❪ 아프다 ❫ action - fic - martin x f!reader ノ bestfriends!au, not proofread 〃 ★ your best friend always liked to brag about his righteous aura—you never believed him until you were to witness it yourself through circumstances uncalled for. (🍀) 1.6k words
Martin can’t help but walk aimlessly, hands shoved deep in his pockets, the sound of his shoes scuffing against the pavement cutting through the quiet night.
He groans under his breath, kicking a pebble in front of him—more out of frustration than boredom. Another argument. Another pointless back-and-forth that left him feeling like the bad guy again. All he had been trying to do was make you understand his side, but somehow, it always circled back to him being the villain.
“I’m always the villain for her, after all,” he mutters, a humorless laugh slipping out. The words taste bitter, the kind that sting even when they’re meant to sound nonchalant.
It wasn’t like he was dating you or anything—he keeps reminding himself of that. Heck, he didn’t even see you that way. Or at least, that’s what he liked to believe.
“Girls and their stupid mood swings,” he scoffs, kicking another pebble with more force this time.
His fingers fumble inside his pocket until they find the crumpled cash he’d shoved there days ago—the same money he’d been saving to buy you a small gift for your birthday. Now, even touching it feels wrong. The notes feel heavier somehow, like a reminder of something he wanted to give but couldn’t anymore.
Because how could he spend it on anything else, knowing it was meant for you?
“It’s not like I even like her,” he says out loud, as if speaking the words will make them more believable. His breath comes out in a tired sigh, his chest tightening slightly when his own thoughts whisper back—liar.
He slows down, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets, eyes trained on the ground. “Okay… maybe I do like her,” he admits quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, like he’s afraid someone might hear him confess to himself. “But—”
He trails off mid-sentence, attention snapping toward a strange sound coming from the end of the street.
A small commotion.
He can’t quite tell what it is, but curiosity flickers in his chest.
It’s almost ironic—how even when he’s seething with frustration, his attention can still shift so easily to something else.
Maybe it’s just who he is, or maybe, deep down, he’s looking for something—anything—to distract himself from you.
“Hey—give them to us.”
“You little piece of—”
Martin knows those voices. Too well. They belong to the neighborhood idiots who get off on hassling female students—boys who are still students themselves but act like cowards on the street.
He’s caught them before.
Today, midday, after the stupid fight with you that’s been gnawing at him, hearing that exact commotion lights a new kind of fire under him.
He turns on his heel, hands coming out of his pockets into fists at his sides. He’s too tired for this—too tired to be patient with anyone who thinks it’s funny to corner someone.
“Hey, you two!” he barks, spotting them at the far end, pressing a girl against the wall. She clutches two tiny kittens to her chest; the boys are trying to wrench the kittens free, grinning like it’s a game.
Something inside Martin snaps red.
He doesn’t even look to see who the girl is.
Adrenaline takes over.
He strides forward, grabs each kid by the collar, yanks them aside with enough force to stumble them a few steps, then shoves them down to the pavement. He towers over them—six feet something, a glare that makes the air colder—frustration etched into every line of his face.
“What the fu—” one of them sputters, but Martin doesn’t give him the chance. He clamps his hands onto the kid’s cheeks, fingers rough and unforgiving, squeezing until the boy stumbles back, eyes wide.
Martin’s voice is low, sharp as a blade. He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t joke. He means it.
“If I see you two harassing another female again— I won’t hesitate to beat you up.”
His finger jabs at them like punctuation, the warning ringing in the little street. The girl behind him stays still, clutching the kittens, watching everything as if she can’t decide whether to thank him or run. The boys on the ground look small and stupid and suddenly very, very ashamed.
“We won’t, we won’t!!” one of them blurts, voice suddenly pleading. His eyes flick to the kitten squirming in the girl’s arms, and Martin feels his jaw tighten; the kid winces as Martin pulls at his hair and looks away as if the street itself just scolded him.
“I’M SORRY, I’M SORRY!! LET GO!!” he begs, tiny tears forming at the corners of his eyes.
“I promise I’ll beat his ass up myself if he ever brings this shit up again,” the other boy adds, voice shaky, eyes desperate to be released. He makes sure not to meet the girl’s gaze.
“Fine. But if I ever see you doing this again…” Martin lets the sentence hang, his stare a hard, silent threat. “I won’t mind serving a sentence.”
They gulp, glance at each other, and swallow whatever pride they have left.
Their apology isn’t sincere so much as survival instinct—no one wants to be on the receiving end of ‘THE MARTIN’ especially with the ridiculous rumours that he eats humans for lunch. It’s easier to play scared.
Martin steps back from towering over them. It feels wrong to just leave them without making sure the girl’s okay, and the kittens’ distressed mews tug at him. He scans for the source of the sound, then lifts his gaze—and freezes.
Because it’s you.
You’re standing there, hood pushed back just enough for him to see your face, and for a second he can’t process anything but the sight of you, right there in front of him. Everything else blurs out—the dirt on the pavement, the two boys clutching their bruised egos, even the little kittens curling into your arms.
You look at him, the kittens wriggling in your arms. He’s frozen for a beat, his eyes wide, heart pounding and then his mouth flies open in a curse.
“YOU BASTARDS!”
Your eyes go wide as Martin spins back toward the boys, his voice raw with rage. You set the kittens down on the sidewalk without thinking, then hurry over as he looms over the two guys who are trying to get to their feet. His fist connects with the first one’s face.
“YOU THINK IT’S FUNNY HARASSING GIRLS?!” Another punch lands on the other kid’s jaw—there’s a sick crack you can almost hear, and you wouldn’t be shocked if one of them needed a dentist after this.
You hover behind him, hand reaching out before you halt, stunned by how fierce he is.
“HOW DARE YOU TOUCH HER?!” he roars, another blow nearly thrown until you grab him from behind. Your arms wrap around his torso just in time; his fist freezes midair. He takes a sharp breath, shoulders heaving, glare burning into the two boys who are already trembling.
“Oh my god!! Please calm down, Martin!” you plead, squeezing him tighter. He shoves your hands away once, still glaring at them before turning to face you, sweat beading on his forehead from the adrenaline.
“Are you okay?” he asks finally, voice rough as he scratches the back of his neck, trying to step out of the haze. Seeing you—the girl he’s liked since childhood—cornered like that flips a switch inside him.
“I’m okay. I just heard kittens and stopped…” you trail off, letting him fuel his anger for a moment longer.
“And those scumbags decided it was funny to mess with you?” he finishes for you, eyes hot with fury, ready to turn back and teach them another lesson if you didn’t hold on to him so tight.
“Martin, stop it!” you scold, punching his chest lightly as the two boys finally scramble away, breaths ragged and panicked. Your thumb rubs circles on his knuckles softly, fingers digging in, not letting him go after them.
“I really need to teach them a lesson—” he begins, jaw tight.
“I need to teach you a lesson, boy. How dare you walk off in the middle of an argument?” you snap, letting go of his hand and stalking to the curb. Your feet move before your brain does; adrenaline makes you feel oddly detached.
“Are you seriously bringing this up again?” Martin groans, rolling his eyes despite the shaking in his voice. His knuckles are bruised, a faint trickle of blood seeping through in a few places, but he hides it by tucking his hands into his pockets.
You kneel, scoop the kittens into your arms, and stand, looking up at him. He gives you a sheepish smile you can’t help but scold with a sharp, “tchh” and then you walk ahead, still buzzing with anger.
Martin can’t help the small, disbelieving smile tugging at his lips as he stares down at his bruised knuckles.
The sting should’ve hurt, but instead, it makes something inside him twist—a quiet, undeniable realisation that he’s completely, stupidly, irreversibly in love with the girl he calls his best friend. Even if he keeps denying it, even if he’s tried convincing himself otherwise a hundred times, it’s obvious now. Painfully obvious.
He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling a shaky laugh before glancing up at you walking a few steps ahead. The sight alone makes his chest feel lighter. So he jogs to catch up, voice breaking the silence.
“Are you mad?” he whines, pretending not to know the answer.
“You bet I am,” you shoot back without looking at him, the faintest pout tugging at your lips.
“Okay, stay pissed then.” Martin shrugs, slipping past you with mock nonchalance, as if he doesn’t care—but he completely misses the small smile curling at your mouth.
Because no matter how much you try to stay annoyed, you can’t erase the image of him—your Martin—losing his mind the moment he realised the girl in trouble was you.
send in your questions for the sixth member (reader)—i’ll be compiling them all into one post soon!
I won’t be including every question, just the ones that feel the most interesting or fun to answer (but I’ll still try to reply to all of them somehow <3).
this isn’t an official interview—just the author having a little fun and asking the sixth member some questions from readers for a chill filler post! thought it’d be a cool idea :D
YOU CAN ,
💬 comment your question
💌 send an ask (anon or not!)
📝 or drop it in my dmz!
WHAT KIND OF QUESTIONS?
please don’t send stuff like “what will she be doing in this future chapter?”—instead, think of questions that sound more like real interview ones!
for example: things about her personality, moments with members, her interests, or experiences, anything.
presenting, riize × afab reader . . . genre, scenario(s) word count, n/a . . . note, my attempt at coming back in my dead blog, hope y’all welcome this forgettable grandma [LIBRARY]
OSAKI SHOTARO . . . ✦
(👔) CEO X SECRETARY — Every time you stepped into his office, nerves danced beneath your skin. The scent of his cologne hit instantly—sharp, expensive, unforgettable—lingering in the air like him. Osaki Shotaro was composed to the point of coldness, with rolled sleeves, silver cufflinks, and eyes that never missed a thing. He looked like he belonged on the cover of every novel you secretly read. Today was no different. You walked in, clutching the file to your chest, eyes darting anywhere but him. “Do you have the papers?” His voice was low, precise—and paired with the slow way he adjusted his glasses, it sent your heart into a spiral. You nodded, a quiet, breathless “Yes, sir,” slipping out before you quickly turned to leave. Behind you, he glanced up from his desk, a rare curve to his lips. “You always run away like that?” And suddenly, your hands were shaking.
SONG EUNSEOK . . . ✦
(🎭) FAKE DATING — You let out a quiet sigh as you sat on the bench, arms crossed, eyes trailing after the boy everyone thought was your boyfriend. Song Eunseok—golden boy of the football field, the one who made girls trip over their words and hearts. But none of this was real. It was just a deal. He needed a fake girlfriend to get his friends off his back, and you? You said yes because… why not? He was handsome and the attention was flattering. The curious stares, the whispers of “how did she pull him?” it was all a game. At least, that’s how it started. Until he began waiting for you after school. Offering his hand without thinking. Laughing over shared ice cream like it was the most natural thing in the world. And one day, as the sky turned pink, he leaned in—eyes gentle, steps hesitant. “I—” you whispered just as his lips brushed yours. But the moment shattered when a friend’s voice rang out, teasing. You both pulled away, awkward smiles covering the silence. You told yourself it was part of the act. But your heart? It wasn’t pretending anymore.
JUNG SUNGCHAN . . . ✦
(📷) IDOL X FAN — You were waiting by the bus stop, when someone bumped into you. A guy in a hoodie, bucket hat pulled low, and a mask. “Wha—?” Before you could finish your sentence, you noticed a small group of girls hurrying in your direction, giggling and pointing. The guy beside you stiffened, eyes darting for an escape. You didn’t recognize him—not immediately. Acting on impulse, you stepped forward and looped your arm through his. “There you are! I waited way too long—seriously, looking like a celebrity’s not helping,” you joked, laughing like an old friend. His eyes widened in confusion, but he didn’t move. The girls slowed down, whispering among themselves. Then one said, “Nah, it’s not him. Just looks like Sungchan.” The girls lost interest and walked away. You let go, chuckling awkwardly. “Sorry—just thought you needed help.” Then, with a small bow of gratitude, he turned and walked off without saying anything. You stood frozen for a second—Your breath caught as you recalled the name. Wait. What if it was actually him?
PARK WONBIN . . . ✦
(⭐) ACCIDENTAL ROOMMATES — you weren’t sure why, out of everyone, you had to be paired with Wonbin. You were supposed to have this tiny dorm to yourself—your peaceful little space, just the way you liked it. But because he showed up late, the housing office had no choice but to assign him to your room. So now, you were stuck. With him. “Can you move out of the way?” you huffed, trying to sweep the floor, broom in hand while Wonbin clumsily shifted the furniture with that signature goofy grin. At least he helped. But he didn’t follow your rules. He made ramen at midnight, threw on late-night movies, and insisted you stay up to watch every single one. He’d share snacks, laugh too loudly, and sometimes—without meaning to—fall asleep on your bed instead of his. You called him annoying. But he was warm. Loud. Kind. A golden retriever in human form. And then came that one morning. You woke up tangled in blankets—and him. His breath tickled your collarbone, and when you tried to move, he stirred. “Don’t go…” he mumbled, eyes still closed.
HONG SEUNGHAN . . . ✦
(📚) LIBRARY CRUSH — You always sit across from him—the quiet boy everyone whispers about but never approaches. The library is almost always empty, tucked away from the noise of school life, and yet somehow, he’s always there. Same seat. Same calm focus. It becomes routine: your books, your highlighter… and stolen glances over the pages. They say girls fall over themselves for Hong Seunghan. You never cared. Not until he started making you stay longer—just by being there. One afternoon, you glance up and find his seat empty. Disappointed, you lower your book—only to turn and freeze. He’s standing behind you, one brow raised. “You always stare at people when they’re not looking?” Your breath catches. Your hands go clammy. “N-No—I mean, not people. Just…” He laughs softly. Then leans closer. “Then maybe next time, I should sit next to you instead.” And just like that, you’re gone in your dreamland, already thinking of a happily ever after together.
LEE SOHEE . . . ✦
(☁️) CHILDHOOD BEST FRIENDS — You’ve known Sohee since kindergarten. You were there when he cried over scraped knees, when he proudly showed off his glittery pencil box, and yes—even when he once peed himself during a school play. So naturally, you saw him like a brother… right? At least, that’s what you told yourself. But lately, things felt off. Your heart would flutter when he slung his arm around your shoulder—something he’s done for years. The warmth in his voice, the way he smiled at you… suddenly it all felt different. Too soft. Too much. You even looked it up one night: “Is it normal to fall for your best friend?” And then came that one quiet walk home, when he looked at you and said, “You’ve been acting weird lately.” your breath hitched. “Huh?” you couldn’t even meet his eyes—afraid they’d give everything away.
LEE ANTON . . . ✦
(💢) ENEMIES TO LOVERS — No one really knows when it started—how you and Anton became that pair. The constant eye rolls, bickering in class, the way he always seems to be watching you... whether out of annoyance or something else, you never quite know. One day, half-joking, you nudge him and ask, “You into me or something? You keep staring.” He scoffs. “Don’t flatter yourself.” But there’s a flicker in his gaze you don’t catch. What you don’t know is that behind your back, Anton’s grip tightens every time someone talks about you with anything less than respect. He doesn’t say a word—just makes sure they don’t do it again. Then one day, you overhear it. Someone muttering that Anton fought a guy for calling you “easy.” That night, when you ask him why, he shrugs, looking away. “Maybe I am into you. So, what about it?”
join my taglist by sending an ask or commenting here <3
SUMMARY: being married to a boxer is frightening— twice as much when you’re raising a child (or two) with that very same man. but none of it matters, not really, because your love for him is unconditional, stronger than fear, deeper than doubt, and it has always lived beyond the reach of worry.
WARNINGS: boxing, mentions of blood and wounds, mentions of pregnancy, morning sickness, pet names (baby, love), fear, love making (it’s just the last scene and barely narrated, but you can choose to skip it), starring yunjin huh (lesserafim), babies (jihoon/james & jiheon/jane). lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.
NOW PLAYING: Brisbane by Youth in Revolt & Heavenly by Broadside
a/n: the meds against allergy the doctor gave me make me feel high so sorry if there are any errors or shit. anw let me know your thoughts on this fic! 🩷 i honestly like it sm (my search history is full of synonyms lol) and please, if you haven’t, read the sunghoon!dad fic i wrote too!
You always woke up first. That was just the way it went.
The early sun never failed to warm your face through the slightly cracked blinds of your shared bedroom, golden light slipping across the foot of the bed like it belonged there.
Jake’s arm was slung heavy around your waist, his breath slow and deep against the nape of your neck, and just a little too warm. One of his legs was tangled with yours, as if even in his sleep he couldn’t stand to be far from you.
And at the foot of the bed, curled up with a stuffed gray bunny that was beginning to unravel at the seams, was James— Jihoon when he was in trouble.
Five years old. Barely able to tie his shoes right, but already carrying Jake’s stubbornness in his bones.
You shifted gently, trying not to wake Jake as you slipped out from under his hold.
He grumbled something incoherent in his sleep and reached out for you, but you were already halfway to the kitchen.
It wasn’t long before little feet padded after you, and then James was clambering onto a chair at the table, face still puffy with sleep, hair a mess.
“Toast?” you asked.
He nodded, rubbing at one eye. “With honey.”
You ruffled his hair before turning to the counter. “You’re getting too used to sweet things in the morning.”
“It makes me run faster,” he insisted, already kicking his legs under the table like he had a hundred miles of energy to spend.
Behind you, you heard Jake’s heavy steps thudding down the hallway, groggy and shirtless, his curls a wild mess. He kissed your shoulder as he passed, then bent over to ruffle Jihoon’s hair too.
“Morning, champ.”
“Morning,” James beamed. “Can we box today?”
Jake laughed as he sat down. “You wanna box again?”
James nodded so hard his curls bounced. “I’m gonna be a boxer just like you!”
You didn’t say anything at first. Just buttered the toast. Carefully.
Jake noticed. Of course he did.
After six years, he could read you better than anyone. “We’ll be careful,” he said softly, glancing at you over James’ head.
“Boxing’s not a game,” you replied quietly. “It’s not— it’s not something I want him dreaming of every night.”
Jake’s eyes softened, and he reached for your hand as you placed the plate of toast down. “I know, I know it scares you. But he doesn’t see the blood or the bruises. He just sees his dad being strong.”
You looked at him, feeling your chest ache. “That’s exactly why I’m scared.”
James munched on his toast without a care in the world, his feet swinging. “Can I come to your next match?” he asked suddenly, crumbs on his lips. “Please, please, please, pleeeeeease?”
Jake blinked, surprised. “What, the next one? That’s in two days, James.”
“I’m big enough,” he declared, sitting up straighter. “I wanna watch, I wanna cheer. Please, mommy?”
You looked at him, at his big, pleading eyes.
At the innocence behind them.
And then you looked at Jake, with the same eyes who looked torn between pride and guilt. It wasn’t fair— how much James looked like both of you at once, how easily he could tug at your heart.
You sighed. “We’ll see.”
Which really meant yes. Because you were never good at saying no when it came to them.
That night, you helped James into Jake’s old boxing gloves. They were far too big, slipping past his wrists, practically swallowing his arms.
He tried to throw punches, but they were mostly flailing motions that made Jake laugh until he was nearly wheezing on the floor.
You leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, trying not to smile too much.
Jake caught your eye, cheeks flushed, a sheen of sweat on his collarbones from messing around with James. “See? He’s a natural.”
“He’s five.”
“He’s my kid, he’s gonna be unstoppable.”
James fell over trying to jab at Jake’s leg. “Gotcha!” he shouted.
Jake swooped down and scooped him up, holding him upside down while James shrieked with laughter. “You got me, huh? You sure about that?”
“Daaaaaaad!”
“You gonna knock me out one day, champ?”
“Yeah! One punch!”
You bit back a laugh as you walked over, flicking Jake’s shoulder. “Put him down before he vomits dinner.”
“Fine,” Jake groaned, dropping James onto the couch. “You both take all the fun out of my life.”
James poked his tongue out at him. “No I don’t. I’m your best fun.”
Jake looked at him for a long second, eyes warm, and then over at you. “You both are.”
Two nights later, the arena smelled like sweat and nerves.
You had James on your lap, his little legs tucked close to his chest, his hands gripping a paper cup of juice too tightly.
The crowd was loud, the lights bright, and your heart was beating way too fast for someone who wasn’t even in the ring.
Jake stepped into the spotlight wearing his mouthguard and gloves, robe slung low over his shoulders.
He looked fierce. Serious. Beautiful. Like the fighter you’d first met back in college, when he was reckless and full of fire, but still somehow managed to be the kindest boy you’d ever known.
Jihoon bounced excitedly. “There he is! Look, mom, look!”
“I see him, baby.”
The bell rang.
The fight started.
And something was wrong.
You could tell, even if the others couldn’t.
Jake’s steps weren’t as light, his dodges not as quick. The other guy was aggressive, coming in hard and fast, and Jake—he was getting hit. A lot.
Your stomach twisted.
“Mom,” James said, his voice small now. “Why’s dad not winning?”
“He’s trying,” you whispered, arms tightening around him. “He’s okay, he’s— he’s just warming up.”
But then Jake stumbled. His lip was split.
His shoulder sagged like he’d pulled something.
And your son started to panic.
“Mom, he’s hurt. We gotta go help him.”
“James, no, listen to me— he’s gonna be okay, you can’t—”
But your words weren’t fast enough.
James wriggled out of your arms before you could catch him, ducking under the security rope, sprinting across the edge of the crowd.
Someone shouted. You were on your feet, your heart in your throat, but James was already halfway to the ring.
“Jihoon!”
He scrambled up through the ropes, small enough to slip between them, and ran straight to his father.
Jake didn’t even notice at first, too dazed by the last punch.
“Stop the fight!” you screamed. “Stop it, my son’s in there!”
The ref blew his whistle furiously, waving his arms. The other boxer dropped his stance immediately, confused.
Jake blinked down— and froze.
“Champ?”
James launched into his chest, wrapping his tiny arms around his waist. “Don’t let him hit you again! I’ll fight him for you!”
Your vision blurred with tears as you rushed down toward the ring.
Someone opened the gate for you, and you ruan inside, breath shaking, legs trembling.
Jake had dropped to one knee, one arm around James, the other shaking as he pulled his mouthguard out.
“Hey,” he whispered. “What are you doing, buddy? You can’t be in here.”
“You were losing,” James mumbled, clutching him tighter. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.”
Jake let out a laugh that sounded like it hurt. “I’m okay. It’s just a match.”
“You were bleeding.”
Jake looked up at you then, and his face — Lord, his face —he looked so sorry. So wrecked.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should’ve never let him come. This was too much.”
You knelt down beside them, pulling James into your arms, running a hand through his hair. “You scared me,” you whispered. “You can’t run off like that, Jihoon. Ever.”
“I’m sorry,” he sniffled. “I just— I didn’t want him to lose.”
Jake leaned in, pressing a kiss to both your foreheads. “I’ll never lose anything that matters, okay? Because I’ve already got you.”
The crowd was murmuring. Officials were everywhere. The match was called off.
Jake was disqualified, but he didn’t care.
All he cared about was you. And James. Safe. In his arms.
Later, in the locker room, after everyone had gone, Jake sat with James asleep in his arms, still wearing one glove that dwarfed his hand.
You sat beside him, your head resting on his shoulder.
“Promise me,” you murmured, “that if he really wants to fight when he’s older…you’ll teach him how to be smart. How to be safe.”
Jake nodded, kissing the top of Jihoon’s curls. “I promise. But for now…I just want him to dream about anything else. Anything safer.”
You reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his. “You scared me tonight.”
“I know,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”
“I love you, Jake.”
He turned, eyes soft. “I love you too.”
And in that quiet moment, with your son snoring softly between you and the world finally still, you felt it again— that fragile, powerful kind of happiness that could only exist when you had everything you loved right there in your arms.
☆.
It was supposed to be your morning to sleep in.
The deal was sacred: on Sundays, or holidays, or any day the world wasn’t demanding something from the two of you at dawn, one of you got to stay in bed while the other kept James entertained.
It had been years of trial and error, balancing exhaustion with parenting, love with chaos, but you’d found your rhythm.
This morning, you were supposed to be nestled in the warmth of the blankets while Jake took James to the kitchen for cereal and cartoons.
You’d heard them shuffling around in the other room— Jake’s low, sleepy voice, and James, wide awake, asking if he could have two bowls because he was ‘super strong today’.
But instead of dozing off again like you usually did, a sharp pain twisted through your stomach, a heat blooming behind your navel and spreading like fire.
You jolted upright, cold sweat already rising on the back of your neck, and before you could think or breathe or blink, you were rushing out of bed.
The bathroom door hit the wall when you shoved it open, and you barely made it to the toilet in time before your stomach gave out.
Violent, sudden.
Your knees hit the tile hard as your body curled in on itself.
“Baby?” Jake’s voice, thick with sleep, came from the hallway.
You couldn’t answer. The retching had stolen all the air from your lungs.
There were small footsteps, bare feet padding quick against the floor, and then James’s voice, high and worried. “Mommy?”
Jake was there a moment later, crouching beside you, his hand on your back.
“Shit— hey, hey, what’s wrong?” He was rubbing gentle circles into your spine, his other hand brushing the damp strands of hair from your forehead.
You forced yourself upright, gasping, “Phone. Get me my phone.”
Jake didn’t waste time asking questions. He was up in a flash, bolting down the hall.
But it was James who surprised you.
He knelt beside you, mimicking his father’s earlier movements, his tiny fingers clumsy as they gathered your hair and held it back.
“I’m here, Mommy,” he whispered. “You’re okay. Daddy’s coming.”
You shut your eyes for a second, heart swollen even through the pain. “Thank you, baby.”
Jake returned a beat later, sliding to the floor with your phone in one hand, his other reaching out to feel your forehead. “You’re burning up. Do you want me to call the doctor? What do you need?”
You didn’t answer at first, just searched the appa until you found the period tracker one.
You looked at him — really looked at him — and said, hoarse and quiet, “My period’s late.”
That madew him pause.
He glanced briefly at James, still by your side, loyal and worried and trying so hard to be brave.
“Late?” he asked.
You nodded. “Like…late late. And I know July’s always weird for me, and sometimes it skips, but this… this isn’t like that. This is…”
Jake caught on. He stood and reached for the bathroom cabinet before you could finish.
His hand went straight to the little white box buried behind cough syrup and cotton pads. The spare test.
He held it up. “This?”
You nodded, pressing a palm against your stomach as another wave of nausea rolled over you.
Jake knelt again and gently coaxed James to his feet. “Hey, buddy. Can you go watch TV for a bit? I’ll bring you snacks soon, I promise.”
“But—Mommy—”
“She’ll be okay,” Jake said, smoothing a hand over James’ss head. “I promise. Just give us a few minutes.”
James hesitated, looking from you to Jake, before finally nodding and stepping out of the room with one last glance over his shoulder.
You leaned back against the wall, breath shaky. Jake helped you up and steadied you with an arm around your waist.
“I’ll wait out there,” he said quietly, placing the test in your hand.
“No,” You looked up at him, eyes wide. “Don’t go.”
He hesitated for half a second, then nodded. “Alright. I’m here.”
The test took less than a minute to take. But it felt like a year.
You placed it on the edge of the sink, both of you staring at it like it might jump to life and scream the answer at you.
You were still sitting on the toilet lid, knees tucked up, your arms hugging them to your chest.
Jake sat across from you on the closed tub, elbows on his thighs, eyes flicking between the floor and your face and the tiny plastic stick.
You broke the silence. “We weren’t planning this.”
Jake gave a breathy laugh that had no humor in it. “We weren’t really planning anything back then, either… when we had James.”
“That was different,” you said.
He met your eyes. “Was it?”
You bit your lip, chest tightening. “It feels scarier now.”
Jake didn’t say anything for a second. Then he moved closer, kneeling in front of you.
His hands found yours, his fingers cold from the tile but steady. “Whatever it says…you’re not alone in this. You’re never alone, love.”
“I threw up everywhere.”
“Still not alone.”
You buried your face in his shoulder, and for the first time since the pain had woken you up, you let yourself cry.
Just a little.
Jake held you through it, fingers curling into your hair, his lips pressing against your temple.
When the ten minutes were up, the test was still face-down on the sink.
Jake turned it over.
He didn’t say anything at first.
You looked at his face, trying to read it. He was too still. His jaw clenched once, then loosened.
His eyes flicked up to yours, wide and stunned.
You stood slowly, walking to the sink, feeling your heartbeat rattle in your ribs.
You saw the two lines.
Pregnant.
Your stomach swooped. Your hands trembled.
“Oh my god.”
Jake was behind you in a second. His hands came around your waist, his head resting on your shoulder.
“That’s real,” you whispered.
“Yeah.”
“That’s real.” you said, more convinced.
Jake nodded, kissing your cheek softly. “Looks like we’re doing it again.”
You turned in his arms, eyes brimming, half-laughing, half-sobbing. “What if I can’t handle it? What if it’s too much?”
“You will handle it,” he said firmly. “Because you’re strong. And because I’m here, and we already made the best little human in the world. We can do it again.”
You clung to him, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “He’s gonna be a big brother.”
Jake pulled back just enough to smile at you. Really smile. “Can you imagine him? With a little sibling running after him?”
“He’ll boss them around.”
“He’ll protect them.”
You laughed again, eyes still blurry with emotion. “We need to tell him.”
Jake looked toward the door. “Now?”
You paused. “Not yet. Let’s just…hold it, just for a little bit. Just ours.”
He nodded. “Just ours.”
There was still pain. Still nausea. Still fear.
But Jake was here. You were here. And there was life, again, starting inside you.
Another heartbeat waiting to be loved.
☆.
You never liked hospitals.
They always smelled too clean, too sharp, like something was being covered up.
But you went anyway, let Yunjin drive you in her little too-fast-for-comfort car with her playlist blaring.
She didn’t let you argue. Not when she saw the look on your face after the test. Not when she showed up with a fresh croissant and a determined, no-bullshit attitude.
“I’m not letting you stay in bed and Google symptoms until you give yourself a panic attack,” she said. “We’re going to the doctor. I’ll hold your hand, throw up with you, whatever you need.”
True to her word, she was there when you lay back on the crinkly white paper of the exam table, heart in your throat, the sonographer squeezing warm gel onto your skin.
She didn’t let go of your hand once.
AAnd there it was.
That flickering heartbeat.
Tiny. So small it didn’t feel real until it pulsed across the screen like a drum.
You stared at it, lips parted, heart unraveling. The image was hazy, grainy, but it was there, this new, growing piece of you. Of Jake. Of your family.
You cried, of course. You always cried at these kinds of things, even if you tried not to.
Yunjin blinked hard a few times herself. “You’re really doing this again, huh?”
You laughed, a watery sound. “God, yeah.”
“You’re stronger than me.”
“No I’m not,” you said. “You’d be amazing.”
She squeezed your hand. “But right now, this baby’s gonna have the coolest mom on earth… and well, aunt, duh!”
When you finally did tell your son, Jake was the one who brought it up.
James had been building a Lego tower in the living room, lying on his stomach in his little dinosaur pajamas, humming to himself.
Jake sat beside you on the couch, his hand on your thigh, a soft press of reassurance.
“Hey, bud,” Jake said, ruffling his son’s hair, “we’ve got something kinda cool to tell you.”
James looked up, blinking, pieces of Lego clutched in each hand. “What?”
Jake looked at you. You nodded, and he smiled. “You’re gonna be a big brother.”
James blinked again. “What?”
You leaned forward. “There’s a baby growing in my tummy, sweetheart.”
There was a beat of silence.
Then, “A baby? In there?” He pointed, alarmed, at your belly, which still looked more like you’d eaten too much lunch than anything else.
You laughed. “Yeah. In there.”
His mouth dropped open. “Is it gonna pop out soon?”
“Not soon,” Jake said. “You’ve got a few months, but eventually, yeah.”
James crawled closer, pressing his little hand against your shirt like he was trying to feel the baby through your skin. “Is it a girl?”
“We don’t know yet,” you said.
He tilted his head, clearly deep in thought. “Will it like dinosaurs?”
“I hope so,” Jake said, laughing.
James was quiet again for a moment, looking at you, then Jake, then back to you. “Do I have to share my snacks?”
You smiled. “Only if you want to.”
“I’ll think about it,” he said solemnly. “But only if it doesn’t touch my T-rex.”
“Deal,” Jake said.
And just like that, James accepted it.
Sort of. He had questions, of course— How does the baby breathe? Will it be loud? What if it’s a girl and doesn’t like trucks?
But in the end, he was still the sweetest baby boy on earth.
☆.
The first trimester was cruel.
The toilet became your closest companion.
Mornings were the worst: your body felt hijacked, your stomach constantly roiling, everything smelling too strong or too wrong.
Jake woke up every day with you, even when his eyes were heavy with sleep and his matches were approaching.
Even when his training hours stretched him thin. He still tried to take up time to stay with you, to train younger boxers instead of boxing himself.
But what surprised you most was James.
He’d peek into the bathroom every morning, hair sticking out in wild directions, clutching his little stuffed dinosaur by the arm.
And if Jake wasn’t already holding your hair back, James would quietly step in and do it.
He never complained.
He just stood there with a serious look on his face and said things like, “You’re doing a good job, Mommy,” or “It’s okay. Sometimes I throw up when I eat too much candy, too.”
Jake started calling him your bodyguard.
James puffed his chest with pride every time.
Sometimes, when the nausea got bad enough, Jake would carry you to bed, settle behind you, and James would crawl in on your other side and whisper stories to the baby. “Today I drew a robot. When you come out, I’ll draw you, too.”
It was in that moment that you realised you had won in life.
.
☆.
Valentine’s Day wasn’t usually a big deal for the two of you.
You’d never been the candlelight-dinner, wine-glass-clinking, heart-shaped-everything type of couple.
Your love was built on early mornings and grocery runs, on whispered goodnights and holding hands during hospital appointments, on parenting and partnership and choosing each other again and again, even on the days when your patience was thin and the dishes were stacked high in the sink.
But this year felt different.
You woke up to the soft creak of your bedroom door opening and the quiet shuffle of socks across the floor.
Your belly was heavy, so round and taut it felt like you were a balloon stretched to its final inch of give.
And you were tired. So tired.
But when you opened your eyes, you saw them— Jake, holding a bouquet of slightly squashed red roses, and James peeking from behind his leg with something hidden behind his back.
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Jake murmured, kneeling on the edge of the bed and brushing a kiss against your forehead.
James stepped forward, biting his lip, then presented you with…a crayon drawing of what looked like three lopsided people holding hands. “This is us,” he explained proudly. “That’s you, and that’s Daddy, and that’s me, the little one in your belly is a circle. I didn’t know if it’s a girl or a boy.”
You took it like it was the most precious thing in the world. Maybe it was.
Jake handed you the flowers with a sheepish smile. “James wanted to get you chocolates, but I told him flowers are important too.”
“Mommy should have both,” James declared.
“You taught him well,” you said, kissing your husband’s lips. Then you reached under in the bedside table drawer and pulled out a wrapped box you’d hidden last night. “And so did I.”
Jake raised an eyebrow. “What is this?”
“Open it.”
He unwrapped it to find a tin of dark chocolate truffles and a new pair of wraps for training —embroidered with Best Father Farter across the edge.
His smile cracked wide. “Oh my god.” he laughed loudly “I love them!”
James clambered onto the bed between you both. “Can we eat cake now?”
Jake cooked lunch while you sat on a stool in the kitchen, rubbing your belly and trying to ignore the low ache that had been bothering you all morning.
James danced around in his socks, insisting on wearing a tie for ‘the special day’c and you let him because he looked too cute not to.
The cake was store-bought, a simple one with little pink sugar hearts, but James was excited about it like it was some magical treasure.
You stood up to grab a knife to cut the first slice.
You didn’t even make it to the drawer.
Pop.
The sound wasn’t loud, but you felt it in your body, a deep, sudden release of pressure.
Warmth gushed down your legs.
You froze.
Jake, mid-laugh, stopped. “Did you— did you drop something?”
You looked down at your soaked pants. Then up at him.
“Oh my god.”
Jake’s eyes widened. “Is that—? Is it happening?!”
“Yes! Jake, yes— go grab the hospital bag!”
James gasped, horrified. “You peed yourself?!”
“I didn’t pee myself, baby,” you said through gritted teeth as the first cramp twisted through your belly. “The baby’s coming.”
James blinked. “Now?”
“Yes. Now.”
Jake was moving at light speed— or maybe no speed at all.
He dropped the bouquet. Nearly tripped over James.
Grabbed his phone, then the car keys, then forgot both again.
“Okay, bag— hospital bag, where’s the— where did we—where did you put it?”
“By the door, Jake!” you snapped. “Where it’s always been.”
He stumbled off, yelling back, “I knew that! I’m calm!”
“You’re not calm!”
James was clinging to your leg like a baby koala. “Is the baby falling out right now?”
“No,” you hissed, hand gripping the table as another contraction hit, sharp and fast. “But soon if we don’t move.”
“Should I call someone?” Jake shouted from the hall.
“Yes! Call Yunjin. She needs to come stay with James!”
“I’m already on it!” he yelled back, fumbling his phone.
Yunjin picked up after two rings.
“You’re gonna want to get here,” Jake said, voice too high. “It’s happening. She’s— her water broke. Like actually broke. It’s go time.”
You grabbed the phone from him as he rushed back in. “Yunjin, please— just get here.”
“I’m on my way, don’t panic,” she said, though you could hear the smile in her voice. “Tell James I’ll bring candy.”
“I’ll tell him if I survive.”
You handed the phone back to Jake, your hands trembling. “Get the car ready. I’ll get shoes.”
“You’re not getting anything. I’m carrying you.”
“Jake—”
“I’m carrying you,” he repeated, gently but firmly.
James watched the whole scene unfold like a movie, his eyes wide. “Will it hurt?”
You knelt down, wincing, brushing his cheek. “Yeah, honey. It’s going to hurt. Daddy’s going to be with me, don’t worry. you’re gonna be the best big brother ever.”
He nodded, lip trembling. “I’ll tell the baby that I love her.”
Jake kissed his forehead, voice thick. “You tell her that in person. We’ll be back with your sister soon.”
The hospital was a blur of fluorescent lights and quick footsteps and voices that felt like they were underwater. m
The pain hit in waves, and each time it crashed, you wanted to scream— but you didn’t.
Not yet. Not until it got worse.
And god, it got worse.
Nine hours of it.
Jake never left your side, not for a second.
You yelled at him at least three times.
“Stop talking,” you growled at him during hour five, when he was trying to distract you with some nonsense story about his first amateur fight.
He shut up. Immediately. Nodded like a soldier.
Later, when you were gripping the rail of the bed so hard your knuckles went white, you hissed, “I hate you.”
“I know,” he said.
“Don’t touch me.”
“Got it.”
“Wait, no— touch me again.”
He grabbed your hand without hesitation. “Right here.”
You screamed. He let you crush his fingers.
And when it finally happened,.
the world shrank to pressure and burning and breathless, broken sounds, you gave one last push and everything stopped.
Then—
A cry.
High and raw and brand new.
They placed her on your chest, and your hands shook when they curled around her tiny, wriggling body.
She was pink and warm and squalling like she was furious about the whole ordeal.
You sobbed.
Jake sobbed more.
Your forehead pressed to hers as you whispered, “Hi, baby. Hi, Jane… Hi, Jiheon.”
Jake kissed your temple a hundred times, his face wet with tears. “You did it. You did so good.”
“She’s so small,” you whispered.
“She’s perfect.”
You looked at her again, this little piece of you and Jake and everything that had ever been good between you.
You were exhausted, ripped open and aching, but she was here.
Your daughter.
And she was worth it all.
☆.
The world came back slowly.
Not in one clean breath, but in fragments, blinking against the dim hospital room light, the hum of machines, the sterile scent of disinfectant layered beneath something warm.
Familiar.
Jake’s cologne.
Your throat was dry, lips cracked, body heavy— wrecked didn’t even begin to describe it.
Your stomach ached with the aftershock of labor, your muscles trembling in the stillness, and for a moment, you couldn’t even tell what time it was.
Everything had blurred together into hours of pain, blood, cries, and the weight of her tiny body on your chest before darkness finally pulled you under.
But now—now it was night.
The sky outside the narrow window was ink-dark, the city lights dulled by the thickness of the glass.
You shifted just slightly, wincing at the soreness that radiated through your hips and spine, and turned your head.
He was there.
Jake was sitting in the corner chair beside your bed, hunched forward with a blanket cradled against his chest, shoulders curved inward like a shield.
His hair was a mess,, and his eyes were fixed on her with an expression so full of awe it punched the breath right out of your lungs.
He was crying. Quietly.
Not the dramatic, shaking kind of crying— just slow, steady tears, running along the curve of his jaw and down to his neck as he stared at his daughter.
“Jaeyun…” Your voice cracked like ice underfoot.
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t even look at you at first.
“She’s sleeping,” he whispered, brushing one callused thumb over her cheek, his voice so soft it barely stirred the air. “She has your nose.”
You watched him from the bed, your vision still cloudy, but yourr heart was awake now.
He looked so still, so unlike the chaotic Jake you’d known for years.
Not the boy who forgot his keys five times a week.
Not the man who cheered too loud at James’s school recitals. This was something different.
This was a father. Again.
You reached out with a hand that shook from effort. “Let me see her.”
Jake finally turned, startled like he hadn’t realized you were awake.
He sniffed, blinking hard as he carefully got up. “You’re awake,” he said, voice cracking. “God, you— are you okay? You fainted right after they took her. They said you were just exhausted, but you were out. I thought—” He paused. Swallowed. “I’ve been watching you sleep for hours.”
You blinked slowly. “You’re not supposed to say that like it’s romantic, stalker.”
That got a breath of laughter out of him, ragged and wet. He came to the side of the bed, kneeling so he could ease Jane down into your arms. “Here,” he murmured. “Hold her again.”
You adjusted your pillow, barely able to sit up.
But he helped, supporting your back, brushing the strands of hair away from your damp forehead. And then she was there, small and warm and impossibly real in your arms again.
“Hi, baby,” you whispered. “Hi, little Jane.”
“Jiheon,” Jake added softly. “That’s what I’ve been calling her. She likes it… i think. She keeps making this face when I say it— look.” He leaned in and repeated it again in a whisper, “Jiheon.”
Jane shifted slightly, scrunching her face before relaxing again. A barely-there smile tugged at Jake’s lips.
“You look like a dad of two now,” you murmured, brushing your finger along her hair. “There’s something different in your face.”
“I feel different.” He pressed his forehead to your shoulder and just breathed there for a second. “Like… more breakable.”
You rested your cheek on top of Jane’s head and closed your eyes. “You’re not. You’re stronger than you think.”
He pulled back and sat down on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle either of you. “Do you remember what you said during hour seven?”
“Which part? I said a lot of things.”
“You said if I ever touched you again, you’d break my nose.”
“Yeah,” you breathed. “Still stands. For a while.”
Jake grinned and leaned closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “Fair. I’ll wait.”
You both sat there for a while, in the stillness that only came in the dead of night, surrounded by beeping monitors and the soft breathing of your daughter.
After a while, he reached out and brushed the back of his finger over Jane’s tiny fist. “She’s got my ears.”
You snorted. “Poor girl.”
He laughed, pulling the blanket higher around your shoulders. “James is gonna love her.”
“He already does,” you said. “He kept talking to my belly like it was a walkie-talkie.”
Jake smiled again, softer now. “He’s gonna be the best big brother.”
You were quiet for a while.
Just breathing. Just holding her.
And him holding you.
Then, your voice cracked the silence, barely a whisper.
“Thank you.”
Jake blinked. “For what?”
“For giving me them.” You looked down at Jane. “For giving me you.”
His face crumpled a little. “You gave me everything back.”
☆.
Coming home was a blur of motion and scent and warmth—soft clothes, white noise, the lingering chill of February air clinging to your coats and hair as you stepped into the house with a car seat cradled between both hands.
Jane was still asleep.
That delicate, floating sleep only newborns seem capable of, where their tiny chests rise like feathers and fall again, their mouths puckering occasionally, eyelashes still damp against their cheeks.
Your arms ached from holding her, your legs felt like jelly, and your stomach was a quilt of stretched skin and healing muscle, but lord— you were finally home.
Jake carried the bags in with one arm and hovered behind you like you might fall at any second.
His hand was low on your back. “You okay?”
“I’m… tired,” you admitted, your voice raspy with lack of sleep and recovery, but your eyes were clear. “But yeah, I’m okay.”
“Good. I want this moment to be good.”
You looked over at him. “It will be.”
James had been waiting by the window.
The second you stepped inside, his feet came skidding over the hardwood floors in his socks, eyes wide, mouth hanging slightly open.
“Where is she?” he breathed, like he was waiting to see a mythical creature.
Jake gently nudged the car seat toward him. “She’s sleeping. Be soft, okay?”
James crouched like it was some sacred ritual, his tiny fingers gripping the edge of the blanket.
He peeked in with a squint, nose wrinkling, face twisted in deep thought.
He blinked.
Then frowned.
“…She’s kind of ugly,” he declared.
Jake choked on a laugh, reaching to ruffle his hair. “Hey.”
“But it’s okay,” James continued with a shrug. “She’s a baby. I heard some people get plastic surgery when they grow up. She can do that if she wants.”
You pressed a hand to your mouth, stifling a snort. “She’s not ugly.”
“She looks like a wrinkly potato.”
“That’s cause she just came out,,” Jake said solemnly, kneeling beside him. “She’ll look better after some milk and sleep.”
James tilted his head, clearly unsure how to feel. “She smells like butt.”
You bent down beside them both, the ache in your legs sharp but ignorable.
Jane stirred a little, her mouth making a soft sucking noise, her hands twitching. “You smelled worse when you were born.”
James’s eyes widened like you’d just told him he was adopted. “No way.”
“Yes way,” Jake chimed in. “You pooped on me twice in the first week.”
James’ face lit up. “Can I hold her?”
“In a bit,” you said, brushing your fingers along his hair. “After she’s fed. And once we’re on the couch.”
He nodded, serious. “I’ll wait.”
☆.
The days passed like smoke curling around your head—soft and slow and smothering all at once.
Jane didn’t sleep unless she was on someone’s chest.
Your chest. Jake’s chest. Occasionally James’s, when he insisted on sitting perfectly still on the couch, puffed up with responsibility.
Your nights bled into mornings, your mornings into afternoons.
You could barely tell what day it was anymore. You were always either nursing, changing, soothing, or trying to catch a moment of quiet to breathe.
But even in the chaos, there were moments that glowed— small, quiet glimmers of peace.
James tiptoed more than he used to. He would pad into your bedroom at two a.m., rubbing his eyes, clutching his dinosaur plushie under one arm.
“Is she okay?” he’d whisper.
“She’s just hungry,” you’d whisper back.
Sometimes he’d crawl into the bed next to you and lie on Jake’s other side, close enough to reach for your elbow. He didn’t ask for lullabies anymore. Just your presence, closeness.
Sometimes he’d doze off again before Jane had even finished nursing.
Other times, he’d stay awake. Just watching.
“I think she likes when you sing,” he murmured one night.
You paused, fingers stroking Jane’s back. “You think?”
He nodded seriously. “Even if you’re a little out of tune.”
And Jake— Jake was different, this time.
The first time around, he’d tried. He really had.
But he was younger, more nervous, too rough around the edges, and there were nights when you’d cried in the shower because you were the one holding everything together.
But not now.
Now he was soft in the ways that mattered.
He remembered the towel you liked best and warmed it in the dryer before you bathed.
He memorized your medications, prepped your bottle without you asking.
He rubbed your feet while Jane fed, whispered affirmations when you broke into tears at 3 a.m. for no reason except that your body wasn’t yours and your brain was drowning and you missed sleeping for more than two hours at a time.
He wasn’t perfect.
He still forgot to put lids back on properly and he still knocked over the baby lotion bottle three times in the same week.
But he had learned you. Learned your limits. Your moods.
What words would help and which wouldn’t. He never made you feel like a burden. Not once.
And when you had nothing left to give— he gave you back to yourself.
You came down one night after a long nap you hadn’t even realized you’d taken, hair sticking to your forehead, your robe askew.
You expected disaster. Bottles unwashed, a screaming baby, maybe Jake asleep on the couch with James up way too late playing video games.
Instead, you found the living room lit in warm lamplight, quiet.
Jake was shirtless, Jane pressed to his chest in the baby wrap, bouncing slightly on his feet as he whispered a lullaby in half-Korean, half-english.
James was curled on the rug with dinosaurs his book, whispering the words to himself, a blanket pulled over his lap.
Your heart cracked open.
Jake looked up and smiled. “She just finished feeding. I pumped from the stash in the fridge, you looked like you needed rest.”
“I did,” you whispered.
“Go back up,” he said. “I’ll bring you tea.”
You hesitated. “I feel guilty.”
“Don’t. You gave her a whole body, we’ll take care of you now.”
You did cry then.
And when Jake wrapped you in his arms that night, you believed him.
You believed that this family, this messy, tired, beautiful family, was being held together not just by your hands, but by all three of theirs.
And that was everything.
☆.
Two years later, the kitchen smelled like strawberries and sunscreen.
It was a Sunday afternoon in early June, sun slanting through the window blinds and painting long, golden stripes across the tiled floor.
The fan hummed softly in the corner, spinning slow circles that barely stirred the air, and Jan e your little girl with her chubby hands and mismatched socks was sitting in her high chair, smearing strawberry juice across her cheeks like war paint.
Jake was crouched beside her, wiping her chin with one of the soft, floral-patterned cloths you insisted on keeping in the drawer.
His hair was still damp from the hose-outside chaos that had been an hour ago— James, laughing as Jake sprayed him down while Jane screamed and clapped from the porch.
Now everything smelled of damp grass and sweetness.
You were at the sink, rinsing a bowl, humming under your breath, tired but soft around the edges with that summer kind of fatigue that didn’t bite.
James sat at the kitchen table, arms folded, face twisted in a look of intense concentration, like he was on the verge of solving the meaning of life.
“Dad?” he said suddenly, sharp like a question he’d been chewing on all morning.
Jake looked over, eyebrows raised. “Yeah, bud?”
James tapped a finger against the table. “How did you and Mom meet?”
You froze mid-rinse, hand still under the stream of water.
Jake blinked, clearly not expecting that. “Why do you wanna know?”
James shrugged, suddenly bashful, eyes darting to the side. “Just curious.”
But you saw the pink flush in his cheeks.
The way he pressed his lips together.
You turned the water off, grabbing a towel, and leaned against the counter just to watch it unfold.
“Wait.” Jake narrowed his eyes playfully. “Did something happen at school?”
James groaned. “Noooo.”
Jake smirked. “Oh my god, it did. Who is she?”
James covered his face with both hands. “Dad, no.”
“She sits next to him,” you supplied, grinning into your towel. “Pretty little thing with the pigtails and glittery pencil case, right?”
James dropped his head to the table with a muffled moan. “You guys are the worst.”
Jake cackled, reaching out to flick his son’s ear. “Okay, okay. I’ll tell you how we met, but only if you promise not to laugh.”
“I won’t.”
“You will.”
James lifted his head, expectant. “Tell me anyway.”
Jake stood, walking toward the fridge to grab a handful more strawberries, before leaning his hip against the counter and settling into storyteller mode.
Jane babbled, still chewing her fruit with delight.
“Well,” Jake began, “your mom hated me.”
“What?” James blinked. “Why?”
You crossed your arms. “Because he was cocky. And late. Constantly.”
“I wasn’t that late.”
“You were twenty-two minutes late to our first study session.”
“Okay, one time—”
“Every time.”
Jake huffed dramatically. “Anyway, we were in college. Same class, I noticed her first. She had this oversized hoodie and earbuds in every time she walked into the lecture hall, and she never talked to anyone.”
“I was tired.”
“Exactly. So mysterious.”
James giggled.
“I tried to sit near her a few times,” Jake continued. “You know, see if I could catch her attention, but she never looked up. So I asked to borrow her notes.”
You raised a brow. “You mean you spilled coffee on your own notes and then cornered me after class.”
Jake grinned at James like it was a badge of honor. “It worked.”
James’ eyes were wide now, totally absorbed. “Then what?”
“She agreed to help me study,” Jake said, placing a hand to his heart like he was reciting poetry. “And the rest… is history.”
“That’s it?”
“Well, it took a while,” Jake added. “Your mom wasn’t easy, she made me work for it.”
“Darn right I did.”
“But then we started spending more time together,” he said. “And she started smiling more. Laughing, she used to pretend she didn’t like me, but I could tell.”
“I didn’t like you.”
Jake shot you a look, grinning. “Tell that to the time you skipped your morning class just to meet me for coffee.”
You scowled playfully. “That was one time. And you had a cold.”
“You brought me soup.”
“Because I’m not a monster.”
James cut in. “Did you kiss?”
Jake opened his mouth, smirking, his eyes shining as if to say and not just that.
You threw a towel at him. “Don’t you dare.”
Jake caught it, snorting. “Yes, we kissed. A lot.”
James made a face. “Ew.”
“And we fell in love,” Jake added, softer now, his smile turning real, almost quiet. “Like, the kind of love where you still want to see their face even when they’re mad at you. The kind where everything feels like home when they walk into the room.”
Your chest squeezed a little.
“She’s still my best friend,” he added. “Even when she makes fun of me for how many times I lose my keys.”
You rolled your eyes. “He’s gotten better.”
“Only because you put a tracker on my keychain.”
James giggled again.
“And then,” Jake said, grinning now, “we had you.”
“Wait— how did that happen?” James asked innocently.
Jake froze. You shot him a warning glance. He paled.
“Uh—well, that’s a whole other story.”
James squinted. “Why?”
“Because it’s for grown-ups.”
“But—”
“Nope,” you said firmly, swooping in to pick Jane up from the high chair as she started getting fussy. “You’ll learn in science class.”
James groaned. “Ugh. But science is so boring.”
“Not always,” Jake said under his breath.
“Jaeyun.”
Jake raised both hands in surrender. “Okay, okay!”
Jane curled against your chest, sticky hands tugging at your shirt, and you kissed her forehead before shifting her to your hip.
“Is that really how you fell in love?” James asked quietly, looking between you both.
Jake looked at you, and you looked at him— and your heart did that warm, foolish little flip it had been doing since the first time he held your hand, since he first made you laugh until you cried.
“Yeah,” you said, brushing your fingers through James’s hair as you passed. “It really is.”
Jake came up behind you, his hand sliding to the small of your back. “Still in love, too.”
You looked up at him. “Even after I threatened to cut your head off if you gave me another baby?”
“Even then.”
James groaned. “You guys are so embarrassing.”
☆.
It was past midnight and the rain hadn’t stopped all day. It tapped gently against the window, like fingertips drumming over glass, soft enough now that it no longer sounded like thunder, but like a lullaby to the tired world.
The room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of the streetlight that spilled in from between the curtains.
The warmth of the bed wrapped around you both like a cocoon.
The scent of rain still clung faintly to your skin from earlier— just from standing by the door too long, shoes soaked, children loud and chaotic and cooped up.
You were fast asleep now, curled beside Jake under the heavy blankets, your body drawn instinctively to his.
Your hand had found its way to his chest, fingers splayed just over where his heart beat steady.
He could feel your breath on his collarbone, soft and rhythmic, your nose cold against his neck.
He didn’t move. He never did, not when you laid like this.
He only let his arm fold around you tighter, holding you like something sacred.
His eyes didn’t close.
It had been a long day, sure— Jane had tried to flush her brother’s dinosaur down the toilet, James had gotten stuck halfway under the couch trying to retrieve a Lego piece.
But that wasn’t what was keeping Jake awake.
It was your sigh. The small one you let out just minutes ago, right before curling closer to him in your sleep.
It had sounded like comfort. Like home.
And that’s what triggered it.
That memory.
The one he couldn’t forget, even if he tried.
The one from before the house, before the kids, before everything.
The night he almost lost you.
It had been raining then, too. Harder than this. Sharper.
You stood in the middle of a soaked parking lot, your hoodie clinging to your skin like paper, hair plastered to your face, eyes wet with more than just the downpour.
You had just stormed off, away from him.
Jake had followed you out of the gym, his steps echoing behind yours, water sloshing in his shoes, fists clenched at his sides.
“You’re not listening to me!” you shouted, spinning around to face him, voice breaking over the sound of the storm. “You never listen to me!”
“I do!” Jake yelled back, stepping closer, teeth clenched. “I always do! But you’re asking me to be someone I’m not!”
“I’m asking you to stop killing yourself in the ring every weekend!” you cried, your voice raw. “I’m asking you to choose something, anything, that doesn’t make me wonder if I’ll get a call saying you won’t come home!”
Jake’s jaw tightened.
Water ran down his face, indistinguishable from the tears in your eyes.
His chest heaved, soaked through, breath misting in the cold air.
“This is all I know,” he said. “Boxing is all I have.”
“No,” you snapped, stepping toward him. “You have me. You have someone who stands outside every goddamn fight praying you don’t bleed out, you have someone who waits up, and worries, and loves you so much it hurts.”
Jake blinked at you, and for a second, he looked like he couldn’t breathe.
And you shook your head. “But maybe that’s not enough. Maybe I’m not enough. Maybe this… us, was a mistake.”
The silence that followed made the rain sound louder. It filled the space between you like a wall.
Jake stepped forward, one slow step at a time, until he was standing in front of you, his hands shaking.
“Don’t say that,” he whispered.
You stared at him, your face trembling, your eyes full of everything you couldn’t say. “Jake—”
“I know I’m reckless, I know I’m a mess, I know I don’t always think. But you…” His hand rose, not touching you yet, hovering like you were a flame he wasn’t sure he deserved to touch. “You’re the only thing that ever made me want to slow down.”
“I’m scared,” you whispered. “I’m so scared of losing you.”
Jake’s hand finally reached you.
His fingers slid into your hair, soaked strands between his knuckles. He leaned in until your foreheads touched.
“I’m scared, too,” he said, eyes shut tight. “Of not being enough. Of being too broken to hold onto you.”
“You’re not,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “You’re not broken.”
“I am,” he said, voice cracking. “But I’m better with you.”
The rain came harder then, a sudden gust slamming sideways into your bodies, but neither of you moved.
You were shivering. He was freezing.
The whole world felt like it was falling apart, but Jake looked at you like he’d found the eye of the storm.
And then he kissed you.
It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t clean.
It was desperate and messy and full of everything you’d both been trying to say. His mouth found yours like he’d been drowning and just found air.
Your hands clung to his soaked hoodie, your body pressed to his like you’d never let him go.
Jake remembered how your tears had mixed with the rain, how his fingers gripped your waist too tight, how you’d gasped his name between kisses like it was a lifeline.
“I don’t want to lose you,” you’d whispered into his mouth.
“You won’t,” he’d vowed, breathless. “Not ever.”
And even back then, before promises and rings and babies with strawberry-stained mouths, he had meant it.
Now, in the warmth of your shared bed, he felt you sigh again.
Just a soft one. Almost imperceptible.
Your leg slid against his beneath the blankets, your head nuzzling deeper into the space between his shoulder and neck. Your fingers curled softly against his chest.
Jake swallowed hard. His hand moved to your back, rubbing in slow, gentle circles, his lips brushing your hair.
He breathed you in.
You were here. You were warm and whole and safe.
And so was he.
☆.
The light was soft when you stirred awake.
You shifted, your body stretching slow beneath the blankets, the cotton sheets warm from shared heat. And then you felt him.
Jake.
Pressed against your back, his chest bare, skin hot and solid.
His arm was around your waist, the other resting on the pillow beside him.
Your hand reached down, brushing over the blanket until you found his fingers resting over your stomach.
You laced yours through them, holding him there. And then you turned, slow and gentle, so you wouldn’t wake him. But he was already awake.
His eyes were open, dark under the faint shadows of morning. He was lying on his side, hair mussed from the bed, jaw dotted with the faintest stubble.
His eyes met yours right away.
“Hey,” you whispered.
“Hey.” His voice was husky, low from sleep… or maybe lack of it.
You frowned softly, reaching up to brush a lock of hair from his forehead. “You didn’t sleep.”
He didn’t answer. Just watched you. As if he was trying to memorize the curve of your cheek, the way your lashes cast shadows beneath your eyes.
You let your palm slide down to cup his cheek.
“What’s on your mind?” you murmured.
He hesitated.
Then, finally: “Nothing I can say without sounding selfish.”
Your brows drew together gently. “Try me.”
But instead of answering, Jake looked down. And you followed his gaze.
The scars. They were always there— some faint and faded, some newer. One near his ribs from that one brutal match three years ago.
Another near his shoulder, still pinkish, like a memory that hadn’t finished healing
You reached out slowly, letting your fingertips trail over the ridges of old pain, old bottles.
He didn’t flinch. He never did, not with you. But his breath did hitch slightly, the tension in his body curling tighter.
You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the one just below his collarbone. “I love these,” you whispered.
Jake’s throat bobbed with a swallow.
“They’re ugly,” he muttered, half-hearted, like he’d already lost the argument.
You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes. “They’re proof you survived. Every one of them means you came back to me.”
Something in him broke a little at that. His mouth opened, maybe to argue, maybe to say something tender, but the words didn’t come. His hand came up instead, cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing over the apple of it.
“I thought about you last night,” he said softly. “Back when you almost left. Out in the rain…. that fight.”
You nodded, heart aching at the memory. “It was a long time ago.”
His hand slid from your cheek to your neck, fingers splaying out along the curve of it, then down your spine, slow and reverent. “I didn’t sleep because I kept thinking what if you had left. What if I’d pushed it too far, if we never made it here.”
You shifted closer, pressing your body to his fully, your forehead resting against his. “But I didn’t. I stayed. You fought for me.”
His lips touched yours then— barely. A brush, but it was enough to make your stomach flutter.
Even after all those years.
Your hand slid down between you, over the swell of his chest, your palm flat and warm against his heartbeat.
“Still fighting for you,” he whispered, eyes on yours.
And it was then, without another word, that you leaned in and kissed him.
It was soft at first. Slow. Like a secret.
Your lips moved over his with a quiet kind of hunger, not the desperate kind from that night in the rain, but something deeper.
The kind that comes after years of waking up next to each other. After babies. After late nights and early mornings and scars.
Jake kissed you back like he needed you. Like you were the only thing keeping him grounded in that moment.
His hand slipped under the fabric of your shirt, finding the skin of your back, pulling you closer until not even air could live between your bodies.
You pressed yourself to him, your hand roaming his torso, fingers tracing over his skin like you were memorizing the feel of him.
He let out a shaky breath against your lips, his hips shifting forward just enough for you to feel the truth of his want, hard and insistent against your thigh.
“I missed you,” he murmured, kissing along your jaw. “Even with you right next to me.”
You shivered under his mouth, threading your fingers through his hair, tugging gently to bring his face back to yours. “Then take it,” you breathed. “Take me.”
He didn’t need to be told twice.
Jake rolled you onto your back slowly, carefully, his body hovering over yours, warm and heavy and familiar. He kissed you like he had all the time in the world and you let him, eyes fluttering shut, breath uneven.
His hands slipped under your shirt and you arched into his touch, letting him pull the fabric up and over your head. He looked down at you like you were art.
You tugged his mouth back to yours.
When he finally slid inside you, it was slow and careful. You both gasped— every time felt new, felt real, like the first and last and only time.
You clung to him, your arms wrapped around his shoulders, legs locked around his waist.
He rocked into you gently, his mouth finding every part of you he could reach: your neck, your collarbone, the swell of your breast.
“Still with me?” he asked, voice hoarse, forehead pressed to yours.
“Always,” you whispered, kissing the corner of his mouth.
The rhythm between you built slowly, nothing rushed. You moved together in sync, bodies finding each other like they were made to.
You moaned softly into his ear, hands trailing down his back, nails digging in just enough to make him shiver.
“Lord, I love you,” Jake breathed, pressing his hips deeper. “I love you so much it scares me.”
“I know,” you whispered, blinking through the haze of your pleasure. “I know, baby.”
You held on to each other through it all, the high and the fall, the quiet panting breaths after, the way your hearts beat wildly in sync beneath the mess of limbs and blankets.
After, when your breathing slowed and he was still inside you, arms wrapped around your waist, face buried in your neck, you stroked his back softly.
You didn’t say anything. Just kissed the top of his head.
And somewhere down the hall, a floor creaked.
You both froze.
Jake groaned into your shoulder. “Ten dollars that it’s Jane.”
You smiled, lips against his hair. “Or James looking for cereal.”
Jake sighed. “We need a lock on this door.”
“Yeah,” you chuckled, pulling the blanket over both your heads as if it could delay reality for just a few more minutes. “Later.”
“Later,” he agreed, pressing one last kiss over your heart.
Haven't read or came on tumblr for ages but i2sunric still hasn't lost that essence of originality and sense of creating a masterpiece. I literally fell in love with the way you wrote their relationship. And James? GOSH HE'S SO CUTE 🥺 I was reading this instead of focusing on my physics lecture because of how much interesting I found it all—and just kept scrolling and scrolling and scrolling until it ended.
There were moments when I had to hold a laugh in, especially, during James’ part when he first met his baby sister. The way that flashback came when I was least expecting it. Not just their babies but both Jake and Y/n seemed such cuties in the fic. 🤧
I'm hoping to read more from you because every time I do, I don't ever regret it. Hope you have a great day ahead because you surely made my day better with this fic!! 💗
PAIRING: best friend ! matthew × afab reader. SYNOPSIS: have been friends with matthew ever since childhood you hated the fact that he never saw you in a romantic way but you had made up your mind to make him notice you in another light this time. [THIS WAS REQUESTED] GENRE: fluff. WORD COUNT: 984 [LIBRARY]
“Hey! Why are you ignoring me?” you tap Matthew’s shoulder, frowning at the way he barely glances up from his phone. The thing you hate most about him is this—how completely nonchalant he is about everything, especially when you’re clearly annoyed. Doesn’t he realize how much it stings to feel ignored by your favorite person in the world?
He hums in acknowledgment but doesn’t look up. What hurts even more is the soft smile on his face—not for you, but likely for some girl in his DMs asking him why he’s so handsome or if he’s single.
“What?” he asks when you snatch his phone away. His raised eyebrow screams indifference, and it only fuels your frustration.
“What what?” you snap, glaring up at him. “Why are you so desperate for love? For a girlfriend? Am I boring now or something?”
You’re practically vibrating with indignation, standing on the edge of the bridge and glaring up at him like an ant squaring off against a giraffe. He sighs, tilting his head lazily.
“Easy for you to say,” he mutters, clearly unimpressed. “You’ve got a million friends, people hitting on you left and right. Me? I have none, Y/N. Not everyone’s as lucky as you.”
The snark in his voice makes you want to throttle him. “Such a loser,” you mumble, huffing. But then, in a moment of reckless honesty, the words spill out before you can stop them.
“I do like you, you idiot. Not that you’d even notice.”
You freeze as the weight of your confession settles between you both. Your cheeks flush, and suddenly, you’re stumbling backward, your foot slipping dangerously close to the edge of the bridge.
Before you can fully process what’s happening, Matthew’s arm wraps tightly around your waist, pulling you flush against him. Your heart races as your face collides with his shoulder, his cologne invading your senses and making your knees weak. His phone is still clutched awkwardly in your hand.
A loud cough interrupts the moment, and you both pull apart quickly. It’s your mutual friend trailing behind, looking all too smug as they pretend not to have witnessed the scene. You shove Matthew’s phone back at him, mumbling something incoherent, and the two of you start walking home in complete silence.
The tension is unbearable, thick and awkward in a way it’s never been before. You curse yourself silently for ruining the easy, comfortable dynamic you’ve always had. Matthew stays quiet too, his hands stuffed in his pockets, but every so often, you catch him glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.
It’s painfully awkward, yet somehow… it doesn’t feel bad.
You and Matthew could share anything embarrassing with each other, no matter how ridiculous it was. But this? This was different. It was weird in ways you couldn’t put into words. Sure, you’d once showered together as kids—innocent and carefree—but now, the air between you was heavy with unspoken feelings. And for days, neither of you brought up your accidental confession.
That is, until you see him. Talking to another girl.
Her hand rests casually on his shoulder, her eyes wide and blinking at him like he’s the most fascinating thing on the planet. Your chest tightens, a feeling somewhere between betrayal and frustration creeping in. You hadn’t expected Matthew to avoid the topic forever, but this? Letting someone else flirt with him? It stings.
The logical thing to do would’ve been to walk away, to leave him be. But logic has never been your strong suit. So instead, you storm over, glaring daggers at the girl until she backs off. Matthew stands there awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.
“Hey, she—” he starts, but you cut him off.
“You piece of shit!” you yell, loud enough for anyone nearby to hear. “You decided to ditch me for that chick?!”
Matthew looks at you, stunned, his mouth half-open as you barrel forward.
“I FUCKING HATE YOU, SEOK MATTHEW! Could you not just reject me instead of rubbing it in my face by flirting with someone else? Do you not realize how much I LOVE YOU?! Do you not see how much it hurts when you add random girls on Insta? When you get so desperate for a girlfriend even though I’M RIGHT HERE?! AM I NOT GIRLFRIEND MATERIAL?! AM I JUST BEST FRIEND MATERIAL?! WHY, SEOK MATTHEW?!”
Your voice shakes with the effort, your chest heaving from yelling so hard. Matthew stands frozen, his eyes wide as the weight of your words settles over him.
“Umm… well… I like you too,” he finally stammers, rubbing the back of his neck. His voice is hesitant, almost shy. “Like… I thought you had better options…”
His words hit you like a bucket of cold water. You grab his shoulders, forcing him to look at you. Your eyes narrow, searching his face for any hint of doubt.
“When did I ever give you the impression I wanted anyone else?” you mutter, your voice low but firm. He blinks rapidly, his gaze darting anywhere but your face.
“I-I thought I had no choice,” he mumbles awkwardly, but before he can say more, you throw your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug.
“Then it’s final,” you declare, your voice muffled against his chest. “You’re dating me. No choice left. I waited for so long, and I’m not waiting anymore.”
Matthew stiffens at first, but when you mention going to “someone else,” he immediately tenses, his arms tightening around you.
“I won’t, okay?” you reassure him with a soft laugh, pulling back just enough to look at his face. “But I hate you as much as you hate pink for not confessing first.”
He smiles sheepishly, his ears burning red as he mutters, “I don’t hate pink that much…”
“Exactly,” you tease, resting your head against his shoulder with a satisfied sigh.
join my taglist by sending an ask or commenting here <3
PAIRING: secret bf ! sungchan × gf ! afab reader. SYNOPSIS: all your life you were made to believe that you weren't enough, that you weren't supposed to be loved but your boyfriend had his ways of making you forget all of that. GENRE: really really angsty, the reader is highly insecure and has a panic attack, sungchan comforting the reader. WORD COUNT: 1K [LIBRARY]
Another day passes with the weight of avoidance pressing down on you. If your parents ever found out that you lied about having a stomach ache to skip college, they'd unleash a flood of lectures, sharp and unrelenting. But they’d never pause to ask why. They’d never dig beneath the surface to understand what’s really wrong. And that’s what stings most—how much you want to snap back and make them see you for once.
Someone who might care, truly care, is Sungchan. But even he doesn’t know. You’ve been dodging his messages, letting your phone buzz and go unanswered. It’s not that you don’t want to talk to him—it’s that you can’t. Motivation feels like a stranger. The idea of reaching out, of forming words, feels impossible. You can’t even summon the will to leave your bed, much less pretend everything’s fine.
You’re still wrapped in yesterday’s clothes, tangled in sheets that feel heavier than they should. The mirror across the room reflects someone you barely recognize. Messy hair, dark circles, a visible tiredness that no one would want to look at twice. You know you’re a disaster. You’ve told yourself a hundred times today alone.
Life doesn’t feel like life anymore—it feels like a task. A long, monotonous list of things you’re supposed to do but can’t bring yourself to care about. You convince yourself that not talking to Sungchan is better this way. Why burden him with this version of you? He deserves someone brighter, someone whole. Someone you’ll never be.
Maybe it’s the loneliness that eats at you, or maybe it’s the hollow echo of years spent without hearing your parents say, “I’m proud of you,” without strings attached. Sure, they provided for you, but love? That always felt transactional. A box you could never check.
You were always there, but never really chosen. And it hurts more than you’d ever admit.
You’re too lost in your spiraling thoughts to notice the soft knock at your window. It comes again, sharper this time, pulling you out of your haze. Hesitantly, you open it, not expecting much—but then Sungchan climbs in, landing with a quiet thud. He looks like something out of a drama, the lead who’d do anything to reach the person he loves.
Before you can even speak, his arms wrap tightly around you, and your face presses against his chest. His warmth, his presence, is so overwhelming that it cracks something inside you. The tears come before you even realize it, your facade crumbling as sobs spill out. His hand cups the back of your head, his voice low and soothing as he whispers, “I was so worried.”
He pulls you closer, as if he can shield you from whatever storm rages inside. And maybe it’s the fact that he showed up, or that he doesn’t care how disheveled and broken you look—but something about his sincerity breaks you further.
“Why didn’t you show up? Are you okay?” he asks softly, his hands framing your tear-streaked face. His eyes hold nothing but concern, and that tenderness makes the guilt unbearable. You try to answer, but the words stick in your throat, and all you can do is collapse into his chest, trembling as your sobs grow louder. His hand moves to your back, gentle and steady, grounding you as he murmurs, “What’s wrong, baby? Talk to me. We’ll figure it out together, okay?”
Your knees threaten to give out, weakened by the weight of everything you’ve been carrying and the neglect you’ve inflicted on yourself. He holds you steady, but his gaze flickers over the dark circles under your eyes and the frailty of your frame. He doesn’t say anything about it, but you know he notices.
Through broken breaths, you finally force the words out. “It feels… I feel empty. I can’t even make myself do the simplest things anymore.” The admission leaves you raw, exposed. He listens, his hand still softly patting your back, urging you to keep going.
“Sungchan, I can’t help it,” you choke out, tears spilling faster. “I feel like everyone is so much better than me. I’m just… just nothing. Dumb, useless. People say ugly ones at least have grades or something going for them, but I have neither. I’m nothing.”
Your voice cracks with every word, so broken it feels like it might shatter completely. His silence is heavy but not empty. His heart aches with every word you say, every tear you shed. He pulls you closer, his grip tightening, as if holding you could stitch your pieces back together.
“You’re not ugly, baby… and who said you’re dumb?” Sungchan’s voice breaks slightly as he holds you tighter, his arms a fortress around your trembling form. “God, I’m such a bad boyfriend. How did I not see that you were suffering?” His words carry the weight of his own guilt, his sniffles betraying the emotion he’s trying to keep in check.
“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, as if it might shatter under the weight of everything unsaid. You pull back slightly, wiping at your tear-streaked face with shaking hands. “I shouldn’t… I haven’t even bathed. I don’t want to dirty you.”
But that only makes him cling to you more, his arms wrapping around you with even more determination, as though he can shield you from the cruel thoughts in your mind. He sighs, the sound heavy with pain, as his hand strokes your back. “I love you so much,” he murmurs, his voice soft but steady. “You’re not dumb. You’re not ugly. You’re everything I want. And it’s breaking my heart to hear you call the person I love so much names she doesn’t deserve. Please don’t do it. Please.”
His words are like a lifeline, but they also cut deep. You sob harder, your body trembling against his as the guilt bubbles up again. How could you have ghosted him? How could you have doubted his care? You thought he’d judge you, thought he’d see the mess you’ve become and turn away. But here he is, holding you like none of it matters.
And maybe, in this moment, it doesn’t. Because he’s here, proving with every word and every touch that you are worth it. Even if you can’t believe it, even if the weight of your thoughts still lingers, the way he holds you makes it clear—he does. And that’s enough, even if just for now.
join my taglist by sending an ask or commenting here <3
NOTE FROM SENA , (this is a fic in a headcanon manner) my blog was filled with nsfw stuff so here's something fluffy fluffy headcanon fic , MASTERLIST!!
i. TRAINEE DAYS : THE QUIET START
You met Eunseok during your early trainee days at SM Ent. He was kind, soft-spoken, and always the first to help you with choreography or vocal practice.
While most trainees were focused on their own progress, Eunseok went out of his way to make you feel comfortable, offering tips and encouragement when you felt overwhelmed.
It was during those late-night practices when he realized he liked you—watching how hard you worked, how determined you were despite the pressures. But he kept it to himself, Thinking it was just a passing crush.
ii. THE POST DEBUT REALISATION
After Eunseok debuted with Riize, his feelings for you only grew stronger. The distance created by his busy schedule and rising fame made him realize just how much he missed having you around.
He’d text you between schedules, always pretending to be casual: “How’s practice? Don’t overwork yourself.” Or “Did you eat today? I hope you’re taking care of yourself.”
In truth, he checked his phone way too often, waiting for your replies, which he’d always read with a small, secret smile.
iii. TRYING TO HIDE HIS CRUSH
Eunseok prided himself on being discreet, but his friends (and fans) weren’t buying it.
During interviews, his members teased him about how he’d “light up” whenever your name or group was mentioned. He’d stammer and try to play it cool, but the pink tint on his cheeks always gave him away.
“We’re just friends!” he’d insist, but the other members knew better. “Sure, Eunseok. Friends don’t stay up late voting for their ‘friend’s’ group on music shows.”
iv. YOUR DEBUT AND HIS FANBOYING
When your group debuted, Eunseok couldn’t contain his excitement. He was the first to shout out your group during a live, praising your song and performance.
“Their choreography? Amazing. Their vocals? Insane. The visuals? Don’t even get me started.”
Fans noticed how animated he became whenever your group was mentioned, dubbing him your unofficial “biggest fan.”
His members teased him relentlessly. “You bought five lightsticks for her group, bro. Are you okay?”
v. LIGHTSTICK CHEERLEADER
In private, Eunseok took his support to the next level. During video calls, he’d wave your group’s lightstick enthusiastically, grinning like a proud fanboy.
“See? I told you I’m your biggest fan,” he’d joke, but the sincerity in his eyes made your heart flutter.
On tougher days, he’d send you encouraging messages: “You’re doing amazing. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
vi. WINNING OVER YOUR FAMILY
When he got the chance to meet your family, Eunseok’s good manners and respectful attitude won them over instantly.
Your mom adored him, calling him “such a sweet boy,” and your siblings (if you had any) teased you endlessly about how “perfect” he was.
Eunseok would blush at the compliments but secretly feel proud knowing your family liked him.
vii. FANS CALLING HIM OUT
During lives, fans would spam him with questions about you. “Eunseok, do you like y/n?”
He’d try to laugh it off, responding vaguely: “What? No! We’re just friends!” But his ears would turn red, giving him away.
If a member teased him during a live, saying something like, “Eunseok, isn’t y/n your ideal type?” he’d go silent, flustered but smiling.
viii. THE SECRET RELATIONSHIP
Despite SM’s no-dating rule, Eunseok couldn’t help but pursue a relationship with you. It started subtly—late-night texts turning into secret coffee dates, quiet moments shared in practice rooms, and whispered promises to keep things under wraps.
He was incredibly protective, always acting like just a friend in public. He’d avoid any unnecessary interactions that might spark rumors but made sure you knew how much he cared behind the scenes.
“I’ll always be here for you,” he’d say softly during your late-night calls. “Even if we have to keep this quiet, I’ll make sure you never feel alone.”
ix. BLUSHING WHEN CONFRONTED
Eunseok couldn’t hide his feelings completely. Whenever someone directly mentioned his crush (especially during lives or interviews), he’d freeze, his face turning bright red.
“Eunseok, are you dating y/n?”
“W-What?! No! I—uh… next question?”
Fans thought his reactions were adorable, flooding social media with clips of him blushing.
x. BALANCING FAME AND LOVE
Eunseok handled the challenges of a secret relationship with surprising maturity. He never let his feelings for you interfere with his career but always found ways to show you, you were his priority.
Whether it was sneaking into your fan signs to cheer you on or secretly slipping you handwritten notes during events, Eunseok made sure you felt loved, even if the world couldn’t know.
“I don’t care how long we have to keep this a secret,” he once told you. “As long as we’re together, that’s all that matters.”
xi. DELULU FANS
To the fans who shipped him with other idols, Eunseok remained calm and polite, never giving them more than a friendly smile. But deep down, he hated seeing you feel insecure because of it.
“Don’t listen to them,” he’d reassure you. “You’re the only one I care about.”
He’d go out of his way to subtly support you, wearing your group’s merch or mentioning your group’s achievements in interviews—anything to remind the world how proud he was of you.
xii. THE HAPPILY EVER AFTER
Though your relationship stayed under wraps, those who knew about it admired how deeply Eunseok cared for you. His love was quiet but unwavering, a constant source of strength in your hectic idol lives.
And whenever the pressure became too much, Eunseok was always there—your biggest fan, your secret boyfriend, And your greatest support.
join my taglist by sending an ask or commenting here <3
NOTE FROM SENA , (this is a fic in a headcanon manner) def not my birthday today but here we go , MASTERLIST!!
i. THE BEGINNING OF A VIRTUAL LOVE STORY
You and Sohee met online through a mutual hobby group, bonding over late-night chats, silly memes, and a shared love for obscure indie bands.
You never thought anything serious would come of it, but before long, you were texting each other good morning and good night, sharing every little detail of your lives.
Sohee was shy but sweet, often confessing how much he wanted to meet you in person. “I wish I could hug you right now,” he’d text, accompanied by a photo of himself looking adorably soft in his oversized hoodie.
ii. ONLINE MOMENTS THAT BECAME SPECIAL
You both developed routines that kept the spark alive. Weekly video calls became sacred, even if Sohee sometimes got flustered and hid his face behind his hands when you complimented him.
During your virtual movie nights, he’d patiently sync up his screen with yours, ensuring you both hit play at the exact same time. “Don’t skip ahead!” he’d laugh if you got too excited.
On your rough days, he’d send you playlists he curated just for you. “This one’s for when you’re sad,” he explained once, sending a link with the note: ‘Track 5 reminds me of you.’
He once surprised you by sending a hand-written letter to your house. Inside was a Polaroid of him holding a sign that said, “You’re my favorite person.”
iii. THE CHALLENGES OF LONG-DISTANCE
Dating as teens made it tough to meet, especially with his busy trainee schedule and your own commitments. You’d often joke about flying to see him, but he’d nervously laugh, saying, “Maybe one day.”
Even when things got hard, you both stayed committed. “Five years isn’t that long,” he’d say during the harder nights. “I promise it’ll all be worth it.”
iv. YOUR BIRTHDAY BLUES
Now both 22 and independent, you’d been dating for five years without ever meeting in person. You often whined about wanting to see him, but Sohee always brushed it off, saying, “Not yet.”
On your birthday, you came home from work feeling miserable. Nobody at work remembered, and your boyfriend hadn’t texted all day, which was odd for him. You figured he must’ve been busy, but it still stung.
Opening the door to your house, you expected silence. Instead, you were greeted by cheers from your two best friends and your parents.
v. THE SURPRISE OF A LIFETIME
Your eyes landed on the cake first—small but beautifully decorated with your favorite colors. Then you noticed the figure standing beside it. Tall, with soft features and a shy smile you recognized instantly.
It was Sohee.
Your legs wobbled as your heart caught in your throat. “No way,” you whispered before running toward him. The moment his arms wrapped around you, you broke down, sobbing into his chest.
“You’re real,” you kept repeating, clutching him tightly. He laughed softly, resting his chin on your head. “Of course I’m real. Happy birthday, my love.”
vi. KEEPING IT PG-15
Your parents and friends looked on with fond smiles, so you had to keep the reunion as wholesome as possible. Still, Sohee’s hand lingered on your back, and you couldn’t stop staring at him in awe.
“You’re prettier in person,” you blurted out, earning a shy laugh as he scratched the back of his neck. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
Your friends teased you endlessly, taking photos of the two of you while your parents served cake.
vii. PARENTAL APPROVAL
After your friends left, Sohee spent time talking to your parents. He was polite and respectful, answering their questions about his career and your relationship.
By the end of the conversation, your mom smiled warmly. “He’s a keeper,” she whispered to you, making your heart flutter.
viii. THE QUIET AFTER THE CHAOS
That night, Sohee ended up in your room, sitting on the edge of your bed as you playfully punched his chest. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I was so mad!”
He caught your hand mid-punch, holding it gently. “I didn’t want to ruin the surprise,” he said, looking at you with those soft, expressive eyes you’d only ever seen through a screen.
“Well, consider me surprised,” you mumbled, leaning against his shoulder.
ix. THE PERFECT END TO YOUR BDAY
You spent hours talking, laughing, and catching up in a way that felt completely new but also familiar.
Before he left to stay at a nearby hotel, he kissed your forehead, promising to make the next few days together unforgettable.
“Happy birthday,” he whispered one last time before stepping out, leaving you with a heart so full you thought it might burst.
x. FINALLY TOGETHER
That birthday marked the start of a new chapter in your relationship. No more screen barriers, no more longing from afar—just you and Sohee, finally together, making up for lost time.
join my taglist by sending an ask or commenting here <3
PAIRING: bf ! anton × gf ! afab reader. SYNOPSIS: you always managed to pull yourself up out of breakdowns or sadder parts of life but you never once imagined someone creating a fuss to take care of you through your downs. [REQUESTED] . . . . . . GENRE: #comfort core, fic. WORD COUNT: 1k [LIBRARY]
You and Anton have been together for years, long enough to trust him with everything—well, almost everything. Moving in together felt right at the time, but lately, you’ve been questioning whether that was a mistake. Some days are good, some are bad, but the worst ones? The ones like today? Those are the hardest because you don’t even have the energy to pretend you’re okay.
Maybe it’s the fact that no matter how many job applications you send, no one seems to want you. Maybe it’s that sinking feeling that you’re not just struggling—you’re a burden. No, scratch that. You are a burden. Full stop.
Still, you push yourself to keep going. Just one foot in front of the other. You grip the door handle, take a shaky breath, and step inside.
Anton is there, standing in the middle of the living room like he’s been waiting for you. His face lights up when he sees you, but that stupidly proud smile of his only makes everything worse. How the hell can he still look at you like that when you’re contributing nothing?
“Hey…” His voice is soft, but his brows pinch together in concern. “You look—uh, kind of out of it. You okay?”
And that’s it. That’s the last fucking straw.
Your bag slips from your fingers, hitting the floor with a dull thud as you practically throw yourself at him. Your arms wrap around his torso, your face burying into his chest as the sobs hit you full force. Ugly, shaking, can’t-breathe kind of crying.
Anton doesn’t even flinch. No awkward hesitation, no stiff pat on the back like he’s comforting a coworker or some shit. His arms immediately close around you, holding you tight like he’s physically trying to keep you from falling apart.
“Hey, hey… Shh, I got you,” he soothes, rubbing slow circles into your back. “It’s okay. I’m here. Everything’s gonna be okay.”
You want to believe him. You really do. But all you can focus on is how your breathing is coming in short, shaky bursts, how your fingers are gripping his shirt like he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to the ground.
What fcks you up the most, though? The fact that he doesn’t care. Not in a bad way, but in a way that makes your chest ache. You’re standing here, falling apart—messy, broken, so not okay—and yet, he’s holding you like you’re still worth something. Like he’d do this a thousand times over if it meant you didn’t have to go through it alone.
And maybe… just maybe… that’s enough for now.
“C’mere, let’s sit and talk, yeah? Nothing’s wrong, especially when I’m here.”
Anton doesn’t wait for you to agree—he just scoops you up like you weigh nothing, and you cling to him like a damn koala, arms wrapped tight around his shoulders. He settles onto the couch, pulling you onto his lap, but before you can bury yourself back into his chest, he gently tilts your face up, wiping away your tears with his thumb. Not that it does much, since they just keep coming.
You sniffle, taking a shaky breath. “I can’t find a job… And I don’t want to stay financially dependent on you. I don’t want to be a burden. Everybody’s so mean. Jiah won’t even talk to me anymore because she thinks it’s embarrassing to be seen with me.” Your voice cracks, but you force the words out anyway. “Are you… Are you embarrassed of me too?”
For a moment, he just looks at you, his hands steady on your waist, his eyes soft but serious. And then, instead of answering, he leans in and kisses you. Slow, deep, like he’s trying to get you to shut up in the most effective way possible. His lips move against yours in a way that makes your heart stumble in your chest, and when he finally pulls back, you’re breathless and blinking at him like an idiot.
Anton smirks a little, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “First of all,” he starts, his voice firm but warm, “just because you aren’t getting a job right now doesn’t mean you’re dumb. It just means there aren’t enough of them. That’s not your fault. Second, you are not a burden to me. But since I know how much this is bothering you, why don’t you look for something temporary? Editing, content writing—there are tons of online jobs that could work until you figure out what you really want to do.”
He pauses, letting that sink in before he continues. “And Jiah? That’s her problem, not yours. She should be embarrassed of herself for acting like that. I’m just proud that my baby spoke up about it.”
It’s a lot. A mix of advice, comfort, and pure tonie logic, but somehow, it actually helps. You feel… lighter. Like maybe the weight on your chest isn’t crushing you as much.
And just when you think you couldn’t feel more relieved, he adds, “Besides, I’m gonna marry you anyway, whether you’re ‘successful’ or not, no matter what other people think.”
You blink at him. “Wait, what?”
Anton just grins, pressing a kiss to the top of your head like he didn’t just casually say something that could actually give you a mini heart attack. “You heard me.”
Your heart is a mess—pounding, fluttering, tripping over itself—but his hands are steady as he cups your face, wiping away the lingering tears with his thumbs. His touch is so gentle, it makes your chest ache in a different way.
“Does it feel better now?” he murmurs. “Now you know… sharing is way better than keeping it all bottled up?”
You sigh, letting your head rest against his chest, listening to the steady, calming rhythm of his heartbeat. “Yeah,” you admit, voice quiet but honest. “I think… I think I’ll share every time I feel sad from now on.”
Anton hums, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “You better,” he mutters. “Because I’ll always be here for my pretty girl.”
He tightens his arms around you, rocking you gently like it’s the easiest thing in the world to hold you together when you feel like falling apart. And for the first time in a while, you actually believe it.
join my taglist by sending an ask or commenting here <3
SENA’S NOTE : this is the second and third idea mixed together and might not have been a perfect execution of the request.. but I believe it's still better than posting nothing.. so thank you for requesting. ;0;
BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who stumbles over his words when expressing romantic feelings, but if someone messes with you, his protective side kicks in effortlessly.
BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! prefers subtle acts of love, like slipping a handwritten note into your bag or making sure your favourite snacks are always stocked.
BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who’s serious about his goals but always makes time for you, scheduling “you time” into his busy life like it's the most important appointment of the week.
BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who's extroverted streak will surprise you with random road trips or impromptu café hopping when he’s feeling energetic.
BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who might suggest studying together or working on personal projects side-by-side, motivated by the idea of growing together.
BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who’s secretly trying to master cooking your favorite dish so he can impress you during cozy home dates.
BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who might overanalyze texts or gestures, worrying he’s not doing enough for you, even though you’re perfectly happy.
BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who loves doing things for you, like fixing something in your room or helping with errands, but gets adorably flustered if he messes up.
BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who loves cuddling while binge-watching your favorite shows.
BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who keeps little mementos from your dates—movie tickets, pressed flowers, or even random doodles you gave him.
BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who believes saturdays are reserved for coffee shop mornings where he orders for both of you.
BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who randomly gets into motivational speeches when you’re feeling down: “you can definitely do this. remember how you aced that last thing? you’re unstoppable.”
BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who will attempt to fix your tech issues with all the confidence of an IT professional, only to accidentally open a hundred tabs and sheepishly admit defeat.
BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who will write a cheesy song inspired by you but refuses to sing it in front of anyone except you. Bonus: it’s actually good.
BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who comes home after the gym and lifts you up like a dumbbell to show off, giggling the whole time.
002. NSFW SECTION
BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who's a bit grey when it comes to morals because most of the time he would just want to speed up, eventually making the neighbors jealous from the sounds of your coupling.
BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who believes that a relationship should always be 50/50: him leaving lots of hickeys on your body while you scratch your name with your nails on his back.
BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who would most likely moan “you’re my fuckin’ girl.” “all mine.” while pumping multiple loads of cum inside your pussy.
BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who starts a slow kiss with just the intention of relieving some stress, soon turns it into an aggressive make out session while you both moan in each other's mouths.
BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who when missing you, clearly shows with the way he fills you with his cum while repeating “missed you s’much” over and over again til he's done.
BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who loves to tease you by holding your face down on the bed with your ass up in the air as he only rubs the head of his hard throbbing cock (making you beg for him to start.)
BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who slips his fingers back in after you've both finished and then tells you to “open up” so that you can taste both of you.
BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who forces you to keep the eye contact with him while his dick twitches deep inside you.
BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who kisses your back while in doggy style.
BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who grabs your hips when you're on top of him and helps you bounce on it.
BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who prefers to take you in ‘cowgirl’ because he loves to see your tits bounce.
BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who’s most likely to grab your hips, bend you over, and eat you out from behind.
BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who makes the make out sessions slow and sloppy followed by whispered praises, “my pretty baby”, “you’re so beautiful.”
BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who fucks you so good that you get wet the next day just thinking about it. (because how could you forget the way he left kisses on your pussy after making you cum?)
BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who won't let you go until you finish too because that's what gentlemen do.
join my taglist by sending an ask or commenting here <3
The warm glow of amusement park lights flittered behind you as you wrapped an arm around his shoulder, and the faint smell of popcorn and candy still clung in the air. Shotaro kept stride with you, both of you laughing over something silly said on the Ferris wheel. It was perfect-till the shrill wail sliced the evening. There ahead, was a toddler on the blacktop, face crunched and red, crying as loud as the park's coasters. The parents, as frantic as ever, struggled to calm the storm. Shotaro stopped, cocking his head in curious amusement. “Damn,” he muttered, popping another mouthful of cotton candy into his mouth. “Kids are something else.” You had to swallow a chuckle at the shifting expressions on his face as he alternated between pity for the kids and mutely applauding the parents' endurance.
Boldly, you jabbed him with your shoulder. “So, just how many do you think you could handle?” Though it was a light statement, you felt the flutter of interest in your heart. Shotaro raised an eyebrow and looked from the wailing child to the now-defeated pair of parents. After a calculated pause, he pointed at the scene, as if he were investigating a crime. “After that show?” He shook his head and shivered with distaste. “Definitely one. Maximum.” You burst into a fit of laughter; big, uncontrollable laughter that sent waves of pain into your tear ducts. “What? One? You are a brave soul!” you teased, leaning against him as he walked, both of you light and putting that laughter behind you.
EUNSEOK . . . ✦
“Stop staring,” sighed Eunseok, blush creeping up his arms as he arrogantly crossed them over his bare chest before finally looking at you. You remained transfixed on his warm skin, one hand upon it and your eyes tracing the defined contours of his body like an artist appreciating their artistic masterpiece. He squirmed in discomfort under your gaze and tried—but failed—to look annoyed. “Really?” he asked. “Do you really want to look at me like that?” You smiled mischievously, tilting your head to the side. “I can't help it. You're a distraction.” Eunseok opened his mouth, ready to respond, but you forestalled him by making a bold declaration. “I can't wait to have babies with you.”
Eunseok's eyes widened, a surprised cough coming out of him. “B-babies? Right now? Why are we talking about that?” . . . “Why not?” You winked, shrugging it off. “How many do you think you want?” He kept his eyes narrowed, the corner of his lips twitching, clearly choosing to reverse the question. “How many do you want?” You arched an eyebrow. “I asked first.” His lips stretched into a coy smirk as he relented. He slipped one arm around your waist and pulled you into his arms, the heat of his body sending chills through you. “Three” he murmured teasingly just above a whisper. He moved closer. His lips brushed against your ear as he whispered, “But now we have to work for it.”
SUNGCHAN . . . ✦
Your head rested gently on Sungchan’s lap as the relaxed light of the TV illuminated his expression on the news. His long fingers ran over your hair in an idle caress, but he paid little attention, one hand holding a half-eaten chip poised between his lips. “Baby?” you called softly, breaking the silence. “Hmm?” he hummed, absentmindedly chewing. You hesitated, but a playful smile appeared on your face before you asked, “How many kids do you want?” That question was surely like a curve ball. Sungchan was choked, seated backward as he hastily pulled his drink to his mouth. A few awkward little coughs preceded a moment of silence during which he averted his gaze aimlessly, towards the TV just to look casual.
“Uh...” he started, his ears slightly red. “Honestly?If you are their mom... I think I can deal with three troublemakers.” You raised an eyebrow, your lips quirking into amusement as you cocked your head back to regard him. “Three? Sounds like far too much trouble.” He looked down at you, his lips curling in a boyish grin around his most recently commandeered chip. “Yeah?” he drawled. “Don't worry, I'll be there to help. But if that's still too much trouble...” He hesitated, his gaze softening before he continued, “Two should be okay--but only if it's with you.” Your heart raced, warm laughter escaping your lips. “Smooth.”
WONBIN . . . ✦
“Wonbin. Wonbin. Wonbin. Wonbin.” You repeated his name like a mantra, pressing soft, rapid-fire kisses to his cheeks. His brows were furrowed, lips in a stubborn pout, but you could see the cracks forming in his resolve. This was your apology—a clumsy but heartfelt attempt to fix the mess you’d made. After all, you’d let jealousy get the better of you and accused him unfairly, making him feel like he didn’t matter to you. And now? Now you were desperate to make it right. He let out an exasperated sigh, still refusing to meet your eyes. His silence felt heavier than it should, and it made your heart ache. So, you tried the only thing you thought could soften him.
“How many kids do you want?” you asked, your tone gentle but tinged with hope. That caught his attention. His eyes widened, and he blinked at you as if you’d just suggested you run away together. “What?” he asked, clearly caught off guard. You bit your lip, shifting closer. “How many kids do you want? With me?” For a moment, he just stared, the remnants of his irritation fading away as he registered your words. Though he’d always sworn kids weren’t his thing, the thought of little versions of you two made him smile—just a little. “Two,” he finally said, his voice soft but sure.
SEUNGHAN . . . ✦
“Seunghan,” you nudged him gently, watching as his gaze remained fixed on his niece, who was playing with her dolls a few feet away. His soft smile made your heart ache in the best way. You knew it was the perfect moment to ask the question that had been swirling in your mind for months. “How many kids do you want?” He didn’t look startled, not even a little. Of course he wouldn’t be—this was Seunghan, after all. The two of you had already talked about everything from shared bank accounts to paint colors for your dream home. He simply turned his head toward you, his expression thoughtful as he looked back at his niece. It was as if he was imagining a little one of your own—a blend of you and him, running around and filling your future with joy.
Finally, his lips curved into a shy smile, and he whipped his head back toward you. “three…?” he said tentatively, his tone laced with both excitement and hesitation. “Would that be too much?” You laughed softly, touched by the way he valued your opinion. “I guess that depends on how stable we are in the future. But sure, three sounds good.” Before you could tease him further, Seunghan leaned forward, lips aimed for a kiss. You quickly dodged, pointing toward his niece as a reminder that she was still watching. She tilted her head, utterly baffled by the interaction, while the two of you burst into laughter, the warmth between you unspoken yet undeniable.
SOHEE . . . ✦
Sohee’s head snapped to the side, his cheeks glowing a rosy pink, as he overheard your conversation with a friend on the phone. You were casually chatting about wanting kids in the future—pretty normal stuff. But to him? It was anything but normal. His heart raced, and his shyness bloomed like wildfire. When you noticed his flustered state, you raised an eyebrow, stifling a grin. Ending the call with a quick excuse, you turned to him, unable to hold back your laughter. “Stop laughing,” Sohee grumbled, grabbing a nearby pillow and tossing it in your direction. It landed squarely on your face, earning a surprised yelp from you. Rubbing your nose where it hit, you chuckled even harder. “How can I stop when my boyfriend gets this shy... just at baby talk?” you teased, your tone light and playful.
He groaned, burying his face in his hands to hide the growing blush. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, but his pout only made him cuter. Deciding to push him further, you leaned forward, smirking. “Alright then, Mr. Lee. How many kids do you want?” He peeked at you through his fingers, raising an eyebrow as if trying to gauge if you were serious. When he realized you were, he sighed, brushing at his reddened cheeks. “Umm… one?” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. You grinned, walking up to him and planting a soft peck on his lips. “Good choice, Mr. Lee,” you whispered against his skin, your smile infectious. His shyness only deepened, but the small smile tugging at his lips told you he didn’t mind one bit.
ANTON . . . ✦
You were sprawled across Anton’s chest, his heartbeat steady under your ear as Squid Game season two played on the TV. He was fully engrossed, his eyes fixed on the screen, while you, having already watched it, found more entertainment in teasing him. “Come on, you can watch it later,” you whined, pressing a kiss to his neck. When that earned only a distracted hum, you tried again, a sly grin on your lips. “Baby... if you don’t pay attention to me, I’ll spoil what happens next.” That got his attention—a sharp glare that made you laugh, but still, he didn’t budge. You sighed dramatically, as if you were truly suffering, before trying a different tactic.
“Okay then, dummy,” you began, your tone playful, “how many kids do you want?” That did it. His focus snapped to you, brow quirking at your seemingly random question. “What an odd thing to ask while I’m watching a show,” he muttered. But then his lips softened, and without hesitation, he added, “One.” Your heart skipped at the ease of his answer. He’d clearly thought about it before, the way he said it so certain, so natural. You lightly smacked his chest, burying your face into him to hide your grin. Even if his eyes drifted back to the screen, his arm wrapped protectively around your waist. And when he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, it felt like his way of saying, I’ve imagined our future too.
join my taglist by sending an ask or commenting here <3
pairing: legal line of zb1 x female reader . warnings: twt p.rn links, a lot of nasty stuff tbh . [LIBRARY]
[001] — although you and jiwoong had been fighting for a few days, what were the results? better than ever. when he fingered you to make up for the argument, what could be better than you caressing his dick?
[002] — hao most certainly did not understand what you meant when you invited him to test a new s.x toy. he did understand what you meant, though, now that you were using it on him.
[003] — you were supposed to spend the weekend to ensure you had had some quality time with your husband but somehow that statement could also mean—some good fucking quality time with your husband hanbin. switching places on the counter with him eating your pussy and then you returning the favor by licking your favourite treat, his cock.
[004] — it was too difficult for you to stay apart from matthew, but the energy was evident when you two were reunited. soft caressing, gentle riding, and quick fucking with tender cuddles are all examples.
[005] — taerae was rather on the gentle side but would you complain when he punishes you for being a brat all day?
[006] — just ricky taking his favourite girl, you, in doggy style after you jokingly said that “his dick isn't enough to satisfy you” guess he'll have to prove himself then.
[007] — when your sweet boyfriend gyuvin took you against the wall after you said that you liked men who did it “rough” all the while knowing that gyuvin had been anything but rough… but guess you changed it for once.
[008] — you were completely opposed to gunwook’s idea at first, but as he demonstrated what it really included, now, you didn't appear to mind it all that much. He teased you by inserting his cock inside your underwear and rubbing it next to your pussy, getting the material so moist that it was nearly translucent and extremely sensitive.
pairing, riize × afab reader . . . genre, scenario(s), headcanons . . . word count, 50—60 each . . . note, these are not things ‘i’ consider as insecurities but rather things that ‘some’ people do and in no way am i shaming anyone (rather the opposite). [LIBRARY] [PART 01]
SHOTARO . . . ✦
THICK THIGHS : Shotaro adores your thick thighs because they’re soft, comforting, and perfect for him to snuggle into. He often rests his head there, using them as his personal pillow. He doesn’t understand why you’re insecure, because to him, they’re flawless—whether you’re wearing loose or tight jeans, they always look amazing. To him, they're simply the best.
EUNSEOK . . . ✦
PROMINENT EARS : Eunseok finds your prominent ears incredibly cute, loving how they stand out in the most charming way. He often playfully tugs on them or kisses them, saying they’re one of your most unique features. To him, they add an extra layer of charm, making you even more endearing. He loves how they make you, you.
SUNGCHAN . . . ✦
STRECH MARKS : Sungchan adores your stretch marks, seeing them as beautiful reminders of your journey. Whenever he notices one, he gently traces it with his fingers, as if mapping out the path you've walked. To him, they’re a part of what makes you uniquely yours, and he loves how they show your growth, making you even more perfect to him.
WONBIN . . . ✦
FLAT CHEST : You were so insecure about your flat chest, avoiding corsets because you thought you didn’t have enough to fill them. Wonbin, noticing how it bothered you, always made sure to reassure you that he loved you exactly as you were. He’d remind you how perfect you looked, not caring about societal standards, and that he was deeply attracted to every part of you.
SEUNGHAN . . . ✦
LARGE OR SMALL NOSE : Seunghan adores your nose, whether large or small, because it perfectly matches your face and makes you uniquely you. He loves how it complements your expressions, whether you’re laughing or pouting. To him, it’s not about its size but the way it adds to your charm, making every little detail of you feel even more special.
SOHEE . . . ✦
DARK CIRCLES : Sohee adores your dark circles, seeing them as a sign of how hard you work and care for others. He lovingly teases you, but always makes sure you get enough rest. He’ll bring you cozy blankets, prepare soothing teas, and make sure you're comfortable, knowing that your tired eyes only make him want to take better care of you.
ANTON . . . ✦
BODY ODOR : Anton adores your body odor, even if you feel insecure about it. He insists you smell amazing, like comfort and warmth, and it’s one of his favorite things about you. To him, it’s just yours, something only he can love. No matter how much you worry, he’ll always reassure you that your scent is perfect, just like you.
join my taglist by sending an ask or commenting here <3
NOTE FROM SENA , (this is a fic in a headcanon manner) first wonbin work lesss gaurr , MASTERLIST!!
i. THE BEGINNING OF A SILLY FEUD
Your rivalry with Wonbin started over the most ridiculous thing ever: his best friend stealing a strawberry from your best friend’s lunchbox in 3rd grade.
Your best friend cried for hours about the betrayal, and you decided it was your duty to avenge her. Naturally, this meant you had to hate Wonbin by association.
“You’re friends with a thief!” you’d declared with the confidence only an indignant child could muster.
“It’s just a strawberry! You’re crazy,” Wonbin had retorted, rolling his eyes.
And from then on, you two were sworn enemies. Even as the years passed, the petty grudge somehow persisted, growing into something you didn’t even know how to stop.
ii. HIGH SCHOOL : THE RIVALRY EVOLVES
By high school, the rivalry had become an unspoken rule. If there was a chance to one-up or annoy each other, you both took it without hesitation.
During group projects, you’d fight over ideas until the teacher had to separate you.
If he scored higher than you on a test, he’d make sure you knew about it: “Better luck next time,” he’d say with a smug grin.
If you beat him in a game during gym class, you’d make a point to celebrate a little too enthusiastically, just to watch his annoyed reaction.
Your classmates were so used to the bickering that they didn’t even bat an eye anymore. “Oh, it’s just Y/n and Wonbin being Y/n and Wonbin.”
iii. THE MILK INCIDENT
The rivalry reached its peak when you heard a rumor that Wonbin had bullied one of your friends. Furious, you decided to confront him in the most dramatic way possible—by dumping a carton of milk over his head during lunch.
The cafeteria went silent as everyone turned to stare. Wonbin froze, milk dripping from his hair as he looked at you with wide eyes.
“What the hell was that for?!” he finally asked, his voice sharp and low.
“For my friend, you jerk!” you shouted back, feeling righteous in your actions.
Later, your friend admitted she’d lied, and you were mortified. But by then, the damage was done—Wonbin refused to talk to you, and you could feel his cold gaze whenever you crossed paths in the hallways.
iv. FAILED ATTEMPTS TO APOLOGIZE
Guilt gnawed at you, so you decided to apologize. Writing a note felt like the easiest option since facing him seemed impossible.
“I’m sorry for the milk thing. I overreacted. Can we talk?” you wrote, slipping the note into his locker before rushing away.
The next day, you saw him take the note out, glance at it, and toss it in the trash without even opening it. You felt your blood boil. How dare he ignore me like that?!
v. CORNERING HIM AFTER CLASS
The silent treatment pushed you to the edge. After one particularly tense class, you followed Wonbin out and grabbed him by the collar, shoving him against a wall.
“Why are you acting like this? I said I was sorry!” you snapped, glaring up at him.
He looked down at you, completely unfazed. “You think one sorry note fixes everything?” he shot back, his tone sharp.
“What else do you want me to do? Get on my knees and beg?”
“You could try thinking before you act for once,” he said, his words hitting harder than you expected.
vi. THE UNEXPECTED KISS
The argument grew more heated, voices rising as you both vented years of pent-up frustration.
“You’re so infuriating!” you shouted, your grip tightening on his collar.
“You’re not exactly a walk in the park either!” he retorted, leaning closer as if challenging you.
In a moment of pure impulsive anger, you yanked him down by his uniform collar and kissed him hard.
For a split second, he froze, but then his hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer as he kissed you back with equal intensity. It was messy, fiery, and charged with all the unresolved tension between you two.
vii. THE AFTERMATH
When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, foreheads pressed together.
Wonbin smirked, his lips still inches from yours. “Still hate you,” he murmured, but the teasing edge in his voice felt softer, almost playful.
“Good,” you muttered back, even though your heart was racing.
viii. A SHIFT IN THE DYNAMIC
After that kiss, things between you and Wonbin were… different. The bickering continued, but now there was an underlying tension that neither of you could ignore.
He started teasing you more often, but his comments were laced with a new kind of warmth.
“Don’t trip over your own feet,” he’d say during gym class, but his smirk would linger a little longer than usual.
You found yourself glancing at him in class, wondering if he was thinking about the kiss as much as you were.
ix. NEW “RIVALRY” RULES
The “hate” between you two started feeling more like a game. When he scored higher than you on a test, you’d roll your eyes but secretly smile at his smug expression.
When you outperformed him in a group activity, he’d groan dramatically but give you a subtle nod of approval.
Your friends noticed the shift immediately. “Are you two… flirting?” one of them asked during lunch.
“Flirting? With him? Never,” you scoffed, but the blush on your cheeks gave you away.
x. THE UNSPOKEN TRUTH
Neither of you openly acknowledged what had happened in that hallway, but it was clear that something had changed.
You still pretended to hate each other, but the lingering glances and subtle smiles told a different story.
And though you’d never admit it out loud, you didn’t really hate Wonbin anymore. If anything, you might actually like him. But for now, you were content to keep playing the game—because that’s just how things were with you and Wonbin.
join my taglist by sending an ask or commenting here <3
kianamaiart
gummygunk
origamiaround
