted was to be in close quarters with these men. Especially Noah. My lifestyle revolved around me being alone. That’s how I work. No attachments. They only hurt you. I found that out the hard way. If I stay with the OMNS crew for the entire job, then that would be for  months. I would probably lose my apartment and have nowhere to go. Fucking Karius.

“Come and meet the guys princess.” Noah commanded once Karius had left.

“Fine.” I mumbled. I was really getting sick of him calling me that. But then why did I feel all warm inside when he said it?

Walking over to the table in the corner, I began to have second thoughts about what I was doing. I was the only girl here in a group full of some of the most dangerous men in the Concrete Jungle. Was this really a good idea? Probably not.

They all spoke quietly to each other. No doubt complaining about having to work with me.  As Noah and I approached the table, the conversation stopped as Folio and one of the guys I didn’t recognise shuffled up the bench to make room for Noah to sit. On the other side Jolly, Nick and the other unnamed man shuffled and made room for me. At least they were considerate enough to do that for me.

“Guys this is Vania. As you know, she used to run with Davis’s crew. She will be running with us on this job.” Noah introduced.

A chorus of “hey” and “Hi” echoed around the dark booth.

“Jolly, Nick, Folio and myself you already know. But you haven’t met Matt and Bryan yet.” Noah gestured to the two unnamed men. “Bryan is our wheels and Matt is in charge of seeing how logistical and plausible plans are to execute.” The two men raised their hands in a wave to me. I weakly smiled back. I wasn’t about to make friends with these people.

It turned out that the rest of the OMNS crew were actually tolerable and that it was just Noah who was a colossal pain in my ass. We all talked for about an hour, retelling stories from other jobs we had worked on, but that just became a pissing contest between myself and Noah as we continually tried to outdo each other, recounting jobs we had stolen from each other. I was starting to grow tired of his bullshit and wanted nothing more than to close my eyes and go to sleep in my bed.

“So what’s the plan then?” I asked. “Do you assholes have a secret lair somewhere that you’re going to take me to after you’ve kidnapped me?”

“Look, I get that you don’t want to work with us, but you don’t gave to be a bitch about it.” Noah sighed.

“I just want to get this over with so I can get my credits and move on.” I snapped in reply.

“And so do we. It’s not like we exactly want to hang with you.” Noah basically shouted back.

“I see that manners aren’t something you get taught on the pig farm? Is that right, pig?” I barked.

“Doubt you would know since a princess like you never wants to get her hands dirty.” He smirked. God he was cocky.

“You wouldn’t know how to do a job discreetly even if it was worth a trillion credits asshat. You make too much mess.” I chuckled back.

“What because I like to make sure a job is done right and there are no witnesses left? Because I’m thorough with my work?” He fought.

“No because you like to leave a trail so people fear you. It’s pathetic.” I laughed.

“You’re inability to work with other people is pathetic princess.” Noah stated simply.

He knew he struck a nerve. He always knew when he struck a nerve. Yet he always pushed it. Luckily I didn’t have enough time to launch myself over the table to claw his eyes out like I really fucking wanted to as Nick intervened, “Alright guys. Lets motor.”

“Alright guys. Lets motor.” Nick intervened.

“Agreed.” Noah bluntly stated without breaking eye contact with me.

The walk to the cars outside was silent as everyone got into their respective vehicles. Folio rode a bike similar to mine. But whilst mine was pink and black, his was completely black in colour with red LEDs on the sides. Pretty sick to be honest. Jolly rode in a large black SUV with blackout windows that appeared to be bullet proof. Nick rode with Matt and Bryan in a large metal-framed armoured SUV that looked similar to Jolly’s but had clearly been modified. Noah’s car was much more understated. He opened the door to a low black car with tinted windows. It was very sleek and almost flat looking. God he was so annoyingly flashy.

I trailed behind the others on the way to their base. The neon glow of the Concrete Jungle embraced me with opened arms as it sat below the star-filled night sky. The skyscrapers belonging to suit corporations painted the skyline in a halo of varying colours as each fought for your attention. This was always my favourite parts of jobs. The silent ride home. The quiet. The peace. It was the only time I was ever separated from the crime-filled life I lead.

Right in the centre of all the chaos in the Concrete Jungle stood a tomato red skyscraper that belonged to ERRA. They were absolutely untouchable here. They were the fucking kings. The red glow always held your stare. It felt like the building itself was watching you. ERRA had that kind of effect on people. You always feel watched while they are around.

This neon landscape has been my home my whole life. I don’t remember a life without knowing the inner-workings of this place inside and out. My dad had never been around and my mother died about seven years ago in an accident. The circumstances surrounding her death had always been suspicious, but I never questioned it. It wasn’t like she was ever a good mother to me. Shortly after that I met Davis, a fellow orphan who was also struggling to pay rent. From there we met Lana and Steven and they welcomed us with open arms into their crew and the rest was history.

Now I ride solo.

A loud bang echoed over the sound of the traffic around us. The armoured car Nick, Matt and Bryan were in veered off course and into the next lane as it looked like they were trying to swerve out of the way of something. Suddenly, gunfire ripped through the night.

Noah, Jolly and Folio all pulled in behind the armoured car so I followed suit. A large grey truck with ERRA painted along its side in their trademark tomato red colour, was coming straight towards us with a man in a helmet hanging out of the window shooting at us from his weaponed arm implants.  

Noah got out from the passenger side of his car with a large assault rifle and began opening fire on the oncoming vehicle. The rest of OMNS followed his lead. I, however, didn’t have my gun on me so I wouldn’t be much use to them. Instead I got back on my bike and rode past them, planning on assessing the threat from a further distance and hopefully finding a weak spot.

“Where the fuck are you going!” Noah called out after me. But I ignored him. I wasn’t used to have to explain myself mid-combat.

The truck had stopped opposite the parked convoy, about thirty feet between both crews, and three men had exited the truck and were all firing at the OMNS guys. A hatch opened up on the roof and a turret was raised. Gunfire rained down all around me as I tried my best to dodge other cars and bullets.

Screams and yells from other cars both directed at me and the carnage happening further back echoed in the chaos. Bullets whizzed through the air after me. Some hitting the other people in cars and some lodging into the road beneath me.

“Fuck!” Matt exclaimed as he and Bryan lowered themselves back into the armoured car.

Nick was sat in the back of the armoured car trying desperately to hack into the turret to disable it, but was appearing to have no luck. This didn’t surprise me as ERRA had recently upgraded all of their security measures. I had found that out the hard way earlier in the night as a mine nearly blew me to shreds when I was sneaking into the back of the warehouse.

Fuck, I thought to myself, meant that they knew that I had broken into the warehouse and stole the chip. So I was basically fucked.

Jolly disappeared back into his SUV for a second but reappeared with a massive shotgun attached to his arm and had started firing at the men operating the turret, successfully taking out two of them, leaving only one on the turret and three remaining on the ground, as well as the driver and the man in the passenger seat.

I dismounted my bike and ran round the back of the truck. Using my Lynx Paws upgrade, I easily jumped up onto the roof of the truck without making a sound. I swiftly engaged my mantis blades and took out the final man operating the turret with a quick slash. He crumbled to his knees as blood trickled out of the side of his mouth. His bottom half fell to the floor below the truck as his top half remained on the roof next to the now unused turret.

Meanwhile, Noah had taken out two of the men on the ground and Jolly had made quick work of the  third man.

The man in the passenger side would be more difficult to take out. And besides, he had noticed my presence on the roof when half of his crewmate’s body fell to the ground and had started firing up into the roof. This however, left him undefended on his side and allowed me to swing down and slash open his throat. The driver made to grab me, when suddenly, a gunshot rang out as he slumped forward. Blood trickled from a bullet hole in his forehead.

Silence fell over the group as we surveyed the damage surrounding us.

Three innocent bystanders had been killed in the gunfire. Blood coated the road. Following the trail with my eyes, I noticed that there was a puddle of blood below Folio’s bike but no sign of Folio. Fuck. If he had been killed it would be my fault. This job was going to be absolute hell.

I ran over to his bike and saw that he was knelt on the ground clutching his side and taking short and rapid breaths. He had been hit but wasn’t dead… yet. Thank fuck.

“Let me see.” I stated, touching his shaking shoulder gently.

“Fuck you.” She spat shakily.

“Folio, let me help.” I pleaded.

He cautiously moved his hand and blood trickled to the floor. It looked like the bullet was still inside.

“I can help him if we get him to your hideout quickly.” I gushed to Noah who was looking at me with eyes filled with utter hatred.

“you won’t lay a damn finger on him.” He snarled.

“Do you want him to die, Noah?” I challenged. “Because if I don’t help him, he will die. And I can guarantee that it will be very slow and very painful.”

A pause.

“Or I can guarantee you that he will live happily ever after and will get to see another day if you let me help him.” I attempted to persuade him with an exasperated sigh.

“Fine but we need to load his bike into Matt and Bryan’s car or  Folio will never forgive us if we leave it here.” Noah caved with an exasperated sigh.

Upon arriving at the OMNS hideout, a large steel screen door opened to let the seven of us into the building. It wasn’t anything special. It looked like a car garage that was attached to a tattoo shop. It wasn’t where I pictured OMNS operating out of. I’d always thought of it as more similar to ERRA’s layout. I should have known OMNS wasn’t the skyscraper type seeing as they already had two of them in their crew in the forms of Jolly and Noah.

The garage was large. They easily had enough space for their own vehicles and about five others. Drawers and shelves lined each of the walls, which were all painted a deep purple colour. The neon lights that illuminated the room cast a blue hue over everything.

Matt and Bryan hauled Folio out of the back of the armoured car as Jolly cleared off one of the workbenches to use as a makeshift bed for him. Noah stomped straight through the smaller door in the right hand wall, slamming it behind him, as soon as he got out of his car. Asshole.

Nick followed after him after muttering something to the rest of OMNS quiet enough so that I wouldn’t be able to hear their conversation.

Folio groaned and writhed around on the table in pain. I began cutting away his black t-shirt in order to inspect the wound. It was a clean shot. No tearing. Lucky for him. However, the bullet had not gone through all of the way and had appeared to be lodged in between two of his ribs. I would need to cut the wound wider in order to gain enough access to remove the bullet. Less lucky for him.

“Do you guys have anything that will nock him out for a few hours?” I asked Matt, Bryan and Jolly who had all hung around to keep an eye on myself and Folio.

“We only have immune-suppressors here. But I can go see if Nick and Noah have some?” Matt replied.

“Be quick. I think it goes without saying that your boy here is in a fuck tonne of pain.” I said.

With that, Matt jogged out of the door Nick and Noah had left through. About five minutes passed when the door slammed back open and a frustrated looking Noah barged back through with a brown paper bag.

“Here. This should nock him out.” He snarled at me, “Get it yourself next time princess. I don’t work for you. And neither do my guys.” He then turned back around and left through the door he came through.

Rolling my eyes at him, I got to work with giving the meds to Folio who was still writing in pain.

The meds helped tremendously and I was able to remove the bullet from Folio with little to no fuss at all. It was easy without lord asshat, Noah, breathing down my neck or generally pissing me off.

After stitching Folio’s side back up, Matt, Bryan and Jolly moved him into his room so he would be comfortable.

I was then brought into their home. I was greeted with a large, open-plan room that contained a kitchen with a large island that extended for most of the back wall and had enough stools surrounding the breakfast bar side of it for a small army. On the opposite wall was a living area with what appeared to be a one-way window that wrapped around the outer wall of the room. Impressive. Expensive.

The door on the right hand wall slammed open and Noah stormed through. A scowl etched across his face in replacement of his signature smirk. The glare he sent me bore holes into my skull.

“What the fuck was that!” He yelled while stomping towards me with his finger pointed at me accusingly.

“Huh?” I replied.

“Don’t fucking play dumb with me princess. Back there. On the road. You bailed. Who the fuck does that!” He argued back.

“I didn’t bail. If you remember correctly. That is if you didn’t hit your fucking head you delusional asshole. I came back and killed the people you fucking couldn’t.” I retaliated furiously.

Noah started laughing. Fucking laughing.

“No princess. You pussied out and came back when the fight was easier.” Noah chuckled menacingly.

“Go fuck yourself!” I screamed back at him.

“You are one of us now. Whether you like it or not. We protect each other. That’s the deal.” Noah snarled. Getting right in my face. “And you. Fucking. Bailed.” He punctuated with a poke to my chest.

“I wouldn’t have had to do that if your fucking scout had done his fucking job.” I snarled back at him.

“Yeah? You mean our scout who is currently upstairs out cold because you fucking bailed and he got fucking shot? That scout?” He whispered menacingly.

“I didn’t bail. I covered the back Noah.” I said in response.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night princess.” He replied without breaking eye contact.

Silence fell between us as my eye flickered from his brown eyes to his lips that were incredibly close to my own. I could see Noah’s eyes doing the same.

“Now I see why you ride solo. Selfish bitch.” He muttered as he backed away from me.

“The fuck did you just say to me asshole?” I screamed as I followed him.

“You heard me princess.” He replied with a grin across his face.

“I don’t think I did because you would have to be a complete fucking moron to say what you just said.” I yelled at him.

“I think we both know who the moron here is princess.” Noah growled back at me.

“Go. Fuck. Yourself.” I snarled in reply.

“All I’m saying is that it’s no wonder you ride solo because who the fuck in their right minds would want to be in a crew with a selfish, backstabbing bitch like you.” Noah Growled with a smirk on his gorgeous face.

Before I had time to slap his stupid face, an incoming call tore through the silence that lingered after his statement.

Chapter 2

[nobodysdaydreams]

My thoughts on the SI-5

For as much as a lot of fandom romanticizes the SI-5 as a friend group, Kepler really did Jacobi and Maxwell so dirty. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad he got it in the end, and the character himself is hilarious. But I need to talk about this. This man is insane and needs to be held accountable.

First of all, he meets them at the very lowest points of their life. Maxwell is isolated from her family and support systems, and it’s implied her career is heading for the toilet due to her fight with the ethics board. Jacobi’s career is totally over after he was blacklisted from his work, and it’s implied he doesn’t have strong support systems either. Kepler knows that and uses it to manipulate both of them into working for him. They both, especially Jacobi, have such a strong loyalty to him because they saw him as their only way out of their situations, and Kepler does not match that loyalty at all.

How do I know this? Because he was totally cool with Maxwell dying. Didn’t shed a tear. And when Jacobi called him out for that and threatened HIS life? Kepler was like “well okay. Guess we have to shoot Jacobi then.” I was reviewing my episode reactions, and I totally forgot he told Minkowski that. Like he didn’t hesitate or even try apologizing to Jacobi or admitting he was wrong first, he jumped right to “kill Jacobi instead.” He also had the audacity to say “how could he (Jacobi) do this? After all we’ve been through? 🥺” and then what they’ve “been through” is Kepler buying Jacobi fireworks (1) time, admitting to stalking Jacobi and Maxwell for years before he hired them (creepy), harassing and threatening them if they fail to comply with his orders, telling Jacobi and Maxwell they’re worth about as much as a glass of whisky and he wouldn’t miss them (which is verified by his reaction to Maxwell’s death and brief willingness to kill Jacobi to save his own skin when Jacobi tries to get revenge), lying to Jacobi and Maxwell and keeping secrets from both of them, and being an arrogant jerk of a boss who treats them more like his patronized pets than his friends. It’s actually funny how Kepler is shocked that wouldn’t be enough to keep Jacobi’s loyalty after gambling with the life of his best friend. He’s so blinded by his own ego it’s hilarious. Like buddy, it’s a miracle of desperate circumstance that either of them were loyal to you in the first place, you pompous whisky-worshipping buffoon.

You even see it in the little details. Kepler talking to Cutter about Jacobi and Maxwell behind their backs on that one call, the way Jacobi calls Maxwell “Alana” but Jacobi and Kepler use their formal names for each other until the very end when Kepler calls Jacobi “Daniel” and acts legitimately terrified to discover what Cutter and Pryce’s true plans are. Which again, love the way the redemption arc was done and those little details show you proof that Kepler rethought his views and isn’t doing this on a whim and that Jacobi and Maxwell’s friendship, as compared to their relationships with Kepler, was a stronger and more real and genuine friendship. I mean, headcanon what you want, write the SI-5 how you want. But a lot of people seem to either love or hate the whole SI-5 group (I admit this was me for a long while, though I do love post-redemption duck and whisky boys) so it’s easy to gloss over these internal dynamics within the SI-5, but if Kepler survived, I would personally need him to acknowledge just how much of a jerk he really was because yikes.

[lucidlivi]

I Can See You (I)

Series Masterlist/Warnings

Tag List: @jc-winchester @mrsjenniferwinchester @perpetualabsurdity @antisocialcorrupt @heavenlyackles @anixiiee @jackles010378 @suckitands33 @deans-spinster-witch @k-slla @alternativeprincess @spnbaby-67 @cevansbaby-dove @cutedisneygrl (if you would like tagged in this, please send me a message or an ask with the title so I can make sure to keep my tags straight!)

story takes place during filming of season two of supernatural so the ages will make more sense!

switching points of view indicated with italics

a little mini series for you, I hope you like!

All my life, the only thing I ever wanted was to be noticed.

I wanted my parents to notice when I had done well on a test that was hard for me.

I wanted my friends to notice when I was quiet or felt out of the loop.

I desperately wanted that cute guy in my biology class to notice that I had spent the entire semester taking detailed notes just so I could help him study.

I just wanted someone, anyone to notice me.

It was never me though.

It was always my older brother Jared.

It was like he always had to one up me.

Nothing was ever mine.

For example, whenever I would ace a test, Jared would somehow be offered some prestigious award for academics.

He hung out with all the popular guys, and the girls practically threw themselves at him.

It was like he didn’t even have to try.

It's only gotten worse since he'd landed a starring role on the new hit show Supernatural.

Jared didn't know if they would even make it past the first season, but the show was an instant success. It catapulted him to stardom. Girls from all over the world were crazed about my brother.

It kind of grossed me out.

I had to admit, I was getting a lot of recognition now too, but it was always (y/n) Padalecki, sister of Jared, and never just (y/n).

I mean I love my brother to death, he's the best, but sometimes it would feel nice not to be so, so invisible.

I stretched my muscles with a sigh.

I had finally landed in Canada.

I was going to be visiting Jared for awhile, while they filmed season two of supernatural. I missed him like crazy.

I was also taking a much needed break from fashion school in New York.

"Moose!" I squealed, spotting the top of my brother's head.

I could hear Jared groan from across the airport. I chuckled as he hated being called Moose.

I pushed through the crowd of people, finally seeing my brothers dorky face.

He rolled his eyes before pulling me in to a bone crushing hug.

"I missed you moose." I said as I squeezed him.

"I missed you too brat." Jared laughs.

He lets me go, setting me back on my feet.

"come on, Jensen's waiting for us back at our house." Jared said grabbing my bag.

"wait you and Jensen are living together?" I asked, my cheeks tinting with a blush.

"yeah, we decided to just rent a place together this season, it'll be easier, is that okay?"

"mmhmm." I nodded not trusting my voice to formulate an actual answer.

Jensen Ackles.

my brother's crazy hot co-star.

and according to him, best friend, besides me of course.

I met Jensen before they started filming season one.

Jared and Jensen went on "bonding" trips together, I guess to make playing brother's more believable. I had been invited on a few. Of course I was always pushed to wayside, but I didn't mind.

It gave me the opportunity to gawk at the eye candy that is Jensen Ackles.

He wasn't just hot though.

He was more complex then that.

He was kind, he was funny, he was easy to get along with.

and I was completely crushing on him.

It didn’t matter though.

It wasn't like he noticed me.

I was completely off his radar.

"how's design school?" Jared asked breaking the silence.

"I just needed a break I guess. It's a cutthroat industry, and I don't know if I'm cut out for it." I admitted.

"what of course you are, you're insanely talented! I mean why do think I always call you before award shows? I trust you to make sure I don't look like a dork!" Jared laughed.

"well I hate to break it to you moose, but you always look like a dork, the clothes aren't going to help you." I smirked, earning a punch to the arm.

"ugh thanks to you the entire supernatural cast calls me moose now!" Jared groans.

"well if the shoe fits." I shrugged earning another punch to the arm.

"I could always call you gigantor, if you like that better." I added pushing my brother's buttons.

"I think we'll stick with moose."

Jared pulls in to a condominium.

It's beautiful, fit for celebrities I guess.

"wow, living the high life I see." I said as my eyes traveled around the luxurious condo.

"It's definitely crazy."

I gazed at my brother, seeing his shoulders slumped over.

I can't imagine how he was feeling.

I mean his life basically changed overnight. He can't go out now without girls flocking him. He has no privacy.

I know he won’t let it show, but I could tell the pressure that comes along with his new found fame gets to him sometimes.

I walked over to my brother wrapping my arms around his tall frame, squeezing him again.

"I'm really glad you're here brat, it's kind of nice to have some sense of normalcy." Jared said running a hand through my hair.

"hate you." I whispered with a smile.

"hate you too." Jared smirked.

I stepped away from Jared, just as the door flung open revealing Jensen.

"is that baby moose I hear out here? "

I swallowed harshly as he came over wrapping his arms around me in a hug. I felt the blood rush to my cheeks and I hugged him back, nonchalantly taking in his sweet scent.

"Hi J." I said quietly.

Jensen stepped back, letting his eyes rake over me. I couldn't help but shrink under his gaze.

It was intimidating.

I took this time to stare at him too.

He's different.

His muscles were more defined now, signifying he'd been working out for the role.

His hair was still short but messy.

He had a very light stubble on his face that made his jawline more defined.

He looked good.

Better than good.

He looked sexy.

I heard Jared clear his throat loudly, making me tear my eyes away from Jensen. A heat spread throughout my body.

I wondered what Jensen was thinking.

"Jensen and I have a meeting with the director, I'll uh help you take your things in and then you can get settled while we're gone." Jared said.

I nodded my head as Jared grabbed my bag from the trunk, taking it inside.

"it's nice to see you baby moose." Jensen said offering me a cheeky smile before getting in the car.

I bit my lip, hiding the blush that spread to my cheeks. I followed Jared in to the house, which was even more extravagant on the inside.

"I guess it pays to be famous." I said spinning around to get a complete view.

"I'm not famous, just lucky." Jared laughed.

"yeah that's why a fangirl followed me around in the grocery store the other day, asking me a million questions about you."

"wait that actually happens?" Jared laughed.

"more times than I would care to admit." I said joining in Jared's laughter.

our laughter died down, a comfortable silence settling in between us.

"uh your room is upstairs, the third door on the right, next to Jensen's, you sure you're going to be okay here?" Jared asked handing me my duffle bag.

"I think I'll manage."

"I'll be back soon."

Jared placed a kiss on my forehead, before going out to join Jensen in the car. I watched them drive away before going to find my room.

Jensen

Jared got in the car giving me a stern look.

"what?" I asked innocently.

"don't what me, dude that's my sister." Jared growled.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." I smirked.

"just keep your eyes away from my sister."

"I wasn't even looking." I laughed as I pulled out of the drive way heading over to the studio.

I was looking though.

She was different.

She looked different.

Her hair was longer.

She definitely grew in to her body.

She was no longer the lanky girl I had come to know.

I would be lying if I said my eyes didn't linger on her now defined chest.

She looked good.

Better than good.

She looked beautiful.

Fuck.

I shouldn't be thinking like this.

I mean this was my best friend's sister.

I know Jared would kill me if he knew I was thinking this way.

I better stop.

I didn’t want to though.

"hello, earth to Jensen." Jared said waving a hand in front of my face.

"sorry man, what did you say?"

"I asked if you were coming."

I looked up seeing we were in the parking lot of the studio.

I wasn't sure when we arrived, or how we arrived in one piece considering I wasn't paying attention.

"uh yeah sorry, just thinking about this meeting." I lied smoothly.

I just hope I can focus enough so I don't lose my job.

Reader

I finally settled in, unpacking my things and familiarizing myself with the layout of the house. It's been over two hours and the boys still aren't home.

I heard my stomach rumble.

I was starving.

I walked down to the kitchen, opening the fridge. I saw some ham and cheese.

Oh gosh a sandwich sounds good right now. I looked around in the cabinets, looking for the bread.

I finally found it, high up on a shelf.

Moose.

He needs to learn that not everyone is as freakishly tall as he is.

I stood on my tiptoes reaching for it, but alas I didn't get the height genes that Jared had. I huffed blowing a piece of hair from my face. I stood on my tiptoes trying again.

I heard a chuckle from behind me, causing me to snap my head back.

"need some help there baby moose?"

I blushed a deep red as Jensen came up behind me, reaching the bread with ease.

I could feel the heat radiating from his body just from the proximity.

I wondered what it would be like to be this close to him in a heated moment.

I let my imagination run wild for a moment before realizing he still lingered behind me.

He cleared his throat before stepping away.

I let out a shaky breath I didn't know I was holding.

"thanks." I whispered shyly.

"you know for a baby moose, you aren't all that tall." Jensen smirked.

"yeah, no Jar stole all those genes." I said causing him to chuckle.

"well baby moose I will gladly reach the bread for you anytime." Jensen said making me blush harder.

I'm sure I looked like an idiot from how bad I was blushing over his words.

"uh is Jared back?" I managed to choke out.

"uh not yet, they needed him to shoot a promo for the new season, he asked me to come check on you." Jensen said sitting down at the kitchen island.

I rolled my eyes at his protectiveness.

I was twenty two now.

I didn't need a babysitter.

"Jared still thinks I need a babysitter." I spoke as I took out two pieces of bread starting to make a sandwich.

"he's just worried about you."

"I can handle myself."

"I have no doubt about that." Jensen said.

I snuck a glance at him, accidentally meeting his eyes. He wore a smirk on his plump lips that got my heart racing.

"I have to, I mean now that you two are like major celebrities." I laughed.

"okay, hang on I was major celebrity before supernatural." Jensen joked.

I rolled my eyes throwing my cheese wrapper at him.

He dodged it with ease laughing at my antics.

"of course how I could I forget your starring role on Dawson's Creek."

"I don't know because I definitely made season six of that show." Jensen laughed.

“I never watched it.” I shrugged.

Okay that wasn’t exactly the truth.

I did watch it.

I watched it for him.

“well we’ll definitely have to change that.” Jensen said getting up from the island.

I let my eyes linger on his form as it retreated up the stairs.

I was hopeless.

I was completely hooked on someone I would never have.

I sighed sitting down and digging in to my sandwich. I didn’t realize how hungry I was.

I heard the door open, seeing Jared walk in.

He sat down beside me taking the other half of my sandwich.

“I made that for me you ass!” I whined hitting his chest.

“yeah out of my fridge!”

I rolled my eyes.

He had a point.

“how was your meeting?” I asked as we ate.

“really good, we’re all excited for filming to start.”

I wondered what it would be like to be on camera. I definitely didn’t have a face or body for film.

“actually there’s this party tomorrow, for the cast, kind of like a kick off to the new season, do you want to come with me?” Jared asked.

I was never a big fan of parties.

Jared always tried to get me to go to high school parties but it was never my thing.

“I guess, but just for you.” I said booping his nose.

I finished my sandwich, making sure to clean up after myself.

“I’m uh going to head to bed early, I’m exhausted from the flight.” I said giving Jared a hug.

I jogged up the steps towards my room. I felt the heat radiating from the bathroom as I passed it.

I could see the door was slightly cracked.

I peaked in seeing Jensen in only a towel.

He was wiping the condensation off the mirror.

I couldn’t stop my eyes from traveling over his toned chest and back.

I swallowed the lump in my throat as I stared.

I would give anything to be able to run my hands down his body.

I bit my lip, forcing my body to move away from the door before I was caught staring.

I crashed on to the bed, letting my thoughts linger on the gorgeous man.

I wondered what his lips tasted like.

I wondered how it would feel to have his hands caressing my body as we kissed.

I wondered how his body would feel on top of mine.

I choked back a moan as I thought about him in such an intimate way.

A loud knock on my door tore me away from my thoughts.

I quickly sat up, I could feel just how flushed I was.

“uh come in.” I squeaked.

I was surprised when Jensen came in setting a laptop on my bed. I gave him a confused look as he typed away.

“Dawson’s Creek season six.” He smiled turning the laptop towards me.

I laughed as I brought the laptop to my lap.

“I’ll leave you to it.” Jensen said walking towards the door.

“aren’t you going to watch it with me?” I asked slightly disappointed.

“oh no, I never watch myself on tv, but make sure you pay attention cause I’m going to quiz you tomorrow.” He said.

I rolled my eyes at his antics.

“Goodnight Jensen.”

“Goodnight baby moose.”

I hit play, even though I had already seen every episode he was in.

I watched anyways.

I watched until I couldn’t keep my eyes open.

I watched until I fell into a deep slumber, plagued by dreams of a man I know I would never have.

I woke up to a light pounding on my door. It was bright out, but still appeared to be early morning.

Jared strode in wearing running gear.

It was nice to see he still took his morning runs.

It was something that always made him feel at peace, helped with his anxiety.

“ugh what time is it?” I groaned throwing a pillow over my head to block out the sun.

“five am, come on a run with me.” Jared beamed.

“Jared normal people don’t go for runs at five in the morning.”

“good thing you’re far from normal.” Jared joked pulling the pillow away from my face.

“I don’t want to go for a run, I want to sleep.” I pouted.

“pretty please, for me?”

I glanced up at Jared to see him giving me the puppy dog eyes.

Damn.

He knows I can’t say no to his puppy dog eyes.

“you better get me an extra large cup of coffee after this.” I groaned throwing my legs over the side of the bed.

I threw on some workout clothes, making my way downstairs. I was surprised to see Jensen standing in the kitchen in workout gear.

Fuck.

I was uncoordinated, and the last thing I wanted to do was run in front of Jensen.

“you managed to get baby moose to come, impressive.” Jensen smirked.

I rolled my eyes grabbing a bottle of water.

“I uh hope you didn’t stay awake too long watching your new favorite show.” Jensen said laughing.

“It was alright, Pacey is definitely my favorite character.” I shot back walking past him towards the door where Jared was waiting.

“and what about CJ?”

“I mean he was alright in the beginning I guess, turned in to kind of a dick.”

“oh yeah how so?”

“I mean he did sleep with Audrey even though he knew Jen was in to him, kind of a dick move.” I shrugged.

Jensen huffed rolling his eyes.

“I didn’t write the script.” Jensen shrugged.

“It might’ve been better if you did.” I said, giving him one last glance before starting to jog.

I jogged at a steady pace, close behind Jared and Jensen.

I was smaller then both of them, so I took smaller strides.

I have to admit I did feel at peace.

I enjoyed the gentle morning canadian breeze nipping at my cheeks.

I was taking in all the beautiful sights around me.

I liked it here.

It seemed like we weren’t jogging for long before we were stopping at a little coffee shop.

“I believe I owe you an extra large cup of coffee.” Jared said glancing at me.

“I believe you are correct.”

“I’ll be right back, you want anything J?” Jared asked turning towards Jensen.

“nah man I’m alright.”

Jared nodded at us before disappearing inside the coffee shop.

It was silent as I stared at the quiet street, the town not quite awake yet.

“did you really hate CJ?” Jensen spoke making me glance at him.

“I think hate is a strong word, more thoroughly disliked him.” I laughed.

Jensen furrowed his eyebrows as I chuckled.

Was this bothering him?

“I like the guy who plays him better.” I spoke, not thinking about how it sounded.

I felt my cheeks heat up as I realized what I just said.

“oh well good.” Jensen responded, rubbing his neck nervously.

I was about to respond when Jensen grabbed my arm pulling me to his chest.

“Careful!” he shrieked as the coffee shop door flung open, almost smacking me in the face.

I swallowed nervously as he stared down at me, our bodies pressed together.

It felt even better than I had imagined.

“thanks for that.” I whispered tearing my eyes away from his.

I felt as if my heart would jump out of my chest at any moment from how fast it was beating.

I could feel his eyes lingering on me.

Jensen carefully tucked a piece of hair behind my ear that had fallen from my ponytail.

I shivered at his touch, feeling as if my body was suddenly engulfed in flames.

It felt good to be touched by him.

It felt heavenly.

I quickly jumped away from him, hearing Jared’s voice reappearing.

“what’s going on?” Jared asked looking between me and Jensen.

“uh baby moose is as clumsy as you say.” Jensen smirked, causing Jared to laugh.

I rolled my eyes taking my coffee from Jared.

I walked back to the condo as Jensen and Jared jogged ahead.

I was taking time to sip my coffee.

I was taking time to control my racing heart.

what in the world happened back there?

I had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.

Ouch.

Okay that hurt.

and I’m not dreaming.

I bit my lip trying to fight the smile that made it’s way to my face.

I have no idea what that was.

but I liked it.

I liked it a lot.

I made it back to the condo, being informed that the boys had to go to the studio to shoot more promos for the new season, and that they’d be back to get me for the party tonight. I gave them a wave, crashing on to the couch from exhaustion.

I remember now why I don’t run at five in the morning.

I grabbed a blanket off the couch, curling up to catch a few more hours of sleep.

I woke up around noon, sleeping later than I would’ve liked.

I got up making myself some breakfast.

I passed the time watching more Dawson’s Creek.

It wasn’t like I had anything else to do.

It was starting to get later, I needed to get ready for this party.

I grabbed a simple mini dress throwing it on.

I glanced at my reflection in the mirror.

I didn’t completely hate what I saw.

I didn’t love it either.

I wasn’t anything exceptional.

It was no wonder I was so invisible.

I heard the boys come back home, stomping up the stairs like a herd of elephants.

I put a light coat of makeup on, before brushing through my hair.

I heard my door opening, making me glance over.

Jared stood there in a button up and some jeans.

“you look beautiful.” Jared smiled.

“thanks moose, you look, well very moose like.” I laughed as Jared gave me an annoyed look.

“come on brat, it’s time to go.” Jared said rolling his eyes.

I grabbed my purse, following him down the stairs. Jensen stood there waiting, wearing an outfit similar to Jared’s.

He looked handsome.

He looked flawless.

I could feel his eyes linger on me as I descended the staircase.

“ready to go?” Jensen asked looking at me and Jared.

I nodded my head nervously.

I didn’t like parties.

I would suffer through this one for Jared.

and maybe a little bit to be with Jensen.

I played with the hem of my dress as Jensen drove. It was a silent car ride, nobody bothering to make conversation.

I sighed as Jensen pulled up to the studio.

I hesitantly got out, already overwhelmed with the number of cars in the parking lot.

I could feel the nerves taking over my body making it shake slightly.

I felt a hand on my shoulder making me relax a little.

“it’s going to be okay, just stick with me.” Jared said offering a smile.

I gave him a forced one, following him and Jensen inside.

Jensen disappeared immediately when we got in, going to hug various cast and crew members.

I have to admit I got a little jealous watching him hug multiple women.

It wasn’t like I had a right to be.

Jensen looked right through me.

I just had to accept that.

“I want you to meet Jim.” Jared said grabbing my hand and pulling me to an older gentleman.

I made sure to act super polite as I met various cast and crew members that I hadn’t met the first season.

I felt like Jared’s shadow as he made his way around the room. I didn’t know anyone really except for Jensen and Jeffery Dean Morgan.

I had already talked to Jeff for a little so now I had nothing else to do except following Jared around like a lost puppy dog.

It was exhausting listening to conversations I didn’t really care about.

I needed some air.

I quietly slipped out the door, not that anyone would notice I was gone.

Jared was too busy basking in the limelight.

I was happy for him, don’t get me wrong, it’s just hard to be in his shadow sometimes.

I sighed looking around the studio parking lot. A bunch of trailers sat on the lot, with names of cast members etched on the doors. I found the one that said Jared Padalecki, and took a seat on the steps.

It was a beautiful night out.

It was quiet.

I took a deep breath blowing it out of my nose in a huff.

“you know the parties inside right?”

I jumped as Jensen’s voice took me by surprise.

“geez Jensen I never noticed how observant you were.” I joked rolling my eyes at him.

“not a fan of parties huh?”

“uh not really, they were always sort of Jared’s thing.” I answered with a shrug.

“yeah they’re not so much my thing either, too many people.” Jensen said.

I nodded my head, an awkward silence falling between us.

“uh do you want to see my trailer?” Jensen asked.

I felt the all too familiar heat creep up my spine.

“uh okay.” I whispered, flushed.

Jensen extended his hand pulling me to my feet.

It turns out his trailer was right beside Jared’s. He opened the door allowing me to step in.

It had his wardrobe for Dean in it, a small couch, a mini fridge, and a bathroom. I let my fingers graze over his costumes, observing a few articles closely.

“It’s nice.” I smiled plopping on the couch.

It was rather comfy for a small sofa.

“perks of being like a major celebrity.” Jensen smirked, quoting me from yesterday.

Jensen sat down beside me, our bodies just inches from each other due to the small size of the sofa.

“I’m uh glad you’re here baby moose, Jared’s a lot happier when you are.” Jensen said giving me a smile.

“I’m glad I’m here too.”

It was quiet, another awkward silence falling between us.

“we should probably head back inside, people are going to wonder where we are.” Jensen said standing up.

I stood up too.

“wondering where you are maybe, in case you haven’t noticed I’m pretty good at being invisible.” I said with a slight frown.

“well I can see you.”

Author Note:

I hope you enjoyed part one of this mini series! Please give a heart, reblog, comment or follow if you want more! I appreciate it!

Part (II)

[captain-pheonix]

Blu scout and red sniper getting into a fight on the battlefield, but its just insanely homosexual?

A/N: Yes!!! Thank you sending this in 🤣 also sorry it took so long life has been busy plus I got a million bouts of writers block trying to finish this 😞

Caught ya.

Sniperscout/speeding bullet Oneshot (Scout x Sniper)

Warnings: Maybe a teeny eeny bit suggestive? Blood, knives, death before respawn, yelling if that’s triggering, Scout and Sniper beating each other up

Sniper could hear bullets firing and loud screams from every direction. He had just respawned from the other Soldier killing him for the fourth time. He seemed to have been getting targeted recently.

“Bugger.” He grumbled under his breath. He stepped out of spawn and he heard calls for help coming from the right of him. Sniper ran and started fumbling down the staircase to intel as fast as he could. He lifted his rifle to his face and looked out the scope rounding the corner, but his field of view was instantly splattered with red. He could hear blood-curdling screams of pain and familiar laughter. Sniper froze up. The Scout had been cackling like a hyena, dominating him at least once in every battle for the past week. What did he find so funny? Whatever the reason for this sudden interest, Sniper wanted to know before he personally assassinated him when the battle was over.

The Australian threw his gun to the ground, but he couldn’t manage to get his Kukri before the Scout knocked him hard against the back wall, aiming straight at his head.

“Ha. Maybe I should be your new Sniper. Your aim is TERRIBLE!” The Scout chuckled, then everything faded to black.

The familiar clicking noise, and Sniper was thrown back into spawn once again. He had to come up with a strategy, or nothing would get done this battle.

He began thinking before leaving spawn. The administrator sounded over the speakers: “Your intelligence has been dropped.” Sniper knew one thing: the Scout was going to come back to get the case when he respawned. If he could ambush him before he got there, he might have a chance.

Sniper headed to the intel room and waited around the corner.

Some time had passed and he was starting to wonder if he should just give up sitting there. Then, he heard the fast pattering of footsteps echo through the rock and concrete walls.

Sniper pounced at the Scout’s legs as soon as he rounded the corner, intel falling off his back and knocking them both to the cold floor.

“CAUGHT YA, YA LIL’ PRUDE!” Sniper shouted aggressively. He looked at the scout squirm for a moment caught under his grip like a wild animal. Then he just stopped.

“Fine, hot stuff, you win.” The Bostonian looked at Sniper and made eye contact. His face had a cheeky and sly expression on it, despite him being extremely red in the face. Was that just Exertion? What was going on? It seemed like he wanted to be caught.

“What’d’ya want from me!?” Sniper asked him. “Because I’m gonna—“ Scout cut him off with a sharp blow to the face. Sniper was knocked into the ground in pain, and Scout was kneeling over him, giving him several more weaker punches. His blue shirt getting slowly more painted in Sniper’s blood.

Sniper snatched his Kukri and slashed it across the BLU Scout’s face. He let out a high pitched yell, and Sniper took the chance to push him into the wall, pinning the smaller man down again.

Scout opened his eyes to find Sniper’s sweltering angry face, which he only smiled back at.

“Oh, you’re smilin’ now? Think that’s funny?” Sniper muttered.

“Nope. I think it’s super terrifying…in a hot way.”

“WHAT!? WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

Scout managed to shimmy his hand out of Sniper’s, and he brushed it under his chin before kangaroo punching the Australian down to the ground with his leg. Now it was Scout’s turn to pin him down. His Kukri was just out of reach, but it didn’t stop Sniper from trying to grab it.

“Quit wigglin’, already.” Scout smiled down at him.

“Agh. You bloody—“ Sniper was cut off by Scout leaning down to kiss him on the cheek.

“Been trying ‘ta get your attention all week. Don’t lie, I’ve seen how you look when you’re about to shoot me. You get all red and you have a hard time aiming for me? Sound familiar?”

Sniper broke eye contact, embarrassed.

“An’ when my other teammates a’ there, you always go for them first. I’ve noticed a little pattern with you, Snipes.”

Sniper was dead silent. Now it was his turn to become beat red. “…fine. Maybe I don’t wanna shoot someone who isn’t as much of a maniac as everyone else in this dump.”

“When we met at the bar, I might’ve got a tiny hallway crush too…” Scout looked at him, confident but red enough to explode.

Sniper pulled him into a kiss. Something Sniper could’ve only dreamed of. He reached up to hold his waist. Scout’s hand drifted up to rest on Sniper’s face.

A gunshot shot out one of the security cameras from their right, breaking the kiss.

One of the team’s spies re-cloaked and ran out of the room.

————————

Haha hopefully that was gay enough. I do in fact love writing gay little men. Thanks for sending this in! 😂 and thanks for reading, dear viewer!

[tubbytarchia]

todays stream..... im watching the vod in 1.5x speed because i forgot to watch. another long one.................................

jim and oli meet up immediately. they go to jimmys graveyard and olis died a bunch and he called himself mrs canary. blond boyfriends is "one night only" and oli said no flower husbands. they started making jokes about closing tumblr and ao3..... blond boyfriends are dead </3 jimmy then says they dont spend their evenings browsing those sites then oli says speak for yourself im mr wattpad

oli says "put on something sexy" for the talent show because both of them forgot to make skins for it. jimmy says hes not putting on the maid one (oli: i will) then oli suggests they both put on maid skins. grrrrr

(oli: why dont you want to be a maid? why dont you want to be a maid? you loved it you had a thumbnail about it and everything, you loved it, you loved it! stop pretending you didnt love it!

jimmy: i only do it on special occasions...... i only wear the maid dress one time on one series....... i cant do it twice........

oli: yeah but this is a different character, this is blond boyfriend jimmy, its like a whole different action figure!

jimmy: right, right, ill put it on.)

then they ask chat to make oli a maid skin since he doesnt have one. specifically with the same face as jimmys (the derpy face) then they realise they need an invisiblity potion for their talent show thing so they go to steal one from pixs furious cocktail machine. they go material gathering for more talent show stuff and split up.

(he kept making spongebob references. i think im going insane)

they meet back up. on the way jimmy goes to sausages house to steal some milk and he sees saus so he stabs him and runs away. oli found a weird pillager looking base in sausages house and shows jimmy to see how he would react to it. (u know how his voice goes when hes lying? Yeah) then after talking for a bit about who they think is a pillager (lizzie) they split up again.

they meet up again and switch skins to their maid ones,,, then they start practising their dance for the talent show. not a lot happens other than flirting and oli theatening to kill himself if they lose. then they head over to the talent show and oli sings a gay little song on the way. he tries to make it sound less gay but it turns into sounding like a one night stand.

they arrive and sausage admires the outifts and asks if they want to work at the tavern later. oli says yes (only if they dont win) and jimmy doesnt say anything about it. they take their seats and jimmy sits in front of scott. hes standing on the back of the stair instead of the front so scott asks him to move so hes not blocking scotts view. jimmy says not my fault im 6 foot so scott hits him and he ends up landing on the back of the seat in front (which is eloises). eloise hits him back. he gets hit around a bit (notably laughing) then scott pulls his sword out and asks out loud how much of a blockage a grave will be. jimmy then shakes his head and goes please no i dont have any armour on :( and scotts like haha i know. then the talent show starts

mog introduces the show and prays for no deaths. first event with no deaths. please. he reads a poem for his pet sweetpea that died. its actually really good but the fact that its about a minecraft bee does make me giggle. the judges are fwhip, eloise, and katherine. not entirely people who hate jimmy.... he has a chance....... how the judging works is the 3 judges have redstone lamps that are ON and if they turn them OFF they dont like the act. if all 3 lamps turn off you have to leave the stage.

first act is shubble :) she makes cat jokes. i think theyre funny. fwhip turns off his lamp and shubble says "quit the catattitude". eloise also turns off her light. she ends her performance with 1 light on!

sausage goes next...... hes doing a play about boat boys. joel audibly sighs in the audience. sausage is wearing an etho skin and drags joel on stage. saus tries to get joel to say he loves etho but joel just goes I LOVE MY WIFE!! lizzies in the audience and she doesnt react at all. "etho" then goes on to say they have a kid together. then it ends with 2 lights on. (technically 1 but katherine turned off eloises light. then eloise turned off fwhips light but he turned it back on.)

then oli and jimmy go!!! fwhip turns off his light almost immediately but they basically just make puppy dog eyes at him until he turns it back on. they start with their dancing and they get the audience to join in. its much more organised than the rehersals. then they go onto the disappearing act. fwhip turned his light off again but eloise and katherine seem to be loving it. jimmy splashes himself with the invisiblity potion (and accidentally catches oli in it) then runs behind the seats and drinks milk. eloise turned her light off too :( but katherine and the audience really like it. they try to do their drowning act but theres a conduit power which makes it less interesting. they end the performance with 1 light on.....

then its mogs turn! hes. racing people. and jumping very high. then he starts flying. i genuinely think hes hacking and i respect the dedication to the bit. then he starts walking on water. i think he ended with all 3 lights on.

judging time....... notable thing is katherine gave oli and jim a 10/10.

IN A SHOCKING TURN OF EVENTS. JIMMY AND OLI WON. EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU KATHERINE FOR SABOTAGING MOGS SCORE FOR THE BIT.

1st: oli&jim. 2nd: shubble. 3rd: mog. 4th: saus. fwhip gives jimmy his coin and jim says thanks daddy fwhip. jimmy goes home and is very happy about it :) then he ends........ new sos video saturday and next stream is monday :P

long recap again.... this ones kinda all over the place cuz i was typing while watching. i equally love blond boyfriends and also want oli 100ft away from jimmy at all times

man oh man... the adventures of the blonde boy friends

Ok the maid dress......... I'm not too upset by it because I accept Oli joining in with the maid outfit thing as a valid form of helping Jimmy heal. Not that Oli INTENDS to do that (he's too stupid) but... Him insisting "you loved it! You did!" makes me want to throw up but he's stupid. He's his own fucked up thing who I don't see as participating in the Jimmy "bottom of the food chain" bullying culture. He puts himself down on that food chain alongside Jimmy... unintentionally, still, but. Mmmgh. If it were, say, Sausage instead whototallydoesnthaveamaidkink saying this... It'd be another story and I might just throw myself out the window

Oli's fooling around and I still hate his insistence on Jimmy liking the maid ordeal (and even here, Jimmy is voicing the opposite!! sobs) but then he goes and puts on a maid dress too. It might be unsubstantial fun and jokes for him, but at least Jimmy's not alone on that now in a sense... Even the derpy face is the same... And same with "I'm mrs canary now". It's more "haha we both suck" and less "you suck/I suck almost as bad as you". More affectionate and less derogatory

Oli saying he'll kill himself if they lose kinda sucks because Jimmy frequently gets blamed for failures of groups he's part of, and if not, he might just blame himself and apologize anyway. But at the same time if they did lose, I cannot imagine Oli blaming it on Jimmy. He'd only address it as them both being equally at fault. Shared failure... The bar is really low ok

OF COURSE Sausage is there to admire them OF COURSE Sausage whototallydoesnthaveamaidkink is asking them to work at the tavern. Fuckass sorry I'm gonna hold myself back in case any Sausage fans are reading this. Sorry Sausage fans. I don't hate you ok. and Jimmy not saying anything in response even when Oli said yes... he has trauma guys he has such trauma I cant fucking make this up its right there. This is making me so sad. Jimmy choking up.... Even if he were to voice displeasure he'd just be shot down again. Sausage won't take no for an answer and Oli being Oli would probably encourage Jimmy too. Unfortunately. This sucks

There's something about Joel here too but I actually can't talk about it I'm serious even Tumblr will cancel me

I can't tell you how fucking happy I am that they won though so that 1. Oli doesn't kill himself and 2. They don't have to go work at the tavern as is evident is against Jimmy's wishes anyway. He doesn't have to relive his trauma. Katherine you have no idea what you've done I love you Katherine

Also thank you Jimmy for stabbing Sausage. Deserved

[ciderjacks]

I watch some of Watcher's stuff, tell me whatever you want about Shane Madej!

HOUGHHHH. OHHRHFHTHABK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOY

i think a lot of people who are aware of Shane sort of just think of him as the skeptic guy on bfu/ghost files (not saying that’s u obv just a lot of ppl bc I guess I need this to be a pitch meeting) and I think that is a shame because HOLY SHIT HES SO TALENTED AND COOL AND WEIRD AND THE SHIT HE MAKES IS SO FUCKIKNG INSANELY GOOD

Ok so going back in time for a second to b*zzfeed. Who btw did not deserve this guy. Afaik he had two major like, creative projects on there. Ruining History and The Hot Daga. Both were very good. ruining history was a fun history show he did with Sara and Ryan and there are rotating guests every episode. Shane is very interested in history, very good at teaching history, and i think in an alternate universe hes a beloved high school history teacher. Ruining History is the father of puppet history. B*zzfeed canned it and i miss it every day. and then there’s the other father of Puppet History, Hot Daga. Hot Daga is insane. I love Hot Daga, its not for everyone, but I think its so good. The lore goes crazy, he produced and made original songs for it, he animated the whole final half season by himself which is fuckinf insane. He made a ballad for it and actually i need everyone reading this to Listen to “believe me maizey” and then directly after listen to the Meteor Ballad from Puppet History. OH LOOK A SEGWAY

Puppet history is so fuckinf good. Its So Good. And especially in later seasons since hes doing so much you really start to see his improvement as an artist and its just. Its incredible. Some of the somgs are genuinely fucking masterpieces, like some of my favs are The Flower Boat Song, Asmodeus, The Horse and God song, the Emu song, Big Pile Of Diamonds, Infinitiger, The Window Song, Gay Oars Duet, Hologram Professor Song, and the Meteor’s Ballad. And more. Uhh OH the Olympic Torch is really good too. His lyrics are so smart and fun and his vocals are so impressive and he has such good range, he duetted Himself for the Oar song and managed to make the two voices identifiable as separate characters without being over the top. The lyrics range from poetic anf beautiful to weird and funny often within the Same song! Its just so good and he starts so good and gradually over the years he’s done the show you can see him getting more comfortable and better at music which is crazy causw again HE STARTED OFF GOOD! HE WAS INSANE IN HOT DAGA AND HE IS SOMEHOW EVEN BETTER IN PUPPET HISTORY LIKE! and and and ok here’s where I get crazy and a little parasocial (lol not really i am misusing that word for the bit LOL)

Something about all his work is that you can kind of see how his art depicts the world. In Hot Daga you get the line “what else can you do in the face of such monumental loss, but breath a weary sigh as the world is a little quieter now.” And in Puppet history you get uh actually you get like 20 things from the meteor song but one of my favorite parts is (read blue as the professor, orange as the meteor, pink as both) “some shit’s just etched into the stars, calamities you cant outrun/and when sweet earth we finally meet/the sky will burn and boil the sea/as mountains rend/its you and me.” i think both these lyrics and these somgs demonstrate a maturity about the world that you dont really see in a lot of people, his general kindness towards anything and everything and his ability to change perspectives on things without being forceful. (On a personal note I listened to The Meteor song after someone I knew passed, and as dumb as it maybe sounds the idea that like,, death is not cruel, you can’t always run and sometimes the best thing you can do is be there with the people you love as the world ends.) and also I think that you really can tell that he views the people he’s telling you about as People and not just like, figures. Ykwim. He shows such genuine respect and care for everyone in these stories and I’ve already like briefly in these stories but like, you KNOW if a guy can make me cry for the Meteor that killed the dinosaurs then he’s something special. i also think the way he portrays death in his work is very comforting as a whole. and another thing speakinf of rhat is that he has so much respect for other cultures in a level I think that goes beyond just bare minimum not being a piece of shit. Like especially when he’s teaching history, an example that always sticks out to me is how much effort he put into making sure people remembered and thought about Hatshepsut by having a whole episode on her history then also making an EXTREMELY (probably intentionally so though i cant be sure bc I can’t reas minds) catchy song that Told you to think of Hatshepsut and explained Why uou should think of Hatshepsut and it’s been stuck in my head ever since I first heard it years ago. Also I’m consistently impressed by his good pronunciation of things, I remember in the Tunguska event episode of mystery files there were so many ppl from tbe area he was talking about shocked by how good his pronunciation was. And ive seen that so many times w him like, idk i just think thats very cool. He’s a genuinely really mature and respectful guy I think. Wise too. So much of his work has educated me, changed my worldview for the better, inspired me. Like He’s so talented ik i keep saying that but HE IS!

Like ok so. He can write both songs and stories beautifully. he’s wise as fuck and could probably be a philosopher. He can make puppets (and just tbc later season puppet history the puppets are not him, but in the early seasons afaik they were all him, so he is definitely skilled at that.), he can sing, he can voice act, his graphics and editing are off the charts, he’s educated and smart, hes funny. He’s so fuckinf cool.

also again getting parasocial here but I just really like how much of a zest for life the guy seems to have. And Honestly im impressed that he worked in retail, had actual trash thrown in his face by an angry customer (true story) and still came out it like “man the world sure is wonderful!”. What a guy. And He’s so fucking weird and interesting and I could seriously just listen to him rant about Literally anything Forever. Anything. It doesnt matter I think he could talk about anything in a way that would make me invested in it and i’d come out of it more educated than before with a fresh new perspective on life.

This is getting Essay-like so here are some other Random Shane Things I know to close me out I guess

-he loves community was in the community fandom and has a crush on troy barnes

-he wants to be a mouse

-he’s lived 7000 years

-

-was DB cooper

-makes a fine ass Krampus

-actually the coolest guy alive

sorry this is almost 100% incomprehensible thank you for letting my autism loose tho

[narwhalandchill]

okay so. skirk thoughts

first of all: as much as her design is still just kind of an ehhh compared to what couldve been, i do think it looks so much better in the actual game. the sfx in her arms and legs in particular helps a Lot imo. still not a massive fan but given i already loved the hair+eyes as well as the general color scheme, im warming up to it. still unfortunate we didnt get something more ambitious but i can live with this lmao

personality wise i actually really love how they went about her? its a little unexpected but skirk really has that abyss autism rizz to her JSJSIDISGFK love it. like this really isnt someone used to any manner of regular human interactions and it shows. i really like how blunt and utterly unfazed she is even when dropping some insane lore bombs bc theyre just peanuts to her. shes just completely unlike any character from any faction weve encountered before and i rly love the energy they gave her

i also found her little ramble about the value of life and death pretty interesting. it almost makes it sound like she considers herself dead in some way? with how she talks about there being no point in holding onto the bonds and remains of dead things and how this personal philosophy of hers is why she never comes to the surface anymore. like huh. whats up with that.

it also really reminds me of how an underappreciated aspect of childes characterization imo is how like. Incredibly insistent he is on staying alive being the most valuable thing? like this comes up Repeatedly in his voicelines. and now we have skirk literally talking about how to live is in itself a blessing. like i am Not buying this being coincidental at all. so unless they physically disprove me in this somehow down the line im taking this as 100% proof that childes high regard for life is Directly imparted to him through skirks teachings. and thats really interesting to think about.

and like. overall im quite happy with this glimpse of her character we have? i have bigger issues with the overall handling of the childe+narwhal+skirk segment of the AQ but those are narrative problems. skirk really stands out as a character and shes just. really fascinating AND funny as fuck in her nonchalance like. what an icon.

the only real unfortunate thing w her appearence specifically i think just has to do with the way her manner of speech and position as a narrator of dubious reliability to an extent is already leading to some. Quite unfortunate misreadings and/or taking the implications of her statements too far at face value. and i just know fandom will latch onto those forever 😭

(& jic i dont mean dubious reliability in the traditional unreliable narrator or like. lying or sth sense. just that her worldview is so alien and foreign to us that it should be taken into careful account before just blindly running off with any particular thing she claims)

like. firstly. the narwhal. ppl really dont seem to be catching onto how skirks perception of it as just a scuffed pet thats a hassle to manage isnt like. actually reflective of what a massive deal of an entity it is (read the boss fight quest item drop lore i am begging. or just wait for me to start narwhalposting JAJSKDK its coming 100%) 💀💀 what it DOES reflect more than anything is what an absolute maniac surtalogi (+ skirk by extension) has to be in order to claim a creature of this magnitude as a PET of all things. its also good to note that skirk herself readily admits both her highly unconventional view on most things AND that her master wont necessarily share any and all information with her - more so what he thinks is pertinent for her to know. her assessment of the narwhal as a nuisance of a task for a disciple isnt really reflective of the ultimate big picture HSJDKDKSK though it is very funny i have to admit.

im just preemptively annoyed and frustrated by it already bc its highkey giving azhdaha all over again where 99% of fandom just dismissed his deeper lore bc they took the storytellers claims of zhongli creating him at complete face value. like to the point hoyo had to literally add a whole segment at the end of the chasm interlude where zhongli more or less directly wink wink nod nods that a career entertainer isnt giving you the most accurate lore on this stuff 😭😭 like please. ive had the tears from among the stars lore fucking HAUNTING me ever since i first read it. its not just a silly pet whale im hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

and secondly. people really jumping the gun on "haha skirk thinks childe weak" when she was... quite literally speaking in past tense JSJSKDKSISKDK thats ajax 14 not the current state of things. while i do agree skirks power level is still way above his to the point i absolutely do think she considers him weak from her standpoint & ways off from his true potential, id also just.... like to point out that she pretty much confirms that her view of his competence has very much changed too? like please yall

skirk, who in all the years post ajax' 3 day abyss trip made NO effort to contact or keep up with him whatsoever and stated that her disciple wasnt worth even speaking to in the past has now LITERALLY voiced the intent to assign him the task of being a messenger between herself (possibly even surtalogi) and neuvillette. and she has made it VERY clear that she views the communication between herself and neuvillette (and traveler too) as one between equals?

this isnt her assigning childe some irrelevant side quest to keep him busy but actually utilizing him for a task she takes at least relatively seriously. like wdym she still considers him the exact same as before 😭😭😭😭 like obviously childes far off from being regarded as anywhere near an equal by skirk bc SHES just that insanely powerful but seriously. to me this is as clear an acknowledgement of his growth on her part as we will get JSJSKDKFKSKDKJ

but alas. everyone loves a "ha ha childe so weak XDDDD" like they just never wanna let that one go. Man

anyway still rly like skirk!!! all im Really hoping for in the future Especially w how i feel the 4.2 narrative while overall brilliant really sidelined and mishandled the potential and gravity of the narwhal side of things is that like. PLEASE let the interlude be the continuation to this 3rd descender n skirk n childe abyss situation i am so fucking tired of khaenri'ah and the abyss order im sorry lmao

also itll be like 4 years before we ever see her in Real action as a combatant but i am already So hype to see that. especially since her powers are so abyssal and alien in nature like thats going to be So gourmet i just know it.

[meggannn]

atsv rewatch notes that i forgot to share

in gwen's flashback, mr stacy says "why wear a mask if you've got nothing to hide?" may parker says "no politics at the dinner table," and gwen pointedly says "thank you, may" to which may winks at her. does may know she's spider-woman?? that would definitely add another layer of angst if may thinks she's responsible for her nephew's death as well

gwen goes to visions academy in her universe too, evidenced by the logo on the drums she plays and the shirt her dad's wearing. so no wonder she could sneak her way around in 1610, but also, her school seems to be in chelsea (manhattan) not brooklyn? unless their band practice is just in chelsea and they stole a drum set from brooklyn lol

one of gwen's posters just says SOCIAL MEDIA lmao

the fact that in gwen's touching selfie of her and miles you can still see peter's sweatpants legs in the background from where he's passed out on the bus is so funny to me

65's police department is also called PDNY, so i guess peter's NYPD in 616 is the odd one out

captain stacy calls his partner "yuri"! i assume it's 65's yuri watanabe?? (edit, the director's commentary confirms this)

according to his arrest log, the vulture was a middle school secretary before being arrested lmao

i just realized we were going to get miguel's backstory and then gwen interrupts it because she doesn't care. so i guess my theory about miles being the only one who can interrupt others' monologues because he's an anomaly is incorrect lmao

i didnt realize before the helicopter crashes, she looked at miguel and miguel nodded, implying "i'll get them" for him to clear the way while she handles the people in the helicopter. i think her competence and flexibility are why he changed his mind on bringing her to the team, along with her dad ofc

a reactor pointed this out (Lupa from YaBoyRoshi) but when gwen is pleading to her dad not to arrest her, he and the colors behind him literally become divided with a dark blue line against white background. i interpreted this as a metaphor for his indecisiveness but it's also. literally. showing a thin blue line foreshadowing his choice. that's insane

gwen saying "i don't know how to fix this." and miguel tosses her a watch after saying "yeah, well, join the club"—didn't realize this had two meanings lol, one inviting her to the society but also admitting he doesn't know how to fix any of this

i'm very impressed by how much they put into the spot on a rewatch, like the voice acting is excellent and they made him jiggle up and down going "this is real!" when he meets miles. it's so cute. like all the extra details just make it great

lmao when miles does his intro he shows himself growing like a head taller than gwen, and about as tall as peter b and noir?? ldkfjdlfk im sorry buddy you're not quite there yet

during miles's intro he meshes the past year with his current fight with spot, and he narrates beating up bad guys with a bunch of shots of him punching villains—then it cuts to him failing to punch the spot; quickly followed by the spot and miles tied in a bunch of weird scenarios with the dimensional holes, including miles's face on ohnn's body, all played for comedy. foreshadowing baby

all of the jeopardy categories when miles hosts are spider-themed. "swingin' in the rain" "arachnidioms" "spider sense & sensibility" "the wide web world" "thwip it" and i cant read the last one

not only does miles's baby powder apology video have more dislikes than actual views (69 million to 10 million, yes, a 69 joke), a youtube comment also says "old spider-man didn't need baby powder" so the youtube comments section is wrong in every universe

in his mustache apology video, once again there are more dislikes than views (70 mill to 11 mill) and a comment says "i heard it was made from actual spider legs tho fr"

miles drew his friends over his subway mural and everyone's always in cool action poses EXCEPT PETER who also gets a shot of him sloppily eating a burger oh my god. it cracks me up he draws more of the other spiders but so little of peter lkdfjld. but this is sweet tbh i hope somehow the gang sees this in btsv :(((

at the counselor meeting: "you thought i could do something special. and now i think so, too. and the special thing i want to do is this. there are people out there who can literally teach me the things i want to learn. and they're not all in brooklyn" my heart hurts

when the spot destroys a building in the lego verse someone goes "does anyone have the instructions for this building??" lmao

when miles is hanging with gwen, you can hear him faintly say "no it's not the greek burger place" and we don't know what he's replying to but. what's the bet he told gwen how terrible peter's favorite burger place was on the bus back from alchemax and it's an inside joke between them

miles left his jordans in a random alley in brooklyn chasing after gwen!!! MILES!! (but then later when he's trapped in 42, they glitch back onto his feet???)

miles still swings using the same bounce-crouch he learned from peter im gonna die. you can see it esp when compared against pavitr and gwen when they face the spot

i thought i missed when miles picked up an empenada but i didnt, they literally just cut straight from jess mentioning them to miguel's narration then miles walking down the hallway with it. did miles ask jess+gwen+hobie to stop by the cafeteria first lkfdjlf.

miles bounces when miguel's lift starts to descend. he's so excited to meet him :(

peter says mayday took a crap and then he takes her offscreen but. he doesn't actually change her diaper. mayday was sitting in a dirty diaper that whole chase and somehow wasn't upset? or are we supposed to believe that large spiderweb mayday bounces off of (which we never actually see getting built between one shot and the next) was being used as a very quick one-second changing station? lmfao peter

sun spider says "miles, i'm a huge fan of your work" which. wow everyone not only knows about miles's situation but follows his actions in 1610???? wtf. also does miles have fans?? (aside from the og gang)

after seeing how frustrated/desperate peter gets to have miles hold may, i'm 100% convinced he knew when miles entered the society, ran back home to grab his baby, and came back to nueva york just specifically so miles could meet may, but it turned into a shitshow and now he just hopes THIS conversation can go well if he can make it happen like he imagined in his head. like aww, but also peter, he doesn't want to talk about your daughter right now, he wants to talk about his dad lol. right words, wrong time

and peter doesn't even bother trying to escape the webs miles traps him in, he just kind of hangs there angrily?? lfkjlf

the text around hobie's portals reads ENTER PORTAL with an arrow, NEXT STOP, EXIT STOP, i think MIND THE GAP, a weather report, and i think miles's name?? maybe also 616, miles's dimension?

when miles realizes he's in the wrong dimension, the same leitmotif plays from the first movie when he walks down the school hall realizing something was different after the spider bite

miles's terror and joy at seeing aaron in 42 is palpable. he will always love and miss him, he will probably always wish he could speak to and ask aaron for help again, but he will never forget being chased by the prowler, and aaron about to kill him on the rooftop. i think some part of him will forever be that kid scared of the person in the prowler mask—or at least wondering what that person is capable of, how far that person is willing to go to get what they want—which is a very fitting question considering he then faces another miles behind the prowler mask shortly after. i suspect in btsv he'll have to ask himself the lengths he is willing to go to, in this universe or the next, to save the people he loves. heartbreaking

i adore the telltale art style of earth-42, it's so gorgeous and noir-like, reminds me of the wolf among us

[starrbreeze]

finally read riverstar’s home. here are some thought as i read through.

spoilers below the cut

- the name change feels so sudden. i feel like it would’ve been more impactful if we got to see him live near the river for longer before he did.

- this feels silly to say but river ripple seemed so much more nonchalant and wise in dotc.

- OMG it’s gray wing (if you didn’t know by now i LOVE him)

- i am kind of surprised at how closely the dialogue resembles the scenes form dotc. i know that all they have to do is go back and read the book, but knowing the erins’ inconsistencies in the past, they didn’t do too bad. can’t say the same for characterizations however.

- i can’t wait to see river ripple and gray wing’s relationship through a different point of view. i always loved their interactions, especially the support and kindness between them.

- the flutter thing feels so forced i am tried of hearing about it.

- i’m not a fan of how they dumbed down the conflict between clear sky and gray wing as territory and aggression. it was such a nuanced conflict and from river ripple’s pov it makes it look as if the whole thing wasn’t very one sided.

- i kinda love the stepping stone idea especially considering river ripple’s role and relationship with the rest of them

- river ripple comforting gray wing, knowing exactly what to say, and looking after him. i love them.

- river ripple opening his home to gray wing and really noticing how much he has been through is just so touching.

- river ripple hoping gray wing’s sickness goes away is so painful because the way it never does.

- i love river ripple’s intuition and knowing exactly what a cat needs and knowing exactly what to say.

- shattered ice saying the moor reminded him of the mountains was such a nice little touch. especially when thinking about how gray wing never really wanted to leave the mountains and he was one of the only cats to stay on the moor. maybe that’s why.

- i’m getting sick of the flutter mentions.

- i love that river ripple thought what everyone else was thinking about how weird it was that clear sky ended up with star flower when thunder like her. do i think they work well together? yes, but i’m so glad some cat finally said it.

- i can feel gray wing’s death coming. obviously it’s already happened and i already no but it hurts the same every time. i want to see how river ripple reacts and whether gray wing will end up giving him a life later on.

- seeing how the erins justify some of his dialogue that was written almost 10 years ago and characterize it is kind of insane to me. i just wish they would stop linking a lot of things back to flutter. i don’t know why they didn’t just leave him without a love interest.

- gray wing :(

- the moor looked bleaker than ever now that gray wing died :(

- the way everyone is mourning gray wing’s death his influence is insane

- TALLCLAN REFERENCE that’s too funny

- “i missed you” :(

- i feel like all the qualities they were blessing him with he already had lol

- FLUTTER IS DEAD WHAT

- i hate how the erins kind of go back on any character development clear sky ever has. they did this in moth flight’s vision too, but i think there him reverting back was reasonable considering he had lost his kit and loss made him the way he was in the first place. but just portraying him as mean for no reason over and over again just pick a struggle.

- i hate how after gray wing died the boundary obsession started back up again. maybe it’s not correlated and yes it’s not that extreme but where’s the friendliness they were just starting to develop.

- i love dappled pelt.

- the whole mediation thing makes so much more sense here than in asc.

- i was so surprised the erins were going to have riverstar leave finch but of course they didn’t follow through

- this romance is so forced

- again why are they backing up on any character development clear sky had?

- i love dotc but i hate post dotc content because these cats lived together up till a little while ago and they’ve suddenly fallen back into aggression as if they weren’t more friendly before

overall rating: 2.5/5

i liked the first half, but they really took river ripple and destroyed his character along with some of the other characters from dotc.

[duchessofostergotlands]

It's funny how yesterday I was listening you stressing out British people don't emphatize with the riches' misery while strolling news about five millioners stuck in a submarine.

Lol, I speak only the truth!

In all seriousness, whether it’s right or wrong, it is hard to sympathise when people voluntarily chose to go in an obvious death trap, without doing any due diligence, to explore what is an actual gravesite because they’re so rich they have no understanding of personal risk and want to be able to boast about accessing things most humans can’t access. If our species was supposed to be at the bottom of the ocean we would be lol. This wasn’t about discovery or science but purely about profit and ego, and it’s killed five people. And the fact one of them chose to take his 19 year old son with him - there is no way that boy could have gone on the trip without his dad’s money and approval, and since I first drafted this it’s come out he may have been pressured to go - and now a family have lost two people in terrible circumstances makes it even worse. It’s just wasteful, frankly. I sympathise with their families, I wish things had gone differently, but it really is such a perfect encapsulation of how insane wealthy inequality has become!

I was thinking about this topic after we did our episode and I think it’s about balance. I’m comfortable, financially, because I have parents who were comfortable financially, I studied in a place where higher education is free, I have no kids and no social life, and I’ve been hoarding money like Smaug since I was a child. But even I worry about keeping a roof over my head, I worry about what happens if I lose my job. I’ve been made redundant before and had that feeling of panic and fear that I’ll never find another job. I couldn’t find a place to live on my own on my salary in the city I worked in which negatively impacted my mental health and I’m already struggling with a severe mental illness. And I’m lucky, millions in the U.K. have it way worse than me. I’m not one of those people who thinks the rich can’t suffer or that their emotions don’t matter - that’s a slippery slope as that would dnd up with everyone except the one human who is worst off in the whole world being told they can’t suffer and they don’t matter - but at the same time normal humans all have this struggle. So when you see multi millionaires and billionaires - especially those who inherited wealth - they automatically have less on their plate to worry about in terms of financial security, they don’t have those daily worries we all have. And so when they do experience hardship it kind of feels to the public - or to me at least - like the hardship has to be more intense in order to balance the scale because they already start off so much higher. Does that make sense?

I do think actively celebrating deaths is a bit much. It’s cruel but more importantly it’s completely pointless and damages the cause, and I think is more often than not done so people on the Internet can feel better about themselves and show off to their friends. But I completely get why people don’t feel pity or sympathy either. There’s a massive cavern in the middle where most of us sit. I just think it’s knowing the time and place and manner when it comes to vocalising that view. Nobody can make you empathise but you don’t have to declare it, unprompted, in the most callous way you can think of