#“Its too late now we can watch it in the morning”

[heliosunny]

if it's not too much to ask can I req our general jingyuan for your lucky egg prompt?

LUCKY EGG

Yandere!Jing Yuan x Reader

You weren’t expecting much when you used the Lucky Egg Dispenser—maybe a cute pet, maybe something rare if luck was on your side.

But when the machine whirred and spat out a large golden egg, heavier than the others, you knew something was different.

A small note was attached to it, written in elegant, unfamiliar script:

"Handle with the utmost care. Do not leave its side."

Was this a warning? A request? Either way, you didn't dare ignore it.

For three days, you kept the egg close—hugging it, sleeping with it nestled against your chest, carrying it everywhere. It was warm to the touch, almost alive, pulsing faintly like a slow heartbeat. Sometimes, you swore you heard a low, amused chuckle echo in your mind.

Then, on the third night, the egg cracked.

A golden glow flooded the room, and the warmth in your arms disappeared—replaced by something far larger.

Before you could react, a strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against a firm chest. A smooth, rich voice purred into your ear, dangerously close.

“Ah… You took such good care of me.”

Your heart pounded as you tilted your head up—

And met golden eyes, half-lidded with lazy amusement, yet darkened with something far more possessive.

He smiled, his grip on you unyielding.

“Now… allow me to return the favor.”

The warmth of the egg had always been comforting, but this—the sheer heat of the man now holding you—was something else entirely.

His grip on your waist remained firm, almost too secure, as if he had no intention of letting go. Slowly, he leaned back, allowing you just enough space to look up at him. Long silver-white hair, golden eyes glinting like molten metal.

A dream? No.

A nightmare? You weren’t sure yet.

“Jing Yuan” he introduced himself “That is my name. And you, little one, have taken care of me most diligently these past three days.”

His thumb brushed lightly against your lower back, a gesture so casual yet so intimate that it sent a shiver up your spine.

“You held me close… never once leaving my side.” A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, pleased—deeply satisfied. “I must say, such devotion is quite rare.”

Your body had been exhausted from three days straight of holding the egg, and now, wrapped in unexpected warmth, your exhaustion finally took over.

The last thing you remembered was the steady rhythm of Jing Yuan’s heartbeat and the way his arms felt so secure around you.

Morning came too fast.

Your eyes blinked open. You shifted slightly—only to realize you couldn’t move.

Jing Yuan was still there.

And he was clinging to you.

One arm curled around your waist, the other resting under your head, effectively caging you in. His breath was slow and steady, and even in sleep, he refused to let you go.

Then it hit you. Your relatives were visiting today.

Your heart lurched as you turned to the clock—late.

Panic surged through you. You tried to slip away, but the instant you moved, Jing Yuan tightened his hold.

“Mmm” he murmured groggily, burying his face into your neck. “Stay.”

“I can’t.” You struggled again, but he was far too strong.

Golden eyes cracked open, lazily watching you as if completely unbothered by your distress.

“Why rush?” he mused. “They can wait.”

You nearly screamed. “No, they can’t!”

Summoning all your strength, you dragged him to the door—his arms still wrapped around you. It was the only way you could even move properly.

Then you threw the door open.

And there they were.

Your relatives, standing outside, their expressions frozen. Eyes wide. Mouths slightly open.

They took in the scene—you, struggling against the embrace of an incredibly attractive white-haired man, his arms looped around your waist, his robe slightly loose, his expression filled with sleep-dazed affection.

A long, awkward silence.

Your cousin coughed. “Uh… should we come back later?”

Jing Yuan hummed, resting his chin on your shoulder. “That would be ideal.”

You wanted to die on the spot.

Your uncle, Garreth, a renowned master of weapons, took one long look at Jing Yuan’s build—his broad shoulders, his refined yet powerful stance and nodded in approval.

“You. You’re built well.”

You groaned. “Uncle, don’t—”

But it was too late. Your uncle had already summoned a sigil in midair, golden energy swirling as it took form.

A guandao materialized.

Its long, ornate pole gleamed with intricate gold etchings, and the curved blade reflected the sunlight like liquid fire.

Jing Yuan finally released his iron grip on you, just slightly, as he reached for the weapon.

The moment his fingers closed around the guandao, the air shifted. A deep pulse of energy resonated through the ground. The weapon hummed in his grasp, almost as if recognizing him.

Jing Yuan spun it once, the heavy weapon moving effortlessly in his hands, before letting out a low, satisfied chuckle.

“Oh? This suits me quite well.”

Your uncle grinned. “Perfect. Let’s test it out in a dungeon.”

“Wait, what?”

Jing Yuan turned to you, golden eyes gleaming with undeniable amusement, “You’ll come with me, won’t you?” His voice was smooth, coaxing.

There was no real room for refusal.

The portal shimmered as you and your relatives stepped into the testing dungeon—a vast expanse of ruins lit by glowing glyphs, the air thick with the presence of lurking monsters.

Jing Yuan walked beside you, his weapon resting lazily over his shoulder, his golden eyes scanning the area with a casual sharpness. Your uncle, already eager to see how the weapon performed, led the way, while your cousin, Lina, trailed behind—already looking way too reckless for your liking.

“Lina, dodge!” you shouted as a spectral beast lunged at her.

But instead of dodging, she charged headfirst, barely blocking the attack in time.

Your sigh was deep and exhausted.

You cast a quick buff on her, increasing her defense, and then immediately followed it up with a healing skill when she took a direct hit from another enemy.

Jing Yuan chuckled beside you, watching the scene unfold. “Is she always like this?”

You groaned. “Unfortunately, yes.”

Lina, undeterred by her near-death experience, grinned. “Come on! We’ve got a strong guy with us now. What’s there to worry about?”

Jing Yuan hummed in amusement. “Confidence is good. But recklessness?” He flicked his wrist, effortlessly slicing through a beast that had tried to sneak up on you. “That’s a bit more… troublesome.”

Lina stuck her tongue out but didn’t argue.

Your uncle, meanwhile, was completely absorbed in watching Jing Yuan fight.

Jing Yuan moved like a storm, sweeping through enemies with fluid, devastating arcs. He never seemed rushed, never seemed flustered—just calm, methodical, and effortlessly powerful.

Every swing of his weapon sent sparks flying, and each finishing move left behind the faint echo of a roaring lion.

Your uncle grinned like a madman. “Now that’s technique. Clean. Precise. Efficient.”

Lina, inspired, tried to copy his movements—only to trip and nearly eat dirt.

You sighed again, casting yet another heal. “Lina, please.”

Jing Yuan turned to you, tilting his head. “You’re quite good at supporting others.”

You shrugged. “Someone has to keep these people alive.”

His lips curled into a slow smile, his golden eyes glinting. “Indeed. But tell me—who takes care of you?”

You ignored the question and focused on healing Lina (again).

Jing Yuan simply watched, amused before gracefully slicing through another wave of enemies, his attacks suspiciously always keeping you within reach.

With the dungeon cleared, the atmosphere lightened as your group returned home.

Garreth was beyond satisfied with Jing Yuan’s performance. He had spent the entire walk back singing praises about the way the guandao handled in his hands, already talking about designing another custom weapon for him.

As soon as you stepped inside, Garreth clapped a hand on Jing Yuan’s shoulder.

“A warrior like you deserves a proper meal and a drink—or ten!”

You tried to object since it had been a long day, you just wanted to sleep, but between your uncle’s insistence and Jing Yuan’s easygoing agreement, there was no getting out of it.

One hour later.

The table was filled with empty bottles.

Your uncle? Completely drunk. His booming laughter had slowly turned into slurred mumbling, and eventually, he collapsed onto the table.

Lina sighed, shaking her head. “Every time.” She cracked her knuckles, then grabbed him by the arm, hoisting him up. “I’ll put him to bed before he starts snoring so loud the neighbors complain.”

That left you and Jing Yuan.

The air was quiet now, aside from the distant sounds of the night. Jing Yuan leaned back in his chair, his golden eyes watching you a little too intently.

“You prioritize others too much.”

You were caught off guard. “What?”

He swirled the drink in his glass lazily. “You heal your cousin, you support your uncle’s projects, you take care of everyone else—but when do you let someone take care of you?”

You frowned. “It’s not a big deal.”

Jing Yuan hummed, clearly unconvinced. “You say that, but I watched you today. You don’t hesitate to step in when someone else is in danger, but when it comes to yourself? You ignore it. You dismiss it.”

You didn’t respond, mostly because you didn’t know what to say.

He set his glass down, then leaned forward slightly, closer to you.

“If you won’t take care of yourself…” his voice was softer now, almost coaxing, “…then I will.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “You’ve only been here for a day.”

Jing Yuan smiled, slow and amused. “Three, actually. You did hold onto me for quite a while.”

Your face heated, and he chuckled at your reaction.

“You don’t have to do everything alone, you know.”

The words lingered between you, heavy in their meaning.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen as you moved around, preparing a simple breakfast. The morning was peaceful—until you overheard the conversation between your uncle and Jing Yuan.

They were sitting at the small table by the window, playing chess.

Your uncle had a focused expression, tapping his fingers against the table as he studied the board. Jing Yuan, on the other hand, looked completely at ease, golden eyes lazily watching his opponent’s movements.

“You’re good at this” Garreth finally muttered, moving a piece.

Jing Yuan smiled. “I try.”

There was a moment of silence as the game continued. Then, your uncle leaned back slightly, shooting you a glance before turning back to Jing Yuan.

“You know, I’d love to have you as their partner.”

You almost spilled your coffee.

Jing Yuan’s interest visibly piqued. His eyes flickered to you, then back to your uncle. “Oh? That’s quite the endorsement.”

Your uncle nodded. “Well, they need someone who can keep up with them. Someone strong, capable… dependable. I’d say you fit the bill.”

Jing Yuan made his next move on the chessboard, but his focus was clearly elsewhere now. “I see. And do they already have someone?”

Garreth waved a hand dismissively, “Oh, they already got themself—”

He suddenly stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widening slightly as if he just realized what he was saying.

Jing Yuan’s expression remained calm, but there was a subtle shift in his aura, his posture more attentive.

Your uncle coughed, attempting to correct himself. “I mean—uh—”

You sighed, setting your cup down. “They’re my ex, Uncle. Ex. Past tense.”

Jing Yuan’s gaze immediately snapped to you, interest deepening. “Oh?”

Your uncle scratched the back of his head. “Ah… my bad.”

Jing Yuan, however, seemed entirely unbothered. If anything—he looked pleased.

He moved his chess piece, “Check.”

Your uncle squinted at the chessboard, muttering curses under his breath as he realized his mistake. Meanwhile, you sat at the table, sipping your coffee, pretending that Jing Yuan wasn’t still watching you.

That small “Oh?” he had uttered earlier still lingered in your mind.

Your uncle, blissfully unaware of the subtle tension in the air, finally made his move—only for Jing Yuan to immediately checkmate him.

Garreth let out an exasperated groan. “Alright, I get it. You’re good. No need to rub it in.”

Jing Yuan chuckled. “It was an interesting match.”

His words were polite, but his focus remained on you.

“You didn’t mention an ex before” he mused, resting his chin against his hand.

“Because it’s not important.”

Jing Yuan tilted his head slightly, a slow, thoughtful smile forming on his lips. “Not important to you, perhaps. But I find it rather interesting.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Why?”

He leaned forward just slightly. “Because it means you’re single.”

You almost choked on your coffee.

Your uncle laughed, completely missing the implications. “Hah! Well, that just means the spot’s open, doesn’t it?”

Jing Yuan didn’t even need to say anything—the way his golden eyes gleamed with amusement said enough.

You set your coffee down harder than necessary. “It’s not a competition, Uncle.”

Garreth shrugged. “Could be. If the right person comes along.”

Jing Yuan hummed, tapping his fingers lightly against the table. “That depends on how persistent the contender is, doesn’t it?”

You stared at him, then sighed, standing up from the table. “I’m going to finish breakfast.”

As you walked back toward the kitchen, you heard your uncle chuckle.

“I like this guy.”

And then, from Jing Yuan, came a smooth, almost teasing response “I think I do, too.”

After spending the whole day in the dungeon and dealing with your uncle and cousin’s antics, you were completely drained. You bid farewell to your relatives, watching as your uncle patted Jing Yuan’s shoulder one last time before they finally left.

As soon as the door closed, you let out a deep sigh, rolling your shoulders. Why were you getting exhausted so quickly these days?

Shaking off the thought, you plopped onto the sofa and turned on the TV, flipping to the news. You barely heard it. Your body felt unnaturally heavy, exhaustion creeping into your bones. Within moments, your eyes fluttered shut, and you drifted into deep sleep.

Jing Yuan, who had remained inside, quietly approached the sofa.

His golden eyes flickered toward the TV screen, just as he was about to turn it off, the broadcast displayed maps of dungeon activity, strange energy fluctuations… and then a list of affected individuals.

Your name was on it.

Jing Yuan’s relaxed demeanor didn’t change, but his fingers tightened slightly on the remote.

How curious.

His gaze shifted back to you—asleep, unaware, vulnerable.

For a brief moment, he simply watched you, his mind piecing things together. Then, he finally switched off the TV, plunging the room into silence.

He stepped closer, crouching beside you.

“So fragile…” he murmured, almost to himself. “Yet, something unusual lingers around you.”

The room was silent except for the faint sound of your breathing.

Jing Yuan remained seated beside the sofa, studying you with the same careful patience he used when strategizing on the battlefield. He had spent his life mastering the art of waiting, of letting his prey lower their guard before making his move.

You, however, had already lowered yours without realizing it.

You trusted too easily. Even after everything—you still let him stay, still let him close. How fortunate for him. He had noticed it before—the exhaustion, the unusual way you drained energy.

And now, the news confirmed it.

Something was interfering with you.

Jing Yuan tilted his head slightly. Could it be an external force? Or perhaps—something inside you?

His fingers barely grazed your palm before you shifted in your sleep, your body instinctively pulling away. Even unconscious, you resisted—just a little.

How endearing.

His lips curled into an amused smile as he stood. Carefully, he slid one arm beneath your legs, the other supporting your back, and lifted you effortlessly.

You barely stirred as he carried you to your room.

When morning arrived, you awoke feeling oddly well-rested.

For the first time in days, your limbs didn’t feel like lead. You blinked against the soft morning light filtering through the curtains.

Then, you noticed it.

A chair had been pulled close to your bed. And there, sitting comfortably as if he belonged, was Jing Yuan—waiting.

His golden eyes met yours immediately, as if he had known the exact moment you would wake up.

“Morning” he greeted lazily, a teasing edge in his tone. “You slept quite well, didn’t you?”

You stared at him, still processing. "…Why are you here?"

Jing Yuan stretched, completely unbothered. “Watching over you, of course.”

“That’s not necessary.”

He chuckled, leaning forward slightly. “Isn’t it?”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “I feel fine now. So you can stop acting like my personal bodyguard.”

Jing Yuan didn’t answer right away. He simply smiled.

Then, he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

“If you say so” he mused.

----

The night was quiet, save for the faint hum of the TV. You lay curled up on the sofa, fast asleep, completely unaware of the faint traces of blood and burnt fabric on Jing Yuan’s coat as he silently stepped inside. His golden eyes flickered over you, scanning your peaceful expression before shifting to the TV screen.

The news had moved on to another topic—political disputes, interstellar trade negotiations—nothing of interest to him. But earlier? He had seen it.

The dungeon anomaly.

He had felt it through the bond you shared.

Your exhaustion, the unnatural way your energy drained—he had known it wasn’t normal. So while you rested, unaware, he had gone to the source.

And he had handled it.

His fingers twitched slightly, recalling the creatures he had encountered—their movements erratic, their existence unnatural. Something had been leeching off you, siphoning your strength without you even realizing it.

Not anymore.

Jing Yuan exhaled softly, shaking off the remnants of the battle before stepping closer. He crouched beside the sofa, watching you.

His hand brushed against your wrist, his thumb grazing the pulse point beneath your skin. It was steadier now.

For a moment, he simply observed. Then, with a quiet chuckle, he murmured, “You never even noticed, did you?”

His hand moved to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering just a little too long.

“As long as I’m here, I won’t let anything touch you again.”

Just as Jing Yuan reached to turn off the TV, a soft mechanical chime echoed through the room.

[BOND STATUS: ACTIVE]

His golden eyes narrowed slightly as he turned to the notice board, which had flickered on with a soft blue glow. The system—an extension of the egg bond—displayed a list of missions, each one tied to your well-being.

[Current Bond Status: 72%]

[Mission List Updated]

• Ensure the bonded individual eats a full meal (+2%)

• Improve the bonded individual’s physical condition (+3%)

• Eliminate external stressors (+5%)

• Reinforce emotional reliance (+10%)

Jing Yuan’s gaze lingered on that last one.

Reinforce emotional reliance.

The system was clear. Completing these tasks wouldn’t just strengthen the bond—it would tilt it further in his favor.

It would make you depend on him more.

He leaned back slightly, a quiet chuckle escaping him. “How convenient.”

He had already eliminated the threat in the dungeon. Now, all that was left was to secure his place by your side.

He tapped the notice board lightly with a gloved finger. “I suppose I’ll be keeping busy.”

Jing Yuan wasted no time.

The missions were simple, really. If he was careful, strategic—he could complete them without you ever suspecting a thing. And the results were already beginning to show.

—Ensure the bonded individual eats a full meal (+2%)

At first, you had been too exhausted to care about proper meals. You would grab whatever was quick, or forget to eat entirely. Jing Yuan, of course, noticed.

So he started cooking for you.

It worked. The food was good—far better than you had expected—and soon, you stopped questioning it. You ate every bite. And just like that, another point was secured.

—Improve the bonded individual’s physical condition (+3%)

You rarely exercised, and your body had been sluggish ever since the exhaustion set in. Jing Yuan fixed that too. It started subtly. A casual walk together after meals. A stretch before you sat too long at your desk. And eventually—sparring.

“It’s just practice” he said, handing you a wooden staff, his golden eyes gleaming with something unreadable. “I’ll go easy on you.”

You had scoffed at first, but the training worked. Slowly, you felt better, stronger. You even started to rely on his guidance.

Jing Yuan thrived on that.

—Eliminate external stressors (+5%)

This was where things became more delicate.

Your days had been filled with stress—work, responsibilities, people. Jing Yuan made sure those were no longer a problem.

Suddenly, the overbearing requests, the bothersome messages—they all seemed to disappear.

And you, unknowingly, started leaning closer to him.

It was subtle at first. The way your body gravitated toward his warmth when you were tired. How your fingers lingered just a second longer when handing him something.

But the true confirmation came one night.

You were exhausted, drained. Without thinking, you collapsed onto the couch, only to feel a firm warmth beside you.

Jing Yuan didn’t move as you curled against his side.

A quiet chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Tired again?”

You mumbled something incoherent, already halfway asleep.

Jing Yuan took his chance. His arm slid around your waist, pulling you slightly closer.

Then, without hesitation, he leaned in, pressing the lightest kiss against the top of your head.

You didn’t pull away.

And that was everything.

Jing Yuan closed his eyes, savoring the moment.

----

The day was peaceful. You sat beside Jing Yuan on the couch, absentmindedly sipping your drink as he flipped through the channels on the TV.

Everything was calm—until the notification popped up.

[BOND STATUS: 86%] [New Mission Available]

The glowing system board flickered in front of him, its message clear as day. Jing Yuan tensed, his golden eyes narrowing slightly.

He turned to you, searching your face for any sign of recognition, but you were completely unbothered.

“…Did you see that?” he asked carefully.

You blinked at him. “See what?”

You couldn’t see it.

The realization sent a slow, satisfied warmth through his chest. This system, this bond—it was for him alone.

“Nothing. Must’ve been my imagination.”

You shrugged and went back to what you were doing, while Jing Yuan turned his attention back to the screen.

The mission list was still there.

[New Mission: Deepen the bond through physical intimacy (+10%)]

How interesting.

Jing Yuan had always been patient. He knew when to pull, when to wait, when to let you come to him on your own.

But now?

The system had given him permission.

The bond was already tightening, wrapping around you like an invisible thread—unseen, unfelt, yet inescapable. You clung to him more and more, sought his presence without even realizing it.

And tonight, he would make sure you would never want to be anywhere else.

The night was quiet, the only sound in your home being the faint hum of the air as you shifted in your seat. You had been tired again. Jing Yuan had noticed it immediately—how your body seemed heavier, your posture looser, your defenses down. You didn't question it when he pulled you toward him, settling you onto his lap with practiced ease.

You never questioned him anymore.

“Relax” he murmured, his voice smooth as he pressed his lips to your temple. His hands traced slow, lazy circles against your back, warm through the fabric of your clothes. “You’ve been pushing yourself too much again.”

You sighed, melting against him.

It was so easy. So easy to let him hold you, to sink into his warmth, to let him touch you as if he had always belonged to you.

His fingers trailed lower, ghosting over your hips, tracing the shape of you with unhurried confidence. He felt the way your breath hitched, the way your hands gripped his shoulders just a little tighter.

His voice was laced with amusement as he pressed a soft, lingering kiss against the side of your neck. “You’ve been clinging to me so much lately… have you noticed?”

You stiffened slightly.

You hadn’t.

Jing Yuan chuckled at your silence, one hand tilting your chin up to meet his golden gaze.

“Don’t worry.” His lips barely brushed against yours, his breath warm, teasing. “I don’t mind.”

And then he kissed you.

He swallowed the tiny gasp you made, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer, closer, as if he could merge you into himself.

“… Just let me take care of you”

You didn’t resist.

You never did.

And that?

That was exactly how he wanted you.

[maimura]

My sweetsweet girl dedicating another fic to me guys…. my heart is swelling because of how full it is.

Guys… I suggest listening to Mitski…. First Love/Late Spring… Like it actually hits. Okay guys once again, this reblog will be LONG! SO SPOILERS AHEAD!!! READ THIS GIRLS WORK FIRST 😚!!

also no pictures this time because i know im going to pick out too many favorite parts and tweak out if i dont put them all… so yes… you’re getting explanations from me…

THIS FIC IS ABSOLUTELY SOUL CRUSHING BECAUSE ITS REMINDING ME SO MUCH OF THE NETFLIX FILM “IRREPLACEABLE YOU” I WATCHED NOT TOO LONG AGO. and if you heard from me… i cried (bawled) my eyes out 8. EIGHT. E I G H T TIMES. so can you imagine what happened to me while reading this????

the fic starts off with reader and leehan just casually sharing another morning together 😖 and then she has to go to a check up after discussing about it with leehan ☹️ why does that already show they tell everything to each other ☹️.

I KNOW THIS WAS EXPECTED BUT SEEING READER GET HER DIAGNOSIS WAS STILL SO SAD. because you know she’s going to start giving up years she spent with leehan, because she loves him and doesn’t want to hurt him with her illness/death….

LIKE THE TEXTS HE SENT JUST LIKE SOLIDIFIED THE IDEA THAT SHE WANTS TO MAKE HIM FALL OUT OF LOVE . nothing would change her mind and you know that because she instantly starts thinking about leehan and what he has already accomplished ☹️ and she doesnt want to ruin that ☹️ so now shes going to be hiding that… about her Pain For Him . Like . Oh okay So im already going to face heartbreak Thanks .

WHEN THE DAYS STARTED OOOHHHH MY HEART ALREADY CRUMBLED AT THE SIGHT OF “DAY 1” LIKE OKAY. like its so frustrating/sad because reader is bottling all this up while leehan is just simply clueless and wants to know why she’s acting like this… like okay i feel sad for both of them.

by day 13 we really get to see leehans perspective and GOSHHH he just misses her so bad. the way everything he missed was written down… it was like a dagger stabbed through my chest . Again . and the flashback to reader mentioning sanghyeok… yeah i can’t blame her sanghyeok FINEFINEEEEEE 😛 But this is not about him right now (i still love him 🤫)

And the dying being italicized when we are talking about his wedding suit…. Okay Lili. OKAYOKAYOKAYOKAYA.

AND LEEHAN REMINISCING ABOUT THE PASTTTT . HES ENJOYING IT THINKING ABOUT THEM WHILE READER CAN ONLY FEEL GUILT/SADNESS ☹️☹️☹️ why did it have to be them. Why.

got a scare when i saw reader say “i don’t think i love you anymore” Girlllllll GIRLLLLLLLLL I ALMOST JUMPED???? Please stop my heart already couldnt take it previously AND NOW??? U WANNA ADD THAT??? but leehan clutched up and told her about the ring… BUT GOSH THE INTENSITY??

YOU CAN JUST FEEL HER HESITATING WHILE LEEHAN IS JUST TRYING TO MAKE SENSE OF THE SITUATION… and his mini outburst?? but reader is just… saying theres nothing and hes back to being even quieter than before… Yeah that killed me.

And leehan just being there no matter what reader says or does, he IS and WILL be staying with her… like okay I think I think I think I just fell again .

AND WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE DAY 27 HE FINALLY FIGURED OUT 😂😂😂😢😢😢😖😢😢😂😢😢😖 you can honestly feel all his emotions once he found out… like pain, grief, sadness, anger… but ultimately like simply why did this have to happen? why did it have to be you and why did it have to be him…. AND FAWKKYPUUUU FOR GIVING HIM THAT FLASHBACK TO THE PROPOSAL LIKE OHHH THAT HURTTTT.

and still even finding out… he wants to still be with her no matter what… like Brah this is what love does to a person and its so sweet just seeing that …. but now its just so sad ☹️

AND WHEN DAY 28 ARRIVED NOOOOO Gosh the vulnerability was spilling through. like lili is actually so descriptive with her writing it really engulfs you to FEEL how its like to BE THERE . LIKE GOSH???? IM CLUTCHING ONTO MY CHEST???? i felt her pain when she was trying to hold everything back like usual but couldn’t :(

AND SHE FINALLY TOLD HIM… though she didn’t realize but leehan already knows :( and they finally got into an embrace like i know both of them were just missing being with each other like that.

AND LIKE WHAT READER SAID IN THE BEGINNING, LEEHAN TRULY WAS WILLING AND READY TO DROP EVERYTHING FOR HER ☹️☹️☹️ and finally she accepts it because she knows he wouldnt take no for an answer… #determinedfianceleehan #cravethat

IM SO GLAD WE GOT SOME FLUFF like their moment together painting was sososo cute. I NEEDED THAT SOOOO BAD. and the star talk yuuuupyyuuuupyyuuuuuup Sophia Deceased.

AND THE WAY READER JUST PROGRSSIVELY GETS WEAKER AND WEAKER ☹️☹️☹️☹️ like leehan is just still besides her after all of that and its just ahaidudkdjisjdjs “im the luckiest person in the world” ARE YOU REALLY THOUGH ☹️ (yes, with being with leehan, but no again because, she’s really sick and is getting worse) like its the right person just along with a twisted fate </3

and like they still try to have moments together where they can hopefully temporarily take her mind off the pain she’s experiencing but its so obvious that she’s getting worse…. it’s actually heartbreaking because you know they are just two lovers but they are about to face something they don’t want to.

AND LEEHAN KNOWS ☹️ hes been so attentive throughout this whole fic so just reading this breaks my heart. he doesn’t want to believe it, but with reader’s condition, it’s hard NOT to fear that she will be leaving, you know? AND HE JUST DOESNT WANT TO LET HER GOOOOO

Day 62. My nemesis. THE DAY FINALLY EVERYTHING CHANGES ☹️ leehan wants her to stay but they both know deep down, she’s starting to slip away (even if they don’t want to believe that). LIKE HER LAST WORDS BEING I LOVE YOU OH GOSH IM GOING TO CRASH OUTTTTT. saying that in your dying moments is just ten times more impactful because you know those words are going to stick with the other person forever…

AND THE LETTER???????????? THEEEE LETTERRRR??? Goodbyeogheyeofhdyee this is reminding me of the freaking film now im goigny to cry Lili did yoy do this on purpsoeo. see now i dant even tyep proeprly . “I’ll be the star that shines the most for you.” IM GOING TO CRYYYYY KNOWING THEYW ERE TALKINF ABOUT STARS EARLIER AND ALL FHAT STUFF. THIS HURTSSSSSSSS trust i was crying along with leehan.

AND TEN YEARS?????? He literally still loves her so much what if i died. HIM TALKING TO HER AND THE SUNSET BEING THERE ARGHHHHHH. i hateithereihateithereihateithere

and we are back at the countryhouse ☹️ the house he wanted to get for her ☹️ for THEM ☹️ AND HES STILL TENDING HER FAVORITE FLOWERS BYE IS THIS WHY YOU ASKED . WHAT MY FAVES WERE. TO HURT ME EVEN MORE .

“I’ll see you again, Y/N.” STOPSTOPSTOPPPPPP like its been so sad and that added onto it, but it almost felt comforting???? like its just a sad but nice closing because its like no matter what, he loves her ☹️

LILI, to dedicate such a beautiful fic to me is EVIL (because 1) its angst .. i love it but guys This is the outcome of me reading it 2) ANGST WITH LEEHAN???? KIM. DONGHYUN. HELLOO??? i got spoilers and me finding it here… Yeah gut wrenching.) BUT ALSO SUCH AN HONOR BECAUSE WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOURE DEDICATING THIS TO MEEEE. guys when i say i LOVE her works, i mean it with every bone and fiber in my body. this was absolutely amazing and i can just reread this over and over again :’) thank you for posting this within my timezone, like who would sacrifice their sleep to TELL YOU they will be posting and making sure that they did???? Gosh i love her so much 😢😢😢😢❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹 i yapped so much im so sorry my sweet girl 😖😖

　ᅠ 🀦　ᅠ THIRTY DAYS OF LOVE　　────　ᅠ ( kim leehan )

𝓹recis ⠀ : ⠀donghyun’s world shatters when he learns that the love of his life, you, is running out of time. but when the unexpected happens𑁋and you begin pushing him away, he makes a choice he’ll never fail to make over and over again. to love you through all the sunsets, quietly, fiercely and eternally.

　　　ᅠ 김동현 ⠀⠀◜◡◝ ⠀⠀𝒇 reader ⠀wc 12k ⠀ genre angst fluff established relationship non idol au fiancé au ⠀ contains mentions of food blood death terminal sickness drugs (as medicine) crying skinship pet names ⠀ tagging @a-dream-bookmark ,@/k-labels , @k-nets , @k-films , @sgz-net , @onedoornet

　　　ᅠ note ᅠ from ᅠ 𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐈 ! ᅠ this is it guys my debut leehan fic is angst! and since this is my first time doing such a long angst fic i dedicate this to my lovely @miumura <3 i hope this is good enough for you babes! and my biggest thanks to rhin and sru for proofreading this for me ~ mwah ^3^

　　　ᅠ ＞︿ 　　please leave feedbacks 　　& 　　reblog

“SEE you tonight, angel,” Donghyun kisses your hair, pulling you into a hug. He doesn’t let go for a while, comfortable at how you’re perfectly snuggling against his chest. 

Still in his hug, you look up at him. “Why are you still hugging me? You’re going to be late for the meeting,” you say, knowing that his office takes a longer time to reach than yours. 

Donghyun smiles, placing his chin on your head. He pulls you into his embrace tighter, savouring every bit of the moment. “I don’t know, I just want to hug you a little longer.”

“Okay, you can hug me when you come home tonight,” you say, gently pushing him away. It’d be such an outrageous lie if you said you didn’t love your fiancé’s hugs, but you also know that if you didn’t push him out the door, he wouldn’t get to work on time. 

You push Donghyun to the door, then go on the tip of your toes, kissing his cheek. “I’ll see you tonight, dear.”

Donghyun pouts, yet he opens the door. “I’m sorry I can’t come with you for your doctor’s appointment,” he says, pressing his lips together. 

You’re going to work a bit later today, as you have your monthly check-up in the morning. It’s nothing serious, just a habit that you’ve gotten used to since a child—as your parents would always bring you in for a monthly check-up at the clinic. Better safe than sorry, they said. 

Plus, you have been feeling quite distorted lately—swamped with fatigue and sleep disturbances. You thought it’s related to stress, but after talking to Donghyun about it, you’re a bit relieved that you’re getting it checked out, in case of anything serious. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” you say, giving him a smile. You feel a pang in your heart—it’s no lie that you’re a bit nervous, as this is the first time in years that you’d be going to the doctor’s without Donghyun by your side. 

“You’ll be fine?”

You nod, chuckling. “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay then,” Donghyun says, sighing. He adjusts the man bun you’ve helped him tie, before stepping out of the apartment. “I’ll see you tonight—text me!”

You laugh, adoring how cute your handsome fiancé is. “I will, sweetheart. Get to work safely.”

“I will!” you hear him exclaim, waving before he takes a turn down the hallway. You take a deep breath before going back into your apartment to get ready for the day. 

After getting ready, you take a cab over to the clinic, prepping yourself by saying that it’s nothing to be worried about—the fact that you’ve been feeling extra tired and coughing more often are caused by stress and that it’s nothing serious.

The worried look on your doctor’s face and the way that she orders additional scans and tests makes you think otherwise. Though, still, you brave yourself. 

That is until the nurse comes back with your tests, a grim look on her face, and you can’t help but feel extremely scared. 

“I’m sorry, Miss, but it looks like you have advanced lung cancer, and… the prognosis isn’t good.”

The world stops spinning, and everything goes silent. The weight of the world crashes down on you. Everything feels distant, like you’re underwater.

“From my observations, and the tests that we ran for you just now, the cancer looks like it’s beyond treatable. All we can do is give you some medications to help with the pain–”

“How much longer do I have?” you suddenly ask, your voice throaty. Tears begin to collect at the corners of your eyes, and all you can think of is Donghyun. 

Your doctor widens her eyes in surprise, not expecting such a calm reaction. “I… estimate it to be around two months, at best.”

You nod absentmindedly, barely hearing the doctor explaining further help with medication, lifestyle and life expectancy. Your head is spinning, and all you’re able to think about is Donghyun. The happy life the two of you are planning. 

“Would… you like to call someone?” the doctor asks, pulling you back to reality. 

You blink back tears, immediately shaking your head. You force a smile. “No. I’ll be fine.”

You clutch the test results in your hand tightly as you leave the clinic in a daze. You glance at the people around you—some are happily calling or texting someone through their phones, some are enjoying their food with their partners, some are even rushing to work. You watch everyone go with their life, tears in your eyes. Suddenly, all the little things mean so much more to you. 

You glance at the time on your phone—if you catch the train now, you’d be able to reach work and catch up on some pending tasks. You plod through the path, slowly making your way down the subway. When you reach down the stairs, your phone vibrates with messages from none other than your beloved, Kim Donghyun. 

Swallowing thickly, you read the texts from your notifications. 

hi angel! i hope everything’s going well

this meeting is boring

i’d rather bring u to the aquarium for a date ^_^

anyways text me back when u can, ok? 

i love u sm!

Once again, your eyes overfill with tears, causing them to fall down your cheeks. You place a hand on your chest. Your hand forms a fist, crumpling the test results. A part of you is aching to call him and cry your heart out about this new calamity that hit you—yet, another bigger part of you knows that you shouldn’t. 

Donghyun had recently got promoted at his workplace, getting a higher pay raise. He’s also collecting money to open his own fish shop. He’s been talking to you about it for ages, and he even has a pinterest board saved. His dreams are slowly coming true, and you’re not ruining that for him—you know that he’ll instantly drop everything once you break the truth to him. 

You force yourself to look up, swatting your tears away with the edge of your sleeve. You blink back the remaining tears, reaching a resolute decision in your mind. 

Instead of telling Donghyun, you’re going to make him fall out of love with you. 

You smile sadly. 

It’s for the best. You love him too much to want him to give up on his dreams just to take care of you. You love him too dearly to see him heartbroken over your state. You love him so much that you’re willing to die alone. 

You love him, more than you ever could describe, that you’re willing to pull away to prevent him from sacrificing his future for you. 

You switch your phone off, taking a deep breath. As you step into the train, heading for work, you decide that you’re going to give yourself thirty days to accomplish your mission. 

Thirty final days with him, then that’s it.

THAT night, you can’t sleep. The reality that you’re living in seems so real yet so distant, and it keeps you awake. You’re in Donghyun’s arms, staring at the ceiling blankly. The gentle rhythm of his chest heaving up and down, the warmth of his breath against your forehead comforts you—yet it washes you through a wave of realisation—that this will be one of your final nights with him. 

Enjoy it while it lasts.

You snuggle closer to him, blinking to force tears back in. You brave yourself, shifting your gaze upon your fiancé’s face—his peaceful sleeping face that looks so cute and adorable. You’ve cried too much today, yet you can’t stop the tears from dripping down your face again. 

It’s so unfair. You were finally happy–why did it have to be robbed right from you when you were just getting comfortable?

The urge to wake him up and tell him everything is overwhelming, but you clench your fists and swallow the words. You take a deep breath, repeating to yourself the mission that you’re putting yourself to. 

Thirty days to make Donghyun leave me. 

You shift your gaze back towards the ceiling, mentally making a list of what you have to do for the next four weeks. 

DAY 1.

In the morning, you’re up earlier than Donghyun is—that’s usually how it is, but this time, you had to make sure you’re awake before he is, to avoid any slip-ups from you.

You’ve already showered—you’re now in your bathrobes, and done your whole morning routine. You walk over to your shared bed, smiling softly at finding Donghyun still soundly sleeping. You kneel on the bed, forcing yourself to maintain a stoic face as you shake him awake. 

“Good morning, love,” he mumbles, stretching his arms wide before pulling you in for a hug. You bite the bottom of your lip, holding back a smile. Usually, you’d giggle and kiss him good morning, but this time, you don’t. You stay silent, not reciprocating both his greeting and his hug. It pains you, but the pain that’s in your lungs every time you take a deep breath reminds you of the harsh future you’re facing.

After a few minutes, Donghyun notices the change in your behaviour. He opens his eyes, pulling away slightly so he can look you straight in the eye. “Are you okay?”

You press your lips into a thin line. “I’m fine,” you reply, giving him a half-hearted smile. 

Donghyun holds the gaze longer than you wish he did, pursing his lips as he analyses any emotion that you might be displaying on your face. 

Before he could say anything that will definitely make you break character, you push yourself out of his embrace, walking to the vanity. The weight of your lie begins to sink in your chest, marking the beginning of your plan. 

You know that Donghyun, as dense as he can be sometimes (read as most of the time), is quick to pick up on things—especially if it’s about things and people he loves. You notice him lingering around you, standing behind you, longer than he usually does, with a puzzled look on his face as you go through your usual morning routine. 

Except that you don’t pack a lunch for him, pretending that you’re occupied with some other house chore. Except that you don’t smile sweetly, saying that you love him while you give him a kiss on the cheek as the two of you part ways for the day. 

Donghyun notices, and you know that as soon as you receive a text message from him right after you’ve arrived at your office. 

angel

you okay?

did i do smth wrong? i don’t have lunch today :< 

You open the message and give him a simple and dry response: “no”. You grit your teeth, already hating the weight that’s pushing you down every single time you lie to him. 

The rest of the week goes by the same way—you try your absolute best to create distance between you and Donghyun: talking to him in an uninterested tone, not hugging back whenever he does, pretending to not remember to kiss him goodnight and goodmorning, not updating him about your day to let him smile as he listen to you like how it usually is. 

You’ve, too, lost count the amount of times Donghyun has come up to you and asked if you were okay. 

“I’m fine,” you grunt, scooting away. You adjust your posture before forcing yourself to focus on the show you’re watching. It’s not even that interesting, but you need to do everything humanly possible to ignore the handsome ball of fluff sitting next to you, begging you to tell him what’s wrong with those super cute boba eyes of his.

You hear Donghyun quietly sighing before walking away to the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge to find some snacks to offer you. 

“Here,” he says after a while. You glance at him, gulping at the sight of the honey butter chips Donghyun is stretching out to you. 

“I’m not… hungry,” you force yourself to say, in a plain tone.

Donghyun tilts his head. “But you like honey butter chips,” he says, already slightly pouting. 

“Kim Donghyun, I’m not hungry,” you hiss, eyes glued to the television.  

“Okay…” you hear him murmur, shoving the chip that he originally wanted to feed you into his own mouth. From the corner of your eyes, you see Donghyun folding the bottom of the bag so that it can stand by itself, carefully so that the chips won’t spill, before placing it next to you. He then gets up and walks away to the kitchen to cook some food, intending to give you space. 

Actually, Donghyun can’t exactly cook, but he’s just standing there, at the sink, washing some fruits that he wants to cut up for you. The past few days, he’s noticed a very drastic change in your behaviour. You’re no longer smiling at him, you’re no longer talking to him about anything that comes to your mind, you’re no longer reciprocating the hugs and cuddles he’s giving. You’ve brushed off every single attempt he’s made to ask you if anything was wrong, or if he did anything that upset you. 

Donghyun sighs, tying his hair up before beginning to peel some oranges. 

DAY 6.

The next step of your plan begins: picking fights at the most irrelevant things, hoping that Donghyun would lose his patience.

“Can you not hug me like that?” you snark, swatting his hands away from your waist. 

Donghyun widens his eyes, shocked at your sudden outburst. Normally, you wouldn’t ever decline his hugs—preferring to let him snake his arms around you as you get ready for the day, or cooking something up. 

You glare at your fiancé, fiercely dabbing your makeup onto your face. It pains you to see the confused and shocked look on his face, but you have to continue. “It’s so annoying, your breaths are so sticky and it makes my neck feel hot.”

Donghyun puts his arms to his side, taking a deep breath. “Okay, angel, I’m sorry,” he says, his voice gentle. He extends his hand, patting your hair. “I’ll be showering,” he informs you before disappearing to the bathroom. 

You watch him with widened eyes, taken aback by his reply. 

That wasn’t supposed to happen. Donghyun was supposed to be offended by your actions, not be completely calm and okay about it. 

You turn around, eager to find another opportunity to piss him off. 

A few moments after that, you find yourself in the kitchen with Donghyun, who’s watching you prepare breakfast. You glance at him, who’s peacefully trying to sip his morning coffee. 

This is perfect timing.

Ignoring the heavy guilt weighing down on you, you slam the kitchen drawer a little harder than necessary, the sharp sound cutting through the tranquil morning. 

Donghyun’s head shoots up, and his eyes immediately find you. He sets his coffee down, fingers lingering around the mug. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you mutter, shoving the dirty spoon in your hands into the sink with a loud clatter. 

He frowns, taking one step closer. “You seem upset.”

“I said I’m fine,” you snap, sharply turning around to face Donghyun. Pushing down the remorse you feel upon seeing his expression—a mixture of shock and worry—you continue. “Can’t I be in a bad mood without you questioning me?”

Silence.

You expect him to bite back, finally telling you that you’re being unreasonable. You know Donghyun isn’t the type to be confrontational, but considering the amount of discourtesy you’ve done to him this past week, you even expect him to get angry. 

That would make it easier.

Instead, much to your surprise, Donghyun simply sighs. “Of course you can, my love,” he says softly, eyes not budging away from you. 

You inhale sharply, turning your back to him before he can see the tremble in your hands. 

As the week goes by with a blur of similar attempts, you begin to grow a little frustrated. A part of you just wants to tell Donghyun everything—where it hurts, how sad you feel, how you feel so worthless and in pain all the time. 

Every time you glance at him, you just feel like jumping into his embrace. Every time you see a notification from him, your fingers itch to press call, to release the tension in your shoulders and the heavy guilt in your chest, to whisper the truth to him. I’m sick. I’m dying.

You’re taking the bus back home, Donghyun’s message opened but left unreplied. You stare at the message: “get home safely, my love” with a vision that blurs more and more with tears every time you blink. 

The message bubble pops up again. 

Donghyun’s typing. 

are you okay?

you’re leaving me on read

You shut your eyes, clicking the off button on your phone. You can’t do this right now. If you let yourself answer his texts, your whole plan will crumble along with his future. 

Donghyun doesn’t deserve this. 

You clench your fists, fingernails digging into your palms. You force yourself to stay quiet, to freeze and not do anything. 

A tear escapes down your cheek, and you let it fall. 

It hurts. 

But you don’t know what else to do. 

DAY 13.

“I’m home,” Donghyun calls out as he closes the door behind him. The apartment is quiet, and he can only hear the air purifier working in the background. 

It feels weird. 

He glances at the shoe rack, spotting the pair of shoes that you chose to wear to work today already there. He bites the bottom of his lips, bending down to fix the position of your shoes. Then, quietly, he opens his own and sets them neatly next to yours. 

As he makes his way to the bedroom, a million thoughts race through his head. What did he do wrong? Where did he mess up—for you to be acting so differently? He knows he isn’t the best at confrontational communication, but you’ve shrugged off all of his attempts to try. 

Donghyun walks silently to your shared bedroom, and he sees you bundled up on the bed, soundly sleeping. There’s something about you, so ethereal and beautiful, even when you’re deep in slumber. Donghyun takes quiet steps towards you, coming into a halt when he’s standing right in front of you. 

He exhales heavily, absorbing the view of you. 

Donghyun misses you. 

He misses spending hours giggling with you, talking about all the things that the two of you found interesting in this world. He misses holding you in his arms. He misses kissing you, smothering you in his affection. He misses letting you braid and play with his hair whenever you want to. He misses having you drag him around doing errands—shopping for groceries and household items, occasionally distracted by the cute blind boxes at the cash register. He misses enjoying aquarium dates with you—seeing you look at him with lovesick eyes, even though you have been to the same aquarium so many times. 

He misses you, and he wonders what he’s done wrong for you to obviously avoid him like this. 

Donghyun pauses, wondering if he should do it. He sighs, then leans down to give you a peck on the forehead. It’s gentle, barely there—but it’s enough for him to sustain himself through another week. 

As he straightened his posture, he recalls the events that happened recently. Just this morning, when Donghyun was watching you get ready for the day, you suddenly mentioned Sanghyeok—a man who you used to be interested in, back in high school.

“I wonder what Sanghyeok is doing now,” you said. Your voice is loud—waiting for Donghyun to respond. 

Donghyun buttoned his shirt, staring right at you. He remained silent, not knowing exactly what to expect out of this.

“I bet he looks even more handsome now,” you tried again, emphasizing the ‘handsome’ in your tone. You sneaked a glance at your fiancé through the vanity mirror, disappointed to see him remaining unfazed. 

“Obviously,” he replied after a while. He approached you and grabbed the hair comb next to you. He continued, in a matter-of-factly tone. “Everyone gets more handsome or beautiful as they mature.”

Donghyun smiled quietly as he watched your face morph into an annoyed expression, huffily turning away. 

This must be some kind of way for her to get back at me, he thought. Maybe I should try harder to get her heart back, for whatever reason she pulled away. 

You stir, fingers instinctively reaching for the pillow next to you—bringing Donghyun back into the present. 

Donghyun sighs, massaging his temples. He looks at you, taking in your beauty for a while, before walking away to get unready for the day—already thinking of what to order for dinner. 

DAY 17. 

Tomorrow is the day where you’ll accompany Donghyun to find his wedding suit, and you know he’s been aching to ask you why you’re not excitedly talking to him about it yet. He’s been hovering around you—not quite standing or sitting next to you, but rather, he’s around you—the corner of his mouth twitching as he bites back his words. 

You’ve been quite excited, actually. You’ve been saving a lot of photos, trying to get an idea of what would make your fiancé look flattering on your wedding day. You were dying to talk to him about, endlessly rambling to him about the countless designs out there—but you’re reminded of your condition, the fact that you’re sick and dying, every time you glance at him and imagine him in a wedding suit. 

That’s the only reason that’s keeping you together, holding you back from unleashing your true feelings.

Donghyun found his courage to ask you when the two of you are sitting at the dining table, eating some take-out ramen that he ordered for dinner. 

“About tomorrow…” Donghyun begins, slowly chewing the contents of his mouth. “We’ll be going… right? Together?”

You take a deep breath, putting on your act. You look up from your food, eyes bored. “Do you not want to?”

“No– no, it’s not like that, angel,” Donghyun stammers, almost choking on his food. “I’m just wondering… because you haven’t talked about it all week. You…”

He pauses, and he holds his gaze for a few moments. 

“You usually get excited about these things,” he continues softly.

“About what?” you ask sharply, heart sinking at the way you’re treating him. 

Donghyun shrugs. The look in his eyes is cracking your heart into pieces, but you brave yourself to keep the glare on. “You know, about doing things together. With me.”

“Whatever,” you grumble, breaking the gaze Donghyun is holding. You turn to your food, holding back your tears by aggressively poking holes in your fishcakes. 

“Angel,” he calls, and you hate how you instantly perk up at the nickname. Your eyes slightly widen at how he’s smiling so adorably, his boba eyes sparkling against the reflection of the lamps. “Do you remember? Our first date.”

The memory of one of the happiest days of your life, dated seven years ago, tugs hard against your chest, some kind of heavy feeling going up to your throat. “Yes,” you croak, avoiding his gaze. 

“I still remember how nervous I was, waiting for you in front of your parents’ house with flowers in my hands. It was really awesome—the feeling of waiting for you outside, knowing that I’ll be spending the entire day with you,” Donghyun pauses as he laughs, the corner of his eyes crinkling with happiness. 

You swallow thickly, forcing yourself to stay stoic. 

“I was eighteen—we were eighteen—still young and dumb, but I knew, the moment you stepped out the door looking so beautiful in your light pink dress, that you’re the person I want to be with for the rest of my life.”

You shut your eyes, lowering down your head. As tears begin to collect at the edges of your eyes and Donghyun’s voice begins to blur in the background, you curse yourself and your fate.

Why did it have to be like this?

What did you ever do wrong to be given such a cruel future?

Why did it have to be you?

DAY 21.

You’re sure that you heard the doctor right the last time—that you had around three months to live. But now, with every single day that passes, you feel like your body is physically getting ripped away from you, little by little. Your appetite decreases with every passing day, your energy and mood swings vary by a significant manner. 

Every time you notice this, the more adamant you are in your plan. You have to make Donghyun leave, even if it breaks you in the process. 

You have 9 days left of your plan. 

You’ve been more consistent and put more effort into your scheme, despite Donghyun being calm and still loving through it all. 

You sigh deeply, standing at the sink as you wash out your mug after drinking honey lemon water. You’re coughing very often now, and you often find yourself out of breath yet in pain multiple times. You feel Donghyun’s presence behind you, and it’s feeling heavier than usual. You’re done washing your mug, but you rinse it a couple more times to pretend that everything’s fine. 

As soon as you close the water tap, Donghyun opens his mouth.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” 

His voice is calm—way too calm.

You glance at him, setting your mug down, your body still turned away from him. It’s a bit weird that Donghyun is confronting you now, but given the duration that your plan has been going on, you figure that he’s reached the peak of his patience. 

“I’ve been busy, that’s all.”

A quick moment of silence goes by. Then, “You’re lying.” 

You inhale sharply, momentarily shutting your eyes close. But you don’t turn to face him. 

The sharp sound of a chair scraping against the tiled floor startles you. You quickly turn around and it’s Donghyun, pulling a chair out—but he doesn’t sit. Instead, he rests against it, his hand gripping tightly on its backrest. 

“What is it?” he asks, his voice quieter. “What are you not telling me?”

You avert your gaze, swallowing densely. Say it. Make him hate you once and for all.

“I…” you clear your throat, trying your best to sound indifferent. “I’m done, Donghyun. I don’t think I love you anymore.”

Silence. 

For a moment, you’re hoping—silently praying, even—that he would just walk away. That he would accept your words and take his leave. 

Then, in a voice so quiet it’s almost a whisper, Donghyun says, “say it again.”

You widen your eyes, turning to him. Startled, you blurt out, “what?”

The guilt that’s pushing down your chest doubles even more as Donghyun is staring at you. His jaw clenched, and his eyes dark with something that you’ve never seen in him before—hurt, anger, and utter disbelief. 

“Say it again.”

Your lips part, but you can’t force anything out. 

“You’re lying,” Donghyun says, with no softness in his voice this time. “But let’s pretend you’re not.”

He takes a step forward, and suddenly you’re trapped between him and the kitchen counters. “Say it again, Y/N,” he whispers, almost begging, “look at me this time.”

Shakily, you force yourself with all your might to meet his gaze, tears beginning to form. 

Say it, Y/N. Make him hate you. 

Make him leave.

“I–” your voice cracks.

Donghyun stands in front of you, still like a stone. He doesn’t blink, nor does he say anything. He stands there, waiting, patient like he always is. 

Your hands begin to tremble at your side, and with one deep breath, you let it out before you can’t anymore. 

“I don’t love you anymore,” you whisper, forcing your shaky gaze to connect to Donghyun. The fact that it’s a lie pains you ten times more than it should have—you exhale, biting your lips to cover how terribly you’re trembling. 

Donghyun exhales deeply. For a moment, you think he’s about to laugh. But instead, he looks away, shaking his head. 

“Okay, fine,” he nods, his voice too steady. “Then tell me, why are you still wearing the ring?”

Your blood turns to ice. 

“If you don’t love me anymore,” Donghyun repeats, and one by one, his words sting your heart. “Tell me why you’re still wearing the ring.”

Your hand flies to the hand with the engagement ring, trying to hide it, but you’re too slow. He’s already seen it. 

Donghyun laughs, short and humourless. “You can’t even take it off, can you?”

Feeling harshly attacked, you look away. 

Donghyun runs a hand over his face, slowly sighing. “I don’t know what’s going on,” he says, his voice lower now, and it’s clear that he’s exhausted. “But if what you’re doing is to protect me from whatever, it’s not working.”

His words cause a pang to your heart. 

“It’s not like that—” You grit your teeth, starting to internally panic. “You don’t understand–”

“Then make me understand!” 

Your breath hitches. 

Donghyun didn’t yell—not really—but for a man who never raises his voice, and would try his best to solve things calmly without conflict— his outburst might as well be a scream. 

The rawness in his voice makes your heart ache even more. 

But the sharp pain in your lungs reminds you of everything—you can’t let him in. 

You turn quickly, to hide the sudden stream of tears flowing down your cheeks. “There’s nothing to understand,” you quietly say, biting your quivering lips. 

A long silence, accompanied by palpable tension, stretches between the two of you. 

When Donghyun finally speaks, his voice is quieter than before. “Okay.”

You force your eyes shut, biting back sobs as you hear him walk away, the sound of the door closing echoing in the apartment. 

And when the sound of his footsteps disappeared, you let yourself sink to the floor in heavy sobs, your body trembling like crazy. 

THE next few days go by like usual—Donghyun acts like nothing happened—but the only difference is you can clearly see the hurt in his eyes. He’s still loving: he brings back home your favourite food, opens the door for you, and makes sure you’re always comfortable. 

You’re still trying your best to carry out your plan.

“Stop, Donghyun,” you say, albeit your voice is shaky. Donghyun, who’s silently peeling out shrimp skin from its flesh for you, pauses. He looks up—though he doesn’t say anything.

“We’re too different. You shouldn’t be with me.”

Donghyun takes a deep breath, and a few seconds later, he replies. “What’s so different about us, angel?”

Angel. 

The nickname stings like lemon juice on a fresh paper cut. 

“I…” you force a laugh, but it cracks at the edges. “Isn’t it obvious? We’re too different, Donghyun. We have always been—you like quiet nights in, I like going out,” 

Lie. You never really minded the difference: you and Donghyun completed each other like you’re each other’s missing piece.

“You like stability, but I’m too restless for you. We… we’re just too different,” you gesture vaguely, trying not to let Donghyun hear the tremble in your voice. “Maybe we just… got carried away with the idea of us.”

Donghyun puts aside the shrimp he’s deskinning, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. His voice maddeningly tranquil, he says, “you don’t mean that.”

Your throat burns with the trace of your words. 

He’s making this hard. Too hard than what it’s supposed to be. 

“I do,” you lie. 

Donghyun closes his mouth, studying you with an unreadable expression on his face. Then he exhales slowly. “I’m not going anywhere, Y/N.”

Your breath catches.

“No–” 

“You can push me all you want, as hard as you want,” Donghyun continues, his voice softer than before, “but I’m staying, Y/N. I’m not going anywhere.”

The walls you carefully constructed around your heart begin to crack and crumble. Desperation claws frantically against your chest. 

Why can’t he just let go?

You repeatedly shake your head, turning away, blinking rapidly as your vision begins to blur with tears. “You should,” you whisper, though it’s more to yourself. “You really should.”

Donghyun stays silent for quite some time, before leaning forward to gently caress your hair. You pull away, knowing that he isn’t leaving. Not now. Not ever. 

DAY 27. 

Donghyun stirs, blinking rapidly as the surroundings become clearer to him. He stretches his arms, tensing as he comes into contact with your sleeping figure. He sits up, and shifts his gaze towards you, your form accentuated by the dim glow of the bedside lamp. 

There’s something wrong. 

Donghyun knows—he just doesn’t exactly get what it is. 

You’ve been so off—too distant—this past month, and knowing you for almost a decade, Donghyun realises that whatever is causing your behaviour change is serious. 

He knows that it’s either him or something else.

But what did he do?

Donghyun quietly jumps off the bed, tiptoeing out of the room to get some water to drink. His mind is clouded with worry for you these days, he can barely sleep at night—with no one to share his warmth with, no one to talk to until one of you snoozes off, no one to braid his hair until one of you falls asleep. 

He walks to the kitchen, his attempt at being quiet largely failing due to him yelping after stubbing his toes into the dining table. He switches a few of the lights on, still quiet, then he walks over to the kitchen to grab himself some water. 

Everything was ordinary, except a few things laid out messily on the kitchen island.

Packets of medicine he’s never seen before, and a thin stack of papers scattered around the top of the island. 

Curious, Donghyun peeks at the words printed on the label of the plastic packets, bringing the glass of water he’s holding to his lips. 

Y/N L/N. 

Aspirin. 

Antidepressants. 

Anti-seizure. 

Steroids. 

Morphine tablets.

His heart begins to beat loudly against his chest, blood rushing to his head. He quickly turns to the stack of papers, after checking through the packets of medicine. 

Y/N L/N. Lung Cancer. Stage 4 (Severe).

Donghyun freezes, and the glass cup he’s holding slips through his fingers without notice. 

His mind swirls with a million different emotions—he’s confused, in shock and fear, as well as a touch of deep betrayal. 

His eyes read through the words on the papers again. A storm of emotions rain on him—he can’t believe it. It can’t be. 

All of the memories he shared with you—both happy and sad—replays in his mind. From the moment he first laid his eyes on you, donkey years ago; your numerous dates together, hours spent with love and giggles; him proposing to you, and moving in together—planning and envisioning your life together. Then, a sudden flood of memories flush through, replaying the moments and  conversations from the past month where you tried to push him away.

Now, everything clicks together in the right place. 

Now, Donghyun understands why. 

You were trying to make him leave for the future he deserved, for a better future without the burden of loving someone who was dying.

Donghyun feels his shoulders trembling ever so slightly, his vision beginning to blur with tears. He notices the broken glass cup on the floor, but his head is spinning too fast for him to comprehend it all. 

Donghyun feels his heart pounding in his chest, creating a heavy rhythm that drowned out everything else around him. You’d tried to push him away—tried to make him fall out of love with you, to untangle him from a future with you, all in an anguished attempt to protect him from the unavoidable pain that is now coming for them. Donghyun feels like him not seeing this coming should have relieved him in some twisted way.

However, the reality coming from the document in front of him hits like a tidal wave. Anger begins to flare within him—he’s mad at you for trying to shield him from this, irritated for the way you drown him in doubt, distance, and wondering whether he was truly losing you even before he knew the reason behind it all, for the past month. 

Yet, the anger and hurt begins to wash away as his eyes, still blurred from his tears that couldn’t yet fall, lands on a framed picture of the two of you on the wall. 

You were glowing—the sparkle of the starry night sky glittering in your eyes, a loving smile on your face. Next to you was Donghyun, kissing the top of your hair, his heart swelling with love and gratitude. 

It was the night of his proposal. The night you said yes. 

Yes to a future together. Yes to loving each other through all the highs and lows.

A tear drops down Donghyun’s face, tracing the curve of his features in a silent surrender. 

He understands. 

How could he not? 

Somehow, he knows that fear must have gotten the best of you, driving you to make such a selfish decision. He knows that you’re terrified—terrified to watch him suffer, to drag him into a future filled with nothing but grief and pain that no one should ever have to endure. 

Donghyun knows that you’re trying to protect him—making the hardest decision to leave him with the hollow ache of your absence, hoping that he’d move on long before you had to physically leave this world. 

His chest tightens with the realisation and the weight of his beloved’s sacrifice. 

Donghyun glances, again, at the document stating your diagnosis on the kitchen counter. 

It’s hard to come to terms with this new reality, shoved to his face like a rejection he doesn’t even have time to process. 

It’s hard, but Donghyun’s love is undeniable. He feels it burning through the tangles of hurt, confusion and anger in his heart, leaving him with one overwhelming truth: he won’t leave. Not now. Not ever. 

The vision of you smiling brightly appears in front of his eyes, the melody of your laughter ringing in his ears. 

His heart begins to beat in a steady manner, and he’s never felt as sure before—the only other time being the moment, after taking you out for the first time, that he’s sure of a future with you. 

I’m not going anywhere. I choose you, Y/N.

I’ll always choose you. 

I choose us, even in this.

A wave of urgency suddenly washes through him—and it’s almost a frantic need to reassure you. Donghyun clutches his chest. He can’t let you believe, even for a second longer, that you’ll watch him walk away, leaving you to face this battle alone. He’s not going to abandon you—not when you need him the most. 

The slightest, faintest shiver moves through him, betraying the calm he’s trying to maintain for so long. No sound escapes his lips, just a quiet sob. 

And so, as the reality of his fiancée’s diagnosis begins to settle into the deepest marrows of his bones, he realises that the future that the two of you had once planned is no longer a guarantee. It’s fragile now, but a future with you is still one. The future still belongs to you and Donghyun, hand in hand. And he would fight to hold on to it, even if it meant facing the darkness together.

DAY 28. 

“Y/N, I’m home,” Donghyun calls out, mentally preparing himself for another ‘mood swing’ of yours. However, when he swings the door to your shared apartment open, he finds himself in shock at the way it’s dark. 

Panic begins to kick in. Donghyun looks around—your shoes are here, your coat is hanging, still damp from the year’s first snow. 

“Angel?” Donghyun calls again, the tremble in his voice beginning to rise. 

He kicks his shoes off and scrambles to every corner of the house, trying to find you. He looks for you in every nook and cranny—sharply turning when he spots light coming from the bottom of the bathroom door. He rushes there, but comes into a halt when he hears a sob. 

You press your forehead against the bathroom mirror, your hot breath creating a cloud of fog on its surface. Gripping the edge of the sink as tight as you possibly could, you try to push in the panic that’s resurfacing, after keeping on a facade for the entire day. 

At first, it was just a tiny tremor, a quiver barely noticeable in your chest as you try to keep your breathing calm amidst all the physical pain. Your eyes are glassy and distant, staring at nothing in particular. The tears are heavy, clinging to your eyelashes, refusing to fall. But with every blink, with every pained heave, a new wave erupts through you, and the tears threaten to fall. You press your lips tightly together, your fingers tightening their grip on the edge of the sink, trying to fiercely silence the sobs that will likely escape, but the quiet, desperate hitch in your breath betrays you.

The tears flow down your cheeks like a river carving its way through thick solid rock, free, warm and unwelcome. You press your forehead harder against the stinging cold mirror, as though you’re trying to push the tears back in. Your throat tightens, a soft sob jerking at the bottom of your chest. You bite the bottom of your lip so hard it might rip apart, your entire body stiffening in an attempt to halt a flood that’s quickly becoming too impossible to stop.

But it slips out of you anyway—a quiet, pained sob that escaped before you could even stop it, followed by another, and another, and then a louder, desperate gasp for air. Your shoulders begin to rise up and down in an effort to stifle the sound, but each aching breath makes it harder. Your chest begins to heave, your hands trembling against the freezing surface of the sink, unable to stop the heavy storm of tears raining from your eyes. 

Your attempts to remain composed are long gone now, swallowed up by the weight of it all. And though you still tried to suppress it, your anguish cries fills the apartment with a rawness that she can’t deny, can’t conceal, no matter how hard you fight it.

“Angel?”

No.

You shake your head, tears mercilessly streaming down your cheeks. 

I need to stop crying. 

You harshly wipe the tears on your cheeks with the back of your hand, exhaling shakily. 

A soft knock comes from the door. 

“Y/N?”

You close your eyes shut. Not now. Please. 

You hear the doorknob turn, and tears begin to well up again. 

“I’m coming in.”

Before you could turn and stop in, Donghyun is already inside the bathroom, standing in front of you. His eyes immediately find you, locking to the sight of your tear-streaked face and trembling hands. 

His expression softens. “Hey,” he says, “talk to me.”

You shake your head. “Donghyun, please,” you say, your voice croaky. “Just go.”

Donghyun steps closer, determination masking the hurt in his eyes. His warmth begins to blanket around you. 

“No.”

You suck in a sharp breath, wincing at the pain. “You have to.”

“Why?” 

Donghyun frowns, his hand already halfway there, his first instinct is to hold you as soon as he sees you in pain. 

You turn to face him, the walls of your plan that you’ve constructed crumbling down the moment your eyes meet his. For the first time, you let him see it all—the overwhelming pain. The fear. The exhaustion. The unbearable weight of what’s to come. 

“Y/N–” he says, his own voice cracking. 

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head slowly. You want to give up. You want to run into his arms. You want to tell him everything. You want to cry your heart out to someone you love so dearly with your heart, someone who you know will never judge you for anything at all.

But a part of you still refuses to force upon him a painful future. 

“You deserve someone who has a future.”

“Love, what are you talking about–?”

“I’m dying, Donghyun,” you exclaim, choking on your tears. You can’t hold it in any longer, the truth slipping out without realisation. “I’m dying.”

Your words hang in the air, heavy and sharp like shattered glass. 

Donghyun stands there, not saying anything.

For a long time, neither of you moves. Neither of you says anything. Just holding each other’s gaze, a storm of emotions swirling behind each of your eyes. 

Then, quietly, Donghyun reaches out, pulling you into his embrace. You could feel his body trembling as he hugs you tight, his touch gentle, but at the same time, it feels desperate. It’s like you’d disappear if he let go. 

He pulls away slightly after, cupping your face tenderly. “You’re not in this alone,” he says, his voice steady, contrasting the evident quiver of his hands. 

Again, tears slip down your cheeks. “You should hate me.”

Your mind flips through the book of everything that you’ve done to him this month. It broke your heart, over and over again, doing each and every detail of your plan, but you know that it broke your fiancé even more. 

“I love you,” Donghyun murmurs. “And I’m staying. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your shoulders tremble as your hands find their grip on Donghyun’s arms, burying your face in his chest. His arms immediately find their way around you, pulling you closer. His heartbeat steady against yours, you let yourself cry in his arms for the first since the diagnosis. 

DAY 30.

You spent the entire day, after confessing the partial truth to Donghyun, sleeping and resting. You feel so fatigued, not even having the mood to text your boss that you’d be taking an off day. You opened your eyes only to shut your alarm off, and woke up around midday, finding out that your lovely fiancé emailed your boss for you, applying for two days off. He took two days off, too, claiming that he wants to spend all his hours with you. 

It’s the next day, and you wake up to Donghyun scrolling through something in his laptop, a serious frown on his face. It’s still partially dark in the apartment, the only source of light being your bedside lamp and Donghyun’s laptop. 

“Donghyun,” you say, immediately clearing your throat after that, feeling dry. 

Donghyun perks up, turning to you. He smiles, softly pressing his lips against your forehead. He adjusts the position of his bluelight glasses on his nose. “Good morning, angel. Why are you up so early? It’s only 6 in the morning.”

You glare at him. “Why are you up so early?”

Donghyun giggles, and it makes your stomach erupt in butterflies despite you trying to maintain the glare on your face. He puts an arm around your shoulder, letting you scoot closer to him, resting your head on his chest. 

“Look, I’ve been researching… and I think we should move to the countryside. I saw a really good house in Boseong-gun,” he says, and his words drop like a bomb. 

Your eyes bulge almost immediately. “What? Kim Donghyun,” you gasp. “What are you thinking? Where do we get the money?”

Donghyun continues, his eyes to the screen. “I’m thinking of selling this apartment,” he says with a serious expression, telling you that he’s not joking at all. 

Your heart almost jumps out of your chest. You gasp, hitting his arm. “Kim Donghyun! What the hell—what were you thinking? Why?”

Donghyun purses his lips. “I… think it’s for the best. You need fresh air—you need something way better than,” he gestures with his hands, “all this city garbage. It’s quiet there, and I think we’ll both like it.”

You’re too shocked to reply. You adjust your position to be sitting properly, locking eyes with your fiancé. He looks at you, his gaze strong and unwavering, and that is enough for you to know that he’s already made up his mind. He’s not playing around. 

“I don’t know,” you sigh. “Is it okay, though? You work here, and Boseong-gun is almost four hours away.”

“I have my resignation letter ready to be sent in,” Donghyun replies like it’s the easiest thing in the world for him. 

You look away, not knowing what to say. His suggestion hangs in the air, and you’re swamped in confusion and disbelief. It seems too sudden and out of place—like a happy ending Donghyun is trying to harshly paint over your doomed future. 

The silence between you and Donghyun stretches long and thick as you process the weight of the words he just uttered. 

Four hours. 

Four hours away from everything you’ve known—the life you’ve built together with Donghyun, for so many years, in the city.

You throw your gaze out the window, the colourful glistening of the city lights suddenly seeming so wistful. The sweeping view of the city skyline reminds you of the dreams you’ve conceived together, the shared moments of heartfelt laughter and quiet mornings—it was once a symbol of your guaranteed future, happy and secure with Donghyun, of success, ambition and togetherness. 

The thought of suddenly leaving all this behind makes your stomach turn. 

You turn back to him, and the look on his face is hopeful, almost eager. You feel like moving to the countryside is like an escape—a way to try and shield yourself from your illness and the misfortune that comes with it. You hope you could run away from it, you wish you could outrun it—but the entire idea feels like a paradox that’s laughing at your face: a desperate, unwise attempt to outrun your cruel fate. 

Life in the countryside sounds ideally peaceful, but would you even find peace there?

You widen your eyes, realising. 

You wait for him to say something following that, but he stays silent, waiting for your reply. 

Does he know?

The words hang in the air, slowly settling down between the two of you. 

You bite the bottom of your lips to hide the slight tremble in them. 

You want to fight back. Want to push him away again, knowing that he’s undeserving of such short-lived happiness just to be with you. 

But you’re exhausted, and you know Donghyun won’t take no for an answer, no matter how gentle he’d be with it.

“Okay,” you nod, and the look of silent gratitude on Donghyun’s face tells you the truth. 

He probably knows. 

EVERYTHING felt like a blur, and it’s comfortingly quick. Donghyun made sure to arrange everything well, and fortunately, nothing went wrong. The two of you had around two weeks to pack all of your things, say goodbye to family and friends, and send in your resignation letters to your respective workplaces. On the last day the two of you were in Seoul, Donghyun had brought you around to all your favourite places in the city—the cat cafe you frequented whenever you had the chance, the Seoul Forest, the river, and parks that you and Donghyun often went on picnics at. 

You laughed a lot—reminiscing on the memories made at each place. You’re with Donghyun now, just like you were in the memories you cherish, but the two of you have grown along with your feelings. Your love for each other has grown bigger and bigger each day, and you’d do anything for Donghyun. 

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to see the cherry blossoms,” Donghyun says, his voice soft. You buckle your seatbelt, perking an eyebrow at him. 

“What are you talking about?”

Donghyun starts the car, sighing. “You love seeing the cherry blossoms at Seokchon Lake,” he says. “But you won’t be able to see them this year…”

The reality that you’re moving away from the city you’ve known as your home for the longest time hits you. The reality that you’re never coming back in the future hits you, too. 

Nevertheless, you smile. 

“It’s okay,” you reply, surprised by your own positivity. “Maybe we’ll get to see the ones at our new place? They must be beautiful.”

Donghyun kisses your temples, smiling softly. 

“Let’s go?”

You look at him for a while before nodding, feeling a rush of goosebumps as you’re turning to a new leaf in your life. 

The days at your new house, overlooking a beautiful meadow of green tea fields and an orchard, are more delightful than you thought it’d be. You spent your first few days decorating your newly bought house. Despite feeling a little out of place, the change of scenery and air makes you feel weirdly healthier and happier. 

You decide that you’re going to be painting the house to your liking. You brought up the idea to Donghyun two days ago, and he had happily agreed—bringing you to the town’s paintshop to hunt for some paint that you’d like. 

Today, you decide that you’re going to be painting your shared bedroom walls with a personal touch—a baby blue base shade filled with little paintings of stars, flowers, and significant objects from memories you shared with Donghyun, capturing details in cute colours. 

Donghyun helps you with everything and anything that he can help with. After bringing up the set of paintbrushes you ask for, he quietly reaches for a paint brush for himself and starts painting, even though it’s quite evident that he’s not too good at it. 

Being the ever silent observer, Donghyun didn’t tell you that he was going to help painting, and you too don’t notice him until you turn around and see him painting what you think might be a gummy bear. Though, you’re not too sure if it’s a gummy bear or a group of red blobs that kind of look like mushy tomatoes. 

“Donghyun,” you say, already snorting. “What’s that supposed to be, sweetheart?”

He turns, seriously explaining his work of art to you. “It’s a gummy bear! Remember the first time we sat together at lunch, during our sophomore year of high school? You looked like you were about to cry from that Biology test, so I gave you one–” he pauses, narrowing his eyes as laughter begins to crack your demeanor. “Why are you laughing?”

“It looks like tomatoes,” you giggle, and Donghyun’s eyes widen. 

“It’s not!” he huffs. “It’s clearly a gummy bear, Y/N–look, here’s the ears.”

You just can’t stop giggling—he’s too cute and his ‘paintings’ are too hilarious for you to hold yourself back, despite the stinging pain in your lungs. 

Swiftly, Donghyun dabs a streak of baby blue paint across your nose. 

“What the–hey!”

“Oops.”

You look around, immediately retaliating by smearing a yellow streak of paint across his cheek, and soon, the two of you are deep in laughter, tickling and smearing paint on each other, covered in messy colours. 

For a moment, you’re not thinking of the looming future.

For a moment, you’re laughing to your heart’s content, happy in Donghyun’s presence. 

ONE night, Donghyun suddenly suggests that the two of you should have supper on the rooftop while watching the stars. Winter is about to reach its peak, and you know how cold it’d be—but you know you can’t resist spending time with your beloved fiancé. 

“I’ll be right back,” he says to you after handing you a basket filled with midnight snacks, running back into the house. 

Donghyun then reappears, carrying a few thick blankets and pillows. After setting everything up, he pulls you into his arms, and you’re immediately bundled up in the warmth of your coat, the blankets, and your fiancé’s embrace. 

He wraps you in his arms as the two of you lie together underneath the breathtaking night sky.

“It’s really pretty here!” you say, smiling excitedly. “You can see the stars even more clearly compared to the city.”

“Yeah,” Donghyun nods, his breath tickling warmly against your skin. 

You smile fondly, your heart blossoming with the most pleasant feelings as you gaze at the vast sky, a canvas filled with shimmering stars, each with their own story. And the two of you are sharing a moment, quiet with no rush—just the two of you, enjoying snacks and each other’s presence. 

The quiet hum of the world fades around the two of you, and it’s just you and Donghyun and the occasional crunch of a snack.

Your eyes lay upon the sparkling constellations, quietly recalling some of their names that you still remembered from high school.

“Remember when we used to talk about space?” you murmur, shifting to make yourself more comfortable in Donghyun’s arms. 

“Is this when we were both obsessed with stars, back when we learnt about them in high school?” Donghyun chuckles. 

You nod. 

“You really wanted to become an astronaut, to see the stars more clearly,” he recalls. 

“Yeah,” you say, suddenly feeling a little sad. “Guess that didn’t work out.”

“Hey, you can still go,” Donghyun kisses the top of your head. He points to the sky. “Just not in the way you imagined.”

You nudge him. “That’s depressing.”

“What? We’ll all die one day—”

You smack his chest. “Shut up, Donghyun.”

He chuckles, and then, the two of you fall into a comfortable silence, going back to watching the stars twinkle. 

“You know… I think I’m okay with all this,” you whisper, grabbing his hand. Donghyun interlaces your fingers together, his thumb caressing the back of your hand gently. “If the rest of my life is spent like this… with you.”

Donghyun squeezes your hand. “Me too, angel.”

YOU’RE sitting in the living room, sipping on hot chocolate by the window. You gulp, feeling odd. You’re sick, you know that, but it feels weird to feel your body getting progressively weaker and weaker with every passing day. After swallowing all the needed medication, you felt too tired to be doing anything around the house. You asked Donghyun for a hot chocolate, feeling a little weird as a simple task like making yourself a hot chocolate feels so draining now. And then, here you are, watching the snow fall onto earth outside your window. 

Suddenly, you feel like playing in the snow. The cold snow stinging against your skin, making your ears and nose red feels strangely comforting. You take a final sip of your drink before walking towards the coat rack, sliding your arms into a thick winter coat. Albeit slow, you still push yourself to make your way to the coat rack, even though you’re moving more slowly than you used to.

Donghyun, who is in the kitchen trying to figure out how to cook chicken soup, sees you wearing your winter boots. His eyes widen, and he leaves his station, immediately rushing to you. 

“Where are you going, love?” he asks, hands gently holding your arms. 

You bring your hair out of your coat. “Outside?” 

“You’ll get sick,” he says, pouting. 

You give him a mischievous smile, already reaching for the door. “Too late for that.”

Donghyun lets go of you, though he’s walking behind you, following your steps. He watches as you amble out to the front lawn of your house, looking so in awe of the snow. You unknowingly smile, loving the feeling of snowflakes decorating your hair. You slowly crouch down, and as your hands touch the fresh snow, you feel like you’re not doomed to death in the near future. It’s like a refreshing break, and you don’t have to think about your future. 

It’s just you, Donghyun, and the things you love. 

Busy rolling mini snowballs to make miniature snowmen, you feel a scarf wrapped around your neck. You look up, and see Donghyun softly smiling at you, snowflakes adoring his dark brown hair. He hands you a pair of knitted gloves. 

“Aren’t you cold?” he asks.

You glance at your fingers, numbly red. “Kind of. But this feels good.”

Donghyun shakes his head, the smile on his face betraying his disapproval. He grabs your hand and gently puts the gloves on. “There, much better.”

You laugh at the way he’s so stubborn sometimes, and it’s the happiest sound Donghyun has ever heard. His eyes widen slightly, and his throat suddenly feels dry.

He crouches next to you, pulling you close to him. He turns to the army of mini snowmen you made, chuckling. “They are so cute.”

You simply giggle, already making another one. Donghyun turns his head to look at you, the snowflakes falling gently around you, each one landing on your hair, your lashes dusted with white. As he’s watching you hum happily to yourself, shaping the snow in your hands, he’s completely captivated by the way snow settles around you. The wind has a gentle bite to it, making your nose red against the cold. But you seem unfazed, eyes sparkling as you place another ball of snow on the snowman’s body. 

Donghyun smiles. 

You’re so beautiful, even when the world is blanketed in white, even when it’s so freezing cold outside. 

I’m the luckiest person in the world. 

YOU grunt, hating how getting out of bed feels so hard to do now. You’ve slept for almost twelve hours, but you can’t seem to get enough rest. Your breaths are evidently more shallow and laboured now, but you try your best everyday—pulling yourself out of bed to see Donghyun. 

God knows when it’ll be the last time you see him. 

It’s already noon, and you’re walking downstairs, in Donghyun’s hoodie, groggy and ridiculously out of energy. You find Donghyun in the kitchen, looking somehow stressed that half his pancakes are burnt. 

“Good morning, sweetheart,” you say, throwing your arms around Donghyun’s waist, burying your face into his back. 

You feel his tense posture relax slightly. “Good morning, love. Are you hungry?”

“A bit..” you answer. “But I don’t feel like eating.”

“You should eat,” Donghyun says, turning around as he swiftly presses a kiss to your forehead. “Do you want pancakes?”

You press your lips into a thin line, contemplating. Your appetite has decreased significantly, and heartbreakingly, you don’t find yourself enjoying the foods you used to love as much anymore. 

You shake your head. You don’t think you can swallow pancakes down anymore. 

Donghyun tilts his head. He hums. “Do you wanna cook something together? Maybe mac-and-cheese?”

You nod. 

“That sounds good,” you say, albeit feeling like your appetite might decline like all the other meals that you’ve tried before. 

The two of you then begin to cook—Donghyun insists on being the one mostly doing all the technical stuff, letting you instruct him around. He’s not too great with the kitchen, and with the better cook in your relationship supervising, disaster still strikes. 

“Did you just put the sugar instead of salt?” you ask, horrified. 

Donghyun gasps, stammering. “Oh my god. I did.”

He stares, not blinking, at the mac-and-cheese simmering on the stove, its taste completely ruined. You stare at him. Then the two of you burst into laughter. 

“I think we should stick to you being the chef,” Donghyun says, wiping his eyes.

“Agreed,” you laugh. 

The two of you end up redoing the entire recipe again, this time with more care which causes you to eat lunch in the late afternoon, but neither of you mind. 

YOU find yourself slowly stepping down the stairs, loving the smell of coffee going around, accompanied by the chirp of birds outside. You make your way into the kitchen, trying you best to steady your breath. You watch as Donghyun hums softly as he puts together a bowl of greek yogurt and berries, completely at ease. 

You take a mental picture—this moment, this warmth, this love.  

“Good morning, my love,” Donghyun smiles at you when he finally notices you staring at him from the dining table. “What’s up?”

You shake your head with a smile. “Nothing. Just… I love you, Donghyun. I… thank you for everything.”

Donghyun walks over to you and sets down the mugs of coffee he’s holding, pressing a kiss to your nose. “I love you too, angel, so much.”

And for a little while, everything feels normal.

BUT it’s not. Nothing is normal. 

Donghyun noticed everything. The way your laughter lingers around for much longer each time it escapes you. The way you’re speaking less, like it costs you so much pain to be voicing your thoughts out. The way your every movement is much slower, more deliberate, and he can clearly see the toll that each action is taking on you. The way that your face gets paler every passing day, the way that your eyes are sometimes empty and distant, reflecting the battle you’re going through inside. The way that there’s an almost palpable sadness in your gaze—no matter how hard you try to mask it—as if you’re mourning everything that’s being taken away from you, but you’re trying to still hold to whatever’s left of your energy to make the best of things and people you love, for a final conversation, a last connection.

At first, Donghyun tries his best to convince himself that it’s nothing. That you’re going to heal. That you’re going to make it, that you’re going to grow old with him.

But deep down, he knows.

He notices the way your voice, once steady and confident, now weakens. He knows that, in every moment you’re awake and aware, you might be sharing a few words and smiles, but it’s evident that you’re slipping away, little by little. 

The space around you becomes quieter without your giggles, you’re less active and you get more tired easily, resting longer than usual. 

Donghyun is in agony, but he knows whatever pain he’s feeling is so small compared to yours. It’s a painful, gradual process that he knows will leave him feeling helpless, watching someone he so deeply cares about wither in ways he can’t control.

After a day of gardening and giggling together in your orchard, Donghyun notices you faltering more rapidly than normal. The two of you are eating dinner together, when suddenly, your breath hitches sharply. You cough—once, twice. Then, it doesn’t stop. 

Donghyun immediately gets off his chair and rushes to your side, rubbing comforting circles on your back. But then, he sees it. Blood. On your lips. On your sleeve.

Your smile disappears. 

“Y/N–” Donghyun tries to say, but his voice comes out in a whisper, cracked and vulnerable. 

“I’m fine,” you say too quickly, wiping at your mouth like it’s nothing. Like you’re not falling apart right in front of him, right in his arms. 

But Donghyun catches the immediate fear in your eyes. 

The next day, it happens again. After an evening of cosy stargazing and laying in each other’s embrace, you get up too quickly, and the next thing Donghyun knows—you’re on the ground. 

For a second, Donghyun freezes. 

“Y/N?”

You blink up at him, dazed. Then, you offer him a weak laugh. “I’m okay, I’m fine. Just… got dizzy.”

But when he helps you up, he can’t help but notice how your weight is heavier than before. And he feels it—just how fragile you’ve become. 

He grips you tighter as he leads you to the bedroom. 

Later that night, Donghyun can’t fall asleep. Instead, he quietly sits down, his hand still intertwined with yours. He watches you sleep, the reality of your future sinking harshly into him. 

The warmth of the happy memories he’s made with you, from the first time he knew you, still lingers, but there’s something else now—a quiet, suffocating dread. 

You’re slipping away. 

And no matter how many memories he’s going to make with you, it won’t change the inevitable. It won’t change anything. 

For the first time since this started—Donghyun feels something rise up his throat. Anger. 

At fate, at the universe. At you, for thinking that you could hide this from him. 

He clenches his jaw, tears threatening to fall. 

How could he ever let you go?

DAY 62.

The next morning, when the sun is just about to peek from the horizon, Donghyun is woken up by the sound of you gasping in pain. He immediately is awake, shocked to find you coughing out blood and panting for breath. 

He jumps off the bed, frantically trying to switch on the bedside lamp to see you better. You’re gasping for breath, each inhale weaker than the last. Donghyun kneels beside the bed, his trembling hands gripping yours tightly. 

“S-stay with me,” he pleads, his voice shaking. “Just a little longer.”

Your lips tremble into a small smile. You shake your head slowly. “I’m… sorry… sweetheart.”

“No, you can. You always could,” his hands tighten around yours, as if he’s trying to physically hold your soul down. As if he can physically keep you here by sheer will alone. “Just hold on, Y/N. Please. I’ll-I’ll go get your medicine, I’ll get the doctor—just stay. Hold on for me.”

You reach up, brushing your trembling fingers against his cheek. “Donghyun…” 

He leans into your touch, his eyes burning with unshed tears. 

“I—” you swallow painfully. It’s time to admit it all. “I thought… I could make you hate me. I tried.”

His lips part, a dry, humourless laugh escaping. “I know.”

“I didn’t want you to suffer.”

“I don’t care,” he whispers fiercely as tears begin to force their way down his cheeks. “I love you. And I will always choose you, over and over again.”

Your eyes begin to glisten, and your hand falls back to your side. “You’re always stubborn.”

“And you were always reckless,” he murmurs, his voice breaking. 

You exhale softly, letting your body relax into the pillow. “Donghyun?”

“Yeah?” his voice cracks, his face wet with tears. 

“Don’t… forget me.”

A choked sob escapes Donghyun and he presses his forehead against yours. Salty tears fall from his eyes, dripping onto your face.  “Never, angel, never.”

“I love you, Donghyun,” you whisper with all your might.

“I love you too, my love,” Donghyun whispers back, pressing a very soft kiss onto your nose. 

You smile, letting out one last, slow breath.

And then, silence. 

Donghyun stays there, holding onto you as if letting go would mean accepting the truth.

A few days after your funeral, Donghyun forces himself to get out of bed. You wouldn’t want him to live on with such sadness, he knew. He began distracting himself by doing everything he could, cleaning up the house while trying to preserve anything and everything that you left behind. 

He leaves the couch you loved to lounge on as it is; the mugs and extra pair of utensils you used kept neatly in the pantry; your clothes aptly folded away in your part of the closet. He made sure to keep all of your pictures framed and hung on any empty space the walls held. He made sure your favourite flowers are always in abundance, both in the house’s vases and the garden. 

In the drawer of your vanity, Donghyun finds a letter—one that you wrote with him during your ‘letter to future self’ session, a few weeks back. 

He slowly sits down on the edge of the bed, hands trembling as he unfolds the letter open. 

“Dear Donghyun, my love, my one and only, my fiancé.

If you’re reading this, it means I’m gone. And if you’re crying, I swear I’ll haunt you (lovingly, of course).

I don’t want you to be sad forever. I don’t want you to stop smiling. You have such a beautiful smile, and it would be a waste if the world never saw it again.

Live, Donghyun. Live enough for the both of us. 

You’re strong, sweetheart. Keep on living, keep on smiling. Be happy, dear. 

And if you ever miss me too much… just look up. I’ll be there. I’ll be the star that shines the most for you.”

A wretched sob escapes his chest, and Donghyun begins to cry. 

He misses you. Too much. 

Tears begin to flood his vision as he holds the letter to his chest. 

DAY 3715. 

It’s been 10 years. 

And you’re still here—fresh in Donghyun’s mind. 

The evening air is crisp as Donghyun makes his way up the familiar hill. The grass beneath his feet sways gently, kissed by the soft autumn breeze. In his hands, he carries a small bouquet of white lilies and baby breaths—your favourite flowers. 

He kneels by the gravestone, running his fingers over the engraved letters of your name. 

“Hey, Y/N,” his voice is soft, almost hesitant, like he’s afraid to disturb the peaceful silence around you. “I’m here, angel.”

He places the flowers down carefully and settles himself next to you, stretching his legs out. Before him, the sun begins to dip below the horizon, leaving behind a painting that covers the sky in hues of gold, pink and violet. 

“The sunset is beautiful, my love, just like you,” he murmurs.

The wind answers in a gentle hush. 

Donghyun puts his head down to let out a quiet chuckle. “It’s been ten years, and I still find myself talking to you like this. You’d probably laugh at me, huh?”

Donghyun crosses his arms, leaning to your gravestone, gazing at the sky. It was the kind of sunset that you loved the most—one where the colours blended seamlessly into each other, radiating a soft and comforting energy, gently like a touch of a lover’s embrace. 

“I hope the sunset is just as beautiful where you are.”

The breeze picks up, rustling through the golden trees, carrying with it the scent of browning autumn leaves. A single petal from the bouquet of lilies lifts into the air, swirling before settling gently on the ground in front of Donghyun. 

Donghyun exhales shakily. He lowers his head, his fingers caressing the cool stone. 

“I hope I meet you again soon, angel,” he whispers. 

The world around him feels still. And for a moment—delicate and fleeting—it almost feels as if someone was there, standing beside him, fingers against his own. 

Then, the wind sighs, and the feeling disappears with the sun. 

THE countryside house, cosy and just enough, was just as it had been when you first moved in with Donghyun. The wooden walls hold stories in their creaks, and the windows frame the endless beautiful sky, one that you loved so much no matter what the occasion was. Donghyun stands in the garden, tending to the garden filled with your favourite flowers. They had grown very well over the years, thriving in the soil that you had once tended with Donghyun. 

He straightens his posture, brushing the dirt from his hands. Lifting his head, he watches the sky shift from afternoon blue to the warm, comforting glow of evening.

“The sunset is beautiful again today,” he says, as if you’re still there, standing next to him. 

The wind begins to stir, carrying the scent of flowers through the air. Donghyun closes his eyes, feeling it wrap around him.

And for the first time in a very long time, he smiles. 

“I’ll see you again, Y/N.”

― © htaesan, 2025.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀want more like this? check out the 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

[thewastedpotential]

Since it's Melody Piper's birthday today I would like to share my headcanon about her :

At the end of his story, when Pied Piper returned all the kids to their parents one little girl was left behind. She was about 2 or 3 years old and since the beginning, she would have followed Pied Piper all the time and wouldn't leave his side. To his benefit, Piper tried to find her parents, he really did but no one knew that kid so he adopted her. She could talk but was mostly quiet and didn't have a name ( at least that was what Piper assumed because no matter how many times he asked her what her name was she would just stare at him) he named her Melody ( as promised). Now Piper wanted to be a good father, he really did, but he had no idea what he was doing.

" Wolf you have a kid, right? Melody has accidentally eaten sand. Should I take her to the doctor? Is she gonna be okay?" " Chesire, she's been crying for 30 minutes now straight. How do I calm her down? Is this normal? Did I do something wrong?" He was never really good with kids.

At least his music seems to calm her down. She really seems to like it when he plays his flute or sings to her.

[stardust-make-a-wish]

.💭

[poguehearted77]

Wild Child

summary: after being sent away to boarding school for being a wild child you're finally back and celebrating your return in the only way you see fit.

smut: pool party, ragers, drug use (alcohol, vapes n weed), size kink, Rafe is cocky, mentions of old flings, manhandling, hot tubs, they do it on her parents' bed, rough sex, step-mom slander, reader is such a flirt n a tease, curvy reader, dom! rafe, bratty! reader, skinny dipping, mentions of body shots, choking, spanking (like once).

The morning sun was ascending high into the sky when you finally managed to get yourself out of your king-sized bed, fit for someone of your status and your parents' financial standing.

Your socked feet took padded steps towards your window where you overlooked the hills of figure eight. This was the first time you'd looked out your bedroom window in years. With a deep inhale a soft smile etched its way across your lips. You were finally home, and you had the house all to yourself. Or so you thought.

Your ears pick up on muffled indistinct chatter that managed to travel from the kitchen, down the halls up the elaborate staircase and into your room. Quickly, you headed for the source of the voices and were disappointed to see your dad and his wife plaything, Maria, conversing over coffee at the kitchen island.

"I thought you said the Jet leaves at dawn? What are you guys still doing here?" You try not to sound too curious, arms crossing naturally with your inquiry. With a clearing of his throat, your dad speaks up, "You only just came back two nights ago. Maria and I just don't think it's the right time to leave you alone for the weekend."

You scoff, "Why? You still don't trust me after what happened last time? Get over it, I'm twenty-one now, you can trust me." As you walked over to the fridge for a glass of water, you heard a muted exchange of ideas behind you.

"You can't expect us to forget about all the damage you caused. We still haven't found anyone to repair my crystal vases." You take a long sip, trying to swallow your toxic thoughts with the water.

She thinks she can just waltz up and down the house with that huge ring on her finger and think that her opinion carries any value to you.

You took a deep breath and plastered on a fake smile, pitching your voice to become as sweet as honey.

"I can never apologize enough for what I did back then, but how will I ever earn your trust if you don't give me the chance." Your doe eyes land on your father, specifically his weakened composure.

You're about to break him, you can see it.

He exhales, all the air escaping through his nostrils.

Broken.

He glances down at his watch, "Fine, but if you throw another party so help me god Y/n you'll never see grass again." You play it cool, thanking him with a simple hug and completely disregarding Maria before you make your way back upstairs.

It's as though a weight had been lifted off your chest. You needed them out of the house, you'd been planning this party since you got back and made sure all the guests knew to keep it on the down low, just until they were gone.

The hours fly by, and you hardly keep track of time as you and some of your long-time friends set up the house for the party that you shouldn't be hosting, but you're Y/n Sinclair. Parties are your thing.

"Macy, you let the people in, kay? I'm gonna go get changed." The sun was beginning to set and the music was already blasting, vibrating over the marble floors of the house. Every lyric was punctuated with a shaking of the speakers that could be felt even outside.

The neighbours hated to see you coming.

You know your dad's jet was en route to Fiji and he wouldn't be able to reach you until he landed which wasn't for another six hours at minimum but by then the damage will be long done and far too late to stop.

You make your way up the stairs, the bass thumping through the house and vibrating beneath your feet. As you step into your room, your reflection catches your eye, excitement sparking in your gaze.

With a quick flick of your wrist, you reach for the strappy black and red two-piece, slipping it on, the cool fabric hugging every curve just right. Each strap crisscrosses elegantly, bold yet balanced, making you smile at how perfectly it all came together.

Next, you grab the sheer cover-up, wrapping it loosely around your waist so it drapes with a hint of movement, a playful edge that sways with you. You run your fingers through your curls, scrunching them gently to bring out their bounce, each coil framing your face in soft waves. Reaching for your lip gloss, you swipe it carefully over your lips, catching the light with a glossy shine.

One last look, and you’re ready, your heart beating in rhythm with the music below. The speakers are already blaring, the energy practically calling you back down. You step out with a final tousle of your curls, ready to join the night.

The energy crackles through the backyard as you make your way to the top of the outdoor staircase. The sun has slipped beneath the horizon, casting a dusky glow over the massive pool below, illuminated by floating lights that shimmer across the water.

The bar is buzzing with people grabbing drinks, and in the corner, the foam pit is already filling up, laughter and splashes mixing with the heavy beat of the music.

A neon sign hangs across from the bar, glowing boldly against the evening sky: The Queen of Kildare is Back. You grin, amused at the sight of it knowing it was 100% Macy's doing, and take a step down. Conversations hush, replaced by the roaring blast of excitement as heads turn your way. Hundreds of people, from familiar faces to those you only vaguely recognize from your past in Figure Eight, pause and look up, anticipation brimming in their eyes.

As you descend, your cover-up billows behind you, revealing the bold lines of your black and red two-piece. The crowd’s reaction is instant, erupting into cheers, whistles, and applause that echo across the yard.

"Y/n! Y/n! Y/n" They chant and you laugh. Every step closer to the party, you feel the atmosphere thicken, charged with that infectious blend of excitement and admiration. By the time you reach the bottom, someone’s already handing you a drink, while friends rush over to pull you in for hugs and greetings, their voices nearly drowned out by the music and shouts.

"Y/n Sinclair, s'Been a while."

There's a voice all too familiar addressing you from behind, prompting you to pivot to come face to face with a much taller Rafe than your brain could recall.

"Rafe Cameron. Long time no see." He goes in for the hug, your arms reaching over his broadened shoulders while his longer ones wrap around your waist before pulling back. He not so subtly checked you out, his tongue darting out over his lips briefly as he took you in and you did the same.

The buzzed hair sharpens his features, you think. Making his eyes seem darker, more intense, as they focus on you. His open linen shirt falls loosely over his frame, giving glimpses of his toned chest and the subtle gleam of a thin chain resting against his skin.

The shirt flutters with the breeze, barely hanging on his shoulders, hinting at the strong lines of his arms and drawing your eyes down to his relaxed, dark swim trunks.

He’s saying something, leaning slightly toward you, and his voice cuts smoothly through the bass of the party. Your eyes wander back up to his face, catching the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as if he knows he’s caught your attention.

"You look good, too good. How long's it been?" It's hard for you to think with the heat of his gaze on you, but you don't falter, never surrendering to this never-ending game between the two of you.

"About 3 years." He hums, the way he looks at you, casual yet purposeful, makes your pulse quicken, and suddenly, every sound around you fades, leaving only the warmth of his presence and the way he looks right at you, but you remind yourself to focus.

Rafe looks around the scene, eyes lingering over the wet t-shirt contest and then the game of chicken being held in the pool while others lounged on the various floaties or indulged in ungodly amounts of alcohol at the bar. As he does so, the pungent scent of weed drafts across your nostrils.

"Your old man know you're hostin' tonight?" You had to laugh, "Oh please, like he would ever let me have any kind of fun while he's in town. He and the skank are in Fiji."

The slight smirk that etches over his perfect lips taunts you. "So the house is yours?" He leans in, a little closer, closing the gap between you. "Until he comes back and banishes me again," You place a confident hand against his chest, pushing him away, "But for now, I'm here to party, and you should be too."

With that said you walk away from him, letting your hips sway with seduction radiating with each step. Rafe lets his thumb and fingers stroke over his jaw, feeling the weight of the pressure you'd just applied.

God, it was good to have you back.

The party raged on, slowly approaching its peak, body shots were going on at the bar, girls were doing lines in the bathrooms and the guys had insisted on a drunk game of volleyball in the pool.

Rafe took a break from the events of the party and watched from the sidelines on the couch, taking another hit of the vape that someone had passed to him, he's not sure he can remember who, and it wasn't relevant anyway.

The only person he had his sights set on is you. Watching you have the time of your life with your friends on the platform in the middle of the pool. Your little group, clearly intoxicated danced carefree while you'd begun to put your hands on the ground and throw your ass in circles.

Rafe choked, sitting up, some smoke coming through his nostrils at the interrupted airflow. He leaves his shirt behind on the couch with the abandoned vape, just as he heads for the pool topped hands him a beer which Rafe accepts before he gets in.

Maintaining a straight face as his body acclimatizes to the cool water he's almost immediately swarmed and roped into a round of whatever the current pool game was.

His icy gaze looks up to the center of the pool where you once were but are now nowhere to be found. "Looking for someone?" Your voice was mocking and he was grinning before he even turned around.

"I am actually." With little ripples in the water, he steps towards you maintaining a respectful distance that was driving you insane. "I was looking for someone to join me at the bar," He puts on a convincing facade but you roll your eyes, feigning innocence.

"Let me know if you find her," He slowly steps towards you and step back, "Don't play dumb with me, Y/n." Your plush lips form a gut-wrenching pout, "What do you mean?" Another step forward, another one back. The cycle repeats itself until he has you backed up against the edge of the pool.

Rafe’s hands find your waist, and before you can react, he’s lifting you effortlessly, placing you on the edge of the pool. You're reeling at the slutty display of his sheer strength.

Your legs dangle, brushing against his chest, and he steps closer, slotting himself right between them. His hands rest on either side of you, his arms framing you in as he looks up with that sly grin, every bit as teasing as you are.

“Always out here playin' games, aren’t you?” he murmurs, his voice low, a quiet rasp just for you. “Gotta say, I respect it—always sticking it to your old man, doing your own thing.” He leans in, his gaze drifting down to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “Not many people around here have the guts for that.”

You scoff lightly, though your heart skips as his gaze lingers on you, intense and challenging. “Oh, please,” you tease, rolling your eyes. “Since when do you care about any of this?”

A quiet laugh slips from him as his fingers trace slow, deliberate circles along your thigh. “You think I haven’t been paying attention to you all these years?” he murmurs, leaning closer, his breath warm against your neck.

“You might’ve been gone a while, but don't think I forgot all those nights we had our fun.” His words hang heavy between you as he pulls back slightly. Now his hand rests on your waist, his voice dropping lower.

He tilts his head, studying you with that familiar glint of mischief. “Now that you're back, I think we should relive some of our traditions, for old time's sake,” he says, leaning in until his lips brush against your jaw, light and teasing, close enough to make your pulse race. He pauses, his thumb skimming your cheek, his lips hovering just above yours, waiting. “But don’t act like you don’t want this as much as I do.”

Before you can snap back, his mouth claims yours, the kiss charged with all the years of pent-up tension and that all-too-familiar heat. His hands slide up to cradle your face as you wrap your legs around him, pulling him even closer. The kiss deepens, and when he finally pulls back just enough to catch his breath, he watches you with a smug, knowing grin.

“There it is,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble against your lips, his thumb tracing your jaw as if memorizing every inch. “That look you get right before we make a mess of things. I knew it—you missed this just as much as I did.”

If only someone could recount how the two of found yourselves stumbling up the stairs towards your room, your soaked sheer cover-up left forgotten somewhere in the house after Rafe pulled it off of your frame.

"Shit-- Rafe," your teeth dug into the flesh of your bottom lip as you reached to open your bedroom door, horrified to see two other people had monopolized it. They hadn't even noticed the door was opened so you quickly closed it.

"What the fuck, I thought everyone knew my room was off limits." With a quick scan, you noticed items were hanging off almost all the guest rooms in the hall letting others know the room was occupied.

"Shit, there's nowhere else to go in here?" You think quickly on your feet before rushing off to get something before returning with a key in your grip.

Rafe pulls you close with a smirk as you clutch the key to your father’s room, the gleam in your eyes daring him to follow. “Breaking all the rules tonight, aren’t we?” he murmurs, his voice low and thick with approval. His hand slips around your waist as you unlock the door, both of you glancing down the hall to be sure no one’s watching.

You twist the handle and push open the door, and his hand slides down to squeeze your hip, pulling you against him. “I knew there was a reason I liked you,” he whispers against your ear, his lips grazing your skin, sending a thrill down your spine.

Once inside, you barely have a chance to lock the door before he has you pressed up against it. His lips are on yours, urgent and fierce, his hands roaming over your body with possessive ease. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he breathes between kisses, his fingers tracing the bare skin of your waist as he lifts your top, letting it fall to the floor. “Thought I’d forgotten?” you tease.

Rafe just about growls, dipping down to kiss along your collarbone, his hands sliding lower as he backs you towards the bed. His fingers hook under the waistband of your bottoms, tugging them down with a smirk that sends heat rushing through you.

Your heart races as you feel the cool, forbidden sheets beneath you, the thrill of defying every rule and having Rafe look at you like you’re the only thing he’s ever wanted. His hands slide up your thighs, lips trailing down your neck as he leans over you. “You know,” he murmurs, voice heavy with desire as he takes in the sight of you sprawled out before him, “I always knew you were trouble. Guess that’s why I can’t stay away.”

With a smirk, he leans in, his lips brushing over yours as his hands explore, both of you savouring the thrill of being tangled up in each other once again.

"Look at these perfect fuckin' tits." He curses, big hands cupping your breasts, kneading them and rolling your nipples between his index and thumb. Your back arches slightly with a gasp, chest pressing up into him and he laughs.

"Still so sensitive here, angel? Some things never change." He reminisces and you roll your eyes, "Fuck off, Rafe." With the blink of an eye, his much larger frame was caging you in from above, his bulging biceps giving him an erotic juxtaposition in comparison to your head.

Balancing himself on one arm he slinks his palm around the expanse of your throat with a weighted pressure. "Been gone so long you forgot your manners? Mm? That's fine, I'll be sure to fuck some sense back into you."

Your eyes flutter shut at his filthy words as you feel his hand move and begin to work you between your legs. "Your pussy's fuckin' soaked--shit." He hisses, gaze hungry and his body acts on his thoughts faster than you can register.

A particularly loud moan slips from you as you feel his tongue skillfully lap over your folds, splitting you open as the warmth of his tongue protrudes into your core. "Yes, fuck! Please, don't stop Rafe." You moan, one hand reaching down to hold him by the hair and it hits you that he'd shaved it all off.

You let out a frustrated gruff, both hands fisting the sheets while you're forced to feel the vibrations of his sick laugh running through you at your dramatics. Even the tip of his nose had been covered in your slick, your juices running down his chin as he ate you out like a man starved.

He wouldn't be surprised if they could hear you from outside, but he knows everyone is far too high, too drunk or both to hear you. It wasn't long before your legs were beginning to shake and came with his name falling from your lips over and over like a prayer.

Taking deep breaths to recover from debatedly the best orgasm you've ever experienced, Rafe walked over to the far wall, out of sight, doing something you couldn't see before returning.

Without speaking he scoops you up into his arms, bridal style, another shameless display of his strength but it would be a lie to say it didn't drive you crazy. "What-what are you doing?" Your questions are ignored until he approaches the bubbling hot tub.

A wicked smirk curls across his lips as he eases you onto your feet in the warm water, his hands lingering on your waist, keeping you close. He gazes at you with that knowing glint, the steam rising around you both.

“Feels nice, doesn’t it?” he murmurs, his eyes trailing down your figure, unapologetic. His fingers skim over your sides, sending a shiver through you that’s from anything but the water.

“Are you really just gonna stand there?” you call, feeling the thrill of his attention but wanting to turn the tables, your voice laced with playful challenge.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he chuckles, unfastening his swim trunks and letting them fall to the side with a carefree grin. “I plan on joining you,” he says, slipping into the water and closing the distance between you two with smooth, unhurried steps. You take a hard swallow at his size, you don't remember him being this big.

He was going to destroy you.

You raise an eyebrow, matching his smirk. “Pretty bold of you, Rafe,” you say, your voice teasing as he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “Just like old times, hmm?”

“Better than old times,” he murmurs, dipping his head so his lips graze your ear, his voice a low rumble. “Because now, nothing is stopping us.” He punctuates his sentence by pressing his body up against your back, elevating you a bit so your torso leans over the edge of the tub, granting him easy access to you.

"Fuck, can't believe your ass got even more fucking perfect since last time." His hand raises and comes back down with a loud spank that pulls a sinful moan from your throat. "Rafe, stop teasing." You whine, arching your back and pressing back against him.

His composure already weekend, he decided to let you get away with it this time before he lined up the swollen head of his thick cock with your entrance, "Better grab onto something." That's the last thing you hear before you're being impaled on his dick, your upper half immediately falls forward, and he stills, giving you a second.

You're breathless, it feels like his cock was taking up all the room in your lungs. Some water had splashed over the ledge but that was the least of your worries. Your mind was hazy and focused on Rafe's grunts that escaped him with every snap of his hips.

"Wish you could see how hot you look right now. The Sinclair wild child knows how to take big dick like a champ." His words run straight through you like electricity, fanning the flames of the burning heat that was beginning to form in your belly.

"Shit--This pussy was fuckin' made for me, y'know that?" You moan at his possessive statement. You can only nod, your body had gone limp long ago as he drilled into you. "R-rafe! I'm-" As if you weren't close enough, his fingers begin to rub over your clit aggressively and you jolt with a shriek.

"Oh- fuck, don't stop! Fuck! I'm gonna cum! Please, Rafe." You beg, over and over, arms hanging onto the edge of the tub for dear life as more water splashes around you.

"Wait for me, hold it until I say you can come." You're chewing your lip raw, desperately trying to hold yourself back as he wrecks you from the inside out, his moans getting more frequent, a little more airy and breathless as he tumbled toward his edge of pleasure.

"Cum with me, Angel." Your body spasms as you finish together and he leans his weight against your back, his laboured breathing fanning your ear as you come down from your high.

"Not bad, princess." You couldn't respond and Rafe took note of this, carefully holding you up with one final smug remark, "Hope I didn't wear out the queen of Kildare."

[florida3exclamationpoints]

.

[3rdgymbros]

━ 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐈 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐓𝐨 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭.

— pairing; malleus draconia x reader

— summary; set in the future, where there's a threat to you and your unborn child

— notes; i was inspired to write this after watching a scene on youtube where we meet maleanor for the first time. please donate to my kofi if you like my work. and know that i am mentally smooching everyone who reblogs my stuff.

❋ It starts off as an ordinary day.

❋ You typically spend your mornings in the palace gardens, enjoying the breeze on your skin and the smell of fresh flowers. Now that you’re heavily pregnant with the future heir of Briar Valley, you’re constantly monitored by the Royal Guards, ensuring your safety in the absence of their Lord.

❋ But on this particular day, something goes wrong.

❋ The threat to your safety is swift and sudden, leaving you scrambling to protect your unborn child. Your protectors are caught off guard, leaving you vulnerable and unprotected for just a few terrifying moments.

❋ When word of the attack reaches Malleus, his blood runs cold. Then, it boils. His composure cracks, betraying the true depths of his emotions: a controlled, silent rage that emanates a chilling aura throughout the castle hall. His magic crackles in the air, the darkness swirling like a tempest around him. Everyone, guards and servants alike, can feel the suffocating weight of his fury.

❋ The guards — some of Briar Valley’s finest — stand frozen before Malleus, unable to meet his gaze with their heads bowed low. But he doesn't lash out immediately. Instead, he surveys them with a thoughtful, calculating look, purposely prolonging the tension in the otherwise silent room as they await his judgement.

❋ In his mind, he’s analysing every single one of their failings, dissecting the chain of events that allowed you and his unborn child to be placed in jeopardy. It’s a battle to restrain himself; the true depths of his emotions would surely set Briar Valley ablaze. As it is, the sky outside is already grey and overcast, reflecting the blackness of his mood.

❋ Finally, Malleus confronts the guards with a chilling calmness, his voice like the crackling embers of a storm. “Your folly,” he hisses, his words cold and precise, “could have cost Briar Valley its future.”

❋ Lilia watches from the shadows, a fond smile playing across his lips. Secretly, he’s taken aback by how much Malleus resembles his mother in this very moment. Maleanor had once looked at him the same way, with blazing eyes and a terrifying show of lightning magic, when he had arrived moments too late to protect her and her egg, a young Malleus still forming inside.  

❋ Maleanor’s fierce love had been passed down to Malleus, and he would protect you and his child just as she had protected him.

[heich0e]

"can i call you later?"

the wind bites at your cheeks, but the sting you feel is as much from the smile on your face as it is from the chill.

"dunno," you muse, pursing your lips as though you're contemplating the question deeply. "can you?"

rintarou groans, but the sound isn't half as plaintive as it ought to be. you watch as his head hangs down defeatedly where his frame is folded over the railing that lines the front of the train station, his body pitched forward over the barrier like he's trying to reach you on the other side.

you've been saying goodbye for the past twenty minutes—or, you've been trying to. sort of. maybe. the train you'd planned to catch has already come and gone, and the next is set to soon arrive. one more and it will be the last of the night, but not even knowing that fact seems to be moving you closer towards the door to the station—content to stay here, like this, as the wind of the late fall night nips at your cheeks and the two of you muddle through your goodbye with the inelegance of two people who couldn't be less committed to it if they tried.

rintarou lifts his head to meet your gaze.

"i mean it, though." he says. "can i call you tonight?"

your stomach flips when he looks at you this way. when he keeps looking at you this way.

"we just spent hours together," you remind him, but your words are too breathy to make impact. too elated to be reproachful.

you've been on three dates with rintarou now. you think they're dates anyway, though it's never explicitly been stated. his invitations are always casual, sandwiched in between all the other texts he sends to you these days, so you might be reading into things too closely for your own good. but dinner doesn't just feel like dinner when rintarou has this way of looking at you like you're the only person he's ever laid his eyes on.

"i know," he answers. it's not an explanation, or an excuse, or even an apology. it's plain acceptance. a shamelessness you find wretchedly endearing.

you glance back at the station behind you, biting the inside of your cheek to temper your delight.

"my train is coming," you say.

he looks a bit crestfallen. laughably glum, considering the circumstances.

you drag the heel of your shoe back ever so slightly, not quite a step—at least not in any meaningful way—but inching in the direction of the doors at a glacial pace. continental drift seems positively hasty in comparison to your retreat.

"bye," he calls, his tone dejected. you watch as he lifts his hand weakly, still slumped over the railing, and waves at you with only a few fingers raised.

you want to laugh, but your chest is so full of something else—something syrupy and fluttering and good—that it's like there's no space for it underneath your ribs.

you call back to him just before you step into the station.

"rintarou—"

there are other people around, stepping between and around you both—rushing into the station to escape the cold, or moving briskly as they brace themselves and step out into it—but you hardly notice them when your eyes meet.

you smile.

"—call me later."

he calls you almost every night after that.

even as the cool autumn winds change with the seasons; carrying flakes of snow as winter blankets nagano, warming with the spring, turning heavy with humidity in summer, and then repeating the cycle anew.

even as your reluctant goodbyes turn from late nights outside of train stations to early morning words whispered under blankets as rintarou leaves for practice or away games.

even as the uncertainty of whether or not you're getting your hopes up—of whether those meetings were even really dates at all—melts away into nothing more than a memory.

you're not even sure what the two of you manage to spend so much time talking about on the phone. nothing, really. everything in its own right. rintarou's phone calls are something you come to look forward to at the end of a long day. something you anticipate when you have exciting news to share. a comfort when you're missing him and a relief when you need him most.

"is that the last one?" you ask, turning just in time to see your boyfriend—your live-in boyfriend now, officially—flop back on the sofa after he drops the last moving box atop the stack piled near the balcony door.

"yeah," he wheezes, evidently winded from the exertion—from the exhaustion—of moving house. you laugh a bit to yourself as you shuffle over to the sofa, leaning over the back so you can peer down at him where he lays sprawled against the cushions.

"aren't you a professional athlete?" you tease him. "shouldn't you have better stamina?"

rintarou cocks a brow, something sly swimming behind his gaze.

"i need better stamina?" he drawls. "you're usually complaining about the opposite."

you roll your eyes in the wake of his remark, grabbing a throw pillow from beneath his head and yanking it from under him unceremoniously, only to press it lightly against his face.

you shuffle back towards the kitchen where you'd left the box you were unpacking abandoned. you grab a plate from inside the cardboard and turn to place it on the shelf you'd decided would house your dinnerware.

"it's late," you tell him, reaching for the next plate in the box. "you should go wash up first."

you don't get a reply, and that surprises you. you creep over to the sofa again, only to find rintarou staring up at the ceiling, lost in thought.

"hey," you laugh a little, leaning on your elbows against the back of the couch. "where'd you go?"

rintarou's gaze snaps back to yours. he still looks at you like he did on your first date. like he did outside the train station on your third. he smiles, bit it's a bit sheepish.

"sorry, was just thinking," he answers quietly. he reaches up from where he's lying on his back, brushing his thumb against your cheek. his smile turns a little bit giddy, then. boyishly charming. "can't believe we finally got a place together."

you lean into his touch, huffing a little breath through your nose—halfway to a laugh.

"guess you won't have to call me anymore," you joke, and rintarou's expression changes—falls slightly—but only for a moment. you realize what you've said, or at least think about the implications more, and you sort of understand the shift.

you fell in love through those phone calls.

you'll miss them—the ritual, the familiarity, the comfort—even though you know they've been replaced by something better.

you turn your face, pressing a fleeting kiss to rintarou's palm. "go wash up," you tell him again, heading back towards the kitchen and your (now twice abandoned) box of plates.

he seems to heed your advice this time, peeling himself up off the sofa and shuffling off in the direction of the washroom.

"don't use all the hot water!" you call after his retreating frame, and you hear him reply noncommittally under his breath before the door clicks closed behind him.

you've only got three dishes left to unpack before your box is emptied, but the shelf you'd been organizing doesn't seem to want to accommodate all of your bowls in the way you wanted, so you're left arranging and rearranging them as you try to find a way to get them to fit.

in the back pocket of your jeans, your phone begins to ring. with three plates balanced in one hand, you reach for it with the other—the movement muscle memory now, instinct more than volition, after all this time. you answer the call without even looking at the screen, holding the phone between your ear and your shoulder as you continue juggling the dishes in front of you.

"oop—hello?"

you pause after you answer the call, realizing for the first time that you shouldn't be getting a call at all. not at this time of night. not in this apartment.

the line is quiet, just the sound of breathing that you could recognize anywhere to be heard from the other end of the call.

"why are you calling me?" you ask rintarou, but the words are light. too fond to be reproachful.

you hear rintarou laugh—from the other end of the call and from the other side of the bathroom door.

"just wanted to hear your voice," he answers you (the same way he has a thousand nights before when you've asked him that same question.)

"you're ridiculous," you tell him, completely enamoured.

"i know," he replies.

it's quiet for a moment as the two of you stand on opposite sides of your apartment. on opposite ends of your call.

you shift a stack of bowls a little to the left. it all fits now. just the way you wanted it to.

"y'know, the hot water won't run out as fast if we shower together—"

you hear the bathroom door open, and when you look over your shoulder, rintarou is peeking at you from around the edge of the door—his phone held to his ear, a smile on his face you know is mirrored on your own, and a look in his eye that's never once wavered.

he tilts his head.

"—wanna join me?"

[flawssy-227]

All I Do - Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: All Joel does, is think about you OR Joel asks you to move in.

pairing: Joel miller x f!reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: no outbreak au, Sarah mentioned, kissing, established relationship. fluff

note: 18+, I will always do my best to leave the reader description as vague as possible (albeit female, but I am a woc, so will also always have woc in mind in my writing) lmk what you think

masterlist

Joel wasn’t sure when he had fallen head over heels in love with you, but lately it was all he could think about. How wholly, deeply, and emphatically he was in love with you. Looking over at your sleeping form, you were damn near angelic. Your lashes brushed against your cheekbones and your lips made the sweetest shape while you dozed. How did he get so lucky? He’s even more surprised you feel the same way about him. That you’ve practically moved in with him and Sarah. That was something he needed to make permanent, he thought. Why were you even keeping your place if you were here every weekend. He wasn’t a religious man, but he had considered lighting a candle to pray you would always feel that way.

He wasn’t even looking for a relationship when he met you. After things with Sarah’s mom ended years ago, he had tried to date, mostly from Tommy and Maria’s urging, but things never felt right. Usually, if anything, his dates would end up with hollow and empty sex. But he never felt an emotional connection. He would never admit it to Sarah or Tommy or his mom, but late at night, he would crave intimacy, connection, another person to just do life with. And then he met you.

It was Sunday morning and Joel was up, watching as the sun made its ascent to the top of the sky. He watched as blocks of light danced across your skin, the heat from the sun causing you to wake up slowly. The little full body cat stretch you did when you woke up naturally was the most endearing thing Joel had seen, something that made his heart flutter when he thought of you. At this point, all he did was think about you.

You finally opened your eyes when you were done stretching, humming when you saw Joel was still in bed with you. Usually he was up before you, showering or helping Sarah with breakfast. You pushed to sit up with him, shifting so you could shift your weight against his and placing a small kiss against his shoulder.

“Good morning, handsome,” you offered, voice cracking from hours of sleep.

Another thing he loved, he thought. How you sound when you first wake up.

Joel instinctively reached for your hand, bringing it up to his lips for a light peck.

“Missed you.”

Now you were laughing, the sound making Joel smile widely and the feeling waking you up a bit more.

“You missed me?” you question, wondering how he could miss you when you literally hadn’t left his side for the last 8 hours in bed, and the 5 or so before that when you had watched a movie and had dinner with him and Sarah. “We’ve been together for the past 12 hours, babe.”

Joel just looks at you and shrugs. “Doesn’t count if you were sleeping for most of it.”

You hum softly at the notion of him missing while you were sleeping. “Joel Miller. The big sap.”

The grunt Joel makes is his attempt at sounding unlike the big sap he definitely is. He couldn’t help it though, outside of Sarah, you were all that mattered to him. And frankly, he was tired of spending so much damn time apart.

“Can ya blame me?” Joel asks, shifting his body so he’s leaning over you, effectively caging you in between his strong arms.

You playfully roll your eyes at him despite that familiar pull in your lower belly. “You’re ridiculous, Joel.” You both knew you didn’t mean it, even if he was being a little ridiculous, it still made your heart warm. You started to let your hands trail up and down the arms that were still caging your body in, sighing dreamily. 

“Not bein’ ridiculous,” he huffed. “We spend far too much time apart, darlin’.” Joel looked into your eyes, nothing but devotion between the two of you, and leaned down to let his lips meet yours. The kiss was sweet and gentle and Joel made a delighted noise at the way you tasted. Even first thing in the morning you were heavenly. Add it to the list.

He pulled away and cleared his throat, moving to sit back next to you. He scratched his jaw and looked out his bedroom window, the sun continuing to rise. You frowned, noticing the shift in his mood and leaned to face him.

“What’s wrong?”

His eyes met yours again, softening slightly which made your heart beat faster, those subtle changes you couldn’t help but notice every time he looked at you.

“Just thinkin’.”

“Uh-oh.”

Joel grunted and rolled his eyes at that. “Hilarious darlin’.” He looked deep in thought, but you just grinned, loving to tease your boyfriend just a bit. When he was silent for a beat too long, you figured maybe this wasn’t a teasing occasion.

You smiled softly, reaching over to cradle his face. He leaned in closer, letting his hand trace down your waist to lay possessively on your hip. You breathed him in, loving the way your scent and his intermingled while you slept, heavily mixed in the sheets and surrounding the both of you.

You kissed him gently again, unable to help yourself but forcing yourself not to get distracted by his lips. “Seriously Joel, what’s on your mind?” you pressed, always wanting you and him to have open communication. He could come to you for anything without fear of judgement.

You could tell he was nervous but you stayed patient, knowing whatever it was, he would open up when he was ready.

“I really did miss you,” Joel whispered, tightening his grip around you. “I miss you all the time. I was- I was thinking you should go ahead and move in here, if you want.” He looked in your eyes, trying to gauge your reaction. You met him with silence, wanting him to continue.

“We just… talk everyday, all day, and you have your place so I get that you wanna be there, and you should if you’re still payin’ rent. But I figure we’re already in love and even though you spend every weekend here, it ain’t enough for me anymore. All I do is think about you. When I wake up I wish you were here. When I come home from a long day at a site, I just want to curl up with you on the couch.”

Your eyes shined with unshed tears. You wanted to melt into a puddle at Joel’s words. You knew he was in love with you, it only took a few weeks of dating for him to confess, much to your glee. You also knew that over the last few months, the love you two shared had grown into something much deeper and intimate. It was something you had never felt before with anyone else. You knew it was special. You were ready for more in your relationship, but you didn’t want to push him too fast. He never really said it, but you could tell he still had some leftover trauma and trust issues from Sarah’s mom–who could blame him?

You were still silent while thinking about how damn in love with him you were, making him shake his head with regret. “Or-or not. Is it too soon?”

You shook your head no, smiling against wet tears that you couldn’t contain. “No, not at all, baby,” your grin completely took over your face. “Not too soon. I just can’t believe you’re so obsessed with me.” Tears were still escaping your eyes, but your teasing tone was back, making Joel huff out a sigh of relief. “I would love to move in with you, Joel. My lease is up next month, anyway.”

He let out a displeased sound at that. “Really? I don’t remember you mentionin’ that.”

“Didn’t wanna put too much pressure on us,” you shrugged. “It’s still so early.”

Joel held you a little bit tighter. “It’s early, but it’s different with us, yeah? Wanting to be with each other more isn’t a bad thing.”

You nodded at that, falling into a comfortable silence as you remained cuddled in each other's arms.

Joel groaned, shifting to get out of bed, mumbling something about starting a pot of coffee before you reached for him, leaning up to press another delicate kiss to his lips. He dreamt of this, having someone like you in his bed, in his heart; someone who he could share life with. He nuzzled into your neck, breathing you in as if he hadn’t spent hours as close as humanly possible next to you.

“Joel,” you sighed, pressing your lips to his neck. “I missed you too.”

[arieslost]

ok i don’t know if it’s just me who gets really giggly when it’s late at night but imagine laying in bed with lando and you’re just rambling about smth so stupid that it ends with you two just giggling at nothing. like getting full on stomach cramps from laughing but there wasn’t even anything funny to begin with

anon u and i are the SAME! once its past midnight i always end up becoming a victim of the late night sillies 💔

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

1:30 am | ln4

you knew you were up too late when you nearly tripped over the loose edge of the blanket you and lando had been sharing on your way back to the couch, and when he had caught you before you could hit your head or anything, you started laughing.

“oh, no,” he’d groaned dramatically. “got the late night giggles already, huh?”

“uh-uh,” you shook your head, even though him saying the words “late night giggles” was enough to make laughter start bubbling up in your throat again.

something always shifted in you when the clock struck a certain hour at night, and lando had only been witness to it a handful of times before you moved in together.

now, you’d managed to get through the rest of the movie the two of you were watching without laughing, even if it meant biting your lip hard and refusing to make eye contact with your boyfriend. it was bad enough feeling his eyes on you every time he wanted to see your reaction to something that happened on the tv. making eye contact would just take you out entirely for no reason whatsoever.

which is why you think you’ve successfully avoided making a fool of yourself when you’re both finally laying in bed with the lights out at the fine hour of 1:30 in the morning.

“you’re so far away,” lando grumbles, dragging your body into his so his one arm is around your shoulders and your face is nestled in his neck.

“better?” you ask, smiling when he shivers as your lips brush his skin.

“mhmm.” he’s quiet for a moment, running his fingers up and down your arm. “you’re gonna come to miami, right?”

“yeah, if you want me to.”

“what kind of question is that, babe?” he cranes his neck in a way that tells you he’s fixing you with a judgy look even though you can’t see each other.

you shrug, feeling the giggles building up again for no reason whatsoever. “i dunno.”

“obviously i want you there, why wouldn’t i?”

“i dunno,” you repeat. “it’s miami. maybe you just wanna party with all your homies.” and just like that, you’re laughing again.

“oh dear god, here we go,” he sighs, pressing his lips together to repress his own laughter as your body shakes against his. “my homies? when have i ever referred to any of my mates as my ‘homie’?”

he sounds so incredulous that you laugh even harder. “oh, you’re so british! i can’t call them your mates, lan. it sounds too weird.”

“so homies is the word you went with? why can’t you be normal and just say my friends?”

“why can’t you be normal and say your friends?” you shoot back, and that does lando in.

“it’s not funny,” he tries to admonish, and it’s entirely true, but it’s a moot point when you can barely understand him through his laughter.

“stop laughing then!”

“you stop!”

naturally, that makes you both laugh harder still, to the point where you have to roll away from him, clutching your stomach from how badly all the laughing is making it hurt.

“i can’t breathe,” lando gasps from behind you.

“stop laughing,” you repeat. “you’re killing me.”

“i think i’m dying,” he continues like he didn’t hear you, and he honestly might not have because your face is half shoved into your pillow in your attempts to stifle yourself.

a few more minutes go by of the two of you absolutely losing your minds before you’re finally able to catch your breath.

“ow,” you whine, holding your stomach. “i think i just grew a six pack.”

“i think mine just became ten times more defined,” lando says, voice raspy from all the exertion on his vocal chords.

“ooh, lemme feel.”

“absolutely not, because you’re going to tickle me,” he grabs your wrist out of thin air. “i know your tricks, baby. i’ve laughed more than enough tonight thanks to you.”

“not my fault you’re weird and british.”

“i love you,” he says sweetly, pulling you back towards him and kissing your forehead. “now’s where you say, ‘i love you too.’”

“i love you too,” you reply dutifully, blindly reaching for his face so you can kiss him properly. “even though you’re weird and british.”

he kisses you again. “i thought it was especially because i’m weird and british.”

you snuggle into his side, now thoroughly exhausted. “please don’t make me laugh more, lan.”

you both know he’s right, of course, but you usually need to have the last word, so he lets you get away with it. he does love you, after all, even though you had him in stitches over nothing at 1:30 in the morning.

word count: 790

masterlist — join my tag list here!

note: this was sooo self indulgent, like i was laughing as i wrote this because the term “homies” is so silly to me for some reason. also helped me test my dialogue skills!! n e wayz…

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

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[melzula]

I JUMPED WHEN I SAW REQUESTS OPEN

zuko unintentionally saying something he doesn’t mean to reader (ex. ur clingy/annoying) and makes the reader like kinda distant cus they don’t wanna be annoying or clingy yk? then he comforts them and says sorry and it’s very much a angst to fluff moment!

a/n: i love this trope

summary: your sudden disappearance makes zuko reevaluate his behavior

The apartment is empty when Zuko returns from the tea shop. His bones ache from standing all day and his mood is sour from having to serve customers, but it doesn’t distract him from the fact that something is missing. The place feels dull and lacks its normal warmth, and the change unnerves him.

“It seems y/n has not yet returned home,” Iroh observes as he flicks on the lamps to rid the room of darkness.

“Where did she go?” Zuko murmurs, doing his best to mask his anxiety over your absence. It’s not like you to stay out late, especially considering your apartment isn’t exactly in one of the safer rings of Ba Sing Se, and it worries him.

“I’m not sure. She seemed to be in a hurry when she left this morning,” the older man recounts as he scans the room to look for any trace of her left behind. “She didn’t even have her morning tea!”

“She could be in danger. I’m going to search for her.”

“Would you like me to come with you?”

“No, one of us should stay here in case she comes back,” Zuko states before making his way out the door. “I don’t want her to come home to any empty apartment.”

“Be sure to watch your temper if you do find her, nephew. Y/n is struggling to adjust to this new life just as you are, and it is important you are patient with her.”

The Prince says nothing in response to his Uncle’s words, but he immediately feels the guilt and shame that they bring him. His warning serves as a reminder for his recent behavior, and Zuko is then able to figure out why you were nowhere to be found.

You’d been eating breakfast together that morning before he had to leave for work, and despite his irritable mood you seemed to be eager to start the day.

“I was thinking of visiting the market place to buy fresh groceries for dinner tonight. Maybe I could stop by the tea shop and bring lunch for you and your Uncle,” you suggested with a pleasant smile.

“Sure,” Zuko had grumbled in response before forcing another spoonful of bland porridge down his throat.

“And after dinner we can visit the fountain,” you had said with an excited smile. “I’d love to take a walk through the city and get some fresh air. We hardly ever leave the apartment.”

“This city is nothing but dirt. There’s nothing to see out there.”

“Oh,” you had murmured, your features deflating slightly at his negative comments. “I suppose you’re right. Maybe we can just stay in and play a game of pai sho instead. I’m not exactly sure how to play, but I bet you could teach me! It could be fun!”

“Don’t you ever get tired of hearing yourself speak?!” Zuko had finally snapped harshly, his patience finally having been worn thin by your ceaseless suggestions. He didn’t want to take a stroll or play pai sho or have any sort of fun, and he didn’t understand why you couldn’t get that. “This isn’t some little vacation. I failed to capture the Avatar and now we’re stuck here, do you understand? Go play pai sho with someone else.”

The room had grown deathly silent after Zuko’s outburst, and he was too annoyed to notice the way you kept your gaze glued firmly to the table to avoid him see the welling tears in your eyes. Without another word, you quietly excused yourself from the table and made your way out the door without an explanation or a goodbye. Zuko hadn’t seen you since.

“I’m such a jerk,” he curses himself as he roams the streets in search of you. You’re not in the market place and you’re not by the fountain, so where could you be? He’s beginning to worry, his mind conjuring up multiple scenarios where you’re in trouble and he can’t help you. It’s pure torture.

A familiar laugh floats through the air, and Zuko feels the hairs on his neck stand up at the soothing melody. He’s quick to follow the sound, and as he shoves his way through the crowded streets he finds himself coming to a stop at a small noodle shop. The shop is practically tucked into a corner and isn’t much to look at, but the inside is full of life as patrons eat and converse and enjoy the camaraderie. At the heart of the restaurant sits a table full of people focused on the game of pai sho before them, and at the center of the table you sit with a large grin and a white lotus tile in your hand.

“I can’t believe I won!” You exclaim with an excited clap of your hands before looking to the older woman sitting next to you. “Thank you so much for teaching me how to play. This is the most fun I’ve had in months!”

“Y/n?” Zuko calls, garnering the attention of you and your new friends at the table. The airy laughter and pleasantries die down at the sight of him and the room is suddenly filled with tension.

“Oh, hello, Lee,” you greet dully, your cheerful demeanor immediately disappearing when you make eye contact with the boy.

“What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at home?”

“You said to go play pai sho with someone else, so that’s what I’m doing,” you state bluntly, and Zuko looks away guiltily after hearing his own words repeated back to him.

“Can you please just come home? You shouldn’t be out on the streets this late, it’s dangerous.”

“Why do you care?” You retort harshly. “I’m having fun here. These people actually want my company.”

“Y/n,” Zuko says with an irritated sigh, doing his best to remain patient. “Please. If not for me then for Uncle. He’s just as worried for your safety as I am.”

You hesitate at his words, but after a moment of contemplating you finally excuse yourself from the table. You bid your new friends goodbye and promise to return for another game sometime before following Zuko out of the restaurant and beginning your walk back home.

“The moon is out tonight,” he notes quietly in an attempt to make small talk, but you don’t reply. You keep your gaze forward and maintain a respectable distance from him as you walk. “Maybe I was wrong about this place.”

“Congratulations for figuring that out,” you retort sarcastically with a roll of your eyes. Having finally had enough, Zuko grabs your wrist to stop you in your tracks and force you to look at him.

“Y/n, please talk to me,” he begs earnestly. “I feel horrible for what I’ve done.”

“Good, you should feel bad!” You exclaim angrily, harshly yanking your hand away from him. “You’ve been nothing but a jerk since we got to Ba Sing Se, and now that I’m finally giving you the space that you wanted you come and ruin my fun!”

“I don’t want space from you,” he insists desperately. “I was being an idiot! Y/n, I didn’t mean any of what I said. I was just feeling irritable and I took it out on you, but that isn’t fair of me.”

“I’m not going to be your punching bag for the rest of my life, Zuko,” you relent quietly, blinking back the tears that begin to form. “All I want is to start over, but you’re making it so difficult. Why did we even come here?”

“We came here because I realized you deserved better than to constantly live your life on the run,” he admits softly, carefully taking your hands in his own. “I know I’ve failed to make you happy or treat you the way you deserve, but you have to know that I care for you. The best part of my day is coming home to you after work, and I never want you to feel like a burden because you aren’t.”

“Thank you for saying that,” you sniffle with a meek smile, and when he pulls you into his arms for a hug you don’t protest. “I know this has been hard for you, but you have to understand that all I want is to support you and make the change as easy as possible for you.”

“I know, and I’ll forever be grateful for everything you do,” Zuko says before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “Now let’s get home before Uncle begins to worry.”

You say nothing more as he puts a protective arm around you and guides you through the streets of Ba Sing Se. The move has been tough, but he swears then that he’s going to do his best to improve his attitude and give you the support you need.

He has a lot of making up to do.

| zuko tags: @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @taeeemin @lora21 @livelaughlovekuni @lovialy

| atla tags: @sirkekselord @niktwazny303

[dropsnectar]

Your Puppy Siren!: When a Siren Gets his Legs

M!Siren x gn!reader

NSFW

You had just moved into your aunt's summer house. It was a lovely place with its own private beach. You had been excited to go on a morning swim when, on one of the rocks by the shore, you found him. He was covered in grey skin and scales that shone sea blue in the sunlight. He scared you at first, causing you to run away, but you had made the mistake of tripping over your own bag before inhaling a mouthful of sand.

This seemed to amuse the creature as it laughed lightly at you. He continued to stay at his rock and raised his hands. He made quiet keening sounds, as if to sooth you. You had to admit it worked. You had never heard such a lovely sound before coming from a creature. Something about the texture of it made your heart flutter.

You kept your distance but tried to speak with him. He didn’t reply, but made gestures to your hair, which you had been growing long lately. He made the gesture again and let out a long beautiful sound. Was he? Complimenting your hair?  

You put your hand to your heart and smiled. He seemed to get the gist because he sang out a low relaxing serenade. The two of you went on like this for an hour. Eventually, you felt brave enough to rummage through your bag for a tuna fish sandwich. Slowly, you made your way towards the creature, showed you ripping off a piece of your sandwich, and taking a bite. You ripped off another piece and handed it to him.

His fingers ghosted around yours as he took the food, his skin was cool. 

He took a hesitant bite, before finishing it off in one go. He seemed to like it as he reached his hand out for more. You moved closer, sitting on the other side of his rock. When you handed him the last piece he put one of his hands on top of yours. He carefully took the sandwich from your fingers and brought it to your lips, gesturing for you to open your mouth. You did so, and the merman warbled gleefully, popping it in. As you chewed, he watched your mouth with interest.

When you had finished the sandwich, he was still humming, his feelings of satisfaction evident by his tones. He moved closer to you and pointed to his mouth, then to you. You wiped your mouth instinctively but he pouted. Carefully, he leaned forward, and pressed his lips to yours. They tasted salty. Your face heated and you put a hand on his scaled shoulder. He slipped a textured tongue into your mouth and you moaned around him, leaning your body flush against him.

You were surprised by the fire of the kiss. You felt needy and desperate almost immediately. There was something about his tongue that felt like fireworks and when he pulled away, how he nudged your forehead with his own was so cute. Except for the static shock that shot through your forehead. That hurt like a bitch.

You swore and shot away from his face, eyes hazy. 

“Don't move too much, you could fall!” A worried voice chirped toward you. You looked up to see the merman leaning over you with concern.

“You… you can talk?” You whispered. He gave you a lopsided grin and hummed a lovely little serenade. After a moment, he continued. “I didn't before. But you gave me enough of your mind for a moment so I could learn! Now I can speak as well as you!”

“Like, Merman magic or something.”

He laughed and pulled you closer to him again. 

“What an adorable thing to say. We do have types of magic, though I will admit, its more of an instinctual sort.”

He leaned toward you and started leaning down, rubbing his cheek against your shoulder. His other hand hand reached around your waist, holding you close to his cool body. Honestly, his scales felt nice under the heat of the sun. You leaned into him as he hummed. 

“You're voice is beautiful Mr. Mermaid.” You mentioned a bit shyly. He beamed at you with eyes that stared a little too hard.

“I'm a Siren actually! But you were close! Mermaids don't come to shore often, so I hope you don't have the misfortune of running into one.”

He started playing with your hair happily. He was very affectionate, this Siren. 

“Aren't Sirens… you know. Supposed to eat people?” You said, somewhat at a whisper. He paused in disbelief for a second and bit his lip, revealing sharp teeth. 

“While you look particularly scrumptious, we don't tend to eat humans. Though if I was traveling with my pod, our song could capture a good shark or a whale that would feed us for quite a while. Not that a perfectly spiteful Siren couldn't do it.” 

He kept answering your questions, the whole time refusing to let his hands leave you. You had to admit, after that kiss, it had really flustered you. But your curiosity won out. Eventually, it grew dark and you told your new… friend? That you would need to head home as it was getting too dark for you to see.

“All this talking and I don't know your name.” 

He looked at you with quirked brows. “You wouldn't be able to pronounced it with your human tongue, but… you can call me Baby. Yes. That will fit perfectly.”

Heat filled your cheeks. “Baby? You should know thats more of an endearement then an actual name…” 

“We have been talking all day. Are we not close to each other now?” He made a dramatic face of disappointment. 

“Please call me Baby. I like that name. I will answer to nothing else.” His tone was final. 

Seeing that he would not budge, you acquiesced. He begged you to come visit him the next day, and you did. In fact, you visited him every chance you got. You had him try different human food, and the two of you had even set up a book reading arrangement. It seemed his language magic also stretched to written language.

You loved listening to his voice. Whether he was warbling or using his human pitch, it always gave you a little pep. 

He continued to glue himself to you, hands always wandering. He'd wrap them around your waist, massage your shoulders, and hold your hand every chance he got. Whenever you called to him, he would look at you pointedly, waiting in earnest until you said what he wanted to hear.

“Baby.” You'd sigh, and he'd keen and be merry for the rest of your conversation. He was so earnest, it was adorable.

Today though, something was different. Summer was starting to transition to fall. You didn't know how but you knew he would have to leave. Your sweet little Siren couldn't stay with you forever.

He finally confirmed this himself.

“The water is getting too cold for me. Ill have to return to my pod soon.” 

“I'll miss you.” You admitted, wrapping your arms around yourself as the cool air swept up.

He looked at you with such longing, his face leaning closer to yours. 

“May I kiss you?”

You paused a moment, eyes staring into his heated gaze and pretty mouth. You nodded, and he pounced on you, crushing his lips to yours. You stayed like that for a while. As you started to moan he started to hum into you, a beautiful noise that filled you with hope and flooded your core.

“Are you putting a spell on me Mr. Mermaid?” You teased, head getting dizzy as he started rubbing the gap between your swim shirt and swim trunks. His mouth ghosted over your neck now, and he was starting to hump at your thigh with his tail his eyes lidded. 

“Thats not my name.” He pouted, pulling down your trunks, airing you out for him and the ocean to see. 

“Baby.” you breathed out, pushing his head down to your most sensitive area, and skimming the place that made you moan best with your fingers. He grinned happily, and started to experiment, his rough fingers drawing circles around you. Eventually, you started to leak. This seemed to surprise Baby. It made sense, as he lived in water.

“It means I feel good.” You admitted bashfully. He experimentally touched the fluid with his finger and brought it up to his mouth. He made a low trilling sound, his eyes changing color. You had never seen that before. He pushed you down onto the sand, and started sucking you down. As you chocked out in pleasure he continued. You felt that familiar live wire feeling, buried beneath all the sensation he was giving you and you knew he was using that magic of his. For what you didn't know. 

He started to sing, the vibrations of it echoing through you and you jerked manically. He kept itup, singing the most beautiful tune. It was full of lust and need and want and as you looked down at him you could see his tail was humping a hole into the sand beneath him. You hoped it felt good, as you could see something had emerged from his tail, a curved, ocean blue cock. You couldn't make out much else as he sucked you down hard again, causing waves of pleasure to crash through you.

“Am I making you feel good?” You could tell he was looking for praise. 

“So good. You've been such a good boy-- ah!” He had chosen that moment to pump two of his slick fingers into you, gently tracing your spongy walls. You jerked some more, feeling you were close.

“Baby, mmm Baby so good.” You drooled out as he experimented with tracing a certain spot inside you, driving you mad. 

He was singing again as you came, his voice making your core even hotter, like it always did.

“Wanna breed you. Can i?” He was looking at you from under his blue grey lashes. You nodded, but frowned, as he was slowing his pumping. You felt your tension recede and you whined out, nose wrinkling.

“Please! Take me!” You finally gave in and his lips quirked up in triumph as he pulled himself up to mount you and thrust inside. 

You both choked out, his groans going from human to inhuman, as he made little chirping and warbling sounds, drool dripping down his chin. He pumped himself into you, slowly at first. Their was a strange sensation and you realized he was growing inside you. Longer, his ridges were more pronounced and it felt divine.

“You feel so-mmmnn.” He was singing again, and this time it had magic to it. It was like some invisible force had invaded your mind, scratching an itch you never knew you had. You groaned out as you came hard around his cock, the feeling so delicious you didn't even know if you were breathing. You were just sensation and pleasure and you knew he was using his magic, he couldn't help it, you just felt so good and that's what sirens did.

You didn't know how you could comprehend all this as you came but you continued to ride out your high. Baby was so sex drunk he was grinning at you as he keened.

“Nothing… has felt… as good as you!” His strokes were  faster now, his eyes rolling in the back of his head. Something was different, but your hazy mind couldn't understand what, you just kept coming. 

And then he came, his seed hot inside you. Baby was so cute, his breath shaky as he leaning over you, finally collapsing onto your body. He was silent now for the first time your whole session.

“I love you.” He said, as easy as if he was stating the weather. Then he sat up and crossed his legs.

His legs?? 

This seemed as much as a surprise to him as you. 

“This is perfect.” He breathed, wiggling his new toes. “Now I’ll never have to be without you again!”

***

Siren magic is so interesting, maybe ill write a part two? 

(Future Nectar here, I did a part 2!)

Part Two

[diamonddaze01]

missed calls

Pairing: idol!yoon jeonghan x gn!reader | wc: 3.7k genre: fluff, angst warnings: none a/n: missing my husband extra hard // all my love to @lovetaroandtaemin @gyubakeries and @gotta-winwin for beta-ing this <3

now playing: better half by jeonghan ft. omoinotake

summary: It’s a strange kind of ache, missing someone who feels both so close and so far.

The time difference makes you feel like a ghost sometimes.

There are moments when the world feels off-kilter, as though you’re existing in parallel timelines that never quite overlap. You wake to silence, your phone screen dark, the weight of unanswered messages settling in your chest like morning fog. You wonder where Jeonghan is when you miss his calls.

Maybe he’s walking through crowded streets in some unfamiliar city, the hum of life around him muted by his own thoughts. You picture him with his hood up, his head tilted just slightly, the breeze lifting strands of his hair as he stares out at a horizon that feels impossibly far from you. His lips might curve in that faint, private smile he wears when the world seems too loud, when he’s retreating into himself in a way only he can.

Or maybe he’s somewhere quiet, tucked into a hotel room that still feels too big for one person, the night pressing against the window like an old friend. You imagine him leaning back in his chair, his voice heavy with exhaustion, his words soft and slow as they try to find their way to you. But the distance swallows the sound before it can reach you, leaving you with nothing but the memory of how it feels to hear his laugh, his voice calling your name.

It’s a strange kind of ache, missing someone who feels both so close and so far.

Saitama, Japan. November.

네가 있는 그곳의 일기예보는 유난히 자꾸 눈에 들어와 이런 날 보며 웃어 줘 (The weather forecast where you are strangely keeps catching my eye / smile for me on a day like this)

Saitama. His third stop on the tour. Japan, a city far away from you, but close enough to feel like an ache in the back of your mind. It’s the way Jeonghan’s absence seems to stretch time itself. Some days, you don’t even recognize the hours as they pass—you only feel the silence.

When his name lights up your phone, it’s late—too late, really, to expect any sort of coherent conversation. But with Jeonghan, it never matters.

“I saw the weather in your city,” he says, his voice a low, familiar hum against the backdrop of your quiet apartment. There’s no greeting, no preamble—just the way his words always feel like home. “It’s raining, isn’t it?”

You glance out the window. The rain has stopped, but the world is still soaked in its aftermath. The streetlights paint the wet pavement in long, streaking reflections, the kind that feel like they belong in an old film.

“It’s not raining anymore,” you murmur, leaning into the sound of his voice. “But everything’s still wet.”

There’s a pause, the kind of silence that stretches not in discomfort but in longing. You can almost picture him, somewhere in Bangkok, leaning against the edge of a hotel balcony, the humid night pressing in around him.

“You always loved the rain,” he says finally, his voice soft with memory. “You’d sit by the window for hours, just watching it fall, like it was the most important thing in the world.”

“And you’d tell me to close it,” you reply, smiling even though he can’t see it. “Before we both caught a cold.”

He laughs, and the sound is so achingly familiar that you press your phone tighter against your ear, as though it might close the miles between you. “I miss that,” he says, quieter now, the amusement fading into something deeper. “I miss you.”

His words sit heavy and warm between you, like a blanket you can’t quite pull around yourself. You press your forehead against the cool glass of the window, letting it anchor you in the present.

“I miss you too,” you whisper, and though the words feel small compared to the weight of your longing, it’s all you can give him right now.

There’s another pause, longer this time, and when he speaks again, his voice is a thread pulled tight with exhaustion and tenderness. “It’s been seven stops,” he says, almost to himself. “Seven cities. But every time I look out at the crowd, I think of you. Wonder if you’d be somewhere out there, smiling at me.”

You close your eyes against the sudden sting of tears, the thought of him standing on a stage, searching for a face that isn’t there. “I wish I could be,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’d give anything to be there.”

“You’ll be with me at the last stop,” he replies, his voice firm, as if saying it will make it true. “We’ll be together then.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he echoes, the word carrying a weight that you know he won’t let go of.

For a moment, neither of you speaks, the silence filled only with the quiet hum of static and the imagined sound of rain falling somewhere far away.

“Smile for me,” Jeonghan says suddenly, breaking the quiet. His voice is playful now, teasing in the way that only he can be. “On a day like this, just smile for me.”

And even though he can’t see it, even though it doesn’t feel like enough, you smile. Because for now, it’s the closest thing to being by his side.

Bangkok, Thailand. December. 

멀리서 바라본대도 언제나 함께인 너와 나 서로 꽉 잡아주었던 손가락 대신 말이야 (Even if we’re far away, you and I are always together / Instead of fingers tightly holding each other, we have words)

Jeonghan’s in Bangkok now, and your calls have become more sporadic. The time zone difference has made it harder to sync up, and his rehearsals and soundchecks stretch late into the evening. The countdown to Christmas is drawing near, and there’s something about the holiday season that amplifies the distance. The twinkling lights in your apartment feel colder, the festive music playing on the radio a bit too cheerful. It’s hard to ignore the ache that fills the gaps between the fleeting conversations.

But he always finds a way to let you know he’s thinking of you, even when the calls don’t come.

It’s one of those late nights, just days before Christmas Eve, when his name flashes across your phone. You’re curled up on the couch, surrounded by half-wrapped presents and an unopened box of decorations, the scent of pine from the small tree you managed to set up lingering in the air. The world outside is dusted with snow, and for a moment, you let the stillness settle. But the phone call is like a soft knock at the door, a gentle reminder that even when he’s far away, Jeonghan’s voice is always there to anchor you.

“Sorry I missed you earlier,” his voice crackles through the speaker, a bit raspy from all the singing. You smile to yourself, hearing that familiar tone, the one that always sounds so far away yet somehow so close. “I hate not being able to hold your hand.”

You press the phone to your ear tighter, as if that could bridge the miles between you. The emptiness of the space beside you feels even more pronounced in this quiet moment. Your fingers ache, as if they could still feel the warmth of his touch from all those nights when you held each other close.

“I know,” you reply, your voice soft, the words carrying a weight that makes the distance feel like a tangible thing. “We’ll make up for it.”

You let the silence linger, as if it could somehow fill the void. “Someday,” you continue, the hope threading through your words. “When we’re together again.”

You can hear him exhale, a heavy sound that speaks of fatigue but also of something deeper. “Someday,” he echoes, but his tone is threaded with something that makes your heart ache. There’s a distance in the word, and yet a promise too, like a whispered prayer in the cold night air. “Until then, I guess I’ll have to settle for this.”

“Settle for what?” You shift on the couch, glancing at the twinkling lights on the tree, the soft shadows they cast on the walls. The thought of him fills your chest with warmth despite the cold that’s crept into the room.

“My voice,” he says, the corners of his voice curling into a soft smile. You can almost hear it, as though he’s there, standing beside you in the living room, smiling that quiet smile you love so much. “Calling your name.”

The sudden rush of emotion hits you like a wave, and you let out a laugh, albeit a quiet one. You can hear his smile through the phone, and it makes your heart flutter in that familiar way. Even though you’re separated by miles and time zones, you know that smile. You know that voice.

“That’s all I need,” you say, your words steady despite the longing twisting inside you. There’s a comfort in this—knowing that, even through the distance, he’s thinking of you. Even as you sit here, surrounded by the quiet of the holiday season, you are not alone. You never are when his voice is with you.

“Just my voice?” Jeonghan teases, but there’s no mistaking the tenderness behind it.

“For now,” you tease back. The smile that spreads across your face feels like the sun breaking through the clouds after a long storm. “But I can’t wait for the day when I can hear you say it in person again.”

He pauses for a moment, and you can tell that he’s smiling too, even though you can’t see him. “Me neither,” he says softly. “Just wait, okay? I’ll be home soon. And I’ll hold your hand then. All the Christmas lights in the world won’t be able to compare to that.”

The words settle in your heart, and for a moment, you let the phone slip from your ear as you look out at the snow falling softly against the darkened window. The world outside seems to hold its breath as you hold on to that promise, the quiet magic of love woven through the simple exchange of words.

As the conversation ends, you stand and walk over to the window, watching the snowflakes fall. You can almost feel him beside you, can almost imagine his fingers lacing with yours in the stillness of the night.

And in that moment, with the twinkling lights of Christmas warming the room, you let yourself believe—this will pass. Soon, he’ll be back. And you’ll both hold on to each other, through every season, no matter the miles.

Incheon, South Korea. January. 

변하지 않는 중력처럼 끌어당겨 날 너에게로 (Like unchanging gravity, you pull me toward you)

The months of separation have felt like a quiet ache, each day stretching endlessly between you and Jeonghan, but as his flight lands at Incheon, the world shifts, and you feel it in your bones. The moment the doors open, his figure steps through the airport terminal, the hum of conversations and the bustle of travelers fading into a distant blur.

He's wearing the exhaustion of tour like a second skin—his eyes heavy, his steps slow—but there’s something in the way he moves toward you, something magnetic, something undeniable. It’s like gravity, drawing him back to you with an inevitable pull, no matter how far apart you were.

As he crosses the threshold, his eyes meet yours, and in that instant, the months of absence dissolve. His tiredness melts away in the warmth of your gaze, and his lips curve into a smile—soft, yet filled with the same intensity as a thousand words unsaid. He drops his bag with a thud, not caring where it lands, and before you can even take a breath, his arms are around you, pulling you close, as if the air itself is too thin for him to breathe without you in it.

It’s not just a hug. It’s an avalanche of emotion, a force so powerful that it steals your breath away. His heartbeat syncs with yours as if it has never been out of rhythm, as if time had never existed between the last time you held him and now. The world, with all its noise, its demands, its distractions, seems to quiet around you.

His scent is the first thing that hits you—a familiar blend of him, of warmth and the soft whisper of something that always makes you feel like home. His skin is warmer than you remember, and his fingers, gentle but sure, find the back of your neck, cradling your head like he’s afraid you might slip away again.

“I told you I’d come back,” Jeonghan murmurs against your ear, his voice hoarse, as though it’s been waiting for this moment for so long. You don’t know if he means he’d promised in the past or if it’s a vow meant to echo through every moment you share in the future. The weight of his words lingers in the air, rich and heavy, and you can’t help but let out a soft laugh.

The sound is barely audible, but it’s enough to break through the haze of emotions thick in the air. You pull away just enough to see his face, eyes darker than you remember but alive with a quiet, burning affection. Your fingers find the fabric of his coat, clinging to him as if it’s the only thing that could anchor you to this moment, this reality where the distance no longer exists.

“You’re real,” you whisper into the hollow of his shoulder, fingers gripping the cloth like you might lose him again if you let go. The ache in your chest rises, threatening to swallow you whole, but it’s different now. He’s here, and the space you’ve carried between you for so long is finally closed.

“I’ve always been real,” he answers softly, his voice a balm against the tremor in your voice. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands gently cupping your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks with a tenderness that threatens to undo you. His gaze is endless, like the ocean, deep and consuming, and you find yourself lost in it, drowning in the warmth of his presence.

“You’re the gravity that pulls me back,” he says, his lips curling into a small, knowing smile, one that’s both soft and filled with something heavier. “I could never stay away.” And then, before either of you can think about it too much, he leans in, slow and deliberate, as if savoring the moment before he seals it with a kiss.

It’s soft at first, tentative, as if testing the waters of this closeness that feels like it could shatter the fragile air between you. But then his lips press against yours with a quiet urgency, a hunger that’s been buried under weeks of separation. His hands slide to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and you respond in kind, your hands threading through his hair, holding him as if you could absorb him into your very being.

The kiss deepens, and for a fleeting moment, it feels like the entire world is holding its breath, waiting for this moment to unfold. There’s no rush, no hurry—just the slow burn of his lips against yours, the shared exhale, the tender weight of his arms around you.

When you finally pull away, the air between you feels impossibly full, as if the kiss itself has filled the space where words have always struggled to reach. Jeonghan presses his forehead against yours, his breathing unsteady but steadying.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispers, voice thick with everything he’s felt in the time you’ve been apart.

You smile, feeling like the distance, the longing, all of it has finally found its place in the quiet of his embrace. “I’ve missed you too.”

And in this moment, wrapped in his arms, you know that no matter how far he goes, no matter the miles between you, he’ll always be the gravity that pulls you back to him. And you’ll always come back, too.

Bocaue, Philippines. February. 

어린아이처럼 늘 손을 꼽아 다시 만나는 그날을 (Like a child, I count down the days / Until the day we meet again)

Even reunions are fleeting. When Jeonghan leaves again, this time for the Philippines, you are left to breathe in the emptiness that lingers in his absence. The quiet stretches out before you like an untraveled road, the days growing heavier with every passing hour.

But in the stillness, you find a strange comfort—counting the days, one by one. The routine becomes a delicate ritual, as if the act of waiting itself is a thread connecting your hearts, pulling him back toward you.

You find yourself tracing the days in your mind, as though they were beads on a string, one for each heartbeat. Like a child who waits for the seasons to change, you cross off each night on an invisible calendar, whispering his name to the moon as if it could carry your voice to him. 

Each day feels endless, and yet, within it, there is hope.

One evening, just as you settle into your favorite spot by the window, the full moon rising to bathe your room in silver light, the familiar sound of his voice breaks the silence. You hadn’t realized how much you had missed the sound of it—soft, distant, yet so very close.

“Are you looking at the sky?” Jeonghan’s voice hums across the distance, pulling you in, weaving a bridge between the two of you.

“I am,” you reply, a tender smile pulling at the corners of your lips as you tilt your head toward the heavens. “Are you?”

“Always,” he says, his voice carrying a warmth that feels like a caress even through the phone. “It’s the one thing we can share, no matter how far apart we are.”

There is something about those words, simple yet profound, that makes your heart ache in the most beautiful way. You imagine him, somewhere under the same sky, the moonlight washing over his face, just as it does yours. His eyes, probably closed in that soft, familiar way, drinking in the same view. And in that moment, the world seems smaller. The distance between you and Jeonghan, though vast, feels like a mere whisper.

You picture him looking at the same moon, its light spilling over his face, and suddenly, the distance feels bearable. The days may pass in slow motion, but each one brings you closer to him. And so, with the moon as your silent witness, you smile softly into the night, counting the days as they turn into weeks, knowing that soon—soon—he will be home.

Osaka, Japan. March. 

다음 그다음 싹이 틀 연 분홍빛의 벚꽃잎이 수줍게 핀 모습을 함께 보도록 (the buds of pale pink cherry blossoms / Will bloom shyly for us to see together)

By the time Jeonghan reaches Osaka, spring has arrived. The cherry blossoms you dreamed of seeing together have finally bloomed, delicate petals painting the air with soft pinks, like a memory you’ve held onto through the long months of distance. Their fragile beauty seems to mirror your own waiting heart, tender and yearning, unfolding bit by bit with every passing day.

One afternoon, he calls you just as you’re stepping outside, the warm breeze teasing the edges of your jacket, the scent of fresh earth and spring in the air. The cherry trees in your own neighborhood sway gently, their petals dancing in the sunlight, their branches dipping toward the ground as though offering their beauty to the world. It’s not quite the same as the ones in Japan, but they’re still stunning, just like the dream you once whispered to him late at night: that one day, you’d be there together to witness this moment.

His voice crackles through the phone, distant yet intimate, like he's right beside you. “They’re blooming here too,” Jeonghan says, and you can hear the awe in his voice, the wonder that always lingers when he talks about the little things that make life feel full. “I wish you could see them.”

There’s a slight catch in his words, and you can tell it’s the same wistful longing that fills your chest when you look at the trees, but you smile anyway, because you know he’s thinking of you.

“Next year,” you reply, trying to sound certain, though your voice catches in the same way his did. “We’ll see them together next year.”

You close your eyes for a moment, breathing in the air around you, letting the thought of his warmth beside you on a spring day settle in your chest.

There’s a long pause. For a moment, the connection feels stretched across miles, but you can still feel him there, as though he’s standing in front of you, watching the same cherry blossoms. His voice, when it comes, is steady, unwavering, and filled with the quiet certainty that’s always been his signature. “We will.”

And in that moment, you know it’s true. You know that no matter how far apart you are, no matter how many missed calls or delayed flights or sleepless nights you face, this love is something that time cannot touch. It’s written in the cherry blossoms that bloom when the seasons change, in the soft glow of the moon that shines for both of you, no matter where you are. It’s in every smile that crosses your lips when you hear his voice, every quiet moment when you can almost feel him beside you, even though he’s thousands of miles away.

It’s in the way he always calls, no matter how late it is or how busy he gets. In the way he’s never too far to remind you that he’s thinking of you. You believe him because you’ve felt it—the way his love wraps around you, steady and sure, even when the distance feels endless. It’s in the promise of next year, and the year after that. It’s in every missed call, every whispered promise, and every moment that pulls you back together, stronger than before.

In the distance, a cherry blossom blooms.  

[lovifie]

Fluff | Smut | 1178 words | Back to Masterlist

Simon Riley whose favourite hair was always yours.

The first time he touched your hair, you were both deployed. You were walking before him, your hair in a braid behind your head that was almost hypnotizing. You stick your head from behind a wall, and Simon pulls your braid the moment he hears gunshots to keep you away from the fire line. A whine escapes your lips that sounds almost like a kicked dog and you quickly look back to him. "Thank you, Lt." You mutter.

And in that moment, with your hair still in his hand, he knew he was in trouble.

Your hair doesn't glow in the dark, yet it always draws his attention. Like a lifesaver floating in an ocean. He quickly learns that he can't wait to touch it again, so he observes and waits for a chance to do so.

Like when you were rewriting a report on the mess hall, Price told you it was illegible and taking into consideration Price's handwriting you took it to heart. So there you were, writing again the pages with your best handwriting.

A lock of hair in the middle of your face had Simon almost sprinting to you to move it out of your face before you could it yourself. Of course, he didn't say anything romantic, instead, he said: "You are gonna go blind like that, and you are supposed to watch my back out there."

It wasn't romantic on its own, but his hand remained caressing the hair now behind your ear and when you looked up to meet his gaze, the both of you pulled away from each other as if you had been hit. "That line is dropping, start it again." He comments. "Yes, Lt."

On another occasion, you got late to practice, overslept. Obviously by your bed hair, not even time to brush it. Price quickly told you to fix it and Simon seriously considered if the insubordination would be worth it, because he would rip both his arms off if he could wake up every day with that sight.

It was at that point that Simon realized he was doomed, because he had not been slowly pulled to you, he fell face first and being honest to himself, he was happy with it. He wouldn't admit it yet, it was easier to believe he only liked your hair.

And as time went on, it became more and more easy to find excuses to touch it.

Like when you got sick that one time, waking in the middle of the night to empty your stomach on the toilet. And it went on until the morning, when he found you sitting on the bathroom floor, too weak to walk back to your room.

Face wet with tears for not being able to stop throwing up, for being tired and for feeling useless. He quickly crouched down, paper towel in hand to clean your face. "Why are you here?" He softly asked, mask hiding his expression but his eyes gave away his emotions.

"I got sick." You mumbled, voice hoarse with the strain of the night.

"That I can tell, love." The nickname caught the both of you by surprise, but neither complained. "Let's get you to bed."

You nod, grabbing his hand to stand up, before another round of nausea hits forcing you to back down to throw up again. He quickly moved your hair out of the way grabbing it at the back of your head. "You are gonna get sick, Ghost. Leave me alone, I'm fine."

"Number one, I'm pretty sure your dinner from last night is on my hand, so I believe we are past nicknames now." He says, being interrupted before being able to say the second thing.

"Don't touch my hair with puke on your hand!" You say grabbing his wrist, making him chuckle. You barely had the energy to pull your head up and still tried to fight him.

"I would never, love. That's the other hand." He said looking as you wiped your mouth, breath getting knocked out of him when you lock your gaze on his. "What is it?" You asked, confusing him. "Your name."

"Simon."

"Simon?"

"Simon Riley."

A beat of silence simmered in the bathroom for a second.

"That's a surprisingly sweet name, Simon."

And if the world had ended at that moment, Simon would have died a happy man.

But he didn't, instead, he eased his way into your heart.

It wasn't hard, and soon enough Simon didn't need excuses to touch your hair. And touching your hair was the excuse to get you closer to him.

Like when he was dying to kiss your lips, but you wouldn't look up to him. Why wouldn't you look at him? Couldn't you tell it was killing him? So he fisted your hair, pulling back slightly; enough to make you look up but not enough to sting. And when his eyes met yours, he dived right into your lips. Moving his hands to cup your face instead of your hair, needing to feel the warmth of your skin. The kiss pulling the air from his lungs but still making him feel more alive than ever.

Or like when you finally had the time and intimacy to make love. And when he had you on his bed, knees apart and face buried on his pillow, he fisted your hair again, pulling your head back, because he needed to hear you moan his name while he filled you to the brim. Simon Riley was not a saint, but he would go through the hell his life has been again if it meant he got to experience this. Your cunt milking his dick, your smaller hand grabbing the wrist of his hand on your hip, your moans filling the room and when you looked back to him over your shoulder, his life got meaning and he kissed your lips.

Or like when you would cuddle, and he would do tiny braids on your hair he would forget to undo or tell you about and you would find out hours later when you would try to brush your hair and end up with massive knots. Walking to him ready to throw the brush at his head and you would find him hugging your pillow in his sleep, completely relaxed and content with himself.

Or like when years later, he brushed the hair sticking to your forehead by the sweat while you pushed his daughter to life. If he could take the pain away he would, but he knew you were the strongest woman in this world and could do it. He also knew you needed his comfort, so he moved his hand from your hair to grab your hand even if you crushed every bone inside.

Your hair was always his favourite, until your daughter was born. Because she had Simon's eyes, but she had your hair. And your hair was beautiful, but his little girl's hair was the proof of the love between Simon and you.

Simon Riley loved your hair, but he loved you more.

[daenysx]

i got bored so here are some modern!james potter headcanons;

um- sunshine energy at its finest!!

james is one of the prettiest boys you could ever see in your life

his smile lights up every room he walks in

he has to take extra five minutes every morning to fix his hair because he always puts his head wrong on the pillow and messes the shape of his thick, wavy hair

heavy sleeper!! (cutest though, sometimes he sleeps with his mouth open)

he's a morning person but he usually goes to bed early, claiming he has to get 8 hours of sleep

sleeps naked. to your delight.

he likes getting slow back scratches and massages, he is addicted to get kisses on his neck and his cheeks, he LOVES being babied

always runs hot even when the room is cold. he's generous too, he holds your cold body in his arms until you get warmer

i once wrote that he makes the best iced lattes in the morning, i still stand by it

he'd practice to be perfect at making your favorite drink (mine is iced latte so i had to say it-)

breakfast fan!!

he never leaves the apartment with an empty stomach, the worst he can do is take some snacks or fruits with him if he runs late

loves morning runs, morning walks, morning work outs, morning stretches. anything to wake his body up

and we probably all know this but james potter is the type of man who knows his body well

he looks good and he knows it

he also knows what he should do to take care of himself and his health

i mean he likes waking up early and starting his day, but he'll stay in bed with you if it means he'll get cuddles (especially when it's cold)

he tries to wake you up by bribing you with promises of a shower together and breakfast prepared by him

speaking of showers-

um- if you don't mind me being a little smutty here,

james potter loves eating you out

and he loves it more when he gets to wake you up to his mouth

and he does it again when he convinces you into shower

he does it for his own pleasure really

because it feels so good to keep his mouth on you and rubbing himself to soft blankets at the same time

this man is never- and i mean never ashamed of coming into his pants

like seriously, just think about it

he adores that feeling of falling apart for you, he doesn't even need to be touched

needy. and that's hot.

he makes noises in bed. never stays silent. always tells you how you make him feel.

he likes being called 'my love'

king of getting you flowers because 'they made him think of you'

he makes fun of his blurry sight every time he loses his glasses

he can't read for long (sleepy boy alert) but he likes it when you read a book out loud for him

tries to compete with remus on how many movies he can watch in a row without falling asleep

he loses of course

he complains about sirius' smoking (stop acting like a saint prongs) but he takes a few drags when he's too stressed

now that's the thing- james potter doesn't like to burden others with his stress

he keeps things to himself when he's not joking

his glossy eyes give him away though

precious boy

he blinks a few quick tears on your neck when it gets too much

let's keep going with happy james because i can't handle the thought of him being sad

the best hugger ever!!!

strong arms, broad chest, smells perfect, knows how to squeeze your body with the best amount of pressure

you forget everything when he holds you

he never pulls away from a hug first

just my dream guy

another thing- he is so proud of himself when you laugh at his jokes

has a group chat with remus and sirius

never stops sending memes, sometimes drives remus insane

his spotify playlists are so complicated because his music taste changes with every song

he wants you to choose the music every time you're in his car

guys- james potter brainrot is something else, i swear i love him so much

that's all for now, let me know if you'd like a part 2

[rememberwren]

/•Harmless Fun 7•\

Former and further chapters can be found here.

You and Johnny kiss. With company. Ghoap/fem!reader, dry humping, kissing, handjobs, exhibitionism, suggestion of blowjobs.

-

Kissing Johnny only gets easier, and it was easy to begin with.

-

The next morning sees you running late for work. After your late night, you had forgotten to set your alarm and hadn’t awoken until the sun spilled in through your open curtains and you could hear the sound of Simon bustling around at the other end of the apartment. You had taken the quickest shower of your life, brushed your teeth, and done your best to make yourself presentable, rehearsing potential excuses in your head for your boss. There was a crash on I-57; my car broke down; a child fell down a well… 

You didn’t even have time to grab a cup of Simon’s coffee before you were wrenching the front door open, but when Johnny calls out sharply for you to halt, you are startled enough into stopping your frenzied rush, turning to blink at his careful, limping approach. He cups your jaw and brings your mouth to his, tasting like creamer and sugar, just the way you like your coffee. 

“Have a good day, hen,” he says when he pulls back, giving you an innocuous smile. 

Your eyes flitter to Simon, who is leaning with one hip against the kitchen island, coffee halfway to his mouth, brows raised—it’s reflexive to check on him, to make sure that Johnny hasn’t made him angry with this sudden show of affection. To make sure that you’re allowed to enjoy it. When Simon’s coffee finally completes its circuit to his mouth, you look back at Johnny and give him a shy smile. 

“You too,” you say for lack of better words. After you shut the door, you mouth to yourself, Oh my god. Then you remember your own lateness and rush down to the parking lot, praying for green lights all the way to work. 

Inside the apartment, Johnny fixes Simon with a smug expression. 

Simon shakes his head, eyes rolling toward the ceiling. 

-

When you get home from work, feet aching and a knot in your neck, it all seems to melt away as Johnny sits up from where he was slumped on the couch and draws you onto his lap. You’re careful not to put too much pressure on his bad thigh, gripping his shoulders tightly, eyes flickering around the apartment looking for the looming presence of Johnny’s other half once Johnny’s intent seems clear. 

“Where’s Simon?” you breathe. 

“Out,” says Johnny, taking your chin in his fingers and coaxing you down toward his mouth. He pauses, lips nearly brushing. “Should we wait so he can watch?” 

“What?” 

Johnny grins. He leans up the last few hairs’ breadths and kisses you, and Simon finds you in a similar place nearly an hour later. 

You’ve shifted of course, unable to kneel for so long without your legs falling asleep. Now Johnny lays with his bad thigh braced against the back of the couch, legs opened for you to be nestled between, your arms looped around his neck so you can play with the soft hairs at the back of his head. 

Your mouth feels numb from kissing, your thoughts syrupy and slow, focused only on the softness of Johnny’s mouth, the way his stubble rubs your cheeks raw (and your neck, when he gives your mouth a break and trails his lips down your jaw to the space between your neck and shoulder). Your head feels light and airy, your heart too, positively buoyant with all the affection. The only part of you that doesn’t feel sleepy and slow is that needy place between your legs; there you ache, slick enough for your panties to stick to you every time you shift. 

Johnny isn’t unaffected, either. He’s been hard since he dragged you onto his lap, but he seems completely content to do nothing about it. Anytime you try to escalate your kisses into something a little firmer, a little more satisfying, he drags you back to that soft and slow place where it feels like all your thoughts leak out your ears. 

“Johnny,” you breathe into the crook of his neck, resting your own sore one. He hums in answer. “Don’t you want—more?” 

“Got you in my lap,” he says, hands massaging your hips firmly. “What more could I possibly want?” 

You let your pelvis settle a little more firmly against his own, rocking against his hard cock. He can’t control the way his breath hitches at the stimulation, fingertips digging into your flesh. 

“Oh, him?” Johnny asks innocently. “Just ignore him.” 

“I don’t want to ignore him,” you mutter sulkily. “I want to sit on him.” 

Johnny guffaws. Beneath you, his cock twitches. 

The door opens and Simon enters. He’s dripping sweat from his run, and for the first time you notice the backpack he carries with him, the way it seems to droop against his back, like it’s filled with something heavy. All three of you freeze at the sight of the other. The moment is broken by a buzzing—Simon fishes his phone from his pocket and sighs, pressing it to his ear. 

“I’m listening,” he says, shutting the front door behind him. 

Johnny reaches out softly and turns your chin back towards him. There is something in his eyes, something mischievous, but all he does is coax your mouth back down to his and kiss you again. You sigh against his mouth, eyes fluttering closed as he sucks sweetly on your tongue. You hear the sound of Simon’s voice, but his words go in one ear and out the other, the warm rumble of his tenor doing nothing to help the ache between your thighs. 

Johnny grips your hips in his hands and—oh, oh god. He rocks you gently against him, his cock brushing against your soaked sex through your respective layers. It sends a jolt through you, even this small stimulation feeling good after denying yourself for so long. You can’t help the sound that slips out of your throat, the little whine that Johnny swallows whole and matches with a warm, pleased hum. 

You know what he’s doing now. Had he planned it to be like this? It’s hard to imagine that he hadn’t, not with his earlier flippant phrase of waiting for Simon to watch. Respectability wars with your own need, and you find that it’s far too easy to let your need win, to let Johnny’s hands guide you against his cock again and again, stoking that fire in your belly into something transcendental, something too big to be ignored. 

“Johnny?” you hear Simon say to whoever is on the other end of the phone, the name briefly breaking through your stupor. “Being a pain in my ass, as usual.” 

You break away from Johnny’s mouth but can’t seem to stop the gentle rolling of your hips. Instead you bury your face in his neck, hoping for some reprieve from the embarrassment that has your face aflame, from the shame that seems to be doing nothing but whetting the ache between your legs. 

“Johnny,” you whine quietly. “Be fair.” 

“What’s unfair?” he breathes. He jerks his hips up against you softly. “Oh—this? You want me to stop? Just say the word.” 

You chance a glance toward Simon and find that he still has the phone pressed to his ear, but his eyes are focused firmly on you and Johnny, his expression of greater intensity than usual: brows lower, eyes darker, scarred mouth barely parted, like he has something to say but can’t. He meets your eyes and hums something noncommittal into the phone. You wonder if he’s paying attention to the call at all. 

Simon turns his eyes away. He reaches down and grips the hem of his shirt, lifts it up to wipe at his dripping brow, and it gives you a glance of his body: pale and scarred, but so fucking strong, muscled with a nice layer of padding. Fuck, they are both so painfully beautiful. You realize that Johnny has stopped his gentle ministrations on your hips and that now all the movement is due to you: you’re the one grinding against his hard cock. You hide in his neck again, placing sloppy kisses against his steady pulse. 

“That’s it,” Johnny mutters, barely loud enough for you to hear. His hands slip around to cup your arse. “Does that feel good?” 

You nod. Anything would feel good after so much time spent on the most innocent of foreplay, anything would feel good with how swollen and wet you were. Johnny’s hands press against you, lengthening your strokes, turning your hasty, jerky movements into slow, sensual rolls of your hips, maximizing the contact between you both. 

“Sit up, I want to see you,” he whispers. Your head is so full of cotton that you do, forgetting for a moment that Simon is there. He’s watching you again, one hand braced against the countertop, dark eyes watching the way you grind against his husband’s cock, knuckles white where he grips the phone and presses it to his ear, giving the occasional grunt to whomever is on the other line. Johnny says: “Fuck, yer beautiful.” 

You ignore that, unwilling to let him fluster you any more than you already are. Instead you brace your hands against his chest and quicken your hips, feeling the coil inside your belly twist tight. You’ve needed to cum since last night, since Johnny first kissed you with Simon right there watching. All you want is to feel that sweet burst of pleasure, to let it rise up like high tide and drown you. Johnny’s hands smooth along your thighs and up your belly and cup the fullness of your breasts, and that’s all you need to cover your face, mouth falling open as a painfully embarrassing sound is torn from your throat. Your body is wracked with shivers as your pussy clenches tight around nothing, and you’d forgotten over the years just how unsatisfying these kinds of orgasms could be. You needed something inside you, something you could clench down on, if only Johnny had been willing to give it to you. 

A door clicks shut. Your misty eyes open to find that Simon is gone. 

“Beautiful,” Johnny says, drawing you back down into his arms for a kiss. Against your mouth, he mutters: “Yer perfect.” 

“We scared off Simon,” you groan, forehead resting against his own. Beneath you, his cock is still hard, reminding you that he still hasn’t cum yet—likely can’t with just this level of stimulation. 

“Yeah, he’s scared t’ death,” Johnny says, eyes rolling, his hands smoothing up and down the small of your back. “Probably already got his cock out in the next room.” 

You frown. That wouldn’t make any sense. You decide to focus on what does make sense—helping Johnny find his own pleasure. Reaching down, you lightly trail your fingers over his clothed cock, feeling positively electric when he gives a shaky sigh, cock jerking beneath your tentative touch. 

“Want some help?” you ask. 

He just gives you a soft smile. “Actually, I know just the person who’s going to help me.” 

-

When Johnny enters the bedroom, Simon is nowhere in sight. The light coming from beneath the ensuite door tells him all he needs to know. He raps his knuckles against the door and waits, unable to help the grin that stretches his mouth and the way his cock nudges at the fly of his denim. The door opens and a hand reaches out, gripping the collar of his shirt and pulling him in, pressing him back against the door with enough force to rattle the knob. 

“Hi love,” Johnny coos. “How was your run?” 

Simon kisses him, sucks on his full lower lips, licks into his open mouth like it is a cup he can drink his fill from. Johnny meets him with equal fervor, his hands falling to find Simon’s belt already undone, his cock already free and hard. It’s a warm, familiar weight in his palm as he strokes his lover and thumbs at the leaking head. 

“Not—not being subtle at all,” Johnny warns him. 

Simon just grunts in between kisses. 

“What, can you taste her on me?” Johnny teases. 

Simon groans and buries his face in the crook of Johnny’s neck where you had buried your own. He presses his mouth to every mark you left behind, teases your teeth marks with his own, hips thrusting into the tight fist of Johnny’s hand. 

“You’re not subtle either,” Simon grits out, palms placed flat on the oak door, pinning Johnny in place. “She’s going to catch on that you’re trying to play matchmaker.” 

“I’m not aiming for subtle,” Johnny breathes. He presses Simon back with a palm against his chest and drops to his knees, even as Simon’s eyes tighten with disapproval, knowing Johnny can’t remain in the position long. Johnny just grins, easy and lighter than he’s felt in weeks. “I’ve got about five minutes before my leg starts killin’ me…think you can cum before then?” 

“I think that depends on how good your mouth treats me,” Simon says. 

“I’d better get to work then, hadn’t I?”