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lotuswish · 8 hours ago

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𑁍ࠬܓ how they react when they see you hurt (housewardens & jamil)

synopsis: pain is not something he ever wanted to associate with you. but seeing you injured—knowing someone dared to harm you—shatters his composure. for some, it’s rage; for others, panic. and for a few, it’s cold, terrifying control—until he knows you’re safe. but one thing is certain: someone will pay for this.

featured character(s): riddle rosehearts, leona kingscholar, azul ashengrotto, kalim al-asim, jamil viper, vil schoenheit, idia shroud, malleus draconia.

content warning(s): angst, mentions of violence and implied revenge, mild injury descriptions (ex. bruises, wounds, pain etc.).

a/n: they’re just being silly, guys. <3

riddle rosehearts

riddle prides himself on maintaining control.

his entire life has been shaped by discipline, by structure, by the belief that emotions must be ruled by logic. he does not allow himself to be reckless, does not allow himself to be overcome. everything he does is precise, calculated, deliberate.

but the moment he sees you hurt—

everything unravels.

his breath catches in his throat, his heart slamming against his ribs, his mind instantly abandoning all reason. his entire world sharpens to a singular point—you—and all at once, every ounce of restraint he’s spent years perfecting is hanging by a fragile, fraying thread.

“who did this?”

his voice is sharper than you’ve ever heard it, trembling with something raw, something dangerously close to rage.

he’s beside you in an instant, dropping to his knees without hesitation, his hands hovering—not touching, not yet, because what if he makes it worse? what if he hurts you somehow? his fingers tremble, itching to reach out, to make sure—

“tell me where it hurts,” he says, but his voice wavers. “tell me what happened.”

his hands are gentle but firm as he checks you over, his usually practiced movements clumsy with the weight of panic. he doesn’t even realize his breathing is uneven, doesn’t even notice the way his shoulders are shaking as he looks you over, as he takes in every bruise, every wound, every sign that something happened—

something he didn’t prevent.

“you should have been more careful,” he scolds, but the words come out thin, forced, like he’s trying to hold something else back.

you try to tell him you’re fine, try to brush it off, but he doesn’t believe you. his eyes flicker with frustration, his jaw tightening, his grip on your wrist just a fraction too tense.

“don’t be ridiculous—you’re hurt,” he snaps, and then immediately exhales, forcing himself to breathe. “just… stay still. let me handle this.”

he refuses to let you wave it away. refuses to leave it alone. you are not fine, and he will not let you convince him otherwise.

but even as he focuses on making sure you’re okay, something else burns at the edges of his mind, pressing against his temples like an unbearable weight—

who did this to you?

his hands clench into fists. his breathing evens out, but his posture remains rigid, coiled tight like a string about to snap.

because once you’re safe—once he’s certain that you’re okay, that you’ll recover, that he didn’t fail you—

then, and only then, will he deal with the one responsible.

his mother may have taught him restraint, but some things are unforgivable.

and hurting you is one of them.

leona kingscholar

danger.

his body registers it before his mind does, his instincts kicking in the moment his eyes land on you—hurt, vulnerable, not okay.

his vision tunnels, his pulse spikes, and suddenly, the world around him doesn’t matter anymore.

“what the hell happened?”

his voice is a low, guttural growl, thick with something dark, something uncontrollable. his hands clench at his sides, every muscle coiled, his body ready—ready to fight, ready to destroy, ready to eliminate whatever put you in this state.

but then he sees it—sees the way you’re holding yourself, the way your breath hitches, the way you flinch just slightly—and suddenly, the anger has to be forced down, swallowed like bile in the back of his throat.

because right now, you come first.

so he moves, closing the distance in a single step, his hands reaching for you before he can stop himself. his hands are gentle from the start, unusually so. these hands of his are capable of devastation, of turning flesh to dust, of summoning ruin with a mere touch. but against you, they are careful, restrained. the second he feels the warmth of your skin beneath his fingertips, the tension in his hold eases, his hands softening, steadying you instead of breaking you.

“who did this?”

his voice is still dangerous, still thick with that barely restrained fury, but now there’s something else underneath it.

concern.

fear.

he hates how it makes his chest tighten. hates the way it lingers at the edges of his thoughts, nagging at him, clawing at something buried deep beneath his usual indifference.

he kneels in front of you, his sharp, emerald eyes scanning every inch of you with terrifying intensity. his fingers ghost over your injuries, his jaw clenched so tight you can hear his teeth grind together.

“tell me.” his voice is dangerous now.

and then—when you hesitate, when you try to brush it off, when you lie—

his patience snaps.

“don’t give me that.” his grip tightens just slightly, his expression darkening. “you’re hurt. don’t act like it’s nothing.”

there’s no room for argument in his tone. no patience for your stubbornness, no willingness to accept anything less than the truth.

if you try to keep it from him, if you refuse to say who’s responsible, then fine—he’ll find out himself.

because someone did this.

and once you’re safe—once he’s sure you’re okay, once he’s made damn sure you’ll recover—

then he’s hunting.

“stay here,” he mutters, standing to his full height, his tail flicking behind him in barely restrained aggression. “i’ll take care of it.”

and if you try to stop him?

his gaze flickers down to you, something sharp, something scorching, like the unrelenting heat of the desert sun at its peak—blistering, unforgiving, merciless.

“no one lays a damn hand on you and gets away with it.”

and then he’s gone, a storm of unbridled wrath, a lion on the hunt.

azul ashengrotto

azul is a man of careful calculations.

every word, every action, every decision he makes is deliberate. he has spent years crafting a persona of charm, wit, and effortless composure—one that allows him to stay in control, no matter the circumstances. he does not flinch, does not waver, does not lose to uncertainty.

but then he sees you hurt.

and suddenly, all of that control is gone.

his breath catches, his body locks up, and for one horrifying moment, his mind is utterly blank.

“you—what happened?”

his voice doesn’t sound like his own. it’s too sharp, too raw, lacking the usual smoothness he prides himself on.

he rushes to you without thinking, but the second he’s close enough to touch, he hesitates. his fingers hover inches above your skin, his knuckles white with the force of his restraint. his mind is screaming at him to act, to do something, but a terrible thought wedges itself into his panic—

what if i make it worse?

he doesn’t trust his own hands, doesn’t trust his own judgment, not when the sight of you like this is unraveling him from the inside out.

“tell me what hurts,” he demands, his words tumbling out in a way that’s almost frantic. “is it serious? how bad is it?”

his thoughts spiral immediately, jumping to the worst possible conclusions. is it critical? should he be calling for medical attention? what if you’re downplaying it? what if he’s not fast enough?

and then you try to brush it off.

“nothing?” he echoes, breath hitching. his voice almost cracks—and he hates that. “how can you say that when you’re—when you—”

his hands clench into fists, shaking slightly as he forces himself to breathe.

“just—just stay still,” he mutters, voice tight with strain. “i’ll take care of it.”

because if there is one thing he knows, one thing he can control, it’s fixing things. making deals. offering solutions.

“i’ll call a healer. i’ll get whatever you need—whatever you want.”

his words come too fast, his mind still racing, but through it all, his hands never leave yours.

his grip is too tight, fingers wrapped around yours like a lifeline, like letting go isn’t an option he’s willing to consider.

because if he lets go—if he loses you—

he’s not sure he’ll be able to handle it.

and when it’s over—when he knows you’ll be okay—he still doesn’t let you out of his sight.

“you scared me,” he murmurs, quieter than before.

his voice is steadier now, but you can still hear the remnants of his fear, lingering in the way his thumb brushes absentmindedly over your knuckles, in the way he exhales like he’s been holding his breath this entire time.

and for the first time since you’ve met him—since he built the persona of azul ashengrotto, the untouchable businessman, the man always one step ahead—

he lets you see just how fragile he becomes when it comes to you.

kalim al-asim

kalim is always smiling.

he is a beacon of joy, a burst of light in every room he enters. when things go wrong, he looks for the silver lining. when people are hurting, he lifts them up with his boundless energy. sadness is something he refuses to dwell on, something he fights against with warmth and laughter.

but when he sees you hurt?

his entire world stops.

“oh no, oh no—”

the words leave him before he can think, his breath catching as his heart lurches in his chest. he doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t pause to process what he’s seeing—his body moves, fast and instinctive, rushing to your side.

his hands cradle your face, warm and steady despite the frantic tremor in his touch.

“are you okay? what happened? does it hurt? how bad is it?”

his voice is shaking. he’s shaking.

and when he finally really looks at you, when he takes in the way you wince, the way you hold yourself like you’re trying to hide the pain—his chest tightens, his stomach twisting into something awful.

“why didn��t anyone stop it? why didn’t i stop it?”

guilt. overwhelming, suffocating guilt floods him like a tidal wave.

“i should’ve been there! i should’ve protected you!”

his grip on you tightens—not enough to hurt, just enough to let you know he’s here. he isn’t letting go. he won’t let go.

and then, before you can stop him—before you can tell him it’s not a big deal—his eyes start to glisten.

“kalim, are you—”

“i’m not crying!” he absolutely is. “i just—you scared me!”

his voice wobbles, and suddenly, he’s pulling you into a hug, arms wrapping around you too tightly, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

“don’t move, okay? just stay right here! i’ll get someone to help—i’ll fix this, i promise!”

if it’s something small—just a minor scrape, a bruise—he still treats it like it’s life-threatening. he refuses to let you walk it off, refuses to let you act like it’s fine.

if it’s something worse? if you are seriously hurt?

he panics, but his movements are certain. without hesitation, he lifts you into his arms, holding you to his chest like you’re something precious, like you belong nowhere else but safe in his hands.

“i’ve got you,” he whispers, voice breaking. “i won’t let anything happen to you.”

and when he finally gets you to safety, when he finally knows you’re okay—

he still won’t stop fussing.

“you need to rest! do you want pillows? i’ll get you pillows! or tea! do you want tea? i’m sure jamil will—jamil! we need tea!”

“kalim, i’m fine—”

“no, you’re not fine! i was so scared!”

his fingers squeeze yours.

and later, when you’re patched up, when the worst of the moment has passed—

he presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes.

“don’t ever scare me like that again, okay?”

his voice is softer now, the usual excitement dimmed into something deeply sincere.

“i don’t ever wanna see you hurt again.”

jamil viper

jamil was raised to handle crises.

he has spent his entire life being the one who steps in when things go wrong, the one who fixes things while everyone else panics. no matter the situation, no matter the chaos, no matter the pressure—he is always in control.

so when he sees you hurt, when he registers the way you’re holding yourself, the way your face twists with pain—

his stomach drops.

but his body moves on instinct.

“where?”

his voice is steady. too steady. his mind is screaming, but his tone doesn’t waver, his movements are calculated, precise. he crouches in front of you immediately, eyes scanning you with sharp, assessing precision.

“how bad is it? let me see.”

he doesn’t waste time. doesn’t ask what happened—not yet. because right now, the only thing that matters is making sure you’re okay.

his hands are warm but firm, brushing over you carefully as he checks for injuries. his fingers ghost over your wrist, your arm, the side of your face—everywhere that might be hurt—his touch gentle but filled with purpose.

“it’s not broken,” he murmurs under his breath, half to himself, half to reassure you. “no major swelling… does this hurt?”

and then—when you flinch, when you let out the softest hiss of pain—

something inside him snaps.

his jaw clenches. his breathing slows.

“who.”

his eyes flick up to meet yours, and for the first time, there is something dangerous in his gaze.

“who did this?”

if there is a culprit—if someone is responsible for this—then they are not leaving unscathed.

but even as fury thrums through his veins, even as his mind races with ways to handle the situation, he forces himself to prioritize you first.

“can you walk?” his voice is softer now, his tone slipping back into something controlled, something measured.

if you say yes, he doesn’t let you prove it. he supports you immediately, one arm around your waist, guiding you effortlessly as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

if you say no, he lifts you without hesitation. no warning, no asking—just picking you up, his hold secure, unshakable.

“don’t argue,” he mutters, barely sparing you a glance. “just let me take care of it.”

because he will.

and once he gets you somewhere safe, once he’s made sure you’re being treated properly, once he knows with certainty that you are okay—

then, and only then, does he allow himself to breathe.

“you’re reckless,” he mutters, his voice a mix of exasperation and something far too raw. “i don’t have time to deal with this every time you get yourself hurt, you know.”

but his fingers tighten just slightly where they rest against your arm, betraying the truth behind his words.

because if something had happened—if things had been worse—

he doesn’t even want to think about what he would have done.

vil schoenheit

perfection is vil’s standard.

not just in beauty, not just in his work, but in everything—his composure, his discipline, the way he carries himself. he does not allow himself to be reckless. he does not make careless mistakes. he does not let emotions rule him.

but then he sees you hurt.

and something inside him fractures.

his lips press together, his expression unreadable, his body rigid—the only betrayal of the storm brewing beneath his flawless exterior is the way his fingers tighten just slightly at his sides, the way his breath is a fraction too controlled.

“where are you hurt?”

his voice is steady. cold. clinical. but his eyes—his eyes—

they burn.

he crosses the distance between you in two strides, his gloved fingers already reaching for you. his touch is firm but delicate, brushing over your skin with the kind of precision only someone like him could possess.

“sit down.” it’s not a request. “don’t move until i’ve assessed the damage.”

you try to downplay it, try to insist that it’s nothing, but his sharp gaze cuts through you instantly.

“do not insult me by pretending this is fine,” he snaps, his voice sharp as glass. “you are hurt. i can see it. so let me handle it.”

his fingers ghost over your injuries, his touch meticulous, searching. he catalogues everything—the severity, the placement, the way you react when he presses too close.

he is silent as he works, but the tension in his shoulders speaks volumes.

“this never should have happened.” the words slip out low, almost a whisper, but the weight behind them is undeniable. “i should have—”

but he cuts himself off before he finishes the thought.

vil schoenheit does not dwell in should haves.

he fixes things. he prevents disasters before they happen.

but right now, all he can do is make sure you are okay.

“i’ll handle this,” he says smoothly, already preparing to tend to your wounds himself. “stay still.”

his movements are precise, every action perfectly executed—cleaning, bandaging, ensuring no imperfections remain. but his touch lingers just slightly longer than necessary, his fingers brushing over your wrist, your palm, the curve of your shoulder with a tenderness that is almost imperceptible.

and when it’s over—when you are properly cared for, when the worst of the moment has passed—he finally exhales.

“you worried me,” he murmurs, and it is softer now, less controlled, less rehearsed.

and then—just for a second—his fingers ghost against your jaw, tilting your face up toward him.

“i won’t let this happen again. not ever.”

his voice is gentle. his eyes are not.

because if anyone had a hand in this—if someone is responsible for this pain—

then they will regret ever daring to touch you.

idia shroud

idia doesn’t do well under pressure.

he was not built for high-stakes situations, for stress, for emotions so raw they leave no room for second chances. he hates unpredictability, hates chaos, hates not knowing what to do.

so when he sees you hurt—

his mind shuts down.

for a full second, he just stares, his breath caught somewhere in his throat, his fingers twitching but unable to move.

no, no, no, no, no—

his brain latches onto the worst possibilities immediately. how bad is it? is it fatal? what if you’re bleeding out? what if it’s internal? what if he doesn’t react fast enough?

what if he loses you?

his stomach twists violently, a familiar, awful panic rising in his throat, threatening to choke him.

because this—this exact fear—is something he’s lived through before.

he remembers the first time. the real first time.

losing ortho was something he never saw coming. something he never thought could happen. and even though he’s built him again, recreated him, brought back a version of his little brother—

he still remembers.

remembers what it felt like to be too late. to fail someone he loved. to stand there, frozen in horror, helpless to stop it.

and now—

now it’s you.

you, the only person who matters to him besides ortho. you, the person who understands him, who stays, who chooses him despite all the reasons not to. you, who has somehow become his entire world without him even realizing it.

“oh seven—okay, okay—don’t freak out—no, wait, i’m the one freaking out—”

he rushes toward you but stops short, his hands hovering inches away, shaking.

“w-wait, should i touch you? would that make it worse?? oh seven, what if i make it worse—”

his mind is short-circuiting. too many variables. too many possible failures.

“idia,” you start, but he whirls on you, wide-eyed and frantic.

“y-you have to tell me exactly how bad it is, okay? give me a numerical rating—no, no, wait, i don’t trust the pain scale, um—can you move?? do you need a doctor??”

his breathing is erratic, his fingers clutching at the edge of his hoodie like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

but then—just like before—you try to reassure him.

“i’m okay.”

he stops.

his whole body locks up, his mind struggling to catch up.

”…are you sure?”

his voice is so small. so uncertain.

because he’s already lost someone before.

and if he lost you too—if this was his fault, if he wasn’t fast enough, smart enough, good enough—

he doesn’t know what he would do.

even when he’s finally convinced that you’re not dying, he still refuses to leave your side. he hovers awkwardly, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve, clearly itching to do something to make himself useful.

so he does what he knows best—

“d-do you wanna lay down? i, uh, set up a recovery station in my room. blankets. snacks. medkits—y’know, just in case. w-we can watch something comforting, i won’t even complain about the genre. promise.”

his voice is still wobbly, still slightly frayed at the edges, but the tension in his shoulders finally eases when you nod.

and later—when you’re safe, resting, and no longer in pain—

his fingers brush against yours, hesitant, unsure, before finally intertwining them properly.

“never scare me like that again, okay?”

his voice is quiet. but this time, it doesn’t shake.

because he won’t lose you too.

he can’t.

malleus draconia

malleus has lived longer than most.

a century and more has passed since his birth. he has seen generations rise and fall, watched mortals grow old in the blink of an eye. nothing unsettles him. nothing disturbs his calm.

but then he sees you hurt.

and the entire world stands still.

his breath halts, and the air around him shifts—the very atmosphere bending beneath the weight of something primordial, something as vast and unrelenting as the storm-laden skies over the land of briar.

his first instinct is not panic.

it is rage.

“who did this?”

his voice is low, steady, but beneath the surface, something dangerous lurks.

his emerald eyes gleam, faintly glowing in the dim light. the shadows stretch taller, the wind outside stills, the very earth itself seems to pause, as if the land itself knows what kind of wrath is building within him.

his hands twitch at his sides, claws curling, magic crackling faintly at his fingertips—not for you, never for you, but for whoever was foolish enough to harm you.

but he stops himself. forces himself to breathe.

because you come first.

he is in front of you in an instant, his movements as fluid as shadow, his expression unreadable. his hands—hands that could command storms, reduce castles to rubble, shatter the very sky—reach for you with an almost unnatural gentleness.

“let me see,” he murmurs, his fingers ghosting over your injury, tracing the bruises, the cuts, the places where pain lingers.

his touch is featherlight, his movements precise, but beneath it all, his body is rigid with barely restrained fury.

“who did this?” he repeats, quieter now, but infinitely more terrifying.

if you don’t answer, if you try to downplay it, if you lie—

his gaze darkens, something thunderous in his silence.

“do not shield them from me.”

he is not so easily deceived. he sees the hesitation in your eyes, the way you waver, the way you avoid his gaze. if you refuse to tell him, it does not matter—he will find out on his own.

but first—

“hold still,” he murmurs, raising his hand.

a pulse of magic hums through the air, a whisper of ancient power curling around your form like a protective shroud. the ache dulls, the wounds begin to close, the pain fades.

“better?” he asks, softer now, something tender hidden beneath the weight of his fury.

but even as he tends to you, even as he ensures you are safe—

his mind is already elsewhere.

because someone hurt you.

and for that, there will be consequences.

malleus does not act rashly. he does not lash out blindly.

but the guilty party will know fear.

“stay here,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your cheek for just a fraction of a second, his touch lingering. “rest. recover.”

and then, as he turns, the air thickens, the weight of his presence pressing down like the hush before a storm, like the crackling stillness before lightning splits the sky.

because someone has made a grave mistake.

and if the gods are watching, they would be wise to offer their mercy—because malleus draconia will not.

congrats on making it to the end! if you enjoyed this, likes, comments, follows, and reblogs are always appreciated—they help motivate me to keep creating and sharing!

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mrkeatingsblazer · 18 hours ago

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defending the characters does equal loving the fandom are you okay? Bens in the wilderness with a bunch of teenagers who don’t listen to him. We see that play out the second Lara Lee asks him what he’s gonna do about it when she goes on the plane. ITS A PLOT POINT. It’s literally why Jackie dies; she signifies change in leadership and unlawfulness. Coach Ben being an adult does not matter to the girls anymore, it’s why mitsy was so okay with drugging him because in her mind he’s still holding onto civilised laws and that’s not an excuse for rape even if she thinks he wants her. That’s an excuse I see so much and it’s disgusting. And on mitsy and Ben; that girl took off his leg without barely thinking and has shown multiple other signs of mental illness that from someone in the show could look like her potentially snapping and becoming dangerous.

It’s a tactic many victims use; easing their oppressor into a state of comfort because he doesn’t know how this crazy girl is gonna react. You saying that he shouldn’t be around kids is so strange. Like what do you think he’s a pdfile?

Saying that what happened at doomcoming “wasn’t the best” is why I hate you fans, doing exactly what I said by pushing everything about the boys away or seeing it as less important. It being a women show shouldn’t mean the fandom should become a bunch of femcels who hate the guys. Shauna jerks off to a picture of her daughter and her boyfriend? Completely fine who cares Shauna is complex. Travis, a teenage boy in the 90s, saying something sexist in the first season- fuck him, im thankful he dies, doesn’t deserve anything. The same can be said with Ben who the fandom villainies’ because of his age. AGE DOESNT MATTER IN THE WILDERNESS. He has no power. The fact you think that what he’s done is so bad compared to the rest of the girls is mad. He has to die? But not the group eating people? (love those little freaks but point still stands).

Also telling me not to talk about my opinions on the show is so weird. Public platform, public opinions. You also attack a character you are gonna get fans of that character on your back. If you don’t want “debates” don’t post hate posts.

“omg poor coach ben someone save him from misty” i hope he meets his demise at her hands actually

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valkyriexo · 2 days ago

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When You Start Getting Distant Because You’re in a Relationship | Maknae Line

ᑉ³pairing; Friend! OT8 x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Headcannon, angst

ᑉ³warnings; none I think!

ᑉ³authors note; You guys seemed to like the hyung line! Here is the Maknae Version Hyung Line

╰┈➤ Han

Tries to act like nothing’s wrong, but it’s so obvious something is. He still jokes around, still sends you funny messages—but there’s hesitation now, a nervousness in his texts that wasn’t there before.

Overthinks everything. Did he say something weird? Is he being annoying? Are you ignoring him on purpose? His brain runs in circles, making up worst-case scenarios.

Writes songs about it. Instead of telling you how he feels, he pours it all into lyrics....verses full of confessions, frustration, and so much longing.

Tries to distract himself with food and games, but nothing feels the same. Even his favorite snacks taste bland when you’re not there to steal a bite. His high scores don’t feel like victories when you’re not there to celebrate.

Gets weirdly competitive with your S/O—even if they don’t know it. If they post a funny joke, he has to post something funnier. If they do something romantic, he mutters, “I could’ve done it better.”

Has a hard time Dealing with his emotions. Emotions and Han Jisung don’t mix well...so it explodes out of him all at once.

"You’re really just gonna leave me behind like this?"

The words come out sharper than he intended, but he can’t stop them. His usual playfulness is gone.

"I mean, seriously—what happened? One second, we’re fine, and the next, I barely exist to you."

He lets out a dry laugh, shaking his head. "You don’t text first anymore. You cancel plans. And every time I try to talk to you, it’s like you’re already halfway out the door."

You try to explain, but he just throws his hands up.

"I get it, okay? You have someone now. But did that mean I had to lose you completely?"

His voice is quieter now, but his eyes, usually so full of light, are clouded with something else.

"I was supposed to be that person."

His throat bobs as he swallows hard.

"You think I didn’t notice? The way I felt whenever you were around? The way I’d drop everything just to see you smile?" He laughs bitterly. "I knew it before I even admitted it to myself."

Then, finally, his voice barely above a whisper—

"But I guess I was too late, huh?"

And for once, Jisung has no joke to cover up the pain.

╰┈➤ Felix

Tries to be supportive, even when it hurts. He forces a smile, tells you he’s happy for you, and pretends like his heart isn’t sinking every time you mention your S/O.

Still checks up on you, even if you don’t check up on him. Sends you little “Did you eat?” or “Get home safe” texts, even when you stop replying as fast as you used to.

Bakes way too much. His kitchen turns into an emotional war zone....cookies, brownies, cakes, anything to keep himself busy. But no matter how many sweets he makes, nothing takes away the bitter feeling in his chest.

Tries to keep up his usual affection, but it feels… different. He hesitates before reaching for a hug, pulls away too quickly, laughs a little softer when you ruffle his hair.

Plays video games as an escape. But even when he wins, it doesn’t feel as satisfying when you’re not there to celebrate with him.

Finally breaks when he realizes you’re truly slipping away. He wanted to be patient, wanted to be the good friend, but that didnt go as planned.

"You don’t need me anymore, do you?"

Felix’s voice is quiet, almost trembling, but his eyes are locked onto yours...searching, begging for an answer he’s afraid to hear.

"I mean… I get it," he laughs weakly, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. "You have someone now. You’re happy. That’s all I ever wanted."

He pauses, swallows hard.

"But… was I ever that important to you?"

Your breath catches, and he takes a shaky step back, hands clenching at his sides.

"Because it doesn’t feel like it anymore." His voice wavers, his deep tone softer than ever. "I’m still here, you know? I still—" He stops himself, letting out a quiet sigh.

Then, almost too soft to hear—

"I still love you."

It’s out before he can take it back, and when he sees your eyes widen, he lets out a small, sad chuckle.

"I tried to ignore it. I told myself it was enough just to be near you. But then you started pulling away, and suddenly, I wasn’t even part of your life anymore."

His voice cracks, and he shakes his head, looking down.

"I should’ve told you sooner, shouldn’t I?"

When he looks back up, his usual warmth is dimmer.

"But it’s too late now, isn’t it?"

╰┈➤ Seungmin

Acts like he doesn’t care—but oh, he cares. His usual teasing gets a little sharper, his sarcasm a little more pointed. He pretends everything is normal, but his eyes tell a different story.

Stops reaching out first. If you want to talk to him, you can text him. (Except he still waits for your messages, still checks his phone way too often, still hopes.)

Gets quieter around you. Normally, he always has a witty remark, a playful jab...but now, there are more pauses, more silences that stretch a little too long.

Starts staying late at practice, distracting himself with work. If he can’t talk to you, he’ll at least be productive about it.

Refuses to admit he’s jealous, even when it’s painfully obvious. If someone points it out, he scoffs, “Jealous? Of what? Please.” (Meanwhile, his grip on his water bottle tightens.)

Finally breaks when he catches you actively avoiding him. He was fine with being second place.....until he realizes he’s not even in the running anymore.

"Are you serious?"

Seungmin’s voice is steady.....too steady. He stares at you, his expression unreadable, but there’s something burning behind his eyes.

"So this is how it is now?" He lets out a short, humorless laugh. "You don’t even bother pretending anymore, huh?"

You shift uncomfortably, and he shakes his head, jaw clenching.

"You didn’t even notice, did you?" His tone is sharp, but there’s something underneath it...something fragile, something aching.

"I stopped texting first. I stopped calling. I stopped everything just to see if you’d even care. And guess what?" He exhales sharply, looking away for a moment before meeting your gaze again.

"You didn’t."

The words hang in the air, heavier than either of you expected.

For a second, he looks like he wants to stop himself. Like he wants to shove the words back down. But then he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"Do you even know how stupid I feel?" His voice drops lower, quieter. "Standing here, saying all this, when I already know how it ends?"

Then, almost as if the confession is being dragged out of him—

"I liked you, you know."

A bitter smile tugs at his lips.

"Maybe I still do."

His fingers curl into fists at his sides, but his voice stays painfully steady.

"But I’m not going to beg for your attention."

With one last glance...one that lingers just a second too long...he steps back.

"So if you’re going to keep pushing me away, then fine. I’ll stop trying."

╰┈➤ Jeongin

Tries to play it cool but completely fails. He acts like everything is fine, but his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes anymore.

Laughs less around you. Normally, he lights up when you’re near, but now, his laughter feels forced...like he’s just going through the motions.

Overthinks everything. Did he do something wrong? Did he annoy you? Or are you just done with him? His thoughts spiral, but he never asks, too scared of the answer.

Becomes awkwardly formal. Where he used to call you cute nicknames or casually tease you, now it’s just “Oh, hey,” and “Yeah, sure.” Like he’s putting up a wall between you.

Starts avoiding you, even though you’re the one pulling away. If you don’t need him, maybe it’s better if he keeps his distance too. But it hurts more than he thought it would.

He sees you with your S/O and realizes he’s not the person you run to anymore. He wasn’t going to say anything, but his heart doesn’t listen.

"Do you even miss me?"

The question slips out before Jeongin can stop it, and when you turn to look at him, his lips press together like he already regrets saying it.

"Because it really doesn’t feel like you do."

His voice is soft, but there’s a rawness to it....like he’s been holding this in for way too long.

"I get it," he says, forcing a smile. "You’re happy. You have someone now. But..." His voice trails off, and he lets out a small, bitter laugh. "I guess I just didn’t think I’d lose you completely."

You start to say something, but he shakes his head.

"I used to be the one you told everything to. The one who could make you laugh even on your worst days." He swallows hard, voice growing quieter. "Now, I’m just someone you used to be close with, huh?"

He looks away, hands shoved in his pockets like he’s trying to keep himself together.

"I really liked you, you know."

The confession is barely above a whisper, like he doesn’t even want to hear himself say it.

"But I guess that doesn’t matter anymore, does it?"

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kosmicdream · 2 days ago

Text

now for the NRD character sexualities! which this list is thankfully a lot shorter.

Gaueko - gay gay homesexual gay. Top-leaning switch but isn’t totally opposed to mixing that up for the right person. Will flirt with women in the chance that might crack their egg, which has happened more than once. His preference is other trans men.

Inside!Welt - gay as well what a shock, top-leaning switch but gaueko knew how to press the right buttons so he usually was the sub in their dynamic (although he hates to admit that.) Despite being gay, he was completely willing to hetero it up for Kamila.

Inside!Kamila - attracted to men.. Still working on accepting his trans-ness and what that means, but he doesn’t quite feel he can call himself a gay man yet. 100% a sub at least at this point, and probably always will lean that way even if he gets more comfortable with himself.

Dr Sugar - 100% a monster fucker for sure. If you cant violently kill him he isn’t interested, which is why his husband is perfect for him.

Nicky - he’s attracted to cute mortal humans he can scare, if he wasn’t deeply in love with his husband - Kamila would totally be his type. If he met him that is.

Laggard - he’s a dog.. I mean i know that probably doesnt count, but he doesnt really know what gender or sexuality means. He is a necrophile though, for sure.

Teddy - he was pretty sure he was straight? But.. uh, he’s not sure anymore. please DONT ask him about this.

Outside!Kamila - closetted transguy but on demon HRT which is making trying to just survive even worse.

Outside!Welt - just a dog idk. Once again, not something that really matters. Is still a FATHER and trans for sure tho. Even as a dog.

BlueDemon!Kamila - a mystery at this point, but probably is also the same as inner/outside kamila. loves to cause drama, that's for sure.

Marrow - Transman, but kind of a little agender. Was willing to do basically anything to his body, to other bodies, for the purpose of magic, even with extreme taboos. Now, he is almost entirely a wooden mannequin without any genitals. He was more into intense hate-coded rivalry than traditional “romance”, however he did deeply fall in love with the mysterious “Karm”.. That didn’t exactly pan out in a healthy way either. Definitely an extreme person, no matter what facet of his life.

Hubert - he's just a walking dresser at this point, but.. i mean, he probably does derive a bit of sexual pleasure from doing chores or watching someone else fold laundry and do a proper job at it. its a bit creepy but that's all he has anymore, come on. at least he isnt the toilet.

#nasty red dogs

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nickeverdeen · 1 day ago

Text

Sunshine pt. 2 | Vi x fem!reader

Pairings: Vi x reader (to be romantic)

Type of fic: Fluff, Comfort

Warnings: Sickness

Summary: After not finding you at the café again, Vi starts to get more scared that it’s her fault you’re not showing up and decides to confront Caitlyn to help her out to find out what’s wrong.

Part: 1

Ps: This is the last part

—————————

It had been a week since the café incident, and Vi was still replaying it in her head—your warm smile, the easy way you joked, and the knowing smirk Caitlyn had thrown her way. Vi had never felt this way before, and it terrified her. She wasn’t sure what to do with the butterflies that wouldn’t stop fluttering in her stomach every time she thought of you.

So, naturally, Vi found herself walking to the café again, her excuse ready: she needed something for Caitlyn’s “workload.” It was flimsy, but it didn’t matter. She just wanted to see you again.

When she stepped inside, however, something was off. You weren’t there. Instead, a middle-aged woman stood behind the counter, her expression more neutral than kind.

“Uh, hey,” Vi began, scratching the back of her neck. “Where’s, uh, the other girl? She usually works here.”

The woman barely glanced at her. “She’s off,” she said flatly, returning to wiping down the counter.

Vi frowned. “Off? Like… she doesn’t work here anymore?”

The woman sighed, clearly not in the mood for questions. “I don’t know. She’s just not here today. Do you want something, or…?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Vi mumbled, backing out of the café.

She shoved her hands into her jacket pockets as she walked aimlessly through the streets of Piltover, her mind racing. What if you’d found out about the lie? What if she’d scared you off somehow? Her chest tightened at the thought. She needed to know if you were okay.

Vi barged into Caitlyn’s office later that day, her face a mix of worry and frustration.

“Do you know what’s going on with her?” Vi asked, skipping any pleasantries.

Caitlyn glanced up from her paperwork. “Her who?”

“The girl from the café,” Vi said, pacing the room. “She wasn’t there today, and the woman working there didn’t know anything.”

Caitlyn leaned back in her chair, raising an eyebrow. “You’re overreacting. She probably just took a day off.”

“But what if it’s not that?” Vi insisted, her voice rising slightly. “What if she’s mad at me, or I scared her off? I don’t know—what if something happened?”

Caitlyn sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You’re impossible.” She paused, watching Vi’s anxious pacing. “Fine. Give me a bit of time, and I’ll see what I can find out. But you owe me big one for this.”

True to her word, Caitlyn returned later that evening with an address scribbled on a piece of paper.

“How’d you even get this?” Vi asked, staring at it.

“Don’t ask,” Caitlyn said with a pointed look. “Just don’t do anything reckless, alright? If she’s upset, give her space. If she’s fine, then—”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” Vi said, already heading for the door.

The address led Vi to a small apartment in a quieter part of Piltover. She stood outside the door for a moment, second-guessing herself, before finally knocking.

The door creaked open, and there you stood, looking a little paler than usual but still managing a small, kind smile.

“Vi?” you asked, tilting your head in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

Vi rubbed the back of her neck, suddenly unsure of how to explain. “Uh, Caitlyn gave me your address. I went to the café today, and you weren’t there, so…I just wanted to check if you were okay.”

Your smile widened slightly, though it was clear you were tired. “That’s sweet of you, but I’m fine. Just a little under the weather, that’s all.”

Vi frowned, her eyes narrowing as she took in your flushed cheeks and slightly labored breathing. She wasn’t buying it. “You’re more than just ‘a little’ sick, aren’t you?”

You hesitated, clearly not wanting to admit it, but before you could brush her off, Vi gently nudged past you into the apartment.

“Hey!” you protested weakly.

Vi glanced around, noting the blankets piled on the couch and the half-empty glass of water on the table. “You’ve got pneumonia, don’t you?”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “How did you—”

“I’ve seen it before,” Vi said firmly, turning back to you. “You need to rest. Come on.”

You huffed a laugh, but there was no real fight in you. “Alright, alright, bossy,” you said, letting her guide you to the bed. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you—I’m not the best company right now.”

“Don’t care,” Vi said, pulling the blankets up over you.

You smiled up at her, your cheeks rosy from both the fever and her unexpected kindness. “You’re not as tough as you act, are you?”

Vi rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth twitched upward. “Yeah, yeah. Just get some rest, sunshine.”

As you started to drift off, Vi pulled a chair over to the side of the bed and sat down, her elbows resting on her knees. Quietly, almost without thinking, she began humming a soft tune—a lullaby her mother used to hum to her and Powder when they were kids.

Your eyes fluttered open one last time, catching the gentle look on Vi’s face as she watched over you. Despite her rough exterior, she looked so tender, so vulnerable, and it made your heart ache in the best way.

With a faint smile, you let your eyes close again, Vi’s quiet humming lulling you into a peaceful sleep.

#imagine #wlw #arcane #vi x reader #arcane vi #vi #vi x you #vi x y/n #arcane reader

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cal-daisies-and-briars · 2 days ago

Note

Max of 🔀

Please.

YEAH! Let's go.

1k for 🔀:

---

Clumsily, Buck lurches to his feet.

“Buck,” Bobby says in a warning voice. “Let’s just take it easy, okay?”

“What’s wrong with me, Bobby?” He demands.

“Uh…” Bobby’s expression is sort of helpless. “I don’t know.”

“Fuck,” Buck whispers.

Wobbly, he walks around Bobby, headed for his bathroom. He needs to look in the mirror. On his beeline, he passes Athena and the imposter. She has him cuffed to Buck’s staircase. He’s sitting on one of the steps, smirking at him.

“What the fuck did you do to me?” Buck demands.

Athena covers her mouth with her hand, looking at him.

The imposter laughs. “Nothing you don’t deserve.”

What the hell does that mean?

Buck continues onward into the bathroom. He turns on the light, looks into the mirror, and… And sees a stranger. Sees a thing. A creature. His reflection is completely foreign to him. Hell, his reflection isn’t even human.

He screams. He can’t help it. Terror grips him and he loses control of his better senses.

Bobby appears behind him.

“Buck, Buck,” he says. “It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay.”

“IT’S NOT!” Buck more or less shrieks.

“We’re going to figure this out,” Bobby promises.

“HOW? I’M GREEN!”

He is. He’s green. He’s fucking green.

“You’re… A little green,” Bobby admits.

Not like the Grinch or Shrek. Not quite that bad. More like… His skin has gone incredibly pale, and now seems to have a greenish hue underneath it. He looks sort of sickly, actually. Like… Like Daniel had, sometimes. Towards the end.

It’s not just that. It’s everything else, too. He has changed. His face is… Pointier. His chin, his ears, his cheekbones. His eyes are wrong. Wrong. His irises are such a dark green that almost bleed with his pupils. His hair is darker. He doesn’t have a birthmark anymore. It’s gone. Buck can see the traces of the face he knows, but… But this isn’t his face.

“What happened to me?” He gasps. “What am I?”

“You’re Buck,” Bobby says. “Right? You’re still Buck.”

“AM I?” Buck demands.

“Yes,” Bobby says firmly. “You’re still the same person I met, right? Because… Because if something happened, it happened thirty years ago. So you are still the man I know.”

Buck lets that process for a second.

You’re still the same person I met… If something happened, it happened thirty years ago…

“You believe him,” Buck’s face crumples. “Bobby, y-you… You believe him.”

“That’s not what I said,” Bobby replies.

“I-I can… You-you do. Bobby, I’m not… I didn’t steal…”

“I know,” Bobby insists. “I know that. You were four years-old.”

“B-but you believe…”

He believes that Buck isn’t Buck.

“Why don’t you come out of the bathroom,” Bobby suggests. “Talk to… To Evan-”

“I am Evan!”

Bobby’s face softens. “I know. I know you are.”

“Bobby, I-I have to be me. I-I have to be… I can’t…” Buck’s breathing becomes shallow. “I have to be Maddie’s brother. D-Daniel’s…”

His mother can’t be right. She can’t be right. She’s never said it again. Not once. Not since the day Daniel died. But Buck could never forget it. How the hell could anyone forget a thing like that? It’s seared into him like a brand. You’re not him and you killed my sons.

“Buck,” Bobby rests a hand on his shoulder. “I know who you are. In your core, I know.”

“Just not… Just not what I am?” Buck asks.

Bobby nods. “So we need to talk to the other guy. Because he knows more than us.”

Buck takes a deep breath. He feels sick. He feels dizzy. He wants to splash water on his face and in his eyes until he sees himself again. But what if… But what if this is himself?

“It’ll be okay,” Bobby promises.

“How do you know that?” Buck asks.

“Because Athena and I are here for you,” Bobby says. “No matter what.”

🟢

They keep the imposter - Evan - cuffed to the bottom of the staircase. No one trusts him. Not after he intentionally wounded Buck. Though, he could have done a lot more damage, Buck supposes. He chose a very superficial cut. That says something.

Buck’s knees are shaking. Bobby pulls him up a chair, but he and Athena remain standing. Best bet for Athena. She can be pretty intimidating when she’s staring down at you.

“Alright, Evan,” Athena says. “You’ve certainly got our attention here. It’s clear you know a lot more than we do about what’s going on. And it’s clear that you want something. So why don’t we help each other out?”

The imposter glowers at Buck.

“They’re incredibly good at tricking people,” he says. “The two of you shouldn’t feel bad for falling for it.”

Buck sits forward to argue, but Bobby puts a hand on his shoulder. Holds him back.

“Falling for what, exactly?” Athena asks.

“Well, look at him!” The imposter motions at Buck. “He’s not human.”

Athena glances back at Buck. She offers him a sympathetic smile. Like it doesn’t matter, to her, whether or not that’s true. Which is sweet and all. Except, it matters to Buck. It really fucking does.

“Okay,” Athena says to the imposter. “Maybe you’re right. Humans aren’t usually so… Green. What is he, then?”

“A changeling,” the imposter says.

“A changeling?” Athena repeats. “What’s that?”

“Like a fairy story,” Bobby says.

“Not a story!” The imposter snaps. “The truth.”

Buck can’t breathe. He really can’t breathe. He doesn’t know what the hell this guy is talking about. Fairies? That’s… That’s not real.

He looks down at himself. The green tint of his skin.

It’s not real.

Right?

“Can you explain that?” Athena asks.

“I was four years-old. I was on a trip with my family, in the woods. I was taken,” the imposter explains. “And they left him in my place. They left him behind.”

#daisies and briars writes #your fake name is good enough for me fic

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maimura · 2 days ago

Text

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^

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“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.”

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

#爱 › soph’s faves ♡#💬 ノ 𝗠𝗜𝗨𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔’𝗦 𝗥𝗘𝗖𝗦 •ᴗ• !#bye i went crazy with this one…#Sorry guys!!! Please give this a read!!!! ❤️‍🩹#i put a ‘read more’ thing now bc i realized i forgot do so for the last reblog of mines…#sorry guys i love lilis long fics too much 😿#lets see if she will Jump me for this reblog….

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partyshadow · 10 months ago

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BLOOD CURSE UPON BETHESDA AND AMAZON ONE MILLION YEARS

#fallout #party talk #holy shit it was bad #like even as just a show it was bad #i’m well aware of my own biases and i was already going into this with low expectations #but i have to congratulate the writers for making the bare minimum look like the gold medal fucking standard #the characters were mostly bland #the story was just a mishmash of the first and third games #the pacing was god awful #so was the writing generally #and don’t get me fucking started on the lore #to all the people who say ‘oh the lore isn’t that important! you have to make changes for adaptation!’#when someone makes an adaptation of a property i’m going to expect that property #everything is just a mischaracterization of all the lore from previous games #and what is with the obsession with making everything rubble and raiders all the time?#why can’t the ncr be around?#oh and as for shady sands and new vegas being nuked #don’t tell me shit like ‘the stuff in the games still happened the nukes fell after that!’#that doesn’t make it better #even if it still happened it doesn’t matter anymore #that’s still a retcon #is fallout forever doomed to be done poorly now?#god i hope not

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lesbiansanemi · 28 days ago

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Currently trying not to vomit over the fact that I essentially just lost almost a thousand dollars brb

#why me. why is it always fucking me am I just not allowed to have good things WHAT have I done to earn this kinda karma #my stupid fucking idiot roommate decided to resign the lease at the complex so I naturally contacted the landlords like hey. how does that #work with the security deposit cuz I paid that years before she even moved in do you guys need to come inspect the place after I leave #and they were like oh no ☺️ it just carries over to her. and I’m like. so. so even though I am not living here nor am on the lease #whether or not I get NINE HUNDRED FUCKING DOLLARS BACK hinges on this JACKASS not wrecking the place???? actually not even then because say #she DOESNT wreck the place when she moves out TURNS OUT the deposit goes to her cuz it’s her name and account attached to the fucking #apartment and I’m just left sitting here like how. how is that fucking fair how does that make fucking sense I have to trust that she doesnt #ruin the place OR GET FUCKING EVICTED BECAUSE SHE HAS NO JOB AND NO WAY TO PAY RENT and then also trust her to just give it to me when she #moves out. I’m actually sick I’m actually gonna fucking throw up and the landlords were like yes exactly ☺️ perhaps you could work something #out with her and she could buy you out of it and I’m just like. she doesn’t have a job she still hasn’t paid me for LAST months utilities #let alone this months do you HONESTLY THINK she is EVER going to pay me the 900 dollars I’m fucking owed #and it’s like does this actually affect anything? no. I didn’t budget with that money cuz I didn’t actively have it and that’s not smart but #like…. 900 dollars….. I could have paid off the rest of my credit card with that and also it’s just infuriating that that money is basically #just being GIVEN to this fucking bitch who I KNOW is not gonna keep that apartment in good shape and that’s again if she somehow doesn’t get #her ass evicted cuz she’s not paying bills why they even LET her sign her own lease there I do not understand she literally has no proof of #income but ig they probably didn’t check that cuz she technically already lived there I’m just so. I’m so tired and I’m so done can I PLEASE #stop being the one who constantly gets screwed fucking over in EVERY situation no matter fucking what #while all these fucking idiots and shitty fucking ppl get whatever they want and actively BENEFIT from me getting fucked over???? I’m done.#I’m so fucking done I am never living with someone ever again never being finanacially tied to anyone fucking again and you know what. thats #great goes well with me basically being convinced atp to never be vulnerable with anyone ever again and never trust anyone ever again and #never dedicate ANY part of my life in a genuine sense to anyone ever again I will be fucking alone in every sense for THE REST of my fucking #life and that’s that. it’ll be better. this kinda shit will stop happening. financially emotionally psychologically I will stop suffering #because holy fucking shit I can’t do it anymore man I’m sick of it I’m sick of trying to be a good person and depend on people and be #vulnerable and always uphold my side of the responsibilities and arrangements just to get fucking spit on like man if this is what being a #shit person gets ppl maybe I should try because they sure seem to get all the benefits and whatever the hell they want consistently and #always while I try and be considerate of others and devote myselves to them and this is all I fucking get for it #and ik I KNOW this is just the straw on the camels back and this is a lot of issues compounding and it’s not even about the money atp #but I’m just. I’m so fucking sick and tired and beaten down and I’m tired of trying I just want to be completely on my own #so at least if bad things happen or I feel like shit I only have myself to blame and it’s safer that way and I’ll have to stop feeling like #this and dealing with these types of things UGH

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no1ryomafan · 4 months ago

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I like to say I’m okay with my interests having very small/pretty non existent fandoms because that means no stupid drama even if I wish the things I liked were more acknowledged, it’s better to take them in a vacuum then mainstream cause some of the stuff I like if it got bigger would be more mixed, possibly even controversial-

and I still stay true to that but I also remember how my interests could’ve been decently popular yet all of them got screwed over in some fucking capacity somehow regardless if that was intentional or not and I low key get a little mad.

LIKE JUST AS A POINT OF REFERENCE (I’m listing these all in chronological release order):

Big O: flopped in Japan but when it was brought over to the states it apparently did well enough to get a season 2, but cn were fucking stupid and aired the second season on adult swim rather then its original home network toonami, which is likely why it fell into obscurity when it could’ve been up there with other old animes if people saw the entire thing because a lot of anime popular from toonami are remembered

Kikaiders anime: Was like only popular in Hawaii but the anime was dubbed and aired on adult swim- only problem is they gave it a 12:30 am time slot and even if it first aired in summer a lot of people probably skipped out on it- also I have a hunch that even tho big o on adult swim definitely got less traction it and kikaider afaik aired around the same time, and big o time slot came first. People if they did know big o got moved probably only watched adult swim for that then shut off the tv for kikaider, which further shows putting big o on adult swim was not a good idea. (Oh and the fact this was a anime reboot for a toku even if it was somewhat more accurate to the manga probably didn’t help the reception in Japan, next to how little interest there seemed to be for it given it was so short)

Shin Jeeg: Literally flopped so hard in Japan that it wasn’t even considered getting a dub besides Thailand and Italy, Italy being the only place Jeeg is fucking remembered. It’s no wonder this one probably the most forgotten among my interests despite being a dynapro mech and a reboot directed by fuckinv Kawagoe.

Casshern Sins: I have zero clue what japans reception of it was but probably not high when it’s “an edgy reboot”. As for the west it did got aired on toonami and is LITERALLY the only anime I like that is legally watchable on crunchyroll but it became forgotten cause it aired on toonami when people stopped caring for it, and crunchyroll only tends to show what’s popular so you’d only find this show from really digging.

Getter the only thing I’m not listing here next to it’s still decently remembered-big o is too, but at the same time it goes under a lot of mecha fans radars-but also cause I’m perfectly accepting of “the times it aired on tv it was super old and only part of it got dubbed, then the rest of it were ovas before not getting anime content for fucking years” like that’s a fair reason to be forgotten- but everything else just feels like I’m cursed 💀 (and I wonder how the cycle will continue when I gain yet another old anime robot interest because it will happen- eventually)

#meg text #I will say rn I’m ranting to rant because my life ahah hasn’t been well but I’m not going into it here #but I was talking to my friend last night who likes some of the stuff I like + other niche things and yeah it’s a curse #because you either have niche but it still has a decently large fanbase it’s just not popular #or you have fucking dead ass fandoms that can it even be considered a fandom? Who fucking knows #legit I try not to care about liking stuff with dead fandoms because I like it and that’s what matters but man when it happens constantly #will I ever go into bigger fandoms? Fuck no. Am I still allowed to be a little annoyed? A bit.#I’m not gonna bother trying to get people interested cause I know it doesn’t work most of the time especially when your pushy #I don’t like people being pushy with me anyways so it be hypocritical #also if anyone knows about reception shit with any of these lmk id love to hear cause some idk shit #even though I didn’t tag fandoms but that’s mainly cause they don’t need to see this 💀#I think this shit is why I also feel inclined to get into mecha that’s like- more known rather then the forgotten ones #like dawg I love to embody a true mecha fan of knowing random 70s show with a awful title but I can’t take this shit anymore

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seilon · 6 months ago

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shouldn’t have checked my bank account as expected my mother has taken thousands more dollars from my savings and has almost run me dry more or less. Cool!

#I’m going to fucking call the bank and ask about a second checking account because she’s never going to make her own fucking account #it’s been like a year since she said she would and it’s just not gonna happen #she owes me thousands of dollars via me paying her fucking overdraft fees and she always says ‘what you think I won’t pay you back?’ no!!!!!#no I don’t!!!!!!! because you literally never have!!!!!!!!!!!#and where the fuck are you going to get like 8000 dollars anyway. because that’s what she owes me at the very least #even if you want to factor in like. paying her monthly for the groceries she buys and cat food and whatever that’s still. thousands of #dollars. and the worst part about it is I just have no safety net anymore #because my savings is basically nothing at this point. like nothing that can help in a dire situation anymore.#I keep thinking about whatever im going to have to end up paying for top surgery and I WOULD have a significant amount saved up to #contribute to that but haha! no I don’t! it’s fucking gone!#and I’ve been getting paid basically fucking nothing lately because of how few hours they’re scheduling me so that does not fucking help #my last paycheck was literally like half of what I should be getting. I made like 1K in the past two paychecks. that’s fucking depressing #anyway I’ve given myself a headache #I’ve been avoiding looking at my bank account because I knew it would be bad and it’d stress me the fuck out but I also have been anxious #not knowing and my mother making a few vague comments that implied she must have fucked me over. so I checked today and yeah she sure did #if I don’t make a new checking account that she can’t access i am actually going to be broke within the nenxt few months at this rate #my head hurts and I am so upset I am so upset I work so fucking hard and it doesn’t even matter i just lose money constantly #I get nothing I just pay her fucking fees and pay for my tuition and pay for everything else of any significance #and I am not exaggerating I work my ass off. I am the only person I know at my job who begs to work holidays and extra days and stay as late #as possible and it . doesn’t even matter #im going to kill myself I swear to god. there’s shit I need to buy. what am I supposed to do.#kibumblabs #vent #like shit I need to buy for WORK. my manager is getting on me about not having proper shoes for example and yeah I can get a discount #through shoes for crews but I still dont have the fucking money for anything anymore #not unless I want to run myself into the fucking ground #I need a new binder badly. I need new black pants also for work since mine are so faded at this point.#I only have one fitted sheet that doesn’t have giant holes in it #I can’t stop thinking about my last paycheck it was literally the worst I’ve seen since starting this job a year ago. fucking infuriating

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peapod20001 · 8 months ago

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Did sleeping help

No </3

#vent #tsk. isn’t it like. if you hate everything then eat #if you think everyone hates you then sleep #if you hate yourself take a shower?#sooooooooo. uhhhhhhh. didnt. work?#hng. artfight... I was so excited I have so many ideas #but it’s like. everything is triggering me or making me upset or freaked out or sick. idk what to do #I go ‘oh lemme see what my friends have done so far’ and then I see an oc from someone not my friend anymore and I’m like. ougghhh #I feel like such a baby for caring. stupid for being upset still. it’s like it only mattered to me and no one else had to deal with such #crippling anxiety and stress because of it #everyone is getting so much done so fast and I STILL can’t submit the second thing I did. I’m going to lose my head or cry or both or die or #SOMETHING uhhhhhhggggggg and it’s like all my anxieties are circling back around cus it was this time last year shit hit the fan #I have college!! I have no clue what my plans are!! all I’m good for is making fake people and drawing said people!!#I’m such a fucking. stupid.. I wasn’t even supposed to take this last semester off. we just didn’t know what other classes to take or what #to focus on... I’ve been literally free all day every day since December and it’s like I’m STILL not doing anything worthwhile #mmm I’m so alone in this I can’t DEAL well I guess I’ve been ‘dealing’ but I don’t believe thinking about bad situations literally every day #since they’ve happened can be considered as ‘dealing’ with it. I doubt anyone else is thinking about it that hard but I can’t help it #I can’t do a complete cut off from the internet. my only friends are here! what then? then I’m just. some sad sack who doesn’t talk to #anyone? mmm this isn’t a good way to start the day but I can’t NOT think. it’s all I do. my brain is one of the things that makes be I can’t #self labotomize myself into being a chiller person without killing everything that makes me with it #ugh. I’m going to be stuck in this headspace forever. even with apologies and make ups or agreements to stay apart #I’ll still be the one dealing with the negatives and fallout from shitty situations. funny seeing as I still don’t understand how things #even escalated so fast. but whatever. I’m the bad wolf forever. can’t change that

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foxgloveinspace · 2 years ago

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Hulloooo! I just restarted my island last week! It's my personal nightmare currently but it'll get there. How have you been?

I’ve been pretty good! This weeks been a bit of a time cause I had cold that just completely zapped all my energy, but other then that, I’ve been doin pretty ok. Nothing to stressful or crazy and nothing too like.. exciting to talk about I guess, lol.

Hmmm, I think the most exciting thing that has happened is that I drove home from ‘the big city’ and I even drove in it, so like…. That was a bit crazy! Slowly getting there on the driving thing lmao.

I’m both really excited about starting over my ac island and like. Nervous lmao. I never really got very far in decorating it tho, so I’m looking forward to a completely fresh slate with it!

How about you? Anything cool, or just acnh (nothing wrong with that if it’s the answer tho 🥰).

#other then that.. my life has been taken over by sleep token (so please just blacklist them if you don’t like them cause I swear it’s all I #even post about anymore😭😭😭😭 I’m still confused about how I got here tbh.) and I’ve been knitting more again. and crocheting way more.#so that’s been my life oof #hihi!!!#kirishiimis #milo🖤#idk if this is.. like I just wanna be reassuring here but like I want you to know that.. like I still think of you very dearly as a friend #and I know you’ve been very busy with The Baby💛 but like I want you to know no matter the breaks you take I’m still here!#I hope that’s coming across the right way tho #I’m trying very hard to unmask my adhd and anxiety and just tell people things so I’m sorry if what I’m saying isn’t even making since oof #oh!!! idk if I told you this or not (oh well) my mom got a job so now I’m just.#constantly home alone which is cool lol. it’s been pretty good for my mental health tbh #hmmmmm. idk I feel like when people ask me for updates it’s just my hobbies cause nothing happens in my life anymore😂😂😂😂😂😂#edit: I did absolutely tell you about my mom getting a job… I think…… hmmmmmmm #eh doesn’t matter lol. I told you again🤷🏼🤷🏼🤷🏼

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libidinous-weeb · 9 months ago

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bnha is going into all this plot shit and blah blah katsuki blah blah tomura…i do NOT fucking care. can we get back to my boyfriend dabi please? for the love of GOD?

i do not give a fuck about this series i just want to see what happened to him but nooooo i have to wait for all this other dumb “main plot shit.” idgaf about katsuki crying like a little bitch in the hospital. WHERE. IS. DABI?!?

#this is mostly a joke before ya’ll jump down my throat #honest to god tho i stopped really caring about the main plot when they brought katsuki back to live with a JEAN HEART. fuck off #why even bother killing him in the first place if you bring him back the next chapter?#and the way you bring him back is so fucking STUPID #they shoulda let his ass stay dead #a good series should be emotionally impactful plot wise #i get that it’s shonen but still. if you kill a character off let them stay dead.#and maybe if they didn’t bring bakugou back to life in the ABSOLUTE DUMBEST WAY POSSIBLE i wouldn’t care so much #if you make a plot decision stick with it #if you endanger everyone’s lives but no one ever dies it’s low stakes #if you pussy out or change your mind AFTER YOU KILLED THE CHARACTER #you’re either a bad writer or a huge pussy #shonen series can be good without having to kill anyone #and there’s being over the top like JJK has been recently #where everyone dies but it happens so much and with so little buildup or follow up afterwards it doesn’t really matter to anyone anymore #weeb speak #bnha spoilers #bnha rant #rant #the plot twists in this series were very weak too #everyone can see it all coming it’s not really shocking #the characterization (of the boys only…sorry) was also good as was how quirks work #having them also have a downside and the world itself was really good #and the lore too was all great #the plot itself is kinda meh all things considered #just my opinion!!!

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not-neverland06 · 6 months ago

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Kid?

Logan Howlett x fem!mutant!reader A/N: I haven’t watched X-Men since I was a child, so I can’t promise this is going to be canon-compliant. I haven’t watched DP & W either, I’ve just been influenced by that one gif where Hugh Jackman shakes his head like a dog. I feel FERAL Also, I am not good at superhero names or coming up with creative powers. So you’re a mutant with matter manipulation and they call you Flux. I mean, superhero names are inherently ridiculous so I think this works. (Don’t judge me, I’m just here for the sexy man) Summary: You walk in on Logan and Jean in a compromising position and feel your heart break. You really thought he loved you, you were so wrong. (Or were you?)

It was your own fault, you should have knocked before you busted through the door. You only have yourself to blame as you struggle to catch your breath and swallow down the lump in your throat. The image of Logan standing between Jean’s bare legs is going to haunt you for a while. Their faces will keep you awake at night, cringing at yourself while you remember the humiliating moment.

You rush towards the door, a stupidly giddy skip to your step. You were a mutant, a superhuman, and getting a chance to talk to your crush should not have you giggling like a schoolgirl. Still, you’re blind to all logic when it comes to Logan.

You turn the corner, spotting the medbay and nearly ramming into the door you know he’s lurking behind. Charles had told you where to find him. Of course, you hadn’t paid attention to the odd tone of voice when he had very clearly warned you to knock. All you’d heard was Logan’s name and you’d zoned out for the rest of the conversation.

And, of course, you don’t knock. You grab the door’s handle and bust in, “Hey!” Your eyes widen and your stomach plummets with a depressing plop to the floor. Your eyes nearly bug out of your head when you see the way Jean and Logan are entangled in each other. He’s leaning over her, the muscles and veins in his neck pulsing with strain. Normally, that sight would have you nearly drooling.

Instead, all you can see is the flush on Jean’s cheeks and the way her pupils are dilated with want. Her nails are digging into his back, bare legs twined around his waist. There’s no way to misinterpret this. No way for you to later assure yourself that this was all just a misunderstanding.

The words stumble out of your mouth in a disjointed mess that even you can’t decipher. You stand there, jaw opening and closing like a fish out of water before you finally get it together. “Charles,” you stutter out, his name sounding like a question. You wince and finally tear your gaze away from them. “Sorry,” you chuckle, trying to play off your hurt as humor. “Charles needs us all for a mission.”

You don’t give them a chance to respond, you slam the door closed, ignoring what you think might be someone calling your name.

You shake off the mortifying memory and groan. Your head falls into your hands and you grip at your face until the pain distracts you from the embarrassment. It’s not too hard to push it all down, to pretend what happened didn’t make your heart crumble away into nothing.

Maybe it’s because you’re a mutant that you’re so used to rejection. You’re used to constantly being disappointed by people around you. Your childhood was nothing but cruelty, your crush not liking you back can’t compare to half of what you went through.

That��s what you tell yourself, at least, to try and pretend it doesn’t hurt as much as it does. You shove it down until you think you can’t feel that dull ache anymore. And when Jean and Logan walk into the room, looking more put together, you smile at Logan like you always do. It doesn’t turn down at the corners, your eyes don’t water. You take in a deep breath and look utterly unaffected.

He sits down beside you and leans towards you. “I can explain-”

You cut him off and shake your head. “Forget about it. I should have knocked.” You turn towards Charles who wheels himself to the front of the room. You dismiss Logan and ignore the way his stare burns into the side of your head.

Charles looks to Jean and Logan, a smile starting. Then his gaze drifts towards you and your chest deflates when you see the look on his face. He knows, the old miser probably coasted over your thoughts and he knows. He sends you a sympathetic look that makes you feel like a little girl who just got told unicorns don’t exist. “Jean, Logan, glad that you’ve finally joined us.”

Logan nods and leans back in his chair. But his eyes remain fixed on you and it makes you wish you could stab a fork into them. You let out a short, irritated huff of air and frown at yourself. Maybe you were a little more angry than you would like to admit.

You blame Logan for that. You never would have fallen so deep into infatuation if you hadn’t believed there was even a sliver of a chance with him. Always speaking so kindly with you when he would barely spare anyone a second glance. Constantly doing checkups on you after a particularly harsh training session with Charles.

Your mind runs over all the small things with him, everything you’ve done together. And you’re hit with a sudden nauseating thought. Oh my god, what if he sees me paternally?

You force yourself not to physically react but inside your throwing up and fucking freaking out. You feel a sudden spark of alarm from Charles and quickly do your best to fortify your mind so he doesn’t see your major mental freakout.

You’re not that much younger than him. Well, it’s not illegal, your crush on Logan. But what if this entire time, when you’ve been falling harder and harder for him, he’s just been platonically taking care of you? You’ve seen him do it plenty of times for the younger kids, as reluctant as he is to admit it.

You’re spiraling further and further into panic. So much so that you have no idea what’s even being discussed or what’s going on. You get onto the jet and have to ask Storm what you’re doing. She gives you a confused look but tells you nonetheless. Just some recon on a potential mutant trafficking ring. Nothing out of the ordinary, as depressing as that is. There shouldn’t be much violence, which is why your group is particularly small today.

You nod your head, moving like you’re in a daze as you throw yourself onto a seat. Logan sits beside you, an alarmed look on his face. “You alright, kid?”

The nickname, which is used to make your stomach flutter, makes you want to throw up. How have you missed it for this long? It was laid out so plainly before you. Of course, he doesn’t want you. Not when he has perfect Jean. Bile rises in your throat with a vicious ferocity when you glare over at Jean.

There’s a sudden petty, vindictive rage fueling you. The type you should have abandoned in high school, especially now that you’re grown. Instead, you feel like giving into Logan’s idea of what you are. You feel like reacting to all of this petulantly.

You ignore Logan and instead catch Jean’s eyes. Slowly, and with as much intention as you can force into your gaze, you look from her to Logan and then Scott. Her eyes widen and Logan scoffs beside you. She shakes her head minutely, silently begging you not to say anything. You smile at her and stand up.

You take a step towards Scott and Logan calls out an irritated, “Kid.” You ignore him and Jean eyes you warily as you approach. She stands like she’s ready to fight you and take the jet down just to keep you quiet. You reach Scott and can hear the way Jean takes in a sharp breath.

“Scott,” he looks up at you with his brows raised. There's a pause before you speak. Dragged on too long for Scott not to realize you’re planning something.

Jean takes a step towards you and you grin, “Mind checking my cuffs?” Scott gives you an odd look and his confusion only gets worse as Jean slumps onto the seat beside him. She’s not even trying to hide her relief. Scott shakes his head and holds his hands out, fingers gently probing around the cuffs on your wrists. The ones that keep your powers in check.

You’re still new to welding them. And they’re too entwined with your emotions for you to just have free range with them. If you hadn’t had the cuffs on this morning, you’re afraid you might have just turned everything around you into nothing but dust.

“They look fine, Flux.” His tone betrays his thoughts. He doesn’t know why you’d come to him for this when it’s Charles who usually deals with it. But this stupid, petty little display wasn’t for poor oblivious Scott. It was for the woman sitting next to him. The redhead whose still drilling holes into your skull.

You’ve got leverage over her that you’ve never had before. Scott wouldn’t take her little foray with Logan very well. And all it would take is a flick of your wrist to give him a very clear image of exactly what you’d seen. Then, her picture-perfect relationship would be over in a matter of seconds. You’re sure Logan would be more than pleased. But he doesn’t seem to understand that Jean just wants to have fun with him, she’d never choose him over Scott.

“Thanks,” there’s a bite to your tone that you’re not used to. You usually keep your emotions relatively in control. That way you won’t have to wear these cuffs one day. But you feel volatile today. You’re channeling your hurt and turning it into misguided anger.

You drop your wrists to your sides and stalk toward the front, hovering behind Charle’s and Storm’s chairs so you don’t have to look at the others. It doesn’t take long for you to feel the floor trembling under heavy booted steps.

Logan’s arms rest on the headrest of the chairs, bracketing you in between them so you can’t escape. He leans forward until his chest is pushed against yours and you can feel every ridge of his muscled torso pressing into you. You try not to suck in a breath, try not to play into the cliche of instantly forgetting why you’re angry when you’re faced with those muscles of his. It is hard, though, because he’s so handsome and so warm and you just want to melt into him.

“Wanna explain what the hell that was?” His voice is so low, whispering against the shell of your ear so only you can hear. You feel the vibrations of it against your back, his tone more gravelly than it should be.

You glance over your shoulder at him, face placid and blank. “What? Just needed some help.” Storm looks over at you both and rolls her eyes.

Logan opens his mouth to say something but she cuts him off. “Put a pin in the lover’s spat, we’re landing.” Using just a bit of your power, you push Logan off of you and head towards the back of the jet. There’s a slight jolt as you land and then the ramp opens up and you’re practically running into the snowy forest.

You don’t know where you are, mainly because you weren’t paying attention, you just know it's fucking freezing. The leather of your suit isn’t doing much to help fight against the chill. Charles stays on the jet and reminds you all that this is only meant to be recon. You’re partnered up with Logan, and as much as it irritates you, you’re not stupid enough to argue against it.

You have to put aside your personal grievances for this mission. You can’t risk the safety of mutants because the guy you like likes another girl. Logan seems pleased about it, stubbornly staying by your side even when you make it clear you want space.

You both linger behind the other’s as Storm leads you through the forest. Jean is being more touchy with Scott than normal. Either to assuage her own guilt or to rub it in Logan’s face, you’re not sure which. You nearly gag as you watch them whisper to one another, you glance over at Logan to see if he notices.

You’re startled when you see him already staring at you. His lips tick up into something mischievous when he catches your eye. That smug smirk on his face as he leans in towards you. “Wanna tell me what’s got you so pissed off?”

You roll your eyes and tamp down the rising tide of anger. “Nothing,” you bite out, jaw clenching the longer you stare at the back of Jean’s head. You’re surprised you haven’t chipped a tooth with how hard you’re grinding your teeth together.

He scoffs, not believing you for a second. He doesn’t say anything, just gives you an expectant stare. You can taste the words forming on your tongue, an irritating urge to just spill your guts overcoming you. Before you can stop yourself you blurt out, “I’m a little surprised that’s all.”

“Oh yeah, ‘bout what?” You hate how amused he sounds, the chuckle just lying in wait under his words. Like your anger is funny to him, like he didn’t just break your stupid fucking heart.

You stop walking, not feeling as intimidating as you want while you shiver and huddle into yourself. He seems perfectly at ease in his leather jacket and beater, still refusing to wear the uniform. He leans back and looks at you with a fondness that you can’t tell if you love or hate. “You and little Miss Perfect.” You spit the nickname with enough venom to make both of your eyes widen.

Logan rolls his eyes and takes a step towards you, again, Storm interrupts you both. “Guys, really?” Everyone turns around to stare and you will the heat in your face away. “Not the time,” she scolds and you brush past Logan to catch up with the others.

You come upon a warehouse, it’s nearly camouflaged under all the snow. You see two guards waiting outside the metal doors and you all disperse behind the trees. Storm glances towards Jean who focuses on the guards. They drop to the floor and you wave your hands, their guns melting into puddles of metal.

Logan and Scott move forward, sliding the large metal doors open. You wince at the loud screeching as the rust flakes off the sides. There’s a collective quiet as you all hold your breath, waiting for them to give the all-clear. Once they run inside and run back out, you and the others quickly get to your feet and rush into the warehouse. Logan closes the doors again as you make it inside.

“No one here?” Storm checks. Scott shakes his head and you frown. That doesn’t make any sense. Why would there be guards if there was nothing inside?

Your question is, unfortunately, answered a minute later. You find a pile of metal crates stacked on top of each other. A large beige tarp covers them. You tug at the corner, letting the fabric slide off. Your eyes flutter with disappointment, “Guys! Over here,” mutants sit inside the crates. Each of them stares at you with varying degrees of mistrust and fear.

As awful as it is, you’ve gotten used to these quiet depressing missions. There aren’t usually many mutants in one place. They don’t like to keep the product in one spot for too long. There are only four kids here. The youngest is eleven and the oldest is seventeen. There’s nothing physically telling about their abilities so you assume it must be psychic powers.

They don’t want to come with you until you all give them a demonstration of your powers. Proving that you’re not just trapping them and taking them somewhere worse. You’re nearly out the door when Charles's voice rings loudly through all of your minds.

You wince at the volume, hands coming up to grip at your hair as he shouts, “Behind you!” A gunshot rings out, something hot rips across your wrist and you gasp in pain. There’s a clatter of metal as your cuff drops to the ground, the bullet having destroyed it. Without them both, they’re useless. One won’t work without the other.

You glance up at Logan, a panicked look on your face. You can already feel the tidal wave of power thrashing and building in your chest. It’s been so long with the safety net that you forgot how bad it gets without the cuffs.

“We need to get you out of here!” He shouts over the gunfire. He herds the group behind a cluster of metal shipment boxes. It provides enough cover for you all to try and figure out an escape plan.

You listen to the other’s worried voices, each of them trying to console the kids. You don’t know their powers yet. Don’t know what might go wrong if they get too scared and can’t control their abilities.

You can’t speak, breaths coming short and fast as you clutch your wrist to your chest. You know it’s delusional, hoping that if you keep a tight grip like the cuff you might be able to control yourself. You can already feel the energy leaking out of you, the ends of everyone’s hair stands on end. The wall in front of you warps and cracks like it can’t decide if it’s liquid or solid.

You grit your teeth and look only at Storm. “You need to get out,” you force the words out. It causes physical pain to try and keep everything at bay. You can feel pressure building in your forehead, pushing out until you think you might explode.

“We’re not leaving you,” Logan snaps. There’s shouting going on behind you, a pause as they all reload their guns.

“Wasn’t a question,” you grit out. You look towards Jean and there’s a moment where you both put aside your differences. You both know how stubborn he is, how much he’ll fight against leaving you behind. Regenerative powers or not, it's dangerous to even be close to your gift now. You can see them all straining against the ebbing flow of your powers. Their skin shifts unnaturally like you’re already altering the atoms of their being.

This is why you’re only allowed to train with Charles and Jean. They can get in your head, shut it down when you can’t. You’re not sure you’re going to survive yourself. Logan glances between the two of you and practically growls at Jean, “Don’t you fuckin’ dare-”

His words trail off into an unintelligible slur as he slumps forward, Jean having knocked him out with her powers. Scott grabs him and grunts under the weight of his body. “I’ll cover you,” you gasp the words out. Anything but focusing on your powers causes physical strain that makes you feel like you’re being tugged in a hundred different directions. “Just get them out,” you nod towards the kids.

Storm nods and you slip out of cover. It isn’t hard to push your powers in one direction, to solidify the air in front of you so the bullets ricochet harmlessly off. You listen to the whine of the metal door and wait for the others to be gone.

“They’re in the jet,” Charles's voice rings out. “Don’t do this,” he warns. You can’t think of a response, you’re not even sure what you would say. You never thought you would be able to approach death this calmly, or that this would be how you die. It feels almost pathetic, dying because you lost control on a recon mission.

At least those kids are safe. It’s not a bad reason to die. Just not great. You glance down at the other cuff on your right hand, the air around it fluctuates until it melts off your wrist like liquid metal. With the last barely there tether off your powers, you close your eyes and release the tidal wave.

It feels like a dam exploding. It doesn’t leak fluidly from you, it rips through you like a hailstorm of knives. Tears apart anything in its path and rewrites the molecular build of everything in its path. Screams echo through the air as men’s bones turn into brittle dust and their hearts morph into something inorganic. You’re blind to everything around you, vision clouded by the horrific release of energy.

You can feel warmth leaking down your face. Blood still pours from the wound on your wrist, and fresh blood from other wounds you can’t even feel. You don’t know when the screams stop, or when you’re finally drained. But you feel like an empty husk as you drop to the floor, your head bouncing harshly against the cement as everything goes black.

“I’m gonna kill you,” Logan says with a grin, glaring at Scott even though it’s Charles who is holding him back. He’s got a firm mental grasp on Logan, keeping him locked into place while he focuses on the warehouse.

They’re waiting for the all-clear. The others know there’s always the possibility that they’re going to be collecting a body. But none of them are willing to say that, not with the look on Logan’s face. His muscles look ready to pop out of his skin with how much he’s fighting against Charles’s hold.

Scott backs away from Logan with a scoff. He stands near Jean, but she can’t take her eyes off the restrained man. Nothing had happened this morning, Flux had seen to that. Interrupting them just as they’d started. Seeing the way he’s acting now, she’s starting to believe that nothing is ever going to happen.

He’d looked like he was about to dismiss her when she started making a move. She can see the anger on his face, it seems he’s only ever pissed off. But underneath that, as much as he hides it, she can see the fear. He’s terrified that they're going to walk in there and you’re going to be dead.

Jean can feel the fear of the others as well. They’ve only seen you lose control once and that had almost leveled the mansion. Charles had stopped you then, but the loss of the cuff had been so sudden Jean just barely had enough strength to keep the others blocked from your powers. She didn’t have enough time to shut you down.

Jean, as much as she’s tried to deny it and dismiss her suspicions, can’t look Logan in the eye and ignore it anymore. It’s never been her that he’s wanted. The way he trails along beside you, always prodding and poking until you’re pissy and mouthing off. It’s not done because he finds antagonizing people fun, it's because he loves seeing you all worked up and passionate. He doesn’t view you through the same platonic lens he does the others. You’re something else to him, something she doesn’t want to name, afraid of the bitter taste it will leave on her tongue.

Charles slumps back in his chair and Logan suddenly lunges forward. He looks a little surprised by the sudden freedom of movement, but before any of them can stop him he’s running out of the jet. “Logan,” Jean tries to call after him but he’s already a distant blur.

Scott sighs and starts down the ramp. “Come on,” he mutters. He’s the last one who should be coming along. If anything is wrong with you, he’ll end up being Logan’s punching bag. Jean follows reluctantly, she’s not sure she wants to see what’s happened.

Your powers are too similar in their volatile nature. The way they rule you and come so close to destroying you when you use them too much, is too familiar to Jean. She doesn’t want to see you lying dead on the floor and be reminded of her own mortality. But someone needs to make sure Logan is stuck on a leash.

They reach where the warehouse should be. It’s nothing but a pile of rubble now. Throughout the wreckage, Jean can make out odd pools of liquid, some writhing, others still. She can only assume that these had been the men shooting at them. She doesn’t see your body, none of them do. But Logan isn’t giving up.

He lifts different pieces of metal and tosses them off into the forest. Jean doesn’t sense your presence anywhere but she doesn’t have the heart to tell Logan to give up. After a few minutes of searching, she almost tells him to quit. But she can’t see him anymore. He’s disappeared somewhere behind a particularly large pile of roofing. A moment later, Logan stands up. His jacket is gone, wrapped around the body in his arms. None of them are close enough to see if you’re breathing. And he doesn’t say a word as he brushes past them, just keeps going back to the jet. Ororo, Scott, and Jean all share a silent look. None of them prepared for the potential fallout that’s going to happen after this.

The first thing you feel is two familiar bands of metal around your wrists. The comforting feeling of the cuffs is enough to have you sinking further into the pillows surrounding you. Then you hear the beeping in your ear, feel the cool blow of AC, and become startlingly aware of the fact that you’re in a bed you don’t recognize.

You groan, eyes peeling open painfully as your lashes get stuck on your skin. You reach up to rub at your face but your arms feel too weak to lift. You give up on the thought, instead staring up at the ceiling and waiting for your vision to refocus.

A throat clears in front of you and you nearly jump out of your skin. Sitting at the end of your bed, arms crossed and a fierce glare on his face is Logan. His feet are propped up on the small table beside you. He quirks a brow and gives you a sardonic grin, “Finally awake, princess?”

Normally the name would have you up and doing somersaults, but there’s something distinctly negative and disappointed lacing his tone. It squashes any and all butterflies in your stomach. You grimace as you try and sit up. Logan is up in an instant, an annoyed look still on his face as he helps you up.

You can’t help your dopey smile at how gentle his hands are on you. Even pissed off, he treats you so kindly. Maybe it’s the drugs relaxing you, or the fact that you almost died, but you can’t remember whatever made you mad at him. You can only feel the slide of his calloused hands against your arms, the way you shiver under his touch and crave more.

He pulls the chair closer to you with a loud scratch of metal feet on the linoleum. You groan at the loud sound and he huffs, throwing himself down in the seat. “How do you feel?”

Your head sinks back against the wall and you finally realize you’re in the medbay. It’s why everything smells so sterile. “Like I got hit by a semi.”

He barely lets you finish your thought before he spits out, “What the fuck were you thinking?” He doesn’t ease you into this at all and you frown. You’re not sure why you would expect him to ever beat around the bush. That’s not his style, he’s always been blunt. Even when others wish he wouldn’t be.

“What else was I supposed to do?” You ask, voice weak. Your throat feels like it’s been ripped apart. Idly, you wonder if you had been screaming in the warehouse or if this was just general strain from the whole ordeal.

“Not put yourself at risk like that.” He leans forward, voice stern and bordering on shouting. You know he’s holding back. As much as he wants to lay into you right now, he’s stopping himself from going completely out of his mind. You appreciate it, but you almost wish he would just yell at you. You wish you had a reason to resent him, to finally get over him. “Not have Jean knock me out like that. You don’t get to make those decisions for me.”

It’s completely inappropriate and horrible timing, but you can’t help but scoff at the mention of Jean’s name. Can you not have one conversation that’s not tainted by the mention of the redhead?

Logan’s mouth snaps shut and he glares at you in disbelief. You squeeze your eyes shut, not willing to face him as embarrassment washes over you. No wonder he always calls you kid. You’re not exactly acting like an adult. You’re being a brat and for such a stupid reason too.

Just because you like him doesn’t mean he has to reciprocate. You can’t just force your feelings on someone. “Logan,” you whisper his name, “Sorry. I’m sorry-”

He cuts you off before you can finish. Some of the anger, but not all, has ebbed from his expression. He almost looks like he’s smiling. “Jean? That’s what this is about? Jealous or something, sweetheart?”

You sputter, shocked little noises leaving you but no words. After a solid minute of restarting a sentence you don’t know how to end you finally land on a squeaky, “Who?” If you weren’t so mortified, you might have just thrown yourself out the window. Out of every cop-out you could have gone with you chose to just pretend you didn’t know who she was. Maybe you could make this work, like selective amnesia.

Your shame only builds as Logan laughs. You cover your face and wish you could bury yourself six feet deep and never come up. You feel two rough hands wrap around your wrists, tugging your own away from your face. You don’t have the energy to fight back, so you keep your eyes on his chin. Too afraid to meet his gaze.

“Come on,” he mutters, gently nudging your chin up until you’re forced to look at him. You're caught off guard by the look in his eyes. You recognize it, but you’d only ever seen it directed at Jean. It’s the same way you’ve always looked at him. Pure unguarded want and desire.

The hand on your chin drifts back, fingers tangling in your hair and gently resting on your jaw. He tugs you forward until your lips are nearly touching, breaths mingling with every exhale. “Only ever wanted you, darlin'.’”

The kiss catches you off guard. It shouldn’t, deep down you knew it was coming, but the intensity behind it, the way you can practically taste how bad he wants this, wants you, catches you off guard. You lean into him, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting yourself melt into his hold.

His free hand drifts to your waist and clutches the flimsy hospital gown until you hear it tear. You part your lips, deepening the kiss so you can finally taste him. It’s cigars and whiskey, something you should hate but is entirely intoxicating when he’s holding you so tightly. Fireworks are going off in your mind, sparks darting between your fingers as the cuffs struggle to contain all the energy suddenly pushing out of you.

He can feel you holding back, squeezing you like it’s a promise he can take it. Take everything you throw at him. You let go as much as your cuffs will allow you. Let the energy blanket you both so you can’t hear your heart monitor going off like crazy. So you don’t feel anything other than each other. You think you’re going to devour each other like you’ll just keep kissing until neither of you can take it anymore. You don’t want to let go of him, don’t want to lose this moment.

But you have to breathe. You don’t get to just keep living the way he does. You pull away from him slowly, every part of you dreading separating from him. His forehead drops against your own, his laughter playing along your lips as he finally hears the monitor going haywire.

You groan, flicking your wrist and shutting it off so it can’t betray how flustered you are anymore. He gently nudges you aside so he can sit beside you on the bed. You don’t waste a second before you’re draping yourself across his chest and siphoning his warmth. He chuckles, arms coming up to wrap around you.

“Can’t believe you were jealous of Jean.”

“Shut up,” you snipe. You look up at him and glare, “How else do you explain what you two were doing?”

He leans forward and gives you a smug grin. “She came onto me, sweetheart.” Your face screws up in distaste and jealousy. She’s going to need to learn to keep her hands to herself. He seems to feel the way you tense up, he huffs in amusement and rubs your back. “Relax, you’re gonna blow your fuse again.”

You glance down at your wrists and nuzzle further into him. You can’t believe you could have been laying on him this whole time. You never want to use a blanket again, not when you’ve got him. “I’ll be fine now that I’ve got my cuffs.”

His hand stills on your bicep. He squeezes it before his hand drifts up to your chin and he tilts your face up again. “I don’t ever want to see that again.” You’re a little surprised by the sudden shift in tone, but you knew this was coming.

“I had to, Logan. I either took you all down with me or I went on my own.”

Logan frowns and takes in a deep breath. You place a hand on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. He smiles down at you, “Next time, take me with you. I’m not fucking dealing with Summers without you.”

You can’t help but chuckle. Your face grows warm and your chest expands with some odd gleeful feeling as he laces your fingers together. “Deal,” you whisper, still smiling at him.

A/N: Okay, this might be shit, I’m not sure. I sort of rushed the ending because as I was writing this I had another idea for him. I guess I’m officially off my hiatus.

#wolverine x reader #Wolverine x you #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x you #x men #deadpool and wolverine #Wolverine

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