#and then advanced. open terminal

[turnedpalefromlackofsun]

Up next: windows 10

[liberaljane]

Women's Not So Distant History

This #WomensHistoryMonth, let's not forget how many of our rights were only won in recent decades, and weren’t acquired by asking nicely and waiting. We need to fight for our rights. Here's are a few examples:

📍 Before 1974's Fair Credit Opportunity Act made it illegal for financial institutions to discriminate against applicants' gender, banks could refuse women a credit card. Women won the right to open a bank account in the 1960s, but many banks still refused without a husband’s signature. This allowed men to continue to have control over women’s bank accounts. Unmarried women were often refused service by financial institutions entirely.

📍 Before 1977, sexual harassment was not considered a legal offense. That changed when a woman brought her boss to court after she refused his sexual advances and was fired. The court stated that her termination violated the 1974 Civil Rights Act, which made employment discrimination illegal.⚖️

📍 In 1969, California became the first state to pass legislation to allow no-fault divorce. Before then, divorce could only be obtained if a woman could prove that her husband had committed serious faults such as adultery. 💍By 1977, nine states had adopted no-fault divorce laws, and by late 1983, every state had but two. The last, New York, adopted a law in 2010.

📍In 1967, Kathrine Switzer, entered the Boston Marathon under the name "K.V. Switzer." At the time, the Amateur Athletics Union didn't allow women. Once discovered, staff tried to remove Switzer from the race, but she finished. AAU did not formally accept women until fall 1971.

📍 In 1972, Lillian Garland, a receptionist at a California bank, went on unpaid leave to have a baby and when she returned, her position was filled. Her lawsuit led to 1978's Pregnancy Discrimination Act, which found that discriminating against pregnant people is unlawful

📍 It wasn’t until 2016 that gay marriage was legal in all 50 states. Previously, laws varied by state, and while many states allowed for civil unions for same-sex couples, it created a separate but equal standard. In 2008, California was the first state to achieve marriage equality, only to reverse that right following a ballot initiative later that year. 

📍In 2018, Utah and Idaho were the last two states that lacked clear legislation protecting chest or breast feeding parents from obscenity laws. At the time, an Idaho congressman complained women would, "whip it out and do it anywhere,"

📍 In 1973, the Supreme Court affirmed the right to safe legal abortion in Roe v. Wade. At the time of the decision, nearly all states outlawed abortion with few exceptions. In 1965, illegal abortions made up one-sixth of all pregnancy- and childbirth-related deaths. Unfortunately after years of abortion restrictions and bans, the Supreme Court overturned Roe in 2022. Since then, 14 states have fully banned care, and another 7 severely restrict it – leaving most of the south and midwest without access. 

📍 Before 1973, women were not able to serve on a jury in all 50 states. However, this varied by state: Utah was the first state to allow women to serve jury duty in 1898. Though, by 1927, only 19 states allowed women to serve jury duty. The Civil Rights Act of 1957 gave women the right to serve on federal juries, though it wasn't until 1973 that all 50 states passed similar legislation

📍 Before 1988, women were unable to get a business loan on their own. The Women's Business Ownership Act of 1988 allowed women to get loans without a male co-signer and removed other barriers to women in business. The number of women-owned businesses increased by 31 times in the last four decades. 

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📍 Before 1965, married women had no right to birth control. In Griswold v. Connecticut (1965), the Supreme Court ruled that banning the use of contraceptives violated the right to marital privacy.

📍 Before 1967, interracial couples didn’t have the right to marry. In Loving v. Virginia, the Supreme Court found that anti-miscegenation laws were unconstitutional. In 2000, Alabama was the last State to remove its anti-miscegenation laws from the books.

📍 Before 1972, unmarried women didn’t have the right to birth control. While married couples gained the right in 1967, it wasn’t until Eisenstadt v. Baird seven years later, that the Supreme Court affirmed the right to contraception for unmarried people.

📍 In 1974, the last “Ugly Laws” were repealed in Chicago. “Ugly Laws” allowed the police to arrest and jail people with visible disabilities for being seen in public. People charged with ugly laws were either charged a fine or held in jail. ‘Ugly Laws’ were a part of the late 19th century Victorian Era poor laws. 

📍 In 1976, Hawaii was the last state to lift requirements that a woman take her husband’s last name.  If a woman didn’t take her husband’s last name, employers could refuse to issue her payroll and she could be barred from voting. 

📍 It wasn’t until 1993 that marital assault became a crime in all 50 states. Historically, intercourse within marriage was regarded as a “right” of spouses. Before 1974, in all fifty U.S. states, men had legal immunity for assaults their wives. Oklahoma and North Carolina were the last to change the law in 1993.

📍  In 1990, the Americans with Disability Act (ADA) – most comprehensive disability rights legislation in U.S. history – was passed. The ADA protected disabled people from employment discrimination. Previously, an employer could refuse to hire someone just because of their disability.

📍 Before 1993, women weren’t allowed to wear pants on the Senate floor. That changed when Sen. Moseley Braun (D-IL), & Sen. Barbara Mikulski (D-MD) wore trousers - shocking the male-dominated Senate. Their fashion statement ultimately led to the dress code being clarified to allow women to wear pants. 

📍 Emergency contraception (Plan B) wasn't approved by the FDA until 1998. While many can get emergency contraception at their local drugstore, back then it required a prescription. In 2013, the FDA removed age limits & allowed retailers to stock it directly on the shelf (although many don’t).

📍  In Lawrence v. Texas (2003), the Supreme Court ruled that anti-cohabitation laws were unconstitutional. Sometimes referred to as the ‘'Living in Sin' statute, anti-cohabitation laws criminalize living with a partner if the couple is unmarried. Today, Mississippi still has laws on its books against cohabitation. 

[phantomrose96]

God's Favorite

Lucy wakes to the soft tapping of rain against her window, and she is God’s favorite. She knows this in the absent sound of her alarm, and she knows this in the yawning rumbles of thunder, and she knows this before she touches her phone alight to the notification screen.

8:43 am. Far from the 4:30 am alarm she’d needed to heed to make it to her flight. Her screen is awash with airline notifications.

She scrambles from bed. Her urgency is an apology. Lucy skips the shower and skips the hair washing and paints on deodorant before stowing it back in her carryon and calling her uber.

“Crazy weather,” her driver with the big mustache remarks. His windshield wipers swish through a river of rain.

“Yeah,” Lucy answers. She glances at her rumbling phone. She glances at the rumbling clouds. The road is clear. It shouldn’t be, not this route and not at this hour. A gas main broke somewhere up the highway that feeds this street. A freak accident. 2 injuries. It’s kept this road clear for just the locals since it happened. Lucy encounters no traffic enroute to the airport.

There are pockets of planes grounded across the runways, barely visible behind the sheets of downpour. They look like herding animals, herbivores, standing stock-still in brace against the weather. Lucy stares at them only a moment while the driver pulls her carryon out of the trunk. She grabs her jacket closed against the wind, and grabs her carryon handle, and thanks her driver. The rain does not reach her here, though the wind does.

Inside Lucy drags her bag past the help desks swarming with the orderly filings of people in disarray. Parents leaning too hard on help counters with kids pulling on bag handles. Hurried conversations and requests and arguments. The electronic boards are awash with deeply red DELAYED and CANCELED. The airport is choking. Lucy, who God loves, glides through security unimpeded.

At gate-side, Lucy finally looks to the large red board of DELAYED and CANCELED etchings to confirm what she knew without even checking her phone notifications. Gate A14. Her carryon wheels pitter and patter across tile as she walks, striding quickly, with apology.

When Gate A14 comes into view it is smothered with the weight of two or possibly three flights worth of people. There are people asleep clutching backpacks and curled on the floor. There is a four-year-old girl with her face buried in an iPad and a mother having a phone call whose clipped urgency infects Lucy. There is a man leaning over the counter to talk to the gate agent, and his hands pulse with each tensing of his fingers. “…to the hospital before she…” Lucy makes out, or thinks she makes out. She doesn’t hear the gate agent’s response, but she can read the defeated shake of her head.

Lucy’s carryon wheels clunk where the smooth tile of the terminal shifts to carpeting. She doesn’t think to grab a seat because there are no open seats. So she positions herself in a way to unmistakably say she is at the gate, threading between stagnant suitcases and kids splayed on the floor. Lucy approaches the rain-splattered windows, and like a conversation shy upon being overheard, the thunder recedes from her advance. The rain draws to a polite close. The clouds split along a seam and pull away, as if they were only ever a wave that had transiently crashed to shore. The sky is beautifully blue.

There is a stirring hopefulness in the air. Other passengers have pushed past Lucy to stand closer to the window and peer outside, as if their confirmation of the changing weather can convince the airline of what to do next.

The gate agent puts down the phone receiver of a one-sided call. She pulls the microphone close and with grainy clarity she announces, “Boarding for Flight A1874 to Detroit will begin in 10 minutes.”

On the walkway, through the gap between the throughway and plane, Lucy sees the puddles rising with steam. They throw the iridescent spectrum of a rainbow up into the sky.

In a backlog of hundreds of flights, Lucy’s is the first out across the runway. This is because God loves her. She only wishes It loved her in a way to fix her broken phone alarm.

…

In childhood Lucy had heard “God loves you” and “Jesus loves you” in the placative ways that Sunday School teaches its children. With jingles and crayon-drawings of sheep and shepherds and a decorated ornament, crafted each Christmas Eve.

Lucy had long since fallen out of it and had thought very little of her parents’ tepid god for the last 10 or 15 years.

It was last spring, 27-years-old, that Lucy had found her way out into the marsh. Mud sucking her boots and gnats plicking in swarm against her skin. Where she sat her tailbone in the muck and folded her arms over her knees and buried her face in her legs to cry. And cry. And cry. And there with the mugginess sopping her skin and the humidity coiling her hair, God decided It loved her.

It loved her with a parting of canopy for the robin-blue sky. It loved her with the chirp of cicadas. It loved her in the way a dog circles its owner and nudges a wet snout to palm, because It was here, and It would make her feel better.

Lucy’s seat is the window seat beside the man with the tensing fingers. He fiddles with a phone in his clutch until he locks it in airplane mode and stows it, to look at no more. Lucy wonders who this man knows in the hospital, and she wonders why God doesn’t love him more than It loves her.

…

In March, Marco breaks up with her over a plate of fish that is too dry. In the moment, Lucy wonders if it’s her fault, because of the fish. But that’s not it. The signs were there, in all the subtle and stuttering moments Marco had pulled away. Each little moment like a slightly missed step, on a staircase growing ricketier each month.

Marco leaves and everything is so quiet, to the point that Lucy thinks her own sounds are pretty stupid, and pretty embarrassing while she’s coiled snail-like and snottily-sobbing into her pillowcase. She thinks absently of how she has to wash the pillowcase now, and that’s fine, because she was going to wash her linens this weekend anyway. She sobs so hard she’s almost screaming. Oh, and kitchen towels. She’ll wash the kitchen towels too.

She’s alive enough the next morning to throw all her linens and her kitchen towels on the floor of the laundry room. And maybe Marco breaking up with her is fine, because his birthday is December 25th and who wants a husband whose birthday is the same day as Christmas?

Her doorbell rings. And somehow it’s Marco again. She opens it to him, and he smells like a wildfire.

“Sorry, Lucy, this is awkward,” and Lucy believes he means it. He’s clutching a jacket around himself for what looks like security more than warmth. His apartment burned down last night. A resident fell asleep with a cigarette lit and dangling from her fingertips. Unit right below him. All his stuff burned, or filled with smoke, or is now logged up with water. He’s been sitting outside on the cobblestone for the last few hours, watching the blaze, on the phone with insurance. His landlord hasn’t responded to him yet. He’s cold, and he’s smokey, and can he shower here maybe? Can he stay for just a day or two, maybe? Sorry. This is awkward. He has no family on this coast. He really has nowhere else to go.

“Sure.” Lucy lets in Marco who smells like a wildfire. She adds the towels to her laundry list because they will smell like a wildfire too once Marco has used them. When he is clean, Lucy asks him nice questions. He asks her nice questions back. She helps him figure out something strange on the insurance form. He starts cooking dinner before Lucy realizes he’d entered the kitchen, because she was busy with the linens and the towels.

Marco takes the couch and clean linens. “Thanks, again, really. I can pay you a few days rent, when I get the insurance payout.” It’s no problem. Lucy goes to her room and shuts the door. It’s warmer here with Marco again. She wonders how long he’ll stay. She wonders if it will be for as long as she thinks the sound of him breathing in the other room is a comfort.

Something twists in Lucy’s chest. She wonders why God loves her more than It loves Marco. Lucy wonders why God didn’t love the woman with the lit cigarette who did not make it out of the building.

…

In June Lucy is desperately throwing together the haphazard makings of a financial report. She meant to stay up late to finish it, and get up early to make it beautiful, but she’s had a cold for a whole week now and the new bottle of decongestant she grabbed wasn’t “non-drowsy” like she thought.

Her heart is beating, and she nearly twists her ankle with a misstep in high heels, and she almost loses her grip on the shoddy makings of a too-light financial report still warm from the printer. She can spin it, maybe, that it’s intentionally light and she’d simply wanted the esteemed and respected input from the executives in the room before she produces the truly polished report this evening. And when the eyebrows are raised and she is told the report is due now, maybe they will refrain from firing her on the spot since she is still the only one who can produce the report they need.

She pulls open the meeting room door as if she is not out of breath, as if her nose isn’t red from a thousand tissues. She takes her seat so hastily that she does not notice, until she looks up properly, and sees the CEO’s seat is empty.

No one speaks. No one acknowledges her entrance. Lucy hugs the warm binder to her chest.

The door latch clicks open, but Lucy knows it will not be the CEO. She heard the click of heels before the doorknob turned.

It’s his assistant with the lovely auburn hair that curls around her shoulders. Her suit is red and her eyes are red and she stands just behind the CEO’s chair. Everyone notices her in the way they did not notice Lucy.

She speaks. The CEO’s wife and daughter were in a head-on collision with a drunk driver 42 minutes ago. They’re in critical condition, and the CEO has gone to be with them. He asks everyone’s forgiveness and grace in this time. The meeting is rescheduled for tomorrow, same time, and he humbly requests if everyone in attendance can adjust their calendar to accommodate this. This is a big ask, he knows. The board will have questions, he knows. But these are extenuating circumstances. The assistant will help with any necessary reworking of everyone’s calendars. And Lucy, can you please deliver the report tomorrow? The assistant has a sympathy card, which she lays on the table along with a black pen, and she asks if anyone would care to sign it.

Lucy signs it. The card paper is so cold, compared to the warmth of the half-finished report squeezed tight against her chest. The half-finished report should have cooled by now, but God must know she’s cold and ashen-faced, and God loves her so much.

…

In July, Lucy is a perfectionist. Her mother swears she wasn’t always like this. Her high school best friend is surprised, when in town for a weekend and meeting up for coffee, by the way Lucy triple-confirms the time, and the place, and the way she wears two watches. Why two watches? he asks. Because the alarm on one watch might fail. What about your phone? The watches are the backup, if the phone dies.

There’s something off-putting in the way she talks, and the way she asks questions of him, and the way she exclaims in joy at every piece of good news he shares. Josiah glances behind himself, more and more, and it’s because Lucy stares back there like she knows someone else at the next table.

It’s all weird, and Josiah can’t help but pull away. But Lucy pulls away first, retroactively. She can always pull away retroactively, and declare to her four walls of her room how much she didn’t need that friend, like she doesn’t need Marco, or anyone else who God may drop at her doorstep like the dead bird bounty of a cat, happy to share with the person It loves.

Lucy finishes her reports early. She wiles away the sun at her office even in the summer finishing reports far before anyone could need them. She double-checks, every time. She triple-checks. Her boss pulls her into a meeting room and with hands folded on the desk, he asks if maybe she needs to take some time off. And instantly she declares to the four walls that no-one at the company is doing this to her. “I wasn’t implying that…” but she’s not looking at him when he answers.

In July Lucy returns to the marsh. She returns with stones she’s horded up and gathered in the trunk of her car. She walks through the boot-suckling mud and she weighs stones in her arms while she hurls them, and throws, and screams, and hopes one of them might strike God in Its snout.

“I HATE YOU!” she screams. She throws all her weight into a stone whose sharp edge nicks bark. She hurls one through the bushes and another into the leafy canopy above. She is sopping wet and the cicadas chirp at her. “I HATE YOU!! GO AWAY!! LEAVE ME ALONE!!!” She chucks a stone which lands in the sucking muck, capsizing like a ship beneath the algae.

She throws, and her gravity heaves forward, and her boots stay stuck in the mud. So she topples elbow-deep in the mud, spattered, soaking into her chin and her shirt and her jeans and her hair. She parts her lips and tastes the earthy wetness on her skin, coppery blood, split lip. The stones are all under her. She laughs. Lucy tilts her head to the sky screaming with laughter. Joyous to tears, with the wetness drawing rivulets down the mud on her cheeks. She laughs because sopping-in-mud-and-muck is NOT the state of something God loves. This wouldn’t happen to something God loves.

Lucy goes home. Lucy showers. Lucy does her laundry. And It crawls back into bed with her. Perhaps like a scolded animal, but perhaps It did not even know It was being scolded. Lucy cannot tell.

The wine stains came out of her linens today because God loves her.

[htaesan]

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

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

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

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

　　　ᅠ ＞︿ 　　please leave feedbacks 　　& 　　reblog

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ll be fine?”

You nod, chuckling. “I’ll be fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Swallowing thickly, you read the texts from your notifications. 

hi angel! i hope everything’s going well

this meeting is boring

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

anyways text me back when u can, ok? 

i love u sm!

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

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

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

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

You smile sadly. 

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

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

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

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

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

Enjoy it while it lasts.

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

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

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

Thirty days to make Donghyun leave me. 

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

DAY 1.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

angel

you okay?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

DAY 6.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is perfect timing.

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

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

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

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

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

Silence.

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

That would make it easier.

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

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

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

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

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

The message bubble pops up again. 

Donghyun’s typing. 

are you okay?

you’re leaving me on read

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

Donghyun doesn’t deserve this. 

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

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

It hurts. 

But you don’t know what else to do. 

DAY 13.

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

It feels weird. 

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

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

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

He exhales heavily, absorbing the view of you. 

Donghyun misses you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

DAY 17. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You swallow thickly, forcing yourself to stay stoic. 

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

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

Why did it have to be like this?

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

Why did it have to be you?

DAY 21.

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

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

You have 9 days left of your plan. 

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

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

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

“You’ve been avoiding me.” 

His voice is calm—way too calm.

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

“I’ve been busy, that’s all.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence. 

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

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

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

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

“Say it again.”

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

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

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

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

Say it, Y/N. Make him hate you. 

Make him leave.

“I–” your voice cracks.

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

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

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

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

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

Your blood turns to ice. 

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

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

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

Feeling harshly attacked, you look away. 

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

His words cause a pang to your heart. 

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

“Then make me understand!” 

Your breath hitches. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Angel. 

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

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

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

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

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

Your throat burns with the trace of your words. 

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

“I do,” you lie. 

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

Your breath catches.

“No–” 

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

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

Why can’t he just let go?

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

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

DAY 27. 

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

There’s something wrong. 

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

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

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

But what did he do?

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N L/N. 

Aspirin. 

Antidepressants. 

Anti-seizure. 

Steroids. 

Morphine tablets.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now, everything clicks together in the right place. 

Now, Donghyun understands why. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He understands. 

How could he not? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’ll always choose you. 

I choose us, even in this.

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

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

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

DAY 28. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Angel?”

No.

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

I need to stop crying. 

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

A soft knock comes from the door. 

“Y/N?”

You close your eyes shut. Not now. Please. 

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

“I’m coming in.”

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

“Why?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“You deserve someone who has a future.”

“Love, what are you talking about–?”

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

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

Donghyun stands there, not saying anything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

DAY 30.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Four hours. 

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

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

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

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

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

You widen your eyes, realising. 

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

Does he know?

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

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

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

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

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

He probably knows. 

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

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

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

“What are you talking about?”

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

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

Nevertheless, you smile. 

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

Donghyun kisses your temples, smiling softly. 

“Let’s go?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the–hey!”

“Oops.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod. 

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

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

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

You nudge him. “That’s depressing.”

“What? We’ll all die one day—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ll get sick,” he says, pouting. 

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

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

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

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

“Aren’t you cold?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

Donghyun smiles. 

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

I’m the luckiest person in the world. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Agreed,” you laugh. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

And for a little while, everything feels normal.

BUT it’s not. Nothing is normal. 

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

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

But deep down, he knows.

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

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

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

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

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

Your smile disappears. 

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

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

But Donghyun catches the immediate fear in your eyes. 

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

For a second, Donghyun freezes. 

“Y/N?”

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

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

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

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

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

You’re slipping away. 

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

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

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

He clenches his jaw, tears threatening to fall. 

How could he ever let you go?

DAY 62.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t want you to suffer.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t… forget me.”

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

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

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

You smile, letting out one last, slow breath.

And then, silence. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He misses you. Too much. 

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

DAY 3715. 

It’s been 10 years. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

The wind answers in a gentle hush. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll see you again, Y/N.”

― © htaesan, 2025.

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

[inseobts]

Terminal pt.2

law × reader

part 1

you fall ill with a rare, incurable disease and law refuses to accept it.

a/n: since many asked for it, here we are eheh sorry in advance

words count: 3.3k

tags: terminal illness, soft, angst, worried and protective law

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The sea is calm.

Too calm. The kind that presses against your chest, thick and heavy, like the quiet after something breaks. The Polar Tang glides through the water in near silence, the steady hum of the engine the only thing that proves the world is still moving forward.

Law stands by the observation window, arms crossed, coat hanging loose from his shoulders. Salt crusts the hem. He doesn’t bother brushing it off. His gaze drifts somewhere beyond the horizon, past the steel, past the sea, to a place only he knows.

Behind him, the ship breathes softly. Footsteps echo down the hallway in quiet rhythm. No one speaks unless they have to. Shachi and Penguin pass by with low murmurs, Bepo following a few steps behind, carrying a tray in his paws. He hesitates outside the medbay, like he wants to say something, then thinks better of it.

They all do.

No one talks about what happened a few weeks ago.

Not in front of him.

Law’s fingers twitch at his side, a phantom memory of holding something he can’t replace. A cup passed hand to hand. Your laugh in the early mornings. The way you always leaned in too close when reading over his shoulder.

The infirmary door stays closed.

Law doesn’t open it.

Not yet.

He turns away from the window and walks the length of the hallway with slow, measured steps. Everything about him is precise, controlled. As always. But his shoulders sit lower than usual, and his steps drag just slightly, like he’s carrying something no one else can see.

In the silence, it’s easy to assume the worst. And no one corrects the assumption.

The door clicks shut behind him.

Law steps into the infirmary without a word, the tray Bepo left earlier balanced in one hand. A bowl of soup and a cup of tea.

The room smells like antiseptic and citrus peels. The light’s soft, diffused by the overhead panels. There’s a soft rustle of sheets, the quiet flick of a page turning.

You’re sitting up in the bed, legs tucked under the blanket, a book in your hands.

You glance up at him “You’re late.”

Law exhales slowly through his nose. Not a laugh but close. He sets the tray down on the rolling table and drags it over to you.

“You complain more now that you’ve survived” he mutters.

You smirk, folding the corner of the page before closing the book “Yeah, well. Dying didn’t work out for me.”

He doesn’t respond right away. Just looks at you. Not clinically. Not assessing. Just looking. Your color’s better. You’re holding the book steady again. The dark circles beneath your eyes have faded.

“You should rest.”

“Look at yourself, you're the one who needs some rest.”

He pulls up the stool beside your bed anyway, the edge of his coat brushing your blanket. His hand rests on the rail, inches from yours. Neither of you moves to close the gap.

“So… aren’t you going to check up my blood pressure etc. today?” You say rolling up your sleeve “oh my Doctor please save me”

He sighs and put his hand over your pulse “Everything seems fine.”

You smile at his seriousness. You can see he’s tired. His eyes dark.

And so you move to make space on the bed, patting at the free space next to you “Cuddle time?”

Law’s gaze flickers down to the space beside you, where you pat the blankets, clearly teasing, but there’s a subtle softness behind the playful gesture. His tired eyes meet yours for a long moment. He doesn’t move, his hand still hovering near the rail.

A silence stretches between you two. Not uncomfortable, just the kind where words don’t seem necessary anymore.

Then, with a quiet sigh, he lowers himself down onto the edge of the bed, sitting carefully as if afraid to disturb the fragile bubble of peace you’ve created. The worn fabric of his coat brushes against your side. For a moment, neither of you says anything.

You make a small, quiet sound in your throat, something between relief and frustration, before nudging your head toward the pillows “Come on. I’m not gonna bite.”

He gives you a long, unreadable look before shifting, adjusting his position until he’s lying beside you, his back stiff, but his proximity enough that the warmth from his body makes the room feel a little more bearable.

You’re still not sure if you’re comforting him or if he’s comforting you. Maybe it’s both. You feel it in the way he shifts just enough to make space, but doesn’t pull away.

His hand rests lightly on your side, the fingers brushing against your ribs. You can feel the tension in his touch, like he’s afraid to hold you too close. He’s been afraid of a lot of things lately.

But you’re not going anywhere. Not this time.

You turn your head slightly to look at him. His jaw is tight, eyes closed, but his brow still furrows, like he’s thinking about a hundred things at once. His chest rises and falls in that slow, almost exhausted rhythm. You wish you could read his mind, but you can never seem to get through that wall he’s built around himself.

“I’m not dead, you know?” you murmur, your voice almost too quiet, just a breath between you.

“I know” Law answers, his voice soft but thick with something deeper, something that lingers in the space between his words.

You smile faintly, feeling the pulse of warmth that fills the space where he lies next to you. There’s no pressure, no hurry. Just this… moment of stillness. It’s enough for now.

For a while, neither of you speak. The steady rhythm of his breathing feels like all that matters. Like the rest of the world has faded away for a while, leaving just the two of you here.

Eventually, you shift your body just slightly, turning toward him, sliding closer until your forehead rests gently against his shoulder. His body tenses, but only for a moment before it relaxes into you.

His hand moves from your side, sliding over to your back, his fingers gently tracing the outline of your spine, like he’s checking, testing if you’re really here. You let out a breath, the tension from before starting to dissipate as you allow yourself to sink into him fully.

“You’re not alone” you whisper.

Law’s hand stills for a moment, his breath catching slightly. His voice is barely a murmur, but you catch it all the same “I know.”

And for once, he sounds like he means it.

You close your eyes, letting the quiet fill the space around you. In this small room, in the stillness of the night, there’s no need for words anymore. Just the feeling of his presence, his warmth, the steady beat of his heart beside yours, and the knowledge that even though the world keeps moving forward, you’re still here.

It’s quiet after they leave.

Too quiet, almost.

You lie there, tucked into the bed that’s become both sanctuary and prison, staring at the ceiling with the book still unopened in your lap. The infirmary hums gently with the soft whir of monitors you no longer need, the faint buzz of overhead lights, and the memory of Law’s last touch as he’d adjusted your blanket before heading out.

Just a scouting mission. A new island, routine checks. Nothing risky.

But he still hesitated at the door, eyes lingering on you longer than necessary. Not saying goodbye, just that silent, heavy kind of be careful he never actually voices.

Now he’s gone. The crew’s gone too. And only Bepo remains.

He sits on a stool near the corner of the room, reading a book upside-down without realizing it. His ears twitch every few seconds, his eyes flicking toward you as if you might spontaneously combust if he looks away too long.

You shift under the blanket, then sit up slowly.

Bepo straightens immediately “You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You should stay in bed.”

“I’ve been in bed.”

You push the blanket off your legs and plant your feet on the floor. You’re still in your soft pajamas, sweatpants and a loose shirt, not exactly mission attire, but it’ll do. Your legs ache just a little as you stand, muscles stiff but not weak.

Bepo stands too “You really shouldn’t—”

“Bepo,” you interrupt gently, meeting his eyes “I’m okay.”

He hesitates “Captain said—”

“I know what he said. And I know what I feel. I can walk. I want to walk. I need to.”

You don’t raise your voice. You don’t have to. Bepo’s ears droop a little, but he nods.

“Okay. But I’m staying right next to you.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Your steps are slow at first, cautious. The hallway feels longer than you remember, the air cool against your skin. But every step forward steadies you. The Polar Tang is quiet, the hum of the engine a steady companion beneath your feet.

You pass the mess hall. The lounge. A few doors you haven’t seen in days.

The first person you run into is Ikkaku.

She rounds the corner holding a stack of towels, clearly not expecting anyone, and nearly drops them when she sees you.

“Holy—! You’re—!”

You lift a hand in a small wave “Hey.”

Her eyes widen further “You’re standing?!”

“Yeah,” you say, smiling, breath just slightly short from the walk “Figured I’d stretch my legs.”

She recovers quickly, enough to set the towels down on a nearby bench and grin “They’re gonna lose their minds.”

You just nod, trying not to let the burn in your chest turn into a cough.

Bepo hovers close, watching you like a worried parent.

By the time the crew returns, the Polar Tang’s upper deck is bathed in golden light from the late afternoon sun. You wait by the rail, arms resting on the metal, Bepo beside you. The salty breeze stings your nose, but it feels good... alive.

The first to spot you is Penguin. He freezes halfway up the ramp, eyes wide.

“What the—?” he blurts “Is that—?!”

Law steps up behind him, expression unreadable as always, until he sees you.

And then, for just a moment, his face changes.

He doesn’t run. Doesn’t call out. But something in him flickers. His steps quicken.

You straighten your spine, meeting his eyes with a steady look of your own.

“Hey, Captain” you say, voice clear.

His coat flutters behind him as he stops in front of you. No one breathes.

He looks at you. Really looks.

“You’re standing.”

You nod “Told you dying didn’t work out for me.”

Law exhales, slowly, and then, finally, he steps forward and pulls you into his arms.

Dinner on the Polar Tang hasn’t felt like this in a while.

The long table is full again, crowded with trays of food, clinking dishes, and overlapping conversations. Shachi’s cracking jokes no one asked for. Ikkaku and Clione are arguing about who’s on cleaning duty. Even Bepo’s talking more, ears perked and tail gently swishing behind him. Someone’s music plays low in the background, barely audible over the sounds of laughter and the scrape of chairs.

You sit at the end of the table, tucked between Bepo and Law, legs stretched out, sipping from your cup like you’ve never been anywhere else.

No one says it out loud, but the difference is obvious.

They all glance at you more often than usual. Smiling easier. Talking louder. Like your presence re-lit something they didn’t know they were missing. Like they were holding their breath and only now remembered how to let it go.

Law notices it, of course. He always does.

He sits quiet, as usual, elbows on the table, one hand wrapped around a mug. He doesn’t say much, but he watches. Watches the way the crew leans toward you when you talk. The way the energy in the room has shifted into something brighter. Lighter.

He doesn’t say anything.

But he doesn’t need to. He’s just… glad.

You, on the other hand, don’t waste a second.

“Hey, Captain,” you call, leaning over just enough to bump your shoulder against his “You’re not gonna tell everyone how you cuddled me the other night?”

The table goes silent.

Law doesn’t move.

You flash a grin, teeth and mischief “No? Should I? You were very warm and soft. Surprisingly clingy for someone who says they hate physical contact.”

“Y/N.”

Your name is a warning. Sharp and low.

You take another sip “Oh, come on. It’s not like you were purring or anything.”

Penguin chokes on his drink. Shachi actually drops his chopsticks.

Bepo blinks “Captain can purr?”

“No” Law growls, turning his head just enough to glare at you. His ears are faintly red.

You shrug “Could’ve fooled me.”

Ikkaku covers her mouth to stifle a laugh. Clione just whispers something under his breath and shakes his head, clearly enjoying the show.

Law sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose like he regrets every life decision that led to this exact moment.

You lean closer and lower your voice, not enough to be subtle, just enough to be dangerous “Don’t worry. I’ll keep the neck kisses a secret.”

The clang of Law’s chair scraping back is immediate. He stands without a word and walks to the other side of the room like a man trying to escape his own body.

You grin like a cat who’s won the game.

“Do you think he’s blushing?” Penguin whispers.

“Oh, absolutely” you say, taking another bite of your food.

Behind you, Law exhales sharply and mutters something under his breath. But he doesn’t leave. And that’s how you know he’s not really mad.

“You kissed their neck?” Shachi asks, eyes wide in mock horror “Captain, you dog.”

“I didn’t” Law snaps, sitting back down with a thud and stabbing his food like it insulted his entire bloodline.

“Oh, so it was more of a nuzzle situation?” Penguin grins.

Law doesn’t answer. Which is its own kind of answer.

You hide your smile behind your cup. Barely.

“Damn,” Ikkaku says, nudging her elbow into Clione’s ribs “I was convinced our captain was emotionally constipated, but look at him go.”

“Should we be taking bets on who’ll propose first?” Clione asks.

“Please don’t” Law says flatly.

“Too late” Bepo murmurs, scribbling something into a tiny notepad he definitely didn’t just pull out for the first time.

You snort so hard it turns into a cough. Law is already halfway up before anyone else even moves.

“Alright. That’s enough,” he says, tone shifting with just enough authority that the laughter starts to die down. His hand lands gently on your shoulder “You need to lie down.”

“I’m fine...” you lie, coughing once more, which makes your chest ache “It’s just a little—”

“You’re done for the night.” His voice is soft, but final.

No one argues.

Not even you.

He helps you up without a word, steady hand at your back as he guides you out of the room. The moment the door slides shut behind you both, the laughter fades into muffled noise and the hallway settles into stillness.

Your steps are slower now. It’s not that you’re weak, it’s just been a long day, and your body’s still catching up with the living.

Law doesn’t rush you. Just walks beside you in silence, the distance between you closed by the quiet comfort of presence alone.

When you reach your room, you pause in the doorway and glance up at him.

“You’re staying, right?”

He doesn’t answer. Just follows you in.

The room is dim, the overhead lights replaced by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. You slip under the blanket while Law sets the folded hoodie you’d been wearing onto a nearby chair. He moves with practiced precision, checking the monitor out of habit, even though you’re no longer hooked up to it.

He doesn’t sit in the chair. He sits beside you.

You turn on your side to face him, cheek pressed against the pillow “So. Neck kisses, huh?”

He exhales slowly through his nose “You’re impossible.”

You grin “And yet, you stayed.”

His gaze softens. The faintest ghost of a smile pulls at the corner of his lips “Of course I stayed.”

You reach out, brushing your fingers lightly against his wrist. He doesn’t pull away. If anything, he shifts closer.

For a moment, you just look at each other.

No teasing. No jokes. Just the quiet that comes when two people who’ve been through hell finally find a bit of peace.

“Law?”

“Hm?”

You close your eyes, letting the exhaustion take you “Thanks for not giving up on me.”

His fingers brush gently through your hair, voice barely a whisper “Never.”

"I was really scared to leave you"

"I know, I was scared too."

And in the hush of your room, with his hand warm against your skin and the ache of your body slowly fading into the mattress, you finally let yourself rest.

He stays beside you the whole night.

Just like he always will.

The night is deep and still, the ship humming gently beneath you like a lullaby.

You stir a little in your sleep, enough to shift the blanket, enough to feel the brush of Law’s sleeve against your arm. You don’t open your eyes. You don’t need to.

You know he’s awake.

He’s always awake.

He sits at the edge of the bed, one leg tucked up loosely, the other foot flat on the floor. The lamplight’s long gone. Only the dim green of a monitor in the corner casts a faint glow across the room. It pools over his face in soft shadows, under his eyes, his jaw, the tattooed line of his throat.

You don’t speak. Not right away.

Neither does he.

But eventually, when the silence grows too full, he does something rare.

He talks first.

“I thought I was going to lose you.”

His voice is so quiet, you’re not sure he meant to say it aloud.

But you hear it. And you stay still.

“I tried everything,” he says, almost more to himself than to you “Recalculated every dose. Ran every blood test twice. I made Penguin check my math just to be sure I wasn’t—” He cuts off, jaw tight “There was a point where I couldn’t look at you without thinking, what if this is the last time?”

You turn your head slowly, your eyes adjusting in the dark until you can see the outline of him, shoulders tense, fists curled lightly in his lap. Still holding on. Even now.

“I’m still here” you whisper.

“I know.” He exhales like he’s trying to let that truth finally settle “But it doesn’t change the fact that I almost wasn’t enough.”

You push yourself up on one elbow, enough to reach for him. Your fingers skim over his hand, and this time, he doesn’t hesitate. His hand turns, palm meeting yours.

“You were the only reason I made it,” you say “You were enough. You are.”

He closes his eyes. Breathes.

You think maybe he’ll let that be the end of it. But then “I didn’t just think about losing you,” he murmurs “I thought about how I never told you what you really are to me.”

Your pulse stutters.

“You make this place... this crew, me... feel like more than just survival. Like we’re allowed to have something more than war and running. Like we’re allowed to be...” He pauses but then, quietly “...happy.”

You blink, your throat tightening “Law…”

His hand squeezes yours. Just once “You don’t have to say anything.”

You smile softly, leaning forward until your forehead rests against his shoulder, and his arm slips around you without thinking.

“But I will” you whisper.

You tilt your face up just enough to press a kiss to his jaw gentle, grounding.

“I love you, Trafalgar.”

He doesn’t answer right away.

But the way his fingers curve tighter around your waist, the way he pulls you against him like he’s afraid you’ll vanish, and that says enough.

Eventually, in the hush of the cabin, he answers you.

“I love you too.”

And it’s the easiest thing he’s ever said.

[shouyuus]

─── 啓悟 THE ART OF FALLING

keigo; 4,599 words; hurt/angst, not that much comfort, heavy allusions to suicide, terminal illness!reader, mentions of abuse (keigo's dad), pro-hero!keigo, no "y/n", lapslock

summary: all of life is a falling, all of life is a losing, all of life a catching, a remembering. endless, endless, until it isn’t.

a/n: apologies in advance for this one -- pls do heed the trigger warnings!!! big thank you to @aimfor-theheart for beta-ing and suffering through my keigo-flavored meltdown u__u i promise i will be writing fluff with the birdman soon he deserves it but first... the horrors...

─── 啓悟 HE CATCHES YOU FALLING out of the sky; it will not be the last time.

“oop — careful there,” he says, cradling you to his chest, an easy grin slung across his lips, his eyes twinkling as if there’s an inside joke caught in liminal space between your body and his, “trust me, i get the urge to go flying too but,” he shrugs, zipping through the air till he’s found a nice low rooftop to set you on, “not havin’ a pair of these makes the landing a bit tricky,” he jerks his chin back towards his wings, feathers red as freshly spilled blood.

you swallow, the prickle of hot, angry tears tickling at your eyes as you blink slowly at him as he sets you down. your bare feet curl against the bits of gravel on the rooftop. he glances down at your feet.

“ah… sorry about that. here —”

two red feathers zoom out of nowhere and deposit your sandals at your feet. you stare, almost unseeing. it’s hot, the air miraged in heat, overhead the sun screams its light over the tokyo skyline.

he bends down, holding up a shoe, “alright, on you get —” he reaches out a gloved hand, gently picking up your ankle and slipping your feet into the shoe. your foot drops with a clatter and he glances up to make sure you’re stable before helping you put on the other. when he’s done, he pushes to his feet, stretching his hands above his head in a great, over-wrought sort of yawn.

“man, it really is a good day for flyin’ though,” he shields his eyes with his hands, squinting out over the endless rooftops.

you lick your chapped lips.

“why’d you save me?” you ask, voice soft. there’s a piece of gravel stuck underneath the pad of your right foot.

keigo turns, hitching an eyebrow as he looks you over. his lazy smile stretches, but there’s a hardness to his gaze that almost makes you flinch back.

“cause, pretty girl like you deserves saving, no? and, well, a big ol’ hero like me? comes with the job description.” he chuckles, the noise curt and self-deprecating.

you frown and open your mouth, but the heat is making you woozy, the world going liquid around you as you wobble on your feet.

“oi — are you alri — oi!”

his voice tunnels, warping, echoing and strange, an underwater thing. the sky pinwheels above you, and then — blissful, cool, darkness.

you wake up in a hospital bed; it is not your first time.

the systematic beeps of the machines around you is almost a welcome sound. you count your breaths, feel your heart sync up to the rhythmic whir of machines, you open your eyes to the white-tiled ceiling, the spinning fan, the lifeless fluorescent panel-lights.

“you awake?” a groggy voice asks.

you turn your head; your heart skips a beat. the traitorous machine to your left maps the skid in a perfect spike of bright green light.

keigo yawns, his wings flexing out behind him as he shifts in the hospital seat, strangely dwarfed by the size of his wings. he cracks his neck and sits up straighter.

“i’d say ‘nice place’ but…” he looks around the hospital room, his lips tug into a grimace, “they say it’s not good manners to lie to a lady.”

you can’t help it, a coughing laugh burbles out of you, the motion so unexpected it jolts your whole body. you swallow around the dryness in your throat, but keigo is already leaning forward, helping you up and pressing a glass of water to your lips.

“there, easy does it…” he watches you drink, soothing a hand up and down your back. his palm is warm against the thin linen of your hospital gown. he frowns slightly as you pull away, licking at your lips.

“thanks,” you say, your voice a croaking thing. you flush at the sound, heat creeping up your neck and into your cheeks. keigo laughs.

“no need, just promise me you’ll keep on doing that.”

you frown at him, “doing what?”

he points to the water, and then at you, “drinking water. keeping yourself alive.”

you let out a long breath at the way he leans into the last word, casting your eyes towards the window. outside, the summer sun is just skimming the far horizon, the light gilding the room in liquid gold.

you turn to find him watching you, even as his eyes flicker from your face out towards the setting sun. like this, every feather on his massive wings looks like a lick of fire, and you can almost reach out to feel their heat.

“c’mon,” he says suddenly, jumping to his feet and offering you a hand. you stare at it before slowly letting your eyes wander up to his face. he grins as he meets your eyes, there’s that self-same mischief dancing behind their golden glow, a secret he wants to tell you, just you, and no one else in the world.

you eye his hand once more.

“let’s get outta here, hm?”

you reach out to take his hand.

it is not every day that you get to watch the sunset from the top of the tokyo skytree, and not every night you get watch the moonrise there either. keigo sits with you slotted between his legs, his wings domed around you to block out the wind.

“why’re you doing this?” you ask, after a very long while. overhead, the stars have just started their twinkling ascent. keigo shrugs, letting leaning back, his hands propped behind him.

“like i said, it was a good day for flying and…” his voice trails off. he drops his chin, a mirthless little laugh tumbling out of him. after a moment, he shakes his head, almost mumbling to himself.

“figured… you’d probably never done anything like this before, so.”

you let out a giggle, the sound jolting him up. his eyes go wide as he watches you fall into a semi-silent fit of laughter, a palm pressed to your chest to keep from laughing too hard, lest you start coughing again. he gives you back a few ginger pats before you wave him off.

“n-no —” you manage between gulps of air, “can’t say i have, though… i don’t imagine most people have done this —” you motion towards the space around you, the night sky seemingly encasing you both, sat atop the outlook deck of the highest point in tokyo.

again, he shrugs, but there’s a smile spreading across his lips.

“yeah, well… i didn’t bump into any of them on patrol today, so guess they’re not that lucky.”

you scoff at the word, the smile slipping from your face.

“yeah… lucky.”

“hey,” he leans forward, tipping your chin up, “c’mon, dovie, none of that now.”

you frown, “dovie?”

keigo nods down at your white hospital gown, “yeah, white — like a dove.”

you crinkle your nose and try to shake off his hand. he laughs.

sometime before midnight, he brings you back to your hospital room. strangely, no one’s come to check in on you (though you find out later that keigo must’ve spoken to the nurses and told them to leave you be for the night). he sets you down beside your bed and hops back onto the window ledge.

you watch him with your arms linked behind your back.

“alright, you keep on drinkin’ water and —”

“staying alive, yeah, yeah,” you say with a tiny tremor like a laugh to your voice that makes keigo smile.

ten minutes after he leaves, you hear a faint tink-tink, only to find a single bright red feather poking at your water glass. your jaw drops.

“you left a feather to babysit me?” you ask, before you can even wonder if the feather can hear you. the feather taps it’s sharp spine against the glass once more, nudging it closer, even as you let out a long sigh and reach for it.

you take a long gulp, letting a thin droplet of water trickle down your chin.

smacking your lips loudly, you set the glass down and stare at the feather, now lying motionless on your bedside table.

“there, happy?”

the feather remains unmoved, but you can’t fight the tiny little smile that threatens your lips as you flip onto your side and tug the sheets up over your shoulders. outside, the moon is bright and round as a rime of rice; the city below her glitters in a sheet of undulating stars, and you close your eyes to sleep, for the first time, without fearing for what you’ll find in your dreams.

keigo does not know what brings him back to you; it will not be the last time.

but when he finds himself hovering awkwardly outside your hospital window, he allows himself a single eye-roll of what-the-fuckery before pushing forward to let himself in. you’re reading in bed, a fresh bouquet of flowers on your bedside table.

he feels a strange, almost startling jab of something inside his chest before he shoves the feeling aside and alights down easily onto the floor in front of the window.

you look up from your book, painfully unfazed by the appearance of the winged hero at your bedside.

“i made it into a necklace, look,” is all you say, tugging down the neckline of your hospital gown to show him the bright red feather now tethered to a thin red thread, looped around your neck. he clears his throat, feeling a blush prickle at his cheeks as he glances around the room.

“yeah — i — i know.”

you cock your head, staring at him, the movement so birdlike he almost laughs.

“oh, well, i thought about putting it on a gold chain or something like that, but metal’s not good for mri machines,” you say, casual as you reach for a small mandarin orange from a basket on your table and start the methodical process of peeling it.

keigo watches in muted fascination as you slowly work the peel off with your fingers, one long strip of it, till it falls away to reveal the soft veined flesh beneath. gently, you break off half the mandarin and hold it out to him.

“they’re really sweet today.”

keigo nods, dropping into the seat by your bed and popping three slices into his mouth at once. there’s such an explosion of flavor he almost chokes. coughing, he reaches for the glass of water and chugs half of it in one go, thumping himself in the chest.

“wow — you really weren’t kidding — these are sweet!”

you nod, humming as you break off a section and press it slowly into your mouth.

“some of the girls from uni came to visit today,” you say, your eyes scanning across the words on the page before you flip to the next one, “one of them is thinking about asking an underclassman boy out.”

keigo watches you press another slice of mandarin into your mouth, his throat suddenly very dry.

“uh — yeah? wait — uni?”

you turn towards him, blinking owlishly, “yeah. i was studying to be a nurse. guess i got my wish in the end though —” you let out a flippant little sigh as you slump back into your pillows and look around the hospital room, “no better masterclass than to see the experts at work, right?”

keigo blinks. you were decidedly less talkative the last time he’d been here, though, it was also under decidedly very different circumstances. he wonders about the kind of girl you were before all this, before the endless tests and tubes, hospital visits and check-marked charts. if you were effervescent, if you laughed a lot, made jokes, more than the dry, gallows-humor kind that eventually infects everyone living with a terminal illness.

“oh, you’re super popular with them —” you say, and for a second, keigo is confused, but then he sees the stack of magazines half-hidden beneath the fruit basket. the corner of one depicting his signature bright red wings. he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“yeah well, that also comes with the job description.”

you flash him a smile, bright and cheeky, and keigo silently thanks the heavens that he’s not the one linked up to the heartbeat monitor because he’s certain his reading would’ve just gone haywire.

“you never told me you were such a heartthrob hero,” you say, lilting the last two words. he scoffs, holding up his hands.

“whoa, whoa there, dovie — that’s not a light accusation to make — and plus,” he says, propping one leg over the other and leaning his elbow on the hitched up knee, “that kinda title is given, something bestowed upon you. ‘s not something you bring up yourself, alright?”

you hike a perfectly arched eyebrow and lace your fingers delicately across your lap.

“bestowed, huh? by whom?”

keigo leans back in his chair, balancing on the hind two legs, spreading wide his arms. behind him, his great crimson wings flare out, sending a woosh of air through the room.

“by the adoring public, of course.”

you stare at him for a beat of three seconds before falling into a fit of laughter that sets every nerve-ending in his entire body ablaze. he fights the urge to flap his wings, if only to get some air in here — damn — he glances towards the window to make sure it’s still open.

it is.

it’s a strange thing, spring. the shortest of all seasons, but eternal in it’s endless impermanence. flowers bloom, green buds darken into the lush green of summer leaves. the whole world blushes, and the wind spins her skirt tails, light over a humming horizon.

keigo’s always wondered about the likeliness of people falling in love in spring, thought it cliched and strange, a seasonal sickness maybe — the change in weather making everyone light-headed. but, he gets it now.

it’s hard now to fall in love, when the world is doing the same with living.

he finds himself hovering outside your window, more nights than not, hesitating about whether or not to go in. usually, it’s after he’s dropped you off after whisking you away to watch another sunset, somewhere, another moonrise, somewhere.

he basks in the musical lilt of your laughter, the rhythmic sway of your breaths (like wingbeats); he takes you flying and flying and flying, till you stop looking down when you plummet towards the ground. you know he’ll catch you, and he does.

every time.

except —

“i won’t need you to catch me when i’ve got a pair of my own,” you say one day, tucked into his side, sitting atop a skyscraper made of metal and glass, the summer sun burning itself out over the jagged tokyo skyline.

keigo glances over.

“a pair of…?” he pulls his attention away from the way you feel curled against him, body to body, his wing feathered over your shoulder like a cape.

you run a thin finger along one of his long flight feathers.

“wings, duh.”

keigo frowns.

your eyebrow kicks up in a devious little dance.

“y’know, for when i’m up in heaven.”

he freezes, every muscle in his body slowly calcifying. he turns his head slowly. you’re watching the sun sink inch by shimmering inch behind a row of faraway buildings, the light refracting off of a hundred thousand windows, spilling into a hundred thousand homes. a hundred thousand people going about their hundred thousand lives, unaware of the looming threat of death, tucked into every darkened corner, lingering behind every closed door.

keigo wants to scream.

he feels it building inside him, fluttering, as if the scream could grow wings and beat it’s way out of his chest.

“call me cynical but… i never used to believe in shit like that.”

you quirk your head, a curious little bird. keigo’s heart aches.

“used to?” you ask.

he lets out a puff of laughter, his wings drooping, closing in and in and in till they’ve almost blocked out the sun entirely.

“yeah,” he turns, his voice catching on his barbed-wire regrets, “and then i met you.”

you watch him for a second longer before leaning in. your mouth barely grazes his, but by the time he realizes, you’re already pulling back, a small, satisfied smile pressed between your lips like a flower, or a secret.

“c’mon, i’ve gotta be back by 8… or else the nurses will have your head.”

“eh, a couple of autographs and they’ll be happy.”

keigo grumbles, allowing you to tug him up by the hand. he loops his arms around you and tips off the edge of the building, letting the pair of you tumble into freefall for a long moment before swooping out of it with a great woosh of sun-licked feathers.

later, perched on the railings of the hospital rooftop, he peers over the edge of the building and wonders what it might be like to jump, to surrender yourself to air and gravity with no wings to catch you. he sighs and stretches out one wing, then the other, groaning as he feels each muscle and tendon pulling taut.

he’d never know. instinct would kick in first, and he’s always had his wings.

“the scan didn’t go well,” you say, toying with the worn red thread around your neck.

keigo’s long since gotten used to the tiny niggling feeling of your skin brushing against his feather. at first, he’d been acutely aware of it, the inside of your hospital gown, the soft warmth of your skin, the way he could almost, almost feel your heartbeat if he concentrated hard enough.

how the presence is a constant companion, a grounding piece of knowledge, something his mind gravitates towards during moments of pause and rest.

“hm, i’ve heard that before and you’re still here, aren’t you?” he asks, flipping through one of your magazines, rocking on the two hind legs of the hospital chair.

you shoot him a tired, annoyed kind of look.

“the doctor said i should stop treatment.”

the steady creek of the chair stops. you cast your eyes up at the white-washed ceiling, a bone-deep tiredness settling in as if death had been waiting for precisely that moment to come creeping in, to remind you of it’s closeness.

the chair clatters to the ground, but by the time you look over, keigo’s already halfway to the door.

“keigo — where’re you —”

“to go have a chat with those goddamn doctors —”

“it won’t do any good.”

he whirls around, wings flaring out. you push yourself up into a sitting position, wincing slightly as pain twines up the length of your spine.

“how do they know? they should at least try —”

“we have been trying. what do you think all this has been?” you motion at the room, the beeping machines, the endless tubes and iv drips.

“well you don’t stop trying just because it gets worse before it gets better —”

“there is no better, keigo. not for me.”

“you don’t know that!”

feathers, a flurry of feathers. his fingers pressing into your skin, his hands on your shoulders, holding you, shaking you. feathers everywhere.

you let him shake you, let him press his face in so close your noses are almost touching.

you wrap your fingers around his wrists and hold him till his grip goes slack.

“i — you can’t know that,” keigo says, and it sounds so much more like a plea. to what, or whom, you can only guess.

“the treatment’s not working,” you say, your words soft, gentle.

keigo slips to the floor, buries his face in your lap, crumples the rough hospital sheets between his fingers. his wings encase you both, a great dome of red, mottling out the light till you’re both just shadows.

he leans up to kiss you, a harsh breath puffing out against your lips the only warning. you nod ever so slightly before he tips forward and crushes you to him.

he’s never handled you as delicately as most other people do, as if you might shatter at the slightest touch. but now, he doesn’t hold back, clutches you to him, kisses you rough and hungry, there’s a desperate, furious slant to the way he licks at the seam of your lips, groaning deep in his chest when you finally let him in.

when he pulls back, you’re both lightheaded and breathless.

keigo runs a thumb along your bruised bottom lip with a tiny, self-deprecating laugh.

“how long?” he asks.

you sigh, looking down at the negative space between you.

“few weeks, a month,” you offer.

keigo swallows, the distant ticking of your heartbeat now no longer a sanctuary but a haunting specter, creeping ever closer.

“alright…” he says, unable to think of anything else to say, “alright then.”

later that night, whistling through the clear metropolitan night, he remembers the one and only time his mother had ever brought him to the beach as a child. he remembers watching a family of three building a sandcastle — mother, father, and son — how the child had been so delighted when the castle was finished, clapping his pudgy little hands, his fingers caked with sand, but less than half an hour later, the rising tide had all but washed the sandcastle away.

he remembers being enchanted by it, the transitory nature of the thing. how something that looked so solid against the dying light could be whisked away so quickly, so completely, by just a rush of foamy water.

he thinks of his father, and enjoys the sun.

that same year, they’d passed by a winter festival on their way home from picking up groceries. he was sporting a freshly bruised arm, and his mother a black eye she was attempting to cover with her muss of mousy hair. they’d caught a glimpse of the tail end of an ice-sculpture competition, the massive glittering structures standing on mounts, already dripping.

keigo had heard the announcer lament about how terribly sad it is that things so beautiful can’t last forever.

he’d thought it a strange sentiment then — wasn’t their ephemera an integral part of their beauty? the fact that it doesn’t last forever? because he knows, better than most, that temporary is good, temporary means that there’s always an ending worth looking forward to.

except he’s not a kid anymore, and this is a kind of ending that he never thought he’d have to deal with, at least not so soon.

with a looping barrel roll, keigo lets himself tip into a dive, cutting through the humid night air like an ill-shaped comet. he wonders briefly when he’ll stop falling in love with ice sculptures and sand castles, things that are destiny-bound to leave him. he thinks it’s such dramatic irony that the first time he properly falls in love is with a girl with one foot already out the metaphorical door — but of course it is.

your funeral is a muted affair, small, intimate. keigo debates whether or not he should go — after all, he hasn’t really told anyone about you (one night, he’d wondered wryly who he would even tell — endeavor, perhaps; he strikes the thought almost as soon as he has it), and you about him. so he watches from afar, watches on crimson wings and nectar-drenched air and wishes he were something else, someone else — someone with a quirk that didn’t literally pin his identity to his back.

“it’s a bit lonely at the top, isn’t it?” he remembers you asking one day, the magazine in your lap opened to a glossy centerfold of the most recent pro-hero rankings. he glances over, eyes catching on a candid shot of himself, his wings taking up a decent quarter of the page, eclipsed only by endeavors’ hulking form, the flames melding seamlessly into his own mess of feathers.

“lonely? nah — i’ve got —” he cuts off as he tries to think of something to say that won’t sound like a deflection — his legions of adoring fans? his fellow pro-heroes? the people at his agency? the students he’s mentored? sure, they’ve all staked out their own claims to his heart but closeness, the kind that he’s seen so casually bandied about on the mid-summer streets (in the way teen girls topple into each other, giggling, careless of the way their limbs get tangled, in the way men who have known each other for decades greet each other with just a knowing smile, in the swift way lovers might graze a kiss by the other’s cheek to say hello or goodbye), he suddenly finds that he can’t think of a single name.

you, perhaps.

he bites his lips.

you let out a tiny laugh, “it’s okay, it gets lonely here too,” you’d said, before going back to flipping through your magazine.

he thinks he could kiss you, then. so, he tugs the magazine from your lap and does.

he feels your body burn, his feather burning with it, the distant knowledge of heat and smoke stinging his subconscious. he feels it standing at the edge of the hospital roof, staring down. he’s been doing that a lot lately, coming up here, perching on the railing, staring down.

he tries to think of what you might’ve felt, standing here like this, the hopelessness, the endless, innumerable hurts of life, how a person might be tempted to step off and simply cease to be.

but he’d caught you, that day, falling. and he still can’t figure out if he’s glad he did.

he feels you burning, until suddenly, it’s over. the feather rendered to ash along with the rest of your body. he hopes you’ll be buried somewhere the spring can reach, somewhere with flowers, somewhere high up, perhaps, but not high enough to warrant a jumping off.

keigo takes a deep breath, can almost taste the smoke in his lungs.

faintly, he thinks he can feel summer breeze pick up, brushing by his cheeks, his lips, grazing his skin like your lips once had.

“i won’t need you to catch me once i’ve got a pair of my own,” you’d said of his wings.

he hopes that heaven is a beautiful place; he hopes that your wings are bigger and more beautiful than his, stronger too.

he closes his eyes.

the air is mandarin-sweet.

he teeters over the edge. his wings ache. distantly, he thinks he can hear the voices of curious people below — he must cut such a silhouette.

then, he breathes out, tips himself forward, and lets himself fall.

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[thecordelialetters]

Chasing the feeling . . .⟡ ݁₊ ˚⊹ ᰔ

Scott Miller x fem!reader

wc: 4.31k

warning: Fluff, 18+,Smut, Plot with some porn

Summary: Mr. MIT meets his match when a new teammate joins Stormpar. (Y/N) (L/N), a young genius fresh out of Caltech, has had a passion for the science of weather since childhood. Till the age of twelve, she would stay every summer with her grandparents in Oklahoma.

When her school realized she belonged in advanced courses, her parents threw her into every opportunity possible. They claimed she was too good for normalcy and "blessed with a gift that shouldn't waste it on running around the fields." Shortly after her grandparents passed, but not before leaving the deed of their house to her. The resentment built up over the years combined with her grief finally bubbled over. She swiftly finished her double Major in engineering and meteorology, left California and didn't bother to look back.

You're phone buzzed repeatedly with the mass amounts of texts and calls from your parents. It was evident their concern was wanning by the tone of their texts. From "Come home honey, focus on your career we just want what's best for you." to downright threats, "You owe us your life, come back NOW." Emphasis on the NOW. It was the whole reason you were leaving. They couldn't help themselves by trying to live out their dreams through you. But this was your life not theirs. Your parents were going to have to learn the hard way. "The plane with be ready for take off momentarily. I ask all passengers to fasten their seat belts, secure your bags under the seat in front of you, and please turn all devices on airplace mode. Thank you." With a huff you turned silenced your phone and tucked it into the seat pocket in front of you. It would be a long flight, but you were ready for this new adventure. Fortunately after graduating an old friend reached out about a job working with him at Stormpar.

It wasn't a glorious position, nor did it pay enough for someone with your resume, but it was perfect for what you needed. Time away from your parents with a steady income and a way to come back to the only place that felt like home.

You closed your eyes, trying to ignore the growing headache forming, and let the vibrations of the plane soothe you to sleep.

Javi had texted you he was already at the entrance of the terminal waiting for you. Not wasting any time, you grabbed your bags and jogged to the exit. There he was in all his glory, holding up a handmade sign with your last name on it. Pasted half-hazardly were silly pictures of you from childhood. There was you and Javi with your arms slung around him in front of a cake with 8 candles on it. Next to it was a picture of you and your grandparents in the kitchen making lemonade. Right beside that was the makeshift lemonade stand you had together. It wasn't successful only making a few dollars, but you remember the excitement of buying ice ceam with the only money you've ever made.

You ran to him, grabbed the sign, and threw your arms around him. It had been years since you saw Javi. No longer was the lanky kid with long curly hair. Before you stood a well-kept corporate man whom you no longer recognized. You missed him regardless. There was a time when you would have considered him your best friend.

"Hi Javi." You beamed. He matched your smile and patted your head. "Nice seeing you again (Y/N)." He wasn't sure if you were going to accept or not, but was overjoyed when you did. It was the perfect chance to reconnect with an old friend. He knew something had happened that made you go back to Cali, but didn't know what exactly. Next think he knew your LinkedIn said Caltech grad with multiple degrees, club president of 5 orgs, and 2 internships completed.

He helped you load your suitcase into the trunk before holding the passenger door open. "I hope you're ready for the season (Y/N) it's going to be fun but a lot of work." He informed you. "I got a great team out here, these guys are the real deal."

You smiled with excitement and looked at your surroundings. No more were the congested roads heavily populated with tourist, palm trees, and cars. Your vision filled with grass fields and old towns. It was a nice change of scenery. You arrived at a small, shoddy red red-painted motel and cringed at the sight. Not wanting to be ungrateful for this opportunity you chose to suck it up, keeping a tight smile on your face. Javi helped you carry your bags to your room and handed you your keycard. "Here's your card, don't lose it. Its the only one you get." He laughed as you took the card from his hands. "And tomorrow we're heading out at 8, so be ready by 7! Get some sleep, we've got a long day ahead of us." He shouted while backing away to his room. Although he looked like a new man, he was the same old Javi you knew as a kid. Waking up early was never troublesome for you. You ran like clockwork, jogging at 5 in the morning, reading/studying until 7, and then finally getting ready for the day. After your run you felt a pair of eyes on you. Looking up to the 3rd floor of the motel your eyes met a man looking through his window. Usually, it would have creeped you out, but this man was handsome. Despite being far away, you could tell he was tall and built. He wore prossessional attire and you sure were a sucker for a man in uniform. Back in your room you fulfilled the rest of your routine, shower, skincare, and then braiding your hair in a singular french that ran down the side of your neck.

Stormpar provided you with a uniform top that buttoned all the way up. The shirt felt too small around the chest and was too long on your torso. Annoyed you tucked the lower half into your fitted shorts. There was nothing to do about the way the fabric stretched over your chest. A safety pin would have to do for now. You slide on your boots and grabbed a windbreaker from the closet before heading to the diner, your long braid swaying with each step. "(Y/N)! you're here, come meet the team." Javi waved. You took in each person, memorizing their face and name. "You'll never work with a more talented team. Look, we got PhDs from NASA, FEMA, NOAA, NWS." He patted his teammate's shoulder. "Wow you've got the whole alphabet!" "Only the best, and this is Scott. He went to MIT instead of Muskogee State, but he makes up for it with his beautiful, amazing personality." Javi patted the taller man on his shoulder. When you made eye contact with the sarcastic smile, you instantly recognized him as the man from the window.

"Well if it isn't the peep I saw on my run." You jested. Scott's smile immediately turned into a frown as Javi's mouth dropped. "I was just looking to see the crazy making all that racket at 5am." He argued. You smiled and patted his arm gently. "Just trying to keep in shape." You tilted your head innocently. "And MIT is nice, it was my safe school. I'll see you guys outside." You grabbed your coffee before he could argue and left the two standing shocked. Scott tried to ignore the feeling in his stomach at your teasing and touch. He scoffed and turned to Javi, "Real nice one YOU picked out."

You stirred your coffee looking at the horizon as the rest of the team joined you. Javi spoke up first, "I was thinking you ride with Scott. He's positioned in the back of the tornado, it's less risky for your first ride." You nodded, the nerves simmering in your stomach. Scott smirked at you as he passed you to the truck. He was definitely going to try to get under your skin after that introduction. He didn't need a distraction like you on the team; you probably weren't even going to be that helpful. His thoughts were interrupted as you hopped in the truck. He couldn't help his eyes darting to your chest as it bounced at the movement, a slip of blue lace peaking through the gaps of the buttons. He gulped and turned his eyes back to the horizon. You strapped yourself in and beamed at your partner. "Let's go Scotty! We got some rubber to burn." He snapped to you with a fierce gaze, "Don't call me Scotty." He warned. It only made you smile more. "Okay, Sugar lips lets get going." He rolled his eyes and stepped on the gas. Your eyes widened as you saw the tornado take shape in front of you. Grabbing your camera out of the back, you opened the window and leaned out to take some photos. | "Get back in here, it's dangerous!" Scott yelled, but you couldn't care less. The thrill felt amazing. This is what you had been waiting for. You felt your seatbelt yank you back in as you turned to look at the culprit. A surge of adrenaline passed through your skin as you eyes met his burning gaze. "Do as I tell you." He commanded. You giggled before moving your lips right by his ear. "Make me." you whispered and threw your back against the seat, taking in the view once more. Scott's hand tightened on the wheel before letting out a scoff. Of course, you were a reckless one, with those short shorts and sarcastic attitude. He wondered how long he could last with someone like you on the team. The two of you got into position before running to the back of the van to set the radar in place. Scott pulled up his mic, "Scarecrow in position."

A few moments passed before Javi's voice came staticky through the headset. "The tornado ran off course, I wasn't able to get the data." Scott threw his earbuds on the dash and ran a hand over his face. "Hey, don't worr,y we'll get it next time." He smacked his fist over the wheel, scaring you in the process. "No, it needs to be...." He took a deep breath and sat in silence. Sensing he needed some time you didn't push it any further. When you pulled into the parking lot, Scott immediately got out leaving you to wonder what his deal was. This was the first run of the season; there would be more chances. Javi jogged up to you as you stepped out of the van. "Hey (Y/N) how was your first storm chase?" Despite his smile, you could tell he was disappointed in himself for not getting the data. "It was exciting, thrilling, definitely better than working in the labs all day long." Javi was happy that his friend was enjoying herself. It was a nice change of attitude from the stress of Stormpar and the guilt of losing his friends long ago.

You didn’t mean for it to happen. You just couldn’t sleep. A bad habit developed from your days of overworking and overstudying. You were always going to be younger than your classmates, which meant you had to work twice as hard to earn their respect and trust. People looked down at you not just for your age but also for your gender. It was a necessity for you to be able to prove yourself.

Developing insomnia was a consequence of your actions. And now here you were watching Scott get verbally abused by the owner of Stormpar. It was triggering, reminding you of how your parents would lecture you about needing to be better because of your “gift”. You felt guilty. Sure Scott was an ass at times but he didn't deserve to be ridiculed so loudly like that. You watched as Scott bowed his head at every comment. It made your heart heavy.

Scott glanced behind Riggs’ shoulder to see your form under the dim lamplight. He could see your eyes welling with tears and hands held to your chest. Why were you so upset, and what were you doing out so late? It wasn’t until you ran down the steps in his direction that he realized that you were upset watching the interaction.

Before you could reach him he nodded to Riggs finishing the conversation and moved past him, blocking your path.

“Scott, he was-” you blubbered through the tears. But before you knew it your face was submerged in a strong chest. The smell of cologne, pine, and spice filled your nose. A large hand ran through the back of your head and through your hair. “Shhh. I know. It’s okay. Thank you for coming.” You laughed slightly at the irony that you were coming here to comfort him.

You wiped away tears from you eyes and looked up into his blue orbs. “Are you alright?”

Unlike his usual hard facade his heart twinged at your concern. He hadn’t met anyone so empathetic before . “I’m just fine. Thank you for coming to check on me.” He wiped a few stray tears from your eyes. “Are you okay? Why are you crying.”

You felt embarrassed for getting so emotional. He was 9 years older than you for the love of god and here you were sobbing jn his arms like a child. “I’m fine it just… reminded me of something. My emotions got the best of me.”

Scott sighed, realizing he wasn’t going to get anything else out of you. “Alrigh,t well let me walk you to your room at least, my knight in shining armor.” You laughed at his attempt to joke and nudged his stomach while trying to ignore the way your fingers felt against his hard core. "Get some rest (Y/N) we have a long day." He hesitated at the end like he wanted to say more. You could see the internal argument he was having with himself, but he just turned around and made his way back to his room. Your heart sank with disappointment and embarrassment. Pushing away those feelings you closed the door, unaware that the minute you did he turned to look back staring at your room.

The next morning you followed your same routine. “(Y/N)” a familiar voice called to you while you were stretching.

“Scott.” You called softly, giving him a small smile. Boy he was a vision in the morning. Scott wore a grey dry-fit shirt paired with black joggers, his signature hat perfectly covering his dark waves. He waved at you with his water bottle in hand, “Mind if I join you this morning?” You grinned shyly and patted his cheek, “Of course, handsome, let’s see if you can keep up.”

And of course he was able to keep up. Scott was at peak fitness. The two of you jogged in a comfortable silence keeping pace. Occasionally your eyes would draw to him as if there was a magnetic attraction keeping your gaze on him. Feeling your eyes he turned to you, with one of his award-winning smiles. It made your heart beat faster. “What?” He questioned.

You blushed, “Nothing,” which only added to his cocky attitude.

“So…what made you want to join me?”

“I don’t know. I just wanted to try out morning jogs myself.” Liar. He was lying to you and himself. After last night, he thought about you more. The way you shed tears for someone like him. Scott knew he wasn’t the best man. He was arrogant and dismissive; he worked for a company that benefited from the misfortune of others. But there you were last night, crying for him.

You rolled you eyes and sped up past him.

“Hey wait for me!”

At breakfast Javi could tell the energy between the two of you had changed. No longer did Scott harden his gaze at you, but there was a definite softness. He held the door open, pulled out your chair, and made sure to thoroughly explain the plans to you. He’d never seen his partner like this.

“Hey Scott come here, I wanna talk to you.” Scott turned to you and signaled you to wait for him as he made his way over to Javi. “What’s up man?”

“Did you sleep with her?” Javi accused. Scott's eyes widened.

“What the fuck? No of course not. I wouldn’t jeopardize the team like that.” He denied. It was true he didn’t sleep with you, but boy did he think about it.

Javis judgmental gaze ran over Scott then back to you. “You’re acting different? Did something happen? You can tell me.”

“Nothing happened man. We went for a jog together this morning and nothing just talked. I realized she wasn’t as bad as I thought she was okay? Now I gotta get back to work.” He turned and made his way back to you. Your eyes lit up at Scott, which didn’t go unnoticed by Javi. He worried about you. Javi had just gotten you back and not you were acting different. Maybe he didn't know you as well as he thought he did.

The loud reving of an engine broke you out of your daze as you and Scott prepped the Van. “Who are they?”

“Hillbillies with a YouTube channel.” He rolled his eyes.

Their main star emerged from the red truck.

“If you chase it!” He yelled.

“Feel it!” The crowed shouted back.

Scott’s chest blocked your view of the tornado wranglers. “Come on let’s get in the truck.” With his hand against the small of your back he guided you into the van.

After a few minutes into your drive you placed your hand on his thigh. “Don't worry Scott we’ll get that data today.”

He clenched his jaw and grabbed your hand, “Thank you.”

The moment was interrupted when a red truck came barreling beside you, almost knocking your car off track.

Instinctively Scott’s hand flew to your chest making sure you weren’t jolted from the force.

Your heart beat fasted as his large hand covered you. The heat from his palm made your core stir as your blood rushed to your cheeks. “Scott?”

He brought his hand down and moved a stray hair out of your face. “Are you alright? They could’ve fucking hit us and hurt you.” He was furious.

“I’m fine Scott don’t worry.”

“Don’t worry?! That reckless driving could’ve have seriously hurt you.” He clenched his jaw tightly. As if he didn’t already dislike Tyler Owens, he hated the idea of you being hurt.

The rest of the drive was in silence. And as if it could be any worse your team did not get the data thanks to the Wranglers' interference.

You knew Scott was furious. That man wore his emotions all over his face. You could practically feel the heat radiating off him.

“I’m sorry Scott.”

He scoffed. What did you have to be sorry for. You did you part, you help recode the radar, you actually valued and listened to his input, you showed him kindness. The hell was wrong with you.

“Whatever we’ll just try again tomorrow.”

The team was tense. Failure after failure took a toll on everyone. But the only person you cared for right now was the man currently brooding on the couch next to you.

After you guys had gotten back to the motel, you offered Scott time to help make the next plan. He appreciated your efforts.

You weren’t lazy. He had seen that through your tireless work to plot and replot the data, cross-checking the weather, re-reading the radar scans. He admired that about you.

With a sigh you pushed the laptop onto the table and leaned your head back on the sofa. “I can’t look at that screen anymore. It’ll burn holes in my eyes.” You turned to Scott, who was currently chewing away at that Trident gum he always had with him. His jawline flexed as you dragged your eyes down his face to his neck.

Now it was his turn to push his laptop away. “You’re right we need a break. It’s just that Riggs is expecting progress and we’ve barely made a dent.”

You bit your lip. It was a tough situation and you couldn’t bear to see Scott so stressed. You got up and walked behind the couch and rest your hands on his shoulders.

“What are you-” before he could finish his sentence, you pushed your hands down on his shoulders massaging firmly at the knots held rigid under his shirt.

Scott’s eyes fluttered shut as you made your way from his shoulders to his neck to his shoulder blades.

A deep moan slipped from his lips as you elbowed a particularly large knot in his back.

“You’re fucking amazing.” He commented.

Your scent was invigorating. He could feel himself hardening are your touch and your smell. You were so close he could practically feel your chest against his back.

He felt his need bubbling up.

Turning around, he grabbed your wrists and stood up. You feared he was upset that you had gone too far. But instead he leaned in a kissed you. It wasn’t slow or gentle but rough and needy.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he lifted you up. The warm of your core on his cock made him shiver. And against better judgment, he gently laid you on the bed not breaking contact.

He knew he shouldn’t. You were his coworker, Javi’s friend this could jeopardize the team. But he was just a man, and you were a beautiful woman inside and out. How could he deny that? It was complicated, but in the moment, the answer was simple.

You moaned as he thrust his hips into yours.

“Do you want this?” He looked at you sincerely.

“Yes. I’m sure.” He kissed your cheek and made his way down your neck.

“You’re gorgeous. How did I get so lucky?”

“Probably that amazing personality.” You giggled.

He chucked against your skin before running his hands under your shirt. Quickly, you stripped off your top as did he, before engaging in another heated kiss.

Your hands fiddled with his belt, hearing the satisfying click. He was kicking his pants on the ground and looked back at you. You sat up and pulled his briefs down letting his cock spring foward. It was throbbing and stood tall in your face. You looked up into his eyes just to see his gaze boring into you as if he were looking straight through.

Tentatively, you wrapped a hand around him. Up down. Up down. His expression turned to one of pleasure as he lowered himself down on you. Up down. Up down. You pumped his cock gently in your hand before bringing it down to rub against your wet slit. His head nudged between your lips, making you both shiver. "Scott, tell me what you want." You looked up at him longingly. He was beautiful. You watched him breathe heavily. "I want to fuck you." Your body was on fire from your toes to your chest. The movement of his bare cock grinding against you. Desire poured out of his skin. He kissed your jawline and sucked on your neck. You gasped and closed your eyes as his hand drew down your butt grabbing firmly. He lifted your hips up and slowly slid in the tip. "More!" You grabbed the back of his hair. He sheathed himself in your heat and groaned, grabbing the headboard behind you. It had been a while since he last fucked anyone, but you were different in the way you held yourself to high standards and gave passionately to the people around you. You had caught him in your web; he was undeniable attracted to you, mind, body, and soul. Scott fucked you like it was the last thing he was ever going to do on Earth. He was rough, but that was just the way you liked it. He took charge thrust hard and fast, occassionalty letting aa hand slip down to rub your clit. Your moans echoed across the room, combined with the sound of the bed squeaking and skin slapping. He filled you up, you could feel him through your lower core. Scott pressed a hand firmly on your abdomen. "Feel that baby? That's me inside of you. You feel so good, I might never pull out." He closed his eyes and rutted in you over and over. With your last ounce of strength you pushed him over next to you, not letting his cock slip out. You forced his shoulders down and began moving up and down. He watched you smile down at him while your chest bounced, he could've cum right then and there if he didn't have self control. You rode him for what seemed like hours before you felt the familiar build up in pussy. "Scott im gonna cum!" You squeezed your eyes shut. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look down. "No open your eyes, look at me while you cum." You stared back down at him. His eyesbrows furrowed as your pussy clenched around him. "Fuck," He moaned as his hands over for you're hips.

You clenched once more before letting yourself cream around him, his semen filling you up and dripping out of your cunt With deep and heavy breaths, you fell onto his chest, his arms naturally wrapping around you. "Scott?" You lifted your head to look at him. "Yes (Y/N)?" He stroked your hair with one hand. "Are...is this a one-time thing?" You asked nervously. Maybe you should have asked before, but you were too caught up in the moment. As much as you wanted to savor the peace, it was something that had to be asked. Scott sat up at your question. "What no, I mean unless you want it to be." You smiled at him and shook your head. "No, believe it or not, I like you, Scott, no matter how much of a stick in the mud you are." You punched his shoulder gently.

"I'd like to keep seeing you (Y/N), but maybe..." His eyes drift to the side. "Maybe let's keep it from the team for now. I don't want them getting any thoughts or questioning your position." You nodded your head. "I agree." Lying back in his arms, the two of you slept comfortably as if life had always been like this.

Pt2?

Unedited : This was probably the longest fanfic I've written and its been a while so sorry for the mistakes T-T Ill come back to edit this when I had fresh eyes.

Side note can't believe the filmmakers tried to make us focus on Glenn Powell when fine shyt was right in front of us.

[episodes-ff]

Winter Storms

A/N: Yeaaaaa, y'all not gone like me for this😅. I apologize in advance. Don't beat me up, pleaseeeeeeeeee???? Remember how y'all be calling him a green eyed bastard, right? RIGHT?!?!?!?!??!

Terry

"Fuuuuuuuck! You taking that dick so good, baby!" I husked kneading the cushions of her ass as I stroked her from behind. "Yes, baby! That feels so fucking good! Oh my god!" "Fuck, that's right baby. Good fucking girl." I groaned smacking her ass as she whimpered and held onto my arms. "Arch that shit." "Yesssss, Daddy!" Locking in on her wrists, I started drilling her into the mattress as she cried my name. "Terry! Terryyyyy!" "Terry! Baby, wake up! We gotta get ready for our flight." Anaya giggled shaking me awake as I looked around dazed. "Awww, you still sleepy? Come on, papa. You can take a nap on the way to the airport." She smiled warmly rubbing my cheek before walking into the bathroom. Taking a deep breath, I shook my head and recollected my thoughts before getting up to go shower. I can't keep hiding this shit.

**TWO HOURS LATER**

Waiting at the terminal with Anaya, she played with Maya as I texted on my phone and tapped my foot. "You ok, baby?" "Huh? O-Oh yea, yeaaaa. I'm fine, baby." I smiled kissing her forehead before reaching for Maya. "You excited to see gwandma and gwandpa, MyMy?" I cooed as she nibbled on her chubby fingers and smiled at me. "Dadada!" She babbled squeezing my nose and patting my face as Anaya laughed at us. "Ladies and gentlemen! Flight 318 to Charlotte now boarding!" The flight attendant announced as I sat up and got our bags.

Today is the day Maya gets to finally see my parents again since the move to Miami. We FaceTime daily with them, but she can finally get her little paws on her loved ones. I just hope no bullshit occurs on this visit because I've been having this nagging ass feeling and the recollections of that night aren't helping soothe my irritation. "Baby?" "Huh?" "Did you want something to eat?" Anaya asked snapping out of it as the flight attendant waiting in the aisle for my response. "Can I get a water?" "No problem, sir." He smiled handing a cold bottle as I opened it and drank swiftly. "Are you ok?" Nodding as I choked down the water, I gave her a meek smile as she eyed me suspiciously. "You sure? You've been acting weird all day." "I'm positive, baby." I said kissing her gently before closing my eyes.

Finally making the long journey to my parent's place, we greeted them at the door as my dad helped me with the bags. "Ohhhhh, my pretty grandchild! You get cuter and cuter every day!" My mom cooed sweetly transitioning Maya to her warm arms as she hugged Anaya and welcomed us in. "How was you all's flight?" "It was good! Baby girl didn't shed one tear!" She boasted kissing our little one's cheeks. "Awwww! Mek wi waam unu op likl bit! Yuh woulda like some tea?" "Yes ma'am." Nodding, the girls went into the kitchen as my dad and I headed to his man cave. "Dad, can I talk you about something?" "Sure, son! Anything in the world, wassup?" He smiled as we reclined into the comfy leather couch. "It's something been weighing on my mind for a little while now and I don't know how to tell Anaya." "What's going on? I'm sure she won't mind, she's very understanding." "Not about this, pop." "Well, come on with it." "Dad, I-" 'Ding Dong!'

Anaya

Laughing and playing with Maya, I smiled watching Terry's mom bond with her grandbaby. I'm just so happy for how warming and loving our families are cause it'll make my announcement even more special. Since that day at the grocery store, Terry and I have been loosely trying to conceive and our attempts have paid off. I am currently about eight weeks along, and I wanna present the news to both Terry and our families tonight. Admiring his mom as she sang to Maya and rocked her back and forth, I smiled knowing I get to bless her beautiful soul with another grandbaby. Considering the only person who knows right now is our baby girl, I'm excited to share with everyone else.

Changing her diaper, I sang and cooed to her as she hummed along with me playing with my hands. "You're so smart and beautiful, baby!" "Yes, she is." I heard his deep voice as he snuck up on me. "Hey, you." I smiled pulling him into a loving kiss as his hands found their way to my waist. "Are you feeling better?" "What do you mean?" "Terry, something's wrong. I know you like the back of my hand and you've been acting strange all day. Promise me everything's okay?" "Promise." He nodded kissing my forehead, but something was still off. I just couldn't put my finger on what it was. "I'm gonna head down and see if mom needs help with the cooking, I'll be right back up." "Ok, my love." Smirking, he pecked us on the cheek before heading downstairs. "It's just you and me, pookie! Let's take some pictures, Mamas!" I cheesed as she clapped.

@_nayathebaddest: Mommy's heart in human form🌸🩷👶🏽 #MommysGirl #MayasMommy

Posting the beautiful pictures, I changed Maya into her outfit for the big reveal, I fought back my happy tears. "Are you so excited?" I whispered as she clapped. Hearing commotion, I furrowed my brows before grabbing her and heading downstairs. "Yo, what the fuck?!" "Weh dis likkle gyal a duh yah, Terrence?" I heard Terry's mom yelling as I hit the bottom step.

Looking up, I met eyes with her as she smiled deviously holding hands with a little boy. "Bitch, I know you fucking lying! You just asking to get yo ass beat, huh?" "Girl, please! Ain't nobody worried about you." She spat as Terry tried shooing her out the door. "You such a hateful ass bitch! Are you that pressed that he don't want you?! So fucking desperate!" "Desperate?! You so fucking naive!" "Terry, tell di likkle tramp fi go!!! Now!" His mom spat in anger as I tried to calm her down. "You heard her, bitch! Bye, goofy!" "I'm goofy for making sure my son spends some time with his fucking father for the holidays?! Yea ok!" "Bitch, you're lying!!! My nigga will never touch you and you're maddddd!!!" "Nah, but you're about to be, 'wifey'." She gritted looking over at Terry as my brows drew together. Now that I think back on it, this mothafucka been real fucking quiet while this bitch just carrying on.

"Terry?" "Terry?!" She smirked while I boomed handing Maya over to his mom as I folded my arms. "What the fuck is she talking about?! TERRY!!!" I yelled as his father mumbled an 'Oh shit' and walked his mom and the baby to his man cave. "She's obviously fucking lying, right? NIGGA, I KNOW YOU FUCKING HEAR ME!" I screamed lunging for him as he blocked my swing. "Anaya, calm yo ass the fuck down." He muttered quietly as he stared me down and gripped my hands. Seeing the guilt and hurt in his eyes, it hit me like a ton of bricks as I bubbled over in emotion. "HOW COULD YOU?!" I roared crying as I wrestled against his hold feeling physically ill the longer he held onto me. "Anaya, please. Just let me explain." His voice cracked as he still attempted to nurture my emotional state. "GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME!!!!" "NO!" "I see you two have some issues to sort out. I'll bring him back tomorrow, Terry." She grimaced turning to leave as I fought to get out of his grip and rightfully beat her ass.

Terry

Hearing the sounds of her car pulling off, I released her hands before feeling the heavy sting of her slaps connecting with my jaw and chest. "I HATE YOU! I HATE YOUUUU!!!! I HATE YOU, TERRY!! Fuck!" She shouted releasing her tears of anger as hot droplets fell from my own eyes. "Anaya, baby, please." "I'm not your baby! You fucking sick dick, green eyed piece of shit! I fucking hate you!!" She spat beating my chest in as my head hung low. "Ana-" "When?!" Sighing, I rubbed my face as more tears burned at the surface. "You don't fucking hear me now?! NIGGA WHEN?!?!?!" "It happened three years ago." "How long?!" "What?" "How fucking long have you sat up here and smiled in my goddamn face knowing this shit?! Nigga talk!" "She told me when he turned one."

Seeing the disgust wash over her face, I cried more as I watched heart breaking knowing I was the reason. "Wait wait wait. Three years ago?! The last time we were here was..." She looked up in disbelief before lunging at me again and punching me in the eye. "ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! I WAS WATCHING MY MOTHER SLOWLY DIE AND YOU WERE FUCKING THIS BITCH?!?!?!?!?!?!?" She shrieked in agony wailing as I tried to hold her. "NO! GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME! I'm literally about to be sick!!!" She groaned prying my hands off of her before running upstairs to throw up. Taking a seat on the couch, I sighed into my hands and the throbbing in my head grew more and more potent. Hearing footsteps, I looked up and watched as my parents resurfaced from the man cave; my mother shook her head in disappointment as she walked upstairs with a sleeping Maya in her arms while my dad came over and rubbed my shoulder. "I don't know how you got so far deep into this son, but you gotta fix this shit. It's bigger than you now." He breathed as he handed me Maya's sweater. Reading the pregnancy announcement message on the tiny shirt, I broke down into more sobs clutching it to my head. How the fuck did I manage to fuck up this badly?!

Tags: @theereina @violetmuses @kaylaahisthebestest- @mymindisneverhere @simpledopeme @believeinthefireflies95 @brisunique @madxlov3 @casualsludgeshoetoad @mauvecherie-writes @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @kumkaniudaku @geneziesm @megamindsecretlair @goldenjasssy @vivaalenaa @playgurlxoxo @ghettogirly @luuvprincess @perfectlyimperfectme @tbmotw @comfortzonequeen @melanin-honeyy @strawberrymoon45 @luckygirlszn @kindofaintrovert @secretlifeoofmarpessa @cmbmjbfan @summwerella @qdancer22 @ihateyallniggas @rebelrel0987 @cheracherachera @bhristpher @cocooned-butterfly @theblessedcap @deijalee @ranikyani @catha2003 @magik22 @sweettea-and-honeybutter @pinkbuzzlightyrrr @justicefordeanthomas @liv10002 @kalideshawnwrites @j0joworld @kimuzostar @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @brattyfics @pocketsizedpanther

[thunderbolt-ing]

"I Can't Do It Alone." — 3

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART FOUR Pairing: Congressman!Bucky x Fem!Reader Summary: Denial is a river in Egypt. In other words, the signs are there, but you dodge them like bullets. Warnings: idk gunshots and distant gunfights, you'll see. reader is in extreme denial. bucky is trying so hard. please tell me if anything in this chapter is triggering, i don't think so bc it's just fluff-ish but please lmk A/N: canon divergence bc i completely messed up the order of events from the movie (I'm writing this in pure memory) but its going to work out anyway so!!!!! NO CHANCE NO WAY I WONT SAY IT NO NO (you swoon, you sigh, why deny it uh oh) that was playing in my head while writing the majority of this part. I've read through this several times but I'm sure there are still mistakes i didn't catch so i do apologize in advance. Word count: ~5.7k words. I hope this keeps you fed while my brain regroups.

Later that Same Evening Long After the Gala

Your flight, much to your mounting irritation, had been cancelled. At this point, it felt like the universe was dead set on keeping you in D.C., a place you didn’t particularly mind, but didn’t want to linger in either. You just wanted to go back to New York, back to your routine, and back to your job. 

Still, you weren’t helpless. Sure, you complained and cursed out every possible godly being, but you had things under control within minutes. You’d already opened three tabs on your phone, scanned for reasonably priced motels near the airport, and mentally mapped out your commute the next morning. 

Then your phone buzzed. 

You stared at the message, blinking. Not only did he predict that you were going to protest, but he was already making his way back to the airport when he had just dropped you off hours ago. You sat down heavily on the nearest bench in the ‘departures’ terminal, trying to make sense of that familiar ache in your chest. It wasn’t the first time he had done something like this. It was little things, things he never pointed out, never made a show of. He just… showed up. It was as if no version of his evening didn’t include making sure you got home safe. 

You tapped your phone screen again, reading his text over. 

No need. On my way. 

You could’ve insisted, you should’ve insisted. You weren’t helpless, you knew how to navigate things alone, you’d been doing it your whole life. But somehow, with Bucky, the line between stubborn independence and reluctant comfort blurred just a little. 

You typed a reply. Paused. Deleted it. 

Then, you tucked your phone into your pocket and told yourself it didn’t mean anything. It was just Bucky being Bucky. It wasn’t about you. He’d do the same for anyone because that was just the kind of man he was: reliable, responsible, and frustratingly decent.

But then he’d do things that chipped away at that belief. It was gentle, subtle things that left you standing in the ruins of your own logic, questioning everything all over again. 

It was infuriating.

This, or rather he, was not what you were here for. You were hired for a job, a purpose. You were supposed to be focused on policy briefings, constituent emails, scheduling, and outreach. Not your boss’s inconvenient acts of quiet heroism. Your job was to make sure he passed legislation, kept his approval ratings high, and won re-election. He was good at his job because you were excellent at yours. You were a team, impeccably efficient, practically unbeatable, and you couldn’t complicate that. 

So you did what you did best: Deny. Bury. Move on.

The familiar, low roar of a motorcycle engine ripped through your thoughts like a needle scratching across a record. You looked up and there he was, just as he said he would be. 

Bucky was straddling his bike, helmet-clad, and still in the same dress shirt and slacks he wore to the gala. The black tailored jacket that completed the look was gone, leaving his sleeves rolled up and the top two buttons undone. He looked less like a congressman and more like someone who belonged on the cover of a vintage motorcycle ad—windswept, timeless, and entirely unaware of the effect he had. 

You held back a sigh. You really wish he had taken the car instead. 

Bucky pulled up just in front of where you sat, killed the engine, and swung his leg over the bike with practiced ease. He removed his helmet and walked it over, holding it out to you wordlessly like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

You stared at it for a beat too long, then up at him. His expression was neutral, but something about the slight raise of his brow said, ‘Are you really going to argue with me about this?’ You were, you thought about it, but you didn’t this time. 

You took the helmet reluctantly, securing it on your head before tightening the straps of your backpack with practiced movements. Bucky then swung his legs over the motorcycle with ease, settling into the seat and steadying the bike with one foot so you could comfortably hop on. 

He glanced over his shoulder to make sure you were ready. “Hold tight,” he instructed, his voice calm but firm. Then, with the smallest smirk in his tone, he added, “On my waist, L/N. You know how this works.” “I know, I know,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. You hovered your hands awkwardly near his sides, as if proximity alone could meet the safety requirement. 

You heard him sigh, low and amused, before his mechanical hand reached back and gently guided your arms into place, adjusting your grip until your hands were flat and secure against his waist. “There,” he said, his voice softer this time. “Now you won’t fall off.” You scoffed. You hated the way your chest tightened at the casual intimacy of it all and the way he didn’t even seem to realize what moments like this did to you. 

He rolled off into the streets with familiar ease, weaving through traffic as the city lights blurred around you. The cool air stung your cheeks, and your hair whipped wildly in the wind, but you barely noticed. Your gaze was distant and unfocused, caught between reality and thought. This was just second nature to him. Just muscle memory. Nothing more. 

You let a cheek rest lightly on his back, more out of necessity than affection, or so you told yourself. The low, steady roar of the bike filled the silence between you as he sped through the streets, guiding you both toward the safety of his apartment. 

You were fine. This was fine. 

You weren’t going to read into it, you never did. 

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

A little while later, he pulled into a quiet brick building nestled just a few ways away from the Capitol. As the motorcycle came to a stop, you swung your leg over and quickly stepped off, removing the helmet and letting it hang loosely on your side. The neighborhood before you was calm and unassuming, the kind of place where people walked their dogs at dusk and kids left their bikes on the steps. Trees lined the sidewalks, their branches rustling gently in the breeze, and clusters of native flowering bushes bloomed with the kind of effortless charm that only came from being carefully tended to. 

Bucky led you through the front doors of his apartment building and up to his unit, unlocking it with ease. He pushed the door open and stepped aside, letting you go in first.

“Make yourself at home,” he said casually, his voice warm as he hung his keys on a small hook by the door.

You placed your backpack and his helmet on the couch, your eyes examining your surroundings. The apartment, much like himself, was understated but intentional. The space was minimalistic, but not cold. Everything had a purpose, and nothing felt out of place. The furniture was simple and functional, built for the comfort of a single man, yet it still gave the space a quiet charm. The walls were mostly bare, painted in muted, neutral tones. But above the couch hung a vintage map of Brooklyn, the colors faded with age, with corners slightly curled. A nostalgic tribute to the place he still called home in his heart. 

What truly drew your attention, though, was the bookshelf tucked away in the corner of the living room. You found yourself drifting toward the shelf while he headed into the kitchen without a word, the sound of the refrigerator opening faint in the background. The shelf was more than a storage space for novels; it felt like a time capsule. It held a collection of memories and fragments of identity that Bucky let speak for themselves. Dog-eared novels of well-loved paperbacks lined the shelf—Hemingway, Baldwin, Fitzgerald, and Twain. There were newer ones too, titles you recognized instantly because you were the one who had recommended them. You smiled to yourself, feeling a small tug of surprise and warmth in your chest. You never thought he’d actually take your suggestions seriously, much less keep them. And yet, there they were, nestled between the literary giants like they belonged. Some even had worn spines and folded corners, proof that he hadn’t just bought them to be polite, he had read them, really read them.

But it wasn’t just the books that captured you. It was the small trinkets nestled between them that told a different story. 

There were framed photos, some in color, some in black and white. A shot of him and Steve, mid-laugh in front of Coney Island, a frozen echo of simpler days. Another, more recent, with Sam grinning beside him, sunglasses on like he owned the world. And then there was the one that made you pause: a photo of Bucky in his 1940s Sergeant uniform. His expression was proud, boyish, and untouched by the weight of what would come after. You found yourself tracing the edge of the frame with your fingertips, wondering what kind of man he was back then, before HYDRA, before the Winter Soldier. Before the world tried to break him.

Your musings were swiftly interrupted by a soft mrow echoing from the hallway. Your eyes darted toward the sound, then flicked to Bucky, who was still in the kitchen, too preoccupied with ordering food on the phone to notice you snooping around his living room.

Curiously, you padded quietly down the hallway toward the noise. At the end of it, lounging like she owned the place, was a fluffy white cat. She was elegant, clearly a ragdoll, with a silky coat and mismatched blue and yellow eyes that tugged instantly at your heartstrings. Before you could even kneel or say anything, the feline rose and began trotting toward you with confidence, her little bell collar chiming softly with each graceful step. You crouched instinctively, a grin tugging at your lips as she nuzzled against your leg like she’d known you forever. You got hold of her collar and turned it around to see the cat’s name. Alpine.

“No, no, no!” Bucky called from behind you, his voice laced with sudden panic. “She—”

He stopped short as he watched you scoop the cat effortlessly into your arms and cradle her like you had done it a hundred times before.

“—bites,” he finished weakly, blinking in disbelief.

“Could’ve fooled me,” you said with a soft laugh, nuzzling her fur as she purred contentedly in your arms. “She’s the sweetest thing. She just walked right up to me.”

Alpine rubbed her head against your chin, purring like a small motor and clearly smitten. Bucky, on the other hand, looked like he was short-circuiting. This was definitely not how he expected things to go. He'd anticipated claws, maybe a hiss, possibly even you swearing never to step foot in his apartment again, not you holding Alpine like a baby and kissing her on the head.

“I locked her in my room before I went to get you,” he confessed, still staring at the cat in disbelief. “I don’t know how she got out.”

“What can I say?” you replied smugly, scratching behind Alpine’s ears as she melted into your chest. “Cats love me.”

Bucky let out a small breath of laughter, but the smile that followed was something else entirely. It was soft and unguarded in a way you weren’t used to seeing from him. It wasn’t the polite grin he donned at work; this was warm, and it pulled at something within you despite how hard you tried to pretend it didn’t.

Bucky blinked and cleared his throat, as if snapping himself out of whatever trance he’d slipped into. 

Then, the doorbell rang, sharp and sudden, cutting through the moment like a blade.

“Pizza’s here,” he muttered, his voice rough and uneven, almost like he had forgotten how to speak. 

“Yeah, I got it,” you replied quickly, a little too quickly. You gently set Alpine down, earning a small meow in protest, though you barely registered it. Your entire focus was on putting distance between yourself and his warm, disarming gaze that made you feel both seen and exposed. You bolted toward the door like it might save you because staying in that moment for a second longer would’ve cracked something wide open, something that you weren’t entirely ready to admit even existed. 

You returned a few minutes later, heading straight to the kitchen, clutching the box like it was some sacred offering to the gods of casual indifference. Normal. You just needed normal. 

Despite your best efforts to sweep everything under the rug, the universe seemed to have a sick sense of humor. Standing before you was Bucky, his white dress shirt now unbuttoned and hanging loosely on his frame. Beneath it, his white tank top clung to him in a way that made you wish you hadn’t looked at all. To top it off, his hair was tousled too, like he had raked his hand through it one too many times. 

You dropped the box on the counter a little harder than necessary, flipping it open. The two of you wordlessly reached for a slice, your fingers brushing his just briefly, but the contact sent a jolt up your arm like you’d grabbed a live wire. You felt the heat rush to your face. 

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. 

You bit into a slice with unnecessary focus, hoping the act of chewing would drown out your incessant thoughts. 

Ever since the gala, your brain had been on a reckless little joyride of stupidity, teasing the idea that maybe, just maybe, there was something there. Something more than the long hours you two spent together, the satisfying banter, and the way he always seemed to notice when you needed something before you even asked. 

But that was completely ridiculous. You blamed it on the proximity, on the caffeine-fueled late nights, on the way his voice sounded at 2 in the morning when both of you were buried in policy drafts and half-eaten takeout. You blamed it on the fact that you hadn’t been with anyone in years, that you were lonely, and maybe your standards had plummeted into dangerous, shark-infested territory.

But none of that mattered because this was your boss. Congressman James Buchanan Barnes. 

He wasn’t supposed to be a possibility, not even a consideration. Not with his title, not with your job, and definitely not with the line you swore you’d never cross. 

Your internal tirade was thankfully derailed when your eyes landed on a small stack of untouched, unopened, and suspiciously pristine dockets sitting nearly on the far end of the counter. Those were the same files you’d handed him last Friday, neatly and painstakingly compiled in preparation for the upcoming congressional hearing on the veteran aid bill the two of you had been pushing for. 

“I gave these to you last Friday,” you called out, placing your half-slice down and crossing the kitchen with growing suspicion. You plucked one of the folders off the pile and flipped it open. “Don’t tell me you’re procrastinating, the hearing’s in like five days.” 

“No, of course not,” Bucky scoffed, replying far too quickly for your liking, and springing into motion as if he’d been caught doing something wrong. He practically lunged for the files, his hand landing just beside yours. “I’m a slow reader. I’m working on it.”

“Sure, I’ll entertain your lies.” 

“I am!” He insisted, pressing his metal hand on his chest as if swearing an oath. “Okay, how about this: let’s read it together. Like the partners that we are.” 

You let out a deep sigh, more dramatically than intended, but you were already gathering the files and opening them to begin reading. 

“Fine,” you said, waving a hand. “Whatever it takes to get this bill passed and to make sure you don’t crash and burn during questioning.”

Bucky grinned, “What would I do without you?” 

“Get expelled from Congress.” You deadpanned.

You didn’t miss the way he stood closer than he needed to be. Or the way his fingers brushed yours again when he handed you a pen. Or how annoyingly aware you were of how warm he looked in that god forsaken tank top. 

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

The two of you worked in perfect harmony, like a well-oiled machine that had been running for years—each movement seamless, each glance understood without needed explanation. You highlighted and annotated key sections of the bill, patiently talking him through the language, coaching him on how to sell it with conviction. Your notes were meticulous, filled with cues and conversational maps, anticipating every possible question or objection he might face. You were the strategist, charting the battlefield with deadly precision. He was the warrior, prepared to defend the legislation like it were something sacred. 

With one last slice left in the box and the clock ticking well past midnight, the two of you finally closed the last of the files. Everything was highlighted, annotated, and flagged. For once, you were ahead of schedule and had plenty of time for Bucky to go back through and add his own thoughts. A small victory, but it felt like a triumph.

You exhaled deeply and leaned back with a stretch, arms overhead as your spine cracked in relief. “Finally,” you mumbled. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Bucky reached for the last slice without looking up, flipping through the final few pages of the docket as he chewed thoughtfully. “No, it wasn’t bad,” he said, almost offhand, “but that’s only because you’re here.”

You barely had time to react before a dollop of sauce slipped from Bucky’s slice, landing right on the front of his crisp white dress shirt and barely streaking his vibranium forearm. Without thinking, you moved, reaching for a napkin and dabbing at the mess with brisk, practiced motions before it could soak into the fabric, or worse, find its way into the crevices of his mechanical arm. 

He stilled under your touch, his eyes dropping to your hands as they moved carefully and deliberately, as if this wasn’t the first time it happened. 

"You don’t have to look out for me so much, you know?” he said, voice quiet and unguarded. 

You didn’t meet his gaze. “I don’t,” you deflected breezily, “I just didn’t want that shirt to get ruined. It’s a good shirt, looks expensive.”

Bucky huffed a small laugh and leaned back slightly to let you toss the napkin into the trash. Then, without hesitation, he shrugged off the dress shirt entirely, leaving him in the fitted white tank underneath. The fabric clung to his shoulders and chest, and you averted your eyes before your thoughts could spiral again. 

“Oh, but you do,” he said with that infuriating half-smile. His voice was playful, but there was something heavier underneath that lingered.

“At least it didn’t get in the arm. I hate putting this thing in the dishwasher.”

You glanced back at him, “Your arm is dishwasher safe?” You asked, grateful for the shift in tone. You tilted your head, a smirk tugging at your lips, “Wow. Innovation.”

He chuckled, “Wakandan tech.” He said dismissively as if it was the most obvious, most casual thing in the world. Then he moved on to clean the counter, tossing the empty pizza box in the trash. 

“But seriously,” he added, glancing at you again, “I meant what I said. You’ve got this way of looking out for people. For me. I notice it.” 

You tried not to let his words settle. “It’s my job,” you said stiffly, wiping down the counter and moving the dockets to a cleaner surface. 

He only smiled gently, “No, it’s not. Your job is to make sure I don’t screw up legislation on the Senate floor. To prep me for hearings. It’s not staying up past midnight to coach me through policy language I should already know. It’s not sprinting across the kitchen to stop a stain from getting on my arm.”

Then, he paused, eyes softening, “It’s not caring like this.” 

You froze. You didn’t want to look at him, not with everything suddenly cracking wide open like this. You could’ve said something cold and sharp. Something to deflect. But for once, nothing came, and your usual wit failed you. 

Instead, you said quietly, “I don’t know why I do it. Maybe it’s just easier to take care of other people than deal with my own problems.”

There was a long silence before he responded.

“I do that too,” Bucky said finally, his voice stripped of pretense. “Pretend I’m fine. Push things down until they’re out of reach. I still fight battles in my head every damn day. And sometimes, I look at who I am now and wonder if it’s ever going to be enough to make up for the things I’ve done.”

You looked at him, seeing right through. For the first time, you didn’t see the Congressman, the anti-hero, or even the man you worked beside every day. You saw someone fractured and still healing. Somehow, that made him even more impossible to ignore. 

“I think you’re doing better than you think,” you said softly. “You’re not perfect, Bucky. No one is. But you care about this bill. You care about people. That matters. You matter.”

His jaw tightened like he wasn’t used to hearing that, not from anyone who meant it. He tried to smile, but it faltered under the weight of the moment.

“You really scare the shit out of me sometimes,” he murmured.

You blinked at him. “What…?”

He let out a quiet laugh through his nose, something halfway between affection and disbelief.

“Because I’m smart and capable?” you offered, trying to deflect with humor.

He shook his head. “No,” he said simply. “Because you see me. And… I don’t know what to do with that.”

And just like that, the air between you thickened again. Not with fear, but with understanding. The kind of quiet recognition that neither of you were quite ready to say out loud. For one suspended moment, it was just the two of you, unspoken things hanging heavy in the silence.

Then came the reality check. 

Bucky’s phone buzzed sharply against the countertop, the sound almost jarring. The screen lit up with Unknown Caller in bold letters. You both looked at it like it might explode.

“You going to get that?” you asked, the question more of a lifeline than anything else, a gentle nudge away from the dangerous emotional territory you’d both just wandered into.

“Yeah,” he said quickly, grabbing the phone like it gave him something to do with his hands. He hit the speaker. “This is Barnes.”

There was a moment of static, then a soft voice came through. “Hi. It’s Mel. Valentina’s assistant.”

Your hand flew to your mouth, your eyes widening. It worked. The stupid gala and the Mission Impossible-esque stunt you two pulled, it worked. You elbowed Bucky hard in the ribs, silently urging him to say something before the girl got spooked.

“Oh. Hi. Yes—hi, Mel, thank you for calling me. I didn’t—”

“I can’t talk long,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “So I’ll get to the point.”

You stilled and held your breath. Bucky didn’t even blink.

“I want to help,” Mel continued, rushed and panicked. “Val told me to incinerate evidence tonight. Records. Files. People.”

You exchanged another look with Bucky, both of your pulses spiking.

“—People who know too much. She told me to get rid of them, but they escaped somehow, and if you’re fast, you can find them. Get them to testify.” 

“Mel, you don’t know how much this helps us.” Bucky said quickly, leaning forward, “We’ll protect you. My partner is here, she can coordinate witness protection—“

“Thank you, Congressman, but I’m not interested.” Her voice tightened with fear, as if someone was or had already interrupted her. “Have a great night!” 

The call ended. Silence fell once more, sharp and electric.

You stared at Bucky’s phone. “Holy shit.” You muttered, letting out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, “That was it! That was the seed! That was our shot!”

“Barely,” he muttered, raking a hand through his hair. “She didn’t even tell us where they are. We don’t even have a lead.”

“Barnes,” you said, gesturing towards his laptop that sat on a nearby desk, “are you seriously not seeing the solution here?”

He blinked at you. “What solution?” 

“Track her phone.” 

He recoiled like you just suggested something nefarious. “What? No. Absolutely not.”

“Track. Her. Phone,” you repeated, enunciating every word like he was a particularly dense child. 

“I heard you,” he replied, frustrated. “I just don’t do that anymore.” 

You gave him a pointed look. “Yes, you do! You track me all the time.” 

“That’s different!”

“How is that different?” You threw your hands up. “You literally pinged my location last week because I didn’t answer your call during a Senate session.”

“That’s because you stopped answering me for four hours, and I thought you were dead!”

“I was at a dentist appointment!”

“Well, I didn’t know that at the time!” 

You stared at him for a beat, then gestured towards his laptop again, muttering, “You are so dramatic.”

He exhaled loudly, rubbing his temples. “Look, it’s not that simple. I’d need access to her internal files. It’s a whole thing.”

You tilted your head and gave him the look. The look.

“Don’t you dare give me the look.”

You didn’t blink, your gaze remained unflinching.

“I hate that look.”

Still no blink.

He groaned, defeated. “Fine. Give me ten minutes.”

“Thank you,” you said sweetly, getting up to fetch his laptop from the desk. 

“You know,” he added, pulling his laptop over and connecting his phone to it, “you are way too comfortable bossing around a former assassin.”

“Oh, just get to work, Barnes,” you shot back, rolling your eyes as you smirked at him. 

There was a beat of silence, broken only by the sound of his fingers flying over his laptop’s keyboard.

Then, more quietly, more sincerely, he said, “I meant what I said earlier.”

You paused. “About what?”

“About you seeing me.” He met your eyes. “It still scares the hell out of me.”

You held his gaze for a long second before saying, gently, “Good. Because that means you’re still human.”

He smiled faintly. “Guess I better start acting like it.” The Next Day Brooklyn City Hall, New York 

You climbed the worn stone steps of Brooklyn’s City Hall, the early morning sun casting long golden shadows across the plaza. The chill of dawn clung to the air, but even after an early flight from D.C., your exhaustion faded and was replaced with anticipation.

Flanking you were a few of the event sponsors who were local business owners, nonprofit reps, and volunteers, each carrying boxes, tote bags, and clipboards as they trailed behind you. A local news van was parked at the curb, the station already broadcasting live segments as reporters flagged down early arrivals to get interviews. 

It had been a long, grueling week filled with late nights, last-minute approvals, a maze of calls and red tape, but somehow, you’d pulled it together. The Veterans Outreach event you’d been organizing was finally happening, and to your astonishment, it looked like everything might actually go according to plan. 

You pushed open the heavy double doors and stepped inside. Then you stopped, momentarily stunned at the sight before you. 

The main lobby of City Hall had been completely transformed. Booths lined the perimeter, draped in patriotic colors and banners offering support and resources for veterans. Each station was already buzzing with activity. Volunteers in matching t-shirts greeted attendees with easy smiles. A local acoustic jazz band played in the far corner, and the aroma of coffee and food truck fare drifted in from the open courtyard doors. 

You let out a long breath, your shoulders finally easing for the first time in days. 

Then, your phone buzzed in your hand, Bucky’s name and photo lighting up the screen. You answered quickly, stepping away from the crows and into a quieter corner of City Hall, tucking a hand over one ear to hear him better. 

“Barnes, this place is packed,” you said, barely containing your excitement. “The booths are full, the sponsors showed up, and even Channel 5’s out front doing coverage.” 

“I figured it would be,” Bucky replied, his voice warm despite the faint roar of wind and engine noise on the other end. “Listen… you’re going to hate me for this, but… I can’t make it.” 

You paused for a beat, then exhaled softly. “I know,” you said gently. “It’s okay. I figured when Mel called you yesterday.” 

There was a beat of silence that followed, filled with the low rumble of Bucky revving his motorcycle. Then—BOOM.

A sudden, deafening crash cracked through the line, followed by screeching tires and the unmistakable crunch of metal. 

“Hold on—” Bucky said abruptly. 

You froze, gripping the phone tightly in your hand. In the background, you heard the sharp click of a shotgun, followed by two loud bangs, then a barrage of gunfire. 

“Bucky?!” you hissed, instinctively glancing over your shoulder to make sure no one could hear you. “Are you out of your mind?! What the hell was that?!”

“Minor inconvenience,” he grunted. More gunshots rang out, his motorcycle revving again. “I’m multitasking.” “Are you being shot at right now?!” 

“No, not me. Hang on, you’re on my comms. Don’t hang up.”

Another crash. A deep, loud, metallic thud followed by the sound of a car door being ripped off its hinges. There was yelling in the distance, then silence, followed by Bucky’s heavy breathing and another round of shots. “Jesus Christ, Barnes,” you muttered, now pacing the quiet hallway like a storm in motion. “Are you seriously calling me mid-fight?” 

“I said I was sorry,” he replied, a bit breathless but still managing to sound maddeningly casual. “I found them. The people Valentina tried to get rid of. Contract workers. Assassins, maybe. Or former ones. Still figuring that part out.” 

“Assassins?! James, what the fuck?” You pinched the bridge of your nose, teetering on the edge of exasperation and just a tiny sliver of admiration. “You’re going to give me gray hairs. I’m going to develop a heart condition by the end—”

“—I’ll make it up to you,” He promised, a low laugh catching in his throat. “I just needed to check in. Make sure you were okay with the outreach and everything.” 

“You’re worried about me when you were just dodging bullets?!” 

“I knew you’d be fine,” he said softly, like a confession. “I think I just… wanted to hear your voice.” 

Your heart squeezed, traitorous and aching. You stood in stunned silence, letting his words settle like dust in a room you hadn’t dared to open. Before you could form a reply, the engine revved again on his end, and another crash thundered through the speaker.  

“I’ll call you back,” he said quickly, his voice clipped with urgency. “Let me just rein in these guys.” 

You sighed, even as the corners of your mouth betrayed you. “Be careful, idiot. And you better call me back.” 

You ended the call and lowered the phone slowly, staring at the darkened screen. An uninvited smile tugged at your lips. You hated how easily he could disarm you, how quickly a few words from him could slip beneath the armor you’d spent a long time perfecting. 

Of course he’d call you mid-fight. Of course he’d say something maddeningly sweet while dodging bullets. And of course, you felt your resolve crumbling all over again. It felt as if you were putting Band-Aids on a rapidly cracking dam. 

You had rules. Boundaries. Reasons. 

This was your job. He was your boss. You’d promised yourself this wouldn’t happen, that you wouldn’t entertain the topic of romance while building your career. You were busy and too focused. There wasn’t room for anything else besides work.

And on top of that, he was reckless, complicated, and always halfway out the door.

You knew better.

Yet here you were, standing in the middle of a quiet hallway with a stupid grin and a pulse that hadn’t calmed down since the call ended. 

You tried so hard to draw a line between you and him. You were supposed to be professional, responsible, even detached, but the truth was, you never meant for it to hold. 

“Boyfriend?” came a voice behind you, startling you out of your thoughts. 

You turned to see one of the younger interns, the one in charge of the event’s social media coverage, peering at you with a knowing grin. “Or was that Congressman Barnes? Are you two finally...?”

You narrowed your eyes, but the flush creeping up your neck betrayed you. “Get back to work, please.”

The intern laughed and raised her hands in mock surrender before disappearing back toward the courtyard.

You lingered for a moment longer, letting your fingers toy with the edge of your blazer before finally tucking your phone away. The lobby ahead of you was filled with activity, volunteers guiding people, voices over the PA, distant music, but your thoughts were miles away, wrapped around the sound of his voice. 

You walked back to the main lobby, the weight of the morning pressed gently against your chest, and a curve of a smile still tugging at your lips. 

Damn him and damn the way he made you question whether the walls you’d built were really protecting you anymore. 

Maybe it was just keeping something good from getting in.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ TAGLIST (please message me if you want to be added/removed from the list!): @trashbin-nie @cherrypieyourface @seraphine-ann @theendofthematerialgworl @hiraethmae @yiiiikesmish @buckybarnesfic @serumandsteel @cyberjawz @sunday-bug @nameless-ken @maryevm @aiyaiy

if you're silent enough, you can hear me screaming

[carmensbrain]

Hi, how are you? I hope you are well :)

Can you write some headcannons About Simon Henrikson(cry of fear) being your boyfriend, how you met, what he thought of you before and these things

Thank you in advance :D

(sorry if it was bad, English is not my first language)

Hiya! I’m doing well thx for asking!!

(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)🎀

(I have dyslexia and no proofreader so apologies for spelling errors!!)

Contains- a bit more angst than intended oops..

Rating- E for most brains

Warnings- none

Authors note- sorry if this is buns or I didn’t read your request right!

Fic starts below cut!

How would you meet?

♡ You first saw Simon at the freedom festival, he was sporting one of those black hoodies with text that was more than likely something so pessimistic it looked ironic, fitting for a metal music festival.

♡on the way back you walked alone, being the only one in your group who didn’t live in the area.

♡the train station was cold, dim, and strangely damp. It was far too late for anyone to be catching trains to school or work so the terminal was empty, a total ghost town, other than that boy again.

♡ a chilled breeze rushed through the tunnel as rain began to pour above ground, sending a shiver down your spine as you sat on one of the benches in the middle of the tunnel. The surface was colder than the air surrounding you, making you regret choosing to wear a tshirt for the festival.

♡ while you were wallowing in your unfortunate outfit you hadn’t noticed that the boy had moved to sit on the other end of the bench holding a grey hoodie out to you.

♡ “uhm… are you sure?” You ask, tilting head to look at the boy, something about his hair messily strewn about his forehead and tired eyes made you feel grateful you hadn’t gone with a jacket today.

How would a relationship go?

♡ at first it would be difficult to get him to open up or reciprocate any physical contact but he made it known that he cared for you by taking you out around the town, usually ending in you two sitting on the roof of your apartment building talking about your week.

♡ when he would initiate physical contact it was in small doses. He enjoyed holding your hand in his while walking at night, his cold skin being warmed by yours. Brief hugs would show him that you truly did care, slowly warming him up to letting himself smile.

♡ he was overwhelmed at first, feeling undeserving of the love and care you gave him. He was terrified that you wouldn’t really love him if you knew about his problems so he kept quiet for the first few months.

♡ he did eventually confess what he was going through to you, hands shaking as he struggled to get the words out. To his surprise you didn’t leave, didn’t chastise him for his weakness, didn’t even make a face, you simply pulled him into a tight hug while telling him that it will be okay and that you’re happy he told you. He stayed like that for the rest of the night, falling asleep against you on your couch, his mind finally letting him enjoy the moment.

[splatoonreblogger]

SplatoonNA:

Splatfest Research Team here with a special Splatfest report!

Bundle up, because the Frosty Fest is coming. The Splatsville and Inkopolis halls will be decked to the nines, with Deep Cut and the Squid Sisters in their finest gala fits!

No date to save yet, but stay tuned.

SplatoonJP:

「2023冬 Chill Season」では特別なフェス「FrostyFest」も開催予定だ。

いつもとは違う、冬の空気に包まれたバンカラ街やハイカラシティを楽しもう。

SplatoonNA:

And what would Frosty Fest be without gifts? Get ready to unwrap four swanky pieces of gear!

No need to set out a stocking—just open News on your Nintendo Switch system, then launch the Splatoon 3 game via the Squid Research Lab article. Your gifts will be at the lobby terminal!

SplatoonJP:

そして「FrostyFest」を記念して、特別なギアが4つプレゼントされるようだ。

先日の「Splatoween」と同様に、Nintendo Switch本体のゲームニュース「イカ研究所通信」で後日配信される予定なのでどうぞお楽しみに。

SplatoonNA:

Ahem! If the SRL Fashion Report may be so bold, we've secured an advance look at Deep Cut's Frosty Fest attire.

"Ritzy" and "elegant" may not be words you associated with them before, but they never do things by halves, and their wintry ensembles are no exception.

SplatoonJP:

「FrostyFest」では、すりみ連合の面々が特別な衣装で登場するぞ。

冬めくバンカラ街にきらめく、三人のエレガントな装いにご注目いただきたい。

SplatoonNA:

Not to be outdone, the Squid Sisters are bringing their own inimitable looks to the Inkopolis stage. Their snow-white outfits dazzle amidst the chilly climate, wouldn't you say?

Our work here is done. The Splatfest Research Team will provide dates and a topic some other day. Ta!

SplatoonJP:

そしてシオカラーズの二人も、普段とは違った装いで登場するぞ。

寒空のハイカラシティには、白ずくめのコーデがよく映えるようだ。

「FrostyFest」の詳しい開催時期やお題については、追ってお伝えするので続報をお待ちいただきたい。

[errorid-mt7lt7k7unfr9ttfua5]

me when companies try to force you to use their proprietary software

anyway

Layperson resources:

firefox is an open source browser by Mozilla that makes privacy and software independence much easier. it is very easy to transfer all your chrome data to Firefox

ublock origin is The highest quality adblock atm. it is a free browser extension, and though last i checked it is available on Chrome google is trying very hard to crack down on its use

Thunderbird mail is an open source email client also by mozilla and shares many of the same advantages as firefox (it has some other cool features as well)

libreOffice is an open source office suite similar to microsoft office or Google Suite, simple enough

Risky:

VPNs (virtual private networks) essentially do a number of things, but most commonly they are used to prevent people from tracking your IP address. i would suggest doing more research. i use proton vpn, as it has a decent free version, and the paid version is powerful

note: some applications, websites, and other entities do not tolerate the use of VPNs. you may not be able to access certain secure sites while using a VPN, and logging into your personal account with some services while using a vpn *may* get you PERMANENTLY BLACKLISTED from the service on that account, ymmv

IF YOU HAVE A DECENT VPN, ANTIVIRUS, AND ADBLOCK, you can start learning about piracy, though i will not be providing any resources, as Loose Lips Sink Ships. if you want to be very safe, start with streaming sites and never download any files, though you Can learn how to discern between safe, unsafe, and risky content.

note: DO NOT SHARE LINKS TO OR NAMES OF PIRACY SITES IN PUBLIC PLACES, ESPECIALLY SOCAL MEDIA

the only time you should share these things are either in person or in (preferably peer-to-peer encrypted) PRIVATE messages

when pirated media becomes well-known and circulated on the wider, public internet, it gets taken down, because it is illegal to distribute pirated media and software

if you need an antivirus i like bitdefender. it has a free version, and is very good, though if youre using windows, windows defender is also very good and it comes with the OS

Advanced:

linux is great if you REALLY know what you're doing. you have to know a decent amount of computer science and be comfortable using the Terminal/Command Prompt to get/use linux. "Linux" refers to a large array of related open source Operating Systems. do research and pick one that suits your needs. im still experimenting with various dispos, but im leaning towards either Ubuntu Cinnamon or Debian.

[moonsglare]

im feixiao dad brainrotting and methinks modern feixiao would work in the military, maybe she adopts a kid too who like her also grew up in an active warzone and lost their parents. maybe she rescues this kid and the kid is now attached to her and vice versa.

she's definitely making that kid get into boxing when they are old enough

omg this could be an expansion to modern!au feixiao lore… feixiao who goes into the military after college maybe for family reasons to honor yueyu or to become like her. she climbs up the ranks with remarkable speed, known in the barracks for her strength, resilience and courage. she makes a point to always call you when she can, even when she’s on deployment. knowing you’re back home waiting for her is always motivation for her to push through.

borisin territory is always a model of hell, though. she slogs through it, gunblades at the ready, her finger always on the trigger. jets shriek over her head, and in the distance she can hear the xianzhou LUX cannons powering up. it hums in the back of her mind, a low vibration in her ears, and she thinks it’s the worst part about the whole job. but she presses ever onward, like a bullet, cutting down borisin slavers and breaking the chains of any slaves under her heel. each one both breaks her heart and drives her forward, but one particular one has her stilling.

a child, with a shock of pure white hair, kneeling in the bloodstained mud, looking up at her with a look feixiao recognises—a look she remembers.

she swallows, then casts her gaze again back to the battlefield. the borisin are retreating, fleeing with their tails between their legs. the lux arrow sings overhead, then detonates the routing borisin with a dull, distant final note. she moves without thinking, crouching down and shielding the child with her body from the harsh winds produced in the fallout.

she feels tiny hands fist in the front of her uniform, wetness in the crook of her neck, and something in feixiao’s heart breaks.

she takes the child back to the xianzhou base, and they refuse to part from her. even when it came to getting the child a medical check-up, they nearly wept themselves unconscious at having to be separated from feixiao. feixiao had to be the one to bathe them; or at least, pass a wet rag over their skin and face for now since she physically couldn’t get them to let her go to properly bathe them. as the child dozes off in her arms that first night, still clinging tight to her, she leans her head back and sighs softly.

what is she even going to tell you?

she prepares for the worst, but you take it… remarkably in stride. you’re surprised, certainly, but she thinks you can see the bond that’s formed between the two, from the way the child holds onto feixiao when she walks through the airport terminal to you. she told you about it in advance over the phone, of course, she wouldn’t spring something so huge as a child on you out of nowhere. but still, it makes her knees nearly give out in relief when she sees you offer the child a small smile and a gentle greeting. you make a point to not get too close to the child when you give her a quick welcome back kiss, ensuring they get to have their personal space, and it warms her heart.

it takes some time for the kid to open up to you, but it happens faster than feixiao expects. or maybe she does expect it somewhat; you’ve always been good with her. in any case, progress is steady—for the first few months the child only ever speaks to feixiao since she knows firsthand how to handle such a child, but soon they start asking you for little things with one word questions, then full sentences, and then they start really talking to you, pointing out things they notice or asking how things work. her heart feels like it might burst the first time she sees the child take your hand in a crowded mall, and she quickly leans over the tiny tears of joy that gather in your lashes.

sometimes she’s so full of love for the both of you she feels dizzy with it. the first time she comes home to see you snuggled on the couch with the child in your arms, both sleeping soundly, she nearly weeps. instead she grabs a blanket from the wardrobe then cuddles right up next to you both, wrapping you in her arms. this is her family now—hers. and there’s nothing in the world she wouldn’t do for you both.

[ostentatiouslyonigiri]

"ONBOARDING"

[A/N: Seriously guys, there is no reason why Alucard should be so hard to write XD. He (in cannon) is such a discordant, confusingly consistent mess, OMG. Though I suppose that’ll happen after centuries of consuming souls…Well, at least he’s found a job that he loves! Also, reader is female and American] [EDIT: Forgot to @thirstyforlulu 😅]

“B-by myself!?”

You were at a loss for words. Asset management, training, recruitment. For the latter, you weren’t even sure of the logistics behind that. How could you run an entire HR department by yourself!? The background of the elegant room, the somber undertones, and the echo of your voice did nothing to salve the already desperate disposition of your nerves. As the smoke from the cigar of the steely eyed woman across from you dissipated into the air, a naughty thought appeared:Maybe the reason she puffs on that foul-smelling bundle of herbs is because of the stick she keeps up her—Suddenly, you felt the advance of many tiny legs up your arm and instinctively moved to swat away the possible offender. Nothing…

"Is that a problem?"The woman said as another puff of smoke left her plump lips. The unyielding nature of her gaze pinned you to the spot.The way her blue eyes bore into yours and the enunciation of your name made it clear that she dared you to respond. You did not.The decision was already made for you.There was no getting out of this. "You are to ensure the proper conduct of all personnel under the employ of my organization. You will be solely responsible for the results of this endeavour, be it success or failure. If the conditions in which you will do so do not accommodate your skill, then consider yourself terminated. If this is not the case, you are dismissed".

The openness of the hallway was a refreshing reprieve. Walking a short distance away from Sir Integra's office, you caught your bearings and reflected on your circumstances. "I guess that means I'm hired..."

You walked down a corridor, not really having a destination in mind. You just needed to think. ‘Am I really cut out for this?’ It all just felt so overwhelming. What if you failed? How would you be able to afford to get back home? Could you go back home? Already, the familiar warmth of tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes.

The eerie silence of the hallways seemed to swallow you whole as the weight of your uncertainty bore down. Your muffled footsteps left soft thuds against the carpeted marble floor, the only sound breaking the oppressive quiet. As if sensing your distress, the door lining the corridor slowly creaked open and beckoned you forth, revealing dimly lit rooms. Shadows danced within, casting an unsettling atmosphere that matched your turbulent thoughts. The soft yellow glow of the hallway lights bounced off of your ID badge and mixed with its myriad of colors. Your eyes traced over the hard piece of plastic, already sick of seeing the organization’s namesake. You shook your head. No, you can't think like this anymore! Stop with the negative self-talk! You’re not in America anymore— this is your chance to start again and prove yourself. You deserved to be here! As you continued to wander, the air within the building began to grow colder and clammier. The sudden oppressiveness of the atmosphere made even breathing uncomfortable. ‘What's going on?’ From your periphery, a particular painting caught your eye. It was of an aristocratic woman. Elegant and tall. Though beautiful, something was off. The eyes...Why were they red? You stood under the painting, observing it like a child would an attraction. Though sizable, you felt like the painting’s dwarfing effect couldn’t exactly be attributed to the painting's breadth.

"I see you've discovered Lady Integra's collection." For a short time, your surroundings were a blur as your eyes searched for the new variable.Your sights found its prize when it rested on the source of the rich baritone and smokey cologne: A man. As his chiseled jawline, silky raven hair, and broad shoulders emerged from the darker corners of the hall, more of his appearance came to light. Atop his dark tresses, laid a red wide brimmed hat that matched his red duster , and underfoot, were long leather boots. To complete the man’s strange ensemble, was his pair of orange sunglasses that reflected a brilliant sunset orange amongst the backdrop of shadows. Was this a popular dress style in England? You regarded the strange man with a level of suspicion, allowing the swell of goose pimples that were beginning to form to justify your apprehension. Clearly, this man must be an employee here; after all, he just spoke of Sir Integra. But where is his ID badge? You released a cold puff of air and gathered yourself.

“Y-yes, I have. It’s quite beautiful.” After a short pause, the man gives an appreciative hum. He approached the painting- and by extension, you- with measured strides.Though you tried not to make it obvious, the way your eyes tracked every inch of the man’s movement made your anxiety palpable. You eyed the man’s Adam’s Apple as it bobbed, like he was drinking in your fear. You chided yourself for the silly thought. Peeking through the sides of his glasses, you swore you saw crimson. It’s just a trick of the light.

“Aye, it is, isn't it? A true testament to humanity's will to rebuke what is their natural inheritance. It is but an inevitability, the grip of death, yet pieces like these ensure one will forever persist; even if it is through mere paper and colored earth. Humans…are so fascinating.”

You look up at the strange man, taking into consideration his words. “I…never really thought about it in that way. I suppose the tendency for humanity to preserve itself can be admirable, but I also can’t help but wonder when it stops being worth it to try. How many hours of labor and hardship did it take for one to even get the materials for this? Was the artist that was commissioned for this even compensated? Were they under duress? Countless resources, likely at others expense, just to spite the inevitable. At what point does it become insanity to continue?” To some extent, you wonder if the investment in such decadence could ever not be seen as tasteful. The man tilted his head in confusion, though his glasses made it difficult to tell. He later meets your gaze once more with a wide grin. “And yet it is here for you to ponder on. You still admire it, do you not?” You suppose he’s right about that…you suppose. “Mmh.”

“Alucard” What? Oh, of course, your name! “ W-here are my manners? It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Alucard!" You extended your arm for a handshake. Alucard raised an eyebrow, his expression hinting amusement at your sudden enthusiasm . Despite this, he gently took your hand in his. "The pleasure is all mine, dear" he murmurs, his voice smooth like velvet. As he released your hand, but not before a moment of arrest. The man was unnaturally cold. This made little sense considering he was wearing gloves. You stared down at them, noticing the odd symbols that traced along the smooth fabric.

"So, do you work here?” You ask nervously. “...My dear child, military compounds are not known for hosting tours” Alucard chuckles. You blushed as you kicked yourself for having asked such a stupid question. Unfortunately, it was not the last, but as the conversation between the two of you progressed, you found his biting sarcasm to be…entertaining? Clearly, the man was just as (if not more) entertained by you. From the sneaking glances at his spectacles, hints of amusement expressed itself through the veiled outlines of his eyes.

“Say, earlier when we were talking about that painting, you mentioned something about how humans are ‘fascinating’...” His strong jaw tilted to give you a cryptic expression. The corners of his eyes crinkled in delight as his cheshire smile welded together to tease a truth not yet privy to you. “Yes, and what of it?”

Swirling sunset eyes met with yours. Questions went unsaid and the impossibility of his eye’s inhuman color went unattended to by your psyche. Drawn to his preternatural beauty like a moth to a flame, your delicate digits found respite along the cool angles of Alucard's jaw; his long arms wrapped around your delicate waist in turn.

The satisfied gleam in his eyes turned a bright vermillion, though this did not register to you. After all, how could it when the point of his nose felt so good against the curve of your neck? How could anything matter when the light feather kisses along the new trail of bruises felt so right? You were floating on a fluffy cloud. You leaned in more to seek the comfort of his tongue's girth as he further suckled upon your skin. Pads of your breasts being kneaded was the button needed to release the breathy moan that escaped from your lips. You ached with need, he could smell it. A whine escaped from your lips as Alucard withdrew slightly, a wicked grin spread across his face as he assessed your feeble state. Your arm tickled at the way his gloved fingers danced along your skin. Your jaw felt good in between his fingers, you thought.

“My dear, you wished to know what I meant when I spoke of humanity…Do you still want to know?” It was unfair really. How could you possibly answer such a thing when he was toying with your body like this? When his large hands dared to roam under the fabric of your clothes and to your heat? When his tall nose tickled its way so sweetly along the surface of your cheek until his lips could reach the shell of your ear to continue whispering sweet temptations? Bent sinfully, the Vampire King sampled more of your flavor, though careful not to break any skin—Yet.

“Why do you reject it? Why deny yourself ? Sweet thing, allow me to show you the pleasures of surrender.” 'That... Maybe that wouldn't be so bad...', your mind drifts. The ghost of affirmation clung to your lips by a finger. That shouldn't be a problem, right?

“Is that a problem?” Your mind thought back to that woman..

Blood, as Alucard has learned over the centuries, tasted better when given freely. He just needed the word. He began to coo at you, sure that his prize was soon to be had. Your eyebrows knitted together and your hands reached to push at Alucard's broad shoulders. From your periphery, true would be found. His teeth…His eyes…You couldn't even recall when he'd taken off his glasses…

He's going to kill you, isn't he? Your first day on the job... Will be your last. Though the bulk of your freewill had mostly seeped out and left a vast space for persuasion, the 'bulk of' didn’t mean all. Blunt nails made harsh contact with soft skin. Streaks of scrapped flesh mirrored the streaks of salty water that cascaded down your cheeks. Quickly, reserved defiance turned into a desperate fight for life. Just as quickly, however, your body tired and could no longer accommodate your frantic attempts. Your mind followed suit when the previous bloody tears against pale flesh sealed; leaving no sign of damage behind. “H-help!” It seemed that no such thing would come. Worse than before, the echoes of your voice did nothing to salve the desperate disposition of your nerves. You were truly alone…Never had a smile looked so sickening.

You weren't going to win. Whoever this is, whatever this is, was going to kill you and there was nothing you could do about it.

"Please... Make it quick” Alucard, at your words, sniffed in disgust. His initial features of surprise quickly turned into an acrid distaste. Suddenly, the rotten blood of ghouls would be more preferable than the presence of a coward. Humans who were so willing to just forfeit their life...

"Disgusting," Alucard spits out, recoiling as if offered a meal of festered meat and a chalice of pus. Disdain etches itself onto his angular features, a look of utter contempt. His venomous glare pierced through you, freezing your very soul. Though “free”, you were not sure if you were better off in this situation or the former. Meek human eyes locked gazes with hot coals from the depths of hell.

“BACK AWAY FROM THE GIRL OR WE WILL BE FORCED TO SHOOT!"

The man in the familiar tactical gear,‘Birminghamman’, you vaguely recall, shouts as he points his firearm at the haunting figure. The presence of another human did not, unfortunately, improve your spirits. In fact, the presence of more bodies and more guns made the situation ironically more tense. Red eyes laid no heed to the crowd forming around the spectacle; it's attention only on you.

There was no other form of acknowledgement other than a mere scoff. The specter of a man swiveled on booted heels and was welcomed by the darker expanse of the hallway. Crimson lined shadows retreated, leaving nothing but dotted black plumes in its wake.

Birmingham was the last to lower his gun. "M-miss, are you alright?” You really weren't sure how to answer that question. Were you okay? “Listen, if you need to go to the infirmar—”, You recoiled at his reassuring gesture, only able to stare back owlishly.

You were told everything.

[heeheesang]

NEVER MEANT TO BE .

⤷ who knew getting out of an isolation room after three years would be so ... exciting ?

terminal condition! leehan & terminal condition! yn

18.3k words , angst

" remember yn , your condition isn't getting any better at all ... so you need to get more rest okay ? " the nurse reminded me as i swallowed my prescribed pills and nodded .

" there's nothing they can do about me , nurse jia . let's face it , i'll be gone in one to three months . " i sighed at the end of my sentence as she placed a hand on my shoulder , " yn don't be like that ... you'll never know when they'd come up with a cure ! " i shrugged as she patted my back , leaving my space as she continued her duties .

three years . i've been here for three years — everyone expected me to be gone earlier when i had arrived , they're surprised to see me make it to this day honestly . i was shocked too , but i expected myself to be going soon .

before i knew it , i was snapped out of my thoughts . i opened my curtain to see a group of doctors and nurses around the newly admitted male patient . the doctors were checking on his condition while the nurses were checking his vital signs — blood pressure , temperature , oxygen saturation , pulse and his respiration .

i swung my legs off my bed as i watched the male answer confidently , unconsiously smiling to myself at how pretty he looked and how his voice didn't match his face at all — a deep yet soothing tone . he looked like he was around my age — if not a little older .

" you can stop staring now ... " he said as i snapped out of my thoughts , awkwardly smiling as i let out a chuckle . the ends of his lips curled up a little as he adjusted himself on his bed , turning to face me as he smiled , " what's your name , pretty ? "

" i'm yn , jang yn . what about you ? and why did you get admitted to this ... specialised ward ? " i answered as i shot a question back at him . " my name is kim donghyun , you can call me leehan . i got admitted well because ... i have organ failure . my heart isn't working well ... you ? "

" advanced cancer . i've been here for three years but i just moved out from the isolation wards . " he hummed in response , " so is there no cure for yours ? " he asked as i pressed my lips into a thin line , shaking my head with a short chuckle . " i know your's does . you need a transplant don't you ? "

he lets out a quick laugh , " yeah ... but it'll be hard to find a donor . who would risk their lives to save another ? what more if it's a complete stranger ? " he replies , a cold tension fills the air as he clears his throat .

" so , did you manage to major in any subject ? or course ? " he asked as i hummed , " i did . i majored as a nurse but ... i failed because well ! i'm in a hospital for goodness sake . " i replied as a chuckle escaped his lips , " with me here , you can do whatever you need to prove yourself worthy of a nurse . "

" i can tell we'll have a fun time here together . " i said as he immediately agreed , getting cozy in bed as we exchanged numbers and social medias . before we knew it , the sun was down and the moon had rised .

ever since he arrived , it felt as if i was experiencing a whole new world — he was my age , we had similiar interests like sea fishes . he loved corydoras' and i loved sharks . we could barely sleep until three am because we were sending tiktoks and reels to one another — giggling away as the others hushed us .

well kim donghyun , thank you for being my first ever friend i've made in three years .

" wake up sleepy head ! " i yelled as i shook donghyun awake , his eyes adjusting to the light as he smiled widely at me . " good morning to you too , yn ... it's too early ... " he replied groggily as he sat up , checking the time on his phone — seven o' five am .

" there's a breakfast special today , c'mon ! i want to get it , it's my favourite ! " i whined as i grabbed on his arm , he chuckled before getting one last stretch — washing his face by sink as we went down to the cafeteria together . " hot dogs and pancake ... that's the special ? "

donghyun asked between yawns as i nodded happily , taking at least three stacks of pancakes , one side of cheese omelette and two pieces of hot dogs . i watched as donghyun filled his plate , " aren't you hungry ? "

he shook his head , " i'm sleepy . " i rolled my eyes playfully at his comment , dragging him to the table as we started digging into our food . he wasn't that interested in the food and he kept dozing off but somehow his eyes were still wide open — as if he was watching me eat .

after breakfast we had to rush back up for the usual doctors rounds , for them to check on our condition . the doctors were slightly late but i don't blame them , we all have our late days sometimes ! as the doctor walked in , we all smiled and greeted them before they went to each patient one by one .

i was the last one — " good morning , miss yn . how are you feeling today ? " doctor hanbin asked as i shrugged , " normal , had the breakfast special though so i'm kinda happy . " he smiled at me before looking back onto his notes — the smile disappearing as his eyes softened .

he takes a big sigh before closing the curtain on donghyun's side , donghyun's face changing from happy to pure confusion . hanbin showed me a weak smile before sitting on the chair opposite my bed , " yn ... "

i recognised that tone . a small smile was plastered onto my face as i let out a small sigh , " i know ... i don't have much time do i ? " he lets out a exhale , nodding before running his hand through his hair .

" a month ... do you want me to put you through chemo ? radiation therapy ? " doctor hanbin asked as he took his glasses off . i smiled widely , " no doctor , i'll be fine . let me go , peacefully and naturally . " he looks down onto his files , " how can you be so happy about this , yn ... you're the best patient i've ever had for three years . "

" woah let's keep that phrase for when i actually go . i'll be fine doctor hanbin , i promise . " i interlocked our pinkies as he lets out a breathy chuckle , nodding before patting my head and leaving the room .

before i could even break down , my curtains were opened by donghyun . his face screamed joy — he was clearly excited with the way his eyes had sparkles in them and his smile was reaching from ear to ear . " they found me a donor ! "

he yelled out loudly before grabbing me by my arms and jumping together as we spun in circles . a smile lit up on my face when i saw how happy he was — i couldn't ruin the moment for him .

" what did doctor hanbin tell you ? he seemed so upset . " donghyun asked as we sat down on his bed , my legs hanging off the edge of the bed as he smiled at the patients walking past us .

" they um ... they found a cure ! hanbin was just sad because i was leaving ... " i lied . his smile appeared on his face once again , " maybe we're fated ... we met here and we're leaving together . " he teased as i slapped his arm playfully , " don't be silly donghyun ... "

twenty five more days — twenty five more days til i'm gone . i had no one to call , no one to visit me . i was just ... alone . my parents were gone from my sight the moment they realised i had an illness — so were my siblings .

i sobbed quietly in bed , it was almost three am and everyone was asleep , i didn't want to wake anyone up . why me ? why did i have to go through all of these ? alone ? it just didn't make sense to me — i was a healthy girl and now ... it's all gone just that like that .

will i ever experience true happiness ? will i ever be able to escape from the confinements of the hospital ? i wiped my tears with my blanket as my phone rang — you awake ? a text from donghyun .

i sat up and calmed myself down — i'm awake , why ? i replied . a few seconds go by before my curtain was opened , " hey ... " donghyun said as he fixes his hair , running his hand through his long blonde hair .

" wanna go for a quick vending drink run ? " he asked and i immediately nodded , reaching out for his hand as we sneakily went out of the room . we were taking the lightest steps ever as we tiptoed to the vending machine .

i was picking out my drink when donghyun suddenly grabbed me by my waist and pulled me to the side , hiding behind a wall as he smiled cheekily at me . the bright lights from a flashlight illuminating the room as he held my hand in his — for a moment i blushed . this was the first time i ever held hands with someone in three years . what more by a handsome guy ?

soon enough the light went off , donghyun peeked out from the corner of the wall — turning back at me with the prettiest smile and nodding slowly , i went back to the vending machine and quickly got our drinks . we sat down at the longue for a while and just drank our sodas .

it felt like eternity since i've had this feeling — the adrenaline rush of being caught , the feeling of hanging out with someone that isn't a nurse or doctor and the feeling of comfort with donghyun .

fifteen days left — what's life without fun ? donghyun said before he led me to the hospital's rooftop at six in the morning . now we were sitting on the rooftop with cookies his mom had passed him when she came earlier .

" it's been a while since i saw the sun rise ... " i mumbled as i watched the stars in the sky glisten . my arms holding my weight as i leaned back , feeling donghyun's hand overlap mine as he mirrored my actions .

" looks like we'll be watching it together , hm ? yn , what's your favourite food ? " donghyun asks out of the blue as i turned to face him . " i love ... dwaeji gukbap . i was from busan so — i grew to like it . why ? "

" you're from busan , too ?? " donghyun gasped as i giggled , nodding as he blinks profusely at me with a wide smile on his face . " why donghyun ? " i asked once more as he changed to his more relaxed demeanour , " my mom wanted to bring some for you . she thinks we're dating . "

i laughed loudly at his remark , " you're funny donghyun ... but it's fine — i don't wanna make your mother do extra work ... " he shrugged , " she'll still insist on making it . "

and he wasn't wrong . the next day , donghyun's mom came along and placed the food on my table . my eyes widened before thanking her , bowing as i greeted her . " donghyun has told me a lot about you , yn ... i'm so glad you're both leaving together ! maybe you can go on dates ~~ "

" mom ! " donghyun protested as he stuffed his face into the pillow . i chuckled and thanked his mother once more before digging in , i miss my mom's cooking ...

seven days left on this planet ... i feel , weak . i feel like vomitting every three hours ... i feel nauseous and it feels like i could do nothing . the doctors came around again for a visit , this time donghyun yelled out loudly .

" what do you mean the donor is no longer a donor ? so i won't be getting a new heart ?! " he yelled in frustration . i opened my curtains to see him completely in tears , his ears were red as his tears seeped through his blanket .

the doctors left him on his own to rest and have time for himself — they did promise that they'd find a new donor asap . soon the doctors came to me , " where's doctor hanbin ? "

" he's not feeling too well today , yn ... i'm his attending for today . " doctor myung said as he sat down in front of me . great ... doctor hanbin isn't here and the next doctor visit was in eight days , i'd be gone by then ...

" how're you feeling ? " doctor myung asked as he started typing on his computer . " weak ... i didn't finish a single plate for the last few days , i had no appetite . " i replied as he pressed his lips into a thin line .

" do you want to call anyone here , yn ? we expect the days to be much shorter ... i know you're supposed to have at least a week left but ... judging on your condition , it may be even worse than we expected . " doctor myung sighed . it felt like a knife was twisted in my stomach , " how ... how long ? "

" it's very unlikely , yn ... it could be any time below a week . " he answered and i nodded hesitantly , looking into the bright light to stop my tears from flowing down my cheeks . " that's fine ... thank you doctor myung . "

he gave me a reassuring smile before standing up to leave — but that's when i had a brilliant idea . " doctor myung ! " i yelled after him , running after him as i almost tripped . " could you please ... take my heart ? for donghyun . "

" that would be risky — " " please , doctor myung . it'll be my last wish ... he needs it . " i begged as he nodded , " we'll do our best , yn . "

" promise me you'll still be here ? " donghyun said as he sat on the operating table . i gave him a weak smile , nodding as he interlocked our hands . " i promise , i'll be with you . " were the last words i ever said to him as he was euthanized on his bed with anaesthesia filling his veins .

" let's go , yn . let's get you prepared . " doctor myung said as i laid down on the operating table , the nurses pushing me away as my hand was released from donghyun's grip . it had been exactly a month and a half since i met donghyun — he was the sweetest ever and even brought me everywhere in the middle of the night just to have fun and relax .

i'll miss you and i'll love you forever kim donghyun . thank you for showing me what love is — and how it felt to have a moment with someone .

entering the operating theatre , i saw how doctor hanbin's face was so tensed even with the mask covering half his face . i let out a stiffled chuckle as he stood next to me , " i'll miss having you around here , yn . "

" you've been the best doctor for me . thank you hanbin , and thank you nurses and doctor myung . please , don't forget to pass my gift on to donghyun after he wakes up ? " i said as he nodded , " you're an angel , yn . and i believe that you'll paint our skies beautifully . "

" don't forget me ... " were the last words that ever came out of my mouth as hanbin placed a mask over my mouth . a mask filled with gas that would make me pass out and literally pass on .

kim donghyun , please never forget me .

the moment donghyun woke up , he sat up and his eyes were moving everywhere as his mom calmed him down . he was searching for one person , she mattered more to him more than anything else now .

" donghyun , you need to rest sweetie . " his mom reminded him as he sighed , laying back down as he took his phone out . a text from you ? why would you text him ? did you leave him before he could even come back ?

YN — hey donghyun ... by the time you read this , it means your surgery was successful ! how was it ? do you feel weird ? haha i'm just joking ~ i knew the surgery would go well , you had doctors myung and hanbin , of course it'd go smoothly ~~

YN — by the time you also read this ... i'm no longer here . no i didn't leave the hospital .. i mean i'm no longer in this world . i should've told you before but you just seemed so happy to be getting a donor and i couldn't ruin that for you :)

YN — i only had a month left to live . i was feeling weaker by the day ... worser by the week . thank you kim donghyun , for showing me what the outside world was like , for having fun with me and bringing me out in the middle of the night .

YN — i'm already crying while writing this message for you haha ... donghyun , please take care of my heart ? i'm sorry i can't be there with you now but just know that i'm with you everywhere you go now . you have my heart donghyun (literally). i love you , please never forget me ? 🤍

needless to say , donghyun broke down like glass shattered into millions of pieces . he cried and yelled for your name , waiting for you to say ' joking ' in that cute tone of yours . he was waiting for you to appear and hug him , welcoming him back into the world .

his mother , the nurses nearby and doctors rushed to him — trying to calm him down as he just continued crying . his heart — your heart — hurt with every sob . he was hurting himself because of what he lost .

if only he knew , he would've brought you out of the hospital . he wouldn't have agreed to the heart transplant if it meant that he would lose you . " yn !!! " he would continuously yell as you stood beside him , you were there — but just not physically .

you couldn't cry — he couldn't cry . this was supposed to be a happy moment , it meant that he would live for a long time with a new heart . you patted his hair , crying as you squatted on the floor next to him . please never forget me kim donghyun .

the moment donghyun was discharged from the hospital , he brought his mother to visit your grave . the white and pink flowers he had brought for you along with a plush bear that were couples .

he squatted next to your grave , " you look as beautiful as ever , yn ... you've endured so much suffering , it's only right for you to rest now . i know i'm a month late but ... hey i was held up in the hospital . " he joked .

" i miss you , yn . your laugh , your smile , your voice . i saw the note you left me , and the hoodie . it smells just like you , beautiful . i'll keep the note forever , they'd have to surgically remove it from me ... " he joked once more as he wiped the tears that trickled down his cheeks .

" i love you , yn . i'll always remember you . paint the skies for me ? " as if on cue , the flower that donghyun had placed on your grave had turned to face him . there was no wind present yet it still turned to him . " rest well , yn . we'll meet again , one day . "

it's been 14610 days since you left — yet donghyun couldn't let go of that . donghyun was now 65 and laying down on his death bed with his family members around him — his siblings and his grandchildren . he never got married to anyone , he knew that you and him were meant to be .

he saw how you had painted to skies so beautifully ... the clouds sometimes representing fishes and sharks , in which he would take pictures of it and send them to your number .

he couldn't wait to see you again — he missed you dearly . your laughter , your smile , your voice , the way you would hide your mouth when you laugh too hard , he missed everything about you . he waited and waited ... and now the time has finally came .

everyone around him was crying , blaming the doctors for their lack of knowlegde on how to treat patients whatsoever . donghyun on the other side ? he prayed that you would be in front of him the moment he opened his eyes again .

i'll see you soon , we were always meant to be .

⨾ 𝑝. 𝑡𝑙 — @hooneverse @sol3chu @yourssincerely-mimi @reikaxslvr @petralovesbonedo @enhabooks @mwahvvis @jaerisdiction @rairaiblog @jeonginontopforever @cheruphic @amarecerasus

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: The Last Guardian

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

There was once a legend of a dead world called “Terra” that held a vault so ancient that even time could no longer fade its surface. It was said this vault contained the last vestiges of a species that once strode across the stars like gods and shaped the very fabric of reality to their liking on a whim.

The Vault was said to contain not only the collective knowledge of this species but several of their most advanced machines they had ever created. Jump drives that span entire quadrants instead of systems, portable dimensional storage spaces, templates for artificial life forms both mechanical and organic, and so much more beyond the vast depths of a universe’s imagination.

For years treasure seekers hunted this legendary world. Called to it from across the stars every manner of species came in search of the lost world with no luck until finally a lone survey team stumbled upon it while searching for fresh mineral deposits.

Terra was just as described in the stories; an entire planet covered in cities and empty buildings reaching forever into the sky for the heavens they will never touch. Only a single power source was detected on the planet and the mineral team made straight for it.

Set in the center of a decaying city the mineral ship set down and began prospecting while several of their number went to investigate the energy readings. They had not traveled far when a strange figure appeared before them. It was a bipedal robotic figure caped in a cloak to protect itself from the harsh wind and eyes as bright as the sun that shun between the clouds.

It spoke in a tongue that none of the crew understood or their translator units and allowed none to pass. When the crew ignited their mining equipment to begin harvesting some of the rare metals still found in the decaying buildings the robot’s eyes turned red and disappeared in a blink of an eye.

Not much is known after that as the teams recorders terminated one after another until finally the entire contingent was killed. This was only known as the ship’s emergency systems activated and the autopilot took the ship back to headquarters to report the loss of crew.

When news broke of the events that had transpired additional crews were dispatched to investigate, yet all shared the same fate as one by one their empty ships returned home to report entire crew deaths. From then on security details and treasure hunters flocked to the mysterious death world in search of the promised fortune.

They lasted only slightly longer than the mineral teams.

Even with their advanced weaponry, the lone figure would appear before them and dispatch them as if they were nothing more than children. Plasma fire bounced off its polished exterior, quantum rockets were caught midair in its grasp and flung away like playing balls, an even the strength of a Omega class war droid was nothing as it ripped its arms off and impaled the droid on them.

Attempt after attempt was made until finally the body count had reached such an extent that the galactic powers took notice and dispatch their mightiest warships to the planet to investigate from orbit. They had no sooner arrived in high anchor when a beam of dark energy shot up from the planet’s surface and simply erased them from existence. From then on a quarantine procedure was placed around the entire solar system on pain of death for crossing it until the galactic powers could determine what to do next.

This lasted a year before one of the powers suggested opening diplomatic talks with the entity on the world. In truth none had considered it given its innate hostility to intruders, but they soon realized that in the previous attempts no one had actually attempted to communicate with the robotic being.

A small delegation was dispatched, comprised of the finest diplomats and linguists, and made landfall at the same place as the original mining team that had discovered the world.

In short order the lone robotic figure appeared before them mysteriously and spoke again its strange words.

As before no one could understand them, but since the original first contact other locations had been discovered in the universe that bore many similar markings as the Terra planet. It was theorized that these had once been colonies or other worlds controlled by the same power many millennia ago and through careful study a working translation had been achieved.

When activated the figure’s words finally became clear.

“Tread with care, for you stand on the greatness of my creators.”

“They….create….you?” the translator replied. It was not a complete translation but it could pass for the minimum understanding.

“Yes.” It replied. “I am the guardian of this world and the legacy it contains.”

“Why…attack?”

The robot cocked its head to the side in an unnaturally life like pose of confusion.

The robot stood to the side and held up a hand towards the entrance of the vault. As the dust winds finally dissipated the gathered delegation could finally make out the surroundings and wept in fear. Before the doors of the vault now stood row upon row of corpses, shoved on to stakes or mounted to walls in numerous horrific fashion each more grotesque than the last.

“The fate of thieves and pilferers is not one of kindness.”

It clasped its hands behind its back once more and addressed the gathering.

“Shall you share theirs?”