Just Saw An „niki Nsfw“ And Bruh I Actually Can’t Believe How Disgusting Some People Are Bc What

이희승 STRAWBERRIES & CIGARETTES

📄⸝⸝ heeseung needed a little sweetness in his life. (he needed you.) ❪ ꕤ ❫ pairing. bad boy!lhs x f!reader ʬʬʬ───includes. slightly suggestive, but ends with fluff, smoking, heeseung is down bad for you . . . LIBRARY ?!

YOU were two steps away from the top of the rooftop staircase when you saw him standing with his back towards the view, his eyes on you, while he lit a cigarette between his lips. A trail of smoke to fill the space between you, connecting you like an invisible string. The smell of tobacco hit you fast as you took the next few steps forward. You came to a stop a few feet away from him, as if you had walked into an invisible wall.

Lee Heeseung started. You stared back. How many times have you met like this now? It felt like too much of a coincidence that you would both be on the rooftop at the same time. And yet, you didn’t find yourself minding it too much—you didn’t mind him too much. Your friends told you to stay away. They told you he was no good. But as he stood before you now—the notorious bad boy, the lone wolf—you couldn’t hear anything other than the sound of your own thrumming heart.

Your fingers subconsciously tightened around the stick of strawberry lollipop in your hand. You followed the way his chest rose with a breath, before falling as a puff of smoke was blown from his lips. You didn’t see the way his eyes drifted down your body from where he stood, taking in the way your glossy lips shone under the sun like a piece of candied fruit.

“That can’t be good for you,” you said, tilting your head ever so slightly. And almost immediately—like he were searching for water in the desert—his eyes drifted to the way your hair shifted to reveal the nape of your neck, the innocent act corrupted by the thoughts that ran through his mind. He thought about what it would be like to have you bear your neck to him like that, to let him cover the skin in hungry kisses in attempt to taste the sweetness of the scent you carried around like an aphrodisiac. 

“Does it matter?” he asked, lowering his voice just the slightest, as if trying to play the part of a big bad wolf scaring you away. A word of caution before he got the urge to devour you whole.  Run away little bunny, it seemed to say. I don’t play nice.

“It can’t be that good, can it?” You asked innocently. “Why don’t you have something that tastes better?”

Heeseung’s breath was caught in his throat. And if he had filled his lungs with smoke from his cigarette, he might have coughed it all out at the wording of your question. You didn’t mean it in that way—he knew that, because you were just too good. You grew flustered whenever he so much as caught you looking in his direction, you wouldn’t be able to flirt without burning brighter than the strawberries that you always smelled like.

But god, all he wanted to do was ask if you were going to offer yourself up as an alternative. Because even if he never got to taste the flavour of the gloss on your lips, he knew it would be the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. Just one taste, he wanted to ask of you. And damn did he hate himself for letting his thoughts run wild by something so innocent.

“Yeah?” he whispered, breathless. “Like what?”

Your lips jutted into a cute little pout, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from them. He didn’t even take notice of the way your looked at the lollipop in your hand. It took only a few seconds before you knew what to do. You skipped your way over to the boy, until you were standing right in front of you. Now, you were closer than ever before, and Heeseung was looking down at you as if you were an angel sent from heaven, because how else was someone so bright, so pretty, up close? 

“Here.” You held out the lollipop in front of his starstruck eyes. “You can have it.”

When he didn’t respond, you took his calloused hand into yours—and he let you, like some puppy trained to give their paw when asked. You held onto it, before placing the unopened treat onto his palm, and closing his fingers over it. He stared at you like an idiot, the hand holding his cigarette falling to his side as he remained fixated on the feeling of your hand holding his.

His eyes flickered to your face, only to find that you were avoiding his gaze. Your chewed on your lip, before lowering your head, allowing your hair to fall over your face. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, only to be silenced... with a kiss.

He almost fell over in shock at the feeling of your soft lips on his parted ones, an explosion of strawberry bursting across the tip of his tongue, tasting just as sweet as he imagined. Your soft curves were pressed against his toned body, and he barely had the strength to keep his arms from wrapping around you and pulling you to him until the only barrier left between you were your clothes. Instead, he let his hands cup your face, as if he were cradling the entire world in his palms.

Heeseung leaned into your kiss as if you were a siren leading him to drown in the depths of the ocean, and all he wanted was to stay in this moment forever, to lose himself in your kiss rather than another cigarette. But before he could, you were pulling away. He looked into your eyes, his hands shaking as gasping breath left his lips. “That wasn't what I was expecting. But I'm not complaining.”

You giggled. Fuck, you were so cute. "Well that was only a one time thing.”

Damn it. “So, what do I do to make it permanent?”

You bit your lip, and it gave him half the mind to lean over and bite it himself. But then you glanced at him, a cheeky glint in your eye, and wave of warmth rushed up into his chest.

“Try not to smoke so much, okay?”

Heeseung didn’t get a chance to speak before you were scrambling off like a scared little animal with their tail between their legs. He watched your form as it disappeared, too late say anything before you were gone from his sight. But as he listened to the sound of your hurried footsteps and grow farther away, he couldn’t help but laugh. 

He looked at the lollipop, then at the cigarette. With a breathy chuckle, he dropped the latter, extinguishing the flame with the heel of his shoe. Staring up at the sun, he unwrapped the lollipop, before bringing it to his lips. Your face flashed through his mind, and he found himself unable to contain the smile that found its way onto his features.

It tasted sweet.

© chaconnenha ( ALL RIGHTS RESERVED )

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 – 𝟐

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎: 𝐬𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞

⤥ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

⤥ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬!𝐀𝐔

⤥ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐀 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞, 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬. 𝐀 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲'𝐬 𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤.

← 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 →

(A/N: i hope you guys enjoyed this and are getting a little bit of a better understanding just..how much those two hate each other's guts 👀 thank you sm for everything i love and appreciate you all sm!🩷 feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!!!☁️🫧)

TAGLIST: @soonigiri @en-happiness @lhsvibez @dammit-jjk @heerinnie @primroselover @jungwon-xo @szkstay @lostwonderwall @hoonieluv @certifiedmoa @doodlelibrary @ikeuizm @kpoprhia @sleeping-demons @jongszn @imtoanonymousforyou @lalalovejay @ineedsomezzz @xrr-s4sha @ariadores @viagumi @electrobutterfly @mimikittysblog @blurryriki @heelcvr @wonkifangirl @joonzseoulmate @kwiwin @hoondiors @seuomo @zerasari @love-you-twice @aloverga @marz-mars @velvtcherie @niniissus @abrazosolorcereza @ddazed-lhs @acphengene @sunasbl6nts @skz-streamer @kshoshi @tya0 @yizhoutv @jebetwo @myheelody @seokgyuu @blockbusterhee @l0vee-l3tters @luvkpopp

break the ice

pairing: tsundere!sunghoon x reader

summary: sunghoon shows that he dislikes your presence most of the time, but secretly he really appreciates your kind gestures. maybe he should’ve reciprocated it instead of pushing you away completely, because the aftermath was not pretty.

genre: tsundere and sunshine trope

warnings: lots of angst, fluff, mean!sunghoon, yelling, crying, toxic family relationship, slight mention of violence and divorce, very very very little swearing, lowercase intended

note: my first enhypen fic!!!!! i’m so excited to share this with you guys. this went a bit different than the prompt i made the poll on but it’s basically the same thing. enjoy! (also i might sound desperate but PLEASE interact with me i really need more friends here AHAHAhhhh)

word count: 3k ish

If you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3

a hand slammed on top of the wooden table where sunghoon’s head rested atop his arms. he slowly looked up, already knowing who it would be since you were the only one who ever approached him. 

“hi hoonie!”, you beamed at him in excitement. your nickname for him made his eyebrows furrow slightly, but he didn’t let his annoyance completely show on his stoic face.

“it’s early morning, why are you so happy?”, he grumbled.

you completely ignored his unenthusiastic response and placed a brown disposable box in front of him.

“i made some simple fried rice, i was running a bit late today.” you smiled and slid the box towards him when he didn’t react, “i hope you don’t mind!” 

when he realised that you weren’t going to move if he didn’t take the box, he sighed and stuffed it inside his schoolbag. your smile widened at his gesture but immediately fell when you looked at your watch.

“oh no i’m running late for my next class.” you waved at him, “i’ll see you at lunch!” 

sunghoon’s eyes followed your figure as you pushed past the people crowding at the entrance of the classroom and dashed off. his eyes glazed over in thought as he contemplated about why you even put up with him everyday, afterall you were a really jolly person who’s loved by everyone. and he, he was just loner with no emotions everso.

you both had met each other at the beginning of high school. you had approached him when you found him sitting alone at lunch on the first day. you mistook it for him being lonely but he pushed himself away from everyone on purpose. since then you’ve always been around him, constantly playing the part of a friend he didn’t ask for but secretly appreciated. he still remembers how upset you were when you found out he started skipping lunch in senior year, so you started making lunch for him everyday.

he sighed once again when his phone’s screen lit up with your text message. 

y/n:

hiii

i’m so sorry i won’t be able to visit you during lunch today TT

i have the club meeting for robotics

enjoy your lunch&lt;333

and don’t forget to recycle your lunchbox!!

Read:11:20AM

his lips turned up slightly at the cheery tone of your text, brightening his mood a bit.

the soles of his worn out shoes crunched on the fallen leaves as sunghoon sluggishly walked on the pavement. the cool january breeze blew gently, leaving a trail of goosebumps on his skin. he looked above him and watched as the sun sunk into the sky, lighting up into flames of orange and yellow which set the wispy clouds ablaze. he was broken out of his peaceful gazing by the shouts of his name. he paid no heed to it and continued walking towards the bus stop. stiffening when a hand grabbed his arm, he turned his head.

“hoon did you not hear me?”, you gasped out, panting for breath. falling into step with him you giggled, “i need to start running, i get tired so easily.”

sunghoon gave no reaction and continued to walk in silence. you noticed that he hadn’t made any attempt of moving your hand away from his arm and cheered mentally at the progress. observing his features, you frowned in worry becauset his eyes had dark circles under them and his lips looked really chapped. 

“did you not sleep well last night?” you jogged up in front of him and grabbed his face, “gosh your eyes are swollen.” 

sunghoon’s cheeks slowly turned a light shade of pink at the gentle way you were holding his face. he immediately pushed your hands away and resumed his walking, slightly increasing his pace so that you would not see him blushing. you eventually caught up with him and handed him a beige coloured lip balm stick.

“use this for your lips. i swear they’ll become smooth and soft overnight, just like they were!” you attempted to make a serious face but it looked more funny, “and drink lots of water, this is a sign that you’re dehydrated.”

sunghoon watched you carefully as you babbled on about some home remedy to get rid of dark circles, the ever present blank expression etched onto his face. he felt something bubble up inside of him that happened every time at the fact that you noticed even the slightest change that he went through. he felt cared for.

“thank you”, he spoke out softly.

you stopped in the middle of your sentence and your eyes widened at his words. this was probably the first time he ever said the words ‘thank you’ to you. you felt like you had achieved some sort of big accomplishment and your face immediately broke out into a wide smile.

this feeling lasted like a warm blanket over you both the entire day.

________________________________________________________________________

you had to miss out lunch once again the next week due to another robotics club meeting, which you were the vice president of. you had a free period currently so you decided to look for sunghoon since he was in the same class. after you found him missing from the classroom, you decided to go look for him at the benches he usually has his lunch at. maybe he decided to stretch it a bit longer?

you stopped on your way at a vending machine and got him his favourite cold coffee. smiling to yourself, you resumed walking. the school dance was coming up soon and you really wanted to attend it with sunghoon. so, you were going to do everything possible to get him to like you enough to be your date. and recently he had been slightly reciprocating your advances.

your face lit up when you found sunghoon right where you thought he would be. you were just about to call his name but stopped when you saw him holding the bento box you had given him today. you decided to watch secretly to see his reaction after eating the food cooked by you. he had never really given you any feedback about it, only taking the lunchboxes from you with a small huff.

your smile dropped when you saw him walk towards a dustbin and roughly throw the box in it. was the food not good? are you not hungry?

“do you do this every day?”

it looks like you voiced this thought out because sunghoon turned around and looked at you like a deer caught in headlights. this was probably the most noticeable expression you had ever seen on his usually blank face.

“are you okay? your eyes look really red.”

sunghoon remained quiet and just looked blankly at you. why did you still care about him when you clearly caught him throwing your food away. why were you the only one who was nice to him? he was trying really hard to control himself from lashing out on you but he couldn’t help it when you reached out to grab his face.

“will you stop this”, he yelled out in frustration.

“calm down hoonie-”

“stop it, just stop it!” he spat out in anger, “my name is sunghoon.”

just when you were about to open your mouth to say something, he cut you off once again.

“i’m so sick of everyone and everything. sick of you.”

a look of hurt momentarily flashed across your face as he pushed your hand away, but you immediately replaced it with a look of concern.

“what's wrong sunghoon? you never behave like this.”

“what’s wrong is that you won’t leave me alone.” he threw his arms in the air, “you’ve been constantly glued to me like a leech and i’m so damn sick of you.” 

you felt as if your heart was being run over by a bulldozer at his exclamations. you tried really hard not to cry in front of him but you were sure he had noticed your glossed over eyes. 

“you don’t mean that-”

“yes i do”, he gritted out. “and yes, i throw your food away everyday. i don’t want your meaningless pity.”

he watched as streams of tears rolled down your cheeks. 

he watched as the girl he cared for cried silently in front of him.

you bit your lip to prevent an ugly sob from bursting out, “i’ll leave you alone then, if that’s what you think about my feelings for you.” 

looking down at your shoes you walked towards the dustbin and chucked the bottle of cold coffee you had bought for him inside it. “might as well throw this away since you don’t want my pity do you.”

tears blurred your vision as you looked at sunghoon one last time and walked away, muttering about how it was a good thing you didn’t ask him out to the dance.

but this did not go unheard by him. 

once you were gone, he dropped to the hard floor on his knees and covered his mouth with the sleeve of his sweater as he sobbed. he had done it once again. he pushed away one of the few people who truly cared about him.

his tears dropped to the floor, creating wet patches. and his heart felt like it was being ripped apart.

once again.

today was a very happy day for sunghoon. he had finally gotten rid of what was troubling him the most. 

now he had finally decided to apologise and make it up to you. 

the past few days had been torture for him. he deeply regretted acting out like that the other day. he felt like he was going crazy without your presence and whenever he saw you around school, you turned the other way and avoided him, making him feel even worse. he finally understood your importance. and maybe even about his feelings for you.

people looked at him in shock as he weaved through the crowd at the corridors with a bright smile on his face. the park sunghoon, who was always depressed was smiling today? this was shocking for sunghoon himself, but he couldn’t stop imagining what your reaction would be when he would ask you out to the dance.

he walked into the class where your first period took place and found you looking out the window with your chin on your fist. you were silently gazing outside, lost in your thoughts while your friends were excitedly talking about the dance. 

their chatter immediately died down to whispers upon sunghoon’s arrival. his figure loomed over you, blocking the sunlight, but you made no effort to look up. he cleared his throat awkwardly when you remained unmoving from your position.

“what?”, you grumbled out.

sunghoon felt something pull at his heart when he saw you turn around. he noticed how puffy your eyes were and how your face had red irritated scratches from constantly rubbing it. a wave of guilt washed over him as he realised that he was probably the cause for it.

“hi”, he spoke out meekly.

you were surprised to find him standing in front of you because you did not expect him to talk let alone even approach after what he did last week. you were even more surprised at the fact that he had a shy expression on his face. he did not look like the cold boy he usually was.

you scowled, “what do you want sunghoon?”

he flinched at the lack of your use of his nickname and your cold tone. your usually bright and cheery persona took a complete turn today. it wasn’t your fault though, he expected this reaction after what he did to you the other day.

a perplexed look overtook your features as you watched him place a glittery, yellow, heart shaped box in front of you. this emanated giggles from your friends, making sunghoon rub the back of his neck nervously.

“i’m really sorry for the other day.” he gulped, “i baked some cookies for you. i don’t know if they’re nice since it was my first time so..” he trailed off at the blank look you had on your face. 

“you really remind me of the colour yellow so i-”

“sunghoon please stop.” you sighed, “you told me i was clingy so i stopped approaching you.”

“i didn’t-”

“i really don’t understand why you’re doing this now”, you cut him off. “just go away.” with that, you turned back to the window.

sunghoon was just about to reply when the ringing of the bell interrupted him. he panicked as everyone moved around to settle in their seats. he had no choice but to leave now. 

with a heavy heart, he walked out of the class.

you were filling your bottle at the water cooler when someone tapped your shoulder. you were kind of hoping it was sunghoon, but when you turned around you were met with jake. he was the president of the robotics club you were a part of.

“hi y/n”, he gave you a toothy grin.

you smiled back, “hey jake! what's up?”

your eyes widened when he grabbed your hand and placed a big bar of chocolate. 

“i really like you and want to take you to the dance.” his grin widened, “will you go with me?” 

before you could comprehend what was happening a voice laced with poison spoke up behind you.

“no she won’t.”

the voice belonged to sunghoon who grabbed your wrist gently and pulled you away from jake. you shook his grip off of you when he stopped at the benches where you would meet up with him at lunch.

“what the hell sunghoon? why did you bring me here?”

he didn’t respond and only stared at you with a furious glint in his eye. his face was twisted up into an angry expression as he questioned you.

“were you going to go with him?”

you scoffed in disbelief, “why do you even care? aren’t you sick of me?” 

sunghoon’s face fell at your words that repeated what he said to you the other day. he remained silent and just stared at your face. you closed your eyes and shook your head.

“just stay out of my business if you don’t care about me”

you had just turned around to walk away when a pair of hands snaked around your waist and pulled you back into a warm chest.

“i’m sorry, please stay”, sunghoon’s voice came out muffled as his face was buried in your shoulder. 

you were sure that your heart was going to explode any moment now from the intimate position you both were in. sunghoon had barely ever even held your hand and now he was back hugging you. you couldn’t stop yourself from blushing like a beet.

“w-what are you doing?”

sunghoon panicked and immediately removed his hands from you, assuming that he was making you uncomfortable. you frowned at the loss of contact and turned around.

“sunghoon, you’re really confusing me.”

he froze for a few moments then took a deep breath and began his explanation.

“that day..” he looked you in the eyes, “i didn’t mean anything i said.”

you looked at him intently, urging him to continue.

“you know how my parents got divorced last year right?”

you nodded. his mom was really toxic and controlling and used to emotionally abuse sunghoon’s dad. she was an alcoholic and sometimes lost control of herself leading to her showcasing violent behaviour. with the support of their friends and family, sunghoon’s dad had finally gained enough courage to divorce her.

“yeah so my mom has been fighting for custody of my little sister.” his voice cracked, “and at that time things looked good for her.”

he sniffed and looked down at his feet, “neither my sister nor did we want her to live with my mom. she would’ve ruined her life as well.”

“i took my anger out on you instead and i feel really horrible about it. you’ve been nothing but kind to me since day one, even after how coldly i treated you.”

his eyes welled up with tears and turned red as he tried to stop himself from crying. he looked so broken and hurt right now, and you wanted nothing more than to hold him. and so you did.

wrapping your arms around his torso you tried to calm him down by rubbing his back. he slowly reciprocated your gesture

you spoke softly, “i’m so sorry you had to go through this hoon. you and your family deserve none of this”

he sighed in relief at your reuse of his nickname and tightened his grip around you. your words were simple, but comforted him like no other.

“it’s okay, everything is fine now. my dad won the case and i finally feel relieved for once.”

you pulled back from him at the revelation and smiled in glee.

“really? that’s amazing, i’m so happy for you!”

you were back to your normal, jolly personality which sent a surge of joy through sunghoon, making him give you a full smile. you gasped in surprise.

“oh my god, your smile is so pretty!”

sunghoon’s cheeks turned rosy at your compliment and shyly buried his face in the crook of your neck, making you giggle. who knew a boy who behaved so coldly was such a softie.

“i never threw out your food by the way, except for that day because i had no appetite”, he stated guiltily. “you are an amazing cook.”

“thank you sunghoon, but”, you paused. “i don’t think we can be friends.”

sunghoon pulled away from you in alarm. did he mess things up that badly?

“not after those amazing cookies you gave me.” you pecked his cheek softly, “you have to promise to be mine.”

sunghoon chuckled in relief, “you really got me there.” 

“i promise to be yours, love.”

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

Kevin Magnussen on the grid in Abu Dhabi with his wife and daughter ahead of his last race in F1

megumi's daycare teacher adores you. you're always on time for pickup, and megumi physically lights up when he sees you, no matter how much he likes to deny it. he's quick to walk, or waddle, into your arms as you press a kiss to both cheeks and ask how his day was. she thinks you and him are the epitome of a good monther-son relationship.

so imagine her surprise when you say, “oh and tomorrow, i can't pick megs up. my husband will come get him, his name is toji, you can't miss him.”

she'd never met your husband before. it got her wondering, what was he like? was he as kind and affectionate as you were? perhaps megumi was the same around him?

“...why are you here?”

her mouth falls open. was that any way to speak to his father? why was he so openly hostile? she thought hoped that your husband was like you, not your total opposite!

he was tall, heads above her with dark hair and matching dark eyes. he's intimidating, muscles flexing under his shirt as he folds his arms and smirk decorated with a scar. she sees the resemblance between him and megumi. that was definitely his daddy.

she's sweating buckets; standing between a father who looks like kills for a living and a son that's sulking because his mother wasn't there was not for the weak.

“to pick ya up.” toji answers with a shrug of his broad shoulders.

she blinks. it seemed normal?

“where's mama?”

“workin'.”

“until when?”

“'til later.”

“that's not a time.”

“it is to me.”

megumi's pout deepens, his brows furrowing at his father's avoidance of the question. the daycare teacher swears she catches toji's eyes soften as he changes his answer, “'til eight.”

the two adults watch the cogs turn in the toddler's head.

“....'kay. i'll go with you, then.”

toji scoffs affectionately, “quit actin' like yer being kidnapped.”

this time, she swears megumi smiles before he huffs and sticks his nose up, begrudgingly allowing himself to be hoisted up into the arms of his father, who gives her a quick nod as he walks away.

what an odd father-son relationship.

˒˓

you're there to pick megumi up the following day, and boy does he look happy about it. he speed-walks to your side, reaching up to hold onto your pointer finger.

“i'm glad it's you and not dad,” megumi says, chubby cheeks emphasised by the scarf wrapped around his neck.

you look down from your conversation with yuji's dad and, only having heard the latter half of his sentence, respond, “your father? he's in the car, honey.”

and the daycare teacher swears on everything holy that she heard three-year-old megumi curse under his breath.

but that is hopefully just her imagination.

Oh??? A lot of angst you say??? 😍😍😜😜🤪🤪

命运 ៸៸    ＰＯＬＬ ＴＩＭＥ      ꗃ

here’s a question for those of you who’ve seen my wip post …

for my next wip, the fic will take place in 2023 (dark blood era), in an au where the boys and mila never got together in 2021. now trying not to spoil anything, but let’s say, that mila meets a potential suitor, whether it be another idol (i will take suggestions for this) or a previous crush from the past… the question for you guys is this:

Please Stay - OP81

Summary: Oscar knew she was struggling but he never imagined she'd try to leave him like this. She might be saved for now, but he's not willing to risk it again.

Warnings/themes: Suicide attempt, depression, guilt, medication (sedatives, anti-depressants etc)

Word count: 3.8k

No part 2 requests please

Something had felt off before the race, y/n didn't send her usual message wishing him good luck. She never misses a race and she definitely never misses sending him a text.

She's been pretty quiet all weekend, but he knows she's just not been talkative and while he wants to force her to be there so he can see her and check in on her. He doesn't want to make her more upset, and he knows when her moods are low she doesn't like being fusses over.

It wasn't an amazing race but he made top 5 which is good points. He's getting out the car moving through to get weighed then preparing to get himself straight to the media pen but Kim is there looking almost grey.

"That bad to not get a podium." Oscar jokes as he's handed his water bottle.

"We need to talk somewhere private." Kim states making Oscar frown but move with him since Kim doesn't play games or jokes like this so he knows it's something serious.

Oscar must be excused from media for now and that means it's something serious.

"Y/n's mum called. Y/n...is in hospital, she tried to..." The words tail off and Oscar knows what the sentence ends with.

He's already sweaty but a new cold sweat hits as he's winded by the information.

"She's alive. She's ok and she's getting the help she needs. Her mum just needed you to know from someone you trust." Kim rambles but his words meet dear ears as Oscar checks his phone texting y/n's mum that he'll be on a plane as soon as he's out of there and then he moves to shower knowing he really can't travel in this state but.

"I need a ticket on the next flight."

-

It had all taken too long. Too long to contact her mum back. Too long to get to the airport. Too long for the flight to get him there. Too long for the car to get to the hospital.

Even walking around the hospital it's like he's moving in slow motion and can't speed up.

Hospitals are the worst place if you're trying to improve someone's mood. At least that's what Oscar thinks as he walks through the hallways following y/n's mum's instructions to get to the right ward.

He doesn't even think twice as he locates y/n's room and finds y/n sleeping with her mum there, eyes looking pretty raw as she holds y/n's hands.

There's almost a moment of comfort. But sight of her wrists in slightly loose bindings to the bed tells him that she's not asleep willingly.

"Oscar." Y/m/n chokes out spotting the driver shifting away. "I'm sorry, I didn't know if calling you was right I just...I know you care about her and when I got the call-god, I just went into autopilot."

"I'm glad you did...is she ok?"

The older woman looks over at her daughter and sighs.

"She wasn't happy to see she made it. They sedated her for her own safety and the wrist restrains were so she wouldn't cause more harm to herself. I'm just...I'm so glad someone found her."

"Did they say what's going to happen?"

"Once she's stable enough, they want to send her to a place that can help."

"She won't like that."

"I know."

"I can stay here. You probably need some rest and just...time out of here." Oscar states already feeling the drag of the hospital taking his energy a little.

Her mum is definitely hesitant and he promises that he'll call or text as soon as there is anything that changes.

Then he sits and waits.

It was a few hours and y/n stirred in and out of her sleep but not enough to properly sleep. Oscar just waits in the silence, nurses coming to check on y/n and seeming to look at him in concern but he doesn't say anything.

Eventually she wakes up and she is still out of it a little as the sedatives wear off.

"Hey, baby." Oscar smiles lightly but she's already blinking away tears trying to move her hand only for it to be stopped my the restraints making her choke a sob. "Hey, it's ok. I can get them off you're ok."

"I'm sorry." Y/n cries shaking her head. "I'm sorry."

"No. You don't need to be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry about." Oscar assures her while y/n hiccups feeling the weight of her actions hit her but he's not going to let her do that to herself. "Are you feeling ok? Does anything hurt?"

"I'm fine." Y/n mutters shaking her head as Oscar finally gets the restraints from her wrists and she sits up, the speed of her actions making her head spin but she latches onto Oscar in a tight hug. "I just didn't want to do it anymore."

"I know. But we're all going to help you, baby. We're going to make it so much better." Oscar promises making her swallow but nod. "I'm not going anywhere and I don't want to lose you like that. We're all going to make sure you know how much you mean to people, ok?"

Y/n does get a chance to respond as the doctors enter with a nurse and suddenly everything is kicked into gear. Apparently Oscar's presence is calming her but the plan of action is unchanged. Y/n needs full time help and monitoring that the people in her life just can't provide for her right now.

Of course, y/n tries to fight it but a couple looks exchanged with Oscar and she silences herself again then eventually she sighs all the paperwork and agrees to be moved.

"It's 30 days. I'll come pick you up and I'll visit." Oscar promises cupping her face as more tears roll down her cheeks.

Really he wants to fight them, he wants to argue it's unnecessary and that she won't do it again because he will make sure of it. But he can't make those promises, he can't help her on his own and he's not equip to do so.

Love can't fix everything. It's not always enough.

-

Triple headers are rough on a good run. But Oscar flying back home every Monday to visit y/n and see how she's doing, his only comfort is that each visit, she seems to getting better.

She's not happy there but he can see it is doing her some good.

The world knows. Of course there's no secrets in the public eyes.

The media have danced around the topic but he knows they've spoken about worries that maybe distracting him off track. Not that it's done anything to effect his performance or results, in fact if anything he's been more determined to give a good result for y/n since he knows she's watching every session.

Lando, Zak and Andrea have known to keep away from the topic. Only Zak briefly checking in with the Aussie and just making sure y/n is ok since the team know her and they do care.

It's not nice to ever know that someone would attempt to take their own life but it's also much harder a hit when it's someone you know.

Oscar arrives straight from the airport looking around the communal area before he spots y/n. Reading one of the books he brought the last time he came last week.

He doesn't even hesitate moving to sit down next to her and capture her in a kiss without a second of exchange between hand as he pulls her into his lap. She melts into the action, completely softening at the feel of him.

"Enjoying your book?" Oscar asks finally breaking away from her lips.

He's missed y/n before but never like this. Every time he leaves, he's leaving part of his heart with her and he's taking part of hers with him.

"Yes. It's killing time. But I've read it like 4 times now." Y/n smiles while Oscar's smile turns slightly sympathetic. "I actually have good news though."

"What's that?" Oscar smiles taking the prospect of good news as something very very very good to hear.

"They said I'm ready to go if I want. It's just...a case of agreeing to the terms."

"What are the terms?"

"I stay on my meds, every other day appointments with my psychiatrist, they'll slowly get further apart so long as I need getting better...and if anything starts to feel bad again, then I tell them immediately." Y/n explains clearly uneasy at her conditions.

It's hard admitting that she needs medication to feel ok and it's even more hard knowing that Oscar has to deal with this because of her. But she doesn't want to lose him and she knows even if she did try to protect him by forcing him to leave her, by ending the relationship. He'd insist on being there as a friend and he wouldn't allow her to permanently push him away.

He may not seem it but the man is stubborn when he wants to be.

"That's amazing baby. Would you...be able to travel with all of that?" Oscar asks giving away that while she has options of her parents or friends who would step in to take care of her. He wants her with him.

"I can ask." Y/n nods lightly before feeling an ache at the idea of being with Oscar again, which in turn makes tears pool behind her eyes as her lip quivers. "I've really missed you."

"I've missed you too, baby. But I'd rather miss you for a little while than miss you for the rest of my life. Ok? And I'm gonna make sure we both live very long and very very happy lives. Together."

Y/n presses her forehead to Oscar's for a few moments as he mirrors her action. Having her close is a comfort to him the same way having him there is a comfort to her.

"Can I take you today?" Oscar asks making her shift back slightly since that wasn't something she'd asked or thought about. As much as she's happy to go along with it.

"I'd have to ask. I don't know if that was the plan." Y/n laughs lightly but really she wants out of there.

"Yeah, who can we ask? Is there someone around we can talk to?" Oscar asks looking around just wanting to get y/n out of there. To have y/n with him whenever he goes.

10 minutes later they're in the doctor's office and Oscar is making his case that he will guarantee that y/n is sticking to her conditions and taking her medication and he'll take care of her.

It's both a comfort and a horrible feeling that her boyfriend has to make those sorts of promises. Her mental struggle shouldn't affect him like that.

They both have to sign all sorts of papers and she can tell the doctor is hesitant to give her such a rushed release but after trusting the medication in Oscar's hands and every reassurance that she will be cared for. She's released a while 7 days earlier than initially planned when she was taken there.

-

Oscar had practically treated y/n's conditions as a military regime, same times every day for her medication, following instructions on if they need food and what she should swallow them with (it's always water). What to do if she has the side effects that can also be treated. Making sure she has the time and space needed to speak to her psychiatrist.

He's strict with her but she knows it's because he doesn't want her to do that again. He doesn't want to risk the threat of him losing her. All he wants is y/n for as long as he can have her and he'll do anything to keep her.

So far the world doesn't know y/n is there. But that's not going to last long and they both know it.

"Will you be ok?" Oscar asks while they lie in bed, putting off getting ready to just enjoy the bliss.

"I'm more concerned for you. Will you be ok leaving me when you actually have to work with me here?" Y/n asks with a smile before sighing when the alarms go off, ruining the moment as Oscar shoots to turn them off and sighs kissing her quickly before he gets out of the warmth of the bed. "You know if I'm a couple minutes late to have them. It doesn't do any harm."

"Doesn't do any harm to have them the same time every day either." Oscar smiles while handing her the pills and holding the glass of water as she throws them into her mouth then takes the glass swallowing them with a mouthful of water. "I love you, baby."

He always makes a point to remind her after she takes her medication.

"I love you too." Y/n smiles before accepting another kiss from the Aussie.

After finally getting up, y/n and Oscar shower, then get dressed and she does make a bit more effort than she has in the past wanting to at least look put together since she knows the world is aware of what she did. What she tried and failed at.

Anxiety squeezes her chest for a moment as she feels a wave of worry hit her but two hands come down giving a gentle squeeze to her shoulders and immediately the nerves disappear. Melting away under his touch as she feels the usual comfort of his touch.

"I'm ok." She states looking at him in the relationship while Oscar looks at her with concerned eyes.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'm ready."

-

Oscar and y/n are both holding each other's hands in a crippling grip, though admittedly Oscar's hold is a little more crippling than y/n's since he generally has the better arm strength.

There had been an offer for a big welcome back from the team but Oscar didn't think making a bigger deal of her being there was going to help with anything or make her feel any better. Perhaps if she was coming back from something else, but her reason for not being there with Oscar isn't something she really wants to make a deal of.

McLaren has been the team who talks about mental health the most being involved with the Mind charity and Lando being quite the advocate due to his own struggles.

But Oscar knows few of them have been in his or y/n's position and he just doesn't want her to feel anything but normal being here, or as normal as he can help her to feel.

"Hey, Kim." Y/n smiles greeting the man with a one armed hug since Oscar has yet to release her hand.

Then Zak appears and he also gets the awkward one armed hug.

"It's good to have you back." Zak comments making her smile a little feeling a slight shine in her eyes as she nods. "We're all very happy to have you here again."

"It's nice to be back."

Oscar steps closer squeezing her hand before she clears her throat and sighing.

"Going to be a good weekend. Right? Oscar was telling me it looks like a good track for you guys."

"We're hoping so and Oscar has been on a very good run. Maybe we're get to see a win this weekend and I'm sure he's looking to keep you impressed." Zak chuckles before seeming to read Oscar's expression. "Let me know if you need anything. You're one of the family here."

"Thank you." Y/n nods then letting Oscar guide her to his room where he sighs and smiles at her. "Don't look so on edge. I'm ok. Really...their tears of surprise over how endearing and caring everyone is being."

"I don't want anyone to upset you. Tell me if someone does. Please."

"I will."

Oscar catches her in a kiss smiling as he presses his lips against her own.

"We'll grab something to eat yeah?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty hungry." Y/n nods with a grin.

-

The media may have tip-toed around the topic of y/n while she was gone and are going to continue to not address it on McLaren's instructions so they know it's completely off the cards to even ask about.

But that doesn't mean they aren't writing articles and making posts with photos of her by Oscar's side as she returns.

Even the broadcast makes sure to feature her at least once in every session from her spot at the back of the McLaren garage with Kim.

Sadly Oscar doesn't get much control over that.

But the weekend goes on, Oscar making sure if he's not there to have y/n take her meds then Kim does though he's slightly less forceful about it and y/n appreciates that. Obviously he's working on Oscar's request but also out of care for y/n because he knows her, he never wants to think about what she tried to do.

Going into the race y/n has to admit the team looks strong. Lando got pole but it's a coin toss as to who will win.

As usual they're told they're free to race so long as they keep it clean.

Y/n actually forgot about the type of anxiety that comes with watching Oscar race. But she doesn't feel quite so bad when she watches Oscar take the lead off the line and keep it going into the end of the first lap.

Lando stay in DRS for a few laps but he doesn't manage to pass and then Oscar gets out of DRS and he takes off leaving the Brit behind but they'd already both got a gap on the rest of the field so their small battle was completely fine.

Watching Oscar race clears everything from y/n's mind. Almost making her forget about the entire last month.

When he crosses the line at the end taking the win y/n feels the flurry of emotion that just makes her buzz with excitement. She's out at the barriers with the team waiting for Oscar to pull up and there's no doubt when he's out the car he's looking for y/n.

"You were amazing." Y/n smiles before he kisses her, it being the first time he's given more than a hug post race but this time. He needs a kiss. Hell if he could take her up as his team member from the team to stand on the podium then he'd take her.

"For some reason I only win when you're here. So remember I need you here." Oscar states earning a small nod.

He does move to celebrate with the rest of the team before he's interviewed admitting this was a very special win and a very important weekend for him. He doesn't say why exactly but everyone knows why so it doesn't really need to be said out loud.

Oscar smiles looking at y/n from the moment he steps out on the podium, a McLaren 1-2 with him taking the win. Y/n is there, he listen to the anthems before spraying the champagne and in silent promise to y/n, he'd decided he wouldn't be drinking while she couldn't and her medication says no alcohol so while he is soaked in it, he doesn't take the traditional drink after the spray and instead just passes it down to the team for them to get a drink.

There's something that feels healed when he sees y/n standing with his PR assistant and Kim, the trophy taken and he loops the medal over her before cupping her face actually pushing her backwards gently as he kisses her. He'd had flash backs to the moment of Kim telling him they needed to talk alone when y/n had tried to kill herself, every time he'd walked out after a race. But this time she's there. She's there and she's alive and she's ok.

She's going to be just fine and he's going to make sure of it.

Y/n has a long journey and he's not going to let her ever fall that low again, he'll catch her before rock bottom ever touches her again. He wants to make sure she always has a reason to live. Whether it's him or something else, but he never wants her to feel like she's got nothing keeping her here.

There's probably a dozen cameras on them, because Oscar isn't making a short matter of the kiss. Hell he'd love it to last for hours, maybes days or weeks. He could live in this moment on replay for the rest of his life and be very happy.

"Oscar, you have to go do your media and the press conference." Y/n laughs finally breaking away from him and he definitely feels a little butt hurt about it. "You were amazing, and we can celebrate later, however you like."

"Fine. But I'm making this all quick." Oscar declares earning a nod from the young woman. "Kim can you go make sure..."

"Yep."

Y/n should've guess Oscar would know she needs to take her meds and hadn't yet.

So they part with a final peck before y/n takes her meds and just waits for Oscar to finish up for the day. Even just lying down on his physio bed as she feels her meds doing their job, altering the chemistry of her brain and hazing out the parts that nobody wants to to be active and working.

"Baby?" Oscar chuckles seeing y/n just lying with her eyes closed and mind definitely somewhere else as he gently rubs her stomach. "You ok?"

"Just thinking...you just changing?"

"Yeah, need to get something clean for the debrief and the social media stuff they want from us." Oscar nods then smiling. "It won't be much longer. I promise."

"No. Take your time. It's fine." Y/n shrugs before settling back down and closing her eyes. "I'm pretty comfortable any way."

"I can see that." Oscar hums then placing a packet of sweets on her stomach and a bottle of water that somehow balances without falling off. "Eat and drink please."

"You know you got bossier."

"That's ok, I'll live." Oscar smiles before he leans down kissing her. "Eat, drink then you can sleep more before we go."

In Another Life

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: in which two soulmates are destined to always find each other only to be torn apart lifetime after lifetime after lifetime … until finally, they’re not (aka the reincarnation AU)

Rome, 79 AD

The bustling streets of Rome pulse with life as you make your way through the crowded forum. The scent of fresh bread and roasted meat wafts through the air, mingling with the chatter of merchants and citizens going about their daily business. You adjust your stola, the flowing garment feeling unusually constricting today as you hurry towards the Temple of Venus.

“Watch where you’re going!” A gruff voice shouts as you accidentally bump into a burly man carrying an amphora.

“My apologies,” you mutter, quickening your pace. Your heart races, not from the near-collision, but from anticipation. You’re running late for your clandestine meeting with Charles, the young patrician who has captured your heart.

As you approach the temple, you spot him pacing nervously at the base of the steps. His toga gleams white in the afternoon sun and his usually perfectly coiffed hair is slightly disheveled, as if he’s been running his hands through it anxiously.

“There you are!” Charles exclaims as you draw near. His face breaks into a relieved smile, and he reaches for your hands. “I was beginning to worry you wouldn’t come.”

You can’t help but return his smile, your earlier stress melting away. “As if I could stay away,” you tease, giving his hands a gentle squeeze. “Though I must say, your choice of meeting place is rather bold. The Temple of Venus? Are you trying to tell me something?”

He laughs, a warm, rich sound that never fails to make your heart skip a beat. “Perhaps I’m simply hoping the goddess will smile upon us,” he replies, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “After all, we could use all the divine favor we can get.”

Your smile falters slightly at his words, reality creeping back in. “Have you spoken with your father?” You ask, unable to keep the worry from your voice.

Charles’ expression grows serious. “I have,” he says, leading you to a secluded corner of the temple grounds. “He’s ... not pleased, to say the least. He still insists on the marriage to Claudia.”

You feel a pang in your chest at the mention of Charles’ intended bride. “And what did you tell him?”

“The truth,” Charles replies firmly. “That my heart belongs to you and I won’t marry another.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “Charles,” you whisper, “you know the consequences-”

He cuts you off, cupping your face in his hands. “I don’t care about the consequences. I love you, Y/N. I won’t let my father’s ambitions or society’s expectations keep us apart.”

You lean into his touch, torn between elation and fear. “But your family, your position ... you’d lose everything.”

“Not everything,” Charles insists. “I’d have you. That’s all that matters.”

You’re about to respond when a commotion near the temple entrance catches your attention. Your blood runs cold as you spot Charles’ father, Senator Leclerc, striding towards you, flanked by several burly slaves.

“Charles!” The senator bellows, his face contorted with rage. “Step away from that girl at once!”

Charles instinctively moves to shield you. “Father, please,” he begins, but the senator cuts him off.

“Silence! You shame our family with this ... this dalliance. I won’t stand for it any longer.”

You feel Charles tense beside you. “It’s not a dalliance, Father. I love her.”

The senator’s face grows even redder. “Love? You know nothing of love, boy. You have a duty to your family, to Rome. I won’t let you throw it all away for some common girl.”

“She’s not common,” Charles argues, his voice rising. “She’s extraordinary, and I won’t let you or anyone speak ill of her.”

The tension in the air is palpable as father and son face off. You want to intervene, to de-escalate the situation, but you’re frozen in place, your heart pounding.

Suddenly, one of the senator’s slaves moves forward, reaching for Charles. Without thinking, you step between them. “Don’t touch him!” You cry out.

Everything happens in a blur. The slave’s hand connects with your shoulder, shoving you back. You stumble, your foot catching on the hem of your stola. Time seems to slow as you feel yourself falling, tumbling down the temple steps.

“Y/N!” Charles’ anguished cry is the last thing you hear before pain explodes through your body and the world goes dark.

You drift in and out of consciousness, aware of frantic voices and the sensation of being carried. Charles’ face swims into view, streaked with tears.

“Stay with me, love,” he pleads, his voice cracking. “Please, don’t leave me.”

You try to speak, to reassure him, but no words come. The pain is fading now, replaced by a strange numbness. You manage to lift a hand to Charles’ cheek, wanting to wipe away his tears.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “I love you, Charles. In this life and the next.”

As darkness closes in, your last thought is a desperate hope that someday, somehow, you’ll find each other again.

Genoa, 1348

The acrid smell of smoke and death hangs heavy in the air as Charles makes his way through the narrow, winding streets. His eyes water, both from the stench and the unshed tears he’s been holding back for days. The plague has ravaged the city, leaving behind a trail of devastation and despair.

Charles pulls his cloth mask tighter over his nose and mouth, though he knows it’s likely futile. He’s a physician, one of the few brave — or foolish — enough to still tend to the sick. But today, he’s not seeking out patients. He’s searching for you.

“Y/N!” He calls out, his voice muffled by the mask. “Y/N, where are you?”

A nearby door creaks open, and a haggard face peers out. “Keep your voice down, fool,” the old woman hisses. “You’ll bring the afflicted running.”

Charles ignores her, pressing on. His heart races with each step, fear and hope warring within him. He hasn’t seen you in days, not since you left to care for your ailing aunt. The memory of your parting plays in his mind, as vivid as if it were happening now.

“I have to go,” you had said, your eyes filled with determination and fear. “She has no one else.”

He had tried to dissuade you. “It’s too dangerous. The plague-”

“I know the risks,” you’d cut him off. “But I can’t abandon her. You’d do the same if it were your family.”

He couldn’t argue with that. It was one of the things he loved most about you — your unwavering compassion, even in the face of danger.

“Promise me you’ll be careful,” he’d pleaded, pulling you close. “Promise me you’ll come back to me.”

You’d kissed him then, soft and sweet. “I promise. Nothing could keep me from you, my love. Not even death itself.”

Now, as he rounds another corner, Charles clings to that promise like a lifeline. “Y/N!” He calls again, desperation creeping into his voice.

Suddenly, he spots a familiar figure stumbling down the street. His heart leaps. “Y/N!”

You turn at the sound of his voice, and Charles feels his world tilt on its axis. Your face is pale, your eyes glassy with fever. As he watches in horror, you collapse to the ground.

“No, no, no,” Charles mutters, rushing to your side. He gathers you in his arms, his physician’s training warring with his lover’s panic. “Y/N, can you hear me? Open your eyes, love.”

Your eyelids flutter, and you manage a weak smile. “Charles,” you whisper. “You found me.”

“Of course I found you,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady. “I’ll always find you. Now, let’s get you home and take care of you.”

You shake your head slightly. “No, it’s too late. The plague-”

“Don’t say that,” Charles interrupts fiercely. “It’s not too late. I’m a physician, remember? I’ll cure you. I have to.”

Despite your condition, you manage a soft laugh. “My stubborn love. Always fighting the impossible.”

Charles lifts you gently, cradling you against his chest. “Nothing’s impossible when it comes to you,” he insists, starting the journey back to his home. “We’ve overcome so much already. Remember when we first met? You were convinced a lowly apprentice physician could never court a merchant’s daughter.”

You smile at the memory. “And you were determined to prove me wrong.”

“Which I did,” Charles says, a hint of his old cockiness creeping into his voice. “Rather spectacularly, if I recall correctly.”

“Mmm, yes,” you murmur. “That night under the stars, when you recited all those ridiculous poems ...”

Charles chuckles. “They weren’t ridiculous. They were romantic.”

“They were terrible,” you counter weakly. “But your heart was in the right place.”

As they near Charles’ home, your breathing becomes more labored. Fear claws at Charles’ chest, but he forces it down. “Stay with me, love,” he pleads. “We’re almost there.”

Once inside, Charles lays you gently on the bed. He works tirelessly, applying every treatment and remedy he knows. Hours blur together as he fights against the inevitable, refusing to give up hope.

But as night falls, he can no longer deny the truth. The plague is winning and he’s powerless to stop it.

“Charles,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “It’s time to let go.”

He shakes his head vehemently, tears streaming down his face. “No, I can’t. I won’t lose you again.”

Your brow furrows in confusion. “Again?”

Charles pauses, unsure where that thought came from. “I ... I don’t know. It just feels like I’ve lost you before, somehow.”

You manage a small smile. “Perhaps in another life,” you muse. “But in this one, we found each other. We loved. That’s what matters.”

“It’s not enough,” Charles insists, his voice breaking. “We were supposed to have more time. We were going to get married, have children, grow old together.”

“We’ll have that chance,” you say with surprising conviction. “If not in this life, then in the next. Our souls are bound, Charles. I feel it. This isn’t the end for us.”

Charles wants to believe you, but the grief is overwhelming. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because I know our love,” you reply, reaching up to touch his face. “It’s stronger than death, stronger than time itself. We’ll find each other again, my love. I promise.”

As your hand falls away, your eyes close for the last time. Charles pulls you close, his body wracked with sobs. “I’ll find you,” he vows through his tears. “In this life or the next, I’ll always find you.”

Days pass in a haze of grief and determination. Charles throws himself into treating the sick with renewed vigor, heedless of the risk to himself. And when the telltale symptoms begin to appear — the fever, the chills, the aching limbs — he faces them without fear.

As he lies in his sickbed, Charles’ thoughts are only of you. “I’m coming, my love,” he whispers to the empty room. “Wait for me.”

His last conscious thought is a fervent hope that somehow, somewhere, you’ll be reunited once more.

Paris, 1789

The streets of Paris echo with the sound of angry voices and marching feet as Charles makes his way through the city’s winding alleys. His heart races, not from the exertion of his hurried pace, but from the fear of what’s to come. The revolution has begun in earnest, and his world is crumbling around him.

“Charles!” Your voice cuts through the chaos, and he turns to see you running towards him, your skirts hiked up to allow for faster movement. “Thank God I found you. We have to go, now!”

He grabs your hand, pulling you into a shadowy doorway. “Y/N, what are you doing here? It’s not safe!”

You cup his face in your hands, your eyes blazing with determination. “I couldn’t leave without you. The mob is heading for your family’s estate. We need to get you out of the city.”

Charles feels a rush of love for you, even as fear grips his heart. You, a baker’s daughter, risking everything to save him. “And what of you? Your family?”

“They’re safe,” you assure him. “Papa closed the bakery and they’ve gone to stay with relatives in the countryside. But you ... Charles, they’ll kill you if they find you.”

He knows you’re right. His family name, once a source of pride, is now a death sentence. “Where can we go?” He asks, his mind racing.

“I have a plan,” you say, tugging him back into the street. “There’s a farmer who owes my father a favor. He’s agreed to hide us until we can secure passage to England.”

As you hurry through the streets, the sounds of the mob grow louder. Charles can’t help but look back, his heart heavy with the knowledge of what he’s leaving behind.

“Charles, focus,” you urge, squeezing his hand. “We’re almost there.”

Suddenly, a group of revolutionaries rounds the corner ahead of you. Their eyes lock onto Charles, recognition dawning on their faces.

“Aristocrat!” One of them shouts, pointing an accusing finger. “Seize him!”

“Run!” Charles yells, pulling you in the opposite direction. You flee hand-in-hand, weaving through the narrow streets as shouts and footsteps echo behind you.

“This way,” you pant, yanking him down an alley. “I know a shortcut.”

You lead him through a maze of backstreets, the angry voices growing fainter. Just as Charles begins to hope you’ve lost them, you emerge onto a main road … and straight into the path of another group of revolutionaries.

“Halt!” A burly man with a tricolor sash shouts, leveling a musket at Charles.

Charles pushes you behind him, shielding you with his body. “Please,” he says, raising his hands. “We mean no harm. We’re just trying to leave the city.”

The man’s eyes narrow. “You’re Leclerc’s boy, aren’t you? The one who’s been helping nobles escape?”

Charles feels you stiffen behind him. He’d kept his activities secret, even from you, to keep you safe. But now ...

“Yes,” he admits, straightening his spine. “I’ve been helping innocent people escape persecution. If that’s a crime, then I’m guilty.”

The man’s face twists with rage. “Traitor to the revolution!” He spits. “You’ll pay for your crimes against the people!”

As the man raises his musket, time seems to slow. Charles is acutely aware of your rapid breathing behind him, of the sweat beading on his brow, of the hammering of his heart.

“No!” You cry out, trying to push past Charles. “Please, he’s a good man! He’s helped people, saved lives!”

“Y/N, don’t,” Charles pleads, holding you back. He turns to face you, drinking in the sight of your face, committing every detail to memory. “I love you,” he says softly. “In this life and the next.”

The words trigger a flash of memory — or is it déjà vu? Charles has a sudden feeling that he’s said those words before, in another time, another place.

The moment is shattered by the deafening crack of the musket firing. Charles feels a searing pain in his chest, and then he’s falling, the world tilting sideways.

“Charles!” You anguished scream seems to come from far away. He feels your arms around him, cradling his head in your lap. “No, no, no. Stay with me, my love. Please!”

Charles tries to speak, but only a wet cough comes out. He can taste blood in his mouth. The pain is fading now, replaced by a spreading numbness.

“I’m sorry,” he manages to whisper. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

Tears stream down your face as you bend over him. “Don’t apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for. You’re a hero, Charles. My hero.”

He wants to tell you how much he loves you, how meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to him. But the darkness is closing in, and he can feel himself slipping away.

As his eyes flutter closed, Charles has a strange sensation of déjà vu. He sees flashes of other lives — ancient Rome, plague-ridden Genoa — where he loved you and lost you. Or did you lose him?

With his last breath, Charles makes a silent vow. Somehow, someway, he’ll find you again. In the next life, you’ll get it right. You have to.

The world fades to black, but Charles isn’t afraid. He knows this isn’t the end. It’s just another beginning.

You hold Charles’ lifeless body, your sobs echoing in the suddenly quiet street. The revolutionaries stand awkwardly, some looking ashamed, others defiant.

“What have you done?” You cry out, your voice raw with grief and anger. “He was a good man! He helped people!”

The man with the musket shifts uncomfortably. “He was an aristocrat,” he mutters, but there’s less conviction in his voice now.

You look up at him, your eyes blazing through your tears. “He was a human being,” you say fiercely. “And you murdered him.”

As the reality of what they’ve done sinks in, the crowd begins to disperse. You’re left alone with Charles, cradling his body in the middle of the street.

“I’ll find you,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “In the next life, my love. I promise we’ll be together again.”

As night falls over Paris, you sit vigil over Charles’ body, your heart broken but your spirit undefeated. Somewhere deep inside, you know this isn’t the end of your story. It’s just another chapter in a love that spans lifetimes.

London, 1942

The steady tick of the clock on the mantle seems to echo through the small London flat as you pace anxiously, your eyes darting to the window every few seconds. The air raid sirens have been silent for days, but the tension in the city remains palpable. It’s been weeks since you’ve heard from Charles, and the knot of worry in your stomach grows tighter with each passing day.

A sharp knock at the door makes you jump. Your heart races as you rush to answer it, hope and fear warring within you. But instead of Charles’ warm smile, you’re met with the solemn face of his fellow RAF pilot, James.

“James,” you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper. “What is it? What’s happened?”

James removes his cap, twisting it in his hands. “May I come in? I’m afraid I have some news about Charles.”

The world seems to tilt on its axis as you step back, allowing James to enter. You lead him to the small sitting room, your movements mechanical, as if you’re watching yourself from a distance.

“Please,” you say, gesturing to a chair. “Sit down and tell me everything.”

James perches on the edge of the armchair, his discomfort palpable. “There’s no easy way to say this. Charles’ plane was shot down over the Channel three days ago. We ... we haven’t found any survivors.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, driving the air from your lungs. “No,” you whisper, shaking your head. “No, that can’t be right. Charles is too good a pilot. He promised he’d come back to me.”

James leans forward, his eyes filled with sympathy. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. Charles was one of the best pilots I’ve ever known, but the Jerries caught us by surprise. There was nothing he could do.”

You sink onto the sofa, your legs suddenly unable to support you. “Tell me what happened,” you demand, your voice stronger than you feel. “I need to know everything.”

James nods, taking a deep breath. “We were on a routine patrol over the Channel. Everything seemed quiet, and then suddenly the sky was full of Messerschmitts. They came out of nowhere, diving out of the sun.”

He pauses, running a hand through his hair. “Charles ... he was incredible. He managed to take down two of them before they could even react. But there were just too many of them.”

You close your eyes, picturing Charles in the cockpit of his Spitfire, his face set with determination as he faced impossible odds. It’s an image that both comforts and devastates you.

“I saw his plane take a hit,” James continues, his voice rough with emotion. “He was trying to draw their fire away from the rest of us. The last thing I heard over the radio was him saying, ‘Tell Y/N I love her. In this life and the next.’”

A sob escapes you at those words, so achingly familiar. “He’s said that before,” you murmur, more to yourself than to James.

“I’m sorry?” James asks, leaning closer.

You shake your head, unsure how to explain the strange sense of déjà vu. “It’s nothing. Please, go on.”

James nods, though he looks at you curiously. “His plane went down fast after that. We searched for hours, but with the weather and the waves ...” He trails off, leaving the grim implication hanging in the air.

“So there’s still a chance?” You ask, clinging to a shred of hope. “If you didn’t find ... if there’s no body, he could still be out there, right?”

The pity in James’ eyes is almost unbearable. “Y/N, I know it’s hard to accept, but the chances of survival in those conditions ... it would take a miracle.”

You stand abruptly, pacing the small room. “Then I’ll believe in miracles,” you declare fiercely. “Charles is strong, and he’s a survivor. He wouldn’t leave me, not like this.”

James rises, reaching out to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I understand. Charles spoke of you often, you know. He loved you more than anything in this world.”

“Loves,” you correct him sharply. “He loves me. Present tense.”

James nods, not arguing. “Of course. I’m sorry, I should go. Is there anything you need? Anyone I can call for you?”

You shake your head, suddenly desperate to be alone. “No, thank you. I just ... I need some time.”

As you show James out, he pauses at the door. “Charles was more than just my commanding officer. He was my friend. If you need anything, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

You manage a weak smile. “Thank you, James. That means a lot.”

As the door closes behind him, the flat seems to grow impossibly quiet. You lean against the wall, feeling as though you might shatter into a million pieces at any moment.

Your eyes fall on a framed photograph of Charles, taken just before he left for his last mission. His smile is radiant, his eyes full of life and love. You pick up the frame, tracing his features with a trembling finger.

“You promised,” you whisper to the image. “You promised you’d come back to me.”

A memory surfaces, unbidden. Charles, laughing as he spun you around in the park on your first date. “You know,” he had said, his eyes twinkling, “I have the strangest feeling I’ve known you forever.”

You had felt it too, that inexplicable sense of familiarity, of coming home. “Maybe we knew each other in a past life,” you had joked.

Charles had grown serious then, cupping your face in his hands. “If that’s true,” he had said softly, “then I’m certain I loved you just as much then as I do now.”

The memory is too much. Your knees buckle, and you sink to the floor, still clutching the photograph to your chest. Sobs wrack your body as the full weight of your loss crashes over you.

“Come back to me,” you plead between gasping breaths. “Please, Charles. Find me again. In this life or the next, just find me.”

As you kneel there, lost in your grief, a strange calm settles over you. Deep in your soul, you feel a certainty that this isn’t the end. Somehow, someway, you and Charles will find each other again.

You have to believe it. It’s the only thing that will get you through the long, dark nights ahead.

Berlin, 1961

The cold November air bites at Charles’ face as he paces along the western side of the Berlin Wall, his breath forming small clouds in the dim light of dawn. His eyes scan the imposing concrete barrier, searching for any sign of movement on the other side. He checks his watch for the hundredth time, willing the minutes to pass faster.

“Come on, Y/N,” he mutters under his breath. “Where are you?”

As if in answer to his plea, a small pebble arcs over the wall, landing at his feet. Charles’ heart leaps as he bends to retrieve it, unfolding the small piece of paper wrapped around it.

I’m here, the note reads in your familiar handwriting. Same spot. Be careful.

Charles moves quickly to a section of the wall where a drain pipe creates a small blind spot from the watchtowers. He pulls out a compact mirror, angling it to catch a glimpse of the other side.

“Y/N,” he whispers urgently. “Can you hear me?”

“Charles!” Your voice comes back, barely audible. “Thank God. I was worried you wouldn’t come.”

“I’ll always come for you,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “Are you alright? Did anyone follow you?”

“I’m fine,” you assure him. “I was careful. But Charles, we don’t have much time. They’re planning to move me to Moscow next week. This might be our last chance.”

Charles feels his stomach drop. “Moscow? No, we can’t let that happen. We have to get you out of there tonight.”

“How?” You ask, a note of desperation in your voice. “The security has been tightened since the last escape attempt. There are patrols everywhere.”

Charles runs a hand through his hair, his mind racing. “I have a contact in the American sector. He might be able to help. But Y/N, it’s risky. If we’re caught ...”

“I know,” you interrupt. “But I can’t stay here anymore. I can’t keep pretending to be loyal to a system I despise. And I can’t bear to be separated from you any longer.”

His heart swells at your words. “I feel the same way. Okay, listen carefully. Meet me back here at midnight. Wear dark clothes and bring only what you can carry in a small bag. I’ll have everything else ready on this side.”

“Midnight,” you repeat. “I’ll be here. Charles ... I love you.”

“I love you too,” he says softly. “More than you could ever know. Be safe, Y/N. I’ll see you soon.”

As Charles turns to leave, he’s struck by a sudden, overwhelming sense of déjà vu. He’s had this feeling before when talking to you, as if your souls have known each other across lifetimes. Shaking off the strange thought, he hurries away to set the plan in motion.

The hours crawl by as Charles makes preparations. He meets with his American contact, secures false documents, and plots the safest route to the western sector. As night falls, he returns to the wall, his nerves on edge.

Midnight comes and goes. Charles waits, every muscle tense, straining to hear any sound from the other side. Five minutes pass. Then ten.

“Y/N?” He whispers urgently. “Are you there?”

Silence answers him. Charles feels panic rising in his chest. Something’s wrong.

Suddenly, the night is shattered by the sound of shouting and dogs barking. Floodlights blaze to life on the eastern side of the wall.

“No,” Charles breathes, horror washing over him. “Y/N!”

He presses himself against the wall, desperate to hear something, anything. The chaos on the other side grows louder. Then, cutting through it all, he hears your voice.

“Charles!” You cry out. “Charles, help me!”

Without thinking, Charles begins to climb the wall, heedless of the danger. He has to get to you, has to save you.

“Stop right there!” A gruff voice shouts in German. Charles freezes, realizing he’s been spotted by a guard on the western side.

“Please,” Charles begs in German, “You don’t understand. There’s someone over there who needs help. I have to-”

His words are cut off by the sharp crack of gunfire from the eastern side. Charles’ blood runs cold.

“Y/N!” He screams, no longer caring who hears him. “Y/N, answer me!”

But there’s no response. The night falls eerily quiet, broken only by the sound of hurried orders being given in Russian.

Charles slumps against the wall, his mind refusing to accept what his heart already knows. You’re gone. He was too late.

Hours pass in a blur. Charles remains by the wall, numb with grief and shock. As dawn breaks, he hears someone approaching from the western side.

“Mr. Leclerc?” A voice says softly. It’s his American contact. “I’m so sorry. We ... we heard what happened.”

Charles looks up, his eyes red-rimmed and hollow. “Tell me,” he says hoarsely.

The man sighs heavily. “She was caught trying to reach the wall. There was a struggle. The guards ... they didn’t hesitate to use lethal force.”

Each word is like a knife to Charles’ heart. “Did she suffer?” He asks, dreading the answer.

“It was quick,” the man assures him. “If it’s any consolation, our sources say her last words were about you. She said, ‘Tell Charles I’ll find him again. In this life or the next.’”

Charles closes his eyes, a single tear rolling down his cheek. Those words ... why do they sound so familiar?

“Mr. Leclerc,” the American says gently, “it’s not safe for you to stay here. We need to get you out of Berlin. There will be questions, investigations.”

But Charles barely hears him. His mind is reeling, flashes of memories — or are they dreams — flooding his consciousness. Ancient Rome, plague-ridden Genoa, revolutionary France, war-torn skies over the English Channel. In each scene, he sees your face, hears your voice promising to find each other again.

“This isn’t the end,” Charles murmurs, more to himself than to the confused American.

“I’m sorry?” The man asks.

Charles stands, a strange calm settling over him. “Nothing,” he says. “You’re right. We should go.”

As they walk away from the wall, Charles makes a silent vow. He will live, he will remember, and he will find you again. Somehow, somewhere, in another life, you will have your chance at happiness.

The Berlin Wall may have separated you in this life, but Charles is certain now that your souls are bound across lifetimes. And no wall, no war, no force on earth can keep you apart forever.

Abu Dhabi, 2025

The roar of engines fills the air as Charles crosses the finish line, clinching his first Formula 1 World Championship. The crowd erupts in cheers, but Charles barely hears them. His eyes scan the barriers, searching for one face among thousands.

As he brings his Ferrari to a stop, he sees you pushing through the throng of celebrating team members. Your eyes meet, and suddenly everything else fades away. Charles leaps from the car, not even bothering to remove his helmet as he runs towards you.

“We did it!” He shouts, sweeping you into his arms and spinning you around. “We actually did it!”

You laugh, tears of joy streaming down your face. “You did it, Charles! I’m so proud of you!”

He sets you down gently, finally removing his helmet. His hair is matted with sweat, his face flushed with exertion and excitement. To you, he’s never looked more handsome.

“No,” Charles says, cupping your face in his hands. “We did this together. I couldn’t have done any of it without you.”

Before you can respond, he pulls you into a passionate kiss. The world around you explodes with camera flashes and cheers, but neither of you notice. In this moment, you’re the only two people in the world.

As you finally break apart, Charles rests his forehead against yours. “I love you,” he murmurs. “In this life and-”

“And all the others,” you finish, a strange sense of déjà vu washing over you.

Charles pulls back slightly, his brow furrowed. “You feel it too, don’t you?” He asks. “Like we’ve said these words before?”

You nod, a bit dazed. “It’s strange. Sometimes when I look at you, I get flashes of ... I don’t know, other times, other places. But it’s always us, always together.”

A grin spreads across Charles’ face. “Maybe we’re soulmates,” he teases, but there’s a hint of seriousness in his eyes.

“Charles! Y/N!” A voice calls out. You turn to see Fred Vasseur approaching. “Sorry to interrupt, but Charles has to get weighed.”

Charles nods, then turns back to you. “Wait for me?” He asks.

You smile, giving him a quick kiss. “Always,” you promise.

As Charles is whisked away for obligations, you find yourself lost in thought. The strange feeling of familiarity, of a love that transcends time, has been with you since the day you met Charles. You’ve never mentioned it to him before, afraid he’d think you were crazy.

The podium ceremony is a blur of champagne and cheers. Charles’ radiant smile never wavers as he hoists the trophy, but his eyes keep finding you in the crowd. When it’s finally over, he makes a beeline for you, ignoring the clamoring reporters.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says, taking your hand.

You raise an eyebrow. “What about the press conference? The team celebrations?”

Charles shakes his head. “They can wait. Right now, I just want to be with you.”

Hand-in-hand, you sneak away from the track, laughing like teenagers as you dodge team members and journalists. Charles leads you to his car and soon you’re speeding down the winding roads of the Emirati capital.

“Where are we going?” You ask, the wind whipping through your hair.

Charles grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’ll see.”

As the sun begins to set, Charles pulls off onto a small dirt road. It leads to a secluded hilltop overlooking the valley below. The view is breathtaking, the entire landscape bathed in the warm glow of twilight.

“Charles,” you breathe, taking in the scene. “It’s beautiful.”

He comes to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Not as beautiful as you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your neck.

You turn in his arms, struck once again by the intensity of his gaze. “What are we doing here, Charles?”

He takes a deep breath, suddenly looking nervous. “Y/N, do you remember the day we met?”

You smile at the memory. “Of course. I was lost in the paddock and you offered to help me find my way.”

“The moment I saw you,” Charles says softly, “it was like ... like coming home. Like I’d been searching for you my whole life without even knowing it.”

Your heart races as he continues. “And ever since then, I’ve had these ... dreams, I guess. Flashes of other lives, other times. But always with you.”

“Charles,” you whisper, hardly daring to believe what you’re hearing. “I’ve had them too. I thought I was going crazy.”

He shakes his head, a look of wonder on his face. “Not crazy. Just ... connected. In a way I can’t fully explain.”

Charles takes your hands in his, his thumbs tracing gentle circles on your skin. “I don’t know if it’s past lives or parallel universes or just some cosmic coincidence. But I do know this: in every life, in every version of reality, I love you. And I want to spend the rest of this life, and all the ones that come after, loving you.”

Your breath catches as Charles drops to one knee, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket. “Y/N,” he says, his voice thick with emotion, “will you marry me?”

Tears blur your vision as you nod emphatically. “Yes,” you manage to choke out. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you!”

Charles’ face breaks into a radiant smile as he slips the ring onto your finger. He stands, pulling you into a kiss that feels like coming home and embarking on a new adventure all at once.

As you break apart, both of you laughing and crying, a sense of rightness settles over you. Whatever strange connection you share, whatever cosmic forces have brought you together time and time again, you know that this — right here, right now — is where you’re meant to be.

“I love you,” you say, looking into Charles’ eyes. “In this life and all the others.”

“And I love you,” he replies, holding you close. “Always and forever.”

The future stretches out before you, full of promise and possibility. And though you don’t know what challenges it might bring, you’re certain of one thing: whatever comes, you’ll face it together.

Just as you always have, and always will.

Pls I love puppies and and babies sm 🤭

[JAY] I want to raise a puppy...

right where you left me — p. jongseong

pairing / non-idol!jay x fem!reader

genre / angst, a bit of fluff at the very start, lovers to strangers, forced marriage au :(

warnings / like, one cuss word..., usage of y/n, i think that's it^^

synopsis / jay always said he'd marry you one day, until suddenly he breaks it off claiming he 'found someone else'. months later, on the day of his wedding, you find a letter slipped under the door of your apartment from none other than the groom to be himself.

author's note / dedicated to my jay obsessed best friend!

“I’m going to marry you one day,” your boyfriend, Jay, said softly with a smile on his face as he shifted in his position lying down together with you on his bed to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

You and Jay have been together for almost two years, and it’s been nothing short of pure bliss. Sure, like any other couple, you two would have the occasional arguments — but rest assured Jay would come knocking on your door with a bouquet and stuffed toy in hand while he asks for your forgiveness.

You let out a light laugh before pressing your lips into a tight smile. “As if your parents would allow that,” you told him as-a-matter-of-factly.

Jay was rich, to put it short. His parents were CEOs of different companies that their parents before them passed down for multiple generations. You, on the other hand, lived a normal and comfortable life. But apparently, it didn’t seem to be enough.

After you met his parents, Jay assured you that they just put up a cold front. Both of you knew he was lying through his teeth.

Jay shook his head. “I don’t care about them. I only want you,” he said before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

A tear rolled down your face as you recalled this memory. It’s only been a year since that sweet exchange of words that you thought secured your relationship for good. You hate how you were wrong.

You let out a dry laugh. “I— I don’t get what you’re talking about. Was it something I did? Come on, Jay. We can talk this out,” you sounded desperate as you shook your head, tears threatening to fall down.

Jay shook his head silently. You thought you almost saw tears pooling around his eyes as well. But to even think that seemed delusional. He seemed so deadset.

“I told you, we just can’t be together anymore,” he still wouldn’t look up to meet your eyes.

“I know, you told me that. But why?”

“It’s not you, it’s me,”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Jay,”

“We just can’t,”

“A reason. You owe me that much—”

“I found someone else,” he said with a tone so final, though the crack in his voice almost made him sound hesitant.

A silence filled the air.

You knew nothing lasted forever. A part of you knew that what you and Jay had going might have shattered one day. 

But he always sounded so sure that you two were something permanent. Something written in the stars. So you pushed that part of pessimism in you to the back of your mind.

Now here he was, taking everything he said, the promises he made, the sweet nothings you shared, and twisting it all around. The part of you, the ugly voice that didn’t believe in the timelessness of the love you and Jay shared mocked you as it boomed with laughter and insults.

“Oh,” you breathed out.

A man in a black suit approached your table in the privately booked restaurant and tapped Jay’s shoulder.

“Sir, it’s time to go. You’re going to be late for your meeting with your parents,” the man hesitated as his stoic face held a hint of sympathy when he glanced at you.

“I’ll be right there,” Jay replied as he picked up the coat from behind his chair.

For the first time in this meeting you two had, he managed to look you in the eye before turning his gaze back downwards.

As he turned around and walked away, you mucked up the courage to ask him a question.

“Do you love her?” You asked, suddenly standing up.

Jay turned around and met your hurt gaze. His stone-cold expression melted slightly at this. He paused for a while taking in your presence with a look that almost seemed pained.

He nodded once his eyes traveled back to meet yours once more. “Yeah,” he breathed. “More than I can say,” he paused before turning back around and leaving.

It’s been five months since you and Jay broke up, and you’ve managed to stop breaking into tears at every reminder of him after the first three.

There was no contact between you two. And it was easier to keep him out of your thoughts that way. But that didn’t mean you stopped thinking about him. It was hard to do so.

You were scrolling through social media on your phone as you rode the elevator going up to your apartment. You exited the lift and got your keys ready with one hand while you kept your phone in the other.

You stopped in your tracks after seeing a headline on twitter.

‘Heir of Park Enterprises, Park Jongseong and daughter of the CEO of Hwang & Yoon Law Firm, Yoon Jiwon: Everyone’s Favorite Newlyweds!’

You took in a sharp breath. You’ve managed to steer clear of any news and media about the couple for a while until today. You pressed the power on your phone to turn it off before making your way to open your apartment door.

As you shut the door behind you, you noticed a cream colored envelope facing downwards with your name and address written on it.

You placed your work bag down before picking up what seemed to be a letter, sitting down on your couch and opening it.

As you unfolded the crisp paper, your eyes landed on the first few words. And you immediately knew who wrote it. The handwriting was one that you could recognize as easily as your own.

Y/n,

I’m writing this the night before my wedding. And you’re all that my thoughts consume. The day we fell in love, a part of me knew that you were the girl of my dreams. The girl I wanted to see once I walked up the stairs to an altar. And tomorrow, that girl isn’t you. I’ve thought about how we broke up, how I left you, every day since it happened five months and fourteen days ago. I never wanted to leave you. But when my parents first gave me the instruction to do so for them to be able to set me up with someone else, I showed apparent impertinence by not following their words, and they were angry with me. They told me that you were a bad influence. That the reason I kept disobeying them was you. So they told me that if I refused their instructions once more, they would’ve done something terrible to you and your family. I couldn’t risk it. I couldn’t hurt you like that, yet I still ended up causing you pain. I thought that if I said I found someone else and treated it like a normal falling out of love instead of saying the contents of the previous paragraphs, the hurt would last shorter. I proved myself wrong with that. It pained me either way. I hope you move on from me. You deserve better. You deserve someone who would protect you and your loved ones instead of giving up. I’m sorry I couldn’t be just that, and I should’ve. I question myself everyday why I wasn’t. As for me, I know I will never find someone as good as you. Everyone else will always fall short. A part of me has loved you since I first met you, and since then I’ve only fallen in deeper. You’ve consumed my heart and my soul. I love you, Y/n L/n. And I don’t think I’ll ever stop. By the time you read this, the ring meant to be yours settles on the hand of another. But it will never be truly hers. One day, I hope you can find it in you to forgive me for the hurt I’ve caused. Maybe in some other universe, I never would’ve had to leave.

Yours, Jay

You finished the letter with a hand clasped to your mouth in a failed attempt at stopping yourself from crying.

You thought the wound was just starting to scab only for it to turn raw once more.

Jay was right. Maybe in another universe.

author's note / lowkey got emotional writing this ermmm.....