#i only had like 3 things and a feeling at the start of writing this lol

[fanfictiongirlie]

Marvel: Perfect - Part Two -

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Description:

Carry on from this one-shot (Perfect) Due to popular demand. It follows the story after the motel, and has the reader and Bucky admitting their feelings for one another, as well as smut. <3

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Rough sex, Marking, Vaginal Sex, Nipple Play, No Protection Used, Use of 'Good Girl', Fluff - Let me know if I've forgotten anything!

Words: 3,487

AN: You really liked the first part (And can I just say, wow, thank you so much for all the likes/comments/reblogs.) I wasn't going to write more for them, but all the hype, hyped me up and I wrote this. I hope you enjoy! <3

Click here for first part

"Fuck...Bucky!" You whimpered, sure your voice was muffled by the pillow your face was currently pressed against, but he heard you, a soft, animalistic growl left his mouth as he gripped your hips tighter, the sound of slapping echoed through his bedroom as the two of you tried to stay quiet. It had been two months since the motel, two months since you started fucking - as friends - two months of pretending like nothing had changed in front of your friends during the day, and then being consumed by the other at night. 

Bucky's metal hand moved from the tight grip he had on your hip, slowly he traced his fingertips up the curve of your back until his fingers were holding the back of your neck, you lifted slightly to give him more space to hold you as his hips stuttered in their movements, he was manhandling you like an animal, his thrusts uncoordinated, his metal hand would surely leave marks in your hips, not that you minded, having Bucky mark you had become a thing you liked. Especially when they were in hidden places, a dirty secret only the two of you knew about. 

Your fingertips hurt from grabbing the sheets beneath you, the bed banged hard against the wall. Bucky's grunts were growing louder, more erratic. 

"Gon' fucking fill you up" He grunts, slamming his hips into you once more, filling you with his seed, he flopped onto you, and your hips fell to the bed. You looked over to the clock on Bucky's bedroom wall, it was 2am... you had started at 11pm. Chuckling softly, you and Bucky move around to lie next to one another, the only sound in the dark room being the sounds of your breaths. 

"Think the team are catching on.." He mutters, his eyes were closed, the side of his face was lying against your shoulder, your legs tangled at the bottom of the bed, if someone were to look over you both, they would surely have a difficult time seeing where you started and Bucky ended. He was on his side, pressed against your side, as you laid on your back, your chest still rising quickly with your breathlessness. 

"Oh?" You question, usually it was a quick goodnight and then straight to falling asleep. And then sneaking out in the morning. 

"Mmm" Bucky murmurs. "Yeah, Steve mentioned something"

"And what did Steve mention?" You ask, a soft smile on your lips as Bucky moved to snuggle closer to you, his beard tickled your shoulder, you moved one arm to lightly trace shapes into his arm, dragging your fingers from the crook of his elbow down to his wrist, and then back up again. Bucky moved with you, moving his arm to wrap around your front, his hand moving slightly under you as he held you close. 

Neither of you would admit it, but you both loved these moments, the soft, quiet moments after the excitement of the sex. Usually the moments were full of gentle movements, Bucky would listen to soothing hum of your heart beating, you would tune in to the comforting sound of his breath as he fell asleep. It was tranquil, and it should of scared you, should of scared Bucky. Sure, once you hated another another, but now... It was like your souls were one, and it didn't scare you. 

"Said it looked like we enjoyed arguing now" Bucky mumbles. "Then asked if something had happened"

You smiled softly at his mumbled words, his lips moved against the skin of your shoulder as he spoke, he was slipping further and further into sleep, and it might of been the cutest thing ever, not something you had ever noticed before, but then again, you both had been noticing soft, adorable things about the other recently. 

"And what did you say?" You ask, you felt your eyes start to feel heavier than before, you both knew if you fell asleep now, you'd have a horrible time washing up later, usually Bucky would clean you up, either with a cloth, or his tongue. And then it would be followed up with a shower, but you had both finished a mission a few hours ago, and it was a hard one, you needed to let off steam, you were both exhausted.

"Didn't say nothing" Bucky mumbles, obviously further into the world of sleep. "Got interrupted"

"I've gotta shower Bucks" You whisper. He makes a small movement to sit up, but moves an inch and flops back down. 

"Lemmie help" 

You giggle softly as you detach yourself from him. "No, you sleep. I'll be okay" 

He mumbles something else, you grab your clothes, redressing yourself, it didn't take you long, once you were dressed you stood next to the bed, looking down at the sleeping man for a second, you had always thought Bucky looked calmer during sleep, except now it felt different. You knew it did, you both knew when you started this kind of relationship what it would probably inevitably end up being. You hadn't expected it to hit you as hard as it had. Yet you hadn't admitted it out loud. You weren't sure if Bucky felt the same. 

"Goodnight Bucky" You whisper into the dark room before leaving as quietly as you could. Your bedroom felt like it was a mile away, it wasn't, but you did need to take two lifts to get there. Tony and his ridiculous buildings. You were glad that it was so late in the night, you really didn't want the team to see you like this, your hair was a mess, tied up into a rough bun, but the earlier activities had messed it was further. And rather than wearing your mission clothes, you were wearing a pair of cosy shorts, and a shirt of Bucky's. 

One elevator down, one more to go, you walked down the corridor, it was dark, but at least most of the wall was window, though you didn't stare out the window for too long as you walked, your brain would trick you into seeing something for sure. 

"What are you doing awake?" The voice startled you, making you physically jump as you walked, you stopped, turning on the spot. 

"Stevie, can't sleep?" You ask him, hoping he would happily focus on himself and not you. But this was Steve, mister 'I care about you, you can talk to me' 

"Answer my question first" He says sternly, though a small knowing smile played on his lips. 

"Uhh, I couldn't sleep, needed a walk" You answer with a shrug, hoping he would believe your pathetic attempt of a lie. 

"A walk, hmm?" He questions, his eyebrow raised, as did a smirk on his lips. "And where does wearing Bucky's top fit into your evening walk?"

Fuck. 

"Uhhh" You stammered. Of course he knew you were wearing Bucky's clothes, they were best friends for fuck's sake. 

"I had a feeling you were together, your arguments, they have felt too flirty these past weeks" Steve says with a grin, he leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest, his eyes glittering in the dimly lit hallway. 

"Oh, we're not together" You say with a shrug. "Just sleeping together" 

You wanted to laugh aloud when you noticed the pink twinge to Steve's cheeks, it was hard to believe Bucky came from the same era as Steve. Steve was always so blushy and quiet about such things, whereas Bucky, had a filthy mouth. 

"Ah...right.." Steve says, his voice a little tigher than before. 

"Yeah... plus I don't think Bucky likes me past the...uhh sleeping together" You say, shrugging again, it felt good to talk to someone about it. You hadn't even realised you wanted to talk to someone about it. "I better go, it's late and all"

Steve nods, agreeing with you. "You say that, but I've never seen Bucky look at someone the way he looks at you, goodnight" And with that he turned around and walked off, leaving you alone once more. As you walked back to your own room, you thought over Steve's words....How did Bucky look at you? Like he looked at everyone else, right?

Rolling your eyes at your own thoughts, you finally got that shower and crawled into your own bed, falling asleep, your thoughts clouded by a certain soldier. 

________

Another month goes by, and the routine sticks, Bucky and you would mission together, and then sleep together, until one weekend, the team were all gone, except you and Bucky. 

You had decided to take full advantage of the movie room Tony had installed, you had a bucket of sweet popcorn in front of you on the table, a few cans of coke, and a few packets of chocolate, just to make sure you were covered for your movie marathon. You switched on Twilight, deciding it was a Twilight day, 

You were half way through the third movie when the door opened, you looked up, knowing it could only be one person. 

"There you are" Bucky murmurs as he walks down to the couch you were sitting on. He flops himself down and grabs a handful of popcorn. You were surprised he was quiet for the next few minutes, his eyes glued to the screen playing the movie, as he crunched the sweet treats. 

"What's this flicker you're watching?" He asks, his metal hand came down to rest on your thigh, holding you idly. Touch had become such a normal thing between you both, you had never felt so comfortable with someone. Nor had Bucky. 

"Uhh Eclipse" You answer, a small blush coming to your cheeks. Luckily for you, Bucky didn't know how awful these films were considered. You were glad for it, not feeling like defending the movies today. 

"So wait...which one does she like?" He asks, you look to him for a moment, giggling under your breath as you watch his brows furrow. 

"Technically, both" You answer with a smirk. "She loves Edward, but she also loves Jacob, it's a whole thing with the movie before"

"Who does she pick?" He asks. 

"Edward, they get married in next movie" You explain. "I was never team Edward"

"Team Edward? So you're team Jacob?" He asks, and you smiled, never had someone taken an interest in these silly movies you loved so much. 

"No" You say, laughing a little. "I think secretly I was always team Paul, he's one of the wolves"

Bucky stays quiet for a little while longer, though he had a lot of questions about the flicker. He watched as Edward proposes to Bella in his bedroom, he made a face, scrunching his nose in distaste.

"I can't imagine why she even fancies him, that's not romantic at all!" Bucky cries, pointing at the screen, you want to laugh, but you also don't want to make Bucky feel self-conscious. You watch the couple on the screen and find yourself imagining you and Bucky doing romantic things, maybe not being proposed to in the bedroom, but the other things, like camping together, huddling for warmth.

"Doll" Bucky says randomly, you look to him, your smile falling when you notice the serious look over his features. The screen emulated his perfect blue eyes, causing you to swoon just a little. "I actually came in here to talk to you about something, would that be okay?"

You nod, not trusting your voice right now, a sense of dread set deep inside of you, fearing the worst, you imagined he would be ending this, no more perfect sex, or maybe he had met someone... You pause the movie, ready to hear exactly what he needed to say.

"I used to be real good at talking to girls back in my day" He starts, he looked a little flushed, nervous even, his eyes look down into his lap. "I haven't asked a girl out since, I don't think...What I'm trying to say is, I like you... A lot, it's like all that hate I had for you... it turned into..." He stops, finally bringing his eyes back up to you. 

"Love?" You say, before you can even stop yourself, you slap a hand over your lips. He shuffles a little closer to you. 

"Are you saying you love me?" He asks, his voice calmer than you had ever heard it before. You nod, feeling yourself flush red. And despite his previous words, you still start to ramble nonsense. 

"And I understand if you don't love me back, it's okay Bucky, don't force it, we can forget it, completely forget it"

He moves forward, taking both of your hands in his, holding them close to his chest, his eyes bored into yours, searching through your eyes, lulling you with his. 

"Doll, you have me, until every last star in the galaxy dies, you have me" He whispers, making your heart clench, you ignore the burning in your eyes, not wanting to even admit to yourself you could cry from his words. 

"Bucky, I love you..." You respond, no other words mattered in that moment. You loved him, and you had finally said it aloud. 

"And I love you" He says with a smirk, in one swift movement, he lifts you into his lap, allowing you to straddle his muscular thighs. "Can I make you feel good darling?" He asks, his hands were rubbing up and down your legs, the thin material of the leggings you wore allowing you to feel every movement, you whimper softly before replying. 

"Yes, please..."

Bucky shoots you a wicked grin before moving forward, attaching his lips to your neck, you move your head backwards, giving him ample space to mark your skin, a mixture of teeth and tongue moved swiftly up and down your neck, leaving a trail of marks, this time where the world could see that you were his girl. 

You gripped onto his shoulders to brace yourself, feeling light headed from the sudden pleasure coursing through your body, you moved your hips, grinding down onto his half hard cock, even half hard he was still large, and as you grinded down, his cock rubbed perfectly against your needy clit. You could feel how wet you were, knowing you were soaking through your thin leggings and panties onto Bucky's jeans, the rough texture adding delicious friction. 

"Need you" You whimper to him, his hands moved from your legs up to your jumper, he make quick hast in removing it, leaving you nude, you had opted to only wear your jumper and nothing underneath - It was movie day after all, comfort came first. He stopped nipping at your neck to look at you, swearing under his breath as he did. 

Bucky moved both hands to cup your breasts, giving them a squeeze before rubbing his rough thumbs over your nipples, in a matter of seconds they were hardened under his touch, he gave them a light pinch between his thumb and index finger, your head was thrown back in awe as small whimpers and mews left your lips. 

"Like that?" He asks, his voice low and husky. 

"Yesss" You respond as he pinches your lips harder. Bucky moves one hand down to slap your thigh a few times. "Get these off darling"

You listen, doing as told as quickly as you could, you climb off his lap and pull down the leggings, along with your panties, leaving yourself bare to him. Before to sit back down, he whips off his shirt and pushes his jeans and boxers down to his ankles, before tapping his thigh. 

"Climb back on me" He says with a cheeky grin, you gladly listen, seating yourself comfortably on his lap, his fully hard cock was in the perfect position for you to continue your grinding, feeling the thick member slide between your wet folds, you moan in ecstasy, as the head of his cock pressed against your clit, again and again. 

Bucky's fingers moved back to your nipples, he circled them a few times before attaching his lips to one, sucking and licking gently, you moved your hips against his cock harder, you were slippery, and wanted more friction. Bucky knew that, he knew how your body worked now, he moved slightly so you were seated onto his cock, rubbing your wet hole against him, he moved his thumb down to press against your clit, whilst his lips still sucked against your nipple. 

You cried out loudly as you felt your orgasm start to build deep inside of your stomach, you gripped harder onto Bucky's shoulder, careful of his scar, your hips rutted against him, and your noises echoed through the large cinema room. You were so glad that the team were off on a mission, not that you cared in that moment if someone walked in. 

"Buc..uhh...Bucky!" You cried as you felt yourself come, your body shuddered, and your legs shook as you felt yourself come undone, using his free hand, Bucky held onto your lower back, keeping you safely on top of him. 

"That's my girl" He murmurs, again and again, the words sending shocks through your body as you felt yourself start coming down from your high, you pressed your forehead to his as you continued to thrust against him, your eyes closed and mouth opened. 

A few moments past and your thrusts stopped, you felt that blissful tiredness that came after you came, a goofy smile came over your lips. Bucky moved down, using one hand to lift you slightly, so his other hand could grip his cock, he pumped himself a few times before pressing the head of his hardness against your weeping pussy, you whimpered as you felt the head push inside of you, you clenched around him, wanting more and more. 

Taking control, you gripped his shoulders hard and lowered yourself down onto him, taking your time, so you wouldn't overwhelm the both of you. Bucky's hands were on either side of your hips, guiding you as you sat fully down onto his cock. You always loved riding him, you felt like he got deeper, and therefore, you felt fuller, full of Bucky. 

"My perfect girl, made for me... fuck, this pussy was made for me" Bucky groans, his words needy and pathetic as they left his lips. "Can I fuck ya? Please, let me fuck you lovely girl"

You wiggled for a moment, there was a slight burn from the sheer size of Bucky, but you felt ready for him, you nodded, and then moved forward, pressing your lips to his at the same time as lifted your hips to sink back down onto him. You both left out muffled moans as your tongues battled, he tasted like popcorn, and in turn, you probably tasted like popcorn too. His hands moved to grip under your arse, holding you tight as he used his strength to lift you up and pull you down onto his cock. 

The kissing had been forgotten, your mouths hung open, lips pressed together as you both found a rhythm. 

"Bucky..." You whine. "Gonna come again" 

"Good, fucking come for me, come on my cock, drench me with those sweet fucking juices" Bucky mutters, there was a slight edge to his tone, he was obviously close, but he wanted you to come again, his cheeks were flushed, and his brow sweaty as you rode him, you bounced a few more times before you were coming, you clenched his cock, throwing your head back as you felt the scream ripple from your body. It felt like your soul left your body for a moment. 

"Fuck" Bucky growls as he thrusts up into you, spilling his seed deep within you, his fingers leaving the same marks in your skin as he had been leaving the past few months, his forehead pressed against your chest, just above your breasts, giving you the opportunity to flop your head down to lean against his, not having the energy to hold it up any longer. 

"Fuck...that might of been the best time yet" You say in a breathless way, giggling slightly, though it sounded more breathy than giggly. 

"You got that right" He mumbles, Bucky moves his hands to hold you lower back, he shuffled himself down, so he was more lying down than sitting up, he moved you so you had your face rested against his chest, you closed your eyes, hearing his heartbeat, allowing it to relax you, knowing it beated for you, as yours did for him. 

[tonfairy]

Slick Grip

pairing : swimming instructor! anton x fem! reader

genre : smut MDNI !! | wc : 1.4k

cw : semi-public sex, abs riding, making out, implied drowning

💌 : hello ! my first-ever smut fic : ) anton is driving me insane these days 😵‍💫 this is my first time writing something like this so pls bear with me 🥲 and tysm @strawbrryvyy for the idea >< (proofread, enjoy <3 !)

It was a bright, sunny day, marking the beginning of summer. It was your day off, and since you'd already cleared all your backlogs, you decided it was time to unwind. To make the most of your break, you went to a resort.

After arriving, you roamed around for a while, trying out some of the activities they offered, eager to enjoy your day off before finally going for a swim.  As you walked further, you found a swimming pool where some kids were practicing swimming. Curious, you went closer to watch — and that’s when you saw their instructor.

He was wearing only shorts, no top — his sculpted six-pack abs were visible. Too hot and attractive not to be noticed. 

You noticed that the swimming practice was only using half of the pool, so you made your way to the other side and sat on the edge, dipping your feet into the water. 

You tried distracting yourself from thinking about the swimming instructor you just saw. It felt strange, but like you said earlier, he’s just too hot and attractive. 

You played with your phone while dipping your feet into the water and just letting the breeze kiss your skin. You put your phone back in your bag, then grab the sunscreen next to it and start applying it to your body. Just as you were about to put the sunscreen back beside your bag, you lost your balance — and fell into the pool.

The pool was unexpectedly deep — and you don't know how to swim. As you sank below the surface, flailing in vain as water filled your nose and clouded your eyesight, panic struck.

Fear took hold, and your heart thumped in your chest. You tried to call for help, but only bubbles escaped your lips. Just as you felt yourself slipping under again, a pair of powerful arms encircled you and pulled you upward. 

Overwhelmed by what just happened, you climbed out of the pool—shaking, gasping for air, coughing, and crying. The person who saved you was now by your side, gently caressing your back as he whispered, “You’re safe now... You’re okay, just breathe.”

The swimming instructor then dismissed the swimming class earlier due to the incident, but he reassured the kids that everything was fine, especially “the lady,” he added, with a calm smile. 

He returned to you with a towel, wrapping it gently on your back, and continued to caress you. When you regained your consciousness, you were shocked by the sight of the swimming instructor you’ve been attracted to beside you.

“How are you feeling now?” he asked, his voice deep and surprisingly soft. 

His voice stopped you cold. Wait—was that really his voice? A voice like that coming from him? It was totally unexpected.

“I…I’m feeling better,” you answered, still breathing heavily.

He just hummed in response.

“Uh… I think I need to go,” you said, standing slowly.

“Okay, okay, sure!” he said, handing you your things. His touch was careful and gentle. 

“Th-Thank you so much!” you said, your voice full of gratitude for the swimming instructor who had just saved your life.

As you turned to leave, a thought struck you, and you glanced back. “Oh—wait! Uh… what’s your name?”

He looked surprised for a moment as if no one had  asked him that in a while. Then he smiled.

“Anton.”

His name was just as attractive as he was, you thought to yourself.

“Thank you, Anton!” you said with a smile before walking away.

Anton smiled and gave you a wave in return.

Back in your room, you quickly took a shower, washing away the chlorine and the fear that clung to your skin. After drying off, you started organizing your belongings, and you noticed something lying on the chair— Anton’s towel.

You had forgotten to give it back.

For a moment, you pondered whether it would be too much to take back. But before your thoughts could stop them, your feet started to move. 

By now, the sky had become dimmer. It was quiet now at the resort. Only the calm wave of the pool and the chirp of crickets could be heard, as most of the guests had left for the night.

When you reached the pool again, you found him.

Anton was swimming laps in the water. His body moved with the fluid rhythm and strength, even in the dim light.

“Overtime?” you called out.

He halted in the middle of his stroke, looking up through the dim glow of the pool lights, his eyes straining slightly. Then he swam to the edge, smiling.

“Oh, you’re here?” he said, pulling himself from the water, still shirtless, hair damp from a recent rinse, board shorts riding low on his hips. His heavy-lidded, obscure eyes darted toward you.

“Did you make your way back just for me?” he said, smirking. “Oh— wait. I never got your name, pretty lady.” 

Pretty lady...

Fuck—why would he say that? you curse internally, trying to hide the blush forming on your cheeks.

“Uh… Y/N,” you replied, trying to hold onto your sanity.

But Anton had already noticed.

“Your name is just as pretty as you— so, what do you need, Y/N?” Anton asked, still with a smirk on his face. 

You sensed that he was obviously teasing you, so you plucked up the guts to move forward—closing the gap until you were within an inch of him.

“I just came to return your towel,” you said, keeping a steady voice, as your fingertips touched his and you handed it back.

“And… to thank you. For saving me.”

Anton took the towel carefully, his gaze lingering on your face a moment too long.

His expression had an edge that had not been there before— something more unreadable, more charged.

As your gaze shifted downward, it returned to his chest. Like a work of art in motion, the exposure from the pool lights followed the lines of his muscle cuts.

Your hand moved, softly lifting its fingers to brush against the solid planes of his abdomen before you could question yourself. He clenched slightly, but not in protest, as soon as your flesh reached his.

His abs were damp, warm, and hard as they flexed beneath your palm. Your breath caught in your throat as you traced one line after another.

A faint trace of something passed over his face. Something more profound took the place of the cocky smirk. Something darker. 

Neither of you moved for a moment.

Then, you leaned in.

Or maybe he did. 

However, your smooth, electrified lips met in the middle. His hand moved to your waist, drawing you closer and deepening the kiss as if he had been waiting all day, making a gasp to escape between you.

You gave him a light shove on the chest—just enough to steer him backward until he slumped into the lounge chair behind him. He allowed you to guide him, eyes burning steadily. With familiar ease, you climbed onto his lap and straddled him, settling in as you kissed him once again, this time with more passion and desire, and eyes glowing.

You moved without warning — straddling him while he was leaning back on one of the pool lounge chairs, with your hands placed on his naked chest and your thighs wrapped around his waist. 

“Fuck— you’re carved like a god!” you breathed, voice low, hips moving gently against his torso's ridges.

Anton whimpered, his grip on your hips tightening—no longer teasing, but demanding. You received pleasure with every move over his strong physique. Your panties were drenched and clinging from the obscene friction, and your groans got deeper and quieter. Already undone, yet still covered.

“You’re this wet from just riding my abs?” Anton groaned against your neck with a raspy voice. 

You couldn’t answer—only moan, clinging to his shoulders, your lips brushing the corner of his mouth before biting it lightly. You felt his fingers slip under your dress, gripping your bare ass as he pulled you against him—slow, controlled, intentional.

Deeper. Wetter. Closer

The tension built until you couldn’t hold it back. You came hard, trembling against him as your body shook with release. You lay against his chest, breath slowing, heart still racing.

“You thank people like this often?” Anton chuckled softly. 

“Only when they deserved it— and you did,” You smiled. 

He kissed your forehead, arms pulling you close.

And one thing was certain as the night encircled you both—this was just beginning.

-end-

tysm for reading ! 🫂 i'd appreciate it if you could share your feedback and ideas hehe, and my ask is open <3 ! divider from @thecutestgrotto @uzmacchiato <3

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Could you do more poly!141 and administrator reader please?! I really love the way you write. Have a great day :))

Behind Closed Doors

Pairing: Poly!141 x Administrator!Reader

Warnings: Emotional tension, workplace dynamics, soft romantic buildup, tension between professionalism and affection, swearing

Author's Note: Thank you so much for the love on Part 1. This slow-burn poly dynamic is starting to become one of my favorite kinds to write. Let me know if you'd like a Part 3!

Summary: After the confessions, the line between professionalism and affection begins to blur. The reader and the 141 team navigate the tension of their new relationship, caught between duty and desire.

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The aftermath of your confessions left a strange, quiet intimacy hanging in the air. The four men had stood there, their expressions soft and full of understanding, their hands still brushing against your skin as if you might vanish if they let go. It was a weightless moment, the kind where time seemed to slow, and the world outside your office ceased to exist.

John was the first to speak, his voice low, steady. “This isn’t going to be easy,” he said, his gaze never leaving yours. There was no hesitation in his words, only the raw truth of what lay ahead. “But we’re in this. All of us.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of the decision settle in your chest. You’d allowed yourself to believe that keeping a professional distance was the only way to survive in this job, to keep your world structured and controlled. But now, with the four of them standing there, claiming pieces of your heart, that world felt impossibly small.

The next few days passed in a haze of quiet moments and stolen glances. It was a balancing act—juggling the demands of your role with the new, delicate threads of your relationship with them. The team was careful, respectful. John was his usual stoic self, but there was a softness in his touch now, a tenderness that made your heart flutter when he brushed past you. Simon, always the enigma, was no less distant to the rest of the world, but you caught the briefest glimmer of something more whenever he glanced at you—something unspoken, yet intimate. Johnny was… Johnny. Relentless, teasing, always pushing, but now with a warmth in his eyes that made your stomach twist in a way you hadn’t expected. And Kyle—oh, Kyle. His quiet support was almost overwhelming, as if he was constantly watching over you, noticing the little things, like when you rubbed your temples after a long day or when you let out a quiet sigh in the middle of paperwork. He didn’t need to say much. His presence alone was a balm to your soul.

But despite the care they showed, you couldn’t ignore the undercurrent of tension that had shifted between you all. You were still the lead administrative liaison—the one who kept everything running smoothly. But now, it felt like there was a layer beneath everything you did, a constant hum of awareness that made it impossible to go back to the way things were.

One afternoon, as the team filed in for the daily briefing, you felt that familiar weight settle back into your chest. You weren’t sure how to act anymore. You weren’t sure how to be the unflappable administrator you once were, knowing that the four of them were no longer just your colleagues. They were your something more.

“Bonnie, you look like you could use a drink,” Johnny teased, his grin easy, like nothing had changed. But you noticed the way his eyes flickered over you, the way his voice dropped lower when he spoke your name.

“Don’t start, Johnny,” you shot back, trying to maintain your usual sharpness. But there was a warmth in your chest, a soft smile you couldn’t quite hide.

Kyle, who had been sitting quietly off to the side, caught your eye and offered you a small, knowing smile. He leaned forward slightly, his voice just loud enough for you to hear. “How about a break after the debrief? Could use some air, yeah?”

You nodded, grateful for the suggestion. It was one of the many ways Kyle had shown you that he noticed you—no words needed, just subtle gestures and quiet understanding.

John cleared his throat, pulling you back into the professional mode you’d worn so long. “Alright, team. We’ve got a debrief to get through. Admin, you ready?” His gaze was steady, serious, but there was something else—something softer—beneath the surface.

You nodded, gathering your papers, trying to pull your focus back to work. “Ready as ever.”

The debrief was, as always, intense—missions discussed in detail, updates passed along, and plans for future operations laid out. But there was a different energy in the room this time, an undercurrent that you couldn’t ignore. It was there in the way the men sat just a little closer to you than they had before. In the way their eyes kept flickering toward you when they thought you weren’t looking. In the way John’s voice softened when he spoke your name, or how Simon’s normally sharp gaze seemed a little less guarded.

As the meeting wound down, you cleared your throat, standing to gather your things. “Alright, everything’s settled for now. I���ll finalize the rest of the details, and we’ll—”

“Stay a bit longer?” Johnny interrupted, his voice casual but his eyes betraying a hint of something more. “We’ve got some time before the next operation. What do you say, luvie?”

You hesitated for a moment, looking at each of them—John, his brow furrowed in that signature look of quiet determination; Simon, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed, the faintest hint of something unspoken in his gaze; Kyle, watching you with a soft, unwavering gaze that made your heart skip; and Johnny, who was already standing, a grin plastered on his face as if he already knew the answer.

You glanced at your watch, feeling the pressure of the ticking minutes, the weight of your responsibilities. But when you saw the way they were all looking at you—eyes warm, filled with something deeper—you couldn’t bring yourself to say no.

“Alright,” you said, the word slipping out before you could second-guess yourself. “I’ll stay. For a bit.”

Johnny’s grin widened, and he winked. “Knew you’d cave eventually.”

The four of them slowly surrounded you, not in a rush, not demanding, but each of them offering a quiet space for you to just be. It wasn’t about the mission anymore, or the job. It was about them—about you, with them, as a team in a way you’d never allowed yourself to be before. A part of something bigger than your role, than the logistics, than the rules you’d always lived by.

As you all moved toward the break room, the laughter started again—this time, it was easy. Comfortable. You had stepped out from the professional mask you’d worn for so long, allowing yourself to be just you with them. And for the first time in a long time, you felt a sense of peace.

Maybe it wouldn’t be perfect. Maybe there would be challenges ahead—doubts, struggles, complications. But in that moment, with them by your side, it felt like it could be enough. Enough to make this chaos, this beautiful, uncontrollable thing, worth it.

——

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[sturniololuvz]

Chris's finding out his daughter has some kinda of problem, like endometriosis or POTS

“Tilted”

Chris noticed something was off long before anyone else did.

At first, it was little things — you’d stand too fast and have to sit back down, or complain that your heart was racing even though you weren’t doing anything. You’d get pale, dizzy, breathless. Some mornings you couldn’t even get out of bed.

He thought maybe it was anxiety. Or a bad cold that wouldn’t go away.

But one afternoon, when he came home and found you collapsed on the floor of the hallway — eyes glassy, breathing fast, too lightheaded to speak — he knew something was really, really wrong.

The hospital was cold.

Chris sat at your bedside, jaw clenched and heart in his throat as the monitors beeped steadily beside you. You were barely awake, just whispering short answers when the nurses asked questions.

Eventually a doctor walked in. He spoke gently. Too gently.

They explained what it was — POTS. A nervous system disorder. Your heart and blood pressure didn’t regulate properly when you stood up. That’s why you were always dizzy, weak, nauseous. Why walking to the kitchen felt like running a marathon.

“It’s chronic,” the doctor said. “There’s no cure. But it can be managed.”

Chris just nodded.

Even though his hands were shaking.

⸻

Later, when they let you go home, Chris helped you into bed. He was quiet the whole way there.

You looked at him with wide, tired eyes. “Dad?”

He turned. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

Chris’s chest cracked open. “Why the hell are you sorry?”

“I don’t want to be broken.”

He sat beside you slowly, swallowing the knot in his throat. “You’re not broken.”

You didn’t say anything. Just picked at your blanket.

Chris leaned in, brushing your hair back gently. “It’s okay to be scared. I’m scared too.”

Tears welled in your eyes. “What if I can’t do the stuff I used to?”

“Then we do new stuff,” he said, voice tight. “Together. You’re not doing this alone.”

A pause.

Then quietly, you whispered: “I just want to feel normal.”

Chris wrapped his arms around you, holding you tighter than he ever had.

“You are normal,” he said fiercely. “You’re just dealing with something hard. But I’m with you every step. Okay? Every dizzy moment. Every doctor’s appointment. Every time you need to sit on the bathroom floor because the world’s tilting sideways—I’ll be right there.”

You nodded into his chest, and he kissed the top of your head.

⸻

That night, he stayed in your room, sitting in a chair next to your bed, just in case you needed him.

And when your heart started racing again at 3 a.m., it was his hand you reached for first.

⸻

It wasn’t just your life that changed after the diagnosis.

It was Chris’s, too.

He started researching at night when you were asleep — scrolling through forums and medical sites, watching TikToks by other teens with POTS, trying to figure out what the hell a “compression sock” was and why everyone kept recommending salt tablets.

He learned the difference between “I’m tired” and “I’m crashing.”

Between “I’m dizzy” and “Everything is spinning and I can’t feel my legs.”

He started keeping water bottles in the car.

Electrolyte drinks in the fridge.

A sticky note on the mirror that said, “You can’t fight your body. You can only work with it.” — and he made you write it, so you’d believe it.

⸻

Your morning routine got longer.

Chris never used to wake up before you. Now he was up before the sun — filling a bottle with Liquid I.V., setting out your meds, warming your hoodie in the dryer so your body wouldn’t panic from temperature change.

He helped you sit up slowly. Feet over the side of the bed. Count to ten before standing.

Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t.

When it didn’t, Chris never got frustrated. He just crouched beside you on the floor and held your hand.

“We’ll wait it out,” he’d say. “It’ll pass. You’re doing amazing.”

⸻

School was the hardest.

You had to take breaks. Miss classes. Explain to teachers who didn’t understand why you couldn’t “just try harder.”

Chris started coming to your appointments with a notebook and pen, writing everything down like a soldier on a mission.

At your 504 plan meeting, when the counselor said, “Well, it’s not like she looks sick,” Chris’s jaw flexed — and he said, “If she needed a wheelchair, would you still say that?”

The room went silent. He never raised his voice. But everyone listened.

⸻

The bad days still came.

Sometimes you’d cry because you hated your body. Or because you felt like a burden. Or because you just wanted to run down the hallway without getting winded.

And every time, Chris reminded you:

“You’re not a burden. You’re just a fighter in a body that doesn’t always play fair.”

Sometimes he’d tell you about the first time he saw you walk — how proud he was. Or how brave he thought you were just for trying every single day.

⸻

One night, when your alarms had gone off twice, and you’d nearly passed out in the shower, Chris knocked on your door just to check in.

You were curled up under your heated blanket, clutching a stuffed animal you thought he hadn’t noticed you still kept.

“I’m tired of being sick,” you whispered.

Chris didn’t say anything right away. He just came over, tucked the blanket around your shoulders, and sat beside your bed.

“I know,” he said finally. “But I’m proud of you every single day. And I’m not going anywhere.”

You leaned your head against his shoulder.

And for the first time in weeks, your heart rate finally slowed.

⸻

[punksyeet]

- Heart & Sole 3 ❥

Plot: Curiosity arises when the middle sibling pulls up to the cookout with a fresh new woman on his arm.

Warning: Mature language, somewhat romance (finally), & tooth rotting fluff!

A/N: hi everyone! really quickly, i just wanted to thank you all for the overwhelming amount of love and support on this series so far. when i first came up with the idea, i wasn’t sure if my writing “skills” were good enough, therefore it means SO much to see this many people invested. thank you, thank you, thank you! i hope you enjoy part three! 💗

p.s: buckle your seatbelts. this is only the beginning. 🤫🙂‍↕️

previous chapter! <3

———————————————————————————————

I step out of the shower, immediately throw on my robe, and get started on my skincare.

Earlier, at the restaurant, when Josh asked me to come to his family’s cookout, I absentmindedly ended up saying yes.

** flashback: earlier that day! **

“I meant to ask, my peoples is hosting a barbecue tonight over at my brother Sefa’s place. You should pull up.”

“Your people?”

“The fam. Parents, siblings, cousins, allat.”

“O-oh, that sounds nice. Count me in!”

His smile. Oh, his smile in reaction to me saying yes.

It’s so naturally beautiful.

Like it could heal this entire fucked up world we’re living in.

“Sounds good, ma. What time you get outta here?”

“4:30 today.”

“I’ll grab you around 6. Just so you have time to get all dolled up n shit f’me.”

I can still picture the wink he had come along with that last part.

There’s just something about him that I can’t quite put my finger on.

His aura? His confidence? Something like that.

All I know is it’s dreamy as hell.

“Sounds perfect. I’ll see you then.”

And then, the part that had me damn near dead on the floor.

The hug and lingering kiss he planted just below my ear.

Filled with his warm scent - something like woodsy vanilla - and a pair of pillow soft lips on my skin to top it all off.

** end of flashback! **

One thing about me? I’m a huge people pleaser.

Would he have been offended if I turned him down considering I met the man less than a week ago? Knowing him, probably not.

But did my mouth work faster than my brain? Yes. Yes it did.

And now, here I am.

Getting ready on a time crunch - exactly forty five minutes to spare.

Mind you, I left work and arrived home at my usual time.

It was the overthinking that killed it.

What do I wear?

Will they like me?

What do I say when I arrive?

What if they ask when we met?

What if they’re judgemental?

Just to say the least.

But with a little bit (a lotta bit) of praying and blasting hype music in the shower to boost my mood, I feel confident and ready.

Will it last long? Probably not.

But for now? We’re good.

As I’m reaching over to grab my signature scent - Bare Vanilla by Victoria’s Secret - my music lowers down and phone chimes, signaling that I got a text.

Fuck. It’s gotta be him.

After taking a deep breath, I glance over at the screen and a wave of relief washes over me.

trin 💚: Hey boo!

Gigi 💗: heyyy! 🫶🏽

trin 💚: Whatcha up to?

Gigi 💗: getting ready. hbu?

trin 💚: Jon and I just got to Sefa’s place. Almost the entire family is here already!

Instant nausea settles into my stomach.

The entire family?

She says that like it’s a million trillion zillion people.

Gigi 💗: umm how many people exactly?

trin 💚: Girl.

trin 💚: Need I remind you this family is Samoan? It’s damn near Times Square during New Year’s Eve for a simple barbecue.

Gigi 💗: 😩

trin 💚: Girl don’t tell me you’re nervous

Gigi 💗: how could you tell?

trin 💚: 🤣🤣

trin 💚: I promise you everything is gonna go smoothly. These people don’t play about family, so you’re gonna feel loved and welcomed from the jump. I’ll make sure of it. Okay?

Gigi 💗: i really hope so 🥲

trin 💚: I promise ❤️

You loved “I promise ❤️”

Gigi 💗: okay girl i’m trusting you

trin 💚: See you in a bit boo 🫶🏽

I set my phone down and look in the mirror, both hands on the countertop, taking a moment to glance at myself.

I’ve got this. I hope.

———————————————————————————————

“Look atchu ma,” Josh coos, scanning my body up and down as I walk down the pathway to the curb.

I look up to greet him, but instead my breathing hitches.

Stood before me, this man is looking as fine as ever.

Dressed in a white tank top that showcases both biceps and tattoos, black sweatpants, his usual white socks and air forces, and even more jewelry than the last time I saw him.

I attempt to speak, trying my best to sound sweet and casual, but when the words don’t come, I end up sounding like a daydreaming idiot.

Which I am, of course.

“I….uhh….”

Bitch, get it together!

A cocky but sexy smirk appears on his face and he reaches out to hold my waist. “I gotchu distracted, huh?”

I automatically nod in response, perhaps a little too frantically.

He chuckles and presses a wet kiss to my cheek. “You look real good, baby. Got me feelin’ underdressed.”

I take a quiet deep breath. “Just aiming for good first impressions, I guess.”

He chuckles and tucks a stray curl behind my ear. “No need, ma. My peoples is gonna love you. Hell, I already do.”

I beg your finest pardon? You already do?

I smile sweetly and nod, doing my best to keep calm and stay casual.

I’m ready to projectile vomit already and we haven’t even left my damn street yet.

After a moment of him just admiring me, he rubs his hands together. “Well, we should get goin’. Don’t wanna miss out on all the food.”

He opens the passenger door and holds out his hand.

I let out a chuckle before taking it and hopping in.

He places a kiss on top of my hand before shutting the door.

Fuck, he’s so romantic already.

I’m not gonna last very long, am I?

“So,” he begins again, once we’re pulled away from the curb. “You ever had Samoan food before?”

“Never,” I reply, shaking my head.

A mischievous grin comes over his lips, eyes still on the road. “You’re gonna love it. Especially my mother’s cooking.”

I smile sweetly and look down at my hands, which are folded neatly in my lap.

Once we reach a red light, the car stops and, out of the corner of my eye, I see him glance over at me.

“Hey,” he begins again, reaching over to take my hand. “You alright?”

I look over and nod, a soft smile on my face. “Of course, why?”

Don’t let him know you’re nervous.

Just play it cool.

He shrugs. “You just seem kinda quiet, das all. You can talk to me, yknow.”

I sigh and nod, reaching out to stroke his beard. “I know. Thank you, love.”

His concern immediately turns into a smile, as he lifts my hand to his lips and kisses my palm. “Always, mama.”

I smile and lean over the middle console to kiss his cheek, before leaning back into my seat and running a hand through my hair.

For the rest of the car ride, we make some more small talk, our hands never separating.

He’s just so…..comforting.

———————————————————————————————

“My babyyyy!” an older, beautiful woman squeals, running over to Josh.

She’s in a white flowy shirt, capri length jean shorts, brown sandals, and the prettiest hibiscus flower in her hair, which is tied neatly in a low bun.

This has to be his mom.

I smile sweetly watching them, as Josh kisses her cheek and hugs her tight.

“My baby boy,” she coos, pulling back and cradling his face. “So grown up.”

“Ma, I just seen you last weekend,” he replies, making everyone, including me, laugh.

She playfully whacks his arm and her eyes finally land on me.

“And who do we have here?” she asks excitedly, sliding her hands into her pockets.

Here we go.

I feel his muscular arm wrap around my waist and I look up at him, smiling.

He smiles back and looks back at his mom.

“Ma,” he begins. “This is Gianna. Gi, this is my mom Talisua.”

I give her a friendly smile, holding out a hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Fa-“

“Nuh uh,” she interrupts and gently whacks my hand away, making my heart sink. “We don’t do none of that proper ish here, honey. None of that ‘Mrs. Fatu’ crap. Around here, you family. Understood?”

A wave of relief washes over me as I let out a breathless laugh, nodding. “Yes ma’am.”

She winks and pulls me into a hug, to which I respond immediately.

“Such a pretty girl you are,” she compliments, pulling away and placing her hands on her hips. “How did my son pull you?”

“Ma!” Josh whines, running a hand over his face.

We all burst out into laughter and she leads us further into the backyard, where at least 25 people are seated/stood in various places.

Josh walks me around and introduces me to everyone: first his stepdad, then his siblings, then his aunts and uncles, and finally his cousins.

Everyone is beyond friendly and super welcoming, just like Trin promised.

Speaking of Trin, once I’ve met everyone, I decide to head back over to her and the other wives.

“Make yourself at home baby,” Josh suggests, grabbing two waters from the fridge and handing me one. “Wanna come join me and my brothers?”

I take it and smile. “Thank you, but I’m gonna go sit with the other women, if that’s okay?”

He smiles, stroking my cheek. “‘Course it is, mama. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

I nod in response, to which he replies with a kiss on my cheek before heading down.

I watch him until he’s out of sight and take a deep breath, heading back outside.

“Hey boo!” Trin calls, waving me over. “C’mere!”

I head over and we share a hug before I take a seat next to her.

“This is Galina and Almia,” she continues, before taking a sip of her martini. “Joe and Sefa’s wives.”

“It’s so nice to finally meet you!” Almia replies cheerfully.

“It really is,” Galina agrees. “Trin told us all about you before you got here.”

I raise an eyebrow and look over at Trin. “Should I be worried?”

All of us laugh in unison.

About ten minutes of more conversation goes by, until Jon, in true Jon fashion, makes his grand entrance.

“Ma! I got yo ice you wanted!” he calls out, entering the gate with a half-melted, huge bag of ice.

“Oh my,” Trin mutters, pinching the bridge of her nose.

I snicker, quickly covering my mouth.

“It uhh,” he continues, handing the bag over to his and Josh’s mom. “It kinda melted, doe.”

All of the cousins burst into laughter from across the yard.

“Boy, get outta my face!” she yells, going to whack his butt with the spatula.

He runs away just in time, laughing as well.

Pretty soon, he heads over to us after greeting the rest of the family.

“Aye, there she go!” he calls out excitedly, pointing to me.

I chuckle and stand up, reaching over to embrace him. “Hey, Jon.”

“How you doin’, girl?” he asks, rubbing my back. “Been a minute, huh?”

I nod in agreement. “A long minute.”

We share a laugh and pull away, as he heads over to Trin, Galina, and Almia next.

Eventually, Josh’s other brothers, Sefa and Jeremiah, come out of the house and join us as well.

Where is he?

Suddenly, my phone goes off, signaling that I got a text.

josh 🤍: How you doin, ma?

josh 🤍: I hear my loud ass brother

Gi ❤️: he made quite the entrance 🤣🤣

josh 🤍: He always do 😂

Gi ❤️: but i’m good. just chopping it up with the ladies. 🫶🏽

josh 🤍: Glad you enjoying yourself baby ❤️

You loved “Glad you enjoying yourself baby ❤️”

josh 🤍: Come down and see me

Gi ❤️: aw you miss me already?

josh 🤍: Duh

Gi ❤️: 🤣🤣

Gi ❤️: i’ll be there soon 🫶🏽

josh 🤍: Aight ❤️

“I’ll be back,” I announce, getting up and fixing my jacket. “Gonna go visit Josh.”

Trin sticks out her bottom lip dramatically. “The lovebirds can’t more than twenty minutes apart. So cute!”

Everyone laughs and I whack her, resulting in her winking at me and blowing me a kiss.

I roll my eyes with a smirk and head inside, closing the sliding door behind me.

The basement is almost like a man cave.

A huge flat screen TV on the wall, lots of video game consoles, two sofas, hell even a bathroom.

“Josh?” I call out quietly, once I make it halfway down the stairs.

“Over here baby,” he calls back, sat on one of the couches, his legs spread all the way open.

This man is gonna kill me one day. Book it.

I smile softly once I see him, and head over to the couch.

“You look comfy,” I tease, sitting down a few inches from him, cross legged.

He chuckles, placing his phone down. “I am. You like it?”

I nod, scanning the room, and land my eyes back on him. “Nice and cozy. I dig it.”

He smiles, running a hand through his curls. “This was Jon and I’s playroom back in the day. But now, it’s a hangout spot for all the boys.”

I smile, leaning back on my elbow. “That’s so sweet. Kinda like the room grew up with you guys.”

“Exactly,” he replies, placing his hand behind his head and leaning on it. “Real special, yknow?”

I nod in agreement.

He smiles and reaches out to stroke my cheek. “You was havin’ a good time up there?”

I nod again, leaning into his touch. “Really good. Your family is amazing.”

His smile deepens at the compliment. “They love you already, baby. Especially my mom.”

I look down, smiling once more. “I’m happy. She’s super sweet.”

He nods, taking my hand and rubbing the top of it with his thumb. “When she wants to be.”

We chuckle in unison and I scoot closer, leaning against his side and laying my head back on his shoulder.

“You comfy, mama?” he asks, wrapping an arm around me and running his hand up and down my side.

I nod, turning my head to the side to look at him. “Very.”

“Good,” he replies, looking back at me.

We kinda just sit there for a second, staring into each other’s eyes.

His are so dreamy.

Such a deep colored brown, with the most perfect beige undertones.

I could stare into them forever.

Suddenly, they lower onto my lips and linger there for a second, before slowly returning to my eyes.

“I ever told you how pretty you are, baby?” he asks, taking a strand of hair out of my face.

I nod slowly, smiling. “All the time.”

He smiles back and bites his lower lip gently. “Good. ‘Cause you really is.”

I blush like a maniac, my face becoming hot to the touch.

Suddenly, I feel a soft palm gently hold my face.

“Can I kiss you, ma?” he asks, a hopeful tone in his voice.

My heart stops in my chest.

Is this really happening?

I should say no. It’s way too soon.

But it isn’t. I feel like I’ve known him forever.

And I don’t want to.

He’s too beautiful. Too perfect. Too good to me.

I love him.

“Yes,” I reply quietly. “Kiss me, Josh.”

He slowly runs his tongue across his lower lip before gently taking ahold of my face, and leaning in.

Here we go.

“Ayo lovebirds! Food is ready!”

Liked by uceyjucey, trinity_fatu, jonathanfatu, thegalinaanoai, and 4.7k others

giannamacri 🧸

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uceyjucey Fine ass ��‍💨

trinity_fatu BODYYY 😌✨

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[kryannoy]

i loved your headcanons of reader taking care if sakura!! can you do one with Sakurs taking care of the reader?? thank you in advance!!

HE TAKES CARE OF YOU

genre: fluff, sfw

characters: sakura haruka x reader

a/n: i was thinking of writing this even without the ask, but thank you for being the catalyst <3

You got his fever right after he recovered (because I always do when someone else in the house gets sick).

And typical Sakura blames himself for it when it's only normal things like that happen.

He troubled you with taking care of him, when he doesn't need it but he won't admit to you it mattered to him so much, and now you got the sickness?

That day when he came back home from school and saw you in such a weak state, borrowing his bed and blanket to bundle yourself up, he's already cursing himself.

He hesitantly checks your forehead with the back of his hand and becomes even more guilty to feel it so hot.

He tries to remember his hazy memory, because he was half asleep at that time, of how you took care of him. You put a cool fever on him, you closed the curtains for him, you prepared him medications, food and an energy drink for him.

He starts off by searching where you put the remaining cool fever from yesterday. Once he found it in one of his empty kitchen cabinets along with the strip of pills, he took those and brought them back to the room.

He sat cross-legged next to you and opened up the box, gently not making much noise. He figures out how you made it stick to his forehead, carefully making sure none of your hair gets stuck to it.

You wince from the sudden coolness and peaked through your eyelids. As soon as you stir awake, you can feel and hear the thumping of feet going further away from you. You see Sakura pretending to busy himself with all the stuff his classmates gave him yesterday that he hasn't finished putting them back in his kitchen.

You chuckle at this and go back to sleep so he can do what he was going to do without being so embarrassed. He didn't hear it and he didn't know that you were pretending to go back to sleep until finally you actually fell back to sleep.

So, you knew he spent the next hour sitting next to you, waiting if you needed anything, sometimes texting back his friends, sometimes mindlessly watching you. And that's pretty much what you can remember.

You didn't catch him became very much aware when the sudden thought of brushing your hair away like you did slips in his mind.

He became so aware that his face turned bright red all the way down to his neck that he had to get up and leave his house to buy you food because he just remembered that.

He was quick with it because his front door doesn't have a lock. He doesn't want bad guys to break into his house especially when you're present in there but in a vulnerable state.

When he comes back, you're on your phone weakly scrolling through.

"Did you just get home from school?" You ask, pretending you didn't remember who put you the cool patch on your head.

"Uhh . . . no. I went out to get you food. I assume you haven't eaten?" He really mumbles a lot when he's telling a nice thing he did for you.

You shake your head no.

He brings the food to you and you sit up.

"Sorry I didn't ask if I could sleep in your bed."

" . . . Sorry I got you the fever." His head is down and he looks like a child who did something wrong.

"Nonsense! It's only natural that these things happen, Sakura."

He looks up to see you smiling like you didn't care he troubled you. Well, of course you didn't. You just said it was nonsense.

"Thank you for buying me food. And the cool fever."

He blushed again and denied that he wasn't doing this for you but it was just he felt guilty.

But you both know that's not true.

[rainverry]

pretty boy.

PAIRING  ☆  nakamoto yuta x afab!reader

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

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

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

WORD COUNT  ☆  24.2k (im so sorry)

PLAYLIST  ☆  click!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Today is not your lucky day.

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

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

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

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

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

You mumble out, “Hi, Taeyong.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, and I’m mad too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“God, I can’t stand him,” you murmur.

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

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

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

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

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

“Are the characters making out or something?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I need you to fake date me.”

You stop in your tracks. 

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

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

“Y/-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After a long pause, you shake your head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And yet, your thoughts kept drifting back to him.

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

You don't know what to think.

“Hey, cutie. Can I get you a drink?”

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

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

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

Your stomach churns at the implication of his words.

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

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

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

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

nayeon: u okay tho? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll do it.”

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Any second thoughts you have vanish instantly. 

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

“Shake on it? You’re such a dweeb.”

He rolls his eyes. “Just do it.”

So you do.

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

take this, I know you need it -N

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

Unknown: this is yuta. i’m free now

Unknown: unless ur still sleeping lol

You roll your eyes, swiftly typing a response.

you: dickhead

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

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

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

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

yuta: oh good morning sleeping beauty

yuta: come find me at the library ;)

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, stuff,” he grins.

You glare at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine. My turn to list my own terms.”

“I’m not finished y-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shoot.”

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

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

You nod. “That’s fair.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart skips a beat.

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

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

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

jennierubyjane replied to your story: is this real lol

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

What have you gotten yourself into?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Today is the day. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The ringing of the doorbell makes you jump.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Embarrassing.

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

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

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

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

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

“No promises.”

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

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

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

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

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

You stare at him blankly. “Do what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Today, you have a different plan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Did you ever mention that to him? 

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

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

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

The plan is working.

“I don’t buy it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

The room falls silent.

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

Your heart sinks. 

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

Amidst your speech, Nayeon lets out a muffled laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nope.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about me?”

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

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

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

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

“No.”

“Oh, come on!”

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

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

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

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

He grunts. “We’ll see about that.”

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

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

“Oh, you’re on.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can we call it even now?”

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

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

“You bet your ass.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds perfect.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And why would I do that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How?”

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

Oh hell no.

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

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

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

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

You suppose that’s true.

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

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

Jisoo is absolutely hammered. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” you squeak, half-dazed.

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

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

“Oh, that’s attractive.”

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

You start snickering uncontrollably. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Front pocket,” you mumble.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You moan. “I’m gonna be sick.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrug. “Um, not that much–”

“Bullshit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You open the door and he steps in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The doorbell rings.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait – do you wanna come in?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come with you? What for?”

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

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

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

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

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

The selfie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then he leans in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s something wrong with you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

yuu_taa_1026 tagged you in a post.

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

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

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

yuu_taa_1026: My gorgeous 🖤

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

Not over fucking Nakamoto Yuta, of all people. 

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

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

You throw your phone across the bed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” you groan.

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

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

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

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

Ah, like clockwork.

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

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

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

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

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

You smile.

“When do we leave?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You freeze.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looks effortless, yet so fucking attractive.

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

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

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

“Johnny knows Seulgi?” 

“Johnny knows everyone.”

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

“What?”

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

“About what?”

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

Your pulse starts racing.

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

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

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

Yuta looks away, clearing his throat. 

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

“Yeah?” he murmurs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can my girl take a little more?” 

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

And you need him. 

All of him.

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

“I need you, Yuta.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart shatters.

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

Yuta lets out a breath. “I just th-”

“No, I get it,” you interrupt.

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

“It’s okay, Yuta.”

Yuta’s expression shifts. “Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

How naïve you’ve been.

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

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

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

“Listen, Y/N-”

“Have a good night, Yuta.”

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

You can’t believe you let it happen again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was a frown on his face.

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

Your heart dropped to your feet and everything went silent.

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

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

At you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ve never seen him like this before. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nothing good ever comes from keeping your feelings hidden.

So you stay put.

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

Your throat runs dry. 

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

Longing. 

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

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

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

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

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

Yuta’s face is just inches away from yours. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“See you around, Y/N.”

You watch his figure retreat down the hallway and disappear.

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

Your life’s been quiet ever since finals ended.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yuta,” you call out gently.

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

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

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

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

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

But you're not done speaking yet.

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

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

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

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

And your heart soars. 

You really want to kiss him again.

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

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

“Yes… on one condition.”

“Anything,” he says, squeezing your hand.

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

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

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

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

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

TAGLIST  ☆  @greenyweirdo @dontlethismagicdie

© rainverry, 2025

[dandysworld-meh-imagines]

Can I have a angst to fluff when you're having a bad day and so the toons have a plan to cheer you up

Btw can I have some chocolate milk please?

Reader Having A Bad Day And The Toons Try Cheering Them Up!

Chocolate milk for everyone!! Also I'm sorry this took longer, funnily enough, my day today is very meh- but I still pushed through to write something for today! I don't know if I did this right cuz it's hard to fit everyone (I also tried to come up with things but idk if I did a good job tbh with you-) but sksks here you go, dear! Thank you for requesting! <3

-Anna

-Having bad days in Gardenview was quite rare for most of the toons. A lot of things could go wrong but not THIS many! It really made you pissed off, it can be the way a kid interacted with you quite brutally, breakfast tasting quite awful or a mess happened, maybe a staff was moody and it got to you and more! Normally you would brush off small things, you know your days can't always be good or at least decent enough but today in particular? It bothered you greatly. Honestly, almost anything else you saw or this and that annoyed you. You wouldn't be like this usually so it was quite obvious for toons to pick up on your mood, especially when they saw the whole thing with their eyes.

-You were so upset you didn't even talk much and even walked past some toons who tried greeting you, only for them to lower their arms or get very concerned about you brushing them off. This was very unlikely of you to do, you always waved back but you just went to your room to retreat for the day. You didn't care about anything and staff had to make excuses for you if a kid wanted to visit you, saying that you just weren't feeling well today. You stayed in bed, overthinking whatever had just happened to you, not even caring enough to get up or go out to eat for lunch or dinner, that was supposed to be the plan, just staying in your room all day.

-There was a knock on the door and you groaned softly when it became persistent. You dragged your legs off the bed before going and opening it, not in the mood. Sprout and Cosmo offered you some delicious food as they invited you to make sweets with them. You didn't have an appetite but smelling it instantly made your stomach growl, making those two shoot you a soft smile as they gave it to you and told you to think about it. Sprout would always make sure everyone was fed no matter what, always having that side of him and making sure everyone is taking care of themselves. If you went along with their invite, they would give you a big cookie or two as thanks for coming and for your help.

-It wasn't just them, honestly, while kinda clouded for you, the toons would do things for you or even offer you things for you to take. Maybe Yatta offering you some candy from the mountain of candy she was holding, Looey offering some funny tricks, Finn with his jokes and many more from others. Some even invited you to things to maybe help take your mind off the whole thing. Like Teagan inviting you for some tea, Astro and the others to the book club if you wanted to do something quietly, maybe Pebble offering you a throwing disk to play fetch with him or more things like that. It did help.. for the most part. You definitely do feel your anger going away.

-It doesn't need to be activities that make you work, even. Sometimes it feels nice to vent about it and have someone listening. Maybe Brightney offers you company and it isn't her only, it can be Glisten who feels bad for you, Flutter who can relate to you feeling so down, Cosmo who listens to you and more. It really did surprise them to see you like that but even they know that things sometimes can really suck a lot! They can just happen like that and leave you feeling awful and upset in the end, wondering just where it started going all wrong. They just hope they can help you in any way they can.

-Eventually the anger and everything else does slowly leave you and it really is thanks to your precious friends in Gardenview who stay by your side. You have helped them a lot during their own hard times so they want to do the same for you and besides.. everyone is friends here, right? They do things for each other! It makes sense they would do things for you, too! Thankfully they know you well enough to know what you like, dislike and all that important information so they don't make you even more upset. They even bring you things related to your interests or something that made them think of you as a small gift. They will feel more relieved once they see that you feel better.

-If you are the quiet type, you will like those that offer quiet comfort like Astro, Dazzle, Tisha, Scraps and more toons. You don't have to do much in their presence and their company feels nice. They hear you out when you vent and stay by your side, listening. You don't even have to say anything, you can read with them or even just stick close together, they don't pressure you to talk and give you space to breathe after the overwhelming events today. You can hang out with them in their room or even in quiet spots around Gardenview to forget about things for a while. It's never too overwhelming and it does make you feel more calm as time goes on, the idea that someone is there for you quietly can help.

-If you want other types of comfort, the others definitely got what you need, where it's getting hugged for a long time by Goob, Toodles inviting you to explore around the map, letting Glisten gently put make up on your face, getting excited together with Poppy and more toons, all those do offer you some type of peace you needed. Maybe walking around Gardenview could be just what you need, maybe having a friendly competition with Gigi about who can find the most stuff to put in a collection or more. Those might help keep the bad thoughts away from your mind with physical activities that also aren't too much.

-But if you really prefer to spend time alone, I'm sure the toons will understand and respect your wishes. Sometimes it's not bad to lie down and take a good break from everything for a while, just letting the soft mattress underneath you hold you up well as you lay on your pillow. While you are away resting, some toons do like to leave little notes or small gifts they think you will like. Seeing you upset makes them feel bad but they hope you like their gifts! Even if some might try to convince you to come outside or invite you to things, at the end, they still respect your boundaries and leave you to recharge after a bad day.

-No matter what, you know your friends have your side in many things. They will be here to give you a steady hand when you are struggling and help cheer you up in their own ways, depending on their personalities as well! Other toons might do more calm things and others might do activities that require some work yet aren't making you feel worse. A lot of the methods do tend to work as they also make sure to consider what you are interested in as well and your boundaries. Don't be afraid to ask for any help from them, you know you can always count on them as they can also count on you during difficult times.

Thank you for reading! <3

[aristaspark]

Why Brooklynn ending up with Darius feels so unsatisfactory from a writing standpoint : Darius' arc.

Chaos Theory Season 3: Part 9

Everyone seems surprised when I say that I think Kenlynn being endgame makes the most sense, but to me the fact that people want Brooklynn to end up with Darius is what is surprising. A big part of that (apart from my obvious love for Kenlynn), is because to me, from a writing standpoint, Darius and Brooklynn ending up together would be the worst pay off to what the writers have set up.

I'll try to explain it solely from a writing standpoint, as someone who loves writing, but OF COURSE it is biased, it will never not be.

To me, good writing is when characters get character devloppment, when their experiences teaches them something. The character starts with something they need to overcome, stuff happens and in the end, the experiences they go through changes them, hopefully for the better.

And with a story like jwct that was written all at once with a clear ending in mind (the writers have repeatedly stated how they had clear arcs for the characters and how the show was written all at once then divised into seasons), I don't see what we had in the 3 first seasons setting up dinostar ever getting together.

Take a look at Dinostar's story in jwct:

Darius and Brooklynn have been best friends for many years, with Brooklynn dating his adopted brother, which basically makes them in laws, which should make the very idea of a romantic relationship between them... disturbing, at the very least.

They've always been fusional, so close that even the fandom think they are "better" than Brooklynn and her boyfriend almost as if... Darius was entitled to end up with Brooklynn because of how good of a friend he is to her.

Then one day, boom, Brooklynn gets dumped, and suddenly Darius' feelings for Brooklynn change, until one day he accidentally spills the beans.

In this scene, Darius is the one who puts the burden of his feelings on Brooklynn. She was speaking of her relationship with Kenji, looking foward to receiving her best friend's support and advise, but instead she got his confession.

You can choose to think that she likes him, but you can't argue against the fact that his confession wasn't what she wanted from him in this moment.

And because she did not give Darius the answer he would have wanted, he didn't show up when she needed him to, and in the end she was the only one who suffered the consequences of Darius' feelings for her : he didn't show up, she was alone and unfocused in these woods, she lost her arm and was left traumatized.

Don't get me wrong, Darius emotionally suffered because of this decision, because Brooklynn died, but Brooklynn was the one who was directly impacted.

It happened to her.

Narratively speaking, Darius is in the wrong. Because she failed to respond to his feelings, he wasn't a friend to Brooklynn when she needed him to be, which was all she had ever asked of him. They always said they survived because they were together, but he chose not to be with her.

This moment he let his selfish feelings drive his actions is at the core of his story in jwct, it's what caused his creepling feeling of guilt as well as his entire conflict with Kenji, this is the moment that sparked his entire character arc.

The thing that sparked his arc was his incapability to take Brooklynn's rejection, it appears as the weakness he has to overcome to become the better version of himself.

Some might argue that the ending of season 3 was the end of that arc, that Darius finally showed up for her, that now everything is good and that they can be together. But this is not the end of the story, and "not showing up" wasn't the wrong he had to correct. Not showing up was merely the manifestation of his incapability to accept her rejection.

By showing up for Brooklynn this time around he only makes it up to her for the fact that he hadn't shown up the first time around, but it doesn't make up for the fact that SHE was the one who had suffered the consequences of HIS inability to take her rejection.

That's why I think the writers backtracking on her rejection would be cheap and wouldn't make sense. It would basically magically remove the very thing Darius has to learn to accept to grow as a person.

Think of it like that.

You're a parent at the mall and your child wants a toy, but you don't have enough money for it, you have to buy food. But the child throws a tantrum, he starts throwing things at you, you get hit in the eye, and he even hurts himself in the process. Now not only do you need to buy food, but you need to buy stuff to treat your eye, and you need to make him feel better on top of that. You eventually manage to calm him down, to make him understand that you can't buy him the toy and in the end he finally learns to accept it, he shows growth and helps you clean up his mess. And then in the end... instead of buying what you came here to buy, you use the money to buy the toy.

That would make the whole thing meaningless. Because in the end, the entire weight of his actions would have befallen on you.

You're the one who was wronged and in the end you're the one who ends up having to go back on your stance to catter to the child's entitled desire. The child wouldn't have learnt any lesson, because in the end he would have gotten what he wanted despite behaving badly. Sure, he made it up to you by helping you clean up afterwards, but it doesn't mean he should get the toy. On the contrary, him not getting the toy and learning to be okay with that would do him more good in the long run.

This is a stupid scenario purely made to demonstrate how unsatisfactory Brooklynn returning Darius' feelings would be on a writing level, and why I don't believe the writers wrote that because, duh, they're writers, not shippers. If Darius gets the girl, then the entire burden of his feelings would have befallen on Brooklynn and his arc would have led nowhere.

All that happened during the 3 seasons we have might as well have not happened since the very thing that sparked the story would be rendered insignificant if she was to return his feelings (actually nevermind, Darius abandonned Brooklynn based on something that wasn't even true, so her "death" could have been avoided had she told Darius her real feelings, too bad for HER. Oh, and even if she wasn't in love with him in this moment, she was always going to realize her feelings later, too bad for HER she hadn't realized them in this moment).

Not only does she get her arm eaten, but on top of that she is the one who would have to backtrack on her rejection, while Darius wouldn't suffer any direct consequence and magically get the thing he wanted in the end without the opportunity to come out of all this as a better person.

Now that's where Kenji enters into the mix, because they are 3 in that triangle.

I don't know if you noticed, but Darius had to make it up not only to Brooklynn, but also to Kenji. Without even thinking about it on a shipping basis but purely on a "Kenji is Darius' adopted brother" basis, the way Darius threw Kenji under the bus when he confessed was horrible, and the clear manifestation of another character flaw.

There must have been a reason the writers had Darius sound so immature and petty during his confession, a reason they had him belittle Kenji's bond with Brooklynn to make his bond with her seem more "legit". If they wanted Darius to end up with Brooklynn then why would they make his confession to her, this pivotal moment, about Kenji? All it does is tarnish it.

And we know Darius was wrong, Kenji didn't break up with Brook because of a lack of love, but because Brooklynn had pushed him to his limit. Darius was basically victim blaming Kenji, putting the blame of the break up on the supposed frivolity of Kenji's feelings rather than on Brooklynn's actions.

To me not only does he has to prove that he's willing to be a friend to Brooklynn even if she never returns her feelings, but he also has to prove that he has come to aknowledge that he was wrong about Kenji, which is why I'm so sure his redemption with the both of them will come with him doing his best to get Kenji to forgive Brooklynn and repair their relationship.

Bottom line is: Darius ending up with Brooklynn would be the contrary of character developpment.

[reccyls]

The Reaper and the Self-Righteous Monarch’s First Condemnation - Chapter 2

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

This event contains major spoilers for Victor’s route.

It was now around a month after I had first met Victor. After receiving an invitation from him, I arrived at a castle that was built on the royal palace grounds.

Victor: Think of this as our hideout. A secret base from where we fight evil with evil.

The lights of the chandeliers reflected off the polished floors, making the entire castle shine beautifully.

(Ironic for a secret base for evil.)

After I took his hand in the audience chamber that day, Victor said that we would need somewhere to work out of. He had his eye on an unused castle that lay within the palace grounds, and had spent the past month repurposing it for our needs.

Victor: A room has been prepared for you. Feel free to do as you like with it.

William: Are you staying here too?

Victor: There’s no shortage of rooms.

(What a non-answer.)

We walked down the corridors as Victor explained the castle’s rooms to me. A few servants caught my eye.

Victor: All the servants working here are deaf, so if you need to communicate with them, use sign language or writing.

William: I see.

(By hiring only deaf servants, it safeguards our secrets while also providing employment opportunities to them.)

This gave me a good idea of what Victor was like, both as a ruler, and as a man with things he needed to keep hidden.

Victor: And over here is the common room.

He opened the door, revealing a lounge. At his direction, I sat down on a couch and was handed a stack of documents.

Victor: It’s perhaps rather early, but it is now time to pay evil unto evil.

The documents contained information about a particular nobleman.

William: Robert Sullivan… He’s the son of that viscount, isn’t he?

Victor: Due to some issues with some scandals, he was unable to inherit the family business. After his younger brother inherited instead, he was left with nothing.

William: But surely he still had some inheritance at least.

Victor nodded and continued.

Victor: Over the past half year, he had been using said inheritance as capital to import a large number of goods from overseas. The shipments are all the same items.

Charcoal, potassium nitrate, sulfur… Ingredients used to make gunpowder.

Victor: Though his character is unfortunate, he does have some talent as an engineer. And he put that to use…

William: Creating new recipes for explosives.

Victor: Precisely.

William: I would think the military would be beside themselves over the chance to recruit him, if he’s as talented as you imply.

Victor: Unfortunately, that isn’t likely to be possible. He has chosen to offer his talents to a group of republicans.

I looked up in surprise, and Victor met my eyes with a wry smile.

Victor: The concept of an inherited right to rule exists only because of this country. Perhaps it would be for the best if the throne were overthrown. Victor: If I did that, I would gain legitimacy in the eyes of the people. It could change the world.

William: …If one’s desire for recognition and legitimacy starts leading them down the wrong path, it could lead to the country’s doom.

Ever since Queen Victoria took the throne, republicanism had only grown more extreme in the country. The Privy Council were nominally loyal to Her Majesty, but the nobles knelt to the queen while simultaneously scheming to undermine her. It was clear to me that there were very few people who truly served Her Majesty.

Victor: So tonight, we’re going to infiltrate the republicans’ stronghold!

William: Hold on. You’re the one they’re targeting. William: Why do we have to go together? I can handle it alone.

Victor: No, I’ll come along. What else do I have this identity as Victor for, if not to go out into the field? Victor: …And what’s more, as ruler, I hope that lives need not be lost unnecessarily.

He stood and extended his hand to me.

Victor: If we can convince them to settle things peacefully, that would be ideal.

(No matter what I say, I don’t think he’ll listen to me.)

I sighed and took his hand, using it to pull myself up.

William: If Her Majesty were to be killed, her loyal subjects would be at a loss. Please don’t do anything reckless.

Looking extremely pleased, Victor smiled.

-----

Just as midnight arrived, we found our way to the base where the republicans were staying. Along the way, we made casual conversation to get to know each other better, asking about how we spent our days and what foods we liked. We also discussed what we should name this organization, what we would be doing in the future, and our ideals. The conversation was entertaining. I found that we got along so well it was like we were old friends.

William: Now that I think about it, sometimes you swap back and forth between different ways of speaking.

Victor: …Oh, well. I used to speak a bit more pompously. But it’s more convenient for my cover to change how I speak. I can’t go around talking like a royal all the time. Victor: But you know how habits are hard to change. It slips out sometimes if I’m not careful.

[TL note: William was noticing that Victor swapped between using 僕 ‘boku’ and 俺 ‘ore’ for his first person pronoun.]

But then Victor laid his hand on a door handle, bringing an end to our conversation. The entire atmosphere changed.

Victor: Let’s go.

When we entered, the republicans were holding a gathering. Robert Sullivan was standing on a stage, giving a speech to the gathered crowd.

Robert: This bomb has twice the power of a conventional one!

As he held the bomb out for the crowd to admire, cheers broke out in the audience. We hid ourselves in the back of the seats, listening to the speech.

Robert: When the new day dawns, our revolution will begin!

Victor’s brow furrowed.

Robert: Bombs will rain down on the palace from every direction, setting the world aflame! Robert: And meanwhile, our courageous brothers lying in wait in the palace will stop at nothing to take the queen’s head, giving their lives up for the battle. Robert: …It may also be difficult for the ones launching the bombs to return alive.

There was silence for a moment, before Robert once again held up the bomb.

Robert: But in order to bring peace to this country, we must defeat the queen!

Republicans: Wooo!!

Victor: …I see.

As the crowd raised their swords in excitement, Victor closed his eyes. After letting out a quiet breath, he opened them again. When I met his eyes again, I saw that they were filled with determination.

Victor: …And what’s more, as ruler, I hope that lives need not be lost unnecessarily. Victor: If we can convince them to settle things peacefully, that would be ideal.

(Ah. So that’s it.)

Realizing what was going to happen, I stood.

Robert: Who the hell are you!?

William: It must be terribly lonely, to be a ruler.

Victor: William…?

William: You wish for people’s freedom and happiness more than anything else. And yet your hopes and feelings can’t reach them, their paths stray from yours, and the number of lives you cannot save only continues to increase.

Step by step, I approached the crowd.

William: You plan to kill the queen by sacrificing your lives. Will the future you envision bring you freedom?

I stopped walking when I had every member of the crowd in my field of vision.

William: Your master loves you so, no matter how deep your betrayal runs. But now, she no longer extends her hand to you.

That sigh of only a few seconds ago was Victor finally giving up on them. Victor had decided that he could not save them, and so closed his eyes to gather the strength to move forward.

Robert: Someone get him!

William: “Everyone, stay where you are.”

In an instant, everyone except Victor and I froze in place. I could see the crowd’s confused gaze darting here and there. As their expressions slowly morphed into fear, I turned towards Victor.

William: They plan to commit slaughter under the guise of justice. In my eyes, they are evil. William: But what do you think, Victor?

His cold eyes said everything for him.

[radioactive-alien-thing]

Azuretime x reader polygamous please! We need more of them frfr

I'm not sure about the specific plots, but maybe when Azure came out as a killer for the first time and they all reunited?

You can choose whether or not reader was also in the cult. But they prooooobably didn't know about the sacrifice? Maybe they might've also almost got sacrificed, but Two time failed and they got Forsaken™ first?

Yeah, that's about it. I think. I forgot to say when I said we need more Azuretime x reader, I meant angst 😈😈 /hj

The relationship is gonna so strained, but the dynamic would be kind of interesting?

Take your time with the requests! Your health and happiness is the first priority!

❤️❤️❤️❤️ /Platonic

HAAAIIII omgosh sorry this took so long!!! and sorry if it’s. not the best!!! i hardly write angsty so thank you for this practice!!! hope u enjoy regardless<3

azure x two time x reader - unspoken confessions

not much really concerns you these days. after numerous weeks(?) of being stuck in a eerily cold & horrific realm, as if you were a lab rat in a cage, putting on a show for some mysterious ‘spectre’, you’ve pretty much gotten used to it.

of course, you still prayed to the Spawn every day, clinging to your faith in rough times like these. and you prayed for your partners, too- wherever they were. if they were even safe. at least they didn’t have to suffer in this place, wherever you were… could be hell, could be purgatory. you weren��t all too sure.

but it didn’t take long for things to shift and you quickly regretted ever feeling hopeful. eventually, two time ended up in the same realm as you, though something about them was off. you noticed it right away, the air of tension, the defensive glint in their eyes. they felt distant, hesitant. when you reached out for a hug, relieved to see one of your partners after convincing yourself you never would again, they flinched.

that’s fine, though. that’s absolutely okay, you told yourself. two time must be incredibly overwhelmed. confused, maybe even scared. after all, there was only one way to end up here, and it wasn’t exactly by natural fate. you didn’t pry, they didn’t want to talk about it. but when you finally mentioned your attacker fleeing and leaving you to bleed out, a small frown flickered across their face. just for a moment, you thought you saw something, some hint of emotion. you couldn’t tell if it was concern… or maybe regret?

so you brought up your second biggest concern, a bit of anxiety settling in. azure. what about azure? was he okay? at the mention of his name, two time slightly stiffened, but their eyes continue to hold that same manic look, tense as if they were holding something back.

you barely got an answer. it hurt. you needed to know. but every time you tried to learn more, two time redirected the discussion back to the Spawn, always circling back to the one thing they were utterly obsessed with. and though you wouldn’t ever say it out loud, praise be to the Spawn, you were starting to grow agitated.

eventually you ended up in a match together, forming a tiny pact to watch each other’s backs. you noticed the spectre had let them keep their dagger, though you didn’t ask why. a weapon’s a weapon, and it’s pretty useful in this case. maybe it didn’t mean anything.

you’ve already repaired a few generators, but the lack of a killer was making you increasingly anxious. where the hell were they? did taph blow them up already? where was all the usual bloodshed? something was off.

“two time? two time?” you call out, presuming they had ditched you. so much for loyalty. you even made a mental note to give them absolute hell for it later, but the sight you walked into stopped you cold.

you initially didn’t want to believe it, but you couldn’t deny it for long. it was azure, but not the one you remembered. they were different- stronger, more intense. scarier. it didn’t take long for it to click. they were the killer.

azure’s eyes look almost regretful, maybe even sad, as their hands tighten around two time’s neck, choking the other cultist on the ground. the sight hit you like a truck and left your head reeling. instinct took over and you lunged forward, trying to pull them apart. everything went all blurry for a moment. azure’s eyes widened when he saw you, filled with a conflicted emotion that didn’t match his actions. it was almost like he wasn’t in control at all.

you did successfully manage to shove them apart. two time weakly crawled away, gasping for air. azure just stood still, shaking, hands twitching.

your eyes drift over to the small wound you left on azure’s cheek while trying to save two time. slowly, he reached up to graze it. every little move was tense.

without a word, azure turned sharply and forced himself to trudge away, footsteps unsteady. you didn’t try calling out to him. he didn’t bother looking back. all you could do was stare at the empty spot where he once stood, his silence louder than any words he could’ve left.

[theseinfernalangels]

Calm Before the Storm — Bodhi Durran

Synopsis: After being excluded from weapon-drops for reasons unknown, only one thing can give you solace: Bodhi. Sometimes, though, not even he can calm the swell of your storms alone.

Includes: Marked!Reader, more Freya lore, slooooow burn, my own interpretation of how Bodhi manifested, angst yet again, mentions of slight passive suicidal ideation, and lots of thunder. Italic font marks spoken Tyrrish. Takes place before Fourth Wing. 

Day 3 of Bodhi Week is the why of how Bodhi gets his signet — and I will be writing for that — but what about the when? What could have forced him to stop another person’s signet?

For you, it started small. Xaden didn’t want to have you to come along on his first weapon delivery — but that was just in case he got caught and executed. That was fine. Garrick wasn’t allowed to go, either, so it made sense. You laid in bed and prayed that no one would catch Xaden, and all would be well.

Then, after the first four drops, Garrick started to tag along. More hands, Xaden said, would get the Poromish army more weaponry. Only Garrick, though. You and Soleil didn’t come, since neither of you had manifested yet. That made sense, too. No use in going on missions when you couldn’t even wield yet. Spéir even agreed, so you stayed put. 

But then you manifested — quite powerfully. The storm-wielding signet was rare. So rare, actually, that only two living people had that signet: General Sorrengail, and you. That time, you elected to stay at Basgiath yourself. There was no way of telling how your signet worked, and with how tricky it was, you didn’t want to risk exposing the entire operation. You stared out the window as Sgaeyl and Chradh darted out under the cover of darkness. It would only be a matter of time, you told yourself. Once things finally got under control, you’d be flying and helping the movement in no time.

Finally, the year ended. You all moved up, your signet training continued, and more marked ones were added to Basgiath’s roster. More hands, when they were ready to wield. You were just glad that they didn’t make Bodhi go, since he was Xaden’s little right-hand man. The two of you laid in your respective beds before ultimately deciding to spend the nights with each other in your room, not enjoying the feeling of being left behind.

It was easy to cope with it all when Bodhi was there to hold you. Sure, you felt excluded, but you weren’t the only one that was left to watch. 

Until tonight.

Maybe it was just pure ignorance that led Imogen to spill that she and Bodhi would be doing deliveries today, despite the fact that they were newly-bonded and hadn’t manifested their signets yet. Maybe it was her way of boasting about her skills. That had hit home, though, to be the final straw with your patience. 

What was so bad about you that you couldn’t help?

You pace back and forth in your room, your shields fastened so tightly that it makes your head throb. If Spéir knew what was happening, you knew she’d take it up with Sgaeyl — and although you trusted your dragon more than you did yourself, you weren’t confident that she would make it out of a confrontation like that alive.

“Am I that weak?” You whisper, halting and staring down at your hands. A slight breeze brushes across your skin, rustling your hair a little. “It isn’t possible…”

Could you have done something to make Xaden lose faith in you? You’d gone along with his plans perfectly, and it wasn’t like he didn’t know you — you’d been sneaking around with each other since the ripe age of eight. Sure, there had been some time lost when you were separated, but that couldn’t mean anything, right?

You hardly notice the wind picking up outside, thick clouds rolling in and covering the bright September sun. Someone else does, however — or, rather, his dragon does — and the Green wastes no time in urging his rider to come find you.

You’re glaring down at yourself when a soft knock pulls you from your thoughts. Only one person would dare come for you on one of your days off. You flick your wrist, the lock on your door sliding out with a small click, and wait. 

Hesitantly, cautiously, the door slides open, and a familiar curl-clad head pops through the door. You’d finally gotten around to adjusting your wards so that he could enter without you, so he slides in and closes the door wordlessly before turning to you.

“Hey,” he greets you softly, his eyes meeting yours in concern. “You alright?”

No, actually. You’re far from alright.

“Yes?” You blink. “Why?”

Bodhi plops on your bed as if he belongs there. “Because the winds are going insane right now, and it just got so cloudy that it looks like it’s evening.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. You move to the window and poke your head through the curtains; sure enough, it looks dark enough to be at least eight at night. 

“Oh,” is all you can say. You inhale a little and force the winds to die down a little. “My bad.”

Your body startles a bit as a gentle hand comes to grasp your shoulder. “A chara,” he murmurs, his voice low enough that you have to lean back a little to hear him. “You don’t have to give me details, but I’d really like to know what’s bothering you. I feel like you’ve been avoiding us a lot, and I miss you.”

A muscle in your jaw feathers. “I’m not avoiding anyone,” you huff, shoving your hands in your pockets as you try to quell the winds. “I just have things to do.”

Under your breath, you can’t help but add, “And clearly, everyone else does, too.”

Bodhi stills. Ah. It wasn’t that you were in pain or stressed out. You were…envious. Jealous, maybe? No, jealousy was too petty for you — right?

Ever so gently, he nudges you in the direction of your bed. “Is this because of that fight earlier?” He asks, tilting his head. “Because I totally agree—“

“No,” you snap, shaking your head. “I’m pissed off that I can’t do the dagger drops tonight. Riorson clearly doesn’t trust me to get the job done, or I’d be doing it every other time.”

His brow furrows. That couldn’t be possible. “Are you kidding?” He asks. “Of course he trusts you. You’re one of the only people he allows to see him when—“

“That’s not the same.” You cut him off harshly. ”You don’t get it, Bodhs. I understood the first few times. None of us went, and then I hadn’t manifested yet, which was fair enough, but then everyone is allowed to go except me?”

You scoff, throwing a lazy hand in his direction. “You haven’t even gotten your signet yet, and he’s sending you out. What a load of bullshit.”

Bodhi frowns, a little line dipping by his lip. In retrospect, it was pretty hypocritical of his cousin to keep you on a short leash while everyone else got to contribute to the revolution — but, on another, smaller hand, he was grateful. It kept you out of harm’s way and kept Bodhi’s heart from twisting in worry every time he thought about you.

“I guess,” he concedes. “But I don’t think it’s about my or Imogen’s signets. We’re bonded now—“

“That’s not it, either,” you groan. “Because that’s the excuse we had for why we couldn’t go last year.”

You shake your head. Excuses. So many damn excuses. You were done with them.

“I don’t think it stands as a testament to your character,” Bodhi says gently, touching two fingers to your elbow in a familiar, grounding gesture. “Maybe it’s because—“

“I don’t need an explanation,” you snap. “He doesn’t want to include me because he thinks I’m incapable. I’m too unpredictable. I’m weak, and if we get caught, it’ll be on me. He doesn’t have to say it, Bodhi. I get the idea pretty damn well.”

Your jaw clenches, and before you can quite comprehend it, a loud crack of thunder boomsfrom outside, rattling the windowpanes and sending a pleasant hum through your bones. You welcome the oncoming storm that will blow off some steam — but Bodhi clearly does not. 

He takes your wrists gently in his, squeezing over your relic as if to stop the flow of power surging from you. “Stop that,” he scolds softly. “Don’t talk about yourself that way. You’re far from weak, and you know it.”

You feel yourself stiffen a little before a dry scoff leaves you. “I’ll talk about myself any way I damn please,” you counter, snatching your hands away. “It’s true. Clearly, I’m not wanted. Why don’t you go run off to play shadow, huh? Leave me to get over it.”

The words that leave your mouth surprise you — but you don’t move to take them back. Bodhi’s mouth settles into a firm line before he shakes his head stubbornly. 

“What is this?” He demands, flinching as more thunder sounds from outside. “Are you serious? You can’t be. You can’t seriously believe that you’re incapable just because Xaden or Garrick won’t let you risk your life for a few dagger drops.”

You push yourself off your bed, beginning to pace back and forth. “Really?” You shoot back. “Then why is every other fucking marked kid in this gods-forsaken college running out every other night, while I’m holed away in here to watch, huh? I have one of the rarest signets in my year, but that obviously doesn’t mean anything, or else I’d be on Spéir’s back going gods-know-where right now.”

“He’s just protecting you!” Bodhi says, his eyes widened with something like pleading. “He doesn’t want you hurt, chara. It’s not an insult.”

“To you!” You whirl around, eyes blazing in anger. As if on cue, rain starts pouring from the sky, although it’d been nothing but sunny just an hour earlier. “It’s not an insult to you, Bodhi. But it is to me. I’d rather have someone try and assassinate me again than this. At least those people are honest with me.”

He stands, his irritation and anxiety cresting. You couldn’t possibly mean that, could you?

“Don’t say that,” he repeats insistently. “That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

“Oh,” you spit. “Really, now? Because I find it perfectly reasonable. I’m surprised you’re even here given the fact that the only person who even talks to me anymore is Cosette, and she doesn’t fucking know about what we’re doing yet. I wouldn’t be surprised if Garrick told her and got her to start soon.”

Bodhi had only paid about an eighth of his attention to the chaos outside, but his head instantly snaps to stare at the window as a streak of lightning lights up the darkened sky. Shit. He needs to stop this, and soon — before someone else shows up to deal with it.

“Easy,” he tries, showing you his hands placatingly. “He would never. Cosette knows a lot about a lot, but Garrick would never risk her like that. I think he’d have a heart attack.”

“Gee.” You snort. “I’d agree, but I wouldn’t know that, seeing as he hasn’t talked to me in almost two weeks.”

“That’s hardly on him,” Bodhi protests against his better judgement. The sight of the withering look you shoot him sends a chill down his back, as if you’d shot cold air down his shirt.

Actually, maybe you had. It wouldn’t take a genius to notice that the temperature in the room was dropping, which meant — Fuck. You’re losing control of yourself. His eyes dart around for any of those special little conduits he sees you carrying around all the time, but to no avail.

There is nothing standing in the way of you summoning a hurricane in this building right now besides him. 

“A thaisce,” he tries to reason with you. “Please. Breathe for a second, and we can talk about it. You gotta calm down, before—“

“Before what?” The laugh that leaves you is rough. “Before I tear this place apart? I’m too weak for that, Bodhs.”

Goosebumps appear on Bodhi’s arms. He tries to think: What could possibly keep you from breaking and having leadership come after you? He can’t even begin to count possibilities, because he can’t even think of one.

Desperately, he begins to plead. “Please,” he begs. “I can’t— They don’t think you’re weak, because we all know you’re not. You’re so responsible, and capable, and—“

More thunder.

Your eyes flash with something sadder this time, and you shake your head. “They don’t think so,” you say lowly, barely registering the cool air around you. “I just don’t get why.”

Bodhi opens his mouth to try and calm you, to list a thousand reasons why you’re perfectly responsible outside of the duty (why were you so obsessed with it, anyway?) before he freezes, Cuir’s low, raspy voice echoing through his mind.

“Gréine,” he warns. “There are whispers among leadership. Calm your girl before they find a reason to question her.”

Bodhi doesn’t even take the time to linger over the dragon’s words, his blood running cold at the mere thought of you being interrogated by anyone who’d love to take you out.

“Chara.” The endearing term comes out automatically. “Levine. Please. Breathe. Cuir says leadership is starting to notice the storm. I don’t want you to—“

“What,” you interrupt, “be killed? Maybe they should kill me; you know, get rid of the deadweight.”

The anxiety in Bodhi’s mind subsides into a solid, almost-tangible feeling of horror. Behind his eyes, he can see something glow. Something raw, something real. Something you need — or else you’ll be ripped away from him again.

“What?” He whispers, his gut sinking. “I—No. You don’t mean that.”

His chest starts to heave a little, and you halt with the realization that your apathetic attitude has Bodhi on the precipice of panic. Shit.

“You don’t mean that,” he repeats, glancing out the window at the torrential downpour that streams from the almost-black clouds. “No. I’m not letting you die. Not like that.”

Suddenly, the roles are reversed, and you’re suddenly hit with a clarity you haven’t felt in days — maybe even weeks.

“Bodhi,” you say softly, regret hitting you straight in the stomach. “I didn’t—I didn’t mean to say that.”

You’re too late, though. Your words have done their damage, and Bodhi looks like he’s about to have a heart attack. No — he feels it. He needs to stop this now, but he can’t. He’s not strong enough. Not strong enough to stop your storms,

 or to protect you from the people who want you dead.

He can’t let that happen. He won’t.

“That’s the spirit,” Cuir says encouragingly, his tone lighter with excitement. “You see that light, Gréine? Reach down and grab that. It’s yours. Stop her. Make her see.”

You frown, more confused. “Bodhi?”

Instinctively, he imagines himself stretching, reaching like he does for his bond with Cuir and curling his fingers around that ball of power that shakes in his chest. He stares out the window for a second at the ongoing storm and grits his teeth, yanking the light to his chest and gasping when he feels it surge all the way through him, as if he himself had been struck by lightning.

He’s not alone in the feeling. The clouds and lightning that swirl in your stomach slow a little — like a physical, impossible barrier had separated the air and convinced it to quiet down. You stiffen a little as an unfamiliar sensation is draped upon you. It’s not uncomfortable; more than anything, it feels like someone has snuffed out a candle in you, leaving you with nothing but a gentle breeze and a summer rain in your veins.

Make her see. 

And, just like that, the storm outside lessens. It’s subtle, barely noticeable, but the roaring thunder quiets to soft rumbles, and the pouring rain lets up to a light drizzle. You’re so caught off-guard that your shields slide down, and it’s only a matter of time before Spéir pokes into your mind. 

“Zephyr? Are you alright?”

You don’t acknowledge her, though. Instead, you just study Bodhi for a moment, who looks so confused that it’s almost comical. 

Did he just…

You take a step closer, testing to see if he’s still aware of himself. “Bodhi?”

He looks up, a tinge of fear sparking in his eyes. He holds his shaking hands out in front of him as if they were plagued.

“What did I just do?” He whispers frantically. “Is that…Was that normal?”

You shake your head and take another step closer, gently taking his hand and rubbing your fingers over his knuckles. Sure enough, his skin tingles, vibrating with a newfound sense of power that you’ve never seen before.

You observe him for a moment before you take a step back. “I…think that may be your signet, Bodhs.”

Bodhi looks so shaken that you barely even care about the fact that you’d been moments away from flooding the school. You reach out and test your power tentatively, finding it tucked away in that neat little box you keep it in. For some reason, though, you can only draw out a little. A light breeze brushes against Bodhi’s face, and you guide him to sit down.

He shakes himself from his stupor and grabs you by the hips, pulling you in between his legs and staring at you desperately.

“You didn’t mean that though, right?” He whispers. “You don’t actually…”

Your eyes soften, and you trace a gentle finger across his jaw before sinking it into his hair.

“No,” you reply quietly. “I don’t want to be killed. I just…It sucks, I guess. That Xaden doesn’t trust me to get the job done. You’d think he’d have more faith in me than that.”

Still fearful, the boy sinks his hands into your sheets and grips them tightly. “I don’t know why he won’t let you go,” he says quietly, “but let me say this: It’s not because you’re weak, or incapable, or irresponsible. If you were, you wouldn’t be in charge of training us on weekends, or you’d probably be dead right now.”

With a clearer mind, you can finally hear his reasoning. While you don’t exactly agree, you can accept it enough to lay the subject to rest.

“Well…” You suck in a deep breath. “Fair. It just hurts, you know? No one will even talk to me. It’s like I’m not even a Tyr anymore.”

A strong pair of arms wraps around you, pulling you into Bodhi’s warmth. 

“Not true,” he says, tucking his face into your neck. “You’ll always be a part of what we’re doing, whether Xaden allows you to come or not. I’ll always make sure of that.”

Absentmindedly, you run your hands over his shoulders, still tense with anxiety.

“Are you okay?” You prompt him. “Ease up. It’s just your signet working itself for the first time.”

You feel him press a tiny, almost unnoticeable little kiss to your neck before he draws away and shakes his head.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he says, staring down at his hands. “I just know I wanted the storm to stop, and Cuir said to grab the little light…”

Well, there’s that. You’d helped Bodhi to wield for the first time, but out of pure necessity. Maybe that was better than it taking control of him on its own at any other given moment.

“Try relaxing it,” you suggest, smoothing your hand over him again. “You still see that light, m'eudail? You still have it in your hands?”

Bodhi closes his eyes. Sure enough, that green light is still there, pulsing and thrumming with all the power he has no idea how to use. “Yes?”

“Let it go,” you say carefully. “Not all at once, but try bringing yourself away from it.”

Straining, Bodhi moves his hands. It’s difficult, like that time he decided to stick his hand in a bucket of honey, but eventually he finds himself a good distance away from it. He opens his eyes wearily.

A triumphant little grin splays on your lips. “Good,” you praise, ruffling his hair a bit. “That was good.” You try sending out a smaller wind, and sure enough, it presses against his temple.

“You’re not a storm wielder.” You cock your head to the side in thought. “You can’t be. But I don’t understand…”

Where your voice trails off, Cuir’s picks up in the back of his head.

“The girl is correct. You are no storm wielder.”

“Okay,” he replies, dumbfounded, “but what does that mean?”

“It means,” the dragon says, “that you did not bend the storm. You bent your girl’s power, down at its core. You, Gréine, are a signet-blocker.”

He pauses and tilts his head. “A signet-blocker?”

Your eyes widen in disbelief. There was no way…

“Holy shit,” you breathe. “Are you serious?”

He meets your eyes and nods. “That’s what Cuir said.”

You stare at him for a moment before plopping down next to him. He blocked your signet. He didn’t will the storm away — he went down into you and countered the streams of your power like a human dam.

“That’s…unbelievable.” You shake your head. “I don’t think you get it, Bodhs. That power…”

He flexes his fingers subconsciously. “Is it…bad?”

“No!” You exclaim. “Bodhi, that signet…I‘ve never heard of it once. Give it a year or two, and you very well may be one of the most powerful people on The Continent.”

A signet-blocker. That means that no matter who he goes up against, no matter how rare or useful their signet is, Bodhi could disable them instantly. Maybe he doesn’t get it yet — you’ll save that talk for his cousin — but that’s impressive. Maybe also a bit intimidating, the way he stopped a whole downpour, but nonetheless impressive.

“You should go tell the others,” you say with a small nudge. “It’s exciting, but also really important.”

He frowns and shakes his head no. “I’m not leaving you. We still need to talk it out.”

You blink. “Did we not just do that?”

He catches your hand and lowers it to your lap. “No,” he says firmly. “You vented, and then I manifested. That’s not a conversation.”

As much as you’d like to argue with him (because seriously — you have a lot more to say), you can tell he’s serious. Bodhi never takes on that stern tone with you, which means that it would do you good to can it and listen.

He lifts your hands to his and presses his forehead to yours. “You are not weak,” he says fiercely. “You are not incapable, and you are more responsible than Xaden, Garrick, and me combined. They’re trying to keep you alive, and you’re not safe if you’re going out to do highly illegal shit that would absolutely have you killed.”

“I don’t want to be safe,” you huff. “I want to help. I made a promise, and I intend on keeping it.”

“…And I didn’t?” 

Silence.

And then…

“I’m sorry?”

Bodhi’s eyes sparkle with something a little deeper, something protective. “I made a promise, too, you know,” he murmurs. “Don’t you remember?”

You open your mouth to retort that, no, you don’t remember…And then it hits you.

Screams.

A hand on your shoulder. 

Bodhi, pulling you into his chest. 

Him shooting a small nod to your father right before he went up in flames.

He hadn’t been paying his respects to the commander. No — he’d been making a vow.

“I said I’d protect you,” he says quietly, “no matter the cost. I don’t plan on forsaking that promise, and I’m sorry that it makes you feel angry and insulted. I don’t care what else it is you do. You could get a second signet, secretly pick off military brats, or even kill someone in leadership, and I’d help you with everything. Just not this. I can’t risk putting you in danger, chara.”

 It’s stunning how easily a few sentences can shut you up. Bodhi’s eyes blaze with an onyx fire that you’ve only seen once or twice throughout your life — only when he felt determined, his endless drive pushing him to the limits to do the jobs he’s meant to do. 

That’s what this is. It’s not that they don’t value you — it’s quite the opposite. Bodhi values you too much, and this is the consequence of that.

You hold his gaze for a moment before you break it off, sighing quietly. “There’s no way to convince either of you to let up?”

He shakes his head. “Like I said; you could do literally anything else, and I would help you bury as many bodies as you needed me to. I would kill an army, and I’d burn a city. I just can’t let you fly out that far when people already have their eyes on you.”

His eyes search your face. “Is that enough?”

You bite down on your lip before reluctantly backing away. “Yeah,” you say quietly, averting your eyes. “I…Yeah. I still don’t like it, though.”

One of his softer smiles breaks onto his face, and he pinches your cheek gently. “I fucking despise it for you, personally,” he amends. “But I don’t break promises, and I won’t risk my best friend.”

You nod. “Fine. I’ll drop it for now.” Your eyes turn steely. “But don’t think that I won’t talk to Xaden about the same thing regarding you.”

He raises his hands innocently. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

You allow him to pull you in for a tight hug before cuffing him on the shoulder. “Go see your cousin. He planned out a whole speech for when you finally manifested, and he’s been dying to give it.”

A snort leaves him. “No way.”

“Yes, way,” you deadpan. “Now shoo.”

You flop down on your back with a soft huff. Maybe you could live with the anger of not being allowed to go on weapon drops if it meant that Bodhi would rest easy for once. It wasn’t really what you preferred, but he said it himself — he made a promise to your father. You wouldn’t dare disappoint the man, even if he wasn’t alive to see the damage.

“Zephyr.”

Fuck. You curse under your breath. You’d forgotten about your little dilemma with Spéir.

“Yes?”

“Look at me, please.”

Stiffly, you sit up and make your way over to your armoire. Swinging it open, you lean against the side and face the little mirror. You stare into your own eyes, but you can easily picture her eyes spearing directly into your soul.

“I do not appreciate being blocked out like that.”

“I know,” you murmur. 

“And you are not sorry?”

You almost hesitate, but hesitation would only make Spéir more disappointed. 

“I regret not being honest with you,” you start slowly. “But I’m not sorry for taking time for myself.”

“Do you not think I would have helped you?” The dragon asks. “You could have blown the entire college away, had your mate not stepped in.”

“He isn’t my mate,” you remind her. “He’s my best friend. And…” You sigh. “Yeah. He got me to chill. But still, Spéir. I needed time.”

“I would have given you time,” she says gently, sending a small wave of pleasant peace down the little glowing bond. “And before you ask, I heard everything. I agree with him wholeheartedly. I will not risk having you killed for something as simple as weaponry. When you go down, I will follow with you — but that will be either in battle, or old age. Not a moment before.”

You cringe away from your reflection as your eyes take on that light violet hue for just a moment before dimming back into their natural color, Spéir making your connection more than just mental.

“Do I make myself clear, Zephyr?”

You grip the edge of the armoire door tightly. Well, now you have Bodhi and a dragon opposing you. You could kiss your determination to help goodbye.

“Crystal,” you manage, bringing a hand to cover your pounding heart. “Crystal clear, Spéir.”

Taglist: @wonderstruckbyyou, @jessicalee22likestowrite, @freezerbride18, @ineednewdaggers, @empyreanevents

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[lelengerine]

bnd taesan + cheers to youth by svt!! ><

͙͘͡★ echoes of you

song prompt. “we both got pressured into joining the same ridiculous club at the campus fair, and now we’re stuck planning an event neither of us signed up for.”

pairing. club mate!taesan x reader

tags. college au, one sided pining (or is it??), gender neutral reader, mostly fluff only for this one, lmk if i missed anything hehe

wc. 0.9k words

notes. aaaa this is my first time writing for bonedo >0< a big thank u to anonie lovie pie (mwa mwa) for giving me the opportunity to swoon over taesan while creating this <3 i hope u enjoy reading and happy cb dayy (stream i feel good!!!) 🥺 likes, reblogs, and feedback are very much welcome!

꒰ m.list | event m.list ꒱

the clubroom had long since emptied of sound. outside, dusk had slipped its way across the windows, smudging the sky in shades of violet and rust. golden light flickered at the edges, curling around scattered paper lanterns like a last breath before evening settled in.

the room was lived-in—not messy, exactly, but softened by hours of motion. poster paint dried in streaks along the tables. a brush sat forgotten in a jar of murky water, petals of torn masking tape scattered like confetti near the base of a drying banner. the air smelled faintly of paper, sweat, and lemon soda.

taesan sat on the floor, legs folded beneath him, fingers knotted around the wires of a stubborn string of lights. his back ached, his hands were stained with paint and dust, but he didn’t mind it, not when you were still here, sitting just across from him, your eyes half-lidded with fatigue, hair a little messier than it was that morning. you weren’t even talking anymore—just resting in the hush between things, letting the silence stretch. 

it wasn’t awkward. if anything, it felt like something sacred, the kind of quiet that didn’t ask to be filled. he found himself glancing at you more than the lights. noticing the way your shoulder curved as you leaned back, the soft concentration in your brow even when you weren’t doing anything at all.

he didn’t mean to notice, not at first, but somewhere between the spilled paint and your offhanded jokes, he started looking forward to this part of the day—when most people had left, and it was just you and him and whatever tasks you hadn’t finished. and lately, it had started to settle into him—this feeling he didn’t know what to name. something soft, but persistent.

“do you need help–” you offered as your eyes watched him, voice light in the hush.

“no,” he replied without looking up, but his tone wasn’t dismissive in the slightest. “it’s simply become a matter of my pride now.”

you smiled into your shoulder, stifling a laugh from escaping you. “that’s what you said fifteen minutes ago.”

“yeah,” he muttered, a strand slipping between his fingers, “but now i’m emotionally invested.”

that gained him a quiet snort from your end, the kind of sound that didn’t really fill a room but stayed close, hovering between you like a shared secret.

the fairy lights eventually gave in—a sudden unraveling, easy after hours of being impossible. he held them up in triumph, pretending it mattered more than it did, because he didn’t want to admit he just liked the way you looked at him when he was focused. like he was doing something worth watching. 

“what are you looking at me for?” you muse, raising a brow at the boy. “want a prize or something?”

“please, since when did we have the budget for that?” he retorts back in the same manner, pushing himself off the ground to plug in the lights.

the bulbs blinked to life one by one—soft pinks, honey gold, a deep, dreamlike blue. the room transformed in seconds, colors brushing over your features like watercolor bleeding across paper. and he just… stared. not in an obvious way, or at least he hoped not, but he let himself look, just for a moment. just long enough to feel something tighten low in his chest.

he blinked away too fast. focused back on the wires in his lap, pretending like his heart hadn’t stuttered.

the room settled again, quiet and warm and low-lit. you shifted slightly, arms hugging your knees now, and he could sense the sleep behind your eyes. he wondered if you were waiting for him to say something. he wasn’t even sure what he wanted to say—or if he even had the right to want anything at all.

still, the words left his mouth before he could think them through. “are you walking back alone?”

you glanced over, a flicker of surprise glazing your features. “yeah. why?”

“i could walk you.” it came out more casual than he expected. almost steady. but he knew it wasn’t casual. not really. you tilted your head, your face half-shadowed by a drifting paper lantern. “that’s sweet. but you don’t have to. you’ll just get back late.”

he opened his mouth—to insist, maybe, or just to stall. but your tone was final in that quiet, kind way you always spoke when you were protecting someone else’s time instead of your own.

so he nodded. too quickly for that matter. “right. okay. yeah.”

you stood, brushing off your jeans, swinging your bag over your shoulder with the ease of someone used to moving on. “i’ll see you tomorrow?”

he looked at you then, really looked. the light hit the edge of your cheek. he wished he had something more interesting to say than yeah, but his mind spoke before he thought about responding with something else. “yeah. i’ll be here.”

you offered a smile in response—small, honest—and stepped into the hallway with the turn of your heel. 

the door clicked shut behind you and he stayed sitting, the wire still wound around his fingers, the room still aglow with borrowed light. everything felt oddly suspended, like something had almost happened but didn’t. or maybe he just imagined it—that slight shift in the air when your eyes lingered on his face a second too long.

he let out a shaky breath. rubbed the back of his neck. the warmth in his chest hadn’t faded. if anything, it had settled deeper.

maybe he’d walk you next time. maybe he’d ask again. maybe.

but for now, the lights were still on, and your laughter still echoed in the corners of the room, and that was enough.

[trynsave]

tryn save shoppers

greeting. althou this once prolific simpsons blog has laid dormant for many years. ive always keep the accont up.

im proud of this work.

i started this blog back in 2012 as a depressed stoner junglist as an afterwork hobbie. id get viloently high in my car on the way home. watch 2 or 3 epsiodes form the dvd id puchased at amoeba records over the years second hard. started with 6,

the infamous homer box.

then 5 4 2 6 71

i have seasons 1 - 8 in a little dvd case.

that case has been recovered but unfortunately disc rott is a thing.

i have been temped to start posting more but i feel more like lisa than i do bart. no its not a trans thing. i did at one point think to change the blog to trans n save. but thats nither here nor there.

what im saying is i love music. i love art. creativitly.

im not talking about the, for lack of a better term flanderization version of lisa you see today. but the younger sibling who looks out for their older sibling.

i may or may not be an uncle soon. but i have a feeling that is in the near fututure.

i woudlt like to wrap this message up by saying thank you to one individual person.

and indivdual who reached out and complemented my efforts. letting me know that i was her favorite blog. at the time my dreams were to write a book. make jungle music. and travel.

and

im going back to school to complete an english major (and finally rub it in my big. double major, sisters face) BUT more so to learn more about the english language. then eventually spanish.

i had a dream to start a south american eddition of thrasher magazine called thrasher so.

it would be spanish only. compl;etley differnt from gingo thrasher. but an underground look at the spanish undergroundskate scene

but skateboarders tend to be a very tough bunch. not to mention san fransisco is a spooky town with alot of history. you gotta watch what you say to who. cuz theres eyez everywhere.....

but again i realied that that may not be in the cards.

skate or die isnt a the best motto to live by all the time.

rave music can get complicated. when you grew up just standing near the djs memorized by what the djs were doing. it gets messy when illict substances can get involved. sometimes you can lose years of your life lost if your not carefull. worst you could... just straight up die from a bad pill. its scary.

thats when things got diffrent.

i remeber the first club expericnce seeing a dnb dj after 21 really opended my mind to what a dnb dj was.

it was goldie and it was at a bar on market street in sf that was no longer there. around 2011.

goldie steped up at 1130 and was suposed to stop at 2.

either he has that much clout or no one could stop the man but it was tune after tune . speakers on 11.

litterly.

i checked the miser after the gig and saw the master volume at 10. the mids and high and gain fully cranked and the bass eq in the middle.

thats what made me realize that music is meant to be played at a loud volume. if your in a residential neighborhood there alll gonna hear it.

330 in the morning the man is wrapping his set up with "timeless" and not a dry eye in the room. i walk up to goldie afterwards. complemented his sick custom adddias metalheadz jersey. and ask him as a joke , " what song is the metalheadz logo listen to"

music m8

i wouldnt be able to have pulled this mix off i realeased today if it wasnt for the encouragement of that individutal. im finally happy and free. and its because i worked hard and focused onj staying healthy. not just body but mind and sprit to.

thank you for every.

-L

ps thank you to all the other try nsave employes who contributed, this account wouldnt have been as popluar without your help,

[moomine]

MORE DAISUKE PLEASSEEEEE

i literally love how you write him omg. if i could kiss you i would.

maybe a med intern reader perhaps????

it can me sfw or nsfw whatever you want just go crazy

thank you babygirl <3

-🍒

patchin things up | daisuke

author's note: hey... so uh, long time no see? sorry i died. not my best work, but this is my apology x (cover image credit)

summary: (daisuke x gn!reader) You're Anya's intern. While she's taking a break one day, Daisuke comes to you with a minor medical emergency.

word count: 871

warnings: no trigger warnings! all characters are 18+

now playing: LSD and the Search for God - "Starting Over"

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Medbay was the coldest room in the Tulpar. While stinking of sterile equipment and antiseptic, you always seemed to make the otherwise depressing room quite homey. Warm. At least, that’s how Daisuke saw it. One of the perks of Anya having her own intern this haul was actually being able to take a break. You had a natural understanding of medicine, a fantastic work ethic, and a real desire to help people. It only made sense she felt comfortable leaving you alone for a while to eat or rest up a bit. 

Daisuke was in luck. You were equipped enough to handle minor emergencies in her absence. Approaching the door to medical, he took a deep breath and twisted the handle. He had already been chewed out by Swansea for touching live wires unknowingly, and he knew you’d likely give him an earful as well.

“Oh my god,” you said as the automatic door wheezed open, eyes blown wide with surprise. “What happened?”

Before Daisuke had the chance to respond, to explain why he was clutching his arm close to his chest, you were already by his side. One hand was wrapped around the wrist of his other, which hung limply in front of him, pointer and middle fingers bright red. 

Daisuke couldn’t help but admire the small crease between your brows as you gingerly took his injured hand in your own, observing the electrical burn that was already blistering on his skin. The way they were slightly furrowed with concern, your expression both pained and focused all at once. Your breath hitched at the sight, a sound that seemed to bubble out of your throat before you could surprise it. Not out of fear or discomfort, but innocent worry. Worry for the boy you loved.

“Hey, hey, hey. Relax, ‘kay? It’s just a little burn, I’ve had worse,” Daisuke explained, but the waver in his voice betrayed the pain he was in.

“Little burn?” You echoed. “This looks second degree, Dai. How did this even happen?” You ushered him toward the sink, turned on the cold water, and instructed him to hold his fingers under the stream.

Cool water washed over his inflamed skin, causing him to wince at the contact. His gaze flickered away from yours bashfully, like a puppy caught misbehaving. Daisuke absolutely hated worrying you. You had enough on your plate as it was; you didn’t need to waste your time worrying about what clumsy slip-up he managed this week.

“Oh, you know…” he started, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “I might have touched some cut wires without thinking… Maybe…”

“What?”

“I know, I know. Swansea said I was lucky it had such a low voltage, otherwise I’d probably be toast. But hey, I’m okay!” There was an air of humor in his tone, almost like he was trying to soften the blow with his typical optimism. It didn’t quite work, and he knew the second his eyes met your face once more. You weren’t looking at him, eyes fixed to his swollen fingers under the faucet’s stream. A small frown curled your lips downward, although the rest of your features had softened. Daisuke swallowed thickly before placing his other hand on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m okay, yeah? I’ll be more careful next time, I promise.”

The feeling of touch grabbed your attention  —the comforting warmth of his palm seeping through the cool denim of your jumpsuit. “You better be,” you murmured, turning off the water. “Take a seat. I need to clean and dress your burn.”

Daisuke obeyed quickly and walked to the cot in the middle of the room. As he took a seat atop the rough sheets, he shifted nervously, staring down at his injured hand in his lap. Just like before, you were in front of him at a moment's notice. You dragged a small rolling cart with you, equipped with bandages, antiseptic wipes, and burn cream.

“This might sting a little,” you said as you carefully took his hand in your own again.

“It can’t be that ba-” Daisuke started, but he quickly cut himself off with a hiss.

You did your best to stifle a laugh as you wiped the pads of his fingers. “Told you so.”

Once his burn was clean, you applied a generous layer of burn cream, and wrapped his fingers in a clean bandage. As you moved about the room with purpose, cleaning up your supplies and disposing of the used materials, Daisuke looked at his hand. The seared flesh beneath the bandage still stung, but it was soothed by the cooling ointment and your gentle touch.

“Thank you,” he said with a smile. “You forgot something though.”

You stopped what you were doing and looked back at him, raising a brow in questioning amusement. “Oh really? What is that?”

“Aren’t you gonna kiss it better?”

Daisuke outstretched his hand toward you, bandaged fingers in the cold air. Rolling your eyes, you moved in front of him once more and leaned down, then pressed a gentle kiss to his fingers.

“Better?” you asked.

“Much better.” A wide, infectious smile spread across Daisuke's face, stretching from ear to ear.

[milotraflgkl]

.☘︎ ݁˖ Cracking the Shell

.ᐟ WHO: Smoker, One Piece

.ᐟ CONTENT: Smoker is older than you, but that doesn't stop you from being attracted to him. he is apprehensive at first, but slowly... You start to get him to crack. - Suggestive content!, Smoker might be a bit OOC but downbad for reader, same for reader, reader is gender neutral, a bit of a cliff hanger :3

.ᐟ WORD COUNT: 2,078

.ᐟ AUTHORS NOTE: I was a bit self-indulgent with this one, so sorry for the lack of posts. I've been caught up trying to motivate myself into writing and shit, but I'll be trying to write out more stuff plus get requests done.

You thought you knew better. 

Knew better than to catch feelings for you, Captain. But when you started training, you couldn't help how your eyes would linger a bit longer on the exposed piece of flesh that his coat did no justice in hiding. Occasionally, you would get caught by the other marines as you drooled over the way there was a perfect V-line that pointed right down to his crotch, licking your lips as you began to imagine what he had hidden underneath his pants and belt. You have to snap yourself back to reality when someone points out the small dribble on the corner of your lips, and you get back to training, sweat dripping down your forehead, and your uniform practically sticking to you. You never noticed that he caught you, but never made it obvious. He would see you drooling over him, and it would cause him to stare at you as soon as you looked away. He'd watch how your muscles would flex when you lifted certain things and how your brows pinched together in concentration.

He hated the fact he was so oddly attracted to you… no. No, he wasn’t. He quickly diverted his attention away and forced himself to look away as he moved to go off and talk to a different Marine, staring down at them. One thing he always seemed to notice about you was that out of everyone, you met his gaze, stared at him without even an ounce of fear. He felt his eye twitch and he immediately became irritated with the smaller marine below him, before he moved to dismiss them and walked off upset his boots thumping loudly through the hallways as he made his way toward the office, hoping that maybe in the confinements of his own space he would stop thinking about you. You were like a parasite in his mind that one day just slid into one ear while he was asleep, nestled up, and hasn’t left since. He had half a mind to just go to the nurse and check to see if there was a tiny version of you with a bunch of legs in his ear, just to get it pulled out and squashed. 

In the middle of his fantasizing, he hadn’t noticed the small knock. The next one, and then how the knock got louder which knocked him out of his mind causing him to snap up and look at his door with pinched brows before he quickly moved to set his two cigars into his mouth lighting them and grunting for whoever had scared him out of his dream world could be on the other side of the door. When you walked through the door, his facial expression almost softened before he caught himself and cleared his throat. “Why are you here?” He asked you gruffly, “Report, Sir.” Your eyes locked with his as you stepped closer to the desk, holding a file up, gently shaking it to make sure he saw you were telling the truth. He stared at you for a moment before he huffed out and nodded, reaching out his hand for you to place the files into his hand, then you, for whatever reason, let your fingers brush against his fingers. It felt electric, he could swear you had some secret powers. 

“Thank you.” He says, quickly pulling his hand away immediately and throwing the files off to the side before looking down at his desk to stare at something other than you. Now that you were here, the thoughts of you only made things worse. Now you were in the same room as a taunt, trying to make him go insane, and wanted to grab you by the neck, slamming you down on his desk, and his tongue down your throat. He was broken from his thoughts once again by you clearing your throat, “I saw you suddenly leave our training, were we that bad?” You ask him, tilting your head to the side as you let your eyes wash over his face. “No.” He responded quickly again, a small hiss escaping his lips for being almost too eager to shut down your degrading thoughts, “I just had work to get to.” He grunted out, motioning to the page in front of him. You looked down at the paper he was motioning to when you noticed the familiar torn and tarnished paper. Reaching over, you grabbed the bounty and pulled it from the stack. 

He snapped to look up at you, fighting the urge to scold you and yank the bounty back. “You seriously still obsessed with this kid?” You ask him, looking at the picture of Luffy’s bounty. He still had his first one, with the goofy smile and hand in the camera’s way. He huffed at you, “He’s a problem, you should know that.” He tells you with a firm voice that causes you to snap up and look at him, staring for a moment before you just nod to him, “Right.” You hummed out in response before dropping the paper onto his desk again, “Well, duty calls.” You nod your head to him, then do a quick salute before you turn around to walk out of his office. As you turned, you didn’t catch the way that his mouth opened, and his cigar almost fell from his mouth before he quickly shut it to catch it. Leaving the room, and your mark in Smokers mind. 

You noticed how he avoided you every time you were out training, and when he happened to be walking through the yard, he would avoid you in any way he could. If it were not to look at you or even walk in your direction, taking the long, annoying way around the other marines. He was everywhere you weren’t as long as he could be. You were confused. Why did he suddenly decide that, now, of all the times you’ve been a marine and working under his gaze, he decided to start avoiding you? At first, you just chose to ignore it, to move on with your life and continue with your normal duties as a marine. But then it became worse, you would try to give him reports right when he was there, but he’d shove Tashigi in front of him to deal with it. Even she seemed confused. The first time it happened, she just blinked at you in confusion, moving to turn around and ask Smoker what was wrong, but he had already begun to walk off. 

You blinked, watching him take a moment to register that he had just so bluntly avoided you. It irked you, no not just irked you and pissed you off a little. So, being fed up with him avoiding you as if you had some sort of plague or sickness that could affect him, you followed after him. Your footsteps were almost as loud as his were with the boots that he was wearing. You moved to follow after him, and when he got to the office, trying to shut the door, you immediately shoved your foot into the door, letting out a hiss of pain. He snapped to look back at who was stopping his door and trying to keep him from his own space, before he looked up to see your face. He paused as he met your gaze, “You’re avoiding me.” You tell him, slipping your hand through the crack of the door and pushing against his much larger frame, which he did attempt to push back at first before caving, letting you in. 

“I was not.” He tells you with a flat expression, “You very clearly were, I mean, you shoved Tashigi in front of you just so you could sneak away.” You tell him, crossing your arms as you stepped into his office, “Why? Did I do something wrong?” You ask him in your voice, lowering slightly and a small pout on your face, which causes him to tense up, his jaw tensing and quickly untensing as he lets out a deep breath. “You are just too distracting.” He tells you as if it were a normal thing to tell someone, which it wasn't, and it caused you to blink in shock and confusion. “Dis..tracting?” You mumbled out, watching him. “I’m a distraction?” You repeat his comment about you back to him to make sure you even heard him correctly. “Yes.” He responded, turning around, which was a dumb decision on his part cause he got a perfect view of his pink-tinted ears. 

You would step closer to him, your hand reaching up without even thinking about what you were doing to reach up and run your finger along his ear, “I’ve never seen you flustered.” You admitted before realizing what you had just said and done, immediately pulling back, holding your hand in front of your chest with wide eyes, and feeling your cheeks heat up. He froze and turned to look at you with pinched brows, his eyes tracing your face before he shifted to step toward you. “It’s because of you.” He tells you with furrowed brows, “You are… interesting, and looking at you distracts me because then all I think about is you.” He explains to you, brushing his knuckles against your cheek, feeling the heat emitting from it. 

You weren’t sharing where you got the confidence to do this, but you did, immediately moving to lean forward and grab the collar of his coat, pulling him toward you and kissing him hungrily. He would tense up, not giving in to the kiss before he moved to kiss you back, his hands reaching up to cup either side of your neck, holding you there as if he was worried you’d try to pull away from him. You would pull away to take a moment and catch your breath, “I have wanted to do this for so long.” He whispered to you, his lips brushing against yours. “Me too.” You whispered out to him and let your eyes wash over his face, admiring every bit of his face to engrave it into your memory. “Can we keep kissing?” You ask him with your eyes, looking up to meet his gaze, noticing how blown out his pupils were staring down at you. He hummed out, giving you only that a response before kissing you hungrily, pulling you toward him, and grabbing your hips, pulling you flush against him. 

The two of you stumble around, moving toward his desk, your hands finding themselves on the edge of the table and holding yourself up. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, dancing his tongue around your mouth to get a taste of everything and feel every part of your mouth pressing himself against you, capturing you between him and the desk, his other hand reaching up to hold onto the side of your neck. He pulled away a string of saliva connecting the two of you, his eyes staring down a you, his eyes washing all over your face and admiring you that made you nervous as if he had his tongue shoved down your throat. You stared at him, licking your lips, feeling the tingle left over on your lips, you wanted more, leaning closer to him. “I could kiss you for hours.” You whispered out, he chuckled, and moved to lean closer to you as well.

The door creaks open, and Tashigi walks into the room, looking up to see Smoker's back. “Sir, we should talk about [Name]. You’ve been avoiding her like the plague, and I’m worried there is something you are upset over, something that they did.” She rambled on before Smoker slowly turned around to look at her. She looked up at his face before she snapped her eyes down to see you sitting there with puffy lips and a dazed expression. She swallowed, and her mouth was slightly agape before she bowed, “Sorry! Sorry..” She mumbles quickly, turning around and moving to leave the office in a hurry. You just blinked, staring at the door before you broke out into laughter. “I guess I should go make sure she doesn’t… pass out.” You tell him, he grunted and leaned back down to place a quick peck. “Please.” He says before moving to walk off and go sit down at his desk, as you smiled and walked out to try and go catch Tashigi.