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[akshayaquapri]

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[divya-quapri]

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[just-nc-tea]

the truth untold ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

⭑.ᐟ Fake Dating - Sim Jaeyun Jake’s world takes a nosedive when he gets a wedding invitation from his high school ex—the same ex who cheated on him—with your ex. Desperate to avoid showing up alone Jake ropes you into a fake relationship, just for the evening. Originally. But if you’re going to sell the lie, you have to make it convincing. That means dates, inside jokes, learning the little details about each other that real couples would know. By the time the wedding arrives, neither of you are sure where the act ends and the truth begins.

ᝰ genre. Hockeyplayer! Jake, college sports , angst, hurt/comfort, slow burn, fluff, suggestive, fake dating.ᐟ₊ ⊹ ᝰ warnings. Swearing, partying, consumption of weed, alcohol and nicotine, suggestive language & actions, shitty exes, strained family relations, mention of death, desciption of murder (Y/N is a anthropology student and works with dead bodies, but it's nothing detailed) PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I FORGOT ANYTHING .ᐟ₊ ⊹ ᝰ word count. 31.k .��₊ ⊹ --⟢ PART 2

series masterlist ⭑.ᐟ ⤷ GET ADDED THE TAGLIST HERE ⁀➴༯ OR COMMENT 🏒

You dragged yourself up the stairs to your apartment, your legs and shoulder aching under the weight of your uni bag and the bag of groceries you were carrying. You were regretting your gym session while you were on the bench press and now, after three back-to-back lectures and one surprise pop quiz later, you felt like a shell of a person.

When you reached the small cluster of mailboxes near your door, you let out a sigh. You haven’t looked into your mailbox for a few days and there were a ton of letters, most likely promotional flyers, peeking out of it. You fumbled with the key, twisted it open, and immediately regretted it. A flood of envelopes tumbled out, some landing on your sneakers, others scattering across the floor. “Of course,” you muttered under your breath, crouching to gather the mess. Flyers for pizza places you’d never try, glossy brochures for local gyms that clearly overestimated your interest in fitness. You flipped through the pile absentmindedly. You froze.

Your name, neatly scrawled in delicate cursive on an off-white envelope, stood out in the sea of junk mail. The paper was expensive, thick to the touch. You turned the envelope around, revealing a wax seal with two conjoined rings in the middle. A RSVP? You rattled your brain, thinking who might be getting married, but your mind came up with nothing.  Curiosity got the better of you, and you tore the envelope open. Inside, a golden-embossed wedding invitation practically sparkled under the streetlight. You scanned the details, and snorted. You are cordially invited to the wedding of Sophia Williams and Marcus Baker. We’d be honored to have you celebrate our special day.

Your ex-best friend. And your ex-boyfriend. Getting married. 

You snorted. “Special day, my ass,” you muttered, shoving the invitation back into the envelope. The nerve. There was no way you were going up at that shit show to play nice, as if the two of them didn’t break your heart in a million pieces. Whatever sick sense of closure they thought they were offering you, you weren't interested. There was no chance in hell you were going to that wedding. You put the letter back into its envelope and tossed it together with your junk mail into your bags continuing your way into your apartment. 

You were on your way to your Forensic Taphonomy class, when you spotted Jake sitting on one of the benches along the water fountain on the campus, his eyes closed while he enjoyed the early spring sun. You dropped down next to him on bench, startling him: “Hi Jake.” His head shoot into your direction and his eyes flew open. “Y/N!”, he said while putting a hand to his chest, “You just scared the shit out of me.”  You laughed and shook your head. “I am sorry Jake. Do you know what scared the shit out of me yesterday? Marcus and Sophias RSVP.” Jake gawked at you: “Their what?”

“Their RSVP. Those two are getting married and had the audacity to invite me. I don’t even know where they got my new address from.”, you shrugged, leaning back and closing your eyes. You didn’t get particularly much sunlight in the lab or the library, so every ray of sunshine had to be cherished.  “Oh shit. Are you going?”, Jake asked. “To the wedding of my ex best friends and my ex, who cheated on me with said best friend? Fuck no. I’d rather shoot myself in the foot than do that.”, you snorted, shaking your head.  Jake let out a low whistle, leaning back on the bench with a bitter smirk tugging at his lips. “Man, they’ve got some nerve.” You snorted, crossing your arms as you turned your head into his direction. “Right? Honestly, I thought I’d never have to see them again. But they apparently don’t share that opinion.” Jake shook his head, his jaw tightening. “Jesus christ. Why would they get married? You can’t tell me they really love each other.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “God. How were we ever in love with those two narcissistic assholes? We are too nice and pretty to have lost time and energy even talking to them.” Jake glanced over at you, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. “We were young and naive. And we had to learn the hard way. But are you really not tempted to attend? Maybe dump red wine on Marcus’s tux for good measure?” The mental image made you laugh, but you quickly shook your head. “Nah, I don’t have the energy for that kind of drama. Plus, I’d probably just end up making a fool of myself. They’re not worth the effort.” Jake’s lips quivered in a half-smile, his bitterness softening just slightly. “Yeah. They’re really not.” The two of you sat there in silence for a moment, the sound of the fountain splashing in the background. Jake broke the silence. 

“You know, I always thought Sophia was smarter than this. Cheating with Marcus of all people? Like, come on. At least pick someone who doesn’t talk about himself in the third person.” You laughed, covering your mouth to stifle the sound. “Right? And Marcus was always so... ugh. He thought he was God’s gift to women. The fact that she fell for- not the fact that I fell for him is just–” You threw up your hands in mock exasperation. Jake smirked. “Don’t remind me. I still have nightmares about all the dumb shit he used to say. He was such an asshole to everyone.” “And yet here we are, left in the dust while they ride off into their happily-ever-after,” you said dryly, rolling your eyes. “Life’s funny like that.”

Jake leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he glanced at you. “Funny isn’t the word I’d use, but yeah. Guess we’re stuck with the same shitty chapter in our history books.” You gave him a faint smile, the bitterness in his tone mirroring your own. “Well, I should probably get going,” you said, standing up and brushing off your pants. “Forensic Taphonomy waits for no one.” “Tapho-what?”, Jake asked.

Jake was toweling his hair dry, while walking into the kitchen of his dorm. Heeseung was basically sleeping with his eyes open while Jay was aggressively whipping eggs. Whatever he was cooking right now smelled heavenly. But Jake would eat anything right now. Practice had been brutal, and he was ready to collapse, but his stomach continuously made growling sounds that he couldn’t ignore.  He dropped down next to Heeseung, startling his captain awake. On the table in front of him was a pile of letters that someone had brought inside. His gaze narrowed at the fancy, embossed envelope propped against a stack of unopened mail. It wasn’t hard to guess who it was from. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he mutters, ripping open the golden waxseal.  For a moment, he just stared at it, blinking, trying to process the sheer audacity it must’ve taken to send him this. His jaw clenched, and the annoyance bubbled up fast. Who the hell invites both their exes to their wedding–the same people they cheated on to be together? 

“What’s up?”, Heeseung asked, resting his head on his hand. Jake tossed the letter on the table again, leaning back into the chair and signing exasperated. “Who the fuck invites both their exes to their wedding. They cheated on us. For fucks sake!”  “Who?”, Jay asked, turning around still whipping eggs.  “Sophia and Marcus are getting married. Y/N received her invitation yesterday and now,”, he gestured towards the letter, “they apparently thought it would be appropriate to invite me as well.” “What the fuck.”, Heeseung leaned forward to grab the letter. “Dear Jake. You are cordially invited to the wedding of Sophia Williams and Marcus Baker. We’d be honored to have you celebrate our special day.”

Jake pressed the palm of his hands into his eyes. “Cordially invited my ass.” Jay snorted, turning back to his pan but keeping an ear on the conversation. “That’s insane. Why would they even think you’d show up?” Jake let out a bitter laugh, leaning back in his chair with a heavy sigh. “Our families still have a lot to do with each other. My parents are still obsessed with Sophia. They used to invite her over for dinner even after we broke up. Didn’t even tell me until I ran into her at the house once.” He shook his head, rubbing his temple. “I’m almost positive my dad’s going to call me any second and gush about how I should be happy for her and how disappointed he is that it’s not me she is marrying.”

Heeseung’s jaw dropped. “They what? You’re kidding.” “I wish I was,” Jake muttered. “They’ve been close with her parents forever. Business stuff or whatever. My dad loved that she came from a ‘respectable’ family, you know? I could’ve been dating the queen of England and she still wouldn’t have measured up to Sophia in his eyes.” Jay slid a plate of egg fried rice onto the counter and turned to face them fully, arms crossed. “Okay, but that doesn’t mean you have to go. You’re a grown-ass man, Jake. Just don’t show up. Screw your dad. You don’t owe him anything.” Jake huffed out a dry laugh, running a hand through his damp hair. “Yeah, easier said than done. You know my dad, Jay. This wedding is going to be crawling with people he thinks are ‘important.’ You know how he is about appearances. If I don’t go, it’ll somehow be my fault for making the family look bad.”

Heeseung leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “But what about you, man? Doesn’t matter to him that this is…what’s the word? Oh, right. Humiliating. You’re just supposed to suck it up and show up all smiles?" “Probably,” Jake muttered, crossing his arms. “In his eyes, I probably deserved it. He’s already implied before that if Sophia cheated, it’s because I ‘let her slip through my fingers.’” Jay’s eyes widened in disbelief. “He actually said that?" Jake nodded grimly. “Yup. Every time I screw up, he brings it up. Like losing her was some monumental failure on my part. Honestly, he probably thinks that showing up to the wedding is a chance to redeem myself somehow." Heeseung shook his head, looking genuinely pissed on Jake’s behalf. “That’s messed up, man. Beyond messed up. You can’t let him keep controlling you like that.”

“What choice do I have?” Jake shot back, frustration lacing his voice. “If I don’t go, it’ll be endless guilt trips and lectures. And let’s not forget the part where my dad’s probably going to find a way to make it about how I’m an embarrassment to the family.” He exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m telling you, I won’t have a choice. If my dad wants me there, I’ll have to go." Jay frowned, leaning against the counter. “So, what, you just show up and let them parade you around?” “I don’t know. Wait until my parents text me and then be the disappointment I am born to be I guess.”, Jake shrugged.

Jake was mindlessly scrolling on his phone, listening to his professors rambling over bananas and their ability to act as a payment agent? He was watching a reel recap of the top moments of their last game when he got the message he knew was going to come. His stomach tightened.

Dad:

You’ll be at the wedding. No excuses.

Jake gritted his teeth. Of course. 

Jake: I’m thinking about it.

He shoved the phone into his pocket, forcing himself to focus on the lecture. Bananas, yes. Economical life cycle. 

Rotting bananas no good for economical life cycle.

Oh god. What? 

His phone buzzed again.

Dad: Do you have any idea how bad it will look if you don’t show? The Kims have been family friends for years, and your absence would reflect poorly on all of us. Don’t let this turn into yet another disappointment.

Jake felt the heat rise to his face. The words “yet another disappointment” echoed in his head like a slap. He closed his notebook, muttered a quick apology to the professor, and slipped out of the classroom to take a breath.

Just as he reached the hallway, his phone started ringing. 

He took a deep breath and answered with a resigned, “Yes, Dad?”

The voice on the other end was sharp, controlled, and laced with cold authority. “Don’t give me that tone, Jaeyun.”

Jaeyun. Never Jake. Or son. Or anything else that would indicate that his father feels any positive emotion towards him. 

“You are coming to that wedding.”, his dad said in a voice that signaled he didn’t take no as an answer.

“I just don’t see why it’s such a big deal. Sophia cheated on me. Why the hell would I want to be at their wedding?”, Jake said, biting back his frustration. 

“Because it’s not about what you want,” his father snapped. “This is about appearances, Jake. About responsibility. This isn’t up for debate, Jake. You’re expected to be there. The whole family is going. Your brother is flying in from the States for this–it’s a family obligation. Sophia was-”

“Don’t,” Jake interrupted, his grip tightening on the phone. “Don’t start talking about how Sophia was perfect or how I screwed it up. She cheated on me, Dad.”

“And what does that say about you?” his father countered coldly.

Jake had to bite his tongue to stop himself from talking back. 

“You had her,” his father continued. “She was beautiful, smart, and from a good family. But somehow, you weren’t enough to keep her. Now she has found a husband from a respectable family and you are still bitter about it.”

Why can’t his dad just leave him alone? What did he care about Jake's love life? He already had his golden son, who was as good as married, worked in the company and did everything right. 

Jake ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tight. “I’m not going alone,” he said, the words tumbling out. 

“Excuse me?”

“I said I’m not going alone, if i am attending at all.” Jake repeated, his voice firmer this time.

There was a long, heavy pause on the other end of the line. 

“What’s her name?” his father asked, his tone even and clinical, like he was conducting a job interview.

Jake swallowed hard, realizing too late the corner he’d just backed himself into. He took a breath, bracing himself. “Y/N. We’ve been seeing each other for a while now.” Y/N? Did he just utter your name? Fuck. 

Another pause. This one was longer, heavier.

“What’s her last name?” his dad finally asked, his tone quiet and deliberate.

Jake swallowed hard, wishing he could take back every word. 

“Y/N,” he said. “Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Y/L/N.” His father repeated the name slowly, almost like he was testing it. “I’ll assume she’s presentable. Background?”

Jake bristled. “She’s... a forensic anthropology student. Smart. Independent.”

“Hmm.” The sound was noncommittal, but Jake could sense the wheels turning. “Well, I’ll expect to meet her at the wedding.”

The call ended abruptly, leaving Jake standing in the hallway, gripping his phone so tightly it felt like it might shatter.

Jake let his head fall back against the wall, closing his eyes for a moment. 

And what does that say about you?

As if Sophia’s cheating was some kind of personal failure on his part.

Sophia was the picture perfect girlfriend his dad expected him to have. She was fairly pretty, clever, came from a family just as well-connected as theirs. Jake had never really felt butterflies. Not with Sophia. Not with anyone afterwards. 

Their whole relationship was build on public image, on convenience, on the unspoken understanding that they would look good together.

Sophia was in a similar position as Jake. If his dad would have known about half the stuff she did he would have never been this delighted when he told him he was dating her. She was partying more than she was studying, being bad influence for all of her friends. And her father had enough and told her that there would be some serious consequences for her if she didn’t step down. And her dad approved of him. So she approached him first.

She was all of his firsts, though. His first kiss, his first time, his first real relationship. 

But connection? Love? He never had that with Sophia. He tried to. Tried to tell himself he loved her, thought he loved her. But thinking back at it he probably never did. That didn’t mean her cheating didn’t hurt less. He and Sophia still had their moments and she was one of his most trusted persons, she knew almost everything about him and he knew a lot of things about her.  

Jake still remembered the day he found out about Sophia cheating on him. He wasn’t the one who uncovered the truth. You were.

He remembered being confused when you stood in his hallway looking lost, your face tear streaked. How you barely breathed his name before saying, Jake, I need to tell you something.

You told him how Sophia came clean to you, how she told you that she had slept with your boyfriend, how she was in love with him and how she didnt want this to ruin your friendship. 

He hadn’t believed you at first. He didn’t want to. But he also knew you wouldn’t lie about something like that. He didn’t really know you all too well, but he knew you well enough to know that you probably really loved Marcus, no matter what kind of douchebag he was and that it really hurt you. Scratch that. You were devastated. He was a year above you but your paths did cross quite frequently in school. You didn’t attend school for almost two weeks and when you came back you looked so sad. His heart ached every time he saw you. 

A day after you told him what happened he confronted Sophia.

She hadn’t even really tried to deny it. Instead, she had just sighed, almost exasperated, and told him that they both knew they were never real in the first place. That for her at least this was all show, that they looked good together, that their families approved. That she was sorry if he really felt like he was in love with her.

Jake had ended things immediately. He was more heart broken over the whole thing than he though he would be and when he turned to his parents he didn’t really get the reassurance he had hoped for. His father, of course, had been disappointed–not because Jake had been cheated on, but because he had lost Sophia. His mom however did her best to help him get over Sophia and suddenly they were eating galbitang three times a week. 

And now, Sophia was getting married to someone “respectable,” while Jake was still the disappointment.

He let out a bitter chuckle, running a hand through his hair. He shouldn’t have answered his father’s call. 

Now, on top of everything else, he had to figure out how to convince you to go to this damn wedding and pretend to be his girlfriend.

What could possibly go wrong?

Everything. Everything went wrong.

First, he realized that the number you used in Australia was obviously not the one you were using in Korea now. Then, he realized that he didn’t follow you on Instagram anymore. After an embarrassingly long debate with himself, he finally sent a follow request, which you accepted a few hours later. Great. Progress.

Except now he had to actually message you.

“Hi Y/N. I kinda lied to my dad and now he thinks you’re my girlfriend. You kinda have to attend my ex’s wedding with me. I’m so sorry. But it would embarrass me, and my dad would murder me if you said no. Please go with me. Thank you. Bye :)”

No. Absolutely not. He deleted it before he could even consider pressing send. Another draft followed. Then another. Then another. Each one somehow worse than the last.

In the end, he gave up dming you entirely. This was a conversation he had to have face to face. 

Maybe he could catch you on campus? Except he didn’t know your timetable, your lab, or even which building your classes were in. The more he thought about it, the worse it got. 

So now here he was, sitting on the stairs in front of one of the medical buildings, praying to whoever might be listening that you’d pass by. He thought your classes were in this area—wasn’t your major technically part of the medical school? Oh, God. What was he doing? And for what? To impress his father? His father, of all people?

Jake exhaled sharply, dragging his hands down his face. He was such an idiot.

Then, as if the universe decided to throw him a bone, he spotted you.

You were walking briskly across the courtyard, a bag slung over your shoulder, earbuds in. Jake shot to his feet. “Y/N!”

You didn’t hear him. He cursed under his breath, jogging a few steps before calling out again, louder this time. “Y/N! Do you have five minutes?”

You looked up, squinting slightly, and then frowned when you recognized him. “Jake? What are you doing here?” He jogged a few steps to meet you before you could brush past him. “Hey, do you have five minutes?”

You checked your watch and shot him a skeptical look. “Not really. I’m heading to class. What’s up?”

He opened his mouth, but instead of starting with the careful, logical explanation he’d rehearsed in his head, it all came out in a breathless, panicked rush.

“So,Ikindofliedtomydadyesterdayandnowhethinksyou’remygirlfriend.” He took a breath,

“and it’s this whole thing because he’s forcing me to go to Sophia and Marcus’s wedding, and I panicked, and I said I wasn’t going alone, and then he kept asking questions, and I said your name, and now—” He took another breath and continued, slower this time. 

“And now he thinks we’re dating, and I really need you to come to this wedding with me because if I show up alone, he’s going to make my life hell. And also, I might die. Not literally, but close.”

You blinked.

Then, slowly, you pushed your phone into your bag and crossed your arms. You narrowed your eyes. “What the fuck, Jake?”

Jake winced, realizing how ridiculous it all sounded. “Uh, yeah. So I lied to my dad. About us. And now he thinks we’re dating.”

You lowered your bag, letting it dangle in one hand, and crossed your arms. “Jake. Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.” He looked at you, wide-eyed and sheepish. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but I had no one else to turn to. You’re the only person who gets how screwed up this wedding thing is. And technically you are already invited. So it wouldn’t be weird if we got there together? Except that you would have to kinda pretend to love me and shit.”

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head in disbelief. “Oh my god. Okay. Fine. Forget class—now I have five minutes. What the actual fuck, Jake?”

“I panicked!” he said defensively. “He was going off about how embarrassing it would be if I showed up alone, and how I’m not married, and how I don’t have a girlfriend, and how my life’s a failure compared to my brother’s—so I panicked, and I said I was bringing you.”

You blinked at him, your arms crossing tightly over your chest. “So you told him I am your girlfriend. And you’re bringing me?”

“Yes.” He winced, looking at the ground. “I know it’s insane, but hear me out.”

“There’s no way I’m going to that wedding, Jake,” you said flatly. “Absolutely not.”

“Look, I get it. I don’t want to go either. But think about it.” He gestured between the two of you. “We’ll both have someone to lean on at the wedding, no awkward moments alone, and it’ll keep my dad off my back. It’s a win-win.”

You raised an eyebrow, incredulous. “Win-win? What do I get out of this?”

“Anything you want,” Jake said quickly, his desperation shining through. “I’ll owe you, big time. Name it, and I’ll do it.”

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. “Jake. This is ridiculous. You’re literally asking me to be your girlfriend for a weekend to impress your father.”

“I know,” he said, his tone softer now. “But I swear, it won’t be as bad as you think. We’ll go, we’ll stick together, and then we’re out. You can even make fun of Marcus and Sophia the whole time.”

You sighed, clearly conflicted. “Jake… I really don’t want to go to that wedding.”

“Please,” he said, clasping his hands together like he was praying. “Just think about it. That’s all I’m asking.”

Please Y/N. Please, please, please, please. 

You looked at him for a long moment, then sighed again. “Fine. I’ll think about it. But I’m not promising anything.”

“Fair,” Jake said, relief washing over him. “That’s all I ask.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m late for class.”

“Right, sorry.” He stepped aside, smiling sheepishly. “Thanks, Y/N. Seriously.”

You stared at the wedding invitation sitting on your desk. The idea of going to that wedding was so ridiculous. You weren’t about to subject yourself to that humiliation.

But as much as you hated the idea of being anywhere near Marcus and Sophia, there was a part of you that missed your old friend group. All of you went different paths, to different unis and countries and you were sure that they were all invited and would attend the wedding. 

Jake’s desperate proposal kept replaying in your head. The idea of showing up together wasn’t the worst. If anything, it’d probably make things easier. At least you had someone in your corner that wasn’t your dad or your mom. Jake was fun, charming and good looking and spending the evening together might even be fun. And you knew that Marcus resented Jake, deeply. He would probably not like seeing the two of you together. 

That thought alone gave you a sick kind of satisfaction.

You were sitting at a table near the ice rink, your biology notes spread out in front of you. It wasn’t the most ideal study spot, but you knew that Jake had to walk by here after practice, and you didn’t feel like chasing him down across campus. You could have sent him a message, but talking to your future fake-boyfriend about your future fake-relationship seemed more appropriate then texting back and forth.

You pretended to focus on your notes, but your mind kept drifting back to Jake. Objectively, he was attractive—annoyingly so, in fact. And while you weren’t particularly close, you’d only ever heard good things about him from mutual friends and well… Sophia.

Honestly? If you had to fake-date someone, he wasn’t the worst candidate.

You were just beginning to lose feeling in your toes when you spotted him. He was walking down the path, hockey gear slung over his shoulder, his hair still damp from the shower.

“Jake!” You stood up and waved, catching his attention.

He blinked at you, surprised, but adjusted course and made his way over. “Y/N. Hi.”

“Let’s do it.”

Jake frowned. “What?”

“Let’s go to that godforsaken wedding together.”

His brows shot up. He dropped his bag on the ground and sat down beside you, still looking skeptical. “You’re kidding. You really want to do this?”

“Want?” You scoffed. “No. But it seems like you don’t have much of a choice, and I sure as hell don’t want to give those two the satisfaction of thinking I care.”

Jake leaned back and exhaled, running a hand through his damp hair. “Thank you Y/N. You are saving me from being ridiculed by the asshole I call father.”

You laughed and shook your head. “No worries. I’ll probably regret it, but whatever.”

“I think i have to warn you about my dad though.”, Jake turned to you. 

You raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

“He probably thinks I lied, which I kinda did. He won’t believe us if we don’t seem disgustingly in love.” 

“Oh, shit,” you muttered. 

Jake nodded, tilting his head toward you. “Yeah.”

“How exactly do you want to do this then Sim? I am not really a good actor. I can hold your hand but being all lovey dovey? I doubt it.”, you sighed, rubbing your temples.

You were itching to light a cigarette. You couldn’t believe this is actually happening. This is insane. Absolutely insane. Your hand instinctively moves toward your pocket, fingers brushing against the crumpled pack of cigarettes. Just one. To calm your nerves. 

“I don’t really know. I haven’t actually thought that far to be honest.”, his shoulder sacked down.

“Well I have watched and read enough about fake dating that I know that we should at least, you know, get to know each other a bit. Like I know you are a nerd and you play hockey? Which is probably not enough to seem convincing.”, you shrugged.

You glance at Jake out of the corner of your eye, trying to gauge his reaction. Does he even realize how ridiculous this is?

“I am not a nerd.”, Jake protested. 

“Do you still collect Lego?”, you deadpanned.

“I-Yes-But- Yeah I do but it doesn’t make me a nerd.”, he sputtered and shook his head, a few water drops from his hair hit your face.

“Mhm. Sure. Whatever you think Jakeyboy.”, you hummed and grinned at him. 

He huffed and leaned back, crossing his arms in front of his body. “So what do you wanna do?”

“To get to know each other?”, you asked, playing with the end of your scarf. “ I guess we should spend time together. And we should definitely work out some kind of like I don't know, timeline for when and how we met an shit.” 

“Well,” Jake started, drumming his fingers against the table, “okay. We met on campus, obviously. We got closer through mutual friends.”

You exhaled through your nose, thinking. “Who’s supposed to be our mutual friend?”

He thought for a second before saying, “Jay. He’s probably the only one who’d actually go along with this bullshit if anyone asks. And I mean Sophia? We did hang out back in highschool.” 

You nodded. “True. And as for how long we’ve been dating?”

Jake shrugged. “What’s a believable timeline?”

“Three months?”

“The wedding is in three months.”

“Right.” You frowned. “Five months, then.”

“Five months is good.”, he ran a hand over his face, exhaling. “My dad is going to ask a lot more questions than that tho. He’s also going to be watching us like a hawk. What is stuff you are okay with doing and what not?”

You took a moment to think about it. You haven’t really had the time to think about dating since you broke up with Marcus. Graduating and your classes didn’t really grant you much free time so you pushed the thought of dating aside. Marcus was your first in everything and you haven’t really had the desire to kiss anyone after him but kissing Jake didn’t seem like the worst thing to do. Sophia always gushed over him being a very good kisser and well frankly being very good in bed. You probably knew more about Jake's sex life than he would like you to know.

“I don’t really care honestly. I don’t really feel like making out with you in front of your dad to convince him. If the situation requires it, a normal kiss is fine. Only if you are clean though.”, you shrugged. 

He tilted his head. “Requires it?”

You shrugged again. “What if someone calls bullshit?”

He hummed and nodded. 

“Could you do me a favour?”, he asked after a beat of silence. 

You raised your eyebrows. “A bigger one than this already is?”

He scratched the back of his head. “Could you, you know, like not tell your friends that we are doing this? It’s already embarrassing enough that I can’t really pull someone and have to bring a fake date, I really don’t want to give my friends ammunition to make fun of me.”

You wrinkled your nose. “So you want me to lie to my friends?”

He exhaled through his nose. “No. Yes? Kinda? I mean, I guess, we are going to meet up quite frequently now to get to know each other? All platonic of course. So like you could just tell them, that we started talking after we got the invites, which is not wrong and we are now just befriending each other, which also is not going to be a lie. Just don’t tell them about the fake dating to the wedding.” 

You signed, leaning against the backrest of the bench. Chaewon and Yujin would never shut up about you fake dating Jake Sim and would most definitely make fun of him. And probably you. You were in the same situation after all. Single and invited to your cheating exes wedding. You were done and over with Marcus. Yes he broke your heart and you were devastated but in hindsight he was such a horrible partner that all the pain in your heart turned into anger and resentment. Same went for Sophia, all the bad decisions you made in highschool were an accumulation of them being just horrible friends.

After a pause, you nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?”, Jake asked, turning towards you, his face hopeful.

“Okay. I won’t tell them.”, you signed, “What kind of platonic frequent meetings did you have in mind? Not gonna lie, my classes take up a big chunk of my free time. I feel like I am more in the lab and the library or a random classroom than my own home.”

“I could come study with you! I definitely should also get back on track.”, he beamed at you.

You nodded and hummed, already dreading the time you will lose while you were talking to Jake, but whatever.

He leaned in closer, resting his elbow on the table as he watched you with an exaggerated doe-eyed look. “We should probably get more comfortable with touching. Hand-holding, hugging… you know, typical couple stuff in front of the others. I tend to be quite clingy when i like someone.”, he said, his voice dropping playfully.

Without missing a beat you shoved his face away.

Jake laughed, leaning back. “I’m just saying, if you ever want to hold my hand, Y/N, you just have to ask.”

You deadpanned. “Right. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Jake smirked, clearly pleased with himself. “So, deal?”

You sighed, but there was a flicker of amusement in your eyes. “Deal.”

The two of you sat in silence for a second, thinking about what you were about to do. God you really needed a smoke now.

Jake drummed his fingers against the table, glancing at you. “So… you got any plans for the rest of the evening?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Well,” he shrugged, “figured, we might as well get a head start.”

You considered it for a second. “What are you suggesting?”

“Fried chicken?” he offered, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder.

You huffed a quiet laugh. “An incredibly romantic first date.”

“Right? Thought I’d go all out,” Jake deadpanned, waiting for you to gather your things.

You shook your head but shoved your notes into your bag anyway. “Fine. You’re paying.”

“Of course. I am a gentleman Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes, falling into step beside him.

The place Jake picked was small, tucked between a laundromat and a convenience store, but it smelled amazing. Jake led the way to a booth near the window, sliding in across from you as he grabbed a menu.

“You’ve been here before?” you asked, scanning the options.

“Yeah,” Jake nodded. “We come here after games sometimes.”

You hummed, then glanced up at him. “So. Where do we start?”

Jake smirked, setting the menu down. “The basics, I guess. Favorite color?”

You gave him a blank stare. “Seriously?”

“What? Gotta start somewhere.”

You sighed. “Fine. Yellow.”

Jake nodded. “Nice. Mine’s blue.”

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on the table. “Alright, Jakey. What else do I need to know about you?”

He thought for a second before saying, “I have an older brother. He’s working for my dads company in the States right now and he has been engaged since christmas. My parents. Well, you already know my dad is an absolute hard-ass. My mom’s a lot more chill, she honestly is great. Oh and we have a dog. Her name is Layla.”

You knew his dad was an asshole. Sophia told you as much back in highschool. From your experience you concluded that rich old business men were rarely nice persons. “Do they expect you to go pro?”

Jake hesitated, then shrugged. “No. I mean yeah? Kinda? My mom is very supportive and my dad thinks hockey is just a hobby and that I should focus on my studies.”

You cocked your head to the side. “Is he the reason why you didn’t go into physics? Back when we were in Highschool you loved it. I always wondered why you are in econ now.”

Jake hesitated, his grin fading. “Yeah. He’s… big on appearances. He wants me to follow in his footsteps, and go into the family business. Physics didn’t fit the mold, so here I am.”

“That’s… awful,” you said softly. You couldn’t imagine your parents holding you back from your passion. Your mom and dad were honestly gifts from the gods and you had a great childhood. You were still very close to both of them. 

Jake shrugged again, but you could see the tension in his shoulders. “It’s whatever. What about you? Why forensic anthropology?”

You smiled, relaxing a little. “My parents are both doctors - surgeon dad, ER mom. Growing up, I thought medicine was the coolest thing ever, but I also didn’t want to deal with people.”

Jake chuckled. “That tracks.”

“Then I got obsessed with bones,” you continued, your smile widening. “The show, not like actual Bones and eventually, I realized I could study the same thing the main character studied, and here we are.”

Jake tilted his head, looking genuinely impressed. “That’s actually pretty cool.”

“It is,” you said, a hint of pride in your voice. “But it’s a lot of work. Lab hours, endless classes, late nights. I spend more time with composing bodies than living ones.”

Jake made a face. “Great. Can’t wait for that to come up in conversation at the wedding.”

“Oh, it will,” you grinned. “I’ll make sure of it.”

You leaned back in your seat, stretching your legs out under the table. “Alright. So tell me stuff about hockey. I am sure that will come up since you do love it.”

Jake perked up slightly, his fingers still idly picking at his fries. “Do you know anything about hockey already?”

“I know you hit a puck with a stick and sometimes punch people,” you said, tilting your head. “That about sums it up, right?”

Jake groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “That’s like saying surgery is just cutting people open.”

You smirked. “Well, am I wrong?”

Jake shook his head but laughed. “Okay, fine. What do you want to know?”

You shrugged, sipping your drink. “I don’t know. Why do you like it?”

That seemed to catch him off guard. He blinked, then looked down at his hands for a second, like he was trying to put words to a feeling. “It’s… freeing, I guess. When you’re on the ice, everything else disappears. It’s just you, the puck, the team. You don’t have time to think about anything else.”

You nodded, watching the way his face softened as he spoke. “That sounds nice.”

Jake glanced up at you, a little surprised. “Yeah. It is.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The diner around you buzzed with quiet conversation, the occasional clang from the kitchen. It was surprisingly comfortable.

Then you nudged his foot under the table. “So, are you good?”

Jake scoffed. “Am I good?”

“Well, yeah,” you grinned. “Like do you sit on the bench? Is that a thing? Do you play a lot? I wouldn’t know.”

Jake leaned back, placing a hand over his heart dramatically. “Wow. That hurts.”

You laughed. “I’m just saying.”

“I’ll have you know,” Jake said, pointing a fry at you, “I’m actually really good. Top scorer on the team, even.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Impressive.”

Jake smirked, looking smug. “Damn right.”

You took another sip of your drink, tilting your head slightly as you looked at him. “You know, it’s weird actually talking to you like this.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, reaching for another fry. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” you gestured vaguely, “back in high school, we were always around each other, but we never really talked. You were just Sophia’s boyfriend. And I was Sophia’s best friend. It’s like we existed in the same space but never actually interacted unless she forced us to.”

Jake let out a short laugh, nodding. “Yeah. You know, she used to make me come to movie nights with you? Even though I had zero reason to be there?”

“Oh, I remember,” you smirked. “You’d sit there pretending to pay attention, and then the second Sophia looked away, you’d be on your phone playing clash of clans.”

Jake grinned. “Hey, in my defense, your romcoms weren’t exactly exciting and I had a lot of energy as a teenager. You also always complained that you should be studying instead of watching movies.”

You shook your head with a laugh. “I mean not all of us had that sports scholarship as a back up plan. Some people had to actually study and be good in classes.”

Jake snorted. “Yeah, joke’s on me. Turns out, my dad never wanted that future for me anyway.”

That made you pause. You studied him for a moment, catching the way his expression flickered before he masked it with a casual shrug. “Yeah,” you said after a beat. “I always thought I would study together with Marcus, him being able to tutor me and shit. Then he cheated and then I went into Anthro instead of business. I guess neither of us ended up exactly where we thought we’d be.”

Jake looked at you then, something unreadable in his gaze. “Yeah. Guess not.”

The moment passed quickly, and he grabbed a fry from your plate, tossing it in his mouth. “But, hey, at least now I get to go on a fake date with my ex’s best friend. That’s a plot twist I never saw coming.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Yeah, well. Life’s funny like that.”

You’ve been in the library for two hours, slumped over your case notes, fingers rubbing at your eyes as you try to focus. Nothing makes sense. The forensic pathology case you're working on has a bunch of conflicting details, and no matter how much you dig through the information your teammates collected, you're not getting anywhere. The injuries don’t align with the victim’s position, and the more you try to piece it together, the more frustrating it becomes. You let out a long sigh, your frustration practically radiating from you as you sit back in your chair, staring blankly at the wall in front of you, when the door to your study room clicked open and Jake poked his head into the room. 

“Here you are!”, he entered the room. 

“Hi Jake.”, you signed and turned your head towards him. 

“Still at it?” he asked, setting his bag down and taking a seat at the table across from you. He had asked you the day before if you were free for a platonic getting-to-know-each-other-to-seem-convincing-date, and you had to tell him no since you had to study. You were making little to no progress with a body you and a group of four others were tasked with, so you were stuck in the lab or the library until the deadline on Friday.

“Yeah,” you answered, rubbing your eyes again. “This case is just... I don’t even know anymore. None of the injuries make sense. I keep going over the information, and it’s like nothing fits.”

Jake gave a small nod, pulling out a laptop and carefully putting your notes to the side. “Sounds rough. Did you find anything new on the body today?”

You gave him a dry look. “Do I look like we found anything new, Jakey?”

He chuckled at your misery and fell into his studying routine, the occasional click of his pen filling the silence as you went back to your case notes. You both tried to focus, but the silence only helped you spiral further into frustration. The puzzle pieces just wouldn’t connect, and you felt like you were running in circles.

Finally, you slammed the file down in front of you with a groan. “Ugh! I can’t do this anymore!” you muttered. “I’ve been staring at these same injuries for an hour, and they just—nothing makes sense! I can’t figure out how the stab wound angles align with the body position.”

Jake glanced over, then leaned back in his chair, making a thoughtful face. “The victim’s injuries don’t match up with how you think the crime happened?”

“Yeah!” you said, looking at him desperately. “Like, there’s a stab wound here, but the victim was lying in a completely different position than the one that would’ve caused it. And the other injuries don’t line up either.”

Jake didn’t say anything for a moment, just stared at the case file as though he were mulling it over. “Have you tried acting it out?”

You shot him an confused look. “You want me to act out a murder?”

“Why not?” Jake grinned. “It’s not like anyone else is here to witness it, and it could help you get out of your head.”

For a second, you were too tired to even protest, and the absurdity of it actually made you laugh. You shook your head. “Okay, fine. Let’s pretend we’re the victim and the killer, then.”

Jake immediately stood up, fully committing to the role. “I’m the victim. I’ll be... right here,” he said, dramatically flopping down on one of the chairs. 

You couldn’t help but chuckle at how seriously he was taking this. “Okay, I’m the killer. What am I supposed to do here?”

“Try stabbing me,” Jake said, rolling his eyes with an exaggerated sigh. “I’m waiting to be murdered.”

You hesitated, then walked over to where he was lying. “Alright, so I stab you here?” you said, positioning your pen as if it were a knife, looking back at your notes. Jake was actually not lying in the right position, so you adjusted the way he was slouching on the chair slightly.

“And now,” Jake flopped his head back dramatically, “try getting your position right. That’s important as well, right?”

You paused. “Wait a minute,” You turned back to your notes. “What if the position doesn’t even matter? What if the injuries happened at different times? What if the killer was trying to cover up the first stab wound by causing more damage? Oh my god that would explain why this– oh my god i can’t believe i am this stupid. I even put it down as perimortal.”

Jake stopped in his act, looking up at you with a raised eyebrow. “Huh. So the victim didn’t just get stabbed once?”

You shook your head. “No, he has like 15 or 16 wounds, all made by the same knife… but maybe at different points in time. The first wound has to have happened somewhere else. The injuries don’t add up because they weren’t caused all at once. Those were made to cover up the initial cause of death, because the big knife is probably traceable.”

Jake leaned back in his chair, nodding slowly. “Okay?”

It was like the entire case had just clicked into place, and it was all because you had let yourself stop overthinking it for a second. How could you have not thought about that? This was so obvious. Maybe studying with Jake wasn’t as much as a waste of time as you thought.

“Okay, wait,” you said, settling back in your seat, scrolling through your notes until you found the pictures of the stab wounds you had taken earlier that day and turned them toward Jake.

“Look here,” you pointed at a particular dent in the bones. “This is the cause of death. And the rest of the cuts in the ribcage bones are from a different angle and way weaker, most likely made with a different knife. So the body was probably moved, and the killer or maybe another person did the rest of the damage.”

Jake nodded, looking pleased with himself. “Damn, look at me. Maybe I should also go into forensics. I think we make a pretty good team. We could clear cases together.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Sure, Jakey. If you wanna look at some more gruesome bodies and have the smell of death linger around you, let’s go.”

He scrunched his nose. “On second thought, I think I would rather stay with Econ.”

You shook your head and giggled.

After finally giving your brain a break, you and Jake packed up your things and left the library. You stepped outside, stretching your arms above your head and your back made a satisfying cracking noise. Without thinking too much about it, you reached into your pocket, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it.

Jake, who had been rummaging through his bag for something, glanced up. His movements stilled when he saw the cigarette between your fingers.

He blinked once. Then twice.

“What,” he said flatly, like his brain was still buffering, “the hell are you doing?”

You exhaled, letting the smoke curl into the air. “Smoking?”

Jake just stared at you, completely thrown. “You—” He cut himself off, eyes narrowing as he stepped closer. “Since when do you smoke?”

You shrugged. “For a while now.”

He scoffed in disbelief. “You study forensic pathology. You literally just spent hours complaining about injuries and cause of death, and you still–”

Before you could react, he reached out and plucked the cigarette right from your fingers.

“Seriously, Y/N. This is bad for you.”

You blinked at him, caught between annoyance and amusement. “Jake, give it back.”

“Nope.”

“Jake.”

“I’m not letting you poison yourself,” he said, holding the cigarette out of reach like you were a child he was scolding.

“Yah!” You frowned, moving to take it back, but Jake just held it out of reach, his expression now shifting to full-on disapproval.

“You, of all people, should know what these do to the body,” he scolded. “How are you in forensics and still put this shit in your lungs?”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not like I chain-smoke every day.”

Jake scoffed again, clearly unimpressed. “Oh, great. I’ll tell your lungs that so they feel better.” And with that, he crushed the cigarette between his underneath his shoe before tossing it into a nearby trash bin.

You stared at him, half annoyed, half amused. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he echoed, still giving you that disappointed look. “You study dead bodies all day. What part of that made you think, ‘Hm, yeah, let me shorten my own lifespan’?”

You sighed, stuffing your hands into your pockets. “Didn’t know you cared so much, Jakey.”

He ran a hand through his hair, still looking exasperated. “I just think it’s stupid.”

You huffed but didn’t argue. You knew he was right. Smoking was a bad habit you picked up thanks to Marcus and you weren’t able to shake it off until now.

After a moment, Jake let out a breath, as if shaking off his irritation, and nudged your shoulder lightly. “Come on. Let’s get something to eat. I am starving.”

“You know, we should make this a regular thing.”, you said looking at Jake while taking a sip of your iced tea and scrunching your nose. 

“What do you mean?”, Jake watched as you opened a packet of sugar, dumping the entire thing in your ice tea.

“Going to cafes.”, you shrug, “There are so many cute cafes here and I have a list of them to try out but i never got around to try them all. Maybe we could make this our thing? Going to a new cafe every week?” 

Its been a little bit more than three weeks since you and Jake first started to spend time with each other and he had to say it was surprisingly nice to hang out with you. His schedule was packed with practice and games while you were studying a lot. He sometimes thought that you spend a bit too much time in the library or the lab but he also knew that it was your main place to socialize with your squint friends. So he was happy to get you out of there on occasion.

Jake didn’t even think about it when he slid his latte across the table and took your lemon iced tea in return. During the last few times you’ve been out to grab food or drinks he noticed that you like to be a bit experimental with your orders. Asking the waiters for their favourites or Jake if he thought a particular drink would taste well. He took one sip and immediately winced at how absurdly sour your drink of today was.

You blinked at him, looking between the drinks. “Did you just–”

“You clearly hate that,” he said, nodding toward the lemon tea. “And you put so much sugar in your drinks, you might as well have ordered something else entirely.”

Your lips parted in surprise before you huffed out a small laugh. “Well, damn. Chivalry isn’t dead after all.”

Jake just smirked, taking another sip of your tea suffering from the sourness while you happily drank his latte.

“I think that's a great idea.”, he then answered your question from before. “The weekly cafe thing. I mean it would definitely help with the whole building up a real connection and getting to know each other better.” He honestly was looking forward to meeting you every time you scheduled one of your getting-to-know-each-other-to-seem-convincing-dates. There have been 4 so far, but you had been texting quite frequently in between. Him asking how your classes were and you asking how training or his games went. He was pretty pleased with himself when you told him that you got an A thanks to his participation as a dummy victim in the library and you brought him a piece of cake as thank you when you met a few days later. 

You hummed in agreement, stirring your (his) iced latte. For a while, you both sat in comfortable silence, the occasional sound of a spoon clinking against a glass filling the space between words. 

You broke the silence and leaned forward slightly. “Do you like it here?”

Jake glanced up at you. “Korea?”

You nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, swirling his straw around his glass, trying to mix the sugar into the ice tea in hopes that it toned down the sourness. “I mean, I miss Australia sometimes, but I like it here. The city, the people.”

You hummed. “Same. I miss home sometimes, but I like being in Seoul. It’s nice having a fresh start, you know?”

Jake nodded. “Yeah. Plus, I love living with my roommates. Heeseung is a menace, and Jay’s the closest thing we have to a responsible adult. Their girlfriends—or well, Heeseung’s girlfriend and Jay’s almost-girlfriend—are also fun to be around. I think you’d like them.”

You smiled. “They sound fun.”

“They are.”

“I am sure you would like Chaewon and Yujin as well.” you said, sipping your (his) drink. “We met in first year, and they kind of adopted me. Took pity on me looking lost on my first day. I was really young when I started university, thinking back at it now.”

Jake raised a brow. “How old?”

“Seventeen.”

 “Oh yeah?”, Jake tried to think of a seventeen year old you. 

He remembered always thinking you were pretty cute in your school uniform—always so put together, always so proper. While he and Sophia were constantly scolded for their messy ties and rolled-up skirts, you were the picture of perfection, your blazer buttoned just right, your hair neatly pinned back. Even now, years later, you still dressed like that. Thoughtful, elegant, always intentional. Now, as he stood there, watching you fidget with the hem of your coat, he couldn’t help but smile. You were still the same person you’d always been, meticulous, thoughtful, a little bit nerdy.

“Mhm.” Your gaze drifted toward a small pond near the café’s patio, where a few kids were jumping around in front of it.

“You still are young, Y/N,” he said, following your gaze. “Get to my age, and then let’s talk about that again.”

You snorted. “You are like a year older than me. Probably less. My birthday is coming up soon.”

“Oh? When?”

“In like five weeks?”, you took another sip of his latte.

Jake’s lips twitched. “Are you gonna throw a party?”

“Probably not. I’d much rather go to parties than have to clean up the mess.”

He chuckled. “Fair.” 

He would have eaten a broom if you would have said yes. You never really one for big parties, but still attend every time. Most of the time he found you and Sophia smoking outside with Marcus and his friends. That idiot had such a bad influence on you and he hated seeing it back then. Marcus was a year older than Jake and therefore almost two years older than you and he pretended to be a bad boy. Which was cringe on its own but he tried to convince you that being a bit more rebellious was cool. It annoyed him back then so much he made it his mission to talk to you and get you away from your boyfriend and his friends, when he got the chance. Mhm maybe he did spend a bit more time than he initially remembered with you. He never understood what you saw in Marcus. 

“Are you going to the spring break party next week? The girls and I are planning to go.”, you interrupted his thoughts.

“I don’t know yet. We’re playing a game that day and the day before. I’ll probably be dead tired,” he admitted, stealing a piece of your cake.

You tapped your finger against your glass, then glanced up at him. “You should come.”

Jake raised a brow. “You want me to crash girls’ night?”

You rolled your eyes. “No, idiot. It’s not really girls’ night if we attend a frat party, but I think it would be nice to see you there. I kinda wanna see how adult Jake parties. You were fun back in highschool, even though you scolded Sophia and me for being dumb shits every five minutes.”

Jake studied you for a second before a slow, amused grin pulled at his lips.

 “You want me to scold you again? I will if I catch you smoking.”

“I am fully aware of my deathly habit of inhaling nicotine and I am committing to the bit so hush. Also now I am a legal adult who can buy their own cigarettes.”

Just then a gust of wind brushed past, prompting you to tug your jacket tighter around yourself. As you adjusted, your bag tipped slightly, and your phone and  a pack of cigarettes clattered onto the table.

Jake’s gaze flickered down to them, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly while you put both back into your bag and put the bag onto the floor.

Jake exhaled, raised his hands in surrender. “Fair enough.” After that it was silent for a moment, just the sound of the children playing in the park and the birds chirping up in the trees .

“You know,” he said, his voice breaking the silence, “you still dress like you’re in school. All put together and stuff. It’s kind of adorable.”

You shot him a look, your cheeks flushing slightly, and he grinned. Oh. He liked that. “What do you mean with that, Sim?”

“Well you were always so put together and propper and look at you now. Always so put together and propper, even when you wear your lab goggles.”, he chuckled. Last week he barged into your lab (after asking the professor for permission) and dragged you out for burgers. He’d taken approximately a million 0.5 pictures of you that day, wearing your lab coat and gigantic goggles. 

“You looked like a mad scientist,” he’d said, grinning. “Big glasses and all. It’s cute.”

“I’m not cute,” you’d protested, swatting at him, but he’d just laughed, dodging your hand.

The spring break party was in full swing, the bass from the music vibrating through the floor as you leaned against the kitchen counter, drink in hand. Chaewon and Yujin had abandoned you shortly after you got there, leaving you to people-watch and sip your drink. You were just about to text Jake to see if he was coming when you heard a familiar laugh.

You turned your head toward the kitchen door, and there he was Jake. Even back in highschool you understood what all the girls drooling over him saw in him. He looked unfairly good. His eyes scanned the room, and when they landed on you, his face lit up with that stupid boyish grin of his.

“Y/N!” he called, his voice loud and a little too enthusiastic. He started making his way over, weaving through the crowd like a man on a mission.

You smirked, setting your drink down on the counter. “Hey, Jakeyboy. I heard you won.”

Jake didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled you into a hug so tight it lifted you off your feet. You laughed, your hands resting on his shoulders as he spun you around once before setting you back down. The hugs were something new you were doing. But you had absolutely nothing against it.

“We crushed them,” he said, his voice brimming with pride. “Absolutely destroyed them.”

“I am glad! You were so worried! Is Jay feeling better?”, you asked softly, fixing the collar of his shirt when he set you down. 

“Yeah. When we came in he disappeared and went to search for his girlfriend.”, he rolled his eyes but smiled. You hummed and took a sip from your drink, he stole your cup and took a sip scrunching up his nose in disgust. “Y/N you have a horrible taste in drinks.” 

“That's not true. This is a sex on the beach? How can that be bad Jake?”, you spluttered stealing your cup back. 

Jake laughed, shaking his head. “It’s way too weak. You definitely need something stronger!” He turned to the counter behind him, rummaging through the bottles until he pulled out a half-empty bottle of tequila. “Here.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Tequila? Really?”

“Trust me,” he said, grinning as he poured two shots. He handed one to you and held up the other. “Cheers, Y/Nie!”

You laughed, clinking your shot glass against his. “Cheers, Jakey.”

You both downed the shots, and you winced as the tequila burned its way down your throat. Jake laughed, his hand brushing against your arm. “See? Way better than that sugary crap you were drinking.”

“Debatable,” you said, sticking your tongue out at him. But you were smiling, and so was he.

The music shifted, and the opening notes of Umbrella filled the room. Jake’s eyes lit up, and he grabbed your hand. “Come on. Let’s dance.”

“What? No—” you started to protest, but he was already pulling you toward the makeshift dance floor.

“You’re not gonna make me dance alone, are you?” he said, turning to you with an exaggerated pout.

You rolled your eyes but let him drag you into the crowd. Jake was already moving and you laughed, shaking your head as you started to dance with him.

“You’re such a dork,” you said, but you were smiling. When did Jake become this…cute? Back in highschool he always watched over you like a guard dog when you met at parties. Admittedly you were underage and easily convinced to do dumb shit, but he seemed a bit tense back then, almost worried. And he for sure never made you dance. But this was nice. Seeing him laugh this freely, genuinely enjoying his time. He apparently needed a fresh start even more than you did, but it was nice to see that he got what he needed.

“Yeah, but you’re dancing with me, so what does that say about you?” he shot back, his grin widening.

You didn’t argue. Instead, just matched his energy and sang along to Umbrella. 

You spend quite some time dancing together, joined by your or his friends sometimes. Every time a Katy Perry song came on–which, for some reason, was way more often than usual–Jake would pull you back to the kitchen for another shot. He made not only you but also his friends and teammates and their girlfriends take shots in honor of Katy Perry, when they were around. By the sixth one, you were both laughing so hard you could barely stand.

“I think the universe is trying to tell us something,” Jake said, leaning against the counter as he poured another round.

“Yeah, that we’re gonna regret this tomorrow,” you said, taking the shot glass from him.

Jake laughed, his hand brushing against yours as he handed you the salt. “Worth it.”

You smirked, licking the back of your hand and sprinkling salt on it. “You’re such a bad influence.”

Compared to Marcus he definitely wasn’t. You did so many things to impress him that you weren’t proud of. Some of things turned into habits you couldn’t shake off, even 2 years later. 

“You’re welcome,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

You didn’t respond. Instead, you downed the shot, the tequila burning less this time. Jake watched you, his grin soft and a little dazed. “You’re really something, you know that?”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning in a little closer. “Yeah? What’s that supposed to mean?”

You weren’t sure if you were imagining things but it looked like Jake’s eyes flickered down to your lips and then back up to yours. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Your stomach flipped. You smiled, your fingers brushing intentionally against his as you set the shot glass down. “Me too.”

Jake wasn’t sure how long he’d been outside. The night had blurred together in a haze of tequila shots, bad dancing, and more shots. He’d lost you at some point, or maybe you’ve lost him, and now he was sitting on the porch steps, staring up at the stars and wondering how penguins could survive in such cold weather. His ass was cold. He couldn't imagine living somewhere even colder and having to sit on the floor.

The door creaked open behind him, and Sunghoon stepped outside, a beer in hand. “There you are,” he said, plopping down next to Jake. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

Jake blinked, trying to focus on Sunghoons face. “Why?”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “Because you disappeared for, like, three hours. Who were you dancing with earlier?” 

Jake frowned, trying to remember. Dancing. Right. Y/N. “Oh. That was Y/N.”

Sunghoon’s eyes lit up. “Y/N? As in, the Y/N?”

Jake shrugged. “Yeah.” 

“Yeah?” Sunghoon repeated, grinning. “She’s here? At this party? And you didn’t think to mention it?”

Jake opened his mouth to respond, but then he froze. “Wait. Where is she?”

Sunghoon laughed, shaking his head. “You lost her?”

Jake ignored him, standing up a little too quickly and swaying on his feet. “I didn’t lose her. I just… misplaced her.”

Sunghoon snorted. “Sure.”

Jake had looked everywhere for you or at least he thought he had. He got stopped several times by other people and pulled to the kitchen for shots and his head was spinning just enough to make it hard to focus. Eventually, he gave up and stumbled outside again, hoping the cool air would clear his head.

The porch was quieter, the muffled bass from the party thumping faintly in the background. Jake blinked, his eyes adjusting to the dim light, and that’s when he saw you. You were leaning against the railing, a cigarette dangling from your fingers as you talked to some guy Jake didn’t recognize. Your cheeks were flushed, your hair was a mess. You’ve pulled it out of your neat ponytail and it was now in a rather messy bun. He’d always known you were pretty, obviously, but this was different. This was—he didn’t know what this was. Hot? Yeah, probably hot. But fuck he hated seeing the cigarette in your hand. His chest tightened, a sharp, uncomfortable feeling tugging at his gut.

Jake walked over, his steps a little unsteady, and plucked the cigarette from your hand without a word. He stubbed it out on the railing and tossed it into an ashtray, ignoring the way you pouted at him.

“That was my last one,” you said, your voice a little slurred.

Good.

“Good,” Jake said, crossing his arms. “Stop poisoning yourself. It’s not cool.”

You pouted harder, your bottom lip jutting out. “You’re such a buzzkill.”

And damn it this was unfair. Criminal, even. He almost felt like giving you another cigarette just so you’d stop making that face, because something about it made him feel ridiculously weak. 

The guy, who was leaning against the railing next to you, burst out laughing. He was obviously drunk–or high, or both–and his laughter was loud enough to make you glare at him. “Oh, this is rich,” he said, wiping tears from his eyes. “Y/N just got her cig stolen.”

You kicked him in the shin, hard enough to make him yelp. “Shut up, Yangyang.”

“Ow! What the hell?” Yangyang said, rubbing his leg but still grinning. “You’re such a menace.”

“And you’re an idiot,” you shot back, giving him the finger.

Yangyang just laughed again, shaking his head. “Well, if you can’t smoke, I’m gonna smoke with Hendery.” He turned around, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Hendery! Where are you, man?” Jake was pretty sure that whatever Yangyang was smoking wasn’t a cigarette. 

You rolled your eyes, muttering something under your breath. Then, you turned back to him, your pout returning full force. Oh god, not again.

“That was my last cigarette, you know.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, trying to look stern but failing miserably. “And?”

“And now I’m sad,” you said, letting your forehead drop onto his shoulder with a dramatic sigh. “You’ve ruined my night.”

Jake laughed, his hand coming up to rest lightly on your back, while the other one gripped the railing tightly. The world was spinning just very lightly, but he didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to leave this spot. He liked having you this close, even if you’d just smoked and even if he hated the smell of it.

 “Oh, come on. It’s not that bad.”

You groaned, your voice muffled against his shoulder. “You don’t understand. That was my emotional support cigarette.”

Jake snorted, his fingers brushing against your hair. “You’ll live.” 

You were warm. So warm. He barely registered what he was doing, just that he didn’t want to move.

You lifted your head just enough to glare at him, but there was no real heat behind it. Your eyes were a little hazy. “You’re the worst.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jake said, and this time, he laughed. He couldn’t help it. There was something about the way you pouted that was just… endearing? Or maybe that was the tequila talking. Either way, he was having a hard time keeping a straight face.

 Jake’s head was spinning just enough to make everything feel a little surreal, and he wasn’t entirely sure if he was imagining the way your eyes seemed a little too bright, your movements a little too slow. Were you high? Maybe. Probably. He didn’t care. Not really. Should he care? He felt like he should care if you were high. He always did back in highschool. He remembered how uncomfortable you looked when Marcus came up to you with his cigarettes or joints or drinks, but you never declined. That asshole.

Then, out of nowhere, he tilted his head back and said, “Have you ever thought about penguins?”

You blinked, turning to look at him. “What?”

“Penguins,” he repeated, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “We should think more about them.”

You stared at him for a second, your brow furrowing like you were trying to figure out if he was serious. Then, without warning, you burst out laughing, leaning into him as your shoulders shook. “Oh my god, Jake. You’re so drunk.”

Jake frowned, his brow furrowing as he tried to focus on you. “No, I’m not. I’m… perfectly fine. If I close one eye, I can see you in HD, so I’m not that drunk.”

That only made you laugh harder, your head resting against his shoulder as you tried to catch your breath. “That doesn’t even make sense!”

“It makes perfect sense,” he insisted, though he was grinning now. “You’re just… too high to understand.”

“I’m high?” you said, sitting up and wiping tears from your eyes. “You’re the one talking about penguins!”

Jake shrugged, his grin turning lopsided. “Penguins are cool. They’re, like the best birds.”

You snorted, leaning back on your hands. “Okay, Mr. Ornithologist. Tell me more about these superior birds.”

Jake opened his mouth to respond, but then he seemed to forget what he was going to say. Instead, he just laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I just really like penguins. Their asses don’t freeze even in snow.”

You giggled again, looking up at the night sky. “Yeah, well, maybe you should adopt one. You’d make a great penguin dad.”

Jake turned to look at you. “You think so?”

“Absolutely,” you said, nodding solemnly. “ You could teach him how to skate and buy him mini gear and shit”

Jake laughed, leaning back on his hands. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Takes one to know one,” you shot back, giggling and leaning into him again.

Jake wasn’t sure how long you’d been sitting on the porch steps, your head resting on his shoulder as you both stared up at the stars, talking about everything and nothing. Yangyang  came back at one point and now Jake knew you were high, when Yangyang enthusiastically offered you another puff, which you accepted just as enthusiastically. Jake was perfectly content to stay like this forever.

That is, until Heeseung showed up.

“Jesus, what happened here?” Heeseung’s voice cut through the quiet, and Jake looked up to see his roommate standing in the doorway, his girlfriend was peeking out from behind him. Both of them were grinning, though Heeseung looked more exasperated than amused.

“We’re fine,” Jake said, waving a hand dismissively. “Go away.”

“You’re not fine,” Heeseung said, stepping onto the porch. “You’re both drunk off your asses and sitting on the ground like a couple of lost puppies.”

“I’m not drunk,” you said, lifting your head from Jake’s shoulder to glare at Heeseung. “I think I’m high. Jake’s drunk, though. And he wants to adopt a penguin and call it Noot Noot.”

You broke out into giggles, leaning into Jake as if this were the funniest thing you’d ever said. Jake groaned, his cheeks turning pink. “I do not.”

“You do,” you insisted, still laughing. “You said penguins are the best birds and that Noot Noot would be the perfect name. And you want to teach him how to play hockey.”

Heeseungs girlfriend bursted out laughing, covering her mouth with her hand. “Oh my god, that’s adorable.”

Heeseung rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “Yeah, adorable. Come on, you two. Let’s get you home.”

Jake groaned, leaning back on his hands. “We’re fine. Leave us alone.”

“You’re not fine,” Heeseung said, bending down to grab Jake’s arm. “Up. Now.”

Jake tried to swat him away, but Heeseung was too strong, pulling him into a standing position. “Noooo.”, he lamented, “I don’t want to stand up. My legs hurt.”

As Heeseung hauled Jake to his feet, Jake turned to you, his expression suddenly serious. “Wait, Y/N has to come too,” he said, his words slurred but insistent. “She can’t go home alone. She’s... she’s gotta come with us.” You blinked up at him, your own head spinning as you tried to process his words. “I’m fine,” you said, though your voice was just as wobbly as his. “No, you’re not,” Jake said, his hand reaching out to grab yours. “You’re coming with me. Heeseung, tell her.”

Heeseung sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m not getting in the middle of this. Baby, help me out here.”

His griflriend stepped forward to help you up, her laughter fading into a soft smile. “Come on, Y/N. Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable.”

You pouted but let her pull you to your feet, swaying slightly as you stood. “I’m not drunk,” you insisted, though the way you stumbled over your own feet said otherwise.

“Sure you’re not,” she said, wrapping an arm around your waist to steady you. “Let’s go.”

Heeseung and his girlfriend managed to get both of you into a cab and back to the dorm. The ride was a blur of laughter and half-hearted protests, and by the time they got there, Jake was pretty sure he’d fallen asleep on your shoulder at least once.

“Alright,” Heeseung said, unlocking the door and ushering everyone inside. “Jake, you’re on the air mattress. Y/N, you get his bed.”

Jake groaned, collapsing onto his bed. “Why do I have to sleep on the floor?”

“Because you’re a gentleman,” Heeseung said, tossing a pillow at him. It hit Jake square in the face, and he let out an indignant huff. “And because I said so.”

You giggled, sitting down on the edge of Jake’s bed. “Thanks, Heeseung. You’re the best.”

Heeseung rolled his eyes but smiled. “Yeah, yeah.” 

His girlfriend handed you a glass of water and a couple of painkillers. “Here. Take these. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

You nodded, swallowing the pills with a grimace. “Thank you!”

“No problem,” she said, smiling. “Now, lets get you changed so that you can get some sleep. Both of you.”

She pulled you up again and ushered you into Jakes bathroom while Jake changed into his pyjama and flopped down onto the mattress, closing his eyes and almost falling asleep until you came back and threw yourself onto his bed. It creaked loudly and you giggled.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. Then, Jake turned his head to look at you. “You good?”

You nodded, your eyes already closing. “Yeah. You?”

“Yeah,” Jake said, his voice soft. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Jake,” you murmured, already halfway asleep.

Jake smiled, turning onto his side and closing his eyes. The room was quiet, the only sound was the soft hum of the air conditioner and the occasional rustle of sheets as you shifted on the bed. 

Or at least, until you suddenly sat up, your eyes wide. “I don’t wanna sleep. Let’s watch Noot Noot.”

Jake blinked slowly, propping himself up on his elbows. “What?”

“Noot Noot,” you repeated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You know, the penguin. The one you want to adopt.”

Jake groaned, letting his head fall back onto the pillow. “Y/N, it’s like 5 a.m.” How could you be so awake? You were drunk and high. 

“Exactly,” you said, climbing out of the bed and onto the air mattress next to him. The mattress squeaked under your combined weight, and Jake had to grab the edges to keep from rolling off. “It’s the perfect time for Noot Noot.”

Jake laughed, shaking his head. “You’re an idiot.”

“Takes one to know one,” you shot back, giggling as you pulled out your phone and started searching for a video.

Jake didn’t even try to argue. Instead, he just leaned back, and you curled against like it was the most normal thing in the as you found the video and hit play. The sound of the penguin’s high-pitched “noot noot” filled the room, and you both burst out laughing.

“See?” you said, your voice full of triumph. “This is amazing.”

Jake couldn’t help but agree, though he wasn’t sure if it was because of the video or because you were lying next to him, wearing his clothes and laughing like that stupid penguin was the funniest thing you have ever seen. Either way, he wasn’t complaining. His eyes slowly drifted shut. 

You woke up to the sound of someone groaning softly and an arm slung loosely over your waist. Your head was pounding, your mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton. Where the hell were you? You blinked blearily at the sunlight streaming through the curtains. You recognized Jakes room and concluded that Jake was the one who woke you up. 

Your face heated up. Why were you sleeping on Jake? 

Jake stirred beside you, his face scrunching up as he groaned again. “Y/N,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse and urgent. “I gotta… I gotta go. Like, now.”

You barely had time to roll out of the way before he scrambled off the air mattress, nearly tripping over the blanket tangled around his legs. He stumbled toward the bathroom, and you heard the door slam shut, followed by the unmistakable sound of him throwing up.

“Oh, Jake,” you muttered, wincing in sympathy as you dragged yourself off the deflated mattress. You grabbed a bottle of water from the nightstand and shuffled to the bathroom, knocking lightly on the door before pushing it open.

Jake was kneeling in front of the toilet, his forehead resting on his arm. He looked up at you, his face pale and his hair sticking up in every direction. “I’m dying,” he croaked.

“You’re not dying,” you said, crouching down beside him and handing him the water. “Here, rinse your mouth out.”

He took the bottle with a shaky hand, swishing some water around before spitting it into the toilet. You reached over and started rubbing his back, your fingers moving in slow, soothing circles. “You’re such a lightweight,” you teased, though your voice was gentle.

“Shut up,” he muttered, but there was no real bite to it. He leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes and taking a few slow breaths. “I am so tired. Why did we think watching Noot Noot at 3 a.m. was a good idea?”

You froze, your hand stilling on his back. “Wait. What?”

Jake cracked one eye open to look at you. “You don’t remember? You literally squeezed yourself onto that stupid air mattress and made me watch, like, ten Noot Noot videos. You said it was ‘essential viewing.’”

“Oh my god,” you said, covering your face with your hands. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to, like, force you or make you uncomfortable or anything.”

Jake laughed weakly, shaking his head. “Relax, Y/N. If I was uncomfortable, I would’ve said something. I just didn’t expect to spend half the night watching a penguin meme.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Still. Sorry if I was annoying.”

“You’re always annoying,” he said, but the way he smiled took the sting out of his words. “Now, can we please go back to bed? I feel like death.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, standing up and holding out a hand to help him to his feet. “But I’m not sleeping on that deflated mattress again. I’ll pump some air into it while you finish up here.”

Jake nodded, leaning heavily on you as he stood. “Deal. Just shut up for five minutes, okay?”

You laughed, shaking your head as you left him in the bathroom and went to find the air pump. By the time Jake emerged, looking slightly less green but still miserable, you’d managed to get the mattress back to a somewhat functional state.

“There,” you said, flopping down onto it. “Now you can have your bed, and I’ll take this.”

Jake just nodded and collapsed onto his bed, pulling the blanket over himself with a groan. “You’re a saint,” he mumbled, his voice already muffled by the pillow.

“I know,” you said, grinning as you settled onto the air mattress. The room was quiet again, the only sound was the soft hum of the air conditioner and Jake’s steady breathing. You closed your eyes, letting the exhaustion pull you back under.

“Y/N this is a stupid idea.”, Jake said, watching the recipe on his phone for what felt like the hundredth time.

“It’s actually a very good idea, Jakeyboy. We are two responsible adults who I am sure can make a lasagne and salad.”, you huffed while cutting up an onion. 

Jake raised an eyebrow, and moved next to you, grabbing some of the carrots. “Responsible adults who are cooking for their friends who are actually responsible adults as a thank you?”

“Exactly. I think cooking Hee and Jeonghee lasagne as a thank you for not letting us end in a ditch while we were high and or drunk is a responsible thing to do. Can you also peel the celery? Do we have to peel the celery?”, you stopped cutting the onion and frowned at Jake, holding up a stalk of celery.

Jake shrugged, searching through the drawer for a peeler. “Dude, I have no idea. Why does your recipe want you to put in celery?” He rummaged through the utensils, muttering to himself. “Jay has to have one somewhere here, right? Peelers could be categorized as knives?” If Jake was honest, he rarely cooked—at home or here in his dorm. Ramyeon was easy to make, as was fried rice or a fried egg, but lasagna? He was really unsure if or how he should match your confidence that the two of you could whip up something edible.

You frowned harder and grabbed Jakes phone from next to him. “I have no idea. Maybe i read something wrong? What's your pin?”

“100920.”, he started peeling the thickest carrot lying in the bunch, “Haha look at that. This is surely over average.”

You snorted and hit him lightly on the back. “Man. Jake. What the hell,” you scolded, scrolling through his TikTok chat. “Oh, wait, I think I kinda mixed up two different recipes? This one wants celery, and this one doesn’t. Should we still add it?”

“Yeah? Do you like celery?”, he peered over his shoulder to look at the video you were showing him now. 

“I mean, it’s ‘high-protein lasagna’ and not ‘lasagna straight from an Italian restaurant.’ I think we should stick to ‘straight from an Italian restaurant.’ Screw protein. Jay can get pumped when I’m not there,” you shrugged, sliding Jake’s phone into his back pocket.

“Just for your information, I’m also getting pumped. I need the protein too,” he muttered, his tone mock-offended, as he leaned against the counter next to you.

You grinned, nudging his shoulder. “Oh, man. You’ve got a long way to go, Jakeyboy. Jay looks delicious, and you still look like the 16-year-old Lego-building loser you were in high school. Muscle-wise, at least.”

“Hey!” Jake protested, bumping his hip into yours playfully. But then, in a move that surprised even himself, he stepped closer, towering over you slightly as he leaned against the counter, effectively caging you in. He flexed, his biceps straining against the sleeve of his shirt, and shot you a smug look. “Still a loser, huh?”

Your eyes flicked down to his arm, then back up to meet his gaze. You reached out, your fingers trailing along the curve of his muscle, slow and deliberate. “Hmm,” you said, pretending to consider it, but your touch lingered, your nails just barely grazing over his skin. Jake swallowed hard.

“Not bad,” you finally said, lips quirking. “But I’d still appreciate Jay’s more.”

For a split second, something in him stuttered. His breath hitched before he could stop it, his playful smirk faltering as your hand remained on his arm just a second too long. His brain scrambled, short-circuiting between the feeling of your fingers on him and the way your lips formed those words.

He forced himself to roll his eyes, to plaster on some version of nonchalance before his face gave him away. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. You’re just jealous.”

You stepped a bit closer to him, your chest nearly brushing against his, and poked him right in the middle of his chest. Shooting him a fake pout. “You know, Jake, if you’re trying to impress me, you’re gonna have to do better than that.”

Oh. Oh, shit.

His brain blanked for a beat, completely wiped clean.

He could see every tiny detail of your face. The slight overline of your lipstick, the way your lashes curled, the teasing glint in your eyes that made his stomach flip. He could smell the floral tinges of your perfume.

Jake raised an eyebrow, willing his voice to stay steady. “Oh, yeah? What would impress you, then?”

You tilted your head, your expression as innocent as ever: "Hmmm. Maybe if you could actually cook this lasagna without burning it,” you mused, tapping a finger to your chin, “or, I don’t know, if you could actually keep up with Jay at the gym.”

Jake opened his mouth to retort, but before he could say anything, the sound of the front door opening interrupted him.

“Uhh, am I interrupting something?” Jay’s voice came from the doorway, his tone laced with amusement as he took in the scene. 

You didn’t miss a beat. “Not at all! It’s actually perfect that you’re here. We were just talking about you.” You turned to Jay with a bright smile, completely unbothered. “Do we put celery in lasagna, yes or no?”

Jake blinked, his face heating up as he took a step back from you. Okay, what the hell just happened? He glanced at Jay, who was now grinning at Jake.

He raised an eyebrow, looking between the two of you. “Celery in lasagna? That kinda feels like a crime Y/N.”

“That’s what I said!” Jake exclaimed, grateful for the distraction. His heart was still beating way too fast.

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, okay, no celery. Got it.”

After Jay hung up his jacket and washed his hands he dropped on the high stool in front of the counter Jake and you were currently back to cutting up the definitely over average carrot and the onion, bickering over how big the pieces should be. “Is there a reason why you two are trying to set our kitchen on fire?”

“Well until now nothing has been on fire. And we just were in the mood for lasagne.”, you said with a nod. 

“For the record, I have been bullied into this and I am innocent.”, Jake said, looking at Jay who gave him a knowing facial expression. Well not really knowing, actually. There was nothing to know. Or at least shouldn’t, right?

You shot him a look, waving the knife in his direction. “Sounds like a you problem, Jakeyboy, now go and try making the sauce.”

Jake groaned but obediently grabbed the pot of tomato sauce you’d set on the stove. He turned the burner on. “How high should this be?”

Jay groaned and stood up, moving towards the two of you. “Oh my god. You are going to burn the kitchen.”

You were sitting in the stands of the ice hockey rink on campus, waiting for Jake to finish his practice for the day. Usually, you would have waited outside, but the weather was atrocious, cold, windy, and raining sideways, so you opted for the lesser evil: the freezing arena. 

It wasn’t ideal, but at least you weren’t getting drenched. You curled up on the hard plastic seat, wrapped in Jake's hoodie. He had tossed it your way when you complained about the cold earlier, your suit pants and the t-shirt you were wearing were warm in the lab with your lab coat on top but you were freezing in the rink. You pulled your noise-canceling headphones over your ears and attempted to focus on your notes. You’d been at it for a while now, trying to memorize the damn nerves of the human leg, but you’d officially hit your limit when the Nervus obturatorius made you lose your own damn nerves.

With a frustrated sigh, you gave up, glancing toward the ice.

Your eyes found Jake immediately, not that you were looking for him. He was just easy to spot, standing out among his teammates, moving across the ice with a confidence that was second nature. His strides were powerful, effortless, muscles flexing under all that gear. He didn’t lie when he told you that he was good. 

It was weird seeing him like this, so focused. You were so used to the version of him that never took anything seriously, always smirking, always teasing. But here, in his element, he looked different. Determined. Sharp. A little more grown up than the Jake you met years ago. You couldn’t understand how his father could not see how much Jake loved and needed this sport. On the ice he was just ruthless. You definitely weren’t an expert, but after a bit of research you figured out that quite a few players graduated from DA and immediately went into the NHL. You were sure that if Jake tried he would get in. He just needed a small little push to even try. 

And then, like he felt you watching, Jake skated past the glass, catching your gaze. And then, the bastard winked at you before turning back to his drill like nothing happened.

You rolled your eyes, but smiled fondly nonetheless.

You saw him all the time now. The weekly cafe dates-not-dates became a thing and then the Wednesday post-practice hangout just happened after he asked you to wait until his practice was over so he could walk you home. And your study dates-not-dates? Well, if you had to suffer, he had to suffer, too. And most of the time they ended with free food for you after wards, so who are you to complain? 

 And maybe–just maybe–you didn’t mind it. Jake was steadily slipping into the role of your best friend, weaving his way in before you even realized it. Even your friends accepted him when he first barged into one of your study sessions and now he had the pleasure of being your dummy victim for the last month and a half. He didn’t seem to mad about it any you genuinely enjoyed him being around. Sometimes you looked forwards to studying just cause it meant you and Jake went out for dinner afterwards. Like you did with the cafes, you are trying out a new restaurant every week. So far your favourite one was the small Mandu place that was in one of the rather creepy alleyways around your subway station. You had Jake with you, right, your scary kinda buff hockey playing…friend. 

Before you could think too hard about that, the practice wrapped up. The guys disappeared into the locker room, and you forced yourself to refocus on your notes, determined to actually learn something before Jake finished showering.

It was quiet for a while, the rink mostly empty, just the occasional distant noise from the locker room. You were so focused, that you didn’t hear him approach.

Until–

“Boo.”

You screamed. Loud.

Your headphones flew off, your tablet nearly tumbled off your lap, and your heart slammed against your ribs.

Jake stood behind you, doubled over, laughter spilling from his lips, hands on his knees as he wheezed. “Oh my God–your face–”

“You asshole!” You smacked his arm, still clutching your chest. “What is wrong with you?!”

He was still grinning, eyes bright with amusement, hair damp from his shower. He was in sweats now, his hockey bag hanging off his shoulder.

“You scare way too easy,” he teased and dropped down on the seat next to you.

“You loomed!”

He snorted. “I stood there.”

“You loomed,” you insisted, glaring at him.

Jake just smirked, then nudged your knee with his. “Are you waiting for me?”

You rolled your eyes. “No, I just love freezing my ass off in an ice rink for fun.”

“Aw, Y/N, you’re so cute,” he teased, reaching out to pat your hair like you were some little kid.

You smacked his hand away with a huff, shoving your iPad into your bag. “Fuck you, Jake.”

He shrugged, standing up and holding out a hand. “Nah, man, I’d rather have someone else do that job.”

Your eyebrows shot up as you took his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. “Oh?” You tilted your head, voice dripping with faux curiosity. “Missionary? Or cowboy? Maybe 69?”

Jake snorted, shaking his head. “Reverse missionary. I wanna see the face of whoever has the pleasure of feeling Jake Junior doing his magic.”

You lost it, laughter spilling out of you. “Sure, Jake.”

Still giggling, you started walking toward the exit together. 

Jake shot you a side glance, smirk still firmly in place. “Okay, but for real, if I had to pick a second-favorite position–”

You groaned. “Why are we still on this?”

“Because you asked,” he pointed out, completely unbothered.

You gave him an exasperated look but played along. “Fine. What’s Jake Junior’s backup move?”

Jake pursed his lips, pretending to think. “Reverse cowgirl is solid. Great view, minimal effort.”

You snorted. “So, you’re lazy.”

“I prefer efficient,” he corrected, giving you a pointed look.

You hummed as if considering it. “Okay, but wouldn’t that make missionary way too much effort for you?”

Jake gasped dramatically. “Excuse you, I give 110%.”

“Sure you do.”

“You doubt my skills?” He placed a hand on his chest, feigning offense. “Wow. I thought you believed in me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh yeah, I totally sit around thinking about your sexual performance.” Actually 16 year old you did. Whenever Sophia told you about what they were doing. How good he was. But 21 year old you hasn’t really done so. In quite a while. Maybe you should think about it again. 

Jake wiggled his eyebrows. “You should.” 

You shoved his shoulder, laughing again.

You reached the heavy entrance door to the rink and when Jake used his shoulder to open it you.

Your hands were still linked. His hand was warm in yours and you could feel the calloused skin on the inside of his palm pressing against yours softly.

Huh.

You should’ve let go.

Neither of you did.

“Yo, lovebirds!”

You looked up to see Jay leaning out of a car in the parking lot, grinning like an idiot.

“Are you getting in or gonna stand there holding hands all night?”

Your stomach dropped.

You let Jake's hand go like it burned, stuffing your own into your hoodie pocket.

Jake looked completely unbothered. He just shoved his hands into his own pockets, glancing at you with an easy smirk. “You jealous, man?”

Jay laughed. “Yeah, bro, I’m really heartbroken over not being the one holding your hand.”

You gasped and clutched your chest dramatically. “Oh my god. Jake! You should have told me you are with Jay! I can’t  get in between your homoerotic love-hate relationship!”

You quickened your pace and Jake jogged after you, still chuckling under his breath.

The moment the doors shut, Heeseung turned in his seat, eyebrows raised. “So… when were you guys planning on telling us?”

You blinked. “Telling you what?”

Jay scoffed. “Oh, come on. The looks, the hand-holding, the fact that you guys are basically attached at the hip these days.” He turned back toward the front, muttering, “I still can’t believe I had to witness you flirting in the kitchen while almost burning it down.”

“Hey! It didn’t burn down!”, you protested, not focusing on the flirting part. You still weren’t sure what happened there, but you knew that you definitely liked Jake's reaction. 

Jake stretched his legs out, completely relaxed. “You sound jealous, man.”

“Duh,” Jay said immediately. “We’ve been through so much, Jake, and you go and fall in love with someone else? Unreal.”

You choked. “Excuse me?”

Heeseung laughed and reversed out of the parking spot. “Damn. Jake you really haven’t asked her yet?”

You stiffened. “Because there’s nothing to ask.”

Jay turned back around, unimpressed. “Uh-huh. Sure. Y/N, you hang out more with Jake than I do, and I live together with him. I sure know when my homo-erotic lover is about to ask his loser best friend to be his girlfriend.”

Jake let out a low, dramatic sigh, tilting his head back against the seat. “Man. It’s so hard being this wanted.”

You smacked his arm. “Shut up.”

Heeseung laughed. “C’mon, you really expect us to believe you’re not together? Like, at all?”

“Yes!”

“Then what are you?”

Your mouth opened. Then closed.

Jake glanced at you, amused, like he was waiting to see what you’d say.

You inhaled sharply. “We’re just friends.”

Jay hummed. “Friends who go on, what, three dates a week?”

Jake shrugged. “Gotta make time for my favorite person.” 

And you said “We aren’t going on dates!”, at the same time. 

You snapped your head toward him. “Jake.”

He just smirked and you hit him again.

Jay and Heeseung groaned at the same time. “Oh, my God.”

You groaned back, louder. “Oh, my God, what?”

“Nothing,” Heeseung said, clearly not meaning it. “It’s just exhausting watching you guys be this in denial.”

You crossed your arms, fully exasperated now. “There’s nothing to be in denial about.”

Jay just shook his head. “Right, right. Tell me that again when you’re not literally sitting in his favourite hoodie.”

Your stomach dropped. You glanced down.

…Shit.

You were wearing Jake’s hoodie. That said nothing though. You wore them often. You had the talent to not bring weather appropriate clothing, mostly because your outfits wouldn’t look good if they were weather appropriate. You’d rather freeze than wear a ugly jacket.

Jake grinned, looking way too entertained. “I told you to bring your own.”

You kicked him and leaned forward. “Jongseong Park, are you seriously saying you don’t believe in cross-gender friendships? Psychologically, they’re crucial for emotional intelligence, breaking down gender stereotypes, and even improving romantic relationships. Anthropologically, they’ve played a key role in human survival!” You gesticulated between you and the two of them sitting in the front. ”Men and women have always worked together, forming alliances and strengthening social cohesion. So, like, without cross-gender friendships, we probably wouldn’t even be here. So maybe you should get some female friends first, to improve your social and emotional skills and not judge Jakeyboy and me because we can be friends without fucking each other.”

Heeseung and Jay just stared at you.

Mouths slightly open, eyes blinking slowly, processing the absolute monologue you just hit them with.

Jake, however, just grinned and leaned back in his seat.

“Man,” Heeseung said, finally breaking the silence. “I actually forgot you were smart.”

Jay whistled lowly, shaking his head. “Damn. And she’s hot too. Unbelievable.”

Heeseung turned to Jake, looking him up and down with newfound pity. “Bro. You do not deserve this.”

Jake scoffed. “Excuse me?”

Jay started the motor and shook his head dramatically. "Dude. You’re dating a nerd. I've lost my nerd to another nerd. I knew I was never enough for you."

"I'm not dating her!" Jake protested.

"You wish you were dating her," Heeseung shot back, grinning.

You nodded solemnly. “Jay’s the real loser here.”

Jake groaned. “You guys suck.”

Jay ignored him, shaking his head as if he was still in mourning. “I mean, I thought we had something special, you know? And then he goes and picks her?”

You sighed dramatically, shaking your head as if truly mourning Jay’s heartbreak. Then, with the most sympathetic look you could muster, you placed a hand on his shoulder. You were so glad for this distraction, Jesus. You were really not in the mood to explain to yourself and anyone else what the hell was going on with you and Jake. And why you were just walking hand in hand. Why didn't you let go even when you realized. 

“Oh, Jay,” you said, voice laced with faux pity. “I am so sorry you fell for him. I can assure you that he has not been cheating on you with me. I have way to high morals for that.”

Jay let out a deep, shaky breath, nodding solemnly. “It’s… it’s been really hard.”

Heeseung placed a comforting hand on his other shoulder. “Stay strong, man.”

Jay sniffled dramatically. “I mean, I thought we had something special, you know?” He gestured vaguely toward Jake, looking absolutely betrayed. “

Jake rolled his eyes. “You guys are so stupid.”

“Stupidly heartbroken,” Jay corrected, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye.

You hummed in agreement, tilting your head. “It must be painful, to think you lost your one true love to a woman who looks at dead bodies all day.”

“Exactly!” Jay threw his hands up in exasperation. “Like, what do I have to do? I’m young, I’m attractive, I come from money–”

“Yeah, but you don’t have weird hobbies,” you pointed out with mock seriousness. “That’s clearly where you went wrong.”

Jake scoffed. “Oh, so my hobbies are weird?”

“You monologue about black holes for fun, bro,” Heeseung said.

Jake scowled. "First of all, wormholes are a fascinating theoretical concept—"

"God, there he goes again," Jay fake-gagged, making you burst out laughing. 

You liked Jakes ‘weird’ hobbies. You didn’t particularly enjoy physics but if he could listen to you ramble about bone fracturing you could listen to his rambling about wormholes. It was really cute actually.

"You guys just don’t appreciate science," Jake huffed, crossing his arms.

"Not true," Heeseung said. "I appreciate science when it’s not being explained to me at 2 a.m. because some idiot suddenly had an existential crisis about black holes swallowing the Earth."

Heeseung leaned back in his seat, nodding in your direction. “See? This is what you could have, if you want to steal Jay's boyfriend.”

You just smirked, crossing your arms. “Well, Jay, if it makes you feel better, I would be treating him well. You know, take him out, hold his hand, maybe even listen to his little physics rants. Then he can home to you and treat you like the king you are and satisfy all your needs. I just learned that his preferred position is missionary.”

Jay gasped. “You’re gonna let him nerd out?”

Jake glared at you. “Don’t call it nerding out.”

“I am in love with a nerd,” Jay muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

"Oh, Jay," you clutched your chest like you were heartbroken for him. "I am so sorry. Falling for a loser like Jake must be so hard."

Jay nodded solemnly. "It is. The worst pain I’ve ever known."

Jake groaned. "You both suck."

"You love us," Heeseung and Jay said in unison.

Jake just slumped in his seat, muttering under his breath while you all laughed.

Almost two hours later you were laying on Jake's sofa bickering over what movie you wanted to watch today. You were scrolling through Disney plus while he was on the toilet when you saw two very familiar faces.

“Continue watching?”, you muttered and clicked on the picture just as Jake came back from the bathroom. “You started watching Bones?” 

Jake, dropped down on the sofa next to you, lounging with his socked feet propped up on the coffee table. “You said it’s the reason why you are the person you are now.” he said, stretching lazily. “Figured I’d see what the hype was about.”

Your mouth opened, then closed. You weren’t sure what stunned you more—the fact that he actually gave the show a chance or the fact that you felt weirdly… touched by it.

“And?” You folded your arms, giving him a pointed look.

He sighed dramatically. “It’s annoyingly good.”

A triumphant grin stretched across your face. “I knew it! I told you, you would like it!”

“Please just tell me they get together.”, he said resting one of his arms on the armrest behind you.

You pressed your lips onto each other and shook your head: “I will not spoil anything. You gotta watch Jakeyboy.” 

Jake scoffed, reaching for the remote. “Booth and Brennan are the most stubborn people on Earth. They’re practically begging to make their lives harder. They should just fuck.”

You just laughed.“I will say nothing. How much did you watch?”

He shrugged and pressed start on start. “Five seasons.”

Your jaw dropped. “Jake!”

“What?” He shrugged, grinning at your shock. “I got hooked.”

“You are insane.”, you shook your head. “Where did you find the time to watch five season in like seven weeks?”

“I mean I watched other stuff as well. But I tend to watch it whenever I am not eating anything? I don't really want to eat and look at a rotting corpse? I am normal compared to you.”, he shrugged and grabbed the blanket that was laying next to him, draping it on top of his and your legs. 

“Hey!”, you protested.

Jake was heading out of the business building, stretching his arms above his head as he stepped into the crisp afternoon air. The sun was out, and it instantly put him in a better mood. Maybe that had something to do with the fact that you had texted him earlier, asking if he wanted to go for coffee at your café—the one where you’d had your first date-not-date. He didn’t even have to think twice before saying yes.

You loved the sun, but between your major and the sheer number of hours you spent buried in your studies, you rarely got to enjoy it. So whenever the weather was decent, you made it a mission to drag him or one of your friends outside with you. He thought it was kind of endearing.

He was checking his phone, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he read your text you sent him during class when he suddenly heard his name being called: “Jake!” 

His head snapped up at the familiar voice. A man in a sharp suit strode toward him, laptop bag slung over his shoulder.

“Uncle Jungjae?” Jake barely had time to register what was happening before he was pulled into a firm hug. “What are you doing here?”

His uncle patted his back before stepping away, smiling knowingly. “Nice to see you too, son.” Then he lifted his laptop bag slightly. “I was invited to give a lecture on venture investing. Thought I might catch you while I was here. So surprise!”

Jake blinked. “Well, you got me.”

“Of course I did,” Jungjae chuckled, throwing an arm around Jake’s shoulders as they started walking toward the campus entrance. “So, tell me, how’s school? Hockey? Life? Your father mentioned you have some exciting news.” His eyes glinted with curiosity.

Jake stiffened slightly. Of course, his dad sent his uncle to poke around.

“Uh, yeah,” he said, keeping his tone casual. “Everything’s good. School’s school, hockey’s hockey. Same old.”

“And your girlfriend?” His uncle’s smirk was all-knowing. “Your father was very surprised when you told him you were bringing someone to the wedding. Or, well that you had a girlfriend at all.”

Jake forced a tight-lipped smile, heart sinking. Damn it.

“Ah, yeah. Y/N,” he said, feeling oddly hot under the collar. “We, uh, we’ve been together for a while now.”

Jungjae raised an eyebrow. “Really? You’ve been very secretive about it.”

Jake swallowed, choosing his words carefully. “I just… didn’t think it was a big deal. And, you know, my personal life isn’t exactly dinner conversation with my dad.”

His uncle hummed. “Well, I’d love to meet her. Without your dad present. He is going to intimidate that poor girl to no end.”

Jake had always been fond of his father’s younger brother. Unlike most of his family, his uncle was consistently supportive, kind, and easy to be around. He himself didn’t have any children but it was clear he was his favorite child in the family. 

Jake opened his mouth to stall when, as if on cue, he spotted you approaching from across the courtyard.

His stomach dropped. Shit.

You were walking toward him, unplugging your headphones, wearing one of his jackets you stole over one of the summer dresses he knew you loved. You really looked cute in it. Younger, not as sharp as you usually did. 

Thinking fast, he plastered on a smile and waved you over. “Y/N! Baby!”

Your brows knitted together for the briefest moment before your eyes flicked toward his uncle. Jake barely tilted his head in his direction and widened his, just enough for you to catch on.

A second later, you nodded slightly, your expression smoothing into something effortlessly sweet as you closed the distance between you two.

“Hi, Jakey.”

If Jake wasn’t currently fighting the urge to die inside, he might have cringed at how effortlessly you played the part. Instead, he just wrapped an arm around your waist, hoping his uncle didn’t notice how stiff he was.

His uncle looked very amused.

“Well, well,” he mused, shaking his head. “Now I see why your father was so shocked.”

Jake forced a grin. “Yeah, uh–Uncle Jungjae, this is Y/N.” He gestured between the two of you. “Y/N, my uncle.”

You turned to his uncle with a polite smile, offering your hand. “It’s nice to meet you, sir. Jake’s told me a lot about you.”

Jungjae shook your hand, his grip firm. “And yet, this is my first time hearing about you.”

You laughed lightly. “Well, Jake’s a man of mystery, I suppose.”

Jake nearly choked. Mystery? He was the least mysterious person on the planet.

His uncle gave a thoughtful nod. “That he is.” His expression softened, though, as he studied Jake. “It’s good to see you finally settling down.”

Jake exhaled, squeezing your waist in what he hoped looked like an affectionate gesture.

You handled the whole situation flawlessly. “Of course,” you said, bumping Jake’s side. “I had to whip him into shape.”

Jungjae laughed, patting Jake’s back. “I like her.”

Jake swallowed thickly, forcing another grin. “Yeah, me too.”

And maybe, just for a second, it wasn’t entirely a lie.

His uncle glanced between the two of you as if analyzing something before he started walking toward the exit of the courtyard. “I was just heading to my car. Walk with me?”

Jake hesitated, but you were already nodding. “Of course,” you said, looping your arm through his.

And just like that, you were walking beside him, your fingers trailing down his wrist before casually slipping into his hand.

Jake froze for half a second before forcing himself to relax.

It wasn’t weird. You’d held hands before. But something about the way you did it so naturally made his chest feel a little too tight. He squeezed your hand lightly, trying to focus on the conversation.

“So,” his uncle said as they walked. “Tell me, Y/N–how did you two meet?”

You barely missed a beat. “Through mutual friends.”

“And how long has it been?” Jungjae asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jake panicked for half a second before you replied smoothly, “A few months now.”

Thank god you could actually act your part out better than him. He was sure his uncle would see through every lie he would try to tell him. 

The older man hummed. “Interesting. Your father made it sound like it was much newer than that.”

You let out a breathy laugh, looking at Jake with almost sparkling eyes. He has never seen this facial expression on your face but he didn’t want you to stop looking at him. “Well, when he told his dad we just put a label on our relationship but we have been going on dates since around the end of last year.”

His uncle gave a slow nod. “I suppose that makes sense.” Then, after a beat, he added, “You’re studying forensic anthropology, right?”

You perked up immediately. “Yes! Jake mentioned that?”

“He did,” Jungjae said, glancing at his nephew, knowing very well that Jake never said anything about that. It must have been his father. “And he said you were very passionate about it.”

Jake found himself relaxing more and more as you started talking about your studies. You were always so excited about what you did, and it was hard not to get caught up in your energy. He loved listening to you rambling about your cases or whatever you thought was interesting. Huh, maybe his friends were right. You were a nerd. 

Even his uncle seemed to enjoy the conversation, nodding along and asking more questions. By the time you reached the parking lot, Jake had almost forgotten that this wasn’t real.

Jungjae stopped by his car and turned to the two of you with a warm smile. “I’m glad I got to meet you, Y/N. I can see why Jake’s so taken with you.”

Jake stiffened. Oh shit.

But you just smiled sweetly, squeezing his hand one last time before letting go. “It was really nice meeting you too, sir.”

Jungjae patted Jake’s shoulder. “We’ll talk soon, alright?”

Jake nodded, swallowing. “Yeah, of course.”

His uncle got into his car, and as soon as he was out of sight, Jake let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

You turned to him with a smirk. “Well, baby, that was fun.”

Jake groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I hate this.”

“No, you don’t.” You nudged him playfully. “Come on, fake boyfriend. You still owe me coffee.”

Jake shook his head but let you pull him along.

He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or deeply concerned that lying to his uncle felt so easy at the end.

You were listening to Kazuha excitedly talk about wanting to ride the biggest rollercoaster when a familiar voice called out.

“Yo, Y/N!”

Turning toward the voice, you spotted Jake, Jay, Heeseung, Sunghoon and their respective girlfriends walking towards your group. The moment Jays girlfriend saw you, she brightened. “Oh! Sakura, K! I didn’t know you guys were coming too!”

You met Jay's girlfriend briefly when you were having one of your movie evenings and she was very sweet to you. 

Sakura beamed, immediately hugging her. “We just got here not long ago!”

Meanwhile, K stepped forward, bumping fists with both Jay and Heeseung. “Been a while,” he said, grinning.

Jay smirked. “Dude, it’s been, like, two weeks.”

“Which is a while,” K shot back.

The group easily fell into conversation, exchanging hugs and greetings. Heeseung’s girlfriend was talking to Yunjin about a new book, while Sunghoon and Jake were talking to K, giggling like three small girls.

You shook your head with a small smile. 

At one point Jake slowed down his pace and walked next to you and Chaewon, just listening to the two of you talking about a class she already passed and you were currently suffering through. 

It wasn’t long before the others started eyeing the biggest, fastest ride in the park.

“You’re coming, right?” Kazuha asked you.

You gave her a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah… no.”

Jake scoffed from beside you. “Same.”

Sunghoon frowned. “Dude, you’re seriously not coming? Again?”

“You know I don’t do rides,” Jake said, crossing his arms. “It’s not my fault my body refuses to cooperate.”

“Oh my god, you get motion sickness,” you realized, looking up at him.

Jake groaned. “Don’t say it out loud.”

You laughed.

The rest decided to go and lined up in the queue without you, leaving the two of you alone. 

Jake slung an arm around your shoulder, watching your friends queuing up. “Guess you’re stuck with me for the night.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, what a tragedy.”

The two of you decided to walk around the carnival on your own, not wanting to be bored by waiting for your friends when the operator told you they would have to wait at least twenty minutes. 

Jake walked beside you, his arm still around your shoulder when he suddenly stopped in front of a game stand. “Oh my god look at those plushies. They look like a cheap badly made mini version of Layla. I am going to win one!”

You raised an eyebrow, eyeing the game. It was one of those classic carnival scams–the one where you had to knock over a pyramid of weighted milk bottles with a baseball.

“Oh, are you?” you teased, crossing your arms, leaning onto the booth next to him. “Because I don’t know, Jakeyboy, this looks kinda hard.”

He scoffed, rolling his shoulders like an athlete about to enter a championship game. “Have a little faith in me.” He winked for dramatic effect before turning to the booth worker. “Three tries.”

The first ball bounced off the bottles without even toppling one.

You barely stifled a laugh as Jake straightened his stance. “That was a warm-up.”

The second throw knocked over a single bottle.

Jake cursed under his breath. You bit your lip, watching his jaw clench in frustration.

By the third attempt, you were almost hoping he’d miss just to keep teasing him. But with sheer determination and possibly some anger, he threw the last ball with a little too much force, sending the bottles scattering.

“Yes!” Jake pumped his fist in the air before turning to you with the cockiest grin. The booth worker asked him what plushy he wanted and he enthusiastically asked for the beige dog.

He handed Jake the little dog plushy and he handed it to you. “Here. A token of my victory.”

You took it, grinning up at him. “Aw thank you Jakey. Are you sure you want to give me fake Layla?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, take her.”

With your new plushy secured in one arm, you let Jake guide you toward the food stands, where the smell of fried dough was practically calling your name. Within minutes, the two of you were sharing a funnel cake, tearing off pieces as you strolled through the festival.

At some point, Jake paused, squinting at you.

“What?” you asked, mid-bite.

He smirked. “You’ve got sugar on your face.”

Before you could wipe it away, he reached out, brushing his thumb against the corner of your lips.

You froze.

It was such a simple action, something so natural, and yet your brain short-circuited for a second too long.

Jake, on the other hand, seemed completely unfazed. “There. All good.”

You blinked at him. “You could’ve just told me.”

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” he teased, popping a bit of sugar-covered dough into his mouth like nothing happened.

You exhaled, shaking your head with a laugh as you kept walking, pretending your heart wasn’t suddenly hammering in your chest.

When you and Jake made it back to the ride, the others were mid-flight, getting tossed around like rag dolls. You both stood at the base, watching as Kazuha’s scream pierced through the air, while Jay, next to her, looked like he was regretting every life choice that had led him there. The ride finally came to a halt and your friends stumbled out, looking various levels of disheveled. Sakura’s hair was windswept, K was holding onto her for balance, and Heeseung’s face had gone a little pale.

Chaewon spotted you immediately, her eyes zeroing in on the plush dog. “Well, well, what do we have here?” She smirked, poking the dog’s nose. “Did Jakeyboy win you a prize?”

You held the dog protectively to your chest, shooting her a mock glare. “Don’t insult our child.”

Chaewon burst out laughing, clutching her stomach. “Your child? Hey guys, look! Y/N and Jake had a baby!”

Sunghoon grinned. “Wow, congrats on the new addition!”

Kazuha smirked, leaning over to get a better look at the plushy. “What’s its name?”

You rolled your eyes, playing along. “Sir Fluffington the Third.”

Jake snorted, nodding seriously. “Yeah, it was a tough labor, but we pulled through.”

The whole group erupted into laughter, and even though your cheeks were burning, you couldn’t help but laugh along. 

As the teasing about "Sir Fluffington the Third" died down, Chaewon suddenly grabbed your arm and tugged you a few steps away from the group.

“So.”, she said and hooked her arm into yours. “You and Jake, huh?”

You furrowed your brows. “What about me and Jake?”

“What do you mean what about the two of you.?” Chaewon swung your connected arms slightly as the two of you walked. “You two have been getting pretty close lately.”

You rolled your eyes. “We’re just friends.”

“Mm-hmm.” She hummed, clearly unconvinced. “That’s why he won Mr. Fluffington the third just now. Because you are just friends.”

You scoffed. “I think I’d know if there was something more than friendship going on between the two of us.”

Chaewon stopped in her tracks, turning to face you with an amused expression. “Would you, though? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like everyone else already knows except you.”

Her words made you pause. You and Jake had become pretty comfortable with each other. And you really enjoyed spending time with him. But that didn’t mean– Did it?

Chaewon grinned at your silence. “See? Told you.”

“Even if there was something between us, there is no chance that his dad would let him date me.” You swallowed hard, forcing a shrug. “Their relationship is… strained, and it makes things complicated. It’s not as simple as just asking each other out.”

Chaewon’s face softened. “Oh.” She paused. “I didn’t know. I am sorry Y/N.”

You nodded, relieved she accepted that answer without pushing for more. 

Chaewon nudged you lightly. “So, what? You guys are just dancing around each other, until his daddy gives you the yes?”

You let out a short laugh. “No. There is really nothing between Jake and me. We are just friends. I would have told you if it was more.”

Oh if she only knew.

Your group had unanimously decided that the Ferris wheel would be the last ride of the evening. It was almost midnight, and most of the festival-goers had already trickled out, leaving behind clusters of drunk students squeezing in one last round of fun.

You stood at the back of the line, chatting absentmindedly with Jay, Jake, and Sunghoon as the line moved forward. You were just about to follow Jay into the gondola he and Sunghoon were sitting down in when the ride operator suddenly stopped you and Jake.

“Sorry, you’ll have to take the next one,” the worker said, lowering his hand before either of you could step into the gondola.

Jay shot Jake a look so obvious you almost groaned out loud.

He didn’t even need to say anything. You knew what was happening here. 

With an exhausted sigh, you took a step back, standing beside Jake. The doors locked with a metallic clink, and you watched as it slowly ascended, leaving the two of you stranded on the platform.

The silence stretched between you until the next gondola arrived.

As the Ferris wheel lurched back into motion, you slid into the seat across from Jake, stretching your legs out slightly. Jake, however, rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable, before blurting out, “So… Jay wants me to ask you if you wanna be my girlfriend. Like, right here. Right now.”

You let out an exaggerated groan, throwing your head back. “I knew it. I fucking knew it. We would have absolutely fit into their gondola. Man, your friends are so noisy, Jake, it's unbelievable.”

Jake tilted his head, feigning innocence. “You mean they orchestrated this?”

“A hundred percent.” You shot him an exasperated look. “Chaewon also pulled me aside earlier, asking me what we have going on.’”

Jake snorted, shaking his head. “So, let’s do it then.”

You blinked. “What?”

He shrugged, switching seats so that he was next to you instead of across. The shift made the gondola sway slightly, and suddenly, the space between you felt a lot smaller. “Let’s just tell them I asked you. That I had this whole speech about how my dad doesn’t matter and how I love you and shit. I mean we at least know now that we do look realistic.” His voice was casual, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes as he leaned back against the seat, turning his gaze to the lights below.

You let out a dry laugh. “Oh, of course. And then I started crying and dramatically said yes?”

“I mean, you could cry. Would add to the believability.”

You huffed out a laugh, nudging his leg with yours. “Pretty sure I wouldn't cry over that, Jakeyboy.”

He smirked, but before he could respond, he jolted his chin toward something outside the window. You followed his gaze and, sure enough, saw Jay and Sunghoon’s gondola creeping up alongside yours at just the right angle to peer into yours.

“They’re watching,” Jake muttered.

A wicked idea bloomed in your mind. You turned back to him, voice laced with mischief. “Should we give them a show then?”

Jake blinked. “What do you mean?”

You tilted your head slightly, observing the way the carnival lights flickered in his dark eyes. He looked—annoyingly good, if you were being honest. Soft strands of hair fell over his forehead, and the warm glow of the Ferris wheel cast a golden hue over his features.

“Let’s kiss, Jake. If you were to really confess we would definitely kiss.”

The words left your lips before you could think twice about them.

Jake visibly swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his eyes flickered from yours to your lips, then back up. “You think this is a situation that requires it?” His voice was quieter now, a little breathless.

Your heart gave an unexpected lurch.

“This is a situation that demands it.” you corrected, ignoring the way your pulse thrummed in your ears.

You didn’t give yourself time to hesitate. You scooted closer, closing the space between you, and slowly lifted your hand to his cheek. You half-expected him to pull back, to laugh it off and tell you to stop being ridiculous. But instead Jake moved. He leaned in, closing the already small gap between you, and his hand lifted – hesitant at first – before settling against your jaw, his thumb brushing featherlight against your cheek. The warmth of his palm sent a strange shiver down your spine, rooting you in place as his lips met yours.

It was supposed to be just a kiss. Nothing more.

But the second his lips moved against yours, something in you faltered.

You had forgotten what kissing felt like. Or maybe, you had just forgotten what it felt like to kiss someone like this. Maybe you just also never have been kissed like this. 

Jake’s lips were warm, softer than you expected, pressing against yours with a kind of cautious certainty. His fingers curled slightly where they rested against your face, his touch sending a slow, unfamiliar heat creeping up your neck.

You didn’t even realize you had leaned into him until the gondola creaked slightly, shifting under the movement. Your fingers instinctively gripped the fabric of his jacket, pulling ever so slightly.

And for a fleeting moment, the world outside the small metal cabin disappeared.

No carnival. No friends watching from another gondola. Just the feeling of his mouth slanting over yours, his thumb tracing absentminded circles into your cheek.

Your lips still tingled when you pulled back. Your breath came just a little too fast.

Jake swallowed, his hand slipping from your face as if he had just realized where it had been. His eyes flickered across your face, lingering for a second too long on your lips before he cleared his throat.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The distant sound of the carnival buzzed around you, and the Ferris wheel continued its slow rotation.

You swallowed, trying to regain some semblance of control. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

Jake couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Yeah, it’s definitely... uh, not something I thought I’d be doing today.”

Your brain still felt scrambled.

“So was that a yes to my proposal to be my fake girlfriend until the wedding?”, Jake nudged your shoulder.

You rolled your eyes and hit him with Sir Fluffingtin the Third. “Go fuck yourself Sim.”

He shook his head and said with a serious expression. “Y/N, we already had that conversation. I need another person for missionary!”

You snorted and hit him again. “You are such a looser, Jakeyboy. But yeah if we can convince the others that we are unbelievably in love with each other until the wedding in two weeks then your dad should believe us as well, right?”

“I hope so.”, his gaze flickered back to Jake and Sunghoons gondola. 

When your gondola finally came to a halt, you took the chance to breathe, pushing the strange tension aside as you stepped out. The second your feet hit the ground, you felt like you had just snapped back to reality. Jake was right behind you, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket as you rejoined your friends.

Jay and Sunghoon were waiting and from the way their eyes flicked between you and Jake, they were definitely hoping for a post-ride recap.

You shot them a tight-lipped smile—the universal signal for don’t ask—before slipping away to where Kazuha and Yunjin were waiting.

The moment they stepped through the front door, Jake barely had time to kick off his shoes before Jay, Heeseung, and Sunghoon practically ambushed him “Alright,” Jay started, crossing his arms. “Talk.” “What?” Jake scoffed, trying to walk past them, but Heeseung blocked his path. “You know what,” Sunghoon drawled, leaning against the wall with an all-too-knowing smirk. “We saw you.” Jake’s stomach dropped. “Saw what?”

Jay rolled his eyes. “Dude, the kiss.” Jake opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it again. His brain was still partly fired. Jay clapped a hand on Jake’s shoulder, grinning. “So? You finally asked her out?” Jake exhaled, running a hand through his hair. He knew this was coming. He prepared for this. But still, something about the way they were all looking at him made him… hesitate. “Yeah,” he said finally, keeping his voice even. “I did.”

Sunghoon let out a sharp whistle. “About damn time." Jake forced a chuckle, even as something inside him twisted uncomfortably. “Yeah, yeah.” Heeseung nudged him. “So what did she say?” “She said yes.” The words felt strange on his tongue. Like a half-truth. Because technically you did say yes—just not in the way they all thought.

Jay grinned, shaking his head. “Man, I knew it. I knew she’d say yes.” Jake stiffened. “What?” “Come on,” Jay scoffed. “It’s so obvious. This girl looks at you with hearts in her eyes. The way the two act around each other is almost disgusting, Jakeyboy.” Jake swallowed and Jay narrowed his eyes. “Alright, walk us through it. What did you say?”

Jake exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean… what do people usually say? I told her I liked her, and that I wanted us to be together.” It wasn’t technically a lie. It just wasn’t the whole truth. Heeseung hummed, clearly unsatisfied. “And what did she say?” Jake shrugged, trying to play it off. “She said yes." Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? Just ‘yes’?”

Jake scoffed. “What, you want a full transcript?”

Jay grinned. “Yes, actually.”

Jake groaned, pushing past them to collapse onto the couch, but they all followed.

“Okay, fine.” He tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling like it held the answers. “She said she already knew you guys were orchestrating the whole thing and that it was really obvious.”

Jay smirked proudly. “You’re welcome.”

Jake rolled his eyes but continued. “And then I said something about how my dad doesn’t matter, and how I like her and all that.”

Sunghoon squinted. “Do you like her?”

Jake blinked. “I mean, yeah? I wouldn’t be dating her if I didn’t.”

That seemed to satisfy them for a second, but then Jay continued.

“And the kiss?”

Jake stiffened, suddenly hyperaware of the phantom feeling of your lips still lingering on his.

“What about it?”

Jay scoffed. “Dude, come on. How did it feel?”

Jake hesitated, searching for the right words, but the only thing that came out was, “…Good?”

Sunghoon snorted. “That’s it? Just ‘good’?”

Jake groaned, running a hand down his face. “What do you want me to say? It was nice, okay?”

Later that night, Jake lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts an absolute mess. What the actual fuck was happening? How did you agreeing to be his fake date for your exes weeding escalate into him being your “officially” your boyfriend in front of all your friends. Now, he had to keep up the act every time someone was around.  Jake exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. He was completely and utterly fucked. Because now he knew how your lips felt against his, how they tasted faintly like the sweet funnel cake and cigarettes, how your fingers skimmed over his skin so lightly it sent a shiver down his spine. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to stop replaying it over and over again. It wasn’t supposed to feel like that. It wasn’t supposed to leave him breathless, heart racing, craving more even after you had pulled away. This was supposed to be fake. 

It was supposed to be just for show, something to sell the act. But the second you had gotten close, the moment your fingers ghosted over his cheek, he had completely forgotten about the act. He had forgotten everything except how warm your lips were against his, how effortlessly you fit against him, how badly he wanted to pull you even closer. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Jake turned onto his side, gripping his pillow like it would somehow help him make sense of this. Pretending for a weekend? Doable. Pretending in front of your friends? A little more complicated, but still manageable. But pretending to himself? That was a whole different problem. So why the hell did it feel so real?

Not even 24 hours later the reason why everything had to at least look real called him.  Jake was toweling off his hair when his phone rang. He sighed and stared at the screen for a second before answering. “Jake.” His father’s voice was clipped, businesslike. “I’ve been looking into this Y/N girl.” Jake’s stomach dropped. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course, you have.” “I have to say, I’m not convinced she’s a good fit for you. Jake clenched his jaw. “And what exactly does that mean?” “She doesn’t… carry herself the way I expected,” his father continued. “Her parents might be working as doctors but she-” He exhaled sharply, like the conversation itself was tedious. “She is not exactly what people will expect from you.” Jake’s grip tightened around the phone. God forbid he date someone who doesn’t look like she walked out of a country club. “Not everything is about appearances,” Jake muttered, rolling his eyes so hard he was surprised he didn’t get a HD view of his brain. “I don’t know if this is the right choice for you.”

Jake gritted his teeth. “It’s not a choice. “Isn’t it? Do you think she is a good fit for you?”  Jake’s stomach twisted. What the hell does that mean? He wanted to ask, but he already knew he wouldn’t get an answer. His father was careful with his words, always just vague enough to sound concerned rather than cruel. But Jake knew what he meant. She’s not good enough.  Jake’s fingers dug into the fabric of the towel. His father continued. “You’ll be bringing her to a wedding where people will talk, Jake. You need to think about what that means. For you. For us.” Jake squeezed his eyes shut. This was exactly why he even considered the whole fake dating thing in the first place. To get his father off his damn back. But instead, he was just under even more scrutiny. Jake’s jaw clenched so hard it hurt. He wanted to tell his father to shut up, to fuck off, but instead, the words that came out were:

“I love her.” Silence. Jake could hear his own breathing, too loud in his ears. Where the hell did that come from?

His chest felt tight, his own words echoing in his head. But the moment they left his mouth, he knew. He knew. He wasn’t lying. He wasn’t saying it just to shut his father up. He wanted to mean it. His father finally spoke, voice unreadable. “Do you?” Jake swallowed. Yeah. Yeah, he did. It was terrifying. It was also the easiest truth he’d ever admitted. “Yeah,” he said, voice hoarse. Another pause. Then— “I hope, for your sake, that’s true.” And then the line went dead.

Jake stared at the screen, still gripping his phone, heart pounding in his ears. He had just told his father–of all people–that he loved you. And the worst part? He wanted to tell you too.

It had been almost 2 AM when your phone buzzed next to you, pulling you out of a deep sleep. Groggy, you reached over, squinting at the screen. Jake’s name flashed in the dim light. You rubbed your eyes and blinked, half-asleep.

Jakeyboy Are you awake?

You smiled a little, even though you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to be awake right now.

You Yes, now i am. What's up?

A beat passed, then another text came through almost immediately.

Jakeyboy Do you wanna get ice cream? At the GS25 in front of the campus

You frowned, pulling yourself out of bed. You glanced at the clock. 1:47 AM – well, there was no way you were going back to sleep now. You threw on a hoodie, grabbed your phone, and slid your feet into a random pair pajama pants. Your hair was still braided, messy from the day, but you didn’t care.  The GS25 was halfway between your dorm and his, and when you got there, you spotted him sitting on the curb already. He looked up when you approached, his eyes lighting up just a little bit. A small smile curled onto his lips. “You look cute,” Jake said, his gaze scanning over you with an easy affection. Your heart fluttered, but then you looked down at your pajamas and felt a little self-conscious. You couldn't help it. “Thanks,” you mumbled, suddenly feeling awkward about your unkempt appearance. Jake noticed the shift in your mood right away. “Hey, don’t do that. You really do look cute. I mean it.”

You tried to brush it off, offering him a small smile. “I’m just wearing pajamas.” “Well, pajamas look good on you,” he said casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world. You felt a little warmer at that. You both went inside and bought ice cream, then sat outside in front of the store. The cool air stung your skin, but it felt good, somehow. You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling comfortable, though the silence between you felt oddly thick tonight. Finally, Jake broke it. “My dad called,” he said suddenly, his voice a little tight. You pulled your head away slightly, looking at him, concerned. “What did he want?”

Jake didn’t meet your eyes, and you could see the way his jaw tightened. “He basically told me that he thinks you aren’t a good match for me.” He waved vaguely, his voice was tight, like he was swallowing frustration. “He was like ‘I expect the best out of her’. He expects you to be perfect, so that for the media we can play the picture perfect couple and family and shit. I hate it so much Y/N." Your heart sank. You wanted to comfort him, to tell him it wasn’t right, that he didn’t deserve that kind of pressure. But you didn’t know how to begin. Jake let out a bitter laugh. “Honestly, I don’t care. I’m just so tired of hearing it. I don’t want to be what he wants. I want to do what I want.”  It wasn’t fair, what his dad was putting him through. It wasn’t fair to expect Jake to conform to someone else’s vision of what his life should look like. Your voice was softer than you wanted it to be. “Jake, I—" He cut you off before you could finish. “I’m just saying, it’s not like this is all pretend. I mean... I really like you. You are one of my closest friends right now. You know that, right? And I don’t want him to actually hurt you when you meet at the wedding. He is going to be an asshole to you.” 'One of my closest friends' Somehow that stung a bit but you couldn’t help but feel touched by how much Jake seemed to care about protecting you, even in this mess of a situation. But the more you thought about it, the more confused you got.  Him saying you were a friend coudln't sting. It shouldn't.

"I get it." you said after a moment, trying to sound lighthearted. “It’s all good. You don’t have to worry about it. I am a big girl, Jake. If he talks shit to me i will politely talk shit back at him." Jake didn’t seem entirely convinced, but he dropped the subject. You both sat in the silence for a while, eating your ice cream.  “Jake…” you started, biting your lip. “What was your childhood like? You don’t have to tell me, but… I guess I never really asked and you tend to not talk about it.” Jake was quiet for a long time. So long that you almost regretted asking. Then, finally, he spoke. “I spent most of my time with my uncle,” he said quietly, his gaze distant. “He was the only one who actually cared about what I wanted. I think… I think he’s the reason I still have a little faith in family. He’s the reason I got into hockey and he convinced my Mom to convince my dad. He was always supportive. My mom is too, but sometimes I feel like her focus is more on Joshua than on me.” You could feel your heart ache at the vulnerability in his words, and you nodded slowly. “That’s really nice. I’m glad you had him. He seemed nice.” Jake smiled faintly. “Yeah. I love him a lot.” He paused, eyes drifting to the side for a moment. “I had a good childhood, overall. Just... complicated sometimes. But, I guess that’s kind of everyone’s story, right?”

You hesitated again, your fingers gently touching the edge of his hand. “Yeah,” you said, your voice quieter. “I think everyone’s got their own stuff they’re working through." Jake was silent again. You got up and tossed your trash into a bin nearby, giving him a moment to just think. When you sat down he put his head onto your shoulder. It had to be uncomfortable for him but he carefully took one of your hands, playing with your fingers. He almost startled you when he started talking again. “I never loved Sophia.”

You stilled. “I thought I did, at the time. Or well I wanted to.” He let out a humorless chuckle. “But looking back… I never felt all that shit people talk about. The butterflies, the excitement, the–whatever it is that makes people fall in love.” You didn’t say anything. You just let him talk. “I started dating her because I knew my dad would like it,” he admitted, his voice laced with something bitter. “And she liked the attention. We looked good together, so it just… made sense. My friends teased me about it, and I thought, ‘Maybe this isn’t stupid.’ Maybe it would shut my dad up for a second.” Jake exhaled, staring down at your hands and softly closed his fingers around yours. “But it was never real. Not for either of us. She liked the image. I liked the approval.” He let out a dry laugh. “She was still my first everything, though. First kiss, first… all of it.” He swallowed. “And then she cheated. With her best friend’s boyfriend.” Your heart clenched. You weren't sure what hurt you more back then. Sophia or Maruc's betrail. “You told me when you found out.” His voice was quiet now, distant. “And when I confronted her, she wasn’t even really guilty. She just… looked at me and said, ‘You knew this wasn’t real, Jake. We both did. And you know the worst part?” He lifted his head rom your shoulder and finally met your gaze. “My dad blamed me. He said it was my fault she strayed. That if I’d been a better boyfriend, if I had been more–” He stopped himself, his jaw tightening. You’d known his dad was awful, but this–this was worse than you expected. It was cruel. It was disgusting. Jake had been a kid, figuring things out, and his father had just used it as another way to tear him down. Another way to remind him he’d never be enough. “That’s not fair,” you whispered, your voice thick. You felt an ache in your throat, something dangerously close to anger. “That’s not fair to you at all.” Jake blinked, like he wasn’t used to hearing those words, and his brow furrowed in confusion, as if he didn’t understand why you were so upset for him. You tightened your grip. “You didn’t deserve that, Jake.” God, he really hadn’t. He was kind, funny, a little cocky but never mean. And he had spent his whole life trying to meet impossible expectations that only left him feeling like he was failing.

It was quiet for a long moment before you spoke again. "When I found out that they were sleeping with each other I felt my world collapse. Suddenly nothing made sense anymore. Marcus was my first too, in everything.", you focused your gaze on your intertwined fingers, softly squeezing his hand. "Sophia was what I thought was my best friend. I told her everything and I followed both of them like a little duckling." You chuckled bitterly. "I was so swooned by their world. Being rich and influential. Going to all these cool events. I didn't even realize that I hated every second of it. I did so many...things with Marcus that I am not proud of. Most of the stuff I really didn't want to do but I was young, stupid and I think I was in love. Those stupid butterflies betrayed me. I should have never been excited for anything I did with that asshat, but I was and in the end I was the one heartbroken."

You sighed dramatically, shaking your head again. "So I don't really think you missed out on much. At least you didn't get your herat broken in millions of pieces. " As as soon as the words left your mouth, you saw Jake’s face soften in a way that made your chest tighten. His eyes were fixed on you. He shifted slightly, leaning closer, and his voice was lower, gentler. “Wait... Y/N, what... what kind of things?” There was a pause, and you could hear the worry in his voice. “What did he make you do?” You blinked at him, caught off guard by the tenderness in his question.  You didn’t want to get into all of it – not with him, not now. You really wanted to leave the past in the past. So gave him a small, reassuring smile, though it was laced with a hint of sarcasm. “Nothing too crazy, Jake. Just... stupid stuff that I let myself be talked into because I thought I had to, you know? Smoking, drinking, sex when I didn’t even want to.” You shrugged, trying to keep the conversation light despite how heavy it really felt and focused your gaze on the streetlamp on the opposite side of the street. “Just... young, dumb, and in love.” "You didn’t deserve any of that," Jake murmured, his voice tight. His hand, still gently holding yours, gave you a small squeeze. “You deserve someone who sees you as more than a way to impress their friends or boost their image.” You wanted to say something lighthearted, to push this conversation into a safer territory, but for once, you didn’t have it in you. You just nodded, your fingers tightening slightly around his.

“I’m sorry,” he added quietly, almost to himself, as if he was blaming himself for not being there for you sooner. You felt your heart soften at his words, and you smiled faintly, squeezing his hand back. "Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault, Jake." You paused for a moment, then added with a light chuckle, “Besides, I'm not a delicate little thing. I’m fine." Jake sighed, his hand resting on his lap now, still close to yours. “I just... I hate that you went through all that. You didn’t deserve any of it. You deserve better.” His voice softened and you could feel those traitors in your stomach. Those stupid little butterflies whose only goal was to make you unhappy. "It's fine. Really. I didn't tell you this to make you worry about me. I just wanted to show you that you haven't missed out by not feeling all the things people feel when they are in love. Most of the time those nice feelings disappear and not so nice ones take their place. You were spared by not being in love with Sophia.", you chuckled and rested your head on his shoulder again. Trying to ignore your butterflies and all those things people feel when they were in love. You couldn't fall for Jake. You never wanted to feel the pain you felt when you saw Marcus and Sophia in his bed and everything that came after ever again.

The bar the team was celebrating their win in was busy, but not unbearably so. It wasn’t loud enough to be overwhelming, but still just enough to make your head ache slightly.  You sat next to Jake in your usual spot, both of you nursing beers, though neither of you were drinking fast enough to actually feel it. His arm rested lazily around your shoulders, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns against your sweater. You leaned into his side, letting his warmth seep into you, but it didn’t do much to shake the heaviness pressing down on you. Your mind kept drifting back to earlier in the day. You had been fine during the lab, steady hands and a clear mind as you did what had to be done. It was routine, nothing you hadn’t done before. Usually, you could detach. Today, you couldn’t. You and four other students were working on the body with respect and professionality. But as you peeled back the skin and bone, carefully exposing the delicate folds of the young boys brain, you felt nauseous. 

Jake shifted beside you. “You good?” he asked, his voice low enough that only you could hear over the bar noise. You exhaled through your nose, nodding automatically. “Yeah. Don’t worry about it.” Jake studied your face for a second longer. You gave him a weak smile and his fingers pausing against your shoulder. He squeezed your arm gently before taking another sip of his drink.

You were half heartedly listening and laughing along to what Beomgyu was telling Jake but your thoughts were still elsewhere. You knew the profession you chose was gruesome. Your parents had tried to prepare you for it, making you sit through forensic classes, pushing you to talk to actual forensic anthropologists, hoping you’d reconsider. But you were stubborn. You applied to every university that offered a forensic anthropology major, determined to prove that this was what you wanted.  And it was. You loved it. All of it. Well, almost all of it. Because sometimes, especially when you were handling kids, or what was left of them, you were forced to remember exactly what you were doing. Those young boys and girls, long gone, their skin cold, the smell of formaldehyde replacing what should’ve been Axe body spray or cheap drugstore perfume. Faces stripped of emotion, of laughter, of life. They had futures, or at least, they should have. They should have had years ahead of them, chances to grow up, to fall in love, to make mistakes. But instead, a single accident, an illness, or worse, a person had taken that from them. 

It made you appreciate your own life more. Made you hyper-aware of how fragile it all was. And yet, what were you doing with that awareness? You were fake dating someone. To appease his father.

In some way, weren’t you just wasting his time? Wasting your own? Time that could be spent with someone who would actually be there in the long run. Someone to grow old with. To adopt a real Sir Fluffington the Third, to plan holidays, to talk about kids, to buy a home together. Someone to come home to. Someone to share the weight of days like this. Your brain, unprompted and entirely unhelpful, supplied you with a picture. Jake. Or rather, an older version of him. The thought startled you, so sudden and so vivid that you nearly flinched.

Jake?

Why was it Jake?

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, watching as he laughed at whatever Beomgyu had just said. He wasn’t yours. He wasn’t meant to be yours. And yet, your brain had conjured up a version of him standing in a kitchen with you, handing you a mug of coffee in the morning, smiling at you like you were his favorite thing in the world. You shook the thought off. It didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t mean anything. You suddenly felt a bit like you were suffocating, the warmth of the bar, the buzz of conversation, even the way Jake was still absentmindedly playing with the hem of your sleeve. “I’m gonna go for a smoke,” you murmured, barely loud enough for Jake to hear over the bar’s noise.

Jake glanced down at you immediately. “Want me to come with you?” You shook your head. “No, it’s fine.” His brows pulled together, just for a second, before smoothing out again.  And because, apparently, this was a thing you did now, you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. You weren’t sure when it had started, exactly. In the week since the kiss until now you and Jake really leaned into the whole couply stuff, being a bit more touchy with each other. He was always touching you in some way, his arm around your waist, his hand on your lower back, his fingers brushing against yours absentmindedly. It was all too easy to let yourself get used to it.

Maybe it was necessary, given that in just two weeks, you’d be standing beside him at that god forsaken wedding, playing the part of a couple who couldn’t keep their hands off each other. To get his father off his case and to give a huge fuck you to your exes. You really hated his father. That man didn’t deserve Jake's respect and you have told Jake as much. since that one conversion at the GS25 you never missed any of his games. You send  him stupid memes or small messages to motivate him to win, to show him you were there to support him. And it worked until now. Not a single game lost. You’ve bought him so much food and pastries as congratulation gifts that you were glad he did as much sport as he did. Else he would probably be a bit round.  

But right now, you needed some distance. You needed air. And you needed a cigarette. Jake hated to see you smoking. So before he could change his mind and follow, before you could second-guess yourself, you turned and slipped outside. The night air was crisp, cutting through the warmth that still clung to your skin from inside the bar. You tilted your head back, staring at the sky, letting your eyes trace the constellations.

Life was so fucking fragile. You had known that for a long time, logically, clinically. It was something you studied, something you understood down to the very bones of it.  But today, it felt different. Today, you peeled back a boy’s forehead, carefully extracted the thing that made him who he was, and for the first time in a long time, it had rattled you. It made you want to scream. Because it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that someone so small, so young, could just be… gone. Reduced to an object on a table. A case file. A lesson. Your fingers twitched as you pulled a cigarette from your pocket, lighting it with practiced ease. The first inhale burned. It didn’t fix anything, didn’t quiet the thoughts clawing at your mind, but for a fleeting moment, it gave you something to focus on. The nicotine settled in your system, a dull sort of relief, just enough to take the edge off.

You needed to quit. You knew that. You had been saying it for years, but every time you thought about stopping, you hesitated. The craving wasn’t even the worst part. It was the way the cigarette felt like a pause button, a moment of stillness in the middle of everything. It was a shitty habit, and Jake hated it. He made that clear every time he caught you. You exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl toward the stars.

“You know he hates it when you do that.” The voice startled you out of your thoughts, and you turned to see Jay stepping outside, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. Your heart was still beating a little too fast from the surprise, but you scoffed, bringing the cigarette back to your lips. “You gonna give me shit about it too?” Jay shrugged, finally turning his gaze to you. “Nah. Just an observation.”

You huffed out a quiet laugh, though there wasn’t much humor in it. “Yeah, well. He’ll live.” Jay hummed, stepping closer. He leaned against the wall beside you, his eyes searching your face. “You’re quiet today.” You hesitated. The cigarette burned between your fingers, the nicotine was already settling into your bloodstream. You forced a small smile, tilting your head slightly as you took another drag.  “Just tired,” you said. “Long day.” You flicked the ash onto the pavement, watching it disappear into the cracks. 

Jay didn’t look convinced. His eyes lingered on your face, searching, and for a second, you thought he might call you out on the obvious deflection. It was annoying how good he was at reading people. At reading you. “Y/N-” “I’m fine, Jay,” you interrupted gently, offering him a softer smile this time. “Really.” He didn’t move, didn’t say anything right away. Over the last two months you had gotten close to Jay, through all the hours spent at the rink, at team dinners, at their dorm, at bars just like this one. And somewhere along the way, between all the forced proximity and the nights spent orbiting the same friend group, you and Jay had grown close too. Not in the same way you were with Jake, but close enough that he could read you just as well. Maybe even better.

That was the problem. Jay studied you, his hands still stuffed in his pockets. “Did you tell Jake?” You exhaled, watching the smoke curl upward, disappearing into the night. “No,” you admitted, flicking ash onto the pavement. Jay made a sound, something between disbelief and exasperation. “Dude.” You sighed, bracing yourself. “I don’t want to worry him." Jay let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. “That’s not how this works, Y/N.”

You glanced at him, catching the way his brows had pulled together, the tension in his jaw. He wasn’t angry, Jay never really got angry, but he was frustrated. You’ve spent almost a whole night talking to him, when the two of you decided to stay sober and watch over your friends. You told him there that you really hated doing that. Worrying people with your problems. Life was too short to worry, especially over problems that aren’t your own. “I’m fine,” you said, lighter this time, as if saying it enough would make it true. Jay’s gaze didn’t waver. “You don’t have to do that, you know.” “Do what?” “Pretend,” he said simply. “Not with me. Not with him. Especially not with Jake.” Something in your chest tightened, the words settling uncomfortably in your stomach. You swallowed, looking away. If Jay only knew. “It’s not a big deal.” Jay sighed again, lingering for another second like he wanted to say something else. But then he just shook his head and pushed off the wall. “Try not to take the whole pack down with you,” he muttered as he turned toward the door. You let out a quiet laugh, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “No promises.”

And then he was gone, the bar swallowing him whole. You stood there for another moment, the weight of his words pressing heavy against your ribs. And then, before you could stop yourself, you reached for another cigarette.

Jake was half-listening to Beomgyu and Soobin talking about a recent Eagles game when Jay slid back into their booth, leaning in close. “You need to talk to Y/N,” Jay murmured, voice low. “Something’s off with her. She wouldn’t tell me what’s up, so maybe you can use your boyfriend privileges to get her to talk?” Jake furrowed his brow, staring at Jay for a beat. He had noticed it too, how quiet you have been all night, how you lingered closer to him than usual. But he also knew you. He knew you hated worrying people with your problems. If he asked outright, you’d probably brush it off. You’d talk when you were ready. You always did. He figured something must have happened in the lab. Some cases were harder to stomach than others, and sometimes, the weight of what you learned stuck with you for a while. When that happened, you liked to process it alone.

But despite whatever was on your mind you still showed up for him. You always did. You had come to every home game for the past few weeks, watching from the stands like his own personal lucky charm. Jake hadn’t played a single bad game since you started watching. “I know,” he murmured, voice quieter than intended. “She’ll come to me if she wants to.” Jay didn’t say anything more. He just gave Jake a look that said he was doubting that and switched topic. A few minutes later, Jake flinched when cold fingers brushed against his arm. He turned quickly, half-hoping, half-knowing it was you. It was. You squeezed yourself back into the booth beside him, settling into your usual spot. Instinctively, his gaze swept over you.

You looked tired.

He felt bad that you were here. He knew Fridays were busy days for you. And yet, you still made time to come to his games and stick around for the post-game hangouts. The fact that you showed up, no matter how exhausted you were, meant more to him than he could put into words. When your eyes met his, something flickered across your face—an emotion he couldn’t quite place. “You good?” His voice came out softer than he meant, but it was the only thing he could think to say. You held his gaze for a second before offering a small, fleeting smile. “Yeah,” you murmured. “All good.”

Jake didn’t believe that for a second. But he didn’t push. Instead, he pulled you closer, tucking you against his side. His arm curled around your waist, holding you a little tighter than necessary. As Beomgyu and Jay started talking about an upcoming swim competition, Jake found his focus drifting. You shifted slightly in his hold, resting your head against his chest, and his thumb absently traced small patterns against your side. He took a slow breath and immediately scrunched his nose. The sharp scent of secondhand smoke clung to your hair.

He leaned forward slightly, lips almost brushing the shell of your ear. “You smell like smoke.” You sighed, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. There was something unreadable in your expression. Jake held your stare, his fingers tightening just slightly at your waist, trying to get you to stay here with him, to relax–even if just a little. “Yeah,” you murmured. “I was outside.”

Jake hummed, debating whether or not to scold you. He knew smoking wasn’t an everyday habit for you, but you tended to smoke whenever you were stressed or something was troubling you. He didn’t want to lecture you. Not right now. But then, before he could stop himself, his lips parted. “You should quit,” he said quietly. You looked away.  “I know,” you muttered, voice distant again. Jake exhaled softly, letting the moment settle. He wanted to say something else, to get you to open up, to tell him what was wrong, but before he could, Jay’s voice cut through the conversation again.

The night carried on, the noise of the bar a comfortable hum in the background, but Jake barely heard it. His focus had narrowed down to the warmth of you against his side, the way your body naturally leaned into his like it belonged there. Jay was saying something–laughing about something–but Jake wasn’t really listening. His attention flickered to you every few seconds, studying the way your fingers idly traced the rim of your glass, how you bit down on the inside of your cheek when you were lost in thought. Then the song changed. Finesse by Bruno Mars blasted through the speakers. The second the first beat hit, Jake felt his stomach twist. A chorus of cheers and drunken excitement filled the bar immediately, a wave of energy that swept through the room. It was a tradition, one that had been in place long before Jake joined the DA hockey team. Every time Finesse played, all the hockey players were expected to kiss their lovers. People made their way through the bar, searching for their partners.

"Fellas, grab your ladies if your lady fine." Jake’s grip tightened on your waist ever so slightly. It would probably look weird if he didn't kiss his girlfriend. He hesitated for only a second before he leaned in, letting his lips ghost over the shell of your ear. “It’d be weird if I didn’t, right?” You barely had time to react before he leaned in, slow and careful, like he was giving you a chance to stop him. But you didn’t. And something in him faltered at the absence of any hesitation on your part. 

His nose grazed against yours for a brief moment before his lips met yours. Soft and deliberate. It was gentle at first, almost as if he asked for permission again, and when you didn’t pull away, he deepened it slightly. His body responded without thought, the tequila on his tongue mixing with the faint taste of your cigarette from earlier. His hand slid down from your jaw to your throat, feeling the soft pulse there.

You shivered, and fuck.  That reaction alone had something deep in him stirring. He wasn’t supposed to enjoy this as much as he did. And yet, the second you melted into him, Jake felt something he’d never felt before. His stomach flipped, his chest felt too tight, and for the first time in his life, he understood what people meant when they said a kiss could leave you breathless.

When his hand traced down the curve of your spine, when his fingertips barely skimmed your skin through your thin shirt and you shuddered beneath his touch, he felt a rush of something hot and heady curl low in his stomach. So he did it again. Slower this time. Letting his fingers linger, tracing back up, taking his time. Another shiver. Another sharp inhale. Jake felt a stupid, giddy grin threaten to break through. Butterflies. He actually felt fucking butterflies.  Every little thing he did, every touch, every movement–he could feel it in the way your body leaned into his, how your breath stuttered against his lips.

He was fascinated. Completely and utterly hooked on the way he could pull those reactions from you with barely any effort. That realization alone made something snap inside him. He slid his hand back up your spine, fingers pressing into the nape of your neck, and the way you shuddered again had his breath catching in his throat. You melted into him, and it felt too easy. Too good. 

God, he was an idiot. Jake pulled away, his forehead resting against yours. He could feel your breath against his lips. “Please stop smoking. It’ll kill you.” The words were out before he could stop them, and he immediately regretted saying it. The seriousness in his voice didn’t feel right for the moment, but he couldn't help himself. He hated that you smoked. You looked up at him, and for a brief second, he thought he saw something shift in your eyes, something that made his chest tighten. His hand, still on your waist, slowly lifted, and he gave you space to push him away. But you didn’t. Your gaze met his, and he found himself unable to look away.

Shit, this was all kinds of messed up. Jake’s heart raced. He wasn’t sure what he was doing anymore, but he knew that in this moment, with your eyes locked on his, he didn’t care. He just wanted to be close to you, to feel the warmth of you, to drown out everything else in the world. Slowly, he lifted his hand again, this time cupping your jaw with his palm, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. His breath was shallow, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. 

His fingers curled at the nape of your neck, thumb grazing the edge of your jaw. He didn’t think. He just acted, pulling you into another kiss. He had kissed plenty of people before, but never once had it felt like this. Never once had it knocked the breath straight from his lungs, left his brain foggy and his chest aching with something unnameable. The kiss was slower. More deliberate. He kissed you like he wanted to learn you, like he wanted to savor every second, every movement of your lips against his. He deepened it just slightly, exhaling softly as he swallowed the small noise you made. 

You didn’t move away, didn’t push him off. Instead, you kissed him back just as slowly, just as deliberately. His thumb brushed your cheek again, slower this time, like he couldn’t help himself. And he really, really couldn’t. Your lips parted slightly, just enough for him to taste more of you, and fuck, he was done for. His chest felt too light, his stomach too full of something fluttery and warm. It was embarrassing, really. He was an athlete, a grown-ass man, and yet here he was, feeling like some love-struck kid who just got his first real kiss. He could’ve kept going. He wanted to keep going. His forehead rested against yours as he exhaled, trying to steady himself, trying to pull himself out of whatever the hell this was becoming.

Jake barely noticed Beomgyu approaching, barely heard whatever the hell his teammate was saying, because he was too busy trying to make sense of what just happened. Then, like nothing had happened, he was forced to turn away, to let go, to pretend. But even as the bar filled with noise again, even as he forced a grin and let himself fall back into easy conversation with Jay, the feeling of your lips still lingered against his. And worse? The breathless, giddy feeling still hadn’t left. And he knew, without a doubt, that he was in deep, deep trouble.

Your apartment was quiet, save for the soft hum of the city outside and the occasional creak of the building. Your bed was cramped, barely big enough for the two of you, but that was the least of your concerns. The heat from Jake’s body pressed against your back, his arms around you pulling you into his warmth, but you couldn’t seem to shake the cold feeling that had settled deep in your chest. You had thought that after a long walk, after getting tucked into bed, maybe you’d be able to sleep. But sleep wasn’t coming tonight.  Your thoughts circled around that damn brain, the weight of it, the fragility of life, the way it had been so small and delicate in your gloved hands. It wasn’t supposed to be like that. Kids weren’t supposed to die, to be handled like... like pieces of evidence. But that was what he had become.

This brain. The boy was someone. A person. Someone's son, someone's brother, someone's friend. He had been alive. He had thought and laughed and felt and dreamed, and now... nothing.  Jake shifted behind you, his breath warm on the back of your neck as he adjusted his position. His breathing had steadied out a while ago and you assumed he fell asleep. But his arm tightened around you, pulling you just a little close. "Hey," he murmured, his voice low and thick with sleep. "You okay?" You didn’t answer right away, pretending to be asleep. You couldn’t. You could barely hold back the tears that threatened to spill when you were on your own, but voicing out what was on your mind to Jake would surely open up the floodgates you called eyes. He was here so you wouldn’t do that, not to trigger you into doing so.

"Y/N," Jake said again, this time his voice was more awake, more alert. His hand slid up your arm, his fingers tracing the curve of your shoulder. "Talk to me." You sniffed once and blinked away a few tears. When Jake heard the noise he lifted himself onto his arm to look at you. You rolled onto your back, the tears welling up in your eyes as you stared at the ceiling, unable to look at him. "I—" You swallowed, trying to keep it together, but your voice cracked. "I held his brain, Jake." You could barely say it out loud without choking on it. "His... brain. Like, the thing that makes him a person. The thing that... made him alive." You let out a shaky breath. "I can’t stop thinking about it. That’s all I’ve been thinking about. That... he was just a kid. And now he’s gone." Jake was quiet for a moment. But then his hand moved again, his fingers threading through your hair gently, and his breath was steady against your face as he leaned in close.

"I don’t know how you do what you do," Jake said softly, his voice low but filled with a quiet admiration that took you by surprise. "But I know it’s not easy. And you don’t have to carry all that by yourself, Y/N." "How am I supposed to do this?" you whispered, voice barely above a breath. "How do people deal with this? When you see something like that and you just feel so helpless?" You sniffed again and wiped your eyes with the sleeve of your shirt. “He was killed by multiple kicks to the brain. Who could do that to a child, Jake?” Jake paused, his hand now resting on your side. His thumb brushed against your ribcage in slow, comforting strokes. He didn’t have an answer right away, and you didn’t expect one. But after a moment, he spoke again, his voice quieter than before. "I don’t know," he admitted, and there was something so raw, so honest about the way he said it that it almost made you break right then and there. "I wish I did. I wish I could tell you that there’s a reason why those people do what they do, but… I can’t. I don’t think there is." His fingers curled slightly against your side. 

"But I know you," he continued, his voice steady. "And I know that if there’s anyone who can handle this, it’s you. And I know that doesn’t make it easier, but it makes it matter. You’re helping people. You’re making sure those kids get their justice." You let out a shaky breath, your eyes finally drifting to his. They were soft in the dim light, dark with something unreadable. You searched his face, taking in the way his brow was drawn slightly, the way his lips were parted. "I don’t feel strong right now," you whispered. Jake’s lips twitched, just barely. "That’s usually when you are." For a while, neither of you spoke. You just breathed, just laid there, his fingers still tracing absent patterns along your ribs, his body still warm against yours. He was right. It wouldn’t get easier but at least you could find answers for the families in mourning and justice for the victims. 

"Thanks," you murmured. Jake shifted closer, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into him again. "Anytime," he whispered, his voice full of warmth. Eventually, your eyes grew heavy, exhaustion creeping in despite the thoughts still spinning in your mind. Jake must have noticed, because his hand moved again, brushing a strand of hair from your face before settling back against your waist. "Get some sleep," he murmured. "I’m right here."

Jake didn’t know what the hell was wrong with him. He’d woken up in your bed that morning, your back pressed against his chest, your breathing slow and steady as you slept. He should’ve rolled away, should’ve put some space between you, but he didn’t. Instead, he’d let himself stay there for just a little longer, his arm still draped over your waist, his fingers twitching where they rested against your stomach. And that was the first red flag. Because this – whatever this was – was supposed to be fake. It was supposed to be a means to an end, a temporary fix for a problem that had nothing to do with the two of you actually being together. But that didn’t explain the way he’d felt when you asked him to stay over last night. Didn’t explain the way something in his chest had clenched when he saw those tears you tried to hide.

It sure as hell didn’t explain the way he’d kissed you yesterday. How the taste of your lips was so addictive, it was the only thing he could think about all evening. He hated the tinge of the leftover nicotine on your lips but he loved how you reciprocate his kiss, letting him deepen the kiss. The combination of tequila and cigarettes being almost as addictive as the funnel cake and cigarettes was a few weeks ago.  The second red flag was that he didn't want to let you go. Maybe he was being a little overbearing, but he didn’t care. You complained the whole way to his physio appointment, groaning about how you had actual work to do and how you had no interest in watching him get his shoulder prodded and stretched, but he ignored you. He just grabbed your hand and tugged you along, keeping a firm grip to make sure you didn’t slip away.

And honestly? He was glad he did. Because the second his physiotherapist started explaining something about muscle recovery, you perked up. You went from grumbling under your breath to engaging in an actual conversation about anatomical shit that went completely over his head. Something about tendons and ligaments and how the body compensated for injuries—he wasn’t sure. But you were smiling, and you were talking like you actually enjoyed yourself. Jake sat there, half in pain, half in awe, watching you chat with his therapist while he was forced through another round of exercises. “You’re way too enthusiastic about this,” he muttered between clenched teeth as he pushed through another painful stretch.

You just grinned, arms crossed as you leaned against the wall. “I just think it’s fascinating.” Jake shot you a glare that didn’t hold much weight, but deep down, he was relieved. He didn’t know if you were actually feeling better or just putting on a good front, but at least you weren’t curled up in bed, lost in your own head. That was a win. After physio, he didn’t give you a chance to slip away. He dragged you to lunch, steering you toward a small, homey restaurant owned by a sweet old woman who always snuck him extra food. “You literally didn’t have to make me come here,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him as you picked at your plate. “Didn’t I, though?” he shot back, stuffing a dumpling into his mouth. You rolled your eyes but kept eating, and Jake counted that as another win.

By the time you both made it to his dorm, you were still insisting that you needed to study. He glanced at you from where you sat at the other end of his couch, your laptop balanced on your lap as you tried to study.  "You’re staring.", your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he blinked, realizing that, yeah, he had been staring at you. Your eyes didn’t leave your screen, but he could see the ghost of a smirk playing at your lips. "You look like you're about to pass out from boredom," you added. Jake huffed, leaning over to shut your laptop. "Not bored. Just done watching you pretend to study." You glared at him, but there was no heat behind it. "Some of us have degrees to earn, Jakeyboy."

"Some of us also need to take a break before they burn out," he countered. You rolled your eyes but didn’t fight him when he tugged the laptop out of your grasp and set it on the coffee table. Instead, you shifted, pulling your legs up onto the couch and reaching for the blanket draped over the back. Jake barely hesitated before shifting, too, letting you settle against his side as he grabbed his phone again. And that was the third red flag. Because he wasn’t thinking about how fake this was supposed to be. He wasn’t thinking about how this wasn’t part of the plan. He was thinking about how easy it was to be with you like this, how natural it felt to have you curled up against him, warm and soft and real.

Jake swallowed hard, his grip tightening slightly around his phone as he forced his attention back to the screen. He scrolled aimlessly through TikTok, but it didn’t matter what he was looking at.  "You're quiet," you murmured, and he turned to see you watching him, brows drawn slightly. Jake forced a smirk. "Enjoying the peace while it lasts." You rolled your eyes, nudging his leg with your foot, but he didn’t miss the way your expression softened after a second. "You don’t have to babysit me, you know." He frowned. "I’m not–"

"You totally are," you interrupted, your voice light but pointed. "I’m fine, Jake. Really. This happens once in a while. You know I do work with some sad stuff." Jake studied you for a moment, and maybe you thought that would be enough to convince him, but it wasn’t. He could still hear your voice from last night, the way it cracked when you told him about that kid. He didn’t say anything, just shifted his arm so it was draped more securely around you, pulling you in just a little closer. And you let him. And that was the biggest red flag of all.

Thank you so much for reading! Lots of Love, Patty CONTINUE ON READING --⟢ PART 2 all feedback and reblogs is welcome ⭑.ᐟ ⤷ if you liked this you might also like the rest of this series ⭑.ᐟ

ᝰ taglist. @firstclassjaylee @enhaprettystars @vantxx95 @stormy1408 @fancypeacepersona @jaylvrsworld @xylatox @bluxjun @sumzysworld @outroherrr @50-husbands

ᝰ an. part two is in the works and will be coming soon! I hope you all are excited for some heavy angst and fluff nonetheless! I also hope that I didn't make any mistakes when I copy pasted the fic in here because I had to literally go scene by scene and edit every text block :,( ₊ ⊹  

[sangwookisser]

☆ALL IN - THE SALESMAN☆

cw: dumbification, degradation, praise, bondage, manipulation, mean man, naive! reader, fem reader, use of girl, piv, knife play, blood, age gap, reader is in college, not proofread

Things for you had been painfully mundane since you came to South Korea.

The dream of studying abroad felt like a distant memory now, overshadowed by the crushing weight of student loans, the mounting rent for your tiny, damp apartment, and the gnawing guilt of having asked your parents for help more times than you cared to admit.

You'd been blinded by the shiny promise of a new life, a promise of mastering a language, soaking in vibrant culture, and making lifelong friends. The glossy brochures and campus videos hadn’t prepared you for the harsh reality of your endless part-time job that barely covered utilities, let alone anything fun or remotely exciting.

Instead, you're dodging calls from the bank, turning down invitations to go out from classmates because you can't afford a coffee, and rationing cup noodles and shitty canned food to try and make it to your next payday without starving.

Tonight was no different. A long shift at the convenience store had left your feet aching and your mind clouded with worry about how you’d manage next month’s tuition installment. You were on your way home, the subway platform dim and almost eerily quiet.

Then, like clockwork, your string of bad luck reared its head: the train you’d been sprinting for slid away with a hiss, the doors snapping shut in your face just as you reached the edge of the platform.

You curse, doubling over to catch your breath. Your voice echoed, but no one cared enough to glance your way. You slumped onto the nearest bench, the cold metal biting through the thin fabric of your tacky work pants. You bury your face in your hands, wondering where it all went wrong.

Raising your head, your reflection in the train station's grimy tile wall looked as defeated as you felt—messy tendrils of hair escaped your ponytail, your makeup patches in some areas, and there was a hole in the sleeve, one you kept telling yourself you’d fix but never did.

The cold silence of the station was broken by a soft, measured voice.

"Hello."

You blinked, startled, and looked up to see a man standing a few feet away. He was dressed impeccably, a dark suit fitting him perfectly, his posture relaxed but poised. His voice was calm, almost soothing, like he had all the time in the world to talk to someone as unremarkable as you.

You didn’t answer immediately, caught off guard by his presence. Who even approached people in subway stations like this? But there was something disarming about the way he smiled—not overly friendly, not threatening. Just calm.

Dangerous.

The man studied you for a moment, his head tilting slightly. In his mind, he noted how exhaustion clung to you, from the slouch of your shoulders to the defeated look in your eyes. Still, there was something quite captivating about you—maybe the soft, shiny hair framing your face, the long lashes shrouding sparkling, wide eyes, or the way defeat lit up your features just a moment ago when you cursed at the train. He tilts his head, still staring.

Pretty, he thought briefly, but he said nothing of it.

"You’re a foreigner, aren’t you?" he asked smoothly, his tone making it sound more like an observation than a question.

You stared back at him, swallowing thickly. He was the kind of handsome you didn't often see. It seemed untrustworthy, like his looks were meant to lure you into a false sense of intrigue. His dark hair is slicked back perfectly, and he's smiling lightly, though it doesn't seem to meet his eyes.

You hesitated but nodded, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. "Yes sir. I’m not from around here."

He let out a hum of understanding, and he can't deny the heat that spreads through his body at your breathy voice and the way you call him sir like he's superior to you. "Ah, that explains it. You have the look of someone far from home." He gestured to the empty bench beside you. "Mind if I sit?"

He didn’t even wait for an answer, lowering himself onto the edge of the bench with an easy grace, his briefcase resting neatly at his feet.

"What brings you here?" he asked, his tone still conversational, like he wasn’t prying but genuinely curious.

"School," you muttered, feeling oddly self-conscious under his calm gaze. "I’m studying here. Well, I was supposed to be studying here, mister. Things haven’t exactly gone as planned."

The man nodded slowly, as though he understood far more than you were saying. "It can be hard, being so far from home. I imagine it’s not easy. Are you on your own?"

You frowned, the vulnerability in his words hitting a little too close to home. You told him the truth before you realized how dumb it was to tell a stranger that you've got no one around who's looking out for your safety. "Yeah, b-but… I’m managing," you said, though even you didn’t sound convinced.

He nodded, still smiling. Somehow it felt both genuine and calculated. Your head was swimming. Was this a result of going so long without any real human interaction?

He leaned forward just slightly, resting his forearms on his knees. His fingers brushed against your sleeve—light, fleeting, casual. The kind of touch that could easily be dismissed, but still made you notice.

"So," he continued smoothly, sliding his fingers lightly through the hole in your sleeve, and he tuts softly. Mockingly. "What are you supposed to be studying?"

"Why does it matter?" you replied, feeling a little defensive, like you had to justify yourself. "Just... psychology. I wanted to study the mind."

“Psychology,” he repeated, his lips quirking up in an impressed smile. “Brains and beauty. Now that’s a combination.”

You stared at him, unsure whether to be flattered or suspicious. The way he looked at you made you feel oddly self-conscious, like he was dissecting every little detail—your messy hair, your tired eyes, even the nervous way you shifted in your seat.

Neither of you speak, and his hand brushed back and forth against your wrist, just long enough to feel deliberate. He notes how soft your skin is, and he looks into your eyes as he speaks again. "So tense. I’m not here to interrogate you. Just making conversation."

You flushed, unsure why your pulse suddenly felt faster. "What do you want?"

His smile widened, smooth as silk. "Maybe I just wanted to brighten your evening. You seemed like you could use some company."

Despite yourself, you let out a breathy laugh, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, well, company doesn’t pay my bills, sir.”

"True," he said, leaning closer now, his tone dropping into something almost conspiratorial.

He wasn't supposed to be doing this. As a recruiter, there were unspoken rules about boundaries. A certain level of professionalism was expected—stay detached, keep the interactions brief, and never get personally involved. But you had caught his attention in a way most didn’t.

Perhaps it was the way in which your soft, wide eyes looked pathetically exhausted, the way your lips pursed and looked chapped from the way you'd worry them between your teeth, or the mild distrust in your tone. He hadn't even asked you to play his game yet.

Whatever it was, he found himself intrigued.

“I don’t usually do this,” he said, his voice dipping into a low, almost intimate tone. His eyes stayed on you, his gaze steady but not overbearing. “But why don’t you come back to my place? It’s quieter, and I promise we can converse much better.”

You blinked, startled by the casual audacity of the offer. Your instincts screamed at you to say no, and despite the faint blush creeping into your cheeks, you managed to find your voice.

“I… don’t think that’s a good idea, sir.” you said lightly, trying to brush it off without making things awkward. “Thanks, though.”

He lets out a soft laugh, leaning back and sliding his hand out of your sleeve so he can take a lock of your hair around his finger, twirling it absentmindedly. He hummed softly, his lips curling into a sly smile.

“Smart girl,” he murmured, leaning close. You avoided his eyes, feeling a mix of embarrassment and unease at how easily he read you. His fingers grazed your thigh, light and fleeting, like it was the most natural thing in the world. The touch sent a shiver up your spine, and yet you didn’t pull away.

He leaned in closer, his presence wrapping around you, the faint scent of cologne mingling with the crisp chill of the subway air. “You’ve got that sharp mind of yours working overtime, don’t you?”

“You’ve been pushing yourself so hard,” he continued, his voice laced with a mix of admiration and something softer, almost indulgent. “You remind me of someone trying to outrun the tide. It’s admirable, really, but how long can you go, all on your own, sweetheart?”

You swallowed hard, his words hitting you in a way you hadn’t expected. He made it sound so effortless, like he saw through every wall you’d carefully constructed.

“And look at you,” he cooed, his fingers trailing down to your wrist, brushing against your skin with a touch so light it was almost maddening. “Still standing, still fighting, even when it feels like the whole world’s against you.”

There was a beat of silence, and then he leaned in just enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek. His tone dropped, intimate and conspiratorial. “But maybe it’s time someone took care of you for a change.”

Your breath hitched, your chest tightening as his words wrapped around you like a cocoon. You weren’t sure if it was the way he said it, or the way his eyes seemed to pierce right through you, but something inside you started to unravel as arousal builds.

He tutted softly, his hand trailing lazily between your legs, spreading them apart softly. You flush, your face warming even more as you start to feel the thin cotton of your panties dampen. It's been so long. You haven't had anyone touch you like this in months. “Such a pretty little thing, aren't you?” he asked, his fingers tracing an idle pattern along the clothed slit of your pussy. “Even like this—tired, worn out. There’s something about you.” He smiled, almost to himself, his tone turning ever so slightly condescending. “Bet no one tells you that enough, do they?”

Your breathing quickened, a shaky whimper leaving your lips. You're still unable to meet his eyes. “It’s a shame, really. A girl like you deserves to hear it. Deserves to feel it.”

You bit your lip, every rational thought in your mind warring against the way he made you feel. Warm. Seen. Desired. He continued to drag two fingers up and down the soft plump lips of your pussy, and you moan, toes curling in your worn sneakers

“You’ve been running yourself into the ground,” he said, his voice honeyed and soft, like he was speaking to a child in need of reassurance. “You don’t have to do that tonight. Let me be the distraction you didn’t know you needed.”

His free hand grazed your jaw, tilting your face slightly toward his. His eyes locked with yours, and his smile deepened, almost triumphant. “Just for a while. Let go of all that stress. Let someone else carry the weight.”

You exhaled shakily, your resistance crumbling as his words seeped into the cracks of your exhaustion. When you finally nodded, your agreement was barely more than a whisper.

“Good girl,” he said softly, his voice dripping with approval. He stood then, extending a hand to help you up, his touch lingering just long enough to make your pulse quicken.

"F-fuck..."

It'd happened more quickly than you'd expected. You didn't even get to have drinks before he'd had you up against the door of his clean, sterile apartment. It didn't look like anyone lived there, from the faint chemical scent it carried and the way the furniture looked unused. His lips were on your throat, one hand pulling your hair back to keep your neck exposed and the other undoing your pants. "You're swearing at me now, are you?" He tuts, leaving a sharp nip against the column of your neck. "That's far too crude for a little girl like you. Where did your manners go?"

You whine at his condescending tone, and he shoves your panties to your ankles along with your pants. He laughs as he palms your pussy. "So wet already, pet? How eager. You're making it too easy for me." He has a finger in you before you can even defend yourself, and he pumps in an almost bored, haphazard fashion, like he's doing a chore. He curls the digit, laughing softly when you scream as he digs the tip of his slender finger onto your sweet spot.

"Pathetic." He breathes. "Did it even occur to you that we haven't exchanged names? You're no better than the whores men pick up on the side of the street. Except that you're a great deal cuter than any prostitute." He pushes two more fingers in one go into your sopping hole, and you wail, your legs beginning to shake at the unfamiliar intrusion.

You hiccup, tears building at your waterline as he drags the pads of his fingers along your walls, his other hand tugging your hair back sharply. He smiles sweetly, pecking your forehead tenderly, before he undoes the buttons of your uniform top, tossing it to the ground, and your bra shortly after.

Your head swims, and you start to register what's happening, and he gives one of your tits a fondle, rubbing his thumb over your pebbling nipple before shoving his face back into your neck and inhaling. "Jasmine and vanilla." he sighs. "How intoxicating. Do you know what you do to me, you silly girl? It's as though my brain has shut off and all i feel is you. I'm not fond of it." He pumps his fingers more firmly inside you, and you moan, trying to grab him and tug him in for a kiss, but he tuts and pushes you back.

"No no. Sluts like you don't get privileges like kissing. They get used." And with that, right before the delightful release of your orgasm, he tears his fingers out from inside you. You let out a sob, before he laughs and mocks your pout, giving your cheek a light slap. He's still fully clothed in his suit. He picks you up swiftly, tossing you over his shoulder and putting you on his huge, cold bed in a room that looks more like an office than a living space, and he tears off his tie.

"Mmm, n-need you, hu-hurts." You beg weakly, feeling so stupid for babbling like a child. Again, he mocks your cries. "It hurts, sweetheart? You're being so greedy. Don't you know you're supposed to wait for your turn?"

You pout, hands reaching for him, which he pushes back and pins above your head, tying them quickly to his bedpost. You keen, writhing on the mattress with displeasure. "You know, I'm really tired of your groveling. You've been nothing but a brat since I brought you here. I miss the shy little thing who couldn't even look me in the eye at the subway. He gives your clit a light pinch, rubbing the heel of his hand against your cunt. Not enough.

"Pl-Please." You beg out, your voice high pitched and broken "I n-n- hic need y-your cock in me, mister, need it."

He hums softly, his thumb on your clit and palm on your dripping cunt as he stares into your pretty eyes, glassy with blown pupils.

"Aw. Is that supposed to convince me?" He shakes his head, dark hair falling beautifully into his eyes. "Why don't you try a little harder?"

"I... I'll... l-let you do anything to me. A-anything y-you w-want, if y-you p-put your cock in me."

His eyes light up as soon as you say it. "Anything, you say?" He pauses his movements, and you whimper at the lack of stimulation. He says no more, simply unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging off his suit jacket, tossing both to the floor. Then, he's unbuckling his trousers. His boxers are slightly damp, and a fat bulge causes the fabric to strain. Your mouth waters at the sight of his sleek abdomen, toned and pale, lacking any imperfections. You want to touch. He coos at the way your eyes sparkle.

"Where's the attitude now, sweet thing? Aren't you the cutest." He finally frees his cock, long, thick, and swollen. His balls are heavy, full, and sit pretty at the base of his veiny shaft. The tip is flushed, and he smirks at the way you marvel at it. You strain slightly, aching to touch, taste, feel. But he won't let you. Instead, he wraps a hand around your throat and smirks, grabbing something from a drawer by his bedside table. Sleek, clean, sharp.

Your blood runs cold.

"What? Scared?" He says, distracting you by sliding his tip up and down your dripping folds. "Shouldn't speak before you think then, pretty little whore. Now." He slides the bulbous tip of his cock inside you, and your back arches at the intrusion, a whiny moan leaving your throat. Beads of sweat drip down the valley of your breasts, and he marvels at the sight, but he doesn't move. In fact, as you buck your hips towards hip, trying to ease more of his cock inside you, he remains deathly still, instead, putting his blade flat against your throat.

You blink, your lips parted. He rocks his hips slightly, stretching you out further by pushing an inch of his cock in you, before he pulls out quickly, and re-enters, putting only his tip in you once more.

You're going crazy. He buries himself inside you to the hilt in one smooth thrust, a soft bulge forming in your tummy from how big he is inside you. You whine loudly, tongue lolling out of your mouth as drool gathers at the side of your mouth, tears spilling down your face. He laughs at how fucked out you already are, a soft grunt leaving his lips.

"Haa, s-so tight... fuck." He starts, unable to resist thrusting in and out a few times, your pussy too wet and too warm to resist the temptation. "You're mi-milking me dry... can barely move inside you."

It's like you were made for him, your gummy walls perfectly stretched out to cling to every last vein and ridge on his cock. Then, he gathers himself again and draws back, leaving just his tip inside you.

Again, you sob in frustration. The world around you spins, and you swallow dryly, pulling at the tie scraping softly against your wrists.

What a stupid little thing you are. He rocks a few inches of his cock inside you teasingly, his thumb pushing down on your clit again while his other hand holds the knife flat against your throat. You stare at him nervously, shaking as he starts to drag the cool metal down your body, and he frowns as you squirm. "Hold still." He commands, but you don't, and he pinches your nipple as punishment, pushing half of his cock in you. Distracted, you pant and moan, and he thrusts inside of you repeatedly, making your head swim. He's loud, groaning and moaning at the way you cling to him with your sloppy walls, your sticky juices coating his cock as he fills you to the hilt.

"Clinging to me so tight." He breathes. "Does the thrill of the pain excite you, princess? I'll show you how it can be." And with that, he cuts into your soft little tummy, right above where your stomach distends from the bloated head of his cock hitting every inch of you.

Moaning, the pleasure and pain makes your head swim, and the coil of an approaching orgasm builds in your stomach. you can't see what he's carving into you, but you feel too good to care. "S-so... g-good," You choke out, hooking your legs around his waist as he grabs your hip with one hand and angles your body up, causing the tip of his cock to kiss your cervix. You scream, letting go as you soak his cock with your cream, and he moans, pounding into you like an animal. He reaches between your legs and gathers your liquids, along with the blood on your stomach, and shoves his fingers into your mouth, so deep that your eyes roll back as the floaty feeling of your orgasm remains. He throws his head back and moans at the way your pussy clings to him when you continue cumming, and he considers pulling out for a moment to cum on your tummy, but with your legs wrapped around him, its clear there's only one place you want him to finish.

"Ahn, please... P-please, i-inside me, sir, want it s'bad" You slur around his fingers, and that's all he needs as he spills rope after rope of hot, thick seed deep inside you, right into your womb, with how deep he is. He takes his fingers out of your mouth and drags your hips to him so you're flush against him, and he fills you up, fingers digging into your sides.

He stays there for a moment before pulling out, letting his cum drip from your weeping, stretched hole, and he smiles and leans down, pressing his lips to your firmly, tasting your liquids on your tongue. His tongue enters your mouth, and he swirls his around yours, getting hard all over again from your taste, and he pulls back before it becomes too much. He smirks down at your fucked out expression, wiping sweat off his forehead as he admires the mark he'd cut onto you.

A pretty little heart for the girl who'd stolen his.

[matriarchjojo]

" HOT MODEL SEX. " | BONTEN VERSION

starring! : mikey, sanzu, ran, rindō, kakucho, koko, takeomi

warnings! : 18+, actual corruption, reader smokes, petnames (good girl), drunk sex, anal sex, oral, really long

a/n! : This is an alternative to the first model!reader fic, this time with bonten (there's also gonna be a part two of this one)

The guys did a lot of things

Drugs, murder, theft, gambling, more drugs and

Going to fashion shows.

It's mostly just to wind down and be social..plus the men are fashionable, it's just a thing that comes with being born in Tokyo. It became a ritual, whenever one of their favorite designers did a show and there was nothing important to do that other people couldn't do, they would check it out.

They'd sit in the front while photographers huddled the very front of the stage.

The haitanis and koko enjoyed these shows the most, especially the Versace, dior and dolce shows. Before every show started, they'd look through the small brochure they'd give out, showing the clothes and, of course, the models.

There was this one beautiful, gorgeous, sexy, elegant, fierce model that caught their eye everytime. They've seen her already many, many times, and that model was you.

Your legs, your walk, your hips, and your face. Your very presence made these cold men feel something again, admiration.

Sanzu was high as fuck at all the shows, having just done a few lines in the bathroom but no matter how dazed he was, he'd always took notice of you..being high made you somehow even more ethereal. You looked like an angel, like a holy vision.

"Oh..she's here again," Ran mentioned, reading the brochure, staring at the picture and tilting the thin pages to show his brother, rin immediately smiled before taking a drag of his cigarette.

The anticipation of you arriving on the runway was like foreplay, but when you appeared in skimpy clothes, showing off that sexy body of yours, walking with purpose and confidence made these men horny. Even mikey, he just liked that menacing aura around you, especially when you wore that heavy smokey cat eye that made your eyes look like daggers, ready to kill.

The men would notice the looks you'd give them, and only them. Sometimes, even sly and sexy smirks when you wouldn't be dead focused on the way in front of you. You recognized the men, of course you did. It's hard not to notice them. They were admittedly flashy and attractive men. You had no idea what horrible and dangerous men they actually were, though..

One fateful after party with your co worker's and fellow models, drinking champagne in a tight black mini dress, you spotted the men from the show at a table, smoking and drinking. Eyes set on you.

With your mind a little buzzed and feeling extra sexy, you thought you might excuse yourself and go outside for a smoke, but not before walking past their table and smiling at the two lilac haired men.

You were standing outside on your Louboutins, feeling the cold night air hit your hot skin. You heard the door open and sure enough..

It was the two men.

they were walking right up to you. as you put your cig between your glossy lips, they both held up lighters next to you. You eyed them up and felt a shiver up your spine. You smirked and leaned forward to let one of them light your cigarette.

"The show was fabulous tonight.." the taller one said before holding out his hand. "Ran." He introduced. "Rindou," the other followed.

A smirk crept up on your lips again before blowing smoke out of your lungs and you continued to tell the men your own name

"We know." Rindou said, with his hand and cigarette covering his mouth.

Not long after the little meeting, you went back inside and met the other men since the brothers invited you to the table.

As you all talked, you felt how the white hot stares of the men made you sweat and feel their lust radiating. You felt high, exchanging lustful looks with each of the men..

Koko was particularly interesting to you, the way he carried himself and his slightly feminine demeanor made you attracted to him.

Kakucho had that boyish and shy charm to him, takeomi was a hot older man and sanzu seemed like he'd be a crazy fuck.

You'd die to get tag teamed by the brothers.

Mikey had that mysterious and melancholic aura to him.

They were all sexy and you'd let yourself get whored out by them. You'd definitely meet these men again..

Luckily, the brothers gave you their numbers, saying, "Come by our Penthouse sometime, yeah?" Making you smile as you saw they already gave you the address. "We'll see.." you said teasingly before getting up and walking back to your friends.

One of your friends and Japanese model, sachiko, came up to you with a concerned look on her face. "Did you just talk with those men?" She asked, flipping her long black and shiny hair back.

"Yeah, why?" You asked with a raised eyebrow

She softly grabbed you by the shoulder, turning you around so the men were out of sight. "You don't know who they are?" She whispered, you shook your head and let out a quick laugh, "No, but I'm trying to" you responded, jokingly.

"You should stay away from them, I'm telling you..they're dangerous."

You just laughed again, thinking she was joking, or trying to get you away from some kind of players. but she didn't seem to smile or change her worried look. She was serious.

"I'll be careful." You smiled. Trying to calm her.

Sachiko let go of your shoulder. She didn't look like your words calmed her, but she knew you're an adult woman and could take care of yourself..

She couldn't do more than warn you and hope you listen to her words.

A week afterwards, all the shows were done and you found the little note from the hot guys.

You were just done showering and took your phone out, it was 20:30.

You don't have anything to do right now, and you don't wanna sleep yet, so..

Maybe you'll be a little bitch and just show up without a warning..but no, for the first actual meeting you should call beforehand.

You picked up your phone and typed the number in. For the first time in years, you felt nervous to call someone..you felt like you were 14 again and you're about to call your high-school crush. It felt nice to feel like that again, but your hands were slightly shaking when you heard the phone ringing, waiting for someone to pick it up. Your heart raced and your body tensed up

"..yeah?" rindou picked up, and he sounded out of breath and his voice echoed

"Rindou, right?" You confirmed, and he went quiet for a second before he sensually chuckled

"Y'know, in Japan, if you don't know someone that well, you use their last name.." he smugly corrected you

You grinned. "Right, I'm sorry, Mr.Haitani." he went quiet again before-

"Good girl,"

Your body tensed up, and your blood ran hot. "How come you're calling so late?"

"You mentioned that you and your brother owned a club, I just wanted to know which one it was"

Not long after that call you dried your hair, did your makeup and picked out a sexy I.am.gia black mini dress with some miumiu heels. you grabbed your dior saddle bag and put on your jewlery as you adored yourself in the mirror, striked poses and kissed the mirror before you grabbed your keys and happily went out.

you hailed a cab and told the taxi driver to drive you to roppongi at the haitani club, the man then side eyed you and asked what a woman like you wanted at a club like that, you just laughed and didnt answer.

truly you didnt wanna know why every person was so on the fence about these people, you just wanted to have fun and maybe get some dick.

once the man dropped you off, you thanked him and handed him the money, as you stepped out he said "hey, be careful." before he drove off again.

as you set your eyes on the club, the building was gigantic, booming with music and bright flurescent purple lights. there was a line of people in front of the entrance. You did not have the nerve to wait THAT long to get into a club you didn't even know was worth the hassle.

but thankfully, a man with a lilac mullet and a cig in his mouth stepped out of the vip entrance. It was rindou. your eyes met, and his immediately widened as he choked on his cigarette smoke. He waved you over to him, and you skipped to him on your pretty heels, clacking against the smooth concrete.

he hugged you as a greeting and you smiled

"You.." he chuckled, slightly embarrassed biting his bottom lip."You look amazing." he complimented, eying you up and down as if he was ready to just pull you into the club and eat you up

..or out.

he looked at the bouncer and grabbed your hand. "She's with us," he mentioned, to which he nodded. "Yes, sir"

rin motioned his head for you to head inside with a playful smirk while he kept holding your hand.

the music inside was even louder than you expected, the second you looked around you saw multiple hot people dancing, drinking and making out.

rin led you to a glass staircase with a tall man standing in front of it, but he stepped aside as soon as rindou walked up to him. you looked at rin. Obviously, he's one of the owners. Of course, he's gonna be let through. the two of you reached the top of the staircase and saw couches with glass tables in front of them

people were also drinking, and women were dancing, but some people were also doing cocaine. rindou just put his hand on your shoulder as you approached the table where his brother was sitting. he stood up when he saw you to hug you. "heyy, god, you look gorgeous.." he said with both his hands on your hips. "Come sit with us." You did as he asked and sat down on the white couch, crossing your legs.

rindou sat down next to you just like his brother, so now you were sandwiched between two hot men in business suits that wore beautiful smelling perfume. "whatdya wanna drink?" the younger brother asked, showing you the drink menu.

you ordered some rosé and the two just ordered the same. once the three of you were a little tipsy, you got handsy, and both of the brothers had their hands on either your lower back or thighs, close to being under your mini dress.

you also kissed them multiple times with tongue, rindou took the bottle and held it to your mouth, letting you drink, watching some of the alcohol spill from your mouth down between the valley of your tits. you giggled and kissed him afterwards. He softly groaned into the kiss as you suddenly felt rans lips against your neck, sucking harshly, trying to get your attention again. you looked back at him with a smile, he was pouting "dont forget about mee" he complained playfully before grabbing your hot and flushed face to press his wet lips against your own, immediately sliding his tongue into your mouth, seeking your own. rindou rolled his eyes. " You've been hoarding her all for yourself the whole time." ran, broke the kiss, and looked at you, "then let's just ask her who she wants to go home with"

you bit your bottom lip and swiped some of your hair from your face. "dont be mad if i ask this.." You began, and the brothers just stared at you in expectation as their ringed hands grabbed at your soft thighs, feeling burning cold against your hot skin. "Can i go with both of you?" their eyes widened, they didnt expect you to ask that, but they weren't mad, far from it, actually.

"i mean, we've never actually shared a girl before, but.." ran began and kissed behind your ear. "we'll be happy to have you being our first..right, rin?" he asked his brother, to which his hand turned your head to look at him. "i don't mind that.." he said softly against your glossy lips before kissing you.

the three of you stumbled out of the club and the flashing lights of cameras suddenly blinded you, you rolled your eyes as they yelled your name, you had no idea how the fuck the stalkerrazzi even found you. "You're so populaaar," ran drunkenly hummed, just continuing to drag you along. you just rolled your eyes again, shielding your eyes from the lights. There's nothing you hated more than these fuckers..

suddenly, in your drunken mind you had an idea that you were probably gonna regret in the morning.

so you just suddenly grabbed rin by his tie to aggressively make out with him as your other hand grabbed at rans crotch, you love to shock the paparazzi, you know they wont leave you alone, so you can at least make them uncomfortable while you tongue fuck this hot and apperantly controversial guy and grabbing the cock of an also controversial man

you broke the kiss and looked back at the cameras, holding your middle finger up with a big smile, putting on your dior shades, rin just stuck out his tongue as his brother did the same,

ran dragged you back to their black Bentley, you then pulled both of the men into the back of the car, the flashing lights following you to the car and you just sat yourself down into ran's lap as you kept kissing rindou, swinging one of your legs across his lap. the driver hesitantly asked. "..wh-where to, sir?" rin tore himself away from your enchanting lips "home."

you bareley remember the drive home, all you remember was having rins cock on your mouth and rans slim but long fingers in your wet cunt. And you remember when you two were in their bedroom you were completely naked except for your heels, getting pounded in the ass and having another hard cock in your throat, ran was in the front and rindou was in the back, you whimpered and whined as you felt their long and hot cocks filling you to the brim, you faintly heard their heavy breathing and little compliments that made you drool on rans cock even more.

"You're so good- so fucking good," ran huffed before letting out a gutteral moan, moving his hips into your face, looking down at you with his hand softly settled in your beautiful hair.

"Her fucking ass is so tight-" rindou groaned lowly before giving you a firm smack on the ass, while his other hand held your hips in a tight grip. "You've never done anal before, did you?" He asked, out of breath.

Ran pulled his dick out of your glossy mouth for you to answer, but your hand kept stroking him "no.." you paused to moan but it feels fucking good.." you mewled, biting your bottom lip, smearing your lip liner even more.

Rindou grinned down at you and huffed out a small chuckle "I can tell, baby" he said "can feel how wet your pussy is" he said before continuing to pound into you

Ran smiled down at you and took your hand "your pussy needs some attention too, huh?" He smacked his lips as if he was pitying you "my selfish brother completely ignored your pretty clit.." Ran helped you up and rindou immediately took your arms into his rough hands, his cold metal rings burning your scorching hot skin.

The older brother got in front of you to lift your leg and put it around his waist, aligning his cock with your pussy.

You thought you'd finally get to cum soon but then he slid the tip of his cock through your wet cunt and circle your clit with it "your gasps when it hits your clit are so cute" he teased.

You bit your lip even harder, not even caring if you're gonna bruise it or draw blood. You just wanted his cock, you never wanted anything more.

"Please ran--" "ah-ah" rindou interrupted you. "Remember what I told you about formality?" You let out a frustrated moan, throwing your head back feeling rindous fat cock breaking you in, almost feeling him in your guts. "Please, Mr.Haitani..fuck me stupid, sir"

That was all you remember when you woke up in-between the two gorgeous men, their arms over you under the soft blanket. As comfortable as you were, you had a splitting headache and aching legs. you planned on getting up but you saw your phone light up on the bedside table behind rindou, you reached over him carefully to not wake him.

Once you read the messages you almost jumped up and screamed in anger and embarrassment.

Last night events with the paparazzi went viral and everyone was texting you about it, your friends were just cheering for you but the news sites were shocked about the "alleged mob members hanging out with supermodel"

Alleged mob members??

You looked at the sleeping men next to you and froze up, it felt like time stopped. You sat there for ten minutes before continuing to read the articles your friends sent you, you looked so fucked up in those pictures, still hot but...fucked up.

Surprisingly, you didn't care that much about them being part of a criminal organization, you were just shocked that no one told you up front.

You carefully got up, put on your bra and panties before getting out of the room to get yourself a glass of water to sober up a bit, then raid their bathroom cabinet for some painkillers.

Your arms, thighs and ass hurt like hell. You got to the kitchen and immediately filled a glass with water, you chugged it down and filled it up again.

As you drank your second glass you heard footsteps, probably woke one of them up as you climbed over them.

You suddenly choked on your water when three of the other guys you met walked around the corner, seeing you almost naked, messy hair and messed up makeup. It was koko, takeomi and kakucho.

They stopped in their tracks, trying and failing not to look you up and down

"Fuck- sorry I didn't know- I thought this was the brothers' place" you tried to explain, wiping the spilled water from your chin

Kakucho looked down at the floor while shaking his head "don't apologize, we're sorry we didn't know you were still here.."

"Still here?" You asked, placing the glass down on the white marble counter

Takeomi chuckled. "You guys weren't exactly quiet.." kakucho awkwardly coughed. He was so cute..you'd suck him off right here, even with your sore throat. "uh..do you want some painkillers?" Kaku asked politely, still making eye contact with the floor.

You smiled "yes, thank you.." kakucho nodded and walked away, he expected you to wait there for him to come back but you followed him, you noticed his eyes quickly flicking yo you every now and then.

You leaned against the sink once you two reached the bathroom, your hips right next to his face, you looked down at him and he looked up at you after he tried to find some painkillers, he tried to look back down but you kept his head up by his chin, making him gulp heavily and keep his eyes fixed on you this time

He was immediately hard and he didn't know why, nothing happened..yet.

But It didn't take long, or many words

For him to have your cunt on his mouth and your gorgeous legs on his shoulders, he didn't seem like it, but the way he was moving his tongue now made up for the little words you exchanged, and before you knew it you were cumming in a shaking frenzy, moaning and biting your fingers to keep quiet. Your fingers in his pretty and smooth ebony hair, feeling his heavy breath on your mound while grinding back on his face.

Once you came back, you were wobbly on your legs, but held onto kakus strong arm for leverage. You leaned over to him "maybe next time we'll have more time to do more" you whispered before kissing his cheek.

You turned the corner and more men were there. The brothers, sanzu and mikey..

"There's the one that got away" Ran said taking a drag of his cigarette while rindou just looked you up and down while drinking some type of alcohol, in the morning.

His eyes told you that he was ready to go for another 4 rounds.

Sanzu stared at you intensely before speaking up "next time you guys hold a whole ass concert, I better be invited" rindou furrowed his eyebrows, looking like he was ready to vomit

"In your dreams, coke-head" Ran responded, reading the newspaper with crossed legs

You chuckled and sexily turned on your heels to walk back into the brothers' bedroom to get your clothes before heading back out, "let's party sometime again, huh?" You smiled, looking at the brothers, then sanzu..you don't know why but he seemed like fun to party with.

And lucky you, he stood up and walked after you, "let me drive you, it's pretty cold out and..you're not dressed for the weather" you chuckled and rolled your eyes "lead the way then.."

Surprisingly he didn't try to hit on you, the drive home..which disappointed you a bit. But when you saw your hotel you grabbed his shoulder and said "you can stop here" the pink haired man stopped his luxury car and got out before you to open your car door, what a gentleman.

"Ugh, you know what's crazy?" You asked him to which he grinned and tilted his head "what?"

"I'm already ready to party again.." you giggled to which he got a smug grin on his face "that's because those two snobs don't know shit about partying right."

You turned your head to him and smiled curiously "and you do?" He nodded and reached into his pocket, giving you a card with his number

"Call me when you're ready to party for real" you took the card with your index and middle finger, you grinned getting closer to him and give him a soft kiss on the cheek.

[scribbly-squid]

Oblivious | Lucifer Imagine

Lucifer x Sinner Reader

Imagine: Angel Dust having to explain to Lucifer after the fact that you were flirting with the fallen angel.

Masterlist

“You must be the King of Hell,” you said, your voice warm and calm as you looked up from your book. Your gaze shifted to the towering, sharp-dressed figure standing beside Angel Dust, the two of them making quite the striking pair. You closed the book slowly, savoring the moment, and slid the glossy brochure Angel had shoved into your hands earlier—a vivid, glittering advertisement for one of Hell’s more notorious clubs—between the pages as a makeshift bookmark. Rising from your seat, you smoothed your outfit and crossed the room with easy confidence. “I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Y/N.”

Lucifer’s crimson eyes flicked to you, his expression carefully neutral at first. For someone nicknamed the King of Hell, he seemed surprisingly… reserved. After a brief pause, his lips curved into a polite, faintly nervous smile as he extended his hand. “Nice to meet you,” he said, his deep voice velvety smooth but tinged with something you could only describe as hesitation. “And please, drop the formalities. I’m not really a fan of those.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, your curiosity about the infamous King of Hell growing by the second. “I can see where Charlie gets it from,” you quipped, and his smirk grew slightly, a glimmer of pride flickering in his eyes.

“She’s told me a bit about you,” Lucifer admitted, his tone light but cautious. His gaze flicked briefly to Angel Dust, who stood a few feet behind him, clearly struggling to suppress whatever sarcastic comment was threatening to escape. “So, Charlie mentioned you had some questions for me?”

“I do,” you replied, nodding enthusiastically as you clasped your hands behind your back. “First question: is it some kind of prerequisite for fallen angels to be ridiculously handsome?”

The words hung in the air for a moment, and you watched as Lucifer blinked, his composure slipping ever so slightly. For a being of his stature and reputation, he looked… flustered. A quiet, nervous laugh escaped him as he rubbed the back of his neck, his crimson eyes darting anywhere but at you. “Well, uh…” he began, his voice catching slightly, “every angel is unique, so we all end up with different traits. There’s no, uh, official requirement to be... ‘good-looking.’” He paused, giving a small, self-deprecating shrug. “But I suppose many of us are rather fortunate in that regard.”

Behind him, Angel Dust failed spectacularly to keep his composure. He let out a sharp snicker, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth as his shoulders shook with laughter. “Fortunate, huh?” Angel repeated, his tone oozing with mockery. He waggled his eyebrows at you, his pink eyes glinting with mischief. “Don’t let him fool ya, honey—he knows exactly how good he looks.”

Lucifer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as if he’d heard this a thousand times before. “Thank you for that, Angel,” he muttered dryly.

You felt heat rush to your cheeks, but you did your best to maintain your composure. Clearing your throat, you glanced back at your book, needing something to ground yourself. “Right, well, thanks for clearing that up,” you said, doing your best to sound nonchalant even as your heart gave a small, traitorous flutter. “Anyway, I should go get ready for one of Charlie’s exercises. Don’t want to keep her waiting.”

Lucifer nodded, his polite smile returning, though you caught the faintest trace of amusement in his eyes. “Of course. Good luck with that.”

As you turned to leave, you risked a quick glance over your shoulder at Angel Dust, who was practically vibrating with suppressed laughter. His grin was so wide it practically split his face in two. He blew you an exaggerated kiss, winking at you as if to say, Told you so.

You raised an eyebrow at him, shooting him a look that said, You weren’t kidding. Angel only doubled down on his smug expression, twirling a strand of his hair around one clawed finger like a lovestruck teenager. It didn’t hurt that Angel was right—Lucifer was ridiculously handsome. Though you were certain you’d never hear the end of it from Angel Dust.

Lucifer leaned against the bar, his crimson eyes lost in thought. Angel Dust, turned around with a smug grin plastered across his face.

“You good there, big guy?” Angel teased, tapping his nails against the bar. “You’ve been staring at that wine like it’s got all the answers to life’s mysteries. Lemme guess—you’re thinkin’ about what Y/N said, huh?”

Lucifer sighed, barely glancing up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Angel snorted, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Oh, please,” he drawled, sliding closer on his barstool. “Don’t play dumb with me, Lucifer. Y/N was totally flirting with you earlier, and you just stood there like a clueless puppy. It was adorable, really.”

Lucifer frowned, looking genuinely confused. “Flirting? She wasn’t flirting. She was asking questions.”

“Uh-huh.” Angel gave him a deadpan look. “Sure. Because ‘Is it a prerequisite for fallen angels to be ridiculously handsome?’ is just a totally innocent question, right? Definitely not laced with any, ya know, subtext.”

Lucifer straightened up, his expression shifting as the realization started to dawn on him. “Wait… you think that was���?” He trailed off, the faintest hint of pink dusting his pale cheeks.

Angel couldn’t hold it in anymore. He burst out laughing, throwing his head back as his shoulders shook with delight. “Oh, my God, you’re hopeless! She was flirting so hard I almost felt secondhand embarrassment, and you—you just stood there, giving her a freakin’ lecture about angelic traits. Classic.”

Lucifer groaned, pinching between his eyes. “I didn’t… I mean, I didn’t realize…”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Angel said, wiping a tear from his eye as his laughter died down. “Listen, babe, next time she hits you with a line like that, maybe try something like, ‘Well, what do you think?’ instead of looking like you’re buffering, alright?”

Lucifer shot him a withering glare. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

“Oh, absolutely.” Angel grinned, leaning his chin on his hand. “But hey, don’t worry. I’ll coach you if you need it. After all, it’d be a real shame if you let someone like her slip through your fingers just ‘cause you’re too busy bein’ all stoic and mysterious.”

Lucifer didn’t respond, but the thoughtful look on his face spoke volumes. Angel’s grin widened.

“Y’know,” Angel added with a wink, “for a guy who’s literally the King of Hell, you sure are terrible at recognizing when someone’s into you. Just sayin’."

[kaciebello]

Trust fund babies

Masterlist Money mail ☼ Slytherin boys x Hufflepuff!reader (fem) Summary: Can you belive it? The solution was there all along Warnings: no use of y/n Authors note: I love fun fairs so much it's unreal word count: 1.7k Song: THIRLL RIDE - THE BOYS

The teens were sitting around the denying table in Theodore's house. Looking at the money they have accumulated over the summer. They have gathered all the coins they could find. However, in front of them stood 4k. Exact half of what they needed for the bouncy house. All their effort was wasted, as they had not reached their goal.

“Maybe we can make the other 4k,” Says Matteo, training to be optimistic, but failing miserably.

“Dude, we have two weeks to start of new term. We made 4 thousand in two months. I don't think we can make it.” Blaise argus back. Demoted they all sat and just stared at the money, as if it could multiply. Enzo was carrying the girl back as if trying to comfort her. They all sat in silence for like ten minutes before the girl shot up.

“I know what we can do!” She yells and shoves all the money to her. The boys watch her closely. Sound in their eyes.

“We may not be able to buy a water bouncy house. But I know a place that has water and adrenaline.” She says. A smirk on her face. She runs to get her bag and comes back just as quickly. Digging into it as if trying to find something. Draco sees a little circular motion next to his head, trying to signal to his friends that the girl has gone a little bit crazy.

“AHA!” She cheers and pulls out a brochure. Smiling on the table. The boys finally have a chance to look at it. A fun fair.

“What,” Theodore says, snatching it and looking at it closely.

Theodore squinted at the colourful brochure in his hands, trying to make sense of the girl’s sudden enthusiasm. The glossy images showed roller coasters, spinning teacups, water slides, and neon lights. The words “Summer Fun Fair” were emblazoned across the top in bold, bright letters.

“A fun fair?” Theodore asked, raising an eyebrow. “How’s that supposed to replace a bouncy house?”

The girl grinned, practically bouncing with excitement. “It’s not just any fun fair! This one has everything—water rides, roller coasters, games, even a haunted house! And the best part is, it’s just a few hours away, and with the money we’ve got, we can get passes for all of us. We’ll have way more fun there than with a bouncy house.”

Blaise leaned forward, intrigued but sceptical. “But we spent all summer scraping together that money for the bouncy house. Are we really going to blow it all on a day at a fair?”

“Think about it, Blaise,” the girl said, her eyes shining. “We’ve been stressing about this bouncy house for weeks. But why do we need it? We wanted it because it was something big, something epic we could all do together before the school year started. This fair has everything we need for that. Water, adrenaline, and fun. Plus, it’s not just one thing; it’s a whole day of crazy adventures.”

Enzo, who had been quietly considering the idea, finally spoke up. “She’s got a point. I mean, we’ve already done so much together this summer. Why not end it with something spontaneous? We’ve got the cash, and it’s better than letting it sit around.”

Matteo, who had been the most disappointed earlier, started to brighten up. “And it’s got water rides, you say?”

The girl nodded enthusiastically. “And not just any water rides—giant slides, log flumes, wave pools, you name it. Plus, they’ve got games, food, and all the fair stuff. It’s perfect.”

Theodore, still holding the brochure, looked at his friends. He could see the excitement building in their faces, the idea of a spontaneous trip to the fair starting to take hold. Finally, he sighed and put the brochure back on the table. “Alright, I’m in. It does sound like fun. And maybe we can win some cool prizes while we’re at it.”

Draco, who had been leaning back in his chair with a smirk, finally spoke. “Sounds better than staring at money all day. I say we go for it.”

Blaise looked around the table at his friends, seeing the shift in their attitudes. He cracked a smile. “Alright, let’s do it. But we’re going to make the most of it. No holding back.”

The girl clapped her hands in excitement. “Yes! This is going to be epic! We’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning and spend the whole day there.”

The room buzzed with energy as the teens started making plans, their earlier disappointment forgotten. The idea of the bouncy house had been fun, but this—this was going to be an adventure they wouldn’t forget.

The next morning, the group gathered at Theodore’s house, buzzing with excitement. The girl had packed snacks, water bottles, and sunscreen into her bag, ready for the long day ahead. Matteo showed up with a huge grin, carrying a cooler filled with drinks. Draco, as always, looked effortlessly cool in sunglasses, while Enzo and Blaise were busy discussing the best rides to hit first.

“Everyone ready?” the girl asked, adjusting the straps of her bag. She was in charge of the money and made sure to enchant a secret pocket in her bag that held all of it.

The boys nodded, their energy infectious. Theodore pulled out his car keys and jingled them. “The car’s gassed up, and I’ve got the directions. It’s about a two-hour drive, so if anyone needs to use the bathroom, now’s the time.”

“Can't we just apparate?” Draco asks, not very fond of the idea of a car. 

“ Wheres the fun in that,” Theodore smirks much to Draco's dismay.

They all piled into Theodore’s car, squishing together with bags and coolers crammed in the trunk. The ride was filled with chatter, music blaring from the speakers, and the occasional off-key singalong, mostly from Mattheo. The excitement in the air was palpable, their earlier disappointment replaced with anticipation.

As they approached the fairgrounds, the first thing they noticed was the massive Ferris wheel towering over the horizon, its lights twinkling even in the daylight. The fair was already bustling with activity, colourful tents and banners stretching out as far as they could see.

“Whoa,” Matteo breathed out, leaning forward to get a better look. “This place is huge!”

Theodore parked the car, and they all tumbled out, eager to get started. The girl led the way, practically skipping toward the entrance as they handed over their tickets.

Inside, the fair was even more impressive. The air was filled with the scent of popcorn, cotton candy, and fried dough. Laughter and screams echoed from the rides, and the vibrant colours of the games and attractions seemed to pulse with energy.

“Alright, where to first?” Blaise asked, looking around with wide eyes.

“There,” the girl said, pointing to a massive water slide that twisted and turned before ending in a giant splash. “We start with the water rides and then hit the coasters. That way we can dry faster.”

“Let’s do it!” Enzo cheered, grabbing her hand and leading the charge.

They spent the first hour soaking themselves on the water rides, laughing as they splashed down into cool pools of water. After the water rides, they moved on to the roller coasters. The thrill of the loops, drops, and high speeds had them all screaming in exhilaration. Theodore screamed like a girl when he was caught off guard by a sudden sharp turn and ended up gripping the safety bar for dear life, much to the others’ amusement. He claims it everyone heard wrong, and it was Draco who let out the scream.

The day passed in a blur of adrenaline, laughter, and good-natured teasing. They played games, won stuffed animals and silly prizes, and stuffed themselves with fair food until they could hardly move. As the sun began to set, the fairgrounds were illuminated with a sea of neon lights, giving the place a magical glow.

By the time they reached the Ferris wheel, the group was exhausted but happy. They climbed into the seats, three on each side, and the wheel slowly lifted them into the air. From the top, they could see the entire fair, the lights twinkling below like stars.

“This turned out better than I thought,” Theodore admitted, leaning back against the seat, a rare smile on his face.

“Yeah,” Blaise agreed, looking out at the view. “Way better than a bouncy house.”

The girl, sitting beside Enzo, looked around at her friends, her heart swelling with contentment. “I told you it would be worth it.”

As the Ferris wheel slowly descended, the group fell into a comfortable silence, each of them savouring the moment. They might not have gotten the bouncy house they’d worked so hard for, but what they’d gained was something much better—an unforgettable adventure, shared with the best friends they could ask for.

As the night came to a close, they all knew that this summer, despite its ups and downs, would be one they’d always remember.

—

Two weeks later all the Slytherins were sitting in the train at their designated space. Hogwarts Express was as crowded as always. New years were walking up and down, trying to find a place to sit. Pansy stopped by and asked them about their summer, before any of them could answer she went on to tell them how she spent hers lounging on some remote island her parents own. Luna has stopped by as well to say hi to Blaise before bouncing off to a different adventure.

Mattheo spots the girl first. Raised eyebrows. None of them expects to see her until Hogwarts, lets her catch up with all her other friends and fellow Hufflepuff. Angry expression on her face, she stops before them and leans on the table.

“ Hello, love.” Enzo sounds, not moved by her face, still gazing up at her lovingly.

“Did you know.” she starts, making her they were listening to her closely. “I have talked to Hermoniey.”

“Why would you do that?”

“ Shut up”

“Okay”

Glaring at all of them, as if whatever she was about to tell them was their fault.

“Did you know, that you can, in fact, exchange galleons for pounds?” The show has appeared on their faces. Disbelief. Sighs of anger and disappointment. Enzo scooches over so the girl can sit down. Squishing Draco to the window a little bit

“So we could-”

“Yep”

“damn,” Silence falls upon the group. all the them complementing life. Empty stares on their faces. It was like the world died. Until Mattheo speaks up.

“At least we have Betsy.” He says and pulls out a Chinese takeout container. Opening it, inside is a small cow ready to be sneaked into Hogwarts.

Previous Chapter

Taglist @klimovatereza-blog , @lafrone ,@enfppuff , @rafegfs , @frogtape , @lovelyygirl8 , @catiwinky, @leeleecats , @ghostgardn , @reverse-soe , @ultramarinetovelvet @jazz-berry , @justatadbonkers , @partnerincrime0 , @schaebickel , @deluluassapocalypse , @adreamingpendulum, @imobsessedwitholiviarodrigo , @happydragonfrog , @harvey-malfoy , @helendeath , @caffeine-addict-slug , @mrvlfanman , @pink-heartz , @feistyfox47 , @nickspotatoesalad , @elltheawkward , @myunperfektstorys . @mxryxmfooty , @hoeforvinniehackerrr

[mondaysamiright]

Falling Into You (Part 2)

Pairing: Emilia Clarke x fem!reader

Summary: Y/N and Emilia find themselves on the pages of the Daily Mail

Word Count: 2k+

Part 1 Here Part 3 Here

The morning light crept through the thin curtains of Y/N’s new flat, illuminating the scattered boxes and half-unpacked luggage that still littered the living room. It had only been a couple of weeks since she’d moved to the UK from Colorado, and despite her best intentions, she hadn’t quite found the time or energy to finish unpacking. The flat was a charming, if modest, space with creaky wooden floors and large windows that let in the autumn sunlight, but it still felt more like a temporary stopover than home.

Y/N padded around the kitchen in her worn slippers, her movements leisurely and unhurried. The kettle bubbled away on the stove, steam rising as she waited for the water to boil. She glanced around at the cluttered countertops, mentally adding ‘organize kitchen’ to the ever-growing list of things she needed to do. But not today. Today was going to be a lazy Saturday.

The whistle of the kettle broke her train of thought, and she poured the boiling water over a coffee filter, the rich scent of the brew filling the small kitchen. She sighed contentedly, the familiar smell a comforting reminder of home. Her favorite mug—a chipped one from a café in the Rockies—sat waiting on the counter. She filled it to the brim, taking a cautious sip before making her way to the kitchen table.

She pushed aside a pile of unopened mail and travel brochures, finding a small space to set down her coffee. Her laptop sat closed in front of her, an open invitation to start her day with the mindless scroll of social media or catching up on emails, but she resisted the urge. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, cradling the warm mug between her hands as she soaked in the quiet stillness of the morning.

Just as she was starting to enjoy the peacefulness, her phone buzzed, vibrating its way across the cluttered table. She glanced at the screen and saw her coworker's name, Sara, flashing. With a bemused smile, she picked up the call.

“Hey, Sara. What’s up?” she greeted, her voice still thick with sleep. 

Sara’s voice crackled through the speaker, rapid and almost breathless with excitement. “Oh my God, Y/N! Did you see it? Tell me you’ve seen it! I just sent it to you!”

Y/N blinked, bewildered, her still sleepy mind struggling to catch up. “Uh, seen what?”

“Check your texts!” Sara insisted, her voice buzzing with so much energy that Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Alright, alright,” she muttered, pulling the phone away from her ear and opening the text message thread. A new message from Sara blinked at the top of the screen. She tapped on it, her thumb hovering over the image file for a moment before she clicked it.

Her eyes widened as the Daily Mail article loaded. It was a bright, glossy picture of her and Emilia Clarke from the other day. They were walking through the park, Emilia mid-laugh, her hand brushing against Y/N’s arm as they stood outside the café. The headline blared across the screen in bold letters:

"Emilia Clarke Enjoys a Cool Fall Day with a Mysterious Woman!"

Y/N nearly spat out her coffee, coughing as she read the caption below the photo. “‘The Game of Thrones star was seen enjoying a casual day out with an unidentified brunette, sparking rumors of a new romance...’” Her eyes widened, and she could almost hear Sara's barely-contained glee on the other end of the line.

“Are you kidding me?” Y/N muttered to herself, scrolling down the article. There were more pictures—one of her laughing at something Emilia had said, another of them at the café, their heads close together in conversation. Each image was accompanied by captions that only seemed to add fuel to the fire. “Who writes this stuff?”

Sara’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “So? Spill! Are you secretly dating Emilia Clarke, and you just forgot to tell me? Because that’s something you don’t forget to mention, Y/N!”

Y/N rubbed a hand over her face, feeling a mix of amusement and disbelief. “No, Sara, I’m not dating Emilia Clarke,” she said, shaking her head as she continued scrolling. “‘The pair appeared at ease as they strolled through the park, sparking rumors of a potential new love interest.’ Really?”

Sara giggled on the other end of the line. “I mean, they’re not wrong. You two looked super cute together. Who knew you’d have such an eventful first month in the UK?”

Y/N let out a huff of laughter. “Yeah, because this is exactly what I pictured—moving to a new country, getting mistaken for a celebrity’s new girlfriend in the tabloids. Totally normal.”   

They both laughed, the absurdity of the situation lightening the initial shock. Y/N glanced around her still-chaotic flat, the unpacked boxes and scattered belongings serving as a stark contrast to the glamorous life the article seemed to suggest she was part of.

Y/N shook her head, returning her attention back to the article. “‘The pair appeared to be quite cozy as they strolled through the park, laughing and enjoying each other’s company. Could this be the beginning of a new celebrity romance?’” she read aloud, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Unbelievable.”

“Cozy, huh?” Sara teased, giggling. “You know, this could be your big break into the world of tabloid fame!”

Y/N rolled her eyes, unable to hold back a laugh of her own. “Oh, great. Just what I need. My fifteen minutes of fame as Emilia Clarke’s mystery woman.”

Y/N glanced back at the article, a strange mix of amusement and disbelief washing over her. The way the article painted the day as some kind of romantic rendezvous was almost comical, if not for the fact that it was now out there for the world to see.

“Well, I have to go, but we’re not done talking about this!” Sara warned, still giggling.

“Yeah, yeah,” Y/N replied with a smirk. “I’ll talk to you later.” 

Y/N set her phone down and leaned back in her chair, chuckling to herself. “Emilia Clarke’s mystery woman,” she muttered with a shake of her head. The idea was so absurd it was almost laughable. She glanced around her cluttered flat, her eyes landing on an open box filled with books she still hadn’t unpacked.

“Well, if I’m going to be famous, I guess I should at least finish unpacking,” she said to no one in particular. With a grin, she pushed herself up from the table and set to work. After all, it wasn’t every day you got mistaken for a celebrity’s love interest in the tabloids. She might as well enjoy it.

Emilia’s POV

The late morning sun was warm on Emilia’s skin as she settled into a wicker chair in her garden, cradling a mug of steaming tea between her hands. It was a rare, quiet Saturday morning, and she intended to savor it. The garden was her sanctuary, a little pocket of green amidst the bustling city, filled with blooming flowers and the soft hum of bees. She took a sip of her tea, the gentle breeze rustling through the leaves as she let herself relax into the tranquility of the moment.

Her phone, resting on the small table beside her, buzzed with a notification. She ignored it at first, not wanting to interrupt the peaceful silence, but curiosity got the better of her. She reached for the device, glancing at the screen. It was a message from her publicist, Jackie.

Jackie: What do I need to know about this?

Emilia frowned, confusion furrowing her brow as she opened the attachment. Her eyes widened as the Daily Mail article loaded, the headline jumping out at her in bold letters:

“Emilia Clarke Enjoys a Cool Fall Day with a Mysterious Woman!”

A groan escaped her lips, loud enough to disturb a few birds perched in the nearby tree. “Oh, for the love of—” she muttered, scrolling through the article. There were pictures of her and Y/N from the other day, walking through Hampstead Heath, laughing at the café. The captions were all suggestive, spinning a narrative that was completely out of line with what had actually happened.

She rubbed her forehead, her mind racing. How had the paparazzi even found her? It had been such an ordinary day, and she hadn’t noticed anyone following them. Her eyes skimmed the article again, noting how it made Y/N out to be her new love interest, emphasizing their supposed chemistry and the cozy atmosphere between them.

Before she could fully process her irritation, her phone rang, Jackie’s name flashing on the screen. Emilia sighed and answered, bringing the phone to her ear.

“Good morning, Jackie,” she greeted, trying to keep her tone light despite the frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

“Morning? More like afternoon at this rate,” Jackie quipped, but her tone quickly turned serious. “Emilia, what’s going on? Are you dating this woman or not? Because, from these photos, it certainly looks like there’s something going on.”

Emilia closed her eyes, the absurdity of it all almost making her laugh. “No, Jackie, I’m not dating her. I literally just met her the other day. I tripped over her in the park, we had tea, and that was it.”

“Mhm,” Jackie’s voice was skeptical, but playful. “Because that’s how everyone looks at a stranger they just met. I mean, look at these pictures. You two look awfully cozy together.”

Emilia bit back a retort, her gaze shifting to the garden around her, the flowers swaying gently in the breeze. “We were just talking. She seemed nice, and we had a good conversation, but that’s it. I feel terrible for her—now she’s got her face plastered all over the tabloids because she happened to have tea with me.”

Jackie’s sigh was audible over the line. “You know this happens. You’re Emilia Clarke, for crying out loud. Every time you step outside, people notice. Whether you like it or not, that’s just how it is.”

“I know,” Emilia muttered, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “But it’s not fair to her. She didn’t ask for any of this.”

“Maybe not,” Jackie conceded, her tone softening a bit. “But you can’t control what the paparazzi do. You know that. It’s part of the deal, unfortunately.”

Emilia was silent for a moment, staring down at the half-empty mug of tea in her hand. She’d been through this a hundred times before, but it never got any easier. And now this poor woman, who had probably just been trying to enjoy her day, was being dragged into the spotlight because of a random encounter.

“What can I do, Jackie?” Emilia asked quietly, feeling a pang of guilt. “I want to apologize to her, at least.”

Jackie was silent for a moment, considering. “I can try to find out where she works, or maybe get her contact information somehow. But you know how tricky this can get. We don’t want to overstep.”

“I know,” Emilia sighed. “But I just… I feel like I should do something. This is all so ridiculous, and now she’s caught up in it because of me.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Jackie said, her voice gentler now. “But try not to worry too much, okay? These things blow over. People will be onto the next story before you know it.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Emilia murmured, though she didn’t feel much relief. She thanked Jackie and hung up, setting her phone down on the table with a frustrated sigh. The garden felt less serene now, the peaceful morning soured by the thought of Y/N being dragged into her chaotic world without warning.

She leaned back in her chair, staring up at the sky. It was such a small, silly thing—just a chance meeting and a bit of conversation—but it had spiraled out of control so quickly. And now Y/N, who seemed so kind and genuine, was probably dealing with the fallout.

Emilia closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, and let the cool air wash over her. She’d find a way to make this right, or at least to apologize. Somehow. But for now, all she could do was sit there, sipping her now-cold tea, and wonder how one simple day in the park had turned into this.

[thegildedbee]

Eavesdrop/Nightmare: May 14 & 15 Prompts from @calaisreno

The mail he’d retrieved from 221B has now sat on Harry’s kitchen table for three days. He’d felt drained that first evening, and couldn’t get himself to care enough to summon the energy to look through it; he figured after a night’s sleep he’d be able to focus on it in the morning. Except that he hadn’t felt that he wanted to start the day with the mail, not knowing if it would then throw the rest of the day off-kilter: best to tackle it at the end of the day.

Except that the white envelopes had glared too brightly in the kitchen light that evening, making his eyes hurt, and when he turned down the lights, the pile seemed best left alone in the halftoned dimness.

When he had sat down today with a ham and cheese sandwich at lunch time, Harry had loomed over him, set down a rubbish bin, and pointed at the pile, her eyes narrowed.

 “It’s not going to sort itself, John,” she says, as she sits down opposite him. “Maybe sorting out the pile will get you sorted.”

He takes a bite of his sandwich and screws up his face. “Ha, ha, very funny, Harry.”

“Here, little brother. I bet I can coax you with one of these,” she says, pulling a chocolate orange from her pocket and detaching a slice. “For every handful you get through, I’ll give you a slice as a reward.”

“Omigod, Harry, I’m not five years old.”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “Prove it. Chin up, Johnny.”

John grimaces. “All right. But I want a chocolate slice up front, in addition to the one that comes after I get through a stack.”

She rolls her eyes. “Okay. Deal.” She picks up three envelopes and places a chocolate piece on top and hands them over, and gets back up. “I’m gonna make a cuppa – do you want one?” 

“Of course, thanks.”

John chews and sorts, and sorts and chews; most of the pieces of mail do end up being binned. He sets aside a few that are from former clients; two of them had cheques inside. He’s been separating out what are likely to be condolence cards, and looks askance at them when he’s done. 

Harry nods approvingly, handing him a chocolate orange slice. He sighs. She hands him a second slice, and he gives her a sheepish whisper of a smile. 

What’s left are various advertising circulars for neighborhood stores and local take-away menus. In some ways these make him sadder than the stack of condolence cards. He can’t bring himself to bin any of those items and pushes them aside, and idly pulls a multi-page brochure toward himself. It’s glossy and expensive, like part of an informational campaign for the latest flash Mercedes or BMW, and has a full-scale photo of a moto-cross athlete off in some canyon area, who has made a spectacular leap from an outcropping with his machine, hanging in mid-air.

"What’s that?” Harry asks.

John shrugs, “Some sort of impact absorbent material for athletes.”

“For athletes?” she teases. “Then how’d you get on their mailing list? Your rugby days are a bit beyond you, mate.”

“Ah, sod off, Harry. I dunno," he says, flipping through the pages and seeing all the images of lab equipment and white coats. "Maybe it was something Sherlock was into. Looks like geeky chemistry stuff.”

“That may be so, but it’s your name on the address, not his.”

“Maybe because I was his blogger. Who cares? It’s not relevant to anything,” he says dismissively, tossing it in the bin.

“Well, here’s the rest of the orange. I’ve got things to do, and places to be. I’ll see you later this evening, probably after dinner time, yeah?”

“Sure, no problem. See you later.”

John reaches for the chocolate, a ragged, pensive mood settling in. He looks down at the brochure lying on top of the other discards in the bin, and then slowly turns to look intently at the stack of condolence cards. Reluctantly, he goes back-and-forth once more, and then stills.

Bodies flying through the air. Bodies falling. Bodies crashing. The familiar stuff of his nightmares. But something tweaks inside his head, and he tries to refocus on whatever fleeting point has flickered on, then off, before he can catch hold of it.

Bodies flying through the air, wearing protective material. Bodies falling, buffered by protective material. Bodies crashing, withstanding the impact due to protective material.

No! he says emphatically to himself, as his mind suggests that maybe, just maybe, his flying detective might have been similarly outfitted. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Of course not. It’s absurd to think that. After all, he saw Sherlock’s body up close, felt for a pulse that wasn’t there.

He tries to calm his breathing, and to think logically, and not let his mind race along imaginary paths. No, of course not. Even if Sherlock had been wearing something like this, it doesn’t mean he survived the fall. And if he had, why would he have let everyone think him dead?

Just a magic trick, John.

John suddenly stands up and shakes his head in frustration. Is he finally going 'round the twist?

Surely, there would have been a sign. He looks down at the brochure, full of images of athletes doing extreme sports, and soldiers, and probably stunt people from motion pictures.

He walks over to the sitting room so that he can grab a sofa cushion, and then furiously punches it over and over and over again, hurls it across the room in disgust when he’s finished, and then collapses into the nearest chair.

Maybe he should he talk to someone? Who would he talk to? Mycroft? Um, no, he snorts. As if that fucker would ever give a straight answer. Plus he’d probably have him sectioned on the spot. Mrs. Hudson? What if there are other oddities to be accounted for? Even if she didn’t turn him away from her doorstep, looking at him pityingly, it probably wouldn’t do to discuss such things at Baker Street. Big brother was probably still eavesdropping, because, why not? Does a leopard change its spots?

And then the picture of Anderson showing up on his doorstep a few weeks back floats into his mind. It was a few weeks back, yeah? What had Anderson said? Something about Sherlock not being dead and his having picked up traces that showed that he’d been in Europe. At least John thinks that's what he said. The roaring in his ears before he smashed Anderson’s nose might have distorted whatever the tosser had been going on about. 

Disbelievingly, John thinks: Perhaps he should go to see Anderson? Maybe, John says to himself, shaking his head in doubt, a sour taste in his mouth. Surely not, he responds.

But what if what Anderson has to say isn't impossible; only improbable? John has no idea what to do. At this moment, for now, the only decision he's capable of making . . . is no decision at all.

........................................................ @calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @friday411 @peanitbear @original-welovethebeekeeper @helloliriels @a-victorian-girl @keirgreeneyes @starrla89 @naefelldaurk

@topsyturvy-turtely @lisbeth-kk @raina-at @jobooksncoffee @meetinginsamarra @solarmama-plantsareneat @bluebellofbakerstreet @dragonnan @safedistancefrombeingsmart @jolieblack

@msladysmith @ninasnakie @riversong912 @dapetty

.............................................................................

[lilmisshellfireswritingblog]

Lavender Haze Chapter 1: Anarchy in the UK

A/N: Hello and welcome to the first chapter! I hope you enjoyed the prologue (I mean if you're here, you likely did). Anyway, this isn't beta read or proofread. This is just for fun and my procrastination from doing my grad school work. As always, this blog is 18+ only. Word Count: 7.9ishk....It was 16 pages on docs... Warnings: 18+ only, enemies to lovers trope, close proximity, friends scheming, eventual smut, Much Ado About Nothing, use of Y/N, reader insert, she/her pronouns for reader Chapter 1: Anarchy in the UK Synopsis: Reader leaves for London for her cousin's wedding, Dustin and Suzie scheme, and someone from the reader's past returns.

SIX MONTHS LATER 

The hum of fluorescent lights overhead and the soft rustling of travel brochures fill the air as you step into the airport terminal. You clutch the wedding invitation in hand, the edges slightly worn from handling, the elegant gold lettering on the cream-colored paper showed a sharp contrast to the utilitarian surroundings. 

The air smells faintly of stale coffee and the distant whirr of vending machines and buzzing of neon lights. The walls are lined with large, laminated posters advertising far-off destinations in cheerful fonts, but your mind is fixed on London, England — specifically the wedding of Dustin and Suzie, which has become a beacon of joy and anticipation. As you approach the check-in counter, the sounds of muffled announcements echo through the cavernous space, and you realize that in just a few hours, you'll be across the ocean, heading toward a new chapter in the lives of two people you hold dear. 

You check in with ease, muttering a quick thank you to the attendant before starting your journey down the LAX’s vast labyrinths of terminals and gates. With your boarding pass in hand, you wander toward the gate, a slight bounce to your step as you escape the rush of the check-in counter. The gate is quiet now with only a handful of early birds settled in for the long wait. You find an empty seat near the window, the soft hum of overhead ventilation mixing with the faint chatter of fellow travelers.

Settling in, you pull a well-worn magazine from your bag—a glossy travel issue from a few months ago, its pages crinkling at the edges as you flip through articles on London’s hidden gems and tips for surviving long-haul flights. You adjust your walkman, pop in your favorite mixtape, and press play. The soft click of the cassette starting up is followed by the familiar crackle of the first song, an instant wave of nostalgia sweeping over you as the first notes of the track fill your ears. You lean back in your chair, one leg crossed over the other, eyes half-closed as you drift in the music and the pages of your magazine, the world outside the terminal window fading into a blur of airport tarmac and distant planes. 

Time seems to stretch, and for a moment, the noise of the world falls away — just you, the rhythm of your music, and the thought of London waiting at the end of this journey. The quiet tap of your foot to the beat and the occasional rustling of your magazine are the only sounds, until the overhead announcement breaks the calm, signaling that boarding is about to begin. 

You hand your boarding pass to the agent, who scans it with mechanical efficiency, then gestures for you to move toward the jetway. Your eyes scan the cabin as you enter the plane, relieved to see that the seat next to yours—an aisle seat by the window—remains empty, all through boarding too. You settle in with a deep sigh of relief, knowing you'll have a few hours of peace before the inevitable chaos of London and the wedding week. You stow your bag in the overhead compartment and adjust the seat belt around your waist, a soft hum of contentment rising as you nestle into your seat, slipping your headphones back on and starting another song on your cassette player.

The steady pulse of the plane fills your ears as passengers shuffle past, finding their own seats. The overhead announcements are drowned out by the rush of activity, but you can still catch the tail end of the call: "Final boarding for Flight 348 to London. Please make your way to the gate immediately." It’s a soothing, routine moment—until you hear the unmistakable sound of hurried footsteps approaching, and a voice calling out in a half-panic, “Wait! Wait for me!”

Your heart sinks as you turn your head. There, running awkwardly down the aisle with his oversized bag flopping to one side and a wild look in his eyes, is Eddie. Of course. Eddie. The last person you’d ever want to sit next to. You barely manage to mask the irritation creeping across your face as he barrels past rows of seats, scanning the numbers, his hand outstretched toward your aisle seat. He’s panting, cheeks flushed, and there’s that obnoxious grin of his as he makes eye contact with you—like the fact that he’s invading your space is some sort of joke.

"Well, fancy meeting you here," Eddie says, his voice dripping with that smug, self-assured tone you can never quite shake off. "Looks like this seat's mine, huh?" He practically drops into the seat next to you without waiting for an invitation, his bag thudding heavily against the armrest, leaving you no choice but to shift uncomfortably to make room.

“Hi Eddie,” you mumble, waving a hand haphazardly. “I guess it’s yours.” 

“What? Your fiance didn't come?” He mocks, sliding his carry on underneath the seat in front of him. “Or did you leave for London unannounced?” 

You should have known he would be coming to the wedding. Suzie did mention that Dustin had made him his Best Man during her bridal shower when she had asked you to be her Maid of Honor. Maybe you should have prepared yourself better, but nothing could have prepared yourself for a transatlantic flight sitting directly next to him. 

And spending an entire week together in London. 

“He didn’t come because I called things off.” You say simply, pulling a book from your bag before shoving it back under the seat. “We weren’t right for each other.”

Not long before the trip, you had ended your engagement with Billy and dropped out of law school, forgoing your internship. Your life was seemingly a mess. No school. No job. No engagement. You had none of it and while you felt free, you felt lost. 

You didn’t know what you wanted to do in your life. Maybe London could help you figure that out. 

“Oh. I - well, good for you?” Eddie didn’t know if calling off your engagement was a good or bad thing for you so, he left it as a question. He couldn’t find anything witty to say about that. 

The flight attendants close the cabin doors, and you can hear the final, automated announcement: "We are now preparing for takeoff. Please ensure your seatbelt is fastened and all carry-on items are properly stowed." But the noise in your head is louder—the dread of having Eddie beside you for the entire flight, the rest of your peaceful journey shattered in an instant. You force a smile, but it feels as fake as his disingenuous charm. With a deep breath, you settle in, knowing it’s going to be a long, long flight.

HOUR 3

The plane hums steadily through the night sky, the soft vibration beneath your feet a constant reminder that you’re crossing the ocean. You’ve managed to ignore Eddie for a while, your headphones on, book open, your mind elsewhere, but the dull thud of his knee against yours—a little too close for comfort—pulls you out of your bubble. He’s not talking yet, but you can feel his eyes on you, the way people sometimes stare, hoping for a reaction and when he finally speaks, you almost wish he hadn’t.

"So, Billy, huh? You really called it off," he says, his voice low enough to sound casual but with that sharp edge that cuts through the hum of the plane. It’s not a question; it’s an observation laced with something you can't quite place—like a mix of curiosity and judgment, a little too pointed for a conversation that wasn’t invited. “You really ended it for real this time? It’s not just a break?”

You glance at him, resisting the urge to snap at him. Eddie leans back in his seat, tapping a finger on the armrest, as if he’s just casually passing the time. His tone, though, betrays his attempt to feign indifference, and you immediately tense. His eyes glanced over to the ring finger of your left hand, noticing the lack of the engagement ring you wore only six months prior when he last saw you. 

It feels like a weight suddenly pressing on your chest, but you fight the lump in your throat.

"Yeah," you reply, keeping it short, hoping that’ll be the end of it.

Eddie, though, doesn’t take the hint. "Must be tough, huh? After everything…." His words are laced with a touch of something you can’t tell if it’s pity or schadenfreude, but it’s uncomfortable all the same. You brace yourself, feeling that flush of anger creeping up your neck, but there's something in his voice, a softness that wasn’t there before, that makes you hesitate.

You shift in your seat, trying to find a polite way to end this. "It wasn’t… like that, exactly," you mutter, focusing on the view outside your window, the blanket of stars now spread across the sky.

But Eddie’s not done. “I get it,” he says, his voice lower now, almost thoughtful, but with that unsettling edge of rudeness still there, like he doesn’t know how to stop prodding. "I mean, relationships, right? They can go from everything to nothing in a heartbeat. Or they can just fizzle out. And you’re left thinking, Why didn’t I see it sooner?”

You know he was alluding to your prompt exit after spending the night at his apartment and how he just viewed you as nothing. You knew it deep down that this wasn’t about Billy or your engagement at all. This was about you and Eddie. 

His words hang in the air for a long moment, and you're unsure if he's trying to sympathize or just trying to make you squirm. Eddie leans forward slightly, his eyes searching yours, a kind of half-apology playing out in his gaze. It’s a strange, fleeting moment, but you almost catch the flicker of something close to empathy there—before he ruins it.

"You must be glad to be getting away from all that. A wedding in London... kind of a perfect escape, huh?" He shifts in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with the emotional territory he's ventured into, but he doesn’t pull back.

You nod stiffly, your hands folding in your lap. "Yeah, I suppose," you answer quietly, the words tasting bittersweet. "It’s not what I expected but it’s a fresh start, kind of a bookmark to where I am in life and where I’m not."

Eddie sits back, finally, and for a moment there’s a silence that’s just loud enough to be awkward. He gives a small, half-hearted shrug as if he knows he’s overstepped, then mutters, "Well, everyone needs a fresh start. Especially after that kind of mess." 

And just like that, the empathy vanishes, replaced by the familiar sneer that you’ve come to loathe.

You turn your attention back to the window, trying to shake the unease in your stomach. The rest of the flight stretches on, the tension between you and Eddie hanging heavy in the cramped cabin. It’s a strange, uncomfortable dynamic—part judgment, part unwanted camaraderie, and it makes the miles to London feel like they’re stretching on forever.

HOUR 5

It starts small—just a little comment during meal service, a careless remark, but it’s enough to set things off. Eddie, leaning back in his seat with his hands behind his head like he's settling into his personal throne, taps the armrest between you with his fingers. You barely notice at first, too lost in your own thoughts, but then he mutters, "I still don’t get why anyone would choose tea over coffee, you know?"

You glance at him, frowning slightly. "What?" you ask, thinking you might’ve heard him wrong.

"Tea," Eddie repeats, his voice dripping with that condescending tone again, "I mean, seriously, what’s the appeal? It’s just hot, bland water with a leaf in it. Why would anyone choose that over coffee?”

You stare at him, dumbfounded. This is where he wants to take the conversation? Of all the things in the world, he’s bringing up tea versus coffee?

But then you remember where you first met Eddie and your interaction with him. You had ordered tea that day and he had bought it for you, pretending to be your husband. His comments now made complete sense. 

"It’s not about waking up," you reply, a little incredulous. "It’s about comfort. Tea’s soothing. It’s calm. You don't need a jolt of caffeine to feel good." You feel your voice rise a little, the absurdity of the argument making you defensive. “Besides, not everyone needs to feel like their brain is on fire every time they drink something.”

Eddie scoffs. "Well, it’s not like tea is doing anything for you except making you fall asleep faster." He gestures like he's trying to make a grand point, though it only makes you roll your eyes. "And honestly, you can’t even get it right half the time. Too hot, too cold, weak, strong, whatever. At least coffee works."

You feel the annoyance bubble up in your chest. "You don’t even know how to make a proper cup of tea," you snap, irritated that he’s dismissing something you actually enjoy. "You just throw a bag in hot water and call it good. You have no appreciation for it. You probably think chai is just fancy spiced milk."

Eddie's face goes mock-serious. "Are you really going to lecture me about tea right now? Like, are we actually having this conversation?" He leans forward again, locking eyes with you, a mischievous smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Honestly, you’re the one getting worked up over a beverage. You need a hobby, or something."

“You’re literally the one who made the first comment, Eddie. This is incredibly stupid. To think this is all a grudge because you bought me a cup of tea all those months ago. You’re really going to hold a grudge on tea?”

You can feel your face heating up, but it’s not just from embarrassment. It’s from the ridiculousness of the situation—the way Eddie is so casually dismissive about something that feels so trivial, yet somehow so personal to you. You cross your arms, biting back a laugh at how ridiculous this is. But it only seems to egg him on.

"Look," Eddie continues, almost too smug for his own good, "I get it. Tea’s a ‘thing.’ But coffee is the thing. It’s a culture, it’s an experience. You know, things with substance, not just hot leaf juice."

You shake your head, now feeling a bit silly for being drawn into it. "You’re unbelievable," you mutter, throwing a glance out the window just to escape the conversation for a second.

Eddie leans back with a smirk, clearly enjoying the way he’s ruffled your feathers. "Well, hey, I can’t help it if I have taste."

Your jaw clenches as you open your mouth to respond, but the flight attendants begin making their rounds again, offering drinks. And for a moment, you realize that the argument, though petty, has somehow managed to distract you from everything else—Billy, the awkwardness, the gnawing frustration of being stuck next to Eddie for hours on end and him seemingly just finding entertainment from annoying you.

The stewardess pauses by your seat, offering you a drink, and you glance at Eddie, who’s still smirking at you, clearly proud of himself. You take a deep breath, reminding yourself it’s just a stupid argument. A dumb, pointless, small thing—but somehow, in this cramped, turbulent space, it feels like the most important thing in the world.

"Tea," you say, to no one in particular, as you place your drink order. "I’ll take the tea. No sugar. No milk."

Eddie rolls his eyes dramatically. "Of course you will."

The stewardess, a cheerful woman with a kind smile and a no-nonsense air about her, smiles softly as she hands you the tea she effortlessly prepared. Her eyes flickered between you and Eddie, who’s still wearing that smug, amused expression after your little "tea vs. coffee" debacle. She glances back at the both of you with a soft chuckle, her tone light and warm.

"So, I see we’ve got a newlywed couple here," she says, her voice almost like a comforting murmur. "First lover's spat already? Happens to the best of us, you know. Cramped quarters will do that to even the best of us." She grins at you both as if it’s all part of some adorable little story.

The words hit you like a slap in the face. Your stomach tightens, and your cheeks flare with heat. Newlywed couple? You force a smile—teeth gritted. Eddie, of course, doesn’t miss a beat. He leans forward, suddenly playing the part with ease, his voice dripping with theatrical charm.

"Oh, yeah," he says, all too casually, giving you a playful side-eye. "First big argument on our honeymoon." He winks at the stewardess, clearly enjoying the spectacle. "But you know, we’ll get over it. It’s all part of the ride, right?"

The stewardess giggles, her smile widening. “Ah, young love. So sweet,” she says, as if this is all some innocent joke. “Well, I hope it doesn’t ruin your trip, sweetheart,” she adds, turning her attention back to you for a second longer than you'd like, eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’ll just put you down for a romantic glass of wine to ease things over."

You sit there, completely frozen, the rage bubbling up like a pot about to boil over. Romantic? Eddie’s playing along like this is all some stupid farce, and the thought of him leaning into it, making light of your personal space and your frustration, twists something deep inside of you. This is the moment where everything—every last shred of patience—snaps.

“Excuse me,” you interject sharply, suddenly too aware of the weight of Eddie’s smirk next to you. “We are not a couple.” The words come out clipped and too loud, and the stewardess’s face shifts, a moment of confusion crossing her features. You push forward, as if you can physically distance yourself from the very idea of Eddie. “And I’m definitely not on a honeymoon with him.”

Eddie, for the first time, falters. He’s clearly caught off guard, his grin dropping for a fraction of a second, but then that trademark smugness returns. His eyes glint with mischief. “Whoa, hey,” he says, leaning back in his seat with his hands raised as if in mock surrender. “She’s just kidding. You know, a little fun on the flight. Can’t blame a couple for trying to help spice things up.”

The stewardess is now visibly awkward, trying to regain her composure, but it’s too late. The damage is done. The entire cabin seems to hold its breath for a moment, as if waiting for something to break. You can feel your face burning with embarrassment and fury. You can’t believe Eddie is playing this part, and the more he tries to make it sound like harmless fun, the more you want to snap at him.

“Listen,” you say through gritted teeth, your hands clenched tightly in your lap. “I’m just going to stick with my tea,” you bite out, your voice colder now, eyes narrowing. 

The stewardess, now a little flustered and clearly not sure how to navigate the awkwardness, nods quickly, offering a sheepish smile before she retreats down the aisle, likely trying to avoid the awkward energy you've just created.

But Eddie, damn him, isn’t done. "You know," he says casually, shifting to lean in a bit closer to you, as if he’s completely oblivious to how much he's irritating you, "If it makes you feel better, we can still make up in London. I’m sure the city’s full of romantic spots." He laughs softly, that teasing edge back in his voice. "I mean, we’re going to a wedding, after all."

You clench your fists, trying not to say something you'd regret, the heat of embarrassment still lingering in your chest. You don’t even want to entertain him anymore, but Eddie, as always, doesn’t give you the option.

"Alright," he says, grinning wide now. "I’ll let you have your space but you know, that’s not the worst idea—London? We should totally go out, the two of us. Just the two of us.” His grin widens, and the worst part is, you know he’s doing it to get under your skin, playing into this whole ridiculous scenario he’s crafted in his mind.

You can’t even respond for a minute, completely caught off guard. The thought of him pretending to be part of your life like that, of him forcing his way into your head like this, makes your blood boil. You stare ahead, shoulders stiff with frustration, and the seconds drag on in a tense silence until the stewardess returns with your tea. She hands it to you with a nervous smile, and you take it, grateful for the distraction, but nothing seems to shake the odd, lingering bitterness that Eddie’s managed to infect everything with.

“I wouldn’t even go out with you if you were the last man on this planet, Eddie.” You spat, sipping your tea, hoping he gets the hint that you just want to be left alone. “We just have to get along for Dustin and Suzie. Besides, I thought I was nothing to you.”

This was supposed to be a peaceful flight to London. Now it feels like a slow, insufferable game of one-upmanship, with Eddie gleefully playing the villain and you stuck in the middle, trying not to explode.

As the plane continues its journey, you can’t help but wonder just how long you’ll have to endure this forced “comedy” of his, before it finally stops.

-------

The plane’s descent is gradual, the city lights of London beginning to twinkle below like a field of stars. You’re thankful the flight is over, but the prospect of what awaits off the plane brings an entirely new set of anxieties. As the plane touches down and the cabin lights flicker on, you hear the familiar chorus of seatbelt signs being clicked off and passengers stretching, gathering their things. You manage to stand, gathering your bag from the overhead compartment exchanging a few uncomfortable glances with Eddie, who’s now leaning back in his seat with that infuriating, too-casual grin on his face.

“You know,” Eddie says as the line at the gate starts moving, his voice almost cheerful again, “I’m actually starting to think we’re like a couple now. I mean, we’ve had the ‘first fight,’ and now we’re going to be the Best Man and Maid of Honor at Dustin’s wedding. It’s practically destiny.” He winks at you like it’s some kind of joke.

You don’t dignify his words with a response. The only thing you want is to get through customs, grab your luggage, and get away from Eddie, but the chaos of a busy airport only makes that more difficult.

Finally, you clear customs and head toward the exit. The hum of excitement from all the passengers fills the air, everyone gathering near the baggage claim area, talking about their travels, snapping photos, and exchanging excited greetings. You scan the crowd, finally spotting Dustin and Suzie standing near the front, waving at you.

You smile at the sight of them—Dustin’s easy grin and Suzie’s wide, radiant smile are enough to wash away most of your irritation. Despite the awkwardness of the flight, you feel a flutter of relief at finally being here and you hurry toward them.

“Hey!” Dustin greets you warmly, pulling you into a hug. Suzie follows suit, wrapping her arms around you in a tight embrace. The sight of them together is like a balm to your nerves—everything about this feels so right. They’re glowing with excitement for their wedding and the days ahead, and for a moment, it’s easy to forget about everything else.

“There’s my favorite cousin!” Suzie says, holding you at arm’s length and taking a good look at you. “You look great! How was the flight? No disasters, I hope?”

You smile, shaking your head. “It was… fine. Uneventful,” you lie, not about to get into the details of your flight companion just yet.

Dustin, as usual, is grinning from ear to ear, clearly in his element. “Well, you’re here now, that’s what matters! We’re so glad you could make it. Everything’s been a little chaotic with all the guests arriving, but it’s going to be amazing. We’ve got a lot of fun things planned this week!”

You nod, your excitement building again now that you’re here. But then, as you start to follow them toward the exit, Dustin’s expression shifts, and you can see the hesitation in his eyes as he glances at the two of you—Eddie still hanging nearby, looking like he’s trying to seem as unbothered as possible.

“Uh, so,” Dustin begins, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “We’ve got a little… situation with the hotel rooms.” He clears his throat. “It turns out we didn’t quite account for everyone when we booked. There are some constraints with the space, so… some of the rooms had to be reallocated.”

You frown, already sensing where this is going.

“What do you mean by that, Dustin?” You adjust the bag on your shoulder, casting a few gazes 

Dustin’s gaze flickers nervously between you and Eddie before he continues, “And with a few last-minute changes, it looks like... well, you and Eddie are going to need to share a room.”

For a moment, your brain doesn’t quite process the words. “Wait, what?” you ask, blinking in disbelief. “You mean, together?”

Dustin nods, looking sheepish. “Yeah, I know it’s not ideal, but we really couldn’t get another room. Everything’s booked solid for the wedding. You and Eddie will just have to make do. It’s only for a couple of nights, and it’s... well, it’s just temporary. You’ll be fine, right?”

The words hit you like a cold slap to the face. You and Eddie? In the same hotel room? You feel your chest tighten, your stomach doing flips, and you turn to look at Eddie. He’s wearing that too pleased expression again, like this is some kind of twisted little joke he’s getting off on.

"Oh, this is going to be great," Eddie says, his voice so overly chipper you can almost hear the sarcasm dripping from it as he approaches the group. "I mean, what could possibly go wrong? It’s just two adults who just so happen to hate each other, alone in a room. What’s the worst that could happen?" He chuckles, clearly trying to make light of the situation.

You feel your pulse race with a combination of rage and disbelief. You want to scream, to tell Dustin no way in hell would you share a room with Eddie—of all people—but you know it’s not his fault. They did what they could with the limited space, and it's just one night, right? You try to remind yourself that this is all for Dustin and Suzie, and they’re already dealing with enough stress. You can handle this, even if it feels like an impossible request.

But then, of course, Eddie’s next comment isn’t helping. "I’m just saying, it’s kind of poetic, right? I mean, a wedding, and here we are, forced to share a room. Maybe we should start a tradition, huh?"

Your teeth grind together, and you force yourself to take a deep breath, the tension in your chest threatening to break loose. "This is not funny," you mutter through clenched teeth.

Dustin, clearly sensing the awkwardness, quickly tries to smooth things over. "Hey, hey, no need to stress! I know it’s not ideal, but it’s just for a week and it’s for Suzie and I. Think of it like a... bonding experience? Besides, London’s a beautiful city. You’ll both be so busy with the wedding stuff, you won’t even have time to think about it. You’d only be there to sleep"

You stare at Dustin, then at Eddie, who’s still grinning like this is all some ridiculous prank he’s pulling on you. You want to say something sharp, to make him understand how uncomfortable this is—but you just nod, knowing there’s no other option.

"Yeah, sure. A bonding experience," you mutter, already dreading the next week of this forced closeness. You try to remind yourself that it’s just for a week, that the wedding is the focus, but you can’t help the sharp knot of tension that’s already building in your stomach.

As you pile into the car, heading toward the hotel, you feel every second stretch out before you, knowing full well that this is going to be a full on migraine of a trip.

The car ride to the hotel is a blur of muffled chatter and the hum of the engine. You’re still trying to wrap your mind around the fact that you’re about to share a hotel room with Eddie for the entire week. The whole idea feels surreal—like a nightmare you’re waiting to wake up from.

Dustin and Suzie chatter excitedly in the back seat about the wedding plans, about the guests they’re excited to see, about everything going perfectly but all you can hear is the steady thrum of your own heartbeat and the tick-tick-tick of your brain reeling. You steal a glance at Eddie sitting next to you and you can almost feel the smug energy radiating off him, like he's already mentally preparing for the next round of “jokes” he’ll try to get away with. 

When the car pulls into the hotel’s narrow driveway, the low hum of the city outside feels strangely distant, almost muffled. It’s not until you’re standing at the check-in counter, trying to force a smile while you’re mentally drafting all the ways you might strangle Eddie in his sleep, that it really sinks in: You’re stuck with him. For an entire week. With no reprieve. 

You try not to glare at him as the clerk hands you both your room keys. You’ve been bracing yourself for this moment, but it hits like a punch to the gut.

"Here you go," the hotel clerk says, handing each of you a key card with a polite smile. "You’ll be in Room 204, just down the hall on your left. Enjoy your stay."

“Thanks,” Suzie says, giving you a quick, apologetic smile. “I know it’s not ideal, but—"

“It’s fine, Suzie,” you force out through clenched teeth. “Really.” You wave it off, trying to mask your frustration. Suzie looks like she’s about to offer some comfort, but you can’t bring yourself to let her fuss over you. Not when the real problem is still standing right next to you.

“See you guys at dinner!” Dustin calls over her shoulder as he and Suzie head off toward the elevators to return to their room down the hall. 

You and Eddie stand there for a moment, the weight of the awkwardness between you hanging thick in the air. You avoid looking at him as you head toward the hallway but Eddie can’t leave well enough alone.

"Well, this is gonna be fun," he says, his voice dripping with too much sarcasm to be anything but a deliberate jab.

You roll your eyes and quicken your pace, but Eddie easily matches your stride. "You know, I’ve stayed in worse places," he continues, his tone light, almost carefree, as if he’s genuinely trying to make the situation seem less horrific. "This place looks... quaint. I bet it’s got charm."

You grunt, resisting the urge to snap something rude. You’re beyond sarcasm at this point. When you reach Room 204, Eddie reaches for the door, fumbling with the keycard like he’s trying to make a point. “You wanna do the honors?” he says, his face a perfect mask of innocence.

You roll your eyes and swipe the card yourself. The door clicks open with a soft sound, and as you push it open, your stomach twists.

The room is small, nothing particularly luxurious about it—standard hotel fare. A double bed sits against one wall, a small desk by the window, and a bathroom tucked away in the corner. There’s a single chair, a tiny TV on a dresser, and a faint smell of bleach still lingering in the air. The single bed, of course, stares back at you with the same quiet challenge that Eddie’s presence brings. It might as well have a neon sign above it that says “YOU’RE GOING TO HATE THIS.”

You try to take a deep breath, but Eddie steps in behind you, making himself at home as he casually tosses his bag onto the bed nearest the window.

“Well,” he says, looking around and letting out a long, exaggerated sigh, “this place is charming... like I said. So, what do you think? You wanna take the bed or the chair?”

You spin around to face him, frustration making your voice sharper than you intended. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Eddie grins like he’s enjoying the very sight of your discomfort. “Hey, it’s a double bed, right? Just slightly smaller than a queen size - guess we’ll have to get cozy.” 

You stare at him, mouth open, not sure if you’re supposed to laugh or punch him in the face. "This isn’t ideal…That isn’t ideal,” you finally manage to say, your voice dripping with barely contained irritation. “But clearly you’ve already made yourself at home.”

He shrugs and flops back onto the bed like he’s lying down for a Sunday nap, grinning wide. “Well, you didn’t seem to have any objections when they handed us the keys. You could’ve spoken up earlier when Dustin gave us the news.” He pats the bed beside him. “But it’s fine, really. I’m cool with it. I’m a great roommate.”

You throw your bag onto the desk and stand there, trying to breathe through your nose, but the air feels too thick. You take a deep breath. You’re here for the wedding. You’re here for Dustin and Suzie. You can survive this. However,  the very idea of sharing a bed with Eddie, even if it’s just for one week, makes your skin crawl.

Instead of answering, you turn to the window, trying to ignore the heavy weight of his presence behind you. “Fine,” you mutter under your breath. "We’ll just... deal with it. We’re going to have to make a pillow wall though."

But Eddie’s voice cuts through the silence again, too light, too cheerful. "We’ll make it work, right? I mean, it’s just a week. We’ll probably be so busy with wedding stuff, we won’t even have time to think about it."

You noticed how Eddie repeated Dustin’s exact words from the airport. You give him a nod before starting to unpack.

"Right. Just a week." You turn back around to face him, hoping your exasperation isn’t showing too clearly. “Just…don’t be a bed hog.”

Eddie is already sprawled out, hands behind his head, looking far too comfortable for someone who’s clearly just ruined your entire sense of personal space and your trip to London. You try to calm yourself down. You can do this. You’re just here for Dustin and Suzie’s wedding. You’re not here for Eddie’s games.

But as you continue to unpack your things in silence, you can’t help but wonder if this week might end up being the longest one of your life.

After unpacking and getting ready for the first dinner of the festivities,  you sit down on the edge of the bed, trying to put some space between yourself and Eddie—who’s still sprawled out across the other half, clearly settling in for the long haul—you can’t shake the feeling that something’s off. The whole situation feels like it’s spiraling into one big, awkward mess, and all you can think about is how badly you want to escape it. You try to focus on the fact that you’re in London, here for a wedding, and you can’t let this stupid room arrangement ruin everything. 

This was for your cousin, after all.

There’s that feeling, gnawing at the back of your mind. It’s too perfect, too convenient. Eddie's here. He’s always here. And for some reason, you can’t stop wondering if this—this weird, uncomfortable situation—isn’t just a random mistake. Nothing is coincidental.

First the flight. Now this?

Eddie isn’t making things any easier. He’s lounging on the bed, flipping through TV channels with an exaggerated, over-the-top disinterest, occasionally glancing over at you with a look that’s part smug, part playful.

“I gotta admit, I didn’t think this would be the way we’d end up in a room together,” he says, flipping the remote with a sigh. “But I guess life’s funny like that, huh?”

You shoot him a glare, the frustration bubbling up again. “Yeah, funny,” you mutter under your breath, but he doesn’t seem to notice—or he doesn’t care.

He stretches out, looking entirely at ease in the tiny, cramped space that should have felt like a disaster but instead, he somehow makes it feel… normal—like he belongs there. You can’t even figure out how to deal with that, or how much it’s irritating you. You shift awkwardly on the bed, feeling every inch of your personal space being invaded.

It’s then that the door opens with a soft creak, without a knock and Dustin and Suzie walk in, both looking way too pleased with themselves. You raise an eyebrow as you glance up at them.

“We just thought we’d check in, see how everything’s going," Dustin says, his grin far too wide, the kind of grin someone wears when they’ve just orchestrated something deliberate.

You’re about to respond with a polite, "It’s fine," when Suzie suddenly glances over at you and Eddie, then back at Dustin with a look that’s half conspiratorial, half completely over-the-top sweet.

“So,” she says brightly, her tone a little too casual. “Everything going okay with the room situation? You two, uh, getting along okay?”

You blink, not sure if she’s joking or not. You glance at Eddie, whose brow furrows just slightly, clearly picking up on the weird vibe. He shifts in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with the way she’s asking. "Uh, yeah, we’re good,” he replies, though there’s a trace of suspicion in his voice. “Just... you know, making the best of it. It’s fine.”

Suzie just keeps on smiling and it’s a little too bright for comfort. “Good, good. We were just so worried you might be... you know, uncomfortable. You are both so busy, what with the wedding and everything. We didn’t want you to feel... cramped or anything.”

Dustin clears his throat. “Yeah, and hey, if you two need anything, just let us know, okay? We’re here for you.”

You exchange a glance with Eddie, but this time, it’s more bewilderment than irritation. The whole thing feels... off. You want to say something, to ask what’s going on, but before you can, Eddie speaks up with a low chuckle, though you can hear the slight edge of uncertainty in his voice.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I definitely wasn’t expecting this when I came all the way to London. The whole ’rooming with a woman who ghosted me’ thing isn’t exactly on my bucket list, you know?" He flashes Suzie and Dustin a wry grin. “But hey, what do I know? I’m just here for the two of you.”

Dustin’s grin gets a little wider, if possible. “Yeah, we get it, man. You’re both so busy, with the wedding and all. So, really, enjoy the downtime together. Make the most of it. It’ll be nice, just the two of you after all the festivities…. Being here alone.” Dustin continues to grin, grabbing Suzie’s hand as he turns toward the door. “See you guys at dinner!”

There’s something about the way he says “alone” that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and suddenly it hits you like a bucket of cold water. This isn’t an accident. This wasn’t some weird hotel room mix-up or scheduling error. No. Dustin and Suzie have done this on purpose.

You stay silent as the couple leave, watching them closely and curiously. You swore you heard Suzie’s giggle down the hall. Quickly, you close the door and lock it, returning to sit next to Eddie in silence, just for a moment.

They did this shit on purpose. Dustin and Suzie set you and Eddie up—and you don’t know whether to laugh, scream, or throw something at the wall.

“They did this on purpose, you know.” You say, refusing to look over at Eddie. You nervously pick at your nails silently pleading he also caught onto Dustin and Suzie’s scheme. “You had to pick up on that, right?” 

“Dustin has never been the most subtle guy.” Eddie laughed, running a hand over his face as he continued to lay on the bed. “I picked up on it, sweetheart.”

There’s silence between the two of you. A silence so thick you could choke.

Eddie, ever the unpredictable one, breaks the silence with a casual chuckle. "Well, I have to admit, this is almost impressive. I didn’t think Dustin had it in him." His eyes glint with amusement, the kind that always seems to follow your frustration like a shadow.

You shoot him a sharp look, still processing everything, but there’s something in his expression that makes you pause. He’s not upset about this. He’s… enjoying it. Suddenly, a realization clicks in your mind. You can’t tell if it’s panic or pure frustration, but you know what’s coming next.

Eddie knows you and you know him. You both realize, at the same moment, that there’s no escaping the trap. It’s not like you can tell Dustin and Suzie the truth—they’re already too invested. And you certainly can’t go around making a scene. You’d have to lie low, play nice for the wedding and get through this uncomfortable, forced proximity.

You cross your arms over your chest, standing tall in the face of his amused gaze. "Okay. Fine," you say, voice low but firm. "We’re stuck together for the week but for the sake of Dustin and Suzie’s wedding, I think it’s best if we just… play along so they focus on their wedding and not us." You hate the words as they leave your mouth, but it’s the only sensible thing to do.

Eddie raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. He doesn’t seem to be fighting the idea, which only makes you more suspicious. “Play along, huh?” he repeats, leaning back into the bed as if he’s settling in for a long conversation. “You mean, like, pretend we’re head over heels for each other for their wedding?”

You throw your hands up in mock exasperation. "I mean, what else do you want me to call it? We pretend we’re into each other, act like we’re happy, and get through the wedding without anyone suspecting we can’t stand each other. Then we never have to see each other again."

Eddie smirks, clearly weighing the idea. He lets out a soft laugh, almost like he’s trying to stifle his enjoyment. “Fake dating, huh? Yeah, I can see that. It’ll be like a rom-com, only with more sighing and eye rolling.” He eyes you up and down, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Alright. I’m in. This should be fun.”

You narrow your eyes, not quite ready to let him get the upper hand. “You better not mess this up, Eddie. I’m not in the mood for your jokes or your... whatever this is.” You gesture vaguely at him, already regretting the entire idea of having to spend more time in close proximity to him than absolutely necessary. 

He raises both hands in mock surrender. “Whoa, whoa. I’m a professional. You’d be surprised how good I am at this,” he says with an exaggerated wink. “And don’t worry. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

You stare at him, suspicious, but you don’t have a better option. The whole “fake dating” thing might actually be the lesser evil. At least this way, you don’t have to worry about awkward explanations to Dustin and Suzie about how you really feel about each other. You just have to get through the wedding weekend, put on a show, and keep the peace.

You sigh, rubbing your temples. "Alright. Fine. But you better not ruin it. We’re not going to be all lovey-dovey, okay? We’re just... two people who are pretending. Got it?"

Eddie grins like a kid on Christmas morning. “Got it. You’re not going to catch me making googly eyes at you or anything. We’ll just act like we’re having the time of our lives together. What’s the worst that could happen?”

You glare at him, your nerves already fried from the thought of what’s to come. "I don’t know, Eddie. Maybe you’ll actually start believing it,” you say, your voice tinged with sarcasm.

Eddie laughs, flopping back on the bed. “Oh, believe me, I don���t want to get any ideas since you’re a flight risk,” he says, his voice dripping with mock sweetness. "I’m all about the performance here. Strictly professional. I’ll be the best fake boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

You turn to face the mirror by the desk, staring at your reflection for a moment. You really thought you’d come to London to celebrate a wedding, maybe enjoy some time away from the madness. Instead, you’re stuck with Eddie, playing pretend for the sake of two people who have no idea that you’re not just friends anymore.

And yet, a strange, nervous energy flickers beneath your skin. You tell yourself it’s just the tension of the situation—that’s what it is. You’re not actually… curious about what it would be like to have Eddie’s arm around you again or what it would feel like to pretend to be in a relationship with him. You can’t be. That’s ridiculous. He said you were nothing to him. That couldn’t have changed. 

Still, as you glance over at him, still lying on the bed with that carefree smirk on his face as you begin to get ready for dinner. You can’t help but wonder if this week might turn into something completely unexpected - more likely a cruel joke than a fresh start but, you’d take a little bit of excitement over the mess you had created for yourself back home.

“Alright. We’re really doing this” you say, swallowing any remnants of doubt. “Let’s do this, then. Let’s pretend to be the perfect couple.”

Eddie’s grin widens, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’re on, babe.”

[xxrainbow-princessxx]

A Quiet Christmas - Isabella x Leo (One shot from a RR Mob Boss AU)

This is a one shot from a Mob Boss style AU for Liam and Leo. This is the kids first Christmas with Leo since they returned to Cordonia.

Cutesy fic, following prompt for @choicesdecember2024 for Day 29: Snowman / Snowball Fight

tagging a few old friends as I haven’t posted in a long time and I am sorry for that 😓😭 if I have missed anyone, again I am sorry - I just haven’t posted in a lifetime 😭

@havenroyals @angrythingstarlight @lorirwritesfanfic @lorircreates

This Christmas Eve for Leo was somewhat reminiscent of his days when the Rys Royal Family were still ruling the Cordonian Kingdom. It was a far cry from too many Christmases past on the run or drinking himself to oblivion to block out the pain of the unknown. This year however was set to change that repetitive narrative and create new, happier memories. Reunited again with this childhood sweetheart and their identical twin daughters, Leo decided to do something magical for their first Christmas together as a family and planned a trip to Lythikos after realising their kids hadn’t played in the snow since the were little, nor had he the opportunity to live that experience with them as a family, until now. The closer the family were to the Lythikos Kingdom, the heavier the snowflakes became. The snow was falling thick as a blanket over the darkened mountains, each flake softening the world outside. Leo sat in the driver’s seat of the black SUV, his fingers clenched on the wheel as the headlights cut through the swirling white haze. Beside him, Bella kept her eyes on the road, but he could feel her tension, the way her shoulders were slightly hunched as if bracing against some invisible storm.

Their twin daughters, Alessandra and Natalia, sat in the back, discussing the most important aspects of life right now, “Mama, Papa… will santa know we’re here and not leave our presents at home?” Their voices, high and eager, were the only sound that filled the cabin of the car. “Sí, mi amor…” Isabella spoke softly, “Santa will know where you are tonight, so do not worry…” Leo glanced at Bella, his brow furrowing. The trip had been his idea—this remote cabin in the mountains for their first Christmas as a family. It was supposed to be peaceful. But Leo couldn’t shake the feeling that, no matter how far they went, the shadows of their life would always follow may that be from the Via Imperii or someone plotting revenge of a business deal gone wrong. They had only just begun to experience the weight of their father’s legacy, the weight Leo had tried to shield them from over the past year, but in his world, that was always easier said than done. He let out a slow breath and shifted his gaze to the rearview mirror. The road was barely visible through the thickening storm, but they were nearly there.

Leo’s gaze softened as he looked at the twins, their little faces lit by the dim glow of the car’s interior light. Alessandra and Natalia both were happily watching their favourite Christmas film in the headrest screens without a care in the world and for a brief moment, Leo’s heart ached. They were so young, so innocent. He knew that life was precious and the three individuals in the car alongside him filled him with a joy that could only be described as indescribable - he wouldn’t be able to articulate how he felt, no matter how hard he tried. Coming to a stop, Leo fixed the handbrake with a grin in front of a magnificent wooden cabin decorated with outdoor twinkling Christmas Lights, “This is home for the next couple of days…” The cabin was cozy, nestled in a hollow between two snow-covered peaks. It looked almost like a picture from one of those glossy holiday brochures, the kind that promised peace and serenity—things Leo was only just beginning to understand and appreciate once more. The majority of his adult life was simply to survive, out of everyone there - he needed this the most. 

He helped the petite brunette unpack the car, keeping a sharp eye on the surroundings. His instincts, honed over years of running the family business, refused to let him relax. But Bella had insisted—thiswas supposed to be their escape. He stood momentarily to take in the quiet. A millisecond of time felt like an eternity. He felt as if he were in a paradox - out in the open but sheltered from everyone at that moment. "Mi amor, come inside…" Isabella called from the front door with a giggle. "Alessandra and Natalia are already re-decorating the tree and making themselves at home…” The sandy haired former Cordonian Crown Prince walked inside, the warmth of the cabin immediately enveloping him. The fire crackled in the hearth, its flames casting long shadows on the walls. The twins were in the living room, their small hands carefully placing ornaments on the tree, giggling every time one of them tipped over.

“Papa, come see, come see!” Natalia called, her face glowing with excitement as she ran towards him, eagerly taking his calloused hand, dragging him towards the 8ft Fir Tree. With a sparkling star in hand, Leo lifted his youngest daughter high enough to reach the top of the tree to add the final decoration to its rightful place. Alessandra was watching with adoration as the star glittered from above her, the flecks of shimmering gold catching the lights as they twinkled and danced around the tree. Leo kneeled down beside them. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to forget who he was day to day—but for the holidays, he was just a father with his daughters, enjoying Christmas. Kissing both of their cheeks elicited a shriek of happiness from them both as he wrapped his strong, muscular arms around them both gently. “I think Santa knows you two have been so good this year… he didn’t tell me anything different when I spoke with him this morning…” Leo wasn’t exactly joking when he said this, he did speak to a Santa this morning but that was more of a shakedown than handing over a Christmas present list. 

As the evening deepened, the storm outside grew fiercer, but inside the cabin, it was warm, filled with the smells of roasting meat and the sound of Christmas carols playing softly in the background. The twins had set the table with their own brand of chaotic enthusiasm, and the meal was simple—no lavish spreads or extravagant gifts, just a quiet night together. After dinner, they sat around the fire. Leo held a glass of whiskey in his hand, his thoughts drifting. It was hard to silence the ghosts of his past. The weight of his responsibilities was always present, lurking just beneath the surface of every smile, every laugh. But tonight, tonight was different. The twins were happily colouring in pictures as they patiently waited for bed time, the fire crackling in the background. Bella leaned against him, her fingers twining with his. “Leo, it’s ok” she cooed softly, as if she could sense his thoughts. "We’re safe here. You’re safe. We’re safe." He nodded, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was just waiting for something—someone—to remind him of the world he’d left behind for the next few days. But for now, as he looked at Bella and their daughters, the warmth of the fire and the laughter of his family filled the empty spaces. For the first time in years, Leo allowed himself to believe it might just be enough.

As the night wore on, Leo and Isabella found themselves cozied up on the couch as the kids fell asleep soundly in their room. Kissing the crown of Isabella’s head as she slept against his shoulder, Leo savoured his tumbler of whiskey, quietly enjoying the spitting of the fire, watching as it slowly dissipated away into ash and smoke a mere hour or two later. Each hour on the grandfather clock rang out as a reminder of the lack of sleep Leo had and how many hours he had left before chaos ensued the cabin. As the clock struck 4am, he heard a recognisable shuffling coming from the hallway. “Back to bed…” his deep voice echoed, “It’s too early…” smiling to himself as he heard a soft but audible sigh and the door closing behind them. It was sweet they were so excited, warming Leo’s heart further. He’d done so much planning. Unbeknownst to Isabella or the twins, he had the cabin built for them, it wasn’t some simple weekend retreat but a holiday home where they could just be together. In fact, it was a present to the woman who brought his children into the world and he was trying to make up for the past four years of not knowing they existed, or in Isabella’s case - still alive. Leo wanted to be the father he never had. He wanted to be present and only wanted what was best for them. For the first time in a long time, he felt a sense of peace settle over him. The past was a shadow he couldn’t escape, but tonight, that shadow didn’t feel so heavy. They were together. And for now, that was all that mattered, holding the love of his life just that little bit tighter as she slept peacefully. 

As predicted, the morning brought organised chaos and a childlike wonder to all. “He didn’t forget!” Exclaimed the twins as they bounded into the living room, wakening their mother who was still asleep against their father’s shoulder. Isabella’s glazed over eyes watched as they ran towards the tree and in a whirlwind of wrapping paper, toys and presents appeared, replacing the green and red wrapped boxes that sat perfectly under the branches. “Mi querida…” the petite brunette sighed, placing her hand gently against Leo’s cheek, “Did you not sleep?” her brow raising as she questioned him. “Yeah…” Leo yawned, trying to disguise it with a smile, “I gotta couple of hours…” before immediately changing the subject, “Breakfast?” The former Crown Princess’ dark chocolate brown eyes saddened as she saw the last two wrapped presents from under the tree, both for Leo, from her and the children. 

As the twins were preoccupied, Isabella carefully picked up the small boxes bringing them to the kitchen. “Open them…” she held out the presents in front of the mob boss, him puzzled as to why. Her brow furrowed at his reluctance, “…Por favor, mi amor… this one first…” she tapped her long red nail against the cardboard…” Leo opened it to a new pair of leather gloves, scarf and hat. He was confused but appreciated the gesture. “Sasha and Talia have always wanted to go build a snowman like they’ve seen in the movies… when they heard we were going somewhere snowy for Christmas they hoped that you would help them…” Leo tried on the gloves, they were pristine and weren’t tainted like his usual pair. For now, his hands were clean metaphorically and physically. Isabella’s beautiful warm smile appeared once more as she teased, now this one…” Leo looked at it, it was a small ring box, opening it he saw nothing other than a folded piece of paper. He carefully opened it, his sea green eyes scanning the contents before his gaze met the petite brunette’s. “You’re?!” Leo exclaimed, he didn’t know how to feel, he was elated but terrified at the same time. Isabella pointed to the picture of the sonogram, “Twelve weeks, going on Thirteen…” looking over her shoulder with a grin towards the twins playing on the other side of the room, completely unaware of what was unfolding, “They don’t know yet either… I thought you might want to be the one to tell them…” 

“Doll…” Leo softly cupped his hands around  Isabella’s face, embracing her as if it were his last. His lips crashed onto hers and once again, time felt as if it were standing still. In that moment, all he could feel was immense joy. “I’m surprised you didn’t notice each morning…” No he didn’t notice, recently when Isabella was going to work - he was only arriving home, passersby in the night as the Via Imperii’s grip tightened around the Kingdom. Family, he thought. Our family. This time it would be different, he could be there. He could be present. But again… could and would have two different meanings. “This place…” the sandy haired Cordonian cleared his throat awkwardly, “…this is for you…” Isabella’s eyes widened in shock, “We were only renting… I thought this…” causing Leo to chuckle loudly as he rolled his eyes playfully, “…You really think that you would be in one of Olivia’s Airbnb’s or something? I don’t think so honey…” shaking his head, Leo continued to plate up, “Breakfast is ready…”

“Show me all the presents Santa brought!” Leo happily exclaimed as the twins came bounding in trying to carry as many items as their little bodies would allow. “Wow…” the former Crown Prince grinned as he saw his two beaming girls, “You two must have been really good this year…” they nodded in unison. “Yes, papa! We have!” “And a little birdie told me that you also want to go build a snowman? Will we do that before dinner?” Isabella winced at the loud, piercing squeal that echoed through the wooden cabin, “So much for a quiet Christmas…” the petite brunette shook her head as the excitement grew. “Let’s all go get dressed and we can go outside…” Isabella calmly instructed before they as a family finally ventured out of their redwood cabin cocoon. 

There was so much snow that neither Alessandra or Natalia knew what to do with. “Let me show you…” Leo began to form the shape of a ball, rolling it around as it became bigger. “Go help your papa…” Isabella smiled from the porch, encouraging them both to help Leo as she pulled her woollen coat tighter around her to keep warm. The white powdery snow crunched under their feet, with the snowflakes continuing to dance above their heads. “You know….” Leo looked up to the sky with a warm smile, “Each little snowflake is different, they’re not the same…” Alessandra pouted her lip with a furrowed brow from confusion, holding out her little hand to catch the flakes “But they look the same papa?” “Well…” Leo grinned as he lifted a pile of snow, patting it to form the snowman’s head as he kneeled down beside them, “You and your sister look the same… but you’re different…“ before lifting the snowman’s head and placing it atop his body. Isabella found an old scarf, a carrot, some branches from the pile of chopped wood and some stones for the eyes and buttons. “Should be we get him dressed, yes?” 

Admiring their handiwork, Alessandra and Natalia sprinted toward the snowman, wrapping their arms around its snowy form in excitement. Leo cleared his throat playfully. “What about me? Where’s my hug?” The twins exchanged a mischievous glance, almost as if communicating telepathically, before racing toward him. Leo, grinning, fell backward into the snow just as they collided with him, and he wrapped his arms around them. The twins squealed with laughter as he chuckled.

“Mama!!” they cried out as Leo tickled them mercilessly. “Mama!!” they repeated, their voices full of giggles. The petite brunette, knelt beside them with a smile, her eyes twinkling. “Maybe next year you’ll have another set of hands to help stop the tickle monster…” Leo raised an eyebrow. “We’re doing this now?” Isabella nodded, her smile widening. “No better time.” Leo sat up, loosening his hold on the girls. “Sasha… Talia…” he began, his grin growing. “Your mama and I have something to tell you… we’re going to have a baby… you’re going to be big sisters.” The twins paused, taking in the news. Natalia was the first to speak, her eyes lighting up. “I want a brother!” But Alessandra shook her head with a determined expression. “No, Talia… no boys… mama…” Her hazel eyes turned to Isabella, and she smiled sweetly. “Can we get some hot chocolate?” “Por supuesto, cariño,” Isabella replied, her voice warm. “Let’s go inside and make some.”

As the evening began to slowly roll in, Isabella and Leo prepared dinner, the girls happily watching outside as their snowman stood proud and tall outside the cabin. It was a Christmas the family wouldn’t forget. Leo did have one more surprise under his sleeve but he wanted to wait until the twins went to bed before he could clamber the courage to ask the former Crown Princess to marry him with the 20 carat diamond ring he had carefully stowed away for safe keeping.

[foxilayde]

Taking a break from Thanksgiving thots to ask how you envision OTTR Leto meeting reader?? I haven’t given it much thought before this moment and now I’m desperate to hear your thoughts on the beginning of their relationship

I think about this one all the time.

You met Leto in Venice. Ocean Front Walk Venice, CA.

It gets hot in the Valley.

So hot that when you’re getting off your shift one blazing afternoon in downtown Los Angeles, the prospect of sitting in dead stop traffic on the 60 to Jurupa Valley, in your busted Honda Civic, only to go home to a stifling house with no AC…. Is anything but appealing.

So you do something unexpected. You are going to cool down, and you’re going to treat yourself while you do it. You’re going to pretend your life is ab-fab (absolutely fabulous) if only for one evening.

You take off from the parking lot of your job and instead of heading east, you go west. You stop at Neiman Marcus and you buy a dress. One that is too expensive to actually keep. So you wear it out and tuck the tags with every intention to return the next day. The dress looks amazing tho, it’ll be a shame to say farewell. It’s a classy little black cocktail thing that goes well with your plain black work shoes.

You get a little touch-up at the makeup counter to refresh your lipstick and spray on some Diptyque, and you head back to your car. You google, “open houses ocean view near me” and you take off to the coast.

You park your car a few blocks away from the listing. If the agent sees that heap, they probably won’t let you step inside. I mean this house is listed for nearly 15 million dollars. You shouldn’t even be walking down this block. You feel almost guilty for parking anywhere near this neighborhood.

There’s about 5 or six other people in the house looking around. The agent smiles at you and hands you a brochure when you enter. A glossy embossed thing listing the amenities as well as her contact information. You feel a little overdressed. The men are in tommy Bahama shirts and the women are in Lulu Lemon leggings.

You get a glass of free champagne and you help yourself to the charcuterie tray, looking around the house with appraising eyes, trying to nod your head at the bannisters and balconies like “hmm yes, maybe this will do.” Truthfully the house is beyond gorgeous. It’s ocean adjacent and has it’s own deck, pool, hot tub rooftop lounge, bedroom balcony… the kitchen is a thing of ART. The whole open concept and glass everything makes you feel so utterly out of place.

But its not like buying it was ever in the cards or the intention. the AC works, that’s all you care about, and you step outside the living room patio balcony, the ocean breeze hits your face in the most cooling fantastic sort of way. You audibly sigh and close your eyes breathing in the air. A voice from behind you startles you.

“Refreshing, isn’t it?” You nearly drop your glass, surprised by the man’s proximity.

God. He is handsome. Slick backed hair, mirrored aviators, a thousand watt smile, movie star jaw, and a dark navy suit cut, sewn, and ironed by Giorgio Armani himself. He looks like a magazine advert for Ray Bans. Now this, this is the type of man who buys a 15 million dollar home. Not you. The way he’s smiling at you now seems like… like joke or something. Like he’s laughing at you. He can smell the Honda Civic on you, can clock your shoes as Margiela knock-offs… heat creeps up your face despite the cooling breeze.

You look down at the floor and smile politely. “Excuse me” you mutter and go inside to investigate another part of the house.

You run into him again in the closet. Literally, you bump into him in the grand walk in. He’s probably going to need a closet this big for his collection of fine Italian sartorials. “Sorry” you mumble, ducking out. God he smells good.

You head back down to the kitchen to grab more cheese and crackers. Another bonus of open house crashing along with the free AC and free sparkling wine. Free food.

You’re midway through shoving another Brie covered cracker into your mouth when you see him again, in the kitchen, examining something attached to the marble countertop. His glasses are hanging from the center of his undone silk shirt. Those eyes.

You cover your cracker-full mouth and gulp. He’s so fucking cute furrowing his brow at the contraption and he spins the lever of it with one hand and smiles. He looks up at you.

“Pasta maker.” He points to it before shoving his hand back in his pocket. “You ever use one like this? It’s old school.”

You shake your head, still swallowing cracker.

“Wonder if it comes with the house…” He muses, looking up at the recessed lighting. He points up. “They all come with this now, you notice that?”

You shake your head again.

He tsks and continues, “Can’t stand it. I like something softer, y’know. These are harsh. You get up at 3 in the morning to get a glass of water and you want to kill yourself.”

You shrug and take a sip of sparkling wine. You wish you could talk to him but you can’t. You can feel yourself on the verge of saying something fucking stupid and it’s best to just not speak at all. So you look up at the recessed lighting with a curious face, trying to see the harshness, as he put it.

“Something hanging, like right over here,” he indicates over the island. “Something with yellow light. Soft, capiche?”

You smile at the word. It makes you more comfortable for some reason. “What? Like the Tiffany lampshades in the pool hall?” You offer with a smile.

He grins the most dazzling smile at you, stepping a foot closer and nodding. “Not exactly what I had in mind, but keep talking.”

“I was thinking more Venini myself.” You offer, taking another sip. He nods at you with appreciation.

“Tasteful. And soft. I’m listening.”

Your cheeks hurt from smiling at this point and you take a few steps to the living room gesturing near the sofa.

“An Arco floor lamp in the corner right here.” You submit to him, looking back over your shoulder with a wink. He chuckles.

“Took the words right out of my mouth.”

“And for the foyer,” you stride over to the front entrance, “A Sputnik. Right in the middle.”

“Gold or silver?” He asks.

“Bronze of course.” You reply with an affected air.

“How silly of me, dear.” He puts his hand over his heart.

The real estate agent makes a remark on what a gorgeous couple you are and how you just “fit the house”.

You start to protest but the man puts his arm around your shoulders and thanks the agent saying, “whatever baby wants, baby gets.” Winking at the woman and KISSING the side of your head. Which makes your face turn hot instantly.

He is… good at playing along, isn’t he. Well isn’t that what you were doing already? cosplaying as someone who could afford the house, and now you’re cosplaying a couple with this man whom you don’t even know the name of? Jesus—Just go with it, you suppose. Enjoy the pretending before you have to go back to the heat of Jurupa Valley…

“Now what about the dining room?” He asks into your ear in a deep voice, arm still over your shoulder.

“Hmmm,” You’re slowly running out of lamp styles, but you can’t let on. “How do you feel about Venetian glass, darling?”

“Inspired. Really,” he squints his eyes at the recessed lighting over the dining table. “We are in Venice after all.” He laughs with a toothy smile. “You have fine taste…” he leads.

You give him your name. He repeats it before telling you his. “Leto”

“I should have known you would have fine taste by the dress you’re wearing.” He compliments, picking up a glass of sparkling wine on the marble counter and gesturing your dress up and down.

“Thank you.” You blush. It’s not even yours. It’s on loan. You’re returning it tomorrow and you feel like a fraud.

Leto bites his bottom lip in contemplation then takes a step towards you, his hand making its way towards the nape of your neck with stern concentration on his lips. Oh fuck he’s about to kiss you. You make the split second decision to let him, closing your eyes gently, puckering your lips, holding your breath, and leaning in slightly.

But he doesn’t kiss you. You feel the slide of glossy paper down the back of your neck and the settling of it under your dress. He was tucking in the price tag of the dress for you. Jesus fucking Christ. You step back, embarrassed. He pats your arm. You cover your your brow, feeling your face get hot once again. So much for searching for that cool breeze by the coast!

Leto chuckles pleasantly. “Hey, hey, don’t be embarrassed. Happens to the best of us.”

God he’s probably giving you the benefit of the doubt. Probably thinks you just have so many new designer dresses that you innocently forgot to take the tag off… but if he had, would he have tucked it back in like he did? Or would he have just plucked it off?

“You like the house?” He asks, still jovial like the most embarrassing thing in the world didn’t just happen to you 5 seconds ago.

“It’s amazing. Perfect, really. The location, the style. It’s a dream. I have always wanted to live in Venice… the energy here is unbelievable.” You look around at the pristine grandiosity. The sun is close to setting now over the ocean and you sigh wistfully at the stunning view. “Whoever gets it is a lucky duck, I’ll tell you that.” You say, cheersing the sun itself before knocking back a sip of wine.

Leto watches you watch the lapping waves. “Let me buy it for you?”

You nearly choke on your drink. “Leto?! The house??”

Leto nearly doubles over in laughter, holding up his hand in apology, “No. No. I’m sorry, I— I meant the dress.”

Your face goes hot again. He knows! He knows you’re planning on returning it. Shit, he probably saw you pull up in your Civic!

“Please let me buy it for you. It suits you perfectly and it’d be a shame for anyone else to own it.” His eyes are so soft and kind and pretty and you almost want to cry.

“I… I can’t let you do that. It’s already on my card. I promise I won’t return it though, after that compliment, how could I?”

Leto nods. “At least let me take you out to dinner? Give you an excuse to show it off?”

Your heart nearly sinks. He’s probably the type to insist on picking you up. And he’s going to, what? Drive to the IE to do that?

“I live kind of far away…” you trail off, cringing slightly.

“I can send a car for you.”

“Leto, No, I—“

“Do you live father than a car ride? I can send a plane for you if you’d prefer?”

You laugh, but the returning stare isn’t a joking one. He’s fucking serious.

“I promise I won’t try anything funny. I just… want to pick your brain for more design ideas.” He grins and scratches the back of his neck, “It doesn’t have to be a date. Could be a business dinner? You would be my consultant…”

“Oh really? Consultant?” You cringe.

“Or it can be a date. A proper one. The best meal of your life. The Barber of Seville at the LA Operahouse, dancing, desert, a starlit walk on the beach outside my brand new house.” He grins. God what a fantastic smile.

“Sound like a 5 hour date.” You assess.

“What? You want longer? Because I will have a hot tub by the time this date rolls around and that can add up to 2 hours.”

“Two hours? Ambitious.”

“Agreed. But if done properly…” he winks and hands you a business card with his number on it. “Just think about it. I’ll be around.” He takes a deep breath, surveying the house and you, “I could stay and play house with you all day but I have a sudden urge to get ahold of my broker.” He takes your hand and kisses it.

“Nice meeting you Leto… Atreides.” You read off of his card.

“The pleasure was mine, gorgeous.”

Once he leaves, you have to go out to the balcony again for a breath of fresh air.

[therapardalis]

[Thing for @m-knightblogging.]

Coldharbour Lane, Brixton, UK ...

Thera's heels clicked on the footpath as she walked, her eyes shifting briefly to the glossy brochure in her hand and then to the street numbers she was passing by. Parking in London was rarely if ever fantastic, and her silver Mini was tucked into a spot a couple of blocks behind her - but she was never allergic to a bit of a walk.

The sign above the street caught her eye before the number did, the bookshop tucked between an empty, boarded up bar and an equally closed cafe. She pushed the brochure into the bag slung on her shoulder as she drew up outside. 'New and Used, Rare and Antique' ... it sounded exactly like her kind of place.

A bell chimed as she went in, though whether it was disturbed by the opening door or set off by a motion sensor she didn't wonder about; she was too busy inhaling the scent of books, old and new.

"Hi," She made her way over to the man behind the counter, giving a smile, "just wondering if you can point me to the archaeology section, please?"

[trekbait]

The Vulcan spiritual retreat EVERYONE is talking about

The quadrant is abuzz with news of a new relaxing retreat on Vulcan run by a man who claims to be the second coming of Sybok.

Sybok, the 23rd-century Vulcan leader of the v'tosh ka'tur cult (Vulcans without logic), was known to relieve people of deep emotional pain. He went missing when he commandeered the Enterprise to go find god. This new Sybok claims that Sybok’s katra has been floating on a higher plane of existence with god for the past hundred years but has now joined with him to share the secret of ascension.

Sybok’s Secret Special Spiritual Sanctuary is nestled in the foothills of Mount Selaya where Sybok’s will help you let go of your inner pain. “But don’t I need my pain,” you ask? Apparently not, according to Sybok, who wants you to share your pain with the group and gain strength from that sharing.

You’ll spend two weeks sweating in the Vulcan heat conducting guided meditative exercises with Sybok and bonding with your fellow initiates. Unlike other Vulcan meditation classes, here you’ll embrace your emotions so fear cannot stop you and undertake the greatest adventure of all time. You’ll also get a glossy certificate at the end of the course.

One initiate who was leaving just as we arrived proclaimed “Sybok has put me in touch with feelings I’ve always been afraid to express. It is as if a weight has been lifted from my heart!” shortly before he tripped backwards and fell down a flight of stairs.

Many on Vulcan may dismiss Sybok’s exercises as “a trippy mind meld” and that Sybok himself is just "a con man from the dodgy side of T'Paal City". But Sybok is keen to assure you of his credentials: “Sybok’s Secret Special Spiritual Sanctuary is the best meditative retreat you’ll ever experience. The Best! And I’ll stake my reputation on it. People come here and tell me, ‘wow, Sybok, you’ve given my life sooooo much happiness. It’s like I’m on drugs right now’ and I’ll reply that’s the Sybok promise.”

Unusual for a Federation citizen, Sybok is charging currency for his retreat. It costs a hefty 10 bars of gold-pressed latinum to secure a reservation on his course with a waiting list of around 2 years. This apparently is part of the process that to relieve yourself of your pain you must first relieve yourself of your worldly possessions (to Sybok specifically). It is unclear where this currency goes. However, Sybok has recently announced that he has been told by god that he needs a private starship to spread the message far and wide.

After he got out of an exclusive one-on-one meld with a young female initiate, we asked Sybok about the ascension mentioned in his brochure; “Oh our ascension is great. It’s, like, a wonderful experience. There’s nothing quite like it. All the other god-like beings are so jealous of our ascension. You’ve never seen an ascension to beautiful, it’s much better than Q’s. You’ll be so excited when you see it. What? How’d you get it? Well, you’ll find out. Yeah, you’ll find out. Wait and see.”

Whatever his detractors may think, it is clear Sybok is the hot new thing this side of Betazed. You can book your place by contacting Plomeekalife Interstellar Supplements of Vulcan Inc.

[canihavesomethingofmyown]

Oahu, INT, Day

DANNY is sitting in a sea of glossy brochures, writing down dates and locations in his notebook.

DANNY: I think we’ll stop over in LA this time, before visiting mom and dad. I’d like to see more of LA than the concorse at the airport.

DANNY enthusiastically points out different tours and locations in the brochures.

DANNY: Grace has asked if we could go to Hollywood, and Disneyland, all of that. So I thought, why not?

STEVE: the kids will love that, Danny.

STEVE looks at DANNY with a wistful longing, his heart full. But his chest tightened and he felt sad somewhere inside as he realised Danny and the kids would be gone for a while.

STEVE: (trying to sound casually interested, instead of hopelessly crestfallen) How long will the trip take?

DANNY: About 2 and a half weeks. So you’d better call the governor, babe.

STEVE: Why?

DANNY: Because you’ll need your leave approved.

STEVE stared at him blankly.

DANNY: You’re coming with us, babe. I need a crazy adrenaline junkie to go on all those rides with Grace.

STEVE beamed as he started a mental list of items he should pack for the best vacation ever.

STEVE: I’d love to be your adrenaline junkie, Danno.

[delirium1217]

hospital AU

Regulus despised hospitals. He thought admitting this would be at least a little bit harder than it was. In the first few weeks of accepting this job, he thought he could train his eyes to see his place of work as something better. Something hopeful. The pillar of healing and care all the glossy brochures claimed it would be. Deep down, he must’ve known it would never be true. A hospital was just like any other well-intentioned but ultimately poorly-thought out dream humanity had. A well-greased machine in a world of many. Sure, there were probably many people who went in, got the help they needed, and left. But what about the people who got tangled in the webs of greed, malpractice, and malicious policies? And what about the people fueling these practices? In specific, what about him?   Yes, him. The world had thrust the job of a pharmaceutical sales representative into his hands, and he had accepted. The harborer of cold-cut business, masquerading as legitimate medical practices. He supposed he could hung up excuses of why he accepted all around him and fill up an entire room of them. It was comfortable. His mother had pressured him into it. The pay was outrageously good for a fresh graduate. He got a good parking spot. It was all so mundane, wasn’t it? His job was just so…disingenuous. Something Regulus didn’t know he would despise as he grew up. The twisting of numbers and charts to push product, the elaborate lunches and the enticing lies he had to wrap up into bite-sized bullet points. A pretty face in a polished suit, peddling deceit. He didn’t particularly like how easy it was to quiet down, to pocket his above average salary, to go home to his too-big apartment, to feed his cat ridiculously expensive meals, to meet his friends on the weekends. To dread re-living the work week, over and over again. None of this mattered, the minutiae of guilt and self-depreciation, not as he strolled into the hospital at 7 a.m. on a Monday. He pulled on his too-tight tie as he crossed the main hallway. It was quiet. The only sound accompanying his smart shoes on the floor was the squeak of food carts headed to the inpatient wards. He had to be early today. The afternoon entailed what Regulus liked referring to as a hounding day, only to himself, of course. He passed by a group of irritable looking nurses and residents. His future customers, his boss would whisper in his ear, if she were here. He always felt bad, waltzing in with a full night of sleep, wearing a crisp and fitted suit that clearly singled him out.

He made a beeline for the elevators, reclining on the wall as he waited.

“Black!”

Regulus turned around - alongside multiple other heads - when he saw who’d yelled his name, he immediately sighed.

“Crouch,”

Striding to him in pink scrubs - fluorescent, contrasting against the white tiles. A coffee cup in hand. Crouch looked like he could jump off the walls, unlike everyone else around him.

He clapped his shoulder, a bit too hard. “Look at you, up bright and early,”

He looked him up and down. His identification badge with ‘RN - CROUCH’ was turned upside down.

“Comes with the job description, I’m afraid,” he was sure his smile came on strained and artificial. He didn’t care.

“Yeah well, same here!” Crouch was obscenely energetic for this time of day, currently grinning. Regulus wondered if there was something else other than coffee in that cup of his.

“Coming off a shift, then?”

“Oh no, I’m pulling doubles today. Y’know, pays better. Plus, all the sundowners are perked up by now - should be easy sailing,”

Regulus highly doubted that. The geriatrics department was notorious for having absolutely terrible turnover rates. No nurse would stay there for more than a few months. He nodded politely in a way he hoped would kill the conversation. It didn’t. Crouch then went on to stare at him for about thirty seconds straight. Unwavering eye contact. “…Was there anything else you wanted?” “Yes! Well, you know, how you get assigned to random hospitals a few weeks a time,” He didn’t know that people noticed that. “Not random though, just different. Different hospitals, to talk to different doctors and personnel. We want to reach medical providers wherever they are,” Regulus realized he fell into his salesman persona. He did that when he was uncomfortable. Crouch bellowed a high pitched laugh. As squeaky as a door hinge As if Regulus had just cracked the joke of the century. A few people glanced at them. He offered a nervous smile in return. “Look, Regulus, can I call you Regulus?” No you couldn’t. He did, nonetheless, with a hand on his shoulder, and leaning down to his ear. Conspiratorial. “Regulus. I’m thinking, there’s a very lucrative opportunity waiting for you here. Give me a call after work, won’t you?” He almost didn’t notice the business card slipping into his jacket pocket. Crouch clapped him on the shoulder once again, which was starting to get sore. With a wink, and a shout of “don’t let the bastards grind you down!” Crouch forwent the elevators to climb the stairs, two steps at a time. Regulus blinked into the space that Crouch was just in. What the hell was that about? His only knowledge of Crouch was, up to this point, a few off-handed meetings through mutual college friends. He’d always struck him as unpredictable. Too good at getting into trouble and even better at weaseling out of it. This, whatever it was, was dangerous. Surely Crouch wouldn’t stop at a business card Regulus might toss into the bin at any point. The elevators dinged. Regulus shook his head. He needed to focus, it was still a hounding day, after all.