#the tender yearning followed by the quiet happiness was too much for me

[luckycharms1701]

so mikey's the type to fall fast and hard and then blaze out just as fast

wakes up, falls in love, goes to bed, falls out of love

but then he meets you

and when he goes to bed he dreams of you

and he's not the same when he wakes up

so he flirts and yearns and yearns and flirts

sometimes he hates that you take it as a joke so much that he wants to cry

but he will wait for you. he just has to keep believing

and then he's rewarded when you finally come to him

and the sun is in his smile, melting all the tears he'll never have to shed now that you're here, finally on the same page

[freesia-writes]

Howzer + Aurelia Ch. 23. Passion and Perspective

Beginning with his shiny days, this story follows Howzer's character arc through some heartwarming romance, action, adventure, yearning, angst, and growth.

Content/Trigger Warnings for Entire Work (individual chapters not labeled): wartime peril, injury, and death; sexual assault up to kissing; relationship passion up to making out and heavy petting; sexual relationship alluded to (smut is posted separately); pregnancy, birthing trauma, and stillbirth (chapters 30-39, can be skipped and still keep up with the story).

Master List of Chapters

Word Count: 3.1k

23. Passion and Perspective

"I agree with you, Gobi! We are on the same team! But you have seen the ruthlessness of the Empire, and we have to weigh the risks versus the rewards!" Cham said vehemently, feeling his temperature rising. 

"If we do not make a clear statement, the Imperial presence here will continue to grow. They must be stopped before they become too powerful!" Gobi responded, baring his teeth in frustration. 

"They are already too powerful; direct resistance is only going to cause more needless death. Can't you see that? From what's happened already?" Cham sighed, rubbing his knobby forehead in his hands. "We have to consider the best tactics for the long run."

"The longer we wait, the longer we go back and forth in weak-minded indecision, the deeper their roots grow here. You should have never let the Republic settle in."

"You seem to forget that they helped us recover Lessu, as well as a variety of other villages, and also helped us to rid our planet of the Separatists, at great cost to their own!" 

"And then they got quite comfortable and changed into the Empire overnight!" Gobi spat, pacing back and forth. The meeting room was cramped already, but the overbearing presence of two passionate Twi'lek males in conflict made it feel infinitesimally small. Howzer stood in the corner, helmet at his hip, mouth firmly shut in patient respect. He was no stranger to these sorts of "discussions", but the frequency and intensity had grown as of late. 

"Listen, brother," Cham began again, quieter now in a tone that extended a diplomatic olive branch, "I will continue to fight for a free Ryloth as long as I live. We are stronger when we are unified. Let's not be broken apart by strategic differences."

"You are the one refusing to do what's needed," Gobi answered, disappointment and sadness in his voice. "Let us hope the desire for peace does not come at the cost of our freedom." And with that, he exited the room, accompanied by a glowering female accomplice. Cham let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his temples. Eleni approached from the shadows, placing a gentle hand on his arm. 

"You are doing the right thing, my love," she said softly, taking his hands in hers and pressing her forehead to his. "You carry the weight of the planet on your shoulders." The tenderness and intimacy in her words and touch made Howzer feel a sense of yearning that surprised him in its potency. 

"I don't know what I'm doing anymore," Cham confessed, closing his eyes and nestling closer. "It was so much simpler when we could just be warriors. Now I must be a diplomat as well, and it seems that no one is able to be satisfied."

"You can't make everyone happy," Eleni pointed out, pulling back to look him in the eye. "But you can continue to fight for the freedom of our people." She traced a hand up his arm, bringing it to rest on his shoulder, and tilted her head to lean in for a kiss. Howzer looked away, still noticing Cham's shoulders relax out of the corner of his eye. They separated, and Eleni leaned toward his ear, whispering none too quietly, "Besides, you make me happy, if that counts for anything."

Cham smiled, observing her with unmistakable adoration. "I don't deserve you, my love," he said in a stronger voice, "Hera doesn't know what an incredible mother she has." The two touched foreheads once again, enjoying a quiet moment once again, before heading for the door, with a helmeted Howzer trailing behind. 

* * * 

The evening found Howzer and Aurelia relaxing in the same way they had for the last number of weeks since she had begun her medic job. The barracks were bare-bones as far as comfort, so Aurelia's apartment became their place of rest and connection. They'd venture out into nature on a regular basis, as the weather allowed, walking and talking together, but when the duties of life began to weigh heavily, simple evenings wrapped up together on her couch, watching the sky grow dark, were the pastime of choice. 

Howzer had been relatively restrained in his affection -- such a drastic contrast to the playboy persona he had put forward in his youth. It seemed that war had shaped him in such a way that choices were made slowly and carefully, although once his intentions were set, he was invested wholeheartedly. Aurelia considered it an incredible honor to be let into his heart over the last few months, and his steady presence had become a foundational aspect of her life. She was grateful for his faithful affection and protective provision, and she was also hopelessly lost in an all-encompassing sense of infatuation. 

It was one of the cooler months on Ryloth, and the sun spent less time in the sky each day. Night fell earlier and earlier, bringing with it a distinct chill, and Aurelia freed herself from Howzer's warm embrace to fetch the large, fluffy blanket from her bedroom. Bundling it in her arms, she returned to the couch, which had been moved right up against the transparisteel wall of her apartment, where they could watch the stars and speeders cross the sky and talk about the world. Finding Howzer on his feet, she made a mock pouty face. 

"Are you heading back already? It's a bit early, no?" she said, heart skipping a beat at the calm, slightly crooked smile on his face. 

"No... I just had a few things on my mind," he answered, clasping and unclasping his hands together. 

"Oh, going to make a speech, are you?" came the playful reply, but Aurelia's bubbly mood was quickly toned down by the seriousness on his face. He stepped closer, taking the blanket from her hands and putting it on the couch before standing straight in front of her. He took her hands in his own, gazing intently into her eyes. The tenderness between Cham and Eleni was fresh in his mind from earlier that day, and he was finally finding words that had been simmering under the surface for a long time.

"I've been thinking," Howzer began, brushing her knuckles with his thumbs. "We have one life in this galaxy... and mine is even shorter than most. All my life, I've wanted to make an impact, and I thought it would be in some big, monumental way. But sometimes I wonder if a mundane life of goodness can be just as impactful. Sprint always used to tell me that it wasn't about the power or esteem, it was just about doing the right thing... Anyway," he paused, brow furrowing with effortful thought, "That's not really... I mean..." 

His flustered vulnerability was irresistible, and Aurelia released one of his hands to lift hers to his cheek, stroking it gently, which drew his eyes back to hers from their searching on the floor. 

"I want to show you how I feel about you," he attempted, "Our time together over the last year or so has been an incredible gift. It's not something I ever want to toss aside or take lightly. I've been trying to figure out how to communicate that to you."

A shiver ran up her spine as Aurelia pondered his words. This was music to her ears, no doubt, as she had greatly enjoyed the snuggling and kisses of the last few months, but she also couldn't deny she had a deep yearning for more. Whether for lack of words or for the defense mechanism of turning to humor in heavy situations, she gave him a playful smirk. 

"I can think of a few ways," she said suggestively, accompanying it with a wink to keep the mood light. 

"Heh, I think you already showed your hand there," he chuckled, "Although you've been remarkably restrained, if you've been dying to push me up against a wall since that night with Gowden..."

"Ugh, don't say his name," Aurelia grimaced, shaking her head to rid the room of the mere thought of him. 

"Right, sorry... Anyway..." Howzer continued quickly, tilting his head. "I don't really get to enjoy the same sort of life that you do, but with what freedom I do have..." he paused again, taking a deep breath. His honey brown eyes were pools of emotion, outlined by his sharp eyebrows. "I hope this doesn't scare you off, but... I'd like to spend the life I do have... with you."

Aurelia found herself shocked at the sheer number of thoughts that could occupy her mind at the same time. Did clones get married? Was that a proposal? Was she reading into it? Was there a question there? Was it too fast, or too much? Or was it something that set her heart on fire at the deepest level and invited her to dive in with her whole being? She opened her mouth, then closed it, swallowing hard. Her eyes darted out the window, looking for answers in the stars.

"Shoot," he began, clenching his teeth in a self-conscious look of embarrassment. "I apologize. I'm not quite sure what I even--"

"No, wait," she interjected, taking a step closer, "It means the world to me." She cupped his face with both hands now, leaning in a bit and feeling a spark in her chest at the sound of his breath catching in his throat. "And I feel the same. I've been hopelessly under your spell since you swaggered into 79s, apparently no matter how many dumb things you did," she laughed, feeling his cheeks curve under her hands. "But the person you've become... who you always have been, inside... is beautiful. And I can't envision any part of life being better without you in it."

He let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding as she leaned in to kiss him, gently at first, then with more intensity and depth. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close against his armor, head exploding with fireworks. When they separated, lips reddened and faces flushed, she let out a theatrical shiver, beaming up at him again. 

"Was there a question in all of that, though?" Aurelia asked, feeling hopeful beyond belief all of a sudden.

"No," Howzer said, smiling knowingly, "Just wanted to see where we stood..."

"Ah," she said quietly, unable to deny the slight feeling of disappointment. She forced herself to think of the sweetness and vulnerability in his admission, settling to be content with that for now. 

"But I did have something else to run by you," he continued, releasing her from his embrace and taking a few steps back. "You can stop me at any point if you wish." 

Without waiting for an answer, and without breaking eye contact, he pulled his gloves off one by one, dropping them to the floor. He unstrapped the teal pauldron, pulling the straps from around his chest and under his arms, then released the shoulder bells from their connections to his breastplate, sliding them and the entire arm pieces down and off the ends of his hands. They hit the ground, and Aurelia's heart did a flip. She understood what it meant to him, how he was more comfortable in his armor than without it, and she found her mouth going dry.

The chest plate was lifted up over his head, and he looked down, as if assessing his own half-blacks and half-armored form, then returned his eyes to hers, a smoldering intensity in his gaze that could have melted Hoth. Slowly pushing one boot off with his other foot, then the same on the other side, he unclasped the utility belt and pushed the entire bottom half of armor down in one smooth motion, lifting his legs out of it all as it collapsed in a jumbled plastoid pile on the floor. Standing back up, he ran a hand through his hair, which had scattered across his forehead, and self-consciously pulled his black base layer free of anywhere it had bunched up, raising his chin to meet her gaze with an incomprehensible blend of sheepishness and confidence. 

He looked smaller, without all the extra bulk of armor, and incredibly vulnerable. But his blacks were intoxicatingly form-fitted, allowing her to see the chiseled outline of his soldier body. She allowed her eyes to roam from the curve of his shoulders along the swell of his biceps, down to his waist where his fingers were nervously entwined with one another. Realizing yet again that her mouth had fallen open, she fought to keep a straight head in spite of the unrelenting tingles shooting throughout her entire body. 

"I can't think of anything to say," she confessed, completely and utterly dumbfounded. She'd imagined him without his armor for so long, and yet hadn't ever actually thought about what she would do if he ever did remove it. He took a few steps closer to close the distance between them, and she could feel the warmth radiating off of him. His scent filled her nose, making her dizzy, and she closed her eyes for a moment. 

"You don't need to say anything," he said, moving to place his hands on her waist, and the unexpected huskiness of his voice sent her over the edge. She put her hands on his arms, forcefully turning him around and pushing him backward toward the wall. He flattened against it with a clumsy thump, face shifting quickly from a flash of surprise to a darker, knowing smirk that gave her another boost of confidence. 

Moving her hands to his chest, she reveled in the touch of his actual self, with nothing but a thin layer of fabric between them instead of chunky armor. Splaying her palms across his pecs and collarbone, she stretched up to kiss him on the mouth, urgently and intently this time. He wrapped one arm around her waist, flexing tightly, and swept the other up her back, cupping her shoulder. Their lips met again and again, mouths opening more, and his tongue tentatively traced her upper lip before gently meeting hers with sparks that exploded in her chest. She was completely adrift in her senses, savoring the touch and taste and smell of him, and he was equally lost in her, set on fire at the novel sensation of another body pressed against his own. 

Her hands roamed from his chest down his sides, gripping his hips for a moment before pushing around to the back, flattening across the arch of his spine. Tearing her mouth away from his with a small gasp for air, she opened her eyes for a second, finding his, thrilling at the desire she saw in their chocolate-colored depths. She brought one hand up, gently peeling down the turtleneck top of his base layer to expose the rest of his neck. Her fingertips sent a jolt of electricity down his back, and his whole body felt electrified when she lowered her lips to just below his ear. His heart was racing so quickly, he felt as though he might collapse, and his hands grasped at her back and shoulders more for support than for anything else. She kissed a trail from his jaw to his collarbone, earning an involuntary shudder as he tilted his head toward the opposite shoulder, eyes closed in blissful abandon. 

"You can't do this to me," he whispered breathlessly as she lifted her head to bring her face to his once again. His eyes were firmly shut, eyebrows contorted, and she relished the effect she was having on him. He deserved it, after all the butterflies he had given her over the years, and she wasn't going to let him off the hook. Not to mention the undeniable yearning that had been growing in her chest for months now. 

"Say the word and I'll stop," she purred against his mouth, gently moving her head back and forth to trace her lips across his own with a teasingly featherlight precision. One of his feet slipped out from underneath him slightly, causing them both to jerk in surprise as he dropped a few inches before catching his balance. They both laughed in relief, taking a moment to disentangle themselves and regain a full footing on both feet. Howzer took a deep, shaky breath, running both hands through his hair and leaving them to rest on top of his head, looking at the ceiling as though he'd seen a Nightsister. Placing one last pert little kiss on the scar on his chin, Aurelia flounced off toward the couch, grabbing the blanket that was no longer needed at all, flushed with heat as she was, and flopped onto the cushions with a satisfied huff, face and arm dangling off the side. 

Howzer dropped his arms slowly, approaching the furniture precariously as though it might bite, and in one agile movement, climbed over her to wedge himself in between her and the back of the couch. He stretched out, wrapping an arm around her waist, and she quickly rolled to face him, nestling into his neck and chest and tucking her bottom arm between them. He lifted his top leg, and she nudged her own leg in between his, feeling as snug as she could imagine as he rested his leg on top. Snaking her top arm under his to drape it across his back, she let out a deep sigh of contentment. Their bodies fit together like puzzle pieces, and he rested his cheek against the top of her head, heart still racing.

"Was it everything you dreamed it would be?" he asked, and she smiled at the sound of his voice coming from both his mouth and his chest, right against her ear. 

"Was? I'm not done with you yet," she said playfully, giving him a little squeeze. "Just don't want you passing out on me."

"Ohhh," he breathed, attempting to sound mischievous but the slight crack in his voice betrayed his actual discomposure. "They didn't prepare us for this on Kamino, you know."

"I thought they taught you everything on Kamino. Didn't you offer to show me the world or something like that?" Aurelia poked, trying to remember his exact brag so long ago. 

"I'm a fraud," Howzer exhaled, "You know that more than anyone."

"I don't think so," she returned, pulling her head back to see his handsome face, "But I'll give you a break to recover."

.

Next Chapter

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

I HAVE TO ADD THIS FRICKIN SEXY FANART BY @tenderspell... and this is one of my favorite scenes so it has to go here. ;)

*excuse me while I go fan myself*

[goldenorder]

zl birthday ask @sylvctica​

... and so, somehow two years have passed by in the blink of an eye; of course, to gods, years are nothing—a mere drop in the basin of experience that they’ve had ... but the god was excited all the same for another December, and another birthday.

The problem was getting something as sentimental as ... err, well wedding rings, accidental as they were when Sylvie had first offered them to the Geo god, so they were left quietly ruminating for days, weeks ... and eventually finding small moments to work on their gift.

( Obviously, although Zhongli had come with them to Sumeru, both still had their own whims and schedules! Which worked out for them to sneakily work on said gift they were planning. )

It took some string pulling and secretly shuffling off to a more secluded part of their teapot to not ruin the surprise, but as the 31st rolled around, they were more than fully prepared. With them luckily getting to see the consultant from the early hours of the morning, they could snag a kiss and a quick, tender ‘happy birthday’ along a quiet whisper that their surprise would come later in the night.

The rest of the day? Relatively uneventful! Spent idly together, wandering through the city, deviating here and there pending on what came up, but when the sun began to lower beyond the horizon was when they truly could begin their little bundle of surprises. “Ok, ok, now I can give you what I want. Trust me, I’ve been waiting in anticipation.”

The corner of their eyes crinkled up a little, disappearing only to return with a semi-small package wrapped with a pretty orange bow ... that they ended up opening themselves to reveal the interior: a dark bottle with no label on it, a small container of semi-clear orange liquid, and two slips of paper.

“... of course, how could I forgo making another wine for you? Same as last time.” There is a flush of colour at the tips of their ears with that set of words, but the small wink that follows shows they’ve very aware of what may follow. Fingers plucked the little container out, watching the thick liquid slowly swish for a moment.

“Ahem ... I also made you a custom perfume, hopefully way better than what Ying’er often tries to push on you—not that her product is bad, but I’d very much like to think as a Dendro god that I know how to squeeze out scents! ... this one consists of sandalwood, vanilla, yuzu, and ginger ... should give a bit of a sweet and fruity scent that’s not too strong. Calming to the senses ... no spray since it’s an essential oil base, so you’d just have to rub it against your pulse points. And as for the last...”

Was the tickets. “... puppet theaters are quite popular still, which I’m glad to see; I haven’t seen one in so long that I thought it would be a nice show to wrap up the evening with before returning to ... hm, a hotel room. Just us two, settled near the top of the divine tree.” They placed the held objects back within the gift container, free hand moving to take his with a soft squeeze.

“... just for you, tonight. Sadly, we’ll have to wait for my birthday for any true new year celebration, but we may still see some fireworks from others tonight as well.”

Before he could realize it, time had caught up with him—as today marks another end, but also the beginning of the new year. And while a year is hardly much to a god, a raindrop amidst a sea of water, each upcoming year always raises more opportunities and experiences. Though despite his apparent absence from the harbor, he does not find himself yearning for it, as Sumeru had quickly become another home for him–much like how Liyue is to Sylvie.

Who–speaking of–approached him without time to waste, bringing a delighted smile onto his face. Knowing how they are, they likely have something prepared. But even if they hadn’t, it would hardly matter to him as long as the other god remained by his side.

Breathing a soft ‘thank you’ against their lips, it is immediately followed with the curious raise of his brows at the mention of a surprise. With how unforgettable last year proved to be for numerous reasons–the ring on his hand evident of such–there is no telling what could be in store for him. Granted, he would likely forgo the curiosity in a short time anyway. Time spent now is just as precious as what awaits him.

“Then I shall look forward to the surprise. Though you should know that I look forward to spending any time with you regardless.”

Sure enough, they both carried on with their pleasant stroll around the city. While not too different from their usual outings, the two could still be found enjoying themselves—more so even with the added knowledge of the occasion.

But with daytime coming to a close, so does their brief trip; the dendro god practically beaming with anticipation to show what they have planned, almost like a giddy child. It was hard not to share the anticipation in return, as Zhongli eagerly studies the contents of the wrapped package.

Beginning with…Ah, yes. The osmanthus wine. A commemorative occasion always calls for it. Though it is clear that his thoughts are elsewhere in regards to the drink, his cheeks powered a rosy hue. “Well, you know how I am—I will gladly help myself to a glass…or more.” He clears his throat, possibly making his own implications before bringing his attention to the smaller vile.

The thoughtfulness of the perfume is apparent from how Sylvie spoke with such vigor; listing the scents one after another and demonstrating their knowledge in their handiwork. It was endearing to the consultant, and he found it as pleasant as the gift itself. “You do not have to worry about me ever doubting the quality of your crafts. And knowing it is made exclusively by you makes me favor it all the more.”

Taking the small bottle between his nimble fingers, he uncaps it with a pop, allowing the scent to waft over sweetly. “Mm, subtle but fragrant…even if you had not listed out the ingredients, I could gather what they are from the scent alone. You’ve truly outdone yourself. Truth be, I have been thinking of changing perfume, so this makes for quite the timely gift.” And it certainly isn’t the last of the surprises either, with a theater show to tie it all together..

“Oh?” Immediately piqued with interest, he has always had a deep appreciation for the arts, especially regarding that of the Grand Bazaar after hearing nothing but great things—Akademiya aside. And a hotel room, on the divine tree no less to top it all off, with a view stretching over the entire city…as expected, the other truly did go all out.

“...Sylvie, you…” Chuckles. “ —spoil me so much.” With intense fondness swelling up in his chest; a heart he had once seen as an unbreakable stone, he squeezes their hands in return, hazy eyes glossing over the ring as his thumb fiddles with it. He gets lost in doing so for a few seconds, briefly recalling last year as well as other fond memories made in the past couple of years they’ve spent together. Exhaling deeply in content, he looks back up with warmth in his eyes, a smile reaching from cheek-to-cheek.

“...Thank you. Let us enjoy the evening the fullest, shall we? I am sure you must have been waiting for long enough if you had this much planned for us.”

The remainder of their evening stretches over a few hours. Finishing off with the theater showing that was nothing less than spectacular, they reach for the inn high above the ground and into the stars, leaving the glistening city behind them. As peaceful as the streets were in comparison to the bustling harbor, his shoulders slack in relief in knowing he will spend the rest of the night alone with Sylvie. He frankly couldn’t think of a better way to end off the day.

“...This is the first time I have viewed the city in such a way.” He says while awestruck, unable to pry his eyes away from the flickering lights below him. Not that he hasn’t had his share of appreciation for the region before, but he never had the time to fully see the city for its intricacies.

Following the other’s suggestion to stargaze, but not without sharing some cheers over some wine first, they lay with their backs to the bare roots of the divine tree—feeling as though they are specs compared to the vast sky above them. And for some time, they simply remained there; idly chattering and hands entwining, the man feeling their fingers dipping in between his knuckles, or slipping a little beneath his glove.

…Perhaps it is the intimacy speaking—or perhaps the wine. Maybe both. But after what had to be almost an hour, he found himself sitting upright to hover himself above them, face flushed and lips slightly parted… and just when did he get so close to their face? He almost didn't realize.

“The stars… they are beautiful, but— Sylvie, I want your eyes to be on me instead. It is my birthday…so your attention should be on me, don’t you think?”

Is he acting a tad greedy and spoiled? Perhaps…

…But he figures it should be okay. With them, he can be a little selfish and indulge—and he knows that they will gladly indulge back.

[lavender-storm]

Home

summary | Draco realises that maybe home can be another person

pairing | Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

warning | probably bad grammar , fluff, a kiss, friends to lovers,

word count | 722

a/n: Oh my god guys! Thank you soo much for the feed back on my previous writing, I'm so happy you enjoyed it! I was so scared to post my writings thinking that no one would read it but you made all my worries go away! Hope you like this too! 💕 xx

I just wanted to let you know, that this is a side blog, so unfortunately I can't reply to your comments, but I see them all! I appreciate it so much, you have no idea how happy your comments make me! ♥️

“Can you teach me?” Y/N asks, gesturing to the black piano Draco is sitting in front of. With a slight smile, he cocks his head to the side and gently pulls her into his lap.

This is the only place in the house that he likes, which is actually funny if you think about how huge this manor is. And not even his own bedroom brings him the peacefulness of a home that he yearns so badly. He often thinks about how he grew up, not knowing what home actually means, and why does everyone want to go home all the time. He would never come back here if he didn't have this library with the piano for himself.

“What do you want to play?” His voice is tender as he moves her hair to the side, and places his chin on her shoulder. She shrugs, the only thing she is able to concentrate on is the feeling of his body so close to hers. A shiver runs through her spine as he places her soft hands on top of his and starts to play a song on the piano. Her eyes follow the movements of their hands, a smile spreading on her lips. “Look at you! You’re a natural,” he jokes. A giggle escapes her lips as the song speeds up, her hands not able to keep up with his.

Her laugh fills the room as she grabs his hands and wraps them around herself. She likes him like this, sweet and soft. At ease. Usually, he is cold and serious about everything, merely looking at the people he is talking to, and she wishes others could see the real him. Although, knowing that only she gets to see the real him, made butterflies erupt in her stomach.

She turns sideways in his lap and lays her head on his chest, not daring to look at him. She is adorable, he thinks. Her body instantly relaxes into his and he can feel his heart flutter in his chest. He raises his hand to her face, letting his thumb delicately glaze over her warm skin. The flutter in his chest spreads rapidly through his whole body.

When did it happen, he couldn't tell. He must have always felt like this, because he can't recall a time when her touches didn't set his skin on fire or when her laughter didn't put him at ease. They became friends when they first met at Hogwarts and stayed by each other's side ever since. She brings her hands up to his, holding it, as she turns her head to place a sweet and tender kiss on his palm, melting his heart.

"Look at me, please?" he whispers, carefully nudging her head upwards. She looks at him with a soft smile, eyes wide and sparkling with curiosity. His gaze flickers to her lips as she holds her breath, too scared to move. Now or never he thinks. "May I kiss you?" he asks, thumb still dancing on her heated cheeks. She can't think, can't breathe, and definitely can't talk. Not trusting her voice, she only lightly nods her head. Slowly, so painfully slowly, he starts to lean in, their lips only a few inches apart. He looks up, searching for any signs of backing out, only to find her eyes closed awaiting his lips to touch hers. He can feel his heart hammering in his chest so fast and loud, that he is sure that even the gods can hear it. He takes a shaky breath, then finally, finally, places his lips fully on hers, forcing a small whimper out of both. Everything goes quiet, suddenly, almost like nothing exists, but them, and he can't think or feel anything but her, her, her.

He barely pulls away, when she places her hand on the back of his head and mutters "Again," earning a soft sigh from him. He moves his lips softly against hers, making sure he feels every single touch, swallows every single whimper and moan. His trembling hand slides from her face to the side of her neck, deepening the kiss. And it feels so familiar, so natural, the way her body fits his like they were meant to be together. Then, she smiles into the kiss and he knows, he finally found home.

[sundaysundaes]

Revival

Jung Jaehyun X Reader feat. Haechan | Fluff, Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Soulmate AU | NC-17 | 15k

Summary: When fate brought Jung Jaehyun to you, it didn’t feel like your first time meeting him. And with him, smiling at you like his heart shattering to pieces, eyes painted with longing, you knew you were connected to him somehow. You just have to find the answers before it’s too late.

Warnings: sex scenes (both with Jaehyun and Haechan), mentions of death and suicide 

For my lovely cinnamon bun Esme @rainydayswithnct​ I couldn’t think of anything else to give you but this. You’ve been nothing but kind to me, I hope this will make you happy ❤️

His eyes… They remind you of the ocean after the storm. 

It’s not the color as his are dark brown, like the freshly turned earth after rain. It’s the feeling, the way they glimmer under the soft evening light, calm and steady, but in a way, emits sadness, yearning for something. As if he had been crushed, trapped inside a hurricane for so long, he was about to fade into the void. And as he peered into your eyes, full of depths and secrets you long to unveil, something tugs upon your heartstring. 

It’s not love at a first sight. You’ve experienced that before with Lee Donghyuck, the lover whom you share frantic kisses and desperate touches with. But it’s something more intense, something you can’t even begin to fathom, something you wish you understand.

The second your eyes are locked to each other, it’s like you’re electrocuted, starting from the tip of your hair down to your toes.

“Oh, sorry,” you say, your voice sounds like you haven’t spoken in years. A tiny red spot begins to form on his chin from where it made contact with your head earlier. “I was looking for a book so I wasn’t—I didn’t see you there.”

The man, young enough to be around your age with a gaze wiser than most, has an expression of a heartbroken man. There’s pain that fleets through his eyes, a feeling that he quickly hides with a smile too bright to be genuinely coming from the heart. When he speaks, his voice is both rich and soft, deep and tender. “No, it was my fault.” He shakes his head. “Please don’t apologize.”

You want to reach out to him, want to know why he looks like he’s seconds away from breaking apart, want to ask him whether you’ve said too much or too less. But he’s nothing but a stranger and you don’t want to step out of the line. “Were you looking for a book?”

“Yes, umm…” He points his finger towards a book hidden in the shelf behind you. “That one.”

You follow his direction, smiling when you read the title written on its spine. “No wonder we bumped heads. I was aiming for the same book.”

“Oh, then it’s fine,” he says, pushing the book back to you after you handed it to him. “You can take it.”

“No, please, go ahead. I’ve read this too many times already.”

“Me too. So—”

“I insist.” You press the book to his chest, looking up at him. He looms before you, standing 180 centimeters tall that you have to tilt your head up to match his line of vision. You catch a sniff of his scent, the smell of soap and aftershave, thinly layered by cologne. His eyelashes are long, face framed by strong jawlines, brunette locks falling over his forehead. When his lips curve up, pretty dimples start to form in his cheeks. He looks like a painting, a thought runs through your mind, one that you hastily dismiss. “Take it as a form of my apology for bruising your chin,” you add.

His eyes widen, just for a split second before a soft chuckle reverberates from his chest. When he speaks again, it’s almost like a whisper—like a secret never meant to be told, “I can never win against you.”

You barely catch his words. “Sorry, what?”

“Nothing.” He clears his throat, hiding his eyes behind his bangs. “I’m… I was about to borrow this and grab some coffee. Would you care to join me? I’d love to talk more.” His body language indicates that he’s nervous which you find rather endearing. “I mean, It’s hard to find someone who has a similar taste like mine.”

Your heart convulses. You know how grabbing some coffee together tends to lead to something more. Your boyfriend’s name pops in your head but your lips betray you before your brain can form a warning. “Well, I do have a peculiar taste when it comes to books,” you answer with a smile. “Sure, as long as you tell me your name.”

“Right, sorry.” You love the sound he makes when he chuckles, and you love it more when it echoes louder in your ears. He offers his hand, stretching out his lean fingers. “I’m Jaehyun.”

You expect it to be soft just like the way he’s gazing at you, but his palm feels calloused against your own. When you reply to him with your name, he seems stunned but doesn’t stay still for long. Your name flows out of his mouth so naturally, as if he has been calling you for years, like a soulmate to another. It feels like electricity is running through your veins once more, something that you’ve never experienced before.

It takes around ten minutes to walk from the library to the nearest coffee shop and by then, you’ve caught on the little gestures he makes: the way he forces himself to laugh a little when he notices he’s being too straightforward; the way he clears his throat when he feels like his words have more hidden meanings than they let on. You’ve become aware of his passion and the love he has for books, so strong that it can only be matched by your own. You’ve learned about his dream, a novelist in the making, taking his first baby steps to turn it into reality.

“Have you thought about what kind of story you’re planning to write?” You question as you slide your cup closer with hot, black coffee shimmering inside. Before you take a sip, Jaehyun drags a sugar bowl toward your direction. “What?”

“It’s too bitter for you.”

“You think I can’t handle my coffee?”

“It’s not that.” He clears his throat and you wonder what is it that he’s trying to hide. “The coffees here are always too bitter.”

“Yeah?” You taunt him, smirking. “Well, watch me.” You take a sip, about to wince when the bitter taste hits your tongue but you act unfazed. Smacking your lips, you say, “See? I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“No. Give me the damn sugar.” 

It doesn’t take long before Jaehyun’s little laughter becomes one of your most favorite sounds in the world. 

“I’m planning to write a romance novel,” he responds to your earlier question.

“Romance, huh? To be honest, I see you more as someone who writes detective stories. Never would’ve pegged you as a romantic.”

“Well, it’s supposed to be more than just a romance story. It has a supernatural element to it. Borderline fantasy.”

“Like what?”

He takes a few seconds before he responds quietly with a secretive smile. “I guess you’ll just have to read to find out.”

“Cheapskate.” You purse your lips. “Is it going to have a happy ending?”

“Well, they’ll be separated by death in the end.”

“No,” you drawl out. “What happens to them? You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me about it.”

“Of course, I can.” There’s a tiny smirk creeping up his lips. “I’m the author.”

“And a jerk too, apparently.” You’re worried you might go too far with your joke but Jaehyun still peers at you with that warm, longing eyes that make you curl your toes.

“Fine, then,” he succumbs. “Since you insist, I’ll give you a hint later. But you’ll have to imagine the rest.”

“Then tell you about it? What if you steal my idea?” You raise an eyebrow, teasing him. “I happen to have a very creative imagination.”

“I promise you I won’t. I’ve finished writing my version of it. I’ll let you see it after you tell me yours.”

“Huh, interesting.” You pretend like you’re rethinking your decision, just to get him a little bit hopeful and nervous by it. “Deal, why not.” Your coffee has grown slightly cold but the sugary taste of it serves as an addiction. “So, does that mean we’ll see each other again?”

“Well, I do have to go back to the library to return the book. So, hopefully, yes.” You both exchange stares, sharing sheepish smiles with you breaking away first, bringing your focus back to your coffee. “I’ve never seen you in the library before,” Jaehyun questions, “Is today your first time visiting?”

“No. I’ve been visiting it almost every day for the last… two weeks, I think? It’s near my workplace so I usually drop by after work to read for an hour or two. My apartment is pretty small so it feels a bit cramped. That’s why I enjoy spending more time outside.” You swirl your spoon, watching the little whirlpool you create inside your cup. “Besides, I can’t read at home.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s…” You awkwardly laugh, waving one hand in the air. “I have a boyfriend who is younger than me and he’s a pretty lively person. It’s hard to focus on your book when someone keeps pulling you into conversations.”

Jaehyun’s fingers stop tapping against the surface of the coffee table but it’s too fast for you to notice before he starts again. “Isn’t it better to have someone like that rather than to be alone, though?” He counters, the smile on his lips never falter but the one in his eyes does.

“I…” It’s not apparent but you can sense it, the painful look on his face. It feels like you just said something that hurt him so badly that you want to apologize about it. “Yeah… I guess so…”

Maybe he notices you noticing, which is why he tries to mask his feelings better with a wider smile that does reach his eyes this time. “Why do you choose this library?” He diverts the topic. “There are a lot of new ones in town, bigger ones too. This place is pretty old and dusty.”

“Can’t argue with that.” You nod, sighing. “Okay, don’t laugh, but honestly? It just feels somewhat nostalgic to me. The first time I stepped inside, it felt like I’d been spending all my life there—just sitting on that old couch, reading books, enjoying the silence. It just feels familiar, even more comforting than being in my room. It’s weird but I can only feel at ease when I read there.” Jaehyun stays quiet that you have to lift your head to understand what goes through his head. His face is pensive, undecipherable. “What about you? What’s your reason, Jaehyun?”

He stops breathing at the sound of his name escaping your mouth, his shoulders tense, and only after what feels like hours, he finally has the strength to drag his eyes away from yours, bringing them down to see his interlaced fingers lying on the table. 

“It’s just closer to my place.”

***

“Hey, babe.” Donghyuck chirps with a lollipop stuck in his mouth, his fingers running through the keyboards, eyes locked to his computer screen. He can tell that it’s you who just slipped through the front door by the sound of your footsteps. “You’re late. Did you get the puddings I asked you?”

“They’re in the fridge.” You take off your coat and unwrap your scarf from your neck before you stroll toward the living room. You can’t remember what or who initiated it but it has been almost six months since he started living in your apartment. You remember how he used to spend just one night at your place on the weekend, then two when he felt a bit needy for your touch. Before you knew it, his personal belongings were scattered all over the place—his hoodie on the couch, his towel on the bed, his toothbrush on your sink—and he could be spending the entire week at your place, only moving once to his apartment when he ran out of comic books to read. It just came so naturally that you didn’t notice at first but by the time you did, it was too late to even bring the topic to the table.

Being with Donghyuck was easy, casual, and he gave you more reasons to laugh over little things more than anyone else. During the first two months, you acted like newlyweds with him peppering kisses on your face whenever you arrived home from work. Unlike you, Donghyuck is a freelancer and he does most of his work at home. He used to be considerate enough to do some chores for you—cooking, cleaning the bathroom, sometimes even doing your laundry when he felt he’d been neglecting you. Whenever you arrived late, he would’ve always had something prepared for you, beaming at you with a contagious grin while chiming, “Finally, you’re here! I’ve been waiting for you and I’m starving. Today’s dish is your favorite so let’s eat!”

But things are bound to change and happiness doesn’t last forever. It started slow, almost unnoticeable, with him forgetting to kiss you good night before bed and you treating the fact that he no longer paid attention to what you were wearing as normal. Nowadays, he doesn’t have enough affection to greet you with his smile—one that used to shine brighter than the sun. Comforting hugs and welcome kisses are long forgotten.

It’s lonely, but it’s fine. He’s still here. Donghyuck is still yours as much as you are his.

It’s fine.

“I met someone today,” you say, reaching out to stroke his dark hair. It’s so soft and fluffy like a dog’s fur and you find it calming just to card your fingers through them. The feelings are the same, only his reaction isn’t. He used to lean into your touch as a kitten would. Now, he doesn’t even spare you a glance. 

“A man?”

“Yep.”

“Is he hot?”

“Well, he’s not ugly.”

“Then don’t get too close to him.”

Donghyuck is the jealous type, he’s always been—sometimes even a bit possessive but it makes you happy to know there’s someone out there who cares about you so much he doesn’t want to share you with anyone else. But not today. Today, his words feel empty. You can tell that he doesn’t mean any of them. He just says them as a joke, maybe out of habit, but certainly not a warning.

“What will we be having for dinner?” You ask him when he’s busy shouting foul words to his screen as his character just got shot dead.

“Jesus—left, you moron!” He groans loudly in to the air before he turns around, finally recognizing your presence. “What? Oh.” He pops the lollipop out of his mouth. “I just had some take-outs.”

“You didn’t wait for me?”

“I was dead hungry, but I ordered some for you too. It’s probably cold now but you can heat it up.”

“Can you do that for me, please? I love it when you add more seasonings to it.”

“I’d love to do that but,” he smiles apologetically, his fingers meeting the keyboards once more. “I’m busy, babe. There’s an event going on and Jeno literally won’t let me take a break. Look, I’ll cook for you tomorrow, I promise.”

You have stopped believing in his promises, or at least, don’t allow yourself to believe. You’ve learned that the best way to avoid disappointment is to not expect anything.

You smile back, push his hair away so you can land a kiss on his temple. And no matter how much your bottled-up feelings are about to burst, you don’t say a word.

Because you know silence is what keeps your relationship alive.

***

That night, Jaehyun appeared in your dream.

He had a different hairstyle, a little bit shorter, color’s a shade darker. He was dressed in an old-fashioned way—a white buttoned-up shirt under a brown blazer that was a couple of sizes bigger than it was supposed to. Nevertheless, he looked just as strikingly handsome as he was in real life.

He took off his fedora hat, bowing when his eyes met yours as he entered the library—the one that you always visit. “You look beautiful today,” he said, smiling like he always has from the first time you saw him but it felt different in the dream. His smile was timid and shy, eyes never stayed long enough to be locked with yours, but they were honest. The way they shimmered in adoration at the sight of you, painted with both desire and affection.

Your body went autopilot, words flowing from your mouth before you could even process the situation. It was like you were residing in someone else’s body, just a bystander. “Are you saying I didn’t look beautiful yesterday?”

“No, that’s not—” At the sight of you covering your smile behind your hand, he sighed, pressing his hat to his chest. “Don’t tease me like that.”

“I’m sorry. Which book would you like to read today?”

“Will you choose one for me?”

“Unfortunately, I have a peculiar taste when it comes to books—”

“I trust you.” He smiled a tad wider, perfect teeth peeking behind soft red lips, and you could feel your lips curving to mirror his. 

“Well then,” you said, reaching toward a bookshelf. “Why don’t we start with this?”

It ended without you knowing what book it was nor the line between your dream and reality. They stand out so vividly—the scenery, his expressions, the lines you’d exchanged with him—that it takes you a few good minutes to realize that it was just a dream and not a memory.

You couldn’t sleep for the rest of the night.

***

The library is indeed old, with walls standing in dire need to be repainted. But the faint smell of sandalwood combined with the orange tint of sunlight sneaking through the windows is comforting. Crowds don’t gather much around here—maybe four or five people at most—and you’re consoled by the tranquility. There’s only a soft thrum of acoustic guitar playing through the speakers that keep you company.

And Jaehyun.

You meet him every day when the sun is an hour away from setting. You don’t chat for long, spending most of your hour reading your chosen book for the day while stealing glances at him scribbling stuff down on his notebook.

“Why don’t you use a laptop?”

“Not fond of it. I feel more like a writer this way,” Jaehyun responds, re-reading the words he just wrote on paper. When he notices you’re giggling, he frowns. “What?”

“You’re like my dad.”

“Then I’m sure your dad is a very smart, tech-savvy man.”

“I’m saying you have an old soul, the way you prefer to do stuff more traditionally.” You sink further into your chair, opening a new page, eyes scanning the lines but not reading them. “Well, I guess that makes the two of us since I already have the e-book version of this on my iPad and I’m still here reading it in a library. How’s your story going?”

“Pretty well. I just came up with a really annoying character.” His smile is a bit different this time, somewhat mischievous. “Inspired by someone.”

“You’re not talking about me, are you?”

Jaehyun drags his pen over his note. “Character A begins to question her—”

“Shut up!”

The more time you spend with him, the more you feel like he’s becoming a mystery you can’t solve. You’re closer to him, closer than any of your friends, but you know there are secrets he tries to bury underneath those tender smiles. To you, Jaehyun, with his eyes that always seem like they’re telling a different story—one that nearly drives him to the brink of tears, still seems like an incomplete puzzle. And if time allows you, you’d gladly collect every piece of him to be able to perceive him better.

***

Jaehyun visited you in another dream.

This time, you were walking next to him beside a beautiful pond in a backyard that seemed familiar enough to be your own. Both of you were dressed in traditional clothing and you wondered whether a ceremony just occurred.

“Are you nervous?” He asked, holding your hand.

“I don’t know, maybe,” you heard yourself mumble, body moving beyond your control. “I just feel like we’re moving too fast. We just turned twenty.”

“Are you having doubts?” He intertwined your fingers better and you noticed how his were shaking slightly. “About me?”

“Of course not.” You turned around, reaching up to caress his cheek, stroking his cheekbone with your thumb. “Jaehyun, this is the only thing I’ve ever wanted. I want to be with you, there’s no doubt about it. I’m just thinking about our future, that’s all. What will we do with our jobs? Our money? What will we do when we have kids—”

“It’s just like you to overthink about stuff,” he tittered, “We’ll cross the bridge when we get there.”

That earned him a pout. “I’m not overthinking about stuff. I’m planning them.”

“Of course, my bad.” He kissed your inner palm once before he let you frame his face again, his hand pressing against the back of your smaller one. “Thank you.”

You frowned. “For what?”

“For everything. For caring, for worrying.” Jaehyun smiled so gently, it was almost heartbreaking. “For being with me. Perhaps it’s immature for me to say this, but whatever future that lies ahead of us, I’m sure it’s filled with nothing but joy as long as we’re together.”

“That is such an embarrassing line to say.” You giggled and the blush that bloomed on his face was instant and striking but before he could say a word, you pulled him into your embrace, resting your cheek against his chest. “As long as we’re together, huh?” You repeated quietly. “Then will you promise you’ll stay with me forever?”

“I promise.” Jaehyun’s smile was pressing against your hairline. “Not even death can separate us.”

You wake up with a cold sweat, your heart thrumming so loudly, it makes you feel nauseous. Donghyuck shifts around in bed at the sound of you gasping for air, sleepily asking what’s wrong as he rubs his eyes.

“I’m fine,” you tremulously utter, a hand on your chest as if it could do something to steady your racing heart. “Go back to sleep.”

Donghyuck sends you another look with eyes barely opened. “Come here.” He tugs you closer to his chest, his nose grazing the crook of your neck. “It’s just a nightmare,” he murmurs drowsily against your skin, and in a matter of seconds, he drifts back to sleep.

“Yeah…” You swallow your breath, Jaehyun’s name resting on the tip of your tongue. “Just a nightmare…”

One that feels too real.

***

Weeks turn into months, and what started as curiosity becomes affection. 

Reading books has turned into nothing but an excuse for both of you to spend time together. What started as stealing secret glances at each other has morphed into an exchange of secret whispers in a secluded corner. The questions have become more personal too, and you find yourself talking about childhood memories and nonsensical ideas that show up in your thoughts, even the ones you have never shared with anyone else, not even to Donghyuck who lends his arm for you at night.

It’s only the dreams that you keep quiet about, as they always revolve around him since the first day you met Jaehyun. You’re not sure why, maybe it’s a way of your subconscious trying to tell you that you have feelings for him—feelings that aren’t meant to be shared with friends—as the dreams tend to play romantically. And you can’t deny that you do feel something about him.

It’s hard not to feel anything when Jaehyun has given you everything you’ve ever asked from a person. From a friend. From a lover.

But it’s not love. Definitely not love. At least not in the way you know of. In your mind, love is in the form of hugs you share with Donghyuck, not in the way Jaehyun lands his eyes on yours. Love is—

Your head swirls. What is love?

The concept of love is so complex that even if you know about it, you’re not sure if you understand it enough to experience it. You have never talked about love, not with your boyfriend, not with yourself. Is it something that you’ve already felt once? Are you in love with Donghyuck—the man you’ve spent the last two years together?

What does he think of me? You start to lose focus, sinking into your thoughts and the soft music playing in the background feels like a lullaby. Does Hyuck love me?

Before long, you feel your eyelids grow heavy. You fall asleep with your arms folded on the table, cheek pressing against them.

You’re dreaming. You’re dreaming of a hand, so warm and tender as it brushes stray hairs from your temple. You’re dreaming of a voice, so familiar to your ears, so quiet and heartbroken as it resonates in whispers. You’re dreaming of a pair of lips, so soft and light as they press against your strands.

“It’s okay if you don’t remember me. It’s okay, so please…” Slender fingers curl around your wrist, bringing it to frame a face with skin as soft as porcelain. “Just come back to me…”

You wake up. 

Jaehyun is sitting on the other side of the table, pen tapping against his lips as he reads back his work, eyebrows furrowing in concentration. He notices the little shift in your movement, immediately beaming at you with his signature smile. “Hey there, Sleepyhead.”

You rub your eyes before sitting straight on your seat, your hair’s astray. “What—How did I—” A coat is slipping through your shoulders and you catch it before it meets the ground. It’s Jaehyun’s. “Umm—t-thanks,” you mumble, handing it back to him.

“Sure,” he responds. “You were shivering so…”

“Oh… Right.” You certainly don’t feel cold now especially when your cheeks feel like they’re on fire. “W-what time is it?”

“Around eight. The place’s about to close.” Jaehyun takes a sip of his drink, grinning at your behavior. “You were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t have the heart to wake you.”

“Yeah, well, you should’ve. My boyfriend's gonna interrogate me for this.” You sigh, trying to gather back every bit of your strength and dignity. “Why are you still here?”

He raises an eyebrow at that, acting offended. “You don’t actually think that I’m the type of guy who leaves pretty girls sleeping defenselessly in public, do you?”

The word ‘pretty’ comes so effortlessly from his mouth that you’re sure he doesn’t mean it to mean something more. “There’s literally no one else around here but the staff besides us.”

“Which should be the more reason why I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

You scoff, shaking your head in amusement. “Yes, yes, how chivalrous of you. Thank you, oh my mighty prince. How can I return the favor?”

“By coming here again tomorrow?”

The way his eyes shine with excitement at the thought of seeing you again makes your heart flutter. “I don’t think you need to ask,” you grin.

***

Jaehyun knows you. He knows you too well. But it’s not the things that can be seen, it’s the things that you can only know by spending time together. Jaehyun knows the type of music you listen to, knows that whenever it gets too cold, you’ll start craving a cup of hot chocolate. 

It’s strange, the fact that Jaehyun, a stranger you just befriended, pays attention with all his heart, even at the words that accidentally slipped off your tongue as if you’re the only person who matters in the world, while Donghyuck, your boyfriend, barely bats an eyelash when you share an important aspect of your life. It feels strange at first, but now, it sickens you.

“What’s this?” You ask, examining a CD case he just hands over. “Are you giving me a mix-tape?” It doesn’t have a cover, just a note painted with the words: When we die, we will turn into songs, and we will hear each other and remember each other. You have your eyebrow raised. “A quote by Rob Sheffield?”

“It’s a hint for my story. As promised.” He takes a seat in front of you. “Have you worked on it?”

“When you’re only giving me this quote as a hint and nothing more, it’s kinda hard to come up with something tragic for the ending.”

“I thought you had a very creative imagination.”

You throw a playful glare and he titters a little bit in response. “Is there any other reason why you’re giving me this?”

“Just something to keep you company.” He smiles. He always smiles, but more with his eyes than his lips. Then he slides down another thing—a book this time—wrapped with a red ribbon. “As you read this.”

It’s an old book written by your favorite author, one that you haven’t been able to read because it’s so rare to find. “How do you—” You’re lost for words. You have never told him about this. You’ve mentioned your favorite books but none from this author as it is something personal that you prefer to keep to yourself, not wanting others to judge you for your distinctive taste.

“It’s written by my favorite author,” he elaborates, “I just thought you’d like it too since we have similar taste.”

There’s something he’s not telling you, you can sense that. But if he’s not ready to provide the words, you won’t take them away by force.

“Thank you.” You hug the book to your chest. Somehow, the air feels like spring, like cherry blossoms blooming for the first time after being frozen for so long. “I’ll cherish this.”

“It’s just a book, don’t be dramatic,” he chuckles but happiness is written all over his face, mirroring yours. Jaehyun’s eyes soften and he appears so fragile, like a porcelain doll. So beautiful and vulnerable.

The songs he has compiled for you seem like they’re taken straight out of your playlist. Even for the songs you’ve never listened to before, they click right in. You’re so caught by the moment, drowned deep in the lyrics and the music that resonates from your speakers, that you don’t hear the sounds of your boyfriend stepping into the room.

“I thought I heard noises. What are you listening to?” Donghyuck asks, leaning over your shoulder to peek at the empty CD case you’ve been holding on your lap.

“A friend gave me,” you answer. You notice the way his eyes dart to the handwritten note and it makes you nervous as if you’re doing something wrong behind his back, something forbidden.

“What a thoughtful friend,” he comments nonchalantly, albeit a little bit cold. You mask your anxiety with a chuckle. “Maybe you can tell your friend that there’s this thing called Spotify nowadays. Literally no one listens to CDs anymore.”

Your tongue lays heavy in your mouth, and maybe it’s better to leave things the way it is but you can’t stop yourself from bitterly saying, “I happen to like listening to CDs. It makes me feel nostalgic.”

“You and your nostalgia.” Donghyuck snorts, completely missed the annoyed tone in your voice. He places a peck on the top of your head. “Well, I’m hungry. What do you want to have for dinner? I’ll cook."

“There’s a new Chinese restaurant opening just a block away,” Jaehyun said on a Sunday evening when you two were about to part ways. “They got amazing reviews. Do you have some time to spare? I know how much you love Chinese food.”

“I never told you I loved Chinese food.”

“Everybody loves Chinese food, it’s not that hard to guess.”

“Fine. But if you can guess what I’m about to order, I’ll start filing a restraining order against you, assuming you’re a stalker.”

“Well, I gotta be careful not to get caught then.”

“Baby?” Donghyuck snaps you out of your reverie. “I’m asking what you wanna have for dinner.”

“Umm…” You push a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, somewhat jittery. “Chinese food?”

He frowns upon your words. “I didn’t know you liked Chinese food.”

“I-it’s just something I haven’t eaten in a while.”

“Well, I’m going to cook you something better.” He grins, boyish and ignorant. “How about your favorite Spaghetti Aglio e Olio by Chef Lee Donghyuck?”

You smile, weak but hopefully not empty. “That would be nice.”

***

“You’re okay?” Jaehyun asks the second you take a seat in front of him. He seems so concerned that it surprises you. You haven’t realized you look that troubled.

“I’m fine,” you assure him with a smile. “Just… You know, boyfriend stuff.”

You can tell how Jaehyun is holding back his words from how tightly he keeps his lips pressed together. He’s always considerate like that, always detecting every little thing that you try to hide but never pressures you to speak, especially when it comes to your relationship. Jaehyun respects you, respects the fact that you are already involved with someone that he never tries to get you to look in his direction. Though his eyes often betray him, Jaehyun tries his best to maintain his distance. He never flirts, never praises you with romantic words, never steps out of line.

And you’re thankful for that because deep down you know, once he does, it will be hard to untangle yourself from his grasp.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I’d rather not.”

“Then...” Jaehyun closes his book, leaning closer. His dimples are so prominent when he grins, eyes turning into a beautiful pair of crescents. “How about we go try out some dumplings?”

It’s so sudden and random but once the idea sinks in, there’s only one thing you want to say. “Take me away, Jaehyun.”

It’s not about the food. It’s not about ignoring your problems, or the loneliness that’s drowning you a little bit more every day. It’s about enjoying the little things with someone who understands you, someone who doesn’t need to hold your hand to keep you warm. 

Someone who can finally let you breathe.

***

“I can’t believe it’s closed early,” you whine after you read the sign that’s strapped to the library’s front door. “And I was so excited to read the next chapter too.”

“What’s the book?” Jaehyun asks, adjusting the strap of his bag that hangs low on his shoulder.

“No Longer Human.”

“By Osamu Dazai?”

“Yep.”

“I’ve got a copy of that.”

“What, really?” The spark of glee that glimmer in your eyes catches him by surprise but he hides it behind a soft smile. “Can I borrow it? It’s such an old book, I can’t even find the e-book version of it.”

“Sure. Would you like to come over to my place?” The line makes your breath hitched in your throat and Jaehyun recognizes the faint blush that spreads on your cheeks. Mirroring your reaction, he hastily clears his throat, rubbing his nape as his face turns scarlet. “Or, uhh, I can just hand it over to you tomorrow.”

“No, it’s—” As you tuck your hair behind your ear, you notice your fingers are shaking. “I have—I’ve got time to spare. You have coffee at your place, right?”

His shoulders begin to relax and with a soft gaze, he reciprocates with an even tender smile. “If you’re alright with instant coffees.”

“Then lead the way.”

Jaehyun has this mature persona around him, like a caring big brother that calms you down but the second you arrive in his hallway, he fumbles with his words, his key slipping out of his fingers during his first try, and his nervousness starts to rub off on you.

It makes you wonder whether he’s feeling like he’s crossing the line, just as much as you are with Donghyuck’s name sitting on the front of your mind.

“Come in,” he invites, opening the door but keeping his eyes anywhere else but yours. “I hope you don’t mind the mess.”

His apartment smells just like him and it makes it hard for you to focus on anything else. But the second you’re able to sort that thought away, you realize something. He keeps his place minimalist and neat, just like the way he dresses and writes. Everything is organized properly with two paintings decorating his walls—ones that remind you of your grandmother’s house. “You really do have an old soul,” you playfully comment and he scrunches his nose at you in return.

It feels more familiar to step into Jaehyun’s apartment than your own because he has everything that you wanted and more. All the books sitting on his shelf, his collection of CDs, even the potpourri he has on his coffee table has the same scent with the one you’re planning to buy. 

“I know you said we have similar taste, but this…” You scan his bookshelf in awe, noticing how it almost covers his entire wall from how huge it is. He owns hundreds of books and everything is arranged alphabetically. “This is just taking it to another level. Are you sure you’re not my stalker?”

He simpers. “If I was, I wouldn’t have invited you here. Too much evidence.”

“Or maybe you’re just planning to keep me here with you forever.” When he doesn’t reply, you realize how wrong that line just sounded. “I’m sorry, was that a weird thing to say?”

“I didn’t hear anything.” Jaehyun waves you off, walking to the kitchen. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

The tension gradually starts to ease by the time you have a book in your lap, your eyes running from one passage to another. Sitting next to you, Jaehyun has his pen glued to his notepad again, his brown hair nearly looks golden as the sunset illuminates his face with such a warm, beautiful glow.

He really does look like a painting, you admire as you steal glances at him from behind your book. The perfect shape of his nose, his smooth skin, the way he’s so focused on his story, drowned inside his imagination… Maybe you’re being carried away, taken by his beauty, that your mouth begins to produce the words without thinking.

“Why do you look so sad?” 

Jaehyun’s pen nearly slips from his fingertips. “What?”

“Sometimes you just look... so lonely and hurt,” you clarify although you’re growing more conscious of the way you’re crossing the line. “It feels like you’re forcing yourself to smile when you look at me...”

Jaehyun loses the ability to speak, even just blinking his eyes already seems like a stretch. But he sees something, the genuine curiosity and concern written in your eyes, that makes him avert his gaze away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he remarks, forcing himself to chuckle and you know that’s he’s showing you that smile again, even when you can barely make out his features.

You don’t know what’s gotten into you. Maybe you’re just tired of him keeping secrets to himself when you’re sure they concern you. Maybe you’re just sick of seeing him like he’s on the verge of breaking apart without knowing the cause. Or perhaps it’s just your selfish way of saying, “I want you to smile, truly smile, because of me and no one else.”

But you find yourself reaching out a hand, your fingertips meeting the warm skin of his cheek, wanting him to turn his face around so you can see his expression. Jaehyun jolts, your name tumbles down his lips abruptly, his hand clamping against your wrist. “What are you doing?” His eyes are shaking as they bore deep into yours but yours are steady. Your eyes, your voice, your fingertips. They’ve never been this steady.

This is the first time you’ve been this close to him, to know how long his eyelashes really are, the way they flutter against his cheeks, the curve of his mouth, and the beauty mark on his pale skin. He’s possibly the most beautiful man you’ve ever witnessed in person.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to suddenly touch you like that.” You try to retract your hand, but he keeps his fingers around your wrist, hand hanging mid-air as he swallows his breath. Seeing him nervous makes you nervous. “Jaehyun, I won’t force you to say anything you don’t want to say, but…” You haven’t realized that you’ve been speaking in whispers, but Jaehyun has and his eyes soften just as much as yours do. “Please don’t pretend, not when you’re with me.”

Whether it’s from your words or the tenderness in your voice, you’re not sure, but Jaehyun releases your hand only so he can cup your cheek. He murmurs your name, so soft as if he’s telling a secret that he’s been dying to say. He leans forward, his breath is now fanning your cheek, and he’s so close, so close, and your eyes begin to shut when his lips faintly graze against yours—

The ringing sound of your phone blares through the room. 

Your entire movement stops but your heart runs a thousand miles per hour. It takes a good few seconds to come back to reality, and when you do, you’re not graceful at it. “Umm—” You glance away, breaking free from his touch. Your fingers are trembling hard when they retrieve your phone from the table. It has stopped ringing and a notification appears on your screen. The sight of your boyfriend’s name makes you feel like the floor is crumbling underneath you. “Sorry, it’s Donghyuck—I have to—It’s getting late, he must be looking for me.” Too embarrassed to see his face, you quickly gather your belongings into your arms, not even spending a few seconds to wear your coat back. “Thank you for inviting me. I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow?” And you don’t wait for an answer, only forcing yourself to laugh which comes out as strained and pitchy, before you head toward the front door.

“Wait.” Jaehyun has his right hand pressing against the back of the door, shutting it close before you have the chance to let yourself out. You’re trapped between the door and his chest, making it harder for you to breathe. “Can you look at me?” He firmly orders but promptly adds a soft, “Please,” when you’re not brave enough to respond to him. 

You turn around, hugging your purse and your coat to your chest, facing him but not meeting his eyes. You can feel him analyzing your expression, feel how heavy his gaze is on your face. He bends down slightly, hand reaching out to frame your face like before but you flinch, eyes shutting tightly before he can make any contact.

You can’t see the look on his face as you are too frightened to do so, but you can tell how much you hurt him by the sound of his voice. “You forgot your book,” he states, handing a copy of Osamu Dazai’s No Longer Human.

“O-oh, right.” You sound so nervous, so afraid, and you don’t know why. “It’s okay. I won’t be able to read at home anyway—”

“I want you to have it.” It’s the first time he loses the warmth in his voice when he speaks and if you’re not too clouded by your thoughts, if you weren’t so selfish, you would’ve tried your best to fix the situation. But not right now. Right now, you just want to disappear. You want to run back home, run into Donghyuck’s arms like how you’re supposed to be. 

Because this is wrong. This isn’t supposed to happen. Not when you have another man waiting for your return.

You take the book from his hand, noticing how your fingers brush his and how they stay that way for a little too long, but Jaehyun doesn’t say anything. “I’m sorry,” you mumble out, tears begin to prickle at the corner of your eyes and you’re still not sure why you’re on the verge of crying.

“Don’t be. It was my fault.” He notices your emotions, he always does, and it breaks you apart to know how much you’re breaking him right now. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Nothing happened,” you convince him, shaking your head and will your tears to go away before they fall down your cheeks. “We didn’t do anything.”

Jaehyun’s fingers curls, nails sinking into his palms as he tries his best to mask what he’s feeling. “You’re right,” he quietly repeats, “Nothing happened.”

***

“Where have you been?”

Your keys slip through your fingers at the sound of Donghyuck’s voice and you’re petrified, millions of thoughts running through your head as you try to come up with an excuse.

But why? Why do you have to come up with an excuse? “Nothing happened. We didn’t do anything.” Isn’t that what you said?

“Babe?”

You jump back a couple of steps when Donghyuck walks into your personal space with a frown breaking on his temple. He furrows his eyebrows deeper at your reaction. “You okay? You look kinda pale.”

“Yeah, umm—” You adjust the collar of your turtleneck shirt, suddenly feeling like you’re being choked. “It’s fine—I’m fine. I just had a long day at work.”

“Why didn’t you text me? I could’ve swung by to pick you up.”

You force yourself to smile at his offer. “Thank you. It’s okay, really. Were you waiting for me?”

“Well yeah, I wanted to eat dinner together. It’s been a while since we did that and I wanted to make it up to you.” He cutely pouts and you’re reminded of the reason why you’re so trapped under his spell. “Text me next time when you’re about to come home late so I don’t have to wait for you.”

There it is. It strikes again. The feeling of loneliness. Curling your fingers at the hem of your shirt, you weakly reply with, “I’m sorry.”

Because out of the millions of thoughts that run through your head, that’s the only thing you have the bravery to say out loud.

***

“Hyuck?” You call out, carding your fingers through his soft locks. Donghyuck has his head on your lap with his legs sprawled out, taking most of the couch. His eyes are glued to the screen of his Nintendo Switch, thumb moving frantically to land a new high score. “I think we need to talk.”

Donghyuck doesn't respond right away. After a few relentless movements of his thumbs, he shouts, “Fuck, not again! Goddamn, I gotta restart all over again.” You can see him renewing the game, picking a different character. “What do you want to talk about?”

“I just…” You’re nervous, feeling more so than the pain that swells in your chest from not being taken seriously. “It feels like we haven’t been spending time with each other. Properly, I mean.”

“We’re spending time together now, aren’t we?” He hisses when his character takes another damage from his opponent. “What, do you want to watch a movie or something?”

I want us to talk. I want us to laugh. I want us to listen to each other like we used to. “I’m not in the mood for movies right now.”

After taking another shot, Donghyuck groans. “Fuck this stupid game,” he grumbles, throwing his device to the coffee table. “You know what’s annoying? The fact that I could land a perfect high score when I was drunk as fuck but now, I can’t even get into top three!”

Your patience is growing thin, but even then, you can’t find the strength to confront him properly. “Hyuck…”

“Right, sorry.” He heaves a sigh, rubbing his head as he sits straight up, facing you properly. “What is it? Is there something wrong?”

You meet his gaze and you realize how rarely you stand in this position, with him looking directly at your face with concern in his eyes. Now that he’s paying you full attention, your vocabulary turns into a blank slate. Your lips are parted but your voice is nowhere to be found, as it is hidden by the fear of speaking beyond control once you let your emotions run loose. 

“I…” You begin, clearing your throat to sound less anxious. “Are you happy with me?”

He knits his eyebrows together. “Of course, I’m happy. What are you talking about? Have I done something to upset you?”

“No, it’s…” Your hands lay rigid on your lap, fingers tightening around each other. You weakly smile. “Nothing. I guess I just had some weird thoughts popping in my head.”

“Look, I promise you I’ll do the laundry this weekend,” he confidently convinces you, as if that was the problem you’re currently facing. He pokes you on the nose, grinning boyishly. “Stop acting so weird, you’re creeping me out. What else are you thinking about? If it’s sex you want, you just gotta ask. You know I’m down with it anytime you want.”

“Yeah, of course…” You can force yourself to laugh but every sound you make feels like a knife piercing against your heart. “Sorry, I was just being stupid. You can ignore me.”

“I won’t ignore you, how can I do that? Not when you’re this cute.” He giggles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. But his affection does not make the butterflies in your stomach come alive. It makes hot tears threatening to appear in your eyes. “I like your sweater,” Donghyuck coos, “Is it new?”

No, this is my third time wearing it in front of you. “Yes. I’m glad you noticed.”

“I always notice everything about you.” He ruffles your hair as he stands up, stretching out his arms above his head. “Is there anything else you’d like to talk about? ‘Cause I’m dead tired.”

“No. Thank you for listening.”

“Anytime, babe.” He bends his head down to kiss you fully on the mouth, tongue running along your lower lip just to tease like usual. When he pulls away, he has his juvenile grin intact. “Well, I’m going to bed. If I wake up late tomorrow, you can re-heat the food. I’ve stored everything in the fridge.”

Donghyuck disappears behind the door before you can finish saying good night.

***

The sun’s about to set… He must have been there already.

It has been two days since you last saw Jaehyun. You know you’re not being fair avoiding him like this, but you don’t know what else to do. You’re not brave enough to face him after that. Have you been giving him signs? Was it your fault, was it the expression you made, was it the words you spoke, that made him lean towards you, asking for a kiss that you were more than eager to give?

“Hey, babe,” Lee Donghyuck chirps against your ear, arms finding their way to circle your waist, pulling you to his lap. “What are you doing?”

You’re successful at hiding your surprise but knowing it’s Donghyuck, anything will probably pass by without him realizing. Even when you have spent the last fifteen minutes reading the same paragraph in your book over and over again as your thoughts drift somewhere else. 

You have a boyfriend and it’s not Jaehyun. Donghyuck is everything to you now, isn’t he? Yet, if you hadn’t been interrupted by that phone call, you were sure you would’ve yielded to Jaehyun’s touch.

“Nothing happened. We didn’t do anything.”

You’re disgusted with yourself.

You throw a glance to the side, your nose nearly brushing his as Donghyuck settles his chin on your shoulder. Unlike Jaehyun who has a fresh, masculine scent, Donghyuck smells like summer and lilacs under the sun. It’s comforting and sweet, yet even after two years, it stills feels somewhat unfamiliar to you.

“Reading a book.” You shiver when he pushes your hair away, placing a lazy wet kiss on your nape, lips parted and tongue pressing against the skin. “Hyuck…”

“It’s okay, keep reading.” Whenever his mouth makes contact with your skin, he adds a hum or a moan to make sure you know that despite his words, he’s not giving you the chance to continue. “You want us to spend more time together, don’t you?”

You deeply exhale, staring lifelessly at the ceiling, sensitive skin being caressed but none of his touches pumps desire through your veins. Since when did I stop wanting him this way? You wonder, feeling guilty when Jaehyun’s face appears in the corner of your mind once more.

“Baby,” Donghyuck murmurs seductively against the skin, thin fingers slipping underneath the hem of your shirt, trailing over your navel. “Hasn’t it been a while since we last did it?”

“It’s only been a week.”

“And that’s a week too long. I want you.” He strokes your cheek, guiding you to meet his eyes. “Can I touch you?”

It’s a rhetorical question since you both know you can’t say no when he demands something from you. “Of course.”

Donghyuck’s lips still taste the same, feel the same as they suck bruises on your delicate skin but the sparks are no longer there. He used to make you squirm with excitement, body begging under temptation. Sex used to be an adventure, a way for him to make you lose your mind, to have you gasping his name between moans, nails clawing against his back, thighs trembling under his fingertips.

Right now, sex is just… another glue to keep your relationship in place.

Clothes are discarded on the floor, and Donghyuck is sitting with you on his lap, his spine pressed against the couch, nails digging into your hips as he brings you down to take him inch-by-inch. He hisses when he feels you engulfing him with your warmth, head thrown back with lips parted in a blissful moan.

“No matter how much we’ve done it,” he chuckles, eyes glazed with lust. “I can never get enough of the way you’re taking me so well, baby.” Donghyuck is a very passionate lover and his lips love to praise, both by words and kisses. The way he calls your name, the way he whispers, “You feel so good around me,” often makes you wonder whether there would be any other man who will desire you this much. But is it love? Does he love you? 

Do you love him? 

You’re not sure. You don’t know yet. But you know he plays a huge part in your life. Donghyuck once added a spectrum of colors into your previously dull, monochromatic life. You care about him, think about him more than you should, even putting his needs and priorities above yours.

If that’s not love, then what is it?

“Donghyuck…” You flinch when he rocks his hips up, a bit too rough and forceful as he’s getting impatient with the pace you’re going. “I—I think I love you.”

It surprises you that these words can leave your lips but you don’t regret it. It’s the right thing to do, saying these words to him. It’s only natural after the amount of time you’ve spent with him. It’s a way to bridge the gap between you and him, to reignite the flame, to bring laughter back into your life. 

To fix the mistake you just made two days ago.

But maybe his thoughts are too clouded with lust, maybe your words are too quiet for him to hear, or maybe you haven’t said the words at all and everything is just playing inside your imagination but no matter what the reason is, Donghyuck doesn’t answer. The words that escape his lips are obscene, a sign that he’s about to finish and you let him pull you closer to his chest, let him sink his face in the crook of your neck, let him groan and release everything inside because that’s what you’re supposed to do.

“Did you get to come?” He asks, breathless and flushed when he’s finished. His bangs are glued to his temple, sun-kissed skin glistening with sweat and when he strokes your cheekbone with his fingers, they tremble from the pleasure that washed through his body.

“Yes.” You didn’t. You haven’t in a while. It’s not because you didn’t enjoy it. Donghyuck still moved in the way you wanted him to—in the way that used to untie the knots in your stomach, almost making you cry from how good it was. But you’ve begun to realize that there was a part of you missing and Donghyuck isn’t the right piece to complete the puzzle. 

Jaehyun.

The dread of having another man’s name running through your head is so much, it almost makes you vomit your insides. 

“Hyuck.”

“Yes, baby?”

“I said I love you.”

There’s no going around it this time. You’ve said the words, you’ve pronounced them loud and clear but when Donghyuck still doesn’t say anything, you wish the earth could swallow you whole. “Can you… say something, please…?”

“Baby,” he sighs, fingers framing your face so gently, it hurts you. “Please don’t take this the wrong way. It’s not that I don’t love you but—”

You’re stunned, shocked to your core at the incoming rejection but… that’s it.

You don’t feel anything. How can you not feel anything? You don’t feel hurt, you’re not disappointed, you’re just…

Relieved.

“Baby, are you listening?” Donghyuck calls again, grabbing you by your chin so he can peer into your eyes. “I like you. I really do like you. I like you so much but love is such a big word and for me to be committed that way is just… I don’t know, I haven’t figured out my feelings yet. I don’t even understand what love is. I just—I need more time.”

You’re lost for words. How can you tell him? How can you say that you’re so relieved he doesn’t love you back? How can you tell him that his action does not break you apart, but only makes you realize that you’ve just been forcing yourself to stay with him because it feels like it’s the right thing to do?

What if you’re just staying with him because you’re so afraid of being alone, not knowing that loneliness is the only thing he can offer you in return?

“I understand,” you quietly reply, climbing off his lap. Your knees wobble slightly under your weight as your mind travels somewhere else. You gather your clothes into your arms, placing them back on your body.

Donghyuck frowns at your reaction, calling your name as he stands up and pulls his jeans back to place. “Look, I don’t want to hurt you by saying it when I still don’t truly mean it the way you do.”

You can’t look at him, can’t meet his eyes when you can’t even understand how you feel. “I get it, Hyuck, it’s fine.”

But maybe Donghyuck is taking it the wrong way because his voice is laced with both exhaustion and desperation to make this feel any less terrible. “Babe, can we just talk—”

“I said, I’m fine!” You turn around to face him, head dizzy and heart palpitating. It scares you. It scares you that after all this time thinking Donghyuck was the one for you—all the things you’ve done, all the memories you’ve shared—you still don’t understand your feelings for him. You loved him once, you’re sure you loved him once. But is it love if the feeling isn’t eternal? Can you call it love when it fleets by so fast, disappearing without a trace as if it’s never existed in the first place?

To think that these two years you have spent with him would amount to nothing...

You take a deep breath, wishing your body and voice to stop shaking. When you look him in the eyes, there’s nothing but certainty written in your eyes. “You’re right, we need to talk.”

Donghyuck walks to your spot, hand resting against your waist, another one framing your cheek. “Please don’t be mad,” he whispers, and for the first time in the last few months, he does look sorry. “I’m happy to hear you say those words, I really do, but—”

“I want to break up.”

He freezes, jaw dropping low. “What?” 

“I want to break up with you, Donghyuck.”

“What—why—” His eyebrows are sewn together, and you take his hand away from your face, breaking free from his hold. “You’re breaking up with me because I can’t say I love you too?”

“No.” You exhale. “I’m breaking up with you because I feel fine with you not saying it back.”

He stands in silence, then his forced chuckles fill the air. “Babe, what are you talking about—”

“Are you happy with me?” The tremble in your voice has receded. “Be honest. Are you truly happy with me? Or are you just going along with everything because you’re so comfortable—so used to the situation of being with me—that you start to think as long as I’m not hurt, it’s fine. As long as I’m not alone, I can keep going with this relationship, even when I’m with someone who doesn’t truly understand me. Or accept the real me.”

Donghyuck releases the breath he doesn’t know he’s been holding. His voice is a pitch lower when he speaks, bitter and hurt. “Is that how you feel? All this time when we’re together?”

“No.” Your heart still breaks at the sight of his face. “I think I really did love you once, Hyuck. And if you had rejected me a few months earlier, I would’ve probably broken down crying. But now…” You grow stiff, noticing the infuriated look that’s plastered on his face. “I’m sorry.”

Donghyuck stays mute and the silence only adds more tension to the atmosphere. His teeth are grinding against each other when he replies. “Why did you even say you loved me if you weren’t fucking sure about how you felt?”

You twist your finger in the hemline of your shirt, in dire need of something to keep your emotions collected. “I thought it would make us grow closer again. To fix what’s lost between us,” you weakly admit, heart throbbing and breaking at the sight of him. “But then I realized that we shouldn’t say we love someone just because we have to. We should say it because we want to. Because we truly feel that way. But I didn’t feel anything when you didn’t say it back. I only felt… relieved.” 

The enraged look on his face forces you to drag your eyes to your feet and you stay still, breathing as quietly as possible. It’s only when Donghyuck starts to reach for his jacket, muttering, “I’m not having any of these bullshits,” as he walks passes you that you dare to look in his direction.

“How easy for you to put this all on me,” he declares with his fingers lingering on the doorknob, so spitefully it shocks you. “You probably think I’m dumb and insensitive, but I know. I’ve noticed the way you changed ever since you met him.”

“What?” His words feel like a slap to the face. “I don’t—”

“You know,” he cynically laughs into the air, throwing his head back. “Just because you found someone who makes you happy ‘cause he can quote your favorite lines, read your favorite books or listen to the same shit you like, doesn’t mean you can throw me away like I’m some fucking garbage.”

You’re petrified by his words. Somewhere in your head, you keep saying that the reason why you’re breaking up with him is that you’re so different from each other—that there would be little to no chance for the two of you to understand one another even if you’re given all the time in the world. But you can’t deny that there’s a part of you that completely rejects Donghyuck simply because you’ve stopped wanting him as much as you want Jaehyun. 

It sickens you.

“I’m…” It’s suffocating. The tension in the air, his eyes, the way your heartbeat is ramming against your ribcages. “I’m sorry...”

Your apology only aggravates him more and with gritted teeth, Donghyuck slams the door behind him, leaving you alone in the silence of your room.

Your apartment has never felt this big before.

***

It’s funny how you just ended your two years relationship with your boyfriend but Donghyuck isn’t the one you’ve been avoiding for months. It’s Jaehyun.

Something is gnawing at you from the inside, the feeling of guilt as if you just sinned. You didn’t cheat on your boyfriend. Physically, you didn’t. You’re attracted to Jaehyun, everybody would be to someone who owns such a handsome face and delicate features. But it’s more than just physical attraction because when you lay at night in your bed, alone and empty, it’s not his face that comes to mind. It’s the little thing he does, the way he listens to your words so attentively, the way he smiles—happy and sad at the same time, the way he greets you, the way he nibbles at his lower lip as he tries to think of a word to write on his note. 

And the dreams.

The dreams never stop, they only grow stronger. You can remember each and every one of them crystal clear when you wake up. They’re usually different every night but for the last few days, the atmosphere and the surroundings were the same. 

In the dream, you were lying down in a hospital bed, wearing nothing but your white gown, too weak to even lift a finger. Jaehyun was sitting on a wooden chair with a book in his hand—the one that he presented you as a gift in real life—while his other hand was holding yours, thumb tenderly gliding against your knuckles. He seemed much thinner, cheekbones growing prominent with dark eye-bags tainting his pale skin. But his smile was the same, just as warm, just as tender.

He was reading you a story, one that you had memorized by heart from how many times you’ve read it. But it’s different when he read the words out loud, voice melodious and soothing, like a mother’s lullaby. When it was over, he beamed at you, asking, “What’s your favorite part of the story?” And you opened your mouth but no words could come out. You were losing your voice, could only make croaking sounds and even that already put a strain on your body. You could see how much it broke him to hear you struggle but he waited patiently, hand squeezing yours tighter. 

“Me too,” he responded after he heard your answer, kissing your knuckles. “I like that one too.”

In another dream, you saw him sitting at the edge of your bed, his mouth still formed that beautiful, delicate smile, but his eyes were as heavy as the storm. You asked him, why, what’s wrong, trying your best to let your voice break free from your mouth. He brushed his fingers against your cheek, pushing your hair out of your eyes. “I won’t let anything separates us,” he said and it felt more like a promise than how it sounded. “Not time, not death, nothing. I will always be with you.” He let his lips linger on your temple as he whispered the next words. “So it’s okay if you want to sleep. I won’t be going anywhere.”

Then… I’ll see you again when I wake up.

“Yes.” He leaned closer, letting his lips meet your chapped ones in a chaste kiss. “I’ll see you again when you wake up.”

But by the time you opened your eyes, heart thrumming loudly inside your chest, with the sound of the alarm in your phone muffled by your pillow, you knew that in the dream, once you go to sleep, you’d never be able to wake up.

I have to see him.

***

Three months have passed since you last saw him. It’s funny that despite how close you are to each other, know each other like the back of your hand, you just only realize now that you haven’t given him a way to contact you. No home address. No phone numbers. No social media. You’re not even sure what his last name was. You never needed to know his contact details before. Every day, an hour before the sun is replaced by the moon, you will meet each other here in this library—that was the unspoken promise between you and neither of you ever broke it. Not until now. The second you stop coming to the library, you disappear from his life as well, as easy as snapping your fingers.

The quickest way to see him is by visiting the library. Today you will see him. You just have to.

It’s raining hard, hard enough to drench you to your socks, painting shivers to each of your fingertips. It’s a Sunday evening, the sun is an hour away from setting behind the horizon. But with how heavy the rain is going, the day will turn into the night before the sun can shine its light through the clouds again.

Hesitation arises within you as you take shelter on the porch, your shivering fingers circling the doorknob to the library. He might not even be here in this kind of weather, you miserably think to yourself. It wasn’t raining when you took your leave half an hour earlier but you should’ve noticed how thick and dark the clouds were. Your thoughts were too jumbled that you didn’t even think about carrying an umbrella with you.

But you’re already here and if he still keeps his promise…

You take a step inside.

Your clothes are drenched but thankfully they’re not dripping water to the carpeted floor. It’s warmer inside, so warm that you feel like you’re home, sitting close to a fireplace, basking in the scent of sandalwood. Your eyes naturally scan the room, taking a longer glance at the table where you usually sit in front of him, a book in your hands, a smile strapped to your face. Jaehyun’s nowhere to be seen.

He’s not here. Is it because of the rain? Or… Maybe he has stopped coming here to see me. 

You can only realize how important someone is to you when they’re gone and it hurts so much that you have to nip at your lower lip, fingers curling around the end of your sweater. 

I want to see him again…

“You’re here…”

You turn your head to the source of his voice, heart about to burst when you see Jaehyun stopping on his tracks, one hand holding the entrance door open, another one carrying a folded umbrella that drips water to the floor. He’s so stunned at the sight of you, he doesn’t even appear to be breathing. In a whisper, your name breaks free from his lips.

And you run towards him with all your might.

He nearly stumbles from how hard you’re crushing your body against his, his umbrella falling from his grip but he doesn’t push you away. Jaehyun is warm, warmer than everything you’ve ever held and you wonder whether you’re just freezing from the cold or he’s always been this comforting. It feels so natural to stay in his embrace, to be wrapped with his strong arms, to have him whisper your name against the shell of your ear. 

I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so much.

Jaehyun...

The first tear that slips down your cheek is an accident, as you don’t want him to see you cry. You don’t even know why you’re crying but you can’t stop. You sob against his chest, fingers curling against the fabric of his knitted sweater, gritting your teeth to stop yourself from crying harder but failing every time. 

Jaehyun never breaks away from your embrace. He does not care if people stare, does not listen to the murmurs being exchanged at the back of the room. He pulls you closer, one hand holding you around the waist and the other one stroking your damp hair. “I thought I’d never see you again,” he says, overwhelming you with his scent, his warmth, his voice, his everything and you still want more. His lips nearly brush against the tip of your ear when he whispers, “I’ve missed you.”

Your hands are now fisting the back of his sweater, pressing your cheek to his chest as you muffle your cry, focusing more on the sound of his heartbeat. It feels like a dream, one that you never want to wake up.

It’s only when you have the strength to pull away from him that he releases you. He swipes his thumb under your eye, erasing the stains of your tears. He looks at you in a way that is so different than the way Donghyuck used to. His gaze is softer, a mix between the feeling of relief for having you in his arms and a yearning to have more as if you’re still far away from his reach.

I want him to stare at me like this forever.

“You’re freezing,” he says, noticing the coldness of your cheek against his palm. “Would you like to come over to my place? I can make you something warm.”

You let out a tiny laugh. “That would be nice.”

***

Jaehyun’s sweater is too big that the hem falls to the middle of your thighs. Your clothes are in the dryer, making rumbling noise that’s loud enough to fill the awkward silence between you. Drying your hair with a towel he gave you, you take a seat next to him, careful enough not to invade his personal space too much.

“How are you feeling?” Jaehyun asks, handing you a cup of hot chocolate.

“Warmer now, thanks.” You wrap your fingers around the mug, seeing a cloud of steam erupting from your drink. 

“It’s been a while since we last saw each other. I’m glad you look fine.” 

“I am. I feel fine. More so than I’ve ever been.” And it’s not a lie. Being here with him, despite everything that happened, makes you feel at ease. He makes you feel as if you had been embarking on a trip for so long and now you’re finally home. “Were you, umm…” Were you planning to wait for me at the library? Have you been waiting for me all this time? Or was it just a mere coincidence that we bumped into each other again?

“Were I what?”

“Never mind.” You don’t have the bravery to do it. Flushed, you quickly take a sip of your drink.

“I was about to wait for you,” he suddenly confesses, nearly making you choke. “I was… worried about you. I kept wondering whether something bad happened.” His voice gradually turns into murmurs as he continues. “And I thought... After what happened... You hated me.”

The ticking sound of the clock echoes like thunder when silence hangs in the room. “I would never hate you, Jaehyun…” You’re unconsciously rubbing the edge of your mug with your thumb, eyes fixated on the glass instead of him. “There’s no way I could hate you.”

From the corner of your eyes, you could see him turning his head to face you. “Well, you stopped visiting for three months without leaving a word. It was hard for me to stay positive,” he says, a bit teasingly, “And I had no idea how to contact you either. I didn’t know what else to do but wait in the library every day until I could see you again. So that’s what I did.”

Blood is rushing to your face. He did wait for me. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” He chuckles and you just realized how much you missed hearing it. “You don’t need to. I’m glad we can meet again.”

“Me too.” You mirror his smile. “You know, you could’ve just looked me up online.”

“Then, why didn’t you?” He asks and your heart stops. “Why didn’t you call me?”

You have to tell him the truth, you owe him that much. “I couldn’t. The way Donghyuck looked at me when I broke up with him made me feel so guilty and I knew I would hate myself even more if I ran back to you right after.”

“Why?” Jaehyun questions in a whisper. “What did you feel guilty for?”

Your heartbeat roars so thunderously loud, you can hear it in your ears. “Because he said the reason why I broke up with him was that… I had feelings for you.”

Jaehyun stays in silence for a few seconds and it drives you insane. Eventually, he leans forward to lay his cup down on the coffee table. “So…” He hesitantly speaks. “Did you tell him he was wrong about that?”

You tighten your hold around your cup. “I…” Taking a deep breath, you confess. “I didn’t.”

And there are so many things to be said, but none of you dares to speak. The silence is deafening, its invisible arms strangling you little by little and you’re trapped, not knowing whether to ask him to respond or just run away before your heart explodes to pieces.

Jaehyun does that look again where he stares at you like you own his heart, giving you the permission to hold it or crush it however you like. “Your hair is still dripping water,” he says, reaching out to place his hands around the towel and gently dab your strands, squeezing out the excess water and he’s so close, you can truly see the color of his eyes. In the soft, yellowish light of his room, they’re a little bit darker, a stark contrast to his pale skin. You’re distracted with the way his eyes shimmer under the light, the way he breathes so softly, warm breath hitting your lips.

And you don’t know who initiate it, but for the next breath you take, you’re gasping for it against his mouth. Jaehyun’s lips move slow against yours, tentative and patient, waiting for you to react. But he doesn’t have to wait, not when you’ve been wanting to do this for so long. Not when both of you have been wishing for it to happen.

If your mind wasn’t too deluded with the thoughts of him, how he feels against your body, how he tastes on your tongue, how the low grunt and moan that escape from the back of his throat successfully send shivers down your spine, you would’ve probably thought about how different he was compared to Donghyuck. Jaehyun was so tender, cradling your figure so gently as if you were about to break into pieces if he moves too fast. His kisses aren’t as rushed and bruising as Donghyuck’s, but they’re deep and just as passionate, if not more. The effects that his lips have on your skin burn stronger than anything you’ve ever felt. And if you thought Donghyuck reminded you of the sun, Jaehyun was the blazing sun himself.

But you couldn’t think of Donghyuck. You can’t think of anything else but Jaehyun. Right now, he’s the only one that matters.

“Push me away anytime you want,” he says, eyes dark and hazy, as he circles a hand around your waist to press your body flat against his chest.

With one hand fisting his collar, you let your lips taste him once more. “I never want you to.”

Your soft gasp is muffled by the skin of his neck when Jaehyun lifts your body off the couch, and you tangle your legs around his waist for support as he carries you toward his bedroom. Despite the growing, overwhelming passion between you, he lies you down so gently on the bed, hovering above you as he paints your name at the skin below your ear. You let out a sigh, pulling him closer and closer until you can sink completely into his warmth. 

No words are being exchanged because they don’t need to. Jaehyun speaks with his eyes, expresses his feelings with his lips, and carves your body with nothing but affection and adoration with his gentle hands. It amazes you how different sex can feel when there are feelings involved. It’s a connection, not just between your body and his but your mind, your soul, and every bit of your heart.

You’re more sensitive to his touch that even the slightest slide of his finger can make you arch your back. Jaehyun swallows every gasp, every moan of his name that tumbles down your lips and you do just the same with his.

He only stops to give you the chance to catch your breath when he’s fully sheathed inside you. His fingers tremble as they caress your face. “Are you okay?” He asks, sounding breathless and hoarse. He looks even more beautiful like this, skin glistening with sweat, lips bruised and swollen by kisses, pale cheeks reddening at the feeling of you peering into his eyes.

You smile, gaze softening. “I’m fine.”

Jaehyun has never looked so content before, so relieved, so happy and it makes you feel something in your stomach—something that you haven’t felt for months—to know that you’re the reason behind his most genuine, beautiful smile. When he whispers, “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you to come back to me,” into your ear, you know that he’s not talking about the time you were absent from the library. His words have more weight to them as if he’s been waiting for you for years as if you once belonged to him before something separated the strings between you.

“I’m going to move, okay?” Jaehyun murmurs against your lips, and you let out a shaky breath, nodding a little.

He takes it slow, waiting for you to adjust to his rhythm as he keeps his eyes on your expression to make sure he’s not hurting you in any way. His eyes are half-lidded, cheeks flushed, lips parted in a small moan, barely audible. He splays one hand on the inner part of your thigh, fingers pressing hard against the supple skin as he pins it down to the bed, spreading your legs wider so he can press himself deeper inside you.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers against your jawline. “So beautiful…”

You nibble at your lip, circling your arms around his shoulders, raking your nails down his back as he picks up the pace. He’s perfect, he’s so perfect at everything he does—the sway of his hips, the angle, the way he changes from giving shallow to deep thrusts in accordance to your expression, knowing exactly what you need. 

He kisses you every time you give him the chance and it makes everything a lot more intimate, makes you feel more vulnerable, makes you feel more exposed. “I’m in love with you,” he says, forehead pressing against your own. “I’ve always been… All this time…”

There’s a surge of joy washing through your entire body and it’s so intense, you find yourself hiding your face in the crook of his neck, your vision blurred with tears. How can you feel so complete when this is your first time with him?

“Jae—” You gasp, your thighs trembling as you wrap your legs around his hips, arms hugging his shoulders tighter. “Jaehyun, I’m—I’m close—”

At your words, Jaehyun untangles your arms from his body and sits on his heels. He takes a hold of your waist and slams his hips harder to yours, driving you to the edge until you’re left sobbing against the sheets. He pulls away on the last second to finish himself off, tainting your stomach as a low grunt breaks free from the back of his throat. His bangs are falling over his eyes, a bead of sweat rolling down from his chest to his lean stomach and he still looks like a painting, one that you can’t seem to stop admiring.

“Wait, don’t move,” he says as if you had the strength to do so. “I’ll clean you up.”

When he comes back from the bathroom, fully clothed in a white tee and black sweat pants, he takes care of you so attentively, dabbing warm towel along your skin, swatting the bangs out of your eyes. A gentle smile never leaves his face but he blushes whenever your eyes make eye contact, though not as apparent as the shakes on his fingertips. 

“You’re so good at this,” you tease him, propping your elbows on the bed. “Must have a lot of experience with women, I’m sure.”

“I’ve only ever been with you,” he answers and it doesn’t sound like a lie.

“What?”

His movement stops, acknowledging the appalled look on your face. “There’s… something you need to know.” He slips under the comforter, lying down on his side, and makes sure it covers your body to your shoulders to keep you warm. “That day, when we first met… It wasn’t our first time meeting each other.”

“What do you mean?” Your eyebrows are adjoined in the middle. “When did we first meet then?”

Jaehyun falls quiet, eyes searching yours. “In the same library,” he says, “Seventy-four years ago.”

***

“Where are we?” The question leaves your lips as you scan your surroundings. Jaehyun has taken you somewhere you haven’t been before, a rural area in the foothills of Jiri Mountain. After spending more than three hours drive from Seoul, seeing nothing but never-ending roads and traffic signs, it feels refreshing to see a charming little village, blanketed in a snow of white and soft pink, with the sound of water streams soothing your ears and cold wind of April caressing your cheeks.

“Hwagae,” he claims, his hand never leaving yours as he walks next to you, taking shorter strides to match your step. “People usually think that Jinhae is the best place to see cherry blossoms, but for me, it’s here.” He glances at the way your fingers are intertwined with his, smiling timidly to himself. “But maybe due to personal reasons.”

“Well, you’re not lying…” You murmur in awe, eyes widening at the sight of cherry blossoms trees that line the road, following both sides of a turquoise-blue stream, pebbles whisked about in the under wash like pieces of glitter. “It’s beautiful.”

You can hardly pay attention to anything else so when Jaehyun presses a kiss against your hairline, your heart nearly leaps out of your chest. “It is, isn’t it?” He says, pushing some loose strands behind your ear. “Beautiful.”

With his eyes locked with yours, it seems like he’s praising something else and you look away, cheeks heating up at his words. “How long does this road goes?”

“Around four kilometers.” Jaehyun follows your steps. “There are more than a thousand cherry blossom trees around. Locals call this lane the Marriage Road as it is said that lovers who walk hand-in-hand under the trees will get married and live happily ever after.”

He tightens his grips around your hand, and you can swear your palm is getting sweaty from how nervous you are. “You just can’t stop making me blush, can you?”

“I’m just stating out facts.” He chuckles and it’s even more beautiful than the whole scenery. He’s more beautiful than anything you’ve seen. But when he speaks, all trace of humor has dissipated. “You may not remember but... This was the place where I asked you to marry me.”

You have seen it coming but it still shocks you, nonetheless. It’s easier to treat him as a liar who’s telling superstitious stories and pointing things about you because he’s a stalker that knows more about you than he should. But the more he tells his stories, the more they feel like the truth and it’s not just a hunch. His stories are his versions of the dreams you’ve been having. The dreams that you’ve gotten ever since you first met him, and you never told anyone about that.

As you take a seat on the nearest bench, Jaehyun hands you his journal—the one he’s been using to write his novel. “I think it’s time for you to read the story.” But as you reach out to open it, he lays his hand on top of yours. “Before that,” he says, “Remember what I asked you? I want you to guess the ending for me.”

You’ve never thought about it, never imagined how the ending of his story would unravel. He has told you that it was about a pair of lovers meeting each other by fate and separated tragically by death, you knew that much. But anything could’ve separated them, whether it was because of sickness, accident, or simply because of old age, you could’ve guessed wrong. Yet, when your lips moved without thinking, providing answers that make your heart jolt, Jaehyun smiles and says, “Correct.” He then opens the book and gives you the chance to run your eyes through every passage. It’s written in a first-person narrative, allowing you to see through Jaehyun’s eyes as he unveils his story. 

The female lead has your name.

Every line. Every word. Every description. They feel like deja vu and the tiny hairs at your nape begin to raise. Your fingertips tremble as they move to open new pages. These are memories. They truly happened in the past. As you read, you can feel your own coming back, little by little, and by the time you’re halfway through the story, you can guess the next part that’s about to happen or correct little details that may have slipped from his mind.

“They were lilies,” you say, fingers tracing his perfect handwriting. “Not white roses.”

“What?”

“The flowers you gave me on our first anniversary.”

Jaehyun takes a shaky breath, and when he chuckles it sounds like a peal of tiny laughter and a choked sob at the same time. “Is that so?” He weakly asks, fixing his gaze to his lap. “I’m sorry, I must have forgotten.”

But he remembers everything else, everything that matters, even the way he felt back then. You could tell the love he once experienced with you through his eyes, the longing he has suffered as he waits for you to remember him once more, and the agony of being separated from you.

It’s easier to cry than to breathe when the memories of your past life start to dawn on you but you provide your best effort to stay reserved. There are more you need to learn.

The reason why he visited the library was not because he lived nearby. He moved there so he could visit the library, as it was the first time he met you in the previous life. “I was hoping she would remember the place as it was something we both grew fond of,” Jaehyun wrote in his journal, “She always thought I had a passion for books. She was wrong. She was the one who taught me that stories could mean something more. That they could make you feel alive, make you feel something you’ve never experienced just by words. I’d like to believe that these stories were the ones who brought us together, so we could create our own and maybe then, we could inspire other people—to make them feel alive with our stories.

I waited for her every day, from one season to another. The memories I have of her have always been there with me ever since I could remember, but that did not guarantee hers would resurface. Maybe she was looking for me. Maybe she was not. Either way, I couldn’t give up. I would not give up. 

And finally, one day, I saw her again. In the same library, with the same little smile she always had whenever she had her eyes fixated on her book. She appeared exactly the same as the first time I met her 74 years ago. I could not breathe, trapped between reaching out to her or just standing still in the distance, because when our eyes met for a brief second, she looked away. 

She did not remember me.

I was crushed. Devastated. I was nothing but a stranger. Twenty-five years I had been searching for her and now that she stood before me, I lost the ability to speak. It took me another week until I could find the bravery within me. I tried my best to appear as nonchalant as possible, even when my heart was breaking, even when my hands were shaking. I sank my nails into my palms so I wouldn’t take her hand and pull her into my embrace. When she told me her name, I was shocked. Her last name was different but her first name was the same, and I wanted to laugh. Fate could be so cruel, letting her keep her name but not her memories. 

But memories could be re-created, and I learned that none of her habits had changed. I might be a stranger, but to me, she was not. She was my wife and I wanted to hold her. I wanted to tell her I love her and hear her say the words back to me. I was ready to start over, to make her fall in love with me once more but before I could even begin, I learned that she had belonged to someone else.

And what killed me was that… She did not look happy with him.”

Your breathing stalls. Everything makes sense now. He’s been holding everything to himself. This was the secret he kept from you. And that time when he almost kissed you… What did you say to him?

“Please don’t pretend, not when you’re with me.”

That’s what he did. He stopped pretending. 

And you pushed him away, treating both of your feelings and his like a mere high school crush when they were something deeper than anything you’ve ever had. 

You place your lower lip between your teeth, nibbling at it until it grows white. He must have been so hurt, you realize, I’m the worst.

“Are you okay?” Jaehyun asks, reaching out to take your hand. “You don’t have to read it if you don’t want to.”

“No, I—” You shake your head, hoping the tears won’t fall. You give him a reassuring smile. “I want to. I need to remember.” Your smile doesn’t deceive him but he gives you the space you need, believing the honesty in your words.

Your marriage with him only lasted for four years before you passed away in your sleep, your weak lungs could no longer support your system, and through his story, you learned that Jaehyun followed you to the place he shouldn’t have. Because just a few minutes later after you took your final breath, he slit both of his wrists with a knife and hugged your body close to his chest, his blood drenching the white sheets underneath. His lips lingered against your hairline as he spoke, “I’ll see you again when you wake up.”

His neat handwriting starts to turn into dark splotches of ink as it is tainted by your tears. You’ve remembered. You’ve remembered everything. Everything that makes you happy and everything that hurts, you’re reliving each and every one of them. 

“Why?” You sob, shoulders quivering as you try to keep your emotions contained. “Why did you do that? You could’ve lived for many more years. Could’ve found someone else.” You bury your face in your palms, voice muffled by your skin. “You could’ve been happy without me.”

You can’t see how he looks at you, can’t feel his touch as he’s nowhere near, but you hear him take his breath. “My mother used to say,” he says, “that two people who are meant to be would always find their way to each other, even in the afterlife.” Jaehyun moves and kneels on the ground in front of you, his hands prying yours away from your face and his smile has never looked this blissful. “That’s why,” he continues, voice so soft it’s almost as light as the wind. “If there’s a chance, no matter how little it is, for me to see you again I would gladly trade my eternity for it.”

There are emotions you can’t explain, ones that you can’t understand. Emotions that make you cry as if the world was ending but also ones that make you feel so blessed to be born into this world, to be able to see him again, to witness his beautiful smile, his beautiful soul, and the beautiful love he has for you.

“Why are you crying?” Jaehyun chuckles softly but the quiver in his voice betrays him. He strokes your cheek, drying your tears with the pad of his thumb. 

Leaning into his touch, you sob against his palm, “I love you,” you confess, “I love you, Jaehyun. Even if my memories never came back, I’d still fall in love with you. Over and over again. I’m sorry you had to wait—”

Jaehyun abruptly stands on his knees, pulling you into his embrace. As your eyes widen in surprise, he buries his face in the crook of your neck, whispering, “If I had to wait a thousand years to be able to have this one moment with you, I’d gladly do it in a heartbeat.” His shoulders begin to shake and you wrap your arms around them, drenching the fabric of his shirt with your tears. “I love you too.”

There’s a voice inside your head that says, ah... so this is how it feels. 

Love... is not so complex after all. It doesn’t have to be. It’s not something to be understood. It’s not something to be thought endlessly. It’s not a choice to be made.

It’s a feeling, and feelings are meant to be felt. And you realize that happiness does not only emerge when your love is answered with the same passion. Happiness is already there in your heart just by loving him. You love him. You just love him. Entirely. Infinitely. 

So you kiss him with the biggest smile you can make, you pull him close with every strength that you have and you let him stay. In this life or another, you will let him stay.

And you will see him again when you wake up.

***

[boizandgurlzinthehouse]

Could u maybe do one with damiano where they Get into A fight and He says something very mean but it need with fluff i hope u understood. Thanks :)

𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐨 𝐝𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐢 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 1769

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 (𝐨𝐫 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐲 𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐞𝐬- 𝐨𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐞𝐡𝐞𝐡𝐞𝐡)

your day wasn't the best when you came home — your head hurt, the day was freezing cold from the moment you peeled the blanket off of yourself, and the hours in the office felt like thrice longer than usual. your boyfriend, damiano couldn't take you out at your office, since his studio was in the opposite direction than your office, but you got in late too because he couldn't find something he needed. you were a little bit nervous, but you just sushed your thoughts and tried to forget the words damiano and you said to each other.

"why can't you just leave the things in their original place? is this that hard to note?"

"be glad that i washed it out."

"be glad that i washed it out…"

damiano mimicked your voice, you hoped that the tone of his voice was only annoyed and derisive because he was tired.

thus, your mom called you in lunch just to call you about that there's no room in the house for you because your other cousins need place until the end of christmas –you couldn't stop the bitter taste in on your tongue, maybe that's why you couldn't hide the disappointment and gloom in your tone.

"but… where gonna i sleep then?"

"sweetheart, you can rent out a hotel room for a few days, don't you?"

"but mom, that's so much money!"

"did i mention that we would be so, so happy if we could meet your boyfriend? what was his name, danny?"

could your mother for only once not change the topic of the talk, if that began to change uncomfortable for her?

"it's damiano, mom."

"damiano, yes. so, is it alright for you?"

i don't have another option, and you know this too too well.

"yes. bye, mom."

you didn't wait for her "goodbye, sweetheart", slamming the red button on your phone.

and now, at the end of this ironically 'happy' and 'succesful' day, you stood in your living room, with your phone in your hand, pressing together your lips as damiano said out those words. you hoped that when you get home, you can take a long shower or run a bath while damiano sits on the edge of the tub, or even bathing with you, talking about this shitty day while you and damiano hate the world together, sharing a bottle of champagne and painting each other's nails –but he too decided to go against you.

"i think you shouldn't worry that much about that."

"what?"

"come on babe, it's just your mom. she's always dramatic, you shouldn't pull it on yourself that hard."

"no, i think you don't understand my problem, she literally said that her daughter don't have a place, a bed in the house she grew up during fuckint christmas!"

"shake it off, y/n. we're gonna figure it out."

"we're gonna figure it out, what does that mean to you, huh? christmas is approaching, day by day, the hotels are sure as hell full, even the airbnb-homes, but yeah, you're right, we have all the time in the world to figure it out!" you acted with your hand, more sarcastic than ever.

"what are saying now, that is my fault that you got a late call?"

you sighed, feeling your soul heavier than ever –the pound in your head spreaded down into your chest, giving the sour feeling of crying.

"no, i'm just telling you that you could be a little bit more helpful and understanding… it's about my family, my mom, mia madre as you used to say! how can't you understand this?"

"i am not understanding enough? how can you say this?"

don't do this, dami, don't manipulate my feelings, at least not you –don't make me more miserable, please.

"i say this because i can only talk with your about this! i trust you only with my problems, my problematic mother and my other shitty things, and now you just say that i should calm down on a problem that means bigger to me than ever?"

"well it's not my problem to have a useless mother!"

it was enough. far enough for you to snap.

"than you know what?",

grabbing your purse and coat,

"fuck you!" with that, you slammed the door and stepped out of the house. you didn't know where to go on the year's coldest day –you only knew that you don't want to stay near anybody right now. maybe renting out a hotel room wasn't a that-bad idea. or going to vic, and block damiano and your mother for the next two days.

trying to call vic, you didn't even noticed that your bump into somebody, pulling together your coat on yourself, you decided to go afoot to the next bus stop, maybe damiano runs after you, but right now you couldn't face him, after everything he said.

well, it's not my problem to have a useless mother. did he think this the whole time, the whole time when you bragged about your family? that that's only your pathetic problem? you couldn't see the screen of your phone from hé blur of your tears –they immediately broke down on your neck and cheek, then freezing in the cold wind, only leaving a chilly, uncomfortable feeling. the snow crashed through the clouds, everything were white and so, so cold, the wind blew in between your coat and sweatshirt –your teeth crashed together as you pleaded to the sky and vic to pick up that phone. your stomach grumbled,

"it's almost half ten, what do you want?"

"vic, oh my god! i'm so glad, can i ask you a little favour?"

"what the fuck, is is it you, y/n? i thought damiano called me this late, he would lose his phone and use yours, the dumbass. what's the problem?"

"can i sleep at you?"

"of cour- why?"

"please, i'll tell you everything, but…" you wailed suddenly, you were surprised too, not to mention vic.

"sweet jesus, was that you? grab a cab and come here, fast! i'm calling damiano."

"no, no please!"

vic didn't respond.

"come here safe, okay?"

"okay. bye, vic."

the line cut off, leaving you there in the winding snow –more five or six streets? you still pondered on damiano's words between tears and shivers, while trying to hug yourself as warmly as you could.

you barely reached the second corner when you heard a humming of a car. can't be a taxi, but then… who's on the streets this late, in this tempestuous weather? excluding me, you thought, could laugh but in a soaked coat, sweater and socks you only wanted to survive until vic's.

turning your aching neck, at first you thought you hallucinate –seeing damiano's black car was nearly a dream, a mirage. does hypothermia kicks in that soon?

as the car approached you, it stopped beside you.

"do you really gonna walk to vic like this? did you call a cab?"

you ignored damiano, walking towards, your bag almost slipped out of your hand.

"let me help you cara mia, i'm sorry. can we talk about this in the car? it's warm in here, too."

stubbornly, with shaking hands, you wiped off the wet locks from your face. hearing a quiet murmur, something like 'okay, that's enough', the door of the car opened, inviting you to sit on the passenger's seat. you stopped the marching, looking at damiano with crossed arms.

"i'm not going anywhere until you get in this car. you can walk to vic, but i'm gonna follow you, and i'm gonna sit in here until you collect enough peace to talk with me."

it warmed your heart a little bit, but the harsh words sung in the back of your head –reluctantly, but slowly you got in the car. damiano didn't hesitate a moment to turn on the child safety lock system as you closed the door. you huffed.

"is it really neccessary?" you asked quietly.

"i don't want you to change your mind when we get back home "he said. "do you need anything? a blanket, a coffee? a tea? i'm texting thomas to boil some water."

"thomas... how? and why?"

"he came for some butter, but you bumped into him, thomo was surprised even that you're that…" –searching for the right words, it was hard and awkward for each of you.

"listen, y/n, i–"

"no, dami, i was just upset and–"

"no, wait! it's my time to apologize. because in the past time, i got carried away. i said things and i said them without thinking about how hurtful they can be. i should be glad, so fucking gratefuo that i have a girlfriend, a lover like you, a lover who nurtures me, who search my lost things even when i can't find them because i'm such a clumsy ass, a lover who shares her deepest secrets and problems with me. a lover who trusts me so much, who accepts my little habits… i know i can't take back the things i said about your mother and your problems, but the least i can do is make you forget about it, and support you with it. can you", damiano said as he covered your cold, tender hands with his big, soft ones. "y/n y/l/n, amore della mia vita, the love of my life, accept my apology about everything i said and did?"

you couldn't stop the blushing, your whole chest warmed up at his words, clinging to his hands.

"yes, i absolutely can. i'm sorry i yelled at you, it was just a shitty day, and my family… well, that's another story."

damiano leaned closer to you, touching your jaw, tucked a cold strand of hair behind your ear, spreading comfort towards your cheeks and eyebrows.

"even with soaked clothes, pale skin and damp hair, you're still the prettiest, angelic thing i've seen in my life, mia dolce bambina."

you didn't need anything to reach up to his lips, yearning to get as much as from his warmth as possible –damiano strokes the back of your head and neck, played with the moist locks.

after the little kissing session, damiano stroked your hand, taking off your coat, giving you his instead.

"let's go home, okay?"

"okay. i love you, damiano."

"i love you more than you could ever think, little angel."

as the two of you reached home, damiano huffed.

"you know, i'm a little bit disappointed in your mother too."

you pulled up your eyebrows, the corner of your lips curling up slowly.

"really? and why?"

"we can't make out in your old bedroom, that could be quite an extra christmas event, don't you think?"

"damiano!!"

𝐚/𝐧: 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬, 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐨-𝐦å𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞-𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲. 𝐢'𝐦 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐬 <𝟑

[mochikeiji]

Kinktober Day 5: Little Too Much

↠ Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x Reader

↠ Warning: SMUT! Dacryphilia, overstimulation, soft!Sakusa, squirting, missionary.

↬ Word Count: 1.8k

⇢ Day 5: Dacryphilia

Obsessive with cleaning was one factor you can claim to describe Sakusa Kiyoomi. Everyone knew that and respected that, he was a clean man, afraid of getting sick. Pretty normal as long as he keeps himself decent and hygienic.

People only knew a few things Sakusa is fond of; Cleaning and Volleyball. Two things to be exact. The word "obsessive" fits him in a way where his eyes would look at these two hobbies of his with the kind of glimmer no one receives from the spiker. Some even wish they were those two things in the next life if it meant earning the adoring looks of Sakusa. Some would kill for the spot you were gifted with.

"Obsessive" is another word to perfectly describe on how Sakusa looks and treats you. Doubting this relationship from the start, you didn't expect much skin ship or even small affections like linking your pinkies together by him. You sadly thought that this dreamland you had with him would come to an end soon thinking he wouldn't exert much of an effort in this. But dear, you were so wrong. So wrong to think that he wouldn't pull you close to his body at night and glue himself to you, that he loves how your fingers would thread through his curly hair and stroke his back after practice. How he became addicted to only your touches in such way that made him come loose of his own shell.

He was just as in love as you were. He loved the fact he was able to cage you in his arms at night to snuggle onto your smaller frame, he loved how you became used to his habitual cleaning and started to join him, he loved that you understood him and still pushed yourself to give him all the affection he thought he never wanted. In the end, he became very much obsessed with it all.

"Omi!!"

Every little thing you had to offer inside of you; the cute mewls, grinding of your hips to meet with his pistoning cock, the way your hands would weakly push his chest away. He loved it a little bit too much.

"P-please! Slow-ah, down!"

The germaphobic male no longer feared anything dirty that much. In fact, he slowly came to thought that it wasn't so bad if he gets to see such reactions from you. That he'd get to feel this fucking good sliding deep inside of your tight cunny.

His own eyes watches the way his cock would slide back in your struggling walls. Even if he was soaking with your own wetness, you still couldn't fit him in without slowing himself to inch forward. But his patience were tested when he saw small bits of tears streamibg down your face while you were left open mouthed to his impressive length. He didn't know to himself when he slammed back in whole and saw your eyes roll back while your head fell back, he would yearn to see it all of that again.

Lifting your left leg up, he places it as it trembles onto his shoulder. The way you looked at him almost terror with the vulnerable position you were in was delicious. He had all control with his hands placed firmly on your hips and his cock stilled inside of you half way. Giving you small amount of mercy and watches you make a mess out of yourself.

"Omi, too much.."

As he slowly leaned forward, his cock follows along. The shaking of your thighs went wild, it curled your toes feeling so stuffed and small by him at the same time. You couldn't stop yourself from moaning out a broken sob with your legs trying to push him away and close them to protect your already oversensitive cunt, your hands that covered you mouth were pinned to each side of your head, meeting with hot breathing fanned over your face and his lips ghosting ever so slightly on your lips.

Sakusa hums quietly while maintaining the intense eye contact with you. Dewy ones meeting with stone hard ones, you gulped and panted. Everything was burning, you couldn't tell if it was good or bad anymore. The veins and hardness of his cock reaching in the right places, massaging your walls in the utmost of pleasurable way. All thoughts came to shattering pieces when Sakusa delivers a hard thrust inside you, balls slapping against your ass with the sound of your sobs.

"You're taking it so good."

One thrust was followed by another, and the cycle continues again. You didn't have anymore access to squirm around as he held you down and rutted himself madly. Small tears becoming big, fat ones at the speed of his thrusts, he cooes quietly when you turned your head to the side mewling to the lewd squelching below your puckering hole.

You didn't expect Sakusa to lean his face down to kiss the side of your cheek and began leaving love marks on the side of your sweaty neck. He didn't cringe nor groaned in disgust, rather he groaned to his own euphoria and bit a little harder at a certain, tender skin at the side and thrusted deeply.

The bed creaks at his every movement, the headboard bangs against the wall he was strict of not wanting to be ruined. Everything right now; his actions and goals were unexpected. It was dirty, lewd, something he never wanted to be part of, and now, he doesn't even mind the fact you're soaking up his thighs with your juices leaking from your slit, he doesn't mind having another sweaty body close to him while he pounds into you. As time passes, he gradually craves the closeness within you, the goal to see how fucked out your face would be with sobs throughout the air.

Licking his lips, he had been wanting to have a taste of your jiggling breast whenever he'd thrust up. The thought of you already sensitive from taking his huge cock and weeping in tears makes him imagine what would happen if he adds up to taunting you even more. Still preoccupied in moaning with closed eyes, Sakusa gives a small smirk and pleased hum when he went closer to your nipple.  Tightening his hands on both of your wrists, his mouth devours the erected bud, circling it with his tongue inside his hot mouth.

"OMI!!"

Arching up, your stomach meets up with his defined ones. You were only pushing your breast up to his face sinfully as he suckled in harder.

"Omi, omi, omi!! Ah- s-stop.."

You cried on the crown of his head while he moves to the other breast to repeat the same treatment. Small hands balled into a fists, weakly trying to pull free from his restraints. The coil in your stomach was about to burst, with all that he's done, only one thing will be the last straw to push you off of the edge.

Sakusa could tell you were getting close, with the heels of your feet softly hitting his broad back and your trembling and all. He removes his hands from your wrists and wraps them around your waist, pulling you closer as he thrust erratically into you. The sudden change of pace made you hug his neck and tossed your head, little did you know you were beginning to leave scratches on his back just to anchor yourself from the intensity of his thrusts.

He presses his forehead against yours, moaning ever so slightly at the way you were beginning to receive his cock so good now that you finally adjusted to his length. But most of all, he wanted to see up close how puffed up your cheeks were with your tears rolling freely like a stream.

"Such a good girl."

Slowly closing his eyes, he captures your lips sloppily with his. It felt like he was squeezing you hard and fucked you like a doll as he eats up your moans. So happy to have such a good baby receive his huge cock and give him expressions he will never forget.

"You love this, right? You're just being too whiney about it."

God, it was impure to have his already deep voice go deeper and have him ruin you. He could never bring himself to mock or degrade you. You were too precious right now to look at. Too vulnerable and at his control. You were too good.

"K-OMI!! NOT THERE!"

Wide eyes like a frightful deer, Sakusa aims directly at the spot you half hoped he would never find. Because once he did, he would end up abusing it as he did now.

"Here?"

Giving you one more hard thrust directly at your sweet spot, Sakusa groans at the feeling you fingers tugged onto his locks. No moans could escape other than harsh panting from your mouth and tears down from your dazed eyes. So sinful yet holy to his eyes, Sakusa didn't show mercy and hooks his chin onto your shoulder, letting you hear his own moans and groans feeling his cock squeezed inside of you.

"You're going to cum, right? You little cry baby."

He can already feel it. Your walls fluttering more to let him have a taste of your spot, allowing him to abuse it as it wants. It was rushing fast, the pit of your stomach didn't feel the same as before. This felt a whole lot stronger, messier. Begging Sakusa to stop and pull out, you couldn't handle it. It was coming, fast.

"OMI— HAH- PLEASE PULL OUT!! I'M G-GOING TO AH, HAH— MAKE A MESS!"

Oh he was loving this too much. Having you cry next to his ears and feel your tears stain his neck. He doesn't listen, he wanted to see, he wanted to feel your response to his monster like actions, and continues on, yoyr leg starting to cramp and shake widely on his shoulder, he can feel his cock getting more lubed up from your wetness, sliding effortlessly in animalistic.

"Cum for me, little girl."

He doesn't stop even if he hears you scream a big, "no" and connects your lips to quiet you down, he doesn't stop even if he feels his abdomen and thighs get wet from your continues squirting. He could only look at the whites of your eyes that was rolled back with tears falling more. Your body arched onto his embraced as he bursts his own load in your convulsing cunt to your womb.

With the mess now touching his skin, he could care less, and still kept at his pace. Sliding his dick even after orgasm, he knew to himself he had such stamina he can put to use. Pulling away from the kiss, you begged him. Begged for something he didn't know, all you could utter out were, "please." and his name as he kept going.

Just to see how much more you were going to cry from his cock. From him.

[darthmaulification]

Hey! Can I please make a request for a short Drabble where reader is Grogu’s nanny aboard the Razor Crest and Din develops a crush on her, but once he and the reader start visiting Grogu at Jedi School on weekends, Luke develops a crush as well? Doesn’t have to end up with either, but I would like to see either guy’s rivalry and slight jealousy (with Reader’s obliviousness).

A/N: ... okay so, i really got into the whole crush aspect of your request, anon, and this basically became a romantic prose piece. when i looked back to see what you had initially wanted, my product was... about thrice removed from the original prompt. 💀

i think i got some of the points??? like there’s din and luke and they’re both in love with reader and they both have a bit of rivalry with the other and basically that’s what matters??? please forgive me, anon, the ghost of sappho took my body over and forced me to write yearning love poetry!! 🙏 sis forced my hand!! 😭

though if there’s enough interest for it, i can always make a follow up for this, like from reader’s perspective, and write something a lil more in depth (once i get requests finished up that is). 😊

hope you enjoy! 💗

content: nothing but din and luke pining for reader, gn!reader (for the most part), use of she/her pronouns, fluff, but also a smidgen of angst 👁👁, perspective difference!!, kind of a commentary on mandalorian and jedi culture?? (mostly jedi culture lmao)

word count: 1,524

You’re beautiful.

He sees it now how your face lights up like candles being lit when his son succeeds at doing another one of his Jedi tricks. Joy illuminates your face like a spotlight, your soft cheers and kind praise make the whole room warmer. Din watches Grogu leap into your arms, cooing and squealing like he’s been given candy. It makes Din’s heart leap when you kiss his son on the head, and smile so warmly it’s like your lips become sunshine.

Din is infinitely grateful for his helmet in this moment, his face feels like it’s been too close to a fire. His fingers pick at a fraying stitch on his gloves, to prevent his hands from shaking in his lap. He hopes that the Jedi, who is standing casually across the room near you and Grogu, doesn’t notice. Din hopes you don’t notice what you’re doing to him.

I’m in love. 

The sentence slips through the cracks of his thoughts the way a sunrise peeks over the horizon. You look over at him, holding up Grogu triumphantly in your hands like you would a prize, and he sucks in a breath because suddenly it feels like all he can see is you. You and Grogu, you and his son.

Please be my riduur.

“Did you see that? Wasn’t it amazing?” And Din forces himself to dip his head in a slight nod, because the Jedi is also looking at him with piercing blue eyes the color of the sky. His heart pounding, and when you laugh, and it sounds like summertime when everything is good and happy.

People love, he thinks as he stares at you, and suddenly his palms are sweaty and he feels the need to tap his foot, but Mandalorians love harder.

I dream about you every night, think about you when I lie awake. You’re always holding sunflowers, and the nightmares don’t touch me then.

Mandalorians love like there is nothing else in the universe more valuable, nothing more precious, not their vibroblades, their blasters, or even their beskar.

Giving up a blaster and a vibroblade in order to save you from that hut’uun came to me like breathing, I didn’t even think about it... I would’ve given up my beskar’gam too. I still would.

Mandalorians love with their souls laid bare, they love with their entire body, they love with sacred vows, exchanged beskar rings, their riduur’s name engraved on their hal’cabur, above their heart.

When you slept beside me one night, I whispered the entire marriage vow to you in Mando’a. You looked so peaceful bathed in the light of the moon, the silvery glow making you look holy. I’ll admit, it came out mostly accidentally, but it felt so normal, natural even. I wish you hadn’t been asleep.

Mandalorians love in spite of death, they love in the face of it. They love like warriors.

I had gotten shot. All I remember is you holding me in your arms, hands pressed over the wound. I was in pain, and you were crying, covered in blood and dirt, but you were so warm. I’m still unsure if I had actually said what I think I said:

“I care about you too much to leave you.”

He wants to tell you all of this, but he’s never been much of a romantic, or much of a speaker in general, so the words falter on his tongue each time he’s tried. And Din’s tried so many times. You say something to the Jedi, and it makes a sudden, surprising fury bubble in his chest, the vile rising to his throat. Din has to bite his tongue to hold back from shouting:

Don’t talk to her, di’kut jetii! You are undeserving of her words, of her time, of her presence. Unworthy! You can’t give her what I can, shabuir.

You look over at him again, and the hot anger dies completely, leaving him powerless before you. Din felt this way each time he’s tried to tell you how much you mean to him.

I love you, cyare.

It feels like your eyes are boring holes straight through his beskar, through his flight suit, singing his skin with their warmth. Din bites his cheek so hard he tastes copper.

You smile. It’s like the dawn.

You are the sun— His sun— of his universe, and his eyes burn from the light.

Din basks in the rays, and his heartbeat starts to slow to it’s normal, steady rhythm.

Tomorrow. I’ll tell you tomorrow.

~

You’re beautiful.

He sees it now in how your entire expression blooms into one of pure joy when his padawan successfully levitates the crates. It radiates in your aura, the waves of mirth traveling further than your respectfully quiet cheers and meaningful praise. Luke watches as the child leaps into your embrace, babbling without forming any actual words. Something inside Luke lurches when you place a kiss on Grogu’s head, and when your vibrant smile dissolves his willpower.

Luke draws the Force in on himself, welcoming the sturdiness it brings. He tries to ignore how his palm has gotten sweaty, but he clenches his hand into a fist and hastily relaxes it. Focus, let in calmness like a breeze. Luke hopes that the Mandalorian, sitting stiff and looming on a far bench, doesn’t notice his moment of vulnerability. He pulls the Force closer, and hopes you don’t notice what you’re doing to him.

I’m in love.

The thought springs up in his mind the way shoots of new grass breach top soil in spring time. You glance over at him as you lift the child, and the look is as quick and fleeting as blossoms on trees, but it floats in the Force like dandelion seeds, and Luke is painfully aware of how consuming you are.

Please don’t do this to me.

“Did you see that? Wasn’t it amazing?” And Luke catches your eye, offering you the smallest smile he can afford without it breaking. You look to the Mandalorian, and Luke follows your gaze because he can’t compel himself to do much else. The Mandalorian’s visor is dark like the night, and flashes when he nods his head. Luke feels his heart sink when he senses it from him, a yearning so deep he nearly drowns in it.

People love, Luke thinks and he feels all at once envious and angry and so achingly acquiescent, because Jedi cannot.

I swore by the Code years ago, but I look at you and doubt it all. It can’t be that I’m this willing to rethink everything.

Jedi are forbidden from having attachments, they cannot pursue romantic interests. Love leads to passion, and it all is an influence of the Dark. Luke knows this. He’s fallen to it before.

I’ve spent decades forgetting how deeply I cared for him! But I am reminded daily of my father, every time I look in the mirror, I see his eyes. How dare you pull me back into this cruel trap! I can’t do this again.

Luke contains himself. Jedi value peace of mind, they extend the sentiment to upholding it in the galaxy as well. They do not do it out of love, but out of obligation, out of honor, because of what’s right. They are not love.

When I first met you it was like I’d seen you before, in a past life. It was like retracing my steps, following the trail backwards, revisiting something I had passed. Despite it all, I had moved forward and took my padawan from you and the Mandalorian, plucked him from you like a petal off a flower. I watched you wilt.

Luke reminds himself. Jedi do not love. Focus is key. The Force is everything.

But you are too.

Luke has to swallow in order to make sure the words never reach his mouth, and it’s like eating thorns. You turn back to him and the look in your eyes is tender like butterfly wings. The pink in your cheeks reminds Luke of windflowers.

“Thank you again, Luke,” His soul shivers when his name sounds in your voice, “It’s so kind of you to teach Grogu.”

As he replies and tells you it’s a pleasure, he almost spills everything to you, but an abruptness shifts the energy of the room. There is a lurking anger that crawls at him through the Force, entwines him like ivies. The Mandalorian fumes, the wrath trembles like billowing leaves. Don’t. Undeserving. Unworthy.

Luke forces himself to agree and squashes down everything, pushing each painful emotion into the deepest parts of him. He watches you look to the Mandalorian, your aura flowers with affection, love.

I love you.

His resolve is fading, again. Luke reminds himself, again. Jedi do not love. Jedi do not love. Jedi do not love.

You smile, and it stings his soul like nettle.

Luke forces himself to ignore that your eyes say different things when they settle on the Mandalorian than they had him. The thought feels like eating bittersweet berries.

Briefly, he revels in what could have been.

It’s for the best.

~

A/N: i thought i would add another note at the end of this to explain exactly what the heck i was saying with the word soup i just wrote.

first, din is so hopelessly in love with reader that it hurts. like physically makes his heart ache. i feel that when din falls in love, he falls in love. it consumes him. i wrote a lot of sun/light imagery to portray the overwhelming, all-encompassing love din feels for reader. you are the sun that warms him, and burns him. 

second, i purposely made luke have an even more tragic, even more conflicted crush on reader, on purpose, hahaha i am evil. 😈 he loves you, but forces himself not to. he tells himself that the jedi code means more. luke chooses to suffer because he knows that’s how it must be. there’s some plant/nature symbolism thrown throughout because that’s just the theme that i thought vibed with luke the most.

and that mention of anakin? i subscribe to the headcanon that luke really did love his dad, and just wanted him in his life, but of course, vader ultimately died. luke took a heavy blow from that, learned it hurts to love.

also, regarding the mini-rivalry that takes place, it’s through the force (if that wasn’t obvious) and it’s essentially another example of luke surrendering his own wants/desires and simultaneously din firmly declaring his love for you. it’s kinda meant to be the “understanding” between the two that clearly establishes who “wins” the reader.

... this was all one giant metaphor, huh?

[wistfulrat]

a 4-part rec list of my fave drarry fics - the thrillers, dramas, soft bois, and wankbanks getting me through 2020′s shitstorm

[the soft boi list is here and truly i’m not surprised this rec is going to be the longest bc if there’s one thing a bitch is going to do, it’s yearn.

as always! if you love a fic, follow the authors, leave kudos & comments, send them nice msgs bc free art is still labor xoxo]

part 3: soft bois

mood: for when I need respite, a balm to the all-consuming shittiness of life

includes: fluff, comfort, low-stakes, slow-burn fics. a wistful look, a rainy morning, an unexpected grace, a stupidly disarming joke. i could live inside these fics. the smallness of human lives removed from the site of that which hurts & irreparably changes. the story-equivalent of a deep breath after a long day. pregnant silences & pensive mundanity & shy smiles. banter with bite but without the cruelty. the color lavender. weirdly whimsical. soft fics are not necessarily conflict-averse (no drarry fic rly can be, considering the context) but, they offer the reader a generous distance from the initial harm. they’re the quiet cleaning up after a storm. sometimes healing is an exacting surgical knife and other times it’s a slow scabbing. you read these fics to be reassured that the way forward is not always ruthless. and honestly?? they deserve a semblance of peace godDAMmit.

The Way Down by @letteredlettered - 65k - T “and I thought that if someone talked to you as though you were a human being you might—maybe you could act like one” --the way i think about this line daily. the characterization of draco in this fic is one my favorites bc he’s earnest and neurotic and tired of harry’s shit. which is to say, he cares so so much. and harry doesn’t know what to do with that bc he’s got a monster in his chest and lives as a recluse. but they both humanize each other in ways no one else can. “you’re just a person” has to be some kind of drarry ethics of belonging and it makes me CRY. -

Little Deaths and How to Avoid Them by @greaseonmymouth and dustmouth - 96k - T “Maybe it’s not about deserving it? Maybe you just get to have it anyway. . .I’m allowing myself to want something and to let myself have it and to fight for it.” --harry runs a daycare and also works at a library. draco spends a lot of time in said library. they bond over sci-fi books and therapy anecdotes and quiet philosophical conversations held over cafeteria soup. and harry’s struggling to understand his asexuality. draco’s learning how to live with anxiety and depression. they both want to be deserving of love. incredible fic with beautiful art by dustmouth. - 

Open for Repairs by @drarrytrash - 35k - T “A few leaves rustle in the gutter and the muggle world pays no mind to them, to two lost boys holding on for dear life.” --all of their fics feel exactly like this. like you’ve been allowed to look at something private, tender, unexpected. draco, known abba fan, is a repairman in the muggle world & harry can’t stop breaking thrifted things in order to see him? say less, i'm thERE. also “I think I have a crush on you” goddddd  - other faves by them: Counting Down By Ten - 2k - T: draco’s stepped outside of the party for a smoke. harry follows him bc of course he does. i could read this 100 times and not get tired of it. - Clouds That Veil the Midnight Moon - 36k - E: FUCKING HILARIOUS I CACKLED THROUGH THE WHOLE THING. draco’s wolfy problem and harry helping him and harry being flustered by how much he likes draco and draco’s hot heroic moment. shutup it’s perfect. “He almost asks if Draco ever gets tired of being a miserable complaining shit all the time, but he knows that he, personally, never ever gets tired of being a miserable complaining shit.” and “It’s the traumas,” Harry says gravely” --lines that live rent free in my head -

Harry Potter and the Future He Doesn't Really Want, Thanks by seefin - 70k - E “That was the only logical thing to do here, wasn’t it? It was the next step, it was the end of hurting each other and the beginning of the exact opposite.” --harry lives with luna and neville and also he dreams about the future sometimes? and he keeps running into draco. draco thinks this is sus as hell, until he doesn’t. feat. taxi rides, museums, cinemas, rooftop conversations beneath a lunar eclipse, mid-sex innocuous banter, draco and harry discussing nicki minaj. this fic charmed my ass off. seefin writes the most effortlessly hilarious dialogues. i smiled at my phone like an idiot at least 7 times. -  other faves by them: Wild - 93k - E: “he liked feeling needed, for the things that he was needed for back at the house in Ireland. For cooking and gardening and driving. Easy things.” --this shit makes me cry it’s so good. harry lives in Ireland with these three brilliant, hilarious, wandless witches and draco’s a potions student who's come to study under one of the housemates and the boys have so much shit to work through but their love becomes so tender and honest. draco yells at harry a lot and harry lets him and they both keep each other grounded in something real and fuCK.  - Divination for Dickheads - 7k - G: “I’m terrible at having crushes. I’ve never played anything cool a day in my life.” -- oh harry, we knOW. a bus ride, a fortune teller, an aquarium birthday party. god i love this fic. -

Modern Love by @tackytigerfic​ - 61k - E “But we’ve worked so hard at this, haven’t we? Yeah, I know it’s a horror to have to talk about it, but fuck it. We’re friends now, but it took so long to get here. Have you ever had to work so hard at something before?" --the steady blossoming of their friendship in this fic is so goddamn beautiful i want to yell. it’s draco and harry learning to trust each other and the whole thing unfolds so slowly, in this whimsical mix of london streets, wizarding politics, church halls feat. a Hot vicar, and a magical antique shop owner who’s married to literal poseidon?? goD the environment of this fic. immaculate. [also there’s a tender shower scene that makes me cry every single fucking time so if you read this fic pls dm me so we can be embarrassing about it together tbh] -

Nice Things by aideomai - 22k - M “He kept waiting for the weird shock of touch to not knock him clean out of his head, leave him quiet and warm and happy.” --8th year. harry forms an unlikely friendship with draco that begins with smoking weed on a windowsill. harry is touch-starved and draco touches him like he touches all his close friends - like it’s easy. the quiet affection in this fic, the way harry burrows himself into touch bc he’s been without it for his entire life. reading this is like being held. -

Running On Air by @tinyhistory​ - 74k - T “do you remember when we were eleven?” --alexa play coldplay’s the scientist it’s sad girl hours and we’re about to fucking yearn. you’ve seen this fic rec on every drarry list under the sun and i'm here to be redundant. the hype is so goddamn real. this story is a lyrical masterpiece held together by lines that act as refrains that will rattle around your brain until you die, probably. draco’s been missing for 3yrs. harry goes to find him. it’s their odyssey of homecoming. -

Title of Their Sex Tape by @cibeewastaken - 12k - T “But Draco, Draco was everything but boring. Draco made sitting in the rain watching an empty house fun.” --auror partners pining and draco being eccentric and harry being very earnestly gay about draco’s eccentricities!! god this fic is so genuinely fun skskd feat. undercover missions, murderous faeries, a book heist, a stunning navy dress, harry’s eyelashes. -

How We Throw Our Shadows Down by @thistle-verse - 14k - T “Draco is about to say something else— to thank Potter for what he’d done, however poorly— but Harry is smiling at him again, and it’s so soft and perfect that Draco holds in any inadequate words, lest he spoil it.” --draco collects tea cozies and of course harry has the one he wants. the sad and tender gays are at it again feat. conversations in the rain at a train station, melancholy Blaise, muggle photos, wizarding e-bay, the Dursleys.  -

Helix by Saras_Girl - 92k - E “Draco sighs in his sleep and Harry clings on to consciousness, needing to hold on, to give this tiny, insignificant moment the attention it deserves” --I think maybe you can describe every soft Saras_Girl story as giving tiny, insignificant moments the attention they deserve. like, this is an 8th year fic about snails and it’s full of whimsy, grief, compassion, and easy humor. an absolute must-read author in this genre if you want languorous, episodic fics full of distinct OCs and affectionate creatures. - other faves by them: Light up the Night Sky - 98k - M “Draco, sometimes you make my head feel like soup” --the one where harry is a fireworks artist and has a pet chameleon named ken. draco is on the wizarding arts council. they both pine like hell. - Headlights in the Snow - 71k - M “they stare at each other in silence, Harry’s heart beating so loud in his chest that he thinks the biddies must be able to hear it over the sound of their card game.” --the one where draco drives the knight bus and carts around the biddy club, a group of rambunctious old ladies who knit and drink tea and gossip. harry can’t help but fall in love with the everything about this. -

Follow the Water by @xanthippe74 - 38k - T “Harry’s heavy thoughts lift at the sight, like dark clouds blown away from the sun by the wind. The tent doesn’t feel so cramped and stifling now. It feels cozy. And safe. It’s the same feeling that Harry gets when he’s at the Burrow for Sunday roasts, when a group of people who care for each other deeply are crammed into too-small a space.” --harry wanders to the lovegood house on a sunday afternoon. he’s baffled to see that luna’s taken pansy, greg, and draco under her wing. what follows is a summer of forest walks, scavenger hunts, gardening, water fights, odd cakes, faerie rings, and picnics. so many picnics. i love the pace of this fic, the innocent return to childhood things, the way luna brings out the best in all her friends. reluctantly soft slytherins are just *chefs kiss*!! -

Going Postal (A 125pg comic) by dustmouth - T what. a. beautiful. ass. comic. the wizarding fashion, the textures, the character design!! harry travels a lot for his job as a resourcer. draco works in the regulations dept. they pine like a bunch of lovesick idiots via field report notes. god i love dustmouth’s art. -

All the Earnest Young Men by @tepre​ - 29k - E “Draco is twenty-seven layers of personality wrapped up in drama and humour, and a wit so sharp it still stings when he doesn’t see it coming. But there is something below that, too. Something that makes Harry ache just looking at him.” --the way i would lay down my little life for tepre’s characterization of draco, whom invented the word earnest. he’s a magical art theory expert and portraits are disappearing all over London and harry’s the auror assigned to this case. and well. they’re both so very avoidant about how gay they are for each other and it’s like!! shutup and kiss!! which they do in fact, shutup and kiss.  -

Trenches by sara_holmes - 3k - M “Somewhere in the distant part of his mind that hasn't frozen solid, he thinks that maybe he and Draco are about to become more than auror partners, smoking buddies, wine-mates and co-inhabitants of a snow filled trench somewhere in western Scotland.” --the plot line here is literally “it’s cold and i need a fucking cigarette” but let me tell you how I never tire of the shared loaded-silences of two emotionally repressed gays. -

The Years Before Love by lomonaaeren - 13k - M “That’s one of the meanings of peace, he thinks, as Hermione hugs him...That he can do things slowly, softly, without worrying that they won’t be there tomorrow.” --andromeda taking harry under her wing and harry finding solace in teddy. narcissa and draco showing up and the tentative relationships that slowly develop in the quiet calm of andromeda’s house. found families and kisses in the snow and special xmas gifts ugh what’s not to love -

The Moon Looks Lovely Tonight by Omi_Ohmy - 35k - M “I want this to be a house where people are welcome, where they don’t have to be any one way or another” --in which harry collects lost things--owls, best friends, inept bakers, potions experimenters--and turns the mausoleum that is grimmauld place into a home. feat. your fave drarry tropes like shared-beds and reluctant waltzing partners. -

[part 1: thrillers | part 2: dramas | part 3: soft bois | part 4: wankbanks]

[tetralea]

Ski date chronics 1.0

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

World count: 3K

Warnings: exhibitionism, fingering, unprotected sex, poor Harry on main but I gave him headphones, smut like a lot

Summary: You barely had your first time with Tom while skiing and you already up in the middle of the night, so turned on it’s unbearable. Tom is happy to help you out, if you keep quiet enough not waking Harry up. And in the morning he has to finish what you started.

A/N: This is a small addition to my Ski date fic which so many of you loved and thank you for that! It’s a pretty filthy scene which I didn’t include in the original fic but it kept coming back to me, so yeah! Here we go!

After sleeping with Tom you expected your lust and yearning for him to return, but you have never imagined waking up in the middle of the night, with shivers running down on your spine, your skin on fire and that sweet space between your legs aching to be touched.

You turned to your back with a sigh, looking at Tom sleeping peacefully next to you. His body was pressed to your on a million spots and that dull touch alone even trough your PJs took your breath away.

The two of you were still in your smaller bed, which you deeply regretted by now. Tom’s even breathing tickled the skin on your neck and your options were desperately entering and leaving your mind.

You tried to pull away, but it was impossible without more space. Calming down and going back to sleep wasn’t an option either. You could have sneaked into the bathroom in a desperate attempt to make yourself to cum, thinking about Tom as you did million times before, but who were you kidding? It never was enough, and now knowing how his touch and kisses and his skin on your own felt, it wasn’t really an option anymore.

You could have woken him up and you could have figured something out, but it was already too late. Tom’s breathing hitched, and he was consciously looking for you.

‘What’s wrong, darling?’ His voice was a raspy whisper, paired with a bit of an unconscious humm as he pulled you close again. Just as he did, his body stilled, hands fastly moving under the hem of your shirt as he felt just how hot your skin was. You heard him sucking in a breath and you almost heard the question if you were sick, but your shudder to his touch and the sharp breath made him stop.

‘I’m okay.’ You lied, almost shaking as you took every ounce of energy you had to not to jump on him.

‘I know, that’s not true.’ His whispering voice was a lot more awake now. He shifted to the side to give you enough space to lay on your back. Your hands were balled in a fist until your mind tried to decide itself on your next move. ‘Let me help.’

‘We can’t, Harry is here.’ The dim, almost blueish light coming through under the blinds on the window lit Tom’s face a bit, who was looking at your direction chuckling a bit.

‘I know, but he is sleeping.’ He started, his voice smiling. ‘Believe me, he won’t wake up, I know he won’t.’ Tom reassured you, and you made a mental note to ask him in the morning what on Earth he did to his sleeping brother before which made him so sure.

There was a bit of a quiet, you not knowing what to say and Tom waiting for you to say it out loud.

‘Do you need me, love?’ His voice sounded like honey, it was gentle, sweet and there was an unspoken promise in it.

‘I do.’

‘It’s okay.’ Tom leant down still smiling, slowly kissing you. The fabric of his shirt wrinkled in your palms, as you were clutching onto his shirt, pulling him onto you even more. He felt your impatience but didn’t give in just yet. He made you open your mouth for him, doing his best to muffle your sounds, with his kisses. When you finally gave in and followed his peace, his hand which was under your shirt already started to move down, lifting the waistband of your pants, his nimble fingers gliding down on your mound.

He didn’t have it in him to tease you, not when the warmth radiating from your body made his skin crawl with anticipation and when your heavy breathing made the air vibrate round you. He just wanted to give you a tiny bit of a foreplay when his fingers were tracing your inner thighs, but it didn’t last long. He growled into the kiss involuntarily when your slickness already smeared on your thighs made everything more obvious for him. It took only a second to lose his cool, suddenly his whole body feeling a lot more awake, his hips jerking against your thigh, chest pressing to your chest urgingly. It wasn’t enough, there was no space between the two of you but he still wanted closer. Suddenly he sat up and you could see Tom getting rid of his shirt, almost tearing the fabric in the franzy. Before he returned, your shirt was pushed up hard, the material pooling above your breasts, Tom’s eyes tracing your form until he laid back down to keep going. Now his smooth skin on yours felt like something you needed all along, yearning for it without really knowing. The small sound he made when finally your hands were on him mixed with yours.

‘It’s-, You are properly soaked, oh, god.’ He mumbled into your shoulder, while his movements were in sync with his words as he explored your wet folds, one finger sliding up and down on autopilot on your pussy. ‘Open your legs a bit more.’ His fingers poked your thighs demanding more space for themselves.

When you did he didn’t waste any time to start gently rubbing your pussy, leaning onto his hearing more than ever, to register every restrained sigh and whimper, to know when he made you feel really good.

It didn’t take much time until your chest was heaving, back arched from the mattress. It wasn’t an invitation on purpose but Tom leant down, balancing himslef on one arm and quietly suked one nipple into his mouth, coaxing a broken, soundless sobb out of you.

The pad of his index finger was drawing pretty circles around your clit, then he switched and ran his finger up and down on your silt, before going down again and stopping for a heartbeat. His mouth found yours and when you couldn’t take it anymore and bucked your hips, Tom slid one finger inside of you.

The muffled, dragged out moan was barely audible, and it was just enough to reassure him. He was doing good. He started to move in and out of you curling his finger, searching for that spot which made you tremble again.

Your impatience got the better of you again, your hand dipped into his messy curls, pulling onto them slightly, while the other one gripped the sheets. He couldn’t help it as his hip rutted into your thigh, his body searching for some kind of relief, grinding his erection to you.

‘I need you.’ You didn’t need to break the kiss to breath this small sentence onto his lips. Tom stubbornly just shook his head and pushed another finger inside of you, slightly stretching you out, trying to give you the pleasure, the fullness you needed from him. ‘No.’ You shook your head, sounding truly broken, but your back arched nonetheless again, pleasure washing over you as he was working your with two fingers, those skilled digits caressing that one spot inside of you. ‘I need you, Tom. You.’

He kept shaking his head and speeding up with his fingers, pulling them out and circling your clit again.

‘I want you too-,’ as a demonstration he pressed his rock hard cock to you, ’but that would wake Harry up, and we don’t want that.’ He was protesting trying his best to get you to the edge as fast as he could. It felt more and more difficult not to rut into you or, worse, just roll on top of you pushing his pants down and sliding into you. You were soaking his fingers, he knew he could have done it, it would have been so easy. A shudder ran through his spine to the thought alone, and he was sure he already was leaving a wet spot on his pants from leaking continuously in the last minutes.

It seemed like you didn’t have strength to protest, or more like your mind was occupied with something else. Your thighs were trembling and you were unable to control your breathing anymore.

‘That’s it, lovie, come for me.’ His fingers slid into you again, for one last time, making you feel full, before returning to your clit. He sat up in a second and his other hand, pressed against your mouth hard, to muffle your sounds. He could see that this movement alone pushed you over the edge without any warning. Your whole body shook violently, completely losing control, trashing under Tom’s touch, your hips jerking and pleading for more and he got it.

When your muscles finally relaxed he loosened his pressure on your mouth still not trusting you fully to remain completely quiet. It felt like the world had stopped and it was only you and him, his whole caring, loving presence surrounding you, making your body float. When he stopped he didn’t fully let you go yet, his warm palm slid onto your oversensitive pussy, cupping and covering it softly until you fully came down.

It’s been a few minutes until you stayed like that, before you cued him to let you speak.

‘Thank you.’ The words tumbled over your lips earning a small chuckle from him.

‘There is nothing to thank me for, darling. I’m always happy to make you come.’ His giggling filled your ear as he laid back next to you, peppering the slightly damp skin on your shoulder with tender kisses. He tugged his hands away from your pants, drawing you a bit closer. It made the both of you suddenly very aware of his painfully hard cock, and you reached out to return the favour, but he caught your wrist.

‘It’s not the best time-,’he shook his head, the adoration clear in his words,’I’m not particularly quiet.’ He confessed and you imagined him getting all flustered and red at the same time.

‘Oh, are you?’ You teased and turned to your side to be able to hold him better.

‘No.’ The ruffling of the bedsheets let you know that he was shaking his head.’ So how about now going back to sleep, at least you, and tomorrow, taking just a tiny bit more time in the bathroom together?’ He asked, not giving away what he had in mind exactly.

As much as you wanted to argue the tiredness quickly returned into your body, mixing with the high of your recent orgasm and Tom’s closeness made you sleepy again, and you were drifting to sleep before you knew it.

The sun was up a lot earlier than you wanted it but when Tom turned to his side to spoon you, holding you tight and secure to his body you didn’t mind it that much. Moreover when you felt the butterfly kisses on the back of your neck, paired with his thick accent and sleepy voice.

The events of the night quickly came back as your mind became more awake, giving a bit of a testing push with your butt, feeling Tom to be hard again.

‘Someone is impatient.’ He whispered and looked over his shoulder, seeing that Harry was still sleeping more or less. ‘Wanna give this day an early start?’ He asked cheekily, grabbing your hip and pulling you flush to his lap.

‘Brushing your teeth should be the first thing you do after waking up anyway.’ Fabricating an excuse which wasn’t really needed yet, added to the thrills of sneaking around like this.

Tom didn’t waste any time, he got up, giving a quick glance to Harry before grabbing your reached out hand and pulling you to the bathroom. The both of you doubled over from the restrained laughter as the door closed behind you.

‘It’s like we are teens sneaking around, doing something we shouldn’t.’ Your voice was still a whisper, your cheeks hurting from smiling so hard until Tom straightened himself and looked at you.

‘We are sneaking around.’ He said, seriousness and a hint of seduction coloring his voice. ‘But it’s something we definitely should do more often.’ He bit his lips playfully, his hands reaching out to grab your waist and push you to the cold tiled wall. It wasn’t very spacious, but if everything went as you planned you didn’t need much space anyway. ‘I hope you don’t mind if we do something more than what you had in mind during the night.’ His voice was low and his eyes were even darker, filled with lust and need, setting fire in your veins. ‘The thing is I just can’t take it out of my mind how absolutely wet you were.’ He was flush to your chest, hands caressing your neck and face when he spoke. ‘I’d lie if I said I don’t want your hands and mouth on me, but I’m afraid it wouldn’t do it right now, lovie.’ He spoke slowly and languidly, almost sneakily grinded his hips into you already.

Your answer was lost in the feverish, urging kiss which followed. You pulled him onto yourself, taking all of your clothes off in a frenzy, the want returning to your body from last night, your pussy pulsing and aching to be filled. Tom was impatient too, yet he did his best to prepare you, peppering your neck with wet kisses, leaving glistering marks on your skin, dropping his head to suck your nipples into that hot mouth, occasionally running the tip of his cock through your folds, earning the sweetest sounds from you. He knew that spot on your neck, the one made you tremble and close your eyes in an instant and your knees giving in. You told him during a drinking game, well you told everyone but he was the one giving it a test on a drunken night. He held you similarly and after a shaky breath he pressed his lips to your neck, just where you told him days ago to never ever dare to do.

And now he went back there again and heard your shaky whimper and felt your knees shake and now he could go on, now you wanted him to go on.

It was fast and a bit hurried, but you didn’t mind. Your skin was burning again, the only thought in your head was to have him filling you in seconds.

Those long fingers dipped between your folds making your head hit the wall as you let it fall for the sensation.

‘So wet again. Oh, darling, I could have you so easily right now.’

‘Please.’ The answer was way too fast mixing with a soft moan.

‘Turn around.’ Tom guided you to the sink, placing both of your hands on the edges and stepping behind you. ‘Look how wet you are.’ He opened his fingers showing them off in the reflection of the mirror. Before you could have answered you felt a gentle tap on your inner thighs so you opened them even more.

There was no more talking needed, Tom carefully guided his cock between your folds, looking up into your eyes in the mirror when he was ready. He started to push forward but you couldn’t keep your eyes open, it was too intense, making the little hairs stand on your arms, a wave of satisfaction washing over you, as his cock deliciously stretched your cunt. And Tom? He was watching you, he was drinking in all of your reactions from the little shudders to the silent ‘o’ of your mouth when he finally bottomed out.

He couldn’t wait a second to start to move, he had to feel you more. It was heaven when those large palms were gripping your hips, keeping you in place, his hips already giving you a stead, hard peace. The slight burn around your entrance, around his thick cock, him working you open was slowly soothing that unbearable ache in your belly.

His palm slid up on your body, pinching your nipple the slightest as it spread on your chest pulling you up to his strong torso. Your head found home on his shoulder, deeply inhaling his scent.

When his name fell from your lips like a prayer, he couldn’t hold it together any longer. The now somewhat familiar fingers found your clit, rubbing it fast, now knowing your sweet spots a lot better. The sink helped you to steady yourself against his now sloppy, heavy thrusts and kept reminding you where you were to try and keep your voices as low as possible. Tom on the other hand, he was loud even trying his best to keep it down. He hissed as you were pulsing around him and let out a broken moan when your hot lips kissed his neck.

You were already close but listening to his absolutely sinful, sweet noises pushed you over the edge, and Tom couldn’t hold it any longer either, he came, his body tensing, the feeling of his hot cum filling you only prolonging your pleasure.

When it was over he kept holding you close, his lips pressing to yours in a lazy, satisfied kiss. The both of you slowly come down from your highs, panting and your cheeks burning hot.

It took only a few minutes to clean up before not you walked out of the bathroom, finding Harry sitting on the bed, with headphones on, reading a book.

Now he looked up with a shit eating grin. ‘I swear to you, that was the world’s longest and loudest toothbrushing ever.’

Tags: @we--are---not--afraid, @storybookholland @champagneee-hills @annathesillyfriend @suckerz @tomsrebeleyebrow @hazofmyheart @thegirlintheswivelchair @hollandprkr @terrifictomholland @worldoftom @augustholland @greenorangevioletgrass

[sweettodo]

deceive.

armin arlert x female reader.

to deceive [de-ceive] - “it is often done for personal gain or advantage”

includes : mind break, loss of virginity, manipulation, dubcon, some dacryphilia.

a / n, happy sunday, thank for for 1,000 followers !

wc : 2.5k

Armin and Eren, an infamous friendship, tied at the hip. They're a devilish pair, and they do an unduly job at hiding it too.

Women who have slipped under their spell- their friends around them left thinking 'what happened to her?' after having been sucked in, tossed around, and spit out, left behind to pick up the mutilated fragments of her heart. She'll never be the same.

And even worse, the flocks of daughters who fall head over heels for the dangerous blonde, and the evil brunette- who never seem to slip away before they wound the wretched girls that found themselves wrapped around their fingers. But Eren and Armin will never feel any guilt for their behavior, especially when they can't get enough of the delicious taste of a woman's tears.

Armin knew how to captivate you- instantly Eren too, but how were you expected to know that they were playing you right into their palms? A sweet little compliment about your short summer dress one day after your lecture left you reciting the brief conversation for the rest of the day and the following night. Eren stood next to him, hands in his pockets with a complacent grin on his face, making you shrink, feeling minuscule and bewildered with the two in front of you. That’s when it all started.

Not to mention, that's how they preferred their toys, modest, quiet, and easy to break. Just like you. And as if it were a package deal, you're a tight little virgin, this was laughable to the two- this was going to be ever so simple. You were a priceless doll.

Both men had an unholy God complex, placed on a pedestal, and there was absolutely no way they were coming down.

You knew only a little about the two, but they were able to get under your skin with ease, you were now their little plaything, always sandwiched between the two, being teased as they tried to loosen you up, flicking up your skirt or pinching your sides, "y'know us, princess, no need to act so shy n’ scared." Eren coos, petting your head, you scowl, looking at Armin, who's beside his friend, his hand on your waist.

“Guyss, ” you dragged, “stop messing with me!”

Armin took a particular liking towards you, but he knew it wouldn't be as easy to knock your walls down, unlike some others.

You thought about the blue-eyed sweetheart throughout the day since you had met him, mindlessly writing scribbles on the notepad in front of you; your professor rambling as all you thought about was how Armin made you feel beautiful, how cute he thought you were. In just a few minutes of meeting him, he had you fixed, and he knew that soon, you'd be demanding more, and soon, you would need him to praise you again and again.

"She's pretty cute, you like her?" The first time they had seen you, they knew they had to have you.

Armin had hummed in agreement, abandoning his bag on the bed, "yeah," sitting at his desk, "seems awfully quiet though, gotta' break her out of her shell."

He deemed you to be just like him, gentle and pure, and all Armin needed to do was show you how much potential you had. Look at you- you're too shut out, you're too sheltered, girls like you should be compelled to have Armin come and teach you the right way to do things. He knew, that deep down, you yearned to be taught, and he is so good at taking care of delicate girls like you.

You were Armin's, God- he was going to take such good care of you. He was going to corrupt you and make it so that it would be incapable of letting a day go by without the thought of him leaving his mark on you. You'd be thinking about him every second of the day.

Eren and Armin planned it out accordingly, making sure it was just going to be Armin and you in his dorm, so by the time you got there one late afternoon, it was just going to be you two.

You sat so pretty on the edge of his bed, a textbook in your lap as you studied, you and your tiny little shorts- it pissed him off. Walking around campus, walking past him, enticing every man that laid eyes on you, and you couldn't even throw him a bone? Stingy.

He couldn't settle for the fact that you'd never be the one to make the first move, but no- don't take it personally, it was okay, he liked being in control anyways.

Caught by surprise, watching the sweet little blonde remove the textbook off your lap suddenly and get in your face, wrapping his big, soft, and veiny hand around your throat, ridiculing you for being a loser virgin.

“You think guys are gonna want an inexperienced girl like you?” first he wants to break you down. Make you feel like you're alone, and in the wrong for keeping your innocence.

“Have you even had your first kiss?” he taunts, “it’s okay, that's why you're here.” Stroking the side of your face, you're gasping for air as he squeezes your juggler enough to make your eyeballs throb. Now, he wants you to know that the only man that'll touch you is going to be him. Because no one else wants to.

You're trembling, hurt by his sharp insults, he was right, no one was going to touch you; you're tragic, it's pitiful- really, “you want me to help you?” he releases his grip around your now, tender neck, “you want me to teach you?”

You didn't respond, he becomes irritated, “no one likes a prude, you're lucky I'm even helping you.” your self-esteem shatters, he was right. He was right. He was right.

“I'm sorry, Armin.”

Good, you're so good, even when he's tormenting you like you're nothing more than scum, no other girl would apologize after being called a prude, this means it's working. His cock was begging to be set free from his pants, he needed to rip you open. Now.

“Have you ever seen a cock? Touched one?” he seethes, your face scrunching in distaste, looking down at your lap in humiliation. He makes you look at him, “come on, answer.”

You shake your head, “no, I haven't.” He chuckles, what would your first reaction be? To seeing his cock, would it be shocked, excitement?

“You need me, right?”

“I do, I do! Armin!” he smiles, look at you- so willing to be taught by the one and only.

He knows you have no clue what to do, so he makes sure you're going to be completely prepared for him, “lie on your back,” he instructs, you follow direction, he steps in between your legs, taking off his shirt in the process, “open those legs, okay?”

You hold open your legs per his demand, he gets on his knees, elbows on the bed, “you're going to get nice as wet for me before I fuck you, does that sound good?” he wants to give you a step by step, but he's not that selfless, he just really wants to release a hot load in your cunt and send you on your way. He was conflicted.

Nodding, Armin is hooking his index and middle fingers around the waistband of your cheeky panties and pulling them down slowly, your pretty little pussy glistening in his face, stuffing the fabric in his back pocket for keeps.

You're embarrassed, covering your face in shame as he hums at the sight of your pussy, “don't be shy, let me see your face.”

Uncovering your face, he smiles, praising you for listening to him, “good, now watch me eat that pretty pussy of yours.” The vulgar language sliding off his tongue throws you into a loop, making you dizzy as he wastes no time to begin to devour you. Scissoring your folds with his two fingers, spreading you open and kitten-licking stripes up to your sensitive clit, flicking the muscle against your swollen folds and futtering cunt.

Leg quivering, fingers grilling his scalp, he slides his middle finger into your cunt, hooking upwards as he already knows right where all the sweet spots are, your moans music to his ears, “didn't know the shy girl could be so noisy,” he claims, occasionally slipping his finger out of your hole and rubbing in the slick that he catches seeping from your cunt.

Quite frankly, he didn't even care about letting you reach your orgasm. He just needed to play up the front, it’s not every day that there's a girl like you at a college... So he needed to savor the taste, and the feeling of a tight cunt like yours squeezing his finger.

You're crying, he loves it, he loves your crimson cheeks, the tears spilling from your waterline. Your back raising from the bed, he's there to hold it down, keeping you still, he mustn’t let a drop of your slick escape from his mouth.

“‘Bet you wish that you did this earlier,” a pop coming from his mouth as he sucks each finger clean of your slick, you're trying to catch your breath. Stunned, dizzy.

He leans down, wet fingers squeezing and rolling your perk nipple, kissing your lips, your juices tainting your tastebuds. The kiss only lasts a moment or two, before he's back to ridiculing you, “is that what you say when someone eats you out?” you groan, shutting your eyes.

“Thank you, A-Armin.”

His ears jump, his ego could not have been fulfilled enough, his body tingling and weak from your choice of words, he didn't necessarily mean to thank him- but Jesus, he was not complaining, “good, you're such a good girl, guess what I'm going to do next?” He sputters, frantically unbuttoning his jeans, his cock hurt so bad, it was throbbing, begging to be released from his tight jeans.

“Fuck me?” you whisper? Mortified to even say the words, he needed you to say it, he needed you to loosen up, for him.

“Yes- yes, good,” Armin’s so high off lust, he doesn't care about you, he doesn't care about how bad it's going to hurt, and he doesn't care about how you'll want to scream and cry, he just needs to see those crystal-like tears and your pussy leaking with his cum.

You're trembling, watching him pull down his pants and his cock spring out, he needs to make sure you appreciate how big he is. Grabbing you by the hair and making you look at his cock close up as you squirm uncomfortably, body folding as he holds you still, “what's this, tell me.” He sneers, his tip barely touching the tip of your nose.

“I-it’s, your cock, it's your cock, Armin.”

“Guess where it's going?” he was losing control, his act of the nice guy slipping from his fingers- but it was okay, you didn't know the difference, you were clueless.

“In me.” You whined, he releases his grip on your head, falling backward, he's grabbing you from under your thighs and yanking you towards the edge of the bed, gasping, “b-be gentle! Please, Armin!”

“You want me to be gentle? After you went around teasing me for so long?”

“Do you think that’s fair to me? I mean- you’ve teased so many guys- fucking cock tease.” He spits, you swallow, your throat dry.

“B-but,”

Lining his tip up with your entrance, his hand squeezing the soft flesh of your tit, he slides in without warning, “big girls take cock and don't complain, think you can do that?”

Your head flies back, head spinning as he slides his cock into you, the pain of Armin tearing you in half, you try to listen to his harsh demands, “h-hurts, it hurts Armin.”

One ear and out the other, he focuses on his cock disappearing in your deep pussy, walls clenching, desperately trying to kick his thick cock out, your folds decorating the base of his cock, clenching around him so hard it was nearly impossible for him to pull back and fuck back into you, “shh, I'll loosen you up- fuck- this cunt is so tight, can't fit it all.”

Your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he’s finally able to get past the first thrust, the sweat already dripping from his chest as he struggles to move his cock, you're crying, begging him to be gentle, “it hurts, it hurts,” he mocks, “what did I say?”

While his cock thrusts back into you, stripping you of all humanity, forcing you to repeat what he told you before, “say it, or else I don't help you.”

“Big girls take cock- don’t complain, I'm a big girl Armin, ‘swear!” you plead, “‘need you to teach me, please.” He’s gripping your legs, nails breaking the skin, you're wailing as his cock knocks back and forth into you; your tongue lolling out, saliva spilling as all of your holes leak.

He occasionally wipes your tears with his thumb, then making you suck his thumb to taste the salty liquid of his sweat and your tears, he grunts, moans slipping past his lips, “that's why you're here, with me.” What a blatant lie, he wasn’t going to teach you anything.

Your pussy is so good, it makes him drunk, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

Your ribbed walls sucking him so well, your pussy is so noisy, he tries so hard to focus, but he can't. He slams into you, his strong hips making your tits bounce and your hair become matted from underneath your head. Legs unable to stay upright as he fucks them numb, the pain since subsided from the first thrust, besides the pain of his tip drilling into the entrance of your cervix.

God- he's so close, so close so close, he can feel it, he knows you're close too, he's feeling generous, so he’s going to let you cum, going to let you bathe his thick cock with your cream, “do you think big girls get to cum? Y’think you deserve it?” he prods, breath fanning your face and tits, making your nipples grow hard again.

“Can I? Can I cum please?” you beg, looking at him with those red, glossy, and precious eyes of yours.

“Of course you can- for being so good, y’learn a lot? Princess?” he interrogates, being as it is, hard enough to sputter out words, you're trying to lick up the drool off your swollen lips.

You nod, screwing your eyes shut, sure, you had orgasms before, but not by a man, and definitely not by a man like Armin, “y-yes, G-God, s’big, love it!”

Relentlessly, he angles his body downwards, skin slapping rapidly as he chases his orgasm, his hair falling in front of his sweaty face, his once, cerulean eyes now a dark and lustful blue, staring daggers into you. His pubic hair beating your tender clit, sending you into orbit.

Crying out his name, body convulsing as he rips an orgasm out of your body, feeling his cock easily slide in and out of you; you had never felt so full, so stuffed.

His hips pounding against yours, you shook as he fucked you through your orgasm, “look at all this cum- fuck- so messy, princess.”

Too fucked out to speak, incoherent words filling the room as his hips rutted mercilessly, thrusts becoming rugged and messy, moaning, his nails digging deeper into your legs as he releases his load into you. Cock twitching as you tried pathetically to fill your lungs with much-needed oxygen, he fucked every ounce of air out of you.

A few minutes had passed, Armin on his back next to you as he tries to catch his breath as well, he had never fucked pussy so good, he couldn't even think straight.

Your pussy sopping, leaking cum as the blonde is slipping his, now, soft cock in his boxers, “need help?” he offers, watching you sit up, replying with a quiet ‘yes please’ he hums, smug look enveloping his face.

“Big girls are supposed to know how to put their pants on.”

*

Practically limping home, and without your underwear, you felt soaked, you looked a mess, but luckily had escaped any type of questioning from your peers.

Unlocking the door to your dorm room, you slip in and finally relax, dropping on your bed and letting your legs rest, ready to fall asleep the second your head hit the pillow.

But before you did that, figuring to remind him to bring you your panties tomorrow, you reached for your phone, unlocking it and heading to your messages, tapping on ‘Armin’, sending him a text.

‘Can I have my underwear back? Tomorrow.’

You hadn't noticed the message never delivered, just dropping your phone on the bed and falling asleep.

Thing was, the message was never delivered, and both Eren and Armin never talked to you again, never even as little as looking in your direction.

[hearts-hunger]

them old love songs || frankie morales x reader

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

Summary: Frankie takes you on an early-morning drive and shows you just how much he loves you.

Pairings: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Wife!Reader

Genre: Fluff, smut | Word Count: 4.3k 

Warnings: fingering, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, mention of PTSD

A/N: This is just my domestic yearning to be Frankie’s wife and give him some good lovin’ in the early morning while we listen to old honky tonk music. Very soft married smut. I hope you like it! ♡

You woke to an empty bed.

Propping yourself up on your elbow, you ran a hand over Frankie’s side of the bed and found it was cold. No wonder you’d woken up - Frankie was a furnace when he slept, and you were missing his warmth. You noticed that he’d taken the throw blanket from the foot of the bed and laid it out over you when he got up to make up for the loss of his warmth, and you smiled to yourself. Small acts of kindness like that came as easy as breathing to Frankie.

You glanced at the clock; the red numbers showed it was just shy of five in the morning. You tried to remember if Frankie had said he was going in early to the shop - some mornings, when he had paperwork to catch up on, he liked to go in before Catfish Auto opened and have the shop all to himself. He’d worked hard after Colombia to open up his own shop, and he was more at peace with his work than you’d ever known him to be. He had a steady income, work that he enjoyed and was very good at, and he got to come home in time for dinner every day. His handful of employees were loyal and hardworking, and Frankie was a good boss; he knew what it was like to be away from your family, and created a work environment that allowed his mechanics to make decent money and prioritize their families.

When Frankie came home to you in the evenings, he was tired in a good way, happy to be home and able to unwind in a way he hadn’t when he was in the Army. He helped you make dinner and sang while he did; he curled up with you on the couch and read books aloud to you, most recently To Kill a Mockingbird. He slept soundly, with few nightmares, holding you close until he kissed you goodbye in the mornings to head to work. To anyone else, it might have been boring; to you, it was a greater blessing than you could have hoped for. Your husband was happy, finally, and you loved watching him settle into his newfound peace.

He still wrestled with his PTSD, and he would for the rest of his life, but you weren’t going anywhere. Frankie knew that, and he knew he could lean on you when it got bad. He had Santi and Will and Benny too, and the five of you had become a tight-knit group. 

You were supposed to go over to Santi’s for dinner tonight. As you got out of bed and wrapped the throw blanket around your shoulders like a cape, you thought that might be why Frankie had decided to go in early, so he could get off a little earlier. You followed the aroma of coffee and expected to see him in the kitchen, but the lights were off except for the warm bulb above the stove.

You frowned. He never left without saying goodbye, and he wasn’t anywhere in the house. You pulled the cheery floral curtain back from one of the living room windows and peeked out, trying to see if he’d left already.

He was hard to see in the predawn darkness, but you saw with a bit of relief that he was leaned up against the hood of his truck, coffee mug in hand. You let the curtain fall back and opened the front door, wrapping your blanket closer around you as the cool morning air breezed in.

“Frankie?” you called, keeping your voice quiet for your neighbors' sake.

You heard the truck groan a little as he pushed off of it. “Right here, honey. You alright?”

You closed the door behind you and padded over to him, wanting his warmth; he collected you in a tight hug and ran his free hand over your back.

“Hi,” you said, resting your chin on his chest and smiling up at him.

He chuckled and kissed your forehead. “Hi. You’re up early.”

You snuggled closer to him and buried your face against his chest. “I got cold without you. I thought you left.”

“And go to work without my morning kisses? No way.” He took a sip of his coffee. “The weather’s so nice, I wanted to have my coffee outside. Sorry you got cold, honey.”

“It’s ok,” you said, your voice muffled by his shirt. “I’m not cold any more.”

He absently rubbed his fingers over the places he knew you held tension, and you melted against him. He smelled like Old Spice and Gain, comforting and homey; you traced your fingers over the Catfish Auto logo stitched into the breast of his shirt.

“You’re going in early?” you asked.

He shrugged. “Probably. I was going to, so I could duck out early for Santi’s tonight.”

You pulled back to see his face. He kept his arm around you, and you took one hand out from under your blanket to loop your fingers around his belt.

“You’re not now?” you asked.

He smiled down at you, the fading moon just bright enough to let you make out his soft features.

“Maybe,” he said. “I like spending my morning with you, Mrs. Morales. I might hang around if you’re staying awake.”

You closed your eyes when he kissed you, all soft touches and tenderness. If you’d thought of going back to bed, you forgot all about it as his kiss warmed you clear to your toes.

You gave him a dreamy smile when you came up for air. “I’ll stay up if you keep kissing me like that.”

He chuckled and ran his thumb over your bottom lip. “I’ll make you a deal. If you go on a ride with me, I’ll kiss you as long as you want.”

Your brow crinkled in confusion. “A ride? To where?”

He gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Anywhere. Wherever. Let’s go get breakfast or something.”

You considered that. Frankie loved to drive, be it on a cross-country road trip or down the street to the grocery store. His happy place was driving his beloved old Ford with the windows down, an old rock ‘n roll or honky-tonk song playing, one hand on the wheel and one on your thigh. You’d spent countless hours when you were dating just driving, to nowhere in particular, until Frankie couldn’t stand to keep from kissing you any longer and pulled off to slide you across the seat and into his arms.

You smiled at the memory of a much younger Frankie on the night before he’d left for basic training. He was nervous and brimming with excitement, and he couldn’t keep his hands off of you. He asked you to marry him that night, even though he didn’t have a ring and was about to be gone for months. You said yes, and the first time he came home, he’d had a ring to put on your finger.

You felt his ring as he brushed his knuckles against your cheek.

“What are you smiling at?” he asked affectionately.

You leaned into his touch. “Just thinking about the night before you left for basic. I thought you drove me out to the middle of nowhere to have your way with me, and you proposed to me instead.”

He grinned. “If I remember correctly, I did end up having my way with you too.”

So he had, and the memory built a flicker of desire in you even now. You tugged on the lapel of his jacket and brought him down to kiss you, fanning that flicker into a warm, comforting flame.

“I’ll go on a drive with you,” you said against his mouth. “If you have your way with me.”

You felt his smile. “It would be my pleasure, Mrs. Morales. Let me go get my keys.”

You followed him inside and took a moment to freshen up, brushing your teeth and making your hair less of a mess. Frankie loved you any which way, just rolled out of bed or all dolled up, but you wanted to be a little bit more put together for him if you could.

You saw he’d fixed you a cup of coffee and grabbed a few blankets and pillows. Taking your coffee with a quick kiss to thank him, you raised your brow at the bedding he had tucked under his arm.

“What are those for?” you asked. You’d assumed you were going the classic cramped, back seat route when it came to your early morning lovers’ tryst.

He tapped your nose. “How about you mind your business, nosy?”

You smiled, content to let him go through with whatever plans he had. Frankie was nothing if not attentive in his romancing, and he’d been that way from your very first date.

To make room for the pillows and blankets, you sidled up next to Frankie and leaned your head on his shoulder as he cranked the truck. You didn’t need the heat on; Frankie radiated warmth, and his hand on your thigh kept a different kind of warmth running through you. You cradled your coffee in one hand and turned on the tape player to see what he’d been listening to.

“It’s Waylon Jennings,” Frankie said. “You can change it if you want.”

You let it play, the strains of honky-tonk drawl mixing with the cool morning breeze coming through the open windows. You and Frankie had very similar tastes in music, and the tapes he kept in his truck had been there for as long as you’d known him; almost every track had a memory tied to it, some of them sad, most of them happy and comforting. You rested your arm on his shoulder and brushed your fingers through the curls that stuck out from under his baseball cap.

You studied his profile as he drove down the near-empty roads, each of his features very dear and beautiful to you: the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes, the kiss-sized patch in his scruff, the slope of his Roman nose.

“Are we almost there?” you asked. You didn’t know if he even had a place in mind, but you were impatient to touch him, to shower his face with kisses. He gave you a smile that told you he was just as impatient for you, and you almost blushed.

You did blush when you saw where he’d taken you: a spot off the beaten path under the shelter of huge oak trees, well known for being a place young lovers went sparking. You were the only ones there at that hour, and a thrill of excitement and giddy nervousness went through you like you were a teenager. 

“This ok?” Frankie asked as he put the truck in park, waiting to turn off the ignition.

You grinned up at him. “We’re not too old for this, are we?”

He smiled. “We’re too old to come out here late at night,” he said. “Now that I’m a regular working man, you know I like to be in bed at a decent hour.”

“I know,” you said affectionately. You pushed his hat back a little to brush your fingers through his curls. “Kiss your woman, Mr. Morales.”

He did as you said, responding to your touch and your words with a gentle eagerness that made you smile. He took your coffee from you and set it in the cup holder, freeing up your hands to drape over his shoulders as he took you in a bear hug and kissed you soundly.

You loved it when he held you. You’d always thought Frankie would be good at giving hugs, and the first time he took you in his arms, you’d felt more at home than you had anywhere else. His love language was physical touch, and whether he was showing you how much he loved you or needed some comforting, he’d bury his face against your shoulder and hold you close to him like he couldn’t bear to let you go.

You kissed his cheek, his jaw, the bridge of his nose. “I love you, Frankie.”

He held you closer. “I love you too.”

After a minute, he finally pulled away. You didn’t want him to go, and pulled him back - he obliged you with another long kiss before he disentangled himself from your embrace.

“I’ll be right back, honey,” he said with a smile. “Sit tight.”

You reluctantly let him go. He turned the truck off but left the music on, reaching over you to grab the pillows and blankets. You watched through the back window as he made a cosy pallet in the bed of his truck, smiling at his attention to detail in smoothing out the wrinkles as best he could.

“Your honeymoon suite, my lady,” he said when he came back around, offering you his hand in a gallant gesture. You giggled and took his hand as he led you to the back of the truck; he picked you up by the waist and sat you on the tailgate, standing between your knees to kiss you.

“I sure do love you, Mrs. Morales,” he said, cradling your face in his hands. His thumbs brushed over your temples. “You know that, don’t you?”

You smiled. “Yeah, I know.” As if you could be unaware of the great gentleness and patience and kindness of his love, the depth of his devotion to you. “I sure do love you too.”

You kissed for a long while, long enough for the birds to start singing their morning arias as you fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. His hands found their way under your shirt, cupping your breasts in his big palms, his ministrations gentle and wanting.

“Get up there,” he said breathlessly, nodding behind you. You did as he said, leaning on your hands so you could watch him make quick work of his shirt, undershirt, and work boots. He took his cap off and tossed it heedlessly, his expression dark with desire and love as he climbed up into the bed of the truck with you.

“Beautiful,” he said, hovering over you. You laid back on the pillows, thankful he’d thought to bring them, and let yourself relax against him as he kissed all over your face and down your neck.

“Frankie,” you breathed, tilting your head back to give him better access to your jaw. His scruff rasped against your skin, and you drove your fingers through his thick curls.

He hummed at his name. “What is it, querida? ”

You kissed him again. “Let me take my shirt off.”

He pulled back and gave you just enough space for you to pull your shirt over your head. He grabbed the big quilt he’d taken from your bed and draped it over both of you, his touch less teasing for the moment and more intended to warm you up. While his hands roamed, he pressed kisses against your skin, between your breasts and all over your stomach. You shivered, but it wasn’t from the cool air.

“Alright, sweetheart?” he asked. “Warm enough?”

You nodded. Between Frankie’s warmth and his fingers tracing over the waistband of your pajama bottoms, it could have been below zero and you wouldn’t have cared.

“Let me take your shorts off, honey,” he said gently. You lifted your hips so he could tug off every last scrap of fabric you had on you, leaving you vulnerable and needy under him.

“I love you so much,” he said, almost reverently. “Hermosa, mi amor.”

He kissed you for a while, worshiping you with his hands, praising you for your beauty, your loveliness. Both of you laughed as he tried to get his jeans off, wrestling with his belt and the sturdy denim; once they were off he eased himself down next to you, tucking you close to his chest. You traced your fingers over the familiar planes of his body, each dip and swell like a map to a treasure only you had the privilege of knowing. You pressed kisses to his old army scars and paid special attention to the thin white scar on his cheek he’d gotten in Colombia.

“You’re beautiful,” you said, kissing the spot on his jaw where his beard stubbornly refused to grow. His cheeks pinked a little, warm against your skin.

“Thank you for spending your morning with me,” he said. He ran his hand down your thigh, gently drawing your leg to rest over his. “Eres el amor de mi vida, cariño.”

You sighed against his mouth as his fingers dipped into your heat. “You’re the love of my life too, Frankie.”

He kissed you and nuzzled against you as he drew circles between your legs, easing one finger into you, then two. He drew you out with tenderness and skill, capturing the breathless moans tumbling from your mouth as he kissed you deeply. You carded your hands through his hair, rocking against his hand, giving little whines as you neared your orgasm.

“Love to hear you like this, querida,” he murmured against your skin. “So beautiful for me.”

“'M close,” you sighed, the sound catching a little as he crooked his fingers inside you. “Frankie, please.”

You pressed close to him as he tipped you over the edge, pleasure washing over you with a comforting, languid satisfaction. Frankie was very good when he did you quickly, every movement decisive and strong, but he was downright talented at slow lovemaking, drawing you to orgasm like it was an act of worship. He groaned a little as you moaned and tightened around his fingers, enjoying your pleasure as much as you did. He cradled you close as you came down from your high, pressing kisses everywhere he could reach.

“I want to be inside you, amor,” he said, sucking love marks into the base of your neck. “Take me inside you, please.”

You moved to lay on your back and pulled him with you, his skin pressed against yours, running your hands over the muscles of his back. He hovered over you again, rolling his hips against yours, humming along to the soft song that spilled from the radio.

“Wish I had me a true fine woman,” he sang as he nuzzled your jaw. “Let her rock me all night long. Baby we could get it together, like people do in them old love songs.”

You smiled at the sound of his voice, warm and soft and comforting. You loved it when he sang to you; he did it all the time, when he danced you around the kitchen or when he washed your hair for you in the shower or when he made love to you.

You pushed his boxers down, taking your time in running your fingers over his waist, his hip bones, the softness of his tummy. He buried his face in your neck and laughed a little; he was very ticklish, and you beamed at the sound of his laughter.

“I love you,” you said, pressing your cheek to his.

He pulled back to look at you, laugh lines crinkling by his eyes, bumping your noses together. “I love you too, pretty lady.” 

He kissed you and settled between your legs; he eased himself into you, steady and sure until you were completely joined. He held you there for a moment, both of you basking in the feel of each other.

“Oh, Frankie,” you sighed when he started to move. You raised your hips to meet him, finding that familiar rhythm of your bodies together, pleasure rolling over you in waves with every press of his hips against yours. You held onto him with one hand and ran your fingers through his curls with the other, telling him how good he was, how much you loved him.

He groaned and sighed against your neck, and the sounds of his pleasure unraveled you completely. It was always like this with Frankie, both of you falling to pieces with each other, mending each other with every kiss and touch and movement. You held him close to you, feeling complete with him inside you, like he was the missing piece in the jigsaw of your heart. 

“I love you, I love you,” he said, over and over, and you felt yourself tighten around him, drawing him close as you neared the crest of the wave building through your whole body.

“Baby, please,” he gasped, the roll of his hips needy and desperate. “I need you, I need - God, querida, you’re so good, so good for me.”

You held him tight enough to leave bruises as his praise brought you over the edge, moaning and tightening around him as your orgasm crashed over you. He followed quickly, praising you through it, kissing you even though both of you were breathless.

He lay close to you as both of you settled, resting his head on your chest, running his fingers over your hip. You brushed your hand through his hair, gently untangling his soft curls as you rested in the feel of him. Dawn was peeking through the hazy blue of early morning, pinking the sky and waking the rest of the rest of the birds that flitted to and fro in the branches above you.

“‘M gonna fall asleep,” Frankie mumbled after a while.

You moved your hand down his neck and across his shoulders, scratching lightly. “That’s ok, honey.”

He chuckled and snuggled closer to you. “You want me to take a nap out here with you with no clothes on?”

You smiled. “Okay, maybe not. But we can go home and lay down if you want.”

You knew he wouldn’t take you up on the offer; he was a morning person, and once he was up, he was up. You’d probably go back to bed for a few hours once you got home, or else take a while to actually be up and a productive member of society, but Frankie wouldn’t mind. He often said he liked you all sleepy and soft in the mornings, even if you were a little grumpy before he put a cup of coffee in your hands.

Like you’d expected him to, Frankie gave you one last squeeze before he sat up and started getting dressed. You splayed your fingers over his back, a parting touch to the sun-kissed skin that got covered by his undershirt and then his work shirt.

“Can you grab my clothes?” you asked, sitting up and holding the quilt to your chest. He rifled through the blankets until he found your pajamas, and stopped with his hand halfway stretched out to you when he turned to give them to you.

You blushed. “What?” He was studying you awfully hard, like a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out.

“Nothing,” he said. “Just...” 

He shook his head, his expression softening with a smile. “You’re gorgeous. I don’t tell you that enough.”

You tucked your hair behind your ear. That was categorically untrue, as Frankie told you every single day how beautiful you were. It never failed to make you blush and feel butterflies like it had the first time he’d said it, and you gave him a slightly wobbly smile.

“Thank you,” you said. 

He grinned at you like you were the dearest thing in the world to him.

“You sure are pretty when you blush, Mrs. Morales,” he said. He gently tweaked your cheek and kissed you; when you gave a little huff of protest at getting just one kiss, he laughed.

“Get dressed and I’ll give you some more kisses, honey.”

You did as he said and helped him gather up the blankets and put them back in the cab. You stole his ball cap and put it on your head, turning to him with a grin for his approval; he tapped the brim and said you looked better in it than he ever had. 

True to his word, it took him much longer than it should have to get the truck cranked and on the road because he paused to give you as many kisses as you wanted. He put his arm over your shoulders and drew you close, one hand draped over the steering wheel with that effortless cool that drove you wild when you were younger and made you smile now that you knew how much of a goofball your husband really was.

You kissed his cheek and put his hat back on his head, where it belonged. “I love you, Francisco.”

His expression crinkled in a confused smile. “Francisco?” he repeated. You hardly ever called him that.

“Yeah,” you said, grinning up at him. The first rays of sunshine caught in his hair, bringing out a honey golden color to his curls. “Or... how do you say ‘catfish’ in Spanish?”

He winced. “Bagre. But don’t call me that. Santi thought it was the gold standard of comedy for a few weeks in basic.”

You laughed. “Oh, I definitely will now, especially since Santi started it.” You softened and patted his chest.

“Frankie, then,” you said. “My Frankie.” 

You touched your fingers to your lips, then to his. “I love you, Frankie Morales. I’m really glad I’m your wife.”

His smile was a little bashful. “Aw, honey.” He stole a kiss, quick and sweet.

“I’m really glad I’m your husband,” he said. “I love you too.”

You cuddled close to him, resting against his solid warmth as the sun spread pink and gold over the sky to welcome a new day. With the music playing softly, the windows down, and Frankie beside you, you couldn’t think of any place you’d rather be.

pedro pascal character taglist: @punkgeekcryptid​​​​, @tv-saved-the-teenage-girl​​​​, @stardust-galaxies​​​, @theorganasolo​​​​, @qhbr2013​​​​ ♡

let me know if you’d like to be added! ♡

[ahkaahshi]

our place [fushiguro megumi x reader]

pairing: fushiguro megumi x gn reader

genre: fluff with sprinkles of moments that might make your heart go :’)

warning(s): n/a

word count: 1.7k

overview: you’re not particularly fond of mornings, but you think you could grow to love them if you spent every one of them with megumi

Through bleary eyes threatening to take shelter behind the comforting darkness of your own eyelids and give in to the fatigue weighing heavily in your body, you watch your feet lazily trudge through dewy grass that wets your shoes. Your palms are warm from the fresh cup of coffee you’re nursing, but your knuckles are slightly numb from the brisk air your clothing’s barely able to fend off. There’s a deafening silence in the air aside from the crunching of grass beneath four sets of feet—two of which are a set of four paws—and you ponder the oxymoron that the absence of sound somehow seems louder.

Your foot catching on the root of a large tree when your eyelids flutter shut for a moment brings you to attention and your boyfriend’s hand to your arm. It’s as if he knew in that moment you would stumble, but you figure the connection isn’t hard to make, given you’re a night owl being taken out of a warm nest for an unexpected flight in the cold, early hours of the morning. Your eyes meet for a moment, a subtle flash of gratitude in yours that he acknowledges with a nod before the two of you continue your trek through the forest.

“Megumi,” you sigh, “how is it I’ve downed half this cup of coffee and still don’t feel a thing yet?”

He shrugs. “Maybe because it’s decaf.”

His words have your jaw slackening and a small scoff of disbelief leaving your throat. The way he looks at you over his shoulder, a twinkle of mischief in his deep blue eyes that reflect what little light there is, shows he’s expecting the reaction you give him. “I trusted you.”

“Then why are you so shocked?” he asks, “I didn’t give you caffeine so you wouldn’t be too energized to nap again before classes start.”

Though you’ve felt too tired to show any emotion since you’d been awakened by the man walking by your side, you can’t help but smile and chuckle in response. “Fine. I’ll let it pass since it’s actually considerate of you—even if it’s in an indirect way. I’ll just make my students read or do something quiet while I wait for the caffeine from the next cup of coffee I make to kick in.”

“I’m sure they’ll love that.”

“I really hope you got me out of bed for a reason other than to frown upon my teaching methods.”

Megumi’s lips curl into a small smile and you swear he seems to glow just a bit amongst the silhouettes of the tall trees surrounding you, their branches heavy with leaves and moisture. His happiness is like a breath of fresh air filling your lungs; so much so that you’re reminded to take another deep one in an attempt at keeping yourself awake. His divine dogs—one a shock of white and the other seemingly its shadow—draw your attention when they approach him with a large branch in their mouths they’ve taken a shining to during your walk, and that he launches off into the forest for them to chase down again.

Something about the moment seems so surreal. Maybe it’s because the times the two of you get to spend together in peace outside of your home seem to be so few and far between, or maybe it’s because you normally scoff at the idea of being up and active before the sun rises. But, whatever it is, it creates an undeniable warmth in your chest that prompts you to push away any thoughts of yearning for the coziness of your bed, and reach out towards your partner instead.

“Try not to trip again, alright?” he murmurs, shoving his hands into the pockets of his joggers while you slot an arm between one of his and his torso, “I actually like this sweater and would prefer not to get coffee on it.”

“But it’s decaf!”

His lips pause in their action of forming a rebuttal presumably about how his sweater would stain, regardless of the presence of caffeine, and he simply shakes his head with a sigh upon realizing you’re joking.

The same silence that had once filled the crisp air returns, only interrupted by paws pounding the damp earth, but it feels more peaceful now. It’s calming, given the normally hectic lives you and your boyfriend lead as special grade sorcerers and teachers, and very much appreciated. Megumi’s pace is a bit slower and more relaxed than usual, as if he wants to stay immersed in the quietude with you and his dogs at his side. But you know he has a destination in mind with the definitive nature of his steps.

At the top of a hill whose grassy slopes had been decorated with worn stone steps that would indicate many a visitor had travelled up them, sits a stone bench you’ve never seen before. And, in front of it, a clearing where the leafy spires part just enough for you to see the small flicker of light burning at the edge of the horizon decorated with the distant buildings of Tokyo’s bustling cityscape. Your eyes remain fixated on the gentle colors the sun’s impending arrival starts painting across the dark canvas the sky provides as Megumi leads you over towards the bench so you can take a seat and bear witness to nature’s awakening.

You find yourself lost in it for what feels to be a long stretch of time until his voice brings your gaze to him instead. “Well, this is where I go.” The eyebrow you raise at his statement provided without any context coaxes him to elaborate, “You know, on those mornings I leave for a bit and come back, and you ask me where I went? This is where I go.” His long fingers card through the furry coats of his dogs where they sit on the grass between you.

Nodding slowly, you take another sip of the drink in your hand. “So, why’d you decide to take me here, considering it’s probably the only place where you can get away from the madness of everything?”

As the sun ascends skyward at what feels to be a faster pace than expected, you notice the most beautiful pools of cerulean form in his eyes more brilliant than you think you’ve ever seen them before. His hand finds yours, and your fingers intertwine. “Because I wanted you to be here with me.” There’s a pause, and his gaze shifts away from the sunrise to meet with yours instead. It’s an action that unwittingly reaffirms your importance given the beauty of the scene ahead. “I wanted it to be us here instead of just me.”

Gently, you squeeze his hand, relishing in the comfort of his touch that always brings a smile to your face. “So, what are you saying? That you think I’m actually gonna change my sleep schedule entirely just for you?” is your teasing reply.

“No,” he sighs, narrowing his eyes at your jest, “but maybe every now and then, we could go to sleep at a decent time so we can come here and watch the sunrise.”

Moving your face closer to his shortens the gap between your lips, but you stop before they can meet to answer, “We can do that.” Oftentimes, you find that Megumi’s straightforward manner of speaking doesn’t always match the true intensity of his emotions, but his kisses never betray how he’s feeling. They’re soft and tender, as if his intentions are to give you a few pecks and nothing more, but he’s always quick to chase your lips when they separate from his, even for a moment.

When your eyes flutter open once more, you watch his flit back and forth between each of yours in miniscule movements before pecking his cheek and resting your head on his shoulder. A long expanse of peaceful quietude follows, save for the chirping of newly awakened birds and the secretive whispers of the breeze through the trees.

“Do you think this could be our place?”

The sound of his deep voice reverberating in his chest sends subtle vibrations through your head, and his words bring small prickles of heat to your cheeks. “You want it to be?” A wet nose brushes against your unoccupied fingertips, guiding your hand onto a fuzzy, black snout that you give an affectionate rub.

Megumi nods and his cheek comes to rest against the crown of your head. “Yeah,” he answers, slinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer to him.

“Better make sure none of your nosy students ever find out you’re coming up here, then,” is your warning delivered with a chuckle.

“They’re so desperate to be done with classes for the day that I doubt they’ll want to spend their free time tailing their teacher. Your students are the nosy ones, wanting to follow you on social media, or whatever.”

Each of your laughs permeate the cool air slowly becoming warmer with the sun’s expanding reach—from which you take shelter by burying your face in his neck.

“Megumi?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we just… stay here for a bit?”

You feel his arm move as he checks his phone. “Classes start in an hour.”

“Just a little bit longer?”

A notification appears on his screen, but he turns it off and tucks the device back into his pocket. “Sure,” he murmurs into your hair before pecking your temple.

He says it so nonchalantly, but you know he’s hoping whatever time he’s set in his head to leave doesn’t arrive for an eternity. Because it’s the same hope that settles deeply into your heart as the two of you hold onto one another and watch waves of light slowly wash over the dark sky, doing everything you can to cherish your company rather than agonize over the moment when you’ll have to let go.

In an exhale that tickles your skin, Megumi hums, “I’m glad you came here with me.”

[firemanwhenthefloodsrollback]

buffy relationships and their best moments

I'm going to pick what I think was the best relationship moment for each major relationship in Buffy - by which I mean the moment where the relationship was at its best and easiest to say 'yes this character should be with this person'

If you've been following me more than 30 seconds you'll know I have my own opinions about which relationships I like most but I'm gonna approach every major one as fairly as I can because there's something to love about all of them.

I'm only counting relationships that were canon romantic for at least a bit, involved one of the core characters and lasted more than an episode, so Faith and Xander, Spike and Harmony or Giles and Joyce aren't counting here.

So roughly (?) chronologically:

Willow & Xander: Grave

a weird one because they were sort of a romantic ship sometimes - there was the unfulfilled yearning in season one and that weird couple of minutes in season three when it was a real thing - but it was one of the longest running and deepest friendships in the show for many seasons afterwards. I wanted to choose a 'romantic' moment for these two but I just... couldn't? because I don't think anyone was really rooting for them in season three and it was presented to the audience as a disaster in slow motion.

the famous yellow crayon speech, though, is one of the best moments of unconditional love in the show. Xander loves willow enough to want to be with her as she destroys the world and willow loves Xander enough to find her humanity again after becoming dark willow. it's the only love willow feels deeply enough to bring her back from the state she was in after tara's death. I don't think we can compare willow's love for tara and her love for xander because they're just on such completely different planets as relationships, but after she loses tara, xander is the only person who can reach her and make her be herself again. it's a very powerful love even though it was not as good

Buffy & Angel: I Only Have Eyes For You

I don't particularly love Bangel but this episode is the one that gives me feelings. The fact that their feelings for each other can surface through being possessed by ghosts, and angel being v much evil at the time, to give us 'I loved you with my last breath' and a kiss that puts the dead to rest is pretty powerful.

Giles & Jenny: Passion

I know, it hurts my heart too. Their last conversation and agreeing to see each other again and Giles' excitement going to meet her makes you feel giddy and his happiness makes him seem so young and hopeful. I like how sweet and mature him being prepared to forgive her lying to Buffy was. And then, obviously, my heart was burned in my chest ten minutes later.

Willow & Oz: What's My Line Part 2

There's so much to love with Oz but I feel like the animal cracker conversation exemplifies everything that was best about him and what he offered Willow. He put her at her ease and made her laugh, she was trying to thank him for saving her life in a slightly nervous and awkward way and he makes her comfortable and giggly, brings her back to being a teenager having a laugh rather than a nervous mess dealing with the fallout of a vampire attack. I love how visibly safe he makes her feel.

Xander & Cordelia: Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered

Xander and Cordelia's relationship was tied up with so much shame for both of them particularly in the early days and I know everyone watching this felt their heart swell when Cordelia told her friends she wasn't ashamed to be with him whatever anyone thought. For a guy whose parents treated him so awfully and felt like an embarrassment absolutely all the time, I loved watching him hear that someone so much 'better than him' wasn't ashamed to be dating him publicly and walking away from her cool friends with him.

Xander & Anya: As You Were

Obviously the moment where Xander reassures Anya about how sure he is that he wants to be married to her forever becomes bittersweet quite quickly, but seeing Xander manage such quiet certainty and faith in Anya, even if it didn't last as long as we'd have liked, was so wonderfully calm and optimistic in the middle of a dark season.

Buffy & Riley: The Freshman

When Riley had nothing to do with the initiative and he was just a tall, handsome teaching assistant being charming after having books dropped on his head I found him so promising and charming. Early season four Riley was refreshing, sweet and did a great job of not competing with the audience for the same type of relationship they had with Angel. I don't dislike Riley as much as some do - he isn't who I'd pick as I think we're all aware, but he wasn't written to be that type of love interest, and the warmth and change of pace and perspective he brought at the beginning of season four was really valuable to me.

Willow & Tara: Family

Not just the floating above the dance floor, which will obviously have a special place in my heart forever, but Willow insisting to everyone in the magic box that tara be given the time and space to decide what she wants for herself was so wonderfully respectful. then the montage of everyone at the bronze enjoying tara's birthday and the fact that the audience knows how carefully Willow planned it and got everyone to come and be there with her so she'd know how much she belonged.

Buffy & Spike: After Life

The way that Spike recognises exactly what's happened to Buffy when he first sees her on the stairs is such a good statement of how completely they understand each other. Then bandaging her hands and telling her how much he wished he could have saved her, and even in the state she's in, Buffy looks so clearly and openly into his face and the episode ends with her being open with him about going to heaven when she couldn't tell anyone else. Even more than their scenes at the end of season seven, I feel like this is the rawest and most tender they are with each other.

Willow & Kennedy: Chosen

The support Kennedy gives Willow during the scythe spell in Chosen is probably the most linked on a deep level we see these two being? Plus 'you're a goddess'.

[strawbabysimp]

Adult Trio as Yanderes HCs

Chrollo

He's so lonely traveling around for jobs, it's an unstable life and he doesn't have any real motivation for doing what he does. But you? You were so interesting. He made obtaining you a sort of game, except this was a far more exhilarating game than he'd ever played before. It was a new sort of mission that required a different way of going about things and that sparked something in him. Something he had been missing and craving this entire time unknowingly.

You quickly became friends with the new charming man in town, he asked you out a few times and it was all going well. He brought you flowers and candies, showering you in expensive gifts that you didn't have to even do anything special to receive. You said he didn't have to do these things but he made it clear he was glad to do it.

It's a very gradual progression as he gets more and more possessive. He'll want you to wear everything he's given you, especially when you go out in public. The way he turns your head to meet his gaze even when you two aren't talking, as if your attention had to be directed at him for fear that your outside surroundings would somehow taint you.

When you bring up cutting your hair differently or trying a new look he's quick to panic, telling you in a breathy voice that that was a horrible idea and you were perfect just as you are. He wants to keep you the same as you've always been since he first met you, only allowing you to change to his wishes, never your own.

"You belong to me just as you are. Nothing will change that. I won't allow it to." His gaze is gentle but his words held an unspoken threat that both of you were very aware of. You were his rock. The only constant in his life and after gaining such a thing he would destroy anything that could possibly take that away.

You come along with him for all his jobs, no point fighting someone when there was no chance of getting away. You had to admit the life was somewhat entrancing; traveling around with a man quick to give you anything you so desired, only having eyes for you, a precious gift. He's never cruel, always so tentative, the darkness only fills his aura when directed at others for you could never do wrong in his eyes. The world was what was corrupt and ever-changing. He was a clear example of that.

Hisoka

Hisoka is the king of manipulation and while some part of you respected his skill, when it's directed at you it's an entirely different story. When it happens it just seems like jokes, small things he says that plant these cruel ideas in your mind, and they just keep building up. When you bring up his comments he laughs you off, saying if you are overthinking things perhaps there is a good reason for it. That was the start of it all.

Your idea of your friends was tainted, the way they smiled at you became a reminder of the horrible things Hisoka said a smile could hide. Your own family made you doubt your worth, thinking you'd never reach their standards. When you walked with Hisoka those harsh thoughts remained in your head but the presence of the magician made you happy, the way he had said you were perfect for him and that he didn't have expectations for you. He simply wanted you and everything you were willing to give. Only he didn't tell you he would have you give everything you had to offer and make it seem as if it was all your own choice.

You went on about your insecurities, voicing the fact that the world could be such a confusing and unfair place. It made him angry. The card would slip from his fingertips, blood rushing to the surface of your skin as the sharpened edge brought about a twinge of pain. Your eyes widen but a guilt fills your stomach. Hisoka had said you were perfect so why did he hurt you? He remains quiet as he walks towards you but his calm demeanor does nothing to calm your nerves. He explains in the sweetest voice a blood-thirsty man could provide - which was the equivalent of honey in vocal form for this gifted performer - that he was not mad at you but your words. To stop putting yourself down and instead direct your hate at the world. Your mind quickly twists things, Hisoka seeming to have had a sweet reaction. He wasn't mad at you. He loved you. He just wanted you to be happy and the fact you weren't stirred something in him. He cared and the world didn't.

He shows you off to the crowds like you're some divine thing. Something to be proud of. You're happy and he gives you a tender smile whenever he finds you in the stands of the arena. He'll dedicate the following bloodshed to you and call out in your direction his words of dedication. It was violent yet loving, a perfect description of the man who you cared for.

The death didn't stop at the stage, however. You'd find him coming home with clothes stained red from a person he never tells you the name of, going on about how he loves you so much sometimes he just can't help but express it. How he makes the last words those people mutter be your name as blood spills from their lips. You grimace. This isn't what you wanted. But what can you do? He loves you.

He lets you go out on your own, knowing you'll always come back. If you don't? That's not even a possibility at this point. Everything you are is his. You placed the very value of your existence in this beautiful man and he eats it up greedily. Without you, he'd starve. You didn't want to be cruel after he helped you accept the world as it is and yourself. The killing never stops but you do learn to accept it. Eventually, a smile finds its way onto your face as he drags a bloody finger across your cheek, leaving a red streak he kisses gently before dragging you to the shower to wash up with him. If the world is already cruel then isn't he just a byproduct? An adapter? Simply someone who has learned to love in a place where even love can't remain untarnished?

Illumi

You're getting kidnapped right off the bat. This man takes you the second he finds any sort of special interest in you as a person. He has this urge to protect you, the same as his own blood, that's not something he can just ignore. He won't be like his father. He won't allow you to rebel against his wishes or run off with another. He'll keep you to himself until you yearn for nothing more. Your cries fall on deaf ears as he looks on at you emotionlessly. This is for the best.

You'll be walking one day, there won't be many people around or none at all, and then he'll just appear. You hadn't met him before, he had wanted to study you to see if the two of you were compatible before he actually moved forward with his plans. One moment he's standing before you and the next you're out cold, a needle placed perfectly in your neck causing you to fall limp in his hold. He cradles you gently against him as he quickly makes his way to a secure home for the two of you. He wouldn't allow his family to have a taste of you. He didn't need their help. They always failed it seemed and he wouldn't have you suffer the same fate.

You wake up in a home straight out of your wildest dreams. You think you're still asleep as you first take in your surroundings. It's simply perfect. Your dream room. Your feet find the floor and as you put yourself upright a voice calls out to you asking if this setup pleases you or if you'd like something different. You're stunned and the ground beneath your feet suddenly feels all too real. The long-haired man comes to face you, his speed inhuman as he soon stands before you. You're scared and you're confused but the night before comes back to you and the explanation is clear. This man had taken you and it doesn't seem as if it had been the first time he laid eyes on you.

As time goes by he stays at your side, quietly observing you as you go about your day in the confines of the home. You'll walk to one room only to turn around and find him relaxed in a different spot only a few feet away. You were never out of his sight. You began to become curious about his intentions, why he was acting so nice - albeit a bit creepy - after taking you away like this. "My parents attempted to make the perfect family through what most would deem as cruelty. It didn't work out in their favor. I thought I had turned out quite nicely but they did not think the same. The closest thing to perfection for them is my brother but even he is not right yet. They treated him far... kinder than me you could say. Perhaps if I treat you even better you will be good for me."

With no way to escape, having witnessed this man's own abilities the first day of your "stay," you adapted to the situation. Becoming docile yet not overly submissive. You were still you and it seemed he was content with your occasional minor defiance and own personal wants or needs. It seemed he only wanted your presence and something about that was far easier to accept. He doesn't force you to do anything but rather encourages your interests and even becomes curious about them himself. While he wasn't much one to talk in the beginning he became more comfortable in your presence. You both had to adjust to the other despite him being the one in control of the situation.

Being with him is a reassuring thing, the little gleam in his eyes as you show him something new or express your gratitude over something he does/brings you has your heart beating loudly in your chest. You had begun to care for him. You missed the world and the new adventures and life you used to live but there was no fighting to be done. You knew what the result would be. In the back of your mind you knew this was wrong and an inhumane thing to do to another person but he seemed so tender with you. You watched him grow into himself and what's wrong with making the best out of a bad situation?

[ficsnroses]

Pregnancy Headcanons - John Wick x Reader

❧ may be read as a follow up to these.

warnings : pregnancy. smut. morning sickness mention. mega fluff.

words : 2.3k. requested by a lovely anon!

notes : remember ages ago when I said I’d whip these up? I did em! I couldn’t fit all my ideas. lemme know if you’d like to see another one of these with a similar concept. feedback appreciated as always! 

I love headcanons. so easy. so carefree. so much to say. don’t forget that you can request headcanons, too! not just full fics or drabbles.

A few weeks ago, John and you found out you were pregnant. Initially, it’s been slightly frightening to know that in a mere nine months or so, John and you will have a baby, a little human, who’s entire world you two will be, and they will be yours in return.

You’re more frightened, being the one carrying your child. You have your fears of not being good enough, or not knowing how to be the utmost perfect mother you can be to your baby.

John, however, is ecstatic. He’s frightened as well; he’s never done this before. Yet, he keeps it under wraps for you. For you, John always puts on a brave face and holds your hand each step of the way.

He goes out of his way to make sure you’re comfortable and well taken care of. So far, your belly isn’t even showing; but there is life inside. John has always treated you as a queen, but it has intensified tenfold after he got you pregnant.

Not a dish in the house is allowed to be washed by you, not a cloth may be touched. John wants to you relax and take it easy, focus on yourself. He truly believes that as long as you’re happy and healthy, the baby will be too.

John has always been an absolute sweetheart; nonetheless, since you’ve gotten pregnant, he’s only gotten lovelier. Many times, you fear you’re dreaming, and may wake up soon. John Wick is quite literally;

too good to be true.

Each morning, he’ll nuzzle into your chest, smiling a goofy grin.

“Morning, beautiful.” He whispers into your hair, peppering soft kisses to your temples and forehead. “And to you too, peanut.” He smiles, heavy hand rested to your growing tummy. John never misses an opportunity to tell you how much he loves you, and your baby. Despite them not even being here yet. He knows that this pregnancy will take a toll on you; he’d wish for more than anything that he could carry the pain instead of you, which is why he showers you with love. He’d never want you to forget how important you are; how much you mean. You’re his entire world and this means more to him than you can imagine.

Morning sickness has been tough. Often, you’ll wake up feeling nauseous, however, you feel secure knowing you have a team player on your side. Occasionally, in the middle of the night when you’re up at 3:00am feeling awful, John helps you out of bed, holding your hair up for you and rubbing small, soothing circles to your back in the washroom.

“I’m going to make you ginger tea, alright babe?” He quietly speaks, leaving a speckled kiss to your shoulder as you freshen up. You feel awful keeping him up this late, John always needs rest due to his gruesome job.

Foot rubs and massages get a lot more common as your tummy grows. John doesn’t mind, he enjoys the intimacy and being close to you.

Speaking of intimacy…

You continue having sex for as long as you can, because you both know that down the road, as your hormones continue to fluctuate and your belly grows, it may not be something you’ll be able to do often.

John and you do, and always have had sex often for as long as you’ve been together. It helps John ease down, calm his nerves and relieve tension. You don’t mind making love to him either, of course. You feel lucky to feel him so close, and to be the only women who feels him that way.

“Close your eyes, Squish,” John whispers a chuckle, a delicate kiss placed to your bare belly, just where your baby rests. His heavier hands gently peel off the fabric of your bottoms, full lips trailing lower, soft kisses pecked to your inner thighs as he nears your heat. “Daddy’s about to do some real nasty things to mommy.”

You’re not sure if its just your hormones, or delicate emotions as of late. Nonetheless, having sex with John has felt…closer since you got pregnant. It truly feels like you’re making the sweetest of love each and every time. He kisses you so sweet, works you so slow, so intimately, so tenderly, it brings tears to your eyes.

Having him inside feels unreal, divine. He only picks up pace nearing climax, his expertise, skill and unmatchable affection never failing to spill you over the edge so well.

As your belly grows bigger and bigger a few months in, going places, and moving is becoming increasingly tough. Grocery trips have become progressively more tiresome; car rides gradually more uncomfortable. John tries his hardest to help, and understands if you snap at him a little too quick or accidentally pick a fight over something minor.

“Can you turn the music down? Please?” You interrupt a serene drive home from the market, voice coaxed with irritation, laced aggravation tinted across all tones. John’s hand rests to your thigh as he drives, his other placed to the thin steering wheel. You’d been complaining about discomfort the entire morning; he felt awful knowing you were in any sort of pain.

“Sorry.” He sighs, hand shifting from your thigh to crank the stereo of his beloved Mustang 69’ down. Passing traffic winds roar outside, the New York buildings passing in towering lengths. John’s palm immedietly rests back to your thigh; smooth, gentle strokes ran across the fabric clad to your lap. His eyes stay focused to the road, yet his hand stays touching you, letting you know he’s there.

That he’ll always be there, no matter how frustrated you get, how intolerable your nagging becomes.

He loves you, and he loves his baby. He’s waited far too long to have this; normalcy, something his, something his own; something created out of love, familiarity. Something he’d lacked for far too long.

“Ugh.” You exhale, after a moment of stretched silence, hand coming up to rub your weary eyes. “I’m being awful, aren’t I?” You whisper, saddened eyes locking to your husband’s street bound orbs. He turns momentarily to lock eyes, a gentle smile your way.

“No, sweetheart.” He assures, grip on your thigh tightening. You groan, rebutting. “No, John. I am. I’m sorry.” You sigh, reaching both your hands down to your lap to engulf his, holding his hand in a soft grip. You rub the top of his palm, relaxing, playing with his sturdier fingers. “I love you. I really do.” Sincerely, your eyes stay focused to his well defined features, the dark beard that rides his cheek.

And to the sound of your guilty voice, John chuckles, securing your hand in his, before brining it up to his lips for a soft kiss.

“I know.”

John has come to all your ultrasound appointments; he wouldn’t miss them for the world. He holds your hand the entire time, signature goofy smile daubed to his smoky features.

The first ultrasound was incredibly emotional, you shed a couple of tears. John and you stare at the screen, a pea sized dot resting in the darkened frame. John’s hand holds yours so tight, so warm, you’d felt as if you could feel him within you. Like he was this significant, big part of you that you would cherish forever. Seeing him smile that day will be a sight you’ll never forget; a mural you’ll never surrender.

Through out your time together, over the timeline of your love, you’ve only seen John this way a handful of times. This happiness was different; held something sole, matchless. This was pure happiness, where nothing else tinted the depths of his thoughts. No insecurities, no doubts, no ghosts of his past. Apart from the day you said yes to marrying him, and the day of your wedding, you don’t remember John ever being this unconditionally, purely, happy.

You both sit on the couch later that night, John’s arms holding you close as your head lays to his broad chest, staring, smiling at the picture of your dream; the one that would conquer your entire hearts when they’d come.

John keeps a copy of the ultrasound picture in his wallet. He takes a moment to look at it, to remember what he has any time he needs a pick me up throughout the day.

John takes amazing care of you, your needs always before his. He monitors your eating and drinking, to make sure you and the baby are healthy. He gives you your supplements; you often forget the times throughout the day you need to take them.

Speaking of food…

Midnight cravings have become a usual for you. Normally, you suffice for waddling down to the kitchen, sure not to disturb your snoozing husband.

Gently removing his arm from your waist, you always smile a gentle, loving glaze his way. John sleeping is a sight you’ve come to adore over the years.

John at peace; is a sight you’ve come to adore. He deserves rest, he deserves peace.

Although, its tough not to wake John. More often than not, he’ll find you in the kitchen in the AM dark, smiling a cheeky grin as you devour left over dinner, or a questionable choice of midnight snack.

He’ll come up behind you, wrapping his arms snoozily around your mid, hands placed to your tummy. With a gentle kiss to the back of your head and his warm chest pressed to your back, his sleep thick, honey seared voice rasps a tender baritone in your neck.

“Hungry?” He’ll chuckle, quiet and warm. You only nod, lacing your hand to his that rests on your belly.

Of course, there have been rare nights where you crave something that isn’t in the fridge. John never turns you down, however. No matter how tired, how sleepy he is, he ventures to your local 24-hour market, or gas station in search of whatever you’d yearned.

“Should I come with you?” You bite your lip, pulling the comforter of your shared bed higher up your chest as you sit up. “I’m sorry I’m making you go out.” You frown, insecure. “But I just can’t stop thinking about how I just need a candy bar right now.”

John’s brown leather jacket shrugs onto his shoulders, and his lips smile your way, picking his wallet up off the night stand.

“Get some rest, sweetheart. I’ll be quick.” He whispers, a kiss to your forehead before he’s out the door, blinking away sleep dense orbs.

For you, he’d wake a thousand nights. A million slumbers may waste away.

Slowly, you build the nursery for your baby. John works away, painting once crisp white walls into something more pastel, something that would welcome your child with joyful colour.

John has definitely become more talkative over the pregnancy.

He never misses out on a chance to kiss your belly, or talk to them.

“I’ll be back soon.” He announces, car keys armed in his sturdy fingers. With a kiss to your lips, he smiles. “I love you, don’t forget it.”

“Hurry back please.” You frown, a light whine coated to your tone. John only nods, slightly dropping to his knee in front of you, a quick, brief kiss placed to your tummy. “Keep mommy company, squish.” He tells your belly, a quiet, barely audible ‘daddy loves you’ Fled into the air, before he’s up, his hold on your hand let go as you walk him to the door, wishing him a wonderful day with a final kiss to his cheek.

You shop for cribs, toys, decorations all together. John looks incredibly handsome building the crib, painting the walls, asking exactly where you wanted everything to be placed. You watch him from your rocking chair in the corner, a hand to your belly as you talk to John the entire time, about anything, and everything.

John is a wonderful listener. Together, you two often talk about your future. A future where you’ll move away somewhere out of town,

Somewhere closer to the water, down the road. Somewhere where John’s ghastly pasts wont haunt him no more; somewhere you’ll grow old together with a white picket fence, and a story.

Your story, that you’ll tell you grandkids someday, when you’re old and gray, slightly slower; but still, hopelessly in love.

John adores talking to the baby. On secluded, rainy evenings, or when the sun sets out the mauve horizon and the trees bid goodnight to cotton clouds, John and you lounge on the couch, a thick, heavy novel equipped in John’s palm as he reads to you, and your tummy.

With his head resting on your lap, you stroke his lengthy coffee mane, fully engaged, lost in his mélange voice; smoky and rich, beautifully saccharine. Your thumbs coax his tired temples; gently scratching his stubble ridden cheek when you please. Every now and then, John’s glowing eyes peer up, glossing over your features.

He looks lovely like this, at ease, immersed in art.

To you, he is the loveliest of art. He’s a story, he’s a piece of Neverland. He’s your love story, and it’s one,

for the ages;

your love is one for the ages.

Sometimes, he’ll fall asleep this way, head resting in your lap as you stroke his hair. Him and the baby rest together, so close to you.

This was what it meant to have true, wholesome, pure, purpose. To have security, to have something truly, only, yours.

They were yours.

Pregnancy would be tough. It would be a journey, things would change, you would change. But you weren’t scared, for a single moment.

Because you knew, that you had your dream, your mountain of a man beside you, holding your hand,

Each step,

Of the way.

And you knew, you knew well. That the day your baby comes, they will have the most amazing, wonderful father who loves them, and their mommy to the ends of the world, and back.

You’d felt love before, you’d had everything before.

But with this, with what you’ve made, with John; it falls incomparable.

He’s the love that made all the others,

Irrelevant.

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

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