*no Smut, Just (highly?) Suggestive ~

*no smut, just (highly?) suggestive ~

masked intentions || lc x reader

summary: you and chan decided to pick out each other’s costumes for a halloween party, but he thinks it’d be funny to switch out your real costume for something a bit more scandalous 

warnings: swearing, alcohol, suggestive content (18+) 

word Count: 1.4k

a/n: reworked this piece originally posted on my tom holland fic account ( @wazzupmrstark )

masterlist + ko-fi

Keep reading

That Cheshire grin definitely got to the MC 😩💖

• part one

The Best Friends Code Part One - Hongjoong x Reader (NSFW)

This is an Ateez fic.

PART TWO HERE.

Summary: Hongjoong swears up and down that if you don’t touch each other, it won’t ruin the friendship…and what is the harm in blowing off some steam?

Genres and warnings: smut. porn without any real plot. best friends to lovers. dirty talk. use of sex toys. cum eating. 

Word count: 3,383.

This fic is not meant to represent Hongjoong in any way, shape or form.

               “This is boring. You know this is boring, right?”

               You look up from your laptop to where Hongjoong is sprawled out across the chair in your bedroom. His own laptop balances precariously on his knee, his phone clutched in one hand. He is looking at you through thin gold framed glasses, wearing an oversized white sweater and sweatpants. A bored expression has settled across his features and with his free hand, he runs his fingers through his blonde hair.

               “Yes, Hongjoong,” You reply in a firm tone, “I know it is boring. But I told you right off the bat when you wanted to hang out today that I had a big work project to finish.”

               He exhales, rolling his head back while groaning in an over-the-top way that he loves to do. Everything with Hongjoong is either the end of the world or the best thing in the universe and he reacts accordingly. You are sitting cross legged on your bed, typing away at your laptop, trying to ignore how bored he is. You can’t bring yourself to order him home either because you enjoy his company, even if he is acting like a kid.

Keep reading

The hopeless romantic in me is crying😭

𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐬

agent!yoon jeonghan x agent!gn!reader

0.7k words; when a mission goes wrong, jeonghan tries to distract himself you by talking about a wedding; mentions of blood/a knife wound/poison, cursing

Yoon Jeonghan thought he was going to throw up, cry, or both; and he wasn't even the one dying. 

"This was not what I thought when I wanted to carry you over the threshold," he mused nervously, angling your body so as to not hit the door frame as he carried you into the safe house. There was a team of paramedics already awaiting your arrival, setting up a clean space to work as well as their medical equipment.

In his arms, your limbs were limp and perspiration dribbled down the sides of your face. You had one hand pressed firmly to your side, preventing even more blood from seeping out of your body—your life force slowly drifting. You managed a weak smile up at Jeonghan's carefully calm face. "You wanted—to get married?" You panted, wincing as you added additional pressure to the wound. 

It had been a mission gone wrong, and in an effort to save Jeonghan, you had stepped in the arc of a poisoned blade. Jeonghan had seen you crumple before him, then his vision had gone red with absolute rage. Now? He was panicking. Yoon Jeonghan did not panic. 

"To you? Fuck yes." He couldn't believe he was talking about this while you were dying in his arms. "Hurry! They're dying for fuck's sake!" He barked at the present medical staff. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, and his eyes darted frantically between the staff and your face. 

"Stay with me, dove," he murmured to you when he saw your eyelids drooping. His vision was blurring slightly, tears pooling in his eyes.

You sucked in a breath and tried to focus on his face, and not the vice-like grip the poison had on your heart. "Well, what's it like? Our wedding?"

Jeonghan gulped. His eyes closed briefly, trying to remain calm enough to tell you what he had envisioned for nights while the two of you were undercover together. "You'd look perfect, as always. This extravagant garment, bouquet of callas and just… pearls."

"Pearls?" You hummed, trying to imagine it yourself. 

He smiled down at you, nodding. Anyone could see the love that shined so deeply in his eyes whenever he looked at you. "Mhm. I was thinking of a pearl engagement ring with diamonds around it. What do you think?"

"Huh," you coughed, groaning when you irritated the wound further. You reigned it all in though when seeing worry flash over his features. "Not—bad. What else?"

Jeonghan's eyes flickered back to the medical staff, who motioned for him to set you down on the bed. He did so, carefully, but swiftly. Finally. One of them murmured for him to continue to distract you and keep you awake for them. He could do that. He could definitely do that.

He knelt down beside your head, so you would face away from the doctors working on your injury. There was… so much blood. Jeonghan swallowed. "It'd be a small thing," he told you, "nothing big. Our families, friends from the academy, that sort of thing. We'd have a live orchestra during the ceremony and a band for the reception."

Hand smoothing over the dampened hair against your forehead, Jeonghan hoped you couldn't feel him shaking. "I was thinking a pagoda over a beach cliff. Something stupidly romantic like that."

"That is stupidly romantic," you rasped, agreeing. You bit your lip, feeling something sting sharply at your injury and twist. 

Jeonghan grabbed your hand and let you squeeze as hard as you needed. "I thought so. And we'd have handwritten vows, of course. Cheol would probably be your Man of Honor."

"You're not wrong." You would have joked about calling him your Maid of Honor instead if you had the strength. 

"And when you walked down the aisle—fuck, I'd probably cry." A tear slipped down the slope of his cheek and you wished you could lift yourself up and kiss it away. 

"Hannie?" Your voice was tight from trying to keep the pain in. Whatever the hell those doctors were doing, you could definitely feel it. 

He nodded, wiping his tears away with the back of his hand. "Mhm?"

"Can we get married after this?"

Jeonghan smiled, genuinely this time, and you saw the light return to his eyes if only for a split second. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips. "God yes—I never thought you'd ask."

svt m.list

permanent taglist: @tayunji @im-a-big-mess @staysstrays @y3jiishot @crazywittysassy @seomisaho @stopeatread @enhacolor @yedammi @rnjfy @jaehunny1428 @mythicalamphitrite @ana-is-losing-her-mind @super-btstrash-posts @otchae @luv4vernon

the sweetest full-circle moment! 😭💖💖💖

𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞

boo seungkwan x gn!reader

1.3k words, established relationship au, childhood friends 2 lovers, proposal au, fluff, super soft

a/n: for the love of our beloved boo 💖 im still obsessed w this photo of him

Boo Seungkwan asked you to marry him beneath the shade of an orange tree.

The two of you had only been about ten years old, but back then, ten years old was everything. You were two peas in a pod, forever and always. He had been pushing you on the tire swing attached to one of the sturdier, low-hanging branches, as he always did. You kicked your legs up, a grin splitting your face.

"Why are only older people allowed to get married?" he asked later that day, as the sun set across the pasture. It was one of those days where the sun's sinking broiled across the sky in vibrant rivers of orange and yellow, before bruising into deep shades of purple. You had your backs against the trunk of the orange tree, your knees pressed to your chest, and Seungkwan's hand just touching yours on the damp earth.

You gave a small shrug. "Dunno. Why do you ask?"

From the other side of his body, he raised his hand and showed you a coil of flower stems, intertwined into a miniature ring. He held it in between two pinched fingers, floating in the space between your bodies. "Wanna get married?"

Around fifteen years later, Seungkwan pulled his car up the long, winding dirt road up to the orange grove. You sat in the passenger seat, your chin settled on your arms over the open window as you gazed out at the pasture that had filled your childhood with joyous memories. In the distance, you could already make out the largest, oldest orange tree at the far end of the field, its branches plump with globes of ripe orange fruit. And, of course, the old tire swing still hung from one of its arms, drifting gently in the cool breeze.

Seungkwan parked the car where the road ended. He had been planning this picnic for a long time coming; you and he hadn't been back to this place for years now, having been occupied with your own constantly moving adult lives. And yet, he had managed to keep ahold of you—thank god, he had.

As he killed the engine to his car, he smoothed down the white button up he wore. Outwardly, his movements were natural—inwardly, the box in his pocket seemed to burn right through his skin.

"It'll be golden hour soon," he said to you softly, a smile gracing his face as he watched the strands of your hair dance across your forehead as you gazed out. He knew you felt it, too—the nostalgia. That creeping, sweeping sensation trekking down his nerves until he felt warm and fuzzy. Or maybe his chest hurt from youth long gone. But there was no time like the present to remedy that.

You lifted yourself from the window, that wistful expression still etched into your face. You met his eyes, and he nearly melted. He would never not be enamored by your every movement, your every stare. "Well, we better get going then, love."

Blanket, picnic basket—all the necessary items were withdrawn from the trunk. While you held the folded square blanket under your arm and Seungkwan with the basket, the two of you ventured into the green-gold sea of grass toward the edges of the orange grove, entwined hands swinging between your bodies.

"Wow, it's beautiful here," you said, voice barely audible. You'd hate to disturb the pure tranquility in the air.

Seungkwan gave a nod, allowing himself to get sucked into the landscape. He tilted his head back, inhaling deeply. "It is. Isn't that the rock you tripped over when we were, like, seven?" He chuckled, pointing to a rock fixture to the side of the path.

You made a face at the rock as you passed, then bumped his shoulder with yours. "Hey! I had banged-up knees for weeks!"

"Aish, what're you complaining about when I pushed you everywhere in that wheelchair?" He made a feigned noise of disappointment while shaking his head.

That made you smile. "You refused to let me use Chan's crutches."

"He probably broke them," he rolled his eyes. "I wasn't about to let you hurt yourself more from wrecked crutches."

"I'm telling Chan you said that."

"I dare you," he quipped, nose flicking up into the air. "I'm not afraid of him."

You giggled, and the sound made his heart pitter-patter like he was a teenager in love again. Then again, he wasn't so far off from then. It was strange how after all this time of being in love with you, he hadn't gotten used to the feeling. Everyday, you gave his heart a warm thrill. You were a reminder of how beautiful it was to be alive and by your side.

When you reached the foot of the orange tree, you and Seungkwan swiftly laid out the blanket, then set everything atop it. Before digging into anything, however, you walked over to the tire swing and tested the integrity of the rope, the rubber. You swept the tire seat clean from cobwebs and dirt and dust, delicately lowering yourself onto the inner ring.

Seungkwan didn't even need to be asked.

He came up behind you and grabbed either side of the tire, pulling it back a little, then letting it fly down the slight incline. "Wow, I didn't think it'd actually still hold."

"Woooo!" You cheered as you swung in the setting sun.

Seungkwan had definitely been right earlier—golden hour had approached swiftly.

He fidgeted as he continued to gently push the swing into motion for you. He had a plan—of course, he had a plan.

And when the two of you sat atop the blanket a handful of minutes later, your knees were pressed to your chest and Seungkwan's hand lingered close to yours.

He swallowed the thundering of his heart, his eyes set on the burning sunset in the distance as if even the sky were telling him that it was now or never. "Remember when I asked you that one time why only older people get married, or something like that?"

You passed him a curious, sideways smile. "Yeah. I still don't know the answer."

"Well—" he stammered, the hand on his other side struggling to dig the box out of his pocket as subtly as possible, "—do you think we're old enough yet?"

"Old enough? To get married?" You and Seungkwan had had lots of discussions about marriage before, but never had he brought up this one instance again. "I mean… I think we are. I think we're old enough to have experienced enough of life ourselves to determine when we're ready to share it with another."

Seungkwan closed his eyes as a small laugh fell from his lips. "Why are you so good at articulating these things, hm?"

You beamed, leaning forward onto your knees to peer at him with your cheek pressed to your kneecaps. "Maybe I've thought about it a lot."

Yours and his eyes met then, as the sun gave its final send off.

Seungkwan internally cheered as his fingers caught onto the ring from the pried-open jaws of the ring box.

He cleared his throat; why was it getting congested? Why now why now why now? "Then Yn Ln—" he forced stability into his voice, then presented the ring, held it between you two, "—will you marry me?"

Your breath caught in your throat. The ring—white gold band, diamond center and surrounded in petals of clear-cut stone like a blooming flower—glistened in the fading daylight. You exhaled your answer, inhaled it, breathed it out again: "Yes. Yes. Yes!"

And as Seungkwan fumbled to slide the ring onto your finger with shaky hands; as you clung onto him until he fell back onto the blanket; as the sky dimmed to periwinkle evening; you and Seungkwan were reminded of a beautiful life beneath the shade of an orange tree.

svt m.list

permanent taglist: @tayunji @im-a-big-mess @honeyhuii @y3jiishot @crazywittysassy @seomisaho @stopeatread @enhacolor @rnjfy @jaehunnyy @kpopjackie @spiderrenjunfics @soobin-chois @stayarmytinyzenmoa-l @mingiholic @ja4hyvn @vatterie @yogurteume @mythicalamphitrite @ana-is-losing-her-mind @super-btstrash-posts @otchae @luv4vernon @ashxxkook @thesunsfullmoon @hoohoohope @polarisjisung @dior-15 @ethereal-engene @yvnjin-s @noa-record @pearlygraysky @beautywine @kflixnet

ongoing — author last updated: 05.01.24

cherry flavoured

18 — A FOR EFFORT

SYNOPSIS: y/n, the campuses notorious heartbreaker, had never been one to settle down, running from the word commitment since the concept had first been introduced to her, but one smile and a little cherry coke seems to do just the trick when she runs into captain of the dance team, park jisung

PAIRING: dancer!jisung x fem!reader

WARNINGS: swearing, yeri's insufferable as usual (some horrible android emojis like I love my droid don't get me wrong but the emojis 😐)

NOTES: a v late update I'm sorry uni has been kicking my ass

prev | masterlist | next

TAGLIST (open): @jenobubbles @justalildumpling @jising-jisang-jisung @nanawrlds @222brainrot @chichiuu @dinonuguaegi @ishireads @yyy90210 @hibernatinghamster @stqrrian @makiswrld @everywonuu @marizhua @luumiinaa @asteriaskingdom @jeongintwt @90s-belladonna @000rpheus @jammingjaem @yayloona @neozon3nha @mfaal @conwunder @toroufriteh @i6renj @https-dandelion @kikookii @delulu4-life @hancafe @produmads @tamcitrus @yv72s @funkygoose @buns-inhiding @odxrilove @n-jules @pinknjm @chickenscoups

the intricacies of falling in love, and facing the reality of life 🥹💖

title: the times we couldn't say goodbye (the times i loved you most)

pairing: hoshi x gn!reader

wc: 2.2k

notes: fantasy!au, wizard hoshi!au, established relationship, implied friends to lovers, fluff, (pretty significant) angst, suggestive content but nothing explicit, small blood mention, special thanks to @soonsluv and @crimsoncauldron for helping me with edits!

for @neonun-au

i.

It’s in the garden behind the inn where you realize you're really in love with Soonyoung.

He’s eighteen, radiant with the glow of youth and the summer sun, long legs askew underneath the now sprawling wisteria you planted with him as a child. The daylight is emerald through the foliage, and you watch it coalesce in his butterscotch eyes, fall into the gentle slope of his nose.

Your bones feel warm and heavy with happiness. Soonyoung’s head rests in your lap, and he meets your gaze with his usual affection, the overabundant kind that feels like you can hold in your hands with how tangible it is.

“When will you come back?” you ask.

He takes a long pause. It worries you because Soonyoung’s never the type to pause. He goes, he goes and keeps going until he can’t anymore. You're surprised he's stayed so long in one place—here.

"I don't know." He laughs blithely and finds your hand so he can lace his fingers with yours. "I haven't thought that far ahead," he admits.

Then he does that insufferable, maddening thing where he trails little kisses down the span of your wrist, up your forearm, across the back of your hand, his touch featherlight, yet deliberate. You wonder if he's mapping your skin as to not forget you when he leaves.

"All I know is that I need to be there."

You don't need to follow his gaze to know where he's looking—the tall silvery spires past the village, an imposing silhouette of the royal castle of the kingdom you live in.

He doesn't say that people usually don't come back when they leave for the city. You already know that one, too.

And, in turn, you stay quiet. You've learned that words aren't enough to change his mind, which, funnily enough, is why you like him so much.

Instead, you let the swell of love wash over you, a heady, slow rush that spreads over your skin like sun (yet, tender like a bruise) as you let yourself admire him.

You want to love him without expectation, without pretense. But it's hard to separate expectation from love, even for someone like you, whose job it is to watch people come and go.

Because as weighty as Soonyoung's love can be, you know how hard it is to keep. And so you sit, limbs tangled, watching the firebugs pulse with their transient June light, knowing this moment, too, will pass.

You feel the warmth of Soonyoung's laughter settle over you, as certain and familiar as ever. You allow his wandering hands as they press little lights into your skin, and let the heat of his skin play back on yours.

With him, there's never been a forever and always. You chase the now, but in the now, you have him and his lips and his racing heartbeat all to yourself.

And some young, foolish part of you thinks it's a moment you can bottle up and keep. That the closer you hold it to your heart, the more likely he is to stay.

ii.

The first time you learned Soonyoung could use magic, you were thirteen.

You had been demonstrating a perfect cartwheel to him—on the bartop inside the inn, of course. And, in your vain attempt to avoid the smattering of ale steins and assorted weapons in your way, you had careened off the counter and given yourself a nasty scrape on the jagged floorboards.

You had both laughed until you cried, and then when Soonyoung realized you were actually crying, he rushed over with a heartrending urgency.

"S'fine," you mumbled, your adolescent body feeling all too big, too awkward under his gaze.

He offered his hand to help, and being the stubborn kid you were, you denied him. And he whined and fussed until you finally let him kneel down and look at the thin gash, now weeping blood.

You can't even describe what happened next. The patient hover of his usually quick hands over your skin, then an indescribable warmth all over.

And then your knee was healed.

Over the next few years, you watched Soonyoung experiment with his powers.

He'd call your name on his way back from the market, waving his free hand around while balancing a bag of produce in the cradle of his other arm.

"Watch this!" And then a vortex of apples would emerge from the burlap, first a magnificent crimson swirl, and then their eventual pathetic scatter over the grass in front of the inn.

"Almost there," he'd mutter, as you both gather the fruits in your arms, everything and everyone feeling a bit bruised.

Sometimes you'd watch the gap underneath his door intermittently light up as you cleaned the inn for the night. You pictured his cute frown, nose scrunched up as he flexed his palm. Orange, black, orange, black, orange, the weak flicker of the flame birthed from his skin.

You wouldn't say Soonyoung was a good magician. But he certainly was a tenuous one with a considerable stroke of luck.

Before he left, he would show you little tricks.

"I’m paying my rent," he'd harumph, staring intently at the unbaked pie you left on the counter, as if willing it to cook itself. "With my valuable labor."

"You better pay faster." You cast a sidelong glance at the disgruntled mercenary in the corner of the dining room.

"Don't worry about Jihoon. He's my friend." And then another hopelessly determined glare at the innocent, perfectly latticed pie.

Soonyoung's eventual contribution was a quick brûlée over the top after cajoling the poor starving warrior, entertaining him with the surprisingly effective party trick of producing a real bit of fool's gold behind his ear. ("See? We're friends!" he'd tell you.)

"Can these hands at least chop some wood?" you'd tease. They fit so perfectly in your own, something you learned you could, no, would miss.

"Yes," he'd start. "But they can also do this!" And then their warm descent on your sides, tickling you until you collapsed right into him, letting him drink up the laughter right from your lips.

When you first met Soonyoung, he was a small, impish little thing who had turned up at the front door of the inn—on an adventure, he said.

He stayed ever since, learning to run the inn with you.

But you'd see the glow of his eyes as yet another traveler regaled him with tales of an expedition in kingdoms past. You knew you couldn't tie him here. You felt lucky to even have the luxury to hold him as you slept, to have him tie your apron behind your back every day and to dance with you and the broom as you swept the floor ("I think I prefer the broom," you'd say, just to see him pout. And like clockwork, he would, and you'd kiss him, and kiss and kiss and kiss).

Now, he packs his bags to study magic in the royal city.

You feel the heavy sway of your heart in the pit of your chest. You've watched many adventurers go, but for some reason, you could never bring yourself to prepare for this moment.

He sits amidst a small disaster in your shared room. "Don't forget your lucky tiger," you remind him, leaning against the doorframe. It's a shitty, dilapidated little thing you sewed together for one of his birthdays. But he kept it, and for someone who loses a lot of things, that certainly was a special feat.

"How could I?" He holds an offended hand to his chest and kisses the bundle of threads, and you feel like bursting into a million tears.

He blows you a kiss at the doorstep.

"Not a real one, because that's for when I come back," he says.

How soon is when? You want to ask. You think of that heat-stained afternoon in the garden, where you crossed hands and hearts but your mind was a million miles away. I don't know was a hell of an answer to hold onto, but he didn't give you much of an option.

Soonyoung lingers at the doorstep. You wonder if he expects you to find another reason to stop him.

Instead, you watch him disappear down the sandy bend of the road, going, going, gone. The lonely dance of the innkeeper, the choreographed parting you had grown accustomed to.

Your life has been a series of goodbyes, but this one, just this once, dies on your tongue.

iii.

It's at the end of a grueling, mind-numbing day—every spring, the traveling mercenaries migrate to the royal kingdom, your small inn a pit stop on the way—when you see Soonyoung for the first time in years.

You're at the faraway market, the one in the royal city, to pick up supplies.

He's taller, broader. He walks with a certainty in his step, one that's forgotten when he runs to you with abandon.

Soonyoung sweeps you up, as easily as ever, hands firm around your waist to lift you so your faces are level. He's stronger, too.

"Soonyoung," you breathe, giddy. His lips find your neck; he's kissing, giggling, breathing you back in. "What are you doing here?"

"Wanted to ask you the same." He grins, all lopsided and toothy, and your heart balloons to some inhuman size. "I live here, you know."

"But your letters—thought the magic school wouldn't let you leave."

"I snuck out," he says, pressing his forehead to yours. "Wanted to come home. See you."

Home. Home. You roll the word around in your head. Soonyoung never called the inn home; he always wanted to be everywhere at once, and yet something kept him there. The thought that it was you presses against your ribs, a crushing swell of guilt and joy all in one.

"Watch," he says, still as exuberant as ever. And even before you roll your eyes, he's insistent—"I'm good now, I promise!"

Protection magic, he calls it. A force field. He's come a long way from a flame barely able to cook an egg.

"It's like you're untouchable," you laugh, pressing the flat of your palm over the shimmering plane before Soonyoung's hand, feeling it pulse against you like a magnet.

"Almost." And then the pressure's gone, replaced by the warm callouses of his skin on yours as the magic dissipates. "Never for you."

And again, you think about how uncanny it is that you and Soonyoung fell in love—the dutiful innkeeper and the restless adventurer.

Who, but you, would he ever let touch him?

It's then you remember how Soonyoung's hand has always fit perfectly in yours.

—

Soonyoung accompanies you back to the inn—"They won't miss me for a night," he had said.

And so you're back in the garden, sitting shoulder to shoulder under the ivy and magnolias.

Although it's been years, his presence grounds you. Everything from the way he squeezes your hand when he talks, the glimmer in his eyes, how he steals a kiss mid-conversation brings you back to when you fell in love all those years ago.

But nothing could have prepared you for when Soonyoung asks you to live with him in the royal city.

He had been asked to join the mages' court at the palace, a permanent, demanding position. That was the real reason he wanted to see you, he tells you.

"Let Mingyu take over. You know he wants to!" Soonyoung laughs like it's a joke. "Come, make a new home with me. I'll cook the pies. The right way, I promise." His smile is dazzling and heartbreaking at the same time.

You replay the moment he told you he returned because he wanted to come home—to you.

How could you tell him that your real home was here, at the inn? In the roots of the wisteria, in the battered floorboards of the dining room, in the bag of produce you get from the market every morning?

"I—" you start. It tumbles out of your mouth, shredded and broken. "I can't. You know I can't."

He's silent. You think it's because he expected this outcome, that it couldn't be any other way, that you both knew this, innately, the night he first told you he was leaving.

You don't look at each other.

The moon is violet. The sky is black. There are no stars tonight.

And as if piercing a great big divide, he reaches for your hand, the habit now a lifeline as the weight of the moment settles into you.

"But I’ll have you for tonight?" Soonyoung turns to look at you. His eyes are shimmery, earnest.

If you could silence the roar in your head, in your chest, you would instead feel the pressure of an invisible clock, counting the seconds you have left together. You both know you're on borrowed time.

"Soonyoung." Your face is so hot, you aren't sure if you're crying or not. "You'll have me for as long as you want me."

"Silly," he murmurs. "I'll always want you." Your noses are touching; he holds your gaze so you don't see the sadness in his smile. But you already know what he's feeling, the heavy twist of acceptance settling in the both of your stomachs.

It's always been this way with you two—you don't have to see him to know his heart.

And maybe it's this knowledge that guides your hands, your lips, when you trace him into memory on this starless night.

It's another postponed goodbye, you know it is, a prolonged farewell you began years ago but could not bring yourself to end.

You go through the motions in your head, the phantom parting, your eventual final meeting.

But it's something you both accept. Tonight is just another push of the hands of the clock. Another stolen moment.

When Soonyoung kisses your lips with the tenderness of all the years he's loved you, your heart falls right into his hands.

What you have with him isn't forever, but it's something.

This is a goodbye you're willing to wait for.