â . . ËÌ©Ì©Ì„Í đ§ âż Ę â á„á©„ lአŚÌČvᄱŚđ Œ reiá§á©aAa Ś ă €ÖŽă €â á©âŁáŁđâż
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@theartofmadeline

blake kathryn

shark vs the universe
đȘŒ
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
One Nice Bug Per Day
cherry valley forever
Sade Olutola
Fai_Ryy
Cosmic Funnies

⣠Chile in a Photography âŁ

pixel skylines
YOU ARE THE REASON
ojovivo

Game Changer & Make Some Noise

izzy's playlists!
Not today Justin

tannertan36
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Noah Kahan

seen from Bangladesh

seen from United States

seen from Colombia
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seen from United Kingdom
seen from Iraq
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@livimura
â . . ËÌ©Ì©Ì„Í đ§ âż Ę â á„á©„ lአŚÌČvᄱŚđ Œ reiá§á©aAa Ś ă €ÖŽă €â á©âŁáŁđâż
â àŽ€â â Ë för digâmin Ă€lskadeă € âĄă € đȘ·ă € ë ìŽ
êŻ êŻ êŻ MêŻy êŻ êŻ êŻ êŻ SêŻcđźêŻđżđêŻ êŻ êŻ SêŻo êŻ êŻ êŻ GêŻlorêŻiêŻđŒđêŻđ êŻ
· â§Ì„ °̩̄Ë̩̩̄̄ ËÌ©Ì©Ì„âŹ€ đ Í Ë đ€ Íà„±à€ŒÛ« đ â ⏀ ·*̩̩ÍË̩̩̄̄*Ì©Ì©Ì„Í Â· â§Ì„
is that how you request shit? anygays
do a james (cortis) moodboard PLSPLSPSLS
[...]â æš±æĄæ â á±â đđ.â đšđ€. ZHAOâ
â â â ââ â â â ââ â â ââ â â â ââ â â ââ â â â ââ â â ââ â â â ââ â â ââ â â â ââ Ț â YUFANâ đ«đąđâ â ·â â ă
㠀㠀㠀㠀㠀đł.㠀㠀㠀㠀SIN㠀㠀㠀㠀âââ㠀㠀㠀㠀CORTIS 005㠀㠀㠀㠀đžđžă €ă €ă €ă €đđąïž
đŹèĄ,ă €èąè”è㠀㠀㠀đ«ă €ă €ă €đ€.㠀㠀㠀đ.é PLAY THE㠀㠀㠀㠀BEATă €ă €ă €è€ MARTIN!
ææœć „äœ çèĄæ¶ČïŒæææçă â cruel â°ïž đđ”đłđ”
#by james Ëđ·Ë
Í ÍÍ ÍÍ ÍÍ ÍÍ ÍÍâââââ ćæææăăäž # rebellion â±â±â±
â ïž You have been banned from this platform for the use of extreme, disrespectful and harmful speech.
: ??????!!
: #$&";(! +$*$$!!!!
: ćž( &$;?;!!?#$&?!!;)ćž
á§.˳˳.â Ëà„±á§.˳˳.â Ëà„±á§.˳˳.â đđđđ đđđ đđ âŸïžđ đđđœđ»đđ
â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â âđ â â â â â â â â âđ â â â â â â âđŹđ§ â â â â â â â â ââ â â âđŒ â â â)
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â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â ââ»ïžđ° â â â đ” â â â đâáŽđŸđ â â ââȘâȘâ
â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â âąÌ©Ì©Í â â â ÖŽ â â â * ÖŽ â â â đÖŒ
đșđšđ°đ”đ» đłđšđŒđčđŹđ”đ» âź è„żæć
đairings â non idol!tat artist!riki x fem!reader
đontent â profanity , highly suggestive themes & explicit text , second-hand embarrassment , extreme thirst-tweeting , blunt & borderline , unprofessional behavior ,comedic panicking , accidental exposure
đow playing â fever by buckshot & fakemink
đąynopsis â yn is desperate for a tattoo and won't stop dramatically manifesting it all over her public Twitter page. Enter Nishimura Riki a local, hyper talented tattoo artist who gets so tired of seeing her chaotic crisis tweets on his timeline that he finally slides into her full dms.
đote â inspo from @nishimmortal :)
â đđ . đđ . đđ
Little bonus because I love this yunki pic omg
@decorpupp @cosm1cgarbag3 @keylawnduh @iloveyunhoon @sunoosunghoon @jakekshh @oiosoobin @rikichus
áŻâ đđĄđ đđąđ«đ„ đąđ§ đđđ .á æ
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âïœĄïŸâïžïœĄâïœĄ ïŸâŸ ïŸïœĄâ
pairing: mafia!heeseung x inexperienced!fem!reader
| synopsis: life is fucked up for you, but he fuck you better |
disclaimer: smut, dominant heeseung, rough and raw sex, human trafficking, human auction, sex slave, pet names, virgin, brat taming, 18+, etc.
wc: 3.2k- â*ââ§ đŠč°â§â.á
playlist: çŸČæż
â previous | part four | next đŒ â.Ë đ đ đĄâ.Ë đŒ
â ÍđŒËÌŁÌŁÌŁàżâŁââââââ â đ·đź â đđâ đŒđđ»đŸđđ đčđđŸ â đïž đÛȘÛȘÛȘÛȘáłÛâȘ.đ„ăă â â â â ÍÍ â âą đ Öč â â â â â Ëăă â â â â â â â â â â â âă € â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â âș
"You Don't Have to Do Better"
Pairing: CEO!Lee Heeseung x Surgeon!Reader
Genre: Arranged Marriage AU, Slow Burn, Comfort, Healing, Slice of Life, Mature Romance, Introvert x Introvert, Family Expectations, Marriage of Convenience, Emotional Hurt/Comfort
WC: 12.3k
Synopsis: Two younger siblings who spent their entire lives becoming what everyone else wanted are pushed into an arranged marriage neither of them asked for. A successful CEO and an accomplished surgeon on paper, Heeseung and Y/N seem perfect together. In reality, they're just two quiet people carrying years of expectations, abandoned dreams, and the exhausting need to always do better.
People always assumed younger siblings had it easier.
They assumed younger siblings were spoiled.
Loved more.
Protected more.
Favored more.
And maybe for some families that was true.
But for Heeseung and Y/N, being the younger child meant something entirely different.
It meant becoming the backup plan.
The one expected to succeed where the elder sibling didn't.
The one who couldn't afford mistakes because someone had already made them before.
The one who quietly gave up things before anyone even asked.
âââ
Y/N learned that lesson when she was nine.
Her parents had bought two slices of cake.
One strawberry.
One chocolate.
Her favorite was chocolate.
Her older sister liked strawberry.
Simple.
Easy.
Yet somehow, when her sister suddenly decided she wanted chocolate instead, everyone looked at Y/N.
Her mother smiled.
"Oh, Y/N doesn't even like chocolate that much, right?"
Nine-year-old Y/N looked down at the plate.
The chocolate slice suddenly didn't seem important anymore.
"Yeah..."
Her voice came out small.
"I don't really like it."
She remembered her sister happily taking the chocolate cake.
She remembered her mother smiling proudly.
She remembered forcing herself to eat strawberry while pretending she enjoyed it.
That memory stayed with her.
Not because of cake.
Because it taught her something.
It taught her that wanting things made people disappointed.
So she stopped wanting.
âââ
Heeseung learned the same lesson differently.
His older brother, Heedo, was brilliant.
Confident.
The type of person who walked into a room and immediately owned it.
Their father had spent years preparing Heedo to inherit the family company.
Only for Heedo to announce one day at dinner:
"I don't want it."
Silence.
Then shock.
Then arguments.
Then acceptance.
Because Heedo was the eldest son.
And somehow he always got to choose.
He wanted to become an architect.
And eventually, he did.
A successful one.
Award-winning.
Respected.
Admired.
His parents bragged about him constantly.
Then they turned toward sixteen-year-old Heeseung.
And smiled.
"You've always been the smart one."
"More responsible."
"The company will be safe with you."
"You'll do great things."
No one asked whether he wanted it.
Because they assumed he would.
And Heeseung had never learned how to say no.
âââ
The truth wasâ
He wanted music.
He wanted stages.
He wanted recording studios at three in the morning.
He wanted guitars.
Songs.
Producing.
Creating something beautiful.
But dreams seemed selfish.
Especially when everyone looked at him with such expectations.
So he buried them.
And became exactly what everyone wanted.
âââ
Years passed.
Y/N became a surgeon.
One of the youngest specialists in her hospital.
Successful.
Respected.
Admired.
The kind of daughter parents bragged about.
But every achievement felt strangely empty.
Because it wasn't hers.
It was theirs.
Their dream.
Not hers.
Whenever she tried mentioning cookingâ
just casuallyâ
her parents laughed.
"Cute hobby."
"You've always been creative."
"Imagine if you became a chef though."
As if it was the funniest thing they'd ever heard.
So she laughed too.
Every time.
And eventually stopped mentioning it.
âââ
At twenty-six, she was exhausted.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
Tired of proving herself.
Tired of chasing approval that never seemed close enough.
Tired of hearing:
"Your sister was already married by this age."
"Your sister knew what she wanted."
"Your sister was always independent."
Her sister wasn't cruel.
Not at all.
But comparisons existed anyway.
Unavoidable.
Constant.
Accidental.
Painful.
âââ
Meanwhile, at twenty-nine, Heeseung had become one of the most successful CEOs in the country.
Magazine covers.
Business awards.
Interviews.
Recognition.
Money.
Everything.
And yet every family gathering sounded exactly the same.
His father discussing profits.
His mother discussing future growth.
His brother discussing his latest architectural project.
Then eventuallyâ
"Heeseung, have you considered expanding internationally?"
"Heeseung, have you thought about this investment?"
"Heeseung, what's your next goal?"
Always more.
Always next.
Never enough.
Then came marriage.
The final expectation.
Y/N first heard about it during dinner.
Her mother cleared her throat.
"We met someone."
Y/N froze.
Her chopsticks paused halfway.
Her father continued.
"A wonderful family."
Her stomach dropped.
"No."
The word escaped before she could stop it.
Everyone looked surprised.
As if she'd never disagreed before.
Because she hadn't.
Her mother sighed.
"Y/N."
"He owns a large company."
"I don't care."
"Successful."
"I said I don't care."
Her father frowned.
"You need to settle down eventually."
"I'm twenty-six."
"Exactly."
Exactly.
As if twenty-six was ancient.
As if she had somehow missed a deadline.
Across the city, Heeseung sat through almost the exact same conversation.
"You need someone."
His mother smiled.
"To take care of you."
"I can take care of myself."
"You work too much."
His father nodded.
"You're not getting younger."
Heeseung almost laughed.
Twenty-nine.
Apparently ancient too.
âââ
Then they showed him a photo.
A woman standing outside a hospital.
Professional.
Elegant.
Beautiful.
Though she looked tired.
The kind of tired that settled behind someone's eyes.
"Her name is Y/N."
His mother smiled.
"She's a surgeon."
And because Heeseung never knew how to say noâ
the conversation continued.
And because Y/N never knew how to say noâ
the engagement happened.
Before either of them realized it.
âââ
The boutique smelled like expensive perfume and fresh fabric.
Y/N stood on a small platform while three women circled around her.
Her mother.
Her sister.
And Heeseung's mother.
"Oh my god."
Her sister clasped her hands.
"This one."
"It's beautiful."
"It really is."
His mother agreed immediately.
"You look perfect."
Y/N stared at herself in the mirror.
The dress wasn't ugly.
Actually, it was gorgeous.
Elegant.
Sophisticated.
Exactly what a bride should wear.
The problem wasâ
she hated it.
The neckline felt wrong.
The sleeves felt wrong.
The entire thing felt like she was wearing someone else's skin.
"What do you think?"
The consultant smiled.
Three women answered before she could.
"We love it."
"Perfect."
"Definitely this one."
The consultant turned toward Y/N.
"So this is your choice?"
Choice.
Funny word.
Y/N looked at her reflection.
Looked at everyone's happy faces.
Looked at the expectation.
The excitement.
The relief.
Then smiled.
Small.
Polite.
Practiced.
"Yeah."
Her voice was quiet.
"I like it."
And just like thatâ
it became her wedding dress.
The wedding arrived faster than either of them expected.
Hundreds of guests.
Expensive flowers.
Bright lights.
Perfect smiles.
Y/N sat in front of a mirror while makeup artists adjusted final details.
Her heart wouldn't stop racing.
She wasn't scared of Heeseung.
Not exactly.
She barely knew him.
They'd exchanged messages.
A few awkward conversations.
Some polite phone calls.
He seemed nice.
Quiet.
Gentle.
Which somehow made everything worse.
Because now she felt guilty for not wanting this.
ââ
Meanwhile, Heeseung stood outside the ceremony hall adjusting his tie for the fifth time.
"You nervous?"
Heedo asked.
"A little."
Heedo laughed.
"A little?"
Heeseung sighed.
"A lot."
âââ
The truth?
He wasn't afraid of marriage.
He was afraid of being another expectation.
Another responsibility.
Another thing someone was forcing themselves to accept.
The ceremony began.
Music filled the room.
Guests stood.
And thenâ
He saw her.
Walking down the aisle.
White dress.
Nervous eyes.
Tightly clasped hands.
Beautiful.
But that wasn't what struck him.
She looked exactly how he felt.
Terrified.
Trying not to show it.
And somehowâ
for the first time all dayâ
Heeseung relaxed.
Just slightly.
Because maybe they were both standing on the same side.
Maybe neither of them wanted this.
Maybe that made it easier.
When she finally reached him, their eyes met.
Only for a second.
Then unexpectedlyâ
Heeseung offered a small smile.
Not the CEO smile.
Not the public smile.
Not the practiced smile.
A real one.
Soft.
Shy.
And after a momentâ
Y/N smiled back.
Just a little.
The first genuine thing either of them had felt all day.
The first night wasn't romantic.
There were no dramatic confessions.
No movie-like moments.
No sudden realization of love.
Just two strangers standing awkwardly inside a penthouse apartment that now belonged to both of them.
âââ
Y/N stood near the entrance clutching her handbag.
Heeseung stood three feet away holding his suit jacket.
Neither knew what to say.
âââ
"Um..."
Heeseung cleared his throat.
"You can take the bedroom."
Y/N immediately shook her head.
"No, it's your apartment."
"It's our apartment now."
Silence.
"Oh."
Another silence.
"We can share the room."
They both spoke at the same time.
Then both immediately looked away.
Their ears turned red.
"I meanâ"
Heeseung rubbed the back of his neck.
"There's a guest room too if you're uncomfortable."
Y/N stared at the floor.
"I don't mind sharing."
"Oh."
Another pause.
"I don't either."
âââ
And somehow that was how they ended up getting ready for bed together like two people trying desperately not to acknowledge the fact they were married.
Y/N spent ten minutes in the bathroom trying to mentally prepare herself.
When she finally stepped out wearing oversized pajamas, she found Heeseung sitting on the edge of the bed.
A guitar rested beside him.
A guitar.
Not something she expected from one of the most successful CEOs in the country.
His expression immediately softened.
"Sorry."
He quickly moved it.
"I forgot to put it away."
Y/N surprised herself.
"You play?"
A strange look crossed his face.
Something almost vulnerable.
"A little."
The answer felt rehearsed.
Like it wasn't the complete truth.
"Oh."
And neither of them said anything else.
That night they slept on opposite sides of the king-sized bed.
Far enough apart that an entire person could fit between them.
Neither slept much.
The next morning felt even stranger.
Y/N woke up first.
For a moment she forgot where she was.
Then she turned.
And nearly jumped.
Heeseung was asleep beside her.
Not close.
Not touching.
But there.
Her husband.
The word felt absurd.
She quietly slipped out of bed.
Determined not to wake him.
Thirty minutes later she was standing in the kitchen staring at ingredients.
Cooking always calmed her.
Always.
Even when she wasn't allowed to dream about it.
So she cooked.
Eggs.
Toast.
Soup.
Coffee.
Simple things.
Comforting things.
The sound of footsteps made her turn.
Heeseung stood there frozen.
Looking genuinely shocked.
"You're cooking?"
Y/N looked confused.
"Yes?"
"No one's ever cooked for me before."
The words slipped out naturally.
Like a fact.
Not something sad.
Yet something tightened inside her chest.
"Really?"
He shrugged.
"I usually eat at work."
The statement somehow sounded lonely.
They ate breakfast together.
Quietly.
Comfortably.
For the first time since the weddingâ
the silence didn't feel awkward.
It felt peaceful.
âââ
"Your hospital is on my way."
Heeseung suddenly said.
Y/N blinked.
"I can drop you off."
"You don't have to."
"I know."
And somehow that answer convinced her.
Every morning after that became routine.
Breakfast.
Coffee.
The drive.
At first they barely talked.
Then eventually conversations started appearing.
Small things.
âââ
"How was work?"
"Tiring."
"What happened?"
Then suddenly thirty minutes had passed.
Y/N would tell him about difficult surgeries.
Not details.
Just feelings.
The pressure.
The fear.
The responsibility.
âââ
And Heeseung listened.
Actually listened.
Not because she was a surgeon.
Not because her career was impressive.
Because it was her.
Then he would tell her about meetings.
Investors.
Projects.
Employees.
And Y/N listened too.
For the first time in yearsâ
both of them felt heard.
The realization happened during a family dinner.
A month after the wedding.
Both families had gathered together.
Everything started normally.
Until comparisons appeared.
Again.
As they always did.
"Your sister always knew exactly what she wanted."
Y/N's mother smiled.
Y/N lowered her eyes automatically.
Thenâ
"Heedo's latest project won another award."
Heeseung's father added proudly.
Heeseung nodded quietly.
Nobody noticed.
Except each other.
Across the table.
Their eyes met.
And suddenlyâ
they both understood.
Without words.
Without explanation.
They knew exactly how the other felt.
That strange ache.
That disappointment.
That feeling of never quite reaching the finish line.
Because the finish line kept moving.
âââ
That night neither went to bed immediately.
Instead they sat on the balcony.
The city glowing beneath them.
And for the first timeâ
they talked honestly.
"Did you always want to be a doctor?"
Heeseung asked.
Y/N laughed.
A sad laugh.
"No."
The answer surprised him.
"What did you want?"
Her smile became smaller.
"A chef."
Silence.
Thenâ
"A chef?"
She nodded.
"My parents thought it was cute."
The word hurt more than she intended.
"Cute."
Not serious.
Not important.
Not worth pursuing.
Just cute.
Heeseung stared at the city.
"I wanted music."
Now it was Y/N's turn to stare.
"What?"
He laughed softly
"Exactly."
And for the next hour they talked.
Really talked.
About dreams.
Regrets.
Choices.
Expectations.
About becoming versions of themselves other people preferred.
And somehowâ
they felt lighter afterward.
Like they had finally put down a weight.
Weeks turned into months.
The apartment changed.
It stopped feeling like Heeseung's home.
Started feeling like theirs.
There were recipe books in the kitchen now.
Plants near the windows.
Her favorite tea beside his coffee.
Her blanket on the couch.
His guitar in the living room.
Little pieces of each other everywhere.
âââ
One night she came home after a sixteen-hour shift.
Exhausted.
Barely able to stand.
The apartment lights were dim.
Soft guitar music drifted through the room.
And there he was.
Sitting on the couch.
Playing quietly.
For himself.
For her.
For nobody.
âââ
Y/N stood there watching.
Something warm spread through her chest.
For years she'd spent her life becoming what others wanted.
Yet this moment felt more genuine than anything she'd experienced before.
Heeseung noticed her.
Immediately stopping.
"Sorry."
"Why are you apologizing?"
His ears turned pink.
"I don't know."
She laughed.
Actually laughed.
And Heeseung froze.
Because he'd never heard that sound before.
Not properly.
Not like this.
And suddenly he wanted to hear it again.
âââ
Months after their weddingâ
they took their first late-night drive.
No destination.
Just driving.
The city sleeping around them.
Windows down.
Music low.
Talking.
About nothing.
About everything.
And somewhere along the wayâ
surviving slowly became living.
âââ
Then came the next expectation.
Children.
âââ
Of course.
Because apparently marriage wasn't enough.
ââ
One Sunday lunch changed everything.
"Any good news?"
Y/N's mother asked casually.
Y/N frowned.
"What kind of news?"
The smile immediately gave it away.
"Oh."
Across the table Heeseung nearly choked on his drink.
His mother joined immediately.
"We'd love grandchildren."
His father nodded.
"You've been married long enough."
Long enough.
Nine months.
As if they were discussing a business deadline.
Y/N felt her stomach twist.
The same familiar feeling.
The same pressure.
The same expectation.
Something else she needed to achieve.
Something else she needed to provide.
Everyone kept talking.
Future children.
Future plans.
Future expectations.
And suddenlyâ
for the first timeâ
Y/N didn't want to stay silent.
Not because she was brave.
Because she was tired.
So incredibly tired.
She opened her mouth.
Then closed it again.
The words wouldn't come out.
Just like always.
Beside herâ
Heeseung noticed.
He always noticed
Then quietlyâ
under the tableâ
his hand found hers.
Not dramatic.
Not possessive.
Just there.
Warm.
Steady.
A silent reminder.
You're not alone.
For a moment Y/N stared at their joined hands.
Then at him.
His expression was calm.
But she understood.
Because he was tired too.
Tired of living according to everyone else's timeline.
Tired of chasing expectations.
Tired of being told what the next goal should be.
For the first time in their livesâ
they weren't carrying that burden alone.
And later that nightâ
standing on their apartment balconyâ
looking over the cityâ
neither realized they were still holding hands.
Neither pulled away.
Neither mentioned it.
Because somewhere between survival and livingâ
between awkward breakfasts and late-night drivesâ
between shared silences and impossible expectationsâ
they had become each other's home.
And for two people who had spent their entire lives trying to make everyone else proudâ
that felt like the beginning of something far more important.
Something neither family could choose for them.
Something neither expectation nor obligation could create.
Love didn't arrive dramatically for them.
There was no moment where Heeseung looked at Y/N and suddenly knew.
No scene where Y/N woke up one morning and realized she had fallen in love.
It happened quietly.
The way most important things do.
One small moment at a time.
One ordinary day after another.
Until suddenly neither could remember what life looked like before the other.
The first argument happened on a rainy Thursday.
Y/N had just finished an eighteen-hour shift.
She was exhausted.
Mentally drained.
Physically exhausted.
The kind of exhaustion that made her vision blurry.
When she entered the apartment, the lights were still on in Heeseung's office.
At midnight.
Again.
She frowned.
Then walked inside.
And immediately stopped.
Three untouched coffee cups.
A cold sandwich.
Stacks of paperwork.
And Heeseung.
Still working.
Still staring at a laptop.
Still forgetting himself.
Just like always.
Something inside her snapped.
"When was the last time you ate?"
Heeseung looked up.
Confused.
"What?"
"When was the last time you ate?"
"I'm fine."
"That's not what I asked."
He blinked.
Then looked away.
Which answered the question.
Y/N folded her arms.
"Heeseung."
"I'm busy."
"And you're also human."
"I'll eat later."
"That's what you said yesterday."
His eyes widened.
"You noticed?"
The question irritated her even more.
Of course she noticed.
She always noticed.
The dark circles under his eyes.
The headaches.
The way he rubbed his neck after long meetings.
The way he skipped meals when stressed.
The way he smiled and pretended everything was okay.
Because she did the exact same thing.
And she hated seeing him do it.
Especially because she cared.
A lot more than she should.
Or maybe exactly as much as she should.
"I made dinner."
She finally said.
"It's cold now."
"I wasn't hungry."
Y/N laughed.
A humorless laugh.
"Right."
Heeseung stared.
Something felt different.
Then realization hit.
She wasn't angry.
She was worried.
And somehow that felt worse.
Because nobody worried about him.
Not really.
People expected things from him.
Needed things from him.
Relied on him.
But worried?
Not often.
Not like this.
His voice softened.
"I'm sorry."
The anger disappeared immediately.
Because that was another thing about them.
Neither knew how to stay angry.
Y/N sighed.
Then walked into the kitchen.
Ten minutes later she returned with reheated food.
Without a word she placed it in front of him.
Heeseung stared at it.
Then at her.
Then quietly started eating.
And Y/N sat beside him while he finished every bite.
Neither mentioned the argument again.
But something changed afterward.
The walls between them became smaller.
The distance became less.
The apartment became warmer.
A few weeks later Y/N accidentally discovered the truth about the guitar.
She had come home earlier than usual.
The apartment was empty.
Or so she thought.
Then she heard music.
Not from the living room.
Not from a speaker.
From the guest room.
Y/N paused.
The door was slightly open.
And insideâ
Heeseung sat surrounded by recording equipment.
Not expensive studio equipment.
Simple things.
A microphone.
A laptop.
A notebook.
His guitar.
He was singing.
And Y/N froze.
Because she had never heard anything so beautiful before.
Not just his voice.
The emotion behind it.
The freedom.
The happiness.
The version of Heeseung she had never seen.
For once he wasn't a CEO.
Wasn't someone's son.
Wasn't someone's expectation.
He was simply himself.
The floor creaked beneath her foot.
The music stopped.
Heeseung immediately looked up.
Panic crossing his face.
"Y/N."
"I'm sorry."
She quickly shook her head.
"No."
His expression tightened.
Embarrassed.
Like a child caught doing something wrong.
"It's stupid."
"No."
"It's just a hobby."
"No."
The firmness in her voice surprised both of them.
Y/N stepped inside.
Looking around the room.
At the notebooks.
The lyrics.
The unfinished songs.
The dreams he never got to have.
Then she looked at him.
"It's beautiful."
Heeseung stared.
Because nobody had ever said that before.
Not his parents.
Not his friends.
Not even himself.
Beautiful.
The word settled somewhere deep inside him.
And stayed there.
That night they talked until three in the morning.
About everything.
About the dreams they buried.
About the lives they never got to live.
About being tired.
About pretending.
About expectations.
At some point Y/N admitted she still watched cooking videos after hospital shifts.
At some point Heeseung admitted he still wrote songs almost every night.
At some point they started laughing.
And neither wanted the conversation to end.
The first kiss happened a month later.
Not because of tension.
Not because of passion.
Not because of some dramatic accident.
It happened because Y/N was standing in the kitchen.
Cooking.
Again.
Her happy place.
Their happy place.
Heeseung leaned against the counter watching her.
Something he did often.
Something she secretly liked.
"You know," he said.
"Hm?"
"I think you're happiest when you're cooking."
Y/N smiled.
"I know."
"You're smiling."
"I know."
"You don't smile like that at the hospital."
She laughed.
"I'd be concerned if I did."
His laugh followed hers.
Then silence settled.
Comfortable.
Soft.
Warm.
The kind that existed only between people who truly understood each other.
Y/N looked up.
And found him already looking at her.
Not at the food.
Not at the kitchen.
At her.
Something shifted.
Neither moved.
Neither looked away.
Months ago they would've.
Months ago they would've panicked.
But nowâ
Now they knew each other.
The real versions.
Not the polished versions.
Not the successful versions.
The tired versions.
The insecure versions.
The honest versions.
The ones nobody else seemed to see.
And somehow that felt intimate.
More intimate than anything else.
Heeseung stepped closer.
Slow enough for her to move away.
She didn't.
His hand gently brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.
Y/N's heart nearly stopped.
Not because she was nervous.
Because she felt safe.
Completely safe.
With him.
Always him.
Then Heeseung softly kissed her.
Brief.
Gentle.
Shy.
Like both of them were still learning.
When he pulled away, neither spoke.
Y/N simply smiled.
And for the first time since they'd metâ
Heeseung kissed her again.
A little less shy this time.
A little more certain.
A little more theirs.
The pressure for grandchildren never stopped.
Neither did the questions.
Or expectations.
Or comparisons.
But something had changed.
One evening both families gathered for dinner again.
The usual conversations started.
The usual comments.
The usual expectations.
Then someone asked the inevitable question.
"So when are you two planning for children?"
Silence.
Everyone waited.
Y/N felt that familiar pressure.
That familiar anxiety.
Thenâ
A warm hand found hers beneath the table.
Heeseung.
Just like before.
But this time something was different.
Because Y/N wasn't alone anymore.
And neither was he.
She glanced at him.
He glanced back.
Then unexpectedlyâ
Heeseung spoke first.
"We'll decide that together."
The room went quiet.
His voice wasn't rude.
Wasn't angry.
Just firm.
Certain.
For once.
His mother blinked.
"Oh."
"We appreciate everyone's concern."
He smiled politely.
"But we're happy."
And that was that. The conversation moved on. The world didn't end. Nobody exploded. Nobody got angry.
On the drive home Y/N stared out the window.
Then suddenly laughed. Heeseung glanced over. "What?". "I can't believe you did that." His ears turned pink. "I almost passed out." She laughed harder. And Heeseung joined her. The sound filled the car. Warm. Free. Real.
A year after their wedding, Y/N came home to find something waiting on the kitchen counter. A small box. She frowned. "Heeseung?" "Open it." Inside was a set of professional chef knives. The expensive kind. Y/N froze. "Heeseung..."
"You always buy things for everyone else." His voice was quiet. "So I bought something for you." Her eyes burned. Nobody had ever done that before.Not really.
Not something that belonged entirely to her. Not something connected to her dream. Not their dream. Not society's dream. Hers.
A few months later she found him standing in a recording studio. A real one. The same shocked expression on his face she had worn that day. "What is this?" Y/N smiled. "A gift." His eyes widened. "You rented this?" "For six months." "Y/N." "You always write songs for yourself." She smiled softly. "Now write one because you want to."
For several seconds he couldn't speak.
And suddenly both of them understood something. This was love. Not grand gestures. Not dramatic confessions. Not perfection. It was seeing someone's abandoned dreams and saying. They're still worth something.
Years later, if someone asked Heeseung what changed his life, he wouldn't mention becoming a CEO. And Y/N wouldn't mention becoming a surgeon. Because neither achievement had healed the lonely parts of them.
Neither achievement taught them how to rest. Or be understood. Instead they'd remember a quiet apartment. Late-night conversations. Guitar strings. Recipe books. Shared silences.
A marriage neither wanted. And a love neither expected. Two younger siblings who spent their entire lives trying to become enough. Only to discover they had already been enough all along.
They just needed someone who looked at them and saidâ
You don't have to do better. You can just be you. And for the first time in their lives. That was enough.
17 â¶ A GIRL W/ A STRONG HEART
.đ„ Ę SYNOPSIS . after getting publicly broken up with because of a misspread rumor, you move away to "heal" and "start over". when you come back after months and see your ex and said personâwho spread those rumors about youâgetting closer each day, you realize maybe you shouldn't have ever come back. and it definitely doesn't help when your ex starts giving you mixed signals about everything.
PAIRING ex!jake x fem!reader FEATURING aespa ningning, riize shotaro, nct haechan, le sserafim yunjin +enhypen â wc 2.0k
TAGS smau (+written) ; crack ; university au ; lots of miscommunication ; dumbass jake ; cringey moments ; cliche đŠ none that I can think of other than suggestive comments?
masterlist / 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17
[JAKE] Brazil was absolutely wonderful, I'll definitely come back, I love you! â€ïžâ€ïžâ€ïž
HOMECOMING - ìì±í
SYNOPSIS When Seonghyeon comes home, he expects tears, hugs and maybe even a few new memories with his family.
not you eating açai on the kitchen counter.
INFORMATION reader is a bit cheeky, Seonghyeon is js trying his best.
(note) iâll be posting my fics from @/mwiou as i have deleted the account. this is my only account now and if youâve already reblogged this drabble or have read it before you can ignore this!đ
When Seonghyeon comes home, he expects his mum and dad at the door, welcoming him in.
Not his sisterâs friend.
niki becoming a dadđđ
Sheâs MINE
Dad Riki x mum reader
Sypnosis: Riki got jealous of his own daughter claiming you
Warning: flufffff
now playingđ§- first love- hikaru utada
đa/n: hiii thank youuu for your request!! I hope youâll like this one tooo! Edit: this is a pretty old draftđ
The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains of the living room, casting a warm, golden glow over the soft rug where the center of your universe currently sat.
Your three-year-old daughter, Hina, was deeply engrossed in her morning mission. She wore a pair of mismatched, fuzzy socks, her dark, slightly wavy hair tied into two chaotic little pigtails that bounced every time she moved. And right there on the floor with her, looking entirely too big for the miniature plastic tea set in front of him, was Nishimura Riki.
To the rest of the world, Riki was a man of quiet intensityâsharp, collected, and occasionally intimidating when he was in his element. But right now, sitting cross-legged in a casual gray sweatshirt with a tiny pink plastic teacup balanced precariously between his long fingers, he was just a dad completely wrapped around his daughterâs little finger.
"Drink it, Papa! It's strawberry juice," Hina ordered, her voice high and demanding as she tapped the toy teapot against his cup.
"Ah, my favorite. Thank you, chef," Riki said, his deep voice dropping into that incredibly soft, honeyed tone he reserved only for the two of you. He lifted the tiny cup to his lips, making an overly dramatic, loud gulping sound that had Hina bursting into a fit of giggles, her small hands clapping together.
Sitting on the couch with a warm mug of coffee between your hands, you couldn't help the swell of pure affection that tightened in your chest. You watched the way Rikiâs sharp, fox-like eyes crinkled at the corners, a brilliant, genuine smile spreading across his face as he reached out to gently boop Hinaâs nose.
He was an incredible father. When you had first found out you were pregnant, Riki had been terrified, constantly reading parenting books and worrying that his naturally quiet, intense demeanor wouldn't be enough. But the moment Hina was placed in his arms, every doubt had melted away. He was patient, fiercely protective, and endlessly attentive. He was the dad who stayed up for midnight feedings just so you could sleep, and the husband who still left sweet notes on the kitchen counter before he left for work. You were, without a doubt, the luckiest woman alive.
Later that afternoon, Riki had stepped away to the kitchen to prepare some snacks, leaving you and Hina on the floor surrounded by her stuffed animals. Hina was currently burying her face into your neck, her small arms wrapped tightly around your shoulders in a sudden burst of toddler affection.
"I love you, Mama," Hina mumbled into your collarbone, squeezing you with all her might. "Mama is mine. Only mine."
You laughed softly, wrapping your arms around her small frame and kissing the top of her head. "Oh really? Mama is yours?"
"Yes! Mine!" Hina declared proudly, pulling back to look at you with fierce, determined little eyes.
"Hey, hold on a minute."
A shadow fell over the two of you as Riki suddenly materialized from the kitchen, setting a plate of sliced apples on the coffee table. Before Hina could protest, Riki slid onto the floor right next to you. His long arm immediately snaked around your waist, pulling you firmly against his side, his chin resting possessively on your shoulder.
He looked across at his daughter, narrowing his eyes in a playful, mock-serious stare. "No way, kiddo. Mama is MINE."
Hinaâs jaw practically dropped. She crawled forward, placing her tiny hands on your knee, puffing out her cheeks. "No! My Mama!"
"I bought the ring, I got her first," Riki bickered back smoothly, a teasing smirk playing on his lips as he tightened his grip around your waist, pulling you even closer into his chest. "Find your own wife, Hina. This one belongs to Papa."
"Nooooo!" Hina squealed, lunging forward to tug at Rikiâs sweatshirt, trying to physically pry his arm off you. "Mama is Hina's! Mama, tell Papa!"
You couldn't stop the laughter bubbling up from your chest as you looked between the two of them. Riki looked entirely too pleased with himself, leaning down to press a loud, dramatic kiss to your cheek right in front of her just to fuel the fire.
"Papa, no kissing my Mama!" Hina protested, successfully climbing over Rikiâs legs to squeeze herself right between the two of you, effectively creating a giant, chaotic family hug. Riki laughed, his chest vibrating against your back as he wrapped his large arms around both of you, burying his face into the crook of your neck.
By the time night fell, the chaotic energy of the daytime finally caught up to the household. After a warm bath and three readings of her favorite storybook, Hina finally drifted off to sleep, her little breathing slow and rhythmic under her star-printed blankets.
Riki closed her bedroom door with an agonizingly slow, careful click, ensuring the silence of the hallway remained unbroken.
The moment he turned around and saw you leaning against the hallway wall, waiting for him, his entire posture changed. The playful bickering dad vanished, replaced by the heavy, hooded gaze of your husband. He walked over to you, his footsteps silent, and didn't hesitate to trap you gently between his arms, his hands resting on the wall on either side of your head.
"Finally," Riki breathed, his voice a low, raspy whisper that sent a familiar shiver down your spine. "She's asleep."
"You were bickering with a three-year-old, Niki," you teased softly, reaching up to rest your hands on his chest, feeling the steady, warm beat of his heart.
"I don't care," he murmured, leaning down so his lips brushed against your earlobe, his breath hot against your skin. "I shared you all day. I let her follow you around, I let her hold your hand... but now it's my turn. I mean it. You're mine tonight."
Before you could laugh, Riki tilted your chin up and captured your lips in a slow, deep, and incredibly possessive kiss. It carried all the quiet built-up longing of the day, his hands sliding down to your waist to lift you slightly, pulling you flush against his body. You melted into him, your fingers tangling in his hair as the quiet house faded into the background.
He pulled back just an inch, his forehead resting against yours, a soft, breathless smile on his lips. "I love our little girl," he whispered, kissing you again, sweeter this time. "But I love you more. Come here."
Hand in hand, he led you into your bedroom, finally having you all to himself in the quiet, perfect world you had built together.
Taglistđ: @kristynaaah @enhapagluuuuu @daydreamer231 @babyt0matoes @nikidikiy @wvndrls @perolaprincess123 @ceceylosa @nota10butadefinite8 @chaebbys
Could you maybe do something where reader helps Riki with his sleeping problems?
Quad shot of expresso
insomnia! riki x reader
sypnosis: you are a barista at the local cafe and riki is your regular, hes been struggling with insomnia so u offer him some remedies, those worked, only for a while tho. however, your touch? works like magic on him.
warnings: flufff, angst, kissinggg
now playingđ§- coffee- beabadoobee
đa/n: hiiii thank you for your requestttt, took a bit of time but i hope youll enjoy it!đ€ edit: this is my draft ahhhh
The sweet aroma of roasted coffee beans and hazelnut syrup usually filled you with a sense of calm, but lately, your attention had been entirely captured by a specific regular.
Ni-ki.
He was a dancer, and it showed in the fluid way he moved, even when he was completely exhausted. Every single afternoon, he would walk into your café, dark hair slightly damp from a grueling practice session, and order a quad-shot iced americano.
"You know," you said one rainy Tuesday, leaning over the counter as you handed him his cup. "Drinking a quad-shot of espresso at 4:00 PM is basically a crime against your sleep cycle. Aren't you worried you won't be able to sleep?"
Riki let out a low, rough chuckle, his long fingers wrapping around the plastic cup. "Bold of you to assume I sleep anyway. The caffeine doesn't change anything. My brain just doesn't have an off-switch after dance practice."
That was the day you found out about his insomnia. Feeling a sudden wave of sympathy for the exhausted dancer, you started researching. The next day, instead of just handing him his coffee, you slipped a small, hand-labeled brown paper bag across the counter.
"Chamomile and valerian root," you explained, smiling at his confused expression. "Steep it for ten minutes before bed. No sugar."
Riki blinked, a genuine, lopsided smile breaking across his tired face. "Are you prescribing me tea?"
"Consider it a barista's intervention."
That tea opened the floodgates. He came back the next day, claiming it actually gave him a solid three hours of rest. You exchanged numbers so you could send him a list of other remediesâlavender sleep drops, magnesium sprays, specific white noise tracks. For a couple of weeks, the remedies seemed to work. You two text constantly, and Riki started coming to the cafĂ© not just for the coffee, but specifically to sit at the counter and talk to you during your slow shifts.
Slowly, those late-night texts and café banter turned into real, fluttering feelings. But the honeymoon phase of the remedies didn't last.
Soon, Riki was walking into the café looking more exhausted than ever, the dark circles under his eyes returning. The teas and sprays had stopped working. His body had adapted, and his stubborn insomnia was winning again.
A week later, you were browsing the snack aisle at the local grocery store after your shift when a tall figure suddenly leaned over your shoulder, dropping a bag of chips into your basket.
"You have terrible taste in snacks," a deep, familiar voice teased.
You spun around to see Riki, wearing an oversized black hoodie, looking tired but incredibly happy to see you.
"Hey! These are classics," you laughed, defending your choices.
Riki looked down at you, his dark eyes softening. "Hey... I'm having a movie night at my place. Mostly because I'm too tired to move, but I don't want to be alone. Want to come over?"
Ten minutes later, you were sitting on his living room floor, leaning against his couch. Riki sighed heavily, rubbing his face with his hands. "The treatments aren't working anymore. Nothing works. My body is just permanently wired and tired."
Looking at how stressed and exhausted he was, your heart fully ached for him. Without overthinking it, you patted your thigh. "Come here. Lie down."
Riki blinked, surprised, but his body was too heavy to argue. He carefully lowered his head, resting it right in your lap. He felt incredibly warm, his long frame stretching out across the floor. Slowly, you reached out and ran your fingers through his messy, dark hair, gently massaging his scalp.
"Close your eyes, Riki," you murmured softly. "Don't think about dance, or the tea, or sleeping. Just listen to my breathing."
Your fingers kept moving in slow, hypnotic strokes through his hair. Within ten minutes, the tense line of his jaw completely relaxed. His breathing slowed, becoming deep and even. He was asleep.
When Riki woke up, a soft beam of morning light was filtering into the room. He blinked against the light, realizing his head was still in your lap. Your hand was still resting gently in his hair, though you had fallen asleep yourself, your head tilted back against the cushions of the couch.
He stared up at you in pure shock. He had slept for six hours. No teas, no musicâjust you.
After that night, it became a regular thing. Whenever his brain wouldn't shut up, he'd ask you to come over, and the magic touch of your fingers in his hair was the only thing that could lull him to sleep. The feelings between you grew heavier, sweeter, but neither of you had dared to cross the line.
Until today.
You were working a busy afternoon shift at the café when Jake, a friendly regular who lived in your apartment complex, came up to the register. He was leaning against the counter, flashing a bright smile, playfully teasing you about a clumsy mistake you'd made the day before. You laughed, a genuine, bubbly sound, entirely missing the dark, intense gaze fixing onto you from a corner table.
Riki was sitting there, his knuckles white around his iced americano. Seeing you smile at another guy sent a sharp, agonizing stab of jealousy straight through his chest. Jake was handsome, outgoing, and clearly interested. A sudden, suffocating fear gripped Rikiâthe fear that he was going to lose you before you were even his.
That night, Riki tried to go to sleep without calling you. He told himself he was being selfish, relying on you so much. But the moment he closed his eyes, all he could see was you laughing at Jake's jokes. His chest burned with jealousy and anxiety. By 10:30 PM, his brain was a chaotic, furious storm.
He couldn't take it anymore. His fingers trembled as he grabbed his phone.
Riki: Are you awake? Please tell me you're awake.
Riki: I need you.
You had just clocked out of your closing shift, pulling your jacket on, when your phone buzzed. Seeing his panicked texts, your heart dropped. You didn't even reply; you just ran straight to his building, using your spare key to let yourself into his apartment.
The living room was dark, and Riki was pacing the floor, looking completely frantic, his hair a messy, tangled ruin from where he'd been gripping it.
"Riki!" you breathed, dropping your bag. "What's wrong? Why couldn't you sleep? Did something happen at practice?"
Riki stopped pacing. He looked at you, his eyes wide, dark, and vulnerable. "It wasn't practice," he said, his voice raw and cracked.
"Then what is it?" you asked, stepping closer, reaching out to touch his arm.
Riki pulled back slightly, his chest heaving. "Jake."
You blinked, completely bewildered. "Jake? The guy from the café?"
"He was flirting with you," Riki burst out, the words tumbling out of him in a desperate, jealous rush. "You were smiling at him. You laughed at his jokes. I sat there and watched it, and my chest felt like it was exploding. I tried to sleep tonight, I really did, but every time I close my eyes, I just think about him taking you away from me. I'm losing my mind, because I'm so exhausted, but I can't sleep if I think you're going to belong to someone else."
You stared at him, completely stunned. Then, slowly, a soft, amused smile tugged at the corners of your lips, and a small laugh escaped you.
"You're laughing?" Riki asked, looking deeply hurt and confused.
"Riki, you idiot," you said softly, stepping right into his space and forcefully grabbing his waist so he couldn't back away. "Jake is my neighbor. He has a boyfriend. He was teasing me because I dropped an entire gallon of milk yesterday."
Riki froze, his brain trying to process the information. "He... he has a boyfriend?"
"Yes," you murmured, looking up into his dark eyes, your heart pounding. "I don't like Jake, Riki. Romantically, I don't care about anyone else. Because I'm completely, entirely crazy about a stupidly stubborn dancer who can't sleep."
Rikiâs eyes widened, the heavy storm of jealousy instantly evaporating, replaced by a sudden, intense heat. "You... you like me?"
"I love you, Riki. I thought that was obvious by the amount of tea I buy you."
A breathless, euphoric laugh escaped Riki's lips. Before you could say another word, his large hands cupped your face, and he leaned down, crashing his lips against yours.
The kiss was desperate, full of all the pent-up jealousy, relief, and deep affection heâd been harboring for months. It was a firm, sweet, and demanding rhythm that made your knees go weak. You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer as he groaned softly into the kiss, his grip on your waist tightening as if he were finally anchoring himself home.
When he finally broke apart, both of you were breathless. Riki rested his forehead against yours, a massive, brilliant smile breaking across his faceâthe happiest you had ever seen him look.
"Good," he whispered, kissing the tip of your nose. "Because I'm never letting you go now."
He guided you over to the bed, pulling you down with him under the heavy duvet. Riki immediately curled his long body around yours, burying his face into your neck, his strong arms locking you securely against his chest.
You smiled in the dark, reaching up to slowly stroke your fingers through his hair, gently massaging his scalp just like you always did.
"Close your eyes, Ni-ki," you whispered.
"I love you," he mumbled against your skin, his voice already turning heavy and thick with blissful, peaceful exhaustion.
Within minutes, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest calmed down. Safe in each other's arms, with his jealousy cured and his heart full, Riki fell into a deep, dreamless sleepâand with your hand still tangled in his soft hair, you drifted off right alongside him.
Taglistđ: @kristynaaah @enhapagluuuuu @daydreamer231 @babyt0matoes @nikidikiy @wvndrls @perolaprincess123 @ceceylosa @nota10butadefinite8