#SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG CRADLE THIS WEEK WAS SO BUSY

[homestylehughes]

i'll always come home to you.

pairing(s): quinn hughes x fem!reader

summary: quinn making a promise to always come home to yn.

word count: 508

warning(s): nothing!! super cute fluff :)

authors note: hi loves!! super sorry ive been so inactive. school started, and ive been so busy but i wanted to write a little blurb about quinn, he's been on my mind recently, he's sooooooo (so many words). anyways! i hope you all are doing well, take care of yourself and stay healthy. much love as always <3.

No matter how many times Quinn left for a roadie, it was still hard. No matter how many times you tried to prepare for the long weeks without him all around you, it was still so hard. This time specifically was harder than usual. You had the worst week at work and all you wanted was to come home to Quinn, to wrap yourself in his embrace..to feel calm, to feel love. But instead of being cuddled up to Quinn, you were instead cuddled up on the couch under your favorite blanket with a pout on your face as Quinn finished packing his things for the 2 week roadie. 

“I wish you could stay” you pout out from the couch, watching as Quinn packs his last bag full of gear. 

“I know baby, i wish i could too” quinn says from the kitchen, shooting you a quick loving look before getting back to work 

“Imagine if i just trap you in the house, so then you can't leave” you say jokingly 

“You'd have a lot of mad fans and players on your hands baby” quinn says with a chuckle, as he sets his now packed bag on the ground, now walking towards on the couch 

“I know. It sounded good in my head” you say with a sigh, dropping your head back against the couch to look up at quinn who's now standing above you. 

“If i could you know id stay here with you forever” he says as he looks down at you 

“I know, I wish you could. I know I should be used to you leaving but every time you do I swear it gets harder.” 

“Oh baby” Quinn says, moving to sit next to you on the couch. 

“Come here” he gestures to his lap, nodding as you follow his request. Hooking your leg on his thigh, pulling yourself into his lap. 

“Im sorry..im being a baby.” you say, feeling childish that your acting like this infront of him

“Hey. look at me” he says, moving your face to look at his 

“You have nothing to feel sorry for, you're allowed to be sad. You know how much it kills me to have to be away from you for weeks and months out of the year? I miss you before I even walk out the door, I promise that I will always come home to you, as long as you allow me too." Quinn declares to you, his eyes never moving from yours. 

You can feel your eyes beginning to water as you soak in his words, as you stare back at him. 

“Quinn. You always know how to make me cry” you say with a small laugh as you go to run your hand under your eyes to catch the tears that have fallen

“I love you so much. I want you to always come home to me for the rest of our lives.” you say 

“I love you more” he says, moving his hands to cradle your face in his hands,

Quinn moves to connect your lips together, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him close to you even if it's just for a little while longer. Embracing each other in your warmth and love, pouring every bit of your love into the kiss, hoping it'll give you enough to last for two weeks. Even its two weeks or two months you know that Quinn will always come home to you. 

[cherryblossomfairyy]

Bigger Than The Whole Sky.

Pairing: spencer reid x wife!reader

Summary: After a miscarriage, Spencer and Y/N navigate grief in silence—until a case involving a baby breaks Spencer’s composure. Through shared pain, quiet letters, and one long-overdue laugh, they begin to heal together. Along the lyrics of the song "Bigger Than the Whole Sky" by Taylor Swift. 

Masterlist

CW: miscarriage, depression and suicidal ideation

The room was quiet—too quiet. The hum of the hospital machines had stopped hours ago. Y/N layed on the bed, a pale hospital gown laying over her body, hands cradling the soft roundness that had once held so much promise. Spencer stood nearby, his hand hovering above hers but not quite touching. He looked like a man who’d read every book in the world but couldn’t find a single page that could explain this.

Y/N finally broke the silence. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice thin and cracked. “I’m so sorry, Spence.” ‘’Salt streams out my eyes and into my ears’.”

His heart clenched. “No. No, sweetheart, you don’t have to say that. This is not your fault.” But she kept going, as if she hadn’t heard him. “It's not fair. Why not, why couldn't I carry our baby?” She gave a hollow laugh, her eyes distant. “Or is it just the cruelest kind of divine?” “Every single thing I touch becomes sick with sadness.”

Spencer sat down on the bed in front of her, taking her hands. “Y/N… please don’t do this to yourself.” Tears streamed silently down her cheeks as she met his gaze. “I never even got to meet them. But I loved them, Spence. I loved them so much. And now all I can do is cry.” Her voice shook.

Spencer felt something in him shatter. “You didn’t even have a chance,” she whispered, pressing a hand to her stomach. “Every single thing to come has turned into ashes…”

He pulled her into his arms then, holding her as she sobbed into his chest. “I don’t know what to say,” he murmured. “There’s nothing in all the languages I know that can make this okay.” “No words appear before me in the aftermath.”

“I had so much to live for,” she whispered. “So much to lose…” Spencer rocked them gently. “We lost them together. But we’ll grieve together, too. I promise I’m not going anywhere.” She closed her eyes against the pain, letting herself be held. For now, that was all either of them could do—breathe through the heartbreak and wait for the quiet to feel less heavy.

Day One. The hospital room echoed with silence long after the doctor left. Y/N stared at the ceiling, her arms empty. Spencer sat beside her, fingers laced with hers, his thumb brushing her knuckles in slow circles. Neither of them spoke for a long time.

That night, as Spencer helped her into bed at home, she finally said, “I don’t know what to do with all this time.” He paused. “What do you mean?” She looked down, eyes blank. “Time I was supposed to spend holding them… feeding them… watching you rock them to sleep.” Her throat caught. “Now it’s just… nothing.” “And I've got a lot to pine about.”

Spencer swallowed the lump in his throat and laid down beside her, whispering, “We’ll hold that time together.”

Week One. Grief settled like dust—coating everything. Y/N barely spoke. Spencer took time off work. He cooked food she didn’t eat, folded clothes she didn’t wear, sat beside her in bed while she stared out the window. One morning, she finally whispered, “Cause it's all over, it's not meant to be.” 

Spencer didn’t know if she was talking about the baby or herself.

Week two. She began writing poetry for the baby. Something keep her busy and to try and focus all her emotions in. Spencer found the first one left on the coffee table beside a mug of untouched tea.

“Did some bird flap its wings over in Asia? Did some force take you because I didn't pray?     Cause it's all over now, all out to sea.”

He read the whole letter with trembling hands, tears streaking silently down his face. That night, he brought her notebook to her room. “Do you want to read them to me?” he asked gently Y/N looked away, ashamed. “They’re just words. Useless ones.” “So I'll say words I don’t believe.”

“No,” he said. “They’re love.”

Month one. It started like all the hard days did—with not getting out of bed. The sun crept through the blinds, casting long lines across the room, but Y/N didn’t move. Her phone buzzed twice with texts from JJ and once from her sister. She ignored them all. Even the silence felt too loud. The grief was different today. Not sharp and aching, but dull and heavy—like she’d been filled with cement and left to dry.

--- y/n’s inner monologue --- I wake up, but I don’t move. The sun’s on my face, but I don’t feel warm. I hear the birds outside, the soft sounds of life moving on without me. I hate them for it. I envy them for it. The world keeps spinning, and I’m still stuck in the same moment—four weeks ago, in that sterile hospital room, staring at the ceiling while my heart broke quietly beneath the sound of machines. Everyone says time helps. But they don’t say what to do in the meantime.

I look at the corner where the bassinet used to be. It’s empty now. Spencer moved it when I was asleep. I think he thought he was helping. Maybe he was. But God, the silence is worse. There are bottles in the cabinet I can’t bring myself to throw away. I still have the little socks. The ultrasound picture. The list of names.

“I’ve got a lot to live without.”

The beeping from all the hospital equipment echoes through me like a prayer I didn’t choose. A baby I never held. Laughter I’ll never hear. First steps. First words. First everything. All gone before the beginning. And I hate that I still breathe. That I still eat. That I still function in this half-life while our baby will never get the chance to even start one.

People say “you’ll feel normal again,” but what if I don’t want normal without them? What if I want them? I roll over and face the wall. I don’t cry today. I’m too tired for that. Today, I just carry the weight. Quietly. Alone.

--- end y/n's inner monologue --- Spencer peeked in the doorway around 10 a.m. “I made toast,” he said gently. “And tea. You should eat something.” She stared at the ceiling. He came closer. “Y/N?” Still nothing.

Her voice finally came, flat. “It doesn’t matter.” Spencer sat on the edge of the bed. “It does. You do.” Tears welled in her eyes, but they didn’t fall. “I was supposed to be different by now. Stronger. Better.” “You’re grieving,” he said softly. “There’s no timeline for that.” She turned her head toward the window. “I feel like a shell. Like I’m watching my life from the outside.” Spencer reached for her hand. “Do you want me to stay here with you?” She didn’t answer, but she didn’t pull away. He took that as a yes. So he lay beside her, shoes still on, head on the pillow next to hers. For a long time, they just breathed. Eventually, her voice came again, barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to feel like this forever.” He looked at her, his eyes soft but resolute. “You won’t. Not forever. But until then… I’ll keep showing up. Even on the heavy days.” She blinked slowly, her eyes finally meeting his. “Okay.” And it wasn’t fixed. Nothing was. But it was a beginning.

Because that’s what grief is sometimes. A heavy kind of surviving. 

Month Two. Spencer started therapy first. Y/N followed a week later. Progress was slow—measured in small victories: putting on jeans, making toast, laughing once at a dumb documentary he insisted she’d hate. She cried after, the smile so foreign it scared her. “I feel I’m not supposed to smile,” she said. “I’m supposed to be crying.” “You’re allowed to do both,” he told her. “Grief’s not a straight line.”

The room was warm, softly lit, and smelled faintly of bergamot. A bookshelf lined the far wall. Two armchairs sat side by side, facing the therapist. Spencer sat stiffly, fingers laced tightly in his lap. Y/N sat next to him, curled slightly into herself, wearing his cardigan like armor.

The therapist—Dr. Hale—gave them a soft smile. “There’s no pressure to say anything until you’re ready. This is just space.” Silence.

Y/N stared at the floor. Spencer glanced at her, then at the books, then down. Dr. Hale spoke again, gently. “Maybe we start with a simple question. What does grief feel like today?” Y/N was the one to answer. “Like waiting for something that won’t come back,” she said. Her voice was rough. “Like I’m supposed to be someone else right now… a mother. But I’m not.”

Spencer shifted beside her. “For me… it’s like static. In my head. I keep analyzing it—statistically, biologically. I know how common it is. I know we did nothing wrong. But none of it helps.” His voice cracked. “I still feel like I failed her.” Y/N’s hand twitched toward his. He reached out and gently held it. Dr. Hale nodded. “You're both carrying guilt. That’s normal, but it’s also heavy.” Y/N finally looked at Spencer. “I don’t want us to get stuck in this. In the silence.” “I don’t either,” he said. “But sometimes I don’t know what to say that won’t hurt you more.” “You don’t have to say anything.” She leaned against him. “Just stay.”

Spencer blinked fast. “Always.” Dr. Hale smiled softly. “That—right there—is the beginning.” And for the first time in weeks, they both exhaled at the same time.

The therapist supported Y/N’s idea to keep writting for the baby. She recommanded that they should write letters. A way to get out all the emotions that have been botteling up. Y/N wrote everyday a little, Spencer after every case he had.

From Y/N My sweet love, I don’t know where you are now. Maybe you were only meant to be a whisper in this world, a flicker of a heartbeat. But you were mine. Ours. And that makes you real. There were so many things I wanted to show you—sunlight through our bedroom window, the way your dad reads books like they hold the universe. I wanted to hold you on my chest and hum lullabies. I wanted to hear you laugh, cry, call me "mama." But instead, I am left with silence. I think of you every second. I wonder who you would’ve become. Your favorite song. The first book you would’ve loved. If your eyes would’ve looked like his. “I’m never gonna meet what could’ve been, would’ve been, what should’ve been you.”

I’ll never stop wondering. But I’ll never stop loving you either. You were, and always will be, ‘bigger than the whole sky.’

Love, Mom.

From Spencer Dear Little One, You never got to open your eyes, but I saw you clearly. In the curve of your mother’s smile. In the quiet hope I carried every time I read about fetal development and thought, “That’s happening in our baby right now.” ”You were more than just a short time.”

I don’t know what I believe about the afterlife. But I believe in love. And mine for you was immediate—unshakable. I wanted to read to you before bed. I wanted to show you stars, recite facts you’d roll your eyes at, take you to your first library. I dreamed of your first words and how they’d sound in our home. Instead, I carry those dreams in my chest. Quiet. Unfinished. Precious. I’m so sorry for not making it past the start, And all the things I’ll never know about you… I miss you. And I will, for the rest of my life. But I’m grateful I got to love you, even for a moment. You were the beginning of everything.

With all my heart, Dad.

It had been three months since they lost the baby. Spencer wore grief like an old sweater—familiar, stretched, and clinging to his frame even when he tried to forget he was still wearing it. The BAU had given him time. Morgan had told him to take longer. JJ had hugged him without saying a word. But eventually, he returned. Because what else was he supposed to do?

Work was his refuge. It always had been. Statistics didn’t cry. Autopsy reports didn’t ask how he was doing. But today’s case broke through the numbness.

A missing infant. Four months old. Taken from a crib in the middle of the night. No forced entry. Parents devastated. A pink knitted blanket left on the floor, slightly damp from where the mother’s tears had fallen. Spencer stood in the nursery, the crib still warm. He stared at the mobile spinning slowly above it, stuffed clouds and stars turning lazily in the air. He didn’t breathe. He didn’t blink.

He saw their nursery—the one he and Y/N had painted together, her laugh echoing off the walls as he got mint-green paint on his nose. The bassinet they'd ordered. The books he'd stacked in quiet anticipation. The tiny pair of socks she'd cried over in Target. He had to leave the room.

He made it through the rest of the day like a ghost. Went through the motions. Profiled. Analyzed. Helped find the baby alive, thank God. But that didn’t stop the breakdown. “I'm never gonna meet what could've been, would've been, what should've been you.”

It hit him on the drive home. Somewhere between a red light and a radio commercial, the world cracked open. He walked into their apartment, dropped his go-bag by the door, and saw her—curled on the couch in his oversized cardigan, the one she’d started wearing every night. Their eyes met. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

Y/N stood slowly. “Rough case?” she asked, her voice small. “Baby,” he choked. “She was just four months. The parents—” His voice cracked. “—they looked like us.” She walked to him, wrapped her arms around his waist, and he broke. His arms clung to her tightly, his face buried in her shoulder as the sobs came, harsh and shuddering. “I miss them so much,” he whispered. “I know,” she said. “Me too.”

They sank to the floor together, holding each other as the quiet surrounded them—no mobile spinning overhead, no baby monitor crackling, just the sound of their grief colliding and folding into love. Eventually, Y/N whispered, “We never got to hold them. But we carry them everywhere.”

Spencer nodded, forehead against hers. “Always. Bigger than the whole sky.”

Month four. They visited the cemetery on a rainy afternoon. The tiny plaque read only one word: "Loved." Y/N stood there for a long time. “What could’ve been, would’ve been,” she whispered. “What should’ve been you and us…” Spencer took her hand. “They were ours. Still are.” She nodded through the tears. “And I’ll miss them forever, like they were here forever.”

“Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.”

Five months and thirteen days. That’s how long it had been since they lost the baby. Y/N counted in the quiet moments. Spencer counted in pages read and mornings survived.

They were both still healing. Some days were heavier than others. Today had been one of the quieter ones. It was raining softly, tapping against the windows like a lullaby. Spencer had made tea—chamomile for her, something stronger for himself—and they’d settled on the couch with an old worn blanket and no words.  Y/N was flipping through a photo album—one they hadn’t touched since before. It was filled with small memories: messy hair and sleepy mornings, museum trips, random polaroids of their feet, Spencer asleep with a book open on his chest. She paused on one picture.

Spencer was holding a stuffed elephant at a bookstore, grinning awkwardly at the camera. In the background, she was visibly pregnant—only barely—but her smile was soft, eyes squinting with laughter.“I forgot about this,” she murmured, showing him the photo. He leaned in. “Oh,” he said, a soft chuckle catching in his throat. “You told me not to buy that elephant, said it was overpriced and weird-looking.” “You bought it anyway.” “I hid it in the closet like a criminal,” he said.

Y/N let out a small, surprised laugh. She hadn’t expected it—but it came easily, and for a moment, it felt real. Spencer looked at her like she’d just returned from a long, faraway place. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you laugh in… I don’t even know how long.” She blinked, then smiled again—tentative, but there. “It felt weird. Good. But weird.” He reached out, brushing his thumb over her cheek. “You can smile,” he said gently. “We’re allowed.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, but she was still smiling. “So are you.” He kissed her then, slow and tender. The elephant still sat on the shelf behind them, dusty but present—like grief, like love, like the baby they would always remember. Outside, the rain kept falling. But inside, just for a moment, there was light.

Month six. They planted a tree in the backyard. It wasn’t to forget. It was to remember without drowning. Y/N pressed her hand to the young bark. “This is for you,” she whispered. “For everything I’ll never get to know about you.” Later, she stood in the kitchen with Spencer, a hand resting over her heart. “It’s not better,” she said. “But… I’m still here.” He kissed her temple. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

One Year. They didn’t throw a party. Didn’t host anyone. They just sat together under the tree, arms around each other, Y/N’s head on his chest. As the breeze moved through the leaves, Y/N whispered one last time, “Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye… You were bigger than the whole sky.” And in the quiet, Spencer whispered back, “And you always will be.”

[rainverry]

pretty boy.

PAIRING  ☆  nakamoto yuta x afab!reader

GENRES  ☆  smut, fluff, angst, a bit of crack?, enemies to lovers, fake dating, college au

WARNINGS  ☆  18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. profanity, substances (alcohol consumption, one mention of weed), light smut (oral [f receiving], praise kink), use of nicknames (baby, babe, princess, my girl, gorgeous), mentions of throwing up, one mention of blood, the characters are in their mid 20s in this fic, reader wears glasses and has a pet cat, yuta’s hair is red in this because that’s his best hair colour i don’t make the rules

SUMMARY  ☆  college life is full of uncertainties, but there is one thing you know for sure: nakamoto yuta hates your guts, and the feeling is mutual. so when he goes to you and asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend, you start to realise that maybe you were wrong about him too.

WORD COUNT  ☆  24.2k (im so sorry)

PLAYLIST  ☆  click!

AUTHOR'S NOTE  ☆  heya lovelies !! this is my first ever full-length one shot, as well as my first time ever sharing my smut with anyone so i’m kinda nervous lol if u think u’ve read any other of my full-length one shots before, no u haven’t <3 i also got carried away because i truly did not expect it to be this long 😭 big thanks to my friends lou for the feedback and carol for beta reading and encouraging me to continue writing when i kept having second thoughts 🥺 enjoy reading and feedback is always welcome !!

THE END OF YOUR MID-TERM BREAK always meant going to the nearest coffee shop with your two best friends, with the intention of catching up on all the things that happened on your short-lived holiday. It also functioned as the last time for you to have some fun before you knuckle down and keep your focus on studying for the final exams, merely six weeks away from now.

“Anyway, that’s how we managed to pull off the biggest cookie heist in the Im household,” Nayeon finishes, leaning down to take a sip of her chai latte.

“Must be fun, having younger cousins,” Jennie sighs in envy. She cradles her chin in one hand, toying with the ends of her hair with the other. “Meanwhile, all my cousins have grown up to be obnoxious jerks!”

You raise your eyebrows. “But not Taeyong, right?”

Jennie crinkles her nose in disdain. “The cousins on my mom’s side like to pretend I don’t exist. It’s a low bar, but Taeyong is the only nice one,” she throws her hair over her shoulder. “Speaking of, he should be here soon. You don’t mind him interrupting our girls’ day out, would you?”

You don’t mind at all. Despite your friend’s pretend indifference towards him, Lee Taeyong was the resident sweetheart, known and liked by everyone on campus. The music production major is the captain of the dance club, frequently volunteers to tutor his peers and on top of that, always makes sure to bring treats and small toys for your cat whenever he drops by your place.

What you did mind, however, is if he happens to bring along a friend of his with him. Although Taeyong could integrate himself into virtually all of the social circles around campus, there is one group he sticks with more than the others – the group filled with fuckboys, notorious for flirting with anyone who was available and throwing wild parties. How the sweet Taeyong manages to get along with people so different from him is beyond you, but you figure men will always be men.

As if sensing your thoughts, Nayeon remarks, “I don’t think he’ll be with anyone today. I’m sure they’re too busy unpacking.”

You push your glasses up your nose and shrug, only hoping that was true. Even though not all the men in Taeyong’s friend group are bad apples, you’ve had more than enough awkward encounters with them to last you a lifetime. Plus, there is also one person in that group that you dislike more than the others, and you know Taeyong wouldn’t consider bringing that person within a ten feet radius of you.

The doorbell of the cafe rings, followed by two sets of footsteps and familiar laughter. You tense.

Today is not your lucky day.

You look up to see Taeyong heading towards your table. And behind him, wearing his signature smirk, is the bane of your existence – Nakamoto Yuta.

Many people have asked you why you hate Nakamoto Yuta, and your answer has always been: where do you even begin? His annoyingly vibrant red hair, the fact that he coined the nickname “Glasses” for you because of your poor eyesight, the way he’s able to get along with everyone except you and the fact that he’s been your rival for the top spot of the class ever since you could remember were only a few reasons the mere sight of him can make your blood boil.

Before you can even process your thoughts, Nayeon hisses, “Behave.”

You resist the urge to let out a groan at her command, and when you meet Taeyong’s eyes he directs a sheepish smile at you. You glare at him and look down at your phone, deciding to scroll through whatever that would make you feel less irritated at that moment.

“Hey, guys,” Taeyong greets when he reaches your table. “Enjoyed your break?”

You mumble out, “Hi, Taeyong.”

Taeyong nods at you and Jennie, and begins to listen to Nayeon as she animatedly recounts the story of how she and her younger cousins managed to steal the five batches of chocolate chip cookies her aunts had baked. You also want to listen to her story even though you had just heard about it three minutes ago, but someone slides into the seat across from yours. Despite yourself, the action captures your attention.

“Just going to ignore me, Glasses?” Yuta grins at you, completely disregarding your friends and the fact that this was supposed to be your private time with them. “Or have you already forgotten about me after such a long time?”

“Yeah, I was too busy having fun to think about things that don’t matter,” you snap back. “Anyway, two weeks was long for you? Did your friends not want to hang out with you or something?”

“Here we go,” Jennie mumbles under her breath. You pretend not to notice.

Yuta slaps a hand over his heart. “Ouch, right in the feels,” he pouts. “My break was fine, thank you. Kinda missed seeing your annoying butt around, though.”

“I’m flattered, but the feeling is not mutual,” you retort, and before you can say more, Jennie clears her throat.

“Anyway, that’s the end of the story!” Jennie says abruptly, even though you’re sure from Nayeon’s expression that she had more to tell. Subtle. From Yuta’s face, you can tell he thinks the same thing. 

The both of you normally try to avoid seeing each other as much as possible, knowing it would only lead to endless arguments, but right now you’re blaming Taeyong for even daring to bring Yuta into your presence when he knew you were going to be here.

Jennie claps her hands and looks up at her cousin. “Yongie, you wanted to give me something, right?” 

“Oh yes,” he holds up the bag that he’s carrying and sets it on the table, a look of amusement on his face. “A little present from my mom – to remind you that you should have come to visit her during the break, and she’s mad that you didn’t.”

“Oh, it’s because–” Jennie starts, but Taeyong is quick to cut her off.

“Oh, and I’m mad too.”

The two start bickering in their mother tongue, and you and Nayeon share a smile at their antics. Yuta is still sitting across from you, but you’re trying your best to ignore the fact that, for whatever reason, he’s looking at you. You look down at your phone again, desperately wanting for the guys to be gone already so you can finally get back to your precious dishing time with your best friends.

“Take a picture, Nakamoto. It’ll last longer,” you comment sarcastically, unable to handle Yuta’s gaze on you any longer.

He seems undeterred by your sudden jab at him. “It’s cute that you’re trying so hard to ignore me, Glasses,” he sighs. “I’d like to see you ignore me when I beat you for valedictorian next year.”

“Okay, enough,” Taeyong cuts in, sparing his friend a warning glance when he sees the look on your face. “Jennie, you’re going to visit me and my parents during the next break and that’s a promise, okay?”

“For ahjumma and ahjussi, maybe, not you,” Jennie teases, then her face softens. “But thank you for the food.”

Taeyong nods, then pats Yuta on the shoulder. “Anyway, we should get going or we’re going to be late.”

Yuta hums in agreement and is about to get up when Nayeon clicks her tongue. “Wait, pretty boy, you still owe me ten bucks.”

Pretty boy is the nickname Nayeon coined for Yuta in high school – a moniker that you would agree suits him to some degree.

(Not that you would ever admit it in a million years.) 

Yuta groans, head falling back in annoyance. “I haven’t forgotten. Hold up, I think I have some cash on me.” He reaches into his jacket pocket when a handful of paper scraps fall out and scatter all over his lap. With a mutter of annoyance, he reaches down to pick them up, and you’re expecting him to put them back inside his pocket when he suddenly crumples them up in his hands. 

You raise your eyebrow in surprise. “Hoarding trash in your pocket, huh? Is finding a trash can too difficult for you?”

Yuta glares for a split second before the maddening smirk is back on his face. “Thanks for your concern, Glasses. It’s actually all the phone numbers I got working at the bar last night. Not that I need them, I already have enough women wanting me.” 

You roll your eyes as the others laugh and let out dog whistles at his incredibly distasteful comment. Only Yuta could make your friends think such a repulsive statement is hilarious.

“No shortage of girls chasing you everywhere, huh, pretty boy?” Nayeon asks playfully.

“None, unfortunately,” Yuta shakes his head, producing a ten dollar note from his wallet and handing it to Nayeon. Seeing Taeyong already heading for the door, he shoots them a smile. “Bye, girls.”

He turns and winks at you. “See you around, Glasses.”

You’re left glowering at Yuta’s backside, your scowl only fading when you hear the sound of the door closing behind them.

“God, I can’t stand him,” you murmur.

Jennie lets out a practised sigh. “Yeah, we know.”

During your first year of college, you accidentally found a secret corner in the campus library while searching for a textbook for your major. The corner was cosy and out of sight from the rest of the library, perfect for when you need some peace and quiet. Ever since, it’s been your place of solace.

It’s usually the place you go to to be completely alone, and this time you needed a few hours of reading by yourself. It’s been a week since your mid-term break ended, and after nights staying up studying, you suppose right now is a good time to have a short rest from cramming information into your brain, and just enjoy a romcom book instead.

You are one hour deep in your romance novel when you hear footsteps in the library getting louder. You figure it’s Nayeon, the only other person who you’ve told about the secret corner, coming to find you as she’s chided you many times on how you tend to lose track of time when you’re in here.

The footsteps end in front of you, but you don’t look up from your book. “I’m at a good part, Nayeon, give me a few minutes.”

“Are the characters making out or something?”

The unexpected voice makes you snap your book shut and when you push your glasses up your nose to see clearly, you could only stare up in shock. Nakamoto Yuta stands in front of you, an unusually shy smile on his face. At first you’re speechless – he is the last person you would want to see anywhere, let alone in what was supposed to be your safe haven from the rest of the world.

“What are you doing here?!” you hiss, and then you look back down at the novel in your hands. “Great, you made me lose my page, you idiot!”

Suddenly, Yuta’s voice is devoid of his usual humour. “Can we talk?”

“Can you go be annoying somewhere else?” you flip through the pages rapidly, barely noticing his serious tone. You smile in relief only when you find the page you’re looking for, and you prepare to resume reading. 

Yuta lets out an exasperated sigh at your attempt of scaring him off and kneels down to your level, and to your surprise, he takes your book, secures the page you're on with your bookmark and then puts it aside.

“Seriously, I need your help,” Yuta murmurs, his big brown eyes staring deeply into yours. His face is so close to you, his voice so gentle that for a moment, you’re unable to stop and think about the sheer absurdity of his words. 

“I–” you start, before shaking your head and letting out a snort. “You need my help? Couldn’t you have asked, I don’t know… anyone else?”

“You’re my last resort,” Yuta responds immediately, as if he’s already rehearsed what he’s going to say. You think he’s about to drop the serious act and start teasing you again, but his lips are still tucked into a thin line. “And believe me, you’re the only one who can help me.”

“I seriously doubt that,” you scoff, getting ready to leave. Your secret corner isn’t even safe anymore. The only place you can go back to would be your dorm room, a place you know would be empty of any fuckboys or sworn enemies who would only ruin your mood. You know your roommate Jisoo would probably have someone over for the night, but it’s a small price to pay to avoid seeing Yuta again.

Yuta watches silently as you gather your things. You think he’s given up on whatever he was going to ask you and let you leave when he speaks up again.

“I need you to fake date me.”

You stop in your tracks. 

“What?” you stutter out. “You’re kidding, right?”

You know he’s not kidding, not when he’s staring at you so intently – not when you had heard his voice as clear as day, and with no trace of irony in his words.

“Y/-”

You burst out laughing. You laugh and laugh until your sides hurt, all the while Yuta is still kneeling in front of you, and you’re clutching your stomach at the ridiculousness of it all. 

“You want me to fake date you? Seriously? That’s what you need my help for?” you manage to finally say after your laughter dies down, wiping tears of mirth off your cheeks. “Oh, Nakamoto. That’s funny. Like that’s ever going to happen. I mean, what would I even get out of it?”

You can see Yuta’s cheeks are lightly shaded pink after seeing your reaction to his statement, but he replies without a hitch, “You can show off your hot-ass boyfriend to everyone else.”

“Yuta!” you smack him with your novel, and he grunts at the impact. “I’m serious. How would that benefit you? More importantly, how the hell would that benefit me?”

“I don’t know!” Yuta grumbled, softly rubbing the spot on his arm where you had smacked him. He finally gets up from his kneeling position and starts pacing around. “Listen, so many girls have been–”

“Oh my God, I know, there’s no shortage of girls that want you–”

“Let me finish!” Yuta snaps, his hands balled in fists when he glares at you. His face and voice softens after a beat, and he takes a deep breath before continuing. “Girls have been messaging me left and right asking me to go out with them. And–” he runs a hand over his face. “–I’m tired of it, okay? I’m not interested. And they’re not getting the message. I thought that maybe, if I get someone to act as my girlfriend, they will back off for a bit.”

You scoff. “Then get an actual girlfriend, you dick! Why get a fake one?”

“Because like I said, I’m not interested,” Yuta repeats slowly. “I’m not looking for an actual relationship right now. And, like… I came to you because I know for a fact that you won’t want an actual relationship from me. I don’t know…” he sighs again, staying silent for a moment. “Just… think about it, okay?”

You stare at him silently, still in disbelief at the words he had just said. You’re almost convinced that you had fallen asleep while reading your book a while ago and this is just some strange hyperrealistic dream. Yuta honestly, genuinely believed that there was a chance that you would help him and go along with his crazy request. You don’t know how you feel about that. 

What you do know, though, is that you don’t want to be tangled up in Nakamoto Yuta’s business in any way.

After a long pause, you shake your head.

“I’ll give you my answer now, Yuta. Thanks, but no thanks.”

You sling your bag over your shoulder and stand up from your seat, romance novel in hand. You can’t resist the temptation of looking over your shoulder and commenting one last time.

“Rejection doesn’t feel so good now, does it?”

You relish at the sight of his red cheeks before leaving the library.

You had been studying in your room when Nayeon and Jisoo had burst through the door, begging for you to try on a few outfits they had put together. You agreed, thinking it was only going to be a brief try-on and then you’d shove the outfits back in your closet, but somehow they’d convince you to keep the clothes on and crash a nearby party with them. To top it all off, they had also asked you to ditch your glasses so you could finally use the coloured contacts that you very much disliked wearing.

That’s how you find yourself in the corner of some random stranger’s house, nursing a red solo cup in one hand. The dress your friends had put on you showed off your legs a lot more than you would have liked, so now you’re trying your best to keep yourself warm with the crappy booze they were serving.

As you survey the small crowd surrounding you, you’re hit with the realisation that you don’t really know anyone here. You know the point of your friends dragging you to this party was for you to mingle a little more with other people, but somehow you’re unable to think of any interesting opening lines to a conversation that could last longer than two minutes. You’d rather have a friend beside you, but Nayeon is chatting it up with someone from her major and you don’t want to interrupt them. Just a while ago you also caught a glimpse of Jisoo heading upstairs with a stranger you hadn’t seen before, and you definitely don’t want to disturb her fun time. 

You hadn’t even bothered telling your friends about Nakamoto Yuta’s offer he had given a few hours ago. That man was not worth wasting your breath for.

And yet, your thoughts kept drifting back to him.

Yuta actually had the balls to ask you, his sworn enemy, for help in becoming his fake girlfriend. Out of all the things! You still remember the stony expression he had on when the words I need you to fake date me had left his mouth, signifying that yes, he was being one hundred percent serious. You know he’s known for his unpredictable and somewhat wild streak, but to ask you to do such a bizarre thing…

You don't know what to think.

“Hey, cutie. Can I get you a drink?”

Your head snaps up to see a tall stranger smirking at you, his eyes red from him smoking what you can only assume is some offhand weed that you know are usually at these types of parties.

“I already have one, thanks,” you smile politely, raising your cup to show him. Now, you desperately wish there’s a friend by your side – you’re not in the mood to be hit on at the moment.

But the stranger doesn’t get the hint. He steps close enough to you that you can instantly smell the repulsive mixture of substances in his breath. “That shitty beer they’re serving? Don’t be stupid. I’ll get you a real drink,” he leans in, dropping his voice so he could whisper in your ear, “Unless there’s something else you want me to do for you?”

Your stomach churns at the implication of his words.

“Um, no, thank you, I… have a boyfriend,” is all you manage to say before slipping away from his presence.

You sprint outside of the house, trashing your cup in the process, relieved to be free from the smell of booze and flirty men who wouldn’t take no for an answer. You pull out your phone from your purse.

you: gonna bail, will u and jisoo be okay?

nayeon: yeah i didn’t drink anything so ill be driving us back

nayeon: u okay tho? 

you: just need to do sumn real quick. dont worry ill find my way home

As soon as you know your friends will be fine, you immediately call for an Uber. You have one destination in mind.

You're surprised how quick the ride to Yuta’s place is. Amazingly, you know what you’re going to say to him now. Maybe it’s the alcohol running through your veins that’s making you do such an illogical thing, really.

When you knock on the door, Johnny is the one who opens it. “Oh, hey.”

When you see his look of surprise, you’re now realising how crazy you must look. Johnny must have not recognised you at first, especially now that your usual glasses are gone and your eyes are a shade of grey. You do suppose you can’t be the first person to show up at the guys’ dorm at midnight in a little dress and heels, but the thought of you being compared to those other girls doesn’t really comfort you.

You make a feeble attempt at covering yourself up, giving him a bashful smile. “Um, hey Johnny. Is Yuta home?”

Johnny’s eyes widen even further, causing your embarrassment to grow tenfold. You can only imagine what Johnny could be thinking right now.

“Uh, yeah, I don’t think he’s asleep yet. Want me to get him?”

When you nod and Johnny’s gone, you rub your hands that you didn’t realise were sweaty against the back of your dress. You can already think of all the things he would say when he sees you. Hearing a nauseating Aww, did you get dressed up all for me, Glasses? from Yuta may as well happen. The insanity of what you’re about to do finally hits you, but there’s no turning back now.

“Y/N?” Yuta says, standing in front of you in nothing but a pair of sweats, with his red hair looking exceptionally vibrant in the night. He’s clearly too shocked to come up with his usual cocky opener, and for that you are grateful. “What are you doing here?”

You can’t see where Johnny went and you know he’s not the type of person to listen in to his friends’ private conversations, but you’re not willing to take the risk. “We need to talk,” you assert, brushing past Yuta and heading straight towards his bedroom. His jaw drops, and you’re equally surprised at how different you’re behaving. The alcohol really is making you act more brazen than usual.

“Well, come in, make yourself at home, why don’t you?” Yuta grumbles, his bewildered expression now changing into one of annoyance as he closes the bedroom door behind him. “What do you want? You here to reject me again?”

You lean against the wall and take in your surroundings, in awe of how immaculately his bedroom is decorated, with accents of space blue and striking reds all over. You spot an electric guitar in the corner. You didn’t know he played any instruments.

“I’ll do it.”

“What?”

“I’ll be your fake girlfriend, Yuta,” you tell him, and you see his eyebrows raise in amazement. “But I want you to know that I’m also doing it for my own gain.”

Yuta immediately scoffs, but there’s a hint of amusement on his face. “Okay. What’s in it for you?”

“To get my friends to stop dragging me to parties I don’t want to go to. But also, if they do manage to get me to go to a party somehow and there are annoying dudes there trying to flirt with me, I can say I have a boyfriend and I wouldn’t be lying.”

“Sort of,” Yuta comments drily. He crosses his arms against his chest, and it’s difficult not to notice his perfectly sculpted biceps. There’s a chain tattoo wrapped around his left arm that you’ve never seen before. “Well, I didn’t expect this. I guess I should say thanks.”

You shrug, looking down at the floor. “It’s whatever. I love those girls, but they can’t get off my ass about joining them at parties, when sometimes all I want to do is study at home,” you admit reluctantly, before looking back up at him. “Anyway. How are we going to do this?”

Yuta shoots you a grin, and for once it’s not the usual one that would make you roll your eyes. “I’m so glad you asked. To do this, we have to fool everyone, and that includes our own friends. Because if our friends don’t believe us, Glasses, then no one will.”

You’re irked by his use of the nickname (like, you’re not even wearing glasses at that moment!), but you tilt your head in curiosity. “What are you getting at?”

“Before we just tell everyone that we’re dating, we have to hang out with each other. One on one.” 

Your mouth runs dry at what he just said –  but Yuta’s not done talking. “You and I both know that everyone knows that we can’t get along, Y/N. How the hell are we going to convince them we’re dating when you keep insulting me?”

“You always insult me too,” you retort, and he nods solemnly.

“Yes, I have, and that’s why we have to stop doing that as soon as possible. Tomorrow I have an early morning class, but I’ll be free after. We can figure out all the details then,” he looks at you, reaching in his pocket for his phone. “Give me your phone.”

Your hands feel sweaty again at the thought of Yuta being able to contact you any time he wants, and you hope he doesn’t notice how jittery you are as you hand him your phone.

As he types his number in and calls his phone from yours, you let out a dry laugh. “So it’s a date, huh?”

“I guess you could call it that,” Yuta gives your phone back to you but is unable to meet your eyes. Is he feeling embarrassed at the thought of going on a date with you? 

Your heart drops when you think about it. You think you’re sobering up now, because now you’re wondering if you've just made a huge mistake.

“Um… I should go,” you breathe, clutching your purse close to your chest.

“Wait,” he says, looking into your eyes again, and there’s a small smile on his face. 

Any second thoughts you have vanish instantly. 

Yuta extends his hand out, his grin growing wider. “We should shake on it.”

“Shake on it? You’re such a dweeb.”

He rolls his eyes. “Just do it.”

So you do.

You wake up with a light headache, but you’re surprised to find a painkiller and a glass of water on your nightstand, a small note sitting right beside it.

take this, I know you need it -N

You sigh in awe, thanking the heavens for you having such a godsend for a best friend. You don’t know what time it is, but the rest of the apartment is quiet, so you assume your roommates are at their mid-morning classes. After taking the pill, you check your phone for the time. As you suspected, it’s almost 11. You also have two unread texts that were sent to you half an hour ago.

Unknown: this is yuta. i’m free now

Unknown: unless ur still sleeping lol

You roll your eyes, swiftly typing a response.

you: dickhead

you: u would sleep in too if u had my bed

You don’t know how long it will take for him to reply, so you put some music on and take a shower. Your pet cat Pumpkin isn’t scratching at your door like he usually does, so you reckon one of your roommates had already fed him for the morning. 

As you’re getting ready, you recall the events of the night before with a shudder. It feels like a fever dream that you actually showed up at Yuta’s house in the middle of the night so you could tell him that you would pretend to be his girlfriend, but that crappy beer you had must have given you a boost in confidence.

You’re in the middle of having breakfast when you hear your phone buzz.

yuta: oh good morning sleeping beauty

yuta: come find me at the library ;)

Fifteen minutes later, you find Yuta sitting at a lone table right in the center of the library. He’s dressed in a grey hoodie and blue jeans, his red hair tied up into a mini ponytail.

“Took you long enough, Glasses,” Yuta remarks when he sees you, a smirk on his face.

You ignore his comment, pulling up the chair across from him and sitting down. The library is empty besides two people sitting at different corners, so you don’t bother keeping your voice hushed. “Let’s talk terms,” you start counting off your fingers. “First, no more calling me Glasses.”

Yuta pouts at that. “Aww, come on. Not even as a – what do you call it – term of endearment?”

“No,” you narrow your eyes at him. “Fake boyfriend or not, that’s a stupid thing to call your significant other. No more Glasses,” though he still looks put out by it, you take his silence as a sign to continue. “You can call me by other nicknames. The usual, like baby and stuff.”

“Okay, stuff,” he grins.

You glare at him.

“Fine, baby it is,” Yuta relents, crossing his arms over his chest. “Damn. You’re no fun in the morning, huh?”

You really aren’t. You once gave Jisoo the silent treatment for one whole week because she had the audacity to prank you by setting an early alarm on a day you were supposed to peacefully sleep in, but that’s not a story you are going to tell him. 

“Second, this relationship shouldn’t last longer than a month.”

“Don’t I get a say in that?” Yuta protests, raising an eyebrow at you. “What if girls start hitting on me the second we break up?”

“That’s your problem,” you smile smugly. “Remember, Nakamoto. I’m only doing this fake relationship for my own gain, and I only need it until the end of finals week.”

He stares at you for a moment with narrowed eyes, and you expect him to say something biting back to you, but suddenly the smirk is back on his face.

“Fine. My turn to list my own terms.”

“I’m not finished y-”

He clicks his tongue, interrupting you. “You talk too much, baby. Are you forgetting who came up with this whole fake relationship idea in the first place?” 

You could only glare as you keep your mouth shut, and nod at him as a way to tell him to begin.

“We need to go on fake dates. All the time,” he says so solemnly that you almost laugh. “To fake it for the gram, of course. And whenever we’re around our friends, we have to hold hands or something. Just so they don’t get suspicious.”

You blink. The thought of holding hands with Yuta in front of all your friends made your stomach do a flip.

Yuta grins at you, relaxed as ever. “Why don’t you take a story of me now? The sooner the better.”

It’s difficult to argue with his logic, so you pull out your phone and quickly snap a picture of him looking to the side, his tiny ponytail on display. As you prepare to post it on your story, you can already hear all the things your friends will say the second they view it, but you push that thought down. You’ll just have to worry about that later.

“Anything else?” you say as you put your phone back in your pocket. 

“You need to call me baby too,” he adds, and you groan out loud.

“Come on!” you cry out, looking at him in exasperation. “Isn’t that the guys’ thing to do?”

“Incorrect. And very sexist of you,” Yuta deadpans. “Call me baby, and I’ll stop calling you Glasses for the rest of time. Deal?”

It’s a very tempting offer, and even though you’re still inwardly cringing at how you’re supposed to call him baby, you sigh in surrender. “Fine, whatever. But I have one last condition.”

“Shoot.”

“After the time is up, if we go back to being enemies or not, you can never tell anyone that this relationship was fake. That will be too embarrassing for either of us.” 

Yuta smirks. “Whatever you need, baby,” he replies and you roll your eyes. That nickname will take a while to get used to. Before you can say anything, he looks at you and says, “By the way, we can’t tell anyone right away, or they’ll never believe it.”

You nod. “That’s fair.”

Although you would prefer to get this done with as soon as possible, you agree with Yuta. You know that Nayeon (and perhaps Jennie and Jisoo to a lesser extent) knows more than anyone just how deep your hatred for Yuta ran in your bones, so telling her that you’re suddenly dating him won’t fool her at all. You suppose that Instagram story that you posted of him was a good start to your deception.

“Okay,” you clap once, flashing him a saccharine smile. “Well, if there’s nothing else, I’m done talking. Go away,” you tell him, pulling out textbooks and a few notebooks from your bag, readying yourself for a long day of studying ahead. 

Yuta doesn't move, still looking at you with those big eyes of his. 

“Or…” he trails off, and you look up at him, waiting for him to finish. “...we could study together, and after you're done, we could get to know each other a little better. How does that sound?”

You rub your temples and sigh. “Just as long as you don't piss me off too much.”

He grins, signing an X over his heart. “I'll be the best study buddy, I promise.”

Yuta then pulls out his own textbooks and supplies and you gasp in surprise at the amount of pens in his large pencil case – two large bundles of them are tied together with rubber bands, plus a few loose ones that are scattered at the bottom.  

“Do you really need that many pens?” you ask.

He shrugs nonchalantly. “I tend to go through them a lot because I make a lot of notes in class. You can take some off my hands if you want to.”

You shake your head in disbelief and reach for a blue pen. “Well, now I know who to go to when I need another pen,” you joke, fiddling with the clicker and doodling with it at the corner of your notebook. You start writing out some notes with it. “Wow, this is a really good one. Never thought you’d be the one to write down your notes, Nakamoto. I just assumed you typed them all into your laptop or something.”

Yuta sends you a wink. “I’m traditional like that.”

“Are you sure I can take this?” you question, eyeing the pen in your hand. You can’t deny that you’re already fond of how easy and comfortable it is to use, but you’re hesitant about taking something from Yuta.

“Of course. I mean, I literally have 50 more.”

“Thanks,” you reply quietly, feeling a surge of gratitude. A week ago, if someone told you that Yuta will offer something to you and you’ll willingly accept it, you would have laughed straight in their face. You're aware that it’s just a pen, but the sweet gesture tugs at something in your heart.

Maybe Yuta doesn’t really hate you as much as you think he does.

You sneak a glance at him and a small crease has appeared between his eyebrows and his lips has formed into a pout as he’s carefully highlighting a passage in his textbook. It’s strangely cute, especially since he’s using a neon pink highlighter. He inclines his head down, and you see that the hair band holding up his ponytail is also a light shade of pink. 

Your heart skips a beat.

You clear your throat as if he suddenly caught you staring, even though you’re sure he’s still focused on taking notes. Fighting the sudden wave of awkwardness in your gut, you try to focus on your own books.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you fish it out to see you’ve gotten a few notifications.

nayeonyny replied to your story: ur hanging out with the DEVIL himself????

jennierubyjane replied to your story: is this real lol

You resist the urge to immediately reply to your friends’ messages, and ignore it for now. As you look at Yuta, his head bent down as he studies his notes, it sinks in that this will be your life for the next few weeks.

What have you gotten yourself into?

The rest of your study session went by without a hitch, save for a couple of snarky remarks from Yuta. He had been a really good study buddy, much to your surprise. You really admire his commitment to taking down all of his notes – and now you understand why, seeing as how his handwriting is the neatest and the most beautiful of anyone you’ve ever seen. 

(But you did not voice your praises to him because he really doesn’t need another reason for his head to get any bigger.)

After an hour of studying, you made good on your promise to get to know each other better. Yuta had listened intently as you explained the reason why you chose your major, and in turn, he told you that he had a few dozen cousins in Japan that he has never met. It was only when the sun had dipped low outside the library windows that you decided that you'd learned enough about him and called your study session to a close.

The rest of the week consisted of the two of you playing the part on social media, with him posting several cryptic shots of you on his stories – which was met with much pestering from both your friend groups – and you informing your friends how you would be too occupied to join them partying or going out at night. While you didn’t exactly disclose what you were going to be doing during those times, you were leaving that up to their imaginations. 

In truth, though, you mostly went to the nearest cafe to study in peace. The other times were reserved for your fake dates with Yuta.

You’re not oblivious as to how Nayeon has been suspicious of your behaviour, but you’ve been able to dodge her questions for most of the time. You think you're positively dying from the weight of keeping a secret from your best friend, but as for now, your only confidant is Pumpkin.

You’re getting ready in your bedroom when you let out an apprehensive sigh.

“It’s happening today,” you tell your cat, staring into the vanity mirror. 

Pumpkin is lying on his back on the edge of your bed with his furry stomach exposed for you to see, and you're sure he’s asleep until he lets out a trilling sound at your comment.

Usually you’d coo at every little noise and action done by the cat and the sight of his white tummy would be too adorable for you to resist, but you’re too preoccupied by your thoughts to even notice.

Today is the day. 

Yuta will be arriving at your place at any moment, and you could practically hear the quiet beating of the clock in the living room ticking down the seconds until you hear the doorbell ring. 

Both Nayeon and Jisoo are still lazing around at home, because unlike you, they don’t have classes until later in the day. There’s a soft rumbling sound of the television that carries through the thin walls. Someone’s in the living room – right next to where the front door is.

You can taste the dread in your mouth as your brain comes up with all the possible scenarios of how your roommates would react when Yuta walks through that door. 

Once you’re done putting the finishing touches of your outfit, you gather your things and stop by your bed to stroke Pumpkin’s ears. “Well, wish me luck.” 

You’ve opened the door when Pumpkin gets down from the bed and stretches, suddenly deciding that he’s not in the mood for a nap anymore. He follows you into the kitchen and takes his usual spot on the kitchen island. You smile for a second at how cute he is, but your mind clouds again once you spot who’s in the living room.

Jisoo’s hogging the couch, which is in plain view from where you’re standing in the kitchen. The TV is playing a rerun of Stranger Things, but you don’t really think she’s paying any attention. Jisoo turns around when she hears the rattling of the fridge door when you open it.

“Oh, hey,” Jisoo greets, stifling a yawn. “Got a lot of classes today, huh?”

“Yeah,” you return timidly, taking a bottle of root beer from the side rack and unscrewing the cap with more force than necessary. You chug down the drink hastily, silently wishing it was a magic potion that could give you the confidence to go through with what you’ve planned for the day.

Jisoo doesn’t seem to notice the tremor in your voice. She runs a hand through her hair then studies her nails. ���Sucks. Well, I have nothing to do for a while. Do you want me to drop you off?”

A nervous laugh escapes you. “Thanks, but I kind of already have a ride.”

The ringing of the doorbell makes you jump.

Jisoo gets up without a word, and before you can say anything, your roommate has opened the door to reveal a smirking Yuta, clad in all black.

There’s no mistaking the confusion in Jisoo’s voice. “What are you doing here?”

Yuta’s sporting a lazy smile, and doesn’t seem to notice how bewildered your friend looks. “I’m Y/N’s ride for today,” he says casually, as if it’s the most natural words to ever come out of his mouth.

You’re mortified when you witness how wide Jisoo’s eyes have become, and you’re convinced that they just might pop right out of her sockets if you don’t intervene. 

You set down your root beer on the kitchen island and walk towards the door. “I got it from here,” you say breezily despite feeling the opposite. You reach for Yuta’s hand, to which he immediately clasps yours in his, and then shoot your roommate the sweetest smile you could muster. “See you at lunch, Jisoo.”

Jisoo’s still agape when you close the door behind you, and you wait until you’ve gone down a floor before speaking up. “Couldn’t you have been a bit more subtle? You almost gave her a heart attack!” you hiss, glaring at Yuta.

But Yuta is unfazed by your outburst. “You’re the one who held my hand first,” he responds without hesitation.

You look down and realise that your hand is, in fact, still intertwined with his even though you’re now in the lobby and are walking out towards Yuta’s car. You quickly pull away, feeling your cheeks warm. 

“Whatever,” you retort. You're unable to find a proper comeback, too focused on the fact that you were holding onto his hand for way too long.

Embarrassing.

You let out a deep breath and cross your arms against your chest. “Anyway, just remember – I don’t want to flaunt whatever this is in everyone’s faces. That’ll just make us look desperate!”

Yuta opens the passenger seat door for you. “Can’t be a new thing for you,” he deadpans, leaving you speechless.

He stares at you before his expression breaks into a rueful smile. “Okay, I take that back. I said no more insults, right?” he affirms, playfully leaning against the door. “Come on, get in the car. Don’t want to be late, now, do we princess?”

It’s only because he reminds you that the both of you will be late that you’re willing to dismiss his incredibly half-assed apology. You slide into the passenger seat with a huff.

You wait until he gets in the car before you look at him pointedly. “I don’t want to hear another word from you until we reach campus.”

“No promises.”

Aside from the soft rock music blasting from the car speakers, the short ride to the campus is actually rather quiet, in contradiction to Yuta's attempt to tell you otherwise. You suppose he knows that you’re on your last straw – especially after the whole hand-holding incident – and the two of you have to be on good terms on the day you’re supposed to quietly debut your fake relationship to everyone.

You’re glad he knows that, because one more remark from him would have just infuriated you further.

Before leaving for his own lecture, Yuta drops you off in front of the lecture hall, a smirk on his face. “See you later, baby,” he whispers right next to your ear just for you to hear, and you try to ignore the goosebumps that form on your skin.

During the class, your thoughts keep veering to what Yuta told you when you went on a fake date just three nights ago.

“We do it on a random afternoon, when everyone’s eating in the cafeteria,” Yuta says conspiratorially, fiddling with his thumbs. You notice that’s a peculiar little habit he does whenever he’s excited. His half-eaten burger has been pushed aside, too caught up in telling you about his plan.

You stare at him blankly. “Do what?”

“We walk in together, holding hands,” he announces, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “What do you think? Not too over-the-top, but still enough to get people talking.”

It’s undeniably clever, and you don’t really have your own idea on how to go about it, so you reply: “Let’s do it.”

But looking back now, your stomach does flips when you think about what you're about to do very soon. Holding hands with Yuta in front of Jisoo in the safety of your own apartment is one thing, but walking into the cafeteria hand-in-hand with him where practically the entire college population could see it is another.

Uncharacteristically of you, you’re unable to focus much during your classes. You only have two before the inevitable lunch break, and before you know it, you’re at the place where the two you agreed to meet. 

As promised, Yuta is already there waiting for you, his bag slung over one shoulder. Instead of his usual smirk, he shoots you an easy smile that strangely eases the knot in your stomach.

“Are you ready?” he questions, hand outstretched for you. You take it.

“Now or never, I guess,” you say, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. You’re sure he could see right through your demeanour, seeing as your hand is unusually sweaty. You’re awaiting a snide comment from him about it, but he doesn’t say a word.

When the two of you walk through the cafeteria doors, you can immediately feel eyes on you. You spot Nayeon, Jennie and Jisoo at your usual table, and if it was any other day, you’d head straight to them.

Today, you have a different plan.

Hand still clasped in his, Yuta leads you to where Johnny, Jaehyun and Taeyong are sitting. It’s Taeyong that notices you first, and you almost burst out laughing at how wide his eyes go when his gaze lands on your intertwined hands. The other two crane their necks to catch a glimpse at what he’s looking at – and when they see you, Johnny falls silent and Jaehyun’s jaw drops.

You send Yuta a sweet smile when he pulls out a chair for you to sit on. 

“Thanks,” you say appreciatively as you take your seat, secretly loving how your little audience is making zero attempts to hide their stares. Yuta takes the seat across from you, and you can tell he’s also trying his best not to laugh.

Johnny clears his throat, so quick to fix his composure. “Y/N, I didn’t know you’d be joining us today.”

“Yeah, Yuta invited me at the last minute. I hope you don’t mind?” you say in a light-hearted tone, studying their faces intently.

Taeyong and Johnny immediately shake their heads at your words. Jaehyun, though, is still staring at you for an impolite amount of time at this point, so Johnny not-so-subtly slaps him in the back. 

“Fuck!” Jaehyun coughs heartily, before choking out, “Um, no, we don’t mind at all!”

Before you can respond, Yuta murmurs, “Heads up, we’ve got company.”

You want to look up and see who Yuta’s talking about, but you can already tell who it is by the familiar sound of stilettos clicking, getting louder as she heads towards your direction. Only one person you know would bother wearing six-inch heels and outfits that were way too elegant for a Thursday afternoon lecture.

Jennie slams a hand down in front of you the moment she reaches the table, making everyone jump at the sudden intrusion.

“Hey, Y/N! What’s going on?” she asks you, her tone a tad more enthusiastic then what it probably should be. She has a grin on her face, though it screams confusion more than anything, and you almost giggle.

“Oh, nothing, I’m just gonna have lunch with Yuta today,” you reply with a cheeky smile.

“You and your friends are welcome to join us if you’d like,” Yuta adds smoothly, and before the words are completely out of his mouth, Jennie is already rushing back to tell the others. Two minutes later, Nayeon, Jennie and Jisoo have squished themselves into the seats beside you, even though there’s really not enough space for all eight of you on that table.

Ignoring the awkwardness in the air, Yuta reaches into his bag and lays out a few packed pastries onto the table. “I’ve got some for everyone,” he says. Then, he sends you a wink as he hands you a package. “And your favourite, baby.”

Gasps are heard around the table and your face heats up when the nickname falls from his lips.

Well, there’s the final nail in the coffin.

Jisoo turns to you with a puzzled look. “Okay – what? What’s going on? Why are you sitting at the guys’ table? And why is calling you baby?”

Yuta directly stares at Jisoo, a solemn look on his face. “I would think that that’s a normal thing to call your girlfriend.”

Ah, so much for not flaunting your fake relationship in everyone's faces.

“Girlfriend? What? You’re dating?!” Jennie shrieks, attracting attention from the surrounding tables. As if the sheer amount of people sat at this table wasn’t conspicuous enough. You resist the urge to bury your face in your hands.

“Is that why he dropped by this morning saying he’ll be your ride?” Jisoo asks you, her eyes still wide in amazement. 

“He dropped by this morning?” Nayeon’s eyes quickly turn to Jisoo, scandalised. “You didn’t tell me that!”

“Hey, listen, I was kind of too shocked to tell you–”

“Uhh, don’t you two hate each other?” Jaehyun asks, a bewildered look on his face.

“Maybe they finally realised they had to get rid of the sexual tension between them and just fucked it out,” Johnny mumbles in amusement.

Your head snaps up to look at Johnny. “What sexual tension?”

Seeing the look on your face, Yuta waves his hand dismissively. “Alright. alright, relax,” he says coolly, his signature smirk back on his face. You haven’t seen it on him for so long that you almost forgot how the sight of it used to infuriate you. He crosses his arms against his chest. “We did a study session together last week and have been hanging out ever since. No crime against that, is there?”

“And – let me get this straight,” Taeyong cuts in, putting up a hand to interrupt Yuta, before looking at you. “You didn’t attempt to strangle him even once?”

You shake your head and laugh. “Oh, believe me, I wanted to – at first,” you begin, surprising yourself at how truthful you're being. You glance at Yuta to see what he’s thinking, and he’s staring back at you. “But he’s actually not so bad once you get to know him.”

Yuta grins. “Thanks, babe. Right back at you.”

“This is crazy,” Nayeon deadpans, her gaze landing at the package in front of you. “I mean – two weeks ago you were saying you hated his guts. And now he’s getting you your favourite pastry? That’s crazy.”

In the commotion, you had forgotten that Yuta had given you something until Nayeon pointed it out. You look down at the package and raise your eyebrows in surprise when you realise it’s a chocolate croissant – your favourite ever since you could remember. 

Did you ever mention that to him? 

From what you can recall, the only information you told him was about your family, your education and your career goals, so you’re not sure how he could have known that. You decide to brush it aside for now, seeing as how Jennie is furtively nudging you at that moment. You turn to her with a questioning look. 

She leans in to whisper in your ear. “Ignore Nayeon. I’m really happy for you, babe. I mean, look at the way he’s looking at you.”

Yuta’s gaze is indeed on you, and there’s a mysterious smile on his face. Right away, you know the others would interpret it as a smile of adoration or something like that, but you know exactly why he’s smiling.

The plan is working.

“I don’t buy it.”

You look up from your textbook, seeing Nayeon leaning against your doorway. As if understanding her words, Pumpkin, curled up by the wheels of your chair, lets a meow of agreement.

You don’t even have to ask what she’s talking about.

“Why not?” you raise an eyebrow in fake confusion, masking the nervousness you feel inside.

Nayeon stares at you for a beat, before coming in and sitting at the edge of your bed. You spin around in your chair to face her. “Because you hate that man, Y/N. With every inch of you.”

“Things change, Nayeon,” you offer your already-rehearsed explanation, even though you could already feel your walls crumbling. It’s physically impossible to keep anything from her – your best friend knows you like the back of her hand.

And just like you expect, Nayeon gives you a knowing look.

You let out a sigh, getting up to close the door. If Nayeon is going to know about your deception, you’re not going to take the risk of Jisoo possibly overhearing you confirming it to her.

Once the door is securely shut and locked, you turn around and cross your arms with a huff. “Okay, fine,” you confess quietly. “It’s not real. But I have a good reason behind it.”

Nayeon’s face is a blend of amusement and curiosity. “And what’s that?”

You run a hand down your face. “To get all of you to stop pressuring me to go out all the time!” the second those words leave your lips, you let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding. You didn’t realise how much this secret has been dragging you down all week. “Look, I love you, but you know how much my studies mean to me too.”

“Oh.”

The room falls silent.

“Okay, uh…” Nayeon starts but trails off quickly, suddenly staring at the floor in front of her. You tilt your head to look at her, and even though her face is angled away from you, the guilt on her face is crystal clear. “You, uh… we’re that annoying that you really had to get a fake boyfriend to get rid of us? I… I’m so sorry, babe.”

Your heart sinks. 

“Hey, don’t say that,” you sigh. You rush to sit next to her, and start patting her back assuringly. “It’s not just that. I mean, it’s also my fault for not learning how to say no. I know you mean well, really, wanting me to find someone for myself and all – but I don’t think I can really say no since Jisoo’s not as understanding as you, you get me?”

Amidst your speech, Nayeon lets out a muffled laugh.

“Also, when I went to that party with you two last week – even though all I really wanted was to just study at home – an icky guy tried to hit on me. I just thought that was the last straw.”

Your friend nods, the uncertainty on her face clearing a little. “Okay, I guess I get that. But, um, why pretty boy, of all people?”

“He approached me first. At my library corner. Said something about wanting all the girls to stop chasing him,” you explain in irritation, before smiling smugly. “Of course I said no first, but I changed my mind and agreed to do it because I’m a better person than him.”

Nayeon rolls her eyes at your words. “Very big of you,” she replies drily.

“Don’t get me wrong, I still hate his guts,” you tell her in defiance, then falling back into your sheets. “It won’t last long. Latest probably until finals are over.”

Nayeon doesn’t turn to face you, instead she’s staring at something on the floor of the bedroom. Perhaps she’s looking at Pumpkin – as the room goes quiet, you can hear him grooming his fur.

Your best friend finally speaks up again, but this time her voice is guarded. “I wonder why he came to you though.”

“The poor guy must have been desperate,” your attempt to snub, but the promise you made to Yuta about not insulting him anymore lingers at the back of your mind, and your tone falls flat. Of course he’s not here to hear it, but the guilt eats at you anyway.

“And yet you agreed,” Nayeon turns around to face you, a teasing smile on her face. “Maybe you’re the desperate one.”

“Hey!” you grab your pillow and smack her with it. “Not cool!”

Nayeon giggles at your reaction. “Well, it makes sense now. I guess I can see why you didn’t tell me about this.” 

You look directly into her eyes, shaking your head. “You’re the only one who knows. And you can’t tell anyone.”

Not even Jisoo, the words are at the tip of your tongue, but you know you don’t have to voice it to Nayeon. The both of you know that if Jisoo learns about your fake relationship, soon the entire school would know because she can’t keep her mouth shut to save her life.

“I won’t tell a soul,” Nayeon promises.

You’re currently scouring through your wardrobe, looking for a decent outfit you could put together. It’s Friday night – a time that you would usually reserve for staying in and curling up in your room with a novel, Pumpkin sleeping soundly by your side. 

Earlier when you were having lunch with your friends, though, Yuta had dropped by your table to ask you something.

“You wanna go out tonight?” he leans forward to whisper in your ear, but his voice is loud enough that everyone at the table has already heard it. Nayeon cocks up an eyebrow, while Jennie lets out a low whistle and Jisoo grins.

“Um, what?” you reply blankly, wiping the side of your mouth where a bit of your latte had dribbled out.

“A date, just the two of us. I figured since it’s a Friday…” Yuta shrugs, tilting his head in curiosity. “Unless you don’t want to?”

You’re well aware of the pairs of eyes on you, awaiting your answer, and you wish Yuta had told you he was going to do this beforehand so you could’ve prepared a proper response – because you don’t know how to react.

It takes you a few beats to realise that you’re taking too long, so you just nod. “Okay, sure. Where do you want to go?”

“Ah-ah, that’s going to be a surprise,” he winks, before readying to leave. “I’ll pick you up tonight, babe.”

You swear you could’ve strangled him for pulling that stunt without any prior warning, and now you’re cursing him for keeping the location of the date a secret – because what the hell are you supposed to wear?

The door of your bedroom opens and Jennie walks in, heading towards your wardrobe at once.

You let out a cry of relief. “Oh, thank God you’re finally here!” you sigh, collapsing onto your bed. You’re sitting on top of a few pieces of clothing you had thrown on your bedsheets while searching your wardrobe, tossed aside because none of them really felt right. “I have nothing to wear.”

“Nonsense! I know exactly what you should wear,” Jennie assures you as she sifts through your clothes.

You’re not sure what she’s referring to, but since she’s the fashion design major, you suppose you should trust her judgement. When Jennie pulls out your favourite sleeveless dress, you look at her skeptically. 

“It’s going to be cold outside,” you attempt to oppose.

“Then wear it with this jacket,” Jennie responds, holding up a black leather jacket that you only wear on special occasions. The outfit matches perfectly, you admit, but it’s also much nicer than what you thought it would be.

On your previous meetups with Yuta, you just threw on whatever was most comfortable for you at that moment and called it a day – but that was also when you weren’t trying to convince anyone that you were actually dating him. 

Seeing the look on your face, Jennie shakes her head. “Come on, you’re going on a date! You should look your best!”

You can’t really argue with her without making her suspicious, so you agree. Jennie leaves the room so you can finish getting ready. Yuta had texted you earlier saying that he’ll arrive at your dorm around 7, so you still have about ten minutes.

You’re looking in the mirror and fixing your hair when you hear the doorbell ring. When you leave the bedroom and enter the living area, Yuta’s hovering by the doorway, chatting quietly with Jennie. You spot Pumpkin curled up on your sofa.

“Well, don’t you two look like two peas in a pod?” Jennie coos, a grin on her face. Yuta’s also wearing a leather jacket similar to yours, and now you’re wondering if she had chosen this outfit for you on purpose. 

“Hey,” Yuta greets you with a smile, his hand extended out for you. “Shall we go?”

You nod, taking his hand. An inexplicable warmth spreads through your body when he intertwines his fingers with yours. You turn to your friend. “Um, I’ll see you later, Jen.”

“Have fun, you two!” Jennie shouts as the door closes behind you.

The second you know there’s no longer an audience, you pull your hand away from his. The hallway is slightly chilly, so you pull your jacket close to your body.

“Are you really not going to tell me where we’re going?”

“Nope.”

You huff. “Fine, but the least you could do is pass me the aux.”

In your peripheral vision, you see Yuta sporting a wide grin. “Whatever makes you happy, babe.”

You can’t really tell if he’s mocking you with the use of the nickname, but when you reach his car, he indeed lets you take control of the music. You put on a chill playlist and lean back against the seat with a sigh.

“You should’ve told me that you were going to ask me out today. I almost blew our cover in front of our friends!”

You can tell he wants to look at you, but Yuta is never one to take his eyes off the road when he’s driving. Instead, he replies evenly, “Dates are a part of our deal, are they not?”

“Yes, but like I said, you should’ve at least warned me first,” you retaliate.

Yuta shrugs, his hands still on the steering wheel. “Just wanted to surprise you like a normal boyfriend does.”

“Fake boyfriend, that is – or have you already forgotten that?” you reply sarcastically. You glance at him, continuing, “And another thing – you should really cool it with all the nicknames! Like, what’s the point of calling me babe when there’s no one around?”

You hear him scoff. “And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“You’re the one who should start calling me babe or baby! I’ve never heard you call me that even once,” he grates, his tone brusque even though his gaze is still fixed on the road ahead. “I told you, it’s either that or I will call you Gl-”

“Okay, okay!” you grumble, already flinching before the first syllable of his former nickname for you had even left his mouth. Your glasses are on your face tonight, only serving as a sick reminder of what he used to call you. “I’ll call you baby or whatever. Just don’t ever call me that stupid word ever again, please.”

Yuta snickers and you groan inwardly, resenting how easily you had let him have that victory. It’s silent for a moment before you turn to face him again.

“Can you tell me where we’re going now?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on!”

Despite your constant prodding, Yuta held his ground and had kept his lips sealed for the entire car ride. You admire his determination to keep your destination a secret – because the second he pulls up into the parking lot of the newest arcade center in the city, it all becomes worth it.

“No way,” you mutter in awe, unable to hide your grin as you survey the impressive size of the building. The word FUNSCAPE is emblazoned across the front, flashing in bright neon colours. You pull out your phone to take a photo of it.

Yuta maneuvers the car into a parking spot close to the entrance and once the engine is off, he turns to you and wiggles his eyebrows. “Hope you like it.”

You’re already scrambling to get out of the car. “Are you kidding? I love it!” you squeal in excitement, slamming his car door shut behind you. “I’m going to beat the shit out of you at every game.”

He grunts. “We’ll see about that.”

Walking through the front doors together, Yuta heads to the front counter to exchange money for some tokens, while you stride across to a row of air hockey tables. Immediately you’re reminded of the times you played it with your best friends in the arcade at the local mall back in your hometown. That arcade was much smaller and nowhere near as grand as this one, but the familiarity of the sport and the memory still warms your heart.

When Yuta approaches you, a handful of tokens in his grasp, you shoot him a deceptively sweet smile. “You’re going down, buddy.”

“Oh, you’re on.”

Choosing the nearest table, Yuta sets his phone next to the scoreboard and opens the camera. He changes it into a selfie video mode, and you can just barely see the two of you at each end of the frame. You look at him curiously. “What’s that for?”

“Officially, for the gram,” he tells you seriously, before his face breaks into a cocky smirk. “Unofficially, visual evidence of how easily I can beat you.”

It’s laughable how he really believes he has a chance at winning over you, a former air hockey champion amongst your friends. You don't want him to know how confident you are in your skills, so you mirror his smirk. “Keep dreaming, Nakamoto.”

Yuta inserts two tokens into the slot and presses the record button on his phone, and the game begins. You grip the disc in your hand, swinging a puck at an angle, which then bounces off the wall and goes straight into Yuta’s goal.

Yuta’s nostrils flare at your immediate success, and you snicker. The tricks to winning are already coming back to you, even though you haven’t played in a while. As the game continues, Yuta is able to sneak one or two pucks into your goal, but his points still pale in comparison to yours. Before long, the scoreboard has declared you the winner. Yuta groans in defeat and you laugh.

You bring the disc to your mouth and blow on it, as if blowing smoke off the barrel of a gun. “Still got it,” you smile smugly.

Yuta rolls his eyes. “Please, you got lucky. I’ll beat you in the next round.”

He inserts another two tokens and the game starts again. Now, he’s able to block some of your shots towards his goal, but your blocking technique for your own goal remains unbeatable. Two minutes later, the scoreboard shows that you’ve trumped him again, and Yuta is left glaring at the numbers on the screen.

“Still feeling good about that visual evidence, Nakamoto?” you let out a small giggle. 

Yuta shakes his head loftily and snatches up his phone, ending the video recording. “You win this time, babe. But I know for a fact that I’ll beat your ass at any other game here.”

Taking his words as a challenge, the two of you head towards the basketball machine to insert a few tokens. Even though you’re quite sure that he’s not into any sports, Yuta is surprisingly good at aiming for the net – and you aren’t even mad when he eventually wins. 

“Can we call it even now?”

Yuta grins, nudging you with his elbow. “Are you too scared to play anything else now just because I beat you at this?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I can beat you at billiards with my eyes closed,” you shake your head indignantly. “You up for that?”

“You bet your ass.”

Walking towards the billiards table, you two agree for a best two out of three game. Yuta wins the first round, much to your chagrin.

“What were you saying about beating me with your eyes closed?” Yuta asks you as he places the cue stick behind his neck and rests his hands on each end. There’s a smirk on his face, but his head is tilted at an angle that you find somewhat endearing. 

Immediately, you feel the urge to take a picture of him in that specific pose, so you pull out your phone and aim your camera at him. Yuta barely has any time to react but he’s able to put on a surprised little smile before you take the photo.

As you pocket your phone, you reply snarkily, “Don’t celebrate anything just yet. It’ll just be embarrassing for you when I win.”

True to your word, you manage to pull through and win the other two rounds. As soon as the final ball falls into the hole, you slam the cue stick against your hand and grin triumphantly. “And that, Nakamoto, is how you do it.”

Yuta lets out a groan. “Fine, you win. But I must say, you’ve got one hell of a game in you,” he says while rolling his eyes, but you can see hints of a smile on his face. “Respect.”

You were expecting him to accept his defeat with much less grace, so your grin only widens at his comment. You look at your surroundings, dozens of machines and plenty other games occupying the massive space. “Well, what do you want to play next?” 

Yuta glances down at his watch, and then sets his cue stick down on the table. “Actually, I was thinking we could grab a bite. There’s a hot dog place just near here – sound good?”

“Sounds perfect.”

Five minutes later, you and Yuta are walking side by side to the hot dog restaurant. Yuta had insisted on driving, but you didn’t see the point of it when all you needed to do to get to your destination was just to walk to the other side of the parking lot.

The air is quiet as you stroll past the abundance of cars. It’s also slightly cold just as you predicted earlier, which wouldn’t be a problem since you’re wearing your jacket, but your bare legs definitely feel the chill.

You sneak a glance at Yuta, whose hands are buried deep in the pockets of his jacket. The wind has swept his fringe away from his face, leaving a red tuft comically sticking up in the opposite direction from the rest of his hair. You giggle.

“What?” Yuta asks, his head turning to you.

You look away quickly. “Um, nothing. It’s just – I can’t believe you wanted to take the car when the restaurant is literally two minutes away.”

“It would’ve been less than a minute if we drove,” Yuta grumbles quietly, then looks back at you with a smirk on his face. “Besides, the car’s heater would have saved you from shivering like you’re doing right now.”

You glare at him, quietly wondering how he could have possibly known that when he hasn't spared you a glance since leaving the arcade. “I would’ve worn something more appropriate if you had just told me where we were going!”

Yuta chuckles, removing a hand from his pocket and reaching for yours. “Fine, that’s my bad,” he apologises, squeezing your hand. “Feel better now, baby?”

The nickname and the warmth of his touch immediately makes you feel less cold, but you’re not going to tell him that. “Whatever,” you mumble quietly.

Thankfully, you reach the restaurant half a minute later, and it’s significantly less chilly. Yuta leads you to a seat next to the window, and as he momentarily leaves to order your meals, you decide to scroll through Instagram.

The story you’ve posted of Yuta has gotten a few likes, with Jisoo replying with “👀”. Nayeon still hasn’t viewed it, but you can’t help but wonder what she would say once she does. 

The two of you haven’t had a moment alone together ever since you told her the truth yesterday – and so, you had no one to privately complain to after Yuta had dropped the bombshell during lunchtime. While your other two friends had gushed over how smoothly Yuta had asked you out, Nayeon only gave you a quiet gaze that you couldn’t quite decipher.

Yuta returns a minute later, setting down a large tray in front of you. “Eat up, princess,” he says even though you’re already reaching inside the paper bag. The smell of fried goods immediately hits your senses and your stomach growls.

“You got my order right,” you remark as you survey the hot dog in front of you. “I thought you’d order it wrong on purpose just to piss me off or something.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because that’s just the thing you’d do,” you roll your eyes as if it’s the most obvious statement in the world.

Yuta chuckles. “Nonsense. You know what they say – happy fake girlfriend, happy life.”

“I think the phrase you’re talking about is actually happy wife, happy life.”

He shrugs, beginning to munch on his fries. “Well, potato, tomato.”

You don’t have a response to that, so you start digging into your hot dog. For a while, the only sounds that can be heard are the quiet chewing from the both of you as you enjoy the food, and the rustling of the paper bag as Yuta reaches for a handful of fries every now and then.  

You sigh happily as you lean back in your chair, content with finally having some food in your belly. The games at the arcade had taken up a lot more of your energy than you thought.

You shoot a curious look at Yuta, who's finishing up the last of his fries.

“So…” you begin. “Are you getting fewer numbers from girls compared to before?”

“Not really,” he mutters almost incoherently, tossing the empty fries carton aside. He picks up the tissues laid on the tray to rub the grease off his fingers. “My DMs are still full with people who just can’t take the hint.”

“Maybe they’re not buying it,” you hum thoughtfully. “I mean, we did hate each other's guts like a week ago.”

Yuta tilts his head, a grin spreading across his face that’s so blinding that you’re caught off guard by the sight. “Does that mean you don’t hate me anymore?”

You hesitate, before narrowing your eyes at him. “Don’t get it twisted, Nakamoto. You’re still pretty damn annoying, but… I guess you’re more tolerable now.”

Yuta’s grin grows even wider, even though you aren’t sure that was even possible. “I’ll take it,” he falls silent again, fiddling with the tissue in front of him before he clears his throat. “I might have an idea of how to sell our relationship even more.”

“How?”

“We should take a selfie together and post it on Instagram. On our actual feed – not just the stories. And not just a normal selfie either, we should be posing like one of those nauseating Instagram couples.”

Oh hell no.

“Absolutely not!” you say, looking at him incredulously. “I don’t want your face anywhere near my feed.”

“Then we’ll just post it on mine,” Yuta challenges immediately, but you aren’t too keen on that either.

“Yuta–” you begin, but he cuts you off.

“Listen – just one pic. The most lovey-dovey, cringiest couple photo to end all lovey-dovey cringey couple photos. Once finals are over and we break up, I’ll delete it and it’ll be like it never happened!” Yuta tries to persuade you, his expression pleading. You give him a questioning look, though you’re silently weighing the pros and cons of what he’s proposing in your head. He sends you a sweet smile. “It’s for your own benefit too, you know?”

You suppose that’s true.

“Fine. We can do that,” you sigh in defeat. “But… later. I don't think I'm ready for that yet.”

Yuta brings his cup of Coke to his lips to hide his smirk. “No pressure, princess.”

Jisoo is absolutely hammered. 

To be fair, so are you. The ceiling seems to be spinning and the neon club lights are a little too bright that you have to squint your eyes every time you look up, but you’re not stumbling over your own feet like your friend on the dancefloor is doing right now.

“How does she do it?” Jennie sighs as she twirls the glass in her hand around mindlessly. Her other hand is cupping her face, elbow on the bar as the three of you take in the sight of Jisoo grinding on the dancefloor with a stranger.

Nayeon’s beside you, nursing her own drink in her hand. “You want to be like her? Really?” your best friend asks with a tilt of her head.

“Why not?” Jennie argues, waving a hand to punctuate her point. “That girl attracts practically everyone she sees. Me? I’m lucky if I find one decent guy on Tinder.”

“I told you nothing good comes from that app,” Nayeon shakes her head in disapproval, bringing her drink to her lips.

“Oh, give me a break!” Jennie sighs, leaning back in her seat in exasperation. “I know it’s not easy, but everyone deserves to find the Yuta to their Y/N, alright?”

“What?” you squeak, half-dazed.

Jennie sends you a smug smile. “I gotta admit, I’m jealous. You managed to bag one of the very, very few good guys on campus.”

You blink, opening your mouth to reply but Nayeon cuts in drily.

“Oh, that’s attractive.”

You follow her line of vision to where Jisoo is on the dancefloor, doing what you can only assume is her weird version of twerking.

You start snickering uncontrollably. 

You reach out to take a sip from Nayeon’s drink, but almost fall on your face when you do so – thankfully, she steadies you just before you could embarrass yourself.

“Alright, babe,” Nayeon chides, gripping your arm firmly. “That’s enough drinks for tonight.”

You groan. “Come on! I had, like, half the amount of what Jennie had. Can’t I have a bit mo–” A wave of nausea washes over you, and you hang your head down before you can finish your sentence.

Jennie appears beside you. She shakes her head, taking your other arm that’s free. “Bullshit. You’ve definitely had more than me,” she informs. You try to search for the usual telltale signs of her being drunk, but the dizzying array of light above stops you from really looking at her properly.

Nayeon hums in agreement. “Besides, Jennie can hold her alcohol well. You, my dear? Not so much.”

Another surge of sickness comes over your body, and you hang your head down in an attempt to let it pass. The pounding in your forehead grows as Nayeon and Jennie begin discussing something.

Nayeon taps your shoulder, her voice sounding far away even though she’s just next to you. “Where’s your phone?”

“Front pocket,” you mumble.

You don’t pay attention to Nayeon as she fumbles around in your purse, too focused on fighting off your nausea. Suddenly, a water bottle is placed in your hands and you’re not sure how, but you're grateful for it nonetheless as you greedily down its contents. Nayeon pats your back as you gulp down the water, and you could hear Jennie murmuring quietly into a call.

“Okay, Y/N,” Jennie finishes, and you look up to see tapping away at your phone, then she hands it back to you. You accept it with shaky hands. “Yuta will be here soon.”

You nod aimlessly, her words not really registering in your head. Nayeon clears her throat. “Yuta?”

“Your place is too far away, and Miss Lightweight here–” Jennie shoots you a sideways glance, “–will definitely throw up in the Uber if the drive takes too long.”

“Okay, yeah, but isn’t your place just nearby?” Nayeon replies, and there's something significant in her tone, but you can’t really tell what it is in your drunken haze.

“There won’t be space for all four of us,” Jennie shrugs, patting you on the shoulder and grinning widely. “Besides, I don’t think pretty boy would mind, would he, Y/N?”

You moan. “I’m gonna be sick.”

Nayeon guides the water bottle in your hands back towards your mouth. You don’t know how much time passes as your friends try to sober you up, but Yuta suddenly appears in front of you.

He’s looking very much out-of-place amongst the sea of stylishly-dressed people in the nightclub, seeing that he’s only clad in grey sweatpants and a black slogan tee that says I have no idea why I’m out of bed. 

Your headache a little cleared now, you’re able to manage a smile. “My knight-in-funny pajamas is here.”

The look of concern on Yuta’s face immediately melts away at your words. He rolls his eyes at you and turns to your friends. “Will you ladies be okay?”

Jennie nods. “Oh yeah, we’ll be fine. We were just worried about this messy drunk here,” she says and pats your shoulder affectionately.

You pull away indignantly, crossing your arms. “I’m not messy!” you protest, sliding off your seat. “Look, I can still dance a bit. Which move do you want to see–”

Yuta wraps an arm around your shoulders, shutting you up. “You’re a funny little thing, babe. Time to say bye.”

You wave defeatedly to your friends as Yuta leads you past the crowd of dancing people and out to his car parked outside. The ride to his place is surprisingly quick and quiet – he doesn’t turn on the radio, but you suppose you should be thankful because the rock music he would normally play would only make your headache worse.

“How much did you even drink tonight?” Yuta chides as he follows you into his apartment.

You shrug. “Um, not that much–”

“Bullshit.”

A smile tugs at your lips. ”Okay, fine. I don’t know – just, seven vodka shots,” you admit, but he keeps his gaze on you. “Ugh – and a few martinis, okay?”

Yuta shakes his head and turns to lock the door behind him. “The bartenders should have cut you off – all of you. I definitely would’ve.”

“That’s because you’re no fun!” you retort as you collapse onto the sofa – but the sudden swift motion makes you feel nauseous again, and you lay a hand over your face.

You hear a sigh, and suddenly Yuta’s hand is stretched out in front of you. “Hey, come on. Let’s get you into something more comfortable.”

You toe off your heels and gratefully take his hand. The familiar warmth returns, and you relish in the feeling as Yuta helps sit you down on his bed. You pay him no attention as he shuffles around the room and opens a few drawers. A minute later, you’re still fighting off your headache when he hands you a T-shirt, shorts and a towel. 

“I thought you should take a shower or something… it could help,” Yuta hesitates. His eyes flicker all over the room, and you wonder what he’s thinking of. “Um, there’s also a spare toothbrush in the cabinet. I’m going to see if we have any painkillers left.”

You reach for his arm. “Wait, do you have–”

“Saline solution? Yeah, it’s by the sink. I also have a case here somewhere,” Yuta releases himself from your grip. He heads towards his drawer and rummages around in it. “Ah, here you go.”

You take it gratefully. You’re about to open your mouth to speak, but Yuta leaves the room without another word, leaving you staring at the door in disappointment.

Sighing, you peel off your dress and enter his bathroom. The hot temperature feels absolutely heavenly and you’re not sure how long you were in there but when you step out, there’s a large glass of water and a painkiller on Yuta’s bedside table.

After putting on Yuta’s clothes and swallowing the pill, you’re about to leave the room to look for him when there’s a knock on the door. 

“You doing okay in there?” Yuta asks. “Can I come in?”

You open the door and he steps in.

“Just here to take a few things and I’ll leave you be,” he mumbles. You swear there’s a faint spray of pink on his cheeks when he lays his eyes on you – but since you’re not wearing glasses, you decide it’s just your eyes playing tricks on you.

Standing by the door, you could smell the sweet aroma of fresh coffee waft in.

“Did you make coffee? May I have some?” you ask hopefully. 

Yuta hums and shakes his head. “Absolutely not. Don’t want you any more dehydrated than you already are right now, darling,” he meets your eye. “Just finish that big glass of water I gave you.”

“You really are no fun,” you sigh in defeat, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. “You’re forcing me to sober up so I can drive myself home or something?”

You’re half-joking, but Yuta knits his eyebrows together. “Y/N, it’s almost 2 in the morning. You’re not going anywhere. Just crash here and I’ll drive you home in the morning.”

You rise and brush your fingers against his. “Wait, Yuta. You really don’t mind that? I didn’t know what to tell my friends… I’m sorry for dragging you into this,” you apologise timidly.

In the quiet of the night, you’re suddenly aware of how close his face is to yours – and you look at him. Really look at him.  His face is bare, and there’s a cute little mole next to his nose that you’ve never seen before. His brown eyes, warm as ever, stare into yours, and your heart starts hammering in your chest.

Yuta squeezes your hand, and the sensation sends a jolt up your arm. The sudden grin on his face does little to help the flutter in your belly. “It’s all good, babe. What kind of fake boyfriend would I be if I didn’t take care of my fake girlfriend?”

Something in you recoils at the word fake. It must be because you’re drunk – that’s the only explanation you can come up with at the moment. 

His eyes scan the walls of his bedroom, and his voice drops to a whisper when he looks back at you. “You should sleep here. I’ll take the couch,” he says as he reaches for the doorknob. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

Yuta shuts the door behind him, leaving you with nothing but silence. You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding.

A feeling tugs at you, and something about it lets you know that it won’t go away all that easily.

But it’s a problem for tomorrow. Shrugging it off for now, you reach for the glass of water on the bedside table and down it in three big gulps. You lay back against Yuta’s pillows. They smell like him, clean and incredibly comforting. The exhaustion of everything that’s happened that night finally weighs down on you, and you find yourself falling asleep soon after.

You’re feeling under the weather – or at least that’s the excuse you’re giving for skipping classes today.

You’re back in your own apartment, cuddling with Pumpkin on the couch. You’d informed your roommates earlier that you won’t be attending classes, and now there’s no one else in the apartment.

You’re scrolling through Instagram, trying to get your mind off the situation you found yourself in earlier this morning. Without your glasses, everything had quite literally been a blur when you woke up in an unfamiliar room, but it all hit you once you could make out the unmistakable shape of a guitar in the corner. 

Yuta wasn’t awake yet when you entered the living room – and you thanked your lucky stars for that. If he had caught a glimpse of you and your puffy, makeup-smudged face along with the dress from the night before that you could barely zip yourself into, it would've been absolutely mortifying. You don’t know how you managed to slip out the front door without stirring him, but as soon as you left his apartment you called Nayeon for a ride home.

Your best friend didn’t say a word when you’d slid into the passenger seat in your disheveled state, assuming you were too hungover to explain – and you were grateful Jisoo had already gone to campus when you’d arrived back home, for you were not in the mood to answer any awkward questions.

The doorbell rings.

“Pumpkin, could you get that for me?” you say idly, still scrolling on your phone. 

The orange cat doesn’t move a muscle, so you sigh and roll off the couch. When you open the door, the last person you expect to see is your fake boyfriend.

He’s dressed in a basic black T-shirt and skinny blue jeans, his red hair falling by his eyes and framing his face. You almost scream at how good he looks.

Before you can say anything, Yuta flashes you a blinding smile.

“Hey! Just wanted to check up on you,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. The action is strangely out of character for him, but you can’t deny how cute it is. His expression softens. “Um, you left without saying anything and then I heard from Jennie that you’re skipping classes today. Is everything alright?”

Despite everything, you manage out a smile. “Oh, I’m… fine! I mean, still a little hungover… but fine.”

You stand there in the doorway, mind going blank. Yuta’s still smiling at you, waiting for you to continue, but when you stay quiet his gaze drops to the floor. You curse yourself because now the silence is much too deafening in your ears, but you have no idea if there’s anything more to say.

Yuta clears his throat. “Well, okay, I’ll get out of your h-”

“Hey, wait, um–” you grab his hand before he can turn away. “–thank you… for last night. And for checking up on me. You seriously didn’t have to do that. Like, you could’ve sent me a message or something.”

Yuta’s looking down at your intertwined hands, and when he looks back up at you, there's a smirk on his face. “Just making sure you didn’t get lost or fall on your face on the way home. Your friends would have my head on a platter if anything happened to you on my watch.”

You scoff, immediately letting his arm drop from your grasp. “I take my thanks back.”

Yuta grins. “It’s all good, babe. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

By the tone of his words, he sounds like he’s gearing up for a goodbye, and your thoughts are confirmed when he angles his body away, about to turn and leave.

But you don’t want that to happen. Not just yet. 

“Wait – do you wanna come in?” 

He pauses, then nods. You turn and lead him to the living room. Yuta sits himself in the seat adjacent to where your orange fur ball is still curled up, and surprisingly, he doesn’t growl. 

Pumpkin did not like him when they’d first met, the cat hissing at Yuta when he’d tried to pet him. 

“He doesn’t like the smell of fuckboys,” you had joked, to which Yuta gave you a glare. The cat made a point to growl whenever Yuta dared to come close again –  and again, the next few times he swung by your place, but that never deterred Yuta. 

“He’ll grow to like me, just like his mama did,” Yuta had declared with a wink, and you had rolled your eyes then. Yuta was never humble whenever it came to how well-liked he was by everyone. But his cocky remark seems to be proven now, when Yuta had given him a pat on the head and Pumpkin acknowledged him with a meow.

You fiddle with your thumbs. Now that you’ve invited him in, you’re not really sure what to do. Your idea for the day was to hide from the rest of the world (though if you were being honest, it was actually to hide from the very man that’s in front of you right now), but that was thrown out the window the second he showed up at your door.

“So, um… did you have any plans for today?”

You hope it’s a good conversation starter, because it’s all you can come up with at the moment. 

Yuta leans back in the seat, folding his arms and placing them behind his head. “I was going to go to a cafe and study there,” he shrugs. “And I was going to ask if you could come with me, if you’re up to it.”

“Come with you? What for?”

The smirk is back on his face. “So we can make good on our deal and finally take that selfie.”

You’re left speechless, and you must’ve taken too long to respond because Yuta frowns.

“If you’re not up to it, it’s fine. It was just a suggestion. Are you still sick? I should c–”

“No!” you interrupt his flurry of words, but the word sounded much sharper than you intended. You try to lighten the atmosphere with a laugh. “No, sorry, that sounds great. I just–” you look down at your worn out shirt and shorts, “–need to get dressed. Could you give me a minute?”

Twenty minutes later, you’re waiting for Yuta to come back with your drinks, sitting in a small booth in your favourite coffee shop. You hadn’t paid much attention to anything when you’d left your dorm, because on the ride over, your mind was on one thing and one thing only. 

The selfie.

You haven’t forgotten about it – in fact, it hasn’t left your mind, as the mere idea of posting a picture with Yuta on Instagram makes your brain short circuit. Especially when he insists that the two of you should pose like an affectionate couple. Plus, you were definitely against it when he first suggested it, but now the idea doesn’t sound so bad after all.

“Here you go,” Yuta flashes you a smile as he sets down your latte on the table. He’s holding a coffee of his own, and you raise an eyebrow skeptically when he slides into the booth next to you. 

“Didn’t you have coffee last night as well? Who even drinks coffee at that hour?” you ask him teasingly.

Yuta lets out a nervous chuckle, his hand finding the back of his neck. “Actually, coffee at night makes me sleepy. It’s weird, I know.”

You shrug and take a sip of your latte and sigh in contentment, shoulders relaxing as the sweetness of the drink warms something in your chest. You turn to Yuta with a smile.

“Y’know, I’ve been craving this ever since I got a whiff of what you made last night,” you confess. “Next time I drop by, you should show me your mix and brew me some.”

Yuta hums in agreement, then his eyes widen in recollection. “Oh actually, before I forget,” he reaches in his pocket before holding out the contact lens case you had used the night before. “You left this behind.”

“Oh… thanks,” you say sheepishly as you take it and put it in your purse. 

In your rush to leave this morning, you know you must have forgotten something as trivial as that. But the whole fiasco of sleeping over at Yuta's is really something you’d rather not remember right now. Or ever.

There’s something else you're curious about, so you shoot him a glance. “By the way, why do you have a lens case and saline solution? You don't wear contacts, do you?”

Yuta’s expression remains neutral, but for some reason he’s avoiding your gaze. “Well, actually… they belong to Johnny. I don’t know how his stuff got in my room.”

That would explain it – though you weren't aware that Johnny wore contacts. In high school, all you remember about him was that he was the star basketball player that the girls fawned over, not someone who would ever read enough books that he'd eventually need glasses to help with his vision – but you suppose after years of late night studying, any college student’s eyesight will get worse.

Before you can question him about it further, Yuta clears his throat and grins. “So, can we finally take that selfie, baby?”

“Yes, um…” you say hesitantly, your eyes dropping to the table. “So, how exactly are we going to do this?”

It’s not that you aren’t ready for it – in fact, you’ve decided that the selfie is a great idea – but your mind is still racking for poses the two of you could do. 

Yuta lays his hand over yours. “If you’re uncomfortable with it, let me know and we don’t have to do it,” he tells you before breaking out into a grin. “But I do have the perfect pose.”

You look at him questioningly. “What is it?”

With your glasses back on your face, you can clearly see a faint blush on his cheeks when he announces, “I smile at the camera while you kiss me,” he angles his face away and taps his cheek. “Here.”

You stare at him for a few beats, letting the words sink in. “Can’t it be the other way around?” you eventually reply, laughing nervously.

“Do you want it to be?” he asks you, tilting his head and he takes a sip of his coffee. “Because I don’t mind either way.”

You bite your lip in contemplation, Yuta still looking at you in curiosity. You let out a breath. “Um, why don’t we try both poses and you decide which one is best?”

“Sounds good to me,” Yuta replies, the grin easily making its way back to his face. He slides out his phone from his pocket and opens up the camera app.

“You ready?” he asks, putting the camera in selfie mode, and you nod. Yuta’s still sporting his big grin as he stares into the camera, and you pucker up your lips to kiss him.

You close your eyes and lean in. His skin is unbelievably soft when your lips touch his cheek, and you’re taken aback by his cologne hitting your senses. You hear the camera go off a few times, but it barely registers. When you pull away, you find that your breath is unsteady. 

“Perfect,” Yuta chuckles as he readies himself for the other pose. “You good for the next one?”

“Just–” you suck in a breath and shake your head. “Give me a second.”

You’re dizzy. The air feels thick, and you’re unable to think about anything except for his cologne. You clear your throat and manage to meet his gaze.

His smile falters into a look of concern, and something about it makes your heart flutter. “Y/N, if you’re not comf–”

“No,” you cut him off gently, taking his hand in yours and squeezing reassuringly. Your grip is steady, despite the thundering behind your ribcage. “I’m okay, honestly.”

Relief washes over his face, and Yuta hands you his phone with a smile. “Alright babe, your call.”

You put the camera in front of your face, ready to smile. 

You’re expecting a quick kiss – something sweet and brief, but what you don’t expect is Yuta’s hand finding the back of your neck. Goosebumps rise on your arms at the sudden contact, and your breath catches.

Then he leans in.

Yuta’s lips touch your cheek, the tips of his hair tickling the side of your face, and your heart’s beating so loud in your ears that you’re convinced Yuta could feel it with his grip on your skin. You close your eyes and melt into him. For a moment, it’s just you and him against the world.

“Um, Y/N, the camera…” Yuta’s breath is hot against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Oh, uh–” your voice comes out breathless and you almost scream at how embarrassing you sound. “–right.” 

Somehow, you’re able to move your hands and the shutter clicks a few more times. Yuta’s kissing you again, and you smile, his touch and his cologne enveloping your senses.

When Yuta finally pulls away, you brush your fingers to where his lips had been on your cheek. Your face is embarrassingly hot at this point, and you silently hope that Yuta wouldn’t notice. You run your hands down your arms in an attempt to steady your heartbeat – but it’s useless. Your heart is still beating erratically.

Yuta flashes you a smile as you give his phone back, your hands all jittery. But if he does notice it, he doesn’t let on. “Awesome,” he breathes as he swipes through the photos. “Do you want to take more pics with different poses or do you think this is enough?”

“I think that’s enough,” you blurt out a little too quickly. You curse under your breath before clearing your throat. The truth is, you don’t know if you could go through with taking more couple photos with Yuta without possibly passing out. You force yourself to speak again, though it comes out tighter than intended. “Um, so which one do you think is the best?”

Yuta sets his phone down and shakes a finger. “Ah-ah, you’ll just have to see it with everyone else when I post it later tonight,” he smiles, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Gotta surprise you a little bit, or else where’s the fun in that?”

You want to argue with him. Usually, you would – but your mind is still clouded by what happened moments earlier. 

All you can manage out is a quiet, “Just… make sure I look good.”

Yuta’s about to take a sip of his coffee when he smiles at you, something unreadable in his eyes. “Darling, you always look good.”

There’s something wrong with you.

You’re lying on your bed, eyes directed at the ceiling. Everything is quiet – the whirring of the fan overhead, Pumpkin purring beside you, the low rumble of voices coming from the other side of the wall – but it all pales in comparison to the persistent pounding in your chest.

It’s been hours since you left the cafe and Yuta had dropped you home, but since then, your mind hasn’t stopped replaying everything that’s happened.

You let out a groan, breaking the silence that blanketed the room. Pumpkin stirs from his sleepy posture, so you absentmindedly stroke his fur in apology. You roll to lay on your side and reach for your phone.

There’s nothing yet, so you set it back down.

You’ve been checking Instagram every few minutes – not obsessively, exactly (though if you were being honest, this might be the tenth time you’ve refreshed your feed) – but enough times that you’ve been disappointed with the lack of any new posts from a certain someone.

Between the regular Instagram checks, you’ve been huddled on your bed surrounded by pillows, staring at nothing in particular. You know your roommates have been home for quite some time now, but you had no energy to speak to them from the moment you got home.

When your phone pings, you hate how your heart jumps at the sound. You sit up, unlock your phone and see that you have a new notification.

yuu_taa_1026 tagged you in a post.

When you click on the post and the photo finally loads, you gasp.

He had chosen the second one – the one where he’s kissing you.

Your eyes are closed in the picture, an open-mouthed smile gracing your lips. He’s also smiling into the kiss, a real, genuine smile that’s a stark contrast to his usual cocky smirk. His caption is only two words, but it sends a flush of warmth throughout your body.

yuu_taa_1026: My gorgeous 🖤

A bittersweet feeling tugs at your chest and you bury your head in your hands. You don’t know why you’re feeling this way – and you sure as hell know that you shouldn’t be feeling anything.

Not over fucking Nakamoto Yuta, of all people. 

You still remember the words he had uttered when he proposed this fake relationship to you a few weeks ago. It replays over and over in your head – like some sick mantra.

I’m not looking for an actual relationship right now.

You throw your phone across the bed.

It means nothing to him. You know that, he knows that. It’s the exact reason why he came to you – so that nothing would be complicated.

But the way he looked at you after taking the photos didn’t feel fake – and the way your pulse still races just thinking about it doesn’t feel like pretend. You can still feel the way he touched you – the sensation of his hand searing into the back of your neck, the ghost of his lips still lingering on your skin, as if it had just happened just moments ago.

It’s still imprinted in your mind, the way the word darling had fallen from his lips, as if he’d called you that nickname for all of his life. And you can’t deny how the mere sight of his smile made you feel as though the sun shone from right inside you.

You let out another groan. This can’t be happening.

There’s a knock on your door, and you mumble out, “Come in.”

Both of your roommates stride in at your response. Jisoo doesn’t spare you a glance and heads straight for your closet like she usually does. Nayeon, however, sends you a look and takes a seat next to you.

“Are you okay?” your best friend asks as she looks down at you, her face threaded in concern.

“No,” you groan.

“What’s wrong with you?” Jisoo muses, sorting through your clothes. She phrases it more like a sentence than a question, but you decide to answer anyway.

“Nothing,” you murmur, laying a hand over your face. You rack your brain for an appropriate excuse. “I think I’m just stressed about finals.”

Nayeon raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say a word. Jisoo clicks her tongue, and you get a sense of what she’s about to suggest.

“Then let’s go out. Our senior Seulgi is throwing a party at her house tonight.”

Ah, like clockwork.

Nayeon opens her mouth to respond, but you beat her to it. “I’m not in the mood to fraternise right now,” you say icily.

Jisoo gasps, finally turning to face you and you see she’s got a hand over her heart. “Y/N! You know me better than that,” she scolds, and there’s no mistaking the irony in her voice. “Come on – no frat boys tonight. Just us girls, and lots and lots of booze.”

You shudder to think about drinking again as you’re still recovering from the sheer amount of alcohol you had consumed just last night, and you also wonder how Jisoo could suggest such a thing – considering the night before, she had as many drinks as you did, if not more.

Nayeon seems to read your thoughts, and she pats your arm gently. “I think we should go. To blow off some steam before the exams,” she whispers to you. “Take your mind off… everything.”

You suppose the buzz would be a welcome distraction from what you’re feeling right now – plus, Jisoo’s already holding up the perfect outfit for you to wear.

You smile.

“When do we leave?”

You fully believe that the universe hates you, because the second you step into Seulgi’s house, you spot an unmistakable mop of bright red hair amidst the small crowd in the lounge area.

You swallow your groan and duck into the kitchen, where Nayeon and Jisoo are greeting your seniors. After exchanging hellos with Seulgi and her friends, they give you the cups in their hands, mumbling something about how the punch may have already been spiked with something strong and they wanted the three of you to taste the punch in its purest form.

(Though you definitely wouldn’t have minded if the drinks did contain alcohol, as that is exactly what you want right now – but you don’t tell them that.)

You find yourself perched on the kitchen island minutes later, drink in hand as Nayeon sits across from you. Boxes are scattered around the kitchen, and you can see in an already-opened box that there are bottles of whiskey inside them. 

“Are you feeling better?” your best friend questions, eyeing you up and down.

The skirt you’re wearing is a little short and the breeze from outside causes goosebumps to travel down your legs, but you let out a nonchalant shrug.

“Yes,” you affirm, taking another sip of your drink. “Told you, I’m just stressed about finals.”

There’s a ghost of a smile on her lips.“You sure? It’s not because you’re stressed about someone…” she tilts her head, “someone who just happens to be in the next room?”

You freeze.

“You saw him too?” is all you can say, unable to meet her eyes.

“He’s kinda hard to miss,” Nayeon grins. And it’s true. You could spot Yuta’s red hair from a mile away.

You don’t say anything, not even when Nayeon sets her drink down and shuffles to get closer to you. You keep silent when she takes your hands, and she squeezes them comfortingly.

“Listen. I don’t fully know what’s going on,” Nayeon admits. “But whatever it is, you have to talk to him about it. Nothing good ever comes from keeping your feelings hidden.”

The second the words fall from her lips, the weight on your chest that hasn’t disappeared since this morning suddenly feels like it’s been lifted. Somehow, your best friend always knows the exact thing to say.

You squeeze her hands back and smile at her – a genuine, real smile. “I know. Thanks, Yeon.”

You sit there in silence for a few moments, hands still clasped together – that is until a couple of loud shouts echo from the hallway. A minute later, a disheveled senior pokes her head around the corner, a look of irritation on her face.  

“Can one of you come and help me? Jisoo’s locked herself in the bathroom and she’s crying or something, and she said she will only talk to one of you.”

“Oh God, that girl – I’ll take care of it,” Nayeon lets out a practiced sigh. She sends you a skeptical glance. “Will you–”

“Just go, I’m fine,” you wave a hand dismissively, and when Nayeon disappears with the senior, you take up one of the bottles of whiskey from the opened box. Unscrewing the cap and bringing it to your lips, you relish the strange sense of relief when the liquor runs down your throat.

You don’t know how long you sit there as the thud of music booms through the kitchen wall, but after you’ve finished downing two bottles, you decide to head towards the lounge. 

You’re definitely drunk now – you feel the buzz as you move your hips sway to the beat, and your mind is no longer focusing on things that you don’t want to think about right now. 

“Hey cutie, mind if I dance with you?”

You turn at the unfamiliar voice and find a stranger smirking at you. There’s a hungry look in his eyes that immediately makes you feel uneasy. Right on instinct, you take a step back and open your mouth to decline, but before you can say anything, a voice cuts in. “She has a boyfriend.”

Yuta’s standing beside you, a cold look on his face as he stares down the stranger. His normally warm eyes are now steely and sharp, and it sends a reckless thrill through you. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, to which you grab his hand in gratitude. 

The stranger lets out a scoff and spares you a glance. “When you get bored of him, gorgeous, come find me.”

He retreats into the crowd, though Yuta doesn’t stop glaring daggers at him until he’s fully out of sight. Once it’s just the two of you, Yuta lets out a sigh and shoots you a worried glance. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice rougher than usual. You take both his hands and place them on your waist, while you wrap your hands around his neck, fingers brushing his nape.

You don’t reply, instead you say, “Let’s dance.”

At your request, Yuta smiles and starts swaying you back and forth to the rhythm. You take the opportunity to check him out. He’s wearing a plain white tee, dark ripped jeans and your favourite leather jacket, a silver chain necklace dangling from his neck. His red hair is left unstyled, just the way you like it – and when you gaze into his eyes, you realise he’s put on dark eyeliner.

He looks effortless, yet so fucking attractive.

You let out a sigh. “Gotta be honest, I didn’t think you’d be here.”

Yuta shrugs. “Neither did I, but… Johnny convinced me to let loose one last time before finals.” 

The smell of alcohol is strong from his breath, and because of the proximity, you wonder if he could smell the whiskey in your breath too.

“Johnny knows Seulgi?” 

“Johnny knows everyone.”

There’s a twinkle in his eye and he’s giving you such a toothy smile that you can’t help but look at him curiously.

“What?”

Yuta’s eyes scan your face and then your outfit, and for a moment you’re not sure if he’s going to answer you – but then he lets out a chuckle. “Nothing, it’s just… what I said earlier. I was right.”

“About what?”

Yuta bites his lip. “About how you always look good.”

Your pulse starts racing.

You don’t know if it’s the alcohol, the music or the dark lighting of the room that makes Yuta look so dangerously tempting.

All you know is that you really want to kiss him.

He’s still looking at you, something unreadable in his eyes. Your eyes drop to his mouth, and when you lick your lips in anticipation, you could see his face falter. 

Yuta looks away, clearing his throat. 

“Yuta,” you call, your voice finding its vitality. He looks at you again, but now you recognise what’s in his eyes. Doubt.

“Yeah?” he murmurs.

You lean in towards him, slowly – and to your satisfaction, his breath shudders against your neck. 

“I think you looked insanely hot when you got jealous just now,” you admit quietly, and he lets out a groan that makes you weak in the knees. “So hot – that I really wanted you to kiss me.”

“Really?” Yuta’s voice is dangerously low now, igniting a fire in your belly. He squeezes your waist and his touch only makes you want him more – but he’s still hesitating. There's a question in his eyes, as if he’s silently asking you if he should hold back. 

You don’t want him to hold back. Not anymore.

You grab his collar in desperation. “Just kiss me, please,” you almost moan, and he crashes his lips against yours.

It’s electrifying how fervently Yuta kisses you, his hands finding your jaw and his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as your mouths move in sync. The kiss is messy, desperate – and when you tug at the roots of his hair, the moan that he emits into your mouth leaves you aching in desire. The crowd blurs around you and everything fades.

Until the catcalls and wolf whistles are too loud to ignore – and then Yuta finally pulls away from you.

“Upstairs?” he mumbles breathlessly, foreheads pressed together as you both are panting heavily. Your heartbeat’s thundering and you can’t come up with any words, so you just nod, trailing behind him as he laces your fingers together and pulls you through the crowd and up the stairs.

Yuta pushes open the first door he finds and the two of you are barely inside the room when he’s kissing you again, his hands roaming your body with urgency. You pull away to take the jacket of his body and toss it onto the floor, before he leads you to the bed.

“You have no idea how fucking bad I want you,” he hisses, leaning down so he can kiss you again. It’s more intense than before, and when Yuta palms your clothed breast and you let out your first moan, he growls.

“Fuck, you drive me insane,” he mutters, lips leaving yours to kiss your jaw, and then your neck, and then his kisses trail lower and lower until his hands find the waistband of your panties. It’s there that his motions stop – and Yuta looks up at you, eyes dark and lips parted.

“Do you want this, baby?” he asks softly, his chest puffing up and down from shallow breaths.

“Stop talking,” you groan, pushing his head down to where you need him most. It’s all the permission he needs, so he swiftly pulls down your panties and tosses them aside. Yuta pushes your skirt up and you gasp at cold air hitting your core, but it’s immediately replaced by the warmth of his touch.

Yuta places his hands on your knees for leverage, and then he presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh. Your breath catches with each kiss from him – all of them slow and teasing that you’re left squirming and whining under his grip. 

You let out a soft cry when he finally puts his mouth on you, and the first stroke of his tongue sends you to heaven. You need something to ground you down, so your hands find his hair, and when Yuta hears the sounds that you’re no longer holding back, he lets out another growl and squeezes your thighs.

“You taste so sweet,” Yuta grunts, and the vibrations of his voice send sparks up your spine.

You moan in response, unable to form a coherent sentence. Yuta is reaching all the right places that you swear that you’re seeing stars. His mouth is hot, sucking gently and then changing rhythms until your legs are trembling with every flick on his tongue. Your moans grow even louder when he adds his fingers into you, scissoring you open.

Yuta’s grip has you paralysed, and you’re unable to move – but you feel your high coming on any moment, so you whine and pull at his hair as a warning.

“Mm, gonna come for me, baby?” he groans appreciatively, one hand reaching up to fondle your breast and the other now rubbing circles on your clit in just the right way. “Come like the good fucking girl you are.”

The overwhelming new sensations combined with Yuta’s encouraging praise send you over the edge, your orgasm washing over you like a wave. You can only moan in pleasure as you tug at Yuta’s hair for your dear life, all while he continues the motions against your core.

You’re still breathing heavily as the last remnants of your orgasm leaves your body. After getting up from his kneeling position, Yuta moves up the bed to be face to face with you, supporting his body weight by putting his arms by each side of your head and seizing all of your attention.

“Good?” he mumbles, his voice so impossibly deep that goosebumps rise on your skin. He leans down to kiss you and you taste your essence on his lips. You moan, gripping his arm with desire.

“Good,” you whisper, and you feel him smile into the kiss. His mouth then leaves yours to move further down, now leaving a trail of kisses along your jawline.

“Can my girl take a little more?” 

Though you’re still trying to catch your breath and your legs are still trembling, you can’t deny how fucking tempting Yuta looks on top of you. His red hair is all mussed courtesy of your fingers, his eyes darkened with lust and his plump lips glossy from giving you the best head you’ve ever had in your life. God, he is absolutely ethereal.

And you need him. 

All of him.

You grip the chain of his necklace and pull him close to you again.

“I need you, Yuta.”

Satisfied with your answer, he pulls you in for another messy kiss. While he nips at your bottom lip, begging for entrance, you guide his hands to the hem of your shirt. You could sense his hard-on pressing against your tummy, the sheer weight of it against your body making you shudder in anticipation. You tug at his sleeves, desperately wanting to feel his skin on yours now.

But Yuta’s not done teasing you yet. His hands stay on your waist, gripping firmly. He pulls away from the kiss and before you can complain, he ruts his clothed knee against your still-sensitive cunt. You gasp at the unexpected friction.

“Fuck, Yuta,” you moan shamelessly, curling a hand over his bicep. “Just fuck me, please!”

His fingers rest at the hem of your shirt when his eyes meet yours. You’re expecting him to rip all your clothes away now and finally give you what you’ve been craving from the moment he had kissed you in the dim light of that lounge room.

Without warning, he abruptly removes himself from you, muttering under his breath, “Shit.”

He scrambles to back away from you, getting off the bed and running a hand through his hair as he starts pacing around the room.

You look at Yuta in alarm. Your body is immediately exposed to the chilly air at the loss of contact, so you use the pillow next to you in an attempt to warm yourself up. The atmosphere of the room has changed so quickly in just a split second that you don't know what to think.

“Wh–what’s wrong?” you question anxiously. You can’t deny that your mind is still fuzzy from his touch, but any feelings of arousal you had fades away when you see the worried look on his face.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” Yuta groans lowly, burying his hands in his hair. You’re not really sure what he’s sorry for, but you’re also too afraid to ask. He stands rigid in the middle of the room for a few seconds before heaving a sigh and moving to sit at the edge of the bed.

“Listen, uh, I’m sorry,” he starts, though he’s unable to look at you properly. He tugs at the roots of his already messy hair. “It’s just – we’re both kind of fucked up right now. We… we shouldn’t be doing this, Y/N.”

Your heart shatters.

“Are you alright?” he’s looking at you now, eyes wide with concern. His lips are swollen from how intensely he had kissed you, the bulge in his pants still apparent. You would’ve laughed at how comical he looked if you didn't feel as though someone just punched you in the stomach.

Yuta lets out a breath. “I just th-”

“No, I get it,” you interrupt.

It takes you a moment to get up from the bed, and you pick up your underwear that was carelessly tossed onto the floor by Yuta moments earlier. You quickly put them on, ignoring how uncomfortable you feel with your arousal still dripping from you, before turning to him. 

“It’s okay, Yuta.”

Yuta’s expression shifts. “Really?”

You’re well aware of the amount of drinks you had consumed earlier in the night, but you feel more sober than you have ever been before. The alcohol in your system may have clouded your judgement and actions before this, but now you can see it. 

You can see it all, clear as day – like a revelation that’s been in front of you all along.

“It’s my fault,” you start, and despite the lump in your throat, your voice comes out steady. Tears are threatening to spill from your eyes, but you’re not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he made you cry. 

You would die before letting him know how much pain he’s caused you. 

You give a dismissive shrug. “I don’t know why I thought that you could… ever look at me like that. Then and now.”

You should have seen this coming. It stings, how you let yourself believe that there was a real chance that Yuta had genuine feelings for you.

How naïve you’ve been.

Yuta’s eyes widen when your words sink in. “No, Y/N, I-”

“I get it now. Things never change, do they?”

There’s dismay written all over his face, but you’re sure whatever he’s feeling pales in comparison to the knife in your chest. You knew this, you predicted this – nothing good ever comes from being tangled in Nakamoto Yuta's business. Yet here you are, standing in front of him with the last shreds of your dignity, body trembling from the sobs that threaten to spill. The room is suddenly spinning, and you wish that the floor would just crumble from underneath you and swallow you whole.

“Listen, Y/N-”

“Have a good night, Yuta.”

You ignore his protests as you close the door behind you. You wait until you’ve rushed down the stairs, past through the sweaty bodies in the living room and out of Seulgi’s house before you finally let your sobs tear through the night.

You can’t believe you let it happen again.

You were thirteen years old when Nakamoto Yuta first broke your heart.

He had been your first crush, and though every other girl seemed to fawn over the drop-dead gorgeous Taeyong and the confident Johnny, you had always been attracted to the studious and quiet Yuta.

His hair had been jet black then, and was a little longer than what the school rules probably allowed it to be. It curled a little over his ears and his fringe almost reached into his eyes every time you stole glances of him poring over his notes in class. Despite how he was the model student, always obedient to the teachers and focusing intently during lessons, you liked that there was still a small part of him that allowed himself to rebel.

“That guy? Really? He looks so grumpy and he doesn’t even talk to anyone,” your friends had said, affirming your suspicions that they thought it was just a silly infatuation.

And perhaps it was true – anyone would think that Yuta was aloof given how he never spared anyone much of a glance during lessons, or how he mostly spent lunchtime alone in the cafeteria.

But what your friends weren’t aware of was that Yuta had, in fact, spoken to you before.

One evening, you had gone cycling a few blocks away from home when you accidentally crashed onto the mailbox of one of the houses. You let out a cry of pain first – and then the anxiety kicked in, because your own house suddenly seemed so far away and you weren’t sure if you could walk all the way home.

As if the heavens heard your prayers, a boy of your age walked out of the house, immediately running to you in concern and asking if you were alright. 

You recognised him. He was the strange boy at school that never seemed to do anything outside of his studies. Despite the fact that your knee was scratched and blood was running down your leg, all you could focus on was how freaking cute he really was when you looked at him closely.

He helped you get off the ground, supporting you all the way into the house where he asked his mother to help you clean up the injury. The second you were bandaged up and told him you were completely fine, his worry melted away – and then he flashed you a smile and held out his hand, introducing himself as Yuta.

You ignore the fact that you already knew his name, too mesmerised by how blinding his smile was. Somehow, you were able to shake his hand and you introduced yourself – and the next few hours were spent watching reruns of Mr Bean while finishing cans of Dr Pepper. As the sun dipped low and you mounted your bike, you thanked him for the evening and promised that you now owe him one.

You tucked that memory down deep in your heart, a precious little secret that’s just known to you. You didn’t care that everyone else thought he was unapproachable because of the serious face he put on during class – all you knew now was that he could smile, and his smile was the prettiest thing you’d ever seen.

You were quite content to admire Yuta from afar and only speaking to him on occasion, fully knowing how important his studies were to him – because they were just as important to you too. But the stories of your peers asking their fellow classmates kept coming – and you couldn’t deny that the concept of going on a date intrigued you.

Months passed, and there was still no sign of Yuta going out with anyone. He was a little different now – he’d gotten a haircut, his social circle was growing and he started hanging out with more of the guys – but your crush on him was still going strong. 

It was on a Friday afternoon that you gathered the courage to finally ask him to go out with you. 

“Hey Yuta,” you greeted, smiling shyly. The locker area was crowded with your schoolmates and two of his friends were by his side, but you were determined to not let that bother you.

Yuta spared you a glance and closed his locker, slinging his bag over one shoulder. “Oh, hey.”

“Um…” you started, suddenly aware of the number of eyes on you. Whatever. You can do this. “I was wondering if you wanna… go out with me this weekend? We could go to the cinema, and… I don’t know, you can pick the movie.”

The boys flanking Yuta let out snickers and gasps were heard from all around you, to which you begrudgingly ignored.

But you took one look at Yuta and everything else faded away.

There was a frown on his face.

“Go out with you?” Yuta asked incredulously, like he was wondering why you would ever dare to ask him such a question. He eyed you up and down, and suddenly you felt very small under his gaze. “I don’t even know you.”

Your heart dropped to your feet and everything went silent.

You’re never been rejected before, but the stories you heard from your friends felt extremely tangible to you now. Yuta, a boy you thought was an absolute sweetheart, just rejected and humiliated you in public.

There was laughter. The rest of the world became clear again, and you heard it now, loud and distinct – everyone around you was laughing.

At you.

Tears stung your eyes but you blinked them back. You didn’t know how you found your voice, but you were somehow able to squeak out, “Oh! That’s okay, um, see you around then.”

You turned on your heel and ran out, but the sound of everyone laughing at your mortification, the sneers of his friends, the words of Yuta’s rejection still echoed in your head.

It echoed until you reached home and curled under your blanket, crying silently until you were all dried out.

It echoed for days, even when you decided to skip school for the next week because you knew everyone would just stare and whisper.

And that’s when you vowed to yourself: you would never, ever let Nakamoto Yuta hurt you again.

Nayeon hovers in the doorway, a pensive look on her face. “There’s someone here for you.”

You’re bent over a textbook, pretending to read a paragraph even though your brain hasn’t been processing any of the words on the page. The coffee you’d consumed earlier hasn’t helped much either.

You get up from your seat without a word, brushing past Nayeon and making your way into the living room. You feel her trailing behind you, and when you’re in the living room and reaching for the doorknob, Nayeon grabs your arm.

You turn to face her. There’s no mistaking the worry on her face, so you send her a tired smile and say, “It’s okay – I got it from here. Thanks.”

Nayeon squeezes your arm as a silent assurance. With that, she heads into her own room.

You push open the door and Yuta’s leaning against the wall, hands buried deep in his pockets. He doesn’t look good – though to be fair, you’re certain that you don’t look any better than he does. The cocky expression he usually wears is gone, aggravated by the heavy bags under his eyes. His red hair is even messier than normal.

You’ve never seen him like this before. 

If you were being honest, you’d thought that some sick, twisted part of you would find a little satisfaction of seeing him all tired and hollow – but the sight of him like this only tightened the ache in your chest.

“Hey,” Yuta greets quietly, eyes devoid of its usual flare or humour. “I didn’t know if I should come, but… I didn’t want to leave things like that.”

You don’t say anything, still gripping the edge of the door. 

You knew it was coming. You were expecting Yuta to show up at your door. 

But the events of last night are still fresh in your mind. The pain and the rejection felt all too familiar – and all the heartache Yuta has caused you came crashing down into you once more, like a thousand knives in your chest. 

You knew for a fact that Yuta would come to you eventually, but what you don’t know if you’re ready to accept what he’s going to say. You almost feel like slamming the door in his face and telling him to get lost, and that you never want to see him again.

Despite it all, Nayeon’s words echo in your head.

Nothing good ever comes from keeping your feelings hidden.

So you stay put.

But Yuta doesn’t meet your gaze. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” he lets out a breath. “Not for stopping us last night. I – I think I was right to do that. I mean, we were drunk, and we weren’t in the right place… especially because… of our history.”

Your throat runs dry. 

He finally meets your eyes, and you know that emotion blazing in his eyes all too well.

Longing. 

“It’s not an excuse, but… I was a stupid kid,” his nostrils are flared, and he runs a hand through his hair. “I felt like the odd one out back then, so I did it because I thought it would make me look cool.” 

You could see it now – the quiet, nerdy little Yuta earning validation from his friends for breaking a girl’s heart. And you almost laugh at the thought.

“I wanted to apologise to you, I swear. But you had already written me off by then, and – I couldn’t blame you for that,” Yuta shrugs like it’s nothing, but there’s a bitterness in his tone. “And it’s so, so stupid, but after that I couldn't stop thinking about you.” 

Yuta takes a step towards you, and your heart begins hammering in your chest. 

“I saw you. Everywhere. Every time I turned on the TV, there was a rerun of Mr Bean. Whenever someone was riding their bike in front of my house, I couldn’t stop thinking of you. Fuck, I couldn’t even drink sodas without remembering the Dr Pepper we had! And when my vision started to get worse, all I could think of was how you must’ve felt every time I made fun of you for wearing glasses.”

Yuta’s face is just inches away from yours. 

You can’t breathe. You don’t know if you ever knew how to.

Your heart nearly stops when he takes your hands, but you let him intertwine your fingers with his.

“Y/N, I – I’m not expecting you to forgive me or anything. I hurt you. I know I did. But I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry,” Yuta sighs, his eyes finally landing on your face – and when it does, his voice cracks a little. “And if you let me have another chance, I’ll show you just how much you mean to me – for real this time.”

You don’t know how long you’ve been holding your breath, but you finally let it out. You keep your gaze on him – his eyes are full of pain and anguish, but you feel something.

It's a small part of you, beginning to heal.

Neither of you speak for a while, only letting Yuta’s apology soak in the silence. 

Until finally, you lean in, resting your forehead against his – and even after everything, there’s still the familiar warmth in Yuta’s touch, ever present and comforting.

“Yuta, I really appreciate you saying that,” you breathe out, and when Yuta’s eyes light up, you almost don’t want to go on with what you’re about to say next. You know you have to push through – even if it means that it’ll disappoint him. “But… it’s still too early. I – finals are coming up and I can't think about this right now and – and I just need some time.”

“All the time you need,” Yuta whispers, his breath hot against your face. He squeezes your hands – and it feels like a promise. “Whenever you’re ready, just know I’ll be waiting for you.”

When he pulls away, he’s wearing a smile – it’s a little weary, but you could see the light slowly returning to his eyes.

“See you around, Y/N.”

You watch his figure retreat down the hallway and disappear.

And for the first time since last night, you have a tiny inkling that everything will be alright.

Your life’s been quiet ever since finals ended.

Even though it’s now common knowledge between your friends that you don’t really have anyone to occupy your time, you’re still surprised that none of them have been pestering you to go out as they usually would.

Campus has quieted too – the frantic energy of everyone facing the pressure of their studies is long gone. With the early days of summer rolling in, the atmosphere feels warm and comfortable. 

Besides a text that you never sent and a couple of shared glances at the library, you haven’t spoken to Yuta since that day outside of your dorm – but his apology still lingers at the back of your mind, along with his promise to wait for you.

When Johnny told you earlier that he had been hanging out with Taeyong (read: around the music building), you had a vague idea of where he would be. There’s a little bench next to the building overlooking the campus gardens, perfect for a little peace and quiet – and that’s exactly where you find Yuta.

He doesn’t notice you approach at first, too focused on the view before him. There’s a guitar case by his feet, and you silently remind yourself to ask him to play a song for you one day.

“Yuta,” you call out gently.

At the sound of your voice, Yuta looks up at you, a twinkle in his eyes. “Well, well, look who survived the academic tornado.”

His tone is teasing, light-hearted, and you feel your knot in your stomach melt away already. You take the seat next to him. “Just barely, but yeah. I’m officially free now,” you declare. “And I’ve been thinking.”

He doesn’t say a word, staring at you intently. Your tone wasn’t hostile at all, but there’s still the uncertainty of what you’re about to say – and you can see it weighing on him, the caution in his eyes and the carefulness of his actions.

You take a deep breath and exhale. “That day – you were right. You did hurt me. And I hated you for it. I promised myself that I would never let you do it again – so I completely cut you off. I convinced myself that you were the monster that I wanted you to be,” you admit, sparing a glance at him. Before you realise, mirth seeps into your words. “God, it was frustrating, because I still had to see you all throughout middle school and high school – and when we graduated and I thought I was finally free of you, somehow we still ended up at the same college.”

Yuta chuckles, light and slow, and the sound sparks something in your chest.

But you're not done speaking yet.

“Maybe I did hate you at first. But I think over the years, it just turned into annoyance – especially when we started fighting for the top spot in class and you started calling me Glasses.”

You fiddle with your thumbs. You’re grateful that Yuta hasn’t interrupted to say anything yet, because you’re still untangling the thoughts in your head.

“Still, after all those years of convincing myself and everyone else that I hated you, I don’t know if I can just take that all away so quickly,” you confess, and take his hand. Slowly, but surely – a smile starts to form on his face. “But I’m ready to give you a chance, Yuta. I’m willing to try, if you are.”

Yuta's fully grinning now, and he brings your hand up to his face to plant a kiss. The brush of his lips against your skin sends butterflies through your stomach. “I am,” he vows. “More than anything.”

And your heart soars. 

You really want to kiss him again.

So you lean in – and Yuta’s face is flushed in pink when you place a kiss on his cheek. Your hand is still clasped in his, but you don’t let go. You don’t want to.

“So…” Yuta begins, tilting his head. His eyes are alight now, and it sends a warm flush through you. “Will you go on a date with me tonight? A real one this time?”

“Yes… on one condition.”

“Anything,” he says, squeezing your hand.

“No fancy dinners or anything like that, please,” you assert, and when you see the curiosity in his face, you let out a laugh. “Let’s just… take it slow.”

“Slow,” Yuta repeats, then slowly raises an eyebrow. “Unless I tell you that I’m willing to take my shirt off right now?”

You roll your eyes, nudging him in the shoulder. “Don’t push it, Nakamoto.”

He grins at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling in the most adorable way. You sigh in contentment and pull him close, wrapping your arms around him as he melts into your embrace.

You don't know what the future holds, but you’re certain that in this moment, you're content to sit and enjoy the pretty view, holding hands with the prettiest boy you've ever seen.

TAGLIST  ☆  @greenyweirdo @dontlethismagicdie

© rainverry, 2025

[soft-girl-musings]

Salt & Pepper

Moon Knight System x GN!Reader

cross-posted to ao3

tags: rated T for teasing, domestic fluff, author does not condone touching people's hair without permission, no use of Y/N

wc: 1,078

fic summary: Marc, are you familiar with the term "silver fox"?

A/N: i might have a problem lol

_____________________

“Put. It. Down.”

Marc Spector does not startle easily. So when he nearly falls from his perch beside the bathtub, you’re surprised you have to steady him.

“Jesus, where’s the fire?” Marc picks up the towel and small cardboard box he’d dropped because of your outburst.

Shifting your focus, you zero in on the latter: hair dye, just as you’d suspected.

“So this is what you get up to when I’m away?” You tut, cradling his temples and shaking your head. "What happened to you?" 

"What? Nothing, I'm-"

"-I wasn't talking to you," you sigh, resting your forehead against the crown of his head. "How long has he been treating you like this, you poor things?"

“Ha-ha.”

You release his face to study it. "But seriously, how long have you been dying your hair?”

 “... For a couple of years. Started to turn gray from stress a while back, and I guess it never stopped.” He fidgets with the loose edge of the container.. “You really never noticed?”

You take the box and set it beside him. “You hid it well.”

You’re not judging him for dying his hair, it’s just… surprising. Marc’s never been one to fuss over his appearance, as far as you could tell. When you first saw his closet, you’d half expected it to be lined with the same outfit ten times, like in a cartoon. Most days, “dressing up” means adding a jacket or blazer.

 “Since when do you care? About your hair, I mean.” 

He shrugs. “I’m not gettin’ any younger, honey.”

“Neither am I.” You kiss the bridge of his nose. “You got a problem with that?”

“Of course not.”

“Good. Goes double for me, don’t you forget it.” Leaning in, Marc tries for another kiss, but you duck and grab the hair dye before turning away with a mischievous smirk.

“Gotta keep you honest,” you wink and dart out of the room before he can catch you.

_____________________

"Love?"

"Hm?"

"Might fall out if you keep playing with it like that.”

You’d been standing behind Steven for the past couple of minutes, meaning to check in on his preparations for his morning tour but had gotten distracted. Very distracted.

“Sorry,” you sigh, your fingers leaving the wisps of hair at the nape of his neck and trailing down to his shoulder. “It’s just… hm.”

Your conversation with Marc must have taken root: over the past few weeks, you’ve noticed the hair that had been dangerously close to another round of boxed dye abuse steadily turning lighter. A subtle blend of silver strands mix with the darker curls that frame his face, making his hair shine a bit brighter in the light of the desk lamp.

“It’s like starlight,” you finally state, leaning in to rest your head against his.

Steven sputters and puts his book aside. “Starli- that’s a bit much, yeah?” His brow furrows, but there’s no denying the smile tugging at his lips.

“Not if it’s true,” you contend. You adjust the reading glasses that had slid down his face and tuck a stray curl behind his ear. “It’s a good look on you.”

There’s no denying the heat rising to his cheeks when you talk. “This– you don’t–” Steven caves and sets his book down, hopelessly flustered. “Either go away or get over here. Cheeky.”

He makes room for you to settle into his lap, which you giddily accept. Your hands sink back into his curls and he shivers as you scratch his scalp.

“Did I ever tell you I had a thing for my professor, once upon a time?”

“Oh my days–” 

You’re not sure who kisses who, but you’re certainly not complaining. Neither is he.

_____________________

The time apart has been agony.

You check your phone for the fifth time this evening. They’ve been gone for what feels like months (it’s been weeks) handling some business in California, of all places. Marc said he’d call when they were on their way home, meaning no news is sad news.

You’re pulled from your pity party by a knock on the door. It’s late, and you’ve already signed for your dinner delivery. Slowly, you get up and grab the bat you keep by the entrance (with a sock slipped over the end per Jake’s advice).

The knocking continues, getting more urgent. You take a deep breath and look through the peephole. A large brown eye stares back and you yelp, dropping your bat. The unmistakable boom of Jake’s belly laughter mocks you from behind the door.

“You’re hilarious,” you groan, standing the bat back on its head and unlocking the door.

You’re ready to lay into him when you open the door, but you’re stunned into silence. Jake’s smile is highlighted by silvery stubble, dusted with black. He adjusts his cap as his dark eyebrows raise in mock surprise.

“What, no hello?”

You tear your eyes away from his jaw. “Hm? Oh. Hi.” You open the door wider for him to step in. “Marc said you’d call first.”

“No fun in that, is there? Besides, you looked ready to handle some trouble.” he shrugs off his coat as you lock the door behind him.

“Trouble, yes. Nuisance, debatable.” You sidle up to him and drape your arms around his waist. You place a kiss on his cheek; it’d be impossible for him to not notice how you let yours drag along the rough line of his jaw.

“I missed you too,” he laughs again. “But man, is it warm in here…”

He tosses his cap and it takes everything in him to not lose it when your eyes widen at the sight of his hair, now more gray than black and curls longer than you’ve seen them before. You’re too enraptured to be embarrassed at your obvious loss for words.

“Your hair…” You reach up to touch it, but Jake grabs your wrist.

“Tsk, tsk, you threaten and barely say a word to me, then go straight for the goods without so much as a ‘please’? What happened to decorum, hm?”

“You fucking tease,” you huff. “...please?”

“Well, since you asked nicely–” Jake can barely finish his thought before your lips are on his, your hand tangled in his starlit hair as soon as he lets go.

“I take it we should cancel Marc’s haircut?” he murmurs as you catch your breath.

Your free hand grazes the scruff on his cheek and you grin. “I wouldn’t complain if you did.”

_____________________

A/N: marvel you cowards give us gray-haired moon knight

ty for reading <3

event tags:@moonknight-events @spacecowboyhotch @juneknight

addtl tags: @mrs-lockley @lunar-ghoulie @shadystarlightgentlemen @casa-boiardi @nerdieforpedro @queerponcho (lmk if you'd like to be added to/removed from this wee tag list)

[skippingstonez]

Hi!! May I request a Wild/Tears x reader oneshot? This one has some backstory to it!

Two years ago, I read a fic where Wild and the reader secretly got married before the calamity, since they were scared of losing eachother. Instead of using their rings on the finger, they put it in a necklace and kept it hidden beneath their normal clothing.

With Zelda living with Link in TOTK, how long would they manage to hide their relationship from Zelda? I'd love to see how you would manage this out!

Thanks!

I am SO sorry this took so long! But here it is and I hope you enjoy! (Also the ending is a tiny bit rushed but I just really wanted to get this out!)

Away from Royal Eyes

(BoTW Link x reader) Notes: I made it so they aren't married but they are obviously together <3

It had been well over a week since you had last seen him, wrapped up in his arms as tears fell onto his blue Champion tunic. Kissing him goodbye before watching from the village steps as he walked away towards what could only be a new beginning or tragic end. Days of mindlessly going about your day, trying to not think about the horrid things that he could be facing at any given moment. But you had faith in him to keep his promise, that he would come back to you after it had all been put to rest.

 So you waited patiently, keeping an ever watchful eye on the path leading up to the village as you went about your life. 

And one day, he finally came.

You had raced to the front of your village from your home the moment you had clocked the familiar shade of blue. Tears filling your eyes the moment he fully broke through the tree line. 

He was alive! It unfortunately looked like you couldn’t say he was unharmed, but he was alive and more importantly he was here!

But then you noticed his horse and the girl sat upon its back.

Link was home

But so was she. 

_____________

“Thank you! Come again!” 

As the last customers of your midday rush leave, you release the pent up air in your lungs, stretching out the ache in your back from standing in the same spot for the past few hours. The shop, and Hateno village in general, had been busier as of late which was great for business but not so much for your feet. But, it paid the bills and there had yet to be any disgruntled customers today so it was a win in your book. 

The small bell over the door rang and you slapped on your most welcoming smile. “Welcome! Take a- Oh! Good morning you two!”

You watched as Zelda strolled cheerfully into the shop, waving hello before beelining it towards some of your more rare merchandise. Link lingered by the door, looking over the closest basket with a slightly bored expression until his eyes flicked over to you. You smiled softly, averting your gaze when you felt heat rush to your cheeks, missing the way he smiled back.

Attempting to make yourself look busy you grabbed one of the small baskets nearby, offering it to Zelda who already had a small handful of things cradled in her arms. “What brings you two in today?”

She carefully placed the items in the bag, turning back to the newly acquired tomatoes you had gotten in just a day ago. “Just needed a few things for the room we’re building. I told you about it the other day, remember?”

“The one in the well?”

Zelda nodded, tossing in a few building supplies into the bag along with some other seemingly random ingredients. “That's the one! We’ve officially carved out all the necessary space and now we just need to build the deck! Plus, Link has been talking about this new recipe he's been wanting to try so we figured today was a good day to test it out! You don't happen to have any spicy peppers do you?”

“I should still have a few in the back. Let me go and look!

You walked away, brushing Link's shoulder with a whispered ‘excuse me’ as you passed. His eyes trailing after you as you disappeared into the small storage room behind the counter. 

Once completely out of sight, you had to take a moment to breathe, leaning your back against the wall as you tried to calm down. You would never get used to the rush that came every time you saw him. The longing looks, short touches in passing, and whispered words all adding to the thrill of secrecy that was your relationship with the hero.

Still, no amount of thrill could keep the longing at bay. Wishing you could stroll up to him at any moment to simply place your hand in his. Be the one by his side to run mundane errands or enjoy a meal together. To go back to the way things used to be before everyone began putting all this pressure on him to resume his role as Zelda’s personal knight. 

It wasn't that Link opposed the idea outright. He wanted to help, and to be there for Zelda as they tried to regain what had been lost all those years ago. To reshape the kingdom into something that would thrive for centuries to come. It was admirable work and after all that he went through it made sense that he wanted to continue to protect what he fought so hard for.

But he wasn't the stoic knight he had to be back then. He was adventurous, and playful. Had found his voice that for so long he thought was lost. It didn't feel right to go back to the way things used to be. Not entirely, not when he loved the way things were now. Coming and going as he pleased, actually having a say in things that mattered and most importantly to him, staying by your side. 

But Impa had been…insistent.

She would go on for hours about how it was Link’s duty to stay by Zelda's side no matter what.  And it didn't help when Robbie and Purah began to push the issue as well, though they were more open to changes in said role than Impa was. Each time, he explained exactly why he was so hesitant. And one time he finally admitted that it wasn't about them, or Hyrule, or even Zelda. He just didn't want to leave you.

He didn't speak for nearly 3 days after that argument. And thus the two of you took what you could and kept it all a secret. To keep the peace and Links sanity, leaving Impa to believe things had ended while no one else knew things had ever started to begin with.

You sighed, pushing off the wall to grab the last of the peppers to bring back out, holding them in your arms as you re-enter the room. “Here we are!” You said, making sure to keep your voice light and cheerful. “You're in luck too, it seems I’ll need to get some more soon.”

“Wonderful!” Zelda bounded over to the small counter with her basket full of other goods. Link coming up beside her as you check them out. 

“So what is this new recipe of yours?” You asked, trying not to think too hard about the way Link was quietly watching you work, snapping up when he realized your question was directed at him.

“Oh uhh, it's a soup.”

“Well I hope it turns out! Though you've always been a great cook Link, so I'm sure you don't really need it.” You said looking over to Link who was now rubbing at his neck sheepishly. 

“You should come! Link always makes plenty and then I could show you the room we've been working on!”

“Oh n-no I couldn't impose like that!”

“Nonsense!” Zelda shouted, grabbing your hands. “I insist! Please?”

You looked at her, glancing over to Link who looked slightly panicked before giving Zelda a hesitant smile. “I..I guess I could stop by for a bi-”

“Perfect!” She shouted, scooping up the bag and heading towards the door. “Well see you tonight!” Grabbing onto Link's wrist she darted out the door. Link looked back at you for only a moment, almost apologetically, before he was yanked out of sight. 

Dumbfounded, you stood there for a moment, wrapping your head around what you had just agreed to. It was hard enough to keep your calm during short interactions like this! And now you were going to have to be with them, with her for probably a few hours trying to keep up the facade?

Oh you were in so much trouble.

You paced behind the counter, chewing on your lip as you tried to convince yourself it would be fine.

Your door bursts open, bell barely ringing to alert you iof someone's presence before someone is grabbing your wrist. Your initial reaction is to pull away, to shove the intruder off of you and start screaming. But the blur of long, dirty blonde hair that drags you into the storage room only has other plans. 

You were barely through the door before your back hits the shelves, a mouth crushed onto yours while hands held you in place by your waist. Melting into the heated kiss, you grab the front of his tunic, sliding your hands up and over his shoulders till they wrap around his neck.

“I didn't get a chance to tell you how beautiful you look today” he whispered into your mouth. Kissing the corner of your mouth as his lips trailed off to your jaw. Nipping at your skin softly when you tilted your head back. His hands sliding down to your hips, rubbing slowly circles with his thumb.

“Yeah?”

He draws away, cupping your cheek as he gazes softly into your eyes. “I love you.”

Your smile doesn't quite reach your eyes as you reply quietly. “I love you too.” And kiss his lips again.

“Are you really coming over tonight?” 

“I don't think I have much of a choice at this point.” And you weren't wrong. You had a feeling if you didn't show up that Zelda would personally come drag you over there.

“Are you sure? Not that I'm not thrilled to get to see you more but I can think of an excuse if you aren't comfortable-”

“It’ll be okay Link,” Though it's more of a reassurance for yourself at this point. “If she hasn't suspected something by now I'm sure one night won't change that.”

“Well, in that case I guess I’ll see you tonight!” He smirked, leaning in for one more kiss which you were more than happy to supply.

_______

You stood on the wooden bridge that separated the old house from the rest of your quaint village. Hands fidgeting with your skirt as you tried to steady your breathing.

It was going to be fine. There really wasn't any reason to be as nervous as you were, yet you might as well have been tossed into a monster camp with how rapidly your heart was beating. You would just have to keep cool and not focus all of your attention on Link. You could do that. You and Zelda were good enough friends to hold your own conversations though there was still some awkwardness from your side. Probably cause you were secretly dating the man she was currently living with but hey- details. 

You took a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before slowly exhaling it into the night air. You approached confidently, giving a few knocks onto the door before you could think too much about it. 

Not surprised to see Zelda standing in the doorway, you offered her a warm smile as she greeted you and ushered you inside. You could see the small table already set with a few plates and utensils. A lovely bouquet of swift violets displayed in the middle of it all. Your heart swelled at the sight of your favorite flower. 

“Aren’t they lovely?” Zelda chimed, noticing your lingering gaze towards the purple flowers. 

“Quite” You replied softly. You looked in the direction of their small kitchen where Link was currently focusing all his attention on the pot in front of him. His hair tied up, hands flitting about between the pot and a few ingredients still on the counter. The corner of his mouth lifting at the mention of the flowers. “Though I didn’t think these grew around here?”

“You would be correct! They mostly grow in the southwest regions of Hyrule near the gerudo highlands! Though you can find them up north a bit as well! I think that's where Link said he got them earlier, right Link?” 

His head finally turned in your direction, blue eyes slowly trailing over you as he nodded absentmindedly.

“You got these today?” You asked, a small blush creeping onto your face as he smiled.

“Was in the right area this afternoon and figured why not. Though I'll admit I'm rather partial to these.” A quick wink and he was back to cooking while you could have melted straight into that pot of his. 

“Is that so? Well Zelda is right, they are lovely and I wish they grew more around here.” You explained, sitting down at the table. “What brought you out that way?”

Zelda sat in the chair across from you. “Visiting a friend of ours in Goron City. He is starting an official mining company and I asked Link if he would go check to see how it was coming along! Which reminds me, how is it coming?” She asked, turning her attention to Link who was pouring a few drinks. 

“Fine, still mostly in planning. Yunobo said something about finding a spot for ‘HQ’ and then will go from there.” He brought the two glasses over, placing one down on the table for Zelda while handing the other to you directly. You take it graciously, fingers skimming over his for a second longer than necessary before pulling away. Link scurried off back towards the kitchen while Zelda gives you a full debrief about the prospect of what this new found Goron company could provide for Hyrule. And even if you didn't fully understand half of what she was explaining, it was still fascinating.

DInner was ready soon enough, with Link bringing over a few bowls of soup and bits of bread before taking the seat beside you. Just as you expected, the soup was delicious. The flavors complement each other well with the peppers adding just a bit of a kick at the end. You would definitely be leaving with the recipe.

Conversation continued to flow as well though the you were much more distracted with Link by your side. His foot had found yours, nudging it playfully while you chatted. His hand occasionally slipping beneath the table to rub at your thigh before pulling away. You returned the secret affection by pressing your knee against his, sporadically hooking your foot over his that would make him fumble over his words subtly as his cheeks flushed a soft pink.

“Well I definitely think that one is a keeper Link,” Zelda said as she stood, gathering the dishes and depositing them into the sink. “(Y/n) Would you like to go see our project now?”

You nodded, following Zelda out the door towards the well behind the house. The now night air nipped your face, it's warm late summer breeze blowing at your hair as the grass rustled around your feet. 

Link was the first one to climb down. Mumbling something about Zelda having fallen once. Her response was to just warn you that it could get slippery but assure you it was perfectly safe. So you threw your leg over onto the first plant of the wooden ladder, climbing down further inside of the well. It was dark, and you understood why they warned you about it being slippery cause the walls were damp and coated in slick rocks and moss as it opened up into the bigger space of their made cave. Link waited for you at the bottom of the ladder, his hands finding your waist as he helped you step off and onto the uneven ground beneath.

You shuffled a few steps away from the ladder, giving enough room for Zelda to stand beside you with the small torch in her hand. Link's hand stayed on your back, his thumb pressing a soft circle where it touched that sent tingles across your skin like the small ripples in the shallow pool of water in front of you.

“Wow” you gasped, looking around. “It's beautiful down here. I can see now why you were so excited for this Zel!”

“I'm so glad you agree! Now that the space is big enough the plan is to build a deck from here out to the…”

“You're beautiful” Link whispered so quietly it was barely audible. You spared him a glance, his eyes holding yours with an almost sad expression before dropping to the ground.

Zelda went on and on about the future plans she holds for the small space the three of you were now standing in. Dramatically throwing her hands around as if she could draw lines in the air to showcase her ideas. You half-heartedly paid attention, heart racing at every small touch from the man beside you.

You knew you would have to leave soon. There was no way you could keep it together for much longer if he kept looking at you the way he was. But the thought saddened you. You didn't want to leave. Not really. You wanted to stay and snuggle up beside him as you fell asleep. To feel his arms wrapped around you and know that in that moment nothing could hurt you.

It felt selfish but damn you really wanted to be selfish for just a few minutes. Just this once.

“It's getting late,” you finally interrupted. “I should probably head back home now but you'll have to let me come see it once it's all finished!”

Zelda went up the ladder first, leaving you and Link alone for a moment. His hand pressed more deliberately against your back, rubbing your spine soothingly. 

“You okay?”

You just nod, eyes on the ladder ahead of you.

“Love what's wrong?”

“I miss you..” you whisper, grabbing onto the ladder to start climbing up. An arm snakes around you, a sturdy chest pressed against your back as your eyes start to feel as wet as your surroundings.

“(Y/n)...”

“We should head up,” You say, cutting him off. “Wouldn't want people getting the wrong idea.”

It was a low thing to say, and you regretted it the moment Link stepped away from you and you started climbing back up. Holding back the few tears that threatened to make their appearance as you hauled yourself up and back onto the soft grassy field.

“Thank you for having me over Zelda, it was a lovely time.” The words feel forced and you can only hope it doesn't sound that way as she gives you a hug.

“Can I walk you home?” Link asks, having followed you up. Part of you wants to insist you're fine, not wanting to draw out the inevitable goodbye. But his eyes are pleading with yours that you couldn't say no to no matter how much you wanted to. 

He doesn't touch you until his house disappears from view. A finger hooking with yours until eventually your whole hand is in his, swinging softly to the pace of your steps. Neither of you speak until you turn down the small path that leads to your small home. 

Link comes to a stop a few feet from your front door, eyes trained on the ground.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers, dropping your hand. “You deserve more than this from me.”

“Link-”

“Dont!” He snaps, “I hate this! I hate leaving you and knowing that it's hurting you as much as it hurts me! That I never really know when I'll be able to see you again or that I'm too big of a coward to stand up to some old hag..”

“You are not a coward!” You shouted, grabbing both his hands in yours. “Link you are the farthest thing from that. It's an impossible situation. I knew that going into this and I'll take it if it means I get to keep you close to me! I'm sorry I shouldn't have-”

“No, I'm sorry.” He pulls you to his chest. Arms wrapping around your shoulders, cradling your head to keep you close as his face hides in the top of your head. “I shouldn't have let this happen. I should have stood my ground, I'm so sorry.”

His hold on you was crushing, not that it bothered you. Your face squished to his shoulder, letting you breathe in his scent as you clung back to him. Neither of you moving away from the other as he continues to ramble off apologies. Brushing off any of your attempts to soothe him until he finally falls silent. Dropping his forehead onto your shoulder for a moment before pulling back.

You grabbed his face, smoothing his cheeks playfully that pulled a short huffed laugh from your sweet hero.

��I love you, and I wouldn't trade our time together for anything.” A short peck on the lips before stepping away. “You should go.”

He sighed, pulling you in for one more kiss goodnight. Whispering his love for you that nearly made you pull him inside and never let him leave again. Instead you watch him walk away again, waving goodnight as he glanced back at you over his shoulder one last time.

_________

You rubbed at your temples, tidying up around your shop in a rushed haze. It has been a rough morning and if the pounding in your head was any sign, it likely wouldn't be getting any better.

The door crashed open, banging against the wall that made you shoot a glare in their direction.

“(Y/n)!”

Link ran towards you with a large smile on his face, scooping you up in his arms as he spun you around. Giggling in surprise, you cling to him tightly until your feet are firmly back on the ground. Link is still holding you, his eyes wide with an excitement you haven't seen since his discovery of bomb flowers. He was dressed in a red tunic, the slate at his hip while a sword and shield was strapped to his back.

“Close up shop! I'm headed out and you are gonna come with me!” He said excitedly, pulling you towards the door.

“Seriously!? Okay wait, Link wait I gotta close!” You laughed, quickly pulling away to dash off and put a few things away.

“Hurry up!” He whined impatiently by the door. Practically bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waited for you to close up your shop.

The moment the lock clicked into place he grabbed your hand, pulling you with him as he ran down the path through Hateno village. Kids running along beside the two of you while adults stared curiously as you race beneath the village arch and into the woods just beyond.

The next few hours are spent running around copious woods and large grassy fields, scavenging interesting herbs and mushrooms. Steering clear of any known monster camps, but the few bokoblins you do inevitably run into are quickly dispatched of by your partner. Each time earning him a kiss or a few as thanks.

Soon you are making your way back home. Fingers intertwined with his in a leisure stroll. It's the happiest you've felt in a long time, wishing every day could feel just like this.

“I have one more stop I gotta make,” he whispers into your ear, tugging you up towards the hill instead of the path to your house. “Follow me!”

You do, trying to match his quickened pace. Laughing at his renewed enthusiasm. “Where are we going?”

“The pond!”

Sure enough, the two of you were coming up on the large pond where a small raft was waiting at the short wooden dock. Link let go of your hand, carefully stepping halfway onto it to keep it steady as he offered his hand out to you.

“My lady,” he said with a teasing ring to his voice as he bowed slightly. “Care to join me?”

You chuckled, accepting his hand with your nose now high in the air. “Of course My Hero.” You say in a similar manner that makes his face turn pink.

He helps you step on, letting you sit against its single mast before he fully gets on. Un-tying it from the dock, it starts to drift away to the middle of the lake where a singular tree stands alone on a tiny speck of land. It takes a few minutes to reach, letting you admire your surroundings. Fingers dipping into the warm water to flick a few drops over at Link who is trying to steer your little raft. He laughs it off, jumping off to pull the raft onto the grass as he helps you step off.

“Is there something you need here?” You ask, seeing nothing noteworthy about the small area. His arms snake around your waist, pulling you in close.

“Right here.”

He scoops you up into his arms, plopping down onto the ground with his back against the tree's trunk. You're sat on his lap, leaning your head on his shoulder as he kisses your forehead. You tilt your face up to his, letting him capture your lips in a gentle kiss that quickly leads to you straddling his hips while his tongue explores your mouth. Hands are gripped tightly to your hips, guiding them to move against him as you both moan and gasp for breath. 

All sense of time is lost. The only thing you know is his touch. Hands sliding up beneath your skirt to grab at your thighs as you tug the long strands of his hair.

“Should we take this back to my place?” You say between moans. “We could-”

“(Y/N)!?!”

It was like the world came to a fault, tipping over the edge before shattering into pieces around you. Your head whipped around to see Zelda standing on the shore close by, her eyes wide and widening even further when she caught a glimpse of the man underneath you.

“Link!? What the hell is going on!?”

The two of you scrambled to your feet, Link immediately pushing you behind him as he waded through water towards her. “Zelda! It's..it's a long story but I promise we can explain!”

You followed after him, both of your lower halves sopping wet by the time you reached her. Her expression was hard to read. Obviously shocked but beyond that you couldn't tell if the look in her eyes was out of sadness or anger.

“How long has this been a thing?” She asked, her voice stern but a bit more calmer.

Link glanced back at you, taking your hand in his with a steadying breath.

“A while.” He admitted. “We've been together since before we took down the calamity.”

“Wait really? So all this time you've been hiding it? Why?”

“We just wanted to figure things out,” you said, stepping a bit closer. But Link scoffed which took Zelda by surprise.

“Impa.” He said bluntly. “We didn't say anything because Impa didn't approve. I'm sorry we should have told you. We..I just got scared that you would agree with her.”

Zelda's expression softened, reaching out to grab Link's other hand. 

“Link, you have always been there for me. You have sacrificed so much for all of us. Do you love her?”

He nods his head, face turning red.

“Then forget what anyone else says! I'm happy for you guys and if anyone says otherwise then I'll be happy to chat with them!”

Link threw his arms around her in a tight hug. “Thanks Zelda. I'm sorry we lied to you.”

She patted his back sympathetically. “It hurts but I get it. Honestly though I'm a bit relieved. It saves me the trouble of trying to get the two of you together!”

Link stepped back and you hooked your arm with his. “What?”

“Oh yeah! Why did you think I invited you to dinner the other night? You two are clearly into each other and now I guess I know why!”

You and Link shared a look before bursting out into laughter. Zelda grabbed each of your hands, pulling you in the direction of the village.

“Now come on! I wanna hear the whole story!”

[joelmillerssugarbaby24]

DESPERATE- One-Shot

You and Joel get into a fight and he begs you to take him back. Request from @punkestpascal ILY BABY!!

You huff and slam the door behind you, rage blurring your vision.

He had forgotten your anniversary.

You’d been together a whole year and had been waiting for him to surprise you- thinking he had some elaborate plan and that’s why he didn’t say anything when you lay together that morning.

You were pissed. Livid.

He had promised to make more of an effort romantically and yet he still found himself more wrapped up in patrolling and helping your neighbors than your relationship.

Joel was at the table, fiddling with a woodcarving that he had been working on for a few days. He looked up at you with a warm smile and your heart stuttered, almost forgetting what you were angry about. Then it came rushing back and you brushed past him to the bedroom you shared.

“Baby?” He questions, standing abruptly to follow you.

You ignore him, busying pulling off your clothes one by one and tossing them in the corner. You struggle with your shoes and he steps forward.

“Here baby lemme help”

“No i can do it myself, thanks.”

He gazes at you quizzically, brows knit in confusion.

“All right I know I did something, darlin but you’re gonna have to clue me in as to what so I can apologize.”

You stop then and face him, arms crossed tightly.

“Today’s the 12th” you say softly, watching him closely for any recognition. He cocks his head running his fingers through his hair.

“The 12th. Ok… what’s that s’posed to-“ he stops mid sentence realization dawning on his face.

“Oh. Oh baby. Baby, I’m so sorry.” He starts to cross the room, arms stretched out to grab you. You step backwards keeping space in between you knowing that when Joel miller put those gruff hands on you, you tended to lose your ever loving mind. He halts, hands falling to his sides.

“Baby girl I’m so sorry. It’s been such a long week, I’ve been so tired it completely slipped my mind.”

You sigh, arms still crossed over your chest.

“You promised, Joel. You promised to remember this kind of stuff.”

He falls to his knees in front of you, gripping the backs of your legs and nuzzling his cheeks into the front of your thighs.

“M so sorry baby. Didn’t wanna hurt my girl, forgive me” he says against the bare skin of your legs, his voice rumbling and low.

“Don’t like it when you’re mad at me darlin.” He coos running his hands up your thighs to your ass, groaning at the soft pliant skin that greets him.

You sigh and sit on the bed. He takes this as an invitation to lay his head on your lap, still nuzzling and kissing your legs, hands wrapping around your waist to pull you closer.

“Joel”

“Wanted you all day baby. been distracted, guys kept yelling at me cause I was thinking bout you and couldn’t get nothin done.”

He moans, peppering kisses along the skin of your knee. You thread your fingers through his hair, deflated, asking yourself why you could never stay angry at this bear of a man wrapped around your legs like a lost puppy.

“S ok, Joel. Shh it’s ok honey.”

“M so sorry baby. Lemme make it up to you” he drawls, fingers digging into your hips, face rubbing against your thighs, desperate to taste you. You could feel him hardening beneath his jeans, thrusting against the side of the bed so consumed with a need for you it made you clench around nothing.

“Ok baby, all right. Come here.” You purr, pulling his face from your lap, cradling it in your hands.

He gazes at you adoringly, his chocolate eyes so full of remorse you regret even bringing the whole thing up. Nobody saw this side of Joel. The side that was so sweet and tender and caring. So devoted. The side he only showed for you.

You kiss him, slipping your tongue into his mouth, rebelling in the soft moan he utters when you do.

“Mm miss you baby. Need you so bad” he says against your lips, shivering.

You take his hands and slide them under your t shirt placing them firmly on your breasts.

“Mm f-fuck baby. Missed these.” He moans before diving in to kiss you roughly. He squeezes your tits, the pads of his thumbs brushing across your nipples and you groan softly in reply, arching to him. Offering more.

“Mm so sorry. I’ll do anything to make it up to you, baby. Anything. What do you want” he asks, his voice desperate, his hands greedy, roaming all over your body.

“Fuck me, Joel.” You pant as he sucks on the soft spot beneath your ear. He chuckles darkly, pulling you to the floor with him, nudging your legs apart.

“Yes Maam” he says, a smile tugging the corners of his mouth, looking down at you with a hunger bordering on desperate.

“Anything for my girl.”

——————

HOPE YOU ENJOY ILY BABIESSSS!! ♥️♥️♥️💋💋💋💋

[help-i-cant-think-of-a-nickname]

Hydro Dragon

Neuvillette is a type of man (or dragon) that barely shows emotion. If he does, well damn, your heart can't take it.

Neuvillette has this smile that can melt your heart, a smile that makes you want to squish his cheeks together, a smile that you want to cherish forever.

When he's mad? He's scarier than the archons. But thankfully, he rarely gets mad (at you). Thus, not having you witnessing his wrath, since the two of you rarely fight.

Having Neuvillette as a lover is fun and all until he confessed to you that he's the Hydro Dragon, the same dragon you always sang to whenever it rains so that the dragon won't be sad.

Therefore, it is your mission to be sunny every day in Fontaine. But right now, it's stormy and raining as hell.

You and Neuvillette had an argument. It's the usual argument about him overworking himself. But instead of you guys talking about it and cuddling in bed (even giving him back massages), he shouted at you and said things he didn't actually mean.

You knocked on the door that leads to his office. When you hear a small "Enter." you opened the door and entered.

"Neuvillette? It's already late. Come and cuddle with me."

Neuvillette's body is stiff from all the paperwork that seems to be endless. The dragon sighed and shook his head.

"As much as I wanted to feel your body, I have important things to do."

You frowned at his words. You're not clingy per se, but seeing your dear dragon's slumped shoulders in a mountain of paperwork makes you want to cradle and massage him.

"But love, the sun has already set, the stars and moon has long made it way to the sky. Come and sleep with me, fi—"

You didn't get to finish your words when Neuvillette interrupted you in an unpleasant way.

"CAN YOU BE QUIET FOR ONCE?! CAN'T YOU SEE THAT I'M BUSY AND DON'T NEED YOUR PAMPERING?!"

Now, that's the outburst you didn't expect. Right, he's exhausted and tired. You get that. But, really? Pouring his frustration out to you is just petty.

You stared at Neuvillette and left his office, not slamming the door, closing it softly like he didn't just shouted at you. Neuvillette, who still hasn't registered what he did continued to do his work.

It's been two days, and it's been raining cats and dogs ever since. You see, you've been avoiding him since he lashed out on you. Sleeping in a different room, making breakfast, lunch, and dinner early, and not visiting him at work. All the things he has been so used to do, like sleeping on the same bed, eating together, you sitting on his lap while he works, and you two cuddling together.

Neuvillette can't deny the fact that he missed those things. Yes, it's only been two days, but those two days have been torture to him. Without your sweet kisses and hugs, his work has been ten times harder for him.

Neuvillette is now walking in the streets of Fontaine, soaked in his own emotions as the heavy raindrops landed on him.

In the past, the chanting of children Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, don't cry, used to cheer him up, but now? It's all useless. He didn't feel the same warmth as it used to have. The only warmth he can feel is through you. The sun and fire can't compare to the warmth you give to the love he received from you. He's been so used to receiving it that it feels so weird not to have it.

Neuvillette continued his aimless walk, and raindrops continued to pour on him until an umbrella was placed above his head.

"I was worried. You weren't at your office or at home."

Neuvillette turned his body around, and he saw your figure, holding up an umbrella at his soaked form.

The rain suddenly got heavier.

You panicked as the rain poured with more vigour.

"H-Hey! W-Why are you even sa—"

For the second time this week, you had been cut off, but this time, in a way you love.

Neuvillette immediately hugged you as soon as he saw your figure, burying his face in your neck, hugging you tightly.

"I'm sorry, love. I'm so sorry, punish me all you want, but, please, don't leave me."

The rain got heavier, you sighed as you guessed that he's imagining you leaving him forever.

Holding the umbrella with one hand and other is hugging him back.

"Neuvillette, the time that you told me that you were the Hydro Dragon, the time that you put your trust in me. I already set my mind to never leave you ever since."

You look up at the rainy sky.

"Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, don't cry."

You whispered softly at him. There it was, the warmth he had been craving for. The warmth he can only feel around you.

You hugged him tighter to comfort him. Slowly, the rain started to calm down until the sky I now clear and bright.

"Thank you, I'm really sorry."

Neuvillette kept apologizing and you shutted him up by kissing him.

"Just don't do it again, okay?"

You caressed his face as he slowly nodded. You smiled and pat his cheek softly.

"Now, come on. Let's take a bath, you're soaked, we don't want you to have a fever do we?"

Neuvillette chuckled and nodded. Holding your hand tightly as he followed you home like a lost puppy.

Having a dragon as your lover is certainly hard, but worth it.

[purploozi]

I love you | Kim Min Gyu

Pairing: bf!Mingyu X fem!Reader

Genre: fluff, fluff

Warning: none, just a lot of sweetness

Summary: A few months passed since you gave Mingyu a second chance. Now your relationship is full of love and respect for each other. Will you take his hand one more time? W.Count: 722

First Part: Second Chance? Second Part: Happy ending/Sad ending

A few months passed. Your leg was completely healed—and your heart was too.

When he asked you to trust him just one more time, saying that he was going to prove that he loved you, that he was sorry for being so busy but that he was going to fix it and finally give you the time you deserved…he meant it. Every single word, it was real.

“Mingyu!” you called out, crossing the street as the skirt of your sundress flutters in the soft breeze. He was waiting at the entrance of the park, flowers in one hand and a cake box in the other. A sweet kiss and a cheerful smile greeted you, marking the start of your picnic date.

The accident had been an inflexion point in your relationship. Mingyu changed for the better after it. He had been so caught up in all the events they had for their 10th year anniversary that he hadn’t noticed you were hurting. But after that night, he started to show up instead of apologizing, this time he made sure to take care of you while your leg healed, and now that it had—he was still taking care of you every day. You were relieved that you took his hand that night. It had been the right decision.

You placed a blanket over the grass, the sunlight warming your skin as you settled beside him. Both your laughter are carried by the wind. The sweetness of the cake added to the feeling. The park around you buzzed with life, but in that moment…it felt like you were surrounded by a bubble of love.

Of course, you still fought from time to time. Sometimes your dates were canceled because of delays in his schedule, but now there was a place for you in that schedule, a place that was non-negotiable. He had learned how to balance both his work and his relationship with you—he made sure that you remained a priority, just as much as his work. He made the time to be with you. He cherished you. He nurtured what you had, because you were worth it and because he loves you.

“I like your new lipstick” he said. It was pink. He bought it for you one day, just because. He happened to walk by a store, thought that the color would suit you beautifully, and bought it without a second thought. Now those small gestures were part of him. A surprise meal waiting for you when he arrives first to your new shared apartement, a fresh bouquet of flowers decorating the table every week, little presents—but the most important thing of all was that he was seeing you, thinking of you, caring for you.

“I had a thought the other day…” he began, slowly—like he was choosing his words carefully. Your eyes were closed, head resting on his lap as his fingers gently caressed your hair, it was soothing like the new kind of love you shared. “I want to be with you. For a long time, I mean” you smiled softly, still keeping your eyes closed. You were enjoying the calm moment…listening to his sweet words, a stop for you and Mingyu from the busy life, a moment where you could just be together. But then, he grabbed your hand, and you felt how a cold band slid down your finger. 

You opened your eyes at the movement and quickly sat up, there was a ring on your finger. It was delicate, with only a small jewel decorating the band…it was elegant, beautiful. When you looked up from it you saw Mingyu’s eyes on you. Soft gaze, full of love and a little nervousness behind it. “You can take it off if you don’t wa—” but he didn’t get to finish. 

You threw yourself forward, kissing him hard with both your hands cradling his face. He laughed into the kiss, arms wrapping tightly around your waist as the two of you tumbled onto the blanket. “I love you Mingyu” and with those words you signed yourself for a new chapter of your life, full of pink and sweet cakes. The red and the bitter chocolates were a thing of the past. You weren’t scared—because you trusted him, and deep in your heart you knew  that it was the right decision.

Taglist: @alien0n3arth @wodwodlu

[farfromstrange]

Fictober Day 16: Touch-starved

Fictober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Prompt: Touch-starved (🌼)

Summary: After weeks of being incredibly busy, you are starved for Matt's touch, so you seek it out. Of course, he’s eager to take care of his girl.

Warnings: Fluff, slight angst

Word Count: ~960

Read Me On AO3! (Coming soon)

The blue light of his computer screen illuminates his face in a soft white glow. 

His glasses lay discarded next to the stack of court papers Matt is sifting through, weeks worth of work that has kept you apart from him. The wrinkles on his forehead are deeper, and the bags under his eyes are a little more swollen. Though even as he sits there, beyond exhausted and worked to the bone, you can’t help but think that he has never looked more breathtaking.

His arms flex as he types. He hasn’t held you in so long. Do you even remember what it feels like? You’ve both been stressed, but every time you get a minute, the city calls for him, and he has to go. He always has to go.

Matt is starving you of his affection, and he doesn’t even realize it. He doesn’t realize how badly you miss him, or how long your days have been, too. He’s so caught up in this case that you are a mere afterthought, but you can’t blame him. He’s not always like this. You know he loves you, and you know he will make up for it when he’s done, but your brain is far from rational when you just need him to hold you. 

When you need to feel loved.

You get up from the couch, your slippers dragging over the floorboards as you make your way over to him. You wrap your arms around his shoulders. “How’s it going?” you ask.

He exhales heavily. “It’s… not,” he says, leaning his head against yours. 

You kiss his temple. “You’re exhausted.”

“I’m so tired.” He leans back against you, and it’s like your skin is set on fire. You want to bury yourself in him. He squeezes your hand, once, twice, even a third time—I love you, but then he pulls away. “But I need to get this done.”

A whimper escapes you. “No.”

“I’m sorry. You know I–”

“No.” You shove his laptop aside. “I’ve had a shitty day, and I need you.”

You are not the kind of girl who begs. You are not the kind of girl who would force a man to pay attention to her, but you’re lonely. You are so lonely.

Matt tilts his head in your direction. “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

“Please,” you beg again. 

For him, you would get on your knees and pray. You would pray to a God you don’t believe in because you miss him, and you would do anything to be held by him. 

He hears the ache in the way your heart hammers against your ribcage. He hears the sad undertone in your voice, the desperation and the starvation from weeks without him. Matt realizes then that he neglected you. He neglected you, and you are begging for him to stop. You are begging for him to take care of you because you may need him, but he also needs you. You are both on the verge of falling apart.

He pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you and pulling your body tightly to his chest. He pulls you close enough for you to melt together like iron.

You almost start crying. He holds you, and you almost start crying like a baby. It’s pathetic, really, and it hurts, but it hurts so good.

You don’t ever want him to stop. You don’t ever want to feel like this again. Missing him when he is right there is most debilitating. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispers into the crown of your head, cradling you like a fragile porcelain doll. “I’ve got you.” 

Your nails dig into the fabric of his wrinkled dress shirt. His scent fills your nostrils, and it seeps into your wounded soul like a healing balm of solace.

“I miss you,” you confess.

“I know.”

You nuzzle your nose into the crook of his neck. “Can you just… take me to bed and cuddle me? Just until I fall asleep.”

Matt seems torn between you and his laptop for a moment, unfocused eyes darting around as the crease between his brows deepens, but then the feeling of you creeps into the forefront of his consciousness, and he succumbs to his heart’s desire. 

He lifts you effortlessly, carrying you from the living room to your shared bedroom. His work lies long forgotten on the messy dining table. You are where he needs to be, not in court, not out on the streets, and certainly not in a virtual Word document. 

His work will still be there tomorrow; if he doesn’t take care of you like he is supposed to, you might not be, and he can’t, for the love of God, lose you. You are the reason for his every breath. Without you, he is nothing, and so he lies you down on the mattress, takes off his shoes, and climbs in beside you. 

He sustains you.

Your breathing slows. “Thank you,” you whisper. 

Matt shushes you. “I’m sorry.”

There it is again, the guilt he carries like a shield. You squeeze his hand. “It’s not your fault. I just need to have you close. I need to fall asleep with you,” you say, “because I can’t fall asleep without you. I can’t…” 

A tear rolls down your cheek. He reaches up to wipe it away. The last thing he wanted was to cause you such pain. 

“Okay,” he says, tightening his hold around you. “Okay. I’m here. I’m here, baby.”

You listen to the steady thumping of his heart, the way it slows down with every breath you take. 

He’s here; Matt is here, and he’s not going anywhere. A whispered ‘I love you’ from his lips is the last thing you hear before you fall asleep, safe and sound in his arms.

You are right where you belong.

@ebathory997 @the-b33skn33s @scoliobean @drmeghanjones @lanae111 @gpenguin666 @linamarr @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @thatonegamefish @amberritonicole @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-gir1-has-n0-name @winkev1 @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife @trublu2u @xnatyx @zomtart @ethereal-blaze @littleagxs @ravenclaw617 @lucienofthelakes @steve-chandler

[midnightcrw]

So what if daisy is 5 years old and gets a little brother

Sibling

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x Reader

Summary: Daisy gets a little brother

a/n: I'm genuinely sorry that it took me so long to write this. I had to finish some exams, and this is really not the best story I've written, it's also very short. I'm really sorry

"Can I hold him?" Your five-year-old daughter, Daisy, asks with a mixture of curiosity and tenderness, her arms outstretched towards her baby brother. It had been a week since Joseph's arrival, and Daisy, who initially seemed hesitant to embrace her new sibling, surprised you with this sudden request.

"Of course, you can hold him," you reassure her, a warm smile playing on your lips. Daisy takes a seat between you and Simon, though her eyes weren't filled with her usual anticipation. With careful guidance, you place Joseph into her small arms, offering gentle instructions on how to cradle him.

As Daisy holds her baby brother, a profound silence descends upon the room. Not a single word escapes her lips as she gazes down at the peaceful slumber of the little one in her embrace. Simon, uncertain if Daisy can manage, tenderly places a hand on the baby's back.

"What is it, princess?" Simon queries in a hushed tone, keenly observing his daughter. Daisy's behavior had been peculiar since Joseph's birth, avoiding him at all costs. Simon senses that something is amiss.

After a few moments of poignant silence, Daisy speaks quietly, "Won't you love me anymore?" The question catches both of you off guard. Tears well up in Daisy's eyes as she looks at her brother's serene face.

It was obvious that Daisy had stressed herself too much into thinking that the both of you wouldn't give her any attention due to being busy with Joseph.

She had been so excited while you had been pregnant, but the moment on he was born, Daisy had quietened down.

Without exchanging words, you and Simon share a fleeting glance. You carefully lift Joseph into your arms, while Simon gently moves strands of Daisy's hair away from her face, encouraging her to look at him. "We'll always love you. We both love the two of you so much. Nothing will ever change that, princess," Simon reassures, his words tinged with a touch of sadness.

Feeling a pang of guilt for not noticing Daisy's need for reassurance earlier, Simon's attempt to continue speaking is interrupted as Daisy throws herself into his arms. A couple of tears stream down her little face, and Simon wipes them away with his thumb, providing the comfort she sought but hadn't received amidst the busyness of caring for your son.

Minutes pass, and Daisy, now calmer, seamlessly shifts gears. "Can I play with Joseph?" she asks, her innocence and eagerness shining through. You smile softly, explaining that it will take some time since Joseph needs to grow before they can play together. Undeterred, Daisy leans against you, holding Joseph's tiny, chubby hand.

Simon feels overwhelmed, not in a burdensome way, but with a sweet, encompassing warmth. Reflecting on a conversation from the past, he recalls telling Daisy about his nephew without delving into the painful details. To his surprise, while contemplating names for your son, Daisy spontaneously suggested the name Joseph.

Initially uncertain about naming his son after his nephew, Simon found solace in the idea as Daisy, during your pregnancy, would lovingly touch your belly, referring to the baby as Joseph. From that moment, he knew your son had to be named Joseph.

The scene of you, Daisy, and Joseph cuddled up together warms Simon's heart. In this simple tableau of familial love, he realizes that this, above all else, is all he ever needed.

[fadingdaggerr]

omfggg I just finished reading truth be told and it was so amazing and good and wonderful and wow wow wow you're so talented!!! can you please please consider writing a part 2 where r and Mel slowly start dating and Mel starts bringing them back around her family and introducing them to the Abbott crew and everyone is like 👀👀 and then Mel asks them to marry her and everyone is Mel's family is like FINALLY.

truth be lived

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: part two of truth be told, based on request above | 9.6k

includes: useless lesbian disease, fluff, more fluff bc the last part didn't have enough

warnings: they/them pronouns used for r, slight insecurity, kissing/making out

translation: peluche (italian - teddy bear)

italics are flashbacks

note: god this took me so long i’m sorry. my brain is an evil being. but N E ways how shocked are we that this is way fucking longer than part one? we aren’t? that’s what i thought. swear my dumbass can't make it easy on myself, but i just really wanted to grow the relationship and not just throw it out there yk?? excuses excuses, i know

It’s almost worse than when Barbara made her go a month without caffeine. Scratch that. It’s fifty times worse. It’s been a week that Melissa has gone without getting to see you. The week that will finally come to a close once the clock strikes seven and you show up at her door.

Saturdays, as of late, the two of you spent nearly three hours in a coffee shop, talking endlessly until your macchiatos went cold. Catching up on over a decade apart was slowly patching the dam that gave out all those years ago. A month of this gravitated to getting lunch together during the week, sitting together on a bench in the halfway point between your jobs. A couple more weeks, and you started going to the bar on Fridays to get your whiskey sours to celebrate the end of a hard week.

It was over stealing a cherry from your drink that Melissa got brave enough to ask you what had been on her mind since she saw you again. She knew it had to be her move, after all that had happened before.

“Next Friday night, you busy?” Melissa asks as she picks the stem off.

Your tongue ghosts over your lips, “not at all. And for you, I’m always free.”

“Would you wanna go out? With me?” An exhale rattles her chest, “Like a- like a date?”

Scanning her face, all you can see is sincerity in her question, and not a touch of restraint. The corners of your lips fly up, creases around your eyes deepening as you take in the sight of a nervous, but hopeful, Melissa. What you wouldn’t give to cradle those flushed, pink cheeks and kiss her right now.

“I would love to go on a date with you,” you answer, “name the time and place, and I’m there.”

A grin that’s equally dorky as yours appears on Melissa's face, her smile prevalent in her voice, “you worry about nothing. I’ll pick you up.”

Green eyes flick from the Tucci mug in front of her to the clock over the door. Only eleven hours and forty minutes, not that she’s counting. A sigh passes her lips at her own desperation. She went nearly a decade without you, half a week shouldn’t be this hard. By God, though, it is.

By lunch, it feels like another week passed her by. A sense of freedom fills Melissa, finally able to dig her phone out of the bottom drawer of her desk where she previously jailed it, too tempted to check for texts from you or send her own. For added proof of her restraint, she doesn’t allow herself to look at the screen until she sits at the table next to Barb.

The moment leather pants meet the hard plastic chair, her phone is ripped from her pocket, glasses perched on her nose. Glossy lips stretch into a smile immediately.

Peluche: any idea how to make 6.5 hours into 0?

Peluche: asking for a friend

Tell your ‘friend’ if I knew, I would have done it.

The little smirk on her face does not go unnoticed by the others in the room, though none are brave enough to ask about it. Jacob eyes his roommate from across the room. He’s seen the weight on her shoulders fly off within the last few weeks, the oven door hasn’t slammed once, she didn’t even make fun of his new kombucha. Early excuses to retire to her bedroom were becoming more frequent, and after a very brave snooping session, Jacob heard tiny bits of a phone call. Breathy giggles coming from his roommate made him step away, an act to save not only his room, but also his life.

The little grin that would appear on her face, before she scurried upstairs, was the same one that she wears at this very moment. It takes the willpower of a thousand Ava’s in a hookah bar to not jump up and down at the thought that Melissa may be seeing someone again, someone clearly better for her. With all of his self-control, held together with sheer desperation, he glances at Barbara. God’s number one soldier is smiling to herself, giving a little nod as she feels his gaze on her. Confirmation.

There’s a certain pep in her step the rest of the day. Not one eye roll as Janine breathlessly recounted her walk back from the deli, no pinching the bridge of her nose when a student asked a question she’d answered seven times already today, not even one occurrence of biting her tongue to save herself an elbow from Barbara. Blissfully happy Melissa is almost more terrifying than angry Melissa, her stiff walk replaced with a certain bounce that didn’t diminish.

“Alright, little eagles, it is go-time! Move it, move it! If you’re not out the door in ten seconds, you’re spending the night with the Abbott ghosts!” The kids all run past Melissa in a flock of giggles as she mentally counts each one, making sure everyone is accounted for before locking up her room. Giddiness grows in her chest, T-minus four hours, and she finds herself just as motivated as the children to run out the doors. Uncharacteristically, she tries to avoid Barbara on her way out, trying to get home as fast as humanly possible, knowing she would be in a frenzied overdrive once she starts getting ready to see you.

“Melissa!” She cringes as she hears her name at the end of the hall, stalling her in her place. Turning on her heel, the redhead faces the floor to hide the pained expression she wears, before looking back up. “Girl, where are you going in such a hurry? You’re moving like the devil is on your heels.”

“The devil couldn’t catch me if he tried,” Melissa snorts, “and I’m just tryna get home, I got plans tonight.”

Barbara raises a brow, “plans, you say? With whom?”

“No one,” she replies, but the sly grin and pink cheeks give her away.

The kindergarten teacher hums, “well, you have fun with no one. I expect a debrief Monday morning, maybe Saturday if you find some free time.” Pink cheeks go as red as Melissa’s hair at the insinuation, only managing a little huff and nod as a response before slinking off to her car.

—☽—

Melissa had given you only one direction for tonight, being that you should dress warm. As much as she knew the limited information would bother you, she hoped you trusted her enough to go along with it, and you did without question, but not without a half-second of hesitation. She could already picture the game of eenie-meenie you would likely play when you went to pick out a sweater or sweatshirt.

And she would be right. With an hour left before Melissa was to arrive, you stood half-naked in front of the closet on your fifth round of the game in trying to choose what to wear. Though every time you reject an option, you’d manage to find a potential reason to go with it, and the cycle keeps going. Deciding to let fate take its chance, you throw an arm over your eyes and blindly swing the other to randomly grab something to wear, at this point you don’t even care if it’s the matching Bluey sweatshirt you share with your nephew.

Fate is on your side it seems, the blind reach procuring a loose fitting, dark grey sweater, one you’d owned over half your life. One that Melissa had stolen many times before, that you had to steal back from her. Without a second thought, you put a longsleeve on before the sweater, just in case it finds a way to pass ownership.

Similarly to last week, you find yourself tense and jittery, waiting on the edge of your seat for the text that tells you that you’ll be able to see her again. Bosco nudges at your hands to be pet, clearly noticing your nerves, attempting to snuggle them away. He’s an expert, your shaky hands stilling as you scratch gently around his neck, dodging his wet nose before it meets your eye. Utterly in the zone petting the spaniel, your phone pinging pulls you from your trance.

pretty girl: Ready when you are.

i’ll be right down, just a sec

pretty girl: Take your time hon.

You, in fact, do not take your time, but what Melissa doesn’t see, she can’t possibly know. Panting at the bottom of the stairs, you take a spare few seconds to catch your breath before walking towards the only car in the lot with its lights on. Leaning against it was Melissa, picking at her nails with pursed lips, a tell-tale sign of her nerves. The closer you get, the more clearly you can see her. Her bright pink hoodie is clearer now, contrasting against a pair of leather pants that almost rip the air from your lungs.

The words leave your lips before you can really stop them, “you’re beautiful.”

Bright eyes look up from the pavement, wide with surprise from your seemingly sudden appearance in front of her. Heat spreads from down her face to her chest at the compliment, feeling every bit of it from head to toe, reveling in the warmth of your attention. It’s been years since you’ve looked at her like this, much less spoken.

“You-” she breathes, “you’re wow.” A second wave hits her when she sees what you’re wearing, that fucking sweater. She’d stolen it more times than she can count, straight from the closet or even directly off of your body, and now it was within arms reach again.

“Should’ve asked first, wearing your sweater and all,” you say lightheartedly, hoping that it will calm the nerves between you both.

“I guess I can let it slide this time,” Melissa chuckles, looking down bashfully. “You ready to get going?”

All you manage is a nod, far too excited to be in her presence to get anymore words out. Ever the gentlewoman, Melissa slides in front of you to open your door, closing it once you’ve slid into your seat. You knew better than to ask where you were going, the redhead already told you three times that she wasn’t spoiling anything for you.

The entirety of the twenty minute drive, it takes a god-like amount of effort to keep from staring at Melissa’s hand on the gear shift. Shimmering rings just beg to be fiddled with, hand asking to be held, but you refrain from crossing the line. The late time keeps the road relatively empty, though Philly streets are never silent, a cacophony of horns and yelling seems to linger regardless of the sun’s presence.

The car pulls into a lot of a building, only a small deli on the first level, the rest appears to be utterly vacant. Slowly, you turn to face Melissa, looking at her with pure confusion and a need for an answer.

She peeks over, sensing your gaze on her. Putting the car in park she simply says, “just trust me.”

“I do,” you reply without hesitation.

It takes very little persuading for you to begin following Melissa, in through the deli where she greeted the man at the front desk. From the little Italian you still remember from being around her family, you pick up something about a door and the two of you being allowed to do something. All the fishing for translation in your mind halts when a hand goes to the small of your back, guiding you to the back of the shop towards the stairs. At the top floor, Melissa reaches around you to put the code into the door, opening the roof access. Three thick blankets stacked on top of one another, with a cooler holding them down, greet you when you turn after watching the redhead prop the door open with a brick.

A sort of wonder takes over, just following her movements as she sits on the blankets, patting the spot next to her. Taking residence next to her, you scoot closer without even an attempt of subtlety. Glossy lips curve into a smile at your action, Melissa immediately trying to hide it by reaching into the orange cooler.

From the cooler, she pulls out a shaker and a bottle of whiskey, peeking at you with a mischievous look in her eye. Without breaking eye contact, she lifts out simple syrup and lemon juice. Simultaneously, both your noses scrunch, leaning into each other slightly as you snicker, feeling juvenile in the excitement of it all. 

Despite taking the time to garnish both your drinks with maraschinos, you pretend to not notice the sly reaches to pull them out of your drink. As far as you’re concerned, she can have whatever she wants if you get to hear that quiet, satisfied giggle.

Reaching into the cooler again, Melissa pulls out a small radio, checking her watch as she fiddles with the dials. After a few moments, you hear what sounds like the opening credits of a movie. Knocking her knee with your own to get your attention, she points to a screen a little ways away, a small drive-in theater that you didn’t even know was in the city. Squinting a little to see the title from the distance, you see that it’s Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, one of her father’s favorites. The thought alone makes you smile, he’d gotten you both into westerns once you were ‘old enough to appreciate them,’ meaning when you were well into your twenties.

It takes little time for the two of you to end up pressed against each other, everything packed away and forgotten off to the side. The two of you stay quiet as you listen to the movie, both mouthing lines you remember. Your eyes long to look at her, so you look down to grab your drink, shifting your eyes to look at Melissa.

Once you do, all you can do is watch her, her hands, her eyes, her lips, how content she is written on her face. It’s hard to take your eyes off her, it always has been, but right now it feels more difficult than ever. Yellow street lights barely illuminate her, everything you can see is because of the sheer closeness of your bodies. The warmth radiating off of her is grounding, the chill around you nonexistent.

Feeling your attention on her quickly has Melissa turning towards you. She’s met with a nose brushing against hers, both of your eyes widening at the newfound closeness. Neither of you even attempt to move away, completely engrossed in each other’s gaze; the closest you two had been in a decade, here and now.

“Can I-” She doesn’t get a chance to finish her sentence.

“Please.”

Lips rush to press against yours, moving quickly, but so carefully that you can’t help the whine that crawls out of your throat. It takes even less time for your hands to slide up to her face, holding her close as her own hands wander to hold your sides. Needy fingers weave into her hair, tugging lightly at soft copper. Melissa groans into your mouth, tongue swiping against your lips, being met with instant entry and a cross between a sigh and moan.

Any remaining gloss that wasn’t sticking to the plastic cups was spread across your lips, giving you a taste of cherry and lemon, whiskey shared between you. The feeling of her tongue is intoxicating, and all you can manage is to haul her closer, wanting her entirely against you. Catching on, Melissa pushes further into you, leaning you down onto the blankets. The change in position seems to bring a moment of pause to both of you, parting for a moment to catch your breaths.

Slowly, you open your eyes, meeting jade eyes with blown out pupils. Detangling your hands from her hair, you bring them back to hold her face. Stroking your thumb over her cheek, her eyes flutter shut as a deep breath leaves her chest. You gently pass over her cheekbone, following the slope to her lips, kiss-swollen and lovely. Brushing against her lips, you see her eyes open again, watching your attention on her skin. You can practically feel the nerves radiating off of her.

Tugging her down gently, you press a soft kiss to her lips, easy and slow. A silent reassurance that you weren’t going anywhere, that you want this just as much as she does.

The entire drive back to your building, Melissa keeps her hand in yours, enjoying the feeling of your grip tightening around hers every now and then. Uncharacteristically, she drives the speed limit through the streets, wanting to prolong her time with you as much as she can. Pulling into the lot, she lifts your hand to press a kiss to it before hopping out, rounding the car to open your door.

“What a charmer,” you joke, voice bubbly and light from pure adoration for the woman. Humming, Melissa’s fingers tangle with yours as she walks you to the door. Leaning against the cold brick of the building, you pull her in closer, wanting her in your orbit a little longer.

Her thumb glides over your knuckles, “thank you, for tonight.”

“Thank you. Next time, though, I’m planning everything,” an easy smile crosses your face as you fiddle with her rings. You watch a barely suppressed excitement cross her features, feeling your heart swell at the sight.

Subconsciously, you both lean into each other, no words spoken between you. Your eyes flick to her licks, catching her attention. With a barely there touch, Melissa presses a kiss to your lips, lingering as you just barely keen into her. As she pulls away, she forces herself to take a step back, knowing if she stays close that she’ll never leave.

“Can’t wait,” she says, a smile on her lips that never fades when she’s around you.

“Text me when you get home?” You have to keep a hand on the wall behind to keep you in place, too drawn to Melissa for your own good.

She chuckles, taking a step back, “it’s a five minute drive.”

“Just text me, please,” your head drops to the side, looking at her through your lashes.

The only you get is a little nod, reveling in her little smirk as she turns away. Your eyes stay on her, intent on seeing her safely to her car, but she seems to have other ideas. Before she even reaches the fence, Melissa turns on her heel and quickly walks back up to you. Without so much as a warning, she holds your face in her hands and plants one more solid kiss to your lips.

When she pulls away she sees your brows raised and a dumbfounded look on your face, it leaves her with a little spark of pride in her chest. Her thumb passes over your lip before she steps back, slowly walking backwards, “I’ll text you.”

—☽—

The trudging of Jacob coming upstairs shakes Melissa from her last minute indecisiveness about her choice of shirt, registering her open door, throwing the green shirt over her bra-clad form. Quick feet land her in front of her vanity, plopping in the seat to seem busy instead of fretful. Silent prayers that he leaves her alone go unanswered, peeking in as she unscrews the wand of her mascara.

“What’re you up to tonight?” Jacob asks, practically hopping up to her.

She purposely avoids looking at him, “noneya.”

“Oooh, come on Mel-Mel! Spill!”

“Stop calling me that,” she lets out shortly, carefully blinking on mascara. “I’m just going out, that’s all.” Melissa promised herself the second you came back into her life, she wouldn’t refer to you as just a friend. Not until you told her that’s all you want from her, she couldn’t blame you for that choice after all of her own.

You are beginning to run out of things to fill the time until Melissa arrives. The kitchen was wiped down and swept, the living room vacuumed, shit, you even wiped down the blinds. A nagging part of your mind keeps ringing that maybe you should change the blanket over the back of the couch, but the others don’t match the pillows and that will only make your skin crawl more.

A slammed door in the hall makes you startle out of the near catatonic state you’re in, eyes glazed over as they stare unfocused at the coffee table. Your eyes jump to the clock, the little hand getting closer and closer to the seven, only twenty minutes until she’s here. You let out a deep breath before it hits you, only twenty minutes.

Nearly crashing to the floor as your socks glide on the carpet, you rip the top drawer of your dresser open, brain rushing to figure out if the fluffy socks are a bad look or not. Eyes clenching, you sigh at the immaturity of your own thoughts, feeling like a middle schooler trying to get their crush to like them. It’s all frivolous, really. But, God, you want her to like you.

With five minutes left to wait, you find yourself sitting on the couch, staring at the dark TV screen as your leg bounces hard enough to cause a six-point magnitude earthquake.

Unbeknownst to you, Melissa has been sitting in the lot of your building for ten minutes, working up the courage to walk in. If she didn’t get here early, she is sure she would’ve been late walking inside. Melissa stretches out her hand from the tight clenched fists they had been, crescents in her palm from her pink acrylics. She has to reread her text about a million times before sending it.

Just pulled in.

Peluche: i’ll be right down, give me 30 seconds

Creaking of a heavy metal door takes Melissa out of her thoughts where she stands on the steps, turning to see your head just barely popping out of the door. Neither of you can help the little grins that come to your face, both of your attempts to hide them being useless against the other. Wordlessly, you wave her in, and Melissa is quick to obey. It’s quiet as you both climb the stairs, until you arrive at your front door.

The moment you press one number on the keypad, Bosco is barking up a storm on the other side of the door. When the door opens, he is just as quick to start jumping on Melissa, clearly remembering his friend that he hasn’t seen in almost three months.

“Bobo, dude,” you almost whine, trying to tug him away despite his excited hopping, “alright, enough. Bed, now, little freak.”

When you turn back to Melissa, her face is pink from laughter, the lines around her eyes deeper from the smile on her face. Slipping her jacket off her arms, she asks, “is he like that with everyone?”

“No, not everyone,” you answer, stepping forward to grab her jacket from her to hang up, “he’s usually only that excited when I get home or when my neighbor stops by, but he never jumps on him since the man’s like eight thousand years old.”

Melissa tries to ignore the shivers up her spine, “probably just remembers me, or I’m just that special.”

“Two things can be true at once,” you say sincerely, taking the bottle of wine with you as you search for the corkscrew. “I’ve only got stemless glasses, that okay?”

“Blasphemous,” she jokes, leaning against the counter, resting her weight on her elbows.

Lightheartedly, you roll your eyes, pouring her glass first. Melissa’s eyes light up as you swirl the wine in the glass before handing it to her, something she does before she starts any glass. It’s a pointless little thing she has done since Nonna began allowing her a small cup of wine at dinner when she was fifteen, she never thought you would remember something so miniscule.

It takes less than two minutes of sitting on the couch for Melissa to realize that she had made the biggest mistake telling you that she didn’t care what you watched tonight, that you had full reign of choosing. The Conjuring pops up on the screen, the ominous tree makes her groan. Dropping her chin to her shoulder, she stares at you. The pursing of your lips and strict avoidance of her eyes makes the stare turn to a glare.

“You’re fucking kidding,” she says with a facetious anger, “you’re fucking with me.”

Turning slowly, you put on a failing face of innocence, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit,” Melissa laughs through her words, “you’re trying to get me to walk outta here.”

“No! You said I could pick whatever I want,” you gesture towards the TV.

Melissa heads tilts down, but her eyes stay on you, lips turning up, “you tryna get me all scared like a cliche little movie date? Real sly.”

“So what if I am?” Your expression is playful, but there’s something in your voice that makes Melissa feel warm.

A deep breath leaves her lungs, “if this jump scares me, I’m hitting you with a pillow.”

“Thankfully, I have several,” you mumble, a sated smile on your lips as you press play. 

Two glasses of wine later, you find yourself relaxed into the arm of the couch, while Melissa sits curled into a ball, fully leaned into the back of the couch. For someone so confident and brave, it has always humored you that she was so easily scared of horror films. She nearly suffocated you when she came over one night all those years ago, Candyman left you with the redhead clinging to you like a baby koala.

A pitchy squeak pulls you from the reminiscing you can’t seem to escape, eyes scanning the screen, seeing the exorcism scene, before looking towards Melissa. With her hands over your eyes, you can see her mouth moving, quiet mutters of God dammit and mother fucker leaving glossy lips. It’s impossible to suppress the little chuckle that bubbles in your throat, and squinted green eyes stare you down.

“Shut up,” Melissa mumbles, looking at you rather than back at the movie.

“I didn’t say anything,” you can’t even say it with a straight face, “you’re the one that said I could pick the movie.”

Melissa throws the pillow in her lap at you with a weak arm, “you know I don’t like this scary shit. I’ll never get to sleep tonight.”

“I’ll put Fox and the Hound on after,” you offer. Olive eyes give you an unimpressed look, but the corners of her lips turn up before she gives a little nod in silent thanks.

Her eyes don’t leave you as your attention falls back on the screen, watching as you become fully engrossed in the happenings she refuses to acknowledge. Melissa’s mind churns over your earlier statement, how you might’ve just chosen this for her to get closer to you, and she wishes she could say your not-so-subtle plan wasn’t working. Yet, here she is, thinking that if you were holding her, this would feel like a Pixar film.

Slowly, as if you were the spooked one, she slowly shifts closer. After scanning for discomfort that she doesn’t find, Melissa leans closer, praying you’ll catch on.

“Get over here,” you mumble through a huffed laugh, shifting to rest your back against the arm, putting a leg down on the floor to open up space. Not wasting a second, Melissa lays down on top of you, tucking into you enough that only one eye is able to see the TV, but only if she strains to look up.

It takes zero time for your fingers to find the ends of her hair, the feeling only making Melissa settle in further. Your free hand gets a hold of the remote, turning off the movie before it’s even ended. While you’re looking for the cartoon, Melissa fishes her phone from her back pocket, not bothering to move as she checks her messages.

Jacob: sooo am i leaving the porchlight on or are u coming back in the morning

Put the light on, please.

Jacob: am i allowed to ask questions????

The redhead feels your laugh more than she hears it, peeking up she sees your smirking face. You tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, “you’re right, he’s nosy.”

“Told you. If we were at my place right now, we’d be getting interviewed until next week,” Melissa grumbles. Your only answer is a hum, attention moving to the annoying task of typing out the name of the movie.

You just did.

Your chest rumbles with silent laughter at her response, only holding her tighter when her phone drops on the table and her nose bumps against your neck. The meandering fingers that twirl loose curls around them are a constant distraction for Melissa, the voices of Copper and Tod not even reaching her ears as she settles into a comfort she’s been longing for for years. Nothing will ever quite match the feeling of your lips pressing to her temple.

—☽—

Melissa Schemmenti is picky. Name a topic, she’s got a steadfast opinion on it. The Seahawks? Wanna-be Eagles. Mashed potatoes? Better when a little lumpy. Sleeping? Her bed is the only place she can feel rested. She’d grown all too used to sleeping in her own bed alone, it feels foreign to wake up with someone beside her.Well, her opinion may have changed on that last one.

Curled under a thin blanket, Melissa wakes slowly as the little rays of sun work their way under the curtains. Attempting to stretch her legs, she tries to turn on her back, but is met with resistance. Her movement makes the arm around her tighten, a head nudging into her shoulder blades. Her fingers run up and down the expanse of your arm, quietly asking for you to loosen up. With newfound freedom, she turns to face you, meeting half open eyes and a dopey grin. Tucking yourself into her, you press a lingering kiss to the junction of her neck, mumbling into warm skin.

“What was that, baby?” Melissa rasps out.

“Phone went off,” you grumble a little louder, shuffling closer to her.

Blindly, the redhead reaches around for her phone. Huffing, she forces her eyes open enough to catch face unlock, but they immediately bulge out of her head.

Jacob: hey u coming home tonight?

Jacob: mel mel?

Jacob: barbs said u were fine but can u just answer

Jacob: melissa?

Melissa flies up, your arm dropping limply beside her. A high pitched whine climbs out of your throat as you sit up, leaning against her side with your head on her shoulder. Glancing at her screen, your eyes go as wide as hers.

“If you need to call him, go for it,” you say quietly.

She sighs, “I don’t like lying to him. I’m just…”

“I know,” you reach to hold her hand, “just do whatever feels right for now. We’ll figure everything out later.”

Melissa only gives a nod in response, clearly still in her head. Giving her space, you press a kiss to her shoulder before climbing out of bed. Green eyes follow as you walk out of the room, nearly stumbling into the door as you go. She gives herself another moment to watch you by the coffeemaker before glancing back down at her phone.

Once you’ve taste tested the coffee you made for Melissa, you carefully walk back into your room, trying to not spill a single drop. Glancing up from the mugs, you see that Melissa’s eyes are scrunched, clearly hating the conversation that was happening, but accepting the consequences. Opening one eye and seeing you, she presses a finger to her lips as she puts the call on speaker.

“-ad me worried! You could’ve been dead in a ditch, or worse! I’m happy that you’re happy and having a good time, but you need to be safe! Wait- that sounded weird, I meant physically safe. But that kinda safe too!” Her roommate’s, well warranted, rant continues, leaving you both struggling to breathe from the laughter you try to hide.

Melissa takes a deep breath to compose herself, “Jacob, again, I’m sorry. Wasn’t looking at my phone, but I’ll be better about it.”

“Cross your heart!” The sixth grade teacher was clearly not playing games.

Despite him not being able to see her, Melissa actually draws an X on her chest, “cross my heart.”

Laughing inwardly, you leave Melissa to speak with Jacob as you pad around the room, grabbing your clothes for the day. You feel eyes on you as you move, chest warming under her affection. Peeking over your shoulder as you go down the hall to the bathroom, you send her a wink that makes her grin.

When she finally hangs up with Jacob, Melissa flops back onto the bed, mulling things over in her mind. Telling her friends about you couldn’t be so bad, could it? Starting slow could help, but that means starting at home, and Jacob’s mouth is far too big to keep anything to himself. Telling Barbara will be easy, she already knows about you, just not current events.

She knows that Barbara will love you, that you will love Barbara. Deep down she knows the two of you would be two peas in a pod, and the thought of that alone makes Melissa want to throw caution to the wind. As much as she hates to admit it, acceptance of you from Jacob is something that weighs on her. He’ll probably be obsessed with you, and you don’t even have to say how much you want to meet him, she already knows. It could be so easy.

The spiral in her mind comes to a halt when she hears the bathroom door open. Suddenly feeling full of energy, a giddiness in her bones, she jumps out of bed to find you. Finding you in front of the microwave, reheating your coffee, she wraps her arms around your waist. The light squeeze you receive makes you smile, turning in her grasp to face her, arms encircling her neck.

“Hey, you,” you say, fingers twirling her hair.

“Hey, yourself,” she doesn’t even try to hide the lovesick look on her face, “I’ve got a proposition for ya.”

You snort, “you’re propositioning me?”

“Don’t even,” a hand playfully pinches your side, “it’s a serious question.” The little grin on your face drops, and Melissa can feel your hands freeze where they play with her curls. “Not super serious… just wondering if you’d wanna meet them? Barb, Jacob, maybe the others?

“You want that?” She nods immediately. “Are you sure?” She nods again. “Then, okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

—☽—

How on Earth was she ever nervous about this? Seriously, how?

Janine had invited most of Abbott to her shoebox of an apartment for an end of year party, cleverly inviting Melissa and Barbara over early to get them in a cleaning mood. Everyone else wasn’t supposed to arrive for another half hour, you included. Melissa asked you to come later, hoping that there was less of a chance you’d be grilled if you arrived when the party was more full.

Forty sardines with master’s degrees fill the apartment, and Melissa is still finding little things around the place that need to be dusted and wiped down, but her momentum entirely ends when her phone buzzes in her pocket. Nearly dropping the vase in her hands, she fishes her phone out.

Peluche: i think i’m here

Peluche: the bouncer?? won’t let me in

An amused sigh passes her lips as she swerves through the sea of bodies to get to the front door, seeing Mr. Johnson with his arm barring the door.

“Mr. J, let them in,” Melissa laughs out, patting the man’s shoulder. He turns to look at her with scrutinizing eyes, but lowers his arm to allow space for you.

An arm wraps itself around your waist, immediately pulling you into her space, filling your senses with honey and the distinct smell of foundation on her skin. Guiding you carefully, trying to keep anyone from getting too close to you, she brings you over to where Barbara is fussing over a bookshelf. With a tap on the shoulder, the kindergarten teacher turns to Melissa before brown eyes land on you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen someone so excited to see you in your entire life, and you don’t even know this woman.

“By the good lord’s graces,” she gasps at her own outburst, thrusting out her hand for you. “I’m sorry dear, it is lovely to meet you. I’m Barbara.”

Shaking her hand, you reply, “lovely to meet you, too. I’m-”

“Oh, I know exac-”

“Barb!” Melissa cuts in, pinching the bridge of her nose. Your hand rubs her arm, trying to keep her from blowing a gasket, even if you’re fighting giggles next to her. Her attention falls back on you, all annoyance fading, “you want a drink?”

You nod, feeling her already beginning to tug you away. Rushing your words, you speak to Barbara, “it was nice meeting you!”

“You too, sweetheart. I’ll see you at brunch next week, I’m sure,” Barbara chuckles warmly. Accepting that this was the closest thing she’ll get to an introduction with Melissa.

Staying behind you with hands on your hips to guide you, Melissa leads you towards the kitchen. Everything feels like it’s underwater, with her hands on you, protective and, dare you say, possessive. For someone who had been nervous for days about you meeting everyone, she sure had no care in the world now. Quietly, next to your ear, you hear her counting down from five. Just as she hits one, a squeal pierces your eardrums.

“Oh my gosh. Oh. My. Gosh!” The voice is immediately recognizable to the one that had been lecturing the redhead over the phone in your bedroom only a few weeks ago. “Hi, hi, I’m Jacob, I work with Melissa at Abbott.”

“Also lecture her, from what I heard,” you joke, making Jacob pause.

Without a chance to blink, Jacob jumps up and down, “so you’re where she’s been lately!” Both you and Melissa wince and the sheer volume of it, but recover quickly when he calms, suddenly quiet and scanning you over, “you better be careful, not for her sake, but yours.”

There’s no malice in his words, it’s a pure warning. From the look on his face, it’s entirely about what he’ll do if she gets hurt, not what Melissa would do to you. From behind you, the redhead’s brows scrunch, mostly out of confusion, ready to tell Jacob off for talking to you like that. She feels guilty, she’s the one who messed everything up before, she deserves the questioning of her worthiness.

You take Jacob’s words in stride, “I’m counting on you to set me straight then, if I ever dare to step out of line.”

Jacob’s entire demeanor goes back to normal at your words, looking at Melissa excitedly, “I like them.”

“Yeah, me too. You ain’t special,” she chuckles, hand on your hip tightening, pulling you imperceptibly closer.

Within an hour, most of the partygoers are on the dancefloor, the two of you included. Cups with rum and whatever chaser Janine had left were teetering on spilling, holding your weight against her is all that keeps you from teetering as well. Sea Barbara stays happily to herself with her cardboard cutout dance partner, content to slow dance to the fast paced music. Singing and cheering around you feels far away as your drunken attention refuses to stray from Melissa, her attention staying on you.

It’s increasingly more difficult to not kiss you when you’re this close, but with warm bodies against her at every side, it’s less than ideal. If it were, it would just be the two of you. She’s so close to just asking if you want to get out of here, but she’s interrupted just as she ducks to speak in your ear.

“Melissa! Barbara! You’re supposed to be cleaning!” Janine yells, hands on her hips. You can feel Melissa groan more than you can hear it, loud music almost deafening you in the small apartment. Barbara tries to shoo the shorter woman away, but her drunk state doesn’t hold the same level of authority that it typically does.

“Janine, it’s a party. We’re partying,” Melissa says dismissively. Not once does her hand leave your waist, keeping you from being jostled by other people.

Her speaking up has Janine’s attention back on her, who quickly recognizes your presence. Brown eyes go from your face, to the hands on you, and back to Melissa’s face. Realization and excitement washes over her face, and the chattering that comes from her is hardly heard or understood from the bass boosts and liquor. Flapping hands keep moving as you try your best to gather her words, but she’s running off excitedly before you can even introduce yourself. You watch Janine bounce towards a lanky man, pointing in your direction, clearly telling him that Melissa brought someone.

Chuckling to yourself, you look back to Melissa, whose eyes are already one you. The universe seems to be both with and against her, because just as she tries to speak, the lights go out and the music stops. Warm hands pull you closer in surprise, and you can’t even be upset about your almost empty cup dropping to the floor. Murmurs around you get louder as everyone sits in equal confusion, but Melissa feels her opportunity.

Feeling lips brush your ear, heat rises to your cheeks, “wanna get out of here?”

“God, yes,” you say, shifting your hand from her arm to her hand, interlocking your fingers. Pulling you with her, she quickly gets to Barbara to let her know you’re both leaving, sneakily passing your phone to text Gerald while she gets her friend some water.

By the end of the night, neither of you could even find the energy to change out of your clothes after walking home. Melissa’s apartment being closer was a blessing, you didn’t even register that this was the first time you’ve been there. Neither did Melissa.

Brushing her teeth next to you in the mirror, pulling back sheets on the other side of the bed, becoming your personal pillow the moment you lay on the mattress. It just felt right.

—☽—

Bobbing your head along to Deftones, you mentally map out the drawing you’re supposed to be starting. The measurements they gave you make no sense, especially with the materials they requested. It’s like they’re asking for the building to concave on itself, not to house people. You’d pressed about giving them a consultation, see the inner workings of the old medical office yourself, but they rejected it ‘for time,’ which really means money. Little do they know they’re going to end up costing themselves more.

The song switches from Shove It to Mascara as knocking raps against your door, but they go completely unnoticed to you. So does the voice trying to get your attention without having to tap your shoulder, knowing it sends ten feet in the air in surprise.

“Boss… Boss… Boss!” Terrence gets no response for the third time before looking to the woman on his left, “you’ll have to go get ‘em, I guess. Lunatic keeps the volume to ear bleeding levels so they don’t have to listen to us, I swear.”

Melissa chuckles, “well, thank you anyways, hon. I got it from here.” Moving into the room, she shuts the door behind her, leaning against it to watch you for just a moment.

What she first notices is your button up, or lack thereof, disregarded on a chair on the other side of the room. Selfishly, she lets herself look you up and down, savoring bare arms and the hard look on your face. Melissa finds herself frozen, mind racing with images of you, subconsciously biting her lip as her eyes rake over you. Only pulled out of her mind by a groan that leaves your lips, she wills herself to get closer to you.

With your back still to her, you’re unable to see her slow movements as she tries to sneak up on you. Hands trail up your sides, clutching slightly when she feels you jump at the sudden touch. Turning in her arms, your bewildered expression dies when you meet green eyes, crinkled around the edges in amusement. Catching your breath, you wrap your arms around her neck.

“You scared the shit out of me,” you say softly, “but this is a pleasant surprise.”

“Missed you. I’ve barely seen you all week,” her arms tighten around your waist.

You press your lips together, trying to hide the giddy feeling in your chest that’s spreading, “I’m sorry, they’ve got me practically chained to the desk until this draft is drawn up. Fuckers think it’s easy turning procedure suites into apartments, it’s not.”

“Not your fault, sweetheart,” her lips press to your cheek as she tugs you in, missing holding you, being held by you. “I have dinner with my family tomorrow night, though, so I won’t be around. Just wanted to get my time in with you before I go into withdrawals.”

You laugh at her words, “Withdrawal? Little melodramatic, don’t you think?”

“Me? Never,” she tries to keep a serious face, but her smile overtakes as she watches you roll your eyes lightheartedly.

A finger twirls a copper strand around, voice weary, “tell everyone I said hi?”

“Well…” Melissa’s face drops a little, knowing she hasn’t told her family that you’re back in her life. Her eyes scan your face, seeing the smallest hint of sadness, and hurries to correct it. “You can tell them yourself, if you want.”

The twirling stops, “you mean that? Because you can’t offer that if you don’t mean it.”

“I mean it, I promise,” her hands sit more firmly on you now, “they miss you, they just never mention it. But they do. Especially John Anthony. And Kristin Marie, but she’ll never admit that, even to herself.”

The only answer she received is a strong kiss pressing to her lip, her eyes immediately fluttering shut at the contact. The hand in her hair tightens as your entire body pushes into her, groaning at the feeling of her on you mixing with the emotions of it all. How easily she asked you to come with her, to see her family, to be by her side for real this time. It feels too early to say what you want to at this moment, so you just kiss her harder.

Melissa spent half the day and the entire drive to the house telling you that no, her parents don’t hate you, and that yes, they will be incredibly excited to see you again. She kept the knowledge of your attendance secret, not wanting to be slammed with questions, but mostly because she wanted to see the look on her mother’s face when she saw her favorite not-her-child from all those years ago.

“Are you sure you want me to go? I don’t want to if you only offered because you felt like you had to. If I’m impos-”

“You’re not imposing,” she almost whispers as she cradles your face, “I want you there. It hasn’t felt the same since you stopped coming.”

Pressing kissing to your knuckles every now and then, Melissa manages to take some of the anxiety off your shoulders. Turning onto the familiar street, you immediately sit up straighter in your seat, checking your outfit and fiddling with everything, desperate to pick off lint that isn’t even there. Melissa lets it go, knowing there’s no stopping this. Part of her feels guilty, knowing she’s the reason that you felt they could hate you, that they wouldn’t be happy to see you. All she ever told them was you had a mutual falling out, never that it was her fault, especially not that it was yours.

Pulling up in front of the house, Melissa’s fingers tighten around yours. Looking up at her, you see the silent question in her eyes, giving her a nod that tells her you’re fine. To prove yourself, you hop out of the car to jog to her side, opening the door for her with a grin. Shaking her head with a half-hidden smile on her lips, she takes your offered hand and pulls you into her, walking with you to the door.

No knocking required, Melissa steps in first, only letting go of your hand for a brief moment to shrug off your jackets before her hand is back in yours. Chattering in the kitchen leads you to where everyone stands or sits, sipping on beers and white wine. Clearing her throat, Melissa gets the attention of the room. Silence fills the previously loud air.

“Yooooo!” You hear someone yell, a voice that you recognize all too well. Without a moment’s notice, you’re immediately tackled, hand being ripped from Melissa’s. You hug the person back, still trying to figure out exactly who it is, but the exaggerated leaning side-to-side gives you everything. Little John Anthony isn’t so little anymore, not that he ever really was.

Feeling another body against you, one arm reaches behind to give some level of contact as acknowledgement. Slowly people let go of you while others come in, and all you can feel is glad that everything is so busy, no one will see the happy tears forming in your eyes. Annette’s noodle arms let go of you, moving as she feels a tap on her back. When she moves, Melissa’s mother stands before you.

“Finally,” she says, cradling your face in her soft hands, “I knew you’d be back.” Patting your cheek, she finally moves out of the way for others to get a hold of you. Melissa can barely see you most of the night, but the warmth in her chest grows every time she sees you talking with someone new, hugging someone else as you talk. Kristin Marie hides her excitement well, but not well enough, though you let her get away with hugging you tightly without saying anything about it.

By dinner time, everyone’s been reacquainted with your presence, and Melissa can finally get her hands on you again. Scooching her chair closer, she mumbles in your ear while the conversation carries around the table.

“Told you, nothing to worry about,” her hand squeezes your thigh reassuringly.

“I missed them,” you say, running your fingers up and down her arm, “I missed this.”

Family dinner ends the way it always does, with everyone talking in the living room, sipping coffee or the remainder of their drinks. You take your place next to Melissa on the couch, leaning your head on her shoulder as she talks to Toni about something you can’t remember. You haven’t felt this at peace in so long, you missed your family. Annette and Vinny fighting, music playing from the TV, chattering around you in a mix of Italian and English, it’s comforting.

Looking up from your perch on her shoulder, you keep your eyes on Melissa. Watching her hands move as she speaks, how happy she looks, how beautiful she is. Turning slightly to put her glass on the table, she catches your gaze, the corners of her lips going up as she catches the lovesick look on your face. Fully knowing she’s being watched, fully feeling the warmth in her cheeks, she leans in to press a soft kiss to your lips. Careful to not linger long, she pulls away and goes back to her conversation with her sister.

No more hiding.

—☽—

“Am I buying groceries for two people or three this week?” You ask as you walk into the kitchen, fidgeting with the pen in your hand,

“Mmm… Jacob mentioned maybe stopping by tomorrow night, so probably three,” Melissa answers, looking through the pantry, “and we need potatoes, I forgot to write that down.”

“Red ones?” You joke, coming up behind her to press your lips to the junction of her neck. Leaning her head back onto your shoulder, she lets you continue your path up her neck to her jaw, nipping at her ear. “I gotta get going before they close,” Melissa whines at the loss of contact, “I’ll be quick, might not even pay.”

She chuckles warmly, scrunching her nose, “right, sure you won’t, goodie-two-shoes.”

Pulling away, you jot down russets and give her another kiss, this one to her lips. “I love you,” you mumble as you part, “see you in a bit.”

The moment the front door shuts, the once cozy and nonchalant Melissa is replaced by a frenzied and excited one. Flying around the house, she begins to put her plan in place. Tealights are placed everywhere, the lighter checked for fuel, the small box from under her socks now buried in her pocket, she just had to open the bottle of Angel’s Envy. It took an embarrassing number of different liquor stores to find, but that was months ago, and this is now.

Melissa lights the last candle just as she hears your car door slam shut, then the trunk. Staying out of direct view, she watches you come in the door, looking at your feet as you walk. You’re in your own little world, completely walking through to the kitchen, dropping the bags off. Making your way into the living room, you almost drop the bouquet in your hands.

Candles all around the room, music playing softly from the record player, Melissa wearing your sweater. Your jaw drops, eyes wide as you stare at the redhead, utterly bewildered. She takes the chance to step a little closer, watery smile stretching across her face as you shakily hold out red chrysanthemums. Taking them carefully, she sets them on the table, grabbing your hand to pull you with her. Soft eyes watch her every movement, letting her move you around until you’re where she wants you.

“I love you,” Melissa says quietly, shifting from the couch to the floor, “I’ve loved you since the day I met you, and I haven’t stopped once. Even when I didn’t know, I loved you. When I wouldn’t listen to my own brain, I loved you. When I thought I couldn’t, I loved you.”

“Mel…” Your voice comes out cracked, a wobbly lip stuck between smiling and sobbing.

“Let me finish, baby,” she says softly, stroking the hand she holds in her own, “you are everything to me, and it took me too long to figure that out. But now, I’m not taking a single thing for granted, not you, never you.” Melissa reaches into her back pocket, pulling out a small, emerald box, “I wish I could’ve had you my whole life, but all I can ask you for is the rest of it.”

Tears spill down your cheeks at her words, fingers clinging to her hand like a life source. You so badly want to reach out, cup her face, and kiss her, her words playing the strings of your heart, but you refrain. Too much restraint goes into not pouncing on her the second she pulled out the ring box, your lips practically begging to be on hers already. You can’t help the frown on your face when Melissa’s hand leaves you, properly holding the ring to present it to you.

“Will you marry me?” The smile on her lips only grows as she asks, knowing what you’ll say just based on the look you give her.

What she doesn’t account for was that all your restraint would break, and she’s knocked to the floor as you pepper her face with kisses, lips smacking against her skin. Moving from her forehead, to her cheeks, and finally, to her lips. All love, all want, all devotion, all you.

“Yes, yes,” you answer quickly, lips barely parting from hers, “God, I love you. I love you so much.”

Chuckling at your overexcited babbling, she manages to sit you both up, keeping you in her lap. A warm hand pulls your left hand from her face, sliding the ring on without taking her eyes off of you. Your hand immediately goes back to her face, pulling her into your kiss once more.

Morning back pain be damned, neither of you leave the floor of the living room the rest of the night. Waking up with your heart beating under her ear is all the consolation she needs, your newly ringed hand in hers.

At the next family dinner, all the cousins take one peek at your hand, eyes widening. Melissa and you both brace for shouting and to be lifted in the air by one of her brothers, but you were wrong. Maria Christina groans as she passes a twenty over to Seamus, who was getting handed money by at least four other people. He peeks up to see a very shocked you and Melissa.

“What? We all saw it coming, I just picked the right week. Ma said tomorrow.”

note: time for sol’s monthly novel <3 hope you enjoyed

feedback appreciated as always

[skeletondeerart]

Sacred Waters, Sacred Hearts Chapter 8

A Male OC! Metkayina x Fem Human! Reader | Word Count: 2160 words

Masterlist & join the taglist

A/N: Both Rukan and reader are in their mid 20's | ALSO sorry I fell of the face of the planet for like a month... life is busy. ANYway, time for the Rukan and the reader to reunite!!! Some exciting stuff this chapter :)

" " = direct speech | ' ' = Metkayina sign language | Bold = English

POV (Y/N)

The lab lights bathed everything in a pale, sterile light. I followed closely behind Norm, who was in his human body, as he took me into the room housing the avatar tanks. My eyes flitted over Grace’s avatar suspended in the solution with a melancholic gaze. Yet on this occasion, I wasn’t here to voice my respects… I was here to view my avatar for the first time.

Norm gestures to the final tank in the room, multiple monitors were set up to display the avatar’s vital signs - temperature, pulse, breathing, and blood pressure all of which were shown in green text so I knew everything was going smoothly. I tentatively approach, my reflection bouncing off the curved glass of the cylindrical tank. I stepped closer, my heart thudding against my ribs as I peered into the solution. There, floating in the gentle currents, was her, or me I guess - the infant form of my Metkayina avatar. 

Her tiny form bore a broad chest and long limbs with wide forearm fins built for the harsh waters of Pandora. The solution nudged her slightly as her face lulled to face me, the resemblance was uncanny, she had my face shape, the same lips even the same lashes and some faint eyebrows… it was starting to feel real. Her rippling markings were slowly emerging, they were faint right now but I knew they would gain their colour as she grew. She was beautiful, my eyes became misty as I watched her ebb with the gentle push and pull of the solution. All I ever wanted was to reach my hand into the tank and caress the short inky strands sprouting from her scalp.

Her chest fluttered with practising ‘breaths’ as the umbilical cord pulsed with life, her small webbed fingers twitched slightly like she was dreaming. I pressed my hand against the glass, not caring if I left handprints on the pristine glass, my fingers splaying out as if I could somehow reach her… cradle her in my arms… bond with her. She was so small, so fragile, yet so full of potential. My throat tightened as the weight of it hit me - this was my future, I could bond with Pandora as Eywa intended. I couldn't help but dream of the day I would swim with her… as her. But right now, she was just a delicate promise suspended in a tank, waiting for her to take her first breath, first dive… and I will be ready for her when that time comes.

I’m pulled from my stupor by Norm’s gentle voice. “Beautiful isn’t she, not a single complication. She's growing strong and healthy. I can see your features in her already.” he stated with a warm accomplished smile. “We have worked tirelessly to ensure she's developing correctly. Her lungs are on track, her fins are enlarging daily, and her tail is beginning to develop its paddle. Vital signs are steady. She’s one healthy baby girl!” Norm proudly rattles off the diagnostics from his tablet. His excitement is infectious. I grin, unable to take my eyes off her. Eighteen months to go… I think, mentally counting down the days. 

POV Rukan

The waves lapped at my feet as I carved another tally mark into a shell with my knife. Three weeks have passed since (Y/N) was taken for treatment and I began to grow restless. The days seem to drag on longer now that she’s gone, weeks stretching into the next with the same endless monotony. I’m staring out in the direction of the Omaticaya Clan more often than I’d like to admit, my gaze always drawn to the horizon where the forest meets the beach. Somewhere out there (Y/N) is recovering, but every moment without her feels like I’m desperately swimming to the surface trying to catch my breath, just waiting for her to return.

I can still hear her laugh - soft and genuine. She made everything feel… lighter, she could make any boring task the most fun I’ve ever had. Without her, the ocean feels quieter. Even Säyani’s presence, usually so overwhelming, can’t fill the space she left behind in my mind.

I shake my head pushing my damp fringe from my eyes. I was frustrated with myself. I’m being foolish. She’s only been gone three weeks. But the time apart has made me realise how much I’ve come to rely on her steady presence.

Yet all I can do is wait, watch the tides roll in and out, and hope that Eywa brings her back to me soon.

“Ru! Come out with us!” My ears prick up at Säyani’s voice ringing out. I sigh as I sheathe my knife pushing myself to stand with a groan, my feet tingle after sitting cross-legged for an hour now just reminiscing.

“Coming,” I say unenthusiastically as I pick up a light jog to meet with her little group of girls. I could tell they were trying to impress me. It didn't feel genuine. I flash a polite smile, unconvinced as Säyani eagerly took my hand into her own and dragged us over to a pod of Ilu. I bond with one and we all set out deeper into the reef. The girls do tricks and show off, seawater cascading around them elegantly as they breach the surface. I can’t help but have some fun as I urge my Ilu to leap into the air and splash causing a wave to wash over the girls. My chest rumbles with laughter as I watch them cry in surprise tumbling off their Ilu’s in a flurry of limbs. 

"Rukan!" Arohi squeals, her voice light with amusement. She’s already half-submerged, her legs sticking awkwardly above the water. Her short ponytail floats behind her, and a playful smile dances on her lips. Her pale markings crease with joy.

"Rukaann!" Tsevi yells, her voice high-pitched with mock annoyance. Her thigh-length goddess braids are tangled from the tumble, she glares at me with her piercing pale eyes contrasting greatly against her rich markings. She scowls, but I can see the glimmer of competition in her, eager to get me back.

"I hate you, Ru!" Säyani exclaims, her headpiece askew, shooting me an exaggerated pout. She swims up to me, her movements sharp with determination as she throws a half-hearted punch toward my shoulder. As it connects, I laugh it off. Her arms flail in the water as she splashes me back, grinning despite herself. “Alright girls, let's head off” She huffed “Ru is being a pain anyways-” She ordered as the girls rolled their eyes and swam down the reef wall with Säyani. My gaze soon drifted across the ocean towards (Y/N)’s mauri and I couldn’t help but urge my Ilu forward as if drawn in by a siren’s call.  

The familiar waters gave way to the beach where her mauri resided. I expected it to still be in ruin but was taken back to see a shiny new pod standing on the shore and the debris cleared. It was like nothing ever happened, I went up to investigate only to see tawtute boot print marks in the wet sand and I hummed in curiosity. They were here recently. I crouched down tracing the strange prints before the clattering of helicopter blades abruptly pulled me from my thoughts. I dove off the pier into the waves in a mindless panic. My teal skin blended seamlessly into the waters as I hid in the corals. My eyes widen as I watch the helicopter land with a thud. But to my surprise, a familiar face steps down onto the sandy shore, she brushes stray hairs from her mask as she turns to stare at the ocean.

My breath caught in my throat as the figure turned around, allowing me to catch a glimpse of her features. The sun beat down, basking her in an ethereal glow. (Y/N). She had finally returned to me.

For a moment,  my body floated motionless as if I was paralysed. She looked like the girl I bid goodbye to just a few weeks ago, yet she seemed to hold herself in a new light - like she carried a newfound weight. My fingers clutched the coral as she took a slow, hesitant step forward, scanning the beach like she wasn’t sure she was welcome here after such a long time.

I should have rushed forward and called her name. But something held me back. I had spent so long imagining this moment, picturing the day she would return to me. Now that she was here, my chest tightened with something I couldn’t name.

Then, her gaze flickered to the water, her brows furrowing as she squinted through the water. My cover was blown as I stared at her through the water like a stunned mullet.

“Rukan?” she called, her voice cutting through the roar of the helicopter blades with an excited lilt.

I exhaled sharply as bubbles rose to the surface. Pushing off the coral, I swam toward her. The water dripped from my skin as I pulled myself onto the shore, furiously racking my fingers through my curls trying desperately to make myself more presentable. My teal fingers sink into the damp sand as I push myself to stand before her. 

(Y/N) stood there, hands on her hips, a lopsided grin tugging at her lips. For a moment, neither of us spoke. My mouth opened, yet no words came out.

The silence shattered as she spoke with a grin. “You should see your face right now Ru.”

I blink owlishly, my tail flicking behind me in embarrassment. “I-” I start trying to defend myself.

“I was gonna surprise you, you know,” she teased, crossing her arms. “But I guess you beat me to it… I didn’t expect to see you lurking here.”

I scoffed, crossing my arms with a pout. “I wasn’t lurking… I was just on patrol.” I stammered out trying to make a believable excuse for why I was out this far. 

“Oh, you liar.” She said jutting her hip out “You were snooping” she scolded, wagging her finger at me with a knowing grin. Rocking on her heels as she eyed me up and down. “Still my handsome boy, I see.”

Heat crept up my neck as I whipped my head around, astonished at her brazen words. flustered. I pretended to pick the sand from under my nails so I didn't have to look at her teasing grin. Soon we both fell silent as we listened to the lapping waves, the helicopter already far into the distance. 

After another beat of silence, I let out a drawn-out sigh. 

“You… came back,” I mumbled, looking at my feet. Unable to bear watching her crestfallen expression.

“Why wouldn’t I? I promised I’d come back.” She murmured concerned, I peered through my lashes as I watched her curl into herself, unsure where this conversation was going.

“I- uh I don’t know. I thought maybe you would like to be with the other tawtute more than being with me and would decide to stay… ah, don’t listen to me.” I stumble out trying to back out and make her forget about this conversation, I take a step back running my hand down my face angry at myself and how I openly expressed my baseless anxieties like that.

“Oh Ru…” she said softly, her teasing tone faded into something empathetic. “I’ll always come back for you… This is my home, the ocean… and you”

Something thick settled in my throat, an unspoken weight pressing between us as I raised my head to meet her eyes. I wanted to say something - anything - but all that came out was a strangled whimper.

“Why didn’t you tell me of your return?”

(Y/N) winced. “Well, I wanted to. But I had no way of contacting you remember? so I thought it’d be a nice surprise?” She gestured around vaguely trying to find the right words. “Didn’t think I’d nearly give you a heart attack, though.”

I huffed, shaking my head. “You are impossible.”

She grinned. “Yeah, but you missed me anyway.”

My ears flicked, and I tried to keep my face neutral, but the warmth in my chest betrayed me. “A little.”

“Just a little huh?” She laughed, almost stepping forward before hesitating like she wasn’t sure if she should hug me. I took matters into my own hands and strode up to her, embracing her tightly and lifting her to my chest. Her feet dangled but she couldn’t help but huff humorously wrapping her arms around my neck melting into me almost instantly.

“I really did miss you,” she mumbled into my chest.

I sighed, pressing my chin to the top of her head. “I know, me too.”

And just like that, the world felt right again. Just like Eywa intended.

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[bigbadbatch]

Reputations | Fives x Reader Friends to lovers • taken but yearning • slow burn tension • soft regrets

You're spoken for. At least, that's what everyone thinks. But it's hard to keep pretending when he's always there— and the way he looks at you like you’re the only one in the galaxy.

----

Clone Wars era | reader-insert | angst, banter, and emotional confusion | featuring just a little too much Fives - eventual smut but it's a slow burn so.

Chapter 1: Gorgeous

“Still nothing?”

The bluish glow of the holo-call reflects off Kylei’s face, her features drawn tight with concern. It only makes the pit in your stomach worse.

“Nothing,” you say, voice flat, trying not to let it shake. “I’m sure he’s just… busy.”

Kylei scoffs, loud and ungraceful. “It’s been a month. No comms. No holos. Nothing but radio silence. Babe, I think it’s time to call it.”

You shift on your couch, curling your feet under you and hugging a throw pillow to your chest like it might keep your insides from crumbling. “He wouldn’t just ghost me. Something must be going on.”

Rylan, your boyfriend of nearly a year, was stationed on Alderaan three months ago. At first, the distance hadn’t seemed so bad. You kept in touch—daily comms, sappy holos, little messages between his briefings. Then the calls slowed… and stopped altogether. Two weeks ago, you’d even commed his base commander in a moment of desperation.

“Currently in a meeting,” the officer had told you curtly. “But I’ll let him know you reached out.”

Still nothing.

Now Kylei’s looking at you like you’re breaking in real time. Maybe you are.

“Do you think I did something wrong?” you whisper, more to yourself than her.

“I’m coming over.”

“No!” You sit up straight, stopping her with a raised hand. “I have work in an hour. I’ll be fine. I need to get ready anyway.”

Kylei doesn’t look convinced, but she backs off. “We’re going out tonight. That’s an order.”

You salute with a sad smile. “Yes, General.”

She returns the gesture with a mock scowl and flicks off the holo. The light disappears, and so does the illusion of comfort. You stare at your comm unit one more time out of habit, even though you already know—he hasn’t reached out.

A sigh escapes your lips as you stand and get ready. Pressed uniform greys, hair up, expression neutral. You're good at that. Holding it together. Pretending. You take one last look in the mirror before stepping out the door and heading to GAR Headquarters.

—

The mood inside is different—familiar and comforting in a way your apartment no longer is. It’s not cold or sterile like some parts of Coruscant. Here, the headquarters buzzes with organized chaos. Voices carry, boots echo, datapads hum with quiet life. This is where you feel useful. This is where you belong.

You cradle a stack of datapads against your chest as you make your way to the main briefing room. Another long day of mission simulations and risk assessments. As a strategist for the Grand Army of the Republic, it’s your job to think ahead—to see threats before they happen and make sure others don’t have to feel the kind of helplessness you’re feeling now.

You work with various units, but lately you've been split between the 212th and the 501st. The difference is stark. The 212th is precise, professional—quiet, even. The 501st? They’re chaos and camaraderie and charm wrapped up in scuffed armor. And in the case of one ARC trooper in particular—dangerously charming.

You settle in at the round table just as the doors hiss open.

“Morning,” Captain Rex says with a curt nod.

“Morning,” Echo adds with a warmer smile.

You return it. “Good to see you both. Aren’t we missing—”

The door whooshes open again. “Sorry, sorry! I’m here!”

Fives.

He moves like he’s got a sunbeam trapped behind his ribs—fast and bright and impossible not to look at. He grins at you, all teeth and dimples, and your stomach does that awful fluttering thing it always does when he’s around.

You give him a quick nod, hoping your face doesn’t betray you. He slides into the seat beside you like it’s his second home.

It kind of is. You’ve noticed that. No matter how early he arrives or how late he’s running, he always ends up in that chair. Next to you.

Six months ago, Fives and Echo joined these briefings after being promoted to ARC troopers. In that time, they’ve become more than colleagues. You’d like to think they’re your friends. Fives especially. You’ve shared late-night caf during long campaign planning sessions, exchanged glances that lingered just a moment too long, laughed over inside jokes that neither of you bothered explaining to the others.

But he’s never crossed a line.

He flirts—but only in the way that Fives flirts with everyone. Teasing. Playful. Safe.

Sometimes you catch him watching you when he thinks you’re not looking. And sometimes—when you're feeling especially foolish—you let yourself wish he would cross that line. If things were different… if you weren’t technically taken…

You shift in your seat and force your attention back to the mission reports. Focus. Breathe. Be professional.

But beside you, Fives leans back in his chair with that signature smirk, nudges your boot lightly under the table, and says, “Hey, Gorgeous. You ready to tear these numbers apart?”

Your heart does a little lurch.

“Born ready,” you say, and try not to sound breathless.

Because the truth is—no matter how badly things are falling apart with Rylan, no matter how long the silence stretches, you aren’t ready.

Not for what it might mean to let go.

And not for what it might mean if you don’t.

The briefing flies by in a blur of tactical reports and holomaps, the minutes slipping through your fingers faster than you realize. When you finally glance up from the datapad in front of you, the session is wrapping and the three troopers are already on their feet.

Rex thanks you with a nod, already deep in conversation with Echo about flank positioning. Echo offers you another quick smile before trailing after him, his voice disappearing down the hall.

But Fives lingers.

He doesn’t rush. He never does with you.

“Hey,” he says, stepping closer, voice low and easy. “I know I’ve asked before, but I’m not giving up on getting you out of this office at least once. Come out with me and the boys tonight.”

There it is—that grin again. The one that makes your pulse skip like a scratched holo-track. You nearly blush, caught off guard by the invitation and the casual way he leans on the edge of the table like he belongs there.

“I… actually have plans tonight,” you manage.

He groans dramatically, throwing his head back with a grin. “Yeah—with me. Or us, rather.” His hand gestures vaguely, as if the whole battalion is included in this mythical night out. “Come on, please. One night. If not tonight, then just say you’ll come out with us sometime. We’re well-behaved, I promise. Mostly.”

You chuckle despite yourself. “Okay, Fives. I promise. Just… not tonight.”

He studies you for a beat, like he’s trying to decide whether you mean it. Whether you’re really busy… or dodging him.

“Rylan in town?” he asks, and the question comes too casual to be innocent.

You hesitate just long enough for it to show.

“I still haven’t had the pleasure of meeting him,” he adds with a smirk, crossing his arms over his chest.

You look down at the datapad you’ve already shut off. “No, not tonight. Just going out with a friend—Kylei. I think you’ve met her?”

The smirk fades just a little. Fives nods, slower this time. “Yeah. Gotcha.”

Something unreadable flickers behind his eyes before he schools his expression back into something breezy. “Well… guess we’ll try again some other time.”

You offer a soft smile. “I’m holding you to that ‘well-behaved’ part.”

Fives lets out a laugh, light and low, and gives you a mock salute as he backs toward the door.

“With me? Always.”

Then he’s gone, striding out of the room with the kind of effortless confidence that makes your heart ache and your stomach twist in ways you wish it wouldn’t.

You’re left standing there, the room quieter than before, like the air shifted the moment he walked out.

And maybe it did.

—

Kylei is a bombshell. Always has been, always will be. She struts through your hallway in a sparkling silver dress that barely reaches mid-thigh, catching the light with every step like a walking disco ball.

Meanwhile, you’re holding up a navy wrap dress in front of your body, already feeling overdressed—and underconfident.

Kylei takes one look and groans. “Ugh, no. Absolutely not.”

Before you can protest, she’s barging into your room and yanking open your closet doors like she owns the place.

“Kylei—”

She ignores you, flipping through hangers with ruthless efficiency. “You have good taste, you just don’t use it.” Her fingers pause on a slinky black number tucked way in the back.

She pulls it out with a victorious gasp. “This. This is the one.”

“No way,” you say instantly, shaking your head. “That’s not a bar dress, that’s a... regret dress.”

“That’s a show him what he lost dress,” Kylei says, tossing it onto the bed. “You’re wearing it.”

You hesitate. You’d never even worn it around Rylan. It had felt too bold, too loud. Too much.

But maybe that’s what tonight calls for. Something louder than the ache in your chest. Something bolder than the silence he left behind.

Lips pressed in a tight line, you slide into the dress. The fabric clings in all the right places. It’s daring. It’s sleek. It’s a version of you you’ve only ever imagined being.

Heels come next—wobbly, but they match—and Kylei gets to work on your hair. She fluffs and pins and smooths until she steps back with a proud grin.

“There she is,” she whispers like unveiling a masterpiece. “Now let’s go.”

You hesitate again. “Where are we even going?”

“Just a bar-club hybrid I heard about from a friend. You’ll like it,” she says, already halfway to the door. “Trust me.”

You arrive outside of the club a short speeder ride later. The building pulses with sound, neon lights flickering across the dark street. A glowing teal sign hums above the door:

79’s

Something about the name tugs at your memory.

You frown. “Wait… 79’s. That sounds—”

“C’mon!” Kylei grabs your wrist and yanks you toward the entrance. “I need a drink, and so do you.”

You barely have time to protest before the doors slide open and the music swallows you whole.

The inside is a sensory overload. Lights flash in rhythmic waves across the room. A DJ spins a mix of upbeat tracks over heavy bass, and the scent of spicewine and fried food clings to the air. The place is packed—and not with the usual Coruscanti nightlife crowd.

Clones. Everywhere.

Some in civvies, others half-dressed in off-duty armor pieces. Helmets on the bar, boots kicked off, drinks in hand. They’re laughing, flirting, dancing—so many of them, blending seamlessly with civilians who clearly know this is the spot to meet a trooper or two.

Your stomach twists.

Of course. 79’s. You’d heard the name in passing from GAR personnel—it’s the off-duty bar where clones unwind between missions. You’d just never connected the dots.

And now you’re here with the ghost of a relationship haunting your every move.

Kylei doesn’t notice your hesitation. She grabs your hand again and weaves you both through the crowd toward the bar. The music is too loud to talk over, but she orders you both drinks with a wink to the bartender.

You take yours without question and sip, hoping the burn will dull your nerves.

It doesn’t take long—three minutes, maybe—for Kylei to strike up a conversation with a cute Twi’lek in a leather vest. They're laughing, already halfway through their drinks, her body language open and easy. She’s in her element.

You… are not.

At least the music is good.

You let the beat pulse through your chest, sinking into it as best you can. Eyes closed, you down the rest of your drink in one long pull, willing the warmth to burn away your nerves. The buzz in your limbs makes you feel loose, maybe even confident.

Or maybe that’s just the alcohol lying to you.

You don’t hear him approach—but you feel it.

A warm presence at your side. Close. Confident. Familiar.

“Well, look what we have here.”

Your eyes fly open.

“Fives?”

He grins, and Maker, that grin should be illegal. “Looks like you decided to come out with me after all.”

You can’t help but laugh, surprised and flustered all at once. “Pure coincidence.”

“Mmhmm.” He lifts a hand and flags the bartender with practiced ease. “What are you drinking?”

You glance down at your empty glass. “No idea. I didn’t order it.”

For a second, something flickers in his eyes—surprise, maybe even something bordering on protectiveness.

“People buying you drinks already?” he says, voice low. “Then I definitely owe you one.”

You smile as he hands you something darker than your last. Stronger too, by the smell of it.

“Where’s your friend?” he asks, eyes scanning the crowd.

You turn to look, only to spot Kylei halfway into her new Twi’lek friend’s lap, laughing as she twirls the straw in her drink.

You smirk. “Occupied.”

Fives chuckles. “Then come join us—Echo’s just over here.”

His hand lands gently on the small of your back as he guides you through the crowd, and the heat that blooms in your chest has nothing to do with the drink. His touch is easy, but grounding—like he does it without thinking.

You slide into a booth tucked into a corner of the bar. Echo greets you with a bright grin and a quick side hug. Two other troopers sit beside him, deep in some rowdy story, gesturing wildly with their hands.

Fives settles in next to you, and the booth suddenly feels much smaller. He throws one arm across the back of the seat—casual, but close. The press of his thigh against yours is warm, steady.

You try not to smile.

It’s friendly. You think.

Conversation starts to swirl—jokes, war stories, teasing remarks that make you feel like you belong. The drinks keep coming, and little by little, time slips away. You're lighter now, floatier. Giggly. The edges of everything feel a little softer.

At some point, you realize you’re leaning into Fives more than you meant to. His arm is still behind you, and he hasn’t pulled away. If anything, he’s leaning closer too.

You could stay in this moment forever.

Until someone else tries to crash it.

A large Togruta man leans over the booth, crowding into your space. “Need another drink, beautiful?” he asks, eyebrows waggling as his grin stretches too wide.

Before you can react, Fives straightens beside you.

“She’s taken, bud,” he says firmly.

And then—he barks.

A sharp, playful bark, followed by a low growl like a protective Loth-wolf. It’s ridiculous. Completely absurd. And it sends the entire table into chaos.

The clones burst out laughing. Even you can’t help it—you double over with giggles, the tension gone in an instant.

“You’re such an idiot,” you manage between laughs, swatting Fives lightly on the arm.

He just grins, pleased with himself. “What can I say? Gotta keep the strays away.”

The moment is golden—bubbly and warm. Until Echo’s voice cuts through.

“Gotta protect your honor,” he says with a smile. “I’m sure Rylan would appreciate it.”

The name lands like a weight in your lap.

You go still. The smile slips from your face, and you feel the shift in Fives too—his arm drops from your shoulders, the space between you stretching.

“Yeah,” you say softly.

Neither of you looks at each other.

Before the silence can settle too thickly, Kylei stumbles up to the table, her glittering dress catching the light.

“What’s with all the barking?” she slurs, bracing herself on the edge of the booth.

The table erupts into laughter again, the tension dissolving beneath the noise. You manage a shy smile, your voice barely above the music.

“Ready to go?” you ask.

She nods dramatically, already digging for her comm.

Fives stands and slides out of the booth, offering you his hand to help you up. You’re a little too quick on your feet—and nearly tumble into him.

He catches you, hands firm on your waist, steadying you with ease.

“Let me grab you lovely ladies a speeder,” he says, glancing at Kylei with a wink.

But his eyes find yours again before he steps away.

And there’s something there.

Something unsaid.

Something you’re too afraid—and maybe too buzzed—to name.

In the hush of early morning, the streets are quieter, the music from 79’s now a distant thrum. Speeder lights glow soft against the pavement, casting fleeting shadows as one slows to a stop in front of you.

Fives hails it with a raised hand and a soft whistle, and Kylei stumbles in without hesitation, already kicking off her heels as she sinks into the seat. You move to follow her, still riding the last waves of the night—light, tipsy, a little overwhelmed.

Just as your hand brushes the doorframe, fingers wrap gently around your wrist.

You stop, breath catching.

Fives is looking at you. Not grinning. Not smirking.

Looking.

“Let me know when you get home safe, yeah?” His voice is soft—low, almost intimate.

You nod, unable to form words. He holds your gaze for one more second before he lets go, and gently closes the speeder door behind you.

As the vehicle pulls away, you sit back in your seat and realize your whole body is buzzing. Your heart’s pounding like you’ve just come off a battlefield, not a night out.

Kylei is already halfway asleep, head leaning against the window with a small, contented sigh.

You stare straight ahead, the city lights blurring past outside, and wonder: Why does he have to be like that?

Why does he have to be so gorgeous?

Why does he have to look at you like you’re something worth waiting for?

Why does he make you feel more seen in a moment than Rylan has in months?

By the time you get home, the buzz has dulled but the thoughts haven’t. You and Kylei collapse into your apartment, deciding without discussion to call it a sleepover. She tosses a blanket onto the couch and is out within minutes.

You lie in bed, staring at the ceiling.

You lift your wrist and open your comm, fingers hesitating just a second before you type.

Thanks for the fun night. See you tomorrow.

You send it before you can overthink it.

Your heart flutters as the message goes through.

And this time, you don’t check to see if Rylan bothered to check in.

—————————

[jolenes-doppelganger]

Windows To the Soul- Kinktober Week Two

Juliette Nichols x Fem!Reader

MINORS DNI 18+

[Originally labelled 'Mirror, Mirror On the Wall, Who's the Biggest Slut of Them All?]

Summary: An unplanned visit after your abrupt breakup with the Sheriff of the Silo brings unexpected revelations.

Kinks: Mirror sex, post-break-up sex.

A/N: This fic is less explicit smut and more graphic emotion-wise. What is the dirtiest, most sinful thing one can do if not admit they need another? (I am struggling to write the smut and it shows bc everything I write is just SAD).

Word Count: 2.1k

Every breath of air you took in this moment felt woefully inadequate. You couldn’t get a breath in, not a true, full-bellied breath that would soothe the ache in your lungs, relax the tension in your stomach, release the blockage in your throat. Three weeks of no contact, not a single glance in the hallways, and she was back, sitting on your couch like she’d never left. Taking you off guard in your own home. It’s something Juliette would do. The same blonde hair falling out of a too-loose ponytail, unbuttoned uniform and belt loosened to accommodate the natural press of her slouched abdomen against her pants.

“Jules.”

“Shut up.”

You don’t know who moved first, her barreling towards you off of her perch on the couch, you careening forwards and meeting her halfway. Her hands on your back, hips, shoulders, grasping-grabbing-pulling-yanking-cradling-holding all of you. Her mouth smashing against yours, the goddamned whimper she let out. All of the anger and hurt of the break up forgotten in the paroxysm of her body on yours, her mouth tracing hungry patterns wherever it found purchase.

“Jules, wait, please-”

A swipe of her hand over the table, glassware smashing on the floor; the destructive nature of her desires on full display.

“I can’t get you out of my head.” she whispered, nose pressed against your temple and shaky breaths puffing out over the small hairs that clung next to your ear.

That stupid face. Those stupid blue eyes and cocky smirk, the class of glassware.

“Get the fuck off.” you shoved her back, getting off the table.

A perplexed look came over Juliette’s face, her hands raised in mock surrender.

“Sorry.”

“You would be.” you snapped. 

The broken glass littered the already well worn linoleum. Another mess, another headache Juliette brought upon you. Neither of you spoke a word as you swept the broken glass into a pan, putting it in a bag for now.

“I should’ve slapped you.” you mumbled, not quite meaning it.

Juliette raised her brows, shaking her head dismissively. Her thumbs worked circles over the fabric where they perched out of her pockets, adding to the sheepish posture.

“Yeah, well sex with your ex is supposed to be cathartic.” she sighed.

“Not if you ended on bad terms.” you snapped.

Juliette shrugged, using your less than furious response as a cue to push forwards a little more. One step closer towards you at a time, slowly invading your personal space.

“It was a short fling, I didn't think I needed an explanation for leaving.”

Her reasoning was nothing short of inadequate. A fling, a minor dance of passion between two people who were just in the same place at the right time. Until it was the wrong time. But it hadn’t been, not in your eyes. Realizing she had never really gotten over George well enough to love another had been a hard pill to swallow, one you’d only managed recently.

“You know, you really should’ve made it clear that you weren’t planning on staying.” 

Looking at her was an awful mixture between painful and infuriating. You busied yourself with the dishes instead. They’d been soaking long enough, it was a matter of draining the water and actually washing them. Such an act conveniently coincided with having the excuse to avoid looking at her.

“Listen, I get that you’re upset that I wasn’t upfront about what I wanted, but no one ever is, so…” Jules shrugged, watching as you dove headfirst into the nearest task.

“Doesn’t excuse the fact that you just up and left. Lead me on… Flirted, teased, even hinted at something more in the future. Kind of like how George did to you.”

Juliette let out a groan of anger, turning on her heel and running a hand over her scalp in the anxious-avoidant motion she was so fond of.

“Founders be damned, are we just going to sit here and trade barbs all day?” she huffed. “I have enough shit going wrong for me, I don’t need you-”

“Oh you're still entitled to me?” you snapped. “Pretty mature of you, slinking back for a less than underhanded attempt at trying to fuck me.”

Juliette spun on her heel, now facing you. Her jaw quirked to the left, mouth working its way into a grimace. Again she smoothed her hair, hands stilling on her hips.

“I came because I wanted to apologize, and then you came in with your business casual shirt all rumpled, and in that damn skirt that just hugs your body, so yeah, maybe I got a little side tracked.”

There was nothing you could say to that. It wasn’t an insult, but it wasn’t exactly a compliment. She’d left emotional baggage and pain the same way George had left it with her. A cute little cycle, but not one you excused her from. Soap was up to your upper arms, each dish scrubbed beyond what was really necessary to get it clean, but it was better than outright hurling something at her.

“Listen, I do miss some things, it just… For so long I didn’t know what I wanted, and now I do. And it’s not here, not with you, as wonderful as you are…” she choppily advocated, taking slow steps forwards until she was just short of touching you.

“As wonderful as I am you’re an asshole who wanted someone to fuck and hold you close while you were going through your shit. There’s a word for it, and it’s called a rebound. Shittiest thing you could ever do to a person, honestly.”

A long sigh crested over your shoulder, close enough to tickle the back hairs of your neck. Her arms snaked forwards, resting lightly on the swell of your hips. 

“Crawling back to you isn’t what I was planning, but I can’t resist another go…”

An arm snaked around your front ready to pull you back towards her, to snag you and pull you towards another hook up you knew you’d regret.

“Just one more time, for the fun of it…” Juliette whispered, breath climbing over your ear, attempting to lure you into a yes.

Anger welled up again, and this time you had a sink full of soapy water and a small pot to work with. Turning on your heel, you doused her front with several cups of warm dishwater. Juliette looked down at her clothes, and then you. 

“I have the maturity problem? Yeah right.” 

She reached in the sink, using a bowl to douse your work clothes in that same water. You smacked her with the damp dish towel, she snapped your ass. The two of you fought like children, splashing each other with water until both of you were wetter than not. A particularly violent toss of water caused your frictionless shoes to slip on the linoleum, causing you to careen back. The plastic cup fell against the floor, your body careening down towards the ground. Two hands reached outward, gripping your shoulders. Juliette let out a yelp, losing traction as well. You both crashed against the floor in a mess of limbs. Her elbow against your ribs, her chin clacking shut as her jaw cracked against your shoulder.

Both of you groaned, each more than a little sore. Juliette adjusted her body over yours, staring down at you, laid upon the linoleum with water lining the floor around you. Her head blocked the main light of the kitchen, creating a small halo around her head as she looked down upon you with more than a fair degree of concern. Neither of you broke the silence. Doing such a thing would be precarious, shattering the subtle tranquility of the moment. She settled above you, elbows on either side of your face. 

When she leaned down you didn’t push her away. Her body was warm, seeping through the damp cloth of her soaked uniform. You swore you could still feel the familiar dip and swell of her muscular back, and as your hands traced the line of her spine, you found the familiar divot at the base, hiding just under where her belt sat. Juliette, to her credit, was far more cautious in her next attempt. Soft kisses graced your cheeks, her fingers just lightly tracing the hair above your ears.

“Yes?” she whispered.

“Since we’re both here…” you softly replied, a squeeze to her back to affirm that subtle consent.

Juliette hummed once, hands sliding under your torso, pulling you up and off of the wet floor. Her hand cradled the back of your head, soothing pressure overwhelming the dull ache from where your skull had made contact with the ground. To have Juliette be this soft with you spoke to her inner guilt, a phenomena you’d witnessed many times after she vented to you about George. But you wouldn’t complain. Not when she was pulling you up, cradling you to her like a small child, carrying you away, out of the kitchen, towards the bathroom. 

As your feet touched the ground, she caught your chin, pressing a soft kiss there. A reassuring kiss, probably the only real intimacy you’d get out of this experience. Her mouth found your neck, wetter, meaner, hungrier kisses working slow patterns down, her calloused hands undoing the zipper of your skirt, the buttons of your blouse. Your own hands shook as you undid her uniform. Belt clanging to the floor with her slacks, uniformed button up shrugged off in the same manner you’d watched countless times. Neither of you could speak at this moment, neither of you dared. Words could ruin this moment, would ruin it. 

By the third time her lips crashed against yours you were finally bold enough to reciprocate, mouth slackening as her tongue slipped past your lips. She had the smallest hint of coffee breath, the one beverage you were sure she consumed regularly. Juliette lived on coffee, she depended on it in ways you knew to be worrisome. But when that coffee-breath stained tongue touched yours, it was a comfort. A spark of assurance in an otherwise vague moment. Her hands slipped to your back, yanking off your bra, blunt nails digging in with the desperation of her jerky moments. You both kicked off your shoes as you finished pulling off your panties. A push into the shower, that was all the direction she gave.

Cold water shocked your flushed skin as she turned the water on, body pressing against yours as she desperately kissed you against the shower wall. A quick glance to the long mirror in the bathroom confirmed the sight. Juliette’s hands tracing your hips, her mouth tracing desperate patterns on your neck. You didn’t have the heart to tell her to stop. You’d wear turtlenecks for a month if that’s what you needed.

“Jules, look at me, please.” you broke the rhythm of the moment, trying to catch her gaze.

“I am.” she whispered.

Her gaze slipped to your right, and you turned, following it. Blue-steel eyes meeting yours in the slightly foggy mirror. You turned, still making that eye-contact as her hands slipped around you from behind. One hand down, parting your labia. The other cupped your left breast, thumb drawing circles over the pebbled flesh. 

You didn’t watch her hands as they stimulated you, fingers dipping inside, thumb tweaking your clit. You felt that. But all you saw were those blue eyes overrun with emotion. A white-hot throbbing erupted in your chest, complimenting and growing alongside the burning ache in your core. The sounds you both made, the way you moaned, the desperate whines she let out as she watched you climb higher, it was all background. Center stage were those blue eyes, heavy and burdened. 

One climax, then two. Your legs gave out, the two of you collapsing in the bathtub. You kissed hungrily, devouring her tongue, her lips, her breath. As her thigh made contact with your cunt, hers pressed against the complimentary thigh. And as you rocked together, you felt that grief.

The small little stuffed animal she kept in her bedroom, the books she had on her shelf. The way she left all of her socks inside out to ensure she didn’t put them on with a hair inside. The nose scrunch, the awkward bug-eyed look she sported most of the time.

“Please stay.” you whispered, your hands splaying over her back.

Juliette leaned down, her forehead pressed against yours. One loud whine and she came undone. Her body slouched over yours in the bathtub, the shower going cold as the water pounded down around you. Juliette’s breathing evened, nose finding that familiar crook in your neck and just nuzzling.

Tags: @ilovehotactresses @marvelwomenrule @midnight-lestrange

[blackhairedjjun]

let me care for you - k.th

pairing: kang taehyun x gn reader | genre / tropes: fluff, comfort, sick fic, confession, tyun taking care of reader | word count: 723 | warnings: getting sick, food, medicine mentions

part of my 300 followers event (event masterlist)

prompt - BEDSIDE: while sitting by the sick/injured/unconscious receiver’s bedside, sender reveals that they’re in love with them, unaware that the receiver is able to hear this revelation. (requested by @ur-mother-realnotclickbait)

author's notes: hi riel! this was such a fluffy and sweet prompt, and i totally see taehyun as an acts of service guy so this was lovely to write <3 i hope you enjoy!

actions always speak louder than words when it comes to taehyun, your best friend.

not that taehyun’s words are meaningless. for example, when you texted him in the middle of the night that you were feeling awfully sick, he sent only a single message: i’m so sorry, i’ll be right there soon to check on you. but the buzzing of your doorbell twenty minutes later speaks volumes, especially when you find taehyun standing on the other side of the door, a bag full of groceries and drugstore goods in his arms.

“it’s 2am...” you barely manage to get the words out. even speaking is exhausting.

he sets the bag down and pulls you toward him by the shoulders, his hand coming up to your forehead. his eyebrows knit the moment he feels you burning. “your fever is really high... you should lie down. i’ll take care of everything.”

“taehyunie, you...”

his hand traces the outline of your face before letting you go. “get some rest, let me help you.”

he helps you back to your bed, one arm around your waist to keep you steady, then leaves the bedroom door ajar as he busies himself in the kitchen so that you can hear him. he prepares hot soup and fills a jug of water, and sets aside your medicines and a roll of bread. your senses are so stuffed that you can barely smell the chicken and ginger wafting over, nor hear the clinking of glasses and spoons. but your apartment feels warm, not from your fever but from the presence of your best friend, and it isn’t long until your consciousness starts to drift.

what you don’t see is the worry creased in taehyun’s forehead as he lets the soup simmer. he understands that you aren’t seriously ill and that your bug will clear out in a few days. still, he can’t help but feel a little sting in his heart when he recalls the heat radiating off your skin or the sunken circles under your eyes. already he misses the brightness in your eyes and the sound of your laughter, and he wants to be part of making you feel better again.

you almost don’t hear him as he enters your bedroom and sets down the tray of soup, water, and medicines on your bedside table. meanwhile you’re caught between wakefulness and sleep, your eyes closed and one arm dangling over the edge of the bed. he sits on this edge, placing your hand in his lap. your skin is still hot while he cradles your hand in his.

“you’ll get better soon,” he murmurs to himself. 

silence follows, and your breathing begins to slow. taehyun still holds your hand in his like a fragile gift. he remembers the confession he planned - a confession weeks in the making, yet every time he found the opportunity to say it his throat went dry. but in the middle of the night with you in sleep, courage finds him.

“i probably shouldn’t say this right now... but when you get better, i want to keep taking care of you like this.” he intertwines his fingers with yours. “i want to cook for you and go on those arcade games that you love, and make you happy again. you’re my best friend, but the truth is i want to care for you more... more than what a friend does. i love you, y/n. just let me show my love, please...”

he doesn’t expect the gentle squeeze of your hand in his. his eyes widen in shock, the realization hitting that you probably heard his first draft of a confession. but his fears subside just as quickly when he feels your thumb caressing the back of his hand, and your body shifting closer to him.

your eyes are still closed and you’re too tired to speak, but even your illness can’t stop the smile that spreads across your cheeks. you let out a satisfied hum and squeeze his hand again.

“mmm...”

with his free hand, taehyun brushes away the hair on your face. your smile widens even further. he opens his mouth to say more but instead opts to sit in the silence to let you rest. he can talk about how much he loves you when you feel better; for now he’ll show you.

[lovequartz]

where our fingers meet.

✵ pairing: town doctor!wonwoo x fiancee!reader

✵ genre: fluff!

✵ warnings: none

✵ word count: 701

✵ crush me in your arms give me a lovelier kiss, lover

✵ notes: yeah i am back with more of this couple <3 i literally cannot stop writing for them

the week before the wedding is stressful, and not for you but for your mother and sister. you are still trapped in somewhat of a daze, you can’t believe you’re getting married let alone who you’re getting married to. your sweet sweet wonwoo, you’re sure you must’ve dreamed him up for it is madness that a man so perfect exists. in thinking of your wonderful fiance you’re awash with a sense of longing that sits heavy in your chest. 

it’s been a little less than a week since you’ve seen him, due to all the planning madness your mother and sister have swept you up into. not to mention the fact that wonwoo had left town for a stretch to visit his parents and travel back with them so they could attend the ceremony. you wish you could’ve gone with him, to have a bit of privacy between the two of you before you were to become spouses. 

silas has been lovely as he usually is, but you suspect that he’s coming to understand that you won’t always be with him so he has been making sure to take up as much of your attention as he can. which is why he currently lays sprawled across your lap while he doodles on the edges of his math notebook, and the accompanying math textbook sits abandoned across the room near your bed. 

you run your fingers through his hair for a few passes, “i thought you promised your mother that you would have a page done by bedtime?” 

silas hums, you feel it against your thighs where his upper body is positioned, and he puts his pencil down and lays his head against his open notebook, “too sleepy,” he murmurs.

your hand moves from his hair to rub his back gently, it was just about his bedtime so the sleepiness was understandable. you leave him be and when you’re certain he’s asleep is when you tuck him into your futon, making sure the blanket covers him. gathering his things, you stack them neatly into a pile and set them near the door. 

as your nephew sleeps you busy yourself with getting ready for bed yourself, changing your day dress with your sleep gown, and running a comb through your hair. 

a few minutes into brushing you hear a faint knocking at your window, its seems too quiet to be actual knocking but doesn’t quite sound like the branches that sometimes scratch at it. you slowly make your way over, and try to peer out the spaces in the slats. after not really seeing anything, you carefully slide the window open just a crack and the sight you’re met with makes you gasp. 

“wonwoo?” you say in disbelief, staring wide eyed at your fiance that stands just outside. 

he gives you a shy smile, and rubs his hands together nervously, “sorry for the abrupt and unannounced visit.” 

you shake your head, still dizzy with disbelief. “what are you doing here?” 

“i wanted to,” he pauses as if embarrassed by his actions, and you notice how red his ears are, “see you.” 

your face heats up at his admission, and you stare silently at him for a few moments before telling him to stay put. assuring him that you would be right there.

you grab a shawl from your closet and throw it over your shoulders before quietly making your way out of your bedroom and out of the house. your slippers kick up loose rocks as you hurriedly round the corner to where your fiance waits. 

he smiles when he sees you, holding out a hand that you take as soon as you’re close enough. both your fingers weaving together seamlessly. 

“is everything okay?” you ask breathlessly, still a bit worried over this unannounced middle of the night appearance. 

his free hand comes up to cradle your cheek, and you melt as his thumb brushes across your skin. “everything is fine,” he replies, “i fear that a week without you is far too long for me to bear.” 

“wonwoo…” you mumbled, flustered over his words, “you could’ve called.”

he shakes his head with a grin, “and miss this lovely sight before me? never.”

notes: okay my lovelies thank you as always for reading and there will most likely be more of this couple from me! let me know what you thought <3