#dai might not believe in himself half of the time but if someone else is ever involved none of it matters to him

[missbluez]

Flour,Sugar and Something more 2/5

Firefighter!König x Plus Size Reader

Ao3

Part 1

CW: Fire. Slight angst. Idiots in love

König felt like nothing could bring him down from the high he was feeling. Not even the way his colleagues relentlessly tease him on the drive back to the station.

He wasn’t expecting to see you today, but he can’t deny that it immediately cheered him up. He hadn’t been feeling great lately, especially after having to cancel on you more than once because he had to cover someone else’s shift without notice.

In the few months you have been living next door to him, he has totally and irrevocably fallen in love with you. He had been alone for so long that he had believed it was how he was supposed to live the rest of his life. 

But ever since that first day when you gave him that plate of lemon cookies, he knew that he had to get to know you. He had only planned to invite you for lunch as a thank you and a welcome, but after that, you wormed your way into his heart and life in a way that made him feel cared for and loved. Something he hadn’t felt in ages. His usually anxious mind seemed to settle whenever he was with you, which is something that has never happened to him. His dating experience was always filled with anxious thoughts and second-guessing. Not that you both were dating. But a man can dream.

They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, and König can attest to that. In the few days he hasn’t seen you, his heart has only yearned for you. 

Every waking moment was plagued with thoughts of you, and his dreams seemed to revolve around the things he wanted but couldn’t say to you.

He knows his feelings for you aren’t platonic, but he doesn’t want to risk losing you completely, so he hasn’t said anything to you yet. But that changes after he sees you at the station.

Once the team makes it back to the station, the teasing doesn’t stop. It’s all in good fun, so König doesn’t pay much attention. He just brushes his colleagues' comments off with a slight blush. But some of the things they said made him wonder if his feelings might not be as unrequited as he thinks they are.

It’s far past midnight by the time he makes it home. His first instinct is to knock on your door, needing to see you before he goes to sleep, but he knows it’s too late and you’re probably asleep. So he just walks into his apartment feeling like he might pass out any second. Thankfully, he had taken a shower at the station, knowing he was too tired to do it once he got home.

He walks into his room, kicking his shoes off before throwing himself on the bed with a tired groan. 

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

You could barely sleep that night. Some part of you was always worried about König, considering the inherent danger of what he does. But this time, your mind was haunted by memories of that kiss. It was just a kiss on the cheek, something so simple and innocent, yet it made your entire body feel like it was on fire. 

You let your mind get away for a second, imagining what it would be like to feel those lips on yours as he wraps his big arms around you. Is he the type to kiss you slowly? Or would he devour you hungrily? You don’t know which of those two you prefer, you just know that you want him. Bad.

You stop that train of thought before it becomes too much for you to handle. 

You had barely realised you had fallen asleep when the incessant ringing of your phone woke you up. With a groan, you reach for it and turn the alarm off. Your eyes are still half closed while you go through your recent notifications. A few emails from work that you will get to later, and a couple of messages from König that pull a smile out of you before you even have a chance to read them.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

After a well-needed night of sleep König has made a decision. As usual, he will make lunch for both of you, and then he’ll tell you how he feels about you.

Nothing complicated; both of you are way too anxiety-prone for him to do something more elaborate.

It doesn’t take him long to get ready after he wakes up, and he goes into town shortly after. First, he goes to the grocery store to buy the ingredients he needs for the meal he has in mind. You always love anything he makes, but he wants to recreate the first meal you two had together, which consisted of his favourite Austrian comfort dishes. He isn’t as gifted as you at baking, so he stops at his favourite bakery and gets a couple of things he knows you like.

He can’t keep the smile off his face as he continues his errands. Excitement and nervousness were bubbling under his skin. A certain warmth coils in his stomach, making him feel like he’s high. For once, his anxiety isn’t completely overriding any other feelings, and it’s great to just let himself feel. 

Once he’s back in the building, he’s tempted to go over to yours, but he decides to get everything ready first and just let you work. He knows you like to get your work done in the morning to maintain a routine, since you barely have to go to the office.

He can’t keep the smile off his face as he starts working on the meal. He knows he looks insane, smiling as he chops vegetables, his favourite upbeat playlist playing in the background, only adding to his good mood.

He is so focused on perfecting this meal that he might not even have noticed if it weren’t for his keen senses. His eyebrows immediately shoot up in alarm when he spots the cloud of grey smoke floating past his kitchen window. He quickly opens it to check on the origin of the smoke. It looks like there’s a fire coming from the floor below. He promptly jumps into action, turning off his stove as he rings emergency services, but it seems that someone else had already called, as he hears the familiar siren of the firetruck.

He runs out of his apartment and starts knocking on your door. He knows you’re always wearing your headphones, so you were unlikely to hear the fire alarm with how loud you play your music. You like to drown the world around you as you focus. When your door doesn’t open, his knocks get more frantic. The hallway between your apartments is starting to get filled with smoke, and he can hear the sound of the firefighters' heavy boots as they run up the stairs. He knows it’s probably his colleagues responding to the call. The 141 is the closest fire station.

Suddenly, your door springs open, and you're standing there watching him with a confused expression. Your hands reach towards your head, and you yank your headphones off. Before you have the chance to voice your confusion, he reaches for your hand and pulls you towards him.

“There’s a fire on the floor below, we have to leave, ja?” He explains as he guides both of you down the stairs. The shock on your face is clear as the grip on his hand tightens. In your haste to leave, neither of you notices you’re barely dressed. But once you make it past the firefighters and out of the main door, he notices your bare legs, you are wearing a big oversized shirt that reaches to your mid-thigh, and it seems like it’s the only thing you are wearing, there are shorts under it, but it’s not like he can see it. The wind outside bites at your skin, but it doesn’t bother you, the warmth of his hand in yours completely overwhelms you.

For a second, your bare skin is the only thing his mind can focus on before his need to protect you kicks in.

“Oh, Schatz, it’s cold.” He says, your hands still interlocked, but even if neither of you wants to let go, he does so, so he can take off the hoodie he’s wearing and slip it over your head. You want to refuse it, not wanting to face the embarrassment of his clothes not fitting you. Still, your words die in your mouth when his hoodie easily slides down your body. You're far too familiar with being too big to borrow clothes from friends or partners, you are aware that he is much bigger than you, but it still is something you haven’t gotten used to. It brings a flutter to your chest, a tingly feeling, that, along with his hoodie, warms you all over. You feel his scent engulfing you, and it almost makes you dizzy.

When you look up, you can both see that his downstairs neighbour’s apartment is engulfed in flames that are slowly climbing towards König’s apartment, but it seems like the firefighters have it under control.

There isn’t much either of you can do as you watch them suffocate the flames.

“Are you okay?” He asks, looking at you

“Yes…I didn’t... I didn’t even notice. I was in my room getting some work done, and… yeah.” You say, hugging yourself, realising that you wouldn’t have noticed until it was too late. The smoke inhalation would have probably got you before the flames.

König notices your distress and wraps his arms around you to comfort you while you watch the shrinking flames. Even as fire potentially destroys your apartment, you feel safer than ever in his arms. That’s when you realise that you are wholly and utterly fuciked. You are in love with him and can’t keep it in anymore.

[dnangelic]

sometimes dn or more specifically dai n dark's character (singular) is about shouting demands for kindness and answers for injustices at a god who a) doesn't hear them and b) doesn't even want to listen to anyone or anything and c) therefore hardly even exists but THEN it's also about their voices still reaching the completely ordinary and pleasantly imperfect human beings around them instead

[readwritealldayallnight]

You had never seen him look so utterly human before

Laid up amongst the scratchy, thin sheets of the hospital bed, with only a plain surgical mask covering the bottom half of his face, everything else above Ghost’s shoulders exposed to your eyes for the first time, while his own eyes have been shut for nearly four days straight now

You had never seen your Lieutenant without the signature mask that haunts the dreams of even the deadliest foreign mercenaries, had never seen him look anything less than intimidating, commanding, powerful without so much as even trying to, his presence alone striking fear into those who’ve heard whispers of the fearsome Ghost

Now however, with an IV hooked up to his arm and a nurse that comes to check on his vitals periodically, it’s hard to picture him as such a gruesome soldier, rather than a simple man who bleeds like any other human

In spite of the evident vulnerable position he finds himself in, his pale skin appearing nearly translucent under the harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital, there was no denying that Ghost remained someone to be feared

A particularly nasty blow to the head during a field op gone wrong had knocked the burly soldier out cold, and though doctors were optimistic he would make a full recovery, they couldn’t exactly tell the extent of the damage done until he woke up

You and the men that made up the remainder of the 141 had been taking turns remaining by his side, not wanting for Ghost to wake up alone, whenever that would be exactly

You wonder how he would feel about this, the fact that you are currently the one on shift for the unofficial rotation of visitors who’ve stuck by his bedside throughout his injury

You’re well aware of the fact that the Lieutenant doesn’t like you, has never liked you, and probably never will, though you’ve never been able to get a straight answer as to why

From the moment you’d met him, he’d been cold to you, distant, making no effort to get to know you nor welcome you to the team, opposite to the way the Sergeants and Captain had welcomed you with open arms and hearts

No matter how much you poked and prodded at them for an answer, some sort of inclination as to what you could possible have done wrong to have Ghost dislike you so much, the men always bit their tongues

You saw the way they exchanged knowing glances and sly smirks, believing they were being more cunning than they really were, insisting to you with carefully chosen words that it wasn’t something you should worry about too much, that the LT had a different way of expressing his feelings than most

“So long as he doesn’t wake up and want to ‘express his feelings’ by punching me in the face for being the first thing he opens his eyes to.” You thought to yourself, glancing up from your book at his still sleeping form, shaking your head at your silly thought

No, he’d never been particularly kind to you, but he’d also never gone out of his way to be cruel to you either you supposed

Perhaps he found you to be more of a nuisance than anything else, a pest he couldn’t seem to swat away hard enough, an annoying pimple he couldn’t quite pop

Your eyes scanned over his face once more, cursing whatever Gods might be listening that the man hiding beneath that Ghost facade had to be so … intriguing

You could see old scars running across his face, some of them peeking out from under the surgical mask while others ran across his brow, his crooked nose evident even under the fabric of the mask

He was handsome in his own, rugged way, a fact you were displeased to learn when you first saw him laying here, switching off with Soap who’d been sat at his side earlier

Ghost may not care for you, not that he had given you many reasons or chances to care for him, but you cared about your remaining members of the task force, and knew how important Ghost was to them, and so for the 141, you’d do your duty and care for a Ghost who apparently wanted no such love and tenderness from you

You looked the large man over, brows furrowing when your eyes landed on his neck, noting that the pillow supporting his head was getting a little flat

You stood from your chair, setting your book down, and approched him carefully, almost as though any sudden movements would somehow wake the comatose man from his slumber

As gently as you could, you attempted to adjust the pillow behind him to hopefully be more comfortable, quickly realizing just how heavy he was when he was nothing more than dead weight

You slowly slipped your hands behind his shoulders, pulling him forward as best as you could until you were able to adjust the pillow one handed

Slipping your hands back down his shoulders to ease him back into the bed, your palms naturally ending up sliding onto the back of his neck, the tips of your fingers brushing against the hair at the base of his skull, an involuntary shiver running through you at what you realized too late was a bit of an intimate touch with a man who’d been touch starved for years

It was hard to say who was more stunned at first, with how quickly things transpired, when you suddenly felt a pair of strong hands reaching up to grip your wrists and hold them in place

You hadn’t even realized you had let out a gasp as your eyes flicked down and met none other than Ghost’s own wide open orbs only inches away from you, staring right at you as though he was seeing a ghost

Stunned into silence, worried that you truly were about to end up on the receiving end of Ghost’s anger for having invaded his space like that, you barely had enough time to process that he’d somehow woken from his coma when his grip on your wrists tightened further, and somehow, whether it was a trick of the light or you imagination, his gaze softened before his scratchy, out of use voice said:

“Love.”

Your ears were ringing, hardly taking notice of the way a flurry of alarms and bells had gone off as soon as Ghost had woken up, his heart rate soaring through the roof and alerting staff

Medical personnel rushed into the room before you could wrap your mind around any of what was happening, Ghost’s grip on your never loosening until the doctor finally approached you both, sensing the tension in the air

“Lieutenant Riley,” the man said, gently landing a hand in Ghost’s bicep to hopefully help him ease his strong grip on you. “Let her go.”

His grip on you disappeared instantly, as though your skin had suddenly burned him, but his eyes never wavered from your own, even as he began mumbling unintelligibly beneath his medical mask

“What was that?” The doctor asked, trying to bring calm back to the room and ease Ghost into a state where he could be properly examined

“My girl.” The Lieutenant’s gravelly voice echoed throughout the sterile room

“Pardon?”

“My girl.” Ghost repeated, never once breaking eye contact with your now widened eyes

“Do- do you know who this is, Lieutenant?” The doctor posed the question, slowly gesturing towards you with a confusion that was spreading amongst you all

“‘Course I do.” Ghost spoke with certainty. “That’s my love.”

Part two

[mysticalcrowntyrant]

Yandere Landlord x Reader

You move to New York because you have no reason to stay anywhere else.

After the breakup—after him—there was no home left. The apartment in Chicago had grown cold, not just in winter, but in the way it echoed with silence even when you were still living there. So, when the hospital called with a residency offer, you packed fast and drove faster, your old car chugging like it resented the weight of your regret.

You arrive in Brooklyn with three suitcases, a secondhand coffee maker, and too many scars to count. Internally. Externally, you’ve always passed for composed, professional. Polished even, when you put in the effort. People don’t see what you don’t let them.

The apartment is perfect. Too perfect. That’s the first red flag, but you don’t want to see it. The rent is suspiciously affordable. Hardwood floors. High ceilings. An antique clawfoot tub. When you visit the unit, sunlight pours in like a promise. You pause at the window, tracing the skyline in your mind like you’re sketching a new future.

The landlord is handsome in that quiet, overlooked kind of way. He introduces himself as Andy, says he inherited the building from his grandfather. Says he’s doing some renovations—you’ll hear some noise now and then, hope that’s not a dealbreaker. He smiles like he’s nervous. Like he isn’t used to people looking directly at him.

You don’t ask too many questions. The building feels safe. Andy feels harmless. You’re tired of running.

So you sign the lease.

You don’t notice the way he watches you. Not at first.

The first few weeks are a blur of hospital rotations and late-night subway rides. You’re barely home long enough to unpack. When you do sleep, it’s dreamless, like your mind’s been rinsed clean by exhaustion. You only vaguely remember Andy helping you carry your boxes upstairs, his fingers brushing yours when he handed over the keys. You’d thanked him. Smiled.

Sometimes you hear footsteps in the hallway at odd hours. A whisper of movement. But you tell yourself it’s just another tenant. You haven’t met your neighbors yet. You don’t plan to.

The first time something feels off is when you find your toothbrush slightly damp at 7 p.m. You haven’t used it since morning. You think maybe you’re being paranoid. Then your shampoo is in a different spot. Your towels are folded differently. The window in the bathroom is open when you never open it.

You change the locks.

Andy drops by with a bottle of wine a few days later. Says it’s a welcome gift. You accept it awkwardly, standing half-behind your door. You never drink it.

That night, you hear a thud inside the walls. You tell yourself it’s the pipes. Old buildings do that.

You feel eyes on you when you sleep.

You can’t explain it. It’s like your body knows something before your mind can catch up. You start waking up in cold sweats. You start locking your bedroom door. You stop using the bathtub.

Then one night, you wake up to the sound of breathing.

Not your own.

You freeze, heart pounding. You listen. It’s faint, ragged. Almost desperate. You flick on the light.

Nothing.

You check every room. You look under the bed, in the closet, behind the shower curtain. You find nothing but shadows. Still, you feel it. Someone has been in here.

You go to Andy the next day. You try to be casual, but your voice trembles. You ask if there’s any chance someone has access to your apartment. He frowns, concerned. Says he’ll change the locks personally. Says he’ll install extra security. Says it with the same calm voice a doctor might use before slipping in a needle.

You almost believe him.

Then you find the camera.

It’s hidden behind the vent in your bedroom. You only see it because the grate is slightly ajar. Tiny. Barely noticeable. You wouldn’t have noticed it at all if the wind hadn’t shifted the angle of light on the wall.

You don’t scream. You sit there, your heart slowly collapsing in your chest. Your skin prickles with invisible hands. Every second you’ve ever spent in this apartment flashes through your mind—every moment alone, every private breath.

He’s been watching you.

You leave that night.

You get a hotel. You call the cops. You tell them everything.

But by the time they investigate, the camera’s gone. The vent is closed. The apartment is clean. No signs of forced entry. No fingerprints. Just you and your paranoia.

You try to stay at a friend’s, but you can’t stop looking over your shoulder. You can’t stop imagining him slipping into your room in the middle of the night. You start seeing Andy’s face in crowds. In reflections. In your sleep.

You change your phone number. You quit your residency.

But he still finds you.

He waits for you in your hotel room. You come back from a late dinner, fumbling with your keycard, and he’s just there, inside. Like he’s always belonged there. Like you’re the one intruding.

He doesn’t threaten. He just talks.

He tells you he didn’t mean to scare you. That he just wanted to be close to you. That he fell in love the moment he saw you. That he made your apartment perfect because you deserved it.

That he watched you cry after phone calls and wanted to hold you.

That he listened to your breathing because it was the only sound that ever made him feel calm.

You back away slowly. You have a knife in your purse. You never used to carry one.

You draw it as he steps closer.

He doesn’t stop.

You stab him in the side.

He gasps. Bleeds. Smiles.

And still, still, he tries to touch your face like it’s the last thing he’ll ever see.

AN: I stole the plot from The Resident.

Masterlist

[dcxdpdabbles]

I love your Freelance Inventor Au so much! (And, like, all your other work,, lol) I can't help imagining Danny finding out about the Batfam and turning to Bruce like, "You let our kids be vigilantes?!" Meanwhile Bruce is stuck on the fact that Danny called them "Our" kids. Or the reveal the other way, with Bruce finding out about Phantom first? He'd freak out- clearly he doesn't know Danny as well as he thought he did. And he can't believe Danny never told him! Meanwhile, Danny thought he mentioned the Phantom thing ages ago and that Bruce just doesn't care.

Since Jazz put the idea in his head, Danny has been unable to think of anything else. The idea that he might be in love with Bruce Wayne and had been for so many years but didn't notice because he assumed everyone felt that it was for that one friend.

It was there whenever he was drafting new blueprints, when he traveled across the world looking for inspiration and investors, when he settled into bed for a good night's rest, and most of all, when he finished his weekly phone call with Bruce.

"Get some rest," Bruce's warm, smooth voice says over the speakers. "I'll talk to you soon. Goodnight, Danny."

"Goodnight," he responds softly. He has a request to stay on the line on the tip of his tongue, but with the time difference, he knows it's not a good idea. And have a good day, Bruce."

The call ended with a click, but he couldn't help but feel their goodbye needed something.

I love you.

That was it. That's what was missing. But did he dare? Could he? Was he confusing love for something it wasn't? Was Bruce even interested?

Danny places his phone on his chest, staring at the ceiling of the latest hotel he booked, wondering if Bruce is leaving for lunch with the kids. He said they were celebrating Tim's new clothesline and wished he was there to cheer the boy and his team on.

Danny is in Toykyo today, presenting his new hologram keyboards to a big company.

Of course, they were the second company allowed the selling rights. Wayne Tech was the first, and Danny kept the production and creation rights. It was one of Danny's most ingenious inventions, if he did say so himself, but the look on Bruce's face when he revealed it to him was far more exhilarating than creating the keyboard or gaining the fat paycheck.

Fenton's Ghost Touch was a set of two rings with a hologram keyboard inside. When someone needed to type, they would spin the rings and double-tab the inner lining, connecting to devices using the Bluetooth function.

A visible hologram would pop up underneath their fingers, or if they wanted (and were good enough typers), they could move their fingers in the air without it, which would still allow them to type.

Danny had chosen to release the line in black internationally with Toyko, but Wayne Tech would release an exclusive color line. The rings were of the same design, all using slick silver bands but with different colors as the activation inner rings and some elegant carvings, unlike the international releases, which were just one solid color.

Fenton's Ghost Touch would come in seven colors: blue, red, pink, green, purple, white, and yellow.

Danny had purposely designed them using each of the Wayne kids' favorite colors and sent them all a set with their corresponding colors. The morning they arrived, he got a picture of them showing off their new rings, smiling widely at the camera from Bruce.

He saved the photo as his laptop background. His phone background already had a picture of him and the Waynes at Thanksgiving. They had crowed around, holding their wreaths with Bruce and Danny in the center.

Danny had been facing the camera, beaming in pride at the kids' work. Bruce was half-turning, his gaze stuck on Danny's face with a strange, fond, soft smile, the kind he rarely saw Bruce give anyone else.

It made him hope. Oh, how he hoped, but it also scared him. What if this wasn't love? Danny has never been in love before, has never fallen to the urges that others describe, and had been so comfortable convincing his asexuality meant he would never have to be the kind of person staying up long into the night overthinking every interaction with another person.

Yet here he was, seeing Bruce in a whole new light and discovering how different everything was because of it. But at the same time, how nothing had changed. He spoke to Dani about this, but his clone-turned-sister had only shrugged.

"You raised kids with the man." She laughed. Dani wasn't like Danny, and although she was more informed than their parents, she had difficulty wrapping her head around not having those feelings. "I think it's past the point of having a crush on him. I think you should go for it. Make it official."

Danny reaches up, rubbing at his eyes. It was midnight, and he had a meeting with another with the Japanese board again at eight. He really needed to rest and be on top of his wits so that he and his lawyer could ensure the contact was in his best interest.

He clicks open his gallery on his phone instead of swiping through photos of Bruce and feeling his heart leap nearly out of his chest. He misses the man.

Since Jazz's conversation, Danny has been practically avoiding him. This is due to his being hyper-aware of himself and Bruce: the way Bruce laughed, the dip in his voice whenever the British accent he picked up from Alfred popped in, the slight facial expressions he made when confused about emotions, the shift from playful to professional in work settings, and most of all, the attention he always bestowed onto Danny.

How the world just seemed brighter whenever he was with the man.

Bruce was his sun, and Danny was nothing more than a flower seeking him out. It made the Halfa want to hide in a hole but dance around in public all at once, and he didn't know why.

He finds a video, tapping the play button before thinking further of it, and melts when the first sound he hears is Bruce's laughter. It's quickly followed by the loud noise of the Waynes' Children. It was taken at the last Wayne game night—at the time, Danny had been in England with Dani.

Tim recorded Damian standing proudly over a map covered in white trains, arms spread into a T position, and Duke screaming accusations of cheating. After Alfred banned Monopoly in the Manor, the game Ticket to Ride quickly took over as the new worst enemy creator.

Dick was in the background sobbing into his hands as Jason tried to confront him. Steph and Cass were each leaning on Bruce's two shoulders, laughing as hard as their father, and Alfred was out of frame but not out of hearing, so when he stated, "Master Dick, how could have gone in the wrong direction? It's the map of the USA, it hasn't change in years!"

"He has a concussion, Alfrie!" Jason protested hotly. "Leave him alone!"

"YOU CHEATED!" Duke raged as Damian continued his pose with the most serious expression he'd seen on the child. It made his heart swell to see Damian copying him.

Danny struck the same pose whenever he beat his sisters at a game, even at his advanced age. Once an annoying brother, always an annoying brother.

The video ends with Tim flipping the camera. His broad grin covered the whole screen as he shouted, "Love you, Dad! Miss you! Can't wait to see you!"

Danny turns to his side, feeling his heart flutter more as the word plays repeatedly in his head. A few years ago, the Wayne Kids—excluding Damian, who was polite to the point it hurt—switched from Danny to Dad when referring to him.

Bruce hadn't made a big deal about it even though they called him Dad. Would that mean the man was happy his kids saw him as a second father figure? Did it mean the man thought of him as....a husband?

Danny groans, burying his face into the cool sheets of his futon, begging his mind to stop for a few seconds so he can rest. After this deal goes through, Danny is going to face the music.

He would go to Gotham and figure out a way to tell Bruce how he felt. He just hopes he has it figured out by then. Danny has an idea, but explaining the mess in his head into words is going to be much harder than anything he's ever done.

Not to mention Phantom. That was a can of worms he hadn't ever touched in Wayne's presence. What was Bruce's stance on ghosts anyway?

Should he practice what he would say about the topic? Turning onto his back, Danny holds up his phone, clicking the screen so the lock screen image of a grinning Bruce appears.

It was from the surprise vacation Danny rented out the hut next to the ones the kids sent Bruce to. It had been taken at sunset, the soft orange and purples of the sky framing Bruce's grin and dancing on his wind-blown hair. It had been a spur-of-the-moment walk around the beach, but from Danny's perspective down below and Bruce climbing back up to his hunt, it had almost appeared like Bruce was descending from the heavens.

Danny had used every film skill he had ever heard Dani speak about to capture the beautiful sight.

It is the best picture he's ever taken.

"I love you," the words leave his mouth in surprise, even though he had meant to talk about ghosts. But when they are spoken, he ducks into ice water and realizes they are true.

He sits up, using both hands to hold the phone in front of him, hoping that somehow, in some unrealistic dream, the words will carry across the world, and Bruce will hear them. Maybe even feel them, too. "I love you, I think I do. Do you love me too?"

The screen goes dark, and Danny sighs. Ten years. Will he really risk ten years of friendship over these little feelings?

Yeah. He thinks he will.

[nikkeora]

jason todd puts flowers on his own grave.

it wa curiosity at first. after he'd spent a while at the league and mellowed out, formed a proper plan besides simply burning wayne manor to the ground, he wondered what his grave would say. they'd told him there had been a funeral, after all. probably closed casket, with an altered death certificate saying he'd died in a car crash or something. not like bruce could face the truth if it beat him with a crowbar.

beloved son? a generic lie.

loving brother? much the same.

something bitter rises in his throat as his feet hit worn, damp stone. the streets aren't familiar anymore.. even crime alley has changed - there must've been a turf war or something, because those goons following him most definitely aren't black mask's usual pick. then again, maybe old roman's changed, too.

he sighs in frustration when he meets a dead end. gone for just how many years and they brick up an entire street? ridiculous. he hears the telltale sign of weapons being drawn behind him before he turns around with his own.

gone but not forgotten? they'd moved on fine without him. everyone had.

he stashes their bodies behind some dumpsters and moves quick. he's not in much of a mood for a fight right now. he isn't in a mood to do much of anything; there's a strange sense of melancholy in his chest.

he makes it the rest of the way to gotham's main cemetery without another incident. it's relatively easy to find his place there. thomas and martha wayne have a large tree next to their joint grave, and he just assumed he'd be somewhere near them. he's a little surprised to see his headstone right on their left. that spot used to be saved for bruce.

tentatively, he reads the inscription.

jason todd.

...

he shouldn't be surprised, really, what else did he expect? he wasn't in any of their lives for long, they barely knew him. he thought he knew them, he was wrong. they didn't care. the only thing they wanted to remember about him was his name, birth and death date, he doesn't doubt they would've had a blank headstone if they could, hell, maybe there wouldn't even have been a funeral if he hadn't existed in the public eye, he might as well have been buried in an unmarked, shallow grave next to that goddamn warehouse-

a drop of rain tears him out of his spiral.

...inhale...

...exhale.

maybe he'd hoped they cared.

that little boy who died that night deserved to have someone that cared.

...because that boy had cared so, so much.

come next morning, he's gotten himself a shitty apartment in crime alley and there's a small bouquet of flowers in his hand as he visits his grave for the second time. there's none already there, not even wilted ones. but as he crouches down to give himself what he believes to be the first flowers that boy has ever gotten, something in the grass glitters, catching his eye.

his first thought is a used needle, but as he looks a little closer, he realizes it's a little bracelet.

it's a little rusty and definitely made for a kid. the chain is cheap and a bit chunky. but the charm, a tiny, half heart meant to be a matching set to another bff bracelet, brings back a flood of memories.

he knew he'd forgotten a couple things when he'd come back. most of it was unimportant stuff. there's a jane austen book he doesn't recall reading? great, he gets to experience it for the first time again. his favorite color? well, he knows it's not green for sure, and that's really the only thing he needs to know. which floor his room was in the manor? he was never going to go back, anyway.

but how could he ever have forgotten you?

that tiny bracelet, tucked away from prying eyes and grubby hands in the taller grass near his headstone and meant for a boy he no longer was, said that someone had cared. enough to visit him. enough to leave something he would have wanted to take with him.

and maybe, just maybe, if he keeps coming back... he'll see you again one day.

so jason todd puts flowers on his own grave. every week, every day. same time, same place.

for that boy who had cared, and his friend who missed him.

and one day, a little while after his grand plan had gone to shit, there are flowers in his hand again. he doesn't get to place them on his grave, though. when he spots someone standing there - different clothes, different hair, but the same eyes that had been his first love all those years ago… it’s like seeing you for the first time all over again.

those flowers are for you now.

[imsosleepyofyourbull]

I firmly believe that Kabru is autistic but masks so hard that he’s convinced himself and (almost) everyone around him that he’s neurotypical.

That man’s special interest is people and how they work, but he just thinks it’s him Being So Good At Socializing — like he doesn’t spend 95% of his time people watching and adjusting his personality in response to the traits he witnesses and obsessing over the intricacies of human interaction while mapping an ever growing relationship chart in his head. For fun. He even admits it in the manga!

Like, look at him!!!

It’s such a shame that — because he’s the narrative foil to Laios and his interest is generally considered more “socially acceptable” in both their world and our own — more people don’t realize this about him. He’s constantly misinterpreted as a horribly manipulative person who only acts the way he does to use the people around him, when that’s explicitly shown to not be the case at all. Kabru is naturally empathetic and is almost always thinking about other people, regardless of whether or not they’re right there with him or a thousand miles away.

I mean, his most defining motivation is his desire to do everything he can to avoid another tragedy like the one at Utaya. Someone who doesn’t care wouldn’t have a goal like that, and they most certainly wouldn’t go about it the way he does. He’s constantly working to help people who can help everyone else and tries so hard to make sure that anyone who seems like a threat is actually someone he needs to worry about before doing anything about it. His supposed aversion to Laios is only because of the ridiculous trolley problem he’s set up in his own head.

Outside of that, he (rather justifiably) hates monsters but is desperate to understand Laios’ love for them and his apparently most selfish goal in getting close to the guy was literally just to become friends with him.

When he’s interacting with the canaries and they imply that they’re going to take him and all of his friends to the West, his first thought is of Rin and how much she’d hate to be stuck in the place that gave her so many bad memories.

He helps Kuro learn Common when Mickbell is asleep and firmly looks forward to the day that the half-foot and Kuro can communicate properly so that their relationship can get properly started without any miscommunication.

And he understands Mithrun with only a handful of weeks AT BEST interacting with him, getting enraged when the elf seems to give up and immediately trying to help him find a new motivation for life.

I’m excited just thinking about the day that Kabru starts unmasking more and more around his friends — both new and old — because if being with my current friend group has taught me anything, it’s that hanging out with anyone so unabashedly themselves is bound to make you more comfortable with yourself too. It’s part of the reason why I like Labru so much! There’s something nice about imagining them hanging out in the throne room or laying in the grass outside and talking for hours on end about their special interests. They might not strictly understand what the other finds so fascinating about monsters or people, but they can grasp that shared feeling of love.

They probably influence each other in really good ways too, with Kabru helping Laios figure out what people are thinking even when it doesn’t make sense or Laios helping Kabru understand that not everyone and everything needs to be analyzed a thousand times over. They both get to learn that there are people like them and people who will love them without them ever having to change a thing about themselves. They deserve to know that they’re fine the way they are.

[beanietopia]

you knew toji wasn’t a good person. he was cocky, apathetic, and sometimes just downright rude. it’s a good thing you weren’t dating him; he sounds like an absolute nightmare to be in a relationship with.

although you weren’t the (un)lucky girl, that sure didn’t mean someone else wasn’t.

while toji was all of the things listed above, the one thing that kept you coming back was how much he was a good fuck. you didn’t think anyone could pull out multiple orgasms from you like toji did. you two had an agreement, he’d call you when he wanted to fuck, and you’d be there.

it was just the issue of toji’s girlfriend.

no, toji wouldn’t exactly call her his girlfriend… she’s just another girl he was fucking the same time as you and let her believe they’d be something serious. toji didn’t want anything serious with anyone— you included. you didn’t mind, though. you got your dick and was happy about it. why try to complicate things by making it official?

tonight was like any other night in particular, toji had told you to come over and you practically threw on your clothes to get to his place. the night was continuing as usual, with him having your face pushed into the mattress as he took you from behind. your moans sounded downright whorish, according to him.

his phone started to buzz and you half expected him to decline the call until—

‘hello?’ he picked up the fucking phone?!

toji’s “girlfriend” was on the other end, berating him for missing a date he had supposedly planned. that didn’t even sound like something he was capable of.

‘i’m sorry ma, i’ll make it up to you. i promise. i’ll talk to you later.’

‘no toji, you do this every fucking time and i feel like you don’t care—‘

it shouldn’t have turned you on that toji had the poor girl on speaker, the sounds of your moans and skin clapping skin being drowned out by the deep timbre of his voice.

‘baby, i do care. i just got a lot on my mind right now.’

‘i really want this to work, toji. i like you so much but i feel like we found each other at the wrong time..’

you had to bite the pillow in order to keep yourself from crying out, toji’s balls slapping your clit as he increased his pace.

‘nah, we found each other at the perfect time. i’ll call or text you tomorrow, okay doll?’

‘okay,’ stupid girl. ‘be safe at work okay? bye.’

‘bye.’ toji tossed the phone on the bed, chuckling to himself as he felt you clench around him with each thrust.

‘she’s so fucking stupid, isn’t she mama? should we call her back and have her listen to this?’

your cock drunk self could hardly reply, whimpers and choked sobs escaping your mouth as you chanted yesyesyes over and over.

‘you don’t give a fuck if i fuck other girls, right?’

toji releases his hold on your waist to watch you desperately fuck yourself back on his cock, moaning as you felt the crack of his hand hitting your ass. you knew you were nothing more to him than a body, and one day you too could be like that poor girl on the phone.

might as well have fun while you could.

——————

@sqoa @gojoscinnamonroll @jayybugg @bobbeshwar @valicalliali

UM HELLO GUYS!! tysm for the love on the choso post hehe PART 2 COMING SOON! in the meantime please have this <3 hope you enjoy beanie out

[asxgard]

Companionship | pt. 5

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x f!reader

Previous | Next

Summary: After a brief mention two weeks ago, Michael gives you a gift, making your feelings all the more complicated.

[ Series Masterlist ]

Note: y’all are so amazing!💜thank you for all the comments, reblogs, likes and follows! I’m so grateful you all are enjoying this as much as I am!! over 300 followers?? That’s crazy, thank you!!

Someone on ao3 said there needed to be more Robby pov and you know what? I agree! I tried my best lol

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: age gap, foul language, feelings angst, slowburn

not beta read

Butterflies invaded your stomach at the mere thought of him, the memory of his fingers on you — soft and fleeting. How warm his skin had been against yours, seared into your mind.

This is so stupid.

You thought to call Erin and ask her if this had ever happened to her, but there was a fear in saying anything. In calling attention to your feelings. Aside from the fact that he was not looking for anything, your arrangement was a glaring obvious fact that nothing truly could happen between you. Wouldn’t that break all the boundaries you had set with each other at the start? That was not even getting into your age difference, and the uneven balance it could create. He was so much older, it could never work.

Trying to distract yourself with work and studying and late nights with your friends, you still eagerly accepted any of his calls. He still planned a weekly one, but an unplanned call late at night became more frequent. You enjoyed those late night conversations, they were typically more raw and revealing than when he had time to think about what to say.

He had told you more about the hospital administration hounding him, and the third year resident he had taken under his wing some years past.

Toward the end of the conversation, he had asked to hang out.

“Maybe get take-out again, or something.” He suggested.

You contemplated it. Your laptop was giving you a headache, and you were half-tempted to throw it out a window. A little food and conversation might do wonders to make you feel better.

“I’d still like to try that Thai place.” You told him, playing with the hem of your sweater.

“That can be arranged.”

You laughed, “Tonight?”

“Yeah, meet me there at 7?”

—

Michael really had no excuse for the nerves that flooded his system. They nearly always did in your company, but the calm that would wash over him just a little bit later was bliss. It was nice to have someone to talk to — someone interested in his days without wanting to pry. It was freeing, almost, knowing you would still be there for him the following week even if he revealed his harrowed feelings.

There was a hopeful optimism, too — like it was all good practice for human connection. Yet, the thought of someone else on the other line or the other side of the table, it soured.

He was being stupid. He was being reckless.

The feelings in his chest were just simple, calm familiarity. It could never be anything more.

You were nearly half his age, and the thought of embarrassing himself at believing the feelings could ever be anything more made him tense up. The walls around his heart remained steadfast and strong.

Perhaps the whole arrangement was bleeding into something it shouldn’t be — and he thought to perhaps call the whole thing off.

He thought that, but he was already reaching for the phone to hear your voice.

The Thai place was crowded, but you were able to get a table. You were dressed in business casual, coming from work, and your top did wonders for your eyes. He admired you for a few moments in the lobby while you waited for a table, desperately trying to be subtle about it.

When you sat, you looked over the menu with interest and the quiet that settled over you was warm. Your orders were taken and you smiled, eyes roaming around the new restaurant.

“Have you still been pretty busy?” Michael asked.

“Never too busy for you.” You commented effortlessly with a smirk. “But yeah. Getting down to crunch time. Soon I’ll have to worry about getting my license.”

Your first comment made his heart stutter. I’m too old for this. But he was grinning.

“At least you’ll have school off your plate.” He said.

You gave an agreed nod, “I’m looking forward to that fact, oh my god.”

Michael chuckled.

“How was work yesterday?” You asked, looking genuinely interested.

You were good at that — making him want to open up, but some of his days were just too gruesome to tell you about. Too painful to share. You always had an ear open for him, regardless. Part of his mind whispered you were just doing as their agreement dictated, but he shoved that back down.

“It was…” A thousand words floated through his mind: Bad. Good. Terrible. Short-staffed. He settled on, “...fine.”

It was easy enough to see in your eyes that you did not believe him. Pretty eyes framed with long lashes, flickering from his face to your meal and back again. He hated how it felt not opening up all the way, but he feared he would swallow you whole.

He let out a long sigh through his nose, refusing to look at you. A thought was bubbling in his head, half-tempted to tell you about Adamson, feeling guilty for shutting you out. Not yet, I can’t yet, echoed in his head, memories burning in his mind of Adamson on the ventilator.

“Hey, hey, Mike.” You snapped him out of the images that haunted him, reaching across the table to hold his hand. “You got lost there for a minute…are you okay?”

He cleared his throat and you removed your hand, much to his disappointment. He covered it easily, smiling back at you.

“Well, I’m out with a very beautiful woman, so I’d say I’m okay.”

You stared at him, eyebrows raised, eyes wide, before quickly looking away from him. His heart picked up at your reaction, hope blooming. No—

“That’s—well—uh—thank you.”

He smiled, trying to brush all the thoughts swimming in his head aside. “I got you something.”

You sputtered, “What?”

“I got you a gift. I left it at my apartment, figured we could head back that way after we finished eating.” He explained, thinking of the box sitting on his couch. It had sat like a heavyweight in his living room all week.

“You…got me a gift?” Then, “You really didn’t have to do that, Michael.”

He shrugged sheepishly, “I wanted to.”

“Well, thank you. Really. That…you really didn’t have to.”

Michael tried to read all the emotions flickering across your face—shock, confusion, red eared embarrassment, and finally, gratitude.

He called for the check.

—

Warm feelings were swirling around in your stomach. The cool night air did little for your cheeks, or the heat that had crawled up your neck or wrapped across your chest, holding you tight.

A gift. He got me a gift. A gift. A goddamn gift.

Why the fuck had he gotten you something? A nausea rolled in, feeling like you owed him — even if his only intention had been to be kind. What was it? Did he see something simple, think of you and buy it? Did he go out searching for something to buy?

The possibilities ate away at your insides.

The walk into his apartment building was filled with quiet banter, which helped pull you back out of your head. You registered the look on the woman’s face as she had stepped off the elevator, giving Michael a side-eye, while you both stepped onto it. You swallowed thickly, turning your attention back to the man beside you.

“Maybe they just need a few games to get into the swing of things. I still have hope.” You told him, referencing the game the Penguins had played the day before.

Michael chuckled, “They’re a disappointment, but they’re still my team.”

“Sometimes I feel lucky when I’m too busy to watch them lose.” You laughed, moving beside him when you got to his floor.

You were nervous to be in his apartment again, but a part of you also enjoyed being surrounded by a space that was purely him.

“If it makes you feel any better, it can’t technically be a gift. I didn’t wrap it.” He said, glancing at you.

Your eyes moved around his apartment until they settled on the brown paper bag on his couch. Your heart started racing.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works,” you said with a small chuckle, looking over at him.

He had his hands in his pockets, side stepping to his couch to grab the gift. Seeing the size of it, you began guessing in your head as to what it could have been — a clothing box? Too big to be a book.

“Here you go.” His voice was so soft as he handed it over.

You lowered yourself onto his couch, taking it from him. It was heavy. Not unbearably so, but it had some weight to it. You smiled up at him before putting your hand into the bag, feeling the box inside.

He moved to sit next to you…impossibly close. Close enough to feel his body heat, feel the shadow of his form hovering.

Gut twisting, you pulled out the box, blinking down at what now laid in your lap. HP was written on the cardboard in large black lettering, and your heart completely stopped. The cardboard had been opened so it was easy enough to peek inside, all your thoughts stalling in your head at the sight of it.

An HP ProBook 460 G11.

A goddamn fucking laptop.

“Michael,” your voice squeaked out, heart hammering against your ribcage. “I can’t accept this. This is too much.”

“I know you were saying yours was giving you trouble.” He said, like it explained everything.

You finally removed your eyes from the box to look at him. He had a soft smile on his lips, but it still reached his eyes, crinkled in contentment. His brown eyes held an emotion you did not recognize, but it crept into your chest and curled up.

“I really can’t take this.” You breathed out, quiet since he was so close.

“It’s bad luck to give a gift back.”

“I thought it wasn’t technically a gift.”

He smirked, eyes flickering down to your lips before snapping back up to your eyes. “I want you to have it.”

And that seemed to settle it.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “This was really, really nice of you. Thank you so much.”

He rubbed his hands down his legs, letting out a long breath, “Yeah, of course.”

You grabbed his wrist, forcing his attention back to your face. “I mean it, this…this was incredibly thoughtful. Thank you, Michael.”

“You’re welcome.” And there was your name, so pretty on his lips.

[ Next ]

want to join the taglist? shoot me a message!

Companionship Taglist: @queenslandlover-93 @clementine111002 @virgomillie @emily-b @kaygilles @lt-jakeseresin @imonmykneessir @kniselle @cannonindeez @gabsgabsvaz @rosiepoise88 @calivia @holdonimwalkingmysnail @valhallavalkyrie9 @blahkateisdone @shadowhuntyi @fuckalrighty

All Dr. Robby Content: @cherriready @kittenhawkk @seeyalaterinnovator

hahah I love a good build up, BUT KISS HIM

they’re so bad at feelings lol

sorry this chapter was shorter, I wanted to get some Robby pov in there. But surprise! the next part is already out🤗

[daryltwdixon]

hello dear!! i dont know if your are still taking requests or not, but if do you i would really love to see you write something fluff with a drunk daryl and reader, where he totally forgot that they are dating and just start acting shy and awkward around her, i know its cliche but i really love how you write daryl and think it would be so cute to see something like that written by you😭, but i totally understand if you are busy, i hope you are having a great day!🥰

A drunk Daryl grows uncharacteristically shy around you, forgetting for a moment that you're together.

author notes: I just want to say its not v common for people who are drinking to forget who their s/o's are, but anything for you lolol, enjoy!!! x

thank you for the love!!!

The Alexandria dinner party is louder than usual, laughter spilling out into the quiet night. Someone had insisted on opening the last few bottles of wine, and you watch with amusement as Daryl, leaning against the far wall, swirls the red liquid in his glass like it’s some kind of trap.

“Never took you for a wine guy,” you tease, stepping closer. His eyes dart to yours, and the flush on his face deepens. You figure the alcohol’s working its magic, though Daryl had always been shy about these kinds of things—especially in a crowd.

“Don’t even taste right,” he mutters, setting the glass on a nearby table like it might bite him.

You grin. “Then why drink it?”

He shrugs, glancing at you sideways. The usual ease between you feels a little... off. His gaze flicks to your face, then away again, like he’s avoiding something. You tilt your head, trying to figure out what’s wrong, when his voice breaks the quiet.

“You look real nice tonight.”

The words come out low and shy, almost like he hadn’t meant to say them. You blink, surprised, but before you can respond, he fumbles to add, “Not that ya don’t always, but... I mean, yeah.”

“Daryl,” you say, trying to catch his eye. He’s looking anywhere but at you now, cheeks burning. “Are you okay?”

“‘M fine,” he grumbles, crossing his arms. But the way he shifts on his feet, the nervous way he rubs the back of his neck—it’s not like him. You step closer, studying him, until something clicks.

“Oh my god.” You can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up. “You don’t remember, do you?”

His brows furrow, lips parting in confusion. “Remember what?”

You can’t believe it. “You’re acting like we just met or something.”

Daryl stares at you, his eyes swimming with haze, but he blinks hard, trying to piece it all together. His eyes widen slightly. “Wait... we’re—?”

“Yes, Daryl,” you say, trying to suppress another laugh. “We’re together, at least I thought so,”

The realization hits him like a brick wall. His mouth opens, then closes, and for a second he just stares at you, dumbfounded. “Shit,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over his face. “I—uh... forgot.”

“Obviously,” you tease, stepping even closer until you’re standing right in front of him. “Should I be worried you’re forgetting about me already?”

“Nah,” he says quickly, his voice quiet but insistent. “Just... too much wine. ‘S all.”

You bite your lip, trying not to smile too wide at how bashful he looks. The Daryl you know is rarely this unguarded, and it’s endearing. But as you watch him glance down at you—his face still flushed and his nerves practically visible—you catch something softer in his expression. His hand drifts to the back of his neck again, but this time, a crooked grin follows.

“You’re... somethin’ else,” he murmurs under his breath, almost to himself. “Must be the luckiest som' bitch,”

The words catch you off guard, and warmth blooms in your chest. “Damn right you are,” you say softly, but there’s no teasing in your tone anymore.

His lips twitch, and he finally dares to meet your gaze. “Guess I don’t mind that.”

You smirk, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his cheek. The move makes him freeze for half a second before his face turns a deeper shade of red, but his hand brushes yours in a subtle, almost instinctive gesture. Even drunk, even shy, Daryl Dixon couldn’t hide how much he cared.

“C’mon,” you say, tugging lightly at his hand. “Let’s get you some water before you forget anything else."

[darlingdaisyfarm]

texting Stan and Ford headcanons

smut version

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Stan Pines

✧ Stan is the kinda guy who thinks emojis are a scam, but somehow, he figured out how to use the "thumbs up" and "money bag" emoji. so, expect a lot of those in your chats.

✧ his text tone is rough, a little misspelled, typed like he's yelling even when he isn’t. Half of his texts are in all caps, and he absolutely does not care about grammar. but he gets the point across, always.

✧ you’re getting messages at 3 am about some ‘brilliant’ scheme to make a quick buck. he’ll send, “LISTEN, doll, what if we made... GIANT… glitter-filled eggs for easter? Tourists'll go NUTS." you reply, half-asleep, with “Stan, ily but go to bed." and all you get back is a “🤬 YOU GOTTA THINK BIGGER!”

✧ Stan sends those weird chain messages he swears are from some “hotshot businessman” that’ll make you rich in a week. and when you don’t respond immediately, you get a: “Fine, Miss Doubtful, see you when I’m rolling in gold.”

✧ there are whole days where he just floods your phone with random, blurry photos of some new Mystery Shack "artifact" he found. It’s usually junk he picked up at a garage sale, like a “haunted” ashtray or some knock-off painting that’s “probably ancient.”

✧ If he’s feeling sappy (and tipsy): you might get a rare “thinking bout you, sweet thing” at 2 am. but if you try to call him on it the next day, he’ll just be like “Didn’t say that. You’re makin’ stuff up.”

✧ when he’s really riled up about something, though? then his messages are just. . . a stream of caps-lock curses, mixed with misspelled attempts to describe whatever nonsense he just got himself into. you just sit back and let him rant; he’ll cool off eventually.

✧ and the voice messages are something else. they sound like he’s talking through a fan half the time. one minute, he’s rambling about how tourists are “the dumbest suckers on the planet” and the next, he’s ranting about how “bigfoot definitely broke into the shack last night!"

types of messages Stan texts: 

"So… whatcha wearin’? 😏"

“Hey doll, I just found a penny on the ground! Maybe today’s my lucky day… hint hint ;)"

"I’d say somethin’ romantic, but I think my brain just shorted out. You’re a little too cute for a guy like me."

"Just tried that new café downtown. Ordered coffee… tastes like they filtered it through someone’s laundry. You’d hate it. Wanna come mock it with me?"

"Not gonna lie, I miss that face of yours. So what’re we doin’ about it, huh?"

“Again missin’ that cute little smile of yours… maybe you could send me a pic to remind me?”

"Wanna help me scam the tourists today? I’ll split the loot with ya… maybe ;)”

"You wouldn’t believe what I caught Ford muttering in his sleep. Man’s like a walking encyclopedia, even when he’s unconscious."

“Got any plans later? Thought maybe we could… y’know… not have plans together."

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Ford Pines 

✧ hehehehe he’s like an old-school emailer who’s just now getting the hang of messaging apps. texts in complete sentences, full punctuation, like he’s drafting a dissertation.

✧ He sends you whole paragraphs at random hours, talking about some discovery he’s made, like he’s reporting directly to NASA. you’re like, “Ford, it's just a weird-looking squirrel." and he's already typing another essay about its "possible interdimensional origins."

✧ once in a while, he’ll send you a message that says, “Are you awake?” at, like 3 am followed by a string of thoughtful yet completely bonkers hypotheses. you find it cute, though, his mind never stops, not even for a second.

✧ If he’s feeling bold, you might even get a “hypothetical” confession out of him: “Hypothetically, if one were to develop... strong emotional attachment to a certain person... how would one proceed?" You tease him about it the next day, and he gets flustered, “It was purely scientific curiosity."

✧ Ford isn’t big on emojis, but he likes the brain and alien ones, using them poetically. he’ll sign off texts with a single brain emoji, like it’s his version of a little goodbye wave.

✧ on really rare occasions, he’ll send a voice message. they’re always way too long, and it’s usually him whispering so he doesn’t wake Stan up. he goes on about cosmic rays or “gravity anomalies,” his voice dropping lower when he gets excited. you live for those moments

✧ and if he ever texts you a “good night,” you just know he’s been up thinking about it for hours, trying to figure out if it’s “appropriate.”

types of messages Ford texts: 

“It’s been approximately 3 hours, 12 minutes, and 23 seconds since our last conversation… not that I’m counting or anything. Just… miss you."

sends a meme about science nerds “Us. But mostly me.”

“My hands ache from writing… though perhaps if it were writing about you, I wouldn’t mind.”

“Do you think about me too, or am I the only one utterly ruined by this… whatever this is?”

“I’ve been thinking about that book you lent me... 🤔 It’s honestly so much more interesting than I expected, thank you for recommending it."

"I don’t know how to work this... But I managed to send a meme! It’s not the worst thing I’ve done, I suppose? 

“I did it. I fixed the telescope. Finally. Now we can actually look at the stars like we’ve talked about. :)"

"I hope you’re feeling okay today. I noticed you seemed a little stressed the other day. Don’t forget to take care of yourself. :) It’s important."

"If I could rearrange the periodic table, I’d put U and I together. :( Sorry, nerdy joke... :’D)”

ps - I CANT THEYRE SO CUTE BOTH I WANT TO SMASH THEM AGAINST THE WALL

lmao if someone wants, i can write some spicy types of chatting with them :)))

[firewasabeast]

For tommy&rocker twins- Someone from SWAT seeing Tommy w Buck on their day off and thinking ???rocker has a secret boyfriend???

Hondo cannot believe his eyes.

He supposes he shouldn't be too surprised. Deacon and Rocker's relationship did start as cheating... for a year and a half. So, maybe that's just part of who Rocker is. Now that he has Deacon all to himself, the thrill is gone. Now that Deacon has set his whole life on fire, divorcing a woman he was married to for nearly 20 years and working nonstop to repair his relationship with his kids, Rocker is bored and in need of someone new.

And younger.

They look so happy too. Hands intertwined as they walk through the farmers' market, the younger one practically glued to Rocker's side as he smiles up at him.

Then they're looking over the fruits together, and Rocker is scrunching his face up and laughing at something this other guy said. Hondo doesn't give himself enough time to wonder if he's overreacting, because he's seeing a wrong happening right in front of his eyes, and he needs to fix it. Not for himself, but for his best friend! His best friend, who has been so much happier since coming clean about being with Rocker. His best friend who, despite all the issues with the divorce, says he feels freer than he's ever felt before.

He walks up to this "happy couple" and taps on Rocker's shoulder.

"Hey," he begins, expecting Rocker's eyes to widen once he realizes he's been caught.

Instead he gets a confused smile. "Hey. Sorry, are we in your way?"

"Are you..." Hondo huffs out a breath, shaking his head. He turns to the younger guy, who also looks confused. "Hondo Harrelson," he introduces, sticking out his hand.

Buck shakes it, hesitant. "Evan... Buckley. Buck's fine though. This is Tommy. D- Do we know you?"

"No, no, you don't. This guy here does," he says, placing a hand on Rocker's shoulder. "Tommy?" he questions. "Really?"

Tommy nods. "Really." He glances over at the hand that's still on his shoulder. "You might have me confused with someone else."

"I just don't get it," Hondo says, dropping his hand as he glares. "Deacon upended his life for you, Man, and you go and do this? This isn't who I thought you were."

"I'm not- Wait, Deacon? Who-"

"Does Buck know about Deacon? Or are you leading him on too?"

"Yeah," Buck says, tugging at Tommy's hand. "You just leading me on too?"

And if Hondo wasn't pissed before, he certainly was now that this Buck had the nerve to be smiling!

Tommy rolls his eyes. "Evan," he groans before looking back at Hondo. "Hondo, right?"

"Seriously?"

"Okay, Hondo, you must work with my brother, Donovan Rocker?"

Hondo's face relaxes slightly. "Brother?"

Tommy nods. "Identical twin brother."

"Oh... Oh, man I didn't know-"

"It's fine," Tommy interrupts, giving Hondo a smile. "Not the first time it's happened."

"I didn't know Rocker had a brother," Hondo starts to explain. "I just saw you and I jumped to conclusions. I'm sorry, Tommy."

"Not a problem," Tommy assures him. "We don't really see each other much. Hell, we don't even share a last name. It's an easy mix up."

"Well, I'm sorry again, both of you. I will, uh, I'll let you get back to your day. It was good to meet you both." With a quick shake of both of their hands, he's on his way.

As soon as Hondo is out of earshot, Buck eyes Tommy. "Okay, so Deacon?" he questions.

"Did not even know Donny was into guys," Tommy says, already pulling out his phone and dialing his brother's number. "We are having dinner tonight, whether he likes it or not."

Buck grins, excited for whatever Tommy-family news he's about to learn. "I'll bake bread!"

[rothpie]

❝FIDELITY❞ |part17

MASTERLIST -`✮´- Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank

Summary: Kook!Reader’s world is upended by betrayal, and her only way forward might lie with the most unlikely person—JJ Maybank. But as they build a new life together, old flames and past mistakes refuse to stay buried.

Warnings: nothing

previous - next

When Rafe parked his car in front of your house, his hands froze on the steering wheel. Thoughts were spiraling in his head, but he couldn’t seem to grab hold of any of them. He was tense. Anger, uncertainty, curiosity—and just a flicker of hope. All of it was screaming at him, like a chorus of emotions refusing to shut the hell up.

He’d been thinking about this day for weeks. He had gone over every possible move, replayed this moment in his mind a million times. He wanted to look better than his best. Even if he didn’t say the words out loud, he wanted to be someone worthy of Liliana.

Someone who deserved to be her father.

And when the door opened, it was you standing there. Just a plain grey T-shirt on, messy hair, eyes tired and unreadable. You leaned against the doorframe, looking straight at him sitting in the car.

For a second, Rafe felt like he was thrown into the past. He still wasn’t used to being near you. Hell, he had forgotten how to breathe when you texted him. And now—now you were right there, just a few steps away on the damn porch.

For a heartbeat, just one, Rafe imagined you running to him as soon as he got out of the car. Just like old times.

You’d plant a kiss on his cheek, jump into his arms, laugh and say how excited you were to see him again, making him laugh too.

But those days were gone. You weren’t going to run into his arms, and he wasn’t going to kiss you like before. This wasn’t five years ago. You were who you are now. And he—he was whatever was left of himself after you. Half of what he used to be.

Still, Rafe stepped out of the car, his daydream fading. Just walking toward you felt like the universe was cutting him some slack for once. He took a deep breath, trying—and failing—to shake the tension in his chest.

“Hey. You’re here,” you said, not taking your eyes off him.

“Yeah,” Rafe nodded slightly. “Sorry I’m a bit late.”

He didn’t mean to be. He had nearly lost it back at home, overwhelmed by nerves. He hadn't even realized how much time had passed.

“It’s fine,” you said automatically, brushing off your hand and giving a little shrug.

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, like he was trying to talk himself into believing this was real. “I had to stop by the gas station and—”

“Rafe.” Your voice was soft but firm. You were looking him right in the eyes. “It’s okay.”

Rafe used to be able to read you with just a glance. But now? Now he couldn’t read shit. And that scared him. A little panic crept in—what if you were already over this? What if you suddenly decided to call the whole thing off?

Not gonna lie—he’d drop to his knees and beg if that’s what it took. He would. He wouldn’t even hesitate. He wasn’t curious about the life he’d missed, because he already knew it would hurt. Hearing it, knowing he hadn’t been there—it would wreck him. 

But this was about Liliana.

They didn’t even know each other yet, but Rafe already felt like she was part of him. And that was enough.

He couldn’t fix the past. God, how he wished he could. But time didn’t work like that. He couldn’t rewind. So he wanted the rest of it—the time still left.

He wanted that one shot to make up for everything he missed.

He didn’t know if things would ever be right between you two. As co-parents, or... anything else. But with Liliana? He knew he could get it right.

More than that—he wanted to.

“I’m glad you came,” you said finally. “I told Liliana a bit, but… I don’t know how she’ll react.” A small smile played on your lips.

And with those words, Rafe felt like he could breathe again. Knowing you hadn’t given up, knowing there was still space for him—it gave him something solid to hold on to.

Maybe, if the roles were reversed, he wouldn’t have been able to do the same. But you were doing it. And he knew—it wasn’t for him.

It was for Liliana.

“I get it,” Rafe said. Just two words, but they scraped out of his throat like they weighed a ton. His voice carried all the uncertainty in him. All he had left was hope.

“You look nervous,” you said, stepping back slightly until your back touched the door. You cleared your throat, eyes studying him. Rafe shifted when he felt your gaze sweep over him with something almost like concern.

“I am nervous. As fuck,” Rafe said, shaking his head slowly. His eyes dropped to the ground for a moment. He didn’t want to lie or play it cool. He didn’t want to lie to you. He was nervous. Scared. He didn’t even know what the hell he was doing. He couldn’t even control his damn breathing. But there was this tiny part of him that was... excited too.

While the anxiety was practically buzzing through his whole body, he heard your laugh. You licked your lips and looked slightly over your shoulder, as if checking for something even though there was nothing there.

“It’s gonna be okay,” you said in a calm, reassuring tone. Of course you didn’t want both sides to be on edge for this first meeting. That would be a disaster.

“I hope so,” Rafe replied, his voice lower now. Even though you were trying to comfort him, it wasn’t going to fix everything. Not today.

“Yeah. Trust me,” you added. Your voice was soft, but there was something underneath it. Something you were trying to hold back.

Rafe hesitated to meet your eyes. Really, he did. Because—because it felt like you were looking at him with pity. And he couldn’t handle that. 

He couldn’t look at you and see the disappointment he’d caused staring back at him.

The way he had always felt about you—how deeply, how fucking clearly—was right there, in plain sight. And now?

Now it was hard to look at you without seeing what he’d broken.

He didn’t want to do this. 

Didn’t want to look at you.

“Where is she now?” Rafe asked abruptly, trying to shake off his nerves. He wanted things to move quickly. He just wanted to get rid of the anxiety and meet his daughter.

“She’s inside.” You tilted your head, pointing behind the door.

Rafe hesitated. He almost didn’t ask, but his mouth betrayed him. “With him?”

You nodded. With a deep sigh, you looked away from him, turning your gaze toward the garden. “Yeah…”

Of course.

How the hell had this even started?

He held back from saying something he’d regret. You weren’t his, and he had no right to say anything, but—thinking of his daughter clinging to JJ’s legs and giggling with him stirred something ugly in his chest.

And also—seriously, what the hell? You and him? A kook and a pogue? Sure, that label had basically expired years ago, but still—how? You two were nothing alike. Different vibes, different scenes, different personalities. Everything. And now what—living in the same house? You, Liliana, and JJ?

It felt like a joke.

No, he wasn’t going to say any of that out loud. He couldn’t risk the chance you were giving him—but really? Out of everyone in the goddamn world, you picked him?

Rafe tilted his head slightly. His brows furrowed but he quickly recovered. He avoided any expression that would give away how he felt, and kept his tone flat—but his voice came out way too suggestive. “So—You and JJ, hmm?”

He cursed himself the second he heard his own tone. Clearing his throat, he adjusted his posture.

Your eyes flicked to him. You studied him for a beat, then pursed your lips. “Me and JJ what?”

No way your brain had turned to mush over the years. You were either playing dumb, or you were doing this on purpose—to mess with him.

Rafe cleared his throat again. He took a step back, glancing at the other car parked in the yard—probably the one you both used. Then his eyes landed on the two surfboards propped by the door. The sight of JJ being that settled in made his stomach churn. His eyes met yours again, voice low. “I mean... I don’t get it. When did it happen? How or where…”

Even just outside, there were traces of JJ everywhere—he didn’t want to imagine what the inside of the house looked like. Then again, he’d seen it listed as an Airbnb before, so maybe there wasn’t much to see.

But what about your place in the city?

Were JJ’s things on the coffee table? His jackets hanging by the door? Were there pictures of you, Liliana, and him smiling on the walls?

His brain needed to just stop.

This wasn’t about you. Or JJ. It was about Liliana. And still— 

Shit. Fuck this.

“Rafe,” you said with a light laugh, but your tone hinted at warning. You shook your head. “No—”

Rafe didn’t let you finish. He cut you off fast. Unlike you, he wasn’t laughing. He looked serious. “I mean if Liliana sees him as her dad, and—”

“We’re not together,” you interrupted. Your voice was calm, but that alone eased something in Rafe’s chest.

He blinked. “What?”

You shrugged like it was no big deal. “We’re not together. I don’t have time to explain every second of it, but he helped me with everything. Still does.”

Rafe’s brows pulled together. He clearly couldn’t wrap his head around it. Running a hand through his hair, he shut his eyes for a second. “I just... I’m having a hard time understanding.”

“We’re supporting each other, that’s all,” you said simply.

Rafe’s voice came out almost bitter. “Like... fuck buddies?”

He hated himself for saying it. He shouldn’t have said it. He wasn’t here for this. How many times did he have to remind himself?

But damn it—he is curious.

You scrunched your face. Your eyes darted away as you shifted your weight, moving away from the doorframe. “Oh my God, Rafe, no.”

“I don’t get it.” Rafe started, but couldn’t finish. He cut himself off.

If it was nothing—then why the hell is JJ still here?

You shook your head, your voice barely a whisper. “It’s not that complicated.”

“So you’re single?” Rafe asked, trying to sound neutral—but the unease in his voice gave him away. You looked at him. For a moment, Rafe was sure you were going to throw him out. That this was it. No more chance to meet Liliana. No second chance, period.

Nice going, Rafe Cameron. Can’t even handle a five-minute doorstep conversation without fucking it up.

“Rafe,” you warned.

Rafe quickly straightened up. His tone more explanatory now. “It was just a question. I was curious.”

“Don’t be.” You said it with tired finality.

“Okay.” Rafe nodded and stepped back slightly, taking a deep breath. “By the way—I talked to my dad.”

Your eyes locked on him. Your expression tightened. Brows rose. “You did?” Your tone sounded almost surprised, like you hadn’t really expected him to go through with it.

“I did. Didn’t go great,” Rafe said with a small laugh, though it barely masked the sting. Honestly, it had gone to shit. He wasn’t even planning to talk to his dad again for a while. “If—like, I don’t know if it’ll happen, but if he ever tries to contact you, can you let me know?”

“Of course,” you said without hesitation. Rafe didn’t push it, but he still wanted to say it.

He took a deep breath. Talking about this stuff had always been hard, but with you, it still felt… easy. Like when you used to talk back then. When you were younger. “I told him not to. Just once in his life, I hope he actually listens.”

You were just about to speak, your mouth half-open, when the inner door creaked open and JJ stepped out. Quietly, but with a kind of weight to his presence. His eyes quickly scanned the both of you, then locked onto Rafe’s face. There was something sharp in his expression—like he was approaching prey, calm but deadly. You could’ve sworn he almost hated him.

He moved toward you, planting himself at your side with a protective air. Something flickered in Rafe at the sight. You folded your arms over your chest as the two locked eyes—neither of them even blinked.

JJ placed a possessive hand on your back and nodded at Rafe, then offered a hand. “Hey.” 

His voice was clipped, hard. Rafe hadn’t expected anything softer anyway. Rafe’s eyes dropped briefly to JJ’s hand on your back, then met yours. 

Again—hadn’t you said there was nothing going on between you two? 

Because this shit didn’t look like nothing.

The way you leaned into his touch—fuck, it was so you and Rafe. Like five years ago. And seeing that—Rafe didn’t even want to think about it.

Watching something he’d lost—something he thought was his once—now standing right in front of him made his stomach twist. He was already on edge, and the sight of you two like that? It was the goddamn cherry on top.

“Hi,” Rafe said shortly. He shook JJ’s hand, not flinching even when the grip came in tighter than necessary. They’d never liked each other, and clearly, five years hadn’t changed shit. Rafe still hated him. 

Only now, he had a reason. 

You. 

You, standing too close to him. That was reason enough to hate the bastard.

“How is she?” Rafe asked, voice low, glancing briefly at the door.

“She’s waiting,” JJ said, eyes never leaving Rafe’s face. Like he was still evaluating if the guy could be trusted.

“Sorry about the beach,” Rafe muttered, eyes on JJ. He wasn’t really sorry about the attitude—just about the fact that it happened in front of Liliana. But seeing his daughter with *him*— 

Yeah, he hadn’t expected that. He’d made assumptions.  All his assumptions had included you alone. 

Just you and Liliana. 

Not a single one of those imagined JJ Fucking Maybank in the picture. Not even once.

“Same,” JJ replied, shrugging. Tone flat, uninterested. 

They were clearly tolerating each other just for Liliana’s sake. That was all this was. Toleration. And even that felt like too much for them.

Rafe looked between the two of you. There was still something unspoken hanging in the air. A tension he couldn’t place, but desperately wanted to understand. 

But not now. 

Now wasn’t the time. 

There was something more important at stake.

“Okay,” you finally said, breaking the tension. “If you’re both ready—”

“Of course,” JJ and Rafe said at the same time.

Rafe watched you nod and head toward the door. JJ stepped aside, like he was silently telling Rafe to go in first.

When Rafe stepped inside behind you, Liliana was standing by the window in the corner of the living room. She’d dropped the toy book in her hand and was now staring at the door. Rafe’s entrance felt like it sucked all the air out of the room. 

Heavy.  Thick.  Silent.

He isn't just nervous. He is scared. 

Completely fucking terrified.

You and Rafe walked a few steps ahead while JJ came in behind and closed the door.

You looked at Liliana, then turned to Rafe, giving him a small nod. 

“Rafe, this is… Liliana.”

Rafe could hear the pounding of his own heart. The only other sound was the cartoon still playing faintly on the TV. He took a few steps in, but didn’t get too close. His face was unreadable, carefully composed. 

Was it the usual mask he wore with strangers? 

Or was it exhaustion—leftover from everything that had happened with you? 

Hard to tell. 

But one thing was clear: he was trying hard to keep the fear down.

Liliana didn’t flinch. Her eyes scanned Rafe’s face with sharp, almost adult-like attention. 

He looked different than she expected. 

Younger. 

Maybe softer. 

But there was something in his eyes… something guarded, watchful. Like yours.

And God—she looked just like you. 

So much like you. 

Just as beautiful.

“Hi,” Rafe said, voice cracking slightly but controlled. “You must be Liliana.”

He was about to fucking shit himself. She’s just a little girl. Calm the fuck down.

Liliana tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing. “You’re Rafe.”

A flicker of a smile tugged at Rafe’s lips.  His heart somehow picked up speed. 

She knew him.  She knew his name. 

That alone nearly knocked the breath out of him.

He nodded quickly, a little too eagerly. “Yeah, I’m Rafe.”

“Mom told me about you,” Liliana said, her voice surprisingly calm. “Is it true you live in space? You fly from planet to planet?”

You cleared your throat, clearly trying to ease the tension. “Liliana, Rafe came here tonight to meet you. But if you don’t feel comfortable—”

“No,” Liliana said quickly. Her eyes stayed on Rafe. “I can meet him.”

Rafe didn’t know what to feel about the things you’d told her. Explaining why a father wasn’t around must’ve been hell.

He gave a small nod. “Thank you.”

He wanted to hug her.  God, he wanted to.  But it was too soon.

Liliana was silent for a moment. Then, with the unfiltered bluntness only a child could have, she asked: 

“Are you my dad?”

Rafe looked at you, waiting for confirmation. 

Then his eyes flicked to JJ, who was standing right beside you. JJ took a long breath and looked away.

You gave Rafe a small nod, then turned back to Liliana, watching closely for her reaction.

“Yes,” Rafe said simply. 

It was short, but all those rehearsed lines he’d practiced in front of a mirror? 

Gone. 

All of it. 

Just—gone.

Liliana shifted in place. Then she hopped forward and climbed onto the couch. Rafe’s mouth twitched at the corners as he watched her toss her baby hair back like it was nothing.

She really was his daughter.

"Okay..." Liliana spoke while swinging her legs off the edge of the couch. "Are you gonna go back to space again?"

Rafe shifted in his seat almost instantly. His throat went dry. His expression didn’t change, but his eyes flicked over to you. He wanted to answer—but he waited for your cue.

“Lily,” Bella said gently, but with a warning tone. “What happened to being kind?”

“I was just—” Liliana shrugged, then turned back to Rafe. “Are you a liar?”

Rafe held her gaze and replied, “Well—lying’s bad. And my mission in space is over. No more space.”

Liliana studied him for a moment in silence. Then she slid off the couch, picked her toy book off the floor, sat back on the edge of the cushion, and turned her face back to the window. “We’ll see,” she murmured. “What did you even go for in the first place?”

For the first time, Rafe swallowed hard. He felt like he was being put on trial for something long closed. But the kid was right… her eyes said more than her words ever could.

Why had he even left in the first place? Why the hell did he screw it all up?

“I don’t even know,” he said quietly.

“Thank God. Finally,” Cleo said with an exaggerated sigh.

There was nothing like seeing your best friend after days apart. You smiled wide, lifting your arms as you moved toward her.

Cleo’s eyes lit up. She pulled you into a hug, her hands rubbing your back supportively. Her arms were tight around you.

“Girl, do you even know how much I missed you?”

You pulled back and lowered your head slightly, smiling at her. Ever since Cleo and Pope got married, you hadn’t had many chances to see her. Sure, you could have made time, but with everything going on with JJ, it all kind of fell apart.

“I’m sorry… I know.”

Cleo stepped back. Her gaze flicked to JJ for a split second, but she sighed and spoke to you instead. “I thought you went into hiding or something. You were completely off the radar.”

“I know,” you said with a soft laugh. “The last few days… have been rough.”

Fighting was exhausting. Of course it was. You wished none of it had happened—but at the same time, maybe it was for the best. At least now, you both stopped pretending. You were actually talking to each other again.

“And thank God, because you look amazing right now,” Cleo said, touching your arm and winking. You rolled your eyes, about to respond, when Pope suddenly jumped in, practically speed-walking in with a plate that was clearly hot.

“Hey!” he called out with a grin. He nearly ran. He set the plate on the table, then quickly pulled his hands back and blew on his fingertips.

“Hi!,” you said, fighting a laugh at his expression.

Pope winked. Then he leaned down and kissed his wife on the cheek—and you couldn’t help the tiny pang of envy that fluttered in your chest. When you heard Cleo giggle, you smiled too. Marriage really did suit them. “Thanks for coming, both of you. We really missed you guys,” Pope said warmly, slipping an arm around Cleo’s waist.

You turned when you heard JJ chuckle. He was lounging comfortably on the couch, head turned toward your group, with a grin that wasn’t exactly friendly—more like smug.

JJ raised an eyebrow. “So what you’re saying is... you’re tired of spending time with your wife?”

You sighed. God, JJ…

“What—JJ! That’s not what I meant. Cleo—come on, no!” Pope stammered, clearly panicking.

JJ just shrugged and laughed. Sarcastic as hell—but also… familiar. You looked at him with a mix of amusement and disbelief.

Cleo rolled her eyes and leaned into Pope with a possessive smirk. As if to make a point, she kissed his cheek and said, “Stop talking shit about my husband. Maybe start by looking in the mirror, tough guy.”

“God, the two of you are unbearable now. You were way more tolerable when you were just dating,” JJ muttered as he pushed himself up from the couch and walked over.

You turned toward him, taking a deep breath as he stepped beside you. “Enough, JJ,” you said, smiling despite your warning tone.

JJ gave you an innocent smile. When his eyes locked with yours, he stepped a little closer. “What? I didn’t even say anything,” he said with a shrug.

You rolled your eyes at him and looked away. He always had to be like this—sarcastic, smug. But somehow… it was the exact kind of behavior you’d grown to love. “Anyway, did you turn on the channel Lily wanted?”

JJ nodded. “Even put her favorite snacks in front of her.”

“Thank you,” you said quickly. You hadn’t even asked—or thought to ask—but he’d already taken care of it. It warmed something in your chest. You didn’t know how he could read you so well. Not just you—Liliana too.

Because whenever you needed something, JJ was there. He always had been. And just like he’d always been there for you, now he was there for Liliana too.

You were grateful. You’d always be grateful. But even while you looked into his eyes, that gnawing guilt crept in. Because the way you felt about him… wasn’t the way a friend was supposed to feel.

You weren’t supposed to love your friend like this. You were supposed to love him like family, like someone you could count on—not like someone you wanted to spend the entire day wrapped up in.

You weren’t supposed to forget all your problems when he held you. You weren’t supposed to lose track of time, lose track of your own words, just watching him talk. You weren’t supposed to wait at the door hoping he’d come back after every fight. Or look into his eyes and drift away in your thoughts like you were doing now.

“Of course,” JJ said, barely above a whisper. Even with your eyes locked on him, he didn’t look away. You wondered what he was thinking. You wished you could read his mind. You wanted to talk about that night—what it meant to him, why he really did it…

The clatter of silverware hitting the table snapped you out of it like a jolt. You broke eye contact with JJ and turned forward, playing it off like nothing happened. After Pope placed the final fork, he and Cleo sat down across from you both. Soft smiles lingered on their faces.

The music playing in the background was light and lovely. You were all clearly happy—it wasn’t hard to tell. You were with your friends, and this moment… it was one of those you’d probably look back on someday. One of a thousand little memories.

“By the way—the food looks amazing. I seriously can’t wait to dig in,” you said, picking up your fork. And you meant it—it really did look incredible.

Cleo let out a small squeal and covered part of her face with one hand. “Stop! You’re embarrassing me. I worked so hard on this.”

But then, you caught the look Pope gave her from beside her—one brow raised, his head turning slowly with a very smug grin. “I literally made everything. Cleo was watching reality show whole time.”

“What?! What a lie!” Cleo burst out laughing. She pouted and stabbed at her food with her fork, refusing to look at him.

Pope just shook his head with a chuckle, clearly accepting his fate.

I was actually enjoying being here—at this time, in this place, with these people. Even if I tried not to look at the guy standing next to me, something inside me kept screaming look at him. Everything was because of him, wasn’t it?

He gave you a life you couldn’t have fought for, a friendship you didn’t know you needed. You could’ve never imagined feeling this kind of peace. Even if you had tried, you wouldn’t have found it. But still—if they gave you the choice, you’d pick this again.

Sure, you had your share of shitty days. But still—yeah, you wouldn’t trade it.

"Whoever made this—seriously, it tastes amazing. I’m definitely finishing every plate," JJ said with a small smile. It was the first time since he walked into this house that he dropped his usual sarcasm and gave a real compliment.

Cleo narrowed her eyes at me. “You couldn’t’ve missed it that much. You literally just ate.”

I turned my head toward JJ after Cleo’s comment—he suddenly couldn’t swallow the bite in his mouth. He locked eyes with Cleo, forced himself to swallow, then took a sip of water. “Wait, what do you mean?” I asked, turning to him.

Before JJ could even say a word, Cleo jumped in fast. She leaned forward. “What do you mean what do you mean? He stayed here. I cooked, so... duh.” She rolled her eyes at JJ for a second before turning her gaze back to me.

So... he’d been here. Here. For three days. At Cleo and Pope’s house.

Our friends house.

I turned fully to JJ. He had gotten comfortable, leaning in like he belonged there. You listened closely to his breathing.

“You were here?” you asked him, disbelief in your voice.

You didn’t know what to think. You— you thought he was staying at someone else’s house. Someone else, like— maybe a woman’s. You didn’t know, and—

Fuck. Just stop.

JJ held his head high. “Yeah.” His voice was steady. Not a trace of his usual smirk. In fact, he looked you straight in the eye like he wanted to prove something. Like, for a second, he forgot Cleo and Pope were even there.

“Three days?” The shock in your voice was obvious. He wasn’t giving you what you wanted. You were hinting, subtly asking where he’d been, but he just casually answered. Didn’t even try to meet you halfway. And all you really wanted was for him to say it out loud.

“Yes,” JJ said again.

Before you even fully realized it, something inside you felt lighter. Like a cold rush washed over your body. Like— you felt relieved.

“Oh… okay.” That’s all you said. Your eyebrows lifted, and you stared at the napkin in front of you. What you were feeling was definitely relief. He didn’t owe you anything. He didn’t have to tell you anything—and he hadn’t. But you had still wondered. God, you had wondered so damn much.

Just the thought of him touching someone else, sleeping in the same bed as another woman for three whole days— it ate you alive. You couldn’t even exist inside your own home. Your thoughts were screaming to get out of your head.

You had even thought about cornering him and forcing the truth out of him. You were that angry. So pissed off at the idea that he could just come home from someone else’s bed and kiss you like nothing happened— like it was no big deal.

Of course, you didn’t say anything to him. Who were you, really? There was no you and him. You couldn’t ask questions—but you couldn’t silence your thoughts either.

And now, after all the days you spent seething with jealousy, the truth being the complete opposite left you feeling like a brand new fucking baby. Like your nerves had been surgically removed.

“What did you think?” JJ’s voice was teasing. You blinked out of your thoughts and looked up at him. He was leaning on the chair with one arm, watching you with that half-smirk.

You hesitated for a second. You were about to shrug and change the subject, but suddenly you realized how stupid that would be. “When I said you might be staying at someone else’s house… you didn’t say no.” Your tone was sharper than you meant it to be. It almost sounded like you were accusing him. And JJ’s lips curved into an even bigger smirk.

He reached up to scratch his cheek, trying to hide that dumb grin. As if he could. It was so obvious. So infuriating. JJ parted his lips and spoke clearly: “When you implied I was at another woman’s place. Let’s get that straight.” He reached for his water and took another sip.

You tried to ignore Cleo and Pope watching from across the table with wide, curious eyes. Especially Cleo’s. She looked like she was watching a rom-com play out live. You swallowed hard. Shook your head and shrugged. “What difference does it make? I asked, and you didn’t say anything. So… I just assumed.”

You were almost stammering. Your voice sounded unsure, weak.

You felt cornered. Like this asshole was playing with you the way a cat plays with a mouse. Drawing it out on purpose, watching you squirm. And he was winning. You weren’t ever going to say you were jealous. Even if he asked, you already knew the royal answer: Deny, deny, deny.

JJ leaned in closer. The smugness disappeared from his lips, replaced with something quieter, something more serious. “I wasn’t focused on that at the time. It wasn’t my priority.” His voice was calm now. He looked me right in the eyes. I couldn’t look away. I didn’t want to.

“Huh? What was your priority?”

The moment between you was shattered by Cleo’s excited voice. Her eyebrows were raised high. She was still eating from her plate like she was watching the best scene in a movie.

JJ’s eyes lingered on you a moment longer before he finally turned to Cleo. He straightened up and leaned back into the chair again. Thank God. Because the second he got too close, you totally lost your balance.

“I wanted to fix things between us and—”

Cleo cut him off, fast. Her voice was protective, almost fierce. 

“And hopefully to beg for forgiveness. Because when I kicked you out, I clearly told you that’s exactly what you should do.”

You knew she loved both of you, but you liked that she was more protective of you when it came to JJ. Even after all these years, she kept reminding you—probably for the millionth time—that your friendship wasn’t just based on JJ.

“Cleo,” Pope warned gently, nudging his wife’s arm.

Cleo shrugged. “What? If you had pulled that shit, it’d take me years to forgive you. Honestly, the fact that they’re even sitting next to each other right now? That’s a damn miracle.”

Sure, it wouldn’t be fair to erase everything that happened over the years just like that. But still—you both knew who had really messed up. And because you understood why it happened, you weren't going to drag it out. If it were you, if you had to lose both JJ and Liliana at once? You’d lose your mind too.

“But they’re not us,” Pope said softly.

Cleo rolled her eyes. “What’s the difference, really?” she replied, stubborn but affectionate.

“We’re married. And they’re like... roommates. Or best friends. Or whatever,” Pope said.

Wow. That was your definition of it? Just—wow. Your lips curved despite yourself. Roommates or best friends. That was so you and JJ. Nailed it. And yet, hearing it said out loud…

“Sure,” Cleo said with a smile—but there was something else underneath her voice. Then she added, lowering her tone but keeping the sarcasm, 

“I don’t remember us ever making out when we were just friends—”

Pope panicked. His voice jumped an octave. “Cake! There’s cake in the oven!”

You sighed. “Oh my God…”

So JJ had told them everything, huh? When your eyes flicked over to him, his brows were raised, mouth slightly open. Even he hadn’t seen that one coming. When he turned to you, maybe about to explain, you quickly looked away and took a deep breath.

“Lily met Rafe today,” you blurted out. No thought behind it. You hadn’t even talked about the kiss yourselves yet. And this was definitely not the time or the place. You could’ve told them, eventually. But maybe after talking it through with JJ first. Whatever—fuck it.

Cleo whipped around to you, totally caught off guard. She gave you her full attention, like she’d instantly forgotten whatever she'd just said. 

“Sorry, what?”

You nodded, kind of grateful the tension had shifted elsewhere. 

“Yeah. They met. It was a decision JJ and I made. And... it was fine.” You glanced over at him as you said it. You were thankful for this little detour in the conversation.

“Yeah. But she still loves me more,” JJ chimed in, wearing that familiar grin. He still looked a little tense—his body gave it away—as he hesitated, eyes on you.

“She’ll always love you more. You’ve been in her life for five years.” 

You looked at him. The idea that Lily might love JJ less was absurd. His place in her heart was solid.

JJ tilted his head, a soft smile tugging at his lips. The tension that had been building between you seemed to melt away with that one innocent statement. No matter what happened, you never doubted JJ’s love for Liliana.

You nodded, a strange peace settling inside you. 

“Of course.”

And once again, the moment between you was interrupted by Cleo. 

“That’s so wifey and hubby thing—”

Your eyes widened. And clearly, you weren’t the only one reacting. Pope jumped up from his seat like a switch had been flipped. His voice was firm, almost like he wanted to physically cover her mouth. 

“Cleo. Can you help me take the cake out?”

Cleo just shrugged. She still looked like she wanted to stay and watch whatever this was unfolding in front of her. 

“You do know you can handle that on your own, babe—”

That was cute. But still, when she said stuff like that, you couldn’t help blushing.

Pope tried again, more politely. 

“Please.” 

Cleo sighed.  “Okay.”

As the two of them left the room, a weird panic settled in your chest. You were alone at the table now. Part of you wanted to thank Pope, and the other part wanted to drag him back by the collar. You had no idea what to do. You were just... anxious. And he was still looking at you.

JJ was the first to speak, his eyes still on you. 

“We didn’t really get to talk today.”

That was a lie. You’d talked a lot. Just… not about each other. But even so—what else was left to say?

About what? The fact that he’d been staying at Cleo and Pope’s for days? The kiss? Rafe?

You just nodded, silently agreeing. Was it always going to be this hard? You saw this man every day, and still the tension between you was unbearable.

JJ paused, then said, “Sorry about Cleo. You know how she is.”

You smiled and nodded quickly. After five years, you were more than used to her. 

“Oh—I know.”

She was blunt, and you didn’t mind it. She was your best friend. And even if she said things a bit too directly sometimes, you loved her for it. She’d also brought one of your lingering doubts into the open today—and helped ease it.

Also—she wasn’t exactly subtle about her little hints about the two of you. Not that you hadn’t noticed.

JJ spoke hesitantly, his voice low. 

“And I’m sorry for telling them about the kiss too. I was... at my lowest, and you know how every time I try to fix things, I just fuck everything up.” 

His hand slipped through his hair, eyes falling to the floor. 

“I couldn’t think straight. I asked them for advice instead.”

He wasn’t even looking at you. 

You shook your head quickly. You didn’t want to stay mad at him anymore. You didn’t want to lose what you had. 

So you acted fast. 

“Okay.”

It really wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

JJ kept going like he hadn’t even heard you. His eyes stayed down, fingers fidgeting anxiously. He looked like he was barely holding it together. 

“That’s why it all just spilled out. I didn’t mean to say anything. I swear, I wouldn’t have told anyone.”

“I know,” you said quietly. 

You knew JJ. 

If there was any malice in him, he would’ve shown it years ago.

Wasn’t he the one who drove two hours just to be there when you had a miscarriage scare? 

The one who stayed with you so you wouldn’t be alone? 

The one who cheered you up on the beach when Rafe didn’t want Liliana? 

The one who reminded you your body is yours, and no one else gets to claim it?

Yeah. 

That was JJ.  He was always behind you. Beside you. Never against you. You couldn’t imagine him doing anything to intentionally hurt you.  Just like you knew you couldn’t ever do that to him either. “It’s just… we haven’t even talked about what happened and—”

JJ cut you off before you could finish. His hands went up like he was surrendering, eyes shutting tight like he couldn’t handle the weight of it. “I know… We can talk when we get home, or whenever you’re ready. I’m sorry.” 

He dipped his head. One hand rubbed at his forehead, still not looking at you—just sitting there, fully accepting he’d messed up.

Your gaze flicked toward the hallway where Cleo and Pope had disappeared. It was quiet. From the look of the empty room, you could tell no one was around.

Honestly, you were glad they left you two alone for a bit. And Pope trying to awkwardly save the moment was kind of funny. 

Still… it was a little embarrassing how all this was playing out right in front of them.

You whipped your head toward JJ like lightning. Your lips moved before you could even think. A small, crooked smile tugged at the corner. “They won’t be back for a while… you know.” 

There was no one around, but you still kept your voice low, like it was meant just for him.JJ dropped his hand from his forehead and slowly raised his head. His eyes widened. 

He glanced at the door Cleo and Pope had walked through, mouth opening, closing, then opening again. 

He sat up straighter, staring at you like what you’d just said was the weirdest thing in the world. 

“Now—you wanna talk about it now?” 

JJ nearly stammered, but reeled it in last second, clearing his throat. You shrugged. You were fighting not to look at his lips, not to let your brain wander. But they looked… distracting. 

Your mind drifted—briefly—back to that kiss, and you caught yourself. Your eyes were already halfway there. 

“I mean… only if you want to.” You turned your head to the side. Looking at him was getting harder by the second.

JJ nodded, barely breathing. “Yeah. Sure.”

An awkward silence settled between you. Neither of you knew who should start. You didn’t have much to explain, really. He kissed you. 

But… you kissed him back. 

If you didn’t want it, you could’ve pushed him away, slapped him even. But all you wanted was to pull him closer and kiss him again.Still, a part of you was terrified he regretted it. 

Knowing he might feel that way—it scared the hell out of you. But even more than that, the idea that it could ruin what you had—that it could wreck your friendship—was worse. 

Even if you were the only one feeling this way, there was still a little girl to think about. If JJ left… how the hell would you explain it to her? 

How would you survive missing him?The words were stuck in your throat, fighting each other like a storm. You wanted to talk. You really did. 

But right now, right in this moment, the idea of being with him was both the thing you wanted most… and the thing you feared the most.

Because if he didn’t want you back, It would be the end of a years-long friendship. 

Maybe you’d never fix it again. Feelings always had a way of screwing everything up.

Finally, JJ broke the silence. He straightened up, like he’d decided to just say it. “I felt like that in the moment. I just wanted the fighting to stop, and I wouldn’t normally do something like that but… everything was a mess. We were both pissed, and I kissed you without thinking. And I’m sorry for that. It just—”

He didn’t think you regretted it, did he? Because you didn’t. Not even close. You’d do it again right now if you could.

You didn’t even know what happened. Your mouth opened and the words flew out before your brain could stop them. “I kissed you back.”

JJ froze. His mouth stopped moving. “What?”

“If I didn’t want to keep going… I would’ve pushed you away.” You would’ve. You wouldn’t have let him stay near you for another second. But those stupid, intense feelings got the better of you. You couldn’t even think straight around him. 

Especially when he was close.

The shock was written all over JJ’s face. “What do you mean?”

This time, you spoke more gently. You couldn’t tell him the real reason you didn’t stop him. Not while he still saw you as just a friend.“We weren’t in a good place. Emotionally, I mean. We were both angry, and—look, you haven’t been with anyone in almost a year, and I haven’t… not since Liliana was born.”

JJ jumped in fast, nervous. “I haven’t touched anyone either. I mean—we’re in the same boat.”

The confession had been sitting on your chest the whole time. He always came back late from dates. So you just assumed—like, really, you just assumed. 

You never actually asked, but still�� 

Had there really never been anyone? Why not? 

Anyone else in his position would’ve slept with a dozen girls by now, maybe had a string of flings. 

Especially with JJ—considering his status on the island—you figured once he went to the mainland, his options would multiply. 

But hearing the opposite? That was… kind of flattering? Maybe. You weren’t sure. But God, it made you happy. How could it not? 

Knowing there hadn’t been someone else—that was oddly satisfying.

Your lips tugged up for a second before you caught yourself and shook your head. “Oh—so it was like, a dry spell thing? I don’t know. Maybe it was just something we *both* needed in the moment and… it kinda just happened.” 

You kept your voice low. You had no idea what you were even trying to say, especially after that confession. Honestly, all you wanted to do was pull him in and kiss him again.

JJ let out a crooked grin. “So basically, I helped... defuse the situation. That what you're saying?”

Your eyebrows lifted. A small chuckle slipped out as you leaned back. “So what—you’re saying we should do it every time we fight?” 

You joked, watching the way his expression instantly panicked—pure delight lit up inside you.

JJ squirmed in his seat, throwing his hands up like he was ready to defend himself. “No—like—I mean—that’s not what I meant, but—”

You couldn’t help it. You burst into laughter. The way he freaked out—it was… adorable. Genuinely adorable. After a beat, you cut him off, pretending to be serious.“I’m messing with you.”You played with your tone—half teasing, half gentle. 

He watched your reaction, relief spreading across his face with a hint of surprise. But you didn’t stop. 

This time, your voice came out more serious. Or at least, trying to sound serious. Even you couldn’t tell anymore. “But I mean… if you’re offering—”

His surprise melted into something giddy. JJ caught your bluff immediately. He leaned in, eyes lighting up with excitement. “Yeah. Yeah, I mean—we could try it again sometime. Don’t know if we’ll fight again, but…”

You nodded, smiling. You liked this game you were playing with him. Especially watching him stumble over his words and avoid eye contact like that— “Yeah, maybe… if we do.” You gave him your approval with a grin that was hard to contain.

“Yeah… maybe.” JJ ran a hand through his hair, pausing for a second before locking eyes with you. “It was nice, by the way.”

You froze. You stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out if he’d actually said that. Once you realized he meant it, you spoke.

“Really?”

JJ nodded, dead serious. “Wouldn’t have guessed you hadn’t had any practice in five years. Felt pretty damn natural.”

You noticed the smile—subtle, almost too subtle—but it was there. Just like the way his gaze kept flicking to your lips… and then slightly lower. You noticed. Oh, you definitely noticed. 

Because you were doing the exact same thing.You really wanted to see where this was going. Hell, you even wondered if he’d kiss you again tonight. 

Even if it was just a thought—one you knew probably wouldn’t become real.

“Oh, stop.” You turned your head, trying to hide the shy smile spreading across your face.

JJ reached over and tapped your knee for attention, laughing. “I’m serious! I felt like a total amateur and you were like, a fucking pro.” 

He exaggerated with his hands and expressions, and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes.

He couldn’t say shit like that. He just—he shouldn’t.

You turned toward him, looking him dead in the face. “What a big liar.”

JJ raised his brows. “What? I swear, it’s true!”

Before you knew what was happening, your chair shifted. JJ had grabbed it from underneath and pulled you closer. He was nearer now. His eyes locked on yours, one arm casually resting over the back of your chair like he wasn’t doing the most right now.

But you could see it—the mischief in his eyes.

He seriously needed to calm down. Because you were starting to get the wrong idea.

The second he leaned in slightly, you snapped out of it. You caught how his eyes briefly dipped to your smile. It was quick, but you saw it. 

You pressed your hand to his chest and turned your head away. “Stop.”

JJ shook his head, fidgeting like he was trying to get your attention again. “No. You’re just naturally talented.” Even though you thought he was just joking, something about his tone… made it hard to tell. 

It was messing with your head. Actually—it was starting to make you question everything.

This time, your eyes dropped to the floor.Were you blushing? Maybe. But the way your stomach fluttered? That was the real giveaway. Thank God he couldn’t see that.

“I don’t believe you.” You still hadn’t looked back at him. 

You shook your head, smiling to yourself. But his eyes—yeah, they were still on you. And he wasn’t done messing around.

“Want me to prove it?” JJ took the hand that was resting on his chest and wrapped his fingers around yours, gently pulling free.

Your eyes shot to him instantly. He grinned, clearly proud of himself. 

Of course he was. 

He was trying to get you to look at him.

Your mouth parted slightly—like you were about to say something—but you stopped yourself. 

He was just playing. Just a game.

Fine. 

If it’s a game, then let it be a game. If he thought you were gonna just sit there and melt, he had another thing coming.

You turned toward him fully, matching his energy. “Oh, you wanna prove it?” There was a smirk on your lips now—teasing, sharp. 

He noticed. You saw that familiar spark in his eyes flicker alive again. He licked his lips. “Only if you want me to.” The softness in his words… the tone of his voice— 

You couldn’t tell if he was still playing or if he’d just crossed some invisible line.

But for a moment, you were filled with anger. The way he was treating it like a game—it pissed you off. But you bit your tongue not to show it. 

“You wanna kiss me?” The words came out teasing, but your eyes had narrowed. You didn’t regret it for a second. If he was gonna play games, then fine—you’d play harder. You wanted to push his limits. Still, your heart skipped a beat with every word.

JJ let out a soft laugh, part breath, part amusement. He leaned back a little and adjusted himself in the chair. “Always so straightforward, huh?” He shook his head, and you had to stop yourself from smiling at that damn grin of his. The moment you noticed his eyes sweeping over you, you straightened up.

He tilted his head and kept his eyes on you.

You leaned in slightly. “Would you have preferred I dragged it out and acted like an idiot instead?”

“Maybe.” He shrugged. That classic Maybank smirk on his face. The one that hadn’t changed in years. The one that usually got to you.

You laughed. “Are you flirting with me, Maybank?” The question was clear, but the subtext was even louder. And when you looked into his eyes—you could see it. He was having fun.

You leaned back, resting against your chair. “Would you want me to?” JJ asked. He reached behind you, his fingers playing with the ends of your hair. His eyes flicked from your face to your hair as he twirled a strand between his fingers.

“So I’m the only one on this island you haven’t flirted with yet, huh?” You pulled your hair forward, away from his hand. When you did, you caught that tired smile on his lips. He rubbed his eyes with his free hand.

He squinted, pretending to think. “You and maybe a couple others,” he said, like he was trying to get under your skin. His voice had a playful, taunting edge to it.

His hand—still behind you—slid to your shoulder. He started tracing small circles there, and a chill ran down your spine. The air wasn’t cold. It was actually a nice evening. But his touch? It messed with your head. It burned and tingled all at once.

You tried to act like it didn’t affect you, but your sharp inhale gave you away. You looked him in the eye. JJ was already looking at you.

“What’s all this about?” you asked, eyes narrowed. “Figured you’d check me off the list while you’re back on the island?”

JJ laughed. That stupid grin again—it was seriously getting on your nerves. You were getting more and more pissed and—

Wait.

You were jealous, weren’t you?

“If I’d wanted to, I would’ve done it five years ago,” he said. “Only one I see is you.”

His words—combined with that little realization—threw you off for a second. He was just playing. That’s all this was. His usual game. Nothing new.

You sighed and turned your head away. This boy was exhausting.

When you looked away, JJ let out a breath of his own. “Soo… a kiss?” His tone was playful, as always. But underneath it—there was something else. Hope.

You turned to him, that teasing smirk on your face. “In your dreams.” You leaned in slightly when you said it, laughing. You may have wanted it, deep down, but he was still just playing.

“Yeah— I hope so.” He nodded, and you could almost see him replaying that sentence a thousand times in his head.

You were about to say something else when a voice cut in.

“We’re back,” Cleo announced, holding a plate stacked with slices of cake.

The second JJ heard her, he shot up like he’d been caught. You, Pope, and Cleo stared at him, confused. “Nope. I think we should go home,” he said, his voice bouncing between a joke and actual intention.

You exhaled hard when it clicked what he was trying to do. You grabbed his arm. Met his eyes. “JJ. Sit down.”

JJ looked from Pope to you. There was a tiny pause. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, sitting back down immediately. That sly grin was back. You could’ve punched him.

Pope furrowed his brows, glancing between you and JJ, clearly lost. “What the hell just happened?”

JJ turned to you, about to explain. “Well, we were kinda—”

“Talking about nothing,” you cut in quickly. You knew damn well he was doing this on purpose.

JJ chuckled. His eyebrows raised, eyes scanning your face. “Is that what we were doing?”

“Shut up,” you snapped without missing a beat. You sighed, biting your lip. This boy was never gonna change.

“What the hell’s going on here?” Cleo asked, setting the plate on the table and plopping down in the chair across from you two.

You glanced at JJ. Took a quick second to assess him before speaking. “He’s getting cocky ‘cause we made up.”

“And she likes it,” JJ said, nodding proudly, like it was some kind of win.

You rolled your eyes, grinning despite yourself. “Yeah, sure I do.”

The house was almost holding its breath when you got back. A heavy silence settled over everything — a strange mix of calm and tension woven into the night. As you took off your shoes in the dim living room light, the only sounds were the faint, rhythmic breaths from somewhere deeper inside. Lily was already asleep.

You glanced over at JJ, who was slowly making his way down the stairs. You rested your elbow on the armrest, hand propped under your chin. His shirt was wrinkled, and his eyes were a little red from exhaustion. 

“She asleep?” you asked in a low voice. No matter what, you didn’t want Liliana to wake up.

JJ tilted his head slightly, a soft, tired smile playing on his lips. When he reached the bottom step, he stretched slowly and nodded. 

“Out like a light. Didn’t even need a bedtime story,” he murmured back, his voice just as quiet as yours.

Your eyebrows lifted a little, lips parting in a faint smile. 

“John B and Sarah must’ve worn her out.”

JJ gave a lazy shrug, but his eyes still held that sleepy warmth. 

“Probably.”

As he walked toward you, his eyes flicked briefly to the TV. You followed his gaze — the screen was still on, playing something low in the background. You’d turned it on when you got back, but you hadn’t really been paying attention. When you looked back, his gaze had returned to you — focused, closer now.

His eyes slowly scanned your face like he was trying to figure something out. Really looking. You could feel it — his eyes taking in every detail: your eyes, your hair, your lips. 

“Did you do something?” he asked, tone slightly suspicious, like he was trying to catch something he couldn’t quite name.

Your brows lifted slowly. Your hand instinctively went to your hair, wondering if something was on your face. 

“What do you mean?” you asked, brushing your cheek like you were checking for smudges or crumbs.

“You look really good.”

Your hand dropped, eyes widening. Your heartbeat picked up, thudding in your chest like it suddenly forgot how to keep a rhythm.

You tried to remember if he’d ever said things like that before. Compliments like this… Did he usually do that? You weren’t even sure if you had noticed. But now it felt like it was too much.

Not too much in a bad way. More like… it made you aware. And you knew you hadn’t felt this way before — at least, not like this. But lately, it was like every sentence out of his mouth made your heart skip.

You tilted your head down slightly, catching yourself before it turned into full-blown shyness. You squared your shoulders and tried to steady your face. 

“No,” you said, voice soft but steady. “Actually… I’d say I’m just tired.”

JJ smirked faintly, his eyes still exploring your expression. For a second, he paused like he could see you were trying to hide something. Then his head tilted slightly, a familiar gleam in his eyes. 

“You always look good,” he said. “I just said it weird.”

You looked away for a second, then let out a small, genuine smile. 

“Thanks,” you murmured, a blush creeping up your cheeks. You could feel the heat spreading fast. Your eyes dropped to the floor, but no matter where you looked, your thoughts weren’t letting go. So you lifted your head again, lips parting with a quiet sigh. 

“So… what’s your deal?”

JJ’s gaze met yours. His brows lifted with curiosity. 

“What do you mean?”

“This whole flirting thing…” you said, drawing vague circles in the air with your hands. The sentence carried all your confusion with it. JJ’s eyes sparkled slightly, and yours drifted from his lips to his eyes.

“Flirting?” he echoed, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk. “This is just me being me.”

You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes like you were trying to solve a puzzle. For a second, you wondered if you were the one overthinking it — but you shut that thought down fast. 

“As far as I remember,” you said, voice half-teasing but sincere, “you haven’t offered to kiss me even once in the past five years.”

JJ let out a laugh, leaning slightly toward you with a playful glint in his eye. 

“Did I not?” he said, clearly entertained. “Damn shame.”

“JJ…” you said, his name coming out like a warning — soft, but full of meaning.

You hated that a part of you felt hopeful when he acted like this. Hated it.

He sighed, raising his hands like he was defending himself. 

“Look— I’m just trying to keep the peace, alright? Maybe I’m being a little shit about it, but that’s all it is. If it’s not working for you—”

“No!” you said quickly, cutting him off without even thinking. “I didn’t say that.” 

Your words came out rushed, breath uneven. You regretted it instantly, but it was too late — that smirk was already creeping onto JJ’s face.

He locked eyes with you, balancing on that line between serious and teasing. 

“So you do like it?”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Your lips moved, but your voice got caught somewhere in your throat. And then he moved — slowly circling the couch, eyes never leaving yours. His steps were steady, deliberate. When he sat down beside you, his knees brushed yours. He was close.

He grinned like he was swallowing a laugh. 

“Didn’t know you were such a dirty girl, sweetheart.”

Your eyebrows shot up. That kind of comment definitely threw you off. 

“Stop,” you said, frowning — but you couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips.

“What? I didn’t even do anything,” JJ said, shrugging. His expression, though, said otherwise.

“You’re just… so fucking annoying sometimes.” 

Your voice was laced with sarcasm, but your heart was pounding like hell.

JJ narrowed his eyes, studying you. “Yeah? You look pissed,” he said, his voice softening, like he was trying to read you.

You leaned forward on the couch, closing the distance between you two until there was barely a breath between your faces. “Does that turn you on?” you asked, locking your eyes with his.

JJ’s eyes widened. His eyebrows shot up and he leaned back slightly. “What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’? Surprised now that I’m speaking your language?” you teased, letting out a laugh that was part amused, part nervous. Your heart was pounding, but this game—being this close to him—was both terrifying and addictive.

“I just… wasn’t expecting that,” JJ said, tossing his hair back. His hand slid through it as he tilted his head to the side.

You raised your brows and stepped in closer. “Yeah? So you prefer me pissed off all the time, or—”

JJ laughed, throwing his hands up. “Woah! Okay! Calm down.”

You giggled too, tilting your head and winking. “Or maybe you'd rather practice like you said before?”

Silence fell. The air between you buzzed with something heavy. JJ didn’t say a word. He just kept staring, studying your face like it held some answer. Whatever this was, it made you shift uncomfortably. He didn’t look away.

You spoke softly, your eyes scanning him. “Cat got your tongue now? You suddenly got real quiet.”

JJ pursed his lips and looked away with a slight scowl. “Stop playing.”

You shrugged with a faint smirk. You kind of liked getting under his skin. “Whatever you want.” Another beat of silence passed before you changed the subject, more gently this time. “Were you happy today? With the whole Rafe thing and, you know…”

JJ turned his head toward you slowly and took a deep breath, like your question was heavier than it sounded. He took his time before answering, eyes steady on yours. “Liliana welcomed me. That made me happy.” His voice dropped lower, almost to a whisper, and he looked down at his hands. “She still loves me more.” Just like he said at Pope’s house… but this time, it felt like he was saying it to himself, not to you.

“JJ…” you said softly, placing a hand on his chest to bring his attention back.

It worked. JJ looked up with a quiet “Hmm?” and when his eyes met yours, he looked… innocent. Like a kid.

“She’ll always love you first,” you said, without a hint of doubt in your voice. Maybe saying that would hurt Rafe if he ever heard it—but you weren’t going to lie. Not about this.

The hardness in JJ’s face slowly melted. His lips relaxed. “She will, won’t she?” he asked, voice barely holding steady. You knew he questioned it. But no matter what, JJ would always be in Liliana’s life—as long as he wanted to be.

You moved your hand from his chest to his cheek, brushing his skin gently with your thumb. “Of course. No one can change that.”

JJ leaned into your touch, shifting slightly closer. “I just… panicked, you know?”

You nodded. “I know,” you said, voice low and warm.

JJ parted his lips like he was about to say something, then stopped. He closed his eyes, pressing his cheek into your hand, and let the words spill out. “You and Liliana… you’re my family.”

Something fluttered in your chest. Those words hit deep. You couldn’t lose him. And just like you couldn’t lose him, you wouldn’t let him lose you two either. No way. “There’s no other way to see it. You are my family. And I know Liliana feels the same.”

JJ leaned in, guilt and longing flickering in his eyes. “I still feel like I owe you.”

You exhaled deeply. As much as this whole thing still hurt, knowing he was hurting more changed something in you. “It was just a misunderstanding,” you said, not letting him go further. It was done. You’d closed that chapter. You didn’t want to think about those days anymore.

But JJ wasn’t done. “I left Liliana. I left you and—”

You gripped his cheek firmly and lifted his lowered head. You hated seeing him like that, hunched over in regret. It was just a mistake. And that’s all it would ever be. You weren’t going to revisit it again. “JJ. It’s over. We talked about it. We understood each other. That’s enough. That’s what matters.”

JJ closed his eyes, then opened them again. “I’ll never do that again.” His gaze was heavy, like he was begging you to believe him. Almost desperate.

You smiled at him. You wanted to shift the mood, bring back some lightness. You couldn’t stand seeing him so down—and never would. No matter what darkness followed him, you’d fight it. “As if I’d let you,” you said, moving in a little closer.

JJ chuckled, lips curving. “God bless that kiss.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh Jesus.” You were about to run your hand through his hair when JJ reached up and held your hand to his cheek, pressing a soft kiss into your palm. Your heart skipped a beat. A warm rush spread through your chest.

“What, am I wrong?” he murmured casually.

You stammered. “No. No… I’m thankful for that kiss too.”

Honestly? Your brain was fried. No, really. You weren’t okay—and you probably wouldn’t be for a while. You couldn’t even remember what you’d said a second ago.

“Right?”

“Yeah…” you breathed out, barely audible. You didn’t even know what you were agreeing to anymore. All you knew was—you were close. Too close. And this closeness… it was dizzying. Your breath caught as your eyes wandered over his face. God, you hated him. So much.

Then your eyes met again. Silence. Heavy and thick.

JJ’s voice came out like a whisper. “Are you thinking about kissing me?”

His voice snapped you out of it. You shook your head quickly, eyes wide. “Oh my god, JJ…” you said, yanking your hand away. You shifted awkwardly on the couch, leaning back like that would give you space. Your eyes were still wide.

JJ tilted his head, that smug smirk back on his lips. “What? You were staring at my mouth. Are you a perv?”

You had been. Without even realizing it. And now you hated yourself for letting him affect you that much. But you were still thinking about it. That moment he kissed your palm.

“I wasn’t— Fuck off…” you said, flustered. Your voice shook, but not from anger—because he caught you.

JJ grinned. “What? No—”

“I said go!” you snapped, shoving him back.

[minkieater]

EIGHT FIRST DATES ꨄ︎

008 》 JEONG YUNHO

after a long awaited talk, yunho wants only one thing from you. do you accept or deny the one thing that will change the trajectory of both your lives forever?

~14k | gut wrenching fluff

today is the day. you don’t want to open your eyes. 

so you don’t. instead, you let your mind drift in your half-asleep state, wondering how the fuck everything has gotten so twisted. it still feels unreal, the idea of yunho loving you, but it’s real– and you still can’t seem to feel optimistic. you scrunch your eyebrows together as reality slams down onto you in the form of a weight on your chest, sitting heavy, pushing you further into your mattress. 

yunho loves you, and you have openly gone on several dates he knows about, even more that he doesn’t know about. yunho loves you, and you’ve openly been talking about many men to him. yunho loves you, and you hooked up with someone at the same place he was at, while ignoring your feelings, ignoring his. 

right, this was your fault. you were the common denominator here, the moment you lied to your cousins everything had gotten messy, or maybe it was when you downloaded tinder. poor decisions, one after another, your brain has been fogged over since the beginning of october. if you’d just opened your eyes, seen things for how they were, you wouldn’t be in this situation.

for the first time in two months, you think you might be thinking clearly, and the realization slices through you like a blade to your flesh. ace was right, you had been acting selfishly, saturday could have gone so differently if you had trusted your gut, if you allowed yourself to believe what your feelings were telling you. because they were telling you– you think they had been telling you for a long time, hell, even yunho had been telling you himself for a long time. when he dropped you off for that first date with hyunjin there was something in the air between you, and you’re not blind, you’re not stupid. could you blame all of this on fear?

and the worst part, yunho doesn’t even seem angry at you. you ignored him for five days after he told you he loved you, and you still ignored him like he was nothing to you. he’d be silly to have any sort of feelings lingering for you at this point.

when your comforter starts to feel heavier than your chest you drag yourself out of bed without your phone, not even checking the time before you’re carrying yourself and this weight down your staircase, eyes still swollen and hooded with sleep. the smell of coffee brings you to your kitchen, where out of all people, matt is standing at the island. 

thin reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, a long, silk navy blue robe hanging off his body, slippers on his feet. you would groan if you had the energy, but you don’t. 

“tiny?” he questions when he hears your footsteps, staring at you in disbelief as you round the corner of the island. “you’re up early.” 

you grumble, not any words but just a muffled sound as you walk to the coffee maker, pouring what’s left into a mug. you bring it to your lips, the bitter taste feeling deserved as the scalding temperature hits your tongue, you’d do without the oat milk for today. you take a step back, letting your body hit the island, head hanging low, nearly below your shoulders. 

“you okay?” matt asks from behind you, concern clear in his voice, the inflection of his words. you didn’t want to answer, but at this point you don’t think you have a choice. there’s no one else down here to interrupt, to save you from the interaction. 

“fine,” a short answer, your tone leaves no opening for him to ask any further questions— but matt is matt, so he does. eight years of being your stepdad, of you not giving an inch, of him still expecting a mile.

“did something happen?” he asks, rounding the corner so he comes into view. he pushes his glasses up into his hair, black and straight yet messy from sleep, you wonder what time it is. you had two options: you could lie and say no, blame it on exhaustion and kill the conversation where it was. or, you could talk to him— and for some reason, whether it be the time or purely circumstantial, something is tugging at you to opt for the latter. 

seonghwa crosses your mind. you’re lucky to have another father figure, and it sounds like he’s still trying to be one after almost ten years of you pushing him away. take it from someone who’s dad never gave a fuck about him, if he wants to be in your life, you should let him.

“what do you think about yunho?” you ask, raising your head to actually look at him when you ask the question. he blinks for a second, mouth opening and closing like a fish, clearly taken aback by your question. you raise your eyebrows in expectation, waiting for an answer, impatiently at that.

“i—” he starts, then closes his mouth again. he smiles, “i think yunho’s a great kid. smart, good head on his shoulders, comes from a great family.” 

you purse your lips, stretching your mouth to scrunch at the left side of your face. that wasn’t the answer you were looking for, maybe you should try a different question. you look down at your mug, eyebrows furrowing as you stare at the black liquid swirling against the cream colored ceramic. “what do you think about yunho… for me?” 

you look up at him again slowly, feeling shy, of all things. matt looks flabbergasted, like that’s the last question he’d ever expect from you, but he quickly covers it with another smile. this one feels warmer, not performative, but genuine. 

“i think he’s perfect for you,” he says it so simply, like it’s the only thing that’s ever made sense. “you’ve been close for so long, he understands you, knows how to treat you.” 

you give him a slow nod, then bring your attention back to your mug, thinking. he could have stopped there, but because matt is matt, he kept going instead, “you have a stronger personality than he does, and he’d encourage you to shine brighter than you ever would on your own, but his will is strong enough to keep you grounded. he’s always been gentler with you than the others, always kept his eye on you when your brother didn’t, always defended you when you aren’t there to do it yourself. you know how the moms are.” 

you let a sound of amusement out through your nose, you know how the moms are all too well. matt chuckles too because he’s been the victim more than once, especially after your dad passed, the comments that the moms made about him were brutal— those insults you could get behind, though. you fall into silence for a moment, his fingers hitting the island, and you hear his lips part to speak again. part of you wishes you never opened your mouth. 

“did something happen between you two?” 

you pause for a moment. yunho had replied to your texts within minutes, yes of course we can, what time? and i’ll be over as soon as i wake up. so willing to make up with you, so selfless, you didn’t deserve any of it. yes, something happened, and it was all your fault. the room started to feel smaller.

the weight in your chest that you carried from your bedroom, the self deprecating thoughts, the tightness in every one of your muscles, everything seemed to let loose. tears hit your hands before you realized you were crying, verbal choked noises coming from your lips, you released a sob that was trapped so deep in your throat it was loud. 

matt didn’t seem to know what to do. he took the coffee mug from your hands, setting it down on the island, and your hands came up to cover your face, sobs racking through your body. matt’s hands were raised, hovering over you as if you were emitting a force, a barrier he couldn’t push through. 

his hand finally hit your shoulder after a few more sobs, giving it a few awkward pats before he felt comfortable rubbing your back, his hand moving in languid circles. it felt weird, yet comforting— seok matthew, your stepdad of eight years who you had never even hugged, was now comforting you as you cried, without giving him any context. you’ve never let him in, not once, what made this time different?

he didn’t ask any questions, didn’t say anything, but instead let you release. he stood next to you, awkwardly rubbing your back, supporting you by being present, and it’s exactly what you needed. support, stability, company. 

when your cries died down to sniffles and your eyes were damn near swollen shut, you spoke first. your voice came out rough, voice high pitched and strained, “i think i fucked up with yunho, really bad.” 

“it can’t be that bad,” matt tries to make you feel better, his voice encouraging and light. you weren’t sure if you’ve ever been this close to him before. “you’ve been friends since you were in diapers, teens.” 

“he told me he loved me.” you finally pull your hands from your face, needing his reaction, the truth behind whatever he’d say to make you feel better.

his eyes widened, his mouth parting to an o shape. he mutters oh shit under his breath, and you nod. oh shit is right. 

“i didn’t think he had it in him,” he puts his hand on his hip, “he’s been looking at you with those sad, puppy dog eyes since you were what? eighteen? seventeen?” 

he mimics the face and you choke out a laugh, which sounds more like another sob than a laugh. you frown, “did everyone really see it except for me?” 

“you had more important things on your mind,” he shrugs as if it was nothing. “school, becoming a teacher, your future. you’re a busy girl, and he knows that just as well as we do.” 

“but— all the dates i’ve been going on,” your bottom lip quivers again, “he’s heard every single detail. how can he still love me after all of that?” 

“it probably made him love you more,” all you can hear is honesty from him, and it threatens to freak you out more. how can you accept that yunho sees you for exactly who you are, all your mistakes, all your weaknesses, and still loves you anyway? “men are stupid, tiny, they see a potential threat and start to think they’re running out of time. your interest in other men probably just made him confess sooner.” 

“you think so?” you ask, silent tears falling down your cheeks, hot against your skin, much like your coffee against your tongue just minutes earlier. 

he nods with his eyes closed, like this was the only truth. the only answer. you shake your head, disbelief shooting through you, but matt had no reason to lie, and you knew he wouldn’t hold anything back. he never has before.

his eyes are kind as he looks down at you, “whether you want him back or not, you’ll make it out the other end, you’ve known each other too long to let something like this destroy your friendship.” you nod, still only half believing him, so he adds, “who knows, he might end up being the one you bring to thanksgiving.” 

you smile, his words hitting exactly where they needed to, “karina and sakura are gonna be sick when they see him.” 

matt smiles wide, success written all over his face, a feeling you shared with him because this exchange undoubtedly felt like progress. something you never experienced or expected, didn’t think you needed, something you never wanted— you should really shoot seonghwa a text sometime. 

when your eyes finally glaze over the clock on the stove you realize it’s six thirty in the fucking morning. no wonder matt was so confused, why no one else was awake, not even your mother. she was always up at the ass crack of dawn, too. 

she woke up shortly after your conversation with matt in the kitchen, hair and makeup already done by the time she reached the living room, body still clad in silk pajamas. you were sitting on the couch, matt on the recliner, the news channel playing on the tv— not that you were paying attention. your mother sat next to you without a word, pulling out her phone after putting her reading glasses on, tuning out the sound of the tv entirely. 

even if your conversation with matt made you feel better about your relationship with yunho, the stress of having the conversation with him still hung over your head. you tried to dissociate, let your mind run blank as you stared at the tv, and it was truly working until it wasn’t. you hadn’t even fully figured out your own feelings yet, but maybe you didn’t have to, maybe that’s what this conversation was for. fuck around and find out, right?

──────  ꨄ︎

“i think you should wake her up.” 

“but she looks so peaceful.”

“peaceful? she’s fighting demons in her dreams, nothing about her is at peace right now.”

you crack one eye open. with confusion sweeping through you, you take in your surroundings, you don’t even know when your eyes closed for you to be waking up on your couch right now. your three best friends and your twin stood two feet away from you, huddled together talking about you like they did when you were little, the sight brings a small smile to your face. they were talking too loudly for you to sleep through it, which they always have, you’d think a decade later they would have learned by now. when your gaze cracks down on yunho, both eyes shoot open– in gray sweatpants and a deep brown hoodie, the pair was much too baggy to show his strong thighs or his muscled torso, your stomach drops. 

he’s here. you haven’t seen him in days. 

the first thought that crosses your mind– what the hell do i look like right now?! your body is curled up on the couch, legs bent beneath you, one arm under your head, you were probably drooling onto the velvety surface by now, and he’s here?!

you sit up straight in surprise and slight embarrassment, rubbing the back of your hand across your mouth, uncurling your legs from your body, eyes wide and body rigid. you try to smooth out your bedhead as your movement catches in their peripherals, and yeosang is the first to speak, a wide smile on his face. “oh, look at that! sleeping beauty!”

“let down your hair,” san adds theatrically, as if he was finishing yeosang’s sentence.

“that’s rapunzel, dumbass,” yeosang grumbles, smacking san’s arm. 

you wish you could hear them, because you probably would have laughed, but your eyes have been trained on yunho since you opened them, and he’s finally meeting your gaze. comfort is always swimming around in his big brown eyes, they usually help to soothe your nerves, to calm your heart rate– this time they did no such thing. you look away too fast, finding your tv stand, the deep oak suddenly much more interesting. 

“okay… i guess we’ll… leave you to it?” yeosang finally catches your ear, you watch him grab both san and ace’s arms, pulling them in the direction of your basement– it was clear they were talking to the two of you, and you were too locked into your staring match to realize. when your eyes meet yunho’s again, you can feel the tension in the air, the awkwardness, it’s painful. this might be the first time you’ve ever felt awkward around him in your life. 

yunho scrunches his lips, looking down to the ground– he doesn’t know what to do either. you let out a shaky breath when you hear three pairs of footsteps walking down your basement steps, pissed at yourself for napping when you could have planned for this. first and foremost, you need to see what you look like. 

“wanna go upstairs?” you ask, meeting his eyes again, and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. 

“you mean like, up to your room?” he asks, clarifying, as if going up to your room was a big deal. you supposed everything was different now. 

you tilt your head, uneasy in your own answer, “yes? unless you want to risk my mom and matt hearing the whole thing.”

he nods, “no, yeah. your room, okay, that’s fine.”

you stand on weak legs, fuck, maybe you were more nervous than you thought. this was unknown territory for both of you, there has never been this much weirdness between you, ever. it was clear you were both feeling it. 

he follows you upstairs, and when you get to your room, you make him wait in the doorway so you can quickly make your bed. after making sure your comforter is spread evenly and your pillows are placed where they’re supposed to, you turn to him, “i’m gonna go wash my face and brush my teeth really quick, i’ll be right back.”

he nods silently, sitting down at the foot of your bed, stiff and uncomfortable and weird. you try to shake off the feeling as you reach your bathroom, finally getting a glimpse of yourself. you gasp at the mirror, if you ignoring him for five days didn’t make him lose feelings for you, your appearance definitely did. skin dry and dull from lack of skincare, eyes swollen from your meltdown this morning, a line of crusted drool on your chin from your nap. you sigh, this was already worse than you could have imagined.

you tried to come up with something as you washed your face and brushed your teeth, a game plan to distract you from the anxiety about the conversation waiting for you in the other room. there were no excuses to be made, no rebuttals to be had, you fucked up and made this so much messier than it needed to be. you need to apologize, everything else can come after. 

everything else… everything else was the unknown– how long has yunho had feelings for you? when he said he loved you, what exactly did he mean? what did he want? you wish you had all the answers so you could sort out your thoughts, but you supposed there was no preparing for a conversation like this. every reaction yunho would receive from you would be the honest truth, no more hiding. no more ignoring.

it was weird seeing yunho sitting so stiff in your bed instead of lounging out like he usually did– long, lanky body sprawled out across your comforter, feet hanging off the edges. seeing him sit straight up with his legs hung over the edge felt so wrong. he made a dip in your perfectly laid white comforter, the fuzzy throw blanket laid on top sat crumpled beneath him. baby pink sheets lived under it all, too many pillows, your bed was your haven, your safe space, your entire room was. it’s a space that you keep clean and tidy because you respect it, how it helps you, the peace it gives you.

you really needed the peace as you crawl over the bed, sitting with your legs criss-crossed at the top, back leaning into your pillows. you grab your favorite throw pillow, holding it on your lap, letting your fingers mindlessly play with the frayed seams as you glance at yunho who was still wearing the same uneasy look as he had when you left him.

both of you in sweats, wearing uneasy faces and hearts beating a mile a minute, both sitting in the weird, uncomfortable silence. you’re sitting farther apart than usual, the space between you feeling heavy, charged with the words you need to say. he stared at his lap, letting his fingers twist together, picking at his cuticles. you assumed he would have started first, needing to get everything off his chest, but he seemed just as unsure as you did. like he didn’t know where to begin. 

yunho was internally panicking, and he knows it’s obvious. his heart is thumping against his chest, he could feel his throat jumping, he didn’t know where to start– he had so much to say, but he didn’t want to scare you, he didn’t want to push you away any more than he already has. he’s had days to figure out verbiage, to plan a script in his head, but now that he was sitting across from you with your bare face and cozy attire? oh, every word he had planned was gone. his brain was empty. he had half a mind to look at you and simply say i’ve loved you for years now, please give me a chance?

ah, fuck it. if that’s what he says to get the ball rolling, to get the conversation flowing, then so be it. 

you both look up at the same time, both saying, “i–” 

then you both pause. you crack a smile, saying, “you go first.”

yunho shakes his head, “no, you.” 

you let out a shaky breath from deep in your gut, “okay.” 

you needed to apologize first. for not answering him for days, for falling off the face of the earth, for taking so fucking long to make a decision. you swallow, clearing your throat, staring at the pillow in your lap. “i’m sorry.”

yunho’s head snaps up to you, eyebrows twisted in confusion. your lips purse, but you don’t give him a second to interject. “this week has been… rough. i’m sorry for not answering, for icing you out, for making you feel like shit. you didn’t deserve that at all.” 

“tiny, i-”

you look up, and he stops himself mid-sentence. “i was blindsided last saturday, the last thing i was expecting to hear you say was that you love me. i’ve been going on all these dates and rubbing everything in your face for weeks, months now, that is so fucking unfair to you, even if i didn’t know.” 

“don’t apologize for that,” his voice was as shaky as yours, breathy and light, like he couldn’t control what he was saying, let alone what he sounded like. he couldn’t.

“you deserve better than me,” your voice is even smaller now, “i couldn’t even answer you, yunho. i couldn’t be honest with you, i couldn’t even figure out my own feelings until someone else spelled them out for me. it’s not fair to you.” 

yunho was looking at you like that same puppy matt mentioned. lost in his own mind, his own feelings, like he couldn’t believe he was sitting across from you talking about this. quickly, he says, “obviously i forgive you, tiny, i wish you wouldn’t say that. i don’t need you to apologize at all.”

“did you know you sent me thirty nine texts?” you ask, your voice slightly cracking at nine. you tried to fight the tightness in your throat that was inevitable, the tears crawling their way up their ducts, “over the course of five days, i let you send thirty nine texts and i didn’t answer a single one.” 

“but you did answer eventually,” he countered, the pit in his stomach heavy– he hates seeing you cry more than anything, and the fact that you’re crying because you think you hurt him? because you think you don’t deserve him? yunho thinks he might throw up. “i put a lot on you that night, i’ve been hiding this from you for five years.” 

“five?” you ask, eyebrows raising, your voice fully cracking at the word. you tip your head back, eyes on your ceiling, trying to cut a deal with gravity so your tears wouldn’t fall. you face him again, your jaw tight and your voice barely above a whisper, “why didn’t you tell me?”

“because we’re best friends,” he gives you a small smile, his lips pressed together, ever so slightly lifting at the edges, the kind of smile that hurts. it wasn’t a smile of happiness, it was one of disappointment, laced with fear. “i didn’t want to ruin our relationship.”

you shake your head, racking your brain for the right words to say. you sniff, eyes glancing to your lap again, “yunho, i don’t think we have the kind of relationship that can be ruined.”

he says your name. not tiny, the nickname your entire family called you your entire life– he says your name. it’s strained but it’s serious, he says it like a prayer, like it’s special. like you’re special. 

you’re special, teens, you can’t go around giving yourself to just anybody. you deserve someone who’s gonna appreciate you, cherish you, all the little parts about you. 

“i love you,” he says with his chest, the most steady you’ve heard his voice so far. yunho told himself fuck it, and he meant it. “i love you when you’re happy, when you’re smiling, when you’re sad, crying about some douchebag in the backseat of my car. i love you when you’re making your coffee in the morning, dancing around your kitchen, and when you’re frustrated trying to play a video game. i love you when you’re focused, doing your homework, when you’re asleep next to me, when you’re mad because one of the guys pissed you off. i love you all the fucking time.” 

your mascara-less eyes widen, dry lips parting, yet you have nothing to say in return. you love him, too, but do you love him like he loves you? as if he can read your mind, his voice is strained as he says, “don’t say anything. please.”

“i love you when you don’t answer me for five days, i love you when you’re glued to my side. i love you when you’re mad at me, i love you when you’re over my back, about to throw up if i don’t put you down.” you cringe, your entire face scrunching up— he smiles. 

“i love you when i’m dropping you off on a date with someone else, when i’m picking you up from a different one. there’s nothing you can do that will make me stop loving you, there’s no reality where i don’t love you,” he takes a breath, “these feelings, they’ve been one-sided for five years, i don’t expect a response from you, i don’t want one. not yet. i want only one thing from you.” 

you wipe the tears that slipped past your lashes, cutting your deal with gravity short. “one thing?” 

“go on a date with me,” he takes a breath, chestnut brown hair laid over his forehead, over the matching eyebrows that you’re sure are twisted beneath his bangs. yunho can’t believe he just said all of that, but he can’t stop while he’s ahead, he has to keep going, for himself, for the future he wants with you. “just one date, and i’ll prove it to you. you won’t show up to thanksgiving alone, you’ll show up happy.”

you look at him, really look at him. there’s determination in his eyes, a glint of hope in the sea of chocolate, like he’s put so much thought into this, that he’s sure about you. you believe him, because aside from that determination, there’s love paired with it— warmth in the haze of brown, eyes you could get lost in, because they look at you like you’re all that’s ever mattered. you’re his already, and you weren’t sure you ever had a choice. 

you’re nodding before your brain could signal your muscles. your voice is shy when you say okay, you have nothing else to say to his confession– yet you weren’t put off by it, you weren’t scared. you weren’t uncomfortable anymore. this was yunho, after all. 

yunho, for some reason, is shocked you agreed. he didn’t think he’d have to convince you, but he didn’t think it’d be so easy. he wonders if he should have asked more questions about your feelings, if you should have talked more– if this conversation was enough to fill in the space he created just last saturday. he brushes it off as the two of you walk downstairs, and when he heard you laugh just seconds later at something san said, he feels at ease again. you’re gonna be okay. 

──────  ꨄ︎

november twenty third.

less than a week before thanksgiving, you’ve devoted your last saturday, your last possible chance at obtaining a date to your family’s thanksgiving to jeong yunho. it still feels ridiculous to say out loud, to even put into perspective. 

yet you’ve never taken longer to get ready in your whole life. 

even if you were instructed on how to dress, after your breakfast was dropped off to you in your room by your twin. 

“this is so corny, i can’t believe i’m doing this,” ace’s voice rips you out of your thoughts as he kicks your bedroom door open, oversized sleep clothes on his body, his face looking tired and irritated, yet you could see appreciation slipping through the cracks. he speaks with a hollow tone of sarcasm, “breakfast for the queen, hand delivered, at your fuckin’ service.”

you sit up in your bed straighter, eyes furrowed in confusion. “breakfast?” 

he places two containers on top of a tray on your comforter, all tied with a thick pink ribbon, an envelope tucked under the bow. your heart rate picks up as your eyes widen– is this from who you think it's from?

“hopefully i’m discharged from my services after this,” ace says, teasing, his irritation still hollow. his lips curl upward ever so slightly, “have a good time today, teens. for what it’s worth, he’s who i wanted you with from the start.”

you smile, “wish i knew from the start.”

“everything happens for a reason,” he shrugs, “eat before it gets cold.” 

he’s out of your room in a second, leaving you with your meticulously wrapped breakfast. you untie the ribbon, laying out each container on top of the tray, then pick up the envelope. it says your name on the front in yunho’s handwriting– you pout, wishing he came inside when he dropped it off. the pout doesn’t stay long, your fingers are ripping over the envelope immediately, pulling out the white index card that lived inside. 

‘since you can’t flip a pancake on your own nor would you eat breakfast if it wasn’t made for you, here’s a gift from my own kitchen (and my cooking that i know you love. don’t lie to yourself)

dress warm and cozy, i’ll pick you up at two.

— with all my love, jyh’

inside the first containers was two pancakes, a glass container of fruits and another of syrup, then another with eggs, toast, and a small container of dairy free butter. he packed a fork and a knife too, and a closed mason jar of orange juice and two airplane bottles of champagne– you didn’t even know they made shooters of champagne. your breath catches in your throat, your heart twisting in your chest. 

it was your first insight into what yunho was like as a lover, the bar was set for the rest of the day just after nine in the morning. 

he was right– you did love his cooking. 

the past week has gone just like this. yunho has been complimenting you nonstop, texting you goodmorning and goodnight, even doing little things for you like paying for your dinners when the five of you ate together, getting you drinks before you had the chance to mention you were thirsty, openly sitting closer to you on the couch in the living room, the basement, the kitchen island. everything went back to normalcy after your talk, the five of you were back to a team, yunho just didn’t have to hide anymore— it all weirdly felt good. like nothing had changed, yunho was always supposed to sit next to you, the compliments that left his lips felt genuine, the small favors felt special. 

today was just a completion to a maze, one that’s lasted far too long, too winding with too many dead ends that set you both back to zero. today was a path, a walkway— and the light at the end was yunho, who it was always supposed to be. 

by one forty five, you were finishing up getting ready in your room, and you hear your front door open, and the loud chatting of your family following soon after. he’s here. 

he said to dress warm and cozy, so you opted for wide-legged jeans, an off the shoulder sweater and a huge scarf to wrap around you, a pair of faux sheepskin boots on your feet. it seemed warm and cozy enough, while still being cute— you didn’t want to overdo it in fear of what exactly he had planned, you had ripped apart the majority of your closet before settling on something so simple— not having a concrete plan both stressed you out and excited you at the same time. 

after adding the finishing touches on your makeup, you took a deep breath at the top of your stairs, eyelashes brushing against another when your eyes flutter closed. 

today would change the entire trajectory of your friendship. even if the past week felt natural, today was the deciding factor, and it’d change everything. you thought of hyunjin, of chan, of mingyu, jisung, seonghwa, heeseung and hoshi— seven men that had completely different lifestyles, backgrounds and personalities, you think every single one served a purpose, each one taught you something, nudged you a little farther in the direction you were always meant to go in. his direction.

you deserve to be loved. you deserve to be treated well, to be cherished, to be known, to be appreciated, every little detail about you. you ache to reciprocate the feelings, outside of needing a boyfriend for thanksgiving, you want someone by your side, to know all your weaknesses and bad habits and love you through every revelation. someone to share secrets with, to kiss, to hold, to nurture. 

a smile washes over your face, your heart jumping beneath your skin with the possibility— no, confirmation that someone is yunho. 

sitting around your kitchen island was the man of the hour— but also your mom, matt, ace and vivi, all gathered around in the middle of a conversation you weren’t sure you wanted to butt into. 

“tiny!” your mom catches your eye first, her arms slinging outward so you notice the arrangement of things on the marble counter. your breath catches in your throat at the sight. 

a bottle of aged whiskey, one you learned was matt’s favorite the night he educated you on whiskey for mingyu. two bouquets of flowers, one an assortment of lilies and angel’s breath, the other an assortment of roses— red, orange and yellow, an ode to her first name, jangmi. your mom’s hand lays over her heart, eyebrows twisted upward in appreciation, “if you two don’t get married, i swear…”

“mom,” you hiss through gritted teeth, heat reaching your ears. you catch vivi’s eye over her shoulder, the blue haired sixteen year old silently mouthing don’t fuck up this time– you scowl at her for just a second before you finally meet yunho’s gaze, he looks you up and down with a soft smile, a fondness in his eyes that has a shiver racking through you. 

he stands up, grabbing the bouquet of lilies, muttering a small hi as he steps toward you— fuck, he knows you so well. lilies have been your favorite flower ever since your dad passed, as morbid as it is, there was the most beautiful arrangement of pink lilies and angel’s breath at his funeral that has stuck with you throughout the years— something you’ve only mentioned once or twice since the funeral. of course yunho would remember.

you feel yourself overflowing with warmth and gratitude as he holds the bouquet out for you to take, “beautiful flowers for a beautiful girl.” 

a shaky breath leaves your lips before your grin stretches across your face, “thank you, for breakfast this morning too,” you look down at the bouquet again, “i can’t believe you remembered.” 

“how could i forget?” he’s beaming. excitement is exuding off his skin, filling you up as if you were an empty glass, your nerves were easing by the second. 

you finally look him up and down— he looks delicious. wide leg light denim jeans, a blue button up beneath a cream cardigan, where the deep blue of his shirt matched the embroidered decal on his cardigan. his hair was clean cut as if he got it trimmed for the occasion, brand new brown converse on his feet… you were matching. not fully, it was more subtle than anything, but your cream scarf matched his cardigan, your brown sweater matched his sneakers, the light wash of your jeans was almost identical. completely by accident, yet the realization only encourages the idea that this was meant to happen. 

“you two look so cute,” your mom coos as if she realized at the same time as you. “come on, let me take a picture!” 

vivi snorted from beside her, even ace wore a lopsided grin as the words left her mouth. your jaw dropped at her proposition, eyebrows hanging low over your eyes as you glanced up to yunho who just shrugged. his nonchalance would really be the death of you. 

“come on, honey,” said matt from beside her, finally ripping his star-filled eyes away from his new bottle of his favorite whiskey, “let them go.” 

she smacked her lips together, a scowl on her face as she turned to him, “she asked me to take pictures!” 

you knew she was yunho’s mom, which had you laying the flowers on the island and tugging on his arm towards your front door before your mom noticed. “let’s go, stealth mode.” 

yunho cracked a snort from behind you, “you haven’t said stealth mode in years.” 

stealth mode was a saying the five of you adopted whenever you were doing something sneaky growing up. sneaking out of the house, stealing food from the pantry, vodka from the bar just off the side of the kitchen. “i haven’t had a reason to!”

you’re both still giggling when you make it outside, smiling like idiots when you come to a stop just before his old, dark green bmw. he let out a tch noise when your hand reached for the handle, playing annoyed as he said, “let me open it, this is a date.”

“i’ve been opening your car door by myself for years,” you roll your eyes as he steps in front of you, opening the car door, the smell of his air freshener already greeting you from a foot away. smokey and leather and man. 

“i know, but this is different,” he says as you walk forward, a hand resting on top of the car door, “i wanna do things right.”

you pause before you get in, one leg bent up on the frame as you meet his eyes, “you know, i’m really excited for today. to be with you like this.”

you watch his smile grow, that warmth in the chocolate of his eyes shining under the sunlight, matching the chestnut of his hair that hangs over his forehead. he motions his chin in the direction of the seat of his car, “then get in so we can go.”

you laugh as you finally get in, the leather seats warm beneath you from sitting under the fall sun, the seat at the perfect setting– something you usually have to change when you’re in his car. the first thing he does after he turns the car on is plug in his phone, connecting the aux so he can play one of his perfectly articulated playlists. 

instead of soft rock playing through the speakers, which is what you expected, jungle starts playing through the car. you gasp knowingly, eyes widening ever so slightly, “shut up.”

“what?” he asks through a smile as if he has no idea what you’re talking about– you know him better than that. 

“give me your phone,” you face him as he puts the car in reverse, pulling out of your driveway, “you did not make a playlist for today.” 

“of course i made a playlist for today,” he eyes you from the driver's seat, right hand on the wheel, left hand on his thigh. “i will not be giving you my phone, you can have the playlist after. i want each song to be like a little surprise.”

“you’re so corny,” you tease, shaking your head in disbelief, grin still wide and genuine, because who wouldn’t want a playlist specifically curated for their ears? 

“where are we going, anyways?” 

“another surprise,” he nods, “they’re all surprises.”

“all surprises?” you whip your head over to look at him again, eyebrows high, “as in there’s more than one place?!”

“okay fine, i’ll give you a spoiler,” he holds up three fingers, “we’re going to three places.”

“can i guess where?”

“no.”

“ugh, fine.” 

you sit in silence for a moment, your brain still going a mile a minute about where he could possibly be taking you. “but what about my dress code? warm and cozy? we aren’t going anywhere fancy, right?” 

he gives you a look through lowered brows, “do you really think i’d give you a dress code that didn’t match the vibe?” 

something you tend to forget— he knows you better than that, too.

“fair,” you nod, your lips pursed. you settle in your seat as he pulls onto a highway, shifting around to get comfortable. tv girl starts playing through his speakers, lover’s rock, and you can’t help but sing along– to your surprise, yunho does too. 

it doesn’t take long before you’re both singing louder, your head rolled towards him, smiles on your faces. it seems like neither of you can wipe the smile off your face– this kind of comfort doesn’t come easily, no shame in your terrible singing, no panic about being off key… even if the man beside you had the voice of an angel. he’d kill you if you said that to him, though. 

a few more terribly sang (by you) songs until you were pulling into the parking lot of a record store. it wasn’t far from your house, a quick fifteen minutes into the city, just off of the highway. you’ve never been here before, but you know yunho has, he’s always been deeper into music than you. 

“a record store?” you ask as he turns the wheel to back into a parking spot, you twist your head to watch him as his right arm stretches behind your headrest, his left hand turning the steering wheel. you make a face– lips scrunched together, eyebrows knitted, trying so hard to pretend you weren’t affected by how good he looked– it still felt strange to think of him like that. 

a smirk grew on his lips as if he could see through you, he put the car in park as he answered, “yes, a record store.” he reached in his backseat, grabbing his camera, one he only brought out on special occasions— you let out a groan that he swiftly ignored. “don’t get out yet.”

he was out of the car and beside your door in a moment, a huff of amusement left your lips as you watched his little jog as he made his way over, slinging the camera around his neck by the strap. when he opened your door, you gave him barely a second of reprieve, “thank you, gentleman. why the camera? and why a record store?” 

“you’re so nosy,” he teased as he held his hand out, pulling you up out of your seat. “excuse a man for wanting to document the day he’s been waiting five years for. do you remember when your cousin got married?” 

you pop an eyebrow as he closes the door behind you, your hand still in his, “which one?” 

“karina, that’s the only family wedding we all went to,” yunho says as if you should know this already. 

“oh, duh, yeah i remember,” you mindlessly answer as he tugs you across the parking lot and toward the entrance, your hand still swallowed by his– your eyes couldn’t look anywhere else other than where you were linked, your palms growing sweaty at the feeling of your hand enveloped by his. 

he opens the door for you, letting your hand go so you can walk through the glass doors, “at the reception, it was one of the first times i thought i might like you.” 

you snap your neck to look at him, “yunho, that was years ago.”

“yeah, five,” he says obviously, “you were seventeen, i was eighteen, you wore that long, pink, barbie looking dress. you don’t wear pink a lot, but it suits you.”

he follows you inside, the walls covered in framed pictures of artists, singers, bands, guitar players, aisles upon aisles of records, different sections for CDs and albums. it smelled of dust and incense, the low hum of rock music playing through the speakers, you wondered if the building had been here for a long time– it seemed like it had. 

you start down one of the aisles, eyes racking the different crates of records laid in alphabetical order, trying to hide the flush in your cheeks. yunho was hot on your tail, “anyways, we were in the middle of the reception, you had too many glasses of white wine and i was throwing back beers like any eighteen year old would at an open bar. we were all on the dance floor the entire night, all five of us.”

“oh my god, i remember that! san took the microphone from the dj at one point,” you turn to him, throwing a hand over your mouth in remembrance, “he was so fucking drunk.”

yunho laughs, “all of us were hammered.” 

“that was a good wedding,” you walk further down the aisle as you think back on it– as much as karina’s husband sucks, that wedding was incredible. lavish, expensive, the decor was just a display of wealth, no actual decorum. the open bar and lack of checking for IDs made the wedding enjoyable. you glance back at him, “back to realizing that you liked me?” 

he rolls his eyes, amused. “right, how could i forget?”

“we were in the middle of the reception, hammered as hell, screaming the words to can’t take my eyes off you by frankie valli. it felt like it was just me and you in that room, you looked so pretty, and i could’ve sworn you felt it, too.”

you did remember that– as much white wine as you ingested that night, you still remembered that moment. you had styrofoam microphones and silly sunglasses on, singing the words to one another in the middle of the tiled floor, surrounded by family and karina’s friends, your bodies inches apart. back then, you didn’t think anything of it, you just thought you were singing a song in a funny way with your funny friend– purely innocent. the idea that yunho was feeling these things while you were ignorant to all of it made your heart skip a beat. 

yunho smiles, “i want to buy you the album, i think it’s on one of those compilation albums, frankie valli and the four seasons best hits or something like that…”

you curse, your cheeks heating up, a pout on your lips, “yunho, that’s so fucking sweet.”

“for a sweet girl,” he smiles, then grabs your hand again, pulling it up to his lips to kiss just above your knuckles– you just about died, looking away in embarrassment that you might squeal out of the sheer emotion coursing through your body. 

you didn’t know yunho was so… nostalgic. he has never shown so much passion for anything, so much emotion, this was a completely new side of him and you were obsessed with learning about every new detail. to think five years ago he was already looking at you this way… and it took you this long to realize? he was either really good at hiding it or you really are blind. 

you heard the camera click, the shutter sound ripping you from your thoughts. you look up from the records you’d started sorting through again to scowl at yunho, who lowered the camera from his eye with a smile. he pulled up the picture on the screen, leaning the camera over to show you. 

you couldn’t believe you didn’t notice it earlier, maybe the air freshner in his car was too overpowering to allow you to smell him— citrus, woody, notes of sandalwood, you devoured the scent as he stood closer, your body involuntarily leaning in, your side pressing into his as you stared at the screen of the camera. surprisingly you liked how it came out, your hair laying over your face as you sorted through records, fingers sifting between the vinyls, it was cute enough to post, even. 

“that’s actually cute,” you comment, surprise clear in your voice. 

“of course it is,” he responds, “it’s a picture of you, and i took it. you know what they say…” 

“i do not know what they say,” you flatten your lips as you give him a dumbfounded look, feeling like this is something you’re supposed to know. 

yunho opens his mouth, and then closes it, lips pursing before he looks like he’s fighting the sheepish smile that grows on his cheeks. his voice comes out lower, coated in embarrassment, “i forgot what they say.” 

you can’t stop the loud cackle that rips through your lips, a hand flying over your mouth when you realize your volume in the near-empty store. yunho says through his laughter, “it’s not funny! it’s a good saying, it’s something like your pictures come out better when you’re taking pictures of someone you love.” 

you groan, leaning into him, teasingly nudging him with your elbow. “who knew you were such a lover?” 

“me,” he answers plainly, “i knew— for five years, mind you.” 

“okay!” you start off again, looking through another bin of albums across the aisle. “enough with the five years thing, you’re making me feel guilty now.” 

“every time i say it you get all shy and embarrassed,” he follows you across the aisle, “it’s cute, but i’ll stop. i’m sorry.” 

you playfully glare at him— but the expression leaves as soon as he lifts the camera again. 

you spent at least half an hour in front of his camera lens while sorting through albums, picking up different ones, talking mindlessly about artists to debating who’s music is better– which songs off of albums are the best, which ones you love, which ones you hate. 

“no no no, entombed is the best off of koi no yokan,” you stand your ground, holding up the deftones record, shaking your head at yunho. 

“okay, fine, but swerve city is a close second,” yunho points at the record in your hands, “for the first time in your twenty two years of life, i agree with you.” 

“how about this one?” you hold up speak and spell by depeche mode, “favorite on three.” 

you count to three while facing him, and you both answer simultaneously, “just can’t get enough.” 

you cheer and then high-five him, saying, “we’re so good,” as you put the record back in its spot. you skip a letter, gravitating towards the F section to find the album that you came here for. 

yunho stands just behind you, the back of your shoulder touching his bicep, and the reoccurring thought that he’s huge plagues you all over again. he’s peering over your body as you sort through the vinyls and you can’t help but bask in the feeling of comfort. he isn’t overly flirting, he isn’t making it unbearably clear that this is a date— you don’t feel any pressure to act any sort of way. it feels natural to be out with him alone, to feel him pressed against you, to know there’s this feeling of romance shared between you even if it isn't obvious. 

when you finally pulled out the square blue record named the very best of frankie valli and the four seasons, you looked up to yunho, “you were pretty spot on with the name.” 

yunho shrugs, “i had a feeling.” 

“now, the only issue is,” you turn to him, holding the record to your chest, “i don’t have a record player.” 

yunho squints as he looks far ahead of you towards the cash register where plenty of record players stood on the wall just behind the store clerk. like it’s a no-brainer, he says, “they have plenty up there, i’ll just buy you one.” 

“yunho,” it sounds more like a whine than anything, “the record is enough. i’ll buy it.” 

he gives you a twisted look, “you’re choosing now to fuss over me buying you shit?”

you smile, because that rebuttal is more than fair. “at least let me pretend i’m not gonna let you. independent woman and all that.” 

yunho rolls his eyes as he takes a step in the direction of the clerk, a smile playing on his lips as he reaches for your hand. you peel your fingers from the album to slip your palm in his, your fingers linking together, heat consuming you from head to toe. as if on command, you can feel the sweat forming in your palms, you just hope yunho didn’t notice as he leads you to the register. 

you leave the record store nearly skipping across the parking lot, a bright smile on your face under the strangely warm autumn sun, the weather must have known what you were getting up to today. yunho opens the car door for you another time, you wonder if you’ll ever open a car door for yourself again, but if you didn’t, you wouldn’t mind one bit. 

after yunho turns the car on and connects his phone, he says, “okay, we’re off to stop number two.” 

you sink into the car seat, slipping off your boots to put your sock covered feet on the dash. he points his eyes at you, “if you were anyone else i’d be cursing you out for that.” 

you smirk, “but i’m me, so i get a pass,” you put on a funny, teasing voice, “‘97 e36 m3 ain’t got nothing on me.” 

“wow,” his eyebrows raise, shooting you a surprised glance as he pulls out of the parking space, “impressive.” 

“hey, i remember things,” you hold up a finger in rebuttal, “you talked about this car for months before you bought it. let’s race someone.” 

“what am i? nineteen?” he objected as he reached forward, turning up the volume dial so you could hear the music he put on, “remember this one?” 

you take a second to hear the familiar strum of the guitar, a loud gasp leaves your chest, your entire face warping into shock. “oh shut the fuck up, jeong yunho– you did not!”

yunho laughs as he pulls out of the parking lot, his head tipping back into the headrest, a deep chuckle. anyone else but you specifically the version by michael cera and elliot page played through his speakers, and he reached forward to turn it up louder. he glances at you with a smile, “i was hoping this would play, it brings back memories, right?” 

“god, too many, and they’re all mortifying,” you shake your head, cheeks flushed, a smile still playing on your lips. you must have been eleven or twelve when you discovered the movie juno– you asked your mom to watch it and she flat out told you no, you’re too young. 

butthurt, you threw a tantrum, but when she was firm on her answer you eventually forgot all about it. until one night months later when all the boys were having a sleepover in your basement, back when you still made forts out of couch cushions and thought drinking soda past ten pm was scandalous, you and yunho found yourselves the last ones awake. eyes wide with sleep fighting through at the edges, you found juno on a streaming service and rented it without your mom’s permission. you and yunho watched the movie from start to finish, and became obsessed with anyone else but you, a song on the soundtrack. 

a month later the two of you had all the words memorized, young enough for giggles to leave your lips every single time you sang ‘squinched up your face and did a dance, you shook a little turd out of the bottom of your pants’. your parents were pissed when they found out you watched juno– but the anger didn’t last long when they made you and yunho put on the performance of a lifetime. 

“come on, don’t tell me you forgot the words,” yunho teases from beside you and all the memories rush back, the matching outfits, the tv remotes used as microphones. “your part is about to start!”

“you’re a part time lover and a full time friend…” you start singing along and yunho cheers, your cheeks flushing immediately. 

“there we go!” he encourages while you sing along, his fist pumping in the air, his grin stretched from one side of his face to the other. your embarrassment dies quick, your voice growing louder and steadier as the first verse finishes, yunho’s part coming right after yours. 

“i kiss you on the brain in the shadow of the train, i kiss you all starry eyed, my body's swinging from side to side,” he sings enthusiastically, his head swaying back and forth, “i don't see what anyone can see in anyone else, but you.”

neither of you miss a beat for the entirety of the song, and not a word was stuttered– even if you haven’t sung the song together in nearly a decade. you both still giggled at that one line like you did when you were twelve, like no time has passed at all, your cheeks even started to ache from smiling. 

the high from the song lasted you all the way until he pulled into the parking lot of a mall. you raised an eyebrow when he pulled into a parking space, “are you taking me on a shopping spree?” 

“you’d love that, wouldn’t you?” he teased, unplugging his phone  and grabbing his camera from the backseat again, “we are going to one store and one store only, the shopping spree we can do another time.” 

“interesting how you didn’t say no to the shopping spree,” your smile is devious, and he lets out a sound of amusement as he opens his car door, stretching his lanky limbs out of the small car. 

he slings the camera around his neck and does his little jog around the vehicle again, opening your door for you, opening his mouth before you even had the chance, “i’m surprised i didn’t have to tell you to wait again.”

“i’m a quick learner,” you say after taking his outstretched arm to get out of his car, “and i’m kind of enjoying the princess treatment.” 

“i knew you would,” he keeps your hand in his as you walk through the parking lot which was flooded with cars, the mall on a saturday afternoon was risky– it’s always busy on the weekends. 

“do i get a hint for which store we’re going to?” you ask as you step through the entrance, automatic sliding glass doors that brushed you with a wave of hot air as you walked through the threshold. 

“so nosy,” he wrinkles his nose, “we’re going to be there in literally two seconds.”

“yeah, but i know you have some kind of lore for this store, too,” you counter, and yunho blushes. the rosy pink hue to his cheeks only made you press further, a pout on your lips, “tell me, please?”

he shakes his head with a smile as he guides you down the main aisle of the mall, different stores and scents on either side of you begging for your attention, but you couldn’t rip your gaze away from the man beside you. he finally says, “fine, but you are not allowed to make fun of it.”

you come to a stop at the end of the main section of stores and you finally rip your attention away from yunho to look at the store before you. your jaw drops, your head slowly turning to look up at yunho again, “we’re at a build-a-bear?!” 

“hear me out! there’s a reason,” he lets go of your hand and it feels cold without his skin against yours, “this is one of my core memories.” 

your amused smile is nowhere close to leaving your face– you nod, telling him to continue. he swallows, “damn, this was so long ago. i think you were fifteen, vivi was maybe nine?” 

“oh no,” you groan, your head tipping back– you already know where this is headed, and yunho giggles at your realization. 

“you had this stuffed bear, he was brown, his name was jacob, you slept with him every single night. you had him since you were probably around vivi’s age back then? anyways, we were all over, and vivi somehow had brought jacob downstairs and you flipped shit that she had him– the two of you back then were like animals.”

“my poor little man jacob.”

“exactly– you both started fighting over jacob, vivi wanted to keep him, but he was yours. so you started playing a game of fucking tug-of-war.”

you slap a hand to your forehead, a smile still on your lips, “she was such a fucking asshole back then.”

“back then?” he raises his eyebrows.

“still is,” you agree with your lips pursed. 

“you guys fought so badly you ripped poor jacob’s arms off, so i figured we could make a new jacob today.”

you’re shaking your head in disbelief when he finishes, “yunho, i can’t believe you remembered that.”

“i told you it’s one of my core memories,” his smile turns into a devilish smirk, “i’ve never seen you fight like that, and you were a whole fifteen year old fighting a nine year old.”

“she killed my fucking bear!” you defend yourself, arms swinging just like they did back then, seven years ago. 

“hey, i’m on your side,” he throws his hands up in defense, “that’s why we're here, we’re reviving jacob.”

“i fucking love you,” slips right out of your mouth without any thought, and your body tenses. you’ve told yunho you love him a thousand times, for over a decade– but now it’s different, he loves you in a different way, and you still weren’t saying it like he says it to you. you weren’t sure if it was okay to say to him anymore– especially on a date, your first date. 

“i know you do,” he says smugly, grabbing onto your hand and leading you inside, as if that was no big deal. maybe it wasn’t– yunho knows how you feel about him, you know how he feels about you, you’re on the same page. you don’t have to stress with him. 

you and yunho decide on a bear that looks the most like jacob– brown, fuzzy, wearing the warmest smile. it was nostalgic, thinking back to when you slept next to the stuffed animal every night, he was your lifeline for years. 

yunho brought out the camera again when you were stuffing the bear, pressing your foot on the small pedal that brought life into the stuffed animal. you both kissed his heart before it got stitched into his body, you made yunho pick out the red heart from the bin beside the stuffing machine– he took another picture of you kissing the heart again before giving it to the employee. 

the two of you decided on the cutest little outfit for jacob. a pair of baby blue overalls, a yellow shirt underneath, and a pair of sneakers on his feet that looked close to converse. while they boxed jacob up you filled out his birth certificate, a list of information like his name, his height, weight, eye color, fur color, his date of birth, his parents. 

“you’d think we were adopting a kid with this amount of information,” you mumble, staring at the screen with squinted eyes. you glance at yunho, “how tall do you think jacob junior is?” 

“at least two apples tall,” yunho says simply while holding up two fingers, making you smile. you type in three apples tall on the screen, and yunho laughs from behind you. “you really wrote it?”

“duh,” you say over your shoulder. where it says belongs to, you type in your name and yunho’s name, grabbing yunho’s attention again. 

“oh my god, we’re parents?” he asks, coming closer and bending down beside you, shorter than you from where you were sitting on the chair. 

“he’s our son,” you nod without sparing him a glance, “having a kid before we’ve even kissed… we’re like mary and joseph.” 

yunho’s head tips back at that, a loud rip of laughter leaving his chest, making you laugh, too. you whisper through your giggles, “shut up, people are looking.”

“that might be the funniest thing that’s ever come out of your mouth,” yunho’s head is tipped down, exhales of laughter still leaving him, and his laughter only encourages you to laugh more. 

two twenty-something year olds non stop, out of control laughing in the corner of a build-a-bear was definitely a sight to behold, especially when the store was filled with children, not one over the age of ten. you finally finished the birth certificate, humor still charging the air between you two, yunho still fighting his laughter all the way up to the register. 

yunho paid again, and this time without a peep from you, except for the thanks of gratitude after he swiped his card. he carried jacob all the way out of the store, pulling your hand in his again by the time you made it to the main aisle of the mall again. 

“that was so fun,” you say, holding yunho’s hand a little tighter, your right hand reaching across your body to hold onto his cardigan. you lean into him, your head falling onto his arm, a dazed smile on your face– likely the aftermath of your case of the giggles. 

yunho stands tall even with you leaning against him, your legs walking in stride now, yunho walking a little slower so you could keep up with his steps. yunho looks down at you with a warm smile, “that was really fun. you ready for the last stop?” 

you look up at him, your smile brightening even more, “yes!” 

when you get back to the car, jacob junior takes his spot right next to your record player, yunho places his camera in its case on top of the rectangular box, and he opens his car door for you a third time. at this point you’re in dreamland again, so consumed with warmth and appreciation for yunho, by the time he gets in the driver’s seat your entire body is turned toward him. when his palm hits your thigh after he puts the car in drive, you don’t think anything of it, you just lay your hand on top of his. 

you don’t even ask him where you’re going– you let your mind run blank as you sing along to the songs playing through his speakers, humming along to the songs you don’t know the words to. when yunho has to take his hand off your leg to make a turn, he puts it right back afterwards, as if that’s its place, where it’s supposed to be. 

the drive is long. you watch the road as you make it out of the city, but pretty soon after that your mind runs blank entirely. watching the road but not seeing, you aren’t even thinking, just enjoying the music filling the space between you, enjoying his presence beside you– this might be the best date you’ve ever been on and it’s not even over yet. 

when you pull up on the coastline, a very specific drive you were making all last week, your attention is piqued. no, you think to yourself, he can’t know this, this is too specific. it has to be a coincidence. 

but when he makes a turn into a clearing of sand that’s been driven over so many times it’s begun to turn into something similar to gravel, you sit up a little straighter in your seat. you still don’t say anything, nor do you look at yunho, your peripherals don’t even catch the knowing smile growing on his cheeks. 

there’s one more turn he has to make– this clearing was already out of the way, but there was one more turn that took you to–

your jaw drops again, your head slowly turning to face yunho as he makes the turn. “how the hell did you–”

“you have to stop being surprised that i know everything about you,” he says casually, pulling his car next to a bronco that was pulled right up to the end of the gravel, the beach just beyond the makeshift parking area. 

you tilt your head to the side, eyeing up the deep blue bronco, “that looks like ace’s car.”

“it is ace’s car,” yunho points ahead of you, and the three idiots you call your twin and best friends are jogging up from the cove, wind pulling at their hoods they were holding close to their heads, teeth bared and chattering with cold.

when they spot you they all pause, eyes wide as if they were caught– your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and your hand reached for the door handle, pushing it open. you step outside, one foot still on the ledge, yelling towards your friends, “what the hell are you doing here?” 

yunho gets out of the car, too, but he doesn’t say anything– the three barely spare the two of you a look as they hurry towards ace’s suv. san yells over his shoulder as he gets into the car, “we aren’t here!” 

yeosang is smiling wide as he shuffles into the backseat, calling to you from the open door, “have fun, lovebirds!”

ace waves at you from across san in the passenger seat, through the window. you stare with furrowed brows as your twin starts the car, barely a moment passing before they drive away abruptly, sand stirring up in its wake. you turn to yunho, your eyebrows still knitted together, and he shrugs. “you ready?” 

you close the car door and take a step back, confusion still clouding your ability to think, the wind from the beach under the setting sun smacking you across the face and clawing at your exposed shoulder, shooting a physical chill throughout your body. 

“i have coats in the trunk, hold on,” yunho holds up a finger, with his camera slung around his neck again he grabs two coats from his trunk, walking over to your side to hold it up for you while you slip your arms inside. he even planned for this?

“what’s going on?” you ask as you zip up the coat, the inside warm and comforting, clarity finally washing over you, “why are we at my dad’s beach spot?” 

yunho grabs your hand again after putting his own coat on, leading you towards the beach. “we came with you guys to this spot a few times growing up.”

when he takes you to the tip of the dune, you can finally see what’s beneath, and your breath gets caught in your lungs, your hand flying over your mouth. a bonfire was lit next to a large blanket laid across the sand, two cushions and more blankets placed next to each other on top. next to the cushions were two different boards of foods– what was on them you couldn’t see from where you stood, maybe charcuterie or meats. a bottle of wine and two glasses were placed against one of the baskets, from its pink color you knew it was sickeningly sweet, the only wine you could actually enjoy– you could barely call it wine. 

muffled by your palm, you whisper yunho’s name, squeezing his hand tighter. 

“i know this is where you’ve been coming all week,” his voice is quiet, almost shy, “i wasn’t sure if i should do this.”

he turns to face you, and you turn your head before moving your body. “i knew your dad, and i know i was young, but… i figured we could hang out with him for a little bit so he can be… relieved up there, i guess, knowing you’re down here with me.” 

your throat tightened, chest burdened with the weight of this. your eyes filled with tears too fast, falling hot down your cheeks, and yunho’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. he lets go of your hand, reaching forward to wipe your tears from beneath your cheeks, palms holding your cheeks as he starts sputtering out his words, “tiny– i’m so sorry, we can leave. oh my god, i knew i shouldn’t have done this.” 

your hands come up to wrap your fingers around his forearms that were still holding your cheeks, pausing him, silencing him. “this is perfect.”

his eyebrows push together ever so slightly, a tremble in his words, “a-are you sure?” 

a picnic date on the beach– a place where you feel connected to your late father, with someone who he knew and loved, to plan people coming here and setting this up for you… all of this, for you. staring up at yunho, that warm, comforting chocolate swimming around in his eyes, with your heart pounding against your chest, you could feel something inside you fully cracking open. 

you didn’t recognize this feeling, you felt like you were exploding with appreciation, with gratitude, adoration, passion… you’ve never felt anything like this before. it was more than infatuation with the man in front of you. 

you nod with your head still in his hands, your voice barely above a whisper, “i promise.”

he smiles– taking over his entire face, his smile was contagious, he might as well have copied and pasted it onto your own cheeks. you stand there for a moment, staring at each other, his warm hands never leaving your face, but you don’t mind. you think you could stand here forever as long as he was your view.

his eyes drop to your lips, then back up to your eyes, and your breath hitches in your throat. 

please do it, please do it, please do it. 

“can i–”

“please.”

he leans down after a huff of amusement leaves his nose, catching your lips between his, and fuck it if you’ve ever felt emotion with any man prior to this– this was everything. your lips molded together as if your bodies were waiting for this, your body leaning forward into his, melting into his touch like no one’s skin has ever been on your own. the sand was no longer beneath your feet, the wind was no longer biting your skin, all you could feel was the heat of yunho all over you. on your cheeks, your lips, your torso, your legs– yunho was everywhere, all at once.

you didn’t think a first kiss could be so devastating. rewiring everything you thought you knew, about love, about bonds, about the fucking fireworks that appeared when it was right. this was raw, an exchanging of emotion, an act of pouring passion into one another as if the other wasn’t overflowing to begin with. everything you’re feeling must have been laying dormant somewhere inside you, buried beneath fear and decades of hiding behind the facade of a platonic friendship– this couldn’t be something that just surfaced because you’re swapping spit. not something this heavy. 

when you finally broke away from each other, your face still between his palms as you stared into each other like you were the only thing visible, the only thing you could muster was a breathy, “holy shit.”

yunho laughed, which made you laugh, and he pressed his forehead against yours. his voice was ragged yet filled with relief as he said, “you have no idea how long i’ve been waiting to do that.”

“five years, i’d assume,” you tease, and you both fall into laughter again. 

by the time you made it down to the picnic, you’d taken a slew of pictures already, sorting through all the foods, pouring the fruity wine, you were deep into conversation again. yunho gave you the walk-through, starting from five years ago up until now, filling you in on all of his one-sided yearning. you sat dumbfounded that you didn’t notice anything. 

you talked about the night at the party, apologizing all over again, but you came to the conclusion that you wouldn’t be here right now if that didn’t happen, that was the push– you scrunched your nose when you realized matt was right. 

you even went as far back as talking about his bad mood the night mingyu came over– which you chopped up to nothing but a bad mood at the time, but found out yunho had an agenda against mingyu the entire time. he was threatened because mingyu was a keeper, a sentiment you still agreed with, but you couldn’t be mad when this turn out is so much better. his open admittance of his jealousy surprised you but impressed you at the same time, not only that he could admit it, but that he could overcome it– also the fact that he knew if he complained enough you’d comply. slightly toxic? maybe, but it seemed to be in good faith, a man at a crossroads– he proved his innocence the day he told you to call him anyways, after coming to terms with your decision instead of holding you back for himself.  

you talked about the future, yunho had immediately said there was no pressure on something coming out of today, which had you promptly laughing in his face. there was no way you were letting him out of your sight after today– he was yours. by the end of the discussion you weren’t necessarily official, but you were exclusively seeing each other, and when the time was right you’d take it further. this was your first date, after all. 

you sat in constant conversation until the sun had far past set and the only light was from the burning fire beside you. when the chill became too much and your blanket was wrapped around your entire body, even laying over your head like a hood, you decided to call it a night, cleaning up your picnic and packing everything into his trunk. 

when you were back in his car with the heat blasting, you could finally relax beside him with his hand on your leg once more, your limbs defrosting, exhaustion from the day laying over you like your blanket was just moments ago. you fell asleep against your will as soon as your eyes fluttered closed, as if you blinked and forgot the second half, the soft song playing through the speakers of his car lulling you to sleep. 

he woke you up by pressing a kiss to your forehead, his car parked in your driveway, moving pieces of your hair out of your face. his voice was too awake as he said, “wake up, sleepy girl.”

not fully conscious, you looked around, the night pitch black around you, you missed when yunho left the car. you didn’t have it in you to get up– or unbuckle your seatbelt, riddled in confusion. yunho opened the door for you just as you were rubbing your eyes, still confused and not all the way conscious. he laughed at the sight, leaning into the car to unbuckle your seatbelt, helping you out of the passenger seat with his hand linked with yours. 

he grabbed your record player and jacob junior from his backseat and led you up to your front door, surprisingly to an empty house– then up to your bedroom, where you slumped over your mattress, eyes closing the moment your body came in contact with the cushion. 

“no sleeping yet,” he said from behind you, unboxing jacob junior and throwing him onto your bed, placing your record player on your desk. “you need to change still.”

you, with a little more consciousness, mumbled, “i don’t wanna. the cold made me sleepy.”

“i know,” he stood behind you, his hands on his hips– not that you could see him. “but you’re in your outside clothes on your bed right now.” 

you groaned, pushing your body up with your arms, standing up straight so you could stretch. you turn to face yunho, still mid-stretch, “are you staying over?” 

“i can stay here, yeah.” 

“no,” you pointed your eyes, knowing he means he can sleep in the guest room, “are you staying in here with me?”

yunho purses his lips, “come on teens, i said i wanna do this the right way.”

this makes a devious smile crawl onto your face, your hands reaching your hips, “you’ve slept in here before, it’s the same thing. what are you afraid of? a little kissing?”

“it’s not kissing i’m afraid of,” he says under his breath, turning away from you and your wiggling eyebrows. 

“come on,” you whine out, grabbing onto his back from behind him, “please? you’re warm and i’m still cold.” 

he turns his head to look at you from over his shoulder, “fine, but no funny business.”

“yes sir,” you salute from behind him, a smile on your cheeks, and he shakes his head. 

within twenty minutes the two of you are showered and changed into sleep clothes, you laid with your head on his chest, his arm wrapped around you, your tv on and playing your favorite show– the intimacy of it all, the comfort, how you fell headfirst into routine, you haven’t stopped relishing in the feeling since he picked you up this afternoon. 

it might have been less than a week before thanksgiving, but at least you secured a date, and with time, a boyfriend. better late than never, you supposed. 

my baby is finished!!! the first story i have ever written and actually completed, i feel so accomplished right now. i hope you love yunho just as much as i do, this story is my heart n soul

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[ninasmovingcastle]

had to learn to let go - genshin impact

↳ losing you; xiao, dainsleif, diluc x gn!reader im sad today so you all have to be sad too

there is precious little in this world that can hurt xiao. the immortal guardian of liyue has lived through eons of perpetual loss, hardening his tainted soul to the piercing pain of grief. but you were supposed to be the one; who pulled him from corruption, brought him back to the light, and gave his existence meaning again. after years of listless wandering, you made his life worth living. he vowed to always protect you, to be there anytime you needed him, to overpower anything that might put you in harm's way. until he didn't make it. he heard you call for his help; you needed him, and he wasn't there. xiao appeared at your side a moment too late, and found you bloodied and unconscious. he rips off his gloves to hold you, and his piercing amber eyes well up when he realizes you're cold.

he cradles your head in his lap, rocking you back and forth with tears in his eyes, muttering "impossible... impossible..."

from the moment dainsleif met you, he knew not to get attached. from experience, it was a mistake to love when you were cursed with immortality. he was filled with grief every time he saw your face, knowing that one day he'd lose you forever. but your grace, your voice, the way you cared for him, he just couldn't resist you. he got careless– fell in love with you just as anyone else would. he cherished you for as long as he possibly could have, refusing to believe that he couldn't be with you forever. although his physical state never changed, he began to deteriorate spiritually as he watched you weaken with your mortal age. and as you succumbed to ailments he could only imagine, he wishes he could have shouldered your pain in your last moments.

he can't allow himself to forget you. he holds you close one last time, committing to memory each detail of your face. "not you too," he weeps.

diluc thought he could protect you from everything. after settling down in mondstadt, seemingly free from his past debts, all he envisioned was someone he could grow old with, someone he could cherish and keep. but one day, when the agents of his past came lurking forward again, his chain of misfortune continued. there was no way you could have protected yourself against fatui agents; without a vision, weapons, or time to prepare, he was your only hope. unfortunately, he had left you alone for the day at the winery while he entertained foreign guests. returning home at the smallest hours of the night, the last thing he expected to see was fire; ravaging his grapevines, destroying his home, and taking the one he loved away from him. he failed you, he let you down. you trusted him, and now you're gone too.

the young master of the winery will now spend his days drinking himself half-blind, asking over and over again, "why couldn't it have been me?"

[sanakiras]

PICTURE ME LIKE I PICTURE YOU

PAIRING — kim mingyu x fem!reader

WORD COUNT — 1.2k

SYNOPSIS — mingyu is hopelessly in love with someone who doesn’t love him back, and all that lies ahead is acceptance.

TAGS — unrequited love, fwb!gyu, explicit sexual content

NOTE — just a short drabble i felt like putting out. came up w this while listening to picture you by chappell roan, such a beautiful song, give it a listen !! <3

IT’S BEEN DARK OUTSIDE FOR SEVERAL HOURS WHEN MINGYU’S KISSING EVERY INCH OF YOUR BODY. he pushes himself into you with ease, but his touch is light as a feather. gentle.

the pace he keeps is slow, and fuck, you don’t think it’s ever felt this intimate before.

normally he’s relatively talkative during sex — this might be the quietest he’s been in bed so far, save for the grunts and moans working their way out of his throat.

“feels so good, gyu—” you’re half-slurring your words, not missing how his big hand interwines his fingers with yours as he ruts into you, a gesture that breaks your heart.

how can something feel so right yet so wrong at the same time?

of course mingyu didn’t go into this little friends-with-benefits thing with the idea of falling in love with you. hell, it’s the last thing he expected. he wanted something without strings attached but with consistency, a sense of easiness; you turned out to be looking for the same.

but he fell in love with you in a way he didn’t think was possible. to him, it felt like the kind of love you only find in the movies; the kind you can only dream of encountering in real life. it hit him sudden and hard — he didn’t confess to you, out of fear he’d lose whatever bond you have with him.

or perhaps that’s not all there is to it. perhaps he never confessed his true feelings because he knew, deep down, that you’d never reciprocate them.

because you don’t really fall for guys like him. you much prefer guys like wonwoo.

his best friend. his roommate.

the day he first saw it, he was horrified. what was a simple interaction to anyone else, was his worst nightmare. his heart sank in his chest the second he watched you and wonwoo meet from afar — that look the two of you shared was enough.

you’d never looked at him that way.

all that’s been on his mind is your look of brutally honest disappointment when he opened the door to his dorm and told you wonwoo was out. if you’d stood any closer to him, you could probably hear his confidence plummeting to his feet, as well as his heart ripping in two.

the whole ordeal should’ve made him put an end to the agreement you had with him, but he couldn’t do it.

because it’s all he had left of you. the realization hit him like a truck; the moment he’d put a stop to it, you’d no longer be his in any way.

not that you ever really were to begin with.

he’s clinging onto this last piece of you so selfishly, he knows that, but he so much as looks at you and everything he wants to say gets stuck in his throat, his thoughts never seeing the light of day.

an unsettling feeling slowly brews in his ribcage. all he wants is to understand. why don’t you love him? what does his best friend have that he doesn’t?

he might just break on top of you here — would you even care?

maybe you would. or maybe you’d just pity him.

the sound of your whimpering underneath him makes a strange, achingly good combination of heartbreak and lust. he wants nothing more than to dig his teeth into your soft skin, but forces himself not to.

your legs wrap tighter around his hips, pulling him closer to you. it’s you who puts your hands on the back of his neck, kissing him so sweetly that it almost makes him believe you want him as much as he wants you.

what makes everything worse is that he knows you tried. for a little while, you tried to see if you could give him a shred of the love he so desperately wanted to give you.

but you couldn’t.

“i want to love you like that, y’know. i want it so bad, and i tried, but…” you told him last week while slow dancing at a friend’s birthday party, “i just can’t.”

while your head was resting between his neck and shoulder, your bodies rocking side to side to the music together, he looked up at the ceiling to hold back his tears, the corners of his mouth curling downwards. it was admirable, how he held his head high that night.

truthfully, you didn’t expect him to come knocking on your door again after that. you broke his heart — even though you never wanted to — so you wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t want to see you anymore.

but to your surprise, he did come back. he was less cheerful, sure, but it’s as if part of him chose to ignore what you said to him, for reasons you didn’t understand at first.

he needs to accept that you and him aren’t meant to be. perhaps that’s the sole reason he wanted to fuck you tonight.

it almost sickens him how much he wants to beg for you to try again. maybe if you saw him more often, or spent more time together doing whatever you wanted, or if he kissed you even more than he already has — maybe you’d grow to love him in the end.

he buries his head in the crook of your neck, hiding how shitty he feels.

‘cause he knows you won’t love him, no matter what he does or how hard he fights for it.

“i’m close,” he mutters, only momentarily lost in the chasing of his high, “fuck—”

you clench around him with shaky legs, and he shivers at the feel of your nails digging into his skin, hitting his climax right after you.

and it’s then that he breaks. as he lays his head down on your chest, staring at the wall, his lips trembling — he can’t hide how hurt he is anymore.

“i’m sorry,” he chokes out with his face turned away from you, a few silent tears slipping from his eyes in defeat.

with a sad attempt for a smile, you stroke his naked back with your fingertips, your eyes welling up once you feel his teardrops landing onto the skin of your chest.

he’s so dear to you, as loving as a person could possibly be, yet you can’t love him back. a part of you hates yourself for it. “i’m sorry, too.”

the sobs are fighting to escape his mouth, but he keeps them quiet, making you almost just as emotional as he is.

“i’ll get over it tomorrow, i promise. i’m sorry.” he whispers, his way of asking if you can stay together like this for just a little while longer.

you just let your tears go with a numb face and strained voice.

“i know.”

eventually, he has no more tears left, and his whole body shudders, feeling himself drift off into sleep with burning, tired eyelids.

he’ll be okay — it’s better like this.

it’s something he’ll come to terms with when he wakes up in the morning.

thank u for reading. please let me know if u enjoyed it x

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.