#girl dinner studies 2023

[gender-trash]

so can someone explain to me. what the fuck is "girl dinner". if i see a picture of a blorbo captioned girl dinner what meaning am i supposed to derive from this

[alittleemo]

finished my final paper wooo

[tropes-and-tales]

It's That Simple

Day 16:  Praise Kink (Bob Floyd x F!Reader)

(For the 2023 Kinktober event that I created on my own because I am boring and basic and am trying to keep it simple this year...found here!) 

CW:  Light angst, kinda (Bob gets deflated); talk of panic attacks and self-doubt; smut (handjob); 18+ only.

Word Count:  5656

AN:  This was requested by an anon!

AN2: If you've been around a bit, you know the drill: this isn't edited or re-read or beta'ed.

It’s another terrible first date.

Bob struggles to even snag a first date.  He’s unassuming; he lacks the swagger and extroversion to stroll up to a woman and talk her up.  Most of his dates are obtained from other members of the Daggers—double dates, set-ups, stuff like that.

The latest one was set up by Fanboy, a friend of his sister.  Within moments of meeting his date, Bob knows it’ll be a mess:  she makes a face when she greets him at the door, and it goes downhill from there.

It ends when she gets a text.  An emergency, she tells him, and Bob is too smart and perceptive to buy the lie.  But he’s a gentleman, so he nods seriously and offers to drive her home or wherever she’s needed, which she declines.  He pays the bill of their abortive dinner, and he pretends not to notice how his date practically skips out of the restaurant and into the waiting car of a friend.

He should go home to lick his wounds.  Another failed date, another night alone.  He sees the stretch of his life in front of him and despairs that he’ll ever meet someone, and he should go home to sulk, but he goes to the Hard Deck instead.

He might as well break the news to Fanboy, at least, and maybe Nat can cheer him up with her usual sarcastic humor.

-----

The Hard Deck is as packed as always, and Bob—in his date clothes of dress pants and a button down shirt—stands out among the uniformed pilots and fellow wizzos.  He finds the Dagger Squad, confesses his failure to Fanboy, then settles into a stool near Nat and Rooster.

Nat puts a hand on his shoulder and gives him a comforting squeeze.  “I’m sorry, Bob,” she says.

“Her loss,” Rooster offers.

Bob shrugs.  It’s not anyone’s loss but his, but he offers them a weak smile that fools neither of them.

It’s Hangman who sidles up to Bob, and in an uncharacteristic moment of thoughtfulness, the cocky pilot offers to be his wingman—which makes Bob laugh, and it comes out laced with some bitterness.

“No offense, Bagman, but you’d be a terrible wingman,” Bob says.

“What?  Why?”

Bob lifts his hands in a helpless shrug.  “Because you’re….you.  And I’m not like you at all.”

“So?”

He scoffs in frustration at Bagman being so obtuse.  As if any woman would look at Bob if he walked up to them with Jake at his side.  It’d be like an Aston Martin rolling up alongside an old Honda Civic, and that’s the analogy he uses to make Jake understand.  But Jake shakes his head, clasps him on his shoulders and gives him a friendly shake.

“Nah, Baby on Board.  You got it all wrong.  You just need some confidence.”  Another teeth-rattling shake.  “Trust me, there’s a girl out there for you.  C’mon.”

Bob finds himself powerless to resist as Jake pushes him off of his stool, then shoves him gently in the direction of the crowded bar.

-----

The first pair that Jake sidles up to is a bust, but it’s not Bob’s fault:  Jake had hooked up with the one woman before, forgotten about it completely.  He’s moments from getting a drink tossed in his face when Bob tugs him away from the danger and they pull back, reevaluate.

The second pair is a bust too.  The first woman doesn’t even let Jake get the full sentence out before she’s wagging her ring finger in his face.

“Married,” she says, her words clipped.  “Move along, sailor.”

The third pair?  The third pair works out.  Jake hones in on one immediately, a blonde with big doe eyes, but the second one—you—rolls her eyes at him.

But when you turn to study Bob, you don’t roll your eyes.  You hold out a hand, introduce yourself, ask for his rank, then pat the empty chair beside you.

“Settle in, Lieutenant,” and your smile is easy.  “Let’s chat while we watch your friend strike out, huh?”

-----

It turns out you’re drunk, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

For one, you’ve fallen in with Bob Floyd, the most gentlemanly man a drunk, single girl could come across.  He’d never take advantage, and in fact, he’ll end up driving you home at the end of the night, getting you into your apartment.  He will take your shoes off of you, tuck you into your bed, and press a glass of water and a couple of ibuprofen on you before he sees himself out.

For another thing, Bob Floyd has fallen in with you, the most fiercely sweet drunk that a down-on-himself man could come across.  You’re one of those loud cheerleader types when you drink; the kind of woman who chats up other women in the bathroom, who tells them they’re beautiful, that you love them.  With your friend and Jake otherwise engaged, Bob finds himself caught in the tractor beam of your charm.

“You look sad,” you tell him around the rim of your glass.  “Are you sad?”

You’re drunk and Bob is sad, and you’re staring at him with wide eyes that glitter in the low light of the bar, so he tells you.  He tells you about his terrible date, the latest in a string of terrible dates, that he’s been single for so long and he’s not entirely convinced he’ll ever meet someone, that he’s too scrawny, that his glasses are terrible (one date called them serial killer glasses), that he’s too reserved to ever catch the eye of a woman, too unremarkable looking, let alone—

“No!”  You cut him off by exclaiming it, a near-shout, and your hand finds his forearm and grips him there.  “You’re gorgeous, Bill!  Don’t even say you aren’t!”

He grins despite himself.  “It’s Bob.  But thanks.  I mean, it’s nice of you to say—”

“Bob.  Yes.  Sorry.  Bob, not Bill.  I say it because it’s true.”  You release your hold on his arm and sit back in your chair, your eyes narrowed now as you study him closer.  You’re quiet for a long beat, and Bob squirms under your attention, but then you tell him more and he swears he breaks out in a full-body blush.

“You’re gorgeous, really,” you tell him.  “It’s just that you have a sneakier handsomeness, you know?  Like, that one there—” You gesture broadly at Jake.  “—He’s, like, Ken-doll handsome.  Like, he catches your eye because it’s all symmetrical and stuff, and he’s fine, but symmetry can be boring and someone like you, it’s sneaky.  You have a nice face, and these nice blue eyes, and nice hair, and I bet people think about you after the fact like, ‘oh, that Bob guy, he’s not bad at all,’ and then even later it’s like, ‘oh, Bob, he’s pretty handsome.’  Because you’re that sneaky sort of handsome and that’s the worst damned kind.”

Bob isn’t entirely tracking what you mean, but he shakes his head at the unearned praise, and he can’t stop the smile that’s plastered on his face.  He probably looks like a dope.

“Why’s that the worst kind?” he asks.

“Because it’s deadly!”  You lean forward again, put your hand on his arm again.  “Sneaky-handsome guys are like a virus because by the time you realize they’ve infected you, it’s too late.”

Bob chuckles.  “I’m a virus?  Suddenly my night has gotten worse, somehow.”

“No, not at all.  It’s just…”  You trail off, polish off your drink.  You wave down Penny for another.  “It’s just that you sneaky-handsome types never understand the power you have.  Ken-doll over there knows he’s hot, and by the mere fact of him knowing he’s hot, he loses a considerable amount of hotness.  But you have no idea you’re handsome, and that makes you even hotter.”

“I think there’s a string of women in the San Diego area that would disagree with your assessment,” Bob replies.  “But I appreciate the compliment, nonetheless.”

“Oh, them.”  You flap a hand, a dismissive wave.  “There’s a lot of idiots in the world, Bob.  You can’t let a string of women in the San Diego area make you feel bad.”

“I guess I just need to find someone who isn’t an idiot.”

“Ah, well!”  You set your drink down and wave your hands in front of yourself in a ta-da sort of flourish.  “Cal Tech graduate, Bobby.  I work for NASA.”

He feels a warm flush at you calling him Bobby.  “You’re a rocket scientist?  Definitely not an idiot, then.”

“Astrobiologist, actually.  And only an idiot sometimes, but never when it comes to the sneaky-handsome men here at the Hard Deck.”

Bob shakes his head, a little embarrassed at how much he likes you, a drunk stranger, talking him up.  He tries to dial it back, afraid he’s going to fall in love before last call.

“You’re way too smart for me, then,” he tells you.

That makes you arch an eyebrow at him.  “You afraid of smart women, Bobby?”

“Not at all.  It’s just that smart, beautiful, and sweet?  Do you understand the power you have?”  He keeps his tone light, teasing, but he’s in over his head with this:  he’s definitely going to fall in love before last call.

Of course he is.  His question makes you laugh, a warm sound that knocks free the lump in his chest from his earlier failed date.  Your laughter makes him feel drunk even though he hasn’t touched a drop; he feels warm and light and big-headed at how kind you’ve been to him, how sweet, but your laughter is the sound that makes him fall in love with you.

-----

The two of you stay until last call.  Bagman and your friend disappear hours before then, and you shrug at Bob, say you called it all wrong, that you didn’t think Jake was your friend’s type.

Bob drives you home.  You’re unsteady on your feet, so he hovers near you, but you manage reasonably well until it’s time to unlock your door.  He watches you try it, then he reaches out and takes the keys from your hand.

It’s the first time he touches you.

He gets you inside.  He gets you to your bedroom, and you flop gracelessly across the mattress, and Bob immediately goes into caretaker mode.  He slides your shoes off of you, sets them in a neat row by your closet.  He makes his way to your kitchen, gets you a glass of water, then stops in the bathroom.  He rummages through your medicine cabinet—you use the same brand of toothpaste as he does, the same type of toothbrush, and Bob marvels at the strange intimacy of learning these things, the everyday things that not everyone is privy to about you.  He finds some ibuprofen and shakes two out, then takes them and the water back to you.

You’re already drifting off to sleep, and Bob has to cajole you into sitting up.  He gets you perched on the side of the bed and gives you the pills and water, which you take without complaints.  He takes the empty glass back from you, and then there’s a moment—

—you sit on the edge of your bed and Bob stands over you, and you look up at him with your bleary eyes and he sees fear.  You’re understanding what you’ve done, maybe:  you’ve invited a strange man back to your place and you’re drunk, and he could do anything, and Bob sees the flicker of uncertainty, the beginning of fear in your eyes.  It makes him feel sick because he’d never take advantage.  It makes him sick that the world, being what the world is, makes this fear lance through the whiskey fumes in your head.

He reaches down to the foot of your bed where there’s a blanket neatly folded.  He shakes it out, urges you to lie down, and when you do, he covers you up.

“Be sure to drink more water when you wake up,” he tells you softly. 

The nascent fear fades out of your expression, and it’s replaced by a loose, goofy grin.  You free a hand from under the blanket and give him a sloppy salute.  “Aye, aye, captain.”

Bob sees himself out but not before he’s struck with a bit of brave optimism.  He sees the little whiteboard by your refrigerator, and he writes out his name and his number.  He drives home and sends up a silent prayer that his sneaky-handsome virus has already infected you, charmed as he is by your earnestly drunken (albeit clunky) analogy from earlier in the evening.

He wakes up the next morning and feels less hopeful.  He queues up a playlist and sets out on his morning run, but his morning pessimism is misplaced:  you call him a mile into his run, and Bob stutters in his steps to hear your voice—a little rough, but sunny nonetheless.

“I’m looking for a guy named Bobby,” you tell him over the phone, and he can hear the smile in your voice.  “Lieutenant Blue Eyes.”

-----

The two of you make plans to meet up at the Hard Deck, but you don’t call it a date so Bob doesn’t either.  He’s in unfamiliar territory:  things have always been a date or not a date in the past, but he’s noticed that many of his Dagger teammates speak in looser terms—meeting up, hanging out—with potential partners.  He’s unsure how to handle it; if he seems too casual, you might miss his interest.  If he comes on too strong, he might scare you off.

He decides to just turn up in his uniform, as he usually does, and when he arrives at the Hard Deck, you are already there.  You’re perched in a bar stool and chatting to Penny, but when he strolls in, you see him.

You smile at him as he walks over to you, but then you shake your head in a mock-rueful way.

“Oh, no,” you say as you hop off of your stool.  You open your arms and Bob steps into them, and you hug him warmly like you’re old friends.  “I thought maybe it was just whiskey-goggles that night, but you really are cute.”

Bob chuckles.  He releases you, then takes the stool beside yours.  “Well, I’ve been downgraded.  You called me handsome that night,” he points out.

“Sneaky-handsome, actually.”

“There seems to be a whole spectrum here that I was never privy to.”

You wave down Penny who comes and takes your orders.  Once your drinks are in front of you—a hard cider for you, a shandy for Bob—you click your glass against his.

“Here’s to the sneaky-handsome men of the world,” you say.

Bob ducks his head and grins  “And to the rocket scientists,” he adds.

A date or not a date…the evening passes in a blink, and you leave Bob that night entirely sober after long conversations and a lot of easy laughter.  You pull him in for another hug before you part, and this hug lingers longer than the hug you gave him as a greeting.  When you pull away, though, you gaze at him with a somber expression.

“I wanted to thank you for the other night,” you tell him.  “For being a gentleman when you took me home.”

“Of course.”

“No, I mean it.”  Your hands on his upper arms squeeze him a little firmer.  “You could have taken advantage, and you didn’t.  You’re a good one, Bob.”

He shakes his head, tries to wave you off, but you squeeze him again.  You don’t let him shrug off your thanks.  You don’t let him downplay his goodness.

“You are a good man, Bob,” you repeat, and you stare at him, like you’re daring him to disagree. 

Bob, who finds that you’re something of a force to be reckoned with, wouldn’t dare to disagree.

-----

He’s still not entirely clear if this is dating or not.  Neither of you actually says the word.  You text each other steadily, and you meet up sometimes at the Hard Deck, but your schedule isn’t great and Bob’s is even worse.  He worries that he’s missed his chance.  When he talks about it to the other Daggers, Hangman rolls his eyes and tells Bob he should have taken his shot earlier, that Bob is pretty much friend-zoned now, but Nat rolls her eyes at that and says he’s overthinking it.

Of course Bob overthinks it.  Bob overthinks everything.

He doesn’t know yet that you overthink everything too.  That you are going through your own pangs of regret, that you think you’ve missed your chance too, that your friends circle around you too and give you tough-love pep talks to build up your courage to take the lead on this burgeoning thing with Bob.

And ultimately, Bob’s hunch that you’re a force to be reckoned with is correct.  In the end, you take charge.

-----

You end up inviting him over for dinner on a night when your schedules align, and Bob overthinks that too. 

What if it’s a date-date, and he turns up too casual, with nothing in his hands—no wine, no flowers?  Or the opposite—what if he dresses up a little, brings you a mixed bouquet, and it’s just a casual friends-type thing?

Bob has no idea how he can manage the systems on a sophisticated plane because his brain grinds to a painful halt the moment he starts to contemplate this dinner at your place.  It’s Nat—it’s always Nat, with her no-nonsense lens into the mystique of her fellow women—who smacks some sense into him.

“Wear a nice shirt, shower beforehand, and take a bottle of wine,” she tells him.

“But what if—”

“It’s always polite to take a gift, Bob.”  She rolls her eyes, heaves a sigh.  “And it’s always polite to, you know.  Shower.  Show up fresh-smelling and neat.  Jesus Christ.  Just go.”

So Bob turns up at your apartment, a mid-tier bottle of wine in his sweaty hand.  Freshly showered, a daub of cologne behind his ears, and a nice blue button-down that brings out his eyes. 

And it’s a good thing he took Nat’s advice too, because you open the door in the sweetest sundress, and there’s music softly playing and the most heavenly smells wafting from your kitchen.  Bob realizes all at once that it’s a date-date after all, and his heart does an alarming little stutter in his chest, enough to stun him until you take his hand and gently pull him inside.

-----

Part of Bob’s issue with women is his inability to pick up on subtle, sometimes invisible cues.  He has always fallen in with the sort of women who play mind games, who play coy and say one thing while meaning another.  He always feels back on his heels; it feels like women speak a language he’s only slightly fluent in, so he’s always playing catch-up to translate what they mean.

But it’s refreshing with you, in this moment, because as you both sit down to the feast you’ve prepared, you just talk with him.  The two of you chat about your lives, you catch each other up since the last time you’ve talked, and Bob almost forgets to be nervous.

Almost.  A pair of tapered candles flicker between you and cast your lovely face in a golden glow, and low, bluesy music sets the soundtrack as you eat.  You sip at the wine he brought, and he eats your home-cooking, and Bob imagines an entire life like this…and he almost misses the way you keep swiping your palms along your thighs, like you’re nervous.

Almost.  He leans into his WSO work, studies you closely like you’re a dashboard of lights and alarms and switches.  He watches you a little closer, and he sees the way your throat bobs when you swallow a mouthful of wine, like you’re swallowing past a lump or going all dry-mouthed on him.  He sees the deep breaths you take, the way you press the back of your hand to your neck, like you’re flushed and trying to calm yourself.

“You’re nervous,” he blurts out when he realizes it for sure, and you pause in where you’re lifting the wine glass to your mouth and stare at him.

“I am.”  It’s that simple.  No mind games, no coy pretending. 

“It’s just me,” Bob says.

You smile at him, and it trembles a little at the corners.  He can feel the nerves in you now, and he reaches out a hand across the table, palm up.  He makes a grabby motion with it until your smile firms up and you lay your hand in his, and he grasps you lightly.

“It’s just me,” he repeats.

“And I like just-you,” you tell him.  “Like-like, I mean.  I wanted to tell you so tonight.”

His heart does that wicked little stutter in his chest, but he squeezes your hand.  “Sounds like you just told me then.”

“Guess so.”  You watch him, and your smile seems tremulous again, so Bob replies, “I like you too.”

It’s that simple.  After you each put yourself through your own overthinking hell, each suffering through your own sleepless nights and needless worrying about dumb things like friend zones, it comes down to a moment so simple that it’s stupid:  just the two of you holding hands as you confess your mutual feelings matter-of-factly.

-----

It feels too easy.  After months (years) of struggling to even land the occasional first date, suddenly Bob’s dream girl turns up just like that.  It feels too easy, and so Bob slips into his overthinking almost immediately.

It goes fine after dinner, when the two of you trade nervous kisses on your couch until the nerves burn off enough that your mouth slotted over his feels natural, that you move in concert with each other—your head tilting one way, his tilting the other, no longer bumping noses or knocking his glasses askew. 

It goes fine as you climb into his lap, the solid weight of you a welcome sensation because Bob’s head feels like it’s filled with helium, drunk and fizzy from the feel of your lips against his, your tongue against his own.

It goes fine when you climb off of him, shaky-legged like a newborn foal.  When you hold out your hand and take his to lead him back to your bedroom.

The moment he finds himself stripped down to his boxers and lying on your bed is the moment it falls apart.

It’s like every mean comment, every brush-off and ghosting, every roll of the eyes and beleaguered sigh and overheard commentary about him crowds into the room and leaves no space for this moment with you.  Bob thinks of all the feedback he’s ever gotten on dates—the serial killer eye glasses, the lack of muscles, the lack of game.  He tries to take a deep breath and finds he can barely pull in a lungful, and his throat feels like it’s closing on him—

And he can’t get hard.  His near-erection from making out on the couch deflates, and even though you are perched over him—you’ve shed your sundress, and you’re in the sexiest, sweetest lingerie set, powder pink, like the underside of a cloud at sunrise—he cannot coax himself back to attention.

The panic that floods him—he recognizes the feeling.  He’s felt it a million times.  He feels the hot, splotchy redness as it breaks out across his chest and neck, and his face flushes furiously bright, and you notice it all in real time.  The sultry, heavy-lidded look on your face disappears and is replaced by pure concern.

“Bob?  Bobby?  Are you…okay?”  You reach a hand out and cup his face, and your palm had felt warm earlier but now it feels cool….which proves how hot he’s flushed, how feverish his panic makes him feel.

“I’m sorry.  Shit, honey.  I’m…I gotta go.”  He tries to sit up but your mattress is soft and he flails a moment, and if Bob were just a bit younger he’d burst into tears at how sideways this has all gone so suddenly.  You served him up the perfect evening, you’re kneeling right beside him in the hottest fucking lingerie, and he’s been reduced to a stuttering, red-face idiot who can’t even get hard—

“Hey.”  You lay your hand on his bare chest, steady him.  “Hey, hey, hey.  Take a second.  Just breathe, Bobby.”

“I gotta—”

“Just relax.”  You press against his chest, tap your forefinger against his skin.  “Breathe for me, okay?  Everything’s fine.”

“It’s not.  Fuck, it’s not!”  He raises his voice, winces at how shrill he sounds, and the dam in him breaks.  Something in him dislodges, and it all spills out:  every mean, rotten thing he’s ever thought about himself.  Every bit of unfair criticism, every insult and slight and how his own insecurity has twisted it all into a crippling imposter syndrome.  How he only ever feels competent at his job but how he struggles with everything else, and now how he’s fucked it all up with you because he’s overthinking, always trapped in the own tangled maze of his mind, always waiting for the other shoe to drop because he’s not good enough, he can’t even get hard even with you looking like a dream—

“Hey.  Whoa.”  You remove your hand from his chest, but you scoot over to sit beside him, turned to face him, your expression very similar to the night he met you—the same easy smile, the same studious eyes.

“Nothing’s ruined.  You haven’t fucked anything up.  Take a breath.  Is this because of that bad first date you had the night we met?”

He nods.  “A little bit.”

“There’s been other bad first dates, I guess?”

Another nod.

“And now you’re worried this is just another bad first date?”

“Yeah.”  It comes out a croak, a roughness in his throat. 

“Hmm.”  You lean forward, press a soft kiss to his forehead.  “You wanna hear about my worst first date ever?”

“No, honey, it’s okay—”

“His name was Justin.”  Another soft kiss, this one to his temple.  “Good job, good looking.”  Another kiss, to the other temple, right at his hairline.  “Picked me up and gave me flowers, took me out to San Diego’s most exclusive restaurant that has a reservation list a mile long.”

Bob chuckles weakly.  “Sounds awful,” he says, wry.

You hum again, kiss his flushed cheek.  “He was charming at dinner.”  A kiss on his other cheek.  “Said all the right things.  Asked about my life and listened to my answers.”  The lightest of kisses on the tip of his nose, and it makes him smile despite himself. 

“Halfway through dessert, a woman comes up to our table.”  Bob feels the gentle press of your lips at the corner of his mouth, and he turns his head to kiss you back, but you pull away. 

“It was Justin’s wife.”  A flurry of kisses now, to his chin, along his jawline, near his ear. 

“He was cheating,” Bob says.

“Nope.”  A kiss, this one lingering, under his jaw, on his neck.  “Turns out, this was a little game he and his wife play.  Some weird cheating, cuckolding fantasy.”  Your lips skate over his pulse point.  “He takes a girl out, his wife pretends to catch them, and then they go to a nearby hotel to fuck each other senseless.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Oh, shit is right.”  You lift your head to gaze at him.  “Asshole left me with the bill for dinner too.  So Bobby….you’re not my worst first date.  You’re not even close.”

“Honey—”

“You have no idea how hard you’re gonna have to work to really, honestly fuck this up.”  You grin at him, and then you straddle his lap again, and he lays his hands on your hips and stares up at you.

“Because you’re, like, exactly the sort of man I’ve always been looking for.  You’re that sneaky-handsome sort, and you’re smart and sweet, and you took care of me that first night when I was too drunk to make good choices.”  You cup his face in your hands, and you stare at him hard, that sweet forcefulness on full display, like you dare him to disagree with you.

“It’s already a sure thing, Bobby.”  You lean forward, kiss him gently.  “There’s no pressure to do anything tonight.  Don’t even think about needing to do anything.  How about you just let me love on you, and you just relax, and if you can keep your secret wife from busting in and turning this into a cuckolding fantasy, we’ll end the night just fine, okay?”

That makes him laugh, and it breaks the spell of his terrible ruminating.  Bob laughs, and he slides his hands from your hips up to your waist to feel your soft skin.

“I didn’t even think of getting a secret wife before I came here,” he confesses.

“See?  It’s a sure thing, then.”  You lean forward again, whisper in his ear, your warm breath making him break out in goosebumps as you tell him to just relax and let you love on him.

-----

The antidote to Bob’s awful overthinking, as it turns out, is your care and praise.

As far as first dates go, this is the one where Bob learns something new about his own sexuality.  He learns, thanks to you, that he has a praise kink, because your hands and mouth and body on his feels amazing, but it’s your words that make him hard.

Loving on him means you touch him everywhere.  You kiss him everywhere.  You stroke him, press your soft lips to him, lick against parts of him until he feels like he’s on fire in a way that is completely different than his panic attack.  You kiss every inch of his face and neck.  You trail your mouth over his shoulders and collarbones, across every bit of his chest and belly, and you praise him whenever your mouth isn’t otherwise occupied.

Look at you, Bobby.  Hiding this body away under that uniform.

You praise his arms, the muscles of his chest and abs.  You praise his shoulders and back, the smattering of chest hair, the trail of hair that leads down and disappears under the waistband of his boxers, and you glance up at him, the question in your eyes as you toy with the elastic.

“Can I?” you ask, and Bob nods, swallows hard, and you go lower, you push his boxers down and his cock is there, hard from your honied words.

“Holy shit,” you blurt out.  “Bob, are you for real with this?”

It probably seems like a cliché, like the pretty girl in a movie who somehow never realized she was pretty, but Bob has never really considered his size.  He’s been around plenty of other penises through the course of his career, but he’s never exactly eyed up other men and measured himself against them.  The handful of women he’s slept with never said anything so he assumed he was average, but you praise him here too—you tell him he has a beautiful cock, and Bob blushes at the compliment.  He’d never call it beautiful, but when you wrap your palm around his shaft and grip him gently, he’d agree to any adjective you might offer, so long as you never let him go.

This feels too easy too, but the panic never claws at Bob’s throat again.  You’ve chosen him, you’ve made it a sure thing for him, and you’ve cut through his awkward moment of near-flight to get him to this:  your body stretched alongside his, your breasts pressed against his arm, your hand working against his cock while you whisper praise in his ear. 

And every time doubt starts to creep in—he should be touching you too, he should be making you feel good too—you hush him, you still his mouth by kissing him, and you tell him that he has all the time in the world for touching you, but he should let you take care of him now.

His orgasm creeps up in fits and starts, and it seems to ratchet closer with each bit of praise you lavish on him, more so than each movement of your hand working against his cock.

“I want you to come for me, Bobby,” you whisper against his neck.  You kiss his pulse point, a plush, open-mouth kiss that makes him shiver as you grip him tighter, work a faster rhythm with your hand.  “Come for me like a good boy.”

He wants to be good for you; he wants to do as you say.  Some not-so-small part of him craves your approval, and maybe the two of you will play around with that sort of dynamic in the future, but for now, he just wants to obey you.  He wants to do his part to salvage the night he thinks he almost ruined, so he breathes in time to your strokes, focuses on every sensation—the softness of your breasts pressed against him, your wet, hot mouth kissing him, the light scent of your perfume.  The tension in his belly is a coil, and it tightens and tightens until it snaps, and his hips stutter against your grasping hand.  He gasps out your name, warns you, and then a beat later, he comes.  He spills over your hand, thick ropes of cum coating your fingers and wrist, spilling over onto his belly.

“Just like that, baby.”  You kiss his panting mouth, and he feels the curve of your lips as you give a pleased smile.  “It’s that simple.”

[thepowerofswayze]

Crush

originally on ao3

pairing: mike schmidt (2023) / afab reader [gender not specified]

word count: 3K

warnings & info: 18+, first time together, mostly smut, oral sex (both receive), you're abby's babysitter, reader wears a bra, compliments like "pretty"

summary: Abby can't help but tell you all of Mike's business- specifically, that Mike has a crush on you. Luckily, the feeling is mutual.

☆

You were tucking Abby into bed when you caught her staring at you, brows furrowed. “What’re you thinkin’ so hard about?” You asked, tapping her nose.

The girl scrunched her face. “You’re really pretty,” she said, burrowing herself into the blankets. “It makes sense that Mike has a crush on you.”

Not sure you heard her right, you blinked, then laughed. “Very funny,” you sighed, giving her an eye roll and a smile.

“It’s true!” She was sitting up now, undoing all the work you’d put into tucking her in nice and tight. “He’s, like, extra weird around you, like, super fidgety and staring at you. And he fixes his hair before he opens the door every time you come over. And he’s all smiley on the phone with you. He’s never smiley.”

You tried not to betray the way your heart fluttered and instead put on a face like you're deep in thought. “Hm… Well, I’m not sure you’ve convinced me. But how about we talk about it when I’m back tomorrow? Right now, you should be fast asleep, girl.”

Abby was obviously not buying that you’d be willing to talk about it later- and, in fact, you were hoping she’d forget the conversation- but she yawned and lay back down, allowing you to re-tuck the sheets. Her eyes were already dropping as she said, “I’m right, you know.”

You gave her a nod. “I’m sure. Goodnight, Abby.” With a kiss on her forehead, you stood from her bed, turned out the lights, and slipped out the door.

As the door softly closed behind you, you made your way into the kitchen and started cleaning up from dinner. Abby’s words didn’t leave your head. Sure, kids loved misreading things or teasing their siblings, but Abby was a smart kid. She didn’t usually tell you lies. You shook your head, smiling a little at how the butterflies in your stomach stirred. Getting this worked up over intel gathered from a ten year old was silly.

That didn’t mean you thought about anything else as you worked, washing dishes and straightening the living room, picking up stray clothes and tossing them in their rightful places, sweeping the floor when you were done and still restless. An hour or two later, you collapsed on the couch, TV remote in hand. The only things on were Late Night, a rerun of 90s movies, and the infomercial channel. Seth Meyers tempted you from the NBC channel, but when you saw Clueless would start playing in 10 minutes, you settled on the movie reruns. You turned the volume up, just enough to hear it from the couch, then lay your head on the arm rest, doing a terrible job of keeping your eyes open.

It was like you blinked and the room was suddenly dark. In reality, it was hours later. You heard rustling, watching the figure in front of the now switched off TV turn toward you. “Mike?” You asked, knowing already from his posture and the way his hand ran through his hair that it was him.

“Sorry,” he said, mouth quirking up as he watched you stretch and yawn. “I was gonna let you sleep.”

You shook your head sitting up and patting the spot on the couch next to you. “‘S no problem,” you managed as he sat, letting your shoulder press against his. “How was work?”

Mike made a noncommittal noise, ducking his head as you turned to look at him, eyes adjusting to the lighting. The purple under his eyes wasn’t extreme, but it was there. Along with his permanently disheveled hair and week-old scruff, he looked the way the noise sounded. The exhaustion did nothing to hide how handsome he was, though, and you felt the usual rush of adrenaline as you kept studying him. “It was work,” he replied, hands fidgeting in his lap. “How were things here? I see you and Abby cleaned.”

You snorted, and you could swear he smiled genuinely. “Yeah, me and Abby.” You were fully awake now, eyes falling on his restless hands then flitting away to the blank TV screen, still warm. In your mind, a checklist appeared and you involuntarily checked ‘fidgety’ and ‘smiley’ off. “We worked on her homework. Oh, and we ate your leftovers… Sorry...”

He was looking at you now, one eyebrow raised as you gave him a grin that definitely didn’t convey any remorse. “I’m sure you’re so sorry,” he scoffed, eyes leaving yours but scanning your face now. ‘Staring.’ Check. God, this wasn't going to leave your mind, was it? “You didn't have to clean, you know. Thank you.”

Now it was your turn to make a noncommittal noise, accompanied by a shrug as you looked away. “No biggie. Helps me think, anyway.” When he ran his hand through his hair earlier, was that normal? Or was that a ‘fixes his hair when you come over’ occurrence, right in front of you? Suddenly his shoulder touching yours was all you could feel. You couldn’t live like this. “Abby said something funny, actually.”

You watched out of the corner of your eye as he hummed. “Yeah? What’d she say?”

Well, no point in dancing around it. “She seems to think you have a crush on me.”

You could swear Mike’s breath caught. Your shoulder left his as you turned to watch him now, eyes trained on his face. He glanced over at you, then focused on his fidgety hands. No way. “Oh.” There was no way. Your eyebrows raised as he wiped his hands on his jeans. The seconds ticked by. He was too quiet. “What, uh.” Another beat. You watched as he swallowed hard, throat bobbing. “What d’you… think about that?”

Mentally, you pumped your fist, and thanked the universe that kids were so committed to spilling everyone's secrets. “I dunno,” you responded. His obvious nerves were weirdly soothing to yours. Maybe it was the near confirmation that whatever this was, it wasn’t one sided. He was looking at you now, eyes a little wide at how close you two were, faces really only inches away. You could smell his cologne and the coffee on his breath. “I don’t think it’d be all that bad.”

“Yeah?” He barely breathed the word, and it sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes dropped to your lips, and yours did the same to his. “Well.” His voice was low and thick, like he couldn’t believe what he was saying. “I guess we’d probably have to do something about that.”

It was a slightly awkward, very Mike type line, but it might as well have been a Shakespearean proclamation of love the way your stomach did flips. “Probably,” you whispered back. “Definitely.”

His hand moved, pushing a lock of your hair behind your ear, and you were barely breathing now. You leaned into the touch, his hand cupping your cheek, his calluses rubbing against your skin. The look in his eyes was going straight to your head, and you leaned in, tilting as your noses brushed.

A second ticked by. He whispered your name. “Are you… you’re sure?”

“Mike,” you breathed, eyes half closed already. “Kiss me.” And he did.

His lips were a little chapped, you thought. He was kissing you gently, and the friction of his stubble against your face was actually kind of nice. His free hand was gripping your waist now, sure but gentle, and your own hands traveled from your lap to his chest, where his heart was beating so hard you vaguely thought he might have a heart attack. As one of your hands moved to the back of his head, tangling in his hair, he let out a noise and the air shifted.

It wasn’t anything crazy- a rather content sigh was all- but it went straight to your stomach. Then lower. You shifted, a hand on his face to guide him as the kiss deepened, while the other tugged at his hair. He reciprocated eagerly, and you faintly registered how sweet he tasted. Another noise escaped, not a little gasp or sigh like you’d both been letting slip, but almost a whine in the back of his throat. You weren’t gonna manage to pull yourself away at this rate.

He chased your lips as you pulled back, just a bit, for air. “Mike,” you murmured. His responding ‘Hm?’ was so eager, you almost dove back in right there, and his thumb on your hip bone just under the hem of your shirt wasn’t helping. But you wanted something else. “If you wanna… We should go to your room.”

His eyes were wide again, and he stood almost abruptly. “Yeah. Yeah, we- cmon.” He took your hand, leading you through the hall as if you weren’t at his house every weekday.

You’d been in his room before, but you’d never been on his bed. You’d never sat with your legs tucked beneath you as he kissed you, his hands now on your waist under your shirt, your hands pulling at his loose curls in ways that made that throaty whine come back. He was gonna be the end of you.

He tugged at the hem of your shirt, and you smiled into the kiss. “Okay,” you murmured, pulling back to take your shirt off. His breath was trembling as you threw the garment to the floor, immediately working on getting his shirt off, too. It joined yours, the start of a pile, and you barely had a moment before his lips were on yours again, his hands back on your waist, on the small of your back. Yours played with the top of his jeans, your thumbs hooking into his waistband. He shivered beneath your touch. “Off,” you murmured, working on his button and zipper. He helped you get them off, helped you get your own pants taken care of, so you both sat there in your underwear.

You looked at the tent in his pants, then back up to meet his gaze. He was looking at you with wide eyes, glancing from your face to your chest. Lower. He took it all in with the same awed expression. His hand traced your side, and you took his face in your hands and kissed him.

Mike’s hands loved to roam. He ran them over your hips, over your thighs, up your back to the clasp of your bra. He fumbled before it released and slid off easily. The air was cold, but his hands quickly came up to replace the fabric, thumbs brushing over your nipples gently.

He pulled back momentarily. “Can I…” The tremor in his voice was too good. It took everything in you not to interrupt him with another kiss. His voice was low, pleading. “I don’t have any condoms. But I can still eat you out.” Then, quickly, “If you want, I mean.”

‘If you want,’ he said. Was he crazy? “Yeah.” You kissed him gently- once, then again. “Yeah. I want that.”

You lay back on his pillows, which smelled overwhelmingly like him, and watched as he climbed over you. His mouth met your neck, kissing gently, trailing down to your collarbone, your breasts, your stomach. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of your underwear and you lifted your hips to let him tug them off.

Mike’s face was ridiculously reverent. Heat overtook your skin at the sight of him between your legs. He dragged a finger down the slick pooling on you, and your breath quivered. A kiss to your inner thigh. Then to the other one, stubble scratching the sensitive skin. Then his mouth was on you.

The feeling of his tongue tentatively lapping a stripe up your core made you squirm, breath ragged. He did it again, making sure to linger on your clit, then again and again. “That’s good,” you huffed out, and he sped up, the praise spurring him on. One of your hands found its way to his curls, while the other came to rest over your mouth. He sucked on your clit, and you let out a cross between a gasp and a moan. “Fuck, Mike.”

He answered with a groan of his own, obscenely pleased with the reaction he was getting from you. As he continued, one of his fingers slipping inside and pumping in time with his tongue, you bit one of your own fingers in a weak attempt to muffle yourself. His mouth was hot against you as he whined like this was just as good for him. Another finger slipped in, and your head pushed back. You gripped the sheets, chest heaving. “Just like that,” you gasped. The sound of his fingers plunging in and out of you and his mouth sucking on your clit filled the room, a vulgar combination. With his own muffled moans and your gasps added on, you were sure you’d lose your mind.

Your hips rolled up, just about riding his face and fingers. He let you, his free hand moving to cup your ass, his tongue still sucking and working even as he let you choose the pace. “Shit.” You could feel it now, the familiar sensation in your stomach. “Shit, Mike, I’m-” A gasp. “‘m so close.”

“Come on,” he murmured, not even pulling away, his voice reverberating against you. “Please.”

How was he begging for you to come? You glanced down at him in disbelief, and wow. He looked good like this. His head bobbed eagerly, his hair a mess where your hands had been, where one hand still was, his face flushed. You gripped his hair and he made a noise so indecent, it had your mouth falling open as your orgasm crashed into you.

He stayed on you as you rode out your high, slowing down his ministrations, fingers slowly pulling out of you. When you released your grip on his hair and he lifted his head, you were speechless. His face from the nose down was shining from the mix of your slick and his own spit. He brought his fingers up to his mouth, licking what was left of you off, and you all but growled as you pulled him up for a kiss.

He huffed as your hand traveled to the front of his boxers, feeling the wet spot he’d left and his fully hard dick underneath. You smiled into the kiss, continuing to feel him out. He made little noises into your mouth, and you drank them in hungrily. “Fuck,” he murmured, and you stopped.

Mike whined, his eyes searching yours as you pulled away. “Don’t worry,” you reassured him, just as out of breath as he was. “C’mon. Your turn.”

He just about scrambled to comply, switching places with you so he was lying where you had just been. You climbed over him, straddling his hips and leaning down to brush your lips. You traveled down to his neck, kissing and sucking, leaving marks that had him downright whimpering under you. Then, down to his boxers. You kissed him through the fabric before pulling it off with his help. He took in a breath as the air hit him, and you wrapped your hand around him immediately.

“Shit,” he breathed. You wasted no time stroking him, slowly at first, watching him squirm. Then, just as you sped up, you put your mouth on the tip.

Now it was his turn to put his hand in your hair. He was gentle, not quite pulling to the point of pain, but you could definitely feel how much he was enjoying you bobbing your mouth down his length, anything not in your mouth clasped in your hands. If his hand hadn’t been in your hair, he was vocal enough that’d you’d still have a very good idea.

“Fuck,” he babbled, whispering your name followed by a particularly desperate moan. “Fuck, you’re so pretty. It feels so good, so-” He cut himself off with a whimper, holding his hips down so he wouldn’t buck into your mouth, afraid he might hurt you. He was close anyway, and he told you as much in between breathless grunts and groans.

You removed your mouth and he whimpered at the loss before your hand replaced it, keeping up the rhythm as he dropped his head back. He stopped holding his hips down, bucking into your hand shamelessly. “Go on,” you encouraged. “Give it to me.”

He rambled on, your name on his lips as he climaxed and released into your hand. You kept going, guiding him through it as he came down, chest heaving. God, he looked too pretty with that hazy look he was giving you. You told him as much, and he flushed with a sheepish smile, pulling you in for another kiss.

You stayed that way, kissing him as his hands squeezed your hips, until he pulled back smiling. “I should clean us up, probably,” he murmured. At your protesting whine, he shook his head and shimmied out from under you. “If we keep this up I’m going to stop caring about our lack of condoms.”

He disappeared into the connecting bathroom, leaving you with your mouth open and a new throbbing between your legs. He was right. If you two didn’t slow down, you were maybe a couple touches away from also throwing caution to the wind, which wouldn’t work out in either of your favors.

He returned with a damp washcloth, already cleaned up himself. You held out your hand and he wiped it off, then your thighs. He tossed the cloth in the hamper in the corner of the room, then rummaged through his drawers, pulling out a shirt and turning to you. “I, uh. This should be better than nothing, yeah?”

You held out your hands and he tossed it at you. “Thank you.”

He pulled on a pair of fresh boxers while you tugged on his shirt- it smelled like him, his cologne and something that just screamed ‘boy’. You watched as he made his way back to the bed and you scooted over, letting him climb in next to you, pulling the covers over you both.

“You… you are staying. Right?”

You grinned, nodding at him. “Yeah. I’m not driving home right now.” You pressed a kiss to his temple, and he all but melted. “Besides, I wanna hang around with you longer. I like you, in case I hadn’t made it clear.”

Mike huffed a laugh, his hand sliding under what was now your shirt- you were never giving it back to him. Not until it stopped smelling like him, anyway. “Good. I like you, too. A lot.” He kissed your forehead, and you hummed, nestling into him as his thumb made lazy strokes on your hip. “Goodnight,” he whispered into your hair. You drifted off to the sound of his breathing.

[jaylver]

MIDNIGHT RAIN (BACK TO YOU) — S.JY

SYNOPSIS: You declared to the world that this summer will be yours. Ever since you’ve left home to chase your dream further in Europe, you never dared to look back, leaving your friends and family along with the precious memories there, including your silent love for your closest friend. Years passed, you were making a name for yourself and chasing that fame, settling in perfectly fine and eventually moved on with life. All was well until the transfer window came, announcing a new addition to the men’s first team, who also happened to be your childhood best friend, Jake Sim. Summer in Spain wouldn’t be what it is without experiencing lots of rekindling, heartbreaks, fallout but also a shot at love.

PAIRINGS: pro-footballer!jake x pro-footballer afab!reader

GENRE: childhood friends to lovers, college/professional sports au, romance, angst, pining, (slight) slow burn

WARNING(S): mentions of alcohol, drinking, parties, profanities, miscommunication, jake being a dense asshole at times, both are confused about their feelings, hee being the group therapist again, slight suggestiveness

WC: 18k

AUTHOR NOTES: for my people who don't know which football this is, it's kickball football aka soccer 🫶 this is dedicated to my jake (enha stans in general) enthusiasts who happens to love football just like me! like always, feedbacks are greatly, HUGELY appreciated! it'll genuinely motivate me <3 enjoy :)

part 3 of 'no competition' series | series masterlist | masterlist

© jaylver 2023 all rights reserved.

‘Y/N L/N TO JOIN FC BARCELONA FEMENI ON A FIVE YEAR DEAL. HERE WE GO.’

Sometimes, chasing your dreams meant leaving everything you loved behind and sacrificing a shit ton just to get to where you want to be. 

Football has always been your passion since you were barely walking or even talking. The icons you’ve watched on TV every weekend such as Maradona, Messi and Pele only gave you more drive to chase that dream of yours, even when relatives disregarded it as a so-called ‘impossible childish  dream’. Growing up, you joined your local youth team, where the boys and girls played together regardless, sharing the equal amount of joy and love for the sport.

Being barely five, you found yourself having a hard time mixing around with a bunch of kids that were one, two years older, feeling greatly out of place. Look, you were immensely grateful that you were regarded as a wonder kid that was significantly more talented than a whole load of your peers, but getting placed into a den full of kids taller and older than you? That was scary. 

That was until a boy approached you out of the blue, confidently reaching his hand out for introductions. He was the cutest boy you’ve ever laid your eyes on and you swore he was miles better than the boys at your kindergarten. The boy who had a smile that resembled the sun and energy that reflected a jumpy golden retriever puppy was a year older than you, and he introduced himself as Jake Sim or Sim Jaeyun, volunteering to be your partner in practice. Since then, you’ve only gotten closer to Jake, not knowing he was about to be a permanent figure in your life.

The moment you’ve reached seven, the team was splitted into girls and boys, which meant you were unable to play with Jake anymore, but that didn't stop you from meeting up and practising together.

"You've gotten taller," you remembered yourself telling him that one afternoon.

Jake looked up from the ball under his foot, sweaty strands of hair clinging onto his forehead. "Really?"

"No." 

Banter and jokes were frequent between you two, you loved pulling pranks on him and vice versa. It was common knowledge that you and Jake were inseparable leading up till highschool where everyone thought you and him were a couple, could you believe that? Okay, maybe living in the same neighbourhood, hanging out 24/7, constantly in the park playing football, having dinner almost every night together, studying in the same college and getting accepted into the national team at the same time were quite off putting for some people … right? You were in denial.

Safe to say you and Jake grew up to be great footballers and even better people. College was undeniably an obstacle for you, but as long as there was a football team, you were going to be fine, and fine you were, great even, when you joined the college football team while Jake joined the men’s team, representing your college to tournaments. 

You would go to his games and watch him score goals while he would do the same and cheer you on. Soon enough, at freshly eighteen and nineteen, both of you were approached by widely known clubs from all over Europe for your signatures on a professional contract. This was it, college could wait, this was what mattered, you didn’t work your ass off for nothing.

"Bayern contacted you? You're kidding!"

It was a Saturday night at your place, a basic tradition that you and Jake had every weekend if there weren't any training or matches going on. A random low budget film in the background, a bowl of popcorn in the middle, you and your best friend laid on the ground of your bedroom, sharing the latest insight of your lives.

"I can't imagine myself in Germany though," Jake pouted, pulling the blanket closer to his chin. "What about you? Anything new?"

"Not much. There's the Arsenal Women's team that contacted me, they're good too," you shrugged.

"But you love the sun! Heard England's a bit gloomy,"

"You're not wrong," you snorted, shaking your leg a little, and soon it fell into silence, a pensive one.

You glanced over at Jake, the sparks in his brown eyes never left, the quirk tugged at the edge of his lips remained, he never changed, not at all. "Jake?"

"Hm?" He hummed in response, his gaze trained at the TV screen, gradually getting engrossed.

"What if we end up on different sides of the world? You know, with our future clubs and all,"

“I don’t think anything would ever change between us no matter what happens,” his words were filled with absolute confidence, saying it as if he had a clear idea of what the future might look, whereas you were overwhelmed just from thinking about it. 

“Really?”

“You’ll still be my forever person, Y/N. Swear.”

You remembered those exact words from months ago, not expecting everything to turn sour almost immediately when you showed up on Jake’s doorstep right after you just signed your first contract. Endless thoughts swarmed your head, you prepared yourself for every reaction you could imagine from Jake. He had just returned from a training camp overseas, he must've been tired and this was bad timing, but you didn't have a choice either.

"Y/N?" The sun was already beginning to set by the time you reached his house by foot. The moment Jake opened the door, his face morphed into confusion as you tried your best to not break into cold sweat. "What're you doing here? I just got back and there's too much to unpack—the way there's college still is making me go nuts, I’m not going to be surviving in class—I promise I'll spill everything soon—"

"Jake," his name poured out of your lips naturally, except this time it had a dreadful undertone to it that you failed to mask. "I'm leaving,"

He blinked. One. Two. Two beats. "Leaving? To the camp you were saying? So soon—?"

"No, Jake, I–I'm leaving forever. Not forever and never returning kind of 'forever' but I'm moving away and I don't know when I'll be back. I know this is such a bad time to tell you since you just got back and I feel like such a jerk for dumping it all on you suddenly, but I wanted to break the news before you found it out from the tabloids—"

"Y/N, breathe," Jake reminded, instantly knowing your quirks which included this aka rambling whenever you got panicky, giving you a reassuring smile that felt like a ray of sunshine beaming on you. He was not making you feel better, instead he had you wishing you were staying instead. 

"I'm moving to Spain, Jake," you swallowed, just saying it was absolutely surreal, you couldn't grasp the concept of moving from your hometown, you were about to be on your own and you were scared, petrified. 

"You signed with Barcelona?" Jake gasped, a smile itching at the corner of his lips. 

"I did," you said quietly, nodding.

"That's amazing! You've been dreaming of this. It’s such a big deal! Looks like you’ll be playing pro-football instead of collegiate football now, should I get your signature first?" Jake reached out to squeeze your shoulder, attempting at a joke but he immediately caught onto the solemn look on your face, leaning in to stare at you closer. This shouldn't be making your heart beat. "You don't seem happy,"

"It's not that, it's just that I—"

I like you. 

"I will miss you … like crazy. I'm just not ready for change and I don't want to leave you back here," you stumbled on your words, making sure to not slip and ruin everything. Obviously saying 'I like you' and leaving afterwards was such a douche move, so what else was there to do but shutting up?

Jake let out a guttural sigh, and that alone definitely spoke more than words ever could. You furrowed your eyebrows, nervousness crept into your stomach. "Are you mad? Are you … angry?"

“Angry?” Jake repeated, disbelief evident in his voice, as if he couldn’t believe what you were accusing him of. His gaze softened, a glaze of affection taking over his brown irises. “How can I be mad at you for chasing your dreams? No way. I'm happy you're getting a shot at what you love,”

The boy that was standing in front of you was trying his best to remain optimistic, the smile on his face never faded, but you, on the other hand, were holding back tears. He was a sunshine, your sunshine, the one you soon had to let go. 

"Jake…" your voice was weak, you took a step closer, then another, until you closed the space between and engulfed him into your arms. His body tensed for a moment, taken off guard by your sudden action, but he eventually wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you in. He felt like home, his familiar cologne was something you would never forget, the way his eyes crinkled whenever he smiled, his small giggles, the times you and he had walked around the tiny local football stadium, you couldn’t believe you were leaving all that behind.

"You're going to go far, Y/N, I've known that since the day we met," Jake whispered, his hand caressing the back of your head. 

"I'll miss you … so so much," you repeated those words again, squeezing him tighter. You never wanted to let him go, and unknowingly, he felt the same.

"I'll miss you too," he pressed a kiss against the side of your head, and it felt as if it was a last goodbye. 

You pulled away slowly, though reluctant to do so. His eyes locked with yours, longing and unwillingness hung in the air. “Will you come and send me off?” 

“That’s a no brainer,” he laughed quietly, nodding enthusiastically. 

“You better turn up.”

That was one of the last things you remembered saying to him before you left and everything turned into a blur. You were beginning to be a mess, the tears were eventually flowing out and it turned into big sobs. Thank the heavens no one was around when you walked home, or else they would be absolutely mortified to see a girl who was crying as if she was heartbroken. Well, quite? 

What you didn’t and would never know was the fact that after you’ve left and the door slammed shut, Jake broke down into tears. In his nineteen years of living and winning tournaments, he swore he only cried a few times, all that was countable by hand. But this time, he felt worse than before. 

Unbeknownst to you, you continued on your last few days thinking Jake was doing fine while you tried your best to seem sane. Saying your goodbyes to coaches from your college football team to your childhood club and even to your teammates, friends and relatives was hard, leaving your whole childhood here and moving away was too much of a big girl move, one that you weren’t fully prepared for. 

Bags and luggages were packed, you fitted half of your life into those cramped spaces and you were loading them into the counter, your passport and flight ticket in one hand, your phone in the other. You were feverishly scrolling through many unread messages, not caring about them, you were just looking for one. No matter how many times you’ve refreshed, Jake never left you any messages, nor was he present to send you off.

“Honey, you good?” your mother checked in on you, noticing the fall in your expression.

“Huh?” you glanced up from your phone, shutting it off and shoving it into your back pocket. “I’m okay,” 

“Is it Jake?”

At the mention of his name, your frown deepened and your mother sighed quietly, wrapping an arm around your waist and leading you to the waiting area. “I’m sure he’ll turn up, you’re leaving and there’s no way he’s letting you leave without saying a goodbye,”

“You think so? The flight’s leaving in an one or two,”

“It’s you. Jake cares about you a lot, you know that?”

There was no doubt about that. You knew so. You merely hummed, a slight hope sparked in you, but you said nothing, deciding to plug your earphones in and wait patiently instead, occasionally checking your phone for any notifications from said man, but there was none.

Those short hours eventually slipped past your fingers. The times you’ve glanced around were uncountable, the man you longed for to appear was nowhere to be seen, to say to were deflated was a given. 

“Honey…” your mother rubbed your back gently and in comfort. You brushed off the feeling that was eating you and replaced your frown with your best smile, hoping to be able to reassure your mother that everything was fine, even if you felt the opposite of it.

“It’s okay, we should get going,” 

Once you’ve located your boarding gate, you and your mother hugged in goodbye, exchanging final words, her constant reminders rung in your ears as you tried to suppress the oncoming anxiety and sadness that was gradually swallowing you wholly. Just as you said your last goodbye, turning around and ready to walk through your gate, you heard footsteps running behind you. You assumed it was someone rushing for their flight, that was until somebody had shouted your name. 

“Y/N!”

Time stood still at that moment. The voice you wanted to hear for so long finally sounded in your ears. You were wondering if the tiredness had eventually gotten to you and you were hallucinating, but you weren't. He was real, right in front of you.

"Jake?" You whipped your head around, but before you could register anything else, Jake had thrown himself onto you, hands wrapped around your figure. His body crushed you and the warmth from him made you feel ten times better.

"I'm so sorry," he said profusely, rocking you side to side in his arms. "I was scared that I wouldn't be able to send you off. Something came up and I tried my best to rush here. Not to mention my phone fucking died on me too, I was panicking—"

"Jakey, all it matters is that you're here right now and nothing else," you reassured, relief filling you. “I’m just really happy to see you now,” you rubbed his back gently, hearing his ragged breathing by your ear.

Neither one of you wanted to let go, just letting time pass in each other’s arms and hoping that maybe all of this was a dream. Time was ticking agonisingly quick, you wished it was those moments where everything moved slow, but alas, you can’t have it entirely your way, can’t it? Soon, you had no choice but to pull away from Jake, praying he wasn’t an illusion tricking you.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” your voice came out weaker than expected and Jake seemed to notice it, his gaze softening significantly.

His callous hands cupped your cheek, his thumb grazing against the side of your eye softly. “Hey, you’re finally achieving your dreams. Think of that instead of me,”

You let out a choke that was meant to be a scoff, narrowing your eyes at him. “How could I possibly not think of you? You’re important to me, Jake,”

“And you’re important to me too, Y/N. I want to see you shine, and you will, I believe in you,” Jake squeezed your cheek slightly before removing his hand and reaching it to the back of his neck, unclasping the necklace he’s always worn. “I want you to have this,” he placed the necklace into your hands, the moon pendant shone bright under the bright lights.

“I can’t take this, you’ve always had it with you, it’s your lucky charm during matches—”

“I want to have it, genuinely,” Jake closed your hand around the chain, giving you one of his signature calming smiles. “Take care of it for me, the next time we meet I better see it around your neck okay?”

“I promise,”

“Don’t break it,” he laughed softly, his hand still holding onto yours.

You glanced at the time, cursing under your breath, realising this was it. This was the moment you were finally leaving to chase the dream you’ve always longed for. Jake probably understood that it was the time to let go, his gaze falling to the ground and he heaved a big breath. 

“It’s time for you to go, Y/N,”

“It is,” you held your breath, longing for Jake’s touch to never leave, but time had to be a sore, leaving you no more extra minutes to spend and you had to let go, feeling the warmth of his hand no longer on yours. “Goodbye, Jake.”

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

That was where everything melted into a blur, the last waves of goodbye faint in your mind as you entered the plane, squeezing along the isles to locate your seat. You prepared for a long flight, closing your eyes and picturing the things that were awaiting you, but the thought of him eventually slipped in, haunting you.

Everything was about to change, and you didn’t know if it was for the best or for the worst.

RISING TO FAME WASN'T ON YOUR CHECKLIST.

Your first season was great, but the second and third were better, stellar even. This caught many eyes of football fans and Barcelona fans loved you with their hearts. Awards were won, achievements were made, but promises were broken.

It has been almost three years since that day in the airport. Crazy, huh? At the start, you had a hard time coping in a foreign country with zero knowledge of the local culture and the language. Not to mention, going to classes in your new college was challenging, you couldn’t even ask for directions. It was a blessing you opted not to share a dorm there and live on your own in the city instead, who knows what sabotages the language barrier and differences were going to do to you?

Thankfully, your teammates were kind enough to let you room with them and drive you to campus. One of them was able to communicate with you, but the other only spoke Spanish. Though the messy language barrier created confusions and misunderstandings, you somehow managed to not get evicted in the end and your Spanish was progressing positively. 

Jake was a recurring appearance in your life. He often facetimes you, making sure to tell you his day from start to bottom, sharing about the parties he went to, his new hockey friends, the fresh discovery on the crazy world of college ice hockey, it was refreshing to hear him babble about everything from football to his college life after a long day, rolling around in bed giggling like a high school girl all over again. But that was all during what people called the ‘honeymoon era’, not knowing the eventual changes that you soon had to face.

Each year passed by in a blur. In the first, you constantly talked and kept in contact, but during the second year when Jake signed with Bayern Munich from the German league, his schedule was too packed and yours were the same, resulting in less communication. Occasional ‘congrats’ and ‘you did amazing’ were exchanged, but that was all. On your twenty-first birthday, you spent it with your friends and teammates, having a great time, but you were too caught up wishing Jake would text you a ‘happy birthday’ instead.

Drifting from someone was too easy, but letting them go entirely was hard. You were twenty one, winning awards and on the top of the league, but you still missed your day one, and you wondered if he felt the same or if it was just you. Yet, you couldn't be mad at him, unable to hold a grudge despite the fact that he hadn't tried enough, because you did the same.

“Can’t believe the season ended just like that,” Alexia, your captain and roommate slipped next to you, casually scrolling on her phone. 

“It’s already been a few months, Alexia, it’s time for us to rest,” you smiled, understanding her love for playing especially since she had just recovered from a months-long injury and was craving for more play time. “There’s still a month left until the next season,”

“You’re right,” she hummed, her eyebrows furrowing as she glanced closer at her phone. “Barca has been investing a lot on new players lately,”

“There’s a number of new additions to the men's team,” you noted, scrolling on Twitter for any fresh news as well. “It’s valid since some of them left,”

“There’s a new addition today too, look it up. It’s an asian player,” 

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. It’s not new that asian players were underrepresented in European football, the only one who was currently widely known was Son Heung Min, so hearing this was promising. Filled with curiosity, you typed into the search bar, wondering who this mystery player was. 

No way.

What you didn’t expect was the picture of your childhood best friend, Jake Sim, popping up, his name littered all over the timeline, a load of news articles written about his latest transfer to Spain, specifically Barcelona, not Madrid. The other thing that totally set you off was a specific line he said in an interview about his transfer to Barcelona, ‘I’m ready for Spain and I know someone well who’s there right now, I hope to be able to see them.’ Unprovoked?

“Transferring from Bayern,” Alexia continued, cooing under her breath. “He’ll fit in well with Lewandowski in no time,” she glanced up from your phone, seeing your stunned expression and your rigid body. “Y/N?” 

“Y–Yeah?” you stuttered, heartbeat rising gradually. You couldn’t believe this. After months of not talking, not even a slight update, he decided to move to the city you lived in without any notice. Worse of all, you couldn’t even avoid him. “Yes—no, not doing well actually,”

“Why?”

“Remember that friend who I kinda drifted off with?”

“The one who’s also a footballer—?” Alexia gasped upon realisation, eyes widened and her hands on her mouth. “You’re kidding. That’s him? The guy you called almost every night?”

“Bingo,” you clicked your tongue, crossing your arms and wishing how you could just scream into a pillow now. 

The front door unlocked, twisted open and revealed Natalia, your other roommate, who happened to be holding bags of grocery in her hands. “What did I miss?” She said slowly, noticing the frazzled expressions of you and Alexia.

“The guy Y/N talks to every night is joining the men's team,”

“Jake Sim? He's the one who you grew up with?” Natalia dropped the bags, her keys and everything she had on hand, scooting over to join you on the couch. 

“Yeah … him,”

“Tell me more.”

The new season for the women’s league was starting in a month and you certainly did a great job in avoiding Jake. You would applaud yourself at one point.

Barcelona might’ve been a big city, but with almost every Barcelona player staying in the same area, you would occasionally run into them, which meant the chances of seeing Jake was high. Not to mention, some of your training sessions at the training grounds would be either before or after the men’s team, and you made obvious efforts to run away quickly. You weren’t scared of Jake, no, never, but were you ready to face him after years of not seeing each other? Not really …

Through the help of Twitter, you found out that he had already completed his medicals, the announcement was out and he had given an interview. With the first game for the men's team coming up soon, the official account posted a training video and your eyes could only linger on him. His hair was freshly dyed blond and he seemed healthier, happier. 

Everything was well and at peace until the news for you broke out. With the women's league starting later than the men's, you were apparently invited to be a special broadcaster for the men’s first league game, live, and by the pitch, meaning you were going to interview the players, Jake Sim included. For all the effort you’ve given to avoid Jake, the world seemed to have other plans for you. It was as if the universe was rooting for you to meet him again.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Natalia was seated on your bed as Alexia rummaged through your closet, picking out any presenter's appropriate outfit, dresses, shirts, skirts and pants all splayed out on your bed and floor.

“Fuck no,” you groaned, picking up a shirt that fell to ground. “I know I shouldn’t be avoiding him, we’ve been friends since we were kids, but the changes between us is drastic,”

“Drastic?” Alexia hummed, shoving back some pieces that weren’t in her criteria. 

“After he transferred to Bayern, we talked less. He was the same, but something between us wasn’t. He said I changed,” you sighed, still remembering the conversation clearly. 

“What did he even mean by that?” Natalia scoffed.

“No idea. I don’t think I’ve changed,” 

“Does he think the 'fame' or something changed you in some ways?” Alexia's eyes sparked at the sight of a long black dress, a sly smile on her face.

“No clue, it's not like I can just hop into his mind,” you groaned, biting your lips nervously. “You’ve got the one already?”

“Duh,” Alexia said proudly, handing you a black midi silk dress that you haven't worn in a long time.

“Really?” You raised a questioning eyebrow at her and she shrugged.

“Hey, it's professional and eye-catching, totally appropriate,” Natalia chimed in, nudging you slightly.

“I'm sure someone will appreciate it.” Alexia winked and you were about to throw a pillow at her, but due to the limited time you have before kickoff, you might have to delay that.

You arrived early to the stadium, greeting the staff and hoping you made a good impression. Football was much easier than broadcasting on live television, even if it meant you were just a special presenter, you were still anxious. Fans were already filing in and you were done setting up, the pregame show had started and it was your cue to join. 

“Here we have Y/N from the women’s team to join us this evening,” your co-presenter welcomed you. “How are you doing?”

“Great, thank you,” you smiled at the latter.

“Today marks the first league game of the season at home, fans are excited, what are your score predictions?”

You gave it a thought for a moment, choosing your words right in case of offending any Barcelona fans lurking on Twitter. “It’s hard to say, but I’m confident in Barca, and I’m sure the team will want to win the game, so I’ll say 1-0,”

“I’ll say the same too,” your co-presenter laughed, nodding in agreement. “As for the latest transfers from this summer window, there’s been a number but the one that caught my eye is the young prospect, Jake Sim, I’m excited to see him playing today,”

At the mention of his name, something inside you churned. A mix of butterflies and overwhelming pining washed over you, as much as you’ve avoided him, you equally missed his presence. “He’s a great player, I’m sure about that,”

“We’ll look forward to his performance later on. The game shall be starting after a short break. Until then.” 

The prematch segment was done, but you weren’t entirely free, having to fulfil your position for the post match interview at the end. It wasn’t entirely bad, you were actually anticipating to watch Jake on the pitch in person after years. The clips on YouTube weren't enough, but you definitely noticed his vast growth and improvement.

The match started off slow, both team's defence were too strong and none were able to go past one another's territory. It was getting closer to halftime with no goals scored, your attention eventually shifted to the bench, your eyes immediately spotting a certain blond. Despite him being almost half a football pitch away from you, your eyes weren't fooling you that it was in fact Jake, and he was breathtaking, and real.

Before you gave him the chance to realise you're staring, you made sure to turn away. Maybe you were the problem, you were scared to face him, and you didn't know why, probably the awkwardness was the main reason. Did he feel the same?

After giving a short interview and accessing the first half, the second half started with a couple players getting substituted off. Jake was among the few players being substituted on, making his first match debut for the club. Your heart thumped, this was deja vu to the time you watched him make his debut for his first club. It was similar, and you were there too.

Watching him play live was different compared to the videos you've watched, he was phenomenal. No wonder many European clubs were on his tail trying to get him to sign for them. His time in Germany definitely made him grow a lot as a player.

"He's good," your co-presented mused, his eyes trained on the game that was 2-0 up, Barcelona leading without any doubt.

"Which?"

"The new transfer. Number five," he nodded towards Jake, his jersey number shining brightly under the sun as he dribbled past defenders, kicking the ball and assisting another goal.

"Wow! Another assist," your co-presenter jumped out his seat cheering, and you smiled, sure that he was about to receive 'man of the match' today. "He's a future star,"

"He's already a star."

The match ended with a win, starting the new season in a pop and letting fans travel home with a happy heart. You and your co-presenter went through the highlights of the match, soon it was time for the interview.

It wasn't pressuring as you knew most of the players, laughing and cracking jokes in between some questions, congratulating on the win and what not. Until it was Jake's turn, he was approaching slowly as people around him were throwing praises and clapping him on the back, his laughter was no stranger to you, you didn’t need a second thought to know that it was him at once, then he stumbled into your sight, those familiar brown eyes met yours, unblinking as if he was figuring out who you were.

"Jake," 

Now that he was closer, you were able to see him clearly. He never changed, he still radiates the same sunshine puppy energy that you've missed. The pictures you’ve seen online didn’t do him any justice either, he was insanely pretty, jaw dropping and mind blowing, the blond hair was a great addition.

"Hi," his voice came out in a whisper, as if he couldn't believe you were right in front of him at that moment. "Y/N," your name left his lips with a spark of fascination, until now you never forgot his voice and the way he said your name.

"Great game today for your debut," you tried shaking off the tension in the air, remaining as professional as you could be, but it was faltering.

"Thank you. I'm glad I didn't mess up," he bowed his head with a small smile. 

"Congrats on getting 'Man of the Match', your assists were top," 

"You think so?"

"Of course I do," you nodded instantly. "I'm sure the fans thought so too,"

"I'm glad," he hummed, and it reminded you of those times he would seek your reassurance in practice or after games. Guess old habits are hard to die.

"Thanks for joining us for the interview, Jake. Congrats once again." 

You ended the segment with a few more additions before wrapping up and calling it a day officially. As you walked down the tunnel, you thought of your short-lived interaction with Jake, wondering if this was the only moment you'd get with him before you two continue on straying apart again, but it seemed life had other plans.

You let out a yelp as you turned a corner, feeling someone tug at your wrist, pulling you into their chest and you took a solid ten seconds to realise it was Jake, staring up at him with your hands on his chest, to which you quickly removed along with your body in general.

"What are you doing?" You hissed out, glancing around in case of any camera recording. 

"I just wanted to say hi," Jake shrugged and you gave him an unamused stare. "Maybe more than a 'hi', I wanted to see you, talk to you," he paused, his eyes flickering. "You look great," 

"Huh?"

Jake coughed, his gaze sweeping over your body to your face. "You look amazing, seriously,"

A small laugh of amusement escaped your lips. "Thank you, you look … great as well. I love what you did to your hair,"

His hands flew to his blond strands, smiling sweetly. "I'm glad you like it, it's a bold change,"

"It is," you nodded, a sudden silence settled between you and Jake, the awkwardness you feared was somehow present.

"I miss you," those three words poured out of Jake's lips without any warning.

You could feel your heart twist and jump, his words settled heavily in your mind. "I miss you too, Jake," 

"I'm sorry," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry for the times where I … I let go too easily. It wasn't easy being in a new country and I guess I let it get to my head, and I ended up throwing you aside too much. I should've been there for your 21st just as you did for mine,"

You didn't expect a direct confrontation today, maybe a small reconciliation but that was all, not a full blown apology. 

"It's alright," closure was what you needed … right? "I didn't try to fix the gap between us then too, so … it wasn't entirely you," your hands were unconsciously fidgeting. "Now that you're here, maybe we can patch things up a little, what do you say?"

"I'd love to," Jake smiled, a wave of relief seemed to have washed over you two, the awkwardness and frigidity faded away and it was you and him again, just like always. "I haven't toured Barcelona at all ever since I got here. Would you have the honour to be my tour guide?"

"I'm not the best at it but I'll try," you laughed. "My Spanish is still in the works,"

"I need a head start too," Jake noted thoughtfully. "I got to change and freshen up. I'm sure you're tired too and you're dying to get home so I won't bother you further,"

"It's fine, I'll always have time for you," you reassured, unbeknownst to you his eyes lighting up at your words. "I'll give you a call or a text. Maybe we can arrange that tour soon,"

"Sweet. I'll wait for it,"

"You better."

jakey: free tomorrow?

you: i am :) 

jakey: great! let’s have that tour tomorrow?

you: i’m down

“GOING OUT?”

You turned around, face-to-face with Alexia who had her typical questioning stare whenever something wasn’t right. It was early, quite unusual for you since you were always the late riser out of all three, but you had plans … with somebody.

You nodded sheepishly. 

“With who?”

“Jake,”

“Oh?” Alexia grinned, gradually getting invested. “He finally had the balls to ask you out?”

“It’s not like that,” you waved her off. “I’m just bringing him around the city. He texted me yesterday,”

“Is he taking you back to his after?”

“Alexia!” you gasped, a hand on your chest for more dramatics. 

“Kidding,” she chuckled, and finished fixing up her breakfast. “Be careful and if anything happens, God forbid, call me. If he’s a jerk, call me and I’ll pick you up,”

“I will … thank you,” you smiled warmly.

“No need to be, Nat and I will be here for you always.”

Jake was waiting right below your apartment complex, you were secretly jumping inside, taking bigger steps to get closer quickly. You didn’t realise how much you’ve missed him until now. He probably heard your oncoming footsteps, turned around and broke into his signature sweet smile. Jake surely knew how to swoon one over with his fashion, didn’t he? He was dressed in a casual loose white button up paired with straight jeans, making sure to have the first few buttons undone for some extra effect.

“Morning,” he pulled you into a short hug, his cologne entered your senses, the same cologne he had been wearing since forever. His gaze averted south, a familiar necklace was hanging around your neck, the moon pendant shining brightly under the sun. "You kept that?"

"Huh?" You followed his stare, glancing down to where your necklace sat, the one Jake had given you before your departure. "What? Of course I do," your hand absentmindedly reached for it. "Your good luck charm gives me good luck too,"

A smile etched onto Jake's face, a pleasant look painted his expressions, seemingly content as he switched the topic and continued on. 

“Had breakfast yet?” you shook your head. “Perfect. I’ve been dying to try this one spot nearby, let’s go,”

“We’re walking there?”

“Duh, walking is a must for tourist experience,” 

“I’m lazy,” you whined, huffing.

“You’re a professional athlete, a little walking won’t hurt,”

“I’m sure me beating you up will,” 

Jake let out an airy laugh, his hand on your back pushing you gently and you had no choice but to comply. It was a quiet walk over to the cafe he recommended, maybe it was still early, but you remained quiet and basked in the summer sun, your shoulders occasionally bumping along the way.

"So …" you started, sitting down on an empty spot at a table, doing your best at striking up a conversation. "Bayern, huh? I thought you couldn't picture yourself in Germany,"

Jake shrugged, pursing his lips. "Had no other options, they were one of the big clubs and I just agreed," he shook his head, smiling a little. "People change, thoughts change, you know?"

"Right," you nodded.

"Only thing I hated about it there is how far away I was from you," he added, his gaze never leaving yours, but he eventually changed the topic, diffusing the tension in between. “Going to classes in a German college is hard though,”

“You’re still studying engineering?” you weren’t surprised at all, aside from Jake’s footballing abilities, he was a smart guy, one who loved science and was a little nerdy. 

“I am,” he nodded with a small smile. “I think I’m going to the same college as you, right?”

“No way? I think you are,” you were a skilled hider at this point, not even bumping into him on campus was either great luck or just ill fate. “It’s hard holding up here, I might've been here a few years but everything’s still new. How are you even holding up with school here?”

Jake shrugged plainly, a nonchalant look on his face. “Had ups and downs but I don’t think I’ll give up easily. You seem to be doing fine so I think I’ll be equally fine here too … hopefully,”

“Nothing’s going to be too big of a challenge for a smart guy like you,” you teased, Jake rolling his eyes in response. 

"Anyway, what's Barcelona like for you? I've seen the things you've done so far and honestly, I'm not surprised at how good you are," Jake took a sip out of his drink. "I mean, you always are, always have been,"

You bite back the surprise, especially the words you wanted to say. "Thank you," you said slowly, "I saw your break out at Bayern too, and your first game here, you've improved a lot, you're too good,"

"Learn from the best," he nodded at you and you rolled your eyes at him.

“You're still such a jokester,” 

“Of course I am,” Jake raised his eyebrows, biting his lips as he pondered whether to ask the question lingering in his mind. Fuck it. “Any admirers here in Barcelona?”

It was your turn to raise your eyebrows, surprised at his up-frontness. Oh, now he’s suddenly interested in this part of your life? “I don't, unless you count the training ground as one,”

He laughed, shoulders visibly relaxing gradually. It was your turn to strike. “What about you? I definitely saw videos of you partying somewhere on Twitter before,” you didn’t mean it to sound a little jealousy laced when you said it, but the teeniest tiny bit of it was genuine, yet you wouldn’t admit it to yourself. 

“Seriously? Twitter? I was there hanging out with my friends, no funny business with girls by the way,” he shrugged and narrowed his gaze at your obvious teasing grin. “Currently single and available,”

“Really? The same man who claimed he has charms out of the world is still single all these years?”

“Hey, I could be waiting for someone else, or at least work up the courage to even bag them,” he defended, 

“Who?” you leaned in close, anticipating for some juicy intel, a sip of hot tea, anything. 

Jake smirked, his typical playful one that you were no stranger to. He wasn’t going to spill, was he? “They know … I hope,”

His gaze burned into yours, the vague answer only spurred you on further. Could it be a random girl on campus? A girl he met while partying? Could it be … you? Wake up, gosh, there’s no way your childhood best friend liked you too, right? You have yet to tell anyone or even admit it out loud that you somewhat liked Jake, the feelings you had from years ago, back before you left, continued burning internally, getting fainter and fainter each passing year, but it reignited gradually now that he was here. 

Soon, the morning melted into reminiscing of the past and sharing different stories that you both missed of each other. Walking around under the clear sky, you brought him around the city, to the famous landmarks, markets, and attractions. It was a blast, especially after years of not seeing one another face to face.

The sun eventually set and night came, the city coming to life at once. You and Jake somehow wound up at a beachside restaurant, enjoying a fancy meal before running towards the sandy beach, playing around just like the times you were kids, until you got too worn out and laid among the sands.

"I missed this," you panted, head turning over to see a heaving Jake who could only hum out in response.

"Us, running around, it was a long time since we've done this together," you waited for a beat, then continued. "I missed us, Jake,"

Jake looked over, locking eyes with you. "I'm here now, aren't I?" He chuckled, his hands reaching over to grasp yours. 

You were glad he was back in your life again, but it was evident that something had changed, and it wasn't going to be the same as always.

YOU FOUND YOURSELF BACK AT THE STADIUM ON ONE OF THE men's league games, personally invited by Jake as he somehow managed to convince you to come.

Ever since that day out in the city, you felt something spark between you and him, he was texting you frequently, exchanging stories and what not. You were glad that your friendship was rekindling, but the watered down feelings from over the years seemed to return, growing stronger gradually, which meant you were inevitably troubled.

"Y/N!" you didn't expect Jake to go out of his way before the game to show up at the lounge area, greeting you enthusiastically.

"Jake," you exchanged a hug and some 'how are you's. "Nervous?"

"You always know I am. Just a little less with you here, just like the old days,"

"You're going to do good," you assured.

"Not going to let you down," he saluted you, before catching the clock ticking and the game nearing. With a haste goodbye, he left and you made your way towards the stands. 

The game started off strongly, and Jake definitely stuck to his words, making his first start for the team and already performing astoundingly. His footwork, the way he passed through defenders, you were amazed every time you watched him play.

Barcelona had the advantage by leading first, but as the game passed, the opponent team somehow gained the momentum and scored a goal before half time, which deflated the home fans. 

Once the second half started, Barcelona was looking for a breakthrough, anything, seemingly desperate and increasingly frustrated. That was until a perfect pass to Jake where magic actually happened. A swift turn and a sharp kick were enough for Jake to score a beautiful goal into the net and the stadium erupted into cheers.

Your gaze was trained on Jake, standing up now as you joined supporters in cheering along. But what shocked you was what he did next. He was running the lengths of the field as usual footballers do in celebration, but his hands formed the initial of your name, showing the letter obviously and it was no doubt that he was dedicating this to you. At the same time, his eyes were searching for somebody, you. 

Once you met his gaze from above, he broke into a wide smile, blowing you a kiss before letting his teammates engulf him into hugs.

Everything melted into a blur. Did Jake Sim just dedicated his first goal and a celebration to you? He did, in front of thousands.

The game ended with a win. Jake, who had scored the winner, was getting cheers from fans all over. You were quick to exit the stands, making your way to the tunnel until you noticed Jake's approaching figure.

"Y/N!"

Just as always, he happily called your name, a smile so wide it had your knees weak. He was about to give you a hug before you backed away.

"You're sweaty,"

He pouted, resembling a sad puppy. "Don't be mean,"

"I'm not," you exclaimed, punching his shoulder lightheartedly. "You were so great, congrats on your first goal,"

"Thank you," he bowed his head pleasantly. "You're always my good luck charm, huh? Come to my games often,"

"As if," you huffed, but not completely opposed to it. Then, you got to the real deal. "Hey, what was that celebration for anyway?"

Jake simply shrugged, a knowing smirk on his face that told you he, in fact, meant something behind the celebration.

"What does that mean?" 

"It's for you to figure out," he said vaguely, something sparked in his gaze. "Anyway, did you know this guy on campus is throwing a party? Wanna come?"

"You're going?" You did hear of this party from one of your school mates, apparently that guy was a king at throwing parties and nobody misses it. 

"Yeah, one of my friends invited me so I wondered if you're coming too. Are you?"

"I think so?" You said with uncertainty.

"I can pick you up if you want to?" 

"I'd love that," 

"Sweet," Jake nodded, clapping his hand. "Is this a date—"

"Would you count this as a date—"

Both of you froze, realising you were sharing the same thoughts, and most likely the same feelings. A sense of pining filled the air between you two that you were oblivious to. You and Jake bursted out laughing at the silly occurrence.

"Maybe," you were the first to answer the question, a little shy.

"I would love to bring you out on a proper date though,"

"What about … some time after the party?" 

"I'll be glad to do so," Jake scratched the back of his neck, a red tinge coloured the tip of his ears. "So—uhm—this party date—more than friends or…?"

"Woah, maybe that's a big jump there," you didn't expect him to suddenly be so bold. "How about we take this one step at a time? Test the waters and what not,"

"Good idea," he smiled before hearing his teammates calling for him from afar. "Shit, I think I need to go freshen up,"

"It's alright, you've had a long day anyway, you should get some rest,"

"I will, I'll take a long, hot shower while I'm at it,"

"You should," you giggled, a small grin tugged at your lips at how endearing he was. "I'll go now, text me and we'll discuss the plans for the party, okay? You were amazing, Jake, I love seeing you play," you leaned over to press a kiss on his cheek, rendering him speechless.

"Bye," you said innocently, waving at him as you left and all he did was stare back with a dazed look while waving.

You chuckled a little. Despite the slight glitch in the relationship, somehow you managed to get back to him. All it took for the watered down feelings was a little push from him and yourself.

"YOU'RE ON TIME,"

Evening soon arrived and it was finally time for the party. You were dressed casually and you didn't regret any part of it. Jake had opened the door for you, quirking his eyebrow at your words as he leaned against his car.

"I'm always on time,"

"Sure," you said sarcastically as you entered the car, adjusting around in your seat.

The moment Jake got into the car and revved it to a start, he switched the radio on, and a specific song started playing. Your favourite song.

"This song?" You exclaimed, a small joy erupted in you.

"It's your favourite," Jake hummed, smiling slightly.

"You remembered?"

“How could I not?”

Those simple words somehow had a big effect on you, after all those years he still remembered the small things about you, not many were able to do that. 

The rest of the journey there was just casual chatter, flowing naturally like how it usually did when you were younger. You talked about your favourite things while Jake just listened, giving you his full attention and you were completely unaware of him smiling at your passionate rants.

Upon arriving at some house in a rich neighbourhood, you were already fascinated by the big yard space where a couple people were smoking. You heard the music blasting from inside the house and shared a look with Jake that totally conveyed 'let's get drunk'. He opened the door for you and the led lights blinded your sight momentarily.

Jake was immediately bombarded by a bunch of people, his reputation had skyrocketed overtime with his performance at the club, making him a well known person at the campus by now. Well, wasn't this awkward? You were squeezed to a side, unable to reach your date and standing alone, so all you could do was nod towards the drinks to let him know you would be there.

Filling your cup with some random alcoholic concoction sadly wasn't what you anticipated for tonight. As time passed, Jake was nowhere to be seen, having to send him million texts but getting no response from him. You managed to locate your friends and joined them for the rest of the night.

"I thought you came here with Jake?" One of your friends, Carla, asked, passing you some snacks.

"I did," you shoved the snack into your mouth rather aggressively. "He disappeared on me,"

"That's such a dick move!" She made a sour face, and honestly, you had to agree with her.

You soon excused yourself from your friends, exploring around the house to find a bathroom that wasn't locked or occupied, which was a big challenge. Going up and down stairs, in and out of rooms had you desperate, so once you saw a bathroom door left ajar, you did the stupidest thing by opening it.

Stupid it was, foolish you were.

The sight before you probably had you wanting to vomit out your breakfast, lunch and dinner. It was Jake, but he wasn't alone, he was with another girl, pressed against each other, making out. At least they weren't doing more that would possibly traumatise you further … right?

"Y/N?"

You snapped out of your dazed state once you heard your name. Suddenly your need to use the bathroom had disappeared and you just wanted to leave. 

"I—uh—ignore me!"

You turned around and bolted faster than your normal running speed in training. As you walked, you tried collecting yourself emotionally and mentally. You shouldn't be feeling this, whatever this sickening and punching feeling was, but you were. 

How could this turn sour so fast?

He was just talking about trying to move your relationship from just friends to more than that, but instead, he's here making out with some girl in a bathroom? The audacity.

"Y/N! Where are you going?"

Unbeknownst to you, he was actually following you this whole time. Almost like a switch, your confused emotions turned into frustration.

"Jake, stop,"

He reeked of alcohol, words slurring and eyes dazed, confused. Your eyes met his gaze, sighing deeply and wishing for the night to be over already.

"What—"

"I'm leaving, okay? I didn't come here for you to ditch me and make out with some chick you just met, alright?"

"I'm sorry," Jake mumbled, biting his lips. "I'll take you home,"

"You're drunk, Jake," you said, crossing your arms. "I'll drive,"

The tension in the car was heavily off. You were driving back to his apartment, having no choice but to make yourself a guest there overnight since it was too late into the night for any cabs to drive you back. Just great.

"I didn't mean to kiss her. I was just drunk," he suddenly spoke from the backseat, his words heavy and slurred.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I thought you should know. I hate misunderstandings,"

"We're not dating anyway, Jake, you don't need to explain it to me," your words came out harsher than expected, but wasn't reality harsh anyway?

"I am serious about you, Y/N,"

You blinked, muttering a few curses under your breath. Why was he so confusing? "You're drunk," you repeated, your grip on the steering wheel only tightened. "Think about this tomorrow instead, okay?"

Jake mumbled something incoherent before drifting off to sleep, leaving you to your own thoughts that continuously pestered you. Feelings were confusing, especially when it comes to your childhood best friend.

Getting him up to his apartment with the help of the security guard was strenuous work. He owed you more than an apology at this rate. Dumping him into bed and helping him out of his shoes almost had your back cracked in half, eventually you ended up falling into the couch and fell asleep at once. The physical work and emotional confusion were tiring.

Morning came sooner than expected, twisting and turning around, not wanting to get up, but realisation soon hit when you came to your senses. It wasn't the couch you're sleeping on anymore, it was a bed, Jake's bed.

Your eyes snapped open, feeling the soft sheets around you, but no one was there. Where was he?

You carefully stepped out of bed, wandered out into his living room that you were previously sleeping in and saw his figure on the couch, watching some television program. Messy bed hair and a coffee in hand, Jake somehow seemed magically cured from the curse of being hungover.

"You're awake?"

"I should be more surprised that you're awake instead," you sat down next to him, making sure to leave a gap in between.

"There's coffee, help yourself," he nodded over at the other cup of coffee he bought. "What happened last night?"

You glanced over at him, furrowed eyebrows mirroring the frustration in his eyes. "You don't remember?"

"No," he shook his head, rubbing his temples. "I got whisked away by this group of guys, I drank and drank, then I remembered some girl?"

"Oh," 

"What does that look on your face mean?"

"Jake, you made out with that girl,"

"What—"

"And I walked in on you two,"

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Jake rubbed his face callously, groaning deeply, head falling back onto the headrest. "I'm so sorry you had to see that,"

"It's fine,"

"It isn't fine. I kissed someone in front of you when I literally told you I wanted to bring you out on a date before," he buried his face into his hands. "I'm so stupid for this,"

"Hey, it's really fine, genuinely" you grabbed his hands, pulling them away. "I'm not mad—" admittedly, you were slightly hurt, "—honestly, it's not like we're actually together, right? We're not dating anyway, you're free to be with whoever you want. I have no control over you," you tried forcing out a small laugh to lessen the tension, but you only felt like dying instead.

"Right," Jake said, mirroring your laughter stiffly, his gaze falling to the ground. "We're not dating anyway."

"YOU WHAT?"

Training has been torturous. The new season was starting in the next few days, which meant the intensity only got higher, at the same time, your stress was equally skyrocketing. It was a few days since the incident with Jake and unfortunately, you haven’t spoken since. Anxiety gnawed at you, but neither you nor him dared to even make the first move of approaching one another.

Training sessions weren't what it was without some gossip and storytelling either, and you certainly didn't leave out what happened with Jake. 

"You slept over at his place after you saw him kiss another girl?" Alexia gasped, smacking your arm.

"That's hella scandalous," Natalia hissed as she did her stretching routine. 

"I said ‘we're not dating anyway’, could you believe that?" You huffed, unable to focus on your own routine. 

"Wow," both of your teammates said in unison, and that only made you shrink further into your small hole of wallow.

"Was it too far?"

"I admit I do feel bad for the man having to hear that," Alexia shrugged.

"But he did do what he did," Natalia continued, a slight frown etched on her face. 

“We haven’t talked since,” you stopped stretching, sitting with a saddened expression. “Do you think he hates me?”

“Hate you?” Alexia exclaimed incredulously, staring at you as if you’ve done some massive crime. “Y/N, that man likes you! Neither you nor him can see that, you guys are dumbasses,”

“He likes me?”

“Who dedicates their first goal to someone they hate? He likes you, period. There’s no way he dedicated a goal and a celebration meaninglessly,”

“Well…maybe he did it as an express of gratitude, you know, as friends,”

“God, you’re so blind.”

The short span of time in between the days from the first league game passed by quickly, fast forwarding to you sitting in the changing rooms, anxiously waiting for the game to start while you checked your phone for notifications. A fraction of you hoped for Jake to send a surprise message, at least giving some support for your first game of the season, but it just never came.

Disappointed you were indeed, but you weren’t letting it get to you and affect your performance, which only meant keeping on a brave face for the rest of the day. As you walked onto the pitch, your eyes automatically scanned the stands, spotting some of your friends from campus among the crowd. You waved at them, your anxiety lessening but somehow a specific someone stayed lingering in the back of your mind.

The whistle blew and off you went chasing after the ball for hopes of a goal. Everything was flowing smoothly, leading early in the first half and you were able to cool some steam off momentarily, glancing around once more. That’s when you noticed a figure in the front of the stands moving towards a seat. That person was oddly familiar, having to squint your eyes and run a little closer, you realised it was Jake.

You know those cliche moments described in romantic films where time stops and your breath stops? You didn’t believe those descriptions initially, until you actually experienced it firsthand. Right at that moment. 

You didn’t have many chances of focusing on him, constantly needing to remind yourself that you were in the middle of a game and you weren’t letting a man deter you from the victory in front of you. He resembled a bright sun that stood out among the crowd, shining brightly but instead of looking away, you couldn’t bear but to stare. 

The game ended in Barcelona’s favour, resulting in a great and high atmosphere, fans cheering loudly and everyone celebrating the first win of the season. All of your teammates made sure to go around the pitch to interact with fans and thank them, just post game basics. You did the same, except you couldn’t resist walking up to Jake’s side of the stand, spotting him at once and he happened to see your figure approaching, waving at you with a small smile.

“Hey!” you shouted, almost breathlessly, a wide smile unknowing creeping onto your face. “You came,”

His eyes sparked once it landed on you. “Surprise?”

“You didn’t tell me you’re coming today,”

Jake leaned on the barriers separating you two, his playful grin reciprocating your smile. “It’s a surprise for a reason,”

“Well, I am definitely surprised,”

Jake let out a quiet laugh, biting on his bottom lip, seemingly contemplating his next words carefully. “You played great today, congrats on the win,”

“Thank you,”

“You’ve always been amazing, Y/N, seeing you play for the first time in Barcelona made me so proud,”

Your heart swelled, hearing his words only made you go increasingly crazy. He can’t just show up, say the most simple sentences and make your feelings haywired! Then it hit you, realisation.

“I wouldn’t be here without you,”

“Likewise,”

“I’m really grateful for you, Y/N, genuinely,”

“Oh, Jake,” you reached over the barrier, tip toeing slightly and pulled the man before you into a hug, feeling him press a kiss on the side of your head. Were you really only friends with him?

Realisation. A full, concrete, affirmative realisation. 

You like him. Sim Jae Yun.

jakey: up for a party?

you: you’re looking to get drunk again?

jakey: no! >:( my friend’s from our old uni are coming over to visit and celebrate one of their birthdays! i’m pretty sure you’ve met them before

you: the hockey players? and yunjin? them right?

jakey: yup

you: count me in

SOMEHOW YOU’VE MANAGED YOURSELF AN INVITE AS JAKE'S PLUS ONE.

You’ve met Jake’s friends before back in your hometown. He had a variety of friends from the football team who happened to be jocks, and then there’s the hockey friends. Jake was closer to the hockey bunch, and you didn’t blame him for that, especially after having your own experiences with his then team. 

So, here you were, in Jake’s car, heading towards the club specially booked by Jake’s rich friend, Jay. Why a club? Apparently they liked partying. The hockey players were truly built differently. 

“You’re saying he booked the expensive room?” you blinked in shock, mouth hanging open. “Private rooms?”

“Yeah, he said he loves Barcelona and the clubs here, so he’s going all out,” Jake said nonchalantly, as if this was a daily occurrence that wasn’t surprising in any way.

“Can you give me his numb—”

“Absolutely not.”

The club was just like any other big club in the city. Flashing lights, pretty people and over the top atmosphere, it was such a great vibe. You wished you had more chances of partying but frankly, none of your friends were big party goers, you included.

Jake made sure to have you in front of him, his hand on your back guiding you slowly through the crowd towards the private room. He had given you a brief introduction of his friends to you previously during the drive here. You knew how his friends looked, being able to match faces to their names, but there was nothing you knew beyond that. 

Entering a room filled with people you're not close with makes your skin crawl, but Jake's friends proved otherwise, welcoming you at first glance. The hockey guys, Jay, Heeseung and Sunghoon along with Yunjin were there with their own plus ones. Every one of them were split into their own small groups, but you stuck to Jake, speaking to Yunjin and her date.

Jake was focused on whatever topic Yunjin's date was spewing, so Yunjin had you all to herself. "You and Jake?" She whispered quietly, so that it was only between you and her. Her eyebrows wavered, a knowing grin plastered on.

You simply shrugged, not trying to be lowkey but in actuality, you really didn't know. "Nothing's official,"

"Yet?"

"I don't know?"

"He hasn't asked you out on a date?" Yunjin gasped, eyes widened. 

"Nope, unless you count some random frat party where he left me hanging,"

"Oh God," she heaved a deep breath. "He's got a lot to do, but other than that, I'm pretty sure it's already settled,"

Your head tilted at her choice of words. "What do you mean settled?"

"He likes you, you like him! That's already settled,"

"What?"

"Y/N! Can't you tell how head over heels that boy is? You know he wouldn't shut up about you all these years, right? Even when you two were apart,"

"When we were apart?"

Yunjin chuckled, unable to hold back her smile of endearment. "He always told us about you, how he wants us to meet you and all that. When he went to Germany, we kept in contact, even visited him. I remembered clearly how he said he missed you, he wouldn't shut up about you, I'm serious,"

All those times you thought he had forgotten about you or not even given you a single thought, it was actually the opposite. As much as you have kept him in your thoughts, he has equally been doing the same.

"Give it a thought, Y/N, give him a thought," Yunjin patted your shoulder, giving you a smile of assurance.

Everyone eventually left the room in search of the bar and dance floor, you and Jake following behind. Along the way, he continued keeping his hand around you, not letting you go.

"You okay?" He passed you your drink, his eyes searching for yours in the dim lights.

"I'm alright, don't worry," you gave his arm a small squeeze of reassurance.

Most of the guys and Yunjin had already taken off into the dancefloor with their partners, leaving you and Jake by the bar alone. Yunjin's words from earlier still rang freshly in your mind, it was all you could think of whenever you stole glances of Jake.

"What are you thinking about?" He seemed to have caught on your strange behaviour and you resembled a deer caught in headlights at the sudden confrontation.

"Nothing," you shook your head, lying through your teeth. You were thinking about something, someone actually. Him.

"Really?"

"Really," you enunciated, thinking of a way to switch the topics. "So, why aren't you out there dancing?"

"I wanted to be here with you," 

That got you there. His words never failed to have you kicking your feet and giggling. 

"You could be out there—I don't know—dancing with someone else," 

"I'd choose you over that 'someone else'," he calmly took a sip out of his drink, his gaze never leaving yours. "In a heartbeat,"

You swore you could feel yourself flushing red, heat creeping up your neck to your face, the room suddenly seemed like it was spinning. "You can't just say things like that,"

Jake grinned, a playful look displayed on that charming face of his. "What? It's the truth!"

“You’re annoying” you jokingly punched his shoulder, downing your drink almost at once, it surely did help calm your nerves, but not your racing heart.

Your conversation with Jake soon dissolved when the others came back from the dance floor, all sweaty and craving for drinks, huddled around the bar ordering one by one before returning back to the room for a karaoke session. The overwhelming atmosphere had you excusing yourself to the restrooms, and you ended up giving a pep talk into the mirror as you fixed your makeup. 

Jake liked you? The fact itself was hard to grasp. You couldn’t even swallow and accept that you had actual feelings for him, your childhood best friend, the one you experienced many embarrassing, happy and sad moments with, the same guy who believed in you more than anyone else. He wasn’t just a friend to you anymore, he was someone you wished for more with.  

Exiting the restroom with a heavy heart and question marks filled mind, you just needed a drink to pour your feelings into. You were making your way back to the room with a drink in hand now that everyone was done dancing, but before you could turn a corner, you heard voices and immediately stopped in your tracks. Hushed whispers that were clear and audible even with the music in the background filled the empty corridor. It didn’t take long to piece the voices of Jake and Heeseung. 

“So…what’s going on between you and Y/N?”

Your eyebrows quirked up at the mention of your name. Could this be it? Was Jake going to spill an answer you’ve been dying for? Let’s make this clear, you didn’t like overhearing other people’s business, but your current situation was a little hard for you to just walk boldly into the corridor, not when your curiosity got the best of you. 

“What do you mean?”

“What? You and Y/N, man, come on. There’s no way you don’t have feelings for her. You’ve been together since the time we met years back, and even further before we met, and you’ve never stopped talking about her, ever,”

“I–I don’t know, it’s complicated. We’re just friends,”

“Jake, are you serious?”

“I’ve never felt this way before, Hee,” Jake’s voice wavered, seemingly distressed. “I can’t have a relationship now, I’m just starting out and I don’t want to get distracted,”

“Jake, are you listening to yourself? Since when was Y/N a distraction to you? And you didn’t seem to care whenever you went out partying in Germany,”

“Look, Hee, maybe I just want to focus on my career for now,”

“Is that why you barely made the effort to talk to Y/N back in Germany?” Heeseung hissed, frustration evident in his tone. “Your lame excuses, were you just scared or in denial of your feelings?”

“Stop. I don't know if I like her like that. Fuck, I–I don't know, okay?”

“Y/N?” you whipped your head around, meeting the brown irises of Park Sunghoon, who was just returning from the restrooms as well. Perfect timing indeed. You were so busted.

Internally, you were panicking like crazy, heart beating in anxiety and your blood pumping insanely. You could feel three pairs of eyes staring at you, each one held different emotions. Heeseung and Jake stood frozen in their spots, their faces matching each other’s surprise, whereas Sunghoon remained confused.

You met Jake’s gaze, one filled with utmost guilt and sadness, but yours could only reflect anger and bewilderment. You didn’t bother waiting another second before storming away, only feeling suffocated by each of Jake’s words that stung just like a fresh wound. This was another night ruined by the man you liked, and you’re about to go home with a new broken heart. But you were the idiot here after all, willingly letting him break your heart in two, and once it healed, it’d beat for him again, because you would always go back to him. 

The moment you reached the outside of the club, you realised how fucked you were without a ride, having no choice but to wake your roommate to pick you up. You wondered how you landed yourself in this position, standing stranded in front of a club, blinking away the oncoming tears and just needing a hug of comfort.

“Y/N!”

Jake’s voice reached your ears, and soon, you were face to face with him. Wow, speaking of deja vu, this only reminded you of the unfortunate night you had with him, both ending sour. 

“I have nothing to say to you, Jake,”

“Hear me out—”

“Fuck off,”

“Please,”

You scoffed in disbelief. “You're really confusing, you know? One second you say some shit that gets my hopes up and my heart racing, then the next second you decide to crush everything! Make up your mind. I'm not someone for you to play around,”

“I’m not trying to play you!”

“Oh right? You said you wanted to start slow and bring me out on a proper date, then you're out here declaring you don't like me. Well, asshole, I like you!"

"What?"

You cursed at yourself and your bluntness, blinking harshly as you swallowed the lump building in your throat. "Forget it, forget whatever I said,"

“I do have feelings for you too, you know that!”

"No, no, no, you don't get to suddenly decide that, Jake, not after what you just said," you backed away from him, shaking your head incredulously. Hell, you were confused about your feelings, but Jake was miles worse. “You need to sort yourself out first before telling me you like me or not, you can’t just say that and then say you don’t know behind my back,”

“I know, God, I’m sorry,” he was a mess, a beautiful mess in creation. 

Silence befall on you both, the tension was killing you and you hated it. You didn’t want him to be a stranger, but you can’t bear being around him right now. Your eyes could only reflect disappointment and sadness as your gaze swept his face.

“You once said I changed, but you know what, Jake? Maybe it's you who's changed,” you spat every word out angrily, a mix of emotions overflowing. “I feel dumb for liking you,”

“Really? Do you regret it?” somehow, the two of you were equally mad now, the sadness turned into unresolved anger, showing the ugly side that neither you nor him have seen of each other before.

You swallowed, knowing damn well the answer that was going to leave your lips. “The worst part is that I don’t,”

Jake’s lips quivered, his eyes searching for anything but yours, unable to meet your eyes or even directly face you. “It has always been you. You’ve always been my number one,”

His words stung hard, harder than the times you’ve scraped your knees against hard surfaces, it hurt you, just as much as it did to him just from uttering those sentences. If this was what love was supposed to be like, you want nothing about it. 

“Go home, Jake. I'll see you soon.”

CRYING ON THE WAY HOME IN ALEXIA'S CAR WASN'T A PERFECT end to the supposed enjoyable night you wished to have. It took five different rom coms, one tub of ice cream and lots of girls talk to get you out of your slump. 

During the first few days since the incident, you did receive text messages from Jake, apologetic ones that were almost written like essays. But you couldn't bring a single ounce of you to reply back to him, leaving him on ‘delivered’ and switching your phone off.

Just when you thought the storm had calmed, you were proven wrong once more. 

"You've got to see this,"

On a morning not far from a prestigious award ceremony you were bound to attend in France, a controversy broke out, one that involved you in it, specifically, you and Jake.

'BARCELONA'S YOUNG STARS CAUGHT IN A HEATED FIGHT OUTSIDE OF NIGHTCLUB IN THE CITY'

You've got to be kidding.

The comments were the first thing you avoided, scrolling past to see blurred pictures taken of your altercation with Jake. Talk about double embarrassment. 

"No way they got this on camera," Natalia gasped, but Alexia snatched the phone from her grasp and switched it off.

"It'll pass, don't worry, Y/N."

Eventually, the day of the awards ceremony had arrived, you and your fellow nominees from Barcelona, Jake included, travelled to France together on a private plane. 

It was awkward to say the least. Avoiding one another, not making eye contact or even acknowledging each other's presence. The others were making sure to seem unfazed by this despite reading the news themselves, but what could they do? All they wanted was calm and serenity.

You were partnered up with a player from the men's team, Alejandro, who will be your date for the night. You didn't mind having him as your date, just wishing to get the whole thing done as soon as you could.

"You're not planning to talk it out with him?" Alexia said as she helped fix your makeup, dresses laid on the bed and heels strewn all over the floor. 

"What do I even say? 'Oh, I like you, yeah I said that already. But you don't like me—wait—you don't know!' Boohoo,"

"Y/N," 

You let out a deep sigh, getting up once Alexia finished her last touch ups. "Look, his confusion isn't something for me to deal with, you know. Either he makes up his mind and is ready for me, or he'll just never get me, that's it."

On the other side of the hotel room and specifically the floor below yours, presented the men's rooms. Jake happened to be getting ready along with his teammate and roommate, Mateo.

They were on the conversation of their assigned dates when Mateo's mind suddenly struck a thought. He didn't know if it was the right time to ask, but his mouth couldn't help slipping.

“Jake,”

“Yeah?”

“Are you going to apologise?”

Mateo didn't even need to mention any names and Jake already knew what he meant. 

“Why?”

“I just—I don't know—I don't like how you guys are fighting,”

“You're sweet, Mat, but she's probably too angry to even see me now anyway, I fucked up big time,”

“But do you want to apologise?”

“Of course I do! That's a no brainer. I just don't wish to fuck it up again,”

“You won't,��� Mateo patted Jake’s shoulder sympathetically, both plopping down on the edge of the bed. “You like her, don’t you?”

“Well—”

“Not in a platonic way, but in a romantic way,”

“I do,” almost instantly, those words left his lips without any hesitation. 

“Then what’s stopping you?”

“Myself,” he groaned, rubbing the side of his face agonisingly. “I’m scared, Mat, I’m scared of ruining what we have,”

“Jake, you shouldn’t let your fears overcome you, or stop you from professing your love either,” Mateo sighed, wrapping his arm around the latter’s shoulder. “Y/N likes you, dumbass, there’s nothing to ruin. Instead, she’s probably thinking you hate her for not giving her a clear green light,”

“I know,”

“Talk to her. Maybe not tonight or tomorrow, but soon. The longer you drag this on, it would just create a distance.”

The evening eventually faded into bright lights and speeches, you and the others sitting among the crowd of distinguished footballers from different parts of the world. You couldn’t lie, it was hard keeping your eyes away from Jake when he was looking absolutely gorgeous. Hair slicked back, dressed in a sleek black suit paired with an expensive tie, he had your knees weak when you were supposed to be mad.

His gaze on you definitely didn���t go unnoticed either, taking the sight of you in and your attire for the night, a certain unspoken longing for one another hung in the air. 

It was towards the end of the night when you excused yourself to the restrooms, your usual escape plan. Exiting the theatre hall and getting to wander around the exquisite area gave you a slight peace of mind, it wasn’t everyday you got the chance to be in France anyway. But disaster just had to strike and ruin your brief tranquillity.

As you descended the stairs, you heard a snap, almost missing your balance, and you knew at once, your heel had taken an unfortunate turn of life. Glancing down at your heel, it indeed had snapped and was broken, and you had the misfortune of not having any super glue on you.

You tried taking a step, stupid mistake. The imbalance of your heels made you stumble, and just when you were ready to meet your fate of face planting into the expensive marble floors, a hand gripped your forearm. 

“Hey, you okay?”

It didn’t take much for you to realise that voice belonged to Jake, who was also holding onto your arm. You coughed, regaining your balance and swiftly yanked your arm from his hold. Jake took a step back, slipping his hands into his pockets. 

“I’m fine,” you said hastily, your head snapping up to meet his gaze. “Were you following me?”

“No!” he exclaimed, his hand travelling to the back of his neck, looking away from you. He was lying, you could see right through him. “Well—I—we saw you rushing out, so we just wanted to check up on you,”

“Right,” you nodded, biting your lips softly as you held in a small laugh at his blatant lie. “Tell the others I’m alright, I just wanted a stroll, but my heel broke,”

“Oh,” Jake’s gaze averted to the sight of your depressing heels. “I’ll let your manager know, I’m pretty sure they can get something else for you,”

“I’d really appreciate that,” 

“Okay,” Jake smiled slightly, nodding also, his body turning to leave but halted midway. “I never got to tell you how beautiful you looked tonight,”

You practically stilled momentarily, letting his words work its magic on you. In that moment, it felt as if the world had stopped and everyone had disappeared, and it was just you two, alone and vulnerable. Soon, you snapped back to reality, swallowing thickly. 

“Thank you, you look great too,”

He said nothing more, merely giving you one last friendly smile before turning away and continuing his way back to the theatre, leaving you to long for him, sadness welling up your heart and your eyes turned heavy. You wished he would run back to you now, telling you how sorry he was, whatever, you just needed him. But that wasn’t going to happen.

Cruel, hard reality reminded you that maybe this was probably one sided after all. 

You were over exhausted by the time you returned back to the hotel, the group was now scattered and everyone was either on their own or lingering somewhere else at the afterparty. At that moment, the pop of notification on your phone caught your attention, it was a message from Natalia. 

nat: meet me at my room! i have something for you ;)

Suspicions crept up internally, that winking emoji practically told you this wasn’t what it seemed. But you went either way, still dressed in your gown and sporting a pair of comfortable slippers, trudging along the halls of the hotel towards Natalia’s room. 

Three knocks was all it took for you to realise the room was unlocked, pushing it open and revealing a clean and spotless room, which was so Natalia. As for a sign of any human being in the room, there was actually none. Initially, you thought of something bad happening, lowkey panicked and rang up Natalia, only to realise a particular thing. Natalia was at the after party.

“Hello?”

You whipped your head towards the source of the voice, freezing at once when you saw who it was. The universe must be setting you up for further embarrassment at this point. Jake was standing in front of you, confused and lost.

“Where’s Natalia?”

“I would want to ask the same question too,” you glanced around the room helplessly. “She isn’t here. Did she text you?”

“She did,”

“Jake,” you started, walking to the door, a sinking feeling inside of you as you hoped whatever you were currently thinking wasn’t actually true. “Did you shut the door?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you realise we’re stuck in here now? We don’t have the keycard,”

The confusion on Jake’s face morphed into shock and horror, approaching the door and giving it a yank, but it was obviously not working. “This is ridiculous,” he groaned under his breath.

“Forget it, it’s already done,” you kicked your slippers off and made yourself comfortable on the bed, your back connecting to the soft covers and almost drifting off to sleep. 

Jake could only nod solemnly, sitting down on the other bed wordlessly. It didn’t take long for the uncomfortable silence to settle, both of you wanting to talk but having zero courage to even do so. You were hopeless and he was just the same.

"We should talk,"

You glanced over at his figure, slowly sitting up, a wary look painted your expressions. "About?"

"About us,"

You gulped, hating the thought of confrontations, but what you hated more was being a stranger with Jake. It pained you having to ignore him or pretend his existence wasn't there.

“What’s there to us? You broke my heart, Jake, and it hurts like a bitch. I heard you clearly in the club that night, and I don’t think I can forget it easily,” you sucked a breath in, being on the edge of combustion. “You know what? If the possibility of us being together is a distraction for you, then fine, forget I ever said I like you, then we can go on like nothing—”

“I don’t want to forget it,” he murmured, eyes flickering. “I don’t want to forget you or your words,”

A pause. 

"I'm sorry," he said slowly. "I shouldn't have said what I said. I shouldn't have treated you like that, I was a massive asshole,"

"You were,"

"I'm really sorry, for hurting you and causing you so much pain," Jake was fidgeting with his fingers, averting his gaze once in a while. “What I said in the club was stupid, it was immature. I wasn’t clear with my feelings then and I could only figure shit out after, I'm just scared of ruining what we have. I don't want to lose you if anything goes south, I don't want to lose you as a friend and a lover,”

"Jake," you began, eyebrows furrowed as your bottled up confusion and frustration slowly crept up. "You won't, your fears are only driving us apart, can't you see that? I–I just don't get you. Do you even like me? Or do you just say you do but you actually don't?"

"I do like you," his tone came out harsh, as though he had been holding it in forever and only getting the bottled up feelings out now.

"Then show me," your eyes pleading and his apologetic. "Show me that you want me, that you actually do. No second guessing or anything. I need you to need me back,"

“I do need you,” he said quietly under his breath, the tension in the room was absolutely cut throat. “I’ll do anything to gain your trust back,” he got up from his spot and walked over to your side, sitting next to you, barely any space between you and him as your shoulders grazed against each other. “I could give you the world if I had to,”

You turned your head and met Jake’s eyes at once, the wordless exchange through one another’s gazes was enough to express the amount of longing and pining harboured. You could feel his fingertips softly brushed against yours, sending slight electric shock into your system. 

“I like you. I like you. I like you,” those three words were poured out like a mantra, causing you to still momentarily, a frown etched onto your scrunched expressions. “I’ve liked you since forever, but I never came to terms with it. At one point, I wanted to tell you … but you moved away. I thought if I could do it all again, I would go back to you and tell you how I feel,”

“Those years when you were gone, I kept thinking about you, I wanted to hold you when I'm not supposed to, I wanted you close—I want you,"

Your breath hitched. 

"I couldn’t get you out of my head, you were all I could ever think of, everywhere I went, anyone I met, I saw a part of you in them, you were occupying my head, I can’t stop, and it’s because of how in love I am with you,”

Love. Not like, but love.

“Then don’t stop,” you said breathlessly, chest heaving heavily. “Don’t stop thinking about me, don’t stop letting me take over your head, don’t stop being in love me, ‘cause I never did. I’ve always loved you,”

Longing and yearning clung onto you and Jake desperately. The space between you two was getting smaller, the need for one another pulling one another together. The outpour of love confessions had you and him both speechless for a while, taking some time to process it all entirely. You loved him, he loved you.

Jake shook his head, swallowing thickly. “I can’t believe it took me all these years to realise my true feelings, I’m sorry for realising it too late,”

“You’re never too late,”

Before any of you could get further progress, the door burst open and revealed a drunken Natalia being supported by her roommate. You and Jake instinctively scooted apart from each other, pretending nothing was happening as you faced a confused roommate and a giggly Natalia.

“What are you two doing here?”

“Natalia sent us text messages saying she wanted to meet us here, but she wasn’t and we got locked in,”

Her roommate, Chelsea, nodded, dumping Natalia onto the other bed. “She probably drunk texted you, sorry about that. Well, I need to take care of her so—”

“Oh,” you took the hint, standing up. “We’ll leave you to it. Goodnight,”

Jake followed you out awkwardly after bidding Chelsea goodbye. Once you were out of the room, you turned around and noticed Jake looking like a helpless puppy. “You’re going back?”

“Yeah, I need to freshen up,” he chuckled, smoothing the fronts of his suit.

“Me too,” gosh, the stiffness and awkward tension was eating you up. “Bye,”

“I’m serious about gaining your apology back, you know?”

You couldn’t even escape when those words suddenly poured out from Jake, catching you immensely off guard and having you rooted to your spot. “I’ll prove it to you, and I'll make it up to you,” he continued, backing away gradually with a knowing grin. “Goodnight!”

“Goodnight, Jake.”

You were incredibly unprepared for what he has up his sleeves.

“I KNOW YOU WERE THE ONE PLOTTING IT,”

Fun didn’t last long after arriving back from France as the team was put to immediate training sessions. A special training session this time at the club’s stadium. You and Jake didn’t speak much after that night in the hotel, especially when you went separate ways with individual training schedules now. But that wasn’t all. Your suspicions with Natalia remained and even though you’ve pestered her ages since then, she has never spilled anything, until this fateful session.

Her widened eyes stared at you, coughing uncomfortably as she masked obliviousness, but you could see through her instantly.

“Natalia,” you narrowed your gaze at the latter, who only shied away. 

“I had that idea in mind…then I got drunk, and the alcohol controlled me to do stupid stuff like that,”

You rolled your eyes at her, passing the ball to her. “I’m not mad, by the way,”

“You’re not?”

“If I was, I would’ve been mad during the first few days, not now,”

“True,” Natalia shrugged, but you saw the playful spark in her gaze. “What did you do? Chelsea told me you two were … close,”

“We talked it out, nothing else,”

“Nothing else?”

“Nothing,” you repeated,  your voice slightly higher than before. 

The session was halted momentarily for some rest. Some were laying on the grassy surface, others scattered in groups either chatting or complaining about the hot weather. You were on the topic of dinner with your two roommates when the speakers suddenly made a shrill noise, causing everyone to flinch. 

“What’s up with the audio?”

A cough was heard through the speakers in the next second, the sound reverberated through the stadium. Everyone including you were looking around in confusion, those on the ground resting had gotten to their feet. All of a sudden, a familiar song started to play, ‘Can’t Take My Eyes off You’, the same song you always played whenever Jake came over when you were kids.  

“You're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off of you. You'd be like heaven to touch, I wanna hold you so much…” The Australian accent was heavy and recognisable, which meant it could only be that certain someone running through your mind.

“Jake?” you muttered under your breath in disbelief, seeing his figure appearing amongst the stands, a microphone in hand. A soft smile unknowingly crept onto your face, laughing quietly at his ridiculous efforts.

It was just the same as the day he dedicated the goal to you. In a crowd full of people, his focus was trained only on you and nobody else, it was all you. His gaze never left your figure as the iconic instrumental part of the song played, and it reminded you of the days you sang this song in karaoke with Jake, screaming the lyrics and humming the instrumentals. 

“I love you, baby, and if it's quite alright. I need you, baby, to warm the lonely night. I love you, baby, trust in me when I say—oh, pretty baby, don't bring me down, I pray,” he sang as he skipped down the steps of the stadium, getting closer to the front. Your teammates were passing you cheeky grins, some were even shoving you just like teenagers teasing their friends after seeing their crushes in the hallway. You yourself couldn’t even hold back a giddy look.

“Oh, pretty baby, now that I've found you, stay. And let me love you, baby, let me love you,” he extended his arm towards you, as if speaking these words just for you to hear. Before you could even accept his hand, your coach came right in time to stare at Jake, clearly unamused.

“Well, Mr Sim, what a performance that was,” Jonatan greeted Jake with a brief handshake. “Apologies for bursting your bubble but the training session is starting soon,”

Jake nodded, a pleased smile paraded on that face filled with confidence. “Got it. Sorry for interrupting. I’ll be leaving now then,” he peeked over your coach’s shoulder, waved and passed you one of his cheesy smiles before slipping away. When he was out of sight, Jonatan turned back and clapped his hands. 

“Back to business!” he shouted, followed by loud unsatisfied grunts. Just as he was passing by, he made sure to whisper quietly and closely to you. “What a man you’ve got there, L/N.”

That totally had you blushing red.

It didn’t take long for training to end. You were about to text Jake about his whole stunt but then you realised you didn’t need to do so, because he was standing directly in front of you at the carpark.

“Need a ride?” You didn’t drive, usually carpooling with the girls back to the apartment, but this might have to be an exception. 

Jake was leaning against his car, a grin stretched wide. You approached him with a curious gaze, eyebrow raised and arms crossed. “You’re still here?”

He nodded. “I thought I’ll just drop you home since I’m here anyway,”

“I’ll take your offer up,” 

Jake even made the effort to open the car door open for you, putting his hand above your head as you entered. The little things did matter to you. But the real question you’ve been waiting for an answer remained, and you were going to shoot.

“What was all that for?”

“What?” he sputtered distractedly as the car started, soon exiting the car park. “The performance, you mean?” a devious smirk appeared on that scheming face of his. “Did you like it?” 

“Well, yeah—but that’s so not the point,”

“That is definitely the point,”

“It isn’t!” you laughed, throwing your head back slightly, making contact with the headrest. “Seriously, Sim, why did you go all out for that? You could’ve been in trouble,”

“Remember the movie you loved when we were younger?”

“Which one? There’s too many,”

“That 2000s movie, something ten things something hate?”

“‘10 Things I Hate About You’!” 

“Yeah, that. The one you forced me to watch for millions of times,” 

“Did not,”

“You did,” Jake rolled his eyes, a small smile remained. “I remembered how much you loved that thing where he sang the song to her, and it happened to be our song, so I thought it would be a great way to apologise,”

“That’s sweet, Jake, really,”

“That’s not all,” He took a brief glance at you, letting the anticipation of his words sink in.“I’d like to take you out for dinner. I want to make it up to you,”

“You don’t have to,” your heart melted. 

“I want to, seriously,” he said as he drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, his face beaming. “You told me to prove myself to you, and that’s what I’m doing. I want to take you out on dates and show you how much I mean every way I feel. I’ll wait for an answer for as long as I can even if it’s a lifetime,”

“Jake,” you called out his name quietly, placing a hand on his forearm. He carefully took hold of your hand, slithering his palm against yours and entangled your fingers together. “You want to take me out on dates?”

“I’m taking it slow. I don’t want to fuck up again,” 

“You won’t, swear,” you reassured him, squeezing his hand gently. 

“I’ll pick you up tonight? Go rest and have a shower first, you stink,”

“Hey! I did shower before this,”

“You mean you lightly rinsed yourself?”

“Guilty.”

It has been ages since you’ve felt nervous before something. Being nervous for matches was nonexistent at this point, but going on your first date in years was stressing you out. Not to mention, it was a date with Jake. You were feverishly placing clothes and dresses on the front of your body as you looked into the mirror, taking hundreds of tries before settling for a new unworn black dress. 

You were glad to be just on time when you heard the sound of your notification, indicating Jake’s arrival below your apartment complex. The jitters were undeniable once you’ve reached the ground floor and walked towards the area he was at. The clicks of your heels against the hard floor gave your presence away and had Jake turning around, his eyes landing directly on you. His strong gaze took your figure in, his lips lazily pulled a playful smirk. 

“Wow,” 

“‘Wow’?” you chuckled, greeting him with a brief hug. He was dressed impressively well, nothing too much but not too minimal either. 

“You are ‘wow’,” he raised his eyebrows. “You’re gorgeous, you know that?”

A tinge of pink painted both of your cheeks lightly. Oh, you were so definitely and undeniably blushing from the effect of his words again. Damn him.

“Save the flirting for later, Sim,”

“So, you’re saying I can flirt however much I want with you?”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go now or else we’ll miss reservations,” Jake loved your promptness, always and forever putting up with it, unable to resist a smile when he opened the car door for you, feeling the way his heart twists lovingly. 

“Wait,” before he started the car, he reached to the backseat, reaching for something you couldn’t make out. That was until he pulled out a big bouquet of mixed flowers, one of every flower you loved. He remembered them all. “I got you flowers, and—” another bag of something, “—your favourite food and snacks. Some are from Germany, our hometown and even here,”

“No way, you got food from home?” you accepted his gifts way too enthusiastically. Your expressions lighting up immediately, legs shaking in anticipation as you went through the variety of snacks in the bag. All while it happened, Jake just remained silent, quietly watching you smile widely and eyes glinting brightly.

You looked up after a few moments, meeting his affectionate stare. “You’re staring!”

He shrugged, presenting you with a lopsided smile. “I love seeing you happy, sweets.”

You swore you almost fell onto the road when you saw how luxurious the place Jake had taken you to. The interior was exquisite and it had a nice ambience to it. A part of you was glad you had decided to dress up a little more than usual considering he had taken you to fine dining. 

Throughout the entire journey there, you were sharing random stories with each other, bringing up old memories and even going on the topic of Jake’s dog. It all flowed naturally, just as how it always did, and that was something nobody else could take away from neither you nor Jake.

“Hi, ready to order?” the waitress soon came by, but you noticed something odd to her vibe. There it was, her lingering gaze on Jake. She likes him!

Never once had she spared you a single glance when you said your order, focusing only on Jake. Annoyance and irk weren’t enough to amount to the feelings you had in the moment, your mood sinking lower as you witnessed her attempting to flirt with him. 

On the other hand, Jake was smart enough to catch onto the hint this time, actively avoiding her advances and rejecting her approaches, but it seemed she was the one who couldn’t take a hint. Just as you were ready to hand the menu over, little miss man stealer here batted her eyelashes and asked for Jake’s number. Hello? You were here too!

“I’m on a date here, can’t you see that?” he snapped, eventually reaching his own limits as well. “You’re disrespecting my girl and me,”

My girl, my girl, my girl.

That was spinning in your head even after Jake finished his small complaint, huffing and puffing in agitation. He was ready to face an unhappy face but it was actually quite the opposite. You were literally smiling giddily. 

“What are you so happy for?” he couldn’t help laughing a little after seeing your smile, but you waved it off, shaking your head.

“It’s nothing, just thought of something,”

Jake nodded slowly, reaching over for your hand. “Sorry about earlier. I requested for a different waiter,”

“It’s fine, Jake, she was being totally unprofessional anyway,” 

“Tell me about it, gosh,” he groaned, intertwining your hand with his, the spark in his eyes shining brighter. “I’m glad you’re here with me tonight,”

“Me too,”

“Thanks for giving me a chance again,”

“Always.”

You’d go back to him any day, any time, and frankly, he would do just the same.

EVER SINCE THAT NIGHT WITH JAKE, THINGS HAVE BEEN TAKING QUICK ADVANCEMENTS.

He brought you out on countless dates, whether it was casual ones or planned, he made the utmost effort to perfect them all, giving you great princess treatment everytime. Your football matches were something he hated missing out on, almost having perfect attendance and frequently being in the stands cheering you on. All in all, he has been nothing but a sweetheart, healing your heart gradually as time passed.

Nothing felt forced whenever you were with him, every moment together made you the happiest, and you couldn’t stop smiling around him and his silly jokes. You liked him, wait, no. You loved him. But there was an ongoing problem, you weren’t even official yet.

Waiting for Jake to ‘pop the question’ was something you didn’t want to think or stress about, but it was a passing thought once in a while. You appreciated the fact that he had indeed taken it slow and took baby steps during the past months of going on dates, but you were getting impatient. You knew you were ready.

Maybe things were meant to be unexpected, and that was the beauty of it.

Jake picking you up from training sessions became a frequent routine by now, proceeding to his house for some movies and hot dinner. This time around, he had other plans in mind that made you scratch your head curiously. 

“You want me to stay over?”

“Yeah,” he said nonchalantly, totally laid back as if this wasn't something new. However, it was actually super new and foreign. You've been to his place lots and uncountable times, but staying over? That's new. “What’s wrong?”

"Nothing," you quickly assured. "I never stayed over, that's all,"

"You stayed over all the time when we're kids!"

"That's different. It's different now,"

Something glinted in those brown irises of his, realising what your words meant. "You're right. It is different."

The long training had you falling asleep right away when you got back, giving Jake the chance to pull another scheme right out of his sleeve. Unbeknownst to you, he had been planning this all along, finding a right time to execute it. He was going to pop the question, the boyfriend girlfriend question that you and him had been waiting for too long.

Jake was nervous. He wasn't even asking you to marry him, but it felt almost like it from the way he was pacing around in the other room while you were sound asleep peacefully. Calling take out and preparing a movie were the usual things you'd do whenever you were over at his, so he tried maintaining his cool and kept collected as he ran through the normal routine.

Peace wasn't an option when you woke up soon after, hearing your footsteps and hoping his heart would calm down quickly before it burst. You were freshening up in the bathroom, then he saw you approaching, a lazy smile greeting him. God, his heart was weak for you.

"Hey," your body fell into the couch right next to him, letting his arm naturally wrap around your shoulder. "What's for today's take out?"

"The usual, from your favourite place," 

"Stop, really?" You squealed in excitement, loving yourself some good food with an even better company. "What movie are we watching?"

"I know you've been dying to rewatch 'Pretty Woman', haven't you?"

"Maybe …"

"'Pretty Woman' it is then." 

Everything seemed like how it always was, a movie playing in the background, the finished plates of food on the table, your head on Jake's shoulder, it was a normal day over at Jake's. Yet for him, it wasn't just a simple one this time around. He was going to finally say what he wanted to say, and he was going to be brave about it.

"Y/N, I've been meaning to ask you this—"

Your head snapped up from his shoulder, a look of worry written all over your face. "Is it about the last pizza slice you were saving?"

Jake blinked, being the one who's dumbfounded now. "What? Were you the one who ate it?" 

"No?"

He rolled his eyes lightheartedly, reaching to pinch your cheek gently. "You're lucky I like you," this was the time, Jake, say it! "Which explains why I'm about to ask you this—" he turned his body to face you, took a hold of your hands, pulling you slightly closer to him. 

"Let me be yours, Y/N. Can I be your boyfriend?"

Your momentary silence genuinely scared him a little, but the moment he saw your face lighting up with a wide cheesy grin, he knew that was it.

"Definitely—" you nodded almost too eagerly, your eyes wandering every part of his face, a swell of emotions erupted in the bottom pits of your abdomen. "—boyfriend,"

Upon hearing the word slipping from your lips, Jake couldn't get anymore giddy. "You're too cute. My girlfriend, my girl," he only got closer, inching towards you, his eyes occasionally flickering between you and your lips.

"Can I–I kiss you?"

At that moment, nothing felt real. The flashing lights from the television only made Jake's eyes gleam brighter in the dim room. You nodded, holding in your breath unknowingly. You were about to kiss Jake. Your boyfriend. Your best friend. 

"I need words, sweets," he mumbled, one hand still holding onto you, the other already travelling up the side of your neck up to your face. 

"Yeah, need you to kiss me," 

It didn't take Jake much more consideration after that, colliding his lips into yours electrifyingly, sealing unspoken desires and pent up frustrations, as if you and him had been waiting for this for too long. You reciprocated his desperation feverishly, the movie now completely out of sight and mind.

Jake was the first to pull away, both breathless and dazed, trying to catch his breath. You were most probably blushing, the dim light thankfully hiding it. Heart pumping heavily, feeling warm all over and a sense of excitement were overwhelming you suddenly, just from a kiss, which never happened before in the history of your love life.

"You're pretty, really pretty," his low voice brought you out of your brief trance, not realising how close he was to you and him observing your every feature. "Can I kiss you again?"

Something in you, probably the overflowing giddiness, brought out a light laugh from you, and being easily influenced by you, Jake started laughing too. The hand holding onto yours tugged you towards him, your body crashing into his, until you finally adjusted your body comfortably in his lap, you met his lips once more.

You could feel Jake grinning into the kiss, either of you breaking into small giggles here and there. The kiss was gentle this time, the love and affection from him were poured into his kiss, expressing something words aren't enough or able to.

"I can never resist you," you poked his chest lightly, your head now resting on Jake's shoulder just like before, your arms now wrapped around his torso, sitting in his lap and enjoying the intimacy.

"Of course you can't," he teased, earning a small punch to the shoulder from you. "I might need more kisses,"

"You're getting none,"

"You're so mean," 

"But you do love me for that, don't you?"

Jake wasn't able to resist an eye roll, tickling your side. "I do," his hand rubbing your back. "Hey, what do you think my mum would react after we tell them about us?"

"Is your mum going to kill me?"

"You're aware my mum loves you more than me, right? Her own child? She's going to be fine," he snorted, his fingers playing with your hair distractedly. "I'm really glad you're here with me now, genuinely. You've always been my strength, my number one, and I don't think I could even be here without you,"

"Jake…" you faltered, getting slightly emotional, the effect of his words getting to you again! " I'll literally kiss you again,"

"Really?"

"Later," you pushed your overly impatient boyfriend's face away, letting out a humorous laugh, only to face a pout from him after. "I'll always come back to you."

You knew heaven was a thing, you go there whenever you are with him. If this was what love felt like, maybe you would want it for a long time. 

No matter how hard you tried to fight it, he would always make you feel things others wouldn't be able to. Even after breaking your heart, then healing it wholly, it somehow only beats for him, and in the end, you knew you'd go back to him, you'll always do.

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[anton-luvr]

hello love, hope u are having a good day ^^

what are you thoughts about boyfriend!anton?

# HIM AS YOUR BOYFRIEND ; ANTON edition.

⚝ bf!anton x gn!reader | fluff | bf au ⚝ note ; im honestly really mentally exhausted... but don't worry! i'll be fine when i go to sleep after this :) ty for asking and requesting anon, i hope u like this!

anton is not like other boys!!!

he's never trying to be cool or manly

he's confident and happy with himself

also the most mature and sweetest guy you've ever met

so talented too!!!!

literally impossible for you to not fall head over heels for him

he's such a sentimental person :(

wants to keep a little memento from each date

and he will keep literally anything

receipts from dinner with you, movie tickets from watching barbie together, a pressed flower from a walk in the park with you

also keeps all the letters and notes you write for him in a special box in his desk's drawer

it always makes him giggle like a lovesick little boy whenever he goes through them (which happens almost every two days)

he is also a quiet lover!!!

not the type to do dramatic and public displays of affection and love

instead of sloppy kisses in public or dramatic gifts that cost a fortune, he shows you his love in other ways

making breakfast for you before you wake up

getting you new toothpaste because he noticed you were running out

doing the laundry because he knows you hate it

unfortunately, you're a victim of his 0.5x photos

he keeps an entire album of them in his phone's gallery

names it "my silly baby"

and it genuinely is silly, because there are 0.5x photos of you doing literally anything

from being mid-bite into a slice of pizza to snoring with your mouth open on the couch to studying with full attention in the library

you name it, anton has it in his phone

but other than the 0.5x photos, he really loves taking photos of you

he just wants to record every moment he spends with you :(

and anton is such a great photographer!!

always gets your best angles and the best lighting

like it could literally be taken with the ancient $5 digicam he found at the thrift store

and you'd still look like an angel

his angel <33333

sets all of his favorite photos of you on rotation for his wallpaper

and he smiles like an idiot whenever he looks at his phone (simp)

he's so loyal too

when girls hit on him, he doesn't even waste his breath to tell them that he's taken

he just channels his inner usain bolt and runs off :3

always keeps his boundaries and distance with his female friends

constantly updates you with pictures when he's away from you to show you what he's doing <3

BUT anton isn't perfect

and perhaps the biggest issue you have is with arguments

he's always calm

a bit too calm sometimes

and it just gets so frustrating for you, because it feels like he doesn't care

but he does :(

once the both of you talk and open up to each other about it, he'll reflect on himself and try to change

because he loves you the most in this world, and the last thing he'd want is to lose you :(

© anton-luvr, 2023.

taglist: @wonbons @mxlly143 @eun-luv @shawyle @yenart @lycheecheeseyogurt @soul-is-a-strange-kid @haechansbbg @yang2k

[lilirari]

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⊹ ( ⚽ ) . . . FAKE TEXTS !

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ꩜⋆ i should be studying for my physics exam right now but i just had the sudden urge to make these texts for these silly bri'ish men ehe.. also i made declan's contact name as 'girl dinner' bc his last name is rice and that's basically what (asian) people have for dinner ahaha i'm so funny 👩🏻‍🦯 anyways hope you guys will like it ! i'm willing to take requests for fake texts so if you have anyone in mind (be it a f1/f2 driver or a footballer), you can send their names in my asks ! ^^

© LILIRARI, 2023 ★

[mysticfalls01]

Home

(Ona Batlle x reader)

Growing up in Manchester you couldn’t help but to love football. Football was everywhere in the city.

As much as you loved football you couldn’t see yourself playing the sport however, coming from parents who were doctors you knew how you could be part of that world.

In 2017 you decided to go the States to study physiotherapy with a speciality in sports medicine. You studied in UNC where you worked with the North Carolina Tar Heels.

There you met two British girls who coincidentally also were there, Alessia Russo and Lotte Wubben-Moy. Having other British girls helped you to miss Manchester so much less and you formed an amazing friendship with them.

You made the most of your time there learning new techniques, you used the most updated medical equipment, you worked with many athletes, so you had seen any type of injuries, and you gained experience as a field medic.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

In 2020 Alessia, Lotte and you decided to go back to England due to the uncertainty of covid. Lotte signed with Arsenal while Less signed with Manchester United.

Due to Lessi’s recommendation and your great experience working with female athletes Manchester United offered you a job in their medical squad.

When you arrived to the club you made sure to have a one on one meeting with every girl in the team and that’s how you met United’s new incorporation, Ona Batlle.

At the beginning it was quite difficult to understand her because of her accent and her basic English however, the connection with Ona was there.

You found it cute how she tried to explain to you what she was feeling, what part of her body had she injured and how suddenly each time you entered a room she suddenly got red cheeks.

After being in the club for three months Ona asked you out, your relationship was based in love, commitment, communication and comprehension. You guys had similar schedules as you were working for the same club, you understood when she had to back to Spain for national duties and she understood when you had to stay extra time with a patient.

Eventually you started taking Spanish classes, so you could talk with her and her family and it was worth it as her family came to see her for her second derby.

“Mama te quiero presentar a y/n. Ella es la fisioterapeuta en jefe para el club y también es mi novia” Ona couldn’t help to tell her mother with a smile on her face.  (Mom! I wanted to present you to y/n. She works the club’s head physiotherapist and she’s also my girlfriend)

“Mucho gusto señora Batlle, soy y/n! Es un placer conocerla”  (A pleasure to meet you Mrs. Batlle, I’m y/n!)

Ona didnt know that you had started taking Spanish classes

“Mi amor! No sabía que hablabas español”  (My love! I didn’t knew that you spoke Spanish)

“Empecé a aprender por ti y por tú familia mi vida”  (I started to learn it because of you and your family my life)

Ona’s mother couldn’t help but watch the interaction and she saw the heart eyes that her daughter was giving you. Since that moment she knew that you were the one for her daughter.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

After almost three years of dating you knew that Ona was about to take one of the biggest decisions of her career, renewing with MU or going back to Barcelona.

You always knew what option was she going to choose, so ever since  your last trip to Spain to visit her family you started to prepare everything. With the help of her family whom distracted her for a day and with the help of your fellow British friends Lucy and Keira you landed an interview with FC Barcelona.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

May 2023

Ona was nervous she didn’t knew how to tell that she was accepting Barca’s offer. She prepared dinner in your now shared apartment.

When you came back after finishing your job at MU you were surprised to see the table arranged and to see Ona taking the food to the table.

“Mi amor! I’m glad that you are here! Come and sit down”

You sat down and started eating dinner with your girlfriend. After an hour or so Ona got nervous.

“Mi amor, there’s something that I need to tell you”

“What is it baby?” You looked at her with curiosity

“As you know my contract with United will be over after this season and Barca made an offer. I want to accept it”

“Well my love I also have something. Do you remember the day when your mother wanted to spend a day just with you?”

“Yeah, I remember” she said with an uncertain voice

“That day Lucy picked me up and took me to La Ciutat Esportiva. I always knew where your heart was my love. I had an interview with the head of the medical team. For the interview I had to do Frido’s physiotherapy session and I did Jana’s tape. The girls and I clicked immediately, better than I did with United’s girls and latter I learned they had given a positive feedback to Barca. Last week Barca reached out to me ” 

Ona couldn’t be believe what she was hearing.

“So what I’m trying to say my love is that I have an offer from them. I told them that if it was possible for me to finish May with United I would sign with them the same day as you did and they accepted. That’s how sure I was of your answer also, Lessi is moving to London so there’s nothing else that ties me to United”

You took her hands and spoke again. “I know that I grew here in Manchester and I considered it my home. That was until I met you that I realized that home isn’t a place, it is a person”

Ona was fully crying, you knew her so well that you prepared everything to move to Barcelona even before she said yes to the club. Ona knew that this was the moment. She took out the velvet box that was in her pocket and kneeled in one knee.

You realized what was happening, tears started to come out and your hands covered your mouth.

“Mi amor, I had something else prepared but this moment feels right, this feels like us. We’ve been dating for almost three years, you learned Spanish to talk to my family and my family loves you. You became my rock when I moved to England and you are ready to move from club and country because of me. I love you with all my heart, I didn’t believed in soulmates until I met you. I know that many persons will think that we are too young but I don’t care. So y/n l/n will you make me the happiest girl on earth and will you marry me?”

“Yes! Ona I’ll marry you!!”

You didn't knew where life was going to take you and you didn't cared as long as you were with Ona you would always be at home.

[yourstrqly]

★ . . . 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐘!, 𝐍𝐃𝐕𝟐𝟏

pairing: nyck de vries x schumacher!reader

the second schumacher kid is trolling the paps with her new, still (seemingly) unknown bf

liked by ginaschumacher, sebastianvettel, yourbff and 50

y/nschumacherpriv break from uni never felt better !!

mickschumacher das letzte Bild? Ernsthaft? 🤢 the last picture? you fr y/n?

y/nschumacherpriv sehe kein Problem damit Zwerg ;) don't see a problem with it dwarf

nyckdevries 🖤

liked by y/nschumacherpriv mickschumacher love you too bro y/nschumacherpriv mick u annoying piece if shit, i'm not sharing nycky w u 🗡 mickschumacher he was mine first hoe nyckdevries girls there's enough of me for both of you lilymhe is there really little man? 🧐 nyckdevries oi alex stop using lily's acc for shitting on other people lilymhe NEVER y/nschumacherpriv #cancelalexalbon2023

daily mail — y/n schumacher and boyfriend passionately kissing in the streets of london once again!

at the beginning of july 2023 the middle child of formula one driver michael schumacher and his wife corinna started to tease the public by hanging out with a brunette man, who's yet to identify even through they're openly affectionate.

mick schumacher has shared in an interview with sky that the family already met the boyfriend and couldn't be more happy as he knew him before his sister dated him and trusted him — the youngest schumacher cheekily added that he hoped for the boyfriend to survive his messy loudmouthed sister.

this presented us with an idea: what if y/n is dating another driver? it could be possible as mick mentioned to knowing him first and being close friends.

as long as y/n and her mysterious man won't share their relationship with the public, we have to sit back and wait in anticipation — maybe they'll slip up in the future when trolling the paparazzi.

caption of the story: nyck came back and is still alive 🙏🏻

y/nschumacherpriv ey ich fahre sehr gut sebby :( ey I'm driving very well sebby sebastianvettel klar y/n . . sure y/n y/nschumacherpriv :((

monaco gossip ; EXCLUSIVE — y/n schumacher and boyfriend nyck de vries put on a loved up display as they're on romantic holiday in monaco

y/n schumacher, second daughter of sports couple corinna and michael schumacher, and her boyfriend nyck de vries put on a loved up display as they're on a romantic holiday in monaco, where de vries has lived when he was an active formula one driver.

the 25 years old student went all out with a chill afternoon date, followed by enjoying the sunny weather outside in the streets of monaco, gently kissing each other and holding hands.

schumacher's younger brother mick had shared that he knew his sisters boyfriend before the now cozy looking couple met — which makes sense as mick and nyck both drove for the prema team in formula two years ago. we come to the conclusion, mick had introduced his teammate to his sister and from there romance blossomed.

de vries, gotten dropped by alpha tauri for daniel riccardo, had announced last month to begin studying at the harvard university where his girlfriend also studies by the way!

y/n schumacher and nyck de vries were something we didn't expect but we surely wish them the best.

liked by pierregasly, ginaschmacher, arthur_leclerc and others

nyckdevries snoepje is a bit sad about the fact that the cat and mouse game has finished and our biggest fan dailmail wasnt the one to uncover us. to quote her at our dinner with the friends: they're a bunch of losers. love you snoepje little candy

oscarpiastri dinner was great, y/n should do a cooking class

y/nschumacherpriv thank you my aussie friend, i'd totally do it (you would be my first student) oscarpiastri i dont need cooking classes y/nschumacherpriv they video of rob and you cooking eggs tells me a different story . . . oscarpiastri :(

y/nschumacherpriv i love you hotstuff

nyckdevries 🖤

y/nschumacherpriv you're so hot 🥵

nyckdevries you're hot too aaaaand we could do some hot stuff ;) y/nschumacherpriv gimme ten mins hotstuff charloslestappen NOT THEM BEING HONRY ON MAIN load more comments

midnighcts my eyes ARE blessed. they're HOT, and STUNNING, simply AMAZING, SHOWSTOPPING

alblondos can't decide if i want to be with her, him or both

mickschumacher still can't believe you chose her over me nyck, I thought what we had was enough 😩

y/nschumacherpriv mick, shut up, I won't share him with you, get that in your small brain nyckdevries i'm sorry bro :( mickschumacher its fine, i'm slowly getting over it y/nschumacherpriv wdym with "i'm sorry"?! there's nothing to be sorry abt 😑 nyckdevries . . . y/nschumacherpriv we're done hendrick mickschumacher i have space for you nycky 🥰 ginaschumacher idiots. all of you are idiots

hamiltonslegend the schumacher siblings >>>>>

rina's masterlist ; i really enjoyed writing this and I miss the little man (who's a cm bigger than me but idc he's a smol bean !!)

[gender-trash]

thanks for participating in my Girl Dinner studies!! when the polls have all closed i will try to do some math and somehow rank them by confidence level and summarize our collective Scientific Conclusions on the nature of girl dinner. does anyone have suggestions for how to calculate confidence because my intuition is something like "large margin between yes and no options -> high confidence, low overall fraction of 'wicked hard to say' votes -> high confidence" but im not sure how to formalize that

[tropes-and-tales]

Mending Fences

Day 15:  Virginity (Rhett Abbott x F!Reader)

(For the 2023 Kinktober event that I created on my own because I am boring and basic and am trying to keep it simple this year...found here!) 

CW:  Childhood friends; yee-haw angst; idiots in love; pining; smut (PiV, protected and unprotected); 18+ only.

Word Count: 6954

AN:  This is a sequel to this, and it was requested for Kinktober by an anonymous type!

AN2: Believe me when I say this is not beta read and has not been edited at all. Shitty first drafts, all. Shitty first drafts foisted into publication.

Rhett doesn’t see you again for three years.

Wabang remains largely the same.  Maria leaves town and Rhett despairs to have missed his chance.  He throws himself into the ranch, into rodeo.  He drinks.  He scraps with the Tillersons. 

Perry and Rebecca make him an uncle, which delights him.  Royal makes his disappointment in his younger son no secret, which hurts Rhett deeper than he’ll admit to anyone.

Three years.  Cecilia mentions you from time to time.  When she runs into your uncle in town, she gets the news, which she conveys over the dinner table to the rest of the Abbotts.  By the time it trickles down to Rhett, it’s just facts:  how you like college, how you’re getting good grades.

Rhett doesn’t think his mother knows about your falling out.  He thinks your uncle can guess at it:  when Rhett sees the man in town, he’s met with a stony stare, curt words.

He hates the way he left it with you.  Every time he thinks about it, his stomach twists and cramps at the wash of shame that courses through him.  There are many times during those three years apart that he thinks of you, that he has the idle thought to reach out.  He has your number, your email.  He could reach out.  He could apologize.

He always thinks of you when he’s working on the lower field of the Abbott Ranch.  It butts against your family’s ranch, a quarter mile of shared fencing, and part of the reason why his mother and yours had been such good friends—and why you and Rhett had been childhood friends too.  There’s a section of fencing with a gap perfectly sized for a child’s body, and both you and Rhett had squeezed through it plenty of times as you went to each other’s houses.

He doesn’t know why your friendship faded.  You used to be inseparable as children, the best of friends.  You used to play in the Abbott barn with Rhett until Royal shooed you both away.  Rhett used to sleep beside you in a tent in your backyard, your mother within earshot and ready to usher you inside if either of you lost your nerve after a night of telling each other ghost stories. 

And when your parents died, Rhett did everything he could to help, in his own childish way:  he clowned around to try and coax a smile from you, he offered awkward hugs when you cried.  Once, he even baked you cookies (with Cecilia’s help).

The drifting apart came in middle school, he guesses.  That’s when the boys and girls started to separate.  That’s when Perry made sly jokes about you, called you Rhett’s little girlfriend, and Rhett bristled at the taunt while you looked hurt at Rhett’s bristling.  You spent less time together:  Rhett fell in with the other boys who drove their trucks outside of town for bonfire parties on the range and dreamed of rodeo and buckle bunnies while you turned inward, studied harder, started dreaming of life outside of Wabang.

When he works on the Abbott ranch’s lower field, he sees the gap in the fencing and marvels that he was ever small enough to squeeze through it…and yet it gives him a pang to see it, to remember those golden years of his childhood he spent with you. 

He could reach out.  He could apologize.  He could, after an opening salvo, express his own confusion and frustration about why you had asked him to take your virginity in the first place.  He guesses that you trust him—or trusted him—but he can’t pretend it didn’t unnerve him all the same.

He could reach out, but he doesn’t. 

Rhett doesn’t see you again for three years.

-----

It comes with no warning, the next time he sees you.  There’s been no chatter about you returning to Wabang for the summer.  You’ve spent other summers at college, working internships and taking classes, so Rhett didn’t expect to see you this summer. 

Rhett sees you in the town proper, just like that, like it’s just another day.  Which it is, except there you are:  standing outside of a restaurant, balancing a flat box of pizza in one hand while a six-pack of beer dangles from the other hand.  You’ve been cornered by one of the older Wabang residents, the mother of one of your high school classmates, and judging by the expression on your face, Rhett guesses you’re calculating how to extricate yourself from the situation.

He's idling in his truck and only has a moment to study you.  You look exactly the same—same face, same hair—yet you seem completely different.  It takes Rhett a long moment to realize why; he doesn’t piece it together until he’s pulled away and is driving towards the ranch.

You seem different because you seem taller—because you’re standing straight.  Perfect posture, shoulders back.  Rhett’s never seen you stand like that before:  as a teenager, you had a way of walking bent over a little, your shoulders rounded over and in like you were trying to pull in on yourself.

-----

He catches glimpses of you here and there.  He hears people mention you—college girl back from the great wider world—and Rhett can’t quite account for the feelings your name or face stir up in him.  Sometimes it makes him duck his head, slink around guilty, like others could read those terrible words his said to you the last time he saw you. 

Pity-fucking the town orphan, he had said.  The words are seared into his memory, as permanent as any tattoo.

Other times, though, the mention of your name or a glimpse of you fills him with a lightness, an airy feeling he remembers from your childhood together.  Like all he has to do is slip through that gap in the fencing to go find you, to take your hand in his for some adventure.

-----

It’s funny how some of the stringent cliques of high school soften once everyone graduates.  Rhett still hangs out with his friends from then, since none of them have left Wabang, but interlopers come and go and are no worse for wear for it. 

The bonfires still occur out on the range but there’s less stridency about who does and doesn’t belong, who was and wasn’t invited.

You never went to a bonfire in high school.  You weren’t exactly friendless back then, but you hung with similarly quiet and studious girls.  Girls who spent their Friday nights sleeping over at each other’s houses, watching movies and dreaming about lives far from Wabang.  But one early summer night, you turn up at the bonfire, in tow with Billy Tillerson and his girlfriend and a handful of other friends.

That riot of feelings.  Guilt and hope in equal measure.  The beer Rhett has already drank doesn’t help.  He’s just tipsy enough, his thoughts just fuzzy and sluggish enough that when you turn up in the circle of firelight, he openly gapes at you, and it draws your attention.

Three years after that terrible fucking night at the hotel, Rhett Abbott is finally looking you square in the eye.

Pity-fucking the town orphan, his memory hisses at him, and a sick wave of shame washes through him.

But if you’re remembering the terrible thing he said, Rhett can’t tell.  You stare at him in the flickering firelight, but then you tip your head at him, a scant nod, and the corners of your lips curve into a semblance of a smile.

It’s been three years, so it’s better than nothing.

-----

He sees you again in the next few weeks, here and there.  At the bar, around town.  Each time, you exchange nods of recognition but little else.

Cecilia gets wind of you being back for the summer, and she spends a Saturday morning baking up a double batch of your favorite cookies—pumpkin chocolate chip.  She underbakes them a shade so they stay soft in the middle, just as you and Rhett always liked them best when you were kids, and then she thrusts the foil-covered platter into her younger son’s hands with the directive to deliver them to you.

Maybe Rhett never gave his mother enough credit.  Cecilia seems to know about the rift between you after all.

“Life’s too short to stay mad,” she tells him before she sends him on his way. 

“Who says anyone’s mad?”

She rolls her eyes, a universal expression that all mothers seem to have that says I’m your mother, you’re not pulling a fast one on me.

“Her mom and I were best friends, but we had our spats.  We never let it turn into a cold war, though.  Talk it out, yell if you have to, but work through it.”  She pats his shoulder, and her eyes have a film of tears as she remembers her best friend, your mother, dead now for these long years.  “Life’s too short.”

-----

Something about his mother’s words make Rhett take the old path to your house—through the lower field, to the gap in the shared fencing, though he has to climb over the fence now that he’s too big to squeeze through the narrow space between the posts.

Each step towards your farmhouse brings back a million memories.  There’s the overgrown bank of Rocky Mountain iris.  Rhett remembers how you cut a bouquet of them (uneven, stems weeping sap) for when his childhood dog died and was buried behind the Abbott barn.  There’s a wide fire pit where your father used to patiently supervise as the two of you caught marshmallows on fire for s'mores.  There’s the flat patch of prairie where your parents pitched a small pup-tent that you and Rhett used to sleep in during warm summer nights.

It baffles him that he used to sleep right beside you, tucked in his Power Rangers sleeping bag while you slept in your Sailor Moon one beside him.  It baffles him how childhood can be so completely innocent, and how it can slip away in an instant.

The house looks the same from the outside, and when Rhett knocks at the back door, he finds that he’s…not excited, exactly.  But not dreading it.  You were his best friend, and his mother is right.  Life is too short.

Your uncle is the one who answers the door, and the cool expression on his face pulls Rhett up short.  But he says nothing other than “c’mon in, then,” and once Rhett steps into the house, your uncle hollers for you somewhere deeper in the home.  Tells you that you have a visitor and that he’s heading into town for supplies.

Then Rhett hears the familiar cadence of you running down the stairs, and it tugs at something in his chest—you ran down those stairs the same way as a child, hitting the top three carefully, then rushing down the rest.  You must meet your uncle near the front door because he hears the two of you murmuring, but he can’t make out the words.  Then the door slamming, the roar of your uncle’s truck’s engine, and then you’re standing in front of him, the same semblance of a smile from the bonfire.

*****

The two of you sit outside near the fire pit, the platter of cookies between you.  You have no idea what bit Rhett’s ass, but after the barest bit of small talk (“How’s it going?” and “How’s college?”), he immediately launches into the big shit.

“I hate how we left it,” he starts.  “That night.  You know.”

You bite back a snort, and you pluck another cookie from the platter, break it in half, pop it in your mouth.  You chew slowly, give yourself time for that old wash of shame to course through you, then ebb away.  It still makes your face burn hot, three years later.  Every time the memory surfaces, you shove it down, but not before you remember the mortification of getting cold feet, of standing in front of him half naked while he called you the town orphan.

“Yeah,” you reply.

“I should have never said it.”

You shrug.  “S’fine.”

“It’s not.”  He sighs, takes his ball cap off and swipes his hand through his hair.  “I’m sorry.  I shoulda said it sooner.  Should have apologized that same night.”

You glance over at him.  You take in his profile:  his jaw twitches at how tight he must be clenching it, and his blue eyes are fixed out in the field, the stretch of land between your ranch and his.  He’s so damned handsome, but you often forget the fact because you still think of him as just the boy next door, your childhood best friend, and you didn’t think of him in terms of “handsome” or not back then.

You shift your gaze back to your shoes.  “I should have apologized too.  I should have never put you in that position in the first place.”  A beat, and you add, softer, “I’m sorry, Rhett.”

You hear movement beside you and feel his eyes on you.  “You don’t have to apologize for that.”  He sounds surprised, and it makes you turn and look him in the eyes for the first time since you sat down.

“I do.  It was awkward, and I made it more awkward, and it was stupid.”  You shake your head, huff in frustration to remember the girl you’d been three years ago.  Not that long, really, but you’ve grown up a lot since then.  “I was an idiot.”

Rhett chances a smile.  “You’re a lot of things, but idiot isn’t one of them.”

“Yeah, but it was stupid to ask you.”

His smile slips a bit; he leans back a shade.  “It wasn’t stupid—”

“I mean, I put you in a weird position.  That’s all I mean.  And it was stupid for me to be so worried about it.  It’ll happen how it happens.  We aren’t…I mean, we weren’t…”  You trail off, huff in frustration again.  “We used to be best friends.”

He sighs too.  “Yeah, I know.”

“And then we weren’t.”

“I know.”

“And I guess I was getting nervous about leaving Wabang, and nervous about going away to college, and I missed my friend and had this…this problem, I guess, so…”  You hold up your hands, helpless, and it makes Rhett smile again.

“Not everything is a problem that you need to solve,” he says, and he sways towards you, elbows you in the side just like he used to do.

You laugh a little.  “That was, though.”

“It really wasn’t.”

“Says the guy who never had that problem.”

He laughs, elbows you lightly again.  “You give me too much credit.”

That makes you remember the tenor of the situation three years ago.  High school.  Rhett pining over Maria.  She left Wabang, you heard.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him now.  “I heard Maria left town.”

He shrugs but doesn’t say anything about it.  He reaches out for another cookie and eats it, licks a crumb off his thumb.

“Anyway, I accept your apology, and I’m sorry I made things so weird,” you add.

He chuckles, elbows you a third time.  “I accept your apology, and I’m sorry I made things fucking awful.”

You elbow him back finally, the answer to his outreach, the old call and response from your childhood.  “I missed you, you know.  In high school and in college both.”

“I missed you too,” he replies, and it feels good, like you’ve excised some old wound together, and now you can perhaps be friends again.

*****

The two of you don’t go all the way back to childhood, but you build something else.  Tentative at first, stilted moments of conversation when you see each other in the wild, but each time feels a little easier.

You’re interning with the town veterinary clinic, and you join the old doctor as he makes house calls from ranch to ranch.  You help steady horses while he vaccinates them.  You smear on paste for ringworm, hold his instruments when he cleans a hoof abscess.  You help him birth breech cattle; you stroke the muzzle of an old dog when it’s put to sleep. 

Rhett sees you when you join the vet at the Abbott ranch one day.  Royal’s favorite mare has a bad back hoof, and it makes Rhett smile to see you so professional.  You question Royal about the horse’s diet; you question the vet about what he thinks.  The vet asks you for your opinion, and you pause before you answer, look off into the distance thoughtfully before you tell him that a supplement of copper and zinc will help.

Cecilia invites you in afterwards for lemonade, and you accept gratefully.  The two of you chat, and Rhett is left as a third wheel so he gets to look his fill of you.  You seem more…comfortable with yourself.  He noticed it that first day when he saw you again in Wabang.  You sit up straight; you don’t curl in on yourself like you want to be invisible.  He remembers you from high school, how you always seemed to be mid-cringe…and it reminds him of that night in the hotel, how you had cringed away from him, shirtless as he got frustrated because you had been nervous.

He knows he apologized and you apologized and it should all be behind you, but it still makes him feel queasy with shame.  Pity-fucking the town orphan.

“Your mom would be proud,” Cecilia tells you, and you duck your head, mumble something, and just like that, you’re that high school girl again.  It makes the queasy wash of shame cede to a wave of protectiveness in Rhett.

Then you stand up and thank her for the lemonade, and she makes you promise to join them for dinner soon.  When you nod at Rhett, you try to step past him but he blocks your path.

“Hug tax,” he says, but it makes you burst into laughter.  Your mom used to do that:  block yours (and his, when he visited) path, demanded hugs as payment for passage.

“I smell like horse manure and sweat, Rhett Abbott.”

“I guarantee you I smell worse, but rules are rules.”  He holds his arms open, and you laugh again, step into them for a moment.  When he whispers “you stink” into your ear, it earns him a squawk of outrage and a pinch to his side, but you laugh the whole way back to your truck.

-----

You join them for dinner a few nights later.  You get to meet the newest Abbotts, Rebecca and Amy, and you break up the general tension that radiates off of the dour Royal like a miasma.

The dinner is largely uneventful.  Rhett catches you matching faces across the table at Amy, which makes the little girl laugh.  Cecilia asks about your years at college so far, and Perry jokingly asks if you’ve had any boyfriends since Rhett.

“No, none,” you reply simply, but it makes Rhett think.  It makes the gears start to turn.  He always assumed your so-called problem was solved while you were away, your virginity shed in some dorm room or apartment or at a party.  But he searches back to that conversation you had when he brought you the peace-offering cookies.  What did you say as you stammered out your own apology?

It’ll happen how it happens. 

Present tense, not past.

-----

He verifies it over that same weekend.  There’s another bonfire.  You turn up with the same crew as before—apparently you’re friendly with Billy Tillerson’s girlfriend.  Now that you and Rhett are back on good terms, he approaches you halfway through the night, and the two of you peel off a little separate from the rest.

“Big fan of the Tillersons then?” he asks, his tone mock-disgusted.  You hear the underlying playfulness and laugh.

“There’s a certain brand loyalty there, yeah.”

Rhett pulls a face, which makes you elbow him.  “Why?”

“Well, their cousin Drew took me to the winter formal sophomore year.”

“So?”

Another elbow to his side.  “He was my first kiss.”

“Gross.”

You laugh again.  “It could have been worse.  He popped a mint beforehand, at least.”

Rhett grunts at that, but he lets the moment lie for a beat before he asks, in a tone he hopes is casual, “did Drew Tillerson help you with your other problem too?”

You laugh again, but there’s less merriment in it.  “Negative, Ghost Rider.”

Maybe he shouldn’t push it, but he’s had a few shots of Fireball chased by plenty of beer, so he plunges head-first.  “Someone at college, then?”

That doesn’t elicit a laugh.  “No,” you reply, and now there’s an edge of tension in your voice.  A tread lightly edge.  Which…Rhett Abbott rarely treads lightly—he more often charges headfirst like a bull, and that’s exactly what he does now.

“Someone I know?”

“No.”  He glances at you, catches your narrowed eyes fixed on the fire.  “Leave it, Rhett.”

He doesn’t leave it.  He plunges head first.  “So it’s still a problem?”

It must be.  You must still be a virgin because you’re so discomfited.  You obviously hear judgement in his voice—judgement that doesn’t exist, of course—because you hike your shoulders up around your ears and hunch away from him.  You look so much like your high school self, suddenly insecure and cringing, and you mumble something about it not being a problem for you, so it shouldn’t be a problem for anyone else, and then you duck away to go find someone else to talk to.

-----

The two of you hang out through the summer.  He works at the ranch and you have your internship, but you fall into the habit of spending the evenings together.  The weekends.  You go to the rodeo with him, watch from the stands.  Sometimes you sit with Perry and Rebecca when they come, and Perry makes sly comments to Rhett afterwards.  He calls you his girlfriend, just as he had teased when you were kids, but it hits Rhett different now.

Things with you feel easy.  Low stakes.  You’re friends again, and you slowly open up to each other.  Rhett tells you a little about Royal, their difficult relationship that has only grown more strained the older Rhett has gotten.  You talk about college, how lonely it can be since you are so focused on your studies.  Veterinary school is more competitive than med school, you tell him, so how can you make time for friends?

The corollary is how can you make time for love?  How can you make time to lose your virginity?

When you asked him to take your virginity three years ago, he had been confused and a little uncomfortable about he.  He couldn’t understand why you’d ask him, but with three years’ worth of added life experience, Rhett guesses that you asked because you trust him.  Wabang isn’t that big of a town.  There’s a dearth of available men you could have asked, especially back in high school.

Three years later, the memory makes a million emotions flit through Rhett.  A nostalgia for when life was slightly easier back then.  Shame that he had said what he did, sadness that he didn’t reach out sooner, that he let the bad feelings lie for three years.

But you had trusted him, even back then, so he wonders if you trust him now.  Would you ask him again, if you weren’t so embarrassed?  What if that evening in the hotel room had gone differently?  What if, instead of getting frustrated with how nervous you were, he had been a gentler man—what if he had handed you your shirt, pulled you into a hug, laid down on the bed with you and watched a movie instead?  What if you had fallen asleep together instead, just like when you were kids?

He has to wonder if that disastrous evening has made your virginity an even bigger deal.  That you had a plan to lose it, and that plan had gone horribly, so now it’s more of an issue.

Pity-fucking the town orphan.  The memory stings.  There were so many kinder things he could have said. 

Well, he has a semblance of a second chance now.  He sees you nearly every day.  You laugh with him again, have long chats.  Maybe he can do it over again, better the second time around.

-----

He’s the one who asks, the second time around.

The two of you are in his truck, driving back from Wabang.  Your truck is in the shop, so Rhett picked you up from work, but he takes the long way home.  You fiddle with the radio, scan through the static until you find the old country station out of Jackson.  There’s an old Loretta Lynn song playing that you hum along to, and you seem to be in a good mood, so Rhett plunges headfirst into it.

“If you wanted to try again,” he says, and his voice is rough at the edges.  “I was gonna offer…”

He trails off, and you stop humming along, and Loretta finishes her song, gives way to Merle Haggard singing about how his mama tried.

“Rhett,” is all you say, but his name is both a sigh and a warning. 

“I’m just saying.”  He swallows, tightens his grip on the steering wheel.  “I messed up before.  Ruined it.”  He glances over at you, but your face is turned away from him.  You’re looking out the window at the Wyoming dusk as the sun sets.

“Rhett, c’mon.”  Less a warning now, more a plea.

“I want to,” is all he says, and you don’t reply.  You don’t say anything else other than to murmur your thanks for the ride when he drops you off, and he doesn’t talk to you again until you call him days later and say, “okay.”

-----

Three years later, he does so much better.

He keeps it simple this time.  He remembers all those sleepovers in the pup tent, your parents within earshot of any nighttime terrors.  He remembers sleeping beside you, waking up to dawn bleeding in through the nylon of the tent, dew coating everything when your mom would unzip the little door and tell you that there were chocolate chip pancakes ready for the two of you. 

You’ve never been a high maintenance sort of girl.  You’ve always loved the wilderness around Wabang, the endless sky and wild storms and purple mountain ranges in the distance.  Where better than to do this than under the night sky, out on the range?

Rhett lays down a thick bedroll in the bed of his truck, then covers it with blankets.  It’s a banner night in Wyoming:  cool but not cold, the warmth of the summer day bleeding away to a comfortable coolness.  The bugs are few.  The sky is a velvety blue-black above you, the stars a scatter of diamonds tossed across it.  The faintest band of orange glows in the west, the last bit of sunlight before it’s full dark.

You’re just as nervous as before, but Rhett keeps his head this time.  He’s not a boy masquerading as a man this time; he’s older, smarter, has more experience.  Three years ago, Rhett only had a handful of sexual encounters to his repertoire—a handful of disappointing moments, drunken rendezvous with girls from high school, a couple of flings.  Nothing deep or meaningful.

He smooths his hands over your arms, then reaches up and cups your face.  He studies you a moment, takes in the unsteady way you’re breathing.  You’re his oldest and dearest friend, and he feels a weird twinge in his chest.  He chalks it up to nervousness on his part, but he’ll wonder later if perhaps it is love.

“Okay?” he asks, and you nod.

He bends his head and kisses you, and it’s the same as before.  You’re tentative with each other, but you warm up to him quickly:  you kiss him back, tease at him with a shy little sweep of your tongue, and when he opens his mouth to deepen the kiss, you’re right there—sighing against him, sinking your teeth lightly into his lower lip before you suck against it.

You must have kissed, at least, in college.  You’re better at it now.  The thought should encourage him—he won’t be your only experience—but he feels an odd wash of jealousy.  He pictures you making out with someone better than him, better looking and smarter and on track to being more successful. 

He takes it as slow as you need.  He lets you set the pace.  He strips you out of your clothing, and he allows you to strip him out of his, and you don’t cringe from him this time.  It’s likely because it’s dark outside; Rhett can’t see much, but you feel amazing under his searching hands, soft and warm.  When he trails his fingertips over your bare skin, he feels how you break out in goosebumps, and he marvels at how sensitive you are.

Rhett’s learned a lot in the intervening years.  He’s no longer an eighteen year-old fumbling through sexual interludes.  He has a better understanding of women.  He spends a long moment stretched out beside you in the bed of his truck, working his fingers into your tight heat, feeling how wet you get as he eases you into this.  He pushes one finger, then a second.  He scissors them inside you, feels the slick muscles of your core push back against him.

“Just relax,” he whispers against your neck, and he kisses you there.  He feels your pulse under his lips, and he nuzzles against you, takes in the scent of your skin.  A moment later, he feels you relax a fraction, the tight grip on his fingers released just a bit.

He can feel you relax more as he kisses you, as he fingers you.  You’re warming up to the moment, pushing past whatever insecurities you have.  The setting helps, he thinks.  It’s not some anonymous hotel room with beige carpeting and the faint scent of old secondhand smoke.  It’s outside, the open range of your home that you love so much.  A waning moon and a million stars burn above you.  It must be a million times more magical than a three-star hotel by the interstate exit.

It's certainly better for him.  It takes him no time at all to get hard, even if he’s nervous.  You’re his oldest, dearest friend, and he’s never thought of you as a woman, really.  He’s never considered you as a sexual being, so it’s a revelation to see your naked body under the faint moonlight.  It’s a revelation to touch you, to cup your breasts and to put his lips against your pebbled nipples, to grind his cock against your bare hip to relieve the tension that coils tight and hot in his belly.

Rhett stretches out on the bed roll.  He fumbles for his discarded jeans, finds the foil packet.  He scrambles to roll a condom onto himself, and then he encourages you to take charge, to take your first time into your own hands.

“You’re in charge,” he murmurs.  He takes your hand, threads his fingers through yours.  He tugs you towards him until your face is pressed near his, and he brushes his lips against yours.  “Just like ridin’ a horse.”

You snort softly.  “Am I gonna need a riding helmet for this?”

He grins up at you.  “I won’t buck you off.”

He guides you as you straddle him, grasps the softness of your hips as you settle over him.  He grips the base of his cock, gives himself a couple of strokes, then holds himself steady as you lower yourself, slide against his length, and even through the latex he can feel how warm you are.

Then you reach down and take him in hand, and it should feel weird, his best friend wrapping her fingers around his cock, but it doesn’t, and Rhett doesn’t question why because you may be a virgin but you understand the mechanics of this, and you notch the blunt head of his cock at your entrance.  When you start to slowly lower yourself onto him, every blessed thought drains out of his head, and every bit of his attention focuses on where he’s entering you—the unbearably tight grip you have, the way your hands settle on his chest as you brace yourself.  You take it slow—so goddamned slow—stilling, taking a breath, then pushing onwards. 

When you’re settled onto him, when you’re sitting flush against him, Rhett breathes out a harsh, punched-out breath, and he asks if you’re okay.  His voice is rough.  His throat feels too dry.  It feels unreal.  His oldest, dearest friend, the girl he used make s’mores with and trade ghost stories with…you’re naked, you’re nodding at his question, you’re sitting on him, and his cock is buried in your depths.  He’s just taken your virginity, and his throat feels too dry and too tight, and his brain struggles to think of the perfect thing to say to you, but your body starts to move above him and he never has a chance to say it.

Your rhythm is clumsy at first, too fast, too jerky.  Rhett grasps your waist and guides you gently.  He sets you in a slower, more even rhythm; you ride him steadily and you make the cutest little whimpers each time to settle back on him.  Each time you do, the coil of tension in his lower belly tightens more, and Rhett breathes carefully to avoid coming too soon.

He slips one hand from your hip and reaches to where you’re joined to him.  He finds your clit, slick and swollen, and he traces an infinity symbol there, around and ‘round with his thumb that makes those cute whimpers turn into outright moans.  He senses that you’re holding back, but you’re in the middle of nowhere.

“No need to be quiet,” he tells you.  “Lemme hear it, baby.”

You moan louder at that, the command or the sweet-talking nickname or both, and he notices that you start to pick up the pace, riding him faster, so he does the same—he rubs against your clit harder, faster, because he feels his own orgasm coming up fast at him.  His balls feel heavy and taut, and he’s so damned close—

“C’mon, let go,” he growls, but his sedate passivity crumbles.  He sits up underneath you, jerks a squeal from you as he sits up and wraps his arms around you.  He pulls you closer to him, and the change in position grants him another quarter-inch into you, and it makes the base of his cock grind against your clit with each bounce in his lap.

“Let go,” he orders; he mumbles it against your lips.  “I wanna feel you come, baby.  Wanna feel you come for the first time,” he says, but when you open your mouth to respond, he kisses you, shoves his tongue into your panting mouth, licks against you as you whimper from deep in your throat.

Then he feels it.  He feels it—the way your orgasm breaks through you, the hard snap of your hips as you arch against him, as your cunt grips him:  your breasts pressed against his bare chest, your arms tight around his shoulders.  You drop your head on his shoulder, and he feels your mouth there.  You stifle the sounds of your pleasure against him, and he’d admonish you, but as your orgasm tears through you, he feels the sharp bite of your teeth into his skin, and it unlocks a kink Rhett never knew he had because the sting of pain is what makes the tension in him snap.  He groans out your name, manages a shit—fuck—baby, then he comes too, ropes of his cum spilling in the condom as you tremble in his arms.

-----

In the end, Rhett Abbott claims your first time that night on the range, under the stars.

He gets your second time too, later that same night:  him on top of you, you with your legs wrapped around him, making good use of the spare condom he brought along.

He gets your third time as well, the next day.  It’s a quick moment, a bona fide quickie in the Abbott barn, the scent of clean hay and sweat as he bends you over the railing of an empty horse stall.  He pulls out in plenty of time, pants as you turn around to grasp him and jerk him off the rest of the way, his cum spilling over your warm palm.

And your fourth time.  He sneaks into your bedroom, and though your uncle is out of town for the night, Rhett still pretends you need to be quiet:  he spoons you from behind, hikes your leg over his and slides into you.  He breathes quietly as he fucks you gently, and he clasps a hand over your mouth as you come, and when your teeth nip into his calloused palm, he groans and comes too.

The next morning, your fifth time as you sit on the kitchen counter and wrap your legs around his ass as he drives into you. 

Rhett never examines his feelings around it.  When he’s alone—baling hay, fixing fences along the ranch parameter—he doesn’t let his thoughts ruminate over you too much.  There’s a truth there, buried under all the sexual interludes and underneath all the shared history and hurt, but he doesn’t excavate it. 

He only lets the facts stand.  You’re his oldest, dearest friend.  You are sexually compatible.  End of story. 

*****

You have plans to meet Rhett in town, at the bar.  You’ve had a long day at your job, deworming a flock of sheep, and you smell terrible, so you stop home to shower and change your clothes.  You stare at your closet critically; you’ve suffered for lack of a mother in your formative years.  You don’t quite understand how to be a woman—you know there’s different lengths of skirts, for example, that work best depending on one’s height or shoes, but you’re damned if you know what those rules are.

Still, you want to look nice.  You want to look nice for Rhett.  Under torture, you’d probably admit it, but you can barely even admit it to yourself:  you’re in love with him.  You have been for a while.  You loved him when you were children in that vague, puppyish way kids love each other.  You loved him when you were in high school, pined from afar and moped over sad songs on the radio because he never looked your way.

And now here you are.  Hope bubbles up in you from time to time, when you’re alone and considering what your future might hold.  You always had a deep, bleak dread that you’d always be alone—sudden orphanhood can warp a psyche, you guess.  But for the first time, you have tentative moments of hope. 

You find a sundress, the cotton a little faded but in the low lights of the bar, no one should notice.  You pull on a pair of strappy sandals.  You dust your face and neck with some of your mother’s old luminating powder, and the scent of it makes a sharp blade of melancholy lance through you.

Then you drive into Wabang, and your stomach gets those fluttery butterflies as you park, slip your keys into your purse, and walk in. 

It takes a moment to find him.  He usually posts at the bar when he’s waiting for you, the door in his line of sight, but when you enter the din of the bar, he’s nowhere to be found.  Maybe he found a buddy and is chatting with him.  Maybe he’s in the bathroom.

If your hope bubbles up in you, effervescent, then your hope is easily popped when you find Rhett.  He’s not in the bathroom and he hasn’t found a buddy, but he’s found Maria Olivares.  The wayward dream girl has returned, and she’s as gorgeous as ever (she must understand skirt lengths, you guess), and her lovely face is tilted towards Rhett as she laughs at whatever he says.  And worse, his handsome face is lit up like a damned Christmas tree, laughing too, and your hope is popped and burnt to the ground and the earth around it is salted because Rhett has never looked at you like that.

“It’s okay,” you whisper to yourself, and you turn on your heel and fast-walk out of the bar.  The path back to your truck shimmers, wavers in front of you.  You realize it’s because your eyes are full of tears, and when you realize it, they break free, start to course down your face.

“It’s okay,” you tell yourself, and you repeat it over and over:  as you get into your truck, as you turn the ignition, as you peel out of the parking lot and as your tires throw up an arc of gravel.  You repeat it like a mantra, and you fix your attention on the road.  You drive home; you leave Rhett at the bar, and it’s a confirmation when he doesn’t text you until the next morning asking where you’ve been.

By then, though, you’re already halfway gone.  It’s August, after all, and school is starting again soon, and leaving Wabang a few weeks early is easy enough.

[dangermousie]

Ok, 13 eps in and it’s official - Lost You Forever is this year’s Love Between Fairy and Devil for me, and not just because I am unreasonably obsessed or because I love the design or because it features a protagonist horribly hurt by life and a love interest who gets to them by pure sunshine goodness.

No, it’s because they both are summer dramas that I mocked before they aired and whose cast gave me hives and then I had to eat crow dinner with crow coffee and crow dessert.

I thought the concept of LBFAD (demon king and fairy girl occasionally swap bodies) was risible. I thought anyone who cast Dylan Wang in anything, let alone as a terrifying demon lord, needed to have their head checked. I’ve seen that man in a number of dramas and he can’t act, thought I. Oh, and that trailer was simply awful. This is going to be a great terrible flop and I am gonna enjoy hate watching and mocking it, also thought I. I checked it out solely out of sheer morbid curiosity and I was a gone five minutes in. It ended up my favorite drama of 2022, made it into my top 10 cdramas of all time in fact, and if anyone said Dylan did anything but an amazing job in LBFAD, I’d fight them in the parking lot. Man tore my heart out.

Now comes 2023 and here is another anticipated summer drama, Lost You Forever. If you assume I learned anything from the LBFAD scenario, you would be wrong. (In my defense, in the overwhelming bulk of cases when I hate the concept, trailer and cast, I do not end up adoring the final product.) Nobody could explain the plot to me coherently (not their fault in retrospect, I can’t even explain it myself as it’s more character study than anything.) The concept screams reverse harem, something I am primed to enjoy about as much as I was primed to enjoy LBFAD body swap between female fairy and demon king or perhaps a toothache. The cast - yikes think I. The last Yang Zi drama and performance I enjoyed was the Battle of Changsha. A drama that is a bona fide masterpiece and in which she performed amazingly but was released in 2013, a whole decade ago. Ever since then she’s proceeded to play a range of cheery dimwits who only a mother could love, and only a mother in possession of earplugs and perhaps a gag at that. And to me she started sleepwalking through those roles to boot. Watching her and her dramas became the definition of elevator music. And her leading men here? Ooof! The guy who plays the cousin I’ve never seen in anything. Tan Jianci is good in the right role but I did not think that was going to be a good role and then we get Court Lady Tan Jianci which - shudder. And Deng Wei? Yikes! I’ve seen him in a bunch of dramas and he was the walking incarnation of color beige. And that trailer was a giant huh.

And now here we are. The story is exquisite and I feel so deeply for everyone in it (now, in case of cousin the feeling is the desire to barbecue him but still.) The acting is uniformly good and so is the story. And Yang Zi does not play a cheerful dimwit but a haunted old soul and she does it so well my heart breaks for her and I am so invested in her it becomes ridiculous as I feel her slightest joy or disappointment so intensely. And oh Deng Wei is my other revelation. If someone told me I’d be swooning over a character played by him I would have told them to sleep off all the booze they must have just consumed. But guuh, his 17 just might end up being my favorite male character in 2023 cdramas and I feel for him so deeply and remain amazed how he makes goodness layered and not boring or cloying at all.

That crow feast is sooo delicious!

Am I gonna learn? Hell no! Provided we are not all murdered by a giant asteroid, come back to this space in 2024 to see what other drama that I was prepared to hate I am now obsessing about.

[gatheringbones]

[“It can be difficult for people raised as girls to express rage when we’ve been taught from very early on that it is in our best interest to suppress our anger. It is culturally acceptable for women to be sad, not angry. In one study on gender, anger, and the workplace, the participants conferred higher status to sad female employees than to angry ones. For men the opposite was true. Men, particularly white men, are rewarded and forgiven for their anger, while women are penalized and blamed.

Ceci, the mestiza paralegal, now lives in Los Angeles with her husband, five-year-old son, and twenty-two-year-old stepdaughter. She described herself using the exact language of a woman who was taught by the culture not to value or express her anger: “I’m a people pleaser. I don’t rock the boat. I go along with everything, do what people tell me.” This is the path of being a good girl, a good woman, and eventually a good mother. Lifelong gendered learning teaches people raised to be women to push down anger and any feelings in the “sub-anger” ballpark, such as annoyance, irritation, and frustration. I imagine this emotional push-down like the carnival game whack-a-mole. Each time an uncomfortable or unpleasant anger-related feeling pops up—whack!—women automatically bang it with a big-headed mallet, sending it back beneath the surface.

Like the rage itself, this game of anger whack-a-mole is an international phenomenon for women. In Korea, there is a culture-related anger syndrome called hwa-byung. It translates literally to “illness of fire” and mostly affects working-class middle-aged housewives, who have chronically suppressed anger stemming from strict gender roles, gender-based inequality, and patriarchal family structures. In traditional Latin American folk medicine, it is believed that holding onto certain emotions can cause physical illness. In Northeast Brazil, the term engolir sapos translates to “swallowing frogs,” and is mostly used by women to refer to the suppression of anger and irritation, and the pressure to tolerate unfair treatment without complaint.

Cheryl, the Black civil rights lawyer who internalizes her mom rage, is practiced at playing whack-a-mole with her anger: “I’m good at repressing things. So, a little problem, I repress it, and it gets packed on top of all the other things that make me mad, until there’s no way to untangle it. It’s just this huge tangle of anger that I’m trying to disassociate from all the time.” In our present-day culture of busy, intensive motherhood, stuffing down unpleasant emotions can be a matter of practicality. Minutes are a precious resource, and airing every frustration is a time expense that modern mothers cannot afford. Emails must be sent, dinner needs to get into bellies, and bodies need to snuggle under covers. But the perceived time-saver of the Emotional Whack-a-Mole phase is a mirage. Every time a mom suppresses her angry feelings, as she’s been taught to do her entire life, she is pushing them onto an ever-growing pile of anger inside her. Eventually, the pile will topple.”]

minna dubin, from mom rage: the everyday crisis of modern motherhood, 2023

[anordinaryarchitect]

17/08/2023

4/100 Productive Day

For breakfast today, I ate porridge on which I put leftovers from the fruit salad I made yesterday. I keep watching Gilmore Girls with english subtitles 🫶🏻 As a snack, there was tarhana and kefir with peach. Tarhana is a local snack with wheat, thyme and yoghurt. In the evening, I made a lemon dessert for the residents of the house. Unfortunately, I had a fling and ate one🫣 For dinner, there was chicken.

In terms of study, today was really productive. Again, I studied English all day. Actually, I have an ALES exam this Sunday. I do not believe that I will get very high in this exam, but I will try myself. That's why I want to take a break from studying English for a few days starting tomorrow and solve the ALES test. I did Duolingo in German and English. I end the day by reading my poetry book.

[shredsandpatches]

fic writer self-recs

@titleleaf tagged me in this and I'm not gonna miss a chance for self-promotion, so here you go.

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favourite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers.

The Kindest Use a Knife (2014, Richard II, Richard/Aumerle, E, 11k words)

This is, to date, still my most popular fic and I'm still proud of it even though I'm a better writer than I was ten years ago (how was this ten years ago? What the fuck, passage of time). It's based specifically on the RSC production with David Tennant and was born out of a general sense of confusion over how the Stabby Aumerle ending seemed to work okay despite it making no sense in the context of the production and the ways the characters were played. I figured Stabby Aumerle in this production would only really make sense if Aumerle were under the impression it was the most loving option under the circumstances, and this was the result. Also, this fic made me realize I love writing the Yorks (the Duchess in particular just kind of charged into this fic). Fun trivia: my depiction of Exton owes a lot to Arthur Darvill's Mephistopheles (because I did love Doctor Faustus even before Hot Faust Summer).

Jesu dulcis memoria (2014, 14th-c RPF, Richard II + family, G, 1k words)

This was a Yuletide treat--one of those instances where someone's request lines up with something you'd been thinking of writing for ages anyway and the prompt makes you get off your butt and do it. It's centered on the creation of the Wilton Diptych from the viewpoint of the painter (who is fictional, since we don't really know much about who actually painted it) and focuses on the idea that the painting is not only a statement about kingship but also a memorial to Richard's (many) dead loved ones. Also there's one simile in there that everyone seems to love and so now I think about it every time I encounter gold leaf (which is a lot. I'm a manuscript librarian, although I wasn't when I wrote this).

Andělíčku rozkochaný (2019, 14th-c RPF, Richard II/Anne of Bohemia, E, 9k words)

Anne of Bohemia is, as you all know, my forever girl, and I'm still proud of this character study of her and her marriage to Richard and their approach to their infertility. I wrote a lot of stuff on this basic theme around the time I was writing this fic; maybe it was because turning 40 was getting to me on a subconscious level. The first scene of the fic is one of those things that came to me pretty much fully formed, while the last scene is another one of those things I'd had in my head for a while and finally had a reason to write down. (This is, therefore, another fic that has part of its genesis in a shiny historical artifact.)

not half so fair as thou (2023, Doctor Faustus, Faustus/Mephistopheles, E, 6k words)

We have arrived at Hot Faust Summer! The premise of this one came out of my pondering a line not from Marlowe's play but from Berlioz's La Damnation de Faust, which I was in last May and have not yet shut up about, but long story short, it set me thinking about productions where Faust(us) and his shadow-self Mephistopheles look similar (not unheard-of in Marlowe productions--the 2011 Globe one low-key did it and the 2016 RSC high-key did it--though I can't think of any operatic versions off the top of my head) and eventually I arrived at the premise of this fic. Which was a complete party to write. It was perhaps a little unsettling to realize that Faustus POV came to me extremely naturally but hey. That's academics for you.

none but thou shall be my paramour (2024, Doctor Faustus, Faustus/Mephistopheles, Faustus/Helen of Troy, M, 7.5k words)

It's the Codependent Faustopheles Manifesto! With boring academic dinner parties and sexy contract renewal! This is my most recent work (although it took me kind of forever to write; the tumblr post in which I proclaim my intentions to write it is here) and I'm really proud of it. It's weird, kind of gross, and has some massive tonal shifts in it, but I think it came off all the same. Plus I got to put some of my elaborate headcanons in there and I think I did a really good job with the "sex scene that is not actually sex but is definitely still a sex scene" trope.

Anyway, yeah! Go read my fic. I'm going to tag @skeleton-richard, @oldshrewsburyian, @themalhambird, @misskriemhilds, @heartofstanding, and anyone else who feels like doing this.

[dramioneasks]

HP FESTS: Dreomione Fest (Part 4)

Dreomione Fest 2023:

I Don’t Need The World To See by Ceilidhchaos, SarahFraser - E, 4 chapters - Draco is serving a life sentence in Azkaban and is several years into it when a new Healer is assigned to the most dangerous level of the prison, the one and only Golden Girl, Hermione Granger. After Draco gets attacked by other former Death Eaters (a frequent occurrence), he wakes up in the infirmary (a first) and slowly the enmity between the former Slytherin Prince and Gryffindor’s Princess becomes more than doctor/patient. Actions have consequences though and soon Hermione discovers that one of those will arrive in eight months. Azkaban prison guard Theodore Nott uses their predicament to have power over two people that he’s fantasised about since fourth year. He wouldn’t be a Slytherin otherwise would he? But is Nott actually the one in control?

H.I.L.F. (Healer I’d Like to F***) by sincerelymalfoy (sincerelydraco) - E, one-shot - Theodore Nott has been a personal Healer for the Malfoys for years. One night the Malfoys show Theodore how much they appreciate him and his dedication to healing.

Neighbors by emotionalsupporthufflepuff- E, one-shot - Draco and Theo accidentally fall for the witch next door. Again. Chaos ensues.

The Bisexual Education of Draco Malfoy by xingonita - E, one-shot - no summary

That's Not My Wand by BexYZ - T, one-shot - Our friends get stuck in a closet.

Die For You by katiekrum - M, one-shot - Death is the end. It's an incontrovertible truth. Can there be an exception to this?

A Study in Risk Management by meggowaffle - E, 11 chapters - Sometimes, life takes you in a strange direction. For Hermione, the snowball began when Hugo left for school, and things felt strangely empty. Everything unravelled after that. Nearly a year later, a chance encounter with Draco and Theo leads to an unexpected friendship that blooms into something more. --- “So, what about you, Hermione?” Theo asked, startling her from her indecent thoughts. “Me?” she squeaked. “Yea, what are you into?” he pressed, a mischievous grin on his lips. “Theo…” Draco warned. “Turnabout is fair play, darling. C’mon Hermione.”

Let Me Punish You by gm_flowers - E, one-shot - Part two of Let Me Teach You (you don't have to read the first one to get this one, cause it's really just porn at this point, but why wouldn't you want to read the first encounter with these three sex-crazed folks). Draco and Theo are going on missions, taking their kitty with them. They decide to make a detour to Hermione’s childhood home and are shocked to find it empty. She’s been a bad kitty and needs to be punished.

The Little Mouse in the Pantry by Jello_cubez - E, one-shot - Hermione hides in the pantry to avoid her bosses, Draco and Theodore Malfoy-Nott.

Let Me Teach You by gm_flowers - E, one-shot - Voldemort wins AU. The Death Eaters had all laid claim to their subs. All except Draco, who had his eyes set on the girl his best friend had taken. Lucky for him, Theo had no idea how to Dom over Hermione Granger. And lucky for Theo, Draco was an excellent teacher.

1, 2, 3, 4... Whose Gonna Make Draco Lose it More? by JCOBryan1990 - E, one-shot - Theo gets revenge on Draco; without Hermione's knowledge, because, of course, she had told Theo not to; then left him unsupervised.

All About the Timing by ridethedragon - E, one-shot - Theo was at his wit's end and had been ready to hex the both of them. That’s what led them to where they are now – Hermione completely bared on his lap, back flush with his chest, her legs parted on his strong thighs and shaking from Draco’s tongue, lapping up her arousal as if it kept him alive. As if every lick was his way of proving how much he needed her, craved her, worshiped her.

Pass the Salt by sarahsempra - E, one-shot - Hermione brings Draco & Theo home to meet her parents for the first time. *Dinner at the Grangers" Hermione: Daddy, can you please pass the salt? Mr. Granger, ...Draco...AND Theo reach for the salt.

A Cock Grows in Wiltshire by JCOBryan1990 - E, one-shot - Draco and Theo come home to a changed Hermione and are only to happy to help with the changes.

A Messy Reunion by Snakequeen32 - not rated, one-shot - Hermione and her husbands attend a remembrance ball.

The Sun, The Moon and The Stars by chococrepe - E, WIP - The marriage of Harry Nott-Potter and Theodore Potter-Nott was widely anticipated to end, although the exact timing remained uncertain. After eight years of marriage, the news broke on the Daily Prophet with the shocking headline declaring the end of their relationship. Pureblood families, who had been eagerly awaiting this news, began preparing their daughters to assume the "Wife Role" for Theodore, who lacked an heir. However, Theodore had different intentions and was not going to stay in England.

Twenty Turns & We Are Free, Love by elivrayn,  Jello_cubez,  WritexAboutxMe - E, WIP - The Order Has Lost, and Harry Potter is Dead. Voldemort has given his blessing to his most loyal servant, Bellatrix Lestrange, to hunt down the remaining Order members: Theo, Draco and Hermione. What happens when our beloved triad fixes a time turner to return to 1979? Can they stop the war before it ever begins or is history bound to repeat itself?

Wicked Games of Laws and Men by WritexAboutxMe - E, one-shot - The one where Hermione just wants her centaur legislation passed while Draco and Theo just want to date her. Law, banter and mischief-- what more could we want?

Behind Closed Doors by gm_flowers - E, one-shot - no summary

Tolerance. Plus One. by triton_green - T, 3 chapters - Mr Granger is a tolerant man. Yes, he is. But his tolerance is about to be tested severely when his darling daughter reveals that she is in love with not one, but two men. And one of them is her former school bully. So he does what every man does once in a while: vigorously clean his barbeque and reflect how on earth things ever got to this point.

When three hearts align by shaparecium - E, one-shot - Hogwarts, 8th year. Draco doesn't want to be here. He has to. Theo doesn't need to be here. But he wants to. Their plan: Make it through the year, (in Draco's case, preferably unnoticed) and then finally move on. But then came Hermione Granger.

These Scars We Carry by KiraAnn (Know_It_All_2008) - T, one-shot - When Theo shows up at the safe house Hermione is manning with a deathly injured Draco, her heart jumps into her throat.

These Flowers We Water In Blood by KiraAnn (Know_It_All_2008) - T, WIP - When Hermoine develops a cough, she thinks nothing of it. When she starts coughing up rose petals, however, she knows her time is numbered.

tombee de la nuit by KiraAnn (Know_It_All_2008) - T, one-shot - In the darkness of the night, Hermione learns some unexpected truths as their ashes tumble into the night.

This fest is ongoing.