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lsunstreakerl · 24 hours ago

Note

Kink Prompt! Tentacles please!

you are not the only person that asked for this, so here I present to you all: lowbrow tastes, shallow writing, recycled characters, zero depth, and a ficlet that is intended to solely feed my own lazy ego. because tentacle smut is the way to do that, clearly.

anyways- only 2.3k of this is actually smut, just a heads up. the other 2.6k is just because I realized how absolutely comical the potential here was, and kept writing. the back half of this is a complete crackfic.

I was actually intending to write this with daniel until I did some digging and realized every other tentacle max fic I could find has maxiel, so I'm switching it up here.

HELLLOOOOO: this is pretty explicit, obviously written for a kink prompt fill. here ye be warned, smut ahead.

pairings: charles leclerc/max verstappen

relevant heads up: here we go. monsterfucking, tentacles, extremely dubious consent (due to:) aphrodisiacs, biological bondage, kind of a breeding kink? one sided breeding kink, overstimulation, implied mind break

crack tags: they're in the fic technically but I'm absolutely not taking them seriously- mpreg (kind of), eggs (actually just the one), extremely short lived parenthood. because nature.

The cove is beautiful. Max likes to come out here on evenings, watch the sun set. He'd gotten a few weird looks when he said he was taking a vacation in Italy alone, but he's needed his own space- his first season of F1 had been insane, and he's finally old enough to travel on his own, away from Jos.

So now he's got a private rented villa, and he gets to spend his evenings on the beach. He settles on his back, uncaring as sand gets into his hair. The sand is still warm, and the temperature is perfect, the slightest breeze.

He feels himself getting sleepy, eyes drifting shut despite his best attempts, the tide lapping at his feet. He drifts for a little bit, half awake-half not, semi-aware of the tide rising to his knees, but he's not worried yet- that's about as high as it goes.

Something brushes against his foot- stray seaweed, maybe. He doesn't pay much attention to it, relaxed and warm.

It ghosts over his shin, half wrapping around his ankle, and Max frowns, starting to sit up so he can pull it off-

It tightens, and then Max screams as he's yanked, dragged into the sea faster than he can react.

He snaps his mouth shut- he didn't get enough air before he went down, he's going to die to a vengeful jellyfish, the ocean has decided it hates him.

He's still being moved, but now there's the seaweed texture around his arms, and then something is settling over his eyes, muscular and thick.

It completely blocks out his vision, and Max is panicking, trying to fight back- kicking his feet, squirming away- but nothing works, the things don't even budge.

His chest is starting to burn for air, and Max goes limp, trying to conserve energy, even though he's probably going to die down here to some fucked up kind of squid.

And then the water breaks over his head, and Max takes a desperate, gasping breath. He tries to kick his legs out, but there's something firm wrapped around them, winding up his thighs- he's being lifted into the air before he's suddenly on his back, smooth stone underneath him.

He can breathe but he can't see, renewing his struggle to get away from whatever it is. It's definitely not seaweed- too muscular and smooth.

A thick band is wrapping its way around his waist, and the sensation of it sliding across his skin makes Max shiver.

There's a hot breath by his cheek, and Max freezes- feels teeth lightly scrape against his neck.

"You weren't supposed to be out there."

The voice is mostly smooth, tinged with a slight amount of roughness, the hint of a French accent, and Max could swear it sounds familiar, but he can't pinpoint where.

He's afraid to move.

There's another soft scrape of teeth, this time over Max's cheek, and he can feel another band sliding across his chest, resting near his neck.

"Do you know how many others were watching you? You are lucky I was there, or this would be going much differently."

Max doesn't understand- he can't see, he doesn't know what's going on, and he's starting to freak out about how many things are moving on him, slimy and strong.

"But you smell so pretty, and you were all alone."

Max's breathing picks up, ragged and desperate as he starts struggling again, yanking at his arms and legs.

There's a deep rumble around him, and he realizes a second later it must be the thing. Another thick band wraps around his thighs, yanking them apart and holding them there as the one around his neck fully wraps around, and Max realizes he's in danger.

"They would have loved to have you, yes. You fight so pretty,"

The voice moves away from him, speaks up again somewhere near Max's stomach.

"And you'll be such a good carrier, give such a pretty brood, yes? They all wanted you, but I'm the only one who gets you- I know what you need."

Max doesn't respond, feels like he's trapped in one of those cautionary tales they tell children- 'don't go to the cove alone or the sea monster will get you' kind of thing.

There's a smaller tendril making its way up Max's chest, curling near his cheekbone.

"If you had just stayed inside, this would not have been a problem, Max."

It knows his name. Max feels ice in his veins, suddenly much more afraid than he'd been a moment ago. This isn't random, it's personal.

His heart feels like it's going to beat out of his chest. He finally opens his mouth to talk-

"Please, I do not have what you want-"

He's cut off by the thing on his cheek shoving its way into his mouth, and he panics, thrashing again as it swells, keeps his jaw locked open. He gags when it brushes the back of his throat, and he thinks his eyes might be wet, but he can't tell with the band covering them.

Max makes a strangled whimper around it, and then there's a hand- a human hand- running its fingers along his cheek, tracing around his lips.

"Easy, Max. Give it a bit of time, it will be alright."

Max is shaking like a leaf, and there's saliva building up in his throat- but when he swallows, it's immediately building up again, and he realizes with horror it's not from him, it's from the thing- and if Max doesn't want to choke he has to keep swallowing.

There's another deep rumble next to him, and Max feels humiliated, mouth stretched wide as he practically sucks at it. It's doing something to his head, getting his wires crossed.

The rumble gets louder, and Max realizes he's relaxing, even in the grip of the thing.

"See, this is not so bad. You like this."

Max tries to find the strength to struggle again, but he can't find it- the best he can do is helplessly squirm against the tendrils holding him down, and all that achieves is a heightened feeling of sensitivity across his body.

There's a sensation sliding across his waist, down between his legs, and Max knows what's going to happen next, head dropping back as he tries to twitch his hips away. It's futile- the tendril slips easily across his skin, slick and hot when it wraps around his cock, and Max moans around the obstruction in his mouth- it feels better than it should, shoots electric sensations through his skin.

The thing rumbles again, and the tendril in his mouth swells before there's a larger rush of liquid, and Max really does choke on it, thick as it coats his throat before pulling out of his mouth.

Max is panting, and the one around his cock is wet and hot as it smoothly glides up to wrap around his tip.

The tentacles pull his thighs further apart, and Max has a feeling he can guess what's next, caught between fear-want-scared-need-it, shivering in the things grip.

It rumbles again- Max thinks it sounds like a he, wishes he could pinpoint where he recognizes the voice from.

Teeth graze over his shoulder, sharp pinpricks against his skin.

"Feeling better now, yes? You were just nervous, it's okay. I will take good care of you- better than the others would."

The teeth dig a bit harder, a slight pressure against Max's skin.

"I'll bring you the best food, give you the best den, you'll brood so pretty for me and be done in time for the racing season, I promise."

Max isn't really paying attention, too caught up in the sensation of everything, the way he's pulled bare and exposed on the rock, the way he can't even see and he still wants it-

He's an embarrassment to the bloodline. He pushes his hips up anyways, needy and wanting.

There's tentacles wrapping up his waist and arms, a smaller one brushing across his chest, and it has suckers on it, latches tight to his nipples, and Max bucks up, overwhelmed at the feeling, the way they rhythmically contract and squeeze.

Everything feels like a live wire- he's never had sex that comes anything close to this. He's flushed, and he's starting to feel overheated, like things are too much and not enough all at once.

He wishes he could see.

Then again- a smaller tendril pushes past his cock, teases at his hole, and he thinks maybe he's better off not knowing.

He's still panting into the open air, and the tentacle is just toying with him, smearing something wet and sticky around his thighs, teasing at pushing into him before it goes back to circling around him.

Max can't help the whine, embarrassing as it is, and the thing rumbles again.

"You are always so impatient- give it a moment, yes? Do you need a distraction, are you that desperate to brood for me? Want your first clutch that bad?"

Max doesn't even know what he's saying, just knows that it's too much, that he needs something to change- the tentacles on his skin making him tremble, the one around his cock not moving fast enough, the smaller one teasing him- something has to give.

"Please,"

His voice comes out raspy, fucked out from the tentacle that had been down his throat. He doesn't even know what he's asking for, doesn't know what the thing was talking about, just knows that he wants.

He shouldn't. He's been kidnapped off a beach by a terrifying creature he didn't know existed, and it's about to fuck him, he should be scared, should be furious, but instead-

Max just wants the damn thing to get a move on. He wants, he can feel the need burning through his bones, mounting by the second.

He can start to feel a strange sensation where the smaller tentacle had been, an aching need that he's never felt before- like when he needs to stretch a muscle.

The suckers on his chest tighten unexpectedly, and Max feels his eyes roll back into his head at the sensation, the way he can feel them swelling up- he doesn't want to think about what they might look like right now.

There's a softer rumble near his ear.

"You're almost ready, I promise. Doing so well for me, pretty little brooder, going to be perfect, aren't you?"

The teeth are scraping across his neck, digging in deeper than before, and Max feels a slight sting as they break skin, and then there's a tongue lapping at the wound.

He moans, starting to really feel the need between his legs, and ache to be stretched, be filled.

"Just for me, you're so perfect- no one else could handle you, they wouldn't know how-"

Max's weird tentacle captor has a possessive streak. That's fine- as long as he gets something in him.

"I am- I want, I'm ready, please-"

There's another ghost of hot breath against his skin, and then he can feel something press between his legs.

It's huge.

Max flinches, tries to push back away, but his limbs won't respond, held down tightly by tentacles.

"It's okay, you're okay- it feels much scarier right now, but you are ready for it, I promise."

Max trembles, fear trying to override the rest of his brain. He's never had anything in his ass before, maybe a single exploratory finger, but certainly not- certainly not something like this, it won't possibly fit.

The creature sighs.

"You are lucky I like you so much- it takes a very specialized diet to make this, and I don't like eating it."

The tendril from before pushes past Max's lips, pressing halfway down his throat in a smooth slide as he gags around it, desperately trying to breathe through his nose.

He can feel it pulsing, pushing something down his throat, and the suckers on his chest work harder for a moment, and Max is lost to the feeling, eyes rolling back into his head.

He barely feels the thing between his legs prod at his hole again, just acknowledges a deep pressure, finally starting to relive the ache.

He's drooling around the tendril in his mouth, and it makes a wet squelching noise when it pushes a bit further.

The ache between his legs is settling, and when Max tries to weakly move a leg he finds he can't- there's a huge tentacle working its way inside of him, and he's never felt this full in his life- completely stretched open at both ends, completely at the whim of the thing that's taken him.

He makes a wet noise around the one in his mouth when the larger tentacle starts moving, and then he feels it- bulbs and ridges, pressing up against his prostate- Max screams as his cock kicks, orgasm pushing through him.

There's a satisfied sounding rumble, but nothing lets up- if anything it gets worse- the biggest tentacle is moving in and out of him, feels too big to possibly be real, remolding Max to be whatever the creature wants, dangling between its tentacles.

There's another burst of fluid down his throat, and then Max loses track of everything.

He's faintly aware at some point later- could be minutes, could be hours- that the thing is letting out soft sighs, clearly building up to its own climax, but it feels like it goes on forever-

More time passes. Max is fully suspended in the air now, completely at the mercy of the tentacles as they core him out, irreversibly change him. Nothing else could ever hit him this deep, could ever fill him so thoroughly.

He's half submerged in the water when the thing finally finishes, and then there's so much pressure-

------

Max has never felt this exhausted in his life. He's lying limp on something soft, and something is in his mouth, holding his teeth apart as careful fingers set a wet cube on his tongue. The tentacle leaves his mouth, and Max instinctively starts chewing- it's fish, raw and springy as he swallows. His eyes are half lidded, and he's not sure he could move if he tried.

There's a soft rumble next to him.

"Hi, Max."

Max tries to pull himself together- everything feels fragmented and hazy, and he doesn't even know where he is.

Charles Leclerc is sitting next to him, carefully deboning a fish with his nails.

Max is so confused.

"'rles?"

Charles reaches over and runs a hand gently through Max's hair. They're sitting in a cave, water lapping at stone nearby, and there's a few lanterns set up. Max is half in a pool of water, submerged from the waist down.

His chest and arms are resting on some soft blankets, and his head is supported by a solid pillow. His chest hurts- sore and swollen.

"Yes."

Charles easily slices down one of the fish, and there's no way that's just his nails- he must have a tiny blade in there.

Max tries to shift, but he's sore, his entire body twinging when he moves his leg. Charles looks over at him, eyes flicking rapidly across his body.

"You should not be moving- I will bring you everything you need, don't worry."

Max is not any less confused, trying to piece together what exactly had happened to him.

He'd been on vacation, been on the beach-

He freezes. He thinks his fingers might be shaking, the soreness starting to make sense. Tentacle thing. Creature. Person. Whatever.

In him.

Charles and his too sharp nails, Charles and his French accent, Charles here-

Max is trembling. Charles tilts his head before understanding dawns in his eyes, and then he's setting the fish down, carefully dicing another cube off.

"I will explain, in a minute."

His hand comes to Max's jaw, and it's practically autopilot when Max opens his mouth, lets Charles place the fish back on his tongue.

Charles is providing for him. Some part of Max feels good about that, deep in his chest- he's never had a feeling like this before.

Chew, swallow.

He looks back up at Charles, who winces, fiddling with a fishbone between his fingers.

"I would like to start by saying I am sorry- but also that I was doing you a favor."

Max's jaw drops, and he immediately snaps it back shut at the way it aches, which-

"I'm sorry?"

Charles cringes.

"If it was not me someone else would have grabbed you."

Max glares.

"Off of the private beach I was on?"

Charles blinks at him, and his pupils are weird- vertical slits, and it almost looks like a second eyelid sliding horizontally across his eyes.

"There is no such thing as a 'private beach', Max, those waters belong to us more than they do to you."

"and who, exactly, is us?"

Something lifts from the water next to Max, deep blue, smooth and thick, and he instinctively tries to jolt away- it moves faster than he does, pins him back in place.

"Seriously, you should not be moving."

"Would you quit doing that-"

Charles frowns.

"Will you stop trying to move?"

"No!"

Charles throws his hands up, exasperated.

"Well, obviously I am going to keep doing that then."

He huffs at Max, exactly as bitchy as he's been their entire lives. It's weirdly normal in the face of everything that's happened.

"I am a part of a distinguished Monacan bloodline, thank you very much. We hunt in the ocean."

Max makes a strangled noise.

"So you're going to eat me?"

He feels one of the tentacles around his ankle squeeze as Charles looks alarmed.

"No! No, I'm not going to eat you, god. That's archaic. We don't eat people anymore, have not for hundreds of years."

Max side eyes him.

"Right. You just kidnap them to creepy caves and fuck them. Makes sense."

Charles' shoulders slump slightly, and he almost looks guilty.

"Sorry, again. I had a rut. I was not expecting it, and I go to Italy because there is no chance of grabbing someone I know, but you were there-"

Max's eyes widen.

"You've done this to other people?"

There's a small tentacle that angrily slaps the water, sends small droplets flying everywhere.

"Ugh, you make it sound worse than it is. They don't remember anything. Also- it is a local legend, so there's usually monsterfuckers on the beaches at night anyways."

Charles slices off another piece of fish, and Max opens his mouth, dutifully chews and swallows. The whole-

This dynamic is fucking him up. He's confused.

"So why me, and not a monsterfucker?"

Charles is messing with the fishbone again.

"Well- you are you, Max. I could not let any of the others take you off that beach- I would have had to kill them. And then you would smell like them, and I'd have to fix that, so really the whole thing would've happened twice."

"It didn't have to happen at all!"

Charles glares.

"You went to a cove, on a monsterfucking coast, and now you are upset?"

"Obviously I did not know it was a monsterfucking beach!"

There's a heavy sigh, and then Charles is sliding into the water with him, and Max can feel the tentacles sliding across his skin, wrapping around his thighs and waist and chest. Charles settles... somewhere in the middle of the small pool. Max can't see through the water, it's too dark, but he knows there's more tentacles down there.

Max actually doesn't mind being suspended in the water- he doesn't have to do anything, just gets to rest. It's easy on his aching muscles and joints, even if he's realizing he's hungry again.

Somehow, Charles knows, and there's a whip-thin tentacle that wraps around the sliced fish, bringing it back to land in Charles' human hands as he cuts another cube.

"Mate, just let me have the rest of it."

Charles looks pleased, and then Max can hear him rumble, the same sound he'd heard as he was having the most insane fuck of his life.

"What the fuck are you happy for? Give me that."

Charles hands him the rest of the fish, and Max tears into it, lets it slide down his throat. It's weirdly soft- his teeth slice through it like butter, meeting no resistance.

Charles is still rumbling.

"I'm happy because you are hungry, Max, it is a good thing. It means the babies are growing."

What.

"What."

Max cannot possibly have heard that right.

Charles looks mildly confused. One of the tentacles around Max's thigh tightens for a moment before it's winding around his leg, thick and distracting.

"The clutch, Max. They are small, so you were providing fine for them before, but they're almost ready now, so you are needing more of their diet- fish, mostly. I've been giving you some sea stars as well."

Max is broken, he's pretty sure. There's no other explanation.

"Sorry- I think maybe I am misunderstanding? You said babies? In me?"

His voice goes high at the end, because- he may have dropped out of school, but he's pretty fucking confident he can't have kids.

Charles has that stupid rumble going again- he sounds like a tiny little engine.

"Yes Max, the clutch. Your clutch, really, you are doing all the hard work. Most of them have probably eaten each other by now though, so it is the strong ones left that are wanting more food."

Max opens his mouth, but the only thing that comes out is a strangled squawking noise.

Babies. In him. His babies.

"They're eating each other?"

Charles looks fond, which is fucking ridiculous- Max must be having the weirdest dream of his life, it's the only possible explanation.

"Don't look so sad, that is just the way it is. You cannot possibly want to have all of them- that would be so many."

Max swallows. This is a dream. He's dreaming.

"How do I- Charles, I was not ready to be a father?"

"Brooder, technically."

"A parent."

Charles seems confused again before he snaps his fingers.

"Oh! No, they are not hybrids like me. I did not give you near enough material for that. They are just little things- maybe smarter than average. Stronger, because of you."

Max is confident his horror is showing on his face.

"Max, relax. It's alright."

The tentacles are moving against him, soothing motions down his sides and legs.

"You will probably only end up with one egg, and they are very independent- we'll find a good spot on the cove for it and then leave."

"Egg?"

"Max. I have tentacles- I'm not sure what else you thought it was going to be."

Dream, it's a dream, Max is dreaming. It's fine because it's not real, he's not going to lay an egg. An egg.

The rest of Charles' sentence catches up to him.

"Wait, we abandon it?"

Max is not ready to be a parent, but he's certainly not going to be a deadbeat.

Charles' tentacle snatches another fish as he starts deboning it for Max again.

"Well, yes. It is just nature, don't look so scandalized. I mean- I know I am too young to really be raising any kids, which means you are also, yes? It would be irresponsible."

"...but you fucked me anyways."

Charles shrugs, tossing the bones into a small pile.

"Like I said, I was in rut. Needed a brooder. It is fine as long as they aren't fully fertilized, obviously."

He pulls Max closer to him, tears a chunk of fish meat and pushes it between Max's lips.

"And you did a very good job. This is the most awake you have been in days, which is how I know it is almost time."

Max stops chewing. It's been curveball after curveball.

He swallows.

"Charles, how long have I been here?"

Charles rips off another chunk.

"About a week."

Max closed his eyes for a moment. He's not sure how exactly he can strangle Charles, but he's going to figure it out.

"A week? My family probably thinks I am dead-"

Charles waves off his concerns, presses the rest of the fish into his mouth. Max would be pissed at the blatant attempt to shut him up if he wasn't so hungry.

"It will be fine, Max. You can just say you had a journey of self discovery or whatever. We'll have a better plan next year."

Max is going to hyperventilate.

"What the fuck do you mean, next year?"

Charles tilts his head, blinking his eyes.

"I picked you, Max. You're my brooder- you smell like me, you've gone through some of the changes- it will get easier each year of course. You might get gills later down the line."

Max is feeling slightly faint.

"Also, your body remembers this, yes? This time next year it will remember it again. That's how it works."

"Changes?"

His voice is weak and thready. It's too much to process at once- can't possibly be real.

"Surely you noticed your teeth are a bit stronger- you have been ripping into the fish. This cycle was hard because it was your first, but- your body knows now, so it will start packing on the extra things you need over the year until it is this time again. You might have to work out harder, sorry."

A tentacle brushes across Max's chest and he jolts, sensitive.

"It will probably go to your chest. Not really anything noticeable- some extra muscle and fat. You will look like you just have impressive pecs."

Right. Eggs, teeth, gills, why not. Max has always wanted to be a fish person, it's a lifelong dream of his. Obviously.

His voice is still high when he speaks.

"Every year?"

Charles lets out another pleased rumble.

"Yes."

Max passes out.

------

He wakes up to a soft splashing noise, and it takes him a second to reorient himself, eyes adjusting to the dim lighting. He's in Charles' cave, still half underwater, resting on a little shelf. He's curled around something protectively- he knows what it is even if he doesn't want to admit it.

Max swallows before looking down. There's an egg in his lap.

Where the fuck is Charles.

He looks around. He's not hungry anymore, just exhausted, aching and tired. Charles is missing, and Max remembers what he'd said about others- curls a bit tighter around the egg. He's not sure what kind of shit he's gotten involved in- has no idea if some other thing like Charles might try to come into the cave.

Apparently they can smell him. He pets two of his fingers soothingly over the top of the egg, presses further back into the corner of his little pool.

There's something flashing underwater, little rectangular squares of light getting closer, and Max curls tighter around the egg, top lip curling. There's not a whole lot he could do against one of- whatever Charles is- but he won't make it easy.

A head pops out of the water and Max immediately chucks a fishbone at it, perfect athlete precision- nails the intruder directly in the forehead.

"Ow- Merde, what the fuck-"

"Where the hell were you?"

Max feels his heart rate start to slow now that he knows it's Charles. Still-

Charles holds up his hands apologetically.

"Sorry- sorry, really. I was looking for a good spot for the egg, I didn't think you were going to wake up yet."

Max looks down at the egg. It doesn't look special, but- it's technically his.

"Did you find one?"

Charles nods, drifts closer to Max.

"I did, yes. It's ready, and so are you- I went ahead and extended your stay at the villa, so all of your things are still waiting for you."

"So, what- I just go back to normal, pretend this didn't happen?"

Charles winces.

"You'll forget about it. Until next year, anyways."

"What."

Charles makes a face, all scrunched up and annoyed.

"Yes, and I'm realizing now I am going to have to put up with you getting offended all over again for a few years until you start naturally remembering it. Eventually you'll have enough chemical changes to your brain that the reaction to make you forget won't work anymore. That is what Lolo said, when I asked."

Max is going to kill him. He can't do it in the water, but- the next time they are on a track, he's going to run Charles off the road.

------

"Deep breath."

Max breathes in as deep as he can, fills his lungs before Charles plunges them both back underwater, swimming to a peaceful spot on the ocean floor. There's a small nook inside some coral, and that's where Max carefully sets the egg, adjusting it gently.

He stares at it for a moment. He's never going to be able to eat eggs again.

His lungs are starting to hurt, and Charles gently taps him on the chest before he's swimming them back to the surface, laying Max out on the beach.

Max takes a few heaving breaths, tries to get his thoughts in order. Charles watches him from the ocean, head poking out of the water.

"Bye Max!"

Max flips him off as he staggers to his feet, making his way back into the villa.

------

Max wakes up sore as fuck, stretched out in the villa bed. His head hurts, and he's thirsty. He twists his head to the side to get up, and there's a sticky note directly in front of him, his own scratchy handwriting-

NO MORE EGGS

YOU HATE CHARLES

#dear hate anon when you go low I go lower #kink prompt #ficlet #this one got so out of hand #so sorry original requester I'm using your prompt to lowkey make a point

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bookworrm1999 · 11 hours ago

Text

How Far Away? Part 7

Caleb x Mc

Tags: unplanned pregnancy, presumed death, depression, miscommunication, miscarriage scare

Summary: Mc and Caleb fight right before he goes on a long mission into space. Caleb ends up MIA while Mc finds out she's pregnant. She struggles to deal with the grief while Caleb is fighting for his life to make it back home to her.

AO3

Caleb awoke to a very dry mouth and a pounding head.

It felt like a really nasty hangover and he had had plenty of those back in flight school. His memory was hazy for the moment so he wondered how much he had drank to feel like this.

He stretched his arm out and met the cool metal of some sort of rail.

What is this? He blearily opened his eyes and focused on his surroundings. A window with ugly green curtains, a wall full of cabinets and drawers, a small sink, a patterned curtain in front of the door, then the machines.

The pain in his arm made him hiss as he moved the wrong way. There was a needle and a tube in his arm, he followed it up to a bag full of liquid dripping down the tube.

Oh, it’s a hospital. Now it’s coming back to him, the shouting, the frantic energy of nurses and doctors trying to keep his heart beating.

He knew this hospital, it was Willow Medical Center in Skyhaven. How did he end up here?

The worst hangover he’d ever felt and it was no wonder. A few weeks of constant evol use on low food and not drinking as much water as he should have.

A recipe for disaster but he was here, he was alive.

It was dark from what he could see through the curtains drawn over the window. Other than the pounding in his head and dry mouth, he was otherwise uninjured.

His crew had actually gotten him safely out of the deepspace tunnel.

A warm feeling in his chest made him cough in embarrassment.

They had somehow gotten him out of the Fleet’s clutches, away from Ever’s influence to a safe place.

All that effort he had expended in getting them home must have left them feeling indebted to him.

He was very grateful for it, if he had been left to Ever’s clutches. They would’ve fixed his chip and taken advantage of his weakened state to upgrade him even more. Sinking their slimy fingers even more into whatever individuality he had left.

He’d worked so hard to fight the chip, it was at 50% integrity now and going down without a fight wasn’t an option.

His crew deserved something in return as thanks but he’d have to think on that more.

Where was his stuff? Only dressed in a hospital gown without a stitch of anything else, Caleb felt very exposed.

Oh there’s his stuff, a neat pile on the side table. His phone off to the side of his clothes.

Caleb really wanted to see her face, even if it was through a picture. Cell phones glitched weirdly in the deepspace tunnel, so he usually relied on his memory and the hidden photo in his pocket to keep her with him.

Then a nurse came bustling in, keeping the light low, he could see a clock behind the curtain she had just pulled aside.

2 am, well, not the worst time to be alive.

The nurse noticed he was up, looking a little shocked before recovering.

“Hello Colonel, how are you feeling?”

He grimaced

“My head has a band playing inside it and I really need some water.”

“Well, I can go and get water for you right now, I’ll send a note to the doctor to put in an order for some pain medication too. Okay?”

“Right.”

“I actually came in to grab some blood for labs, we need to make sure all of your levels are normal now.”

“Go ahead.”

She quickly took out her butterfly needle along with a few vials, sanitizing his arm and quickly drawing blood out.

Snapping her gloves off, she asked

“Anything else I can get you?”

“Can I have my phone from that table?”

“Oh sure, here you go!”

After handing Caleb his phone, she went back out into the hallway. Hopefully to return with water and something for this headache.

There was a universal charging cord attached to the hospital bed for his convenience. Plugging it in, it only took a minute to boot back up.

He saw the day, the fact that it was still a few days shy of his original return date made him a bit relieved.

That is, until he saw the slew of messages from her.

100’s of them, his phone kept going off and it felt like it was going buzz its way out of his grip.

What in the world?

Caleb was very concerned now, she almost never sent him this many. Not while he was gone and couldn’t respond.

Very worried at this point, he opened the earliest message.

Watching it left him in a daze, her bright smile seared into his mind as she had proudly proclaimed that you were pregnant.

Pregnant with his baby?!

He sat in astonishment for just a minute before it really hit him.

Caleb was going to be a father!

He eagerly opened each message after that.

All her cute little complaints about being sick, wanting food but not being able to eat it, her pants not fitting.

The weight loss did indeed worry him but he was reassured just seeing the way she struggled to wear pants now.

Hearing about stealing his clothes made him a bit feral to be honest but also stoked his male pride.

Then Caleb got to the point where she showed him the newest ultrasound, the little bean had little arms and legs now.

He stared at the image for a long while, the heartbeat of his child, his little baby, in the background.

All the joy came to a halt as the love of his life’s crying face came into view.

He had been pronounced MIA and presumed dead?

Oh no.

He noticed the background was now only showing her at his house in all the videos after that, her eyes hollow, her face limp, only the thought of their baby keeping her going.

He clenched his fist, the one that could punch through walls to get to you.

Caleb desperately wanted to call her now, but he didn’t want to do it over the phone. Not to mention that it was still the middle of the night.

He played the next few videos, his heart breaking as his love’s decline was put on display for a man that she thought was dead.

The last video though, it was only yesterday that it was sent.

Oh, oh now he wanted to rip the building apart.

Zayne, that sly bastard swooping in as soon as he smelt blood in the water.

Trying to take advantage of a grieving woman.

The confusion, the phone was laid down as he heard faintly, is that blood.

The word blood made his own run cold.

She was hurt? No, something worse as sobs came over the phone.

“Please don’t let me lose you, you’re all I have left of Caleb. Please baby, just stay with me!”

Desperate pleas came over the phone before the camera was back in her face, utterly wrecked as the video ended.

What the hell?

That’s how it ends?

He needed to leave now.

He started to rip the IV out of his arm and the nurse came back in, carrying a packet and a cup of water.

“What are you doing?!”

“I’m leaving!”

“You haven’t been cleared yet!”

“I’m going and you can’t stop me.”

He stood up and towered over her. The nurse shrank a bit before standing firm.

“Why?”

“You don’t need to know.”

“I do if you’re going to leave AMA! You were in bad shape when you first came in. You’re still recovering.”

“She needs me and I’m going!”

“Wait she?”

He grimaces at the slip before spitting

“Yes, she needs me, there’s something wrong happening and I need to be there.”

“Maybe I can help.”

He stared at the small woman before shrugging.

“If you can tell me what hospital she went to, sure.”

“Are you referring to the woman listed as your emergency contact?”

“Yes.” He grits out impatiently.

She goes to the monitor in the corner of the room and looks at few pages before pulling something up.

“You’re in luck, she’s here in the labor and delivery ward.”

“Great, I’m leaving.”

She stops him with a hand to his chest.

“What is it now?” Snarling at the interruption.

“You can go, but in a wheelchair.”

So thus, Caleb is rolled all the way from intensive care all the way to L and D.

She had bandaged his arm up from where he’d ripped the IV out, he hadn’t even noticed it bleeding.

The nurse asks the night nurse working where she is and they’re directed to a room at the end of the hall.

He’s wheeled through the door and there she was.

Sleeping, looking so small and weary even in the dim light.

The nurse whispers

“I’ll have to go back but just hit the call light if you need anything, ok?”

He nods but doesn’t dare disturb the peace of the room with his voice.

But as the nurse leaves, he’s desperate to touch you.

So he pushes the chair forward by the wheels until he’s by her side. Caleb can now see something miraculous.

A baby bump, a true proof of their love.

Were they okay though? There was no one to ask, but he spies a chart at the end of the bed.

Grabbing it eagerly, he reads

‘Patient presented with mild bleeding at 18 weeks of pregnancy. Scans done and slight placental abruption was found. Mildly invasive procedure done to correct issue. Patient to be kept under observation for 24 hours.’

A very short summary of the situation but it was enough.

The baby, their sweet baby, and her were going to be okay.

Shoulders shaking as a few tears escaped his eyes as he laid a gentle hand on their child.

“Hello little one, I’m your daddy. I’m sorry I haven’t been here so far but don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

A slight bump against his hand and he was instantly in love.

Caleb wanted to scoop them both up and never let them go. His two loves in his arms forever.

A slight noise behind him made him turn his head from the beautiful sight.

Zayne.

His gut tightened.

“What are you doing here?” Caleb tried to keep his voice low but the protectiveness came through.

Zayne pushed his glasses up before answering

“They called me here to check on her heart and so that she’d have a member of her care team here. She couldn’t make it all the way down to Akso hospital so her OB told her to go to Skyhaven’s hospital for now.”

What a perfectly reasonable explanation but he’d heard what Zayne had been doing while he was away.

“You sure move fast Dr.Zayne.”

A raised eyebrow was the only response he got.

“She’s not yours.” Caleb made that clear with a growl.

“From what I hear, she wasn’t truly yours either. Scared of commitment, colonel?”

“That will soon be rectified so you can butt out.”

“Fortunately for you, she told me to butt out before you even came home. I have no plans to stay where I’m not wanted.”

“Good.” The baby bumped against Caleb’s hand again, making him smile.

“But if she needs me again, don’t think I won’t come running.”

With that ominous warning given, Zayne turned around and left the room.

Well, at least that’s done. Where does Zayne get off telling him that though?

She was more important than that sly bastard anyway and Caleb settled in to stay with her until she woke up.

He knew he had to take care of Ever somehow, he had been steadily wearing the chips integrity down so that they wouldn’t have hold over him anymore. It seemed that it was time to move the timeline up.

His two babies deserved him at his best and without these shackles.

He could wait for her eyes to open though. They had a lot to talk about after all.

Tags: @moonberry69 @supermyeon22 @tinnyrabbit @gavin3469 @marina27826 @crowleysthings @tabi-callico @midiplier

@his-ocean-emissary @rosalyne08 @xaviers-pookie-bear @tsunamethyst @thejujvtsupost @cherrybeomgyu

@gojosballsack69 @apple-lov3r @dinochocochip @violetpurplez @raiyuxa @nickibunny23 @sh3sa1dwhat @playboygeniusphilanthropist @flwerie @lynnlovesthestars @twilightsmissingfur @kasuumi

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace caleb #lads caleb #caleb x mc #caleb x reader

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katyswrites · 2 days ago

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put on your records (and regret me)

PART 4 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: asshole!Steve, rivals-to-lovers, swearing, fingering, dry humping, no use of y/n

Wordcount: 4.3k

Playlist

You love WAMC-Hawkins, Indiana’s top college radio station. It’s your safe space, your niche. It’s where you’ve made your friends, your favorite place to be when the rest of the world gets to be just a bit too much. Well, with one exception.

Steve Harrington is a thorn in your side. And just as well - he thinks you’re a royal pain in the ass. But in your senior year, you’re both on the e-board, so you have to work together. You love to hate him. So why can’t you get him out of your head? And, why do you find yourself going to see his band, each and every weekend?

Underground basement concerts, spinning old records, and screaming matches in the vinyl library with the boy you love to hate. An enemies-to-lovers college radio station 90s AU.

TRACK 4

After your encounter backstage with Steve, you consider a few options.

Make a beeline for the roof of the building and try to jump off, hopefully to your untimely death. Or -

- return to the floor, watch the rest of the show, and act like everything is normal.

It takes you most of the walk back down the hallway to pick the second, admittedly more logical, option.

You make your way back to the crowd in the venue, shouldering your way through packed bodies and pulling the bottom of your shoes off the sticky floor until you manage to spot Nancy.

“You okay?” she asks, her brow furrowed with worry - you were gone far too long for a bathroom run.

“Yeah, just a long line,” you lie, your voice higher-pitched than you’d like it to be. If Nancy notices, she doesn��t say anything.

You just do your best to stare straight ahead, and pretend to be captivated by the band on stage. In truth, they’re only okay - but it doesn’t matter, because at least you don’t have to look at him up there.

It’s then that you only know one thing for certain - you’re going to have to spend the rest of the school year completely avoiding Steve. That, of course, is virtually impossible. Unless -

For a brief, fleeing moment, the thought of quitting the radio station crosses your mind. In general, it’s the only time you see him - the university’s campus is big enough that you rarely encounter him in any other context. Though, knowing your luck, somehow he’ll suddenly start popping up on your regular walk to class now, making himself known across campus at your inconvenience.

Still… quitting the station really brings the chances of seeing him again down to nearly zero.

No, you can’t - you’re not going to stop doing your favorite thing because of him. That’s how Steve wins - maybe that’s been his plan all along, actually. You wouldn’t put that past him. You want to smack yourself for even considering the possibility - you’re in charge of the place, and you’d screw over a lot of people if you quit in the middle of the semester.

You’re still thinking about Steve, despite doing everything in your power not to. You’re thinking about him as the last band leaves the stage, as you drive home with Nancy, and even later that night as you’re lying in bed, willing yourself to go to sleep.

As you stare at your ceiling, you try to rationalize what happened. Maybe it didn’t happen at all, and it was some strange dream. But, you think about the taste of him, his rough hands wandering along your soft skin, the way he sounded as he -

You sit up, groaning as your head falls into your hands. You’re so unbelievably fucked.

*****

That Thursday, you do something you’ve never done before - you call out of your radio show, for no real reason. Most DJ’s aren’t allowed to call out more than three times a semester. You’ve missed your show exactly twice before this in the last 3 years - once due to having a horrible fever, the other due to your grandfather’s funeral. So, when you call the station to say you’ll be missing your show (and Eddie picks up the phone, because of course he does), he’s surprised enough that you have to pretend you’re sick. You’re not sure he buys your performance, but he just says he’ll cross you out of the schedule, allowing you to keep up the charade.

Still, you can’t stay away forever. You do your best to focus on other things - schoolwork, friends, and not Steve. It doesn’t matter that you keep a keen eye out as you walk across campus, your heart speeding up as you spot another guy with his silhouette and a similar mop of hair walking ahead of you, only to feel relief when he turns around and reveals he’s not who you thought he was.

You still end up seeing him sooner than you’d hoped, though - you thought you’d avoid him until the following Thursday, when you inevitably had to come into the studio and do your radio show after skipping the last one. But no - instead, there’s a meeting at the station this Sunday, because of course there is. You had scheduled it, of course, but that was before what happened at the show.

You just try to put him out of your mind beforehand, instead focusing on the agenda and main talking points - after all, it’s your job. If there’s one thing you love, it’s planning things - down to the minute, if possible. Here’s the problem with station meetings, though - the board meets beforehand, just as a small group, to go over everything before the rest of the DJs arrive. This has always been a bit of an inconvenience for you, thanks to Steve’s exasperating presence - now, you need it about as much as a hole in the head.

That morning, you’re the first to arrive - that’s to be expected. You unlock the station door and head into your tiny, messy office, pulling out your notes to go over with the rest of the board when they arrive - if they arrive. Perhaps Steve’s poor attendance record would continue today, and you won’t have to deal with him at all. You sigh, spotting the CD box in the corner. Bands and artists mail in their music all the time, hoping to be put on-air in the ongoing new music rotation. DJs can even take CDs home to review them, list some favorite songs, and note the explicit tracks that can’t be played on-air. Then, it’s your job to sort all the CDs by genre and shelve them in the studio, so other students in the station can find them easily. But right now, the box is overflowing - you’d probably have to stay after the meeting to sort it out. You sigh again, bemoaning the less-than glamorous parts of your job.

You hear the station door open, signaling someone’s arrival. You tense, hearing the footsteps walking towards your office door. It’s enough to make you whirl around, only to relax when you see Darius posp his head in.

“Hey - anyone else here yet?”

You breathe a sigh of relief, shaking your head as you return to organizing your notes strewn across your desk.

“Um, no - I only just got here a few minutes ago.”

He nods, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“Cool - hey, did I spot you at Fuze Box on Saturday?”

Even the mention of it makes your adrenaline spike.

“Oh - yeah. You did a great job - emceeing, that is -”

He laughs. “Thanks. I get paid exactly zero dollars, but they said I can have any of their old equipment that I want, since they just upgraded everything. Speaking of which, I think I can score a few new mics to replace the ones without going into the budget - I mean, I’ll talk about it at the meeting -”

“Yeah, sounds good -” you say absentmindedly, eyes widening as you see something on your desk that catches your eye. Darius is still chatting, but you’ve stopped listening.

“Talk about it in a bit -” you add quietly, trying to politely dismiss him. He gets the message and steps out, presumably heading to the lounge. You hear a few more people shuffling in outside your door. But, that’s not what interests you right now. Instead, it the note on your desk, written on the back of an old napkin.

Meet me in the vinyl library, after meeting. After they’re all gone.

It’s not signed, but you can now recognize the handwriting well enough. When did he leave this?

He must mean today, after the meeting… after they’re all gone. He knows you’ve been avoiding him… but you can’t avoid him here. You examine it for a moment, picking it up and flipping it in your hands. There’s nothing else written, no other information. You crumple it up, tossing it in the small garbage can beside your desk. Your mind is racing - what’s he up to now? You remember the conversation about the vinyl library at the party a few weeks ago, and you feel your face heat. There’s no way he actually wants to -

Your train of thought is interrupted by a soft knock on your door. You jump slightly, and clear your throat.

“Yeah?”

Eddie pokes his head in.

“Hey - everyone’s here.”

You nod, offering a small smile as you grab your notebook.

“Right - thanks,” you say quietly, following him out towards the station lounge.

Sure enough, the whole E-board is there - Darius, Eddie, Argyle, Chrissy Cunningham, Diego Hernandez, Lucas Sinclair… and, of course, Steve.

You cast a glance around the room as you enter, and offer a friendly smile, but decidedly ignore Steve.

“Hey, everyone - thanks for coming out on a Sunday… I hope nobody’s too hungover,” you say, glancing down at your notebook. There’s a sprinkle of laughs.

“Okay, so - you guys know the drill… when the rest of the station members get here, everyone can say their piece about anything important pertaining to their position… I just wanted us to meet first, in case anyone had something specific they wanted to bring up to me, or other members of the board before everyone arrives. Also, reminder that Nancy’s not here today because of her internship, but she gave me her notes…so, what’ve you guys got?”

It’s only at the end of your spiel that you look up, glancing around. Steve is staring right at you - the bastard.

Darius raises his hand - a relief. You call on him, and listen as he starts going on about the secondhand equipment he procured for the station from the Fuze Box. You stare right at him as he speaks, feeling Steve’s stare burning a hole through your head from across the room.

The next hour or so flies by - the larger group of student DJs arrive, and everyone makes announcements. Eddie mentions the new time slot for his training show, Lucas brings up how he needs to take over other people’s slots if they fall during the university’s sporting events for commentary, Chrissy talks a bit about fundraising for the station’s music festival in the spring - pretty typical fare for a station meeting. When you finally get to Steve, you’re forced to finally acknowledge him.

“Harrington,” you say, matter-of-fact. “Any updates?”

Steve just stares at you for a moment, perhaps a moment too long, and shakes his head.

“Nope - nothing from me.”

You sigh.

“Nothing from the Program Director, at all?”

It’s not fair to do this in front of everyone else, you know that, but you’re too tired of his shit to really care.

He rolls his eyes.

“Nope - I’m already doing my job perfectly - thanks, though.”

There’s a smattering of snickers and whispers throughout the room. You ignore it, holding his gaze as you cross your arms.

“Fine - glad you’re so sure of yourself, Harrington,” you say curtly.

There’s a moment of awkward silence, nobody really sure what to say. You don’t break eye contact with Steve, refusing to surrender. After somebody behind you awkwardly clears their throat, Steve finally relents.

“Fine - um - everyone cool it with the explicit tracks on the air, or the FCC wil be on our asses - I’m looking at you, Munson.”

There’s a cry of protest from Eddie’s side of the room, followed by a series of laughs, and the tense moment has passed.

Steve holds your gaze for a moment later, then you look away. After opening the floor to questions and concerns, the meeting is dismissed not long after, with most students scattering, and a few hanging back to mingle.

As always, a bit of a line forms to talk to you - station members with all kinds questions, like asking when the second mic in the studio will be fixed (probably never), if they can have their non-DJ friends on-air (they can’t), and an abundance of other questions that you have gone over a thousand times already this year. This is typical, and you get occupied enough that you almost completely forget about Steve and his antics. Nearly an hour after the meeting, the last few students filter out, leaving you alone at last. You still have most of the afternoon left, and know you need to get home to finish up some homework and run some errands. You head into your office just to put away the meeting notes, and sigh - the box of CDs is still haunting you in the corner.

It’s better left alone - a problem for another day. You stil give in, and crouch down to pick it up. As you turn to bring it to your desk, you see someone standing in the doorway. You yelp, and the box of CDs goes crashing to the floor.

“Jesus Christ -”

“Nope, just me,” Steve says, pulling himself off of where he’s leaning against the doorframe to help pick up the mess.

“Were you just standing there watching me?” you ask, stooping down again to join him in picking up the debris.

“No - I just didn’t want to make a noise and scare you -”

“Nice job with that” you mutter, placing stacks of CDs into the box.

“So, were you just planning to avoid me forever?” he asks casually, handing you some more albums.

“I’m not avoiding you” you say, refusing to meet his eyes. Even you know that you don’t sound that convincing.

He scoffs. “Yeah, okay.”

You sigh, looking up at him.

“What do you want from me?”

“Did you get my note?” he asks nonchalantly.

“Yeah - you’re like goddamn a carrier pigeon.”

He laughs, a real laugh, and it just pisses you off more.

“Fine? You want to talk? Then talk - I’m busy, I have places to be -”

“Why do you think I don’t?”

You roll your eyes. “Probably because our meeting ended an hour ago, and you’re still here, you stalker.”

“I’m the stalker?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He rolls his eyes, and takes a step closer. “Everywhere I turn, there you are, being a pain in my ass -”

“Oh, so you finally know how I feel!” you retort, crossing your arms. “Am I avoiding you, or always up your ass? Make up your mind, Harrington!”

“Why did you do it?” he asks.

“Do what?”

“You know what -”

You feel your face heat, and shake your head.

“Let’s just pretend that never happened -”

“Why? You seemed to want it pretty bad -”

“Shut up -” you insist, avoiding his eyes.

“Be honest - what would’ve happened if Robin didn’t interrupt?” he asks, his voice lower, rougher. You just shake your head, refusing to look at him.

“C’mon, princess - you can’t just pretend it didn’t happen -”

“Oh, I most certainly can.”

“Well I can’t,” he says firmly, closing the little space there is between you two. “I’ve been thinking about it - about you - a lot -”

“Harrington, just stop it right there - I don’t like you, you don’t like me - we’re not friends -”

“I know,” he murmurs. “My friends don’t kiss me like you did.”

You hear your own breath hitch, and want to kick yourself.

“We aren’t -”

“I know we aren’t… anything,” he replies, his face close enough that you feel his breath. “You’re stubborn, a pain in my ass, and even a stuck-up bitch sometimes.”

“Hey -”

“But - I can’t get the way you sounded out of my head.”

He slowly extends his leg behind him, hitting the office door with his foot to slam it shut.

“Harrington -” you breathe, his nose brushing yours.

“You gonna push me away, princess?” he asks softly.

You’re barely finished shaking your head before his lips are crashing into yours. You don’t protest, don’t fight him. Instead, you kiss him back, demanding. He smiles against your lips, and groans when your fingers find their way into his hair, tugging on the chestnut locks.

“You’re right - I hate you -” you breathe.

“Shut up -” he grumbles, capturing your lips again.

He presses you against the desk, his hands on your waist.

You gasp as his tongue enters your mouth.

“I - I can’t -”

“Princess - shut the fuck up, for once, and just -”

He emits a deep, guttural groan, as you bring your thigh between his legs, finding a bulge there. The sound makes you feel warm and tingly.

“Fuck it -” he growls, lifting you up with less effort than you and anticipated, sitting you on your desk. You gasp, and his lips are on your neck.

“Tell me to stop” he whispers into your skin.

“No,” you breathe spreading your legs as he comes to stand between them.

“Thank God,” he sighs, his lips finding yours again.

“Harrington -” you whine, too turned on to care about your dignity right now.

“I know,” he whispers, his lips swollen, face flushed.

“I wanna touch you,” he murmurs, and it sends warmth right to your core. You nod, and he looks like a kid on Christmas, reaching down to unbutton your jeans.

You know you should stop - that you’ll regret this, that he’ll never let you live it down - but all you can think about is how good his lips taste.

He gets your pants shoved down only a bit, just enough that he can reach down and cup you through your panties. You moan, and he chuckles.

“That’s the sound I’ve been thinkin’ about.”

You smack his arm, and his lips find their way back to your neck. You throw your head back to give him better access.

“So fuckin’ wet,” he mumbles, feeling your panties. “This for me?”

“You - you wish,” you say weakly, knowing how ridiculous it sounds as you’re actively bucking into his hand.

“Can I -”

“Yes,” you breathe, exasperated.

He doesn’t need to hear it twice, pulling your underwear down to meet your jeans, neither even making it halfway down your thigh.

He tentatively runs is finger along your slit, and you whine, gripping his shoulders.

“You’re fuckin’ soaked -”

“Shut up -”

“Why?”

“I don’t need you - fuck - commenting on - just touch me -”

You bring your thigh up between his legs, and he grinds down, his arousal straining against his jeans evident. It spurs him to listen to you, and coat his fingers in your arousal. He moans, and you smile against his lips.

“What is it?” he asks, breathless.

“I finally figured out how to make you - oh, god - do what I tell you -”

“Never,” he insists, his finger circling your clit. You cry out, eyes fluttering shut.

You shouldn’t like this - but you do. You like how he groans and sighs against your mouth, how his nose presses into your cheek, like he wants to devour you. You like that he kisses you like he knows what he’s doing, that tells you he knows how a girl likes to be touched.

So you let him touch you - you let him toy with your clit, slip a finger inside, then two. You clench around him, moaning with every crook of his fingers, every motion of his thumb on your clit. It’s wrong - letting the boy you’ve sworn to hate finger you on your desk, where anyone can walk in. But, damnit, it turns you on, too.

He’s grinding his crotch against your thigh, desperate for friction, and you let him.

“Fuck - Harrington - m’gonna - I’m close to -”

“Christ - you can’t say shit like that to me -” he growls, his voice wrecked.

You just whimper, grabbing his face and pulling him back in for a messy, desperate kiss. It feels filthy, but you don’t want to stop.

When you cum, it’s sudden, your cunt clenching around his fingers. You moan into his neck, pulling on his hair as he continues his ministrations, working you through your orgasm. He thrusts against your thigh, grunts loudly, then stills.

For a few moments, neither of you speak - the only sound in the room is both of your labored breathing, his heart pounding against yours.

It takes only a few moments for the reality to set in. You pull back, letting go of him quickly, and clear your throat.

“Um - did you - do you need -”

“No,” he admits, a bit sheepish. It takes you a moment to realize, then you let out a laugh.

“What?”

“You came in your pants? What are you, 13?”

“Fuck off -”

You roll your eyes, and use your knee to nudge him away, shimmying your underwear and pants back up your hips quickly.

He stands back, looking away as he rubs the back of his neck.

“So - um -”

“I should go,” you say quickly, your post-orgasm bliss being overtaken with a distinct sense of embarrassment. In fact, you’re mortified.

You don’t look at him as you grab your bag, making a beeline for the door.

“Hey -” he starts, his voice hoarse.

“Don’t -” you cut him off, wanting to shrink into yourself - he’ll never let you live this down. Hell, you’ll never let yourself live it down. You stop in the doorway, and take in the sight of him - face flushed, hair mussed, and a notable dark spot forming in his jeans. You smirk when you see it, and look away quickly when he looks down, face going red.

“I - if you ever told anyone I -”

You scoff.

“Like I’d advertise this,” you say, voice laced with contempt. Before he can respond, you’re gone, slamming the door on your way out.

author's note: hi everyone! I know it's been forever... I took a much-needed break from Tumblr, and writing in general. But, I want to get back into it, because I miss it! Plus, seeing Djo back in action has really given me some inspiration for this fic in particular. I don't know when the next part will be posted, but it won't be crazy long again. I always appreciate likes, reblogs, and comments!

#put on your records fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington/reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington/reader smut #steve harrington/you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington/fem!reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #put on your records (and regret me)

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natimiles · 2 days ago

Text

Perfect for us (Greyson x reader)

Words: 2191

Tags: pre-relationship; fluffy; first kiss; confessions; brief misunderstandings; Greyson blushing beautifully; Greyson being shy but trying to be assertive; you’ve been friends for a while, in case it wasn’t clear ashusahuoahuea

Happy Valentine’s Day!

“This is it!” You say to yourself. With one last glance at the car’s rearview mirror, you meet your own determined gaze. “You got this!” Taking a deep breath, you step out of the vehicle with a box of chocolates in hand.

The mantra “it’s okay, everything will be fine” echoes in your mind as you walk through Akso Hospital. The parking lot, the garden, the main reception… You know the way by heart, and your body leads you without hesitation to the cardiology ward.

And that’s when your body betrays you.

Your feet freeze in place when you see Yvonne’s desk and the flow of people bustling back and forth. Your eyes lock onto the floor as your mind reminds you that, despite it being Valentine’s Day, it’s still just another workday for those tirelessly working there. The determination you had five minutes ago starts to crack as you realize that your presence might disrupt his work — especially for something so… trivial.

If regret could kill, you’d be dead on the floor right now.

How did you not think of this before? It’s obvious this was a stupid idea! Who buys chocolates for their crush and brings them to a hospital to give them? Sure, the hospital is his workplace, but that doesn’t help now! You shouldn’t have come to his workplace for this… You can give him the chocolates another day. Probably. You should just turn around and leave before someone sees you.

“Excuse me, Miss!” A voice calls from behind you, but you’re so lost in your own thoughts that you don’t even recognize who it belongs to.

“Sorry,” you reply, stepping to the side, thinking you were just in someone’s way. Your eyes remain fixed on a random spot on the floor, your shoulder leaning against the wall as you continue your internal debate.

The person passes by and stops next to you for a few seconds, but you don’t even notice. Only when a pair of feet appears in your line of sight do you realize that the person is now standing in front of you. Confused, you look up, meeting familiar gray eyes that watch you with curiosity behind the glasses.

“Greyson!” Your eyes widen, and your first reaction is to grip the box of chocolates tightly as you hide it behind your back.

“Ah, so you finally noticed me here,” he says with a light teasing tone, his usual gentle gaze locked on you. The doctor obviously notices your suspicious and far from discreet movement, but he just gives a small smile as he speaks. “What brings you here?”

“I… I was, uh, looking for someone.”

“I can help you, if you’d like. Who do you need to talk to?”

“No, I… I should leave and wait for another time to talk to him. The hospital is busy, and I don’t want to interrupt. This was a silly idea,” you smile awkwardly.

“Oh…” A look of understanding passes across his face as his gray eyes briefly fall on your arm, still hidden behind you, for a fraction of a second, but it’s more than enough for you to notice. His smile falters when he realizes what’s going on, and his voice sounds less cheerful when he responds. “I see.”

The man can’t help but feel upset, especially because he put in extra effort and worked later than usual in the past few days to try and have some free time to ask you out today. The whole thing was supposed to be a surprise, given that emergencies happen all the time at the hospital, but he had just made sure his plan could go ahead when he saw you standing in the middle of the hallway. And now knowing that you were here at the hospital possibly to deliver chocolates to someone else…

The expression on his face changes in a way you’ve never seen before, and it takes you a few seconds to process the situation and realize you need to do something. He’s misunderstanding everything! A frantic voice echoes in your head. You need to swallow your embarrassment and negative thoughts, and do this right, before he thinks you’re there for someone else! Before this turns into a communication problem that can’t be undone.

All the lunches together and the almost daily messages, even if it’s just to wish each other a good morning. All the rides he’s given you home, and how you both drag out the goodbyes just to spend one more minute together. All the sneaky glances and late-night phone conversations when he’s off work.

All the times you lay in bed and wondered if friends felt this way when they were together, or if this feeling was something more. All the times you stared at the ceiling of your room while realizing that the butterflies in your stomach were signs that what you felt was more than just friendship. All the times you wondered if the shy smiles he gave you were just for you, and if they meant something more. And the time you realized that, if you wanted to be sure, you could use Valentine’s Day in your favor.

And now here you are, watching his face change completely. His brows furrow as he looks away to a random spot on the floor beside him, and his lips break the sweet smile he always gives you. Your heart tightens seeing him like that, but it also makes your determination come back stronger.

“Greyson!” You call out louder than necessary, pushing yourself off the wall and straightening up in a sudden movement. He turns his gaze to your face, slightly startled by the sudden action. “Are you busy right now? I mean, of course, you’re always busy, you’re exceptional at everything you do, and that’s why your schedule is always exploding, but... What I want to know is if you’re too busy right now, or if we can talk for a moment?”

“Huh?” He blinks a few times, trying to process the barrage of words you just threw at him in a record time of five seconds. He clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck in an attempt to calm his own heart from the compliment. “Well... Actually, my schedule is completely free right now.”

“Really?! Then... Do you want to go somewhere?”

He looks at you, confused. “Didn’t you—”

“No.” You cut him off before he finishes the sentence, breaking into a smile. “Meow Cafe?”

Greyson raises an eyebrow in silent questioning but doesn’t comment on your sudden change in behavior. With a sigh, he agrees. “Sounds great. I’ll just get my things.”

“I’ll wait for you in my car then!”

He nods and turns toward his office. You stay there, your hand still hidden behind your back until he’s out of your sight. Now that you’re going out together, you decide to give him the chocolates at the cafe. It’ll be so much more romantic and perfect that way!

You’re separated for just a few minutes, but you’re so anxious that it feels like hours when the brown-haired man appears at the meeting spot, his cheeks flushed from practically running to get to you faster.

The ride to the cafe is short, filled with random topics as your mind re-plans how you’re going to confess to him. And your Plan B falls apart when you reach the destination and see the place packed, and with a huge waiting line outside. Without reservations, you both give up and try another place. And another, and another… But every place is full because of Valentine’s Day.

A heavy sigh escapes you as you park the car in some random square. The sun is starting to set, painting the sky and you both in twilight colors, and you’re on the verge of giving up on everything. Maybe everything that’s happened is a sign for you to stay quiet and say nothing. Another sigh, and you notice some movement beside you when Greyson moves in the passenger seat. You turn your face to look at him, but he just watches you cautiously for a few moments.

“Something’s bothering you, and it’s been since the hospital.” His voice is low, but he says it with complete certainty. There’s no need to ask; he knows you well enough to tell when something’s wrong. You don’t respond, but the way you furrow your brows and set your lips in a straight line is enough of an answer for him. “Is it... because you didn’t find who you were looking for at the hospital? You wanted to spend Valentine’s Day with him, right? And it didn’t work out.”

“Wait, what?”

“It’s fine. I could offer to help you find him.”

“Greyson, that’s not…” You try to speak, but he places his index finger on your lips. The smile that spreads across his face is subtle, but enough to crinkle the corners of his eyes slightly, which gaze at you with that determined gleam you’ve come to love. Even if you wanted to, you don’t think you’d be able to explain yourself at this moment, so you end up giving in and staying quiet.

“However, I don’t… want that. If I can be honest… That’s not what I want at all.” The guy seems to be struggling for the right words, his cheeks growing redder with every passing second. “I know this is going to sound incredibly selfish, and it’s not fair to you, and now is definitely not the best or most romantic time, but… I had everything planned to ask you out today, for a Valentine’s Day date,” he says, waiting a few seconds for you to process what he said. Your eyes widen, and your breath stops, and he laughs through his nose in a self-deprecating way. The finger that was still on your lips falls, just like his shoulders, and he pulls back a bit as he sits properly in the seat again. “What I mean is… I like you more than just as a friend, and if I can make you change your mind, I will. I know it sounds selfish, and here in the car, in some random spot in the city, it’s definitely not what I had in mind when I planned to tell you—”

You don’t let him finish; you’ve heard more than enough, more than you expected. Grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, you pull him closer as you lean forward, pressing your lips to his in a chaste and quick kiss, but it’s enough to leave the guy stunned.

“Greyson…” you whisper, pulling away slowly. His cheeks are redder than you’ve ever seen, even reaching up to his ears, and he looks absolutely adorable like that. “Like I tried to tell you: it’s not what you think. Yes, I was looking for someone at the hospital, and I wanted to spend Valentine’s Day with him. And in the end, I did.” You turn to the back seat, grabbing the box of chocolates you had placed there while waiting for him and placing it in his hands, which are frozen in his lap. “It’s not what I had planned either, but... Happy Valentine’s Day, Greyson. I didn’t manage to make homemade chocolates, but I picked these with love, exclusively for you, because I like you more than just a friend too.”

He alternates between looking at the chocolate and at you a few times, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as he tries to remember what words are and how to say them to you.

“I... feel a little stupid now…” He finally says, furrowing his brow and pouting adorably.

“Well, to be fair, this would’ve been solved if we’d talked, and I think we were both waiting for the right and perfect moment. But sometimes, things happen at the most random and unplanned moments.”

Greyson keeps his confused frown, and you laugh softly, the melodious sound quickening his heartbeat while also calming him in a whirlwind of emotions. The only certainties at the moment are that he needs to hear you laugh more, see you smile more, and definitely kiss you more.

Holding the chocolate in one hand, he reaches out with the other, resting it gently on your neck. His thumb gently caresses your cheek, and he takes a deep breath before leaning in, this time being the one to initiate the kiss. He dares to ask to deepen the kiss, his tongue seeking permission, and you sigh as you give in. In a cliché rom-com moment, you feel an electric current run through your body, warming you from the inside out. Your hand moves to his hair at the nape of his neck, tangling and gently stroking it, and he can’t help but smile during the kiss.

The butterflies don’t just flutter aimlessly, they twirl and dance in your stomachs, but the sensation is wonderful. You both feel that it’s right, that this is what you’ve always wanted.

And as the night slowly falls, you kiss each other again and again and again…

Taglist: @william-rex @candiedcoffeedrops @valkyyriia

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#happy valentine's day!#lads fanfics #lads writings #lads greyson #lads #lads greyson x reader #lads x reader #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader

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spectoo · 2 days ago

Text

tuna mayo ! miya osamu

chapter five – post shower surprise

wc 2203

MDNI.

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22:46.

You stepped out of your foggy shower, and grabbed your towel. As you began to wipe leftover droplets of water off yourself, you couldn’t help but think about the events that had happened earlier in the day.

School wasn’t terrible today, as you only had two lectures, and–

You began to shake your head ‘no’, while continuing to dry yourself.

Oh, my apologies, not that early.

Right, at about 14:30 today, [L/N] [F/N] ate lunch at Onigiri Miya after Sakusa Kiyoomi had ditched her. The owner, Miya Osamu grabbed her plate from her table, and put it on the counter, while basically telling her to eat while conversing with him, so she wouldn’t be lonely. The best part? He asked her for her phone number before she left for work.

As you finally began to put your undergarments on, a small redness appeared on your face. Just the whole thought of it was making butterflies appear in your stomach. A feeling you haven’t felt since highschool.

Your mind eventually moved on from Osamu, and moved to work. Your eyebrows began to furrow, as it all came back to you.

To put it simply, the PR team for the MSBY Black Jackals decided to make a TikTok, essentially asking each member “Who would be the first to go to jail, and what would they be in for?”. You were a part of this video, due to being chosen to be the interviewer.

Earlier, 15:49.

“Do you all understand how this video is gonna go, or should I go over it once more?”

You were currently in the main gym, standing in front of all members of the team with a small microphone in your hand. You look to see everybody shaking their heads, giving you the ‘go ahead.’

“Great. I’ll give you guys some time to prepare your answers.” You turn to look at Meian, and speak again. “Meian, you’re first, alright?”

He gave you a thumbs up, and with that being said, the older members split into their own group, laughing about who they’re going to choose, Bokuto and Atsumu went to the locker room to quickly fix themselves up, and Hinata and Sakusa walked over to you. It’s safe to say that you were still somewhat upset over Sakusa leaving so abruptly, and as they approached, you crossed your arms. Hinata was the first to talk.

“Hi [L/N]! You excited to be in the video? It’s your first time, right?”

You nodded your head. “Yeah, I guess I am pretty excited.” You then quickly look at Sakusa, and can see him visibly tense up. “So, how was the early practice? Hmmm?”

He side eyed the ginger for a short period of time, and eventually did a full 90 degree bow. This caught you by surprise, causing you to step back.

“I’m sorry for ditching you, [L/N]. Truth be told, there was no early practice.”

Your eyes widened, and numerous thoughts began running through your head. You were right about him lying to you! You were so right to the point where you didn’t even catch the fact that Hinata had also stiffened, and began to lightly sweat.

Was Sakusa about to rat him out?

“I knew it. So, what were you doing then?” You asked once more as Sakusa began to straighten himself up from his bow.

Before the taller man could speak, Hinata spoke instead. “Ohhh, Sakusa ditched you? Now, why would he do that?” He put his pointer finger on his chin, and began to tap on it lightly, trying to imitate someone who was thinking deeply.

You squinted your eyes, and made a face of disgust. “Why are you acting like that?”

“Acting like what?!”

The way that Hinata immediately defended himself attracted the attention of everyone else in the gym, due to the loudness of his voice, causing them to stare for a bit, and eventually return back to their conversations.

You sighed dramatically and pinched the bridge of your nose. “Sakusa, it’s fine that you ditched me. I just wish that you actually told me why you wanted to leave. Hinata, I don’t even know why you’re being weird. Is there something you want to tell me?”

You look at him, and cross your arms once more, while he begins to scratch the back of his head with an awkward smile plastering his face. “Nope. Sorry, [L/N]!”

“Okaaay…” You moved your head more to the left, seeing the camera man waving his hand at you. “Well, I gotta go start this video. See y’all soon.”

With that, you walked past the both of them, and once you were out of earshot, Sakusa nudged Hinata’s side harshly.

“Ow, Sakusa! What was that for?” Hinata whined, rubbing the side of his torso.

“What was that for? You almost exposed us, you idiot.”

“Almost exposed what?” Sakusa gasped lighty and Hinata screamed while the both of them simultaneously turned around, to be met with Atsumu’s curious face.

“U–uh, well um-mm–”

“HINATA!”

Before Hinata could mutter out an answer, the three of them turned their heads to look at a raging [Y/N], with her pointer finger covering her mouth, indicating for them to shut up.

Present time, 22:47.

Even though you decided that you would drop the fact that Hinata and Sakusa were acting oddly suspicious, it still kind of stuck with you.

As you finished putting on your sweatpants and hoodie, you couldn’t help but wonder what they were possibly plotting. ‘Could they be trying to surprise me with something? No, maybe not.’

Using your head to think about these things was ultimately frustrating. You did say you would drop it, so eventually, that’s what you did. You took the towel out of your head, and began to put in as many products as needed, resulting in you letting it air dry.

Finally, your nightly routine was finished. The only thing left was to scroll mindlessly for about an hour before falling asleep. After you walked out of your bathroom, you quickly went to your living room to clean any excess things, such as organizing throw pillows, putting any water cups in the sink, etc.

As you were doing that, your phone was lying comfortably on the arm of your couch. You heard a singular ‘buzz’ coming from it, and went to go check on it.

When you saw the notification you didn’t expect, you immediately this rew it across the room. Thank heavens your floor was carpet.

Your hands covered your mouth as you began to feel a rush going through your head. ‘He texted that fast?! I thought it was going to take him at least a couple of days before actually texting me! What the–’

You sped walked to the spot where you threw your phone, ultimately picking it up and responding.

You quickly sat down on the couch, and put your phone next to you.

‘Is this actually happening?’

Yes, [Y/N], this is actually happening. You’re about to facetime Miya Osamu. Truth to be told, you didn’t even need five minutes. You live by yourself, meaning your apartment is usually clean most of the time, but there can be small messes here and there.

In the five minutes you had before facetiming him, you turned all your lights off, except your floor lamp to create a chill atmosphere, and got comfy on the couch, making sure you were in a position you were able to actually relax in.

Finally, you feel the vibrations of your phone, and mentally prepare yourself. Words could not even describe the excitement you were feeling right now. Was he feeling the same way?

After a few buzzes went by, you answered.

[bold + italics are osamu, bold is you]

“Hello?”

“Hey, Miya.”

He was sitting at a desk with a couple papers scattered around, most likely to do with his business. From what you could see, he looked pretty normal, not tired at all. He was wearing a white tee that hugged him in all the right places. You couldn’t help but wonder if he wore that for you.

“Yer livin’ room all clean now?”

You smiled, and responded, turning the camera to face towards your ceiling. “All clean. Would’ve been done earlier if you hadn’t distracted me, though.”

He chuckled, and averted his eyes to something that was most likely on his walls. He looked back at the camera, and put arms on his desk.

“Where’s yer face at?”

You smirked, and responded. “Why do you want to see my face?”

“Well first of all, it’s called Facetime for a reason. Second…”

He didn’t speak for a bit, and you stared at your phone, awaiting an answer.

“I miss your face. I uh– I know it’s kinda strange ta’ even say that, but yeah.”

You thought that was a good answer. A really good answer. You grabbed one of your pillows, and laid it flat, balancing your phone with it, basically giving him what he wanted.

“Thereee we go.” You couldn’t even hide the smile present on your face, and due to that, he began to smile as well.

“Happy?”

“Very. Now, how was work today?”

As the both of you began to converse about your shift, you didn’t even think about how nervous you were. Talking with Osamu was like talking to an old friend of yours. He didn’t make you uncomfortable one bit, and you really appreciated that. It just felt all too natural.

“Wait, so Sakusa and Hinata were actin’ weird?”

“Yes! I swear I don’t know what’s up with them, but I kinda just decided to not think too much into it.”

“I see. Did he at least end up apologizin’ for ditch’ ya?”

“He did.”

There was a small gap of silence between the two of you since you knew you had more to say, but didn’t know how to word it.

“Ya’know, Miya…”

He let out a “hm?” while still keeping his eyes on your face.

“I’m kinda glad he left me.”

“Yer glad that yer friend left ya all alone?”

“Well, no. I didn’t like that. But, if he didn’t, then we wouldn’t have talked as much as we did earlier.”

You could visually see him begin to think, and once he started nodding his head slowly, you figured that he understood it.

“Ya gotta point.”

“Right?”

Your many conversations with one another ended up going until 1:22 in the morning, until you decided to end the call. You were getting tired, and he was as well.

1:22.

“Miya.”

“Yeah?”

“I hate to end the call, but I can feel myself dozing off.”

He laughed, and grabbed his phone. “I can tell.”

You began to fiddle with your fingers while smiling, but then, you remembered what’s been on your mind since the first time the two of you met.

“Hey, before we hang up, can I talk to you about something real quick?”

“Go for it, no need ta’ ask.”

“Okay, well I– um…” You avert your eyes to your ceiling for a second, before continuing. “I’d rather not really tell anybody, especially Atsumu, that we’re… in communication. Well, for now, at least.”

He stayed silent for a bit, staring at his phone. You also didn’t speak up, as you didn’t even know what else to say.

You heard a small hum come from the other line. “Yeah, I kinda wanted ta’ mention that to you as well. He’s gonna go nuts if he finds out I’m talkin’ to ya.”

“Oh, why?”

“In all fairness, you were his friend first. Somethin’ I learned growin’ up with him, is that he doesn’t like sharin’ his friends.”

“Well, you know what? Tell him to shut up.”

Osamu laughed, causing you to start giggling. After that little fiasco was over, the both of you just looked at each other's faces. You were analyzing, and he was admiring.

“Goodnight, Miya.”

“Goodnight, [L/N]. Come back to Onigiri Miya, alright?”

“You know it.”

𐙚 Bonus

“Who would be the first to go to jail, and what would they be in for?” You held the microphone up to each individual player, awaiting their answers.

Meian: “Barnes, for sure. He’d be in for probably killing some people. I think he’s secretly in the American mafia.”

Tomas: “Inunaki, because he would be a drug dealer, and when I say drugs, I mean cocaine, ecstasy, etcetera.”

Bokuto: “Uhhhhhhh… Meian! I dunno, he seems like the type who would randomly hit someone with a baseball bat!”

Sakusa: “Bokuto. He’d be in for tax evasion.”

Barnes: “Bokuto, and something to do with not filing his taxes.”

Hinata: “Oh, for sure Bokuto! I don’t think he does his taxes!”

Inunaki: “Meian, but I don’t know what he would be in for. Maybe… maybe breaking traffic laws?”

Atsumu: “Who do I think would be in jail?” He points at you. “You. Knowin’ you, you’d probably commit genocide.”

*everybody silently agrees*

[Y/N]: “It has to be someone on the actual team, asshole.”

Atsumu: “Oh… uh, Bokuto. Tax evasion.”

Bokuto: “Stop choosing me! I do my taxes!”

Atsumu: “Then stop yer complainin’ about it, would ya?!”

author's notes !

𐙚 little bit of a filler episode since i didn't really know what to write , but it's cute , ain't it ?

𐙚 happy valentines day !! love ya , reader-chan ٩(＾◡＾)۶

taglist: @reuka1 @enepsigosthelast @arwawawa2 @miruac @loveelylani

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pkg4mumtown · 2 days ago

Text

I Bet You Look Good in Pink (On the Dancefloor)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Male!Reader

Rating: Mature

Summary: You panicked and grabbed some poor stranger off the street to be your fake boyfriend to get your mom off your back. What could go wrong?

Content Warnings: Crack, fluff, meet cute, first kiss, first person pov, male reader, fake relationship

A/N: This is pure crack influenced by this guy I saw doing videos walking up to dudes saying “I’m out with my husband, say hi mom” and wanted to explore Hotch reacting to that while Rossi ran amok at the end. That’s it. That’s the fic. Enjoy!

Also available on AO3. I recommend having work skins on if you do, so you can see the social media and text skins.

I was set out on a brisk jog—more of a speed walk, who was I kidding—before work to prepare my mind for the day's stresses. All that went to hell in a handbasket when I felt my phone buzz and my earbuds start playing a jingle, which only meant that my mother was calling me.

I’d been dodging her calls for weeks knowing she was asking whether or not I was bringing my “boyfriend” to my cousin's wedding. I had made the smart decision to tell my mom I was seeing someone—a total lie—thinking I could make several excuses about his absence and things would be okay, considering I didn’t see my mom as often as I should.

Then, my cousin just had to announce a wedding on short notice.

I had never wanted someone to call off a wedding so badly in my life. My mother couldn’t resist meddling either and marked me down as having a plus one without consulting me first.

“Patience” and “understanding” were not words I would use to describe my reaction.

I groaned when I saw that it was a video call, too. Sighing heavily, I answered the phone and picked up the pace again, hoping the loud sounds of the city and my huffing and puffing would get her off the phone faster. Knowing her, I wouldn't be so lucky.

“Hey, Mom,” I breathed heavily, my feet pounding on the pavement.

“Hi, honey, I wanted to talk to you about Vanessa's wedding.”

“Yea? What about it?” I asked nonchalantly barely able to hold in my labored breaths, looking forward rather than at the phone so I didn't trip and eat the pavement.

“You haven't double booked anything have you?” she asked, a wary tone to her voice, expecting me to cancel at the last minute.

“No, Mom. I didn't forget.”

“Then, your boyfriend is coming, right? I think it’s been long enough that I should meet him, sweetie,” she smiled on the other end.

Honestly, she was right. I had told her about “him” about six months ago, being as vague as possible every time he was brought up.

My brain—on the other hand—had other ideas causing me to immediately panic, not knowing how to respond. If I told her I lied to her and that he wasn’t real or that we “broke up", she would be back to hounding me and trying to set me up with every man she met. If I made another excuse, she would be suspicious. I almost felt bad lying to her, but “getting the hint” was not one of her strong suits.

As my brain warred with itself, I spotted another man running just up ahead dressed in a dark t-shirt, shorts, and plain running shoes. He was slowing down as we approached a crosswalk with flashing red lights indicating that it wasn’t safe to cross.

This might end up topping my list of idiotic plans, but—

“Yes, Mom. My boyfriend is coming,” I raised my voice slightly as I finally got to the crosswalk where the man was bouncing on his toes to stay warm.

I noticed the vague glance he shot my way at my voice and presence, but that was the only acknowledgment I received.

He was kind of cute this close-up. His soft dark hair contrasted sharply with his light complexion. He was in his mid to late forties but clearly in excellent shape and by his stone-faced expression, a government worker like many people in this area.

“We’re actually finishing up our run, soon,” I stepped closer to him, meeting his hawk-like eyes with a pleading, pitiful expression. With reflexes I wasn’t aware I possessed, I switched the call to speaker and turned the phone toward him, “Say, ‘hi’, babe!”

The glare he gave me was a mix of incredulous confusion and wariness as he checked his surroundings like he was expecting someone to come out and attack him while I distracted him.

Definitely a government agent, then.

“Um,” he started cautiously. “Who are—"

I hurriedly tapped the mute button on the call, wanting to grab his wrist and plead like a child asking for sweets. I restrained myself, expecting that he would have me face down on the concrete in a second if I did.

I probably wouldn’t even mind that.

“Hi, sorry,” I quickly spat my name out at him in my haste. “Please, play along. I’ll owe you my entire life, please,” I begged.

Was I being dramatic? Totally. But I was desperate to give her an actual face to get her off of my back.

One last glance around us and he relented, bending somewhat to be level with the phone’s camera. I tapped the mute button again.

“Sorry, Mom, his hearing is a little bad. Babe, say ‘hi’ to my mom,” I raised my voice, positioning myself so I was just in front of him and both of us fit in the frame.

I heard him slowly exhale behind me, then a soft smile spread over his face in the camera preview, “Hello, Ms...”

I felt him smack my back with the back of his hand, making me jump but I murmured her last name out of the corner of my mouth.

“Right, hello,” he smiled again. “I’m age—Aaron. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Oh, how handsome,” she winked and I felt my soul immediately leave my body.

How childish would it be to launch my phone into the street right now?

“Yea, um, so—we're—” I started but was interrupted.

“Aaron, sweetheart, I love my son to death but his memory is awful. I hope he told you about his cousin’s wedding. I’d love to meet you there,” she interrupted me.

Aaron’s smile faded somewhat, probably internally panicking as much as I was.

“I should have stayed home,” I heard him murmur under his breath. “Uhm, no, but it’s been a pretty hectic couple of weeks for me, so it’s not entirely his fault,” Aaron covered smoothly, bringing a hand up to my shoulder and stepping closer.

Damn, he was good.

“You poor thing,” she cooed. “Well, I hope you can make it.”

“Of course, I’ll do my best.”

“Oh, and she changed the colors to pastel pink, so I hope that’s not too hard for you to come up with, honey.”

My jaw clenched. Of course, she changed the colors. Luckily, I had a navy blue suit that would go with the only pastel pink shirt I owned.

“I’ll make it work, Mom, thanks.”

I could feel Aaron glaring at me through the video preview, his fingertips digging into my shoulder. Like he was questioning every life choice that landed him in this present moment.

I reached my hand back, fingers barely grazing the side of his neck as I looked back at him, “I think you have one.”

Aaron’s eyes flicked down to my lips and back to my eyes so quickly I almost missed it, “You would—uh—know better than me.” He sounded unfocused and dazed as he reacted to my movements.

“I think so,” I winked, pressing my lips to his stubbly chin and focusing back on the phone, seeing my mother’s eyes lit up with glee. “Anyway, Mom, I gotta go home and get ready for work. Love you.”

“Okay, have a great week, sweetie, I love you, too! It was nice to meet you, Aaron.”

“You as well,” he smiled, giving her a small wave before the call ended.

My face dropped as soon as the call was over, turning to face Aaron, “I am so sorry for that! I panicked and I’ll admit it was not my finest moment. And I’m especially sorry if that whole thing made you uncomfortable because I’m...you know...and I kissed—yea—uhm...I’m sorry.”

Aaron scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, “It’s okay.” He shifted in place, looking at the people passing us rather than me, “I’m actually...bi? Is that the word?”

This man was getting better by the minute.

“Good enough,” I smiled.

The silence stretched between us again. Was it too late to run across the street and away from this silence? I glanced at the light as it turned back to red—the third one we’ve missed now.

“I’m—uh—sorry, too,” he finally said.

“Why?” I asked him, confused, “I trampled all over your morning.”

“I thought you were distracting me to—er—hurt me, rob me, ambush me...” he trailed off, looking just past me.

I couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up my throat and morphed into a full-bodied laugh, “Honey, please...look at me.”

Aaron’s shocked face slowly cracked, laughing with me finally. His shoulders relaxed a little, not as on edge as he was when I first approached him.

He had a beautiful smile, I was learning.

“What—uh—what day is that wedding?” he finally asked as our laughter settled down.

“Oh, you don’t actually have to go. I can make something up, really,” I waved him off. “I just needed to give her a face to give my claims some validation.”

Aaron shrugged, his arms flailing slightly, “My coworkers tell me I need to get out more, so...”

Oh.

“Well, in that case...” I unlocked my phone and checked the calendar to be absolutely sure lest my mother fry me, “It’s next month. The fifth. You have approximately twenty-five days.”

How was this my life right now?

“My schedule is—well it’s unpredictable, so I’ll let you know?” he cringed a little.

Government agent. Right. No wonder his posture was so good.

“And how were you planning on doing that?” I asked with a smirk.

He froze for a second, brain rebooting, “I was hoping I could get your number, actually,” he laughed shyly, looking down and patting his pockets to locate his phone.

He fumbled with the phone for a second and finally handed it to me. Pursing my lips, I laughed to myself as I typed my name in and put “boyfriend” with a heart in parenthesis before typing my number in. I handed it back to him, seeing the way his face flushed at the name I put in.

“I’m serious, though, if you can’t or don’t want to just let me know. You’re in no way obligated.”

“Yeah, I will,” he nodded, making a move to continue his journey.

We both crossed the street, him breaking back out into a run and me a brisk-ish stroll as I got my music playing again. I caught him looking back a couple of times, making me wonder if he was challenging me to catch up or making sure I didn’t follow him home. A smile pulled across his face as he saw me start to speed up. As we reached the next intersection, I held my hand up in a wave as I turned left while he continued straight and crossed the street.

Aaron POV

Aaron had been understandably wary of the man who approached him that morning. He had a dangerous job and had experienced more than enough trauma for one lifetime.

He was ambushed. Just not like had expected.

All of a sudden, he was talking to a lady and gently touching a man he didn’t know and—

Uh.

Did he just kiss Aaron?

On his chin, but still.

He wasn't sure if he was conscious at that moment, except for the fire burning on his face.

Aaron made it home and to Quantico in a haze. He sat at his desk, staring at the phone in his hand like it might suddenly burst into flames. A phone number, a name, and an invitation. Nothing more. Nothing less.

It had been hours since the incident, and yet, the warmth of a stranger’s lips on his cheek still lingered like an unresolved case in his mind. He wasn’t sure if it was the sheer audacity and absurdity of the encounter or the way he had simply…gone along with it. The sound of the stranger’s voice still echoed—quick, clever, and just a little desperate.

"Babe, say ‘hi’ to my mom."

And Aaron—fucking—Hotchner, a man trained in several facets like terrorism, law, and behavioral analysis, had folded like a damn lawn chair.

Which is why he now found himself in a situation far more dangerous than being ambushed in the middle of a morning run—standing in Penelope Garcia’s office.

Penelope turned in her chair and blinked at him, fingers frozen over her keyboard assessing him.

“Sir,” she said slowly, looking him up and down like he had just walked in wearing a clown wig. He certainly felt like it. “Hi, sir. Hotch. Uh, sir. What… are you doing here? Do we have a case?”

Aaron didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he set a paper down on her desk where he’d written the man’s number and slid it toward her with two fingers. “Can you run this for me?” He cleared his throat. “Unofficially.”

Her eyes flicked from the paper to his face, then back to the paper. Then back to his face.

She gasped, “Oh my God. Is this—” She clapped her hands over her mouth, muffling an excited squeal. “Are you asking for a background on a new lady friend?”

Aaron’s jaw tightened, teeth grinding under the pressure, “Garcia.”

“You are.” Her voice was an octave higher, her whole body vibrating with barely contained glee. “Oh, my stars, this is my favorite day—”

“It's not—” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s not like that.”

Garcia wiggled her fingers at him. “Oh, no, no, no, sir, you do not get to walk into my office, ask me to dig into some poor lady's entire life, and then pretend like this isn’t about romance.”

Aaron exhaled sharply.

There was no easy way out of this now.

“He approached me this morning,” he admitted. “Called me his boyfriend—to his mother over the phone—and I…played along. His mother invited me to his cousin’s wedding.”

Garcia gawked at Aaron, completely glossing over the fact that Aaron had implied a man. He shouldn’t be surprised that she didn’t care, “You played along?”

He glanced away, embarrassed, “It was—unexpected.”

She pointed at Aaron accusingly. “You liked it.”

“I did not.”

“You so did.”

“Garcia—”

She cackled, typing the number in furoiusly and bringing up several windows, “Well, now I have to know who this mystery man is. I would have never guessed, boss man, but I can't judge a book by it’s cover. Oh, what if he’s a spy? Or an undercover agent? Or—”

“I was thinking more along the lines of a scam artist,” Aaron muttered.

She hummed, making a tsk with her tongue and teeth, “Doubt it. Cute guys don’t run scams, they just break hearts.”

Hotch gave her a flat look, “That’s how you—”

“Not a word,” she held a finger up. “Give me five minutes.”

And just like that, Garcia’s fingers were flying over the keyboard. The glow of her multiple monitors flashed across her face as she scrolled through the man’s life with the skill of a seasoned technical analyst and the enthusiasm of a gossip columnist.

Aaron crossed his arms, exhaling sharply at her wild glee, “Anything?”

“Oh, my dear sir, I have everything.” Garcia’s eyes widened. “Oh. Oh my God.”

Aaron's posture stiffened, leaning in closer to the screen. Dread filled his stomach at what she could have found, “What?”

“He’s adorable!”

Aaron immediately frowned, he was too old for this shit, “That’s not relevant.”

“Oh, but it is,” Penelope turned one of the monitors slightly so he could see. “Look at this. Your mystery man is a dog dad—and look at this cutie pie of a pup! He posts pictures of her in cute sweaters—sir, he’s a sweater-on-dogs guy.”

Aaron barely glanced at the screen. “And?”

Garcia gasped, “Oh, and? And? That means he has a soft heart, sir. That means he is a man of culture. Also, look at him.”

Hotch did not look at the screen. He refused actually.

Garcia, however, had no such reservations. She clicked on another post. “He hikes! Look at him in the mountains with that perfect lighting—who is taking these pictures, wow? Oh, that’s so unfair. Pretty people should not have good lighting and cute dogs.”

Aaron exhaled through his nose, long and slow. “He sure was struggling to catch up to me today.”

“He strolls, sir. Not everyone runs marathons.”

“Garcia.”

She ignored him, clicking another post, “Ooh, he bakes. He’s posted about trying new recipes. There’s a caption—‘Husband material 😏😉’.” She turned to him, eyes wide with revelation. “This is so fate.”

He finally looked at her, doing his best to look unimpressed but he was slowly softening to the man, too, “Fate?”

She pointed at the screen. “Sir, this man makes baked goods, is absolutely adorable, and randomly fake-dated you? That is the universe working in real-time.”

Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose. Why had she put so much stress on “you”? He was a catch, too.

“Oh, wait, what’s this?” She clicked on another post and let out yet another squeal, “He dressed up as a cowboy for Halloween. Sir, I swear to you—”

“I’m leaving.”

Garcia lunged forward, grabbing his wrist before he could retreat. A playful glare had her releasing him instantly. Still, Garcia looked up at him, eyes twinkling, “He’s precious.”

Aaron sighed, rubbing his temple. “Did you find anything that would suggest he’s dangerous?”

Garcia grinned. “Only to your heart, sir.”

Hotch turned on his heel and left.

Garcia called after him, sing-song, “So, are you going to call him or what?”

Aaron was not going to dignify that with a response. He had just made it to the door when Garcia made more excited yelps and beckoned him back.

“Oh, oh, wait, wait, sir, come back!”

With a sigh, he turned, “Hmm?”

Garcia spun one of the monitors toward him, biting back a grin, “So, uh. You remember when he mentioned a wedding?”

Aaron frowned, “Yes?”

“It’s real,” She clicked on a recent post. It was a screenshot of a text conversation:

Garcia wheezed, “Sir, you are his manifested date.”

Hotch stared at the screen, resisting the urge to chuckle at his ridiculous antics. It was good to know he was actually that awkward online, too.

“…I see. To be fair, he did give me a choice.”

Garcia tilted her head, watching him carefully. “Perfect, you could just text him and say you’re not going. Or—” Her smile turned devious. “You could meet up and—you know—practice before the real thing.”

Aaron gave her a deadpan look.

She beamed.

Without a word, Aaron turned and walked out but sighed, stopping the door from shutting all the way with his hand. He poked his head back in, “Thanks, Penelope.”

MC POV

I honestly, didn’t expect Aaron to text me. It had been about a week since I ran into him. Throughout that time, I hadn’t seen him out and about any other morning. So, I couldn’t tell if he’d been avoiding me, we were completely missing each other, or he was just busy.

I chose to believe he was busy because boy would I not mind seeing him and those perfect hands again.

My thoughts were put at ease when I got a text ten days after I ran into him, smack on a Saturday morning.

I had no idea what to reply as I stared at my phone with a puppy chewing on my sweater sleeves.

“Mochi, no,” I absentmindedly corrected her. “Daddy needs to think.”

While I thought about a response, I saved his contact to my phone under “Aaron (Mom's Fav)”.

I could practically feel his exasperation through the phone. But I did hope he thought I was somewhat funny, too.

My heart felt like it was ready to jump out of my throat as I read his text. Tonight? Like TONIGHT?

“Mochi, come here, baby. I need support,” I dragged the over-excited puppy into my lap and hugged her to my lap with one hand while the other held my phone.

What do I even say to that? Deflecting with humor sounded like a safe bet.

Aaron’s address was sent shortly after and I wasn't surprised to see that it was only a couple blocks north of mine in the direction he ran the day we met. I threw my head back on my couch, giddy to see Aaron again. My brain finally caught up with what that meant. I was going to be alone with the man, with only Mochi as a chaperone and she couldn’t care less about who I embarrassed myself in front of. I had nothing to hide behind, no buffer, no screen, no over-excited mother to parry off of.

Fuck. Why was I like this?

Then I realized I had a lot of work to do and leaped off the couch to make him a study guide. I had pictures of the important people: my parents, siblings, bride and groom, and some assorted aunts and uncles. I wouldn't subject him to memorizing the kids because—let's be honest—they didn't care about the old folks anyway. It wasn’t too long of a list, only about three pages that I printed out to make it easy for him.

Once I had that sorted, I thought about what to bring. Can you go wrong with brownies? Actually...I’m sure you could, but it was the most practiced thing I knew how to make without messing up considering the state of my head.

The time snuck up on me quickly and I frantically took the brownies out of the oven to cool before running to my room to get ready with Mochi hot on my heels. She guarded the shower, attacking my towels and shower mat as I hurriedly washed myself. Doing my best to not trip over her and slip on the slick floor—medical emergencies were not ideal right now—I ran back to my room to towel off and get dressed.

“Ok, little girl, what color are we feeling today?”

I laid out a couple different collars for her, which she hopped excitedly around and chose one to attack. Lilac it was.

“Should we match?” she gave me a beady-eyed stare, focused only on gaining possession of the collar again. “You don’t give two shits.”

I fastened the collar around her neck and tugged a matching sweater over her, taking the time to gush over how adorable she looked.

I surprisingly found a passable first-date shirt that sort of matched her and finished getting ready. In my haste, I nearly forgot the small tray of brownies as I fed Mochi and packed a couple of toys to distract her. Nearly screaming, I covered the tray and put it by the door with the other stuff so I wouldn't forget.

I was a wreck the entire drive to Aaron’s. For no reason, too. As much as I teased him, he was right.

This wasn’t a date. But, he was hot and I was me.

I located his apartment with relative ease and waited nervously outside with an impatient puppy at my side and a glass tray under my arm digging into my ribs. His cheat sheet lay balanced atop the foil. Making a nervous whine in the back of my throat, I finally knocked with my free hand that held Mochi’s leash.

The door swung open, Aaron on the other side with a dish towel over his shoulder in a dark polo. I stared at the skin past the unbuttoned top buttons, completely missing whatever he said to me.

“—need help?” I caught at the end of his sentence.

“Oh, uh, yea sort of,” I winced as I shifted the tray, which he gladly took from me, noticing the paper on top as he ushered me inside and shut the door behind me.

“You can let her off, it’s fine. I closed all the doors already,” he nodded to where Mochi was eagerly wanting to sniff every surface she could reach.

Wow, he’s perfect.

I unclipped her leash, laughing at the way she made a beeline for Aaron’s jeans, nipping at the material before skittering over to his sofa. I tossed the toys I brought with me to the floor, so she would leave his belongings alone.

“This is...a good look on you,” I smiled nervously, taking in the domesticity of his clothes. My bravado over text completely flew out the window.

“Mm, I was married once upon a time,” He smirked, turning back to the stove.

“Was?”

“Yea, we found out I was married to my work more.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

Aaron just shrugged, “It was a long time ago.”

I chewed my lip, desperate to change the topic. My eyes landed on the papers I brough with me.

“Oh! I brought this so we could go over my family.”

I picked up the papers and met him near the stove, leaning against the counter where there was free space he wasn't utilizing. He smiled softly in my direction as he cooked, nodding and stirring.

“Go for it,” he nodded.

I was surprised he wanted to start now while he was busy cooking but went ahead anyway. I would show him the picture, tell him their name and relation, and move on. He listened diligently, repeating names and making sure they were pronounced correctly before moving on. His eyes moved over the pictures like they were calculating and cataloging every little detail of their faces. He would lean in for a closer look at the pictures, standing much closer and making me stumble over my words. My face would feel like it was on fire.

Aaron didn’t comment on it.

He was weirdly good at it, remembering faces and recalling details from short-term memory.

I wanted to ask how but didn’t want to intrude more than he was allowing me. My big mouth couldn’t be stopped, though.

“Wh—,” I started, my voice hitching when he moved into my space and grabbed something on the other side of me. His arm wrapped around me, chest scraping mine as he looked at me expectantly to keep talking. “—wh—uhm…hmm,” I raised my eyebrows, scratching the back of my neck awkwardly under his gaze.

He sighed with an amused smile, “You can’t act like this every time I touch you at the wedding, boyfriend.”

I cleared my throat, blinking rapidly, “Act like what?”

Aaron shook his head, adding the item he grabbed and stirring briefly. He gave me a pointed look, “You freeze up and stutter.”

“I do not.”

“You do. You just did.”

Aaron set his large spoon down and crowded my space, “If you’re nervous about being close to me, then you need to get used it.” His hands framed my hips on the counter behind me, “Touch me.”

I nearly choked on my own saliva.

“I—I’m sorry?”

Aaron was unfazed, “If we’re going to sell this, you can’t tense up and shy away every time I stand next to you. So, touch me. Now.”

I stared at him, his brown eyes boring into mine with long lashes framing them.

He’s so pretty.

I raised my hand up and pressed a finger to his chest. His very firm, very nice chest that stretched the fabric of his polo.

“Not like that,” he sighed, taking my wrist and guiding my hand more firmly to his chest.

Oh.

Brain.exe has stopped working.

I swallowed, pressing my palm more confidently against him and looking just past his head. Aaron tilted his head, purposely catching my gaze again. Picking up my free hand, I rested it on his bicep, where his shirt met his skin.

“So—uh,” I tried to think at the same time, gently squeezing the muscle and sliding my hand around to the back of his arm. “You have a really good memory.”

“Mhm.”

“Where do you work?” I finally asked.

“For the DOJ,” he answered automatically.

“Got it, top secret,” I laughed.

He dropped his head sheepishly, “Sorry. It’s kind of an automatic answer for people I just met.”

He lifted his head up, smiling and moving a hand to my lower back. I fought the jump that threatened to move my body and lost, tensing just a little.

“I work for the FBI,” he finished.

“That makes so much more sense,” I laughed, sliding my hand up from his chest to his shoulder.

I licked my lip as his head tilted away from my hand.

An invitation.

Slowly, my hand made its way to his neck. His eyes fluttered shut as my fingers slipped around the back of his neck while my thumb brushed just below his ear.

“Good,” he hummed with his eyes still closed, helping my confidence just enough since I was no longer under his watchful gaze.

“This is so stupid, why am I nervous? I literally kissed your face on a whim in front of my mother.”

Aaron shrugged, “You tell me.”

Frankly, I did know. I was legitimately attracted to him beyond this whole fake dating bullshit.

He still stared, expecting an answer.

“Oh, you want me to say it out loud?”

“Yea.”

“Well, I—”

“Look at me.”

It wasn’t a suggestion.

Looking directly at him, I continued, “I think I’m just actually attracted to you and all of my confidence over text goes out the window when that happens. I don’t have anything to hide behind, you know?”

“Mm,” he hummed. “Would be hard to sell if we didn’t find each other attractive.”

Wait.

We?

Aaron leaned forward.

I held my breath.

His lips touched my cheek, pressing a soft kiss there before straightening up and going back to the food before it burned.

My cheek was on fire.

He found me attractive, too?

Dinner was a little easier, reviewing my family again to make sure things were sticking with him. Mochi had come over at some point to chew on my shoelaces as we talked. Aaron picked her up, having finished his food first, and let her chew on his arm with her little dagger teeth. As soon as I finished, I grabbed his plate and took it to the sink—which he protested.

“You’re babysitting, it’s the least I can do,” I slapped his hand away.

Aaron kept me company instead, leaning against the counter with Mochi in his arms. We diligently went over our backstory, how we met, our first date, etcetera—knowing full well that my mother would ask every single question she could think of. Whether it was meant to be private or public.

Mochi eventually wiggled out of his grasp, running over to one of her toys, snagging it, and doing laps around the couch.

Aaron smiled as he watched her, then turned to take the wet dishes from my hands to dry them. My fingers tingled as his own fingers brushed mine, but I kept my cool and he noticed with a proud nod.

“See? You’re doing better already.”

I roll my eyes, watching him push off the counter to put the dishes away. I turned the water off, busy drying my hands when I felt two hands come to my hips with Aaron’s breath against my shoulder. His body heat was plastered against my back. I was proud of myself for not tensing up, instead waiting for him to do something while I placed my damp hands over his as his hands met at the front of my hips.

“I’m assuming you know how to dance?” He murmured.

“Yes, I know how to dance at a wedding. I know you’re out of practice and all but this is not how you do that,” I laughed.

“Just making sure you wouldn’t jump,” he muttered, his nose brushing the shell of my ear and his lips skimming the back of my neck.

“I’ve calmed down a little, okay?” I rolled my eyes, turning to face him.

I gripped his upper arms, his arms still wrapped around me, and slid them up his shoulders until they could meet around his neck.

“Can I try something?” I asked.

He seemed to already know, eyes half-lidded and already staring at my mouth, “Go ahead."

I leaned in, pressing my lips to his gently, separating only to come back and press a little harder. Aaron’s hips closed the gap between us, arms pulling me close at the same time.

This had to be heaven.

My hand cupped the back of his head, eagerly bringing him down as my lips parted. The tip of his tongue flicked out at my bottom lip, nearly making me whine in the back of my throat. The friction of our pants did not help in that department.

I pulled back; the kiss having been much briefer than it felt. Aaron’s mouth chased mine, barely able to mutter, “Again,” before his tongue was licking my mouth open.

A moan ripped from my throat as his tongue skimmed the hypersensitive skin of the roof of my mouth. The shiver I fought made me grip him tighter and I had a vague thought about how far he was willing to take this as I felt the unmistakable brush of his hardness against mine. I pulled back, letting my hands drop to his chest to create some space.

His lips were swollen, eyes a little dark, but he was otherwise annoyingly calm. I was flustered, the line between real and fake being blurred so intensely in that moment.

“This might be a problem.”

He didn’t have to look down to know exactly what we both felt, “Only if you make it one.”

I shook my head, smacking his arm and squeezing myself out from between him and counter, “You’re insufferable.”

“You kissed me first,” he followed, stopping to grab two brownies out from the covered tray.

He followed me further down the counter, handing me one of the brownies and watching me with a vaguely amused look. I took a bite just to give myself something to do, staring at the floor and murmuring my thanks.

We just made out. We barely know each other. This is insane.

“You’ve been giving me an out this entire time but It looks like you might need one,” he took a slow bite of his own, clearly in no rush. “You’re thinking too hard about this.”

“You just kissed me stupid, give me a second.”

“You still kissed me first.”

“Are you seriously not letting that go?”

“No.”

He was so fucking smug. I hated and loved it at the same time. It made me want to kiss him again. I shoved the last of the brownie in my mouth, finally meeting his eyes and swallowing thickly.

“So, at the wedding, we’re not kissing like that.”

“Obviously, unless you plan on scarring your family,” he exhaled, sounding like a laugh. He crowded my space again, my brain going into overdrive at his heat and smell. “You specified ‘at the wedding’, which I find interesting.”

Aaron’s eyes flicked down to my mouth, leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to my chocolate-flavored lips, then another, and another before pulling back. My eyes were still closed as he spoke, relishing the contrast of his gentle movements versus the intensity of before.

“We act normal. Just like that,” he smiled, grabbing another brownie and bringing it to my mouth.

“You’re way too chill about this,” I scoffed but took it from his hands.

“It’s more fun than I expected,” he shrugged. “Plus...I did mean it.”

I tilted my head questioningly.

“About the attraction. I was cautious of course last week because of my job, but I don’t know. After making sure you weren't a threat…I—” He paused, trying to figure out his next words, “You’re unfortunately magnetic.”

“So, what you’re saying is that my incessant text flirting worked?”

“Only a little,” he joked. “The cowboy outfit was the kicker for me.”

“Oh my God, stop!” I covered my face.

“What I’m saying is,” he laughed, prying my hands away from my face, “if you’re amenable of course—that maybe it doesn't have to be entirely fake.”

I feigned thinking, squinting one eye in thought, “So, this was a first date?”

“I think it was about three dates wrapped in one,” he pursed his lips.

“Well, I don’t put out on the third date, so it might be my time to leave,” I teased.

He just grinned, swooping in and claiming my lips. I decided then that the brownies tasted much better with him. I kissed him as fervently as I needed air to breathe, gasping as his hips ground softly into mine purposely.

It felt so good.

So good that by the fourth time it happened, I had to remove myself from him, “I was—mm—I was serious about the third date thing—as-as eager as I might be.”

Aaron nodded in understanding, chest heaving.

“And if you were serious before, I just-I just want to make sure, you know? If that’s okay?”

“Of course,” he smiled down at me, his reddened lips still so inviting but I needed to go before my resolve crashed and burned.

“I should go before it gets out of hand,” I smiled sadly, “but study up and keep those,” I pointed at the brownies. “Take them to work or something.”

“That’s probably for the best,” he cringed a little as he glanced down at the unruly bulge in his jeans. “You’re definitely not freaking out anymore,” he pointed out smugly.

I made some kind of noise. A flustered scoff? Panicked laugh? A dignified, manly squeak? I didn't know but I did know that if I stayed here any longer, we were either ending up in bed or I was leaving with soiled pants.

“Shut up,” I murmured, a smirk playing at my lips. “Mochi, it’s time to go home!” I called the puppy, leaning over and seeing her curled up on top of an afghan thrown over Aaron’s couch.

I clapped my hands together, her ears perking up as she stretched. Aaron didn't try to stop me as I gathered my belongings, just leaning back against the counter looking completely satisfied with himself. He met me at the door, opening it as I carried the sleepy puppy.

“Drive safe,” he said casually, voice warm and comforting. Before I could walk out completely, his fingers pinched the center of my shirt, guiding me backwards and pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. Then obnoxiously, “See you soon, boyfriend.”

“Good night, sweetheart,” I sassed back, running my shoulder straight into the doorframe on my way out.

Luckily, they had the shirt in his size and it came in a couple days before the wedding.

I rushed up to his apartment door, fully dressed for the wedding with the pink shirt in hand. The wedding wasn't far from here and it was still an hour before we needed to be there. I knocked frantically on the door, met with a still damp Aaron from the shower.

"Oh, I could get used to that sight," I commented appreciatively, looking at his bare chest and taking my sunglasses off.

"Are you sure it wasn't too much?" he asked about the shirt

"Hush, go get ready," I pushed him away by the chest.

He took advantage, tugging my arm to him so I would stumble forward into him. His hands grasped my hips immediately, lips finding mine easily in all the movement.

"Aaron," I murmured trying to get him moving. "You're wet."

"Mhm," he smiled into the kiss. “Just getting some practice in before showtime.”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

He finally let me go and took the shirt, shaking it out and nodding as he felt the material between his fingers.

When he came out of the room fully dressed, my jaw was on the floor looking at his form in a fitted navy suit. We were fucking matching.

"You are feeding my mother, I swear," I laughed. "We look like we're about to take engagement photos."

A satisfied smirk stretched over his face at my admiration. He strode forward but stopped short.

"Where's Mochi?" He frowned.

"Oh, she would cause mayhem. My neighbor is watching her."

"You trust your neighbor with her?"

"You're so perfect," I gushed, wanting to squeeze his face. Cute aggression, I swear. "Out the door, please," I waved him toward the front door.

I didn't know how I convinced him to let me drive, but he luckily backed off as soon as I started ranting about his alpha male need to control everything and that he probably took over driving everywhere at work.

"Just be a good little passenger princess," I settled my hand on his thigh as I took off.

"I don't always drive," he muttered under his breath.

"Somehow, I severely doubt that."

The country club was a short drive, allowing us to arrive fifteen minutes early before the actual wedding ceremony was due to start. We entered the country club, following the signs for the wedding outside. The reception would follow indoors. Several signs along the way instructed guests to turn their phones off, which Aaron hesitated to do.

"Just put it on silent or vibrate. They don't want all the aunties' phones in the photographers shots," I touched his wrist, seeing him contemplate. "If you're on call just do vibrate."

"I'm not technically, I just don't want to miss a call if they do. It's a little unpredictable."

"Whatever you do, do it fast," I wound my arm around his as I spotted my mother among my family.

I heard Aaron clear his throat and shove his phone in his pocket, plastering an award winning smile on his face.

“Oh, sweetie, you're here!” My mother ran up to me, nearly stumbling in her heels.

“Woah, careful,” I lunged, holding my hands out to catch her but Aaron was faster, grabbing her hands and stopping her forward momentum.

“Aaron, honey, how sweet are you?” she gushed, holding onto his forearms. “It's so nice to finally meet you.”

Aaron and I were dragged around to my family and he—unsurprisingly—remembered all of the information I had fed him. Throughout the ceremony, Aaron had his arm wrapped around me, hand resting on my lower back. It was strange being here with someone after expecting to be here by myself, but as I leaned my head on his shoulder I was glad it was Aaron I picked off the street. He caught me looking at him, giving me a soft smile and kissing my temple.

The ceremony was blissfully short as the afternoon sun started to heat up. I just about dragged Aaron inside after, eager to not sweat through this light-colored shirt.

The reception started off without a hitch. Aaron offered to drive while I had a few drinks—who was I to decline such an offer—and dancing commenced while we waited for the food.

Aaron begrudgingly danced with my mother—only to slow ones per his request—but he kept his awkwardness at being interrogated hidden well. When it was my turn to dance with my fake boyfriend, I did so happily, not one to complain about being close to Aaron.

Aaron’s hand was warm on my lower back as we swayed to the music. His thumb brushed small, lazy circles along my spine, and I was very much not immune to it.

"You're suspiciously quiet," I teased, tilting my head up to meet his gaze. "Having fun?"

"Something like that," he said, lips twitching in amusement.

"You're thinking about work, aren’t you?"

"No," he replied, then smirked. "I'm thinking about the conversation I just had with your mother."

I groaned, "Oh God. Do I even want to know?"

"Probably not," Aaron said, but the glint of humor in his eyes gave him away.

I gave his shoulder a light, playful shove. "Tell me."

He hummed, swaying us slightly to the left as another couple passed by. unable to resist, he pressed a quick kiss to my lips and continued speaking, "She asked when we were having kids."

I almost tripped over my own feet. My hand tightened on his bicep as I choked out, "She asked you what?"

"When we were having kids," he repeated, perfectly calm.

My mouth opened and closed, my brain short-circuiting. I finally sputtered out a laugh, "Jesus Christ, she didn't even ease into it?"

"Not even a little," he confirmed.

I tipped my head back with a groan, "Okay, well, the real question is—which one of us is gonna carry the baby to term?"

His lips twitched. "Hmm. Probably you."

"Excuse me?" I gave his shoulder a scandalized smack. "Why me?"

"You've got the instincts for it," Aaron said, voice low and teasing.

I blinked. My jaw dropped, "Did you just insinuate that I'm Mochi's mother? Because she knows damn well I'm her daddy."

Aaron’s shoulders shook with restrained laughter, "I'm just saying. You hover. You told me you checked her paws for three days straight when she yelped after stepping on a leaf."

"That’s called responsible pet ownership, Aaron. She’s just a baby."

"Mhm,” His thumb traced another slow circle against my back, and I absolutely did not shiver.

Nope, not at all.

We were both grinning like idiots when my mom passed by again, shooting us a look that said: You’re next.

Aaron leaned closer, voice low in my ear, "She seemed pretty convinced we're soulmates."

"Oh God. We are never gonna live this down."

"Probably not," he agreed.

"You're enjoying this way too much."

"I really am," he murmured, then kissed my temple.

I rested my forehead on his chest, laughing so hard I almost missed his hand tightening just slightly on my waist.

It was inevitable that I would have to run to the bathroom after several alcoholic beverages. I swayed slightly as I washed my hands, grinning at my own reflection. My face was warm, appearance slightly disheveled from dancing with Aaron, and my smile wouldn't go away—not that I wanted it to. I’d spent the better part of the afternoon glued to Aaron’s side while my family peppered him with questions. He’d taken it like a champ, even dancing with some of my aunts before my mother would steal him back, all while keeping his arm casually draped around me like we’d done this a million times.

Honestly, he was too good at this. I was beginning to suspect he actually enjoyed the chaos.

As I stepped back into the reception hall, the music thumped under my feet, mingling with the sound of clinking glasses and laughter. I scanned the crowd for Aaron’s broad shoulders, but before I could find him, my mom’s voice sliced through the noise.

"Who the hell are you, and why are you taking my son’s boyfriend?"

My heart just about stopped, what the fuck?

I turned toward the commotion and froze. Across the room, Aaron stood stiffly near the entrance with a vaguely exasperated expression, one I saw a handful of times on our date. My mother had one hand on her hip, the other gesturing toward a very well-dressed group of strangers attempting to pull Aaron toward the door.

"Ma'am," the oldest of the group spoke to my mother, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "I assure you, we come in peace."

"You're not answering the question," my mom snapped.

Oh, mom.

"He’s my ex," the man blurted out without missing a beat. His voice dropped into something heavier, "And I’ve come to win him back."

The entire room went silent. I swore someone actually gasped.

Aaron’s jaw twitched as his eyes found mine across the room. He looked annoyed, amused, and frustrated all at the same time.

"Your...ex?" my mom repeated, voice pitched with disbelief.

The man sighed, bowing his head like he was carrying the weight of an old, familiar pain.

"Yes. We were once...so much more," He lifted his eyes to the ceiling with a wistful expression, voice trembling just enough to sound authentic. "I gave him my heart, but he belonged to the world. And now, seeing him here..." He placed a hand over his chest. "It's like I’ve been wandering through a desert of loneliness only to find an oasis I no longer deserve."

Someone near me whispered, "That’s so beautiful."

My mom’s jaw slackened. "I...I don’t know what to say."

He continued, "Sometimes, the greatest act of love is letting go." He cast a mournful glance toward Aaron, "Even if it means watching the only man who ever understood me walk away with someone else."

A sniffle echoed from the corner. I glanced over and saw my cousin Vanessa—the bride—dabbing her eyes with a cocktail napkin.

I nearly fell over at the absurdity of it all.

"And these people?" my mom asked, voice cracking slightly as she gestured to the rest of the group.

The youngest man in the group awkwardly rose his hand, "We're, um..."

“We were in an polyamorous relationship—with Aaron,” a dark-haired woman spoke up.

A fit man with a shadow of a beard—damn he was hot, too—hid a laugh behind his hand while hiding his face behind the dark-haired woman.

My mother did not look impressed.

Meanwhile, Aaron stood there like a hostage, shoulders rigid and lips pressed into a thin line. I knew that look—he wore it when I ambushed him on the street—his I am using every ounce of my patience right now face.

I made my way toward the group just as my mom turned back to the older man.

"Listen here, buddy," she snapped, poking him in the chest. "I don’t care how much you still love him. He’s here with my son, and you’re not going to ruin this by dragging him off for some last-ditch romantic gesture."

Rossi gave her a deeply sympathetic look, "I—we just want to beg for another chance, ma'am."

The crowd melted.

Someone whispered, "That’s love."

Another person sobbed openly into their champagne flute.

By the time I reached Aaron's side, the tension had shifted. My mom was still skeptical, but several of my cousins were openly swooning at the spectacle.

I gave the crowd a tense smile as I approached, resting my hand on Aaron's upper arm and leaning in to his ear and whispering, “What the fuck is going on?”

The older man gave me a nod, lowering his voice, "We hate to break up the party, kid, but we need Aaron. Urgent case."

"Right," I said, suddenly more sober. He was needed, I could text him later.

The team ushered Aaron through the door to the sound of faint applause from the wedding guests.

I stood there, shaking my head at what the hell just transpired.

My mother actually wiped her eyes and sighed, "I'm so sorry, honey, I tried to stop them. I didn't realize he had so many partners before you.”

“Mom, those were his coworkers picking him up for an urgent issue.”

"Oh, sweetie," she said, patting my cheek. "You just don’t understand modern relationships.

Later that night I was sprawled over my couch, my mother having driven me home as I had a few more drinks to make up for Aaron’s absence. My guest room was prepared ahead of time, thankfully.

I groaned, loosening my belt lazily, still in my suit. I had gotten Mochi from my neighbor, needing my baby to ease the sing of Aaron’s depsrture. She lay across my lap, belly-up and snoring. My mom sat in my recliner, a glass of wine in hand now that she could decompress from the wedding.

“It was such a beautiful day,” she mused. “Until Aaron didn’t come back after that discussion with his exes,” she grumbled.

“Mom…” I groaned into a pillow. “Mom, they’re not his exes, they’re his team at work. They were messing with you.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, not sounding the slightest bit convinced.

The TV hummed in the background, low enough for us to ignore until I heard a familiar voice break through our conversation.

“…we were able to quickly apprehend the suspect and bring an end to these tragic events."

My mom gasped, leaning forward, "Oh, honey! Isn't that Aaron?"

I sat up so fast Mochi nearly flopped off my lap, and sure enough—there he was on the news, standing in front of a sheriff’s station with a microphone in his face. Same pink shirt. Same navy suit. Same faintly irritated expression.

"I told you he was working," I muttered, running a hand down my face. “All of a sudden you love him again,” I rolled my eyes.

"—ultimately, the case was resolved after it was determined that the suspect was, in fact, the sheriff," Aaron said, voice monotone and precise. "He left his own boot prints at three of the crime scenes and, when confronted, confessed almost immediately."

There was an awkward pause as reporters scribbled notes.

"Wait," one asked, "so it...was just the sheriff the whole time?"

"Yes," Aaron said.

"And he...admitted it right away?"

"Yes," Aaron repeated, slower this time. His jaw twitched in annoyance.

"So," the reporter pressed, "you flew in from Quantico...for that?"

The muscle in Aaron’s jaw jumped again, "Yes."

I barked out a laugh.

The camera zoomed out as Aaron stepped away from the microphones. His team followed closely behind, the blonde agent talking with the older agent animatedly. The last shot before the feed was cut off was Aaron rubbing his temples.

I shook my head and stood, scooping Mochi up under one arm, "I'm going to bed."

"Tell Aaron I said ‘hi’ next time you talk to him!"

"Mm-hmm." I carried Mochi toward my bedroom, but halfway there, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

I smiled, tucking my phone away again and held Mochi tighter.

I called back down the hallway, “Aaron says ‘hi’.”

“What a sweetheart. I really do like him, honey,” she called back.

“Yeah, me, too, Mom.”

#criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotchner x reader #hotchner x you #male!reader #Fic: I Bet You Look Good in Pink

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iamquiantrelle · 1 day ago

Text

GOLDEN BOY (chapter 6) ────── iamquaintrelle

⌗ pairing : trent alexander arnold x black oc

⌗ summary : trent is having a quarter life crisis but will a smart-mouthed girl whip him into shape?

⌗ warnings : 18+ only!! (☁️☔️💕)

⌗taglist: @trentswrld, @trentpov @judesvirtual @sailurmewn @eriks-girl @preetykookie @4ngryssgf @endlessmuse @noturbabe22, @sucredreamer @bbgkoo @hollablkgrl @notzara @chrisoppar @letmeapologise @amrx1

Focus. Compartmentalize. Breathe.

April's training methods weren't actually that different from what they'd taught him in the Academy. Breaking everything down into manageable pieces, keeping your mind where it needed to be. He'd been good at it back then - the local lad making good, hungry for every minute on the pitch.

Somewhere along the way he'd lost that. Started feeling like he was sleepwalking through life, going through motions without really feeling them. Even football had become... routine. Just another thing expected of him.

His mum had noticed first. "You seem lost love," she'd said over Sunday dinner a few months back. Some of the lads had mentioned it too - that spark missing from his game. Even Ty had suggested talking to someone professional about it all.

Maybe they had a point. Carrying everyone's expectations was heavy sometimes. Being TAA, Liverpool's golden boy, the next Stevie G... dead weight all of it. But how do you tell people you don't feel good enough when on paper you've got everything?

That was for later. Right now he had apologies to make.

"Look who's early," Virgil said as Trent walked into training ahead of schedule for once.

"Need to say sorry about Sunday."

"We won didn't we?"

"Yeah but..." Trent adjusted his boots. "I wasn't there properly was I? Team deserves better."

Virgil studied him for a moment. "You know we've all been worried about you lately yeah? Before all this..." he gestured vaguely, probably meaning April and the marks that came with her. "You seemed gone."

"Been feeling a bit lost," Trent admitted. First time he'd said it out loud to anyone but family.

"And now?"

He thought about April's lessons in focus, in accepting what you need. About finally feeling seen for who he was, not who everyone wanted him to be.

"Getting found maybe."

Virgil just nodded, that captain's understanding in his eyes. "Good. Now let's see this newfound focus in action yeah?"

Focus. Compartmentalize. Breathe.

Time to prove he could be better. For his team, for April, but mostly for himself.

Training started intense - Slot had them running complicated patterns, the kind that required complete concentration. Each movement of his was deliberate, each thought focused solely on the task at hand.

"Much better," Slot called out as Trent's cross found Darwin perfectly. "That's what we need."

The marks under his training kit tingled with each sprint, little reminders of his lessons in control. But instead of distracting him like before, they centered him. Grounded him in the present moment.

"Back to yourself," Mo said during a water break. "Whatever you sorted out this weekend, it worked."

If only they knew exactly what that sorting out had involved. Though the way Ibou was eyeing the edge of a mark peeking above his collar, maybe some of them had an idea.

"Just needed to get my head right," Trent replied, adjusting his shirt.

The tactical session that followed was exactly what April had prepared him for. As Slot broke down their approach, Trent's mind stayed sharp, focused. No wandering thoughts, no distractions.

"Questions?" Slot asked after laying out their press strategy.

Trent actually had several - good ones, tactical ones, the kind he used to ask before everything got complicated. The kind that made him who he was before he started trying to be someone else.

"Looking more like yourself," Virgil said as they headed back out to the pitch. "The real you, not that London version you were trying to be."

The real him. Maybe that's what April had been training all along - not just submission, but authenticity. Permission to be exactly who he was, marks and all.

"Right," Slot gathered them for set piece practice. "Show me that focus."

Set piece practice was where he used to shine, before everything got muddled. Today felt different - each free kick finding its target with precision that would have made April proud. His mind clear, focused solely on the curve of the ball, the weight behind each strike.

"Now that's more like it," Darwin called after heading in another perfect cross. "Our Trent's back!"

The phrase hit differently now. Their Trent. Not Sophie's polished version, not the media's golden boy. Just him, exactly as he was meant to be.

During the practice match, he found himself using April's lessons in unexpected ways. When to hold back, when to release. When to maintain control, when to let instinct take over. The same principles that had him kneeling in her bedroom were making him a better player on the pitch.

"Whatever you're doing differently," Slot pulled him aside as they wrapped up, "keep doing it. This is the focus we need."

If only his manager knew exactly what that "different" thing was. Though the way the mark on his neck was starting to peek above his collar again, maybe some hints were showing.

"Gaffer's right," Robbo said as they headed for the changing rooms. "You've got your edge back. That fire."

Fire. That's what it felt like - everything burning brighter, clearer. Even the ache of April's marks felt like fuel now, driving him to be better, sharper, more focused.

"Just needed the right motivation," he replied, carefully peeling off his training kit.

"That what we're calling it now?" Ibou gestured at the fresh marks across his shoulders. "Motivation?"

"When do we get to meet her properly then?" Mo asked, eyes following the trail of marks too. "The woman responsible for all... that."

"She's a very nice girl," Virgil said in that cool, collected captain's voice of his.

"Nice girl?" Danns snorted, gesturing at Trent's neck. "Nice girls don't leave marks like that mate. No way."

"Maybe Trent just likes it rough..." Dom added with a grin.

The changing room erupted, but Trent's face burning red and his desperate attempt to hide it only made them howl louder.

"Oh my days, look at his face!"

"Proper caught out!"

"Our Trent's got a thing for pain?"

"Who knew he had it in him?"

Questions flew from every direction, each one making Trent sink further into his locker. And there was Virgil, their captain, literally belly-laughing instead of helping.

"Virg!" Someone called out. "You're captain mate, do something!"

Virgil held up his hands in surrender. "Who am I to get in the way of a man's pleasure?" But then his expression turned serious as he looked at Trent. "You're not in danger though? Unsafe? Need a doctor?"

"Fuck no," Trent said firmly, rolling his eyes.

Virgil turned back to the group. "If he's happy, I'm happy. And if he plays like this against Tottenham, we should all mind our business."

"But she's literally marking–"

"And he likes it," Virgil cut in smoothly. "So let's mind our business. Besides, like I said, April is a very nice girl."

That was that - captain's orders. But watching Virgil leave, Trent couldn't help wondering. One brief meeting outside Anfield and Virgil was proper rating April. Almost like he... understood.

Trent squinted at his captain's retreating back. Come to think of it, Virgil and his wife did have all those kids back to back. Maybe they weren't as vanilla as everyone assumed.

The thought made him choke on his water, earning another round of teasing from the lads.

Some things were better left unknown about your teammates. Especially your captain.

"For real though," Mo said, watching Trent pull a towel around him. "We should all get together."

Several heads popped up around the changing room, suddenly interested. Trent focused on stuffing his boots into his duffle bag, thinking about that contract sitting in his email. Six social meetings with friends maximum and they hadn't even used the Virgil and Ibou encounter as one of them.

"Maybe after Tottenham," he said carefully, knowing full well he'd have to earn any social outings. April had been clear about that — everything was a reward now, even letting him show her off to his teammates.

"Could do that new spot in town," Darwin suggested. "The one with the private rooms."

"Nah, somewhere proper nice," Curtis cut in. "Show her we're not all savages like Trent here."

More laughter, more jokes about his marks. But Trent just shouldered it all, grinning. Let them joke - they had no idea that every social interaction was carefully negotiated, every meeting a prize to be earned.

"After Tottenham," he repeated. If he played well enough, showed enough focus, maybe April would agree. Another test, another chance to prove himself.

"Promise?" Mo pressed as Trent headed to the showers.

"We'll see."

Because that's all he could say really. Everything was in April's hands now - the when, the where, even the if.

And somehow, that felt exactly right.

*************************************************

The drive home felt longer without any messages from April lighting up his phone. She'd mentioned being busy - some athlete photoshoot that would take most of her day. Hadn't said who though. Probably some footballer trying their luck, thinking they could charm her with their Premier League status.

The thought made his hands tighten on the steering wheel.

Wait.

Since when did he get jealous about April's work? She literally had him signing contracts and wearing rings and kneeling for her. Not like some random athlete could compete with that.

Could they?

But she told him that he was enough for her–

No. Focus. Compartmentalize.

She'd proper trained that into him for a reason.

Still.

His mind wandered to her studio setup, how she'd had him strip down to nothing, positioning him just so. Was she doing that with someone else right now? Having them follow her commands, praising them when they got it right?

The Range Rover nearly missed his exit because his brain was too busy imagining April with some other footballer. Mental how fast she'd gotten under his skin. One minute he's signing a contract about their "arrangement," next he's getting possessive about her professional shoots.

Maybe this is what she meant about him being needy.

His phone stayed silent the whole way home. No commands, no praise, no teasing messages about his training performance. Just quiet.

Right then. Time to practice what she'd taught him. Focus on what he could control. Like making sure he earned that weekend in Liverpool with her. Show her he could be good, be focused.

Even if right now his brain was doing mental gymnastics about whoever she was photographing.

Proper pathetic that.

His house felt empty after a night at April's. No spiced vanilla scent, no judgy cat watching his every move, no commands keeping him focused. Just him and his thoughts about whatever athlete was currently in her studio.

Probably some tennis player. They were always doing artistic shoots. Or maybe a rugby lad - she'd mentioned photographing one before. Though the way she'd laughed about him flexing made Trent feel slightly better.

Focus. Compartmentalize. Stop obsessing.

He tried distracting himself with FIFA, but his mind kept wandering. Wonder if she makes them sign NDAs too? Or was that just for her... special projects?

His phone finally buzzed around dinner time. But it was just Tyler sending through more brand requests. Alexander Wang was proper keen apparently and wanted him now. Bunch of other fashion houses wanted him for their campaigns too.

All because of April's photos. The ones where she'd had him exactly where she wanted him, following her every command.

Like she probably had someone else doing right now.

For fuck's sake.

This wasn't him. He didn't do jealous boyfriend - especially when 'boyfriend' wasn't even the right word for whatever he was to April. Sub? Toy? Contract-bound pleasure object?

The marks on his shoulders tingled, reminding him of his place. Of who he belonged to.

Time for a distraction. Maybe hit the gym, work off some of this mental energy. Practice that control she'd been teaching him.

His phone stayed quiet all evening.

Proper violation how much that bothered him.

His alarm hadn't even gone off yet when his phone lit up. April's name on the screen had him properly awake in seconds.

April: Sorry about yesterday. Shoot ran late.

April: Glad you had good training though.

April: FaceTime?

He actually sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes to make sure he'd read that right. April never FaceTimed. Said it was too intimate for their arrangement — something about maintaining professional distance even during their not-so-professional moments.

His thumb hovered over the response box. Was this a test? Some new way of training his control?

April: Don't overthink it.

April: Just answer.

His phone started ringing before he could reply. FaceTime request from April Goodplenty.

Fuck.

His reflection in the corner of the screen looked rough - waves a mess, marks from their session still visible on his shoulders. Not exactly how he'd planned to first FaceTime his... whatever she was.

Deep breath.

Accept call.

Maybe this was part of his reward for staying focused during training. Or maybe she just wanted to see exactly how needy he'd gotten without her messages yesterday.

Either way, his heart was racing as he hit that green button.

He propped the phone against his bedside lamp, adjusting the angle. "So you were busy with shoots yesterday?"

"I was." Something flashed across her face. "Jealous?"

"No." Too quick. Too defensive.

"Liar." But she was smiling. "Tell me about training."

"Used your focus techniques. Worked proper well."

"Show me this weekend. After Tottenham."

"That a promise?"

"That's a challenge." She leaned closer to her camera. "Now, about your plans today..."

He caught her smile as he outlined his schedule - groceries, a visit to his personal shopper, meeting Tyler, getting a trim. That smile that meant she was plotting something.

"Keep me on the phone."

"The whole day? Why?"

"Because I want to." Her voice shifted into that tone that made his stomach flip. "Any questions?"

"No ma'am."

Something warm spread in his chest though. April wanting to watch him do mundane things? Cute really, even if she was commanding it.

He went through his morning routine while she watched from the screen — showering, brushing his teeth, throwing on clothes — everything and it didn’t bother him at all.

Trent connected his phone to his Range Rover's system, her voice filling the car as he headed to Tesco. Once inside, he popped in his AirPods, pushing his trolley down the aisles.

"Not those ones," she said as he reached for some protein bars. "The sugar content's ridiculous. Get the ones two shelves down."

He leaned on the trolley, grinning. "Controlling my shopping now?"

"I control what I want." But he caught her smile. "Including what goes into my toy's body."

He nearly dropped a packet of chicken.

"Speaking of control..." He lowered his voice. "The lads were asking about meeting you. Dinner after Tottenham."

"Have you earned that?"

"Not yet." He moved to the veg aisle. "But I will."

"Maybe." She watched him select peppers. "If you play well against Spurs. And if you're very, very good until then."

The way she said 'good' had him properly hot under his collar. Thank fuck for self-checkout - no way he could ever face a cashier if she kept on like this.

He was leaning against his trolley in the pasta aisle when the question that had been nagging him finally burst out.

"What do I call you? Like, to other people?"

Through his AirPods, he heard her shift in her chair. "What do you want to call me, given everything?"

"Girlfriend?" The word tumbled out before his brain could stop it. "If you want- I mean-"

"Interesting." He could hear that smile in her voice. "That's fine."

"Yeah?"

"Mhmm. Guess I'll have to call you something else besides good boy then."

"I like good boy though." His face heated as an elderly couple passed by, giving him odd looks.

"I know you do." That tone that made his stomach flip. "But if you're really going to be good and beat Spurs, I can't exactly call you that in public, can I? I'll keep it simple - baby or babes?"

Shit. All of it. Either. Both.

Didn't matter what she called him as long as she kept using that voice.

"Cat got your tongue?" She was properly enjoying this. "Or just thinking about hearing me call you baby in front of your teammates?"

His grip on the trolley tightened. "You're doing this on purpose."

"Always." She paused. "Baby."

The pasta sauce he was holding nearly ended up on the floor.

Proper violation, making him feel like this in the middle of Tesco. But now she was his girlfriend. Who was also his dom. Who was about to make him lose his mind in the pasta aisle.

Life was mental sometimes.

"Your personal shopper next, right?" April asked as he loaded groceries into his Range Rover. "The one who got you that turtleneck for family dinner?"

"Yeah, got some new stuff to try on." He connected his phone back to the car system. "You going to direct that too?"

"Obviously." Her voice filled the car. "Can't have my boyfriend looking anything less than perfect. Even if I prefer you in much less clothing."

The way she said 'boyfriend' made his chest do weird things. Like she was claiming him all over again, but publicly this time.

His personal shopper's eyes went wide when he walked in on FaceTime. Probably never had a client's girlfriend directing their fitting before. But April was specific - which shirts brought out his eyes, which jeans showed off what she called her "property."

"Turn around," she commanded as he tried on some designer jacket. "Slower. Yes, that one works."

The fitting room mirror showed his face going red. Even through FaceTime, she had him following her every command.

"Getting shy, baby?"

Fuck. That word again. Making him feel proper twisted up inside.

"No ma'am." Low enough that only she could hear.

"Good boy." Even lower. "Now try the black one."

His personal shopper definitely heard that one, based on how quickly she disappeared to "check stock."

But April just laughed, the sound making his stomach flip. She was enjoying this - having him on display, calling him pet names that meant something very different to them, watching him try to keep his composure.

"Meeting Tyler next?" she asked as he paid for his selections. "Want me to stay on the line for that too?"

The thought of Tyler seeing him this wrapped around April's finger...

"Maybe not for that part."

"Scared I'll expose how needy you are?"

"More like scared you'll make me proper lose it in front of my brother."

Her laugh echoed through his AirPods. "Fair enough. Call me after?"

"Yes ma- babe."

"Good save." He could hear her smirking. "And Trent?"

"Yeah?"

"I like being your girlfriend. Even if you'll always be my good boy first."

His hands actually shook as he ended the call.

Girlfriend. Dom. Everything in between.

He was so properly fucked.

**************************************************

Tyler's office at PLG took up half the top floor, all glass walls and views of Liverpool's skyline. The Alpine F1 model car on his desk was new - proper flashy reminder of his latest investment.

"They want you at a few races," Tyler said, following his gaze to the model. "Monaco definitely. Maybe Silverstone too."

"Sounds good."

"Now," his brother slid over Liverpool's latest proposal. "What are we thinking about this?"

Trent stared at the numbers. Not bad, but not even close to what Mo was currently getting. "Counter it."

"Arsenal's still interested." Tyler watched his face carefully. "Arteta keeps asking about summer plans."

London. Where April was. Where he could see her without planning train journeys and overnight bags. But that was mental wasn't it? Making career decisions based on a one-year arrangement that might not even...

No. Don't think about that.

"Keep the door open with Arsenal," he said finally. "But let's push Liverpool first. See how serious they are."

"Real Madrid called again too."

"Course they did."

Tyler pulled up some emails on his massive screen. "Got some brand stuff as well. Google wants you for their Pixel campaign. Nike wants you in another ad."

"Yeah, sound."

"And April's team reached out about scheduling that second shoot."

His face must've done something because Tyler's eyebrows shot up.

"Speaking of April..." His brother leaned back in his fancy office chair. "What's actually going on there? Just fucking or..."

Trent focused very intently on the Alpine model. The marks under his shirt tingled, reminding him of exactly what was going on there.

"Come on," Tyler pressed. "Give me something. There's been talking about marks–"

"We're good." Trent cut him off. "That's all you need to know."

"Wow." Tyler studied him across the desk. "Marcel was right. You really like this one."

The model was suddenly fascinating once again.

"Never seen you this private about a girl before." Tyler was grinning now. "Usually can't shut you up about them."

Because usually they were just for show. PR relationships and carefully managed appearances. This thing with April was... different. Real. Even with all its contracts and commands. Maybe especially because of those.

"Google wants an answer by Friday," Tyler said finally, accepting that he wasn't getting any gossip today. "And April's team needs shoot dates."

"Sort Google." Trent stood up, ready to escape this conversation and this too-revealing glass office. "I'll handle April."

Tyler's knowing look followed him to the elevator.

Let them think what they wanted. Some things - like exactly how he handled April, or rather how she handled him - were better kept private.

Even if the marks on his neck told their own story.

The drive home from PLG had his mind spinning. Arsenal's offer hanging there like some kind of escape route. London. April. Regular morning coffees instead of FaceTime calls. But that was mad wasn't it? Making career moves based on a woman who literally had him sign a contract limiting their time together.

His phone lit up at a red light.

April: How was the meeting?

April: Tyler text saying you're being secretive about us.

April: Good boy.

His stomach flipped. Even through text she had this effect on him.

Trent: Contracts and brand stuff.

Trent: And Alpine wants me at some races.

Trent: Monaco. Silverstone.

April: Monaco could be fun.

April: If you earn it.

There it was again. Everything a reward to be earned. Even spending time with his... girlfriend? Dom? Both?

April: You're overthinking again.

April: I can feel it through the phone.

April: Focus on Spurs first.

April: Then we'll discuss rewards.

Right. Focus. Compartmentalize. One thing at a time.

His phone buzzed again.

April: Whatever you're thinking about

April: Stop.

April: You belong to me right now.

April: That's all that matters.

She was right. Like always.

Career decisions could wait. Right now he just needed to focus on Spurs. On earning whatever rewards April had planned. But part of him was already looking up London postcodes.

*********************************************

His house felt different after a day of April in his ear. Even the massive TV playing Match of the Day couldn't fill the quiet. His mind kept spinning like he'd just done dizzy penalties - Arsenal offers and London postcodes and April fucking Goodplenty having him wrapped around her finger.

Two months ago he was trying to be Sophie's perfect posh boyfriend, hosting dinner parties and practicing his wine chat. Now he was letting a photographer put a collar on him and tell him what to buy at Tesco.

The marks under his shirt still tingled every time he shifted on the sofa. Each one a reminder of how fast things had changed. Like his body was keeping score of every moment she'd claimed him.

Girlfriend. That word still felt mental. Like calling a lioness your pet cat. But something about it fit, didn't it? Even with all the contracts and commands and carefully negotiated terms.

His mind wandered to the Arsenal offer again. To London apartments and morning coffees instead of FaceTime calls. To seeing April whenever he wanted, not just when he'd earned it.

Was he really considering making career decisions based on a woman who literally had him sign paperwork about how often she'd attend his matches? But here he was, already thinking about which London neighborhood she'd like best.

He wasn't trying to be that guy anymore though — the one who changed everything about himself to fit someone else's life. April wouldn't want that anyway. She wanted him exactly as he was. Even if who he was happened to look best on his knees.

Marcel appeared in the doorway like he'd materialized from thin air, proper startling Trent off the sofa. "Oh shit, didn't know you were here."

"I live here, bruv." Trent gave him a look. "This is literally my house."

"Yeah but when are you ever actually in it?" Marcel dropped onto the other end of the sofa. "Between matches and your freaky ass girlfriend–"

"Shut up."

"Just saying." But his brother was grinning. "Want to hit the cinema? New horror film's out."

"We've got a whole cinema room downstairs."

"Yeah but they're not showing the new stuff yet are they?" Marcel was already reaching for his keys. "Come on, you're just sitting here looking proper tragic anyway."

He wasn't wrong. Trent had been staring at the same highlights for twenty minutes, mind somewhere between postcodes and punishments.

"Fine." He stood up, wincing as his shirt caught on one of April's marks. "But none of that jump scare shit."

"Can't promise that." Marcel's eyes caught the movement. "Though looks like you've got enough marks already."

The cushion Trent threw missed his brother's head by inches.

"Your aim's as bad as your crosses were Sunday!"

"Get in the car before I actually hit you."

The Range Rover purred to life, and the drive to the cinema was quick - perks of living in the posh end. Marcel kept trying to sell him on this horror film about some demon nun, but Trent wasn't having it.

"Not trying to have nightmares before Spurs."

"Soft lad." Marcel studied the listings. "Oh look, new Mark Wahlberg. Some crime thing."

"Better than demon nuns innit?"

Something about catching a serial killer seemed safer than supernatural horror. Plus, April would probably take the piss if she found out he'd bottled watching a scary film.

The cinema was dead for a weeknight - just them and a few couples scattered about. Marcel insisted on the back row like they were teenagers again, loaded up with enough snacks to feed the whole squad.

"So," Marcel started as the trailers played, mouth full of popcorn. "Arsenal yeah?"

Trent nearly choked on his Coke. "Tyler's got a big mouth."

"Nah, saw the speculation online. Plus you've been proper obvious, looking up London stuff on your phone."

"Just keeping options open."

"Nothing to do with a certain photographer then?"

The screen lit up with some horror film trailer, saving Trent from answering. But his mind was already there - April's flat in East London, those massive windows, that mental cat judging his every move.

"You're doing it again," Marcel laughed. "Getting that dopey look whenever you think about her."

"Watch the film."

"Can't yet, still adverts innit?" His brother turned in his seat. "For real though, you'd leave Liverpool for a girl?"

"It's not like that."

But wasn't it? Here he was, actually considering Arsenal because being closer to April felt more important than... well, everything.

"Sure it's not." Marcel threw popcorn at his head. "Just remember - if you sign for Arsenal, mum will actually kill you. Girlfriend or not."

The Mark Wahlberg film finally started, saving Trent from more interrogation. But his phone felt heavy in his pocket, April's presence lingering even here.

Crazy how one woman could have him reconsidering his whole life. Even more crazy how right it felt.

Anfield was buzzing hours before kick-off. Something about Spurs always brought out that extra edge in the crowd. Trent could feel it as soon as he pulled into his parking spot - that big match energy already building.

He'd woken up feeling different. Properly confident, not just faking it. Maybe it was the week of solid training, maybe it was April's influence, maybe it was just time to remind everyone who he was.

The home dressing room was alive with energy - Darwin practicing his English with Robbo, Mo and Virgil in their usual pre-match zone. Trent's phone lit up as he changed into his kit.

April had sent a photo of herself in his Liverpool jersey. No caption, no commands, just that. Proper girlfriend thing to do really. Almost normal, if you ignored all the marks hidden under his match shirt.

"Someone's in a good mood," Virgil noted, watching Trent tape up his socks with unusual precision.

"Just feeling it today."

And he was. This wasn't about earning rewards or following commands. This was about showing everyone - including himself - what he could do when his head was right.

The gaffer's team talk was straight forward. Control the game, press their weaknesses, make it count. Simple really, when you weren't overthinking everything.

"Ready?" Mo asked as they lined up in the tunnel, You'll Never Walk Alone already shaking the walls.

More than ready.

The first tackle set the tone - Son trying to cut inside, Trent sending him and the ball into touch. Anfield erupted. This wasn't Bournemouth Trent, bottling simple passes. This was Liverpool's golden boy remembering exactly who he was.

Ten minutes in, his cross found Darwin's head. 1-0. The Kop went mental, and Trent felt that familiar surge - the one he'd been missing lately. Pure confidence, no overthinking.

"Loving life!" Robbo shouted as they jogged back to position.

Son tried him again on the quarter hour. Same result - Trent proper bodying him off the ball. No hesitation, no doubt. Just instinct and ability and everything clicking into place.

Half time came at 2-0, Mo adding another from Trent's corner. The dressing room was bouncing, but Trent stayed calm. Job wasn't done yet.

"Keep this energy," Slot said, but his eyes were on Trent.

Spurs came out fighting second half. Didn't matter though - Trent was in that zone where everything felt possible. Every pass finding feet, every defensive read spot on. Even managed a cheeky nutmeg on Richarlison that had the Kop singing his name.

When the final whistle blew at 3-0, Virgil pulled him into a hug. "That's what we've been missing."

His phone was lighting up in his bag - probably Tyler with brand stuff, his mum being proud, April with... whatever April had planned. But right now there was just this. Just Anfield singing and his teammates buzzing and that feeling of being exactly where he belonged.

Though part of him was already wondering what reward he'd earned.

Priorities and that.

The TNT crew had him cornered before he could escape to the dressing room. Rio Ferdinand proper beaming about his performance like a proud uncle.

"Back to your best there," Rio started. "Two assists, dominant defensively. What's changed?"

"Just focused innit? Team needed a performance."

"There's been speculation about your future, Arsenal apparently interested–"

"Focused on Liverpool right now."

"And the photos of you and April Goodplenty–"

"Just focusing on football mate."

Rio's eyes caught the edge of a mark peeking above his collar. "Clearly something's got you motivated..."

"No comment." But he couldn't help grinning.

The rest of the interview circus was the same - everyone trying to connect his form to April, to Arsenal rumors, to anything but him just playing proper football again.

"Your girlfriend coming to celebrate?" Some reporter called out as he tried to leave.

"He said no comment," Virgil appeared, captain's arm around his shoulder. "Football questions only."

In the dressing room, his phone was blowing up. His mum, Tyler, the lads' group chat going mental. But he was looking for one message in particular.

April: Proud of you baby.

April: Now come collect your reward.

His hands actually shook packing his bag.

"Someone's in a rush," Darwin laughed, catching his expression.

Let them joke. They didn't need to know what those rewards involved.

Though based on the knowing looks, they had some ideas.

**************************************************

Trent barely had the door shut before April was on him, her hands in his hair, her lips against his like she was starving for him. His bag dropped to the floor with a thud, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was her.

"You earned your reward, baby," she murmured against his mouth, her fingers dragging down his chest, nails scraping lightly over the fabric of his hoodie. "Strip."

He obeyed immediately, kicking off his trainers, pulling his hoodie and shirt over his head in one go. April watched him with a slow, satisfied smirk, stepping back just enough to let the silk robe slip from her shoulders, revealing nothing but smooth, bare skin underneath.

His breath caught. "Fuck."

"Come to bed."

They ended up exactly where she wanted — her back pressed against his chest, both of them facing the full-length mirror in front of her bed. Trent’s hands gripped her hips, his fingers digging into soft flesh as he guided her down onto his dick, the stretch making her moan.

"Look at you," she purred, her gaze locked onto their reflection. "Taking me so well. My good boy."

Trent groaned, his hips flexing up as he started to fuck her slow, deliberate, dragging out every inch before pushing back in deep.

"Shit, April—"

"Eyes on the mirror," she warned, her hand reaching back to wrap around the nape of his neck, fingers curling, keeping him in place. "I want you to watch."

He swallowed hard, his dark eyes blown wide as he stared at their bodies moving together. April was fucking art — the way her tits bounced with each thrust, the way her thighs clenched as she grounded against him, the way her free hand pinched and rolled her nipple just to drive him crazy.

"Christ," he muttered, his jaw clenching as he tried to keep his pace steady, but she was too much — too warm, too tight, too fucking perfect.

"Harder," she demanded, her nails pressing into the back of his neck.

He obeyed without question, his thrusts turning rougher, faster, his fingers digging harder into her skin as he lost himself in the feel of her. The slick sounds of their bodies colliding, the way she moaned every time he bottomed out — it was fucking intoxicating.

"See how pretty you look taking me?" she taunted, tilting her head slightly to kiss him, biting his lower lip before soothing it with her tongue. "You love this, don’t you? Love being inside me, love how I let you fuck me like this?"

"Yes ma’am..fuck…yes," he groaned, his head falling forward and onto her shoulder, but she yanked his face back up.

"Watch," she ordered, her grip tightening. "Don’t take your eyes off us."

He had no choice but to obey, his gaze locked onto the mirror, watching the way she fucked herself on him, the way he filled her, the way her lips parted in pleasure. His stomach tightened, that familiar heat coiling low.

"I’m close," he panted, his breath hot against her skin.

"Not yet," she teased, tightening around him deliberately, making him curse. "You hold it, baby. I want you to last for me."

His hands tightened on her hips, his entire body trembling with restraint, but he did as he was told. Because this? This was his reward. And he’d do anything to please her.

April smirked at his reflection, loving the way his jaw clenched, his muscles taut with the effort of holding himself back. He was trembling, his hands gripping her hips so hard she was sure there’d be bruises tomorrow — but she didn’t care. She wanted him to mark her just as much as she marked him.

"You’re so fucking deep," she moaned, rolling her hips slowly, teasing him. "Feel how perfect you fit inside me?"

"April," he groaned, barely holding on, his fingers digging deeper.

Her lips grazed the shell of his ear. "I know you want to let go, baby. I can feel it." She clenched around him, grinding down hard, making him choke out another curse. "You’ve been such a good boy for me. Think you deserve to cum now?"

"Yes," he gasped, his grip on her tightening even more. "Please."

She smiled, dragging her nails down his arm before lifting her hand to cup his jaw. "Then give it to me."

That was all he needed. Trent’s restraint snapped, his hips slamming up into her, his thrusts rough and desperate. His hands slid from her hips to her thighs, spreading her open wider so he could fuck her deeper, harder.

"Oh, fuck–yes," she moaned, her head falling back against his shoulder, her hand tightening on his neck. "Just like that, baby. Give it to me."

His breath was ragged, his body shaking, his face buried in her hair as he lost himself in her. She could feel it — the way he tensed, the way his thrusts stuttered as he buried himself deep one last time, a low, broken groan spilling from his lips as he came hard inside her.

April let herself go then, her own orgasm crashing over her, her body pulsing around him as she moaned his name. She barely registered the way his arms wrapped around her, holding her tight as they both came down, their bodies still locked together, their breath mingling in the quiet aftermath.

When she finally opened her eyes, she met his gaze in the mirror. He looked wrecked, his curls damp with sweat, his lips swollen from her kisses.

"You looked so pretty cumming for me," she murmured, pressing a lazy kiss to his jaw.

His chest rumbled with a tired chuckle. "Gonna kill me one day."

She smirked. "Not today, though."

Trent huffed a breathless laugh, his arms still wrapped tight around her waist. "No, not today."

April moved slightly, relishing the way his body was still pressed against hers, the weight of him grounding her. His dick was still inside her, softening but not quite ready to part. She smirked, shifting her hips just enough to make him groan.

"Fuck, April—" His hands flexed on her thighs, the aftershocks of his orgasm making him overly sensitive.

"What?" she teased, tilting her head back against his shoulder, lips ghosting over his jaw again. "Too much for you?"

Trent exhaled sharply, his forehead pressing into her neck. "I swear, you’re tryin’ to ruin me."

"Mm.” She rolled her hips again, just because she could. “Maybe."

He gritted his teeth, but she could see it — the way his body twitched, like he wanted to move but didn’t quite have the strength yet.

April smirked at his reflection, pressing a kiss to his temple before finally easing off him. He hissed at the loss, his hands falling away as she climbed off the bed.

"Where you goin’?" His voice was rough, tinged with exhaustion.

She stretched her arms above her head, fully aware of the way his gaze dropped to the way her body moved. "Shower."

Trent groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. "You’re actually tryin’ to kill me."

April just laughed, tossing a smirk over her shoulder as she made her way to the bathroom. "Come join me if you think you can keep up."

She barely made it to the shower before she heard the bed shift, the rustling of sheets, and the sound of his feet hitting the floor.

Trent might have been exhausted, yet he wasn’t one to back down from a challenge.

The water was hot, nearly scalding, but Trent barely noticed. His skin was already burning from how April touched him as soon as he got in, how her hands splayed over his chest as she backed him against the cool tile.

Her gaze flicked down to where he was already half-hard again, his dick twitching as she dragged her nails lightly down his stomach before dropping to her knees.

Fuck.

She licked a broad stripe up his shaft, swirling her tongue around the tip before taking him into her mouth. His head thudded back against the tile, a low groan escaping as she hollowed her cheeks and took him deeper.

"Goddamn,” he rasped, his hips jerking involuntarily.

April smirked around him, letting her spit drip down to coat him before pulling off with a soft pop. "Relax, baby,” she cooed, stroking him lazily. “Or I won’t let you cum."

His breath stuttered as one of her hands dipped lower, rolling his balls gently in her palm, massaging them as she took him back into her mouth. She alternated between sucking and licking, her other hand pressing against his tense thigh to keep him from moving too much.

Trent clenched his jaw, fingers grasping against the cold tile. The urge to grab her hair, to thrust into that warm, wet heat — it nearly fucking killed him. But he knew better. Knew April was in control here.

And she was taking her time.

His thighs tensed as her mouth continued to work the head, tongue flicking, teasing just enough to make his knees threaten to buckle.

"Shit—"

She hummed, the vibration shooting straight through him. His breath caught, his stomach tightening. He was close, teetering on the edge, but she already knew that. Knew exactly how to pull him apart.

"April, I’m—"

His warning broke off into a strangled groan as he came, pleasure ripping through him so hard his vision blurred. April swallowed every drop, her throat flexing around him before she pulled off with a filthy little moan, licking her lips like she’d just tasted something sweet.

Trent was still catching his breath when she rose to her feet, gripping his jaw, kissing him deep. He tried to resist for half a second, still wrecked from his orgasm, but April didn’t allow it. She licked into his mouth, letting him taste himself on her tongue.

Trent groaned, his whole body practically on fire. It was fucking filthy, the taste of his cum still lingering on her tastebuds. It should’ve made him hesitate, but instead, it made his dick twitch again, made him kiss her harder, sucking her bottom lip between his teeth before he even realized what he was doing.

April smirked against his mouth, her fingers curling in his damp hair. "Don’t you taste so good, baby?"

Trent exhaled sharply, eyes heavy-lidded as he looked down at her. His pulse was still erratic, his body wrung out, but he could already feel himself stirring again.

"Yeah," he muttered, voice rough. "But I think I need another taste of you."

Three days since Spurs and Trent was still buzzing. Not just from the match — though that had been proper perfect — but from what came after. The rewards April had given him still had him grinning like an idiot in training.

But this weekend was the big one. April coming to Liverpool, staying at his, meeting the lads properly before the Plymouth match. Even agreed to dinner with some of the team, though he had to properly earn that one.

Now he just had one problem: Marcel.

"You what?" His brother looked up from FIFA. "Get out of my own house?"

"Technically my house," Trent started, then caught Marcel's expression. "Just... make yourself scarce when she's here?"

"Nah bruv. I live here. Your dominatrix girlfriend doesn't."

He had a point. Fuck.

"Fine, just... don't be weird yeah? No jokes about the marks–"

"You mean the ones you come home covered in every time–"

"Marcel."

"The ones that look like you've been mauled by a tiger–"

"I swear to God–"

His phone buzzed.

April: Outside baby.

April: Come get my bags.

His heart actually skipped.

"You're proper whipped mate!" Marcel called after him as he headed for the door.

Trent stopped, took a breath. Centered himself like April had taught him. Then opened the door to see her stepping out of that red Ferrari looking like every fantasy he'd ever had - leather pants, cropped jumper, those boots that made her legs look endless.

Then he saw the bags. Proper luggage setup - carry-on sized case and a massive duffle. Like she was planning on staying way past Monday.

He wouldn't mind that. Not one bit.

Though Marcel might have something to say about it.

"Someone's been practicing their manners," April smirked as he grabbed her bags. "Good boy."

The way she said it, right there in his driveway... Christ.

"This is..." she paused as they entered, taking in the massive foyer with its spiral staircase and floor-to-ceiling windows. "Quite something. Very footballer."

"Too much?"

"Just very you." She wandered into the living room, running her fingers along his expensive furniture. "All that Liverpool money put to good use."

"Wait till you see it from the stands Monday." He couldn't help grinning. "Got you proper good seats."

"Earned those, didn't you?" But she was smiling too. "Though dinner with the team tonight... you might need to earn that again."

His whole body went hot. But before he could respond, Marcel appeared.

"So you're the one leaving all those marks then?"

"Marcel!" Trent wanted to die.

But April just laughed - that proper genuine laugh she rarely showed anyone. "Guilty. Though your brother seems to enjoy them."

"Too much information!" Marcel headed for the kitchen. "I'm ordering takeaway later. Try to keep the noise down yeah?"

Trent watched April explore his space - looking at family photos, examining his trophy cabinet, taking everything in. Mental seeing her here, in his massive footballer mansion, looking like she belonged somehow.

Even with his annoying brother trying to violate him.

"Nice setup you've got here," she said finally, turning back to him. "Lots of surfaces to... make use of."

Fucking hell.

Maybe he should've tried harder to get Marcel out after all.

"Show me your room then," April said, that look in her eyes that meant trouble. "Since I'll be spending so much time there this weekend."

Trent nearly tripped over his own feet leading her upstairs. Her heels clicked against his marble steps, each sound making his stomach flip.

"En suite's through there," he gestured, watching her take in his massive bedroom with its view over Liverpool. "Dressing room's that door."

"Of course you have a dressing room." She ran her fingers along his silk sheets. "Very nice. Though these will need changing after I'm done with you."

"I can hear you!" Marcel's voice carried up from somewhere below. "These walls aren't that thick!"

April actually giggled — proper girlish sound he'd never heard from her before. Made her seem younger somehow. More normal. Until she turned those eyes on him again.

"So," she started unpacking her bag. "Dinner with the team at eight. That gives us..." she checked her watch, "three hours to properly christen this room."

"Marcel–"

"Better be quiet then."

His head actually spun. This was different April - playful, almost soft, but still with that edge that drove him mental. Having her here, in his space, going through his drawers like she owned them...

"You're thinking too hard again." She was suddenly right there, fingers at his collar. "Want me to help you focus?"

From downstairs, the sound of Marcel very deliberately turning the TV volume up.

"Yes ma'am."

"Good boy." She pushed him toward the bed. "Now let's see how quiet you can be."

***********************************************

Two hours later, April was going through his wardrobe like it was her personal styling session. His skin still tingled from whatever she'd done to him - not that he'd been able to keep track after the first hour.

"Wear this." She tossed him a black shirt that probably cost more than most people's monthly rent. "And these jeans. Want you looking good for when I show you off to your teammates.”

Show him off. Like he was some prize she'd won. Crazy how much he liked that.

"You weren't very quiet by the way," she added, smirking as she pulled out her own outfit. "Good thing we locked that door."

"You did that on purpose."

"Maybe." She disappeared into his en suite. "Wanted to make sure you remembered who you belong to."

Christ.

April emerged from the bathroom looking proper incredible - something that managed to be classy but still had him thinking about getting her out of it later.

"Ready to face your teammates?" She adjusted his collar, covering some of her latest marks. "Show them what their TAA's become?"

Their TAA. Her good boy. Both somehow, now.

"Yeah," he managed. "Ready."

Her smile turned wicked. "Good. Because after dinner..." She leaned close, whispered something that made his knees weak.

They walked down the stairs arm-in-arm and Trent easily caught the look of disgust on his younger brother’s face. He told him to make himself scarce, didn’t he? Now he really had to use those noise-canceling headphones he’d bought last week.

Too bad, not sad.

The Ferrari keys dangled from April's fingers as they left the house. "I'm driving."

"It's my city though." But he was already following her to the car like the good boy he was.

"And I'm the one who decides how fast we get back after dinner." That smile again. "Unless you'd rather take the Range Rover?"

Fucking hell.

She looked so good behind the wheel, driving around his city, like she belonged in his world. Hard to believe this was the same woman who'd slammed a door in his face on New Year's Day.

"Where we meeting them?" She pulled out of his drive, engine purring.

"That new spot in town. Dead fancy. Darwin’s choice."

"Of course it was." Her hand found his thigh. "Nervous about introducing me properly?"

"More nervous about what you might say about those marks they keep asking about."

"Don't worry." That devilish grin. "I'll be a perfect girlfriend. Save the dom stuff for after.”

The way she said 'girlfriend' still made his stomach flip. Like she was claiming him all over again, but publicly this time.

"Though..." her hand slid higher. "Maybe I'll have a little fun. See how well you can keep your composure."

He actually whimpered.

"That's not very composed, baby."

It was going to be a long weekend ahead.

And he couldn't wait for every second of it.

The restaurant was one of those posh spots that was slowing finding its way into Liverpool. The Ferrari's engine turning off had heads turning before they even got out. April, of course, was in her element - that photographer's confidence of hers making every head turn.

She took Trent's hand as they walked in, all professional poise now. Different from the April who'd had him begging in his bedroom two hours ago.

Virgil and his wife were already there with Mo and his family at one end of the massive table, Darwin and his girlfriend chatting with Ibou near the bar.

"Look who finally made it!" Ibou called out, grinning like he hadn't been taking the piss about her and Trent since that day outside Anfield.

"About time we get to meet you," Virgil's wife pulled her into a hug. "You’re so beautiful."

Mo's wife, usually shy around new people, was already waving April over to their end of the table. Like April just had that effect on people – when she wanted to, anyway.

"Told you she'd fit right in," Virgil said quietly as they sat.

Watching her work the room was something else. The perfect mix of charm and privacy, redirecting personal questions into football chat or something else entirely. Even when Darwin tried fishing about the marks, she kept it professional. Proper different from how she'd wind up Marcel.

But Trent caught those little looks she kept giving him across the table. The ones that promised later wouldn't be nearly as professional.

The conversation flowed easier than Trent expected. April talking photography with Mo's wife, who apparently had a thing for art. Darwin's girlfriend fascinated by April's stories about shooting athletes in different countries.

"So what made you choose our Trent for your latest shoot?" Darwin's girlfriend asked, innocent like.

"His agent's persistence," April smiled, still professional as ever. "Tyler can be very convincing."

Virgil caught Trent's eye across the table, that knowing look again. Like he understood exactly why April had really chosen him.

"Looking forward to the match Monday?" Mo asked April, saving her from more personal questions.

"First time at Plymouth." She squeezed Trent's thigh under the table. "Should be interesting."

"Better score for her," Ibou grinned. "Show off a bit."

The way April's fingers tightened on his leg told him exactly what kind of showing off she expected.

Dinner arrived, yet Trent was more focused on April's hand still on his thigh, how she managed to look completely engaged in conversation while driving him mental under the table.

"You two should come over for dinner next week," Virgil's wife was saying. "Once the Plymouth match is done."

April smiled that professional smile again. "We'll see how he performs first."

Only Trent caught the double meaning in that.

Proper violation, this woman.

"Sorry I'm late!" Dom's voice boomed across the restaurant. "Traffic was crazy – oh, this must be April."

April's hand slid higher on Trent's thigh as she smiled at Dom. "Nice to meet you."

"Heard a lot about you," Dom grinned, dropping into the empty chair. "Well, what little Trent will actually say."

"Professional discretion," April said smoothly, but her fingers were anything but professional under the table.

The dessert menus arrived just in time to distract everyone from Dom's attempt at twenty questions. But April wasn't done torturing him - her hand wandering places that had him nearly dropping his spoon.

"We should probably head out after this," she said innocently. "Early start tomorrow."

Virgil actually chuckled - a knowing laugh that made Trent's face heat up. What was his captain playing at? Like he understood exactly what April meant by "early start."

Actually, no. He didn't want to know why Virgil seemed to get it. Some things about your captain were better left mysterious.

April's fingers traced patterns that had him properly squirming now.

"Right," Trent managed, voice slightly strained. "Should get going."

Another low laugh from Virgil. Proper violation that.

They made their goodbyes quick - April all polite smiles and proper handshakes while her other hand stayed busy making Trent lose his mind.

The Ferrari couldn't come fast enough.

Though based on April's smile, fast wasn't what she had planned for later.

***************************************************

April's heels echoed through the foyer as they got in, her confidence from dinner shifting into something else entirely as she headed for the stairs.

"Strip out of those clothes and wait for me on the bed," she called over her shoulder, voice pure command now.

"Yes ma–" he started, then properly panicked. Trent caught movement in his peripheral vision - Marcel on the sofa, spoon frozen halfway to his mouth, South Park playing quietly in the background.

"Properly address me when you–" April turned, following his startled expression. Her voice cut off as she spotted Marcel. The switch was instant - dom mode vanishing as she smiled. "Hey Marcel, what's up?"

The sudden change gave Trent proper whiplash. Like watching someone change languages mid-sentence. Made his head spin how she could do that — go from commands to casual in half a second.

Marcel just blinked, cereal forgotten, looking between them like he was watching some mental tennis match.

"Okay good talk." April's eyes found Trent again, that dangerous glint returning. "Five minutes, baby." Then she was gone, heels clicking up the stairs until his bedroom door closed.

"Bruv." Marcel finally unfroze. "You know what you're getting into?"

"I–"

"Like does she ever just... chill? One minute she's all proper nice next she's giving orders like a drill sergeant–"

"Marcel–"

"And what was that 'properly address me' shit? You two are proper mental–"

"Can we not–"

"Though got to say..." His brother looked thoughtful. "She's actually good for you."

That made Trent properly stop. "What?"

"You heard me." Marcel turned back to his cereal. "She's freaky as fuck but... you're different with her. Better different."

Coming from Marcel, who'd been taking the piss since day one... that meant something.

"Now go on," his brother waved toward the stairs. "Don't want to keep her waiting. I'm turning the TV up."

Trent's head was still spinning as he headed upstairs. His brother's approval somehow meaning more than the whole team's combined. The sound of South Park's volume increasing followed him up. Marcel was proper taking the piss, but at least he was being... supportive? In his own weird way.

April was perched on the edge of his bed when he walked in, still in that short ass dress that had been driving him mental all night. Her heels were off though, making her look smaller somehow. More normal.

Until she looked up.

"Lock the door."

The command in her voice was back - no trace of that casual girl who'd just chatted with his brother.

"Your family's interesting," she said as he turned the lock. "Marcel especially."

"Sorry about–"

"Don't apologize." She stood, all fluid grace. "Though we should probably be more careful about commands in common areas."

The way she said 'commands' had his stomach flipping.

"Now then," she moved closer, that dangerous smile back. "I believe you were about to address me properly downstairs?"

His brain short-circuited as she reached for his collar.

From downstairs, Marcel turned the TV up even louder.

Proper long night ahead.

At least his brother approved. Even if he was never going to let Trent live this down.

***************************************************

Hours later, they were tangled in his silk sheets, April's head on his chest like she belonged there. Different April now - softer, almost gentle. Mental how she could switch between dominatrix and this.

"Your brother's funny," she murmured, tracing patterns on his skin. "Protective too."

"More like nosy."

"Reminds me of my cousin in Virginia. Always taking the piss but means well."

This was new - April actually sharing something personal. Usually it was all commands and contracts, not family chat.

"Tell me about Virginia," he found himself saying.

"Hmm." Her fingers found a mark she'd left earlier. "Not much to tell. Military bases aren't exactly exciting. Though watching my dad try to teach the Americans to understand scouse was pretty entertaining."

He could picture it - little April caught between cultures, probably giving everyone that same look she gave him when he tried to push boundaries.

"My dad would like you," she said suddenly. "He appreciates people who know what they want."

Coming from April, that was proper high praise.

The TV downstairs had finally gone quiet. Marcel must've given up waiting for them to finish and went to bed.

He definitely needed to soundproof his room. Maybe better insulation for the whole house then if this was becoming an ongoing situation.

"Sleep," she commanded softly. "A lot of travel tomorrow then big match on Monday."

Even gentle, she couldn't help giving orders.

And he couldn't help wanting to follow them.

Home Park was properly packed for an FA Cup match, but Trent's eyes kept drifting to one spot in particular. April in the family section, looking proper editorial in Prada sunglasses and his jersey, her hair swept up in some complicated bun thing.

And that fucking lollipop.

The way she was working it had his mind going places it shouldn't before a match. Though maybe that was because twenty minutes ago those lips had been... right. Football. Focus.

But she knew exactly what she was doing, didn't she? Even from up there, he could see that little smirk as she proper performed with that sweet. Every movement calculated to drive him mental, like she was still training his control even from the stands.

His warm-up routine was suffering. Passes going slightly off, stretches not quite reaching far enough. All because he couldn't stop looking up there, watching her turn a simple sweet into something that should be illegal in public.

"You're proper gone mate," Robbo appeared at his shoulder. "Should blow her a kiss."

"Nah." Trent tried focusing on his stretches. "She won't do it back."

"Oi Ibou!" Robbo called. "Tell this melt he should blow April a kiss!"

"Do it!" Ibou bounced over, grinning like Christmas had come early. "Is romantic!"

"She's not that type," Trent tried explaining. The idea of April doing cutesy public displays was mental. This was a woman who had him signing contracts about their relationship, who turned eating sweets into psychological warfare. More chance of Marcel keeping quiet about what he'd witnessed.

"Look at him," Robbo stage-whispered to Ibou. "Proper scared of his girl."

"Not scared–"

"Chicken!" Ibou made clucking noises. "Big man Trent, afraid of little kiss!"

Their pestering wouldn't stop, both of them proper taking the piss now. Even Darwin had wandered over to join in, making exaggerated kissing faces.

Fine.

He did it - exaggerated kiss blown up to the stands, already bracing for April to either ignore it or give him that "you'll pay for this later" look she'd perfected.

What happened next actually made him stumble.

April pulled the lollipop out with a pop, caught his kiss with her free hand, pressed it to her heart... and blew one back. The movement so graceful it looked choreographed, like she'd been waiting for him to try it.

"Oh fuck." The cameras. He'd forgotten about the fucking cameras.

Robbo and Ibou were proper losing it, jumping around making kissy noises like year seven kids. Darwin had actually fallen over laughing. Tomorrow's papers would have a field day with this one - Liverpool's right back and his photographer girlfriend doing lovey-dovey shit during warm-ups.

But the look April was giving him over those sunglasses... that mix of public sweetness and private promise that had his stomach doing flips.

Worth it. So fucking worth it.

"Now who's the romantic one?" Robbo was still cackling. "Proper Mills and Boon stuff that!"

"She's got you wrapped," Ibou added, wiping tears from his eyes. "Never seen anything like it!"

They weren't wrong though, were they? Here he was, making soppy gestures in front of thousands, just because she looked too good in his jersey. The same woman who'd had him properly begging this morning was now catching kisses like some rom-com heroine.

And the maddest part? He didn't even care who saw it. Let them take their photos, write their articles. April had him exactly where she wanted him - in public and in private.

Though based on that smile she was giving him, public April was just as dangerous as private April.

Proper violation, this woman. But she was his violation now.

Even if the whole world was about to know it.

From the stands, April's lips moved silently: "Focus."

Even from this distance, he could read it perfectly - the same word she'd whispered against his ear this morning as she straightened his collar. The word had different meaning now - less about control and more about proving something.

Plymouth came at them hard from kickoff, but Trent was in that zone where everything felt possible. Each touch perfect, each pass finding feet. Like that kiss from April had charged him up somehow. Even Slot was nodding approvingly from the touchline.

"Someone's showing off," Virgil grinned after Trent skinned their winger with a nutmeg.

The free kick came in the 34th minute - proper perfect position, just outside the box. As he placed the ball, his eyes found April in the stands. No lollipop now, just that intense photographer's focus of hers, like she was already composing the shot in her head. Some of the other WAGs had migrated to sit near her, but she kept that cool distance. Professional as ever in public.

The wall lined up. The whistle blew.

Top bins. No chance for their keeper. The kind of free kick that reminded everyone why they called him the best right back in the world.

His body moved before his brain caught up, hands forming an 'A' above his head. He'd been doing it for ages - for little Aura who loved seeing her uncle on TV. But based on the commentators losing their minds and the cameras cutting straight to April, everyone had their own ideas about which 'A' he meant now.

"Romantic today!" Darwin shouted as they celebrated, making kissy faces again.

April's face gave nothing away behind those sunglasses, but he caught that little smirk playing at her lips. The one that promised rewards later.

Mo added another just before half time, making it 2-0. The second half was just control - keeping possession, staying focused. Though his eyes kept drifting to the stands, to his jersey hanging off April's shoulders like it belonged there. Mental how something so simple could be so distracting.

Even the Plymouth fans were watching her now, probably trying to figure out what kind of woman had Liverpool's right back blowing kisses and making letter celebrations.

If they only knew.

When the final whistle blew, the cameras found her again. Still cool as anything behind those shades, but he saw her hand move to her heart – where she'd placed his kiss earlier.

Proper soppy that. But he couldn't stop grinning.

And neither could she.

……………..tbd

#quainwritings #quain’s masterlist #golden boy #trent alexander arnold fanfiction #trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold x black oc #footballer x oc #footballer x reader

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poppedrocksoda · 3 days ago

Text

Greens and Blues

Chapter One- Birthday

Robin! Jason Todd x x Fem! Joker's Protege! Reader Summary: There's nothing like sitting on top of an abandoned building and watching Gotham as the bitter cold air nips at your skin. All with a friend.

Her eyes widened slightly. He looked at her, silently questioning why she was making that face. Her usual playful expression shifted into shock and surprise. Disbelief at what he did.

"Your eyes…" Her voice trailed off, but the awe in her voice was evident.

He cocked up an eyebrow. His normal overconfident smile quickly became a straight line. Almost becoming a grimace. He went to put the domino mask back on, but she grabbed his wrist. Her grip wasn't tight or aggressive, instead it was gentle. Per usual.

"No! I just- you look so pretty." She said while taking a step closer to him. Taking in the sight of his blue eyes. She was so focused on them that she didn't notice his face reddening.

The blue wasn't vibrant or deep like the ocean. No, the gray in them muted it. Making them almost lifeless in the midnight darkness of Gotham. Yet she found it to be the most breathtaking color.

He shifted his eyes away to avoid looking at her. Looking down at the concrete roof he felt his face go ablaze. In the corner of his eye, he could still see her. The white face makeup that covered her face and the colorful hues that plastered her face.

After a while, he shook her hand off him and slipped that mask back on. He grumbled his words, "You've seen my whole face. Happy?" He turned his face away from her to hide his flushed face and looked down at the building. Pretending to look for something that was down below.

She smiled and threw her arms around him. "Extremely!" She squealed into his ear. Her loud voice made him wince. Then she tightened her hug and said, "This is the best birthday present! Thank you!"

He once again shook her off him. She didn't protest and let him out of her grasp when she realized what he wanted. He turned around to face her. He felt his face cool down thanks to the cold weather of Gotham. "You don't have to scream in my ear." The annoyed tone only made her laugh.

"Now I'm going to have to one-up my birthday gift for you!" She propped it up as some type of rivalry.

They had never been like that. If anything, he was the one who tried applying that to whatever they were. Yet she never truly played along. She was willing to let him paint the picture, even though she always staggered across the finish line hours after he won.

He always won, but she didn't feel the desire to play. He was miles ahead of her and never looked back. That's how he was. So when her words hinted at a rivalry, he knew to not take it seriously.

He could only roll his eyes and speak up with a sarcastic tone. "How about incapacitating the Joker for my birthday." She was going to open her mouth about how she couldn't do that, he added. "I'd just like to see all that makeup gone." All sarcasm was replaced by a genuine softness.

He reached out and dragged his gloved finger down her cheek before pulling away. He looked at his finger to see that no makeup had come off. Then he flicked his eyes back at her and said, "Or maybe you were lying about this being makeup and this is your real face."

He commented with such seriousness that she couldn't help, but let out a scoff. Her reaction made him crack a small smile. "You can't just rub it off. You have to use warm water and then you try to scrub it off for hours. I don't think it's ever going to come off."

"You said you'd one up my gift."

He watched her pout and slightly glared at him. He swore she was going to stomp her foot in frustration, but held herself back from doing so. Ever since he pointed it out, she'd been trying to stop doing that.

"Ma works real hard on this and she'll be angry if she sees it's all gone. She says it makes me look pretty." The girl struck a pose when saying pretty.

Pretty. The word rattled in his head while he took in her appearance. Then he shrugged shoulders, "I guess there could be someone out there who likes clowns and weird green hair. Though, probably no one sane."

She didn't even bother trying to rebuttal that claim. They both knew it was true and arguing was a waste of time. So all she said was, "My hair isn't green, you know."

He couldn't imagine the girl's hair being anything, but green. It was hard to imagine her without the whole circus getup. "What color is then?" He asked innocently.

She crossed her arms and held her chin in one hand. He questioned her about what she was doing and she only said thinking. He waited for a moment before she spoke up—a question of her own.

"Do you want to know what my real hair looks like or my real name?"

"Trixie isn't your real name?"

Her expression hardened for a moment and she snickered. "You thought my real name was Trixie?" The lack of a defensive comeback only made her roll her eyes.

She shook her head, "Whatever. I'll tell you about either my hair or name, I'll save the other for your birthday."

"I'm not seeing your real face am I?" He sounded more disappointed than he realized. She rolled her eyes at his unintentional guilt-tripping.

"You know what fine, I'm telling you my real name on your birthday." He tried to protest. Telling her that was almost a year until then, but she didn't care. "My hair is actually [hair color]."

He suddenly stopped his borderline whining when that came out of her mouth. "[hair color], huh?" He mumbled to himself.

"Ma said it looked boring and green was… prettier." She said absent-mindedly. A hidden sadness was sprinkled behind her words, but she never had the fortitude to acknowledge it. And she'd probably never find the courage to face the dismal situation she was in. Not now. Not ever.

"Green is such an ugly color, [hair color] looks way better. In my opinion." He quickly added the last part as if he was afraid of offending Harley.

"Maybe." She sounded decent and hollow with a one-word response.

He could feel the mood between them becoming almost somber. Any talks of them, Quinn and Joker, always seemed to ruin things. He couldn't exactly explain it and neither could she.

They were both too young and inexperienced to grapple with such mixed feelings. He was unequipped to jump into that problem. She was unwilling to open up to that problem. And so they did what they've always done with these little hiccups.

They ignored it. The problem was there, its looming presence was felt. But not acknowledging it was all they could do and it was what they wanted to do.

"I probably should have bought a cake." He said out loud. It wasn't detected at her, just something to keep her from drifting off into her thoughts. He slightly sighed, "Most of the stores- well, all of them are closed."

He was more upset by the lack of a birthday cake than the birthday girl. "You don't need a cake to make a birthday. You don't really need anything for it honestly. It's just another day." The way she stated it as fact made him give her a look. It was a mixture of pity and annoyance at such horrible claims.

He was going to go on a tangent about why this day should be important. Why today or at least tonight, it was something to celebrate. Though, he quickly gave up on that idea. There was no need to remind her of the simple pleasure of being celebrated for being here. It'd be rubbing in her face.

So he brushed off her claims. Fearing that he'd put her into a gloomy mood.

All of a sudden he perked up and said. "The gas station." A small, confused what came from her mouth. He partially explained his sudden idea, "The gas station is open at all hours."

He went to the fire escape and told her to wait there before going down the stairs. It wasn't like she had much going on. There wasn't anything planned with the Joker in Arkham and Quinn desperately plotting ways to get him out.

With nothing going on at home and no real desire to go back there. She waited. Less than five minutes passed and she lay on her back, looking up at the sky. Trying to see a single glimmer of light through Gotham's smog. It was the whole reason why she was here in the first place. Until a little bird flew in from his most recent scuffle.

She wasn't sure how much time passed, she stared at the sky in a daze. The sound of a plastic bag and fast movement up the fire escape snapped her out of it. The sudden noise made her freeze. All her muscles tensed, her heart suddenly spiked, and she couldn't move.

The sight of him slightly calmed her nerves. She silently told herself, "It's just him. Relax." She tried to hide how the sudden noise spooked her more than it should.

"What's in the bag?" She questioned. Watching him saunter over to her with a smile that could only be called self-gratifying. He sat down, not too far from her but not too close.

He dug around in the bag for a second before pulling out a square thing. He held it out to her. She didn't bother getting up. She just eyed it for a moment then asked what it was.

That self-gratifying smile slightly faltered. He was no longer mentally patting himself on the back. "It's a cake. Your birthday cake." He emphasized the word birthday.

She scoffed softly at his response. "That's not a cake." He sighed and put his hands up in defense. There was no denying that a small square cake from the gas station qualified as a real cake. No matter how much the label said other wises.

"It's the only thing available at this hour."

He put the square cake in the palm of his hand before holding it up in front of her. Then he held up a pointer finger next to it. "What are you doing?" She asked.

"I don't have a lighter. So my finger is all I got. Unless you have a lighter." When she shook her head, he added. "That's fine. This was what my parents used to do when we couldn't find any candles or lighters."

She didn't seem as interested in this as he was. But since he went out of his way to do this, she'd play along for his sake. So she sat up to face him and crossed her legs. She thought of a wish before blowing air at the last-minute candle. He curled his finger, signifying that the candle was out.

Without hesitation, he asked. "What did you wish for?"

She grabbed the small, plastic-wrapped cake from his hand. "Aren't you supposed to keep that a secret? If I tell someone my wish, then it won't come true." She ripped open the wrapper and bit into the cake.

"Well, I'm not someone though."

They weren't just someone to each other. Neither could just call the other someone. It would have sounded almost callus because that'd be throwing away all that history. Their history. But if they weren't someone, then what were they?

Unsure of what he'd label himself as to her. She gave him a questioning look. Too scared, maybe even too hopeful to ask for an elaboration.

Seeing her expression he spoke up with a smile. "I'm your friend and arch-nemesis. We'll fight on the weekdays and eat cake on weekends."

She felt an inkling of disappointment behind his words. Yet it was so minor compared to the overwhelming warmth that she didn't even notice it.

With all of this cozy, fuzziness in her chest, she could help but smile back. "Well, thank you. This might have been my best birthday." The genuine warmth from the one who was her friend and enemy could keep her warm in the coldest of Gotham's nights.

"I know it's already past midnight and not your birthday anymore technically. But happy birthday. Next year I'll get you a real cake."

Next year…

Next year wouldn't even compare to this.

"I'll make sure you keep your word, bird-brain."

"I know you will."

She didn't. She couldn't.

This has been collecting dust in my drafts for a while now. I'm thinking about writing more on this, but I probably won't revisit this. Masterlist

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n

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maimura · 12 hours ago

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

　　　ᅠ ＞︿　　please leave feedbacks 　　& 　　reblog

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ll be fine?”

You nod, chuckling. “I’ll be fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Swallowing thickly, you read the texts from your notifications.

hi angel! i hope everything’s going well

this meeting is boring

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

anyways text me back when u can, ok?

i love u sm!

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

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

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

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

You smile sadly.

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

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

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

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

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

Enjoy it while it lasts.

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

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

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

Thirty days to make Donghyun leave me.

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

DAY 1.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

angel

you okay?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

DAY 6.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is perfect timing.

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

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

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

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

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

Silence.

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

That would make it easier.

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

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

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

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

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

The message bubble pops up again.

Donghyun’s typing.

are you okay?

you’re leaving me on read

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

Donghyun doesn’t deserve this.

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

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

It hurts.

But you don’t know what else to do.

DAY 13.

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

It feels weird.

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

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

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

He exhales heavily, absorbing the view of you.

Donghyun misses you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

DAY 17.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You swallow thickly, forcing yourself to stay stoic.

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

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

Why did it have to be like this?

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

Why did it have to be you?

DAY 21.

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

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

You have 9 days left of your plan.

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

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

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

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

His voice is calm—way too calm.

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

“I’ve been busy, that’s all.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence.

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

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

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

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

“Say it again.”

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

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

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

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

Say it, Y/N. Make him hate you.

Make him leave.

“I–” your voice cracks.

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

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

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

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

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

Your blood turns to ice.

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

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

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

Feeling harshly attacked, you look away.

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

His words cause a pang to your heart.

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

“Then make me understand!”

Your breath hitches.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Angel.

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

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

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

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

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

Your throat burns with the trace of your words.

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

“I do,” you lie.

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

Your breath catches.

“No–”

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

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

Why can’t he just let go?

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

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

DAY 27.

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

There’s something wrong.

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

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

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

But what did he do?

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N L/N.

Aspirin.

Antidepressants.

Anti-seizure.

Steroids.

Morphine tablets.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now, everything clicks together in the right place.

Now, Donghyun understands why.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He understands.

How could he not?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’ll always choose you.

I choose us, even in this.

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

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

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

DAY 28.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Angel?”

No.

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

I need to stop crying.

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

A soft knock comes from the door.

“Y/N?”

You close your eyes shut. Not now. Please.

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

“I’m coming in.”

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You deserve someone who has a future.”

“Love, what are you talking about–?”

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

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

Donghyun stands there, not saying anything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

DAY 30.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Four hours.

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

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

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

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

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

You widen your eyes, realising.

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

Does he know?

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

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

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

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

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

He probably knows.

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

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

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

“What are you talking about?”

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

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

Nevertheless, you smile.

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

Donghyun kisses your temples, smiling softly.

“Let’s go?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the–hey!”

“Oops.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod.

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

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

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

You nudge him. “That’s depressing.”

“What? We’ll all die one day—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ll get sick,” he says, pouting.

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

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

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

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

“Aren’t you cold?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

Donghyun smiles.

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

I’m the luckiest person in the world.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Agreed,” you laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And for a little while, everything feels normal.

BUT it’s not. Nothing is normal.

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

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

But deep down, he knows.

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

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

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

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

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

Your smile disappears.

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

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

But Donghyun catches the immediate fear in your eyes.

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

For a second, Donghyun freezes.

“Y/N?”

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

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

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

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

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

You’re slipping away.

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

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

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

He clenches his jaw, tears threatening to fall.

How could he ever let you go?

DAY 62.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t want you to suffer.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t… forget me.”

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

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

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

You smile, letting out one last, slow breath.

And then, silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He misses you. Too much.

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

DAY 3715.

It’s been 10 years.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The wind answers in a gentle hush.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll see you again, Y/N.”

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀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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