#life unexpected verse

[this-world-of-beautiful-monsters]

I know this is literally a dream sequence, but come the fuck ON with Sean kissing a boy being "unexpected," Esteban. Your son is the twinkiest twink that ever twinked and you fucking know it.

[voxiiferous]

**| I have no shortage of AUs I enjoy for Vox, and yet the one I probably enjoy the most is the single dad AU.

“I can fix him!” No you can’t, but sudden responsibility for a small child honestly can, to everyone’s surprise, including his own!

[dragonofthestone]

In any verse Tim knows he's lucky being surrounded by so many supportive and loving people in his life, that unless it causes a legitimate and or significant risk to himself no one is telling him not to do something because of his disability- even helping him to find ways to navigate and make things work out.

He understands that he's not lesser because of it but even he still has moments now and then of questioning.

Should he do something, is X a good idea, when meeting someone new has a bit of caution not knowing how they'll react (and hoping they won't treat him different / be weird)

As well as being aware that he does have his limits, there are things he can't do.

Mostly in regard to his vision but arguably also applies with his chronic pain as well as the more psychological elements.

---

Perhaps more so relevant / leaning toward with Lab!life , Wonderland Tim. Learning to navigate the world and find his limits, learning its okay to ask for help or even say no.

I think for a short time anyway a small part of him might question, upon his growing fascination with knights n stuff. Can one still be a knight if he can't see (partially anyway in his case) After all he knows it makes him more vulnerable. None of the knights in stories are ever injured - Now he wouldn't fully believe that it's something he can't do at all but it certainly makes him think and wonder and ask.

Cause sure there might be all the typical training but some of it would need to be specialized / altered in away that works for him

[liliacamethyst]

Web of Secrets - Miguel O'Hara 

Miguel O'Hara x SpiderSun Reader

words: 3.7K

warnings: secret pregnancy trope, swearing, angst, heartbreak, grumpy/sunshine, smut

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

In your universe, you are known as the Sun Spider. It all started on a school field trip to a solar energy research center, where you were accidentally exposed to a spider that had been subjected to intense solar radiation. You woke up with a white-hot surge of power, and your life changed forever. You donned a suit of pure white, taking the name that reflected both your newfound abilities and the brightness you brought into the world: Spider-Sun.

Your ability to harness solar energy and transform it into powerful blasts or create protective shields made you a formidable superhero in your home city, Nea Yorkey. Your ability to bring light to even the darkest corners of your city earned you the love of its citizens.

However, everything changed when you were suddenly pulled into the Spider-Verse.

Upon arriving, you were greeted by the gruff leader of this interdimensional team of Spider-People, Miguel O'Hara. His reputation preceded him - the genius intellect, the imposing figure, the gruff demeanor. Everyone respected him, and some even feared him. You, on the other hand, were drawn to him. There was something about that guarded demeanor that called to your own sunny nature.

You became an integral part of the team, fighting off anomalies and working hard to maintain the balance in the Spider-Verse. And despite Miguel's stern exterior, you felt yourself falling for him.

One mission was particularly rough, and you found yourself alone with Miguel in a safe house, nursing your wounds. His usually stern face softened as he tended to your injuries. The distance that he usually maintained was nowhere to be seen.

"Thank you, Miguel," you whispered.

He looked at you, his usually hard eyes soft. "You fought well, mi sol."

There was a moment of silence, a strange tension hanging in the air. Then, Miguel leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was filled with unexpected passion.

In that moment, you were not the Sun Spider, and he was not the Spider-Man 2099. You were just two people, seeking solace in each other.

Afterwards, as you laid side by side, Miguel turned to you, a serious look on his face. "This...this can't be more than what it is. Just...you know, stress relief," he muttered, his voice just above a whisper.

His words wounded you. Naturally, they did. He had reduced your relationship to mere stress relief, as if you were some object devoid of feelings. Yet, in spite of it all, you fell for him. Perhaps you were naive, even foolish, but you didn't care. You yearned for him and were ready to accept any fraction of affection he was willing to offer, no matter how small.

During the day, as you fought alongside him against the anomalies threatening the Spider-Verse, his attention toward you was sparse. He mostly shared only necessary information, barely making eye contact. Sometimes he didn't speak at all, and you and the rest of the team would receive mission orders and briefings from Lyla, his AI assistant.

But at night, when the two of you were alone, he became a different person. He'd whisper praises into your ear, telling you how exceptionally you fought, how much he desired you. He showed you his hidden vulnerability under the cover of darkness, the sheets their only witness. He'd gently stroke your hair and peppered your jaw and temple with kisses until you fell asleep, only for you to wake up the next morning to an empty, cold spot where he once lay.

This cycle - his coldness by day, and the fervor by night - repeated itself relentlessly for months.

And so, this is how you find yourself: disoriented, frenzied, and on the verge of tears, seated on the couch of your best friend, Peter B. Parker, in Earth-616. Cradled in your arms is his sweet daughter, Mayday, who, with her innocent touch, tries to console you. Yet her wide eyes dart anxiously to her father, reflecting her own alarm at your distress.

Peter rubs his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe we should wait until MJ gets home?" he suggests, then, with a furrowed brow, he asks, “Have you tried talking to Jess about this?”

You shake your head vigorously. "No, I haven't told anyone. I have no idea what to do," you confess, your voice breaking.

Peter, ever the caring friend, gently takes Mayday from your arms and sets her down. He turns back to face you with a sympathetic gaze. “Do you..eh.. know who the father is?” he inquires softly.

You shake your head again, even though deep down, you know the truth. “The father is out of the picture. He doesn’t know, and he never will because he doesn’t want kids,” you whisper, fighting back tears.

As you and Peter sit down on the couch in his cozy living room, you find a sense of comfort being around him. His experience as both a superhero and a parent seems like it could be a beacon in this storm you're facing. The room is quiet, save for the soft ticking of a clock on the wall.

“You know, Peter,” you begin, your voice almost a whisper. “I’m terrified. What if the baby has powers? How am I going to protect them, especially if...if I can’t stop fighting anomalies?”

Peter looks thoughtful. “That’s a valid concern. First, you should know that you don’t have to do this alone. There’s a whole community of us, and we stick together. If the child does have powers, she or he will be badass like Mayday, right?”

You nod slowly but then anxieties pile on top of each other in your mind. “But... how can I hide this? Nobody and I mean nobody is supposed to know that I’m pregnant. Especially not...” You trail off, not finishing the sentence.

Peter rubs his chin, deep in thought. “We could look into modifying your suit, maybe talk to some tech geniuses in the Spider-Verse about creating something that can shield or conceal the pregnancy.”

You roll your eyes. “That kinda defies the ‘nobody is allowed to know ‘ordeal, Peter. You have to promise me that this stays between us.”

“I promise,” Peter says sincerely.

Silence fills the room again, and then you voice another fear. “Peter, what if...what if I’m not a good mother? What if I mess this up?”

Peter smiles warmly. “You know, I had those same fears when Mayday was born. I think it’s normal for any parent. But, take it from me, the fact that you’re worried about being a good parent means you’re already on the right track. You’ve got a good heart. Trust it.”

You look down at your hands, fingers interlaced. “Thank you, Peter. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out,” he says with a reassuring smile. “We’re family, in this weird, Spider-Verse kind of way. But maybe… and I am sayig this as a father myself… reconsider telling the father. I can’t imagine any guy wanting to give up this.” He says, pointing to his precious daughter playing with a napkin she found on the floor.

"Maybe you should reconsider telling the father," Peter's words are echoing in your mind like a haunting melody. A part of you yearns for that possibility. Perhaps you're not alone in this. Maybe, just maybe, Miguel wants this as much as you do.With newfound resolve, you set off for the Spider-Verse headquarters, expecting to find Miguel tucked away in his office, immersed in maintaining the spider verse or as he calls it "arachno- something-multiverse-thingy” or something similar to that.

Upon reaching his office door, you pound on it sharply. No response. Frowning, you knock again, a little harder this time. When silence continues to greet you, you slowly turn the doorknob and peek inside. There he is, hunched over his desk, lost in a world of numbers and codes.

"Miguel, I-" you start, but his sharp voice cuts you off.

"No," he interrupts, his tone cold. "Did I say you can come in? Dios mio, why are you always so damn clingy?"

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. You stare at him, taken aback by his blatant disregard for your feelings. You can feel the beginnings of tears prick at the corner of your eyes, but you will them away.

He doesn't mean it, he doesn't mean it like that. This mantra plays over and over in your head, like a broken record. You take a deep breath, forcing down the hurt his words cause.

"Look, Miguel," you begin, struggling to keep your voice steady. "There’s something we need to talk about, and I think it's important for you to listen to me."

“Fucking hell, woman! What exactly don’t you understand. I’m busy. I don’t care about your little problems, right now.” he barks, not even looking up.

“Miguel,” you speak up, forcing the words out through clenched teeth, “ I’ve never asked anything from you. Not once have did I ask you to stay, to feel the same I feel, to fucking talk to me when people are around. Please all I am asking you is to just ... listen to me, fpr once.” Your voice grows stronger as you speak, a determined fire igniting within you.

Miguel finally looks up, his eyes meeting yours. For a moment, he seems taken aback by the resolve he saw there.

He rubs his temples. “Can we do this later?”

“No!” you shout. “It’s always later with you. You’re like...like a ghost. Just a figure in the hallway. I don’t need a figure, I need a person! I need someone who listens when...”

He glares at you, his eyes narrowing. “Okay, okay I will listen just not now. Whatever it is, it can wait.”

“No, it can’t,” you retort, your voice shaking a bit. “Why is it that every time I try to talk to you, you just brush me off? Am I that insignificant to you?”

He stands up abruptly, the chair skidding behind him. “This? This is what you want to talk about?” he says with a tone of annoyance. “Look, I have a million things to deal with and-”

“And what? And I’m not one of them? Just five minutes, Miguel! That’s all I ask!”

The room is tense. Your heart is racing. His eyes are fiery. It's a standoff.

“And what is so important that you have to disrupt everything right now?” he challenges.

Your breath catches in your throat. This is it. You're about to say it.

“I...” you stammer. “I need to tell you that...”

Suddenly, the door to the office swings open and Jess storms in.

“Miguel, we have a major issue in Sector 12! The anomalies...” she starts, then catches sight of your tear-streaked face. “Oh, am I interrupting something?”

Miguel seems to shake off the tension and slips back into commander mode. “No nothing important. What’s happening in Sector 12?”

You can't believe it. Just like that, he turns away. It feels like your heart is being squeezed.

Jess starts rattling off data and scenarios. The two of them are talking, but you don’t hear it anymore. All you can think of is how you almost told him. How you just wanted five minutes.

Your hands shake and you quietly step out of the room. The door closes behind you, and it feels like a chapter that you can’t read has been sealed away.

The next day you are on Earth-8311, an anthropomorphic animal-dominated universe. It's the home of Peter Porker, the Spectacular Spider-Ham, and you can't help but find it amusing.

The mission: to transport an anomaly, which resembles an enormous floating jellyfish, back to its home universe. It's been pure chaos here, and you are determined to set things right.

The team: Gwen, Hobie, and Peter B. Parker. You're all in your suits, eyes sharp, and webs at the ready.

"Alright, Spiders. Let's round this jelly up and send it home," Peter B. Parker takes charge, shooting a web towards a nearby building.

You swing alongside him, your thoughts a whirlwind. The world around you blurs - the animal citizens, the bustling cityscape, the strange yet familiar surroundings.

The anomaly appears before you, thrashing and pulsating as it floats through the sky. It releases blasts of energy that ripple through the air.

"Watch out, Sunny!" Gwen calls out as she dodges a blast.

You, however, are a split second too late. Your reflexes are off, your movements sluggish. The blast sends you spiraling towards the ground.

Hobie swings in and catches you mid-air, his guitar strapped on his back. “Get it together, Sun!” he shouts over the noise, his punk-styled hair waving wildly.

You shake off your daze and look up to see Peter B. Parker shooting webs to pull the anomaly back down, while Gwen is deploying a device to open a portal back to its home universe.

Your heart races as you focus on the task at hand. You need to get this right, not just for yourself, but for the life you’re now carrying. Your suit seems to glow even brighter in the chaos.

With a final combined effort, you manage to lasso the anomaly and push it through the portal. The anomaly disappears, and the portal closes behind it.

The team regroups on a rooftop. Gwen is catching her breath, Hobie is tuning his guitar, and Peter B. Parker gives you a concerned look.

“Are you okay?” Gwen asks, her voice laced with worry. “You weren’t yourself up there.”

The weight of the secret you’re carrying feels unbearable. But you're not ready to share it.

“Promise me you won’t tell Miguel about this,” you say, your voice barely audible.

Gwen raises an eyebrow, while Hobie crosses his arms. Peter B. Parker simply nods.

“Nah, Bossman doesn’t need to know about this,” Hobie says, and there’s a firmness in his voice that is strangely comforting.

Back in the HQ, your head spins, and your stomach feels like it's doing somersaults. You mumble a quick excuse about feeling nauseous and practically sprint to the nearest restroom.

Meanwhile, Gwen, Hobie, and Peter B. Parker head to the cafeteria to grab something to eat.

As they sit down at a table with their trays, Gwen breaks the silence. “Is it okay if I say that this mission was kind of easy? Like, I’ve seen Sunny take down Doc Ock from Earth-818, and she did that without any problem. So what was that today?” Gwen’s concern is apparent.

Hobie, munching on a sandwich, nods in agreement. "Yeah, it's like her spidey senses were jammed or somethin'. Never seen her like that before."

Peter B. Parker looks thoughtfully at his sandwich, then glances up at Gwen and Hobie. He’s torn, having promised you to keep your secret but also wanting your friends to understand why you were off your game.

"You guys remember when she fought Morlun on Earth-001? She was a totally smashin’ it, and today, she nearly got turned into spider-paste by a floating jellyfish. That ain’t right," Hobie adds.

Gwen’s eyes suddenly widen. "Oh my God! Do you think she’s in trouble? Like, something from her universe? Or maybe she's having an identity crisis! Should we stage an intervention?"

Peter B. Parker clears his throat. “Maybe she’s just having an off day.”

Gwen’s eyes narrow as she scrutinizes Peter. “You know something, don’t you?”

Peter scratches the back of his head, obviously uncomfortable. “Nope, no idea.”

Hobie puts down his sandwich and leans in. "Oi, mate. Spill your guts. There's something dodgy going on. She's always been our burst of sunshine, lifting the mood. But now she's... dimmed. What's going on with our Sunny, Parker?"

Before Peter B. Parker could answer Gwen’s barrage of questions, Jess - Spider-Woman - appears, her belly showing. She takes a seat at the table and, oblivious to the serious conversation that was taking place, asks them about their latest mission.

"So, how did your mission go?" Jessica asks, while munching on her Burger.

"Nothing to report, Jess," Gwen answers, a little too quickly, her face all sunshine and false smiles. Peter simply nod in agreement.

“Yah, all good!” Hobie chimes in, flashing a grin that seems a little too bright.

“How about you? How are you holding up?” Peter asks Jess, trying to steer the conversation away from the mission.

Jessica shrugs, not overly concerned, and bites into her burger. "'M good. You know,  I'm so glad I can finally eat a burger again. At the beginning of my pregnancy, practically every food made me nauseous, especially after swinging around on missions.”

Suddenly, there's a moment of collective realization among Gwen, Hobie. It’s as if their spider senses are tingling in unison. They exchange knowing looks, all of them silently putting the pieces together.

Gwen’s eyes are wide, Hobie’s eyebrows are raised, and they both turn to look at Peter, who simply nods.

Jess, noticing the silent exchange, squints at them. “What is up with you guys? You’re acting weird. Well, weirder than usual.”

“Uh, nothin’!” Hobie says, a little too quickly.

“Yeah, just tired from the mission,” Gwen adds, trying to play it cool.

Jess rolls her eyes and stands up. “Alright, weirdos. I’m gonna go find some normal people to talk to,” she says jokingly and walks away.

After she leaves, the trio leans in.

“Sunny’s pregnant, isn’t she?” Gwen whispers.

Hobie's eyes are as wide as saucers. “That would explain everything!”

Peter B. Parker nods. “We need to be there for her, but remember, it’s her news to share when she’s ready.”

They make a pact to support you without pushing you to reveal anything before you're ready.

As you walk back into the cafeteria, you find your friends huddled together. They break apart when they see you and welcome you back with smiles and light conversation, but something in their demeanor is different but you can’t put your finger on it. They are being more attentive, considerate, and frankly, a little too curious about your well-being.

"Are you sure you're okay, Sunny?" Gwen asks for the third time since you sat down. Her concern is genuine, but her intensity is slightly off-putting.

"Yeah, do you need anything?" Hobie offers, his eyes gleaming with unspoken curiosity. "Food, drink, or maybe... pickles?" Pickles? Thats oddly specific.

There's a burst of laughter from Gwen, and even Peter is suppressing a chuckle.

"What's up with the pickles?" You ask, looking at them suspiciously.

"Oh, nothing!" Gwen says, a little too quickly, trying to hold back her laughter.

"Hmm, pickles and ice cream, a weird combo, innit?" Hobie wonders aloud, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

Again, there's suppressed laughter, and you look at each of them, a realization slowly dawning on you. You turn to Peter, your gaze steady and serious. "You told them, didn't you?" Peter looks shocked, but quickly composes himself. "I didn't exactly tell them, per se," he confesses, "I might've confirmed their suspicions when they asked, but they figured it out on their own. Spider senses and all that jazz.”

Before you could respond, Gwen and Hobie jump in, both talking over each other in an attempt to apologize.

"We're sorry, Sunny," Gwen says sincerely. "We didn't mean to invade your privacy, it's just that... we're worried about you. Please don’t be mad."

Hobie nods, adding, "And we're right behind ya, whatever comes our way. We've got your back, no doubt about it."

You are happy, while the situation isn't ideal, but at least you're not alone. You have friends who care about you and, despite their unconventional way of showing it, they are there for you. You smile, comforted by their concern, and grateful for their support.

"Yeah," you finally say, "I guess we’re gonna need a lot more pickles and ice cream around here, huh?"

“Sooo...who’s the dad? Is he hot?” Gwen, leaning on the table with her elbows, asks shyly after a while.

You let out a long sigh, “He’s very hot... but also a colossal jerk.”

Peter raises an eyebrow. “You took my advice and talked to him then?”

You shake your head, your eyes starting to well up. “No, I tried. But he wouldn’t listen to me. He was busy, and I guess I wasn’t important enough. So, the baby won’t be either,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Hobie's eyes narrow, and his face is flushed with anger. "Who's this bloke, eh? I swear on me nan's grave, I'll give him a right proper earful! No one treats our Sunny like a tosser and gets away with it!"

Gwen jumps in, her eyes wide with speculation, “Wait, is he a Spider? Is it Peter? Or the other Peter? Or—”

“Guys, guys!” you cut them off, your voice cracking. “Please, it doesn’t matter. He made it clear where I stand, and it’s not with him.”

There’s a silence that settles over the table as your friends look at each other and then back to you. Their faces are a mix of concern, sadness, and frustration.

Peter B. is the first to break the silence. “You don’t have to go through this alone. You’ve got us. If the dad doesn’t want to step up, then he’s missing out on something amazing.”

Gwen nods, her eyes firm with resolve. “Yeah, we’re family. We’ve got your back, no matter what.”

Hobie, still fuming, finally calms down enough to say, "All you gotta do is whistle, love, and we'll be there in a blink. Even if it means thumping some manners into this mystery idiot."

You can't help but crack a small smile, despite the tears. You’re overwhelmed by the love and support your friends are giving you.

“Thanks, guys. You don't know how much this means to me.” 

They all reach out and there’s a group hug right in the middle of the cafeteria. You didn’t know how much you needed this until it happened.

Part 2 “Webs of Fate”

a/n: Thank you guys for all your love on this fic so far.I really appreciate each like, comment, reblog <3. I still can’t reply to your comments so please if you want to tagged (and are not already) comment on part 2 and I’ll do my best and add you.Also I am open to requests, critic and wishes. Have a wonderful day. xx

[brakken-spideyverse]

What they make us into, what we choose to be

---

Another birthday, another anniversary of this 'verse. Last year threw some unexpected challenges my way, and it was thanks to various people in my life - helping in big ways and small, actively and indirectly - that I was able to get through it and keep going. So this is for them, and for you.

It's not over yet - it never is - but going forward, I am reminded of two things:

I have the power to stay hopeful, even when it hurts to.

I have the responsibility to do the best I can, even when that isn't much at all.

Thank you for all your kind messages over the years, and for sharing your appreciation for these characters, just as I have shared mine with you.

It's not over yet <3

[flwrkid14]

Love, Scribbled in the Margins

Tim keeps journals—pages filled with scattered thoughts, half-formed ideas, reminders hastily scribbled in the margins before they slip from his mind. His penmanship is erratic, sometimes neat, sometimes a barely legible scrawl. There’s no structure, no careful curation—just the unfiltered chaos of his thoughts, poured onto the pages with reckless honesty.

Danny finds them everywhere.

There’s one on Tim’s desk, filled with quick notes and unfinished sketches. Another by the bed, pages warped from where Tim has knocked over his coffee more than once. One tucked into his jacket, carried with him wherever he goes. And when Danny opens them, he finds something unexpected.

Not plans for patrols. Not mission reports or Gotham’s latest conspiracies.

No, these journals are something else. Something just for Danny.

There are messy, hurried notes—things Tim meant to tell him but hadn’t yet, thoughts that slipped his mind in the rush of the day. Scattered reminders: Tell Danny about the ghost dog that stole my sandwich. Ask Danny if ectoplasm works the same way as Lazarus water. Danny likes lemon biscuits. Find a good recipe?

There are doodles, too. Little sketches of Danny in the margins, some more detailed than others. A rough, unfinished one of him asleep on the couch, another of his hands, a quick, cartoonish scribble of Danny sticking his tongue out with the words annoying boyfriend scrawled underneath.

It’s messy. It’s chaotic. And it’s so Tim.

Danny had always imagined love as something poetic, something grand and beautiful, the kind of thing written in sweeping verses that promised forever. The kind of love you read about in stories, in letters written with elegant penmanship, every word crafted with care.

Tim’s love isn’t like that. It isn’t neatly composed or carefully written.

It’s raw. It’s real. It’s a thousand little moments captured in ink-stained fingers and smudged notes. It’s love scribbled into the corners of his life, unpolished and unfiltered.

And Danny? Danny wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Because love, he realizes, isn’t always the kind you find in poetry. Sometimes, it’s a journal filled with half-finished thoughts and silly drawings. Sometimes, it’s a name written absentmindedly in the corner of a page, over and over again. Sometimes, it’s as simple as a note that says, Thinking of you.

Love doesn’t have to be perfect to be real. It doesn’t have to be grand to mean everything.

And like honey pulled straight from the comb, love is sweetest when it’s raw.

[mindless-existence1]

Hiii!! I wanted to request a shadow x fem! reader who in the movie verse is a college student that found shadow and now partly takes care of him. Knowing shadow, he’d still be a loner but I’d like to think having an another younger female influence in his life could help him with Maria’s passing. I also think it’d be super cute if she taught him gen z/modern things. He’s just too precious in the movie omg☹️❤️

Authors note: I love Shadow he's my boy. Also I didn't come up with how they met so this is just them hanging out in readers apartment watching a movie together

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your apartment in Green Hills wasn’t anything fancy—just a modest space with a small kitchen, a worn but comfortable couch, and a TV that sometimes acted up. But it was home, and apparently, Shadow thought so too.

The first time he came over, it had been an unexpected visit. You’d found him on your balcony, his crimson eyes scanning the street below like he was waiting for something to go wrong. You’d invited him in, unsure if he’d accept, but he had.

Since then, Shadow had started dropping by when he needed to escape the chaos of the world—or his own thoughts. Tonight was one of those nights.

He was sprawled on your couch, arms crossed, his usual stoic expression softened by the dim light of the TV. You had a movie playing, some action-packed thriller that you thought he’d enjoy. But Shadow seemed more interested in quietly existing in the moment.

“Popcorn?” you offered, holding out a bowl as you curled up on the other end of the couch.He glanced at it skeptically. “I don’t understand humans’ obsession with this.”

“You say that every time, and yet you always eat it,” you teased, shaking the bowl slightly. Shadow’s lips twitched, the barest hint of a smile, and he reached out to grab a handful.

As the movie played, you got caught up in the action. One scene showed the protagonists making a mistake that ended in a dramatic explosion. You couldn’t help but comment, “Oh man, those guys are cooked.”

Shadow’s ears twitched, and he turned his head slightly toward you, his brow furrowed. “Cooked? They’re not being prepared as food.”

You stifled a laugh at his literal interpretation. “No, it’s slang,” you explained. “It means they’re done for, like there’s no coming back from that.”

He frowned, clearly processing your words. “Why use a term that implies food preparation instead of saying what you mean?”

“Because slang is fun, and it makes language more expressive,” you said, grinning. “Besides, it’s just how people talk sometimes.” Shadow huffed, leaning back against the couch. “Humans are strange.”

“And yet, you keep coming here,” you shot back with a playful smile.Shadow didn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the screen, but the corners of his mouth softened just slightly.

“Your apartment is… peaceful,” he said finally. Your chest warmed at his words. Shadow wasn’t exactly forthcoming with his feelings, so every little admission felt significant.

“Well, you’re always welcome here,” you said, nudging his leg lightly with your foot. “Even if you think popcorn and slang are weird.” He didn’t reply, but his crimson eyes flicked toward you for a moment, a quiet gratitude in his gaze.

By the time the credits rolled, you were explaining another piece of slang—this time, “vibe.” Shadow looked vaguely unimpressed.

“So, when someone says ‘good vibes,’ they mean a positive feeling or atmosphere?” he asked, his brow furrowed slightly.“Exactly!” you said, grinning. “See? You’re getting the hang of it.”

He shook his head, muttering something about “unnecessary complications,” but you just shook your head with a small smile. As the night wore on, you found yourself leaning against him, your head resting on his shoulder.

He didn’t move away, simply letting you stay there as the quiet hum of the TV filled the room.

In these moments, you knew Shadow found something he didn’t often allow himself: peace. And for as long as he needed it, you’d always make room for him in your little corner of Green Hills.

[rafeskai]

Never Really Left

A Rafe Cameron Social Media AU

Summary: After four years away at NYU, you’re finally back in the Outer Banks, ready to reconnect with your brother, Topper, and the familiar faces you left behind. But things are different now: you’ve changed, the OBX has changed, and Rafe Cameron is not the boy you remember. Reuniting with him stirs up old feelings and new complications, as you’re drawn into the whirlwind of his intensity.

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x Thornton!Reader

Series Warnings: strong language, sexual content, angst.

Masterlist: Intro 1 - Intro 2 - One - Two - Three - Four - Five - Six

Main Characters Introduction

Y/N Thornton

After four years at NYU, Y/N Thornton has transformed into a confident, independent city girl with a chic, minimalist style and a driven, ambitious attitude. Life in New York has turned her into a coffee addict who navigates the city’s fast pace with ease, juggling a packed schedule and staying connected through her social feeds. She’s cultured, well-versed in everything from art galleries to trendy rooftop bars, and keeps a balanced lifestyle with yoga and the latest wellness trends. Returning to the OBX feels both nostalgic and surreal, as if she’s stepping back in time. Her sophisticated city life feels worlds away from the laid-back beach town, and her relationships—even with her brother Topper—seem distant and complicated. But the most unexpected pull comes from Rafe Cameron, a reminder of her past who now sparks conflicting feelings, blending familiarity with an intense chemistry that’s both thrilling and dangerous.

Rafe Cameron

Rafe Cameron is the epitome of Kildare Island's rebellious, privileged elite, a product of wealth who’s always struggled with the darker edges of his personality. Charismatic yet volatile, he’s known for his wild parties, quick temper, and magnetic charm that makes him both irresistible and dangerous. Rafe has a complicated, love-hate relationship with the OBX lifestyle; he loves the freedom and dominance his family’s money brings but resents the expectations placed upon him. To his friends, he’s fiercely loyal, though his intensity sometimes borders on possessiveness, especially with those who get close to him. Outwardly calm but constantly on the edge, Rafe is a risk-taker who’s unapologetically himself, even if it means walking the line between respectability and ruin.

© 2024 rafeskai | All rights reserved. This fanfiction is a work of fiction inspired by characters from Outer Banks, and no part of it may be reproduced or distributed without permission.

[kashverse]

some say let your hands and fingers do the talking. not like that, you perv! i mean by playing the guitar. what did you think? anyway, when your boyfriend pulls out a guitar, it’s a moment of pure suspense. it can either go very, very good—think angelic strumming, a voice so smooth it makes you question if he’s been hiding a secret record deal—or very, very bad, like an out-of-tune massacre that makes your eardrums file for divorce. there’s no in-between. he’s either serenading you into a nicholas sparks movie, or you’re suddenly trapped in a hostage situation where the ransom is pretending to enjoy his soulful (read: painful) rendition of wonderwall.

ah, gojo. the man, the myth, the self-proclaimed musician. he played the guitar once—once—in high school, butchered wonderwall in a way that made even noel gallagher cringe from a distance, and now he tells everyone he’s a ‘part-time guitarist.’ you don’t have the heart to tell him that whatever note he’s playing isn’t in the known musical scale of this universe. he strums with the confidence of a rock god but with the technique of a toddler discovering sound for the first time. the worst part? he believes in it. “music transcends rules,” he tells you with a wink, completely unaware that he’s transcended harmony, melody, and all known music theory altogether.

then there’s geto. now, he looks like a guy who plays the guitar—cool, effortless, the type to lean against a wall with a cigarette dangling from his lips while plucking out a song that makes everyone in a ten-mile radius fall in love. and technically, he does play. but does he play songs? absolutely not. geto is a man of riffs. he’ll pick up a guitar, pluck out a legendary lick that would make jimi hendrix’s spirit shed a tear, and then… stop. no full songs. no verses. just a 15-second snippet of greatness before he casually shrugs and says, “eh, i never learned the rest.” it’s infuriating. masterful, but infuriating.

choso, on the other hand, is eager. enthusiastic, even. and the shocking part? he’s patient with it, which you didn’t expect given his general aura of broody silence. but the man loves to learn—he already had a thing for keyboards, so naturally, guitar was the next step. and he’s good. so good, in fact, that you have to physically restrain him from playing in front of random people. because let’s be real: if choso sits down with a guitar, strums even a single melancholic tune, women (and men) will descend upon him like he’s the last attractive man on earth. you’re not dealing with that. not again.

does sukuna play the guitar? please. your big, beefy, borderline villainous boyfriend doesn’t do “basic” instruments. he plays the shamisen. yeah, that’s right. while everyone else is fumbling through 'hotel california,' sukuna is out here commanding an ancient instrument with the kind of raw, aggressive technique that could send every mainstream musician straight into retirement. the way he plays is nothing short of feral—sharp, powerful, sending sound waves through your soul like he’s calling forth a battlefield. you don’t know whether to be turned on or to fear for your life. possibly both.

toji, bless his heart, tries. he wants to play the guitar. he knows it looks cool. and, honestly, the intent is there. but here’s the thing—his hands are the size of dinner plates. the pick disappears between his fingers like a lost sock in the laundry. fretting a chord looks like he’s trying to delicately handle a teacup with boxing gloves on. it’s not a skill issue. it’s a size issue. the guitar wasn’t built for a man whose hands could palm a basketball and a toddler’s head at the same time. but he keeps at it, convinced that if he just tries hard enough, one day he’ll stop making the guitar sound like it’s being physically assaulted.

and then there’s nanami, the dark horse. the unexpected legend. you find out, completely by accident, that he plays guitar—not just plays, but plays it well. sings with it, too. every night, he softly strums lullabies for yuuji, an act of pure paternal love that no one would expect from the stoic salaryman. but when you ask him about it? he shuts that conversation down. you don’t get details. you don’t get demonstrations. and you definitely don’t get to see the video of 17-year-old nanami covering ‘pocketful of sunshine’ with embarrassing sincerity. it exists. he won’t admit it. but one day, one day, you will find it.

[kumkaniudaku]

Stay A While (5)

Summary: Terry and Patrice enjoy each other with the promise of bright future.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 4.9k

Part: 5 of 5

Warnings: Smut (18+), NSFW

A/N: Thanks so much for joining me on this ride. I hope the journey turns out to be worth it.

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four.

“Uh, my name is Terry, I’m from North Carolina, and I wanna dedicate this one to my lady over there in the orange dress. You look good, girl.” 

“Oh no.”

“Sing your song, baby!”

A mix of encouragement and admiration at Terry’s public display of affection rang out in a poorly lit karaoke bar in the French Quarter. Liquor, good food, and good people were the perfect mix for a good time with the vestiges of Summer break rapidly slipping away. Terry stood on stage with a goofy grin and low eyes, pointing everyone toward his favorite audience member. 

Patrice had never been so embarrassed in her life. When she’d dared him to do something crazy on the last night of their spontaneous vacation, she thought he’d finally get that tattoo of her name on his ribs like he promised way back when. Singing in front of a crowd of rowdy strangers wasn’t on her bingo card.

Her hands covered her mouth to muffle her near-uncontrollable laughter. 

Terry couldn’t sing. At least not well enough to give a tipsy rendition of Patrice’s favorite Usher record. She still remembered forcing Terry to listen to Raymond v. Raymond over and over again in her cramped bedroom, many times not getting past Track 3 without gushing over how she hoped to marry the R&B heartthrob one day. Terry secretly carried a deep disdain for Usher up until his mid-20s, but couldn’t dodge the memories any time “There Goes My Baby” would play and take him right back to that cramped bedroom with his dream girl. 

He started just as Patrice expected. Though he knew the words like the back of his hand, his pitchy tenor was a far cry from the vocals needed to properly serenade an audience. He didn’t care though. As long as he could pull a belly laugh from Patrice he’d make a fool of himself in public every time. 

Between the second verse and bridge, Terry decided to take his antics up a notch. He abandoned the stage to make a beeline for Patrice with the mic in hand for a personal show. She was sure to play into the bit with playful hoops and fake screams between giggles. When he was close enough to touch, she pretended to fangirl like she was front row at one of Usher’s Vegas shows. 

“Baby, lovin’ you feels better than everything, anything. Put it on my heart, you gon’ get a ring,” he sang, spontaneously remixing the lyrics so far off-key that, if not for the levity of the ordeal, he’d surely offend every music lover in a 50-mile radius. “And I promise, our time away didn’t change my love.” 

Completely enamored with the absurdity of the moment, Patrice ran her fingertips across Terry’s abdomen underneath his shirt like a crazed fan and winked. Terry acknowledged the dangerous line she was toeing by flashing her a flirtatious grin to match the seductive sparkle in his eyes. 

Their connection overrode Terry’s awful singing performance enough for the crowd to show support through an assortment of cheers and supportive hollers only a city full of spirited Black people could provide. 

Always the perfect gentleman, Terry bid Patrice farewell for a moment with a peck on the cheek before returning to the stage to cap a truly unexpected performance and receive thunderous applause. 

“Oooo-weee. That’s your man, love? I’m talking official official?” The middle-aged tourist’s question and her thick accent interrupted Patrice’s daydreaming while she watched Terry’s every move with part of her bottom lip caught by her top row of teeth. 

“Yeah,” she answered, finally tearing her gaze away to acknowledge the woman while fiddling with the opal necklace he’d gifted her at dinner. It was the necklace symbolizing their first real date and the end of their friends only arrangement. “That’s him. Ain’t he somethin’?” 

“Somethin’ ain’t the word. I might need to head on up to North Carolina and get me one of them. My God today!” 

“He’s got a cute little single friend out in Percyville if you down with our Asian brothers. Former Marine too.” 

“You got a picture?” 

The two women fell into conversation about Ken’s availability while Patrice waited for Terry to rejoin her side. He soon returned with two shots of tequila in hand and a smile fighting to be freed from behind his poker face. 

“What was that about,” he asked, nodding at the woman who’d begun to show her friends photos of her potential beau as he placed a shot in front of Patrice.

“Might’ve gotten Ken somebody to take him out of the streets. You know he like ‘em thick and fine.” 

“I taught my boy a few things.” He used the hand closest to Patrice to breach the split in her dress and grip her inner thigh. He maintained contact, waiting for her to get shy and shoo him away. 

But she didn’t. She met his show of dominance with one of her own and crossed her legs to keep him in place, keeping him close to the pulse at her center. Two could play the secret foreplay game.

“What’s that about,” she asked, pointing at his gift of top-shelf reposado and ignoring the flutter in her stomach once he began rubbing slow circles on the top of her thigh with his thumb.

He smirked. “A little something to toast with.” 

“Oooh. What’re we celebrating?” 

“Being free, being together, and…” He lifted his shot glass, prompting Patrice to follow suit. 

“And what, TJ! C’mon!” 

“And…I got the job.” He followed his surprise by taking his shot, finishing with a quiet laugh while watching Patrice sit in unblinking shock. He squeezed her thigh again. “Don’t let me drink alone now. Bottoms up.” 

Shock gave way to a soft squeal and tiny, animated hand claps before Patrice took her gulp of tequila. Excitement had her rushing to swallow so that she could pull Terry into a series of quick kisses across his face. 

“I’m proud of you,” she complimented against his lips. “Tell me about it.” 

She stole another kiss to taste the remnants of buffalo sauce and alcohol on Terry’s tongue. He let her explore uninhibited until she’d had enough. If she wanted to put on a show, he’d be a willing participant. Even more so in the privacy of the Airbnb that belonged them to until sunrise.

The sexual tension had reached a tipping point and the clock was ticking. Images of her body beneath his were starting to be the only thoughts Terry could concoct.

Terry’s face was completely flushed, usually even caramel skin now red from lust and one too many drinks. A slow, tipsy grin put all his teeth on display before he ran his tongue across his bottom lip. 

“We can talk about that later. Can we get out of here right now, though.” 

“Yeah? Why?” 

Patrice assumed they were having a good time with at least one more stop on their self-guided nightlife tour. His eagerness to abandon plans was uncharacteristic. 

Terry continued to smile then leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “I really wanna make you cum tonight. You been waiting too long.”

A shiver hit Patrice’s spine as she tried to maintain some level of composure in a room full of people. Terry easily pushed her thighs open to free his hand, being sure to brush against her lower lips with the tips of his fingers. 

Terry didn’t need to speak when he stood to pull her chair back from the table. Patrice allowed him to tug her to her feet and out of the bar, waving goodbye to her new friend who gave her a congratulatory thumbs up. 

However, any morsel of confidence she had while they made out like teenagers in the backseat of a taxi had waned once they reached their dwelling for the night and the reality of their situation set in. 

Their first time together was her first time. She was young with too many influences in her ear telling her that the only way to make a man love her was through her body. No matter how many times Terry assured her that they could spend that truly imporable hour of alone time in her hotel room catching up, she insisted that they test the boundaries of their affection. 

Now, with history repeating itself, she couldn’t help but feel a deep pit of nervousness and uncertainty growing in her belly. 

Patrice stood in the bathroom mirror, tussling with her hair that had gone from pressed roots to a mess of frizz and curled ends. She suddenly hated the way her cotton slip dress fit and how the lace bra and panty set seemed to bunch in all the wrong places. The only thing she wanted to do was look like the woman of his dreams, but her confidence was waning with every second she spent judging her appearance while Terry waited patiently in the bedroom. Frustration was building and bringing the sting of fresh tears to her eyes.

On the other side of the door, Terry spent his time adjusting and readjusting the pillows on the bed. His bare back and shoulders glistened under the soft, warm light emanating from the floor lamp across the room, partially from the heat, but mostly from sheer nervousness. 

“What the fuck are you doing,” he whispered to himself, suddenly embarrassed. 

Terry forced himself to take a seat at the edge of the bed to calm his nerves. The last time he’d been on the brink of having her in this way, he was a young man with no clue how to love a woman. Now, all he wanted to do was prove that he’d earn every morsel of her trust back if she let him. 

He never told Patrice that their first time was his first time. He was scared out of his mind, wanting to give in to his fantasies but afraid to send the wrong impression. The memory of that summer afternoon never left him. But, it was time to start anew with a title and the promise of a different result on the horizon.

Taking a deep breath, Terry wiped his sweaty palms against the soft fabric of his briefs and sighed. 

“You okay in there,” he called out, concerned as the minutes ticked by with no communication. “I don’t wanna rush you. Just checking in. Tell me to leave you alone if I’m doing too much.” 

“I’m okay. One second. I’m fixin’ my hair.”

“Take your time. I’m sure you look…”

The soft sound of the door opening stopped Terry mid-sentence. Patrice stepped out, one foot in front of the other, until she was past the threshold and under his doting gaze. 

“...gorgeous,” he finished, the word coming out in one breath. “You are absolutely gorgeous, Treece.” 

Patrice had decided on a bun on top of her head with tendrils in the front and back that couldn’t quite reach the rest of her hair. She’d traded her light makeup for a bare face still glowing from her nighttime skin routine. Her slip dress clung and dipped in all the right places without the lace from her lingerie interrupting the smooth fabric. She looked at him through long lashes, her expression reading as the same timid girl from all those years ago.

Terry stood to his full height in reverence of her breathtaking form. The most skilled artists and creators from around the world couldn’t have dreamt of a more captivating marvel in his opinion. She was the pinnacle of beauty. 

Patrice watched him draw closer, her head slowly tilting up as he began to dwarf her with his stature. He reached out to trace her jaw before lightly gripping her chin between his thumb and pointer finger. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey, yourself.”

Goofy smiles and giggles followed their awkward introduction to ease the anxious energy in the room.

“Is Terrence James Richmond nervous behind little ol’ me,” she teased with a tickle to his sides. 

“I got a few butterflies, I’m not gon’ lie,” he laughed. “Just wanna make you happy, is all.” 

“I was gonna say the same to you.” 

“You have no idea how happy you make me.” 

His voice came in just above a whisper, nearly drowned out by the chirping of crickets outside. 

Their noses brushed against each other as Patrice stood on her tip-toes to rest her arms around his neck. Her fingers traced circles at his nape, making the hair all over his body stand at attention. 

A tentative peck connected their lips and gave way to more needy, hungry kisses that transformed them into eager teenagers making out for the thrill of physical contact. 

Euphoria wasn’t enough to explain Terry’s headspace. He was high off every kiss, lick, and bite Patrice allowed. He couldn’t get close enough. It wasn’t sufficient to pull her closer with a firm grasp on her ass. He needed to taste her, to be consumed by her, to consume her in every way possible. 

“Put me to work. Tell me what you need,” he whispered, breathless as blood began to rush south from the slight pain of Patrice’s fingernails digging into his shoulder blades. 

“You. Fold me, bend me, flip me, I don’t care. I just need you.” 

Patrice was far beyond playing coy. She’d drop to her knees and beg at his feet if he asked. Whatever she had to do to feel him from the inside was on the table. 

Terry didn’t make Patrice go to extremes for his affection. He preferred to acknowledge her request by carefully sliding the straps of her dress down her shoulders and arms. 

He watched her skin become more and more exposed with intense focus, taking note of the way her nipples seemed to salute him once they met the bedroom air. He acknowledged both of them with a soft caress that earned a whimper from Patrice as she watched him handle her with care.

Never in her life had been methodically unwrapped like a present on Christmas morning. Her heartbeat had gone below her waist, throbbing in an almost painful cry for her lover’s attention. Terry kept her yearning at bay with a slow kiss while he pushed her garment past her hips and to the floor. 

Patrice disrobed him with an equal measure of care, offering quick kisses across the expanse of his chest while she slid her hand past his Calvin Klein waistband. Round, doe eyes looked back up at him to catch the precise moment when Terry’s eyelids blinked closed from the sensation of her fingertips brushing past his sensitive tip. 

Her soft palms worked his shaft - up and down, up and down - until his member was proud and bobbing from the weight of itself without something keeping it at bay. 

Fearing what might happen if he let her continue, Terry pulled her back to his body for sensual openmouthed kisses on her full lips. The soft smack of their lips and tongues created perfect harmonies in the still room, communicating more desire than either of them could effectively vocalize. 

The intensity began to rise at exponential rates, sending them in a clumsy frenzy to the bed for somewhere stable to fully experience one another. Terry’s back hit the cool cotton sheets first with Patrice collapsing on top with a surprised yelp that made them both laugh.

“Don’t fight it,” Terry instructed, pushing a stray piece of hair from her face while he stared up at her lovingly. “Let go. I got you.”

His reassurance made her heart do a backflip on the way to its new home between her legs. She needed him in the worst way.

Terry leaned up to kiss her lips once, twice, and once more to linger. His fingertips traced a blazing path from her waist to the bottom of her ass to partially push her forward in a silent plea to kiss her where he missed her most. 

“Let me taste you. Is that okay?” 

Something about the way he asked for permission with eyes those stormy eyes robbed Patrice of her ability to respond with words. He prompted her to move forward again with a soft tap on her backside, finally convincing her to lift her hips and scoot toward his face. 

Cautiously, she hovered above his mouth with thick thighs flanking either side of his head. 

He moved slow with sweet kisses and lazy licks to mix spit with her wetness in a one-sided love song to his favorite girl. He was effortlessly sexy, combining broad strokes of his tongue between her lips with expertly timed sucks at her clit to elicit filthy words that fueled his best oral performance yet.

He ignored every plea for mercy and her cries for a break to compose herself. There was only one objective. Two if he were lucky to push her into a water show for the ages. 

Animalistic instinct had them trading moans in time with each other, fully in throws of passion. Every grind against his nose and call of his name made Terry want to show her the full extent of his skill. 

His face glistened beneath her with his eyes still low but open enough to get the full visual of her undoing.

“Terry, that is - oh…shit.” 

Full sentences became senseless babble as she clamped her eyes shut to brace for that familiar feeling pooling in the pit of her belly. Patrice struggled to maintain focus on herself while Terry enjoyed his new favorite meal. 

The velvety smoothness of his tongue took broad passes from her entrance to her clit, stopping every so often to chase wetness that had escaped to her thighs. He wanted every drop and then some. 

His moans and groans as he feasted vibrated against her most sensitive spots, turning her mind into television static. Seeing her unravel with every soft suckle at her clit and agonizingly slow, broad lick across her swollen lips drove him to near-obsessive levels of lust. 

Her chest heaved in a fight to keep her heart rate level as his efforts to make her cum for the first time became more targeted. 

“Fuck, baby” she moaned, finally taking a look down to watch the master in his element. “Look at you. You gon’ make me cum, huh?”

Terry seemed to smile at her admiration. If he could get her to talk back, her eventual undoing when all was said and done would be that much more satisfying. 

Taking her challenge, he began to push her to her limit. She was putty in his mouth as he brought her closer and closer to the edge, soft sucking turning into a talented tongue making moans devolve into nonsensical utterings until she was squirming for release while his arms kept her locked in place for a wild ride.

Almost there. Almost there. Then a brief pause to start from the top. More lazy passes and passionate kisses to rev her up to the point of delirium and practically screaming to finish. 

Just when she thought she may have to threaten him on the third revolution of his torture, he delivered on his promise from the bar. 

Colors emitted smells. Sounds became vivid pictures across her eyes. She could taste the stars as she erupted in a way she’d never done before. The prickle of his facial hair on sensitive skin felt like shockwaves on her skin. 

“Oh fuuuuck! Yesyesyes!” 

Her hips jerked without her permission, taking Terry’s face on the ride of his life. He kept up through it all with no objections. If death came from her thighs cutting him off from the oxygen needed to breathe he’d wear death like a badge of honor in the afterlife.

Another string of expletives fell from her lips in tandem with Terry’s muffled groan as she gripped the sheets below her for dear life. This was Heaven. She was sure of it. 

Terry took one last deep inhale with his nose pressed against her pussy before kissing along the warm skin of Patrice’s inner thigh while she came down. She caressed what she could reach of his head in appreciation and beckoned him to release his suction on her pussy. 

She rushed to get back to his lips to taste herself on his mouth and he welcomed her with open arms. 

Kissing. Grinding. Skin-to-skin friction. None of it was enough for Terry. He desperately needed to be inside her to satisfy the near-painful stiffness he was experiencing. 

His attempt to flip Patrice on her back was futile once she pressed her weight into his legs to keep him in place. He roughly nipped at her shoulder before trying again with the same result. 

“C’mon,” he pleaded, almost begging for the go-ahead to fill her to the hilt in one smooth motion.

Still, she denied him pleasure. Patrice shifted to straddle his waist, slowly dragging her hands up and down his torso while his stomach clenched from the warmth of her core on his body. 

“Lay back,” she breathed out, partially lifting her hips to reposition herself on top of his length. He hissed at the sensation of her gingerly dragging her wet, warm entrance against his shaft. “I’mma handle this one. Relax, baby.” 

If there was a thought to be had, Terry couldn’t piece it together to save his life once Patrice completely enveloped him inside her slick walls. His jaw tightened then fell slack once she began to work her magic. A slow bounce and grind combination in his lap kept her breast rolling in a lewd show with Terry as the lucky winner of a front row ticket. 

Patrice kept her head thrown back like a cowgirl, feeling perspiration gather on her forehead while he gave him all she had. His hands giving her firm smacks on the hip and ass acted as a round of applause each time she buried him deep and pulled back up with expert precision. 

Her right hand slid from its spot on his chest to his throat for a barely there squeeze just as a quiet gasp made her aware of another incoming orgasm. 

The feel of her thumb gripping his esophagus made Terry expel a sound that he wasn’t aware he could make, somewhere between a whimper and a growl awakening each of his senses. 

The sight brought him the beautiful visual of her eyes shut tightly in concentration while she glowed like a heavenly body from the lamp’s light. Her hair had slipped out of its bun, leaving a lion’s mane of coils to toss wildly in the wind. 

Smell brought with it the earthy scent of sweat and the lingering musk of her pussy. A smell that could awaken a deep longing in him in even the direst circumstances. If he could bottle it and wear it as fragrance, he’d do so proudly just to have her with him at all times.

Hearing pulled in the sound of their skin slapping together in time with the intermingling moans in the room. He’d never been so loud before, so unabashedly in the moment with another woman. He cursed, called her name, and praised her with equal ferocity. 

Touch was satisfied by the handful of ass he used to ease the stress on her thighs while she bucked wilder than ever before. 

Something akin to a growl erupted from his throat as he strained to hold back release. “You doing so good for me, baby. You know I love you right?” 

“Yes!” she cried out, hips starting to sputter out of control with Terry gently stretching her on every stroke. 

He wrapped his arms around her waist tighter as he fucked into her in search of their shared release. She sagged forward for the ride, her brain turning into mush while her mouth hung open with no sounds.

“Good.” His voice came through clenched teeth. “Because I’m about to fuck you like I don’t.” 

She put up no resistance as he paused his pounding to flip her onto her back with a dancer's grace. Having her laid out beneath him, body open, leaking, and waiting for him was as exciting as the first time. He was reinvigorated. Any onset of sore muscles and tired hips was gone the moment she keened for his attention. 

Terry’s eyes were blown wide with excitement while he decided where to put his mouth first. He quickly settled on one of her legs, slowly lifting it by the ankle to lick and kiss the birthmark by her Achilles. His tongue traced an invisible map past her heel, to her pedicured toes, and back to her calf before closing his lips to cap his display of affection. He propped the leg on his shoulder and then pressed forward to bring his chest down over hers. 

Patrice’s small mewls from the burning in her hamstrings became caught in Terry’s mouth as searched her mouth with sloppy enthusiasm. Her whining grew louder still once his tip pressed past her entrance.

“You can take it,” he affirmed, pushing deeper. “I know you can. I’m so proud of you.”

Affirmations and appreciative pecks across her face overrode aching muscles. She wanted, needed, to please him. 

They released content sighs in tandem once they were pelvis to pelvis. A snug fit made every long stroke intoxicating as Terry set an even pace. 

The repeated squeak of the bed added to their symphony of sounds growing more rabid by the second. They were off to the races on the way to an explosive finish line. 

Terry was relentless as he kept her in place for a proper and precise fuck that reached all the way to her heart. She’d begun thinking up baby names and nursery themes when he split his attention between earth-shattering penetration and the addition of his thoughtful stimulation of her clit to cover all bases. She was just along for the ride and hoping that she could keep her volume at a reasonable level when the inevitable took over. 

Patrice was the first to cum just as Terry intended. Her back arched off the bed in near levitation while she called his full name and the Lord’s to the ceiling.

“That’s what I like, beautiful. Give me everything.” 

He smiled down at his work, obsessed with the sight and sounds of her much-deserved orgasm. She couldn’t hold back if she wanted to. Wetness coated both of them as her hips circled to feel him fill her to the brim while a rush of endorphins flowed through her nervous system.

At the crest of her wave is where he came undone. 

The involuntary clinching sent Terry into a tailspin of frenetic strokes and broken sentences with his face tucked firmly into Patrice’s neck. She comforted him through it all, speaking directly into the shell of his ear and punctuating every few words with a soft kiss. 

“I wanna do this for the rest of our lives. Don’t you want that, baby?” Terry forwent a verbal answer in favor of a short grunt as his pace became erratic. “Fill me up. Let’s try for that son you used to tell me about.” 

“Fuck, Treece.” 

“Maybe we’ll name him after you. He’ll have my eyes and your smile, hm. Think you can do that for me tonight. I know you wanna cum. Do it for me, baby. Go ahead.” 

The magic words. He came with a gruff groan and a slew of profane words that would otherwise be offensive to any outside of the bubble they’d created in those walls. His toes cramped, eyelids clamped shut, and ears rang while every breath came out shaky and labored. Patrice joined him throughout the ride until he returned to the Earth’s atmosphere. 

Neither of them moved, preferring to hear the other’s steady in and out while their chests rose and fell together. 

“One year,” Terry started, keeping his attention focused on bringing Patrice’s ring finger to his lips as he lay on her chest. 

She paused the imaginary circles she was drawing on his shoulders and looked down at him. “One year what?” 

“Gimme a year and you’ll be coming down the aisle or standing in front of the judge, whichever one you want. Where you wanna honeymoon?” 

“Mmm, how about Puerto Rico?” 

“Done. Summer wedding?”

“Early fall.” 

“10-4.” 

“Yeah,” Patrice questioned, giggling. “And what else? What’s next?” 

 “Making our parents grandparents, hopefully. I’m trynna be an honest man. Take me out the streets, please!” 

Patrice’s cackle at Terry’s antic invited him to join at full volume. “An honest man, huh? I can do that for you. I’ll make an honest man out of Terrence Richmond, no problem. It’s the least I could do.” 

“Mhmm.” Regaining some strength in his body, Terry kissed his way from her chest to her mouth, only stopping when he had her arching into him for more contact. He spoke with his nose pressed to hers. “Patrice Nicole Richmond. Sounds good, right?” 

“Sounds perfect.” 

Terry hummed his approval, preferring to get back to the worship he had planned from the moment they set off to New Orleans.

Every second in their lives, together and apart, had brought them to a new beginning that neither of them could’ve imagined. If tonight was day one of forever, they vowed before each other and God to make it glorious one day at a time. 

Terry had lost a lot. Money, family, himself. But under the white glow of a full moon and the touch of the one he cherished most, he’d gained so much more. Something he’d been searching for without the word to call it by its name until he got back to her front step one afternoon.

Love.

----

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @hrlzy @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @urfavblackbimbo @blackburnbook @ashanti-notthesinger @xo-goldengirl

[aventurineswife]

The reader is a true poet, and their tongue drips with honey. They just LOVE flirting and writing poetry for their partner. They're a true master at words of affirmation, and they always manage to catch people off guard and make them blush, especially their partner. But.. one day, their partner flirts back, a good line that catches the reader off guard. And to their partner’s surprise, the reader is a blushing mess and is suddenly unable to mutter a good reply to how flustered they were. And that's when their partner realizes that the reader isn't used to being put on the spot, so they tease them about it after being their victim for so long. (Veritas and Kaveh together, Robin, Dang heng, Ororon, Kinich).

Flustered by the Muse

Tags: Kaveh x Reader x Ratio, Robin x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, Ororon x Reader, Kinich x Reader, Poet!Reader, Romance, Fluff, Teasing, Poetry, Humor, Emotional Vulnerability.

The sun dipped low in the sky, casting a soft golden light over the grand architecture Kaveh had so tirelessly designed. You sat beside him, your fingers grazing the stonework as your gaze lifted to the horizon. Your voice was a melody in the air, soft and sweet, as you recited a poem about the fleeting beauty of life and the desire to capture it in art. Kaveh’s eyes sparkled, always captivated by the way words flowed from your lips. His own passion for aesthetics never failed to resonate with your poetic nature.

Ratio, on the other hand, listened with a detached air, his eyes occasionally flicking toward you. His lips quirked up at your words, his brilliant mind quick to catch every nuance in your lines. When you finished, there was a brief pause, and then Kaveh gave you a gentle nudge, a playful smirk on his face.

"You do know, darling, I write a few lines of my own now and then," Kaveh teased, his voice light, full of warmth.

"Really?" you asked, your eyes sparkling. "Perhaps I should read them to see if they are worthy of my own."

Before Kaveh could answer, Veritas broke in, his usual seriousness giving way to something softer. "You know, my dear poet," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle, "I’ve heard many verses, but none have ever captured the true essence of beauty quite like you do. If I could capture even a fraction of that in my own work, I’d consider it a masterpiece."

The praise was unexpected, and it left you utterly speechless for a moment. You had always been the one to weave words that made others blush, but hearing Ratio—a man whose brilliance and sharp tongue were legendary—speak so earnestly left you flustered.

Your cheeks flushed as you fumbled for a response. "Y-You think so?" you managed to stammer, your usual composure slipping. You couldn’t help but be taken aback by his compliment, and for the first time, words failed you.

Kaveh chuckled, leaning closer with a teasing smile. "Oh? The great poet, struck speechless? I do believe this is the first time I’ve ever seen you like this."

Ratio's lips curled in a sly smile, and he leaned in, his voice dripping with amusement. "How curious, my dear poet, that the one who always has a word for everything is now lost for words."

Your blush deepened, and you tried to recover, but Kaveh’s teasing gaze and Veritas’s soft, sly smile made it impossible to keep your usual eloquence intact.

"I... Well," you stammered, a flustered mess, "It’s... you, both of you, just... caught me off guard."

Ratio's eyes twinkled with a knowing look as Kaveh winked at you. The teasing would never end, but somehow, you couldn’t bring yourself to mind. After all, your heart beat for them, and their playfulness only made you fall deeper.

Robin’s voice was as soothing as a lullaby, each note caressing the air with an ethereal grace. She sat beside you, humming softly to herself, her eyes closed in contentment as you absentmindedly stroked the strings of your lute. It wasn’t often that you shared such quiet moments with her, but tonight, the world felt peaceful, and the soft moonlight illuminated your surroundings like a scene from a dream.

"Do you know," you began, voice as smooth as the melody in the air, "that your voice is like the stars in the sky? I often wonder if the heavens themselves were jealous of such a gift."

Robin’s eyes fluttered open, a soft blush creeping across her cheeks at your words. You had always known how to make her heart skip, how to leave her lost for words with a mere phrase. She giggled, her voice light, yet filled with affection.

"Such flattery, my poet," she said, a teasing glint in her eyes. "You certainly have a way with words."

A smile tugged at your lips, and you leaned closer, your breath warm against her ear. "Flattery? No, my dear, I speak only the truth. How could anyone not be captivated by the melody of your voice? It’s a gift meant for the heavens, not mere mortals like me."

But Robin’s response caught you completely off guard.

"You know," she began, her voice low and playful, "I’ve always thought you were like the moon. No matter how much I gaze at you, I’m still drawn to the light you give off, and yet... there’s a quiet mystery to you. One that even I can’t seem to unravel."

You froze, the words tugging at your heartstrings. A blush blossomed on your cheeks, and you stammered in surprise. "I-I... I don’t know what to say to that," you managed, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically shy.

Robin’s lips quirked up, amused by your flustered reaction. "It’s not so easy, is it? To be the one caught off guard for once."

You tried to regain your composure, but the warmth in your cheeks only deepened. For once, you had no clever lines or words of affirmation to return. You were the one who was speechless, left vulnerable by her unexpected flirtation.

"I... You make it so hard to think straight, Robin," you muttered, still trying to find your footing. "I never thought I’d be the one rendered speechless."

Robin chuckled, her laughter gentle and warm, and she leaned closer, her fingers brushing yours. "Well, now you know how it feels, my dear poet."

The quiet hum of the Astral Express was the perfect backdrop to your poetry. Dan Heng sat nearby, his usual calm expression betraying nothing of his inner thoughts as you recited verses that spoke of love, loss, and the fleeting beauty of the cosmos. His gaze was steady, always watchful, but today, there was something different about the way he listened.

You felt the familiar tug in your heart as you spoke, the words flowing effortlessly from your lips. "Do you ever wonder, Dan Heng," you asked softly, "if the stars are nothing more than the dreams of forgotten souls, illuminating the night with their bittersweet glow?"

Dan Heng’s eyes softened, the quiet intensity within them a rarity. "Perhaps," he mused, his voice quiet but sincere, "but maybe it’s not just the stars that are forgotten. Perhaps we, too, are pieces of the past, just waiting to be remembered."

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, all you could do was blink at him in surprise. You had always been the one to leave others speechless, yet here was Dan Heng, his words striking you like a lightning bolt.

"I... I don’t know what to say to that," you murmured, flustered, suddenly aware of the growing heat in your cheeks.

Dan Heng’s lips twitched into a slight smile, his usual reserved nature momentarily giving way to something more teasing. "Does the great poet not have a clever reply? I suppose I’m not so easy to impress after all."

You tried to collect your thoughts, but your mind was a jumble of emotions, your usual eloquence lost in the fluster of being caught off guard. "It’s just... I didn’t expect you to—" You broke off, unable to form a coherent thought.

Dan Heng chuckled softly, his voice as calm as ever. "It seems that even the poet can be rendered speechless."

You could only sigh, your cheeks still glowing with embarrassment. "I... I’ll get you back for this, Dan Heng."

He merely raised an eyebrow, his smile ever so slight. "I’ll be waiting."

The night was quiet, with only the rustle of leaves and the soft wind breaking the silence. Ororon sat beside you, his unusual eyes shimmering in the moonlight as he spoke in his cryptic manner. He often intrigued you, his philosophical musings and abstract language always leaving you with more questions than answers.

"You see, names are not just sounds, but meanings," Ororon said, his gaze fixed on the stars above. "In this world, names hold more weight than anyone realizes. And yet, there is beauty in the fact that we often forget their significance."

You grinned, your poetic nature coming to the forefront. "Oh, Ororon," you said softly, "you speak of names, but your words themselves carry the weight of meaning. I could call you anything, and yet nothing would capture the depth of your essence."

Ororon’s eyes flicked toward you, his mouth curling slightly. "But you must not forget, poet, that it is not the name that matters, but the one who bears it. Perhaps, in time, you will learn that."

You opened your mouth to respond, your usual eloquence ready to flow, but Ororon’s next words took you completely by surprise.

"And perhaps, you are just as lost in your own words as I am in mine."

Your breath caught in your throat. Ororon had, for once, turned the tables, and you found yourself utterly speechless, your usual confidence shattered in an instant. You felt your face heat up, an awkward silence hanging between you two.

"Ah," Ororon mused, a soft laugh escaping his lips. "It seems the poet has been caught off guard. How curious."

You tried to compose yourself, but the words failed you. "I... I wasn’t expecting that."

Ororon raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "It seems that even you can be rendered silent. A rare sight indeed."

The jungle was alive with sounds as Kinich made his way through the dense foliage, you trailing quietly behind him. The two of you had become accustomed to this quiet, practical life of hunting and survival, but there was something about the way the light filtered through the trees that made you feel poetic today.

"Kinich," you said, your voice soft, "I wonder, if I could put all of the world’s beauty into words, would it be enough? Or would it pale in comparison to the raw, untamed beauty of this place?"

Kinich glanced over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. "Words can describe, but they will never capture the true essence of something. Only through experience can you understand its beauty."

You nodded, considering his words, but you couldn’t help but add, "But don’t you think that words can capture feelings? The way a moment makes you feel, deep inside? I believe words are capable of that."

Kinich turned fully to face you, his intense gaze meeting yours. "If you’re talking about feelings," he said, his voice suddenly low and direct, "then I’ll say this: the way you make me feel when you speak? I’m not sure words could ever describe it."

You froze, taken completely off guard by his words. You had always been the one to make others blush with your poetic affirmations, but Kinich had just done the same to you, leaving you speechless.

Your face flushed as you stammered, trying to find the right words to respond. "I... You... You think so?" you managed, suddenly unable to speak in your usual fluid manner.

Kinich raised an eyebrow, the smallest smirk playing at his lips. "It seems I’ve caught the poet off guard. How interesting."

You swallowed hard, your heart racing. "I... don’t know how to reply to that."

Kinich’s smirk deepened, and he stepped closer, his voice playful. "Perhaps you’ve finally met your match."

[svt-luna]

𝜗℘ MOONSTRUCK

❛ 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘰𝘧 𝘶𝘴 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘬. 𝘰𝘩, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘨𝘰 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘺 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺. 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦, 𝘧𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯, 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘺 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺. 𝘸𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸— 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘦𝘤𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘺. ❜

timeline: 2022

synopsis: Jeonghan’s life had always been filled with quiet realizations about Luna— the way he loved her, the way she changed him— but nothing struck him harder than the moment he knew, with unwavering certainty, that he wanted to marry her.

warnings: heavy narrations!, cursing, fluff, slight angst?, established relationship, slight suggestiveness, pda, flirting, lovey dovey type shit, Jeonghan the simp, Jeonghan’s pov, realizations, fluff, fluffiness galore, Luna through Jeonghan’s eyes, tooth-rotting fluff, prepare to feel single

there will be references to my one-shots If Only, Can I Be Him?, Talking To The Moon & His English Love Affair. so if you haven’t read those yet, i advice you do so in that order to understand certain references. just a heads up, this one-shot in general is narration heavy— so if you are not into that then this is not for you. happy reading, my loves 💛

wrote this in a plane btw so i was lowkey out of it 😖 anywho… i am currently in nyc with the fam for a little vacay moment!! (where are all my nyc babies?). but do not worry i will still be updating you, my lovelies 💕💕💕

also— Moonstruck has to be one of my favorite enhypen song, so please listen to it whilst reading 😩

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ writings masterlist

Yoon Jeonghan had a lot of realizations in his life.

Some came quietly, like the way water gradually soaks into dry earth— soft, subtle, and almost imperceptible. Others hit him with the force of a summer storm, striking through him like lightning until he was left with no choice but to accept whatever truth had settled into his bones.

And as he looked back over the years, he realized that most of these moments, these slow burns and sudden epiphanies, had something to do with her.

Luna.

Or perhaps he should say Bae Jiyeon, the name he had first known her by, the girl who had once been nothing more than a fleeting, half-formed thought in his mind, an image that lingered for days on end, until it somehow grew into something far more potent than he could have ever anticipated.

He could still remember that first day, as if he were sixteen again and stepping into the PLEDIS practice room. It was the place where dreams were shaped and shattered, where sweat and sore muscles were the only constants in a world of shifting goals and ambitions.

He’d barely been a trainee himself for long, only beginning to understand the rigor and relentlessness that defined their lives. But then, she walked in— young, pale, her figure petite yet carrying an unexpected intensity that captured his attention before he even realized he’d been looking.

At first glance, she seemed worlds apart from everyone else.

The other trainees around him had a raw eagerness, a nervous energy that crackled in the air, almost tangible as they lined up, shuffled from one end of the room to the other, and followed orders.

But she…she was different.

She wore all black, from her fitted pants to the leather jacket draped over her shoulders like armor. Her long black hair cascaded down her back, catching the light as it swayed with her every movement, and her gaze was fixed straight ahead, cool and detached.

There was something fierce in the way she held herself, head high and shoulders squared, as though she were bracing against an invisible force. She looked strong, resilient, like she had already fought battles the rest of them couldn’t even imagine.

But there was something else, too— something Jeonghan noticed as he studied her face more closely.

Beneath that hardened exterior, there was a glimmer of uncertainty in her eyes, a subtle flicker of doubt that softened the edges of her seemingly unbreakable facade.

It was a vulnerability he hadn’t expected, and somehow, it made her even more striking.

Jeonghan remembered feeling oddly compelled, even captivated, by the sight of her. He didn’t know her name, didn’t know anything about her, but there was something about her presence that lingered with him throughout the day, like the haunting melody of a song he couldn’t quite remember.

Later, as he stood off to the side with Joshua, he found himself mentioning her in an offhanded way, trying to sound casual, even though his mind had been drifting back to her constantly since she’d arrived. “I met a pretty girl today,” he’d said, almost as if the words slipped out before he could hold them back.

He remembered the slight grin Joshua gave him, the amused raise of his eyebrow, the way he nudged him teasingly. But Jeonghan had only shrugged, though his heart beat a little faster just thinking about her.

“I still don’t know her name. I’ve seen her a few times… she’s really pretty,” he admitted, not even fully understanding what that meant yet.

He didn’t know her name, her story, or anything that made up the person she was, but he felt an unexplainable urge to be near her, to talk to her, to unravel the mystery she seemed to embody. He’d even mentioned wanting to sing a song for her— an impulsive thought, one that made Joshua laugh, but Jeonghan had meant it.

It was as if his heart had started composing its own melody, one that was meant just for her, even though he barely knew her.

Looking back, Jeonghan realized he had a crush.

Something innocent and admiring, a quiet kind of admiration that made him feel like he was sixteen and stumbling over emotions he hadn’t quite figured out yet. He wasn’t sure if it was her strength or that flicker of vulnerability she tried so hard to hide, but something about her had him captivated from the very first day.

She had an aura of defiance, a spark that made him want to get to know her, to be the one who could see past her armor and find the person beneath.

That day, he remembered mustering up the courage to approach her. It wasn’t like him to be shy, but something about her made his pulse race, his heart hammering in his chest as he rehearsed a casual greeting over and over in his head.

Jeonghan remembered telling himself it was no big deal, that he just wanted to be friendly, but he couldn’t ignore the way his hands felt a little clammy or the way his stomach twisted in anticipation. He walked up to her, each step making him feel strangely vulnerable, and when she looked up, her eyes widened in surprise, clearly not expecting anyone to approach her, least of all him.

“Hi,” he’d said, his voice somehow steady despite the nerves buzzing under his skin as he extended his hand to her. "I'm Jeonghan. What's your name?"

She looked at him, still wide-eyed, and for a brief moment, he thought she might brush him off or walk away. But then she spoke, her voice low and soft, and it was the first time he heard her name slip from her lips— Jiyeon.

"I... I'm Jiyeon," she had managed to say, her voice uncharacteristically small but she added, almost as an afterthought, “Or Luna... you can also call me Luna."

"Jiyeon or Luna," Jeonghan repeated, his smile widening. "Welcome. If you need anything, just let me know."

And with that, she became more than just a pretty girl in black.

She was Luna.

Jeonghan had never forgotten that first meeting.

There was something about it that had lodged itself deep in his memory, a tiny fragment of time that somehow held more weight than it should have.

And from that moment on, Jeonghan knew he wanted her as a friend.

It wasn’t just a fleeting infatuation or a passing interest. He wanted to get to know her, to unravel the layers she hid behind, to be the one who could make her smile, who could coax out that side of her that didn’t need to be so guarded.

She intrigued him in a way he couldn’t quite understand, but he was certain of one thing— he wanted her in his life, and he remembered wanting to do whatever it took to make that happen.

Then years later came Luna’s drunken confession.

Jeonghan remembered that night with a clarity that was almost painful, the kind of memory that stuck to the walls of his mind, refusing to fade even as the years slipped by.

He’d never thought that a single night could shift the axis of his world, could take everything he thought he understood about himself and turn it upside down. But there it was— a confession, raw and unguarded, slipping from her lips in a haze of intoxicated vulnerability.

Luna, now his best friend, his closest confidante, the girl who had once been a stranger in a leather jacket with her chin held high, had confessed her feelings for him, and it had felt like a bolt of lightning splitting the sky.

His heart had leapt in his chest, a sudden surge of warmth spreading through him, leaving him feeling almost weightless in the moment. It was as though every small, quiet feeling he’d harbored for her over the years was suddenly brought to the surface, illuminated by her words in a way he could no longer deny.

She wanted him.

Her— Luna, fierce and proud, the girl who held her own in every room she walked into, the girl who was now his bandmate, his partner in this shared dream that they were slowly but surely achieving.

The joy he felt was electric, sharp and consuming, wrapping around him like a second heartbeat. He’d wanted her for so long, in ways he’d never fully let himself acknowledge. She was his best friend, yes, but she had become something more, slipping past every defense he’d tried to put up.

Yet, beneath that happiness, there was a clawing fear, an insidious weight pressing down on him, trying to bring him back to reality.

This was dangerous— they were dangerous.

They weren’t just Jeonghan and Luna anymore, two kids fumbling through their feelings. They were bandmates, members of the same group striving for the same goals, reaching heights together that they had once only dreamed about.

Everything they had worked for, everything they had sacrificed, was now intricately bound up in one another, in the success of the team, the harmony of the group.

If Jeonghan let himself want her, if he gave in to the feelings he had, it wasn’t just his heart at stake— it was all of them. It was the future they were building.

And the thought of jeopardizing that for his own selfish desire felt almost reckless.

Jeonghan remembered the way she’d looked at him that night, her expression raw and open, her guard completely down. He’d never seen her like that before, vulnerable in a way that made his chest ache.

And then, as the days passed, he noticed her pulling back, withdrawing in a way that felt almost calculated.

At every music show, every practice session, she managed to dodge him, carefully positioning herself on the opposite side of the room, turning her focus to anyone but him. She laughed with the others, exchanged inside jokes and friendly nudges, but when it came to him, there was a distance, a wall he could almost see growing between them. Her laughter never quite reached him, her gaze skimming over him as though he were nothing more than an afterthought.

It tore at him, that silence, the sudden shift from the closeness they’d shared to this careful, almost surgical separation. And it was in those quiet, lonely moments, watching her slip further away from him, that he realized he was willing to wait for her.

Jeonghan didn’t know how long it would take, or what it would mean for them, but he understood then that he couldn’t let her go completely. She had become too much a part of him, ingrained in his life in ways he couldn’t easily unravel.

So he held back, giving her the space she seemed to need, hoping that, in time, they would find their way back to each other.

Then came that night in the elevator, a memory that felt like a scar, a moment he would come to regret.

It was just the two of them, the air thick with an unspoken tension, the weight of their silence pressing in from all sides. He had wanted to tell her everything, to let her know that he felt it too, that he cared for her in ways that went beyond friendship, beyond the boundaries they’d so carefully constructed.

But the words wouldn’t come.

Instead, Jeonghan remembered hearing himself politely turning her down, saying things he didn’t fully believe but felt obligated to voice for the sake of professionalism, for the team, for the dream they were all chasing together.

He remembered watching as her expression shifted, her eyes widening in hurt before she blinked it away, forcing herself to remain composed.

In that small, confined space, he remembered seeing the walls going up around her, the protective armor slipping back into place.

Luna’s face was calm, expressionless, but he could see the way she clenched her fists, the slight tremor in her jaw as she forced herself to act unaffected. She gave him a nod, brushed it off as though it meant nothing, but he could see the effort it took her to hold it together. And then, as the elevator doors slid open, she bolted out, practically running down the hallway to her apartment, which was just next to his.

Jeonghan remembered standing there, frozen, watching her go, his heart sinking as he realized the magnitude of what he’d done.

Jeonghan remembered hurting her, far deeper than he’d intended, and he didn’t know how to fix it.

The next day, her eyes were red and swollen, the evidence of a night spent crying she tried to brush off with a smile, claiming it was the result of an emotional book she’d been reading. She laughed it off with the members, shrugging away their concern, but Jeonghan could see the truth in her gaze, the shadow of the pain he’d inflicted.

She avoided looking at him, her smile never quite reaching her eyes, and he felt a cold, sickening guilt settle in his chest. He had wanted to protect her, to keep their friendship intact, but instead, he’d left her hurt and alone.

It took Jeonghan a year to come to terms with it, a year of distance and polite indifference, a year of watching her laugh and live her life without him. But in that time, he realized something profound, something that had been there all along, buried under fear and caution.

Jeonghan realized he didn’t want this.

He didn’t want to keep pretending, to continue living his life as though she hadn’t become an irreplaceable part of him. She was there in his thoughts, his dreams, lingering in every quiet moment, every small ache that reminded him of what he’d let slip away.

He was done holding back, done letting his fears dictate the course of his life. He wanted her, wanted her laughter and her fire, her strength and her vulnerability. He wanted all of it, and for once, he didn’t care about the risks.

In that moment, he made a decision, one that felt as inevitable as the pull of the moon itself. He was going to make it right. He was going to show her that the feelings she had confessed, the feelings he’d once denied, were mutual.

Jeonghan was done pretending.

And with that realization, as clear and unyielding as the moonlight spilling through his window, Jeonghan realized that he loved her.

He was in love with her.

It was as simple, and as complicated, as that.

Jeonghan remembered the night they both finally snapped.

Jeonghan could remember every detail of that night, as though it had been etched into his memory with a fine-pointed needle.

The air had carried an electric charge from the start, a spark that simmered quietly beneath the laughter and celebration at Wonwoo’s birthday party. All fourteen of them were there, gathered together, lost in the rare joy of unwinding without the pressures of rehearsals, schedules, or the carefully curated masks they wore in public.

It was just them, SEVENTEEN, each one a distinct voice in a familiar chorus, but Jeonghan’s focus that night was singular— anchored on Luna.

He remembered watching her from across the room, how she moved in and out of conversations, her laughter ringing out like music against the low hum of the party.

There was something mesmerizing about the way she threw herself into the moment, like she could forget everything except the happiness of right then and there. She sang with a carefree abandon when the music started playing, her voice dipping into laughter as she pretended to hold a microphone, her eyes shining under the dim, warm glow of the lights.

Jeonghan watched her dance, free and unrestrained, her body swaying to the beat as though she were in her own world. She had this undeniable energy about her, something that seemed to draw everyone in and hold them captive, but for him, it was more than admiration.

It was longing— a deep, aching pull that seemed to only grow with each glance.

Jeonghan felt the tension winding tight in his chest as he watched her that night. She looked carefree, radiant in a way that made his heart clench, as if reminding him of every moment he’d denied himself the luxury of wanting her.

And as the night stretched on, as the party began to wind down and the others drifted off in groups or pairs, he found himself stepping forward, offering to take her home.

It wasn’t unusual— he was used to looking after her in little ways, making sure she got back safely, but this time, something felt different.

Jeonghan remembered how the air between them was charged, thick with a tension neither of them acknowledged but both seemed acutely aware of.

The car ride was quiet at first, the city lights flashing by as he drove, illuminating her face in quick bursts of neon and streetlamp glow. But beneath the silence, there was a simmering intensity, an unspoken anticipation hanging in the air.

Luna was close— closer than she’d been in what felt like an eternity, and he could feel her gaze flicking toward him, the barest hint of a smile playing on her lips. He matched her look, his eyes glinting with the same spark, the teasing edge of banter slipping naturally between them.

There was a flirtation in the air, a playful exchange that held layers beneath the surface, words that hinted at things they’d left unsaid for too long.

Jeonghan remembered feeling his restraint slipping, his usual control fraying with each passing moment. He’d spent so long keeping his feelings locked away, buried beneath friendship and professionalism, but now, sitting beside her with only the hum of the car engine and the quiet pulse of her presence, he could feel himself unraveling.

Luna was right there, just a breath away, her eyes daring him to cross the line they’d both been dancing around. His heart hammered in his chest, a steady, insistent rhythm urging him forward, and before he knew it, he was leaning in, drawn by a magnetic pull he could no longer resist.

Jeonghan remembered when their lips met, it was like a spark igniting a fuse. He remembered the sensation vividly— the warmth of her mouth against his, the softness of her lips, the way she tasted like a mixture of the wine she’d sipped, the lollipop she had been toying in her mouth, and something indescribably, unmistakably her.

It was dizzying, the kiss slow and lingering at first, each second stretching into something that felt endless.

But then, something shifted, a hunger building between them that neither seemed able to hold back. It was as if every emotion they’d kept bottled up over the years was spilling out in that one kiss, a flood of passion and longing that overwhelmed them both.

Jeonghan could feel his heart pounding, a fierce, wild beat that echoed in his ears as he pulled her closer, deepening the kiss with a desperation he hadn’t known he possessed. He felt as though he were finally breathing after holding his breath for too long, each touch, each press of her lips grounding him in a way he hadn’t expected.

In that moment, he knew, with a clarity that was almost frightening, that he never wanted this to end. He wanted to kiss her for the rest of his life, to keep her close, to feel her warmth and the undeniable spark that existed between them.

The night unfolded in a blur of whispered confessions and stolen touches, the passion between them growing with every passing moment.

They barely made it inside his apartment before they were caught up in each other again, tangled in an embrace that felt both exhilarating and terrifying in its intensity. Every touch, every look, was charged, as if they were rediscovering each other in a new, profound way.

The barriers they’d once built crumbled, leaving only raw emotion in their wake. That night, Jeonghan felt something shift within him, a realization settling deep in his chest as they finally allowed themselves to be honest about the feelings they’d both been hiding.

He remembered the way her fingers trailed along his skin, the warmth of her breath against his neck, the softness of her voice in the darkened room as they shared secrets, hopes, and fears that had once been too frightening to voice. And with each passing hour, as the night gave way to the first hints of dawn, he felt his heart bind itself to hers in a way that felt irrevocable.

By the time they fell asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms, Jeonghan knew that this wasn’t something he could ever let go of.

She was his, and he was hers.

The line had been crossed, and there was no going back.

In the quiet morning light, as he lay beside her, watching her breathe, Jeonghan felt the weight of his feelings settle over him with a certainty that was both comforting and terrifying.

Jeonghan realized, in that stillness, that he was irrevocably in love with her.

Bae Jiyeon.

Luna.

The girl who had been his best friend, his confidante, the one he’d fought so hard to deny, had become everything to him. And as he looked at her, peaceful and unguarded beside him, he knew with absolute certainty that he wanted this— wanted her.

Jeonghan had always been a man of quiet revelations, but none had struck him so powerfully as the realization that he was irrevocably in love with Luna.

It was a truth that hit him like a bolt of lightning— sudden, fierce, and undeniable.

In that instant, he understood that every fleeting moment spent admiring her, every stolen glance and every silent wish, had been building toward this overwhelming desire.

For years, he had found himself captivated by the way Luna existed in her own world, lost in thought or immersed in the simple pleasures of life, and he had admired her fiercely. He had admired her since the day they met, a silent observer of her unguarded moments, and in each one he discovered something new that only deepened his affection. Her presence was like a soft melody that played constantly in the background of his life, familiar yet always capable of stirring his soul.

That realization, though, was only the beginning.

Jeonghan recalled a night that had forever changed the course of his heart— it wasn’t a grand, orchestrated moment in a fancy setting that had brought this realization upon him— it was something far simpler and infinitely more… them.

It was in the quiet hours of the early morning, when the world was hushed and the only sounds were the occasional murmur of a movie and the soft clatter of utensils. Jeonghan remembered admiring Luna in her pajamas, not adorned in the usual splendor of stage makeup and designer outfits, but in her most natural state— bare-faced, her long black hair loosely cascading over her shoulders, and her features soft with sleep. She sat on the edge of the sofa, her eyebrows furrowed slightly and her lips puckered in a habitual pout as she muttered under her breath something about the movie they were watching.

Luna was absorbed in her own world, minding her business and enjoying a late-night snack as they watched a movie together at around three in the morning.

As Luna reached for a dumpling she’d made— a small, humble morsel meant to satisfy a midnight craving— Jeonghan, true to his mischievous nature, swooped in and took the dumpling for himself.

The act was playful, yet in that unexpected moment, as Luna paused mid-bite and glared at him with a look that combined exasperation with an undeniable hint of affection, he felt something surge within him.

Her pouted expression, the slight scrunch of her nose, the way her eyes flickered with both annoyance and longing— it was all etched into his heart like a sacred memory.

Jeonghan watched as she scolded him silently with her gaze, and even though he could not hear her words clearly over the soft hum of the TV, he knew exactly what she was saying. Luna never minded sharing food as long as she was asked; it was the abrupt, uninvited gesture that annoyed her. And yet, even as he delighted in her feigned irritation, he was overwhelmed by the sudden clarity that these simple, everyday moments— these playful battles over a single dumpling— were the very things that made him want to spend his life with her.

In that instant, as he saw the fierce, protective spark in her eyes and felt the soft pressure of her hands as she retorted silently with her gaze, Jeonghan’s heart pounded harder than ever before. He felt both physically and emotionally electrified— his pulse racing, his thoughts spiraling into a realization he could no longer ignore.

Yoon Jeonghan wanted to marry Bae Jiyeon.

Not because they were in a fancy date or a glamorous event, but because in that quiet, unguarded moment, as he watched Luna in her most authentic state, he recognized that her presence was his anchor. Her very existence, with all its flaws and beauty, was something he wanted to cherish forever.

The realization was as sudden as it was profound, a mixture of joy and a hint of self-mockery at his own spontaneity. He chuckled inwardly, marveling at how unexpectedly his heart had leaped from one simple, unadorned moment to the clarity of knowing he loved her.

It was in those vulnerable, ordinary moments— when she was just Luna, not the dazzling idol on stage— that he saw the raw truth of their bond. He knew then, unequivocally, that her soft, pouted expressions, her effortless ways of being both strong and delicate, were everything to him.

That night, as the movie played on in the background, long forgotten, Jeonghan lay with Luna curled up against his chest, her body rising and falling in the rhythm of deep, peaceful sleep. The dim glow of the television cast soft shadows across the room, flickering faintly over her face.

Even in slumber, she was breathtaking.

His arms were wrapped around her, his fingers tracing idle patterns against the fabric of her oversized pajama top, and his heart— still hammering from the realization that had struck him like a tidal wave only hours before— was struggling to calm itself.

He felt warm.

Not just in the physical sense, from the way her body pressed into his, but in the way that reached down into his very soul.

The kind of warmth that settled in his chest and refused to leave.

The kind that whispered of forever.

His thoughts were relentless, swirling around in a fervent, chaotic mess of emotions, excitement, and impatience.

He wanted to marry her.

He wanted to slip a ring onto her finger and promise her forever.

The notion should have been terrifying— the weight of such a commitment, the irreversible nature of it— but it wasn’t.

It was the easiest decision he’d ever made.

He had never been so sure of anything in his entire life. And now that he had acknowledged it, truly let it sink into his bones, he felt almost foolish for not realizing it sooner.

Of course, it had always been Luna.

Carefully, so as not to wake her, Jeonghan shifted slightly, reaching out to grab his phone from the coffee table. His movements were slow, practiced, barely disrupting the cocoon of warmth they had created together.

The screen lit up, the brightness making his eyes squint momentarily as he adjusted to the harsh glow. Without hesitation, he opened his messages, his fingers flying across the screen with a sense of urgency that had his heart racing all over again.

He created a new group chat with the members, ensuring that Luna was not included. A smirk played on his lips as he stared at the name he had given the group, amused at his own wit, but there was no time to dwell on it. His fingers moved swiftly, typing out the message that would set everything in motion.

The words stared back at him, illuminated in the soft glow of his screen, a simple sentence that carried the weight of his entire future.

There was no turning back now, not that he wanted to.

He pressed send, his heart giving an erratic thump as the message disappeared into the ether.

The thought of what was to come filled him with a strange mix of anticipation and serenity. It was only a matter of time now. A matter of time before he found the perfect ring. Before he planned the perfect moment. Before he knelt before Luna with his heart laid bare and asked the only question that had ever truly mattered.

It was only a matter of time before Jeonghan made her his forever.

Jeonghan, who Luna had once taught to talk to the moon, used to whisper to it about her— about the girl who had turned his world on its axis, about the love that had bloomed in his heart like an unstoppable force.

Night after night, the biggest little thing in the sky had been his silent witness, watching as he reached for the stars, for her. And now, as he lay beside her, his future crystallizing in his mind, he realized the stars had always been reaching back.

Because the moon, in all its quiet brilliance, had given him a piece of its own light— Luna.

His Luna.

The one who had become his universe.

ೃ⁀➷ comment or message me to be added to the tag list :)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ SUBMIT A REQUEST AND ASK ME ANYTHING!

: ̗̀➛ requests are always open ♡ - lunaఌ

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[coolwyous]

┈─★ 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 ?

   ⊹ ࣪ ˖ when an unexpected breakup leaves you without a date to your sister’s wedding, it’s perfect, confident lara raj, the goalie for your university's hockey team, who jumps in to your rescue and volunteers to keep up a charade until your family is off your back. but as your friendship deepens, the lines begin to blur between what’s real and what’s for show.

   ˎˊ˗  ❄️  ⊹ ࣪ ˖  🔓୭˚.  ⠀ ᵎᵎ ⠀ 🗝️

   ➴ pairing: hockey player! lara raj x physical therapy major!f!reader

   ➴ genre + wc: 12k, college au, FAKE DATING!, mutual pining, extremely slow burn, friends to lovers, denial of feelings, charming hockey jock lara, super domestic and slice of life-y, reader is a chronic overthinker and people pleaser...., just more fluff idk

   ➴ you might want to tune in...: sticky - kiss of life

┈─★ a/n: goalie lara anyone? the hockey au expands w our favorite team mommy <33 this fic is set overlapping the events of ditto, so if you're waiting for ditto pt 2, this gives a tiny behind the scenes. i am so in love w writing the dynamics in this verse, i hope everyone enjoys! dani's upcoming fic will complete the trio and prob be the longest of the three. also should clarify: megan + ditto!y/n are freshmen; hlbwfil!y/n, lara and dani are sophomores; sophia and manon are juniors.

cw:// mentions of recreational drug use, some suggestiveness? also reader BRIEFLY dates a man...

[*set overlapping the events of ditto-- read first here if you don't want spoilers!]

a new semester, same routine. it’s your second year as the women’s hockey team’s resident physical therapist in training. kinesiology isn’t an easy major, but you love it with your whole heart, and the girls all make it worth it. 

“i’m just saying, matching tattoos would look sick,” daniela says as the golden trio approaches the physio room after their showers. 

“yeah, but not of each other’s faces,” megan grimaces. you laugh at the notion that dani would even suggest it. 

“oh my god, the world’s most beautiful girl,” lara smiles, dropping down onto the cushioned bench in front of you.

“oh my god, i must be a mirror,” you grin back. 

you won’t talk about your soft spot for the trio. you love all of the girls on the team, but there’s a special bond you built with the three musketeers. megan, the baby of the team, who opened up to you about how much she misses her mom as you walk her through some stretches for her back strain. dani, the chaotic team captain with no boundaries, who beams every time you compliment her after she makes it through her ice bath without flinching.

and lara raj. you especially won’t talk about your soft spot for lara, the confident, secure goalie who you’ve grown especially close with. 

you know lara makes it a habit to be this nice to everybody. it comes with the territory. you know lara comes from money without flaunting it, always offering to cover meals for the girls with that insanely heavy black credit card with her dad’s name on it. she’s told you a little bit about how good she’s had it, the perfect parents, a super nice older sister, solid grades and of course, a talent for making sure a puck never flies past her. 

it’s easy to love lara— perfect, confident, generous lara. 

(so maybe you let yourself love her, just a little too much, but that’s for you to keep to yourself.)

lara’s compliments can sometimes come off as a bit much, but that’s the thing you’ve realized with her. while megan is usually too nervous to choke out anything, and dani says whatever is on her mind with no filter, lara finds the perfect balance. lara is observant and attentive, and she sees people for what they care about and finds a way to make them feel seen for it. 

well, you don’t exactly prioritize being beautiful, but it’s a bonus that lara likes to call her loved ones pretty. 

“can i talk to you about something?” she asks as you put stabilizing tape on her shoulder. your supervisor is in the office coming up with treatment plans for that week for the rest of the team. 

despite daniela being the one that boasts the giant “c” on her jersey, lara is the de facto team mom. while dani is the one screaming in coach’s face about his unfair treatment of a player, lara the one constantly waving you down when someone tries to hide an injury or fake feeling better, making sure they get the attention they need instead of toughing it out. their dynamic is polar opposite, the defender and the caretaker but the two best friends complete each other. 

“what’s up?” you hum, watching as the strips of KT tape start to make a mesmerizing pattern against lara’s soft skin. 

“i’m worried about meg’s grade in our english class.” she whispers, ensuring the girl can’t hear you guys from outside the door. “dani chat gpt’s it all and gets away with it, i feel fine, but we’re struggling to help her keep up.”

“you told her not to take intro to british lit with you,” you remind her. 

“i know, but i don’t think it’ll help to rub it in right now,” she sighs. “it’s so much reading."

you feel your brow furrow as you remember your assistant coach whispering something about academic probation to your head coach once last week, when they were doing their monthly grade assessment. the season is going so well, and megan’s been absolutely killing her position as center to the point that she’s the starter, so you can imagine how bad the team would suffer if she gets temporarily barred from playing.

you see the look in her eyes. lara’s worried about what it’ll do to megan if she gets dinged for her grades and has to stop playing, even for a short amount of time.

“when yunjin got diagnosed with adhd, she was able to talk to the university resource center to ask for more time during tests,” you remember, wracking your brain for a solution. the defenseman had told you about it at the very beginning of the semester, as if it was a hack. 

“okay, period. we have a plan a,” lara beams. “you and that big brain, y/n.”

you feel your ears redden and shake your head. “what’s our plan b in case my big brain fails?”

“i will seduce her professor and change the grade myself,” she decides. you laugh but quickly feel yourself furrow as she winces at the you bend her shoulder. she tries to keep you away from changing the topic. “i’ll take one for the team. maybe that should be plan a, actually.”

“hey, no,” you press gently, concerned. she had told you the shoulder was pain free. “is your rotator cuff still bothering you?”

“it’s sore when i don’t stretch it, but that’s just me getting old,” lara waves you off. 

“what do you think i’m going to say to you next?” you ask her.

“oh my god, y/n, always so non-confrontational. like my little conscience in my ear, asking me questions until the guilt eats me alive,” lara laughs, shoving you away from her. “it’s so annoying how good at that you are, you pacifist.”

you smile and put your supplies away, but lara’s words are nothing but the truth. you’re so painfully fearful of confrontation, it’s almost a joke that the career you’ve picked is with a full contact sport. 

you open your mouth to say something, to ask further about the injury, when your phone ringing catches your attention. you feel yourself tense as you see the contact photo.

but lara, perfect, attentive lara, never misses anything with you.

“boyfriend again?”

she gives you a questioning look. she knows everything about you, including how rocky things have been with your less than attentive boyfriend lately. 

“distance isn’t easy on anyone,” you say simply, but her look says enough. she gets up and offers you a reassuring hug.

“you’re not just anyone, so don’t let him treat you like you are.” how the hell does she always manage to sound straight out of a soap opera? you nod, blinking back the rising heat in your chest at the nerves

“it’s complicated,” you remind her, but she’s already giving you that look. you hate how you guys can communicate so much with so little. 

you flag your supervisor to come check your work and step outside to take the call. you can feel lara’s eyes on you the whole time.

“hi felix…”

-

a week passes by, and so do two more phone calls that go the exact same way. all ending with a knot in your stomach at his words. you’re silently grateful that your roommate dropped out in the second week of school. a solo dorm all to yourself is a luxury you don’t take for granted when you’re so constantly fighting on the phone with someone into the late hours of the night.

“he’s mad about me not calling him when he got out of class again,” you sigh over facetime with daniela, as you flop onto your bed after a particularly boring history lecture. “i have explained so many times that i go straight from class to go work on you guys after practice.”

“go cheat on him or something,” daniela says simply. “he’s an annoying little bitch.”

“dani,” you sigh exasperatedly. you love her, but it’s easy to see why coach blames her for his going bald. she can be extremely difficult and give zero fucks about it.

you’ve always kept an extremely small circle. but lara’s in class, megan has never been in a relationship, yunjin is out with her girlfriend, and you’d rather die than talk to your sister about your boyfriend issues.

which leaves daniela, whose brash, calloused responses remind you just how perfect and emotionally in-tune with you lara is. 

however, what daniela lacks in tact she makes up for in passion and pure heart, so you can always read between the lines and see her intentions are good.

“dude, come get fucked up with me and the kappa theta girls this weekend and you will literally never want to talk to that limp dick loser again.”

okay. mostly good intentions.

you remain silent as you assess the lack of food in your minifridge. usually, the silent treatment works wonders to get dani back on track, and this time is no exception.

“well, either way, you’ve always got lara who’d drop anything to marry you in a heartbeat.”

you laugh. that’d what you needed, the thing the three musketeers are so good at– saying the stupidest things. 

“i’m ready when she is,” you tell her jokingly, tossing an old box of leftovers into the trash.

“been ready. break up with your soggy bitch and i’ll take y’all to the courthouse tomorrow.” you hear her laugh, but then you hear something like water bubbling, followed by a long exhale.

“don’t you have a press conference tomorrow?” you laugh, realizing exactly what the noise was.

“why do you think i’m getting baked out of my mind right now instead of in the morning? for a smart girl you’re kinda dumb sometimes, y/n,” she teases. 

“don’t flirt with me too loud now, my dorm’s gonna end up burnt down by one of your crazy stalkers,” you deadpan dryly, realizing you need to go get something to eat.

“when you decide you’re done with that fucking joke of a man, i know a girl who’s lined up waiting for you,” she tells you between coughs, “and unfortunately for you, it isn’t me.”

“thanking god that i’m the one girl on earth who won’t take a ride on the avanzini train,” you laugh. daniela has always been respectfully inappropriate, and she’s one of the few people you feel comfortable enough to tease. “your ride’s probably messed up anyways.”

“100% satisfaction rate, lots of insistent repeat customers actually,” she defends herself passionately. “i wouldn’t be so bold, y/n, your shit is probably whack if it’s got your man tweaking so bad.”

“and the convo ends nee-ow,” you sigh, shaking your head, but your heart feels a little less heavy after dani’s nonsense. “thanks for cheering me up, captain.”

“thanks for patching us up all the time. we love you, y/n. keep your head up.”

the line dies out, and you go to lace up your sneakers. as much as dani loves to say shit to get a rise out of people, you think back over her words. lara.

perfect, confident lara has always been honest about how much she adores you. at first, you used to think it was just her way of making you feel comfortable around all of them. the hockey team is close, freakishly close, and she was always so warm and thoughtful enough to invite you to all their outings and make you feel included. she never had to– you’re only with them through next year, and then senior year you’ll be at the university medical center working in a real physical therapy clinic for your clinical rotation. your end goal is sports medicine, and you’d love to get hired by the hockey team once you graduate, but you need to keep your options open and be prepared for anything.

plus, you and felix are supposed to look for jobs in the same city once you graduate, move in together, build a life…

that beautiful, melodic voice enters your head as you hunt down your wallet. lara loved to bat her eyes at you whenever you mentioned not knowing what comes after graduation: “aw y/n, don’t you wanna take care of me forever?”

in the early days, you used to think she and dani were the same breed of college athlete. cocky, arrogant, flirtatious. the flirting rang true for the both of them, but you started to see where lara differed. she was tender, caring, and empathetic at times you had least expected. 

the first time she ever told you she’d liked you, you thought it was another one of her mindless flirtations. you had learned to let them roll off your shoulder by that point. but even after you had laughed, she stood there, brows arched, and reiterated it. “y/n, i’m serious. i really am into you.”

you feel your spine tingle at the memory. what are you supposed to do with that? you and felix had just hit a year. a rocky, bumpy year, but you had met just after high school and you figured you owed it your best shot. lara was quickly one of your closest friends, and you had confided everything in her.

she never defined it as a crush, nor did she ever make you feel guilty for it. her transparency was equal parts confusing and refreshing. it made your friendship stronger, if anything. never crossing the line of touching too close or flirting too passionately. you two existed in a weird limbo– lara raj was somehow in love with you, openly so, and yet was so damn perfect she never made it big enough to affect your friendship.

(this is the part where you try to stop thinking about it before your head has a hard time making sense of it all… but… don’t you love her too?)

you step out of your dorm and spot an unfamiliar girl letting herself into your neighbor’s dorm. your neighbor,  baby megan skiendiel’s dorm. you feel a rise of suspicion. chronically bitchless megan, as the trio calls her? maybe you’ll give her roomie danielle a heads up?

meg’s got someone over.  she’s reaaaallly pretty

i appreciate you! ;-; best neighbour ever!

ofc <333

i think she mentioned something about a study partner?

you smile and step out of the building into the chilly night air. lara made it happen. you know megan would have been too nervous to ask for the support on her own, so it must have been with the guidance of the older girls that–

your phone buzzes. felix, again.

“i just barely got home and headed to dinner, like the second you called me,” you tell him quickly as you pick up, wanting to avoid another fight. you can feel yourself already breathless and anxious.

“why do you always talk to me like that? like i’m an idiot. i’m not an idiot, y/n. did it ever occur to you that your standards are just too unrealistic?” his voice is so cold, making your stomach turn as you keep walking towards the dining hall, trying to avoid letting your eyes water before you see someone you may know.

“i don’t think it’s that ridiculous. we’re long distance. we don’t have the easy things to fall back on,” you furrow your eyebrows, nearly disgusted. 

but then he pauses, and you can hear him suck in a breath. your stomach drops at the way his tone changes.

“maybe we should think about that. if the distance is too hard.”

“what the fuck, felix?” you try not to make it a habit to swear, but the tears are already pricking at the corners of your eyes. you want to scream but everything stays trapped in your chest.

“you gave up forever ago,” he accuses you.

“you think so?” is all you can manage to ask. it’s moments like this where you admire someone as unhinged as daniela, who you’re sure could easily give him a piece of her mind, or yunjin, who won’t stand for even a whiff of disrespect.

or lara, you think, who’d know her worth enough to just hang up and move right on along. 

you lose yourself in silence as felix unleashes a rant that feels much too pre-prepared to be brought on by simply missing his call. you feel your chest ache at the thought of everything changing for you. you don’t know how much time has passed before he realizes you haven’t said anything. you’ve always hated that about him. you’re naturally reserved, and it’s almost like he just assumes you have nothing to say.

he ends the call when he’s ready, with a “sorry it had to be like this, y/n,” and you’re too drained to fight him on it. you stop and sit on a nearby bench to wipe your face clean and send a quick rescue text to the only person you really want to talk to in that moment. 

lara’s calling you less than 30 seconds after you hit send. 

“lar, you’re in class, you didn’t have to call me,” you chastise her gently, but you know there’s no point.

“i know you said call you after class, but that’s such an sos, you never need anything so i know this has got to be the real deal,” she tells you.

“i just needed to get out of my head.”

“everything okay?” she asks tenderly. 

“um, no. not really.” you take a deep breath and look up, trying to avoid the well of tears coming back up. “i think felix and i just broke up.”

“oh, fuck that guy. never liked him. i’m coming to get you in 5.”

perfect, always-knows-what-to-say lara raj does exactly that, tracking you by your location just a few minutes later, and insists you two go out to eat and tell her everything. it stings, but lara’s presence makes everything more bearable. maybe this isn’t the worst thing that could have come out of today.

-

you wake up in your dorm and feel the dull, anxious buzz in your stomach as you remember yesterday’s call. but spending the rest of the night with one of your favorite people had made it practically melt away, and by the time she had dropped you off, felix was far out of your mind. 

you’re taking the breakup better than most would expect, but then again, you’ve also been called “the statue” by coach by how non-reactive you are. 

what’s the point in losing your cool and letting others get the best of you? sure, your sister grew up walking all over you, but most of the time, it wasn’t worth it to get into it with her. you’ve been like this since you were little– you hoard your emotions, stoic through all hardships, too afraid to let people see you struggle and think any less of you. your dad’s always been such a worry wart, your step-mom is insanely judgemental, and your sister jordan gets everything she wants, never once having understood what it’s like to feel like a burden.

your sister, who you haven’t thought of all night. why would you? this breakup is about–

oh god. your very demanding, very aggressive, very engaged-to-be-married-in-two-weeks, sister. 

your jaw nearly drops as you realize the extra layer of what your breakup means for you. your hands shake in panic.

breakfast with lara. you feel it anchor you, ever so slightly. there’s an idea that pops into your head that you barely let yourself contemplate before realizing if there’s anyone who could come to your rescue, it might be perfect, angel lara.

“you know i’d never ask anything of you, ever, right?” you start as the two of you sit down, setting your trays onto the table.

“yes, you’re too proud and too hardworking,” lara nods, grinning as you smack her shoulder. 

“okay,” you breathe nervously, “well i am extremely embarrassed to ask you this, but my psychopath of a sister is getting married in two weeks and i already told her i was in a relationship, so if i show up alone, she’s never going to let me hear the end of it, ‘cause she planned for a specific seating arrangement and—”

oh my god, you realize you’re rambling. you try to pivot to what the bigger issue is.

“damn, okay, well let me just say that my my stepmom will be weird, my dad is gonna overreact and make me come back home, i won’t get to finish my program–”

oh my god, again you gasp at yourself. this is why the hell you don’t let yourself panic. you crack.

there’s a pause as you see lara digest all of it. 

“parents love me,” lara finally grins. you let out the breath that had been stuck in your throat. you feel an immense gratitude that she isn’t pushing you to say it.

how could you possibly mutter the words out loud? will you be my fake date to this real wedding?

“i’m so sure yours did,” you roll your eyes, but you can’t help but laugh. she’s got the confidence of a child who was never told no. 

“all parents,” she pushes back, poking you in the ribs. 

“don’t get too cocky. it was between you, daniela, and meg, but meg gets nervous when someone even breathes next to her and dani is-”

“oh my god,” lara covers her mouth with her hand at the image in her head. “she’d be forcing your family members to drink shots out of her mouth and harassing the dj.”

you hold three fingers up, and fold them down as you go through the lineup of your options. “our infant daughter who can barely remember her own name, hot-headed attention whore with no boundaries, or charming and slightly overconfident sweetheart.”

“i’m going to pretend my competition wasn’t those two idiots and just tell myself i was the clear winner from the start.”

“i’ll owe you everything,” you tell her gently.

“i’m happy to do it.” she shakes her head, before a beaming grin. “you know it’s inevitable that we fall in love though, right?”

you laugh, but she reaches out to you, and your hands meet over the table. what a massive reassurance. 

“lara i can’t stress enough how thankful i am, and how anxious over all of it i am.”

“i got this,” she reassures you, confident nod. “i’ve got you.”

“thank you,” you breathe quietly once more, and you feel your heart stir. you do trust her, with your whole heart actually, to make this work.

-

you’re supposed to be sleeping in when the blare of your phone ringing shocks you awake. again, grateful to live alone. 

“ugh, jordy, it’s 6 in the damn morning,” you groan as you bring the phone to your ear. your sister has her own special ringtone, love by keyshia cole, her stupid go to karaoke song. 

“y/n,” jordan drawls, and you roll your eyes as you remember she simply does not care about inconveniencing you. “my friend wants to know if you’ll let her third wheel you at the table. i’ve never met your boyfriend so i want to know he won’t be weird with her.”

you almost don’t remember what she’s talking about, until you feel your body tense. the damn wedding looming over your head. 

the good thing about being notoriously private, you realize, is that you had kept your relationship entirely between the two of you. felix had hated how you never posted him, never let him tag you in anything, never let him meet your family or friends, simply told them “i’m seeing someone” once you had hit six months. you bite your tongue. maybe you could see why he’d be so frustrated… but you’ve always wanted to keep your business to yourself, and having someone associated to you for people to judge you off of would be entirely unfair to you. 

“girlfriend,” you correct her quietly. as soon as the word comes out, you can’t hide from it any more. you and lara are committing to the charade. 

“girlfriend?” she sounds surprised, but not annoyed. “okay, but she needs to wear my colors or i’ll kill her.”

you breathe a quiet laugh. at least jordan can always make things about herself. “i’ll make sure she knows.”

“anyways, my friend, she’s so cute, says she’s in your research methods class,” she pivots back to her initial ask. “i’ll tell her she can link up with you whenever. i’ll give her your instagram.”

before you can say anything, jordan hangs up unceremoniously. you furiously get dressed and brush your teeth, trying to rush to lara as soon as physically possible. this adds a kink to your plan. 

you make it to her dorm in a few and punch in her keycode, letting yourself into her room quietly. you poke around to see if her roommates are home and if you’ll wake her, but luckily, the only person you see in the bed is her. 

your heart thuds. perfect, sweet lara raj, slumbering like an angel, her lips parted slightly and her brows furrowed in her sleep. 

“lar,” you gently hum, approaching with caution. “lar, it’s y/n.”

you had let yourself into her dorm after her insistence before, and as she stirs awake, a smile takes to her lips. “i was hoping it’d be you when i heard the door.”

“um, so, issue.” you whisper, kneeling by her bed as you play with her hair to help her wake up. “my sister basically wants a friend of her’s to hang out with us so she’s not uncomfortable at the wedding, but i have no clue who the friend is.”

lara rubs at her eyes sleepily, reaching for her phone as she looks up at you. “which means…”

“i’m really sorry.” the weight of this isn’t lost upon you. “is there any way we can be like, pretend exclusive for the next week and a half? if this girl sees you out with someone and texts my sister then it’s all pointless.”

“oh, so like, fully off the market?” lara arches an eyebrow.

“i know it’s a huge ask.”

there’s a heavy pause, and you wish the earth would open up and swallow you alive. what an embarrassing situation to force lara into. you’d fully understand if she’d push back. 

but perfect, helpful lara raj simply grins up at you and shows you her phone, finger hovering over her dating apps folder as she deletes them one by one in front of you. 

“i’ll delete my tinder right now.” she says easily. “not about to blow your cover.”

you let out a deep breath and swarm her in a hug. “lara, you’re a godsend.”

“not my first time hearing that,” she beams back at you. 

you get a dm in that moment from a random photography instagram that had followed you later that morning. the profile picture is of a tree, giving you no hints about this girl’s identity. 

peanutbutterlover02: hey <3 jordan said i could come crash you guys! are you busy today? maybe we can do dinner together?

you breathe shakily. your first test as a fake couple.

“let’s do it,” lara says confidently, and you realize she’s reading over your shoulder.  

“if my asks ever get too weird, please, please say something.” you tell her firmly. “i don’t ever want you uncomfortable just to help me out. we can scale it back any time if the lines get blurry.”

“y/n, this is like a dream come true for me,” lara teases. “i’ll speak up if i need to, but don’t worry too much about me, okay?”

“thank you,” you breathe shakily, and send a reply to this girl with a time and place. 

-

you’re getting ready for the hang out after practice when lara texts you. 

meg and dani found out we’re going to the makers market and want to come... maybe a small group will make her more comfortable?

our first exposure is a group thing?

if that’s okay?

won’t they be weird about us acting like that?

do you trust them to keep a secret?

you’re heading out the dorm but pause in your tracks. one massive factor you didn’t consider— the girl with no filter.

oh my god daniela

and that big mouth

i will beg her

no don’t do that, pretty girl. i’ll talk to her. she’ll always do it for the team.

lara always manages to find a way. you feel your chest loosen and keep walking, shooting a message to jordan’s friend before jumping back to lara. 

my hero

;) we’ll be there in like 5

you spot the girl on the bench in front of the library, exactly where you agreed to meet up. 

“hi!” she greets, pulling you in for a hug. “you’re jordy’s sister. i’m manon.”

“how do you know each other?” you ask curiously. jordan is a bitch, in every sense, and manon seems so… normal?

“jordy is my hair girl.” she smiles and taps at the intricate patterns along her scalp. “cleanest parts i have ever seen.”

“i’m y/n,” you smile, and let out a small breath before you commit fully to the act. no turning back now. “my girlfriend and her friends will be here super soon.”

as if on cue, you hear old justin bieber rnb blaring from an approaching vehicle, and recognize lara’s car right away. 

“hi ladies,” lara beams from the window as she pulls up to the curb. you see the ginger hair and blonde curls in the back.  “your uber is here.”

manon squeezes into the back, and you take the passengers seat. you suck in a breath. maybe you and lara should have practiced how to be, what to do, how to navigate this, especially in front of two of your closest friends. lara makes easy work of chatting up manon and keeping the conversation flowing until you guys get to the makers market, a bustling farmers market for art where they block off a whole street for vendors. 

you’re too busy overthinking to notice megan and daniela’s widened eyes as lara snakes an arm around your waist as you all start walking. your skin tenses at the contact. 

lara, confident, unshakable lara, does it as if you’ve been hers for years. this might not be a mission destined for failure after all. 

-

manon is extremely sweet and undeniably hilarious. the evening goes on without a hitch (maybe besides dani trying to race megan to see who can eat their korean corn dog faster causing both of them to choke) but even the small hiccups are nothing compared to how natural lara is at making this so convincing. she’s touching you at every opportunity, taking pictures of you each time you turn back to look at her, buying every thing you even look at. you know it’s all for show, but you can’t help but think of how easy she makes it seem. if felix was this competent, he’d be the one you’d want here right now, but lara does all the things you begged him to do, without having to be asked.

you guys are back on campus before 9pm, but you’re having too much fun. you spend a lot of time buried in anatomy textbooks or watching orthopedic surgeries, and tonight, you just want to enjoy it with your friends.

“we can go back to my room,” you offer to the group as you guys wander out of the parking garage. “i have a single.”

the group agrees, and the five of you make it to your dorm in just a few minutes walking. lara’s hand snakes into yours, and you feel your spine tingle.

“do you guys smoke?” manon raises her brows hopefully, holding up her bag. you guide them all up the stairs of the building and into your room, plugging in your twinkle lights.

“fuck yeah,” dani beams. 

“aren’t we getting drug tested this week?” megan asks worriedly.

“next week, kiddo,” lara rubs the top of her head playfully. “and we’ll just skip you. no pressure.”

manon takes a pre-roll out of the hand-painted altoid tin in her purse and you head over to crack the window. in just a few minutes, you’re all laughing on the floor of your room, nodding along to music playing from your speaker, passing the joint around amongst the group.

“why didn’t they give you captain?” you ask lara. “you’re such a good role model. minus the recreational drug use and flirting with everyone you know.”

“they wanted to, actually. did you know that?” megan says, a bright grin on her lips.

“you said no?” you ask in surprise. lara is staring at the ground, thumb rubbing along the bottom of your braids.

“i didn’t want it.” she shrugs calmly, taking another inhale. “i like hockey, i just like other things too. can’t make it my whole life, duh.”

“plus, she doesn’t have the same face i do for interviews,” dani butts in, flexing dramatically. “cameras love the curls + dimple combo.”

manon snorts, and you and lara exchange smiles. you won’t talk about how comfortable it feels to have lara leaning against your shoulder, playing with your hair, the proximity of her washing a wave of comfort over you.

“hey do you guys think i have negative aura just ‘cause i didn’t smoke?” megan asks, nose wrinkling as she watches you guys hand the joint amongst yourselves.

“no. you’re bitchless because you’re scared of your own shadow,” daniela quickly answers, and megan’s face drops.

“bro, i can totally pull.” 

“i see no bitches,” dani claps back. “all you do is text that tutor of yours. get her to at least show you a titty or something, come on.”

the four of you laugh in tandem as megan glares at the blonde.

“don’t talk about my tutor like that.”

“a boundary, from the baby?” lara all but cries, beaming so brightly you feel like she might fall over. “baby’s first boundary! get the camera!”

megan rolls her eyes and waves her off. you guys talk and talk into a random hour of the night, enjoying the calm of getting to know someone new and change up the routine just a bit. this yap session is a welcome change of pace, and you’ve never enjoyed yourself more than listening to dani debate with anyone who disagrees with her, watching megan push back weakly, manon simply laugh at everything, and lara reel it in when it gets too crazy while still adding fuel to the fire. you could stay like this forever, you think to yourself.

“it’s so late,” you realize as you finally look at your phone for the first time all night. “you guys can stay so you don’t have to walk back when it’s so dark.”

“i live next door,” megan tells manon, excusing herself. “this was fun.”

“we should totally do it again, thank you guys for being so fun,” manon smiles, before assessing your room. you have your bed, the extra bed, and a wide space between the two beds in the middle of the dorm. “if it’s okay to stay, i can totally sleep on the floor with no issue.”

“no way, you’re the guest,” you insist, reaching under your bed to locate your extra blankets. manon and dani start cleaning up the ash tray and trying to air out your room. 

your brain runs through the possible combinations. manon on the floor, jordan finds out and kills you. dani on the floor, she’ll complain all night. you guys could figure out sharing beds, manon and dani could—

your eyes widen, and as if she’s thinking about the exact same combination, lara’s panicked gaze meets you at the exact same time. 

“no fucking chance,” lara whispers. “the animal needs her own bed."

the only viable solution makes itself painfully clear as you shrug and whisper back to lara. “we could sleep on the floor.”

“perfect. always with the plans,” she beams back happily. lara directs the two, gesturing to the separate beds. “you’ll be here, and you’ll be here.” 

“i can’t do that to you,” manon frowns, seeing you set up the pillow and blanket on the carpeted floor.

“it’s too small for us to both fit. we’re happier like this anyways,” lara insists, and it’s enough for manon to offer a smile of gratitude. everyone gets into their assigned spots, the smell of incense and the buzz of your fan lulling you into drowsiness after lara turns off your lights.

“good night manon, thanks for hanging out with us,” you tell her, happy to have made a new friend.

“say good night to me,” daniela pouts.

“you’re the reason we can’t make normal friends,” lara snips back.

manon laughs. “i love you guys already.”

“good night,” lara whispers in your ear as she arranges herself besides you, pressing a kiss into your hair. the feeling is so foreign coming from her, and yet you feel your body seek her out as you press back into her hug. 

you close your eyes and let her pull you close. you know there’s an end in sight, but maybe you’ll let yourself pretend it could be longer.

-

the next morning, everyone disperses to their own dorms before the day starts. you make it through your classes though it’s a struggle with the lack of sleep. by the time you come out of your final class of the day, ready to head towards the ice rink to prepare for the girls’ practice, a familiar figure is standing outside your classroom, leaning against the wall. her eyes light up as she spots you.

“what are you doing?” you ask, seeing her practice bag slung over her shoulder.

“we date, so i walk you to practice,” she says simply, reaching out for you. “duh.”

you remember that her last class of the day ended over an hour ago, meaning she must have waited for you. you shake your head in surprise. “your class is closer to the stadium.”

“i’d rather walk with you,” she says back easily. perfect, charming lara raj, always ready to push back against your excuses.

“there’s no need to be that public,” you respond. ugh, why can’t you just accept the gesture. she wants to make your life so easy and yet something in you can’t accept the generosity.

“what if manon sees us and is wondering why we don’t seem loved up?” lara challenges you. “i’d hate to have her tell your sister we’re fighting.”

“more people might ask questions,” you whisper nervously.

“let them.” she smiles, forever a beacon of confidence. “not their business.”

you’re running out of reasons to push her away. “coach?”

“we can tell him it’s new. who’s he gonna tell?”

she takes your hand in hers, and you let her, wishing you had let her a long, long time ago.

-

it becomes way too easy to go through these motions with lara. when you’re alone, she’s respectful, never needing to make any advances that don’t suit the moment, allowing your friendship to still be anchored in some normalcy. the touches are intimate but never suggestive, the compliments are tender but never too intense, and she’s only ever kissed you on the head or on the hand.

but you start to struggle when you’re alone, craving her closeness but confused as to why you’d want that if it’s just the two of you. you think about the timeline of this insanely busy week. tomorrow, the pre-game party. day after, the championship game, and the day after that, you fly in the morning to make it to the wedding by the evening. your facade is coming to an end, and you know you guys should figure out what the story will be as to why you’ll inevitably “break up,” but each time you guys hang out late at night with manon, all you can focus on is immersing yourself in the experience.

you’re all laying on the floor of your dorm, smoking dani’s weed this time (megan as the exception, too nervous to risk it the week of such an important game) and chatting mindlessly. manon won’t be able to make it to tomorrow’s party, so you guys all make it a point to have another of your yap sessions in your room. 

“with the exception of the obvious happy couple,” manon starts her question, staring up at the ceiling. “have you guys ever been in love before?”

“no.” megan’s nose wrinkles. “i just barely started kissing people.”

“a few times,” lara confesses, calmly. she had mentioned a few of her relationships back when you guys were just friends, a few flings you noticed her get caught up in. you never minded, lara was never ever supposed to hold back just because she had admitted to liking you, but you couldn’t help but wonder about these girls every time you noticed her get into something new. “maybe three. i’m not in the business of denying my feelings.”

“which one was the deepest?” manon asks curiously.

lara pauses, contemplating. you don’t expect anything from her. in 48 hours, she won’t owe you anything. but yet, perfect, angelic lara, always manages to catch you off guard.

“this one,” she says, and you can’t tear your eyes away from her. her confession rattles through your chest. “it’s like a dream, but i know it’s a dream, and i’m trying to enjoy it as much as i could before i have to wake up.”

you feel your pulse in your neck. manon and megan both turn to look at you. any other time, you’d avoid the question and leave it there– sure, you had liked felix, enough to stay with him all that time, but there was never anything about him that rattled you, that unnerved you and comforted you all at once. had you ever even really liked him in the first place? had you admired, respected, felt seen by him?

(had you ever once loved him, even half as much as you love lara raj?)

you let out a shaky breath. maybe you can be brave enough to say it out loud, just this time, let yourself pretend before it’s all over.

“once,” you finally admit. lara’s eyes come to meet yours. 

“yeah?”

“perfect girl is easy to love,” you tell her simply. your chest warms and she brings her nose to rest against the tip of yours. 

“once, for me too,” dani says, staring blankly at the ceiling. the admission surprises you, and you can tell lara and megan seem just as caught off guard. daniela lets out a quiet breath. “just once.”

“what happened?” you pry gently.

daniela laughs, and it’s the first time in the two years you’ve known her that you’ve ever heard her with a hint of something more in her voice. “it fucking hurt. i didn’t ever want to go through that again.”

“should i be scared?” megan asks, brows furrowing in concern. 

“no,” daniela says quickly, waving her off. “i’m a lightning strike. being in love is so, so beautiful.”

“how do you know when it happens?” the ginger asks, voice gentle.

“you just know,” manon says simply. 

megan pauses for a beat, before letting out a quiet breath. “i want to change my answer.”

“oh?” you ask.

“tutor girl?” lara arches a brow, turning away from you to peer over at the youngest girl. 

“she’s so easy to like. she’s so, so smart, and so nice to me, even when she’s being playful, she’s doing it to make me laugh. she believes in me, through everything. every time i’m around her i just feel like i don’t have to be anyone but myself, whoever i am that day. i’ll call her when i’m on the road, and it makes me feel better.” megan doesn’t usually have this much to say about anything, and it warms you to hear her go on and on like this. she looks down at her hands, playing with her fingernails. “i invited her to the party tomorrow, and it sucks ‘cause i know i’ve got no fucking chance.”

“i think you’re really brave for letting yourself dive in. sometimes it just feels to say it out loud, even if nothing comes from it,” manon tells her, smiling in encouragement.

“i think i’m in love,” megan whispers quietly. 

gentle snores are heard from the corner. you all peek over to see dani peacefully slumbering from her spot on the floor. 

“leave her there,” lara laughs. “we’ll deal with her complaints in the morning.”

“can i stay here tonight?” megan asks, grimacing. “i can’t tell if my stomach hurts because of the party, the game, or the fact that i’m super down bad.”

“always,” you offer a nod of reassurance. 

manon and megan shuffle in to fit into the other bed, and lara joins you in yours. dani’s quiet snores are somehow extremely comforting. 

“thanks for letting me talk about it, guys,” megan thanks you quietly. manon smiles and the two turn back-to-back in the bed.

lara’s eyes are warm, still fixed on yours as you face each other in the tight squeeze into your twin bed. you close your eyes and curl up, lara resting her chin on the top of your head as she hugs you from the front. you feel your entire body melt into her.

her voice is gentle, and infinitely tender as she murmurs into your hair. 

“y/n y/ln, i’m in love with you.”

“ugh. i want that,” manon groans from the bed. 

you don’t open your eyes. lara’s voice lingers in your ears. what a beautiful song to fall asleep to. 

-

the party the next day is 10x as insane as the girls initially told you it would be. bodies everywhere, volume threatening to split your eardrums. jordan has tried to call you at least twice to make final arrangements before her wedding in two days, but each time you try to find an empty room, you’ve found either yunjin and her girlfriend making out, a random group snorting something off a table, or a screaming couple in the middle of a fight. you make your way back downstairs and decide your sister can wait.

besides, it’s one of your last times getting to play house with lara. perfect and confident lara, who lights up as soon as she spots you coming back downstairs, handing you back the drink she had so dutifully been watching over.

“watch watch watch,” lara pulls you in, motioning over to the corner. “i think the baby is trying to make a move.”

you see your favorite awkward ginger and a cute little sorority girl in the corner of the room, trying to speak over the pounding loud music. you instantly recognize the body language between the two of them.

“uh, wrong. that girl is trying to make a move, and megan is in fight or flight.” you laugh, taking a sip from your drink. “except she’s doing neither, and instead she’s freezing.”

“okay, whatever, no more national geographic. let’s go get drunk,” lara grins devilishly, snaking an arm around your waist before she pulls you over towards a circle where daniela is holding some frat boy friend of hers hostage and getting him to drive the boat as she screams in laughter. 

you’re still worried about baby megan though, until you see the familiar figure of her tutor slipping out the door, the ginger following soon after. you give them a few moments but they don’t come back in together. either megan will have a lot to share tomorrow morning, or you’ll have a lot for lara to ask about.

daniela comes around to everyone in the circle, pouring shots out into each of their mouths from the bottle of hennessy she’s got gripped. you laugh at the antics of the team captain. lara pulls you closer and you’re transfixed by the smell of her perfume, the softness of her hair on your bare shoulders as she anchors you close to her to dance.

you don’t mind getting lost in her, maybe this once. 

you’re not sure how much time has passed of you two dancing, locked in your own little world, before dani is pouring shots out again, clearly trying to get rid of whatever of the bottle is left. 

“where’s the baby?” dani asks as she gets to lara, pouring the shot and assessing the room around her. 

“i saw her going outside like a half hour ago. hasn’t come back,” you inform her.

lara swallows down the shot and makes quick work of pulling out her phone, never once letting go of your waist. “it looks like she’s walking back from campus.”

you do the math. 20 minute walk to campus, she left 30 mins ago and is already heading back to you guys. 10 minutes with tutor girl? maybe you won’t ask her about what she got up to tonight or why she was gone. you guys chat a little longer before the ginger in question pops back in through the door, making her way to you guys with a frazzled expression.

“hi puppy dog,” lara welcomes her back, teasing grin on her face. “how was it?”

megan shakes her head, clearly disoriented. “i don’t even know any more.”

“i know how to fix it,” daniela reassures her, before dragging out a table in the middle of the circle you guys are in and dragging a few randoms to surround it. she lifts up the empty hennessy bottle before placing it on its side flat on the table. she cheers, stealing a cup from the girl next to her and downing its contents in one easy go. “spin that fuckin’ bottle, baby!” 

lara laughs and holds her cup up to yours. your buzz has already set in, and you want to be coherent to get you all home that night, but one quick knock back won’t kill you. you grimace as you tap cups with her but swallow it down. daniela grins and cheers' her own cup against megan’s forehead (much to the younger girl’s displeasure) before screaming loudly about how the game is about to start. 

lara is laughing along with you at dani’s antics. “she gives the hockey players such a bad fucking rep.”

for a split second, you second guess not inviting daniela to the wedding– if all went south, dani would know exactly how to create an incredible distraction as you ran away.

but instead, you have to be brave and face it head on.

with lara, you remember, and your chest loosens at the thought. you’re grateful it gets to be with her at your side. 

“hanni pham, meet baby megs,” daniela beams, and you realize the bottle is pointing directly at your adopted ginger daughter. lara can’t stop laughing, and you get it– megan looks like she’s about to shit herself.

hanni, a cheerleader who you met in your communications class, seems to love the hollering of the circle as she struts over and plants a quick peck on the corner of megan’s mouth. dani is screaming at the top of her lungs for her to do more, but megan’s strong hands keep a polite placement on her shoulders to distance the two of them. 

“thank you, um for that, but i’m good for the night,” the ginger wrinkles her nose sheepishly. “gonna go wait in the car.”

“another boundary,” lara emphasizes, turning to you, and the both of you laugh.

“our baby girl is so, so grown up,” you fake-cry, slipping a hand into the furthest pocket of her jacket. she pulls you in closer and the two of you realize each time you say something to each other, you miss what happens in the outside world. how beautiful to get to disappear away from it all with just a look.

the group is staring expectantly at you as you realize daniela’s on the couch, the swedish exchange student from your calculus class perched comfortably on her lap, the two of them oblivious to the world through their frenzied make out. you were next in line, thus it now being your turn.

you comply nervously, terrified to get paired with some gross stranger, but lara, perfect, confident lara, off one too many shots, reaches down to stop it with her thumb, causing it to land on her. you hear some groans, but a majority of the people in the group cheer you on, chanting your name as lara turns to face you, not once letting go of her grip on you.

your throat goes dry at the look she gives you. her dark eyes twinkling, her beautiful rich skin, shining from the heat of the party and the alcohol running through both of your veins.

“come here baby,” she beckons, smiling widely at you, bringing the hand not on your waist up to your neck. your skin tingles at the contact.  “been wanting to kiss you all night, you’re so pretty.”

you have two choices: push back and make an excuse, or commit. and with all the bravery in the world, the bravery that perfect lara raj gives you, you’re able to push past the what-if’s and let yourself crash into her. 

the kiss, tasting softly of lara’s gum and the drinks you’ve shared, is electrifying. you’ve never once allowed yourself to wander that far into imagining what kissing lara would be like, and you’re almost grateful. nothing could compare to how perfect kissing perfect, incredible lara raj would be. she’s confident and assertive, letting her tongue brush against your lower lip, your mind going absolutely blank as she tightens her grip on your waist. 

“how was that?” she asks with a grin, and the rest of the world is lost to you guys once more.

“how do you think it was?” you ask back breathlessly, unable to form words beyond that.

“perfect,” she whispers, the smile she has threatening to split her mouth.

“okay,” you breathe. you can still feel the tingle of her lips on yours. 

you don’t mention it once the hour is late and megan is dragging a half-slumped daniela into the car with you guys while lara offers a ride to meg’s crush’s little roommates. you don’t say a word about it as lara drops belle and minji off, then presses a kiss to your temple when she drops you and megan off at your building, insisting she can keep daniela in her room to keep an eye on her. you fall back into your bed after a quick shower, the feeling still lingering. 

the end is near, and you know it. you decide you won’t think about it, and fall asleep.

-

you wake up to a knock on the door. you rise with a slight headache, letting out a quiet groan, before you peek out the peephole and recognize a flash of bright orange hair.

“can you help me?” megan asks fervently as you let her in. she holds up various materials: paper, pens, an envelope, and a bright red ticket. “i want to make something for someone, but i feel so fucking lost as to where to start.”

“you want to invite her to the game tonight?” you ask, connecting the dots.

“yes,” her eyes light up. “i’m giving her my spare ticket. front row, so she can see us.”

“the one you think you’re in love with?” you smile, loving the enthusiasm. 

“i think i want to say something, or at least try.” megan nods, confidently for the first time since you’ve known her, and drops her voice into a sigh.  “you don’t know how special it is to feel seen for yourself.”

“oh, i do,” you breathe, memories of the past two weeks taking over your head. you rub a reassuring circle into her back as she parks herself at your desk. you head over to the bathroom to take down your hair and start your morning routine. “say what you feel. i’ll stay with you if you’re nervous.”

“your sister’s wedding is tomorrow, right?” megan clarifies, looking up from the desk. “what happens after that? between you and lar.”

you feel a pang in your stomach. 24 hours left in your little charade, and now, you don’t know how to untangle everything you’ve intertwined with her. you feel your smile threaten to fall, but you try to put on a brave front for the concerned younger girl. “don’t worry about that. focus on you.”

“i don’t think you should end it so fast,” she responds, her eyes softening. you hate the way her puppy dog eyes pierce straight into your heart. “you guys have something really amazing there.”

“it’s not real,” you remind her.

“looks pretty real to me,” she tells you back simply, and it lingers with you. you shake it off and approach her to start braiding her hair for the game. 

-

lara has to do follow-up interviews with dani and the team following their championship win, and she promises to make it on the first flight out to your hometown. you’re kind of grateful she misses the rehearsal dinner, since manon does nothing but gush about how beautifully in love you and lara is and how she’s certain you guys will be doing this in no time. jordan, suspicious of you until manon opens her mouth, simply presses a kiss into your temple.

“happy you’re happy, sis. maybe the quiet ones do win every once in a while.”

lara stays at a hotel instead of with you and your parents in order to give you guys somewhere to drop the act. you find it increasingly difficult to remember what it used to be like before the touches, before the embraces, before falling asleep together every night. 

she looks so beautiful in her incredible dress and your dad can’t stop gushing over what a peach she is. your step-mom, who never approves of anything you do, doesn’t look completely unimpressed by the gorgeous date you’re seated with. you’ll take it as a win.

the ceremony goes off without a hitch, and you make it to the reception dinner in one piece. halfway through the night without incident is a huge win. and lara, perfect, charming lara, is making friends with every person she introduces herself to, a cheeky compliment for every aunt of yours in their sunday best or every cousin asking suspiciously if you’re actually together. she finds the perfect balance of affection, not too much to be overdoing it, but just enough to keep you feeling calmed throughout the night. 

“you play hockey with y/n?” your stepmom asks as she and your dad join you at the table with lara and manon as you all eat. you bite back a groan, considering you’ve explained a million times that you don’t play, just help treat the players.

“i play goalie, yes,” lara smiles good-naturedly.  “y/n basically is there to patch us up after every game. contact sports can take quite the toll on the body.”

“what do you want to do with hockey?” your dad asks curiously. you can see your sister and your new brother-in-law dancing like idiots behind him on the dancefloor and let out a content sigh. somehow, lara is carrying herself without a single bit of help needed, and it soothes your anxious nerves.

“reminisce about it fondly when i’m old and grey,” lara laughs. “i just finished this sophomore season, so i’ve got two more seasons playing collegiate, and that’s it for me and hockey. after i graduate, i’m going to do a fellowship with a clinic.”

“physical therapy, like y/n?” manon asks curiously.

“marriage and family therapy. i want to be a therapist. i would love to work with student athletes.”

“no way,” you breathe quietly. how has lara never mentioned this? she had started school as a business major.

“my friends have a hard time balancing school and sports and some of them are really hurting over it. i’ve always been lucky enough to have good grades.”

“nobody should ever have to pick something they love over their wellbeing,” your step-mom says to no-one in particular, and you swear there’s something like approval in her eyes.

“lara is an extremely nurturing person,” you tell your dad in particular. “i think she’ll make a huge impact in whatever she does.”

“well, miss raj, i hope y/n doesn’t hide you away from us any more. i’d love to see you around more often,” he smiles, and you two exchange a glance.

“that’s up to y/n, isn’t it?” she asks, something twinkling in her eyes.

“i’m certainly thinking about it,” you smile back. the night is won.

you come back with her to her hotel room so you can celebrate the victory in peace, without worrying about your family overhearing. 

“did i kill it, or did i destroy it?” she beams excitedly, kicking her heels off as she swipes one of the shots from the minibar in the fridge. “that went so fucking smooth.”

“you were perfect.” you could cry. perfect, angelic lara raj, making the impossible happen. a weight is lifted off your shoulders.

“i told you parents really like me,” she beams brightly, swooping you up in both arms to snake her arms around your waist and pull you in to a hug. 

“everyone really likes you,” you laugh, pushing her back, but her arms stay locked around you. you could push again, but you don’t want to.

she’s never held you like this, behind closed doors. you don’t know what possesses you to let her. memories of your kiss from spin the bottle race through your mind. you feel your mouth go dry as you realize what your body is seeking– it wants to kiss her again.

“all that matters is what you think about me,” she tells you.

you simply hum in response, feeling her hands trace lower on your hips.

“hey, y/n,” she whispers into your ear, the warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. “remember how when this all started, you wanted me to tell you if things ever got too blurry?”

you nod, your words caught in your throat. you barely manage to get anything out. “it’s over now, don’t worry.”

“that’s the issue. it’s supposed to be over, but…” she trails off, her fingers tracing circles into your back. she looks away, but you feel a sudden wave of bravery take over you, and you reach around her neck to trace gentle lines into her nape. her eyes come back to you, dark and hooded.

“tell me,” you press gently, and the room feels like it might collapse in on you both.

“lines are a little blurry,” lara breathes.

“i think i’m okay with that, if you are,” you whisper back.

“you already know what i think,” lara says, almost as an accusation. but then she’s reaching for the zipper on the back of your dress, eyes flickering to you as if to ask for permission.

you push past your own thoughts and let yourself capture her lips with your own, an answer to her question. you won’t overthink it, not this time.

-

you wake to an empty bed, the smell of lara’s skin still lingering on the sheets. you inhale deeply as you try to hear for the shower in the bathroom, maybe her voice if she’s in the hallway on the phone. but as you hear nothing, you sit up, and realize lara’s belongings are all completely gone. she left without letting you know? after all that? you can’t wrap your head around a viable explanation, so you reach for your phone. among the texts from your friends and family, you see lara’s contact, a text from 30 minutes ago.

changed my flight. i added late check out so don’t worry about overstaying. we can talk when you’re back on campus. be safe.

you see the next notification.

6 missed calls. 

all from felix.

you feel your heart sink. lara has always been a light sleeper, first to rise at the slightest noise. you can only imagine what she must’ve felt seeing his contact pop up over and over, so insistently, as if he’s even entitled to your attention any more. your heart aches at the thought of lara’s confusion. 

(that’s not to even touch on your own confusion– where does all this leave the two of you?)

you call her immediately.

“lara,” you say, and it’s like a warning and a question all in one. “i haven’t talked to him since the breakup. i don’t know what he wants, and i don’t care.”

the line is silent for a moment, and you’re caught off guard. you can hear the airport PA system from behind her, but you’re more surprised at how quiet she is. lara, confident and forward, always has something thoughtful and ready to say, forever the model of composure. she finally lets something out, and you feel your heart break all over again. 

“i know you, y/n, and i wasn’t ready to hear you tell me it was over.” she confesses, and her voice sounds so, so painful over the phone. you wish you could wrap her in your arms then and there. “i got lost in it, i know i did, maybe it was selfish because you just got out of something serious, and i wanted you to myself.”

“lar, i’m sorry. what are you thinking right now?” you ask, but you quickly realize it’s the wrong question. her tone changes quickly, faster now, almost insistent.

“no, y/n, please stop. you do this thing, where you won’t give a clear answer. you’ll just ask questions and put all the options out on the table and let people draw their own conclusions.”

“here’s my clear answer,” lara continues. “you are my favorite person on this planet, and i’m so serious about that. so i want to hear it from your mouth. i want to hear what you pick, no bullshit, no yielding to let me make the final choice. with a super clear head, i want you to pick me, or not pick me, knowing all the facts and hearing me say it first. you need to have the final say in something for your life.” 

you’re in complete shock, staring into the mirror as she presses forward, her voice firm over the hum of the phone.

“i won’t hate you, if you don’t pick me,” she tells you, voice softening, always the reassuring one. “but i wanted to make sure you knew that i’d pick you if it came down to it, and i’ll be waiting patiently for you to pick me. just how i always have.”

“lar…”

“think about it,” is all she says, before the line goes dead, and you’re left alone with your thoughts. 

the airport makes you sick to your stomach and all you want to do is just talk to lara, but you know she deserves more thought than just your anxious impulse. a clear head, and no hesitation. you owe it to lara.

a day of traveling later, and you’ve dragged your bags with you to the hockey rink. megan, yunjin, and dani are all there, taking practice shots into the net even though the season won’t start up again until the fall time. 

you see lara’s gear on the bench, but she’s nowhere on the ice to be seen. you hunt a little further to see her in the very top nosebleed seats of the stadium, watching the three practice intensely. you don’t hesitate before racing up the seats, and your stomach drops as she locks eyes on you. her eyes are distant, cold even, but you can’t blame her. she deserves answers.

“i need to tell you something,” you press, sitting down in the seat next to her. 

she lets out a quiet breath and turns to face you. you reach out, holding her face in your hands, and your heart aches. she is so impossibly perfect. the truth, as much as it terrifies you, is the least she deserves.

“that night, our kiss, the past two weeks, it meant everything to me,” you admit, your voice shaky. “maybe i’m worried that i’ll lose you as a friend, if we take this leap, but we tried on these hats and it was honestly the most perfect experience ever. and you are so, so perfect, it would be impossible to not want to be with you, and i’m sorry i was such a coward about what i asked of you without acknowledging what it meant for us. it was unfair and it was confusing.”

her eyes warm, but you drop your hands. you have something more to add, the part she truly does deserve, and the part you’ve been too afraid to confront. you continue, your heart threatening to leap out of your chest.

“i need to choose myself, for just a little bit. i’m not going to ask if that’s okay, because i know you’d tell me it is even if it isn’t,” you tell her, and she laughs quietly in response. you take it as the encouragement you need to keep going. “i'm going to be alone for a little bit, i won’t go back to my ex, i won’t find someone new, i just need to be alone to figure some things out, and i’m going to tell you to go do your thing and not wait up for me. if we can be friends through it, that would be amazing, but if not, i won’t hate you either.”

you drop your head slightly to meet her gaze. she’s looking up at you with something in between heartache and pride, and you know exactly how she feels. there’s something painfully bittersweet about the moment.

“i need just a little time to learn how to be a better me, and then it’ll be my turn to come ask you to pick me,” you whisper, tracing your finger across her lips, your favorite lips, before resting your hand on her cheek once more. “and i’ll be okay if you don’t pick me, or if by then you’ve picked someone else.”

“i’m proud of you for this,” she says simply, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to pull you into a hug. 

you feel hot tears pricking at your eyes, but you manage to smile at her anyways. the end of one chapter, the start of another, you can only hope.

-

your dad has asked about lara every single time you call for the past few months, and you simply navigate around the question with expert precision. you can’t tell him everything, but you can tell him parts of the truth.

we get to see each other every day. we’re still the team moms. daniela still conspires to make us get married. we’re going to see each other over the summer once the semester ends.

you won’t tell him about how your sleepovers have stopped, and you guys haven’t been alone together in a room since the day after the wedding. she’s still so, so nice to you, but there’s a boundary now.

it’s not awkward, as much as you know things could have ended in disaster. perfect, generous lara raj, who’s always put your friendship ahead of whatever feelings have come up for her, doesn’t flirt with you any more, but still makes an effort to make you feel seen. 

manon, who you got so close to that she moved in as your dorm roommate, is shockingly understanding as you come clean and tell her everything. nobody makes the dissolution of your fake relationship weird, and your family is none the wiser. you come out relatively unscathed from the whole thing, the only casualty being you and lara. your friendship is different, you guys aren’t as close, but that’s okay, because she’s still in your life, and that in itself is more than enough. 

except for tonight, two weeks before finals, where you decide it’s the night to put into practice all the growing you’ve done to stop being so scared of the what-if’s. it’s your turn to be confident and brave, and let the potential win outweigh the risks.

you feel your stomach lurch as you call her, the starting part of your plan. you guys don’t do this any more, the late night phone calls, so you’re half expecting to have to pivot to a plan b, but she answers by the second ring.

“y/n,” she says simply, and you feel your stomach flip at how genuinely excited she sounds. what an angel.

“hi,” you breathe. “um, just curious about your plans tonight.”

“what’s up?” she asks, half-curious, half-suspicious in her tone.

“are you free?” you ask again.

“for you?” she asks, and you half-expect her to turn you down then and there. but she doesn’t and her soft tone makes your heart thud. “always.”

“no, don’t start,” you wrinkle your nose. “i’m supposed to be the one trying to charm you.”

“charm me? why?” she asks, and you can practically hear the smirk on her lips. ugh, it was almost easier when you guys were back to being just friends. you wouldn’t get this flustered this easily.

“i want to see you when i say it.” you shake your head, feeling the familiar flush that lara leaves you with. “damn, you’re throwing me off. ugh, lara, okay just, come to your car.”

“my car?”

“i have your keys, before you freak out. dani helped me. so just come to the car and be patient.”

you hang up, and you wait eagerly. grand gestures aren’t your thing, but they’re lara’s, so you figure she deserves something that reflects how well you know her.

she arrives, and you can’t suppress your smile as she takes it all in. her car, filled to the brim with pink balloons, three different bouquets of flowers in the passenger’s seat. you’ve decorated it with pictures of the two of you from your years of friendship, including countless of candids taken by the girls of the two of you together. on the dashboard, you have a giant, handwritten sign with pictures of lara’s face, and in big bold letters: #17, GO OUT WITH ME?

her eyes are wide, and you wonder if you’ve maybe gone too far with everything. in the months since the wedding, you guys have stayed friends, sure, but maybe you misread her? maybe this wasn’t the grand gesture you thought it would be?

“y/n…” lara starts, before offering you an apologetic furrow of her brows. “i have a girlfriend.”

you feel your stomach sink. you’ve deleted your instagram since all this happened, and you and lara don’t talk about those kinds of things any more, plus megan was so heartbroken about you guys not ending up together, it’s super possible she didn’t want to mention the new relationship to you. plus plus, daniela’s terrible with secrets, so why would she help you with this whole thing in the first place,  but she can absolutely show up when she needs to– damn. your shot disappears in front of your very eyes.

“oh my god, lar, i’m so sorry. i um–” you stammer.

she’s staring at you with those dark eyes, before a stupid grin takes over her stern features. “hah! see, told you you should have jumped on me sooner.”

you feel your eyes nearly bug out of your head. oh my god. 

“what do you think i’m going to say to you right now?” you nearly growl, your heart still pounding at the near miss.

lara screams laughing, nearly doubling over as she pokes a finger into your cheek. your skin jumps at the contact. “hopefully you’ll say, kiss me and be mine, no more waiting.”

you sigh and take her face in both hands, emboldened by your new outlook on life. no more being afraid.

“lara raj, i’m sorry for making you wait. thank you for being so, so perfect, and letting me be ready for you. i’d like to love you for a really long time, if that’s–” you pause, realizing you were about to ask for her permission.

you clear your throat and look her directly in the eyes. “you better let me love you until the earth blows up.”

“i like that so much better than what i thought you’d up with,” she beams brightly, opening the door to he car and sitting in the drivers seat, motioning for you to come towards her.

“i bet you do,” you laugh, letting her pull you into her lap.

“told you we’d fall in love eventually,” she grins cheekily.

you sigh and press a fingertip against her nose. “actually, i was in love with you way before all this. just needed to figure some things out.”

for the first time since you’ve known her, lara raj is speechless. 

“got your fine ass,” you grin, before you lean in. “now that you’ve shut up, i’m going to kiss you.”

“you were so, so worth the wait,” she whispers, and you let yourself believe her. the girl of your dreams, perfect and confident lara raj, and she’s finally yours.

[searchingforserendipity25]

felix knightly, julian's much-mentioned friend felix, comes to the station, and he's this dashing and effete and supremely successful older human man. he wears excellent fabrics and dedicates his life to constructing beautiful fictions.

he calls julian darling and sweetheart all the time. he speaks often of how they met - something about old hardcover books and competitive bidding in a san francisco auction house for history and literature lovers.

so it went: a long chat that turned to a long night haunting bars, showing this bright young thing the best old spots in the city, where real bands play real songs, history clings to the walls and a holoprogrammer could see nearly into the past, the future, the heart of things.

we walked the bridge with dawn on our shoulders, spent the night without losing reasons to keep talking together, and i knew this was a very special young man i had just befriended, he says.

and julian bashir, chief medical officer, war-tried and brave, looks at him through his lashes, a little bit twenty and awe-struck at being liked still.

felix speaks often about how so much of the reliable realism in his holonovels depends on having his own clever doctor to give him accurate medical information. how his gifts of custom-made programs are nothing, barely anything in comparison to the pleasure of making sweet julian enjoy himself in his intervals between wonderful adventures and admirable medical work.

he is flighty and shameless and self-satisfied and he never fails to make julian flush and brighten - something flickering open around his eyes.

he kisses the back of his hands, and plays with his hair. as if it easy and natural; as if he should be allowed always to lay a hand on julian's shoulder, and smile down at him with a conspiratorial look.

it would be easier, perhaps, if it were more sordid. but they tease each other endlessly, argue like old friends, there is history between them and not only old infatuation.

to watch him is to see an image repeated. there is the twist of the wrist doctor bashir does, the way he raises his chin and picks a glass with elegance and flirts relentlessly, as he himself had been flirted with until he relented.

it is clear enough that knightly has been a guiding figure to him, a teacher in some fashion in the arts of playing the gentleman.

a mildly chiding word from him in a specific tone, and julian straightens his back and pays attentions, rethinks his position, eases back the strain in his shoulders, lets himself be challenged, seduced into a proper debate. so perhaps he was the one who taught him that, too; to argue without spite, with wit, brash but not bull-headed.

it is clear enough julian bashir trusts him fully with his fantasies, and does not fear any mockery.

it is clear he is a weak man, a man of vice, an hedonist with no sense of responsibility, who cannot stand to live outside his programs. he drinks prodigiously and gambles recklessly, enjoys the sort of mind-whirling substances the federation permits only in careful dosages -

he is not the one to mention how it was that a medical student came to be well-versed in treating withdrawals, in dealing with hateful words said in dire states. doctor bashir himself, of course, would never breach patient confidentiality. but one may guess; one may assume.

his presence is temporary, he will go away to do research on another singular and distant place, he'll leave his friend behind for the hundredth time and send back a consolation game whenever he remembers he exists at all.

anyone can see it, in the doctor's eyes. he is has been wounded many times, he has been trained well to be expect to be liked but not wanted long.

in unrelated news, garak of garak's clothiers has had to cite complications to explain the delay of his present and forthcoming commissions. several of his needles and sewing machines have taken unexpected tumbles against the floor, and a remarkable amount of his fabric has appeared shredded to rags, almost as if a vole or beast of some sort had laid furious claws on them.

well, so it goes: life is not an holonovel. in real life, sometimes accidents can't be avoided, and mistakes have consequences.

someone ought to remind felix knightly of that, perhaps.

[bunkoos-mole-enthusiast]

Weekly Jungkook Fanfic Recs

Some fine JK fics for your reading pleasure. 🔞 Please show your appreciation to all the wonderful authors:)

(Right) Hook, Line, and Sinker: Your horrible friends trick you into going to a haunted corn maze, where you inadvertently punch a zombie. Jungkook is, of course, in love. https://blog-name-idk.tumblr.com/post/698824503640391680/ right-hook-line-and-sinker Addicted To You: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32664145 Tempo: Your boyfriend fucks you on his drum set. https://bratkook.tumblr.com/post/144191552646/tempo-m-jjk Tied Up: Jungkook would do absolutely anything you asked. which is how he found himself on his back, arms tied up above his head, with you perched on his lap and a look on your face that meant trouble. https://bratkook.tumblr.com/post/643127168708362240/tied-up-m-jjk Choke Me: Now that the line between peeping tom and teasing neighbor had been crossed, entering into mutually beneficial territory, Jungkook feels less wary about asking you to wrap your pretty hands around his throat. https://bratkook.tumblr.com/post/637989694134681600/choke-me-m-jjk Romance Me: Jungkook isn’t well versed in kink terminology and has absolutely no idea what this would be classified as, but whatever this was, he was very much into it. https://bratkook.tumblr.com/post/679578233835012096/a-short-concrete-couple-drabble-pairing-jungkook Gingerbread Man: Baker, widower, and single father Jungkook's life is changed forever by an unexpected large order. https://archiveofourown.org/works/21696316/chapters/51747916 The Summer Of Your Heart: Jungkook likes karaoke and things that are a little older https://archiveofourown.org/works/24687712/chapters/59662753 Demon Dogs: Nothing odd about handsome devils hawking foot-longs. https://archiveofourown.org/works/22871287 Sugarplum Elegy: You know no bounds nor depth with Jungkook. While your fuck buddy loves sleeping in your bed and doing laundry for you with his favourite fabric softener, you are in love with a mysterious honeyed, velvety voice on Soundcloud. All’s fine, until you find out that the voice that metaphors your heart to a sweet sugarplum melody actually belongs to the boy who has been taking up a special spot in your bed and in your heart, strumming at your heartstrings all this while. https://bymoonchild.tumblr.com/post/187313379041/sugarplum-elegy-m

[wooziorgans]

How will ji take care of his pregnant female wife ll pregnant male omega hubby

— pregnancy w jihoon

…. i am not an omega verse kind of guy so this is just how jihoon takes care of his pregnant partner. w some texts bcs yeah.

warnings: childbirth. suggestive. pregnancy. all that fun stuff. dilf jihoon. girl dad jihoon.

definitely super overwhelmed the SECOND you find out your expecting but so so sooo happy and excited to start a family with you.

it was definitely unexpected.

after your honeymoon, you started to feel a bit sick, and jihoon just thought it was the food not sitting well with you, or the different germs from traveling catching up. but then you were late and the hot flashes started and you had a suspicion.

while he was at work, you went to the store and bought one of each kind of pregnancy test, just to make sure. all of them came back positive.

when jihoon gets home, he finds you curled up on the couch with a mountain of blankets, which isn’t unusual.

but then he sees tear tracks on your face and he’s immediately worried. he sits beside you and you reach for his hand, but he sees you smiling softly and then it’s just pure confusion.

“baby, what’s going on? you were crying. are you okay?” he wipes at your the remnants of your tears with his thumbs. his brows are furrowed and he looks so worried about you that it makes you suddenly super emotional. god damn hormones.

“ji, i’m pregnant.” is all you say to him, and he feels like he’s going to pass out.

he starts crying almost instantaneously, and the tears don’t stop for a good ten minutes.

you haven’t seen him this choked up since he read his vows at your wedding, and this might be worse in terms of intensity. it makes you emotional, and so you both just cry in each other’s arms

when he calms down, he’s peppering your face with kisses, holding you close as he tells you he loves you over and over and over.

you’ve talked about having kids before, ands it’s always just been a kind of “if it happens, it happens” thing, even if jihoon started dreaming about having a family with you a year into your relationship.

okay maybe jihoon has wanted this more than he let on.

every preventative measure to make sure you didn’t get pregnant wasn’t one hundred percent, and it’s not like you stopped them. but you did spend days of your honeymoon going at it. and the time difference fucked both of you up, and then the pure need for each other lasted another week after your honeymoon.

so it was quite likely that you would’ve gotten pregnant, given the circumstances.

jihoon all but carried you to bed that night, cuddling with you all night long as you discuss your worries for the next chapter of your life together. his hand rubs soft circles on your stomach the whole time.

jihoon sits with you the next morning as you call the make a doctors appointment.

he’s with you at every appointment, wanting to make sure both you and the baby are healthy.

jihoon is no stranger to cooking; he cooks often and he’s quite good at it. but now he’s cooking every meal for you, making sure you eat well. he says it’s because you need to rest and stay off your feet, but really, he just wants to take care of you.

it eases his anxiety around being a dad if you let him control certain things like meals, so you let him.

pregnancy is weird though. you can’t eat certain foods that you used to love, and crave combinations you would’ve never imagined eating together before.

jihoon just indulges you; he’ll pick up your weird food combinations for you and when you suddenly feel queasy after he sets a plate of food in front of you, he’ll just kiss your forehead and make you something you can eat.

as you get further along, he checks in with you more often. he’ll call you when he has free time and starts to work from home more often.

as soon as you start to show, it’s like his hand never leaves your stomach. he rubs it, puts his head on it, kisses it.

the first time he feels the baby kick, he’s over the moon. so so so happy. it makes you cry a little.

he gives you massages all the time, even on days where you’re not that sore. definitely the kind of partner to make sure you’re as comfortable as possible.

neither of you were bothered by knowing the gender of your baby, but when it’s time for the appointment, jihoon’s practically vibrating in his seat.

you get the ultrasound and learn you’re having a girl, and jihoon immediately spends hours learning how to braid hair.

he’s so knowledgeable on pregnancy. he spends so much time researching the best ways to support you and the baby. he calls his mom at least once a week to ask questions.

pregnancy sex goes so fucking crazy with this man. he’ll spend all evening making you feel good out of pure appreciation for all that you’re doing. if the position you’re in isn’t working, he’s putting more pillows under your back to make sure you’re comfortable.

decorating the nursery with you is his favourite thing ever. you both decided it would be better to put crib in your room for the first little bit just so the baby is close. he buys a spare crib and changing table for his studio aswell.

he stocks up on all the things you need months in advance.

he’ll lift your bump up to give your back a few minutes of relief. he’s strong, so it’s nothing for him.

a month before your due date, he goes on hiatus to make sure you’re absolutely taken care of. he never leaves your side, opting to order things you need instead of going outside for them.

the second your water breaks and the contractions start, he’s dialling every single member until one of them picks up so they can give you a ride to the hospital. even thought it’s four in the morning, he does not care.

eventually seungcheol picks up, and rushes over. jihoon swears he’s not panicking, but he hates seeing you in pain, even if the result of that pain is something you’ve both been waiting for.

in the hospital, he’s holding your hand, letting you squeeze the hell out of it with each contraction. once you’re in the hospital, his anxiety eases up because you’re surrounded by professionals. now he can focus on you and relieving your anxiety.

after hours and hours of contractions, you finally go into labour. jihoon is right there with you, holding your hand as he tells you that you’re doing so good. just a little bit more.

when your daughter is finally here, jihoon cries. seungcheol comes back with the bag jihoon left in the midst of the chaos, at a more reasonable time after getting a few more hours of sleep. seungcheol gets to witness jihoon holding his daughter for the first time, shirt discarded for some skin to skin contact.

jihoon had read that skin to skin contact was important for bonding, and the second he’s able to hold your daughter, his shirt is gone. once he knows you’re doing okay, all he feels is joy.

postpartum, he does everything he can to make sure you’re okay. the first few days spent in the hospital, jihoon doesn’t leave you for a single moment. your emotions are quite strewn, mostly joy, but there’s some issues adjusting to no longer being pregnant.

jihoon takes most of the load, though you still need to care for your daughter. one by one, the members visit you in the hospital to make sure both of you are doing okay.

jihoon’s parents come to help you out when it’s finally time to take the baby home. it gives you a little bit of time to relax with each other and recover. the way his mom coos at your daughter is so heart warming. his father just looks proud of both of you.

jihoon is surprisingly good at being a dad right out of the gate. it takes him a while to figure out what your daughter needs but once he has a solid list to go through, he’s efficient. he takes care of her when she cries in the night, whispering to you softly. “i’ve got it, baby. go back to sleep.” you can’t fall back asleep until he’s back in bed, baby peacefully back in her crib.

fatherhood looks good on jihoon. you often find him passed out on the couch, shirt somewhere else with your daughter on his chest. his hands are always so carefully holding her, supporting her neck. he’s started wearing his glasses more often. even though you just gave birth, the prospect of another child isn’t off the table when your husband looks like that.