#i am planning on writing this i just feel wrong doing it at work and won't be free until saturday and i still have my other qpr buddietommy

[digiblueslush]

I'm horrible at this in person but maybe I'll be good at this online lolz

also answering and yapping under the cut :3

The lie is the first one! But its not a full lie..... I'll talk about the other 2 first for the *suspension*

I do in fact have 3 kidneys, it's been my fun fact for years now haha. Though it isn't fun sometimes, I'm more prone to UTI's and they last much longer than normal, as well as occasional back pain where my extra kidney is. basically my right kidney has a smaller kidney attached but still mostly separated (like compartmentalized i guess) from it. They also both have their own ureter (the tube that connects your kidneys to your bladder) so I have 3 of those as well, and it's even less fun! because people don't usually have 3 ureters, the extra one attaches to my bladder wrong and has a blockage. over the years that extra kidney has kinda caught wind of that and has increasing gifted it's labor to my full right kidney, but it still gets used occasionally. This is usually a condition that's treated when your really young because the older you get, the more risk there is removing the extra kidney, or it isn't treated at all because majority of the time its asymptomatic. I am not looking forward to having to see a pediatric urologist at the ripe age of almost 20 haha

I was also in a menhera idol group for a period of time. it was uhhhhh. yikes. basically I posted a thing about wanted to make a menhera idol group on tiktok, and it got a decent amount of traction (used to have a cosplay account with a decent following). none of these people lived near me and half of them lived in a different country, but i had just downloaded project sekai and i had that idol spirit in me. We almost released a song, but thank god we didn't because the only good part was the instrumental. we all had shitty mics and nobody could write lyrics around the instrumental. they were all the same notes as the instrumental. It was a fun concept tho, and if it was better planned out and with actual people i think it would've been fun for a while

Now, the moment you've all been waiting for (unlikely). The lie is that I met Dan and Phil. I did meet someone from an airbnb cancellation, and it was GERARD FUCKING WAY. Basically my friend invited me to go with her to WWWYF, and our airbnb cancelled on us the week before we flew out. The only hotel in vegas that would let people under 21 check in was the 4 seasons, and we somehow managed to get a room there. The day of the festival (we only went to day 1) we went to their breakfast resturant and got seated. we were there for a bit when i started looking around and mister micheal romance was literally 2 tables away eating a bowl of fruit. I actually didn't want to approach at first, but my friend did so we waited until he was getting up to leave to not interrupt their meal (he was also there with one other person, I'm assuming either security or a stage person but he did look somewhat familiar) to say hi. we got a picture but its nothing id want to post, mans was just eating breakfast and i couldn't feel my hands. I think all i said to them was "thank you for existing" and then I cried at me and my friends table for 10 minutes from overstimulation lmao

Two Truths and One Lie

tagged by the lovely @skelewashere

No pressure tags!

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[eddieblrs]

actually no i can't be normal and stop thinking about this post and this post and hurting my own feelings because like

here's eddie diaz who's not very good at making friends he doesn't work with and who's so repressed even the pope thinks it's a tad bit much and he's meeting this older firefighter pilot who's so fucking cool and he's got so much in common with and he actually wants to be friends with him. and eddie's never had a friend he can actually talk sports and martial arts with, someone who actually understands the trauma of being in the army, and maybe tommy also comes from a family like his that's not without love and it wasn't exactly bad but his parents never truly understood him or supported him in anything. maybe tommy is also an older brother who had to take the mantle of "man of the house" because his dad was too detached from it, had to take too many responsibilities at an early age.

and eddie just connects with this dude in a way that he's never connected with anyone besides buck and even then, there's things buck can't never understand but tommy does. so he starts hanging out with this guy, starts texting him and talking with him basically anytime he's not on call or with his son

and one day he brings up this fight he's excited for and asks tommy if he'd want to watch it with him and tommy's like "actually, i've got a mate who got me two ringside tickets for it and i've been looking for someone to go with, you'd be interested?" and eddie is over the moon about it. he's nearly giggling and kicking his feet up as he calls carla to ask if she can look after chris overnight because he's going to fucking vegas with a friend. when he arrives at harbour to get on the chopper tommy is flying them to vegas in he's just a bit disappointed to see buck is there too but it's also great because buck is his best friend and he loves him and he's the only person who ever made eddie feel this way once upon a time (and he's trying so hard not to think too much about that) so it's great they're friends too but actually, no, buck's not coming and eddie feels only a little bit bad that he's relieved about it.

so they go to the fight and it's fucking great and tommy gets into it just as much as eddie is. after the fight they go out for drinks with tommy's promoter friend and they get a little drunk and in that drunken haze he lets himself think about the things he usually tries to keep at bay. he thinks about how cool and impressive tommy is but also about how fucking hot he is, he's 300lb of muscle and the strength he's got, how easily he'd manhandled eddie when they were practicing muay thai the other day, how when he looked on top of eddie when he pinned him to the floor and how eddie had wanted to taste the sweat on his muscles, lick the vein in his neck, get those hands that were holding him touching way below. but he gets a hold of himself and when they get to their hotel room with the two queen size beds he makes himself stop thinking about they way he wants to touch him everywhere, find out if he can make him make some of the noises from their sparring session in a different context. tries not to think about how his cock would feel on his hand, how tommy would look as he came.

so anyway, they get back to LA the next morning and eddie tries his best to pretend he never thought any of that and then the basketball game from hell happens and tommy tells him he's gonna talk to buck, try and make peace and eddie doesn't think twice about it, they're both his friends and they would get along well. when he sees them hanging out at the restaurant he pretends that what he feels at the pit of his stomach isn't jealousy, and later that week he only wonders a little bit if marisol being a nun before truly is the only reason why he can't have sex with her anymore, if the fact that sometimes when he sinks into her deep in his brain in a corner he never goes to he thinks about a different person, one with broader shoulders and strong pecs instead of breasts isn't part of it too.

and then he's in buck's kitchen and buck's telling him "it was a date" and when eddie asks "wait, tommy's gay?" it has nothing to do with buck and all to do with him knowing in an instant that if he'd known that back in vegas he might have risked it, might have followed his deepest desires and touch tommy like he wanted to. but now his best friend is talking about him with that doe eyed look in his eyes and eddie knows that means he really likes him and eddie does his best to push his own feelings aside because that's what he's good at and buck needs him to be supportive, that he's being vulnerable and confessing something scary to him and eddie wishes he could be like that, too, so he tells him to call tommy even though eddie wants him to do the opposite, wants to be the one tommy kissed in the kitchen and took on a date

he's not lying, exactly, when he tells buck he also likes tommy but not in that way, because whatever buck feels for tommy can't compare to what eddie's going through. he doesn't know if his desire outweighs the shame, doesn't know if he'd be able to be like buck and jump straight into it with blind hope, he knows he'd never be able to talk about it tho. not for a long while. and when he goes home that night and he's laying on his marisol-free bed staring at the ceiling he gives himself permission to be fucking angry that buck gets to have what he wants so bad, lets himself be a shitty friend and wish tommy maybe also wants eddie the way he wants him, want him more than he wants buck.

in the morning he'll feel guilty about it, in the morning he will be the supportive friend buck needs. but tonight he wallows in his jealousy and his anger and his shame and if he comes from jerking off a little too hard with tommy's name in his mouth no one has to fucking know about it.

[hana-bobo-finch]

tis here!! My stupid little beta pdbc comic!! UHHHHH

additional ramblings because I don’t know how to stop yapping:

I know the ending is extremely abrupt but honestly? I can’t even lie I think it’s funnier and somehow more in character that way. There is no way in hell he’d question what just happened he’d just lay on the floor and say “alas!” As if that is in any way is a proper response to what just happened. So no apologies for that, I genuinely think the ending is amazing and won’t hear anything else. Alas.

I WAS REALLY SCREWED OVER WITH THE TEN IMAGE MOBILE LIMIT SO THE PACING IS VERY IFFY!! That alongside the fact I wanted to get this out as quickly as possible to gauge opinions and such—therefore making this much less detailed than I’d like to have made it, yes that’s my own fault I know—means that I couldn’t properly show what the briar zome is like (HEARTBREAKING). It’s a lot more spacious and unending than what’s shown here. In this it only looks like you’re there for a few minutes but experiences there can last up to a week. There are also a lot more thorns and spiked vines, it’s just that, like I said, I wanted to get this posted quickly and coloring in all of those spikes probably took more time than some of the drawings themselves. Had I made this as accurate to canon as possible, it would be much more visually cluttered. The briar zome is VERY hard to traverse because almost everything is covered in thorns (hence the name). Also worth noting that although it’s seemingly wintry there, there’s no actual temperature in the briar zome which is why pumpkin daddy is not fucking freezing to death (you have to look DAPPER when you’re illegally eating crabs)

This technically isn’t canon. This is a mishmash of all of the stuff I have about the briar zome, but in canon it’s all much more spread out, e.g. the eyes weren’t discovered until a few trips in when they actually bothered trying to figure out if/where the briar zome ends, in which BAM they found a buncha eyes!! Speaking of the eyes, their official names are Sotes, and where they’re found is called the “Eyes Rink” (GET IT!!! EYES!!! ICE!!! GET I-💥💥💥)

you’re probably wondering what the Miika chimp incident is, which is a fair thing to be wondering, however I will not be elaborating because I think it’s funnier that way. sorry (I am not at all sorry)

AND THE TIIIIIIME yes indeed the time works differently there. As one could. Probably guess by the wack-ass watch positions. The briar zome does in fact have its own time system that’s displayed differently than most would be used to. Alas, I had to cut that part short because I realized I was quickly running out of pages and I really wanted space to draw some of those beautiful beautiful eyeballs. I has this whole lecture about different types of watch hand designs and their names but that was unfortunately cut for time (ironically)

anyway uh. hope this was somewhat enjoyable? *EXPLODES*

[schadenfreudich]

"Des is net so gut." Komm hea! I reiß dia den Aasch uff! Vielleich siehst des do!

[retrosabers]

𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐞, 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

FICMAS DAY 3: GIFT-GIVING

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: as bucky’s secret santa, you’re determined to give him the best christmas present he’s ever received.

contains: grumpy buck fluff, some angst, idiots who are crushing hard, swearing

word count: 2.4k

a/n: this is a long one i’m apologizing in advance

i am SO SORRY for crickets in the ficmas department the past week, i hit a big brick wall with this and i’ve been so all over the place with my own holiday planning and such that i ended up having to cut the masterlist in half because i knew i couldn’t get it all done. i’m very sorry to anyone who was looking forward to what got scrapped, but i couldn’t bring myself to rush through writing and put out something i don’t believe it my best work.

also, do people even want avengers fix it fics anymore?? i debated between the “everything is fine the team lives at the compound together” vibe and setting this post tfatws, but ultimately decided the former was easier to write. and i think it worked in my favor because this turned out really cute :)

!! divider by @strangergraphics !!

FICMAS MASTERLIST

your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest.

who’s idea was this again? wanda? tony? steve? it didn’t matter anymore. all that mattered right now was that you didn’t pass out in the elevator. a feat that was becoming more and more difficult the closer you got to your destination.

a secret santa is supposed to bring you joy, not near paralyzing anxiety.

at first, you were 100% on board with participating in a gift exchange. as much as you wanted to shower all of your teammates with presents galore, not everyone shared the same sentiment, and thus the idea of a secret santa was proposed.

excitement courses through your veins as you reach your hand into the cheap santa hat tony grabbed from god knows where in storage, with little pieces of paper containing the names of your fellow avengers. you decided to wait until you were back in the privacy of your room to open it up, afraid of any wandering eyes taking a peak. the last thing you wanted was the element of surprise to be stripped away. it was half the fun after all.

as sam pulls the last name, you quietly excuse yourself and all but rush upstairs, too eager to get in the holiday spirit and brainstorm. as soon as the door shuts behind you, you hurriedly reveal the contents of the paper.

if it’s natasha, i can get her a pair of ballet slippers. she’s been mentioning how she wants to start dancing again.

what about bruce? maybe a journal for all his ideas? he always seems to be losing sticky notes in the lab.

a million different ideas swirl around in your head, reminding you just how much joy this time of year brings. to you, there was nothing better than seeing the gleeful looks on people’s faces when they opened their gifts. the corners of your mouth turn up at the memory of your first christmas with the team. how shy and reluctant you were, afraid of going overboard. now, a few years later, you’re completely unabashed in showing just how much you care about them.

your bright smile morphs into a deep frown as you unfold the paper.

bucky barnes.

quite possibly the most difficult person you could’ve chosen.

to be clear, there’s nothing wrong with bucky. he may be a bit grumpy and standoffish, but it’s with good reason and you know it. that also doesn’t change the fact that he’s going to be impossible to try and shop for.

what do you get for the man who seemingly despises anything the modern world has to offer? the same man who you’re 99% sure hates your guts. come to think of it, how did you even pull him? he most definitely wasn’t downstairs 20 minutes ago when everyone scribbled down their names and tossed them in tony’s direction.

it was irrelevant now. you were stuck being his secret santa, and you’d be damned if you didn’t give james buchanan barnes the best christmas gift he’s ever gotten in his century-long lifetime.

the two weeks it took to come up with an idea sure felt like a century. if it wasn’t for the concerning amount of snooping you did, you’d probably be showing up empty handed. thankfully, at almost 1 in the morning on a random tuesday, a lightbulb went off in your brain. you scrambled bright and early the next day to go shopping, and by some lucky form of divine intervention, you acquired the perfect gift.

flash forward to now, and you’re carrying an insanely large box up to bucky’s room. in a blatant stray from what the rest of the team was doing, you decided to give him his present one on one, secluded from everyone else. partly because you were afraid of public embarrassment if he hated it, and partly because you knew bucky wasn’t very fond of being put on display.

you hope he’ll at least be grateful for that.

when the elevator finally chimes, signaling you’ve arrived at the dormitory floor, the box nearly slips from your grasp. not just from how heavy it was, but from the nervous sweat coating your palms.

the hallway is quiet enough to hear a pin drop, save for the faint sound of christmas music playing over the speakers. with careful, calculated steps, you make your way down the length of the corridor, dragging your feet the closer you get to bucky’s room. there’s a small part of you that hopes he’s downstairs in the gym, the kitchen, the backyard, anywhere but here. dropping and dashing wasn’t what you had in mind, but the anxious thumping of your heart was becoming unbearable. you know it will only amplify tenfold if you’re forced to stare into those steel blue eyes of his. the thought alone sends a chill down your spine.

you freeze in place when you hear the sound of a door knob clicking open.

please be wanda’s room, please be wanda’s room.

in front of you, the very last door on the left creaks open, revealing the tall and brooding super soldier whose company you were aiming to avoid.

it’s easy to forget how handsome bucky barnes is when he normally does nothing but grimace in your direction.

you still weren’t used to his new haircut, but it was clear he felt significantly more confident with it. is that a hint of aftershave, or cologne? whatever it was, the scent fit him perfectly; cedarwood with a hint of spice. the green henley he wears fits snugly against his broad frame, emphasizing all the muscles you’ve been caught staring at on more than one occasion. for once, he’s not wearing a scowl, though that changes when he catches sight of you.

surely you must look strange, standing dumbfounded in the middle of the hall with a box covered in santa-printed wrapping paper and a big bow that you can barely hold. right now the floor opening up and swallowing you whole was at the top of your wish list. and st. nick better make it quick.

bucky’s expression shifts from one of disdain to curiosity as he quirks a brow wordlessly. your own knit together in frustration, knowing you now had no choice but to do this exchange face to face.

“need any help?” he questions monotonously. as much as you want to be prideful and reject it, your arms feel like they’re going to fall off any second. he seems to catch your drift despite a verbal response, because in the blink of an eye he’s striding towards you, sweeping the gift from your arms and into his own with ease. you try not to gape at the way his biceps strain against fabric.

you stutter out a “thanks,” as you straighten out your sweater. bucky grunts in return and eyes the package in his hands cautiously. you’re half expecting him to shake it like a child when you catch the tiniest twitch of his upper lip.

it’s the closest thing to a smile he’s ever shown in your presence. something that gives you the courage to actually form a sentence instead of continuing to gawk at him.

here goes nothing.

“this is for you, actually,” you manage to shakily breathe out. bucky halts his observations, a glimmer of surprise briefly dancing across his face.

a beat of silence passes between you. “don’t remember asking for anything," he finally says. it’s still laced with his typical dry sarcasm, but there’s a legitimate amusement in his tone that can’t be missed.

you narrow your eyes at him playfully, feeling a little bit more at ease now that he didn’t completely rebuff you.

“i’m your secret santa, smartass,” you jab with your hands on your hips.

for the first time ever, bucky smirks at you.

“don’t recall asking for that either.”

you throw your hands up in defense, offering him a surprisingly nonchalant shrug. “don’t blame me, i’m pretty sure steve was the one who put your name in.”

“punk,” the man grumbles. he shakes his head, attention turning back to the present in hand once more.

despite his apparent annoyance, you can’t seem to stop yourself from continuing on.

“i know you’re supposed to do this kind of thing with everyone around,” you start off shaky, afraid of upsetting him any more than you may already have. his gaze immediately falls to you upon hearing your voice.

“i also know you’re not a big fan of being the center of attention,” you continue, shoving your hands into the pockets of your jeans. “figured you’d like this better if it was in private.”

bucky’s features soften. his jaw unclenched, his eyes not so narrow and judgmental. he looks relieved, flattered; a myriad of things you can’t name or place.

“i appreciate that,” he admits, suddenly shy and impish. for a second, he completely forgets about the gift you brought. the simple fact that you were kind enough to consider his feelings, despite how cold he could be to you, makes his heart skip a beat.

you simply nod your head in reply, teetering back and forth on your feet awkwardly trying to decipher your next move.

“you don’t have to open that right now you know.”

he sets the box down on the floor next to his door. “kinda defeats the purpose don’t you think?”

you shrug. “whatever you’re comfortable with. doesn’t matter what you’re “supposed to do.””

why did you care so much about his comfort level? he hardly showed any concern for yours. the notion consumes his thoughts, prohibiting him from offering anything except a nod of acknowledgement.

that awkward silence comes once again, signaling maybe you’ve overstayed your welcome, or that the moment of peace is over. you check your watch in hopes that father time was ending this exchange for you.

just your luck, he’s right on schedule.

“i uh, better get downstairs,” you announce, pointing your thumb in the direction of the elevator. “don’t wanna miss thor forcing everyone to do christmas karaoke.”

a noise akin to laughter snorts out of bucky’s nose, evoking a delightful warmth in your chest. it was different than all the other times you’ve been flustered in the presence of the super soldier. this was less about intimidation and more about…camaraderie. now wondering if maybe he doesn’t hate you as much as you thought.

it’s exactly what you need to reignite your holiday cheer and shed any remaining worries.

before you can second guess, you turn on your heels, closing the gap between your bodies. wrapping a hand around his arm, his metal arm, and offering a gentle caress, the sincerity in your words is clear as day.

“merry christmas buck.”

your touch burns straight through vibranium all the way to his chest. across his entire body, igniting every cell ablaze. a fire consuming him in ways unimaginable.

and yet. he enjoyed the burn.

as you pull away, much to his dismay, the tips of his fingers brush against the inside of your wrist. goosebumps errupt on your skin, from the cool metal, or that fact that bucky was so pretty this close, only time would tell.

“you too,” he murmurs with a faint grin. the soft crinkles by his eyes are likely going to be the subject of your daydreams for the next week.

you flash him a smile over your shoulder before turning down the hall and averting his gaze, not wanting him to see just how much you were blushing.

while unbeknownst to you, bucky was now a very bright shade of red.

he waits until he can hear the elevator doors close before slipping back into his room and very carefully unwrapping the box. there’s a nervousness in his stomach that’s unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. as the bare brown packaging becomes exposed, he begins ripping back the numerous layers of packing tape. you really took your time on this, he thinks to himself.

that funny feeling only amplifies when he sees the contents of the box.

a record player, a very expensive looking one at that, sits inside with another three wrapped items that he concludes are vinyls, judging from their flatness. on top of it all, there was a small note shrouded in luxe stationary. bucky’s heart stutters when he sees his name scribbled delicately in your handwriting.

his fingers falter briefly before he digs into the envelope.

i know this isn’t like the ones from the 40s, but it’s the closest thing i could find. also got a few of your favorite records, and one i think you’ll like too. don’t forget i have quite a collection of my own in case you ever want to try something new.

merry christmas ♡

bucky unceremoniously plops down on the edge of his bed. the normally stiff feeling mattress now mirrored a sea of clouds and feathers. he’d gladly sink into the abyss of softness, if it meant pumping the brakes on his thundering heartbeat.

from the moment he met you, bucky knew he was in trouble.

you had an aura about you that was magnetic, always drawing people in and bathing them in your light. your unconditional kindness and consideration, hell, even your mere presence in a room seemed to liven it up entirely. it was a hypnotizing, almost dangerous thing for the man, and if there was one thing he knew how to do, it was to push people away. for their sake, and his. bucky was certain that once he started keeping his distance, that you’d eventually give up in trying to crack his tough outer shell, or that the silly feelings he had would disappear.

but right now, as he’s staring at your handwriting and rubbing his thumb repeatedly over that little heart, he knows it was all in vain.

later that night, he stares up at the ceiling, listening to the familiar croon of it’s been a long, long time wafting from his present. he tries to focus on the beauty of the song, or the lights he can see from his window twinkling out on the lawn, but it’s nearly impossible. you’re the subject of all his thoughts. have been since the moment he saw you standing out in the hall. from the scent of your perfume to the little intricacies of your penmanship. the thing that’s plaguing him the most, however, is your hand on his arm.

bucky’s real arm had been gone for over half a century, having stopped experiencing phantom limb syndrome ages ago. yet somehow he felt it there, clear as day. the same tactile sensations on his flesh, right arm, in the metal prosthetic of his left. an electric shock that he’s never recognized before, and that he wouldn’t be opposed to feeling again.

tomorrow, he plans to thank steve for mischievously adding his name into the lottery.

and to ask you about your record collection.

thanks for reading! <3

tag list: @alastor-simp @j4desblurbs @pandapetals

!! if you would like to be tagged in the rest of the ficmas blurbs, please send me an inbox message or leave a comment !!

[ilovethanosdick]

Choi Su-bong/Thanos (Squid Game) x fem! reader HCS

IM OBSESSED WITH THIS MAN!!!!!

also first ever post?! it’s a little short, but hope ya enjoy!!

SFW:

• he ADORES physical touch

• touching u at every chance he gets, like even simple hand holding, leaning against u

• HE LOVES IT ESPECIALLY WHEN IT COMES FROM U!!

• casually grabs u by ur ass in public, or give u a lil slap. when u confront him about it, he acts like he dont know what are u talking about, then giggle

• using ur breast like fidget toy, when he’s stressed

• squeezing it, when he feels like it

• shoving his head between ur boobs, bro can stay like that for a good 10 minutes until he calms down

• if u ask him if he would still love u as a worm, he would tell u that he’s not a zoophile

• pet names!! baby, babe, princess are his favs!

• he’s not so good with commitment and stuff like that, would prefer an open relationship (one sided tho, he's so possesive of u)

• have huge jealousy issues when it comes to u

• a male species near u??? he goes into rage mode, getting aggressively touchy to claim u! show everyone that u are his!!

• would apologise to u with rap songs

“Y/N” he screamed outside your house. throwing rocks at the window to wake u up.

“what the fuck…” u muttered to yourself, as u walked over to the window to check what this idiot come up with this time.

as soon as he saw your face, he screamed again, his hands clutching onto his chest “SEÑORITA!!! I WANT TO APOLOGISE TO U!”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!! U DO REALISE THAT ITS 3 AM RIGHT NOW???” u screamed back at him, slightly leaning forward through window.

“I LOVE U!!!!!” he get on his knees.

“ARE U HIGH?????” u asked, clearly pissed at his presence.

“HI!!!!!” he said as he waved his hands to u, enthusiastically with a goofy grin.

even after this response, u can’t tell if he’s high. that’s pretty much how he’s acting regardless if he’s on drugs or not.

he turn on boombox, a cliche beat hit your ears. he stands up and cleared his throat.

“Yo, I messed up, I admit it, I’m a clown,

Flirting like a fool when you weren’t around.

But I swear, it was harmless, just a slip of the tongue,

Now I’m here confessing where I went wrong.

I told her, "Hey, nice shoes," and that’s all I meant,

But now I’m in the doghouse, paying the rent.

Baby, you’re the star, the queen of my heart,

And that other conversation? A throwaway part.

She laughed at my joke, yeah, I felt kinda cool,

But now I see, I was the class clown fool.

I’d never trade you for some silly chat,

You’re the boss, the CEO, I’m just the doormat.

I’ll buy you flowers, write your name in the sky,

Sing off-key if it’ll dry your eyes.

I’ll even quit drugs if you need me to,

Just don’t leave me hangin’, I’m a mess without you.

So baby, I’m here, on my knees with this beat,

Admitting my crimes, can’t handle defeat.

Let’s laugh this off, put it in the past,

‘Cause you and me, girl, we’re built to last.”

he end up the song showing a small heart formed with his thumb and index finger.

u sighed “all right, come inside”

“YAYY!!!” he did a happy jump and clapped his feet in midair.

• tbh he’s so silly

• steals flowers from a random garden for u

• night visits, but uses a window instead of a door to enter ur place, literally like some kind of teenager

• even if u gave him the keys to ur apartment, he will use the window no matter what

it was dark outside, about 11 pm. u were coming back from work. damn how exhausted u felt. some arguments with clients, boss yelling at u. it was not ur best day for sure.

u checked ur phone. still no text from Thanos. why he was ghosting u? probably he don’t want to deal with ur complains about how bad ur day went.

u opened the apartment door. u don't give a damn about anything. you plan to go to bed right away, you don't have the strength to change your clothes, wash yourself or eat something.

you threw everything aside and went to the bedroom. when you turn on the light in the room, you see your boyfriend lying on his side, resting his head on his hand, rose in his teeth.

“U WANT TO GIVE ME A HEART ATTACK???” u flinched. u can’t get used to Thanos randomly spawning in ur house.

“and i missed u too, princess” he grinned, standing up and then theatrically hand over the rose to u.

“i brought ur fav burgers and lotta beer” he said, pointing out at ur kitchen.

“thanks” u smiled softly at him. u can’t help but melt inside at his behaviour. he’a an asshole, but what a cute asshole.

“no problem, babe” he leaned to u, giving u a tight hug. burying his face in the crook of ur neck.

• avoids deep emotional conversation

• would tell that he loves u, but he don’t put much weight into that

• he’s saying it casually like it’s common sense that he loves u

• painting each others nails!!!!

NSFW:

• pansexual king, but he wouldn’t label himself

• he don’t care about gender, he fucks who he consider as cute and that’s it!!

• when u ride him, he would comment something like: WROOM WROOM!! or YEEHAW!!!

• A TOTAL FREAK….

• piss kink (y’all can’t prove me wrong)

• HE LIKES IT DIRTY!!!!

• public sex

• like fingering u in a club or on a party, sometimes anal when he's high

• claiming u like that in front of other people?? IT TURNS HIM ON SO BADD

• never a sub, it would hurt his ego

• bro don’t know what gentle sex is

• always rough and aggressive

• smokes weed/cigarettes during sex, blowing smoke in your face

• talking about himself in third person "yeah, babe. the great Thanos will make u feel so good”

“u like that slut? u like Thanos’s dick that much??”

• he’s not into after care. usually he just rolls down on bed, doesn't even bother putting on clothes, hug u tightly and fall asleep like that

[clockwayswrites]

5 Times the JL Learned Batman was Married and the 1 Time They Met the Spouse.

One. Two. Three.

“I am sure that it is clear to everyone that the mission was almost a complete disaster.”

“Almost?” Superman asked with a smidgen of a smile.

Hal thought it was brave and very, very stupid of Superman to ask that while Batman was glaring at all of them like he’d squish them if they were just small enough for him to step. And if it wouldn't get his boots too dirty.

Batman’s glare narrowed to focus on Superman alone. “We’re alive. Barely.”

“Batman—”

“No,” Batman shut down Supes’ argument with a barked word. “No. While you might be unconcerned, not all of us are indestructible, Superman.”

That finally made Superman lose any amusement that he had and he look away from Batman, properly cowled. Hal felt a little sorry for the guy, but also Supes deserved that. Not all of them were naturally bullet proof and Batman didn’t even have any powers (it seemed).

“Everyone write up a report: what went wrong, what little went right, and what we should do differently. We will discuss it next week. Expect there to be more training sessions scheduled soon,” Batman ordered.

And then he turned and left with an overly dramatic flare of his cape.

“What?” Hal asked.

“He’s just… leaving?” Superman asked. He sounded a little lost.

Batman didn’t just leave when there was work to be done.

Diana rested a hand on big blue’s shoulder. “I believe you rather overstepped, my friend.”

Oh he was more hurt than any of them knew.

Hal jogged after the retreating form. “Hey, hey Spooky, wait a sec!”

Batman’s shadowed form almost hunched forward on itself as he stopped but didn’t turn around.

“What?”

“Just…” Some of Hal’s bravado left him now that he was actually having to ask; luckily Hal had bravado in spades. “I wanted to make sure you were too badly hurt. You took some hard hits out there and like you said, not all of us are bullet proof.”

Hal wasn’t sure if Batman would answer. More, Hal wasn’t sure if Batman would answer him of all people. They had found more of an understanding with each other lately: Hal let Batman do the planning and Batman trusted Hal (a little) to break the plan in the field, but they still clashed a lot.

Then Batman let out a weary sounding huff of air. “There is nothing major. Everything will heal, though I could use plenty of ice and a good whiskey.”

Hal let himself chuckle at that. “Man, I feel that. A good whiskey, or lots of bad beer, sounds good. I just wanted to make sure. You’re rushing out of here like there’s a fire on your ass. Would hate for you to be bleeding out or something.”

Another long pause that Hal tried not to fidget through.

“It’s late. I would like to get home to enjoy my anniversary while there is still any of it left.”

“Your— oh, shit, yeah man, get out of here!” Hal said, waving Batman away.

What the hell, Hal wondered as he watched Batman sweep away for a second time, Spooky was married?

[puppy4vi]

Jealous Caitlyn and Reader :3

not writing for vi feels wrong lol but it was 3 am and I had a vision ^.^

cw: sexual themes but not super explicit (maybe part two will just be smut if u guys like it..) possessive / toxic Caitlyn, blegh proofreading

Caitlyn doesn’t like seeing you talk to other women, whether it’s to be friendly or not. She doesn’t see a point in you talking to others - she always gives you the attention you deserve, spoils you to your hearts content, and makes sure you are happy, so why do you need other women?

She wanted to be a good girlfriend, treating you to dine at a fancy restaurant as a reward for being so good for her lately. you’re usually on your best behavior for her, it’s the most you can do for your girlfriend who spoils you rotten - though, when one of the waitresses start showing slight interest in you - it causes Caitlyn to raise an eyebrow.

Caitlyn’s hand slides up your thigh at the booth the waitress seated you two in , she lightly taps your inner thigh to get your attention.

She whispers into your ear;

“Did you see how she was looking at you?”

You laugh and roll your eyes. You knew Caitlyn was the jealous type, but you felt like she was over-exaggerating this situation in particular. “Caitlyn, she works here. Do you want her to be rude to m-“ Caitlyn was quick to cut you off.

“I never said that, I just think it’s unnecessary to start a conversation with you when I’m right here. I’m more than capable to answer her myself.”

You just slightly shake your head at her words, which caused her to groan in annoyance. She didn’t like when you didn’t listen to her, especially when she knew she was right (and she always was).

“We’ll see who’s right later on.” Caitlyn whispered into your ear - lightly squeezing your thigh before pulling away. Even though you thought her jealousy was unjustified, you can’t help but feel a slight attraction towards it. The way she wasn’t afraid to tell you what’s on her mind and was so certain to stake her claim onto you made you flustered.

The waitress from earlier returns with refreshments. Before you could say thank you, Caitlyn made sure to cut you off before you could even muster a word. She thanked the waitress in a monotone voice, trying to get her to leave as quick as possible to have you to herself.

Caitlyn spots the waitress slightly ogling you before she left their table, and it just made her eye twitch. She wanted to leave the restaurant right now - to mark you up just to bring you back here - to flaunt her marks she freshly made on you to everyone who works here, but she already drove all the way here. Mind as well get food before you and her even plan on leaving officially.

Caitlyn eyes your short frame as you drink your beverage. She loved how much smaller you were than her, how easy it was to mark you up whenever she wanted. She wished she could get her mind out of the gutter, but when she thinks of any woman ogling you, she can’t help but admire what she makes sure they’ll forever miss out on.

The waitress came back shortly to take their main course order. You clear you throat before speaking;

“ Can I have the-“

“Honey, just whisper your order to me. I’ll say it for you.”

You were going to complain, you really were- but her forceful smile kind of intimidated you (and turnt you on), so you obeyed her command, and she spoke to the waitress afterwards.

“We’ll have the cooked black cod with lobster ravioli please. Apologies for the possible confusion earlier.”

the waitress nods as she writes the order down and smiles

“oh don’t worry if I had cute girl like her around, I’d be a bit protective too” the waitress giggles as she looked at you. It seemed more like playful banter to you if anything -

But oh, did Caitlyn like that. Caitlyn’s blood was practically boiling at the sight of this girl trying to steal you away from her. She wasn’t going to have it. She was about to bad mouth the waitress, though you (thankfully) cut her off.

“Thank you, that’ll be all” you gave the waitress a soft smile before she left the table, but that just made Caitlyn more infuriated. She couldn’t stand this anymore, or just witness this happen without doing anything to her, or you.

“I’m going to have a talk with her” Caitlyn didn’t even eye you as she gets ready to walk over, you grabbed her arm with both of your hands. You didn’t underestimate her strength - she could push you off of her with ease, but you had to try something.

“Caitlyn don’t do anything stupid”

“Everything I do is far from that.”

“Please.”

Caitlyn turnt her head to look at you - pleading for her to not do anything irrational. The mixture of jealousy and arousal running through her body was almost unbearable- she shrugged and leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“Either I go and take care of that waitress that clearly has a thing for you, or drag you out of this restaurant and have my way with you? Which one will it be?”

Your eyes widen at Caitlyn’s words. You knew how strong Caitlyn was - and how dedicated she is when she’s set on something which can end up ugly. You nod your head yes.

“Okay”

She tries to hold in the grin that’s threatening to slip out onto her face;

“Okay, what? You have to be more specific”

You look up at her. Your doe eyes captivating her as you finally say the words she’s been wanting to hear ;

“I’ll let you have your way with me”

She doesn’t waste any time after that, grabbing you by the arm - making sure to dig her nails into you to leave a mark for later. Caitlyn drags you out of the restaurant and takes you into her car. Once you two get in - she doesn’t bother to talk to you at all - just ready to take you home and play with your body for hours. The car ride is filled with silence and unspoken tension.

Once you two arrive to your shared home - Caitlyn turns to sustain eye contact with you, telling you it’s time to get out of this car before she doesn’t even bother walking into that house.

You both get out of the car and Caitlyn walks over to grab your wrist - leaving her signature painful grip as always. She drags you through the house and straight into her spacious bedroom. Caitlyn doesn’t even bother to close her door and starts to play with the edge of your skirt with one hand, and unbuckling her belt with the other.

“You liked the attention she was giving you, huh? You like seeing me get like this”

“Caitlyn no- I-“

“Save it.”

She successfully takes her belt off and bends you over her legs - sitting on the bed as she pulls your tiny skirt up.

“Gonna bruise your body up so no one will be able to look at you without seeing my mark.”

She teasingly rubs the belt against your butt. You can’t help but shiver at the cold metal against you. She tauntingly laughs at you.

“Should I spank you until you cry, princess?”

[mrsbarnesblog]

Tattoo

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Tattoo Artist! Bucky Barnes x Bookshop Owner!Reader

Summary: When Natasha begged you to come with her to get her new tattoo done, you didn't expect that her actual plan would be to set you up with a fine-as-hell tattoo artist.

Word count: 5.8k

Warnings: +18❗️smut, p in v sex, oral sex (r receiving), protected sex, dirty talk, strangers to lovers, Bucky is hot as fuck, shy and socially awkward reader, insecurities.

Author's note: sooo, it took me forever to write, but I finally finished it and I'm kind of proud of this one. Bucky with tattoos and a low bun? yup, I'm totally ready to do whatever he desires! I hope y'all will like it too. feel free to leave comments or fic ideas💘

“I’m going to be there almost for a whole day. I love those idiots, but I still need my best friend to cheer me up." Natasha threw her hand over your shoulders, trying to convince you to go with her on a tattoo session. It was not her first time, but now she wanted to get a much bigger one on her thigh, and, for some reason, she really wanted you to go with her, using the fact that it was your day off. 

“Nat, you know that I hate going to such places. I’m socially awkward; what am I gonna do there for so long? I don’t even know those people.” You frowned, already feeling a bundle of nerves in your stomach. 

You were what others may call boring, but you rarely went to unknown places or hung out with random people. You would rather stay with a book in your apartment and read for a whole day than get into such situations. Not to mention, that tattoo salon was full of men, and it made the whole situation even worse. 

“But you’re going to be with me. They are the nice guys, I promise. You will sit with us in the room; we can talk, or you can read another book, while Barnes will do my tattoo. I just don’t want to die of boredom there. Please?” She pulled you even closer, and you knew that she wouldn’t let that go. So you had no other choice but to agree. 

You didn’t know what you were thinking when you decided that wearing a light, flowy dress would be a good idea. Because now, following Nat out of her car to that tattoo studio, it felt too short, too open, and just too much. You tried to calm down, thinking to yourself that there was nothing serious; you were just going to wait in the corner, and other people probably wouldn’t even pay attention or talk to you. Natasha, with her boldness and openness, was always the center, and you were totally fine with that. 

But you were so wrong. 

As soon as you walked inside, four men stopped talking, turning around to face you and Nat, and you honestly thought that you were going to faint. 

“Hey, guys. Hope you don’t mind that I brought my friend. So I do not have to listen to your boring asses complain all day." She teased, dragging you by the hand like a mom who tried to encourage her kid to talk. You were round-eyed, and a wave of heat washed over your body when you were face-to-face with a blonde and big guy. But before either of you could say or do something, a person who you didn’t recognise at first stepped in, pulling you into a hug. 

“Isn’t it my favorite book girly ever? How are you doin’?” Sam’s enthusiasm and energy were always so refreshing to you, so when he quickly pulled away, instead wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pushing you further into a studio, you tried to stay calm and not freak out.

"I didn't know that you were working here. How’s Sarah?” You asked, looking up at him. 

“Yup, for a few years. She is doing great, but AJ and Cass are a pain in the ass. They are growing too quickly, you know." He chuckled. “Now, say hi to those idiots.” He moved his head toward the men who were silently observing your interaction. “Tony, Steve, and Bucky.” Sam named them in order. Tony just nodded to you, Steve smiled with the friendliest smile you had ever seen, and Bucky... 

Your head became empty as soon as your eyes landed on him for the first time. He was leaning on the wall at the back of the room, so you didn’t pay much attention to him at first. He was hot. Unbelievebly hot. He was tall and muscular, with a low bun at the back of his head and tattoos covering the visible parts of his arms and neck. And as your gaze moved to his face, you almost choked on a fucking breath. 

Piercing blue eyes looked right directly at you, and the slightest smirk curled the corner of his lips. You didn’t know whether you felt too cold, too hot, or if you just wanted to vanish right on the spot. Your face heated, your eyes started running around the room, and your heart was beating a few times faster. It was overwhelming, and you thought that you would have to go out of there, but right on time, Natasha stepped in front of you, dragging all attention to herself. 

Bucky had to admit that once in his life, Sam was right. Sam tried to convince Bucky to go to that book shop for a few months, saying that he had to meet with the girl who worked there, but he was way too stubborn. 

He would have done it a long time ago if he knew you would look like the most precious, cute, and sweet person. Bucky could not take his gaze away from you as soon as Natasha dragged you inside, absorbing everything—from the way you looked so soft and pretty in that dress to the way you blushed and were nervous about the whole thing. 

He saw your reaction—how you became even more flushed after your intense stares at each other. Bucky was never the type of guy who liked to tease you, but Goddammit, he wanted to see how you would react if he stepped closer and talked to you. He also wasn’t creepy towards women, but the only thought that came to his mind was that he wanted to taste you. The desire to shove your back into the wall, lift up the skirt of your dress, and fall to his knees was shocking; he had never felt such an instant pull toward another person. 

“Barnes, are we going to start, or you’re planning on standing and staring for a whole day?” Natasha crossed her arms over her chest as if she were annoyed, but you thought that you heard something weird in her voice, as if she held back a smile. 

And then she quickly looked back at Sam and nodded with a smirk. 

You just followed Nat and Bucky to his own part of the studio. Too lost in your head because of your friend’s weird behavior, you sat down on the sofa in the corner, and the next thing you noticed was the tall figure leaning above you. You probably got carried away to much because now there was a cup of tea standing in front of you on the table.

You looked up, only to meet those pretty blue eyes again. Bucky looked down at you with the same smirk on his lips, and you could barely form a normal thought in your head. 

“Hope you don’t mind a hot tea, princess?” Yup, you were dead. Of course, he had to have the sexiest voice you have ever heard in your life. It was not enough for him to be charming or look like a fucking sin—he also had to sound hot. 

“Thank you.” You almost whispered. 

Bucky gave you another mysterious smile before going back to his place, where Nat was already without her pants and ready to start.

You and Nat were talking for the next few hours—well, she was mostly talking about a girl named Maria that she met not so long ago, and you were nodding, listening, and sipping your tea. That way, you almost forgot about Bucky sitting in the room with you because he was too focused on his job and didn’t even look away from the tattoo. 

To be honest, you accidentally looked at him one or two times because it was hard not to notice a few curls slipping out of his bun, or the way his tattooed and veiny arms seemed so sexy, or that perfect face profile... Fuck. But everything was good until Nat suddenly asked him to stop for a few minutes. 

“I really need to pee, Barnes.” She quickly jumped out of her place, winking at you as she walked away. 

“Natasha…” You hissed at her when she left you and Bucky alone in the room, your insides already shivering with nerves. She was fucking doing it on purpose. You were sure that everything here was her plan to set you up with Bucky because she had never left you anywhere alone, knowing your nervousness. 

“Are you afraid to stay with me alone?” Bucky chuckled, stretching his neck from an uncomfortable position. Your cheeks heated, and you unconsciously started scratching the surface of your phone case. He was charming. He obviously knew that, judging by the way he acted to tease you. When his question was left without an answer, he just shook his head, smiling to himself. “I didn’t know that Nat was dating girls.”

Bucky was desperately trying to make you talk. He saw how you looked at your friend when she left you alone with him, and knowing Nat, she would not have done it if you were truly afraid of him. So he was hoping that you were just too shy to talk to him and that he could make something out of it.

“Mhm. What, you hoped to have a chance with her?” You finally looked up, and you couldn’t hide the disappointment in your voice. Of course, Bucky was just trying to hit on your friend. Everyone tried. And you knew that she was so pretty and an amazing person, really, but you just wanted to experience it yourself at least once.

“With Nat?” Bucky almost laughed, genuinely taken aback by your response. “Nah, she’s cool, but not my type.”

“And who is your type?” You asked before you could even think about it. 

"You know, those cute and shy girls who can barely talk to anyone and easily blush or get nervous." You froze in your place, and you swore that the blood in your veins had done the same. Your eyes widened in shock, looking at the proudly smirking Bucky. Did he really mean that, or was it just a stupid joke? 

Natasha came into the room, curiously looking between you two, but you just stayed silent and looked away again, staying even quieter until the end of the session. 

“Why did you do that?” You frowned, looking away from Nat and crossing your arms over your chest. As soon as she was done, you almost ran out of that place, the mixture of weird feelings bubbling inside of you, and you were too frustrated to even talk to someone there. 

“Did what?” Your head snapped back at her innocent, unbothered voice. She rolled her eyes, not looking away from the road. “I did that because I love you.” 

“And I love you too, but I hate that you and Sam put me in this position!”

“I’m sorry if we made you uncomfortable. Don’t be mad at what I’m about to say, but I know that you feel lonely and that you want to have someone or to date someone. I understand your anxiety; I really do, but I wanted to help you.” Her voice sounded so genuine, and even if you were mad, you knew that Nat had always tried to do what was best for you. “Bucky is a good guy. He’s attractive, he’s kind, he’s funny, and he's definitely not a player. I just wanted you to meet him, and from what I saw, there was a sparkle between you.”

You didn’t say anything to that, because she was totally right. Even if you had never said that out loud, you wanted someone to like you. Was it that much to ask? It was just hard to believe that someone as attractive as Bucky, who could easily get a good handful of women whenever he wanted to, had actually flirted with you. 

The next day, when you finally returned to your favorite place in the world, it was crazy. For some reason, too many people came to the bookshop, and almost everyone needed your advice or help. You were running around the shelves, putting the books in their places, receiving the payment, and then welcoming new customers. So when, at 9 p.m., you put the sign ‘closed’ on the door, you felt the relief that the day was almost over. 

You still had a lot to do, though. Taking the pile of books from the front table, you went to the back room, where you stored some of them. Suddenly, you heard the bell ringing and heavy footsteps on the wooden floor. 

“I’m sorry, but we are already closed. Please come tomor—” You forgot what you wanted to say when you looked out of the room into the main part of the store and saw the last person you ever expected. 

���Hey, princess.” Bucky put his hands into the front pockets, which made him seem even bigger, and smiled at you in a way that made your knees weak. He looked similar to what you saw yesterday—a low bun, black jeans, and a shirt that revealed some of his tattoos. God, his tattoos made you imagine things that were too inappropriate to say out loud. “Sorry that I came so late, but I just got off work, and I really wanted to see the place Sam has been bugging me about for weeks.” He noticed how you were looking at him again, but he decided not to tease you about it. 

“Um, hi.” You dusted off your hands and fixed the bottom part of your dress to make sure that everything was in it’s place. Bucky couldn’t help but follow your hands, staring at the way the hem of your dress moved around your thighs. “Do you need something? Like a book? Or you came just to get rid of Sam?”

“Yeah, maybe a fantasy book or something like that.” 

“I can show you where we have it, but I, um, need to finish the work here, so it would be great if you'd find a book that you like by yourself. Is that okay?” His stare was intense, and you really didn’t know what to do with this. Was he always like that with women? But Nat said that he wasn’t a player, and you trusted her more than yourself.

“Totally.” You nodded, calmed down your nerves as much as you could to not embarrass yourself in front of him, and you showed the way to the shelves at the back of the shop. 

“Take as much time as you need; I’ll go... there.” You pointed behind you to the piles of books, and Bucky chuckled at the way you were nervous around him. That was so fucking cute that he wanted to just scoop you up in his arms and make you blush again and again. 

Almost ten minutes later, you showed up again with a few books in your hands that were from the fantasy section, and as much as you wanted to escape Bucky, you also wanted to finish your job. He just quickly looked at you, too interested in the book in his hands, but didn’t say anything. 

You tried to reach the highest shelf to put the book in it’s place, but it was too far away. Usually you used a small ladder, but it was somewhere else now, and you just tried to do it standing on the tiptoes. 

“Let me do it, princess.” Bucky chuckled, closing his book and putting it down, and reached out to help you.

“No!”

“You won’t reach it. Just give it to me.” He placed his hand on your back, stretching the other one. 

“I can do it myself!” 

You couldn’t. Because the next thing you know, the book slipped out of your hand when you tried to make more distance between you and Bucky, and you also lost control of the ones you held near your chest. Everything fell onto the floor with a loud ‘boom’ and you prayed that nothing got damaged. 

Your head snapped back to say to Bucky that it was his fault, but he was already looking down at you, and you immediately forgot about everything. Only then did you realize that he was so close to you; his hand was holding your waist, and your back was almost pressed against his hard chest. 

“Sorry.” He didn’t know what he was sorry for. That he distracted you and made you drop everything, or for what he did next. After his eyes quickly looked at your plump lips, his right hand fell onto your cheek, and he kissed you.

Your instant thought was to push him away, run, and hide in the storage room, but the firm hand on your face and waist made it impossible to move. Bucky almost devoured your mouth and completely controlled you, and you could barely keep up with the rhythm of the kiss. 

He was good at it. 

No one ever kissed you as if it were the best thing they'd ever tried, but Bucky just couldn’t stop. He spined your body, so you were not in that awkward and uncomfortable position anymore. Now that you were standing chest to chest, your back got pressed into the shelves, and Bucky was towering over you. It felt unknown but so right at the same time. Your experience in this area was really poor, but the adrenalin in your blood made you a little bit more sure of yourself. 

“You’re doing something to me.” He breathed into the kiss, and you just whined without realizing it. He connected your lips again, tightening his hands on your waste and, that way, pulling you even closer. You had no idea where to put your hands, but your body seemed to work on autopilot, so they landed on his chest.

You felt something hard on the lower part of your belly, and the thought that Bucky had become hard solely because of the kiss nearly drove you insane. Hot, handsome, and charming men had never kissed you as if you were their last meal, teasing you with their bulge in the middle of your shop. 

God, he must be big. 

Your heart started beating so fast that you heard it in your ears. Was it the right thing to do? What should you do or say after that? Did he think that you kissed badly? 

“I can almost hear the thoughts in your head. Why are you worrying? You don’t like or want it? Just say, and I’ll step away.” You licked your lips, as if you tried to taste him again. You felt how your face heated again from being so close to Bucky. He didn’t sound or look as if he were judging you, and it made you feel safe enough to tell what was going on in your head.

“I just—I'm not really familiar with it. I barely know you, and you just kissed me, and I am at a loss for what to do." You said, nervously playing with the material of his shirt. Bucky's hand cupped your cheek, making you look at him. It surprised you that he didn’t try to do anything to push you, like many other men who just think with their dicks. Your stomach tightened from the way he stared at your face.

"I understand and that’s okay if you feel a little bit scared. I’m not pushing you and you can say no to me. I really came here just to talk to you, but I cannot think of anything else but you. Can I kiss you, princess?” Your eyes closed when you felt his breath on your lips again. You couldn’t deny that you wanted it too, so you just slightly nodded to his question. 

Bucky kissed you deeper and slower, allowing you to follow him. He stroked your cheek gently as his tongue slid into your mouth, causing you to moan. You swore that he smiled at your reaction, and it encouraged him to push his other hand from your waist to your thighs. 

Your skin started tingling when you felt it going under your skirt. Tattooed fingers traced the soft lines on your legs until they reached your underwear. Only then did you realise that you were getting wet. This whole time, it was not just nerves; oh no, your body actually just craved that man in front of you and now you could do nothing to hide it. In your last attempt, you tried to push your legs together, but you made it worse when Bucky’s hand slipped higher and touched the wet spot. 

“Holy fuck.” He growled, ending the kiss and looking down, where his hand stayed under your clothes. “You are not so innocent, huh?” 

“Shy and innocent are two completely different things, Bucky.” 

“Right.” Biting his lip, he looked up at you again with darkened eyes, and you felt his hand pressing onto your dressed core more firmly. “Can I taste you?"

Your eyes widen in shock. You were not a complete virgin, but unfortunately, you had never experienced that before. “My sexual life is actually really, and I mean really, meager, and no one ever asked me to do it.” You whispered, almost in embarrassment. 

“So you’re telling me that no one asked to eat you out, princess? Well, that’s a shame. I bet your pussy is as sweet as you are.” He ran his nose across your cheek, enjoying your delicate skin and the light scent of your perfume, until he reached the sensitive part of your neck. “Your scent drives me crazy... You’re so sensitive, God. When was the last time you were with someone?” You tried to act normal and not shiever, but when Bucky’s finger was running up and down the soft cotton of your panties, it was nearly impossible to do. 

“I don’t know. I did it just a few times, and I don’t date. Guys are not really interested in me.”

“Loosers.” 

“Bucky.” You moaned his name when he suddenly fell to his knees. That view was so surreal for you. He seemed desperate to touch and taste you, to please you, even though he was painfully hard in his jeans. But he did not go too far because he was waiting for your response. “What if someone walks in?”

“There is a sign on the door. Are there many people who go to bookshops at that time?” Bucky took your left leg, slowly putting it on his shoulder. Your eyes followed every move with curiosity and a hint of worry when he turned his head to softly kiss your thigh.

“Okay.”

Bucky took your leg off his shoulder but only to slide his hands under your dress and take off your underwear. He did not break eye contact when he helped you step out of it and then put them in his jeans pocket. With a quick motion, your leg returned to it’s place near his face and you blushed, realising how close he was.

With his right hand on your thigh and the left one slowly creeping up your other leg, Bucky started leaving kisses higher and higher, until he finally reached your pulled-up dress. When his head suddenly lowered and you felt the first touch of his tongue, you almost died. 

Up until that moment, you didn’t even realize how tense your body was, but that first lick sent a hot wave over you and you could not hold back a whine. You just became a fucking puddle under his touch. 

Bucky was not much better than you. He gripped your thigh harder, as if he wanted you to be even closer, and moaned when your taste blossomed on his tongue. He knew that he was addicted now and that he could spend hours in between your legs. His tongue slipped across your folds, collecting your juice, and then circled around your sensitive clit. 

“Fuck, princess. You’re s’ sweet.” 

"Bucky—oh my god, please!” You didn’t know what you were begging for, but that tight knot in your stomach was becoming almost too painful, and you felt tears forming in your eyes. As if Bucky had already understood your body better, he put two fingers of his left hand at your entrance, slightly pushing in just the tips. 

You moaned again, your hand moving on it’s own and grabbing Bucky’s hair in despair. He slowly slipped inside, letting you adjust while still not stopping the movements of his tongue. You felt so fucking tight and wet around his fingers and his cock painfully twiched in his jeans. He started pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy, and if you weren’t so far up in your head, you would’ve been embarrassed by the noises coming out of you. 

The combination of his thick digits and tongue pushed you into your first orgasm. Your back arched, and your legs unconsciously tried to close, but Bucky did not let that happen, gripping your thigh tighter and holding you in place. 

“Cum for me, pretty girl. C'mon, don’t be shy.” He encouraged you and that was everything you needed. 

You had no idea what happened next because your body felt like it was floating and your head fell back with a moan of Bucky's name. He let you go through it, slowing his pace and pulling out his fingers. As much as he didn’t want to stop, he knew that it was enough for you for the first time. 

You felt how Bucky jently lowered your leg and then, holding you by the waist, stood up and shamelessly licked his shiny lips. “I can’t believe you actually just did that. No one has ever given me an orgasm.” 

“Princess… You’re unbelievable.” He got closer to you, nuzzling into your neck and breathing in your scent. You could feel hardness in his pants, and while Bucky did not try to push it any further, the desire within you made you bold. 

“Do you have a condom?” Bucky immediately pulled away from you, his eyes darker than before and his hands tightening on your waist. You bit your lip and lowered your gaze, as if you said something wrong. 

"No, no, no, you can’t get shy after you just asked me this. Eyes on me, princess. Do you really want it?" 

“I do.” 

Bucky connected your lips, distracting you from unnecessary thoughts, and you felt two hands on the back sides of your thighs. Your legs automatically wrapped around his waist, as if your body knew what to do better than you. You both moaned when his bulge met with your dripping core; Bucky’s grip tightened and he slightly moved your hips. 

Firmly holding you in his hands, Bucky stepped away from the shelves and went to the table that was standing nearby. He blindly moved aside some books there, dropping a few on the floor and receiving a groan from you. He put you on the flat surface, not moving away from between your legs. 

Your hands finally felt more confident to study his tattooed skin. You never realised that you were into people with tattoos, but now, looking at the variety of things covering his tanned skin, your belly tightened with anticipation. Your hands slowly reached his neck, slightly pulling him closer. 

“You didn’t answer my question. Do you have it?” Instead of replying to you, Bucky, not breaking eye contact, reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet. He opened it, taking the shiny square that was sticking out of there. 

Your eyes shot up at him, meeting his half-hooded and full-of-lust eyes. Bucky looked right back at you, mesmerized by your beauty—by the way your cheeks heated and your lips were slightly swollen. He quickly unbuttoned his pants, sliding them with boxers down his legs, until his hard as rock cock was free with pre-cum leaking from the tip. 

“If you’re going to look at me like that, then I might cum like a teenager before everything starts, princess.” Bucky growled, squeezing your thigh in his hand. You closed your eyes for a few seconds, then looked at his face again. You didn’t want to stare at his cock, but holy shit, it was better and bigger than everything you’ve seen before. You wondered what it would taste like, and that one thought made you clench around nothing. 

With a quick, smooth motion, Bucky opened the package with his teeth, sliding the condom down his shaft. His hand moved you closer to the edge of the table, so now your faces were just a few centimeters away and you could feel his cock through the fabric of your dress. 

“Be a good girl and hold it here for me.” Bucky folded your dress on your stomach, guiding your hand there, so he had better access to your sweet pussy. He had to see how he was disappearing inside of you with his own fucking eyes.  

“Bucky…” You whined because of the way you were exposed to him, but you still did what he said. With wide eyes, you looked at how he moved even closer to you, slightly brushing your folds with the tip. Your free arm gripped his tattooed forearm, digging in your nails. 

“So wet for me, so pretty... God, princess. I won’t be able to keep my hands from you. Say you want this. I need to hear it.” He palmed the side of your face, making you look up at him, and held himself at your entrance at the same time. 

“I want it. Please.” You whispered, your eyes running back and forth between his pretty blues. 

When he finally started slowly pushing into you, your mouth opened with a silent moan, and your eyes almost crossed with the way your whole body got covered with goosebumps. Bucky could not tear his eyes away from the place you two were connected. He felt every movement of your body and felt how your pussy almost sucked him inside. 

He knew that you would feel good, but he did not realize that it would feel like the most correct thing in his life. 

Bucky finally bottomed into you, stretching you the way you had never been before. You both thought that you could cum in that exact second, but you also both wanted to extend this moment as much as you could. 

“Princess…” That sounded so desperate when Bucky finally started moving his hips, dragging his cock out and then pushing right back in. "Fuck, I need to kiss you. You feel like a fuckin’ heaven, holy shit.” Not stopping sliding into you at a steady pace, he dragged your face closer, as if his life were depending on it. Bucky greedily bit and sucked your bottom lip, swallowing every moan and whine you let out.

“Mh— I can’t— oh, Bucky!” You cried, trying to hide your face in the crook of his neck.

He pulled you back away from his body, holding you that way so he had a better view of your face and body. He felt the way your thighs tried to squeeze together, your face started to heat and you tried to look away. 

“Don’t you dare become shy when I’m balls deep in you, princess.” He slowed his movements and teased you until you almost begged him to fuck you properly again. “You need to cum, huh? Show me those pretty eyes; don’t hide from me, c’mon.” You looked up, almost whining from the way he was looking at you. Pupils blown out, eyes slightly narrowed, and running around your face with interest and desire. “Do you need something? Speak up, sweet girl.”

“I want to cum. Let me, please.” 

“Good fucking girl.” 

Bucky started fucking you with a new forse; the table under you was squeaking with every move, making the whole scene even dirtier. You could not care about embarrassment anymore, moaning Bucky name and begging him to be harder. 

You both felt how close you were. 

Your hand, with your skirt in it, tightened around the fabric, your spread legs were trembling and you started uncontrollably squeezing Bucky’s cock inside of you. His dirty words made your vision foggy with satisfaction and the way he didn’t stop hitting your sweet spot was enough for you to go crazy with an overwhelming orgasm.

“Bucky! Bucky, oh my— fuuuck!” You cried in pleasure, feeling a few more thrusts of his throbbing cock, until he finally slowed down and emptied himself in the condom. Your body fell forward right into Bucky’s chest, too tired to even sit straight. He wrapped his hands around you, slowly stroking your back and kissing your temple. 

“You are fucking amazing, princess.” He mumbled into your hair and you just hummed in response. After a few quiet minutes, when your head started to clear up and the whole weight of this situation fell on you, you finally pulled away, hiding your eyes from him again. “What? What’s wrong?” 

“I just… I don’t know what we are supposed to do in this situation; I mean— it was just sex for you, right?” You asked, focusing on one particular tattoo on Bucky’s neck to not show how nervous you were.

Bucky didn’t answer for a few seconds, but you felt the weight of his eyes on you. Then he lifted your face with one of his hands and softly smiled at you. “If it meant nothing for me, I would’ve already been on my way home. I want you. I wanted you from the moment I saw you and I won’t be satisfied until you let me take you out. Are you free tomorrow evening, sweetheart?” He cooed, playfully tilting his head to the side. That man and his charm would be the death of you…

“Um, okay. I’m free, if you’re not kidding.”

“Not in the slightest. Now get dressed. I'm taking you home.” He pecked your lips before slowly pulling out of you and getting rid of the condom. You slowly jumped from the table, legs trembling from two mind-blowing orgasms, not missing how Bucky’s smirked at you. 

“You don’t have to take me home, Bucky.” You fixed your dress and hair as much as you could without a mirror and then picked up the books from the floor that were forgotten during your makeout session. 

“Well, I didn’t see a car near the shop, so I assume you’re walking home. And it’s dark.” He walked behind you, wrapping his hands around your waist and burying his face into your neck. “I don’t like this idea. I’m driving you home, princess.” 

“Fine. You won.” You playfully made an annoyed voice to what Bucky just chuckled and held you even closer. 

[no-144444]

HI! i love your writing and i was wondering if you would do a grid reacts to us finding out we were a bet? And if you wouldn't mind adding Logan too?

Thanks ml xxxx

the grid reacts: you find out you're a bet!

Featuring: Oscar Piastri, Logan Sargeant, Daniel Riccardo, George Russell, Alex Albon, Charles LeClerc, Lewis Hamilton, Max Verstappen, Lando Norris

thank you for requesting! xxxx

-----------------

Oscar Piastri:

He walked into your shared apartment, a smile on his face. He hadn’t seen you in a week, and you’d both been too busy to call or text too much, so finally, he’d be back with his girl. 

He wasn’t expecting the bare apartment he’d known so well before you’d moved in. He wasn’t expecting your things to be gone, or the note on the table, or your engagement ring beside it. 

Dear Oscar, 

I found out. I know we were a bet, and I know you’d try to convince me that you loved me, and that it was all real. I don’t doubt that it was real. I know I loved you, and I felt the love from you (either that, or you’re a brilliant actor and picked the wrong profession). But I feel betrayed. I wish you would’ve just come to me immediately and told me how we started, even if I was mad at you for a while. You kept a huge secret for 2 years, Oscar. That’s not a short amount of time. I love you, and I still love you, but I need some time on my own to figure stuff out. I moved back out into my old apartment, and don’t worry, I’m still your girlfriend, but I just wanted space to think. We’ll work our way back up to being fiancé’s but until then, I am still very much yours, unless you don’t want me to be. I need to trust you again. 

Love, Y/n. 

His heart sank. He knew it was stupid to try and keep it a secret, and it had truly been tearing him apart for the last 2 years, but this… this was too much. He was thankful that you two at least we’re breaking up. But the engagement reversal thing was fucking with him. He adored you. He loved you. Yes, it was stupid, but he did stupid stuff all the time. Forgetting his keys, sleeping through his alarm, wearing his shirt inside out. You always told him it was endearing. 

“Hey,” your voice brought him out of his trance. “I wanted to be here when you came back, sorry, there was traffic.”

He turned around to see you. You looked at him. He was crying.

“I’m so sorry,” his voice broke as you nodded. 

“I know you are,” you stepped closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “We’ll get through this, yeah?”

He nodded, burying his head in the crook of your neck. You let him cry it out for a little while, then pulled away. 

“You’ll be ok, we’ll be ok, yeah?”

He sniffled. “Yeah.”

“I love you,” you reminded him, wiping away tears as you went along. 

“I love you so much, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I just… I was so scared a-and-”

“I understand,” you nodded. “But that doesn’t mean I forgive you.”

He nodded, playing with your engagement ring in his hands. He broke again, sobbing. You wrapped your arms around him again, letting him calm himself down. “Please put it back on,” he whispered, begging you. 

You thought about it for a moment. You loved Oscar, and you knew you’d forgive him. It was harder not to forgive him, in all honesty. You’d read his hundreds of drafts of the speeches he had planned to say to you. Lando had shown them to you when he told you. You knew how this had been tearing him apart. But you knew how it stung, being betrayed like this. 

“Ok,” you nodded. He slipped the ring back onto your finger and a weight was lifted off of his chest, while one was placed onto yours. 

God, maybe love did conquer all. And that idea fucking terrified you. 

-----------------

Logan Sargeant:

“Go up to her, she’s a McLaren engineer,” Lewis’s friend’s voice rang out over the speaker of your phone. “I’ll give you 2 grand if you can fuck her tonight.”

“It’s not like I need the money,” Logan smirked, cocky as ever. “But I’ll take that.”

The camera panned to Logan walking up to you, and your world shattered. 

------

“Hey babe,” he called, walking into the apartment. There you were sitting, seething on the couch. “How was your weekend?”

“Great,” you answered shortly. “Have you looked at social media recently?”

“No, why?” he asked, resting his hands on your waist. He tried not to read into your stiff posture. Was this the moment? Had you really found out? 

“I was a bet,” you sighed, brushing his hands off of you. “And you didn’t even have the heart to tell me.”

You hadn’t planned on crying, you thought you’d scream at him, give him a piece of your mind, but it was hard to get angry when he was standing there, looking so helpless. You loved him, and all you’d ever been to him was a bet. You’d only met a year ago, started dating 6 months ago. You’d meant nothing the entire time. Just a fuck and a check. You just felt… defeated, and used. 

“Baby please, let me explain, it’s not what-” He started but you sighed.

“Explain what? That you ‘love’ me? I don’t care. I deserve someone who tells me the truth, and you couldn’t even do that. I had to find out with the rest of the world. Don’t you realise how stupid I look? All the posts I made, everything I told my friends and family, and the entire time it’s all been a lie? I look like a fucking idiot.” 

Logan looked down, ashamed. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, taking your hand. “I’ll do anything to make this right, please Y/n, I love you.”

“How am I supposed to trust you? And how am I going to look going back to you? Why did you fuck this all up?” You groaned in frustration. “I fucking loved you!” 

“I love you too!” he pleaded. “Please let me make this right, I don’t care about the media, or whatever, I care about you, and I care about us.”

“What ‘us’? We’ve been based on a lie this entire time!”

“Please don’t say that,” he was crying now, so were you. “Please don’t say it was a lie.” 

You took your hand from his. “Logan, we’re done. Please don’t contact me.”

And that was that. He broke your heart and you broke his. 

-----------------

Daniel Riccardo: 

He watched in horror as you opened the message on his phone from Scotty. 

“You have to tell her. This isn’t right anymore Dan.”

“What is Scott talking about?” You chuckled. 

“Nothing,” Daniel smiled, but it looked forced. 

“Dan, come on, you can tell me,” you smiled sweetly. 

“Seriously, I have no clue what he’s talking about,” he nervously chuckled. 

Your face dropped into an angry frown. “So he was right, you wouldn’t even admit it if I gave you the chance,” you sighed. “That’s great, thanks Daniel.” 

“What do you mean?”

“I know about the bet,” you sighed. “Scotty told me last week.”

Daniel sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” you turned to him. “Why would you lie?” 

“I was scared.”

“Of what?” 

“Of losing you,” he shrugged. “I thought it would just be better to… keep you in the dark I guess. I wasn’t really thinking straight.”

“I wish you would’ve just told me,” you sighed, looking up at him. 

You were both silent for a moment.

“What does this mean for us?” he asked. 

“What ‘us’? We were based on a lie Daniel. A lie you told for a whole year.”

“So that’s it?” he gritted out. 

“That’s it.”

-----------------

George Russell: 

“Have you talked to her about it yet?” Alex asked. “You have to tell her mate, it’s gone on too long.”

“It’s been 6 months Alex, and, by the way, I actually love her,” he scoffed. “I’m trying to figure out the best way to explain it.”

“Explain what? That you were dared to ask her out for money? Mate, you sound like a dick no matter what, she’ll break up with you no matter what,” Alex sighed, disappointed in his friend. 

“She’s probably right to,” George admitted. “Fuck!” he groaned. 

You stepped into the room, trying to pretend that everything was alright. Both of the men looked up, terrified of what came next. 

“Please let me explain,” George rushed out, taking your hand. Alex quickly left you two to speak alone, patting you on the back as he left. George stood up and took your hand. 

You nodded. “Explain.”

George’s frown lifted slightly, elated that you would even give him the chance to explain. “It was a stupid bet and I never took any money. I stopped speaking to the guys after we met, and I promise I’ve been trying to tell you, I just… I get scared every time that I’ll lose you. I don’t deserve you, but I love you Y/n. And I’m so sorry.”

You nodded. “I just… give me some time, yeah?”

He nodded. “All the time you need, of course.” 

You took a deep breath, wrapping your arms around his neck in a short hug. “I’ll call you, yeah?”

He nodded, letting himself enjoy your embrace. “Please call me. Anytime.”

You pulled back, still holding back your tears somehow. “Yeah. Good luck today.”

“If I win, it’ll be for you. It’s always for you,” he smiled softly. 

“Yeah,” you sighed, leaving with a broken heart, and a choice to make. 

-----------------

Alex Albon: 

“Can we talk?” Alex asked, 2 months in.

“About what?” you questioned. You were sitting in his apartment in Monaco, eating dinner before catching a movie at a nearby cinema. 

“How we met.”

“Proceed,” you nodded, turning your full attention to him. 

“We met at Jimmy’s, and I was there with my friends, and we were being assholes, and I'm sorry that’s how you met me,” he hesitated. “And that night, I was dared to go up to you, only because they knew I’d never get a chance with you because you’re… well, you’re you, and I’m me. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but we were just having so much fun and-”

“You thought you couldn’t get a chance with me?” You chuckled. 

Alex looked up. “Well, no. You’re gorgeous-”

“You’re a very hot Formula 1 driver! Alex, I was losing it when you came up to me!” 

“I thought you didn’t know anything about F1?!” 

“I don’t! But I know about hot famous guys!”

“You liar!” he laughed. 

“You lied too!” you laughed. 

He smiled. “ I guess we’re pretty evenly matched then, yeah?”

“I guess,” you shrugged, then leaned over and pressed your lips to his. 

-----------------

Charles Leclerc: 

You and Charles were new, like new new.But he’d invited you to the paddock nonetheless, and you had the weekend off, so off you went to the Ferrari garage. You’d met the so-called ‘Prince of Monaco’ at an Indycar event a few months back when he got your number, and since then you’d been texting back and forth. He finally asked you out, and you agreed, I mean, who wouldn’t, right? Even though you worked in Indycar, you were a born and raised Monegasquean and you were proud of your heritage, and pretty excited to be dating the Monegasque. 

“Oh shit,” Pierre grumbled, bumping into you. Recognition finally crossed his face and he smiled. “Y/n, right? We met at the Indycar thing, right?”

“Hi Pierre, yeah, nice to see you,” you smiled. Behind him came Charles, a bright smile for you. 

“Are you here for work or-? Oh, for Charles,” he smirked and turned back to Charles . “Le pari est-il toujours valable?” (is the bet still on?)

Your face faltered. Charles didn’t tell you about any bet. What bet?

“Je ne lui ai pas encore dit,” Charles mumbled. Pierre’s smirk grew, as did the sinking pit in your stomach. (I haven’t told her yet.)

“Hey,” Charles turned to you with a smile on his face. 

“Hi,” you nodded, more reserved than before. “Congrats on pole.”

His smile dampened. “Is everything alright?”

“All good,” you mustered up your fakest smile. “Ne parie peut-être pas sur une fille qui vit à Monaco, connard.” (Maybe don't make a bet over a girl who lives in Monaco, asshole.) 

Charles looked dumbstruck for a moment, and you left him like that. You were worth more than that. 

-----------------

Lewis Hamilton: 

“Have you told her yet?” George asked, eying you from the other side of the garage. 

Lewis shook his head. “I can’t find the right time.” “You need to tell her soon, it’s only a matter of time before someone else tells her.” 

“I know I do, I just… everytime I try to bring it up it’s like she’s extra sweet and perfect and I just can’t break her heart like that-”

“Break who’s heart?” you asked, standing beside Lewis. 

George shot him a look to say ‘tell her now’, and he nodded. George left you two to talk. 

“I was… I came up to you… I-”

“It was a bet to ask me out, I know,” you nodded, sipping your drink. “Whose heart are you breaking?”

Lewis’s brow furrowed. “Yours?”

“I overheard you and your friends at the bar that night,” you explained. “I don’t care. We’re dating because of it, I love you, blah, blah, blah,” you smiled. “Unless it’s been a charade the whole time-”

“NO! It hasn’t, I love you, I promise,” he wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed kisses to your cheek as you laughed. 

“You thought that would break my heart?”

His ego was becoming a little bit more than bruised. “Hey!”

You laughed. “OK, ok, relax. Yes, it would’ve broken my heart,” you teased. 

He pushed you off, smiling. “I don’t want your pity-”

“Not even a pity fuck?” you whispered, a mischievous smirk on your lips.  

He smiled. “Well, I always want that.”

-----------------

Max Verstappen: 

“Fuck this game!” Max cursed after his game had crashed for the third time. You made your way into the living room, looking in on the game.

“Everything alright?” you asked. 

“All good, sorry liefje,” he responded, not even turning around. 

“Is that the girl we put the bets on?” One of his friends asked. Max panicked and shut down the stream, then immediately turned to you. 

“Liefje…” he started. You stood there in shock. 

“Is that true?” you started. “Was I a fucking bet?!” you shouted. 

“It- I- Yes, it started like that, but I love you, I-I’m in love with you!” 

“How can I ever fucking trust you?” you shot back. “You’re a liar!”

“I’m sorry-”

“What the fuck does ‘sorry’ do? I’m leaving Max. You are so not the man I thought you were,” you pushed past him, grabbing some of your essentials from your bedroom as he followed behind you, begging you to stay. 

You left. He was the one who messed up. 

All because of a dumb bet. 

-----------------

Lando Norris: 

He was sweating through his shirt. Max’s eyes bore into him all night, more specifically, how his arm was draped over your shoulder. He understood his best friend’s confusion. It was mere months ago that Lando had been dared to go up to you and ask you out, mere months ago when he sent a photo into the group chat of you sleeping soundly beside him, asking for the transfers from the men who’d told him to ask you out and somehow get you back into his bed before the next morning. Since then, things had in fact changed. He had changed. You had changed him.

“Lan,” Max hissed. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Max,” Lando mumbled. “Not now.”

“She deserves to know,” Pietra shook her head. “Y/n, listen to me, I know Lando had probably been a lovely guy but he asked you out because he was dared to-”

“Pietra!” Lando groaned. “What the fuck!”

You turned to Pietra, pushing Lando’s arm off of you. “Are you serious?”

“She’s telling the truth,” Max added. 

“Y/n please, just let me explain-”

“There’s nothing to fucking explain. You’re an asshole, don’t call me again,” you scoffed, getting up and leaving with Pietra following quickly behind. 

Lando was helpless.

-----------------

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Cramps

Summary: After going off of birth control, your periods have been a little more intense than you're used to. What starts out as a stressful morning between you and your husband, very quickly turns into a night that bodes very well for the both of you.

Paring: Husband Frankie Morales x Wife f!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 5.4K on the dot (idk how we got here)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) PERIOD SEX, unprotected p in v sex (do better, but also they want a baby so), vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving, again, you're on your period but our pussy eating king Fransisco Morales is an unstoppable force of nature), creampie, praise kink, big fat nasty breeding kink (it's who I am now, I won't apologize for it), Frankie's got a NASTY mouth, Frankie is the best husband, reader is on her period/has period symptoms, talks about family planning/not being on birth control, use of nicknames (hermosa, quierda, cariño), reader has no physical descriptions besides that she can wear Frankie's clothes

A/N: Well... This was gonna be a drabble... and then it was just gonna be fluff.... and then it was gonna be just some implied smut... and now, we're here??? Idk, don't ask me 🥴 self indulgent bc I just finished my period (and my periods have been whack since stopping bc) and what better way to heal myself than imagining what Frankie would be like taking care of you 🥺 also pls be nice to me this is my first time writing Frankie and I'm v nervous EEK I hope you enjoy!!! sorry Javi bby, I still love u

Bitchy. 

You wished you had a better word to describe your mood for today, but truth be told, bitchy was by far the most accurate. 

You and Frankie were hoping to start trying for your first baby soon, and had recently gone off your birth control after your doctor had told you it may take a few months for your body to regulate itself before you had a better chance at getting pregnant. Your doctor had also  warned you about many of the symptoms and side effects that stopping the pill could have, one of those being becoming more aware of your emotions and mood swings throughout your cycle. That, you were prepared for. 

What you were not prepared for, was to feel like an absolute psychopath in the days leading up to your period. 

 Your cycle had  been wonky the past few months as your body began to sort itself out- you had a feeling your period was probably about to start soon, but hadn’t thought much about it, considering your terrible and grouchy mood had overshadowed it. You had tried your best to pull yourself together the past few days, chalking up your grumpiness to long hours at work, or just being in a weird funk, but today, you woke up with a fire in your gut, ready to fight, and poor Frankie was about to be your punching bag. 

Sweet Frankie had been nothing short of a saint when it came to just about anything, but dealing with your newly heightened emotions right before your period really should have earned him some sort of Presidential Medal of Bravery, considering that your newly discovered highs and lows while PMS-ing were just as frightening as any time he had spent during his time in the military. 

Unfortunately for your husband, despite his best efforts, he had been on your nerves all morning. Not because he was really doing anything wrong, but because the little things that you were normally so good about letting go, or the patience you frequently had seemed to have flown out the window, and you were convinced that if Frankie even breathed the wrong way, you were going to absolutely lose it. 

So when unsuspecting Frankie decided to ask you a simple request about after work plans, there was very little he could have done to prepare for your response. 

“Morning, Hermosa.” Frankie cooed, emerging into the kitchen, his hand rustling through his untamed, sleepy brown curls as he let out a yawn and a stretch, the slight softness of his stomach peeking out between his t-shirt and pajama pants as he raised his arms above his head before settling behind you. He wrapped himself around your waist, pressing a gentle kiss into your shoulder as you finished putting the last of your lunch in your bag for work, trying to force yourself to focus on his sweet good morning, rather than the empty bowl of cereal in the sink that had greeted you first thing when you woke up, already starting you off on the wrong foot in your already irritable mood. 

“Morning, babe.” You grinned, forcing yourself to forgo the annoyance hidden behind your smile as you pecked a quick kiss on Frankie’s lips before gathering the rest of your things for the day scattered across the kitchen table. “Sorry, I didn’t have time to make you breakfast this morning because I was running late, but there’s extra scrambled eggs on the stove if you want them. I’m really sorry, Frankie, I gotta head out, have a good day, I’ll see you later okay?” You sighed, slinging your work bag over your shoulder, your hands full of your coffee mug, water bottle and keys, your cluttered grip and running behind schedule only adding to your frustration. 

“All good, Querida, no worries. Hey, actually baby, before you leave,” He paused, setting down the coffee mug he was just about ready to take a sip of, as if a little lightbulb had just gone off in his brain, “do you mind picking up stuff to make that really good buffalo chicken dip for Benny’s tonight? I told ‘em we’d bring like, an appetizer or something, if that’s okay.” 

For Frankie’s sake, you couldn’t have been more thankful that you had your back turned to him, because if looks could kill, Frankie Morales would have been a dead man. 

Every rational part of your brain knew that even though his request perhaps wasn’t the best timing, stopping by the store and making dip to bring to Benny’s for game night really wasn’t that much time or effort out of your day. But today, it seemed like every part of your brain but the rational one seemed to be functioning properly, and the raging, irrational part might as well have heard that Frankie wanted you to prepare and cook a Thanksgiving meal for 74 after you got home from work. 

You took a deep breath, your grip tightening around the items in your hand, praying with every bone in your body that someway or another, you had misheard your husband. 

“Tonight? As in, like, today, after I get home from work?” You questioned, trying to do your best to keep your tone from sounding too condescending. 

“Yeah, we don’t have to be there until 7, I just don’t think I’m gonna have time to since I probably won’t be outta work until 6:30.” He shrugged nonchalantly, taking another swig of his coffee 

Oh yeah, you’d heard him right.  

You let out a deep sigh, even more over dramatic than you had intended it to be, arms crossed over your chest and stark frown spread across your face as you turned towards Frankie. 

“Oh, perfect! That’s a great thing for me to find out about at 7:45 A.M. the day of, Frank!” Your voice oozed with ferocious sarcasm, now slamming your things back down onto the table to run your hands over your face. “No, that’s great, because there’s nothing I wanted to do more than to come home and make buffalo chicken dip instead of all the other shit I needed to do today before we left! Amazing! Thank you!” 

At this point, you were almost positive that if your eyes rolled any further, they’d be in the back of your skull, letting out another angry huff as you shook your head at Frankie, who was looking absolutely petrified as he leaned back against the counter, eyes darting to the floor to avoid yours, running his hand over the wispy curls at the nape of his neck. Frankie began to stammer, trying to defend himself from your wrath. 

“Hermosa, I’m- I’m sorry? I know it’s last minute, but you normally make it every time we go over there, I just- I figured it’d be easy for you to do? You can get something else, or I can try to stop by the store really quick on the way home, I just might-” 

“Nope, you want buffalo chicken dip, apparently I’m making buffalo chicken dip!” You groaned, collecting everything back into your hands, swearing under your breath as you tried to balance everything in your grip. “Jesus, okay, I need to go to work, just- I don’t even know. I gotta go, Frankie.” 

“Querida, I-” Frankie pleaded, beginning to trail behind you as you made your way to the front door. 

“Frankie, whatever, it’s fine! I’ll make the stupid dip! I have to go to work, I’ll see you later.” You could feel the muscles in your jaw beginning to clench as you gritted your teeth, trying with everything in you to keep from exploding as you headed out of the house. Without even a kiss goodbye, you left Frankie in the doorway, watching you throw your things in the car and slam the door behind you as you drove down the driveway. 

But as soon as you were on the road and your house was out of view, you could instantly feel the tears beginning to well in your eyes, slowly streaming down your cheeks as you began to sob, wondering why you had ruined the morning over as stupid as an appetizer, and even worse, that you had been a complete asshole to your husband about it. 

You couldn’t have been more thankful that work had been quiet today- no meetings on the schedule, and no one coming to bother you, leaving you plenty of peace and quiet to continue sulking and brooding in your unpleasant mood. 

Right around lunch time, you found yourself eating alone in your office, wishing your lunch was about ten times saltier and chocolatier than it was, crying to yourself as you watched a video of a dog meeting its new human sibling for the first time.

Just as you were beginning to pack up the rest of your lunch and start back up with your work, you felt a terrible twinge in your lower stomach that had you just about keeled over in pain, followed by that all too familiar feeling in your underwear. 

Frantically scrambling, you reached into your bag to pull out a tampon, hurriedly shuffling to the nearest bathroom, only to reveal the murder scene equivalent as you pulled down your pants. 

Your period had come.  

In that moment, as much as you were dreading the pain and misery that was the next few days to come, you couldn’t also help but feel a slight sense of relief, realizing that you were in fact, not actually a crazy person for the way you were feeling, you were just PMS-ing out of your mind. You couldn’t also help but feel absolutely awful for your unjustified freak out at your husband this morning, your heart sinking with guilt as you made your way back to your desk, immediately grabbing your phone to text Frankie. 

“Hey… I’m so sorry about this morning. What you were asking me to do wasn’t a big deal at all and I totally freaked out on you. My period just started, I think that’s why I’ve been such a bitch this morning. I’m sorry, Frankie, I love you.💕 ” 

It was almost instantly after you hit send that the reply bubble popped up in your message, your heart pounding anxiously waiting for your husband’s reply. 

“It’s okay, I kind of had a feeling 😉 babe, you weren’t being a bitch- I should have talked to you about it sooner. Shitty timing on my part. I’m sorry. I love you too, Querida.” 

Before you could even respond, another message popped up below his first. 

“Don’t worry about going to the store or making anything tonight. I already texted Benny and told him we couldn’t come. We can spend the night in, just the two of us. I can pick up takeout on the way home if you want and we can pick a movie to watch.” 

You could feel your frustrated facade beginning to melt away as your lips shifted from a pursed frown to a small smirk reading Frankie’s text, your thumbs quickly tapping across the screen of your phone to reply. 

“Thank you. You’re the best.” 

“Of course. Hopefully none of your co-workers ask you to make buffalo chicken dip before you leave 😘” 

“Oh shut up, meanie.” 

“Just kidding. Have a good rest of your day, love you. 💙

“Love you too. 🤍” 

Although the rest of your day was nowhere near enjoyable, given the fact you felt like you were getting punched repeatedly in the uterus and your personality resembled that of Oscar the Grouch, you knew that your night in with Frankie was your light at the end of the tunnel, and only needed to make it a few more hours before there was at least some sweet relief finally headed your way. 

Despite the constant stabbing pain in your lower stomach and back, your drive home from work had you in much better spirits than your drive there, now not only having an explanation as to why you had felt like such a mess, but also knowing the rest of your night was going to be dedicated to nothing but cuddling up in your comfiest clothes and snuggling up next to Frankie on the couch. 

As you pulled down your street, you were surprised to see Frankie’s truck already parked in the driveway, wondering what he was doing at home almost an hour earlier than he had mentioned he would be this morning. Gathering all of your things out of the back of your car, you quietly entered your home, confusion scrunching in your brow as you called out for your husband. 

“Frankie? Babe, are you home?” 

Before you could even kick off your shoes or hang up your coat, Frankie had already appeared at the front door to greet you, boyish grin spread across his face as he grabbed your things out of your hand, carefully placing them on your entryway table before engulfing you in a bear hug, his broad arms wrapping around your body and pulling you closer into his chest. 

You could feel all the muscles in your body instantly relax as your face rested against the soft cotton of his t-shirt, soaking in the familiar woody and savory scent of him, letting yourself be consumed by every ounce of his embrace. 

“Hi Hermosa.” Frankie cooed, pressing a soft kiss against your temple, running his hands up and down your back as you looked up at his sweet brown eyes shining down at you. 

“What are you doing home so early? I mean, not that I’m mad about it at all, I just thought you said that you had to work until 6:30 and-” 

“Told my boss I had to head out early for a family emergency.” Frankie smirked, laughing at you playfully rolling your eyes from his so-called excuse. 

“Last time I checked, your wife being a grump because she’s bleeding out of her cooch doesn’t classify as a family emergency, Fransisco.” You teased, giving him a little shove, making the two of you giggle in tandem. 

“Eh, close enough. I’m really sorry about this morning, querida. I was a dick for not talking to you about plans beforehand and just assuming you could go do it. It wasn’t fair of me.” 

“It’s okay, Frankie. What you were asking for wasn’t a big deal and I made it one because I’ve been a psycho all day. I’m sorry, too.” 

“Well,” Frankie paused, pressing another kiss onto your cheek, the width of his palm gently cradling your jaw as you stared up at him and his sympathetic smile, “number one, you are not a psycho. I can’t imagine how uncomfortable you must feel right now, so even if you were, I wouldn’t blame you one bit. Number two,” he paused again, shifting his kiss from your cheek to your lips, his thumb delicately swiping across your skin, “you’re my wife and I love you more than anything, and if I can take a little time off to help make you feel better, it’s the least I can do. So, why don’t you go change into something comfortable, and when you get back down here, I will have pizza and ice cream, whatever movie you wanna watch, and a back rub ready for you, okay?”   

“Okay. Thank you, Frankie. God, you’re the best.” You grinned, pressing up on your tiptoes to let your mouth meet Frankie’s, the plush pout of his bottom lip swiping across yours, lingering just long enough to let the butterflies in your stomach begin to swirl, heat creeping through your cheeks in the tenderness of the moment.

“Of course, cariño. Te amo. Now go get changed.” With one last peck on his lips, you wiggled out of Frankie’s grasp to make your way up the stairs, grinning to see that your husband had already set out your favorite of his oversized sweatshirts and sweatpants, neatly folded on the bed for you to grab, quickly shuffling out of your uncomfortable work attire and exchanging it for Frankie’s clothes, your smile growing even wider at the feeling of perpetually being wrapped up in the essence of him. 

As you made your way back downstairs to meet Frankie, you found your heart skipping a beat again to see that the better part of the living room had been turned into a cozy sanctuary- lights dim and candles lit, both parts of your couch squished together, filled with every pillow and blanket you owned, and Frankie sitting in the middle, giant box of pizza, tub of ice cream and your handsome husband waiting for you. 

As if your emotions hadn’t already taken you on a wild roller coaster of a ride today, the adorable sight in front of you had you on the verge of tears again, wiping the wetness pooling in your eyes with the back of Frankie’s sweatshirt sleeve drooping off your arm before crawling into the blanket fort he had constructed for the two of you. 

“Frankie… You didn’t have to do this.” You sniffled, curling up next to Frankie as he draped a blanket over your lap and his arm over your shoulder, passing you a plate with 2 large pieces of pizza. 

“It’s the least I could do. I put on Hercules for us to watch, but if you wanna-” 

Before you could let him finish the rest of his sentence, you were running your hand across the scratchy stubble of his cheek, pulling his face closer to yours as you planted a kiss on his lips, feeling your smiles melt into one another's as your mouths met. “That sounds perfect. God, how’d I get so lucky?” 

“I could say the same thing, mi amor. You ready to start the movie?” 

“Only if you also pass me that tub of Ben and Jerry’s to go with my pizza.” 

“I think I can make that happen.” 

About half way through the movie, pizza and tub of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, your and Frankie’s bodies were tangled together in a sea of limbs and blankets, contently snuggled up with one another as Frankie’s fingers traced lazy circles on your back and shoulder as you laid against his chest. 

“You doin’ okay, querida? Need anything?” He cooed, his soft voice dancing in your ear. As if it weren’t enough that you had already been through the extreme highs and lows of almost every feeling under the sun today, the one you hadn’t been until this very moment was insatiably horny. While the mood swings you had mentally prepared yourself for with your new period symptoms, the constant other kind of ache between your legs you had not, and feeling the low rasp of Frankie’s words tickling your neck had been just enough to flip the switch to make you desperately needy. 

Letting your leg slide over Frankie’s lap, you pushed yourself up to straddle his hips, running your hands through the dark curls of his thick, brown hair, and down his broad chest, your fists bunching the worn fabric of his shirt in your hands as your mouths became a mess of tangled tongues and teeth. 

“I need- fuck- I need you, Frankie, please.” You pleaded between muffled moans, his tongue swiping in the parted space where your lips melted together as one, instinctively beginning to grind your hips into his, feeling the bulge in his sweatpants starting to grow beneath you. 

“Fuck- You sure, baby?” Frankie rasped, reactively bucking up into you, making you whine as his hands dug into your hips, guiding you as you swirled over the tented fabric of his bottom half rubbing against your covered core. 

“Please. Please, Frankie.” You were all but whimpering at this point, nodding frantically in approval as Frankie used the grasp on your hips to guide you onto your back, making you cock your head in confusion as Frankie scampered to the other side of the couch, back turned to you as he reached over the ledge, pulling out a thick, black towel with a smug grin on his face. “Did you seriously have a towel ready incase I wanted to have sex?” You snorted, shaking your head at Frankie, now crawling back to you, caging your body under his with an electric kiss as he shimmied the towel underneath you. 

“Maybe.” Frankie smirked, breaking from your kiss to let his lips trail down your body, his hands toying with the edge of his sweatshirt covering your body as he pushed it up your stomach and chest, helping you to shimmy it over your head, leaving your top half exposed. He gently palmed at your breasts, taking each pebbled nipple in his mouth, sucking and flicking at the buds with his tongue before letting his kisses travel down the soft skin of your stomach and waistband of your sweatpants. The clothes on your bottom half soon joined your sweatshirt in a crumpled pile as Frankie nestled himself between your legs, gently nudging your hips to let your thighs part, revealing your pussy, slick and shiny for him with your juices. 

Even though Frankie would eat you out for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and a late night snack, you couldn’t help but feel guilty that he still found himself between your legs during your time of the month, considering any other man probably would have scoffed at just the thought of going down on you on your period. 

But, then again, Frankie Morales wasn’t just any other man. 

“Frankie, baby, you know you don’t- Oh fuck!” You gasped, cut off in surprise as Frankie’s tongue licked a long, broad strip across your cunt, making you shudder in pleasure as his head perked up, revealing the devilish grin spread between his cheeks watching your chest already heave in heavy, shaky breaths. 

“Oh I know I don’t have to, sweet girl. But I want to. Relax, baby, lemme take care of you.” 

Before you could agree, protest, or anything in between, Frankie was back between your legs, arms wrapped around your thighs as they draped over his broad shoulders, digging his fingertips into the plush softness of your skin, dragging his tongue through your folds with the exact grace and precision that he knew made you fall apart in seconds. 

With flat, firm presses of his mouth latched against your clit, you could already feel your bottom half writhing under him, the perfect pressure of his tongue dancing around your sensitive bundle of nerves making you moan in pleasure. As your head dipped back, falling into the couch pillow behind you, your hand shot down, fingers burying themselves in the wild curls of Frankie’s hair, tugging at the thick ends for any sort of release as he worked relentlessly at your aching cunt. 

“Fuck, Frankie, oh fuck- Fuck, baby, you feel so good.” You whined, your praise only intensifying the way your husband drank every ounce of you up, two thick fingers now gently pressing inside your heat, curled deliciously as they rocked in and out of your entrance, nudging against your g-spot. 

Frankie had spent enough time worshiping the altar that was your pussy to know exactly how to make you crumble beneath him, leaving you chanting his name like a prayer as his lips latched around your clit, ferociously sucking as his fingers prodded at the soft, spongy spot that made your cunt begin to clench and heat in your belly pool. 

“That’s it, Hermosa. I know you’re close, baby girl. Let me feel you, mi amor. I’ve got you.” Frankie groaned, his words humming deep in his chest, placing chaste kisses on the inside of your thighs before drinking you up like a man starved, adding a third finger into your heat, the added fullness and stretch, combined with Frankie’s relentless pace, enough to have the tingle that had been building at the base of your spine now washing through every inch of your body. Your orgasm began to crash through you, your pussy fluttering as pleasure radiated in your veins, making you cry out Frankie’s name over and over. 

Frankie worked persistently through your high, only pulling back after making sure that you had cum again, sitting back on his haunches as he admired the blissed out and ragged mess you had become, your pussy slick and swollen as your chest rose and fell in wrecked inhales and exhales, trying to compose yourself from the Frankie and fucked you senseless with just his tongue. 

Wiping the slick and juices glistening in his mustache with the back of his hand, Frankie tugged the sweatshirt covering his own body over his head, followed by his pants and boxers, freeing his painfully hard cock as it slapped against his stomach, his tip red and leaking with precum as his broad body loomed over yours, sucking and nipping at your pulse point as you whimpered his name. 

“Frankie, holy fuck.” 

“Such a good girl for me, querida. You still want me to fuck you, baby?” He mewled, the metallic and tangy taste of you still lingering on his tongue as he kissed you, laughing to himself at the way you found yourself frantically nodding your head to tell him yes before your words could. 

“Jesus Christ, yes. Fuck, please Frankie, I need to feel you.” 

Reaching down to stroke himself, he lined his cock up with your entrance, easily sliding into your heat and brushing his tip against your cervix, taking a moment to let you adjust to his fullness. The whine you let out as Frankie filled every inch of you was nothing short of ragged, digging your nails into the skin of his broad back as he ever so slowly began to thrust in and out of you, dragging his length against the slick of your cunt. 

“Oh fuck me- Fuck, you hear how wet you are for me, sweet girl? This what you needed, baby? To fill up that pretty little pussy of yours?” Frankie groaned, letting his forehead rest against yours, his sweaty curls now starting to stick to his skin as he pounded into you, rutting his hips at a faster and faster pace. 

“It’s all for you, Frankie- Oh shit- only for you.” You moaned, your fingers wrapping around the width of his biceps, flexing deliciously as he hovered over you, sucking you in to a long, deep kiss, fucking into you over and over. 

Even with the years between you and the ring on your finger, the possessive part of Frankie’s brain would never get over how the primal and all consuming feeling of knowing you were his, forever, your words shooting straight to his dick as a low groan rumbled in his chest, silently cursing to himself through gritted teeth, watching you fall apart below him. 

Readjusting himself, Frankie sat back on his heels, hooking his arm under one of your legs to drape it over his shoulder, the new angle stretching you out in a way that had you seeing stars as Frankie rammed into your g-spot and began thumbing at your clit, still swollen and sensitive from your first orgasm. You could already feel the heat beginning to bloom in your belly once again, your leg beginning to tremble hoisted over Frankie’s shoulder as he dug into the meat of your thigh with a bruising intensity. 

Just like he would never get over the fact of knowing you were his, Frankie would never get over watching you begin to crumble under his touch, taking the time to memorize every twitch and twinge your body made as you came closer and closer to your end, always savoring in the moaning mess you’d become as you fell apart around him. 

“Fuck, Frankie, Fuck, oh my god- I’m close, baby.” You were all but rambling at this point, your brain barley stringing together coherent sentences as you felt your cunt beginning to clench around his cock, the lewd noises of your moans, wetness and skin slapping together as your hips met filling the room at a borderline pornagraphic rate. 

“Meirda, I’m not gonna last much longer, hermosa. Fuck, where do you want me, baby?” Frankie growled through gritted teeth, his eyes locking on yours and telling him everything he needed to know without you saying a word. 

“Inside. Fuck, please Frankie, I want you to cum inside me.” 

Your confirmation was all it took to flip the switch in Frankie that sent him absolutely feral, the thought of being able to actually knock you up now that you weren’t on birth control anymore, giving you a baby, proving another way to the world to mark you as his? The thought alone was enough to have him bracing every bone in his body to keep him from cuming right then and there. 

“Fuck me. You want me to fill you up, querida? Fuck me full of you? Fuck a baby into you? That's what you want, huh?” Frankie moaned, grunting with each thrust of his hips, his rhythm becoming more frantic and shaky as he felt your pussy begin to flutter around him, pressing the pads of his fingers against your clit, swirling them in frantic circles to make sure you came before he did. 

“Fuck, yes. I need you too, holy fuck- wanna make you a daddy, Fransisco.” 

You could feel the tightly wound knot in your core starting to snap, your legs trembling and breath shaking as Frankie fucked into you, finding yourself on the verge of collapse- but not before Frankie’s filthy mouth got the last word in. 

“Jesus, fuck- Fuck, hermosa. That’s what you want, pretty girl? I swear, I’m gonna fuck myself so deep into you it’ll fucking take. Get you fucking pregnant tonight.” 

That was all it took to have you orgasm come crashing through you, every inch of your body radiating with pleasure as you came, crying out Frankie’s name as you gushed around him, your eyes practically rolling to the back of your head, your mind going blank and numb, the only thing grounding you were the incoherent ramblings of your husband as he followed suit behind you. 

“Fuck, that’s it, baby. Fuck, I’m gonna cum too, fuck, fuck-ahhhhhh.” With one final thrust, Frankie could feel himself spilling against your walls, coating you with his spend as his cock pulsed, making sure he milked himself of every last drop deep inside your cunt before even thinking about pulling out. Moving your leg, Frankie slumped into you, splaying himself across your body as your chests rose and fell in sync, laying in silence as you let your breathing steady, coming back down to Earth from your high. 

With a shallow grunt, Frankie carefully pulled his softening cock out of your heat, leaning back to admire the mess he had made between your legs, his cum dripping down the inside of your thighs and pussy glistening with the mixture of your arousal. You let out a soft hiss at the loss of Frankie’s fullness inside you, only to quickly be replaced by a gasp as he buried his two fingers back into your cunt.  

“Gotta make sure every last drop stays in there, hermosa. Gonna keep you full of me all night, baby.” He mewled, carefully gathering his spend and pushing it deep inside you, making you whimper as he slowly pulsed his fingers back and forth, pulling away his hand to lean back into your body, engulfing you with an electric kiss. 

“Holy fuck, fuck me. Jesus, Frankie.” You laughed to yourself, your head dipping back on the pillow as you buried your face in your hands, at a loss for words at how euphoric you now felt in your post colital bliss. 

“Wow, again, already? Gotta give me a few after that querida.” He smirked, making you roll your eyes at his joke as you playfully swatted at him, making him lean in to pepper your body with kisses, leaving you squealing and squirming in delight. 

“You are absolutely ridiculous, Fransisco Morales. If you keep fucking me like that, then yeah, absolutley.” 

“If I keep fucking you like this, I have a very hopeful feeling that next month, we’ll have something else to care about besides period cramps.”

“I swear to god, if one of my cravings ends up being buffalo chicken dip once I’m pregnant, I’m gonna be pissed.”

Taglist:

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[its-avalon-08]

Could you write something where reader and Lando have been in a relationship and reader has a heart condition and she never told Lando so he didn’t stress about her and to focus on racing, and Lando and her brake up because he stupidly told her he wants to focus on racing this year and after she left he realised his mistake as all the little things reader did for him before a race are all gone and everything just feels wrong and when he tries to contact her he can’t find her until a few weeks later he gets a call from the hospital that reader has fallen unconscious and when he gets there he then learns about her heart condition and that stress is not good for her heart. But happy ending.

heart flutters (ln4)

✦ pairing - lando norris x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, tears, comfort, heart condition

The morning sun slipped through the curtains, casting a soft glow over Lando’s bedroom. Y/N was lying beside him, her hand resting on his chest, her breathing soft and steady. Lando felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth as he looked down at her, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

He couldn’t quite remember when his mornings had become this perfect, but he knew Y/N had something to do with it.

She shifted, blinking awake, and her sleepy smile met his gaze. “Good morning, love,” she murmured, voice still thick with sleep.

"Morning," he replied, kissing her forehead. "Did you sleep okay?"

“Always do when I’m with you,” she replied, snuggling closer. “Although I could do without you hogging the blanket,” she teased, giving him a playful poke.

Lando laughed, pulling her closer. “Alright, alright, I’ll work on it.”

These mornings together, the lazy Sundays and cozy, laughter-filled moments, were Y/N’s specialty. She seemed to know exactly what he needed, especially on race days. She’d wake up early with him, helping him calm his nerves and making sure he had everything he needed. And every time, he’d find some new way she was taking care of him, even if it was something small—like hiding a little note in his helmet, wishing him luck.

“Hey,” Y/N said, watching his thoughtful expression. “You okay?”

Lando nodded. “Just thinking about how lucky I am,” he admitted, his voice soft.

Y/N blushed, rolling her eyes a little. “You’re getting sappy on me, Norris.”

“Just telling it like it is,” he replied, smiling as he watched her try to hide her smile.

They went about their morning, with Y/N humming along to the soft music playing in the kitchen as she made breakfast. She slid a plate across to Lando, along with a steaming cup of his favorite coffee. He took a sip, sighing in contentment. She’d even managed to get his coffee just right.

"Alright, mister," she said with a smirk, sitting down beside him. "What's the game plan today?"

"Game plan?” he teased, raising an eyebrow. “Thought you were the expert at making my plans.”

“Maybe,” she replied, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “But I like to think I’m just the support. You’re the superstar here.”

Lando rolled his eyes, chuckling. “You’re more than support, Y/N. You’re… you’re my everything, you know that?”

Y/N smiled, but there was a flicker of hesitation in her eyes, something he didn’t notice, too wrapped up in the moment. She covered it up with a quick laugh, brushing it off. “And you’re mine. Just… try not to get too cocky on track, alright?”

He laughed, squeezing her hand. “Can’t make any promises.”

Their relationship was filled with moments like these—easy, natural, just them being themselves. Y/N grounded him, kept him steady, especially when the world of racing felt overwhelming. She never burdened him with anything else, always making sure his focus was on the track. And she always brushed off his attempts to give back, saying his happiness was all she needed.

But it was Lando who felt like he needed her more than he’d ever admit.

As they finished breakfast, she reached out, taking his hand. "You'll do amazing, Lando," she said quietly. "You always do."

"I only do so well because of you, you know that?" he replied, squeezing her hand.

Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes again, but there was warmth there, too. “Alright, alright, enough with the sweet talk. Go focus on your race and be the best you can be out there. That’s all I ask.”

Lando leaned in, kissing her softly. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Norris,” she replied, grinning as she kissed him back.

As he left for the track, he felt a familiar sense of calm wash over him. Y/N had this way of making everything feel right, grounding him no matter what lay ahead. He knew, deep down, that he’d never be able to thank her enough for everything she did for him.

And for Y/N, watching him walk out the door with that smile, she knew that was exactly how she wanted it to be.

--

It was late, and the rain was tapping against the window of Lando’s apartment as he paced back and forth, hands tangled in his hair. The 2024 season had been brutal, every race pushing him to his limit, the pressure of a potential world championship win weighing on him like a mountain. He could practically taste the victory, but the stress of it all had made him someone he barely recognized.

Y/N was sitting on the couch, arms crossed as she watched him pace. She’d noticed it for weeks now, the way he was shutting her out, snapping at her for even the smallest things, as if she were just another distraction.

Finally, she broke the silence, her voice sharp. “Lando, can you stop pacing for two seconds and talk to me?”

He stopped, sighing heavily as he turned to face her. “What do you want me to say, Y/N?” he muttered. “That I’m exhausted? That I can’t focus with all of this going on?”

“All of this?” she echoed, hurt flashing across her face. “What’s ‘all of this,’ exactly? Because I thought we were a team, Lando. I thought I was helping you!”

“Helping me?” he scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “Y/N, I have to focus. Every race, every lap, every second counts right now. I can’t… I don’t have time to be dealing with you—”

“Dealing with me?” Her voice was sharp, a bitter laugh escaping her. “Lando, I’ve done nothing but support you. Every single time you’re struggling, I’m here. And now you’re telling me I’m… I’m a distraction?”

He clenched his fists, too frustrated to back down. “That’s exactly what I’m saying! Every time I’m around you, I feel like I’m being pulled in a million directions. I need to focus on racing, Y/N. I need this championship.”

“And what about us, Lando?” she demanded, standing up, her own anger now matching his. “Do I mean anything to you anymore, or am I just some inconvenience? Because that’s exactly how you’re making me feel.”

He looked away, the words slipping out before he could stop them. “Maybe it’s just not working anymore.”

Her eyes widened, the pain in them unmistakable. She took a shaky breath, her voice barely a whisper. “So that’s it? Just like that? You’re giving up on us?”

“Maybe I am,” he snapped, though even as he said it, something twisted painfully in his chest. “Maybe I need to focus on my career. I can’t have anyone holding me back right now.”

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. “Holding you back? I’m holding you back, Lando? After everything I’ve done? The sacrifices I’ve made, the nights I stayed up worrying for you, the races I watched, praying you’d come home safe… that’s ‘holding you back’?”

“You just don’t understand,” he muttered, his voice softer now but still laced with frustration. “You don’t get the pressure I’m under, Y/N. I have a chance to win this championship, and I can’t be thinking about anything else.”

“Oh, I understand perfectly,” she replied, her tone cold. “You’ve let this championship turn you into someone I barely recognize. The Lando I knew would have never pushed me away like this.”

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think,” he said, the words hitting her like a slap.

She swallowed hard, the hurt on her face plain to see. But she wasn’t about to let him get away with this. “You’re right,” she replied, her voice trembling with anger. “Maybe I don’t know you anymore. Because the man I fell in love with would have never treated me like this. He wouldn’t have thrown away everything we have because he’s too blinded by his own ambition.”

“Fine,” he spat, his anger still raging. “Maybe you should just leave, then.”

Silence fell between them, the weight of his words settling like a stone in the room. Y/N stared at him, her eyes filling with tears, but she refused to let them fall.

“Don’t worry, Lando,” she said, her voice breaking slightly as she grabbed her coat from the back of the chair. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from your precious championship.”

She turned toward the door, but stopped just before leaving, looking back at him one last time. “I hope it’s worth it, Lando. I really do.”

And with that, she was gone, the sound of the door slamming shut echoing in the silence of the apartment.

Lando stood there, the anger that had been burning inside him now replaced by a hollow ache. He’d gotten what he’d wanted—he was free to focus on his racing. But as he looked around the empty room, he realized just how empty his life felt without her.

--

Lando sat alone in his dimly lit apartment, the silence pressing in on him like a weight he couldn’t shake off. It had been two weeks since Y/N had walked out. At first, he told himself he’d done the right thing, that he needed to focus on racing, that he couldn’t afford any distractions. But now, all he could feel was the aching void she’d left behind.

Race weekend had come, and the pre-race routines—the moments that had once been so seamless, so comforting—now felt cold and empty. His helmet was sitting on the counter, untouched. There were no little notes tucked into his bag, no reminders to stay safe, no lucky charm slipped into his hand just before he left for the track. Y/N had always known what to do, how to make him feel like he could conquer the world. Now, everything just felt wrong.

He leaned against the counter, clutching the edge, his heart pounding as he stared down at his helmet. The knot in his chest tightened with each passing second, a harsh reminder of how badly he’d messed up.

“Lando?” Max entered the room, noticing his tense expression. “You alright, mate? You don’t look yourself.”

Lando managed a hollow smile, waving him off. “I’m fine.”

But Max wasn’t convinced. He took a seat across from him, eyeing him carefully. “You’ve been off these past few weeks. Are you sure nothing’s wrong?”

“Yeah, just… racing stress, you know?” Lando muttered, though he knew it was a lie. It wasn’t racing stress—it was Y/N. She’d been his anchor, the one person who made him feel like he was more than just a driver. Without her, he felt like he was falling apart.

Max raised an eyebrow, skeptical but respectful enough not to push further. “Alright, well… if you need anything, let me know. You know I’m here for you.”

“Thanks,” Lando replied, trying to keep his voice steady. But as Max left, the emptiness clawed at him even more fiercely. He glanced back down at his helmet, the silence in the room growing louder, deafening.

He couldn’t hold it in any longer. He slumped down onto the floor, burying his face in his hands as memories flooded him. He remembered the way Y/N would look at him with those warm eyes, her voice filled with gentle reassurance.

The more Lando went through his days, the more he noticed just how much Y/N had been woven into every corner of his life. Each time he stumbled over a small moment they used to share, it was like a painful reminder of how deeply he had messed up.

Race Day Routine

When he sat down for breakfast the morning of his next race, he instinctively reached for the small bag she’d usually leave out for him—one filled with his favorite snacks, electrolyte packets, and a note in her neat handwriting that usually said, “For that extra boost, love. You’ve got this.” Every race day morning, she’d make sure his essentials were perfectly packed, knowing how easily he’d forget them in the rush.

But the counter was empty, and so were his hands. There was no note, no bag, no encouraging message. He’d scoffed at how overprotective she’d been, thinking he could handle it himself. Now, as he fumbled to prepare for his race on his own, the empty counter felt like a gaping hole in his chest.

Before the Race

In the paddock, he felt it again, the silence louder than ever. Y/N would always make sure to slip away with him for just a moment before he stepped into the garage, giving him a quiet pep talk when he needed it most. Her words, so full of calm and warmth, used to steady him, keeping the pressure from crushing him. She’d take his face in her hands, look him straight in the eyes, and remind him, “It’s just you and the track. Nothing else matters. Drive like only you can.”

He’d rolled his eyes at her sometimes, told her he didn’t need the cheesy encouragement—but she’d insisted anyway, saying, “Well, too bad, because you’re getting it.” Her words were like armor, a shield she’d wrapped around him before every race.

Now, standing alone by his car, he could feel the pressure creeping in, gnawing at him, and there was nothing to keep it at bay. He glanced around, almost expecting to see her in the crowd, but of course, she wasn’t there.

Late Nights in the Simulator

Back at the team facility, he spent more time than ever practicing, pushing himself harder, trying to keep his mind from drifting back to her. But even here, she’d left her mark. On the long nights, Y/N used to bring him coffee, perfectly made just the way he liked it, and sit beside him, giving him quiet company. She wouldn’t say much, just enough to keep his spirits up, occasionally throwing him an encouraging smile as he took lap after lap in the simulator.

And when he’d get frustrated, when he’d curse and slam his fists on the table, she’d place a calming hand on his shoulder, reminding him, “You’re Lando Norris, you can do this. Don’t let the tough laps get to you. Breathe.”

Now, he sat there, tense and alone, his coffee lukewarm and forgotten. No hand to steady him, no quiet reassurance. The simulator felt cold, and so did he.

At Home, Late at Night

Even the nights felt wrong. Y/N had always insisted on turning on the small night light for him, a tiny habit she’d developed when she realized that he hated stumbling around in the dark after a race, too exhausted to find his way. He’d teased her about it, saying he didn’t need it, but she’d laugh, saying, “Well, one of us does.” She’d make sure it was on for him every night she stayed over, like clockwork.

Tonight, he sat in the pitch-black room, the silence pressing in, the absence of the warm glow almost suffocating. He clenched his fists, swallowing against the ache that was rising in his throat. He missed her laugh, her teasing, the tiny acts of love she’d filled his life with.

Flashback

“You’re going to be amazing today, Lando,” she’d whisper, holding his hand just before he stepped onto the track. “Just remember, it’s not about winning or losing to me. I love you just the same, no matter what.”

And he’d feel his nerves melt away. She had a way of making him feel like he could face anything.

Now, without her, the fear crept back in, gnawing at him from the inside.

He pressed his palms into his eyes, a shaky breath escaping him. “God… what have I done?”

Every little thing she used to do, every act of kindness, every word of encouragement—he’d taken it all for granted. He thought he could focus better without her, that his life would be easier. But instead, all he felt was the emptiness of her absence, like a cold shadow in every corner.

His phone buzzed on the counter, and his heart jumped, a surge of desperate hope flooding him as he reached for it. But it was just a message from his manager.

Frustration tore through him, and he tossed his phone down, clenching his fists. He could still hear her voice in his head, her words from their last fight haunting him.

Flashback to Their Argument

“Don’t worry, Lando,” she’d said bitterly, her voice cracking. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from your precious championship.”

He remembered her eyes, red and tear-filled, as she looked at him one last time, filled with a pain he’d caused. He remembered thinking he was doing the right thing, choosing his career, telling himself he couldn’t afford to be vulnerable.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he muttered to himself, feeling a tear slip down his cheek.

Everything felt different without her. The things he used to love—the rush of the track, the thrill of competition—they all felt meaningless now. He was pushing himself harder than ever, but it wasn’t out of passion. It was to numb the ache she’d left behind, to keep himself from falling apart.

But no matter how fast he drove, how hard he pushed, he couldn’t outrun the realization.

Race Day Morning

He stood in front of the mirror, suit half-zipped, his hands gripping the sink as he stared at his own reflection. His face looked drawn, the shadows under his eyes deep. The loneliness, the guilt, the regret—it was all written there, plain as day.

“You look terrible,” he muttered to himself, voice hollow.

He remembered the way she’d stand beside him, fixing his collar, laughing as she reminded him to keep his head cool. And now, all he had was his own reflection staring back at him, mocking him with his own emptiness.

Finally, the weight became too much, and he grabbed his phone, his fingers shaking as he typed her number. He didn’t know what he was going to say, didn’t know if she’d even answer. But he couldn’t keep going like this. He needed to apologize, to tell her how wrong he’d been, how much he missed her.

The phone rang, each ring feeling like an eternity. Just as he was about to give up, her voicemail clicked on.

“Hey, it’s Y/N… leave a message.”

He swallowed hard, the sound of her voice hitting him like a punch to the gut. Taking a shaky breath, he spoke, his voice breaking.

“Y/N… it’s me. I… I don’t know if you’ll ever listen to this, but I just… I’m so sorry.” His voice trembled, each word spilling out like a confession. “I was wrong, okay? I thought I needed to focus, but without you… everything’s falling apart. I miss you. I miss… us. Please… please just… call me back.”

He hung up, feeling the weight of his own words settle over him. But there was nothing else he could do now, except hope—hope that somehow, she might still care, might still give him a chance to fix the mess he’d made.

--

Lando had tried everything. He’d called, texted, even reached out to her friends, hoping someone could tell him where she was. But no one had any information; she’d slipped away completely. Days turned into weeks, and with each one, the realization sank deeper: she might never come back.

One night, Lando sat alone in his apartment, drained and unfocused, his phone resting on the coffee table. His mind was restless, jumping between regret and desperation, reliving their last fight, the look in her eyes as she’d walked out.

Then, the phone rang, startling him out of his thoughts. He grabbed it without thinking, not even checking the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Is this Lando Norris?” a calm, professional voice asked.

“Uh… yeah, this is him,” Lando replied, his heart pounding.

“This is Dr. Kapoor from St. Thomas Hospital. You’re listed as an emergency contact for Y/N Y/L/N.”

Lando’s stomach dropped, his throat suddenly dry. “Yes, yes, that’s me… is she alright? What happened?”

“She was brought in unconscious a few hours ago,” the doctor explained. “We’ve stabilized her, but we’d like you to come in as soon as possible.”

Lando didn’t need to hear anything else. He muttered a frantic “I’m on my way” before grabbing his keys and running out the door.

The drive to the hospital felt endless, each passing second stretching painfully as he sped down the empty streets. His mind raced with possibilities, the worst scenarios creeping in, twisting his insides. His hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly they were white.

By the time he burst through the hospital doors, he was gasping for breath, his heart pounding as he frantically searched for her room. A nurse pointed him down the hall, and he bolted, not caring how he looked, just needing to see her, to know she was alright.

He found her room and stopped, momentarily frozen by the sight before him. Y/N lay in the hospital bed, pale and fragile, wires and monitors surrounding her. The steady beep of her heart monitor filled the room, grounding him slightly, but the sight of her like this tore at him. Slowly, he stepped forward, his throat tight, struggling to keep his emotions in check.

Just as he was about to speak, the doctor entered.

“Mr. Norris?” Dr. Kapoor’s voice was gentle, sensing his distress.

Lando nodded, barely able to manage a word. “What… what happened to her?”

Dr. Kapoor took a deep breath, her expression softening. “Y/N has a heart condition called hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. It’s a condition that can be exacerbated by stress, which could lead to fainting or, in severe cases, even heart failure.”

Lando’s face fell, his voice barely a whisper. “She… she never told me.”

“She might not have wanted to worry you,” the doctor said. “It’s common for patients with this condition to keep it private, especially if they think it might place a burden on others.”

Lando’s heart twisted, a wave of guilt washing over him as he realized why she’d never mentioned it. She hadn’t wanted him to stress, to worry, especially during the season when he’d been under so much pressure. She’d always put him first, even to the point of hiding something so serious.

He took a shaky breath, blinking back tears. “Can I… can I see her?”

The doctor nodded. “She’s stable now, and she’ll likely wake up soon. But remember, keeping her calm is crucial. She’ll need rest and minimal stress to recover.”

Lando swallowed, nodding quickly, but he couldn’t keep the emotion out of his voice. “I’ll… I’ll take care of her. I swear.”

Dr. Kapoor offered him a small, understanding smile before leaving the room, giving him a moment alone with Y/N.

Lando stepped closer, reaching out to gently take her hand. His thumb traced over her knuckles, and he noticed how cold her hand felt in his.

“Y/N…” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I’m so sorry. I should have been there. I should have known.”

He sat beside her, the weight of everything hitting him all at once. “I was so… so stupid. I thought I needed to focus on racing, but… God, I was wrong. I was so wrong. You’re… you’re everything, Y/N. None of this means anything without you.”

He stayed like that, holding her hand, his head bowed as he let himself cry for the first time in weeks. All the pride, all the anger—it had melted away, leaving only the raw, aching regret of having pushed away the one person who truly loved him.

After a few minutes, he felt her fingers twitch slightly in his hand. His head shot up, hope flooding his chest as he saw her eyes slowly blink open.

“Y/N?” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

She blinked up at him, confusion flickering across her face before her gaze settled on him, and he saw a flash of pain in her eyes. “Lando…?”

He took a deep breath, his grip on her hand tightening. “I’m here. I’m right here, love.”

She tried to sit up, wincing as the monitor beeped slightly faster. Lando was quick to place a hand on her shoulder, his touch gentle but firm. “Hey, don’t… don’t push yourself. Just… just rest.”

She looked away, her voice barely a whisper. “Why are you here, Lando? I thought… you wanted to focus on racing.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, but he forced himself to face her, to let her see the remorse in his eyes. “I was wrong, Y/N. I was so, so wrong. I thought I needed to do it alone, that I couldn’t let myself get… attached. But all I did was ruin the best thing in my life.”

Her expression softened, and he saw her blinking back tears. “You really hurt me, Lando. I didn’t ask you for much. I just wanted to be there for you, and you… you made me feel like I was a burden.”

“I know,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “And I hate myself for it. You did everything for me, and I didn’t see it until you were gone. I love you, Y/N… I can’t lose you. Not like this.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, and he reached up, brushing it away with a tenderness that spoke of all the things he wished he’d done sooner. “I’m here now,” he continued. “And if you’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

She looked at him for a long moment, searching his face, and finally nodded, her hand squeezing his. “You hurt me, Lando. But… I still love you, too.”

Relief flooded his face, and he leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I’ll be better. I promise.”

For the first time in weeks, Lando felt a spark of hope, knowing he had a chance to rebuild what he’d nearly thrown away. And as he sat beside her, holding her close, he vowed never to let her feel alone again.

--

Lando had been the perfect caretaker ever since Y/N was discharged from the hospital. He took her straight back to their apartment, rearranging everything in his life to ensure she was comfortable and safe. Every morning, he’d bring her breakfast in bed with a ridiculous grin, complete with heart-shaped toast and fresh orange juice. He filled her day with little surprises—flowers by her bedside, a new stack of her favorite books, and even a fuzzy blanket he’d bought just for her.

One night, Y/N woke up in the middle of the night, instinctively reaching for him, only to find his side of the bed empty. Confused, she sat up, rubbing her eyes. She hadn’t heard him get up, and her heart skipped slightly as worry bubbled up, wondering if something was wrong.

Quietly, she slipped out of bed, her bare feet padding softly as she went to look for him. She found him in the living room, seated on the couch with his laptop open and a small notebook by his side. His hair was tousled, and he had a focused, almost determined expression on his face as he typed something into the search bar.

“Understanding Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy” appeared on the screen, along with several videos, articles, and patient forums. Lando had a pen in his hand, and as he clicked on a video, she watched as he jotted down notes on a page, his handwriting a messy scrawl but full of sincerity. The video’s audio was soft, and she could hear the narrator explaining symptoms, risk factors, and the importance of a low-stress environment.

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears as she watched him, realizing just how much he was trying to understand, to do anything he could to protect her.

“Alright,” he muttered to himself, tapping the pen on the notebook. “Avoid stress… maybe I can start doing a weekly meditation with her or, like… yoga? Yeah, that might help. And… maybe I should keep her work stuff organized so she doesn’t feel overwhelmed.”

Y/N couldn’t hold back any longer. She quietly stepped forward, and Lando jumped slightly when he felt her curl up on his lap, but he immediately wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice tender as he brushed a hand over her hair. “What are you doing awake?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” she murmured, tilting her head to meet his gaze. Her eyes were soft, full of gratitude and love, and Lando’s heart swelled.

He gave her a sheepish smile, glancing at the open notebook. “I… I wanted to make sure I was doing everything right. I know I’ve messed up before, and I want to be the best I can be for you now. So, I figured… I’d do my homework.”

Y/N let out a quiet laugh, blinking back tears. “You’re really… reading up on my condition?”

“Of course I am,” he said, his voice warm but serious. “I need to know how to keep you safe. How to make sure you’re not stressed out or worried, and…” He swallowed, his voice breaking just a bit. “I just want to make everything perfect for you, love.”

She buried her face in his neck, her heart aching in the best way possible. “Lando… you’re already doing more than enough. Just… being here with me, caring for me… it’s more than I could ever ask for.”

“But it doesn’t feel like enough,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “I’m never going to let you feel alone or unimportant again. You’re my world, Y/N. I want to make sure you’re as healthy and happy as you can be.”

She pulled back, looking at him with watery eyes, a small smile on her face. “Lando, I don’t need perfection. I just need you.”

His expression softened as he cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “Well, you’re stuck with me,” he said, grinning. “Because I’m not going anywhere. And I’m gonna keep studying this and doing everything I can to make sure you feel safe and loved.”

She laughed through her tears, leaning into his hand. “You already make me feel so loved. I don’t think you even realize it, but you do.”

Lando’s smile turned gentle, and he bent down to press a tender kiss to her forehead. “Good. Because I’m crazy about you, Y/N. I just want to be the person you deserve.”

She closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of his kiss settle over her, and wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder. “You’re already that person, Lando. You always have been.”

He chuckled softly, wrapping his arms around her as he held her close. “Good. Because I’m not stopping until I see that smile on your face every single day.”

As Y/N nestled closer into his lap, her attention shifted to the laptop screen, where a doctor was speaking in a calm, measured tone.

“Managing stress is crucial for patients with hypertrophic cardiomyopathy,” the voice on the video explained. “Avoid situations that may induce high emotional stress. For instance, hostile conversations, arguments, or other confrontational exchanges can increase strain on the heart.”

Lando stilled, his gaze fixed on the screen as those words sank in. She could feel him tense beneath her, a flicker of regret passing over his face.

“That… makes sense,” he whispered, almost to himself. “I’ve been so selfish. I didn’t realize that my own stress… my own words… could actually make things worse for you.”

Y/N put her hand on his cheek, urging him to look at her. “Lando, it’s okay—”

“No,” he interrupted gently, meeting her gaze with a deep, remorseful look. “It’s not okay. I didn’t just make things stressful; I let you feel like you couldn’t even tell me what was going on with you. I was so wrapped up in myself… I can’t believe I was so blind.”

Y/N’s eyes softened as she watched him, the depth of his regret written all over his face. She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “We’re here now. That’s what matters. You’re here, and I know how much you care.”

He exhaled slowly, wrapping his arms around her a little tighter. “I’ll never let stress come between us again, love. I promise.”

They sat together like that, wrapped up in each other, as the rest of the world faded away. Lando continued to stroke her hair, murmuring sweet promises of the future he envisioned for them. And for the first time in weeks, Y/N felt a calm settle over her, knowing that Lando was there, exactly where he wanted to be, and that he wasn’t going anywhere.

[quaintii]

The Prey and the Predator

a/n: first time writing smut, so I am new here! I'll try my best 🪱

Wrd Cnt: I dunno ^-^

Warnings: breeding kink, aftercare, oral, spanking, choking, little bdsm, dom!Miguel, sub!reader, fang kink, size kink, stomach bulge, blood-play, hair pulling, suffocation?, p with plot? prob more. MDNI !

Summary: Miguel has been trying to catch you after you have been messing up with the timeline. You're an obnoxious villain most say. You have quite a hunch on Miguel and you love playing around with him, he caught your eye so attentively and you love seeing him angry. Miguel has had enough with this stubbornness of yours and wants to catch you once and for all to stop messing up his plans.

enjoy <3

This was the 5th time today you've messed with him. Miguel was seriously starting to get fed up with your games. He tried to catch you multiple times but you have an invisibility power. You love treating him like a dog on a leash, always coming towards you. You have messed with many other people before but it hasn't been as much as fun as this, you love seeing him angry. Sometimes you stalk him to see what his plans are. You are always near him, just invisible. Since he lacks Spidey sense it makes things much more easier. But he's very attentive with sound because he has enhanced senses.

"I'm so fucking done with her fucking games and bullshit. She's so fucking annoying. Ya es la quinta vez que ha hecho esto." Miguel said while heavily sighing with irritation. "Si lo vuelve acer.. la voy acer que se arrepienta."

You giggled as you kept rewinding the face that Miguel would do whenever he was pissed. You find him quite interesting that you want to prey on him more and see how far his tolerance limit can go. You quit trying to deny your attraction to him cause god his physique drives you insane. Your body is desperately wanting for his grasp on your throat.

As the next day passes, you decide to continue your daily annoyance in messing up his plans to remove every anomaly in the wrong universe. You follow him around about everywhere when you have nothing better to do. You cause him ton of stress by causing ruckus in many different universes. Thing is, he's starting to catch onto your patterns. Which will soon lead him to finally grab a hold on you.

You fortunately make a 'small' ruckus by causing another anomaly to escape from the HQ. Miguel and other spiders are working on a mission to catch this villain while you stand back watching it like a movie. He already knows it was you because your patterns are always consistent. You rest so carelessly, not worrying about a single thing. Your eyes intoxicatingly staring deep into Miguel. You're basically craving him to the point you touch yourself at the thought of him.

It's midnight by now and you're crouching down on the floor in a abandoned broken down building in a random universe. You just couldn't get the thought of him wandering his hands around your body. Touching every crevice of it. You couldn't hold back anymore and touched your core. Rubbing it with your palms slowly but with a rhythmic pace, you start heavily panting out of frustration as it's not enough for your satisfaction of immense pleasure you desire.

You desperately want more so you remove your pants and pull your red undergarments to the side. Using your slick wetness as lube to rub your clit in slow circles. You roll your head back and you whimper lightly.

You stick your fingers inside your cunt, feeling some relief of pleasure but not enough. You start chasing your high as your mind starts to drift to Miguel pounding you so unrelentingly with no mercy. You start moaning his name as a prayer between gasps. Your stomach starts to feel a tight snap and ecstacy washes over your body. You pant stiffly and rub off your cum on your suit.

"God, I seriously cannot believe I'm doing this...this is so fucking embarrassing for me." You say with an expression of disappointment.

You go a couple of days without messing with Miguel because you just can't seem to control yourself whenever he's near you, even when he doesn't know you're there. So you decide to pay him a visit at the HQ and see what thing you should do today. You're unusually nervous this time, wondering if you'll mess anything up. You feel so incredibly queasy around him now.

As you find a portal, you sneak your way in with your invisibility power. You see Miguel watching and scrolling thru some screens and you just can't stop glaring at him sitting on his desk. You had a sudden urge to just climb on top of him and straddle him with your hips. You started having lewd thoughts and you started having a pool of arousal grow the more you stood there.

Little did you know, Miguel could sniff your wetness. He knew it was you because he remembers your scent. As he scrolls through the perspective cams, he finally shuts them down. He pretends he's not aware you're in the same room with him, in his office. Alone together.

"Didn't figure I'd finally catch you." Miguel said with a sly smirk. "You are such a fucking intolerance that I can't stand, I mean you mess with my missions half of the time..god you're such an annoyance! You know that right?" He said while walking closer towards you.

Until out of nowhere, he immediately uses his red lasso and webs to pin you onto a wall. You audibly gasp because you find this completely unexpected. You quickly start thinking what caused him to find what place you were at. How did he know you were there? This was unusual because other times you were around him, he didn't do anything. But your arousal just began to grow even wetter.

"H-how did you know I was here?!?" You said with worry. "I promise I was just playing around, I didn't mean anything horrible. I p-promise, please don't hurt me!" You beg. You try getting out of his grasp but your hands are winded behind your back. You hate to admit it but you're getting even more turned on by this.

"Ay cariño... podía oler tu excitación..Hueles tan bien..como dulce..por fin te tengo en la palma de mis manos amor.." He says while chuckling lowly.

You were struggling to get out his web, your eyes still on his, watching him creep closer to you second by second. Your heart starts racing so fast when he's above you. Miguel is so much more taller than you. You only understood a bit of Spanish but god did you adore his accent.

"Stay still f'me, mi vida. Vuevles aver me? Ya sé que te encantó haciendo estos juegos, muñeca. Queda quieta..stay still.." Miguel says with a tone of lustfulness.

"Please Miguel, I really meant no harm..please let me go. " You keep babbling incoherent words because the only thing you can focus on is his collarbone, his amazing physique. His biceps flex with every move, god how badly you want him to choke you with his hands. His prominent veins also catch your eyes. You observe every aspect of him especially what's between his thighs.

You hold back a stifled moan just from staring at him. Your mind starts racing with so many ways this could possibly go.

"You shouldn't have messed with me, amor. You should always keep in mind how your actions always come with consequences, right cariño? Y'know.. you really caused me a lot of stress these past few days. It's not so easy catching a dangerous anomaly almost everyday, muneca." He said while his muscles begin to tense. He absolutely loved the way he caged over your small body. He could just eat you right then and there.

"Mejor un sabor de tu coño me hace sentir mejor, bebé." His tone dripping with amusement.

"M-miguel.. I don't think you're thinking straight. Okay! I'm sorry about what I've done, I won't do it ever again!"

"Oh I promise you won't do it ever again. I should teach you a lesson. Will you be a good girl for me?"

You try your best to not give into your deep pleasures, so you continue to put up your arrogant side. "Miguel, you wouldn't dare to touch me because you don't know what horrible things I would do this place! I will ruin you!" You yell with fake confidence.

Miguel chuckles darkly. "Not if I ruin you first cariño. Look how cute you look squirming. I think I would love to keep you around as a stress relief toy, què no? I think you and I would both enjoy that." Miguel finally stands infront of you and crouches to your height.

"mmm, smell so good.. let me fill you up, amor. I could smell you miles away..you're so wet for me. You know you want this."

You try denying it as much as you could, you couldn't believe what Miguel was even uttering. Your brain starts fogging up and you finally give up.

"I-i do Miguel. I crave you. I can't hold myself anymore whenever I see you, I want your cock inside me please Miguel." You beg.

"Such a needy little slut aren't you? You want this cock so bad..don't you?" You nod slowly, biting your lower lip. Miguel finally released you from his webs and you immediately flop to the ground on your hands and knees. You look at him through your lashes.

"You look so pretty on your knees for me, cariño. I should do something with that pretty mouth of yours, que no? " He said with a sneer spreading across his face.

"Please Miguel do anything to me.." You say with a whimper in your voice. You're starting to get impatient and your cunt is now soaking wet, longing for something long and girthy inside of you. Your lips hang open. You stare at his crotch and approach your hands to his bulge. God, he was huge.

He slaps your hands away from approaching him. "Who said you could do that, amor? I'm the one who controls around here. You'll do anything I'll say like a good girl right?" Miguel said while huffing, your position on your knees has him holding every restraint he has left in him. "Si Miguel." You say.

He presses his index finger on your chin, lifting it up to face him. "Remember no teasing cariño, only I do that. Do that and you'll get a punishment." Miguel removed his suit and his physique was even more amazingly sculpted. His boxers were then brought to his knees and his cock sprung free. The brown tip leaking with pre-cum. It's begging to be sucked.

You part your lips open and hold onto his length, both of your hands don't even cover him. You lick his pre-cum from the tip like a kitten. You do circles with your tongue on his tip, making him more sensitive.

Miguel's mind starts fogging up with what many things he wants to do to that pretty little pussy of yours and make you his slut.

You then try taking his length in your warm, silky mouth, his cock twitching, begging for more warmth. As you take half of him in your throat, you bob your head up and down in a rhythmic pace. You stroke the rest of him that doesn't fit inside your mouth. You start moaning and panting when you take him, you try going even deeper. Your throat starts choking.

You then look up at Miguel. He has the most lustful expression you've ever seen. His eyebrows are furrowed together, he's biting his lips. Staring deep into your soul with his crimson eyes.

"Ay muñeca, me haces.. fuck.. sentir mejor.." He said while looking down at your small figure taking his length slowly. Miguel was tired with teasing and was barely holding by a thread from throat fucking your throat.

You release your lips around him to breathe. A string of pre-cum from your lips and his cock made him finally lose it. Miguel couldn't hold himself back anymore. All of his morals go out the window as he violently bucks his hips against your throat. Mounts of tears start to stream down your face as his cock runs so deep and warm down your throat. It hurts as first but it then drives you insane.

The sound of sucking and popping echoes through the room. He's so close, you can feel it. You look up at him, battering your wet lashes at him. Taking him like a good girl, you thought.

His head rolls back and his jaw tightens as he's reaching his limit. Your throat wrapping around his cock made him twitch uncontrollably. Your soft tongue swirling around him also aroused him. Miguel was holding onto the wall to stay still because your throat feels so amazing. He starts wondering how euphoric your pussy must feel.

He then loudly groans and curses in Spanish under his breath as he thrusts one more time down your throat to spread his seed. His cum tastes salty then sweet. It's a treat for you. You drink all of his cum, swirling your tongue around his cock, making sure you take every last droplet.

"Mierda..eres magnífica, ma." He says while heavily panting. "Your throat fits my cock perfectly." Miguel looks at you up and down hungrily. He then grabs your arm and places you on top of his desk. He throws everything on the floor. You're his only focus now.

You're cunt is throbbing for something, it feels so empty. You haven't been able to satisfy yourself so you run your hands to rub your clothed clit but Miguel slaps your ass before you do.

"Only I can do that, mi vida. You can't touch yourself without my permission. Ahora.. quítate la ropa." He said with heavy impatience. The idea aroused you.

You do so, you slowly tease him as you remove your suit. Going from top to bottom. Removing every clothing off your body. Miguel hungrily follows your curves. He eyes you so lustfully. You're now fully naked in front of him. He can't stop staring at your pussy. Miguel's gaze is almost unreadable.

Suddenly, he grabs your throat, almost choking you. You try talking but you just give up because you enjoy this too much to even talk back. "What did I say about teasing me cariño? I thought you were going to be a good slut for me.. y'know I don't wanna play games with you anymore."

You moan as his grip remains on your stronger and your body hitched as the cold air washes over you. Your nipples are perked up, begging for some attention. "Now let me touch you, princessa." Miguel kneels down and whispers "puta madre, eres una maravilla.." at your cunt. His warm breath makes you twitch. You can't hold back anymore and want some sort of touch. His fingers separate your lips to see your glistening cunt. His dark, crimson eyes bore into yours as he pushed two fingers up your pretty cunt.

"You're so wet... are you that needy for my cock, princessa?" He said while smirking devilsly. Your back immediately arched back when he licked your slick wetness. He licked and sucked softly on your clit. He swirls his tongue around your clit in circles, driving you insane. You desperately want more so you buck your hips against his face and grab onto his hair. Miguel slaps your pussy again. "What did I tell you, princessa, be a good slut for daddy." "No one else will ever suck your pretty pussy this good like me, ma, nobody." You let out a loud moan as he slides in his girthy, scarred fingers inside your plushy, soft walls.

" M-miguel.." a soft whimper fell from your lips as you pull his hair between your thighs. He can't wait to stuff his big cock inside your soft, warm pussy. He wants you to beg for him, ache for him, moan his name like a prayer continuously. He goes a steady pace, sliding his fingers in and out while licking your clit. You feel so amazing, you roll your head and your eyes to the back of your skull as you feel your dirty desires finally being fulfilled. Miguel bit the inside of your thighs with his fangs, marking you his and his only.

His cock twitched at the feeling of your soft, silky walls around his fingers, tightening around him. "Look at your cunt.. fuck cariño, tightening around me like a needy bitch. Hm? Tell me how bad you want my cock, ma. Beg for it."

"P-please Miguel, I want your fucking cock inside of my cunt, make me your slut. Fuck me already please." You say while you mewl and whine as his fingers starts sliding in faster than before, you feel something familiar in your lower abdomen. You feel something coming up and you finally snap. You moan loud throughout your orgasm, your legs start twitching uncontrollably as you tighten your thighs around Miguel's head. "M-miguel please stop!" You whine. You started to feel so overstimulated when Miguel sucks your clit, attentively watching your expressions. You try pushing him off but your strength doesn't budge. You start slightly tearing up as you feel you'll completely crumble to pieces and pass out. Miguel finally stops.

"Todavía quieres que juega con tu coño, ma? Sabes tan rica. Cómo dulce caramelo. Eres mia." He said gruffly. "Look at me, mama." You face your eyes at his, begging him to fuck you without mercy just with your eyes. His cock is twitching and he couldn't hold back no more. "Use your words, ma.. do you want my cock?" He grins. He teased you with his cock as he runs it up and down your slick cunt. "Yes Miguel, ple-", you were cut off as he immediately thrusted into your pussy without warning. You screamed out of immense pleasure. "F-FUCK." You've never felt this full before, he took up all the air in your lungs in a second as he started thrusting hard into your cervix. You were now uncontrollably mewing and whining his name non-stop.

"Such a pretty pussy just for me. All mine..look how your dirty pussy keeps sucking me in, princessa.. mierda.." You try rolling your hips at his dick to receive even more friction but he slaps your ass harshly. Over and over, making you scream. "Que te dije, amor." Miguel keeps staring when his cock enters your pussy deep after each thrust. Your hips feel like completely giving up, if it weren't for him holding onto your hips and waist, you would've fallen by now. Your eyes bore into Miguel's eyes and he does the same. He loved seeing how he made you feel, your facial expressions of gasping and panting.. begging for more, made his dick harden. The skin to skin contact drew you and him insane, he started becoming primal. Animalistic.

He loves how his cock feels balls deep inside your warm walls. Sliding easily in and out. Your eyes couldn't stop rolling back as your hips twitched against his. Miguel then started teasing your perked nipples, that finally received some attention. His mouth sucked on your tits, hungrily. He would softly bite it to get more of a reaction out of you. You were even more turned on as he would rest his neck on your shoulder. Kissing your neck, leaving you with hickeys everywhere. He brought out his fangs to taste you even more.

You yelped when his fangs sunk deep into you skin, you felt so intoxicated by the overwhelming pleasure when he start sucking your blood. Your body was starting to limp. He wouldn't let go of his fast space. He starts grabbing a strong hold of your throat and hair. He wanted you all over his body. He pulls your chest to his chest, reaching more amazing spots.

"M-miguel! Please.. I can't take anymore.. please stop, please Miguel it's too m-much f'me." You feel his bulge stick out of your stomach. You wondered how he even fits inside you. "No muñeca..I know you can take this like a good slut, your pussy wants this. Don't deny it." Miguel pants."M-miguel please!" You whine as it pleasure slowly becomes overwhelming for you. Without having another say, he immediately flips you on your chest on his desk, bringing your ass up and tying your hands behind your back so you wouldn't intefere. You found yourself almost collapsing just to the touch of his body weighing down in yours. "I can do anything I want to you, you're my slut. You're my slut! Say it!" Miguel says while panting as he managed to slam even deeper into your cunt at this angle. He grabs your throat, making you face him. "Dígalo, mi corazón. Say you're my pretty little dirty slut." "M-miguel, I'm your fucking..s-slut." You slur your words as you could barely hold words in your throat. Your moans would pronounce Miguel's name incoherently over and over.

The sounds of moaning and skin slapping against each other echoes throughout the room. "feels s'good fuck..mierda. Look what you do to me." You endlessly mewl and whine and moan loudly as he continues to slam his girthy cock, hitting your g-spot. Your back manages to arch even more. Allowing him to go deeper inside you than you ever imagined was even possible.

His hands travel to your clit, rubbing it so slowly. Your mouth is completely agape, gasping for air. He leaves soft kisses down your spine and you shiver as he marks you again with his fangs on your shoulders. His talons begin to tightly grip your hips. Leaving bruises on it for later. The low growls of his whiny voice caused you clench tighter around his cock, causing him to twitch. You were so close, you felt it and he did too.

"Going to fill this pretty pussy full of my cum, princess. Cum for me cariño, do it for me. Make me feel good. Want your pussy to tighten around me." With those words being said, your legs and pussy spasm uncontrollably around his rough, thick cock.

He continued thrusting a few more times inside you, overstimulating you beyond the edge. Both of your bodies emit groans, growls, gasps, and pleasurable moans. "F-fuck I'm so c-close, baby..god. Mierda, amo tu coño." He finally cums inside your pussy, the overwhelming pleasure makes you faint for a while. Miguel finally pulls out and groans as he sees his semen leak out your pussy. "I want you to be full of me.." He pushed two fingers up your cunt to make sure his cum would stay there. He pumps his cum back into your womb.

You now fall completely unconscious as the overwhelmed pleasure took over you. A couple hours later, you wake up next to Miguel. He was staring at you sleeping. You try getting up but Miguel placed you back down on the bed. "No baby, your body needs to rest. You're tired. If you want anything, just ask me muñeca." He said while smiling. You never saw this caring side of him, you loved it already. "Why were you staring at me sleeping, Miguel?" You said with a raspy voice. "You look angelic all the time, cariño. Even when moaning my name." He said while smirking. You feel your cheeks heating up as you vividly remember everything from last night. It was so intense that your body was so sore. For now, all that mattered is that Miguel is with you, taking care of you.

A/n: THAT WAS A LOT for my first time, hope u guys enjoy :3 translations below!

Translations: "cariño": sweetheart

"Muñeca": doll

"Mierda": fuck

"Princessa"- princess

"Amo tu coño": I love your pussy.

"Dígalo mi corazón": Say it, my love

"Que te dije amor": What did I tell you, love

"Todavía quieres que juega con tu coño, ma? Sabes tan rica. Cómo dulce caramelo. Eres mia" : You still want me to play with your pussy, ma? You taste so good. Like caramel candy. You're mine.

"Puta madre, eres una maravilla." -- Holy shit, you're so amazing.

"Ahora. Quítate la ropa." -- Now. Take off your clothes.

"Ya es la quinta vez que ha hecho esto." - It's already the 5th time she's done this.

"Si lo vuelve acer.. la voy acer que se arrepienta." - If ehe does it again... I'm make her regret.

[iiotic]

Rhetorical Question (Il Dottore x Wife! Reader)

SUMMARY: you decided to stay in your husbands office as you didn't want to go home alone in the cold. it was already late, you didn't control your mouth and just said the first things that came to your head.

1.1k words | masterlist

─── જ ‎` ‎𓂃 TAGS: dottore x fem! wife! reader, fluff at first, angst/no comfort, immortal x mortal, let's just say that dottore didn't make you immortal in this scenario, death, mentions of Pantalone, akademiya flashbacks, mentions of kidnapping, ooc dottore? lowercase intended, not proffread, please inform me if i missed something.

NOTES: im back with writing y'all!! i dont know when i will post this yet but im so happy that im finally motivated again. this was suppose to be shorter but oh well. i also can't make summaries so forgive me.

the wind hitting the window could be heard even inside to coziness of your husband's office. the dangerous winter of sheznaya was not for the weak. you were thankful that you didn't need to work in the cold, thankful that you can stay inside on Zandik's couch under a warm blanket near the fireplace.

you sighed, snapping out of your thoughts. looking away from the window you acknowledged the closed book lying on your thighs. you forgot to mark the page again.

"what time is it?" you asked, eyeing your zandik who was apparently fighting with some paperwork, trying to get more funding from regrator.

normally he'd give the job to one of his segments, but ever since the ninth got an envelope covered in oil and other kind of sticky substances, signed webby ;3 he demanded that dottore need to write it himself.

"ten past eleven" he responded shortly after. "you know you can go home at any given moment. i could have one of my assistants escort you safely."

before you could protest he added. "as much as i appreciate your company i know that you might start talking gibberish somewhere around these hours."

"pff.. no, i will not." you murmured to yourself. you opened to the book that you were previously reading, searching for the page that you ended on. the clock hit twelve am. you soon started to get sleepy but didn't want to wake up to your husband saying "i told you to go home."

"if i were to leave you" you started but immediately cut off.

"are you planning to?" dottore eyed you from behind his desk, momentarily stopping his writing.

"no, of course not." you chuckled slightly at your husbands reaction. "it was a rhetorical question." he let out a pleased hum, signalling that you can continue your meaningless questions.

"rhetorically speaking, if i were to leave you or if i would get kidnapped, what would you do?" you laid down at the couch, not looking at dottore, however admiring the flames of the fireplace.

"dear, what kind of a question is that?"

"a rhetorical one."

he was silent or pheraps silenced. the room was silent, besides the wind hitting the window and the cozy fireplace burning. there wasn't any sound of dottore writing the letter. you could feel his eyes staring at the back of your head.

after a minute or two you started to question yourself if you should apologize. you relaxed slightly as your heard zandiks laughter echoing in the room.

"you'd never do that, i'd make sure of that." he replied shortly, already ending the conversation at that. he thought that you will stop but he was entirely wrong.

"you're right i wouldn't, BUT rhetorically speaking-" you started, but got cut off yet again. you sighed hearing dottores response.

"i do not answer dumb questions."

annoyed, you opened your book yet again, searching for the page yet again as you forgot to mark it again. you knew that arguing with zandik was pointless. if he doesn't want to say something, he won't. soon enough, your eyes felt heavy. you could feel them closing by themselfs.

later that night you woke up to a sudden weight beside you. groaning, you opened your eyes slightly to see your husband sitting on the other side of the bed.

"apologies, i didn't mean to wake you up." zandik said, slipping his shoes off and coming under covers to your now awake figure. you mumbled that it's fine, half sleeping. as soon as he fully laid down you cuddled your lover.

"i was thinking about the question you asked me earlier." you hummed in response, feeling his arm move to your hair. "if anyone or anything would take you away from me i'd go crazy." he chuckled lightly

"i'd send every single fatui to look for you. search every nation, every nook. i.. i know i don't say this often nor act like it but you mean so much to me. i don't know what i'd do without you. if you were to ever go missing i'd kill anyone just to see you again. i'd do anything just to see you again. i cannot imagine my life without you."

"oh.. my sweet zandik." you sighed, looking up at your lover "i will never leave you, i promise. im sorry if i upset you, i didn't mean to.

"you lied." dottore murmured looking at your lifeless body infront of him.

it was so terrible, so terrible. your eyes deprived from any emotions looking so lifeless, your body stabbed in various places. hair devolished, blood on your clothes. it was too late he told himself.

he crouched to your body, closing your eyes gently. why? why do you look so beautiful even though that you're no longer with him. you will always be the most beautiful creature in the whole universe for him.

later, he moved you to one of the rooms in his lab. a room that only he had access to. there you were laying in one of these gorgeous transparent coffins, one candle being the only light source in the room. you looked gorgeous, as always in your wedding dress that dottore himself changed you into.

he stood there just infront of you, fingers digging into his legs surely they started bleeding by now.

"you always made my days brighter when we were still in the akademiya, days seemed to go slower than now. at first you annoyed me terribly but i could never bring myself to tell you to leave. it soon formed into something more, at first fondness, friendship then love. i-i didn't know how to feel about this so i just distanced myself from you, but i couldn't bear it much longer as everything reminded me of you. your gorgeous smile, beautiful eyes, angelic voice.. how could you leave me like this. if only you told me about thise earlier, we could find a solution together. mortality is a curse.

© 2024 iiotic. — do not steal, translate or repost any of my content onto any other platform

[rynwritesreid]

MunchSpencer, stressed bau reader 😉 do ur thing

A/N: I will absolutely do my thing for you iluvreid. Did I base this of that video of MGG eating that pie? Yes. Do I think about that video daily? Yes. Also to answer somebody else’s questions, I am planning on writing Luke fics in the future, and I do take Rossi requests (I take all requests that are to do with CM). I am also working through everyone’s else’s request, I’m waiting for some inspiration on the song ones :) As always jag älskar dig 🫶🏼

Content: Smut and Fluff. Fem! Reader. Overstimulation. Oral (F! receiving). Vaginal fingering. Slight dom/sub undertones. Mentions of doing this at work in the future. Munch! Spencer. Pet names (princess). A little argument to start of with, but it’s resolved quickly.

Masterlist| requests are open| Navigation.

 

Spencer had noticed how you were acting at work; he knew all the signs of you being stressed out. He tried his hardest to de-stress you at work, he had brought you all of your favourite snacks, he made sure you had plenty of water and coffee, but none of this seemed to be working.

 

Once you were both at home, he tried to ask you what was wrong, but you just shrugged him off, asking him to just leave you alone for a minute. “I’m not going to leave you alone; I know something is wrong. Just tell me.” His voice was strained, he was becoming frustrated, not with you, but because he didn’t know what to do.

 

“Spencer, back off. Nothing is wrong, I’ve told you. I’m just tired.” You bite back at him. You knew he was trying to be helpful, but you just wanted some piece of quiet.

 

“Something is wrong, why aren’t you telling me? Let me help you out here.” Spencer's voice softened as he watched the frustration etched on your face. He understood that his insistence might have been adding to your stress, but he couldn't bear to see you in pain. With a sigh, he took a step closer and gently wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a warm embrace.

 

"I'm sorry if I'm coming across as pushy. I just hate seeing you like this, and I want to be there for you," he whispered against your hair, his fingers slowly rubbing soothing circles on your back. Spencer knew what would help him out if he was stressed, and he knew it would also work on you.

 

See, Spencer’s favourite place was to be in-between your legs. If he could, he would spend every hour, of every day there, exploring every inch of your body, losing himself in the pleasure he found there. He cherished the way you moaned his name, the way your legs would tremble as he brought you to the edge of ecstasy.

 

His hands continued their caress, moving lower down your back until they reached the curve of your hips. He could feel the tension in your body slowly melting away as his touch seeped into your pores, bringing warmth and comfort. The rhythm of his movements matched the beating of your heart, steady and reassuring.

 

"I know you're tired, but maybe... just maybe, I can help you relax," Spencer murmured, his voice laced with a mixture of gentleness and desire. He guided you towards the bedroom, with every intention of not letting you leave until you were totally relaxed.

 

As he undressed you with utmost care, his fingertips brushed against your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Spencer's touch was like a delicate dance. His lips followed suit, pressing soft kisses along the path his hands had taken.

 

You found yourself surrendering to his ministrations, allowing the weight of the world to be lifted from your shoulders as pleasure consumed you. The stress that had plagued you all day melted away under the skilled touch of your lover.

 

The bed welcomed you both, its soft sheets cradling your bodies as Spencer continued his exploration. He knew every inch of you, every secret spot that drove you wild with desire. His mouth found its way to your neck, peppering it with butterfly kisses before trailing down to your collarbone.

 

A sigh escaped your lips, mingling with a gasp of pleasure as Spencer's tongue danced across your skin. The knots in your muscles unravelled as his hands glided over your body, burning away any remnants of stress. Your breath hitched as his lips descended further, leaving a trail of wet kisses along your chest, pausing to pay special attention to your sensitive breasts.

 

Spencer's touch was both tender and insistent, his fingers tracing patterns of desire across your skin. He knew exactly how to coax pleasure from your body, each stroke and caress tailored to elicit the most exquisite sensations. With every passing moment, the weight on your shoulders lifted, replaced by a growing sense of bliss that radiated from deep within.

 

Lust and love intertwined as Spencer's mouth found its way to the apex of your thighs. His tongue teased and taunted, sending electric currents of pleasure through your veins. Waves of heat cascaded through you, building with each flicker and swirl until they crashed over you in a tidal wave of ecstasy.

 

Your moans filled the room, mingling with Spencer's own growls of desire as he revelled pleasure. His movements became more urgent, his tongue delving deeper, coaxing louder cries of satisfaction from your lips. You clutched onto his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft strands as you rode the waves of pleasure that consumed you.

 

Spencer’s hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he devoured you with an intensity that left you gasping for breath. Your hips were instinctively rocking against his skilled mouth, grinding against his face in search of more.

 

Spencer's touch was relentless, his tongue and lips working tirelessly to ensure your pleasure knew no bounds. The sensation of his mouth on you, the wet heat, and the flicks of his tongue, sent sparks of electricity coursing through your veins. Your walls clenched around nothing as your body convulsed in bliss.

 

But Spencer didn’t plan on stopping now, he was never satisfied if he only made you cum once. And now, more than ever, he was going to continue, he knew you needed it, and he knew he wanted it.

 

Soon enough, his fingers joined his mouth slipping inside you with a precision that left you trembling. You hadn’t been able to come down from your first orgasm, and now you were soaring even higher. The dual sensation of his mouth and fingers brought you to the brink of another climax within moments. Every stroke, every flick, and every curl of his fingers sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

You lost all sense of time and space, consumed by the pleasure that coursed through every fibber of your being. Your mind became a haze of pure desire as Spencer continued to bring you to new heights with every stroke, every flick of his tongue.

 

Spencer's movements became more insistent, his fingers moving with an urgency that matched the burning need in your core. Each stroke sent shockwaves through you, intensifying the pleasure that consumed you. Your breath came in ragged gasps as you teetered on the edge of yet another mind-shattering orgasm.

 

He paused, giving you a slight break. “Are you feeling better now, princess?”

 

You lay there, panting heavily, your body still trembling from the intense pleasure that Spencer had just bestowed upon you. Your mind was hazy, your senses heightened, and a sense of tranquillity washed over you. The stress that had weighed you down seemed to have dissipated, replaced by a deep sense of satisfaction.

 

You turned to look at Spencer, his face glowing with adoration as he admired the aftermath of his ministrations. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you nodded, the words caught momentarily in your throat.

 

"Yes," you finally managed to rasp out, your voice laced with awe and gratitude. "I feel... incredible."

 

Spencer's eyes sparkled with delight as he took in your response. He gently caressed your cheek, his touch feather-light against your flushed skin.

 

"Good," he whispered, his voice filled with tenderness. "That's all I wanted."

 

“I think I should get stressed more often.”

 

Spencer chuckled softly, his fingers trailing lazily along your side. "If getting stressed means, I get to relieve your tension like this, then I might have to start causing trouble on purpose."

 

You playfully swatted his chest, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Oh, so you're admitting that you enjoy being the cause of my stress?"

 

His lips curled into a smirk as he leaned down to capture yours in a lingering kiss.

 

“No, I’m admitting that I love hearing your moans, and it took all my might not to do this at work, but I can’t let the rest of the team hear how you moan for me. Those noises are for my ears only.”

 

Your heart raced at his words, a delicious mixture of desire and anticipation coursing through your veins. You had always known that Spencer had a playful side, but this level of raw intimacy was something new and exhilarating.

 

With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you leaned in closer, your lips mere inches from his as you whispered, "Well then, Agent Reid, I guess we'll have to find somewhere at work no one would be able to hear us”.

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[just-nc-tea]

the truth untold pt. 2 ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

READ PART ONE HERE --⟢ PART 1

⭑.ᐟ Fake Dating - Sim Jaeyun Falling for Jake was never part of the plan. The wedding was supposed to be the end, but somewhere between your getting-to-know-each-other-to-seem-convincing-dates and the fake dating in front of your friends, this all stopped feeling like an act. But loving him means stepping into a world where you don’t belong, risking heartbreak at the hands of another rich boy . So you make the only choice you can. Even if it feels so wrong.

ᝰ genre. Hockeyplayer! Jake, college sports , a LOT of angst, hurt/comfort, slow burn, fluff, suggestive, fake dating, miscommunication.ᐟ₊ ⊹ ᝰ warnings. Swearing, partying, consumption of weed, alcohol and nicotine, suggestive language & actions( I tried writing smut and I was unsuccessful) , 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) , they are also kinda dumb and should just speak to each other PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I FORGOT ANYTHING .ᐟ₊ ⊹ ᝰ word count. 35.k .ᐟ₊ ⊹

series masterlist ⭑.ᐟ ⤷ GET ADDED MY TAGLIST HERE ⁀➴༯ OR COMMENT 🏒 ᝰ an. part two is in here and the story is done!! Thank you for all the feedbak on pt. 1! This is my baby and I hope you all love it just as much and give it just as much love! In theory I think you could even read this as a stand alone if you’re not up to read pt.1?! ₊ ⊹  

A few days later, you and Jake stood in Incheon Airport, weaving through the crowds toward your gate while sharing a roll of gimbap you bought from GS25 after security. Well, technically, he bought it. You were just stealing it.

Jake had known you would be hungry. You had spent the entire day in class, rushed straight to the subway to meet him at his dorm and barely had time to breathe before heading to the airport. He asked if you wanted anything before the flight, but you waved him off, saying you weren’t hungry. He didn’t believe you for a second. So he bought two rolls. Just in case. Now, as you strolled beside him, you had successfully stolen one piece, then another, then almost half of his first roll. He narrowed his eyes at you, holding the last piece protectively between his fingers.

“You said you weren’t hungry,” he accused, pulling the gimbap just out of your reach. “I’m not,” you replied, very much reaching for it. Jake scoffed. “Then what the hell have you been doing for the last five minutes?” You grinned, still making a grab for the food. “Making sure you don’t eat too much before the flight.” “Oh, how generous,” he said dryly, shoving the last piece into his mouth before you could steal it. He smirked when you let out an annoyed huff, chewing with satisfaction. “You’re lucky I bought two.” Your eyes lit up instantly, and you stretched your hand out expectantly.

Jake gave you a blank stare. “What?” “The other roll,” you said, wiggling your fingers. He snorted. “Oh, this one?” He pulled it from his bag, shaking it slightly in your direction before tucking it right back inside. “I thought you weren’t hungry?” “Jake,” you said, tone dropping into something serious. “Give me the gimbap.” “Or what?” he teased, holding the plastic container closer to his chest.

“Or I’ll make sure to tell Jay we did actually light the kitchen on fire.” Jake let out an actual laugh. “That’s the threat you’re going with? You think he’ll believe that?” “Oh, I’ll really sell it,” you continued, smirking. “You know I am good actress, baby.” You blinked up at him.  Jake felt heat creep up his neck and immediately shoved the second roll into your hands. “Take it.” You grinned in victory, opening the package and popping a piece into your mouth. “See? I knew you’d come around.” Jake shook his head but didn’t argue. You were impossible. And yet, somehow, he didn’t mind.

Jake had expected to dread stepping onto the plane more than he actually did. The night before, he had talked to his dad. An exhausting conversation where he’d reassured him, yet again, that he was coming home for the wedding. That yes, you were still coming too. His dad had barely reacted, just humming in acknowledgment before launching into a lecture about who Jake needed to speak with at the reception. It has been three months since he blurted your name to his dad, three months since he roped you into this fake relationship just because he didn’t want to face his father alone. He still wasn’t sure if it was the worst decision he had ever made or the smartest. At least there were some things to look forward to. He was going to see his uncle and aunt again, catch up with a few old friends, and most importantly, spend the week with his dog and you, if you let him. He glanced down at you, nestled against his shoulder, your face relaxed in sleep.

For someone who spent their days surrounded by death, handling bones and studying the remnants of people who would never breathe again, you looked peaceful. Jake hated that your job required you to witness the absolute worst parts of life. Hated the fact that just days ago, he had held you while you cried over a boy who would never grow up. Hated that you wanted to carry all of it alone. Hated that you disliked telling him, or anyone, what's worrying you. No matter how often he told you that he would worry more if you don’t.  He sighed, letting his head rest back against the seat, his fingers absently tracing the edge of the blanket draped over both of you.

After this week, it would all be over. The fake dating, the stolen moments, the way you fit so easily into his life. Three months of inside jokes, of late-night texts, of you showing up at his games. Three months of watching Bones together, of him getting too invested in a show he only started because he wanted to understand why you loved it so much. He hated that thought as well. Maybe you would be okay with just being friends again after this whole thing ended.  He could live with that. He had to live with that. Losing you entirely wasn’t an option he wanted to consider. The idea of going back to the way things were before, before the jokes, before the late-night talks, before he knew what it felt like to have you pressed into his side felt impossible.

He could do friends. He was hoping you could too. But first, you had to survive this week. Jake knew his father wouldn’t make it easy. He already felt sorry for whatever was about to happen, for the things his dad would say. If it were up to him, he wouldn’t even be going. He would have skipped this wedding, avoided the whole damn thing. You stirred a little. When he looked down again, he found himself softening at the way your fingers had curled into the fabric of his hoodie.  Jake carefully adjusted the blanket draped over you both. The cabin was cool, and the last thing he wanted was for you to wake up shivering.  Finally satisfied, he shifted slightly in his seat, resting his head gently against yours.

For a moment, he just stayed there, listening to the quiet hum of the plane, feeling the steady rise and fall of your breathing. He should also try to sleep, but all he could think about was how easy this felt. How natural the two of you fell into this rhythm of going on ‘platonic’ dates to get to know each other, how your friends thought you were a couple, how this didn’t feel fake for him. It somehow never did. And he was pretty sure you felt the same. When the flight attendant stopped by your seats, her voice was soft, polite, trying not to disturb the peaceful quiet of the first-class cabin. God bless his uncle for upgrading the two of you, claiming that he just wanted to spoil his favourite nephew and his girlfriend. Jake and you ran into your uncle a few other times on campus where you impressed his uncle so much he actually told Jake to be careful to not lose you, since he really liked you. Which didn’t make him feel particularly better about his own situation but pride swelled up in his chest when he heard his uncle say that.  "Would you like anything to drink?" Jake glanced down at you, still tucked against his side, warm and soft and barely awake. He nudged you lightly. "Hey, do you want anything?"

You made a small noise in response, barely lifting your head, eyes still heavy with sleep. "No," you mumbled, voice quiet and pouty, before burrowing yourself further into his chest. Jake froze for a second, his breath catching in his throat. His arms tightened around you instinctively. God, you were so cute when you were sleepy. He had only seen you like this maybe three times before but he wished he had seen it more. You were always so sharp, so quick-witted, always moving, always thinking. But here, now, with your face pressed against his chest, your breathing slow and even, you looked peaceful and relaxed  His heart ached in a way he didn’t know how to describe.

He swallowed, blinking at the flight attendant, who was watching with a little smile, before clearing his throat. "Uh, just water, please." She nodded and walked off. You stirred slightly, shifting closer to him, your fingers absentmindedly curling into the fabric of his hoodie. Jake barely resisted the urge to press a kiss to the top of your head.

Jake stifled a yawn as you stepped off the plane and into the arrivals hall at Brisbane Airport. The fluorescent lights were way too bright for six in the morning, and he was running on maybe two hours of sleep. You, on the other hand, looked like you had been hit by sleep deprivation. You were barely functioning, groggy as hell, moving through the terminal like a half-conscious zombie, even though you slept through almost all ten hours of your flight. He didn’t know you were like this after waking up, it was honestly a bit fun and adorable at the same time.  He had already taken charge of grabbing both your suitcases, slinging his duffle over his shoulder while maneuvering both of your roller bags through the crowd “C’mon, sleeping beauty,” he muttered, reaching for your hand. His fingers slipped between yours, warm and steady as he tugged you along. You made a noise in response, somewhere between a hum and a whine, but didn’t pull away.

Jake really should’ve just gotten a taxi. That was the first thought that crossed his mind when he spotted his brother standing near the exit, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, smiling at him. He didn’t expect Joshua to pick him up, he really didn’t want him to pick him up. His dad said he would arrange for someone to pick him up and Jake assumed it would be a chauffeur or something. Not Josh.  Before he could dwell on that, you nudged him lightly, pointing toward a man standing a few feet away. “That’s my dad,” you murmured, voice still heavy with sleep. Jake barely had time to process the information before you turned to him, stepping a little closer, tilting your chin to press a kiss to his cheek. Your lips were soft and warm.  And then, just as quickly, you pulled back. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips before you grabbed your suitcase and strode toward your father.

Jake stood there, his brain catching up about five seconds too late. Then, with a quiet sigh, he finally turned toward his brother. “Jake.” “Joshua.” “It’s good to see you,” Joshua said, smiling genuinely at him as he gestured toward the exit. “Figured I’d pick you up since we’re both staying at home for the next few days.” Jake just nodded, not quite able to match the same level of effort his brother was putting in. Joshua was trying. Jake knew that, he also knew that the resentment he felt for his big brother came from the wrong place. Joshua did nothing wrong for Jake to dislike him. It was their father who made it so obvious whom he deemed as the favourite child. 

But that was the thing. Joshua had always been the golden son, their dad’s favorite, the one who could do no wrong. It was easy for him to try, easy for him to act like things weren’t as bad as they actually were. Meanwhile, Jake had spent years resenting the way things had played out. The way Joshua had always been held to a different standard, a better one. He nodded at his brother, forcing a tired smile. “Thank you.” Joshua cleared his throat as they walked toward his fathers car. “So… was that Y/N?” Jake sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah." Joshua hummed, nodding. “She is pretty. Dad mentioned she was coming with you.”

“She’s staying with her family,” Jake muttered, shifting his duffel bag onto his shoulder. “Right.” Joshua paused for a second before glancing over. “How long have you been together?” Jake hesitated for a fraction of a second. “Almost half a year now.” he answered, keeping his voice even. Joshua hummed again, like he was turning the answer over in his head, trying to figure something out. It made Jake’s skin itch. “So since before Christmas?”

Jake shot him a look. “Why do you sound so surprised?” Joshua shrugged, unlocking the car. “I don’t know, man. You never really brought anyone home after Sophia. But I am glad you found someone else that makes you happy. From what I’ve heard from Uncle Jungjaes stories she is a nice girl.” Jake didn’t have a response to that, mostly because it was true. You were a nice girl. He exhaled through his nose, throwing his bag into the trunk before sliding into the passenger seat. “She is a nice girl. She makes me happy.” Joshua didn’t say anything right away. The car rumbled to life, the early morning silence settling between them like a weighted blanket. It wasn’t tense, not really but it wasn’t comfortable either. And then, just as they pulled onto the road, Joshua spoke again, softer this time. “She seems good for you.” Jake hummed and stared out the window, watching the city blur past, his own thoughts a mess of contradictions.

Jake spent most of the day sleeping, the exhaustion from the flight finally catching up to him. When he woke up around midday, his stomach was grumbling. He dragged himself downstairs, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he walked into the dining area. The massive oak table was set for one, his usual seat already prepared. A small Post-it was stuck just above the plate, his mom’s familiar handwriting scribbled across the paper. I made galbitang for you, just reheat it. – Love, Mom. Just the thought of his mom’s cooking had his stomach twisting in hunger. He let out a small sigh, grabbing the bowl and moving to the kitchen.

As he was reheating the soup, the sound of nails clicking against the hardwood made him glance down. Layla trotted into the room, ears perked, tail wagging wildly. Jake barely had time to react before she shoved her head against his leg, whining softly. “Hey, Layla.” He bent down, scratching behind her ears. She licked at his hand, practically vibrating with excitement. The moment he stepped into the house this morning, she had nearly tackled him, her whole body wiggling with joy. She hadn’t left his side since, curling up against him on his bed, pressing herself into his chest as if afraid he’d disappear. “You’re so clingy,” he muttered, but his voice was soft and full of adoration.

Layla huffed in response, flopping onto the floor next to his feet as he stirred his soup. He ate in silence, save for the occasional sound of Layla shifting beside him. The house was empty, just like it always was.  His parents were out, probably busy with the company. That was fine with him. It was like it has always been. But the silence left too much room to think. His mind drifted as he ate, thoughts circling the same place they always seemed to end up these days.

You.

Jake groaned, dropping his spoon with a clatter. He was going crazy. He ran a hand through his hair, leaning back in his chair and decided he had to go for a run. 

The moment Jake stepped outside with Layla, he exhaled, finally feeling like he could breathe again.  He took the long route to the park, his grip occasionally tightening around Layla’s leash when she got too excited. She was just as happy to be outside as he was.

He found his usual bench, the one tucked beneath the big jacaranda tree, and sat down with a sigh. Layla plopped down beside him, resting her head on his knee, tail still wagging lazily. Jake scratched behind her ears absentmindedly. He should be dreading the rest of the day, thinking about dinner, about his father, about this whole damn week.

But instead, he thought about you. 

Again.

About how much easier the flight had been because you were there. About how you had curled into him, barely even awake when you kissed him goodbye at the airport. About how much he wished you were sitting next to him right now.

He scoffed at himself, shaking his head. “I’m losing it, Layla.”

Layla huffed in response, like she agreed. Jake leaned back against the bench, staring up at the sky. It was funny. He spent so long dreading coming home, and now that he was here, the only thing he could think about was how soon he could see you again.

You were standing next to your father in front of the massive outdoor wedding location Sophia and Marcus had chosen for their obnoxiously expensive and over the top wedding, greeting and smiling at whoever greeted your parents while you waited for Jake to arrive. He texted you almost half an hour ago that his family was on their way, but there was still no sign of him.  “You know. Even if you keep staring at the parking lot it won’t make him arrive faster.”, your father nudged your shoulder, when he caught you frowning.  You huffed. “I know dad.” The only people who knew the truth about your so-called relationship with Jake were your parents. When you had first told your mom that Jake asked you to be his fake-date, she had simply laughed and told you to go with it. Why not? she had said. 

Your parents weren’t particularly fond of Jake’s parents, and they had been genuinely surprised when you told them you were actually attending the wedding. Your father had asked more than once if you were joking. But when they realized Jake would be in a similar position and would be dealing with his father the whole time, they took it upon themselves to look out for him, offering him some level of refuge from whatever unpleasantness awaited. The thought of meeting his parents made your stomach twist uncomfortably. You and Jake had the whole hopelessly in love and annoyingly sweet couple act down, but still, based on what Jake had told you about his father, this whole thing was bound to be even more unpleasant than you it already was, considering this was your ex best friend and ex boyfriend's wedding. You cringed at the thought.  In the ten minutes your parents and you had been waiting you had seen so many of Marcus’s friends you felt like kicking someone. You never truly liked any of them. They were spoiled, entitled, privileged assholes that believed they were untouchable thanks to daddys money.  But you had gone along with it back then, hadn’t you? The endless parties, the expensive clubs, the after-hours gatherings in someone’s penthouse. You had been so desperate to fit in, to be the kind of girlfriend Marcus wanted. Even when you hated the music, even when you hated the people. Even when you hated yourself for pretending to enjoy it.

You started smoking back then. Not because you really wanted to, but because everyone else did. Because Marcus would pull you onto his lap at some rich kid’s house party, press a cigarette between your fingers, and smirk when you took a drag. And somehow that stuck. You had spent nearly two years with Marcus, yet you never truly belonged in his world. His friends tolerated you because you were his girlfriend but treated you like shit. The more you thought about it, the less sense your relationship with Marcus made. You couldn't even remember why you had fallen in love with him in the first place. A call of your name snapped you out of your thoughts and you noticed Jake's Uncle approaching you. He was walking hand in hand with a very elegant woman, grinning and waving at you.

You tilted your head in confusion for a second before offering him the same enthusiastic smile. You hadn't expected him to be here, but now that you thought about it, it made sense. He and Jake’s father were business partners after all. "Y/N!" he greeted warmly, pulling you into a hug the moment he reached you. "It’s so nice to see you. You look gorgeous." You flushed at the compliment, momentarily caught off guard. "Thank you, sir. It’s nice to see you as well." Jungjae chuckled, stepping back but keeping a hand on your shoulder as he turned to your parents. "I am Sim Jungjae. Jakes uncle.", he said smoothly, shaking your father’s hand. “This is my wife Angelica. I had the chance to meet your gorgeous daughter on campus a few times."

Your parents exchanged polite smiles, your father nodding. "It’s nice to meet you Jungjae. I am Woojin and this is Nayeon." Jungjae’s grin widened as he shook your father’s hand, his charm effortlessly filling the space. "Woojin, Nayeon, it’s a pleasure. Your daughter is an absolute delight. Jake is lucky to have her." You forced a smile, suppressing the urge to squirm under his words. If only he knew. Angelica, his wife, gave you a kind smile. "It’s nice to finally meet you as well, Y/N. My husband wouldn’t stop talking about how lovely you were after he met you."

Your mother beamed, clearly pleased, while you felt your stomach twist. You had definitely not told your parents about your occasional run-ins with Jake’s uncle, mostly because you hadn’t expected it to be relevant.  Before you could say anything, your name was called again.  “Y/N? No way, is that really you?” You turned, momentarily startled, only to find Julia, beaming at you. She was flanked by Lillian and Clara, all three of them looking just as polished and effortlessly elegant as you remembered. You, Sophia and the three girls were kind of close back in highschool until Sophia did the unthinkable and your group fell apart. Clara and Julia being on your side and Lillian claiming you had to forgive Sophia. You hesitated for only a moment before turning to your mother. “I’ll be right back.”

She gave you a knowing look but nodded. You walked over, but before you could say anything else, Julia pulled you into a quick hug, her perfume still the same as you remembered. When she pulled back, she gave you a once-over, eyes twinkling. “You look amazing.” “You do too,” you said, glancing at Lillian and Melanie, who both nodded in agreement. “I didn’t think we’d see you here.”, Lililan mused, tilting her head.  You forced a polite smile. “Well, why wouldn’t I be?” Lillian let out a small, disbelieving laugh. “I mean, considering everything…” She trailed off.

Clara gave her a pointed look and rolled her eyes, but smiled at you. “I am glad you are here. We haven’t seen each other in years! How is Korea? I love watching you instagram stories, everything looks so amazing!” Your chest warmed at that. Things had been complicated after the whole mess with Marcus and Sophia, but you hadn’t exactly fallen out with all of your old friends—life had just pulled you in different directions. Julia nodded eagerly. “Same! We should’ve kept in touch better, but you kind of disappeared on us.” You smiled, a little sheepish. “Yeah… moving cities and everything kind of made it hard. But Korea is amazing. I love it. How is Europe? You went to Portugal, right?”

Clara nodded enthusiastically. “Omg I love it. The men there? Girl ugh. Also the food? Really. You should come visit me, I have a great apartment with an ocean view and a lot of space!” Ah yes. You forgot. It wasn’t just Sophia that was ridiculously rich, but her friends as well. You were able to go to their expensive private schools, since your parents boss, Sophia's father, was sponsoring one of their best employees' kids to attend the school every year.  Before you could respond, an arm slid around your waist, a familiar warmth pressing against your back. Jake. His fingers brushed along your side, and when he leaned in, his voice was low. “There you are,” he murmured, pressing a light kiss to your temple before turning his attention to the three women in front of you. “Hey, ladies. Sorry to interrupt,” he said smoothly, flashing them that signature grin, “but I had to steal my girlfriend back for a second.” The three women blinked in unison. Clara was the first to react. “Wait… Jake Sim?” She looked between the two of you, eyes widening. “Holy shit, you two are together?”

Julia let out a delighted gasp. “Oh my God! Y/N, why didn’t you tell us?!” Jake chuckled, and you could feel the smug amusement radiating off of him. “Why does that sound so hard to believe?” She blinked rapidly, as if trying to process this new information. “It’s just... unexpected. I mean, you two never really ran in the same circles, right?” You shrugged, leaning slightly into Jake just to sell it further. “Things change.” A beat of silence passed before Lillian scoffed under her breath, just loud enough for you to hear. “Guess some things never do. Always finding a way to cling to people above your league.”

Oh how you just loved that girl. Before you could say something you would regret, Jake’s grip on you tightened slightly, his thumb pressing against your side in reassurance. He turned his head just enough to give Lillian a slow, unimpressed once-over. “Funny,” he mused, voice pleasant but dripping with something sharper underneath. “Last I checked, I’m the one clinging to her.” The comment landed exactly the way he intended: Melanie's lips parted slightly, clearly caught off guard, while Julia and Lillian exchanged quick glances and suppressed their amused smiles. Before Lillian could recover, Jake tugged you gently in the opposite direction. “Come on, baby, let’s go find our parents.” Clara shook her head with a laugh. “How did this even happen?” You chuckled, exchanging a look with Jake before answering. “It’s kind of a long story.” Julia nudged your arm playfully. “Well, I will demand details later.”

Jake’s fingers brushed against your waist. “You’ll have to get in line for that,” he teased. “My parents are waiting on us.” Clara sighed dramatically. “Ugh, fine, fine. But we are catching up later.” You smiled, nodding. “Of course.” Julia gave you a knowing look. “And you better spill everything.” With that, Jake gently guided you away, his fingers lacing through yours. You let him lead you away, his hand never leaving your waist, and you couldn’t help but feel a surge of gratitude. You glanced at him, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Nice save.” He smirked. “I aim to please.”

Jakes family was standing a few meters away from your parents. A truly uncomfortable feeling was spreading in your stomach, when you accidentally made eye contact with his father. His facial expression was neutral, almost bored before he realized who you were. His eyes narrowed a bit, but he started smiling. In a way you could only describe in a mean disney villain way. Thinking about it, Mufasa and Scar would fit pretty well. Jungjae was standing next to him beaming at you and opened his mouth but was interrupted by Scar 2.0. “Jake. I see you found Y/N.” Jake tensed up next to you. “Yeah. I did.” Mr. Sim’s smile didn’t waver as he took a slow step forward, his sharp gaze flickering between you and Jake. "Well," he said, voice smooth but edged with something unreadable, "you certainly took your time." Jake’s grip on your waist tightened ever so slightly. "Didn’t realize I was on a schedule," he replied evenly.

He then cleared his throat. “Mom. Dad. Josh. This is Y/N. My girlfriend.” You didn’t know if you were supposed to bow or shake his fathers hands. Jake addressed him in Korean and so you opted to bow as low as your dress let you and continued in Korean as well. “Hello Mr. Sim, Mrs. Sim, Josh. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” And with that you held out your hand to shake it.  His father took your outstretched and gripped it so tightly you clenched your teeth to not stop smiling. "Y/N," his father said, his voice clipped, as if testing the air, "What a surprise to actually see you here.” His tone was so clipped that it felt like an accusation rather than a greeting. Jake's hand gripped your waist a bit tighter.  You did your best to mask your discomfort, smiling politely in return. "Oh, well...I sure wanted to congratulate the happy couple.”

Instead of replying directly, Mr. Sim simply nodded, his eyes still scanning you. You couldn’t help but feel like a specimen under the microscope. “Right,” he finally said, his lips curling ever so slightly as if amused by his own thoughts. He didn’t release your hand immediately, and when he did, it was almost as if he was dismissing you altogether. The look in his eyes sent a wave of unease through you, but you didn’t have the time to dwell on it before his attention shifted to Jake. “She’s polite,” he said at last, his tone neutral. “At least there’s that.” Jake didn’t seem phased by his dad’s cold reception, but you could tell by the tightness in his jaw that it bothered him more than he was letting on. His father had a way of controlling the room without even trying, and Jake had been on the receiving end of that for as long as he could think. 

Jake’s mother interrupted your tail of thoughts and before you could react, she took your hands gently in hers, her touch light but firm. "It’s nice to finally meet you," she said with a warm and welcoming voice. "Jake’s told us a lot about you." "Oh, has he?" you asked, raising a brow and glancing up at Jake, who only smiled slightly. “I did interrogate him a little bit, after he told his father about you.” Jake made an embarrassed sound next to you. “Mom, please!” She just laughed at his demise. “I’ll look forward to get to know you Y/N.”

You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks. “Mom, leave the poor girl alone.”, Jake’s brother laughed and slightly nudged his mother.  “Y/N. I am Josuha and this is my wife Mina. It’s nice to meet you.”, he held up his hand and you grasped it, shaking it slightly.  “Nice to meet you Joshua.”, you smiled at him and moved on to Mina, “Mina.”

Mina was a gorgeous woman. She and Joshua made a stunning couple, confidence radiating off them. It was a bit intimidating to be honest.  Mr. Sim hummed, clearly unimpressed by the whole situation. His gaze flickered over you again before he exhaled through his nose, tilting his head slightly. "I suppose we’ll see if she can handle being part of this family," he said, his gaze lingering on you for a moment too long. You felt your stomach drop, heat creeping up your neck, not the warmth from Jake’s lingering touch, but the mortifying burn of being picked apart in front of his entire family. You shouldn't care about what his family thought of you, this was faker and you would probably never see them again, but still. This whole situation was stressing you out more than you thought it would. Jake stiffened beside you, his body language shifting from tense to outright rigid. His grip on your waist tightened, like he was physically restraining himself from snapping back. Before he could, however, his mom turned sharply toward her husband, eyes flashing with irritation. "Seungho," she said, her voice firm but calm. "Enough."

Mr. Sim’s jaw twitched, but he said nothing more, his expression unreadable as he looked away. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to keep a neutral expression even as the mortification clawed at your chest.  Hana, seeming to sense your discomfort, turned back to you with a softer smile, squeezing your hands reassuringly. "Don’t mind him, dear," she said smoothly. "He has a habit of speaking before thinking." Jake let out a humorless chuckle. "That’s one way to put it." Joshua cleared his throat, clearly eager to change the subject. "So, should we go inside?” The whole group slowly moved towards the entrance and you waved to your mother signaling her that you were going in. She shot you a questioning look, but you just smiled and nodded your head, signaling her that you were okay.  Jakes mother was walking next to you and smiled warmly at you. "Well," she said, "I, for one, think you’re lovely. And I am really looking to spend some time with you." You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. "Thank you, Mrs. Sim," you said, your voice quieter than before. She turned to Jake, arching a delicate brow. "She’s much prettier than the last one, sweetheart." Jake coughed, his ears going red. "Mom—"

Joshua and Jungjae chuckled, and even Mina had to press her lips together to stifle a laugh. You, on the other hand, were fighting very hard to keep a straight face.

“I think she’s lovely,” Jake's uncle said firmly, offering you another warm smile before turning to Jake. “You chose well.” Jake exhaled slowly, his body relaxing beside you. He glanced down at you, his gaze softer than before. “I know.” And for some reason, the way he said it sent a different kind of warmth through you. One that had nothing to do with the summer air and scared you more than anything.

Inside the procession area Jake saw a few of his old hockey team mates so did the undoable and excused the two of you from his family. 

“Dude what the fuck.”, you hissed at Jake when you were out of earshot from his dad, still spotting a sweet smile. “How can someone as rude as your father have such a nice brother and create such a nice kid. I swear that man cannot be your creator.”

Jake chuckled next to you and planted his warm hand against the naked skin of your back, guiding you toward where his friends were waiting. “I swear I don't know either. But I am glad you think I am not such an ass as him.”

You huffed and shook your head, pulling Jake into a rather abrupt halt. “Jake.”, you said, your voice as stable as it could be with him being so close that you could smell his perfume, “You are nothing like your dad. You’re warm and nice and kind. You actually care for people and their feelings. You don’t see relationships as transactions.” Jake's eyes searched your face while you continued. “You’re intelligent and funny. You wanted to adopt a penguin because you thought it would have a cold ass, Jake. I don’t think an asshat like your dad would ever think about anyone else but himself. You’re so passionate about things you love and you love passionately. Even if that passion is ramyun and if I have to ever eat Shin Ramyun again I will vomit.”

You exhaled slowly, reaching forward to flatten over his collar. “I’m just saying that you’re nothing like him. You’re not cold and calculating. You actually give a shit about people. They matter to you. And that’s more than I can say about your dad.”

Jake stood still for a moment, his thumb brushing over the bare skin of your back, his expression softening. His gaze dropped to your lips, and for a split second, you thought he might kiss you. 

A small part of you wanted him to kiss you again. 

You gave your heart this week. 

One week to be soft and vulnerable around Jake. 

One week to, like he said, feel all those feelings people feel when they are in love.

But instead of kissing you, he exhaled slowly, his eyes flickering back up to meet yours, and a small smile tugged at his lips. 

He cleared his throat softly, breaking the moment and pulling his hand from your back. "I..." he began, his voice quieter than usual, softer, almost uncertain. "Thank you, Y/N. You don’t know how much that means to me.I really don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m glad I have you here. I’m glad you’re here with me."

A warmth settled in your chest at his words.

You gave him a teasing nudge, "Well, someone has to save you from your dad."

Jake laughed, but the humor didn’t quite mask the edge of gratitude in his voice. “Just don’t leave me alone with my dad for too long, okay?"

You laughed, nodding. "I’ll make sure of that."

His fingers brushed up and down your back in slow, soothing strokes, and you felt it everywhere.

You knew it was for show. You knew that. You talked about how you had to step up your acting game while you were here, so you knew he was going to touch you more than usual.

But that knowledge didn’t stop the panic from curling in your chest.

Because this was exactly how it had started with Marcus.

The stolen glances, the gentle touches, the way he made you feel like you were the most important person in the world, the way he was the most important person in your world. It had been so easy to fall back then, to believe that it was real, that you were special. That he loved you.

And then it all came crashing down.

You had let yourself believe in a fantasy, and it had left you miserable.

You didn’t want to do that again. Ever. 

You exhaled shakily, pushing those thoughts away. Jake isn’t Marcus. He never was. He never will be.

But as Jake looked at you again, something unbearably soft in his expression, you couldn’t help but feel scared. 

Of what you were feeling.

Of what you were faking.

Of what would come in the end.

You continued your way over to Jake’s friends, who looked up in unison as you approached.  “Jake!” one of the boys stood up and pulled Jake into a bear hug. “Dude, what the fuck? It’s so good to see you! Damn, bro, you got buff as hell.” Jake really did look amazing in his suit. You have seen him in suits plenty of times after and before games but this one was different. The dark blue three-piece suit tailored perfectly to his broad shoulders, the crisp white shirt emphasizing the sharp cut of his jaw, the way the color complimented your dress so effortlessly. He was effortlessly handsome, devastatingly put together, and somehow still had that easy, boyish charm that made you weak in the knees against your will.

Jake laughed, a deep, genuine sound that made you smile, and playfully boxed his friend’s shoulder. “Shut up, Tobi,” he said, though his grin betrayed how much he enjoyed the reunion. He turned to you, his arm sliding around your waist as he pulled you gently against his side. “This is Y/N, my girlfriend. Y/N, this is Tobi, my old captain. Tobi, Y/N.” Tobi’s eyes widened as he looked you up and down, then let out a low whistle. “Damn, Jake,” he said, his tone equal parts impressed and teasing. “You really pulled this gorgeous woman?” Before you could respond, Tobi took your hand in a dramatic gesture, bowing deeply and pressing an exaggerated kiss to the back of it. You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling up as Jake groaned beside you. “Y/N,” Tobi said, straightening up but still holding your hand, “did you know that in 10th grade, Jake–” “Tobi, don’t–” Jake tried to cut him off, lunging forward to clamp a hand over his friend’s mouth, but Tobi dodged, laughing as he continued.

“–Jake tried to do a backflip off the bleachers during gym class and completely ate it in front of the entire school? Like, full-on faceplant. It was legendary.” You burst into laughter, clutching Jake’s arm for support as Tobi mimed the fall, complete with sound effects. Jake groaned again, his ears turning pink, but he was smiling. “I hate you,” he muttered, though there was no real malice in it. The group erupted into laughter again, and Jake pulled you closer, his chest shaking with silent laughter. “Alright, alright,” he said, steering you toward the entrance of the row where Tobi and two other guys were sitting.  The buzz-cut friend sitting next to Tobi, whose name you learned was Ryan, suddenly snapped his fingers. “Wait, Y/N… you went to our school, right? You were in the year below us?” You nodded, and Ryan’s eyes widened. “No way. You’re Marcus’s Y/N? Like, the Y/N?”

It went silent for a moment, and you could feel Jake tense beside you. “Yeah,” you said, your tone light but firm. “That’s me.” “Damn. Didn’t they cheat on both of you?”, he asked and leaned back in his seat. Tobi’s jaw dropped. “Wait, what? You were together with that ass? And they invited both of you? That’s so fucked up.” “You tell me.”, you rolled your eyes. “I mean I am here to congratulate them on their downfall. I give them 3 years tops.” Ryan shook his head, grinning. “Man, I know Marcus is nasty, but nasty enough to invite both exes?” Before  you could answer, the sound of a microphone clicking on echoed through the venue, and the officiant’s voice rang out. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you could all take your seats, the ceremony is about to begin.” The group quieted down, though Tobi was still shaking his head in disbelief. As the ceremony started, you leaned into Jake, your voice low so only he could hear. “You okay?” He glanced at you, his expression softening. “Yeah,” he said, his hand finding yours. “I’m good. What about you. You squeezed his hand, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I’m also good.”

The reception was in full swing, but you were bored out of your mind. Your parents were deep in conversation with some of your fathers colleagues. Technically the topics they were talking about were indeed interesting, after all you were also in the medical field but you really weren’t in the mood to participate in any kind of conversation. When the official part of the wedding finally ended and the crowd slowly moved onto the dancefloor or towards the bar your eyes immediately found Jake’s table. He was on the groom's side of the hall while you were on the bride's side, since your parents were more or less still close acquaintances and colleagues to Sophie's parents. 

Jake was talking to his uncle who was sitting next to him, looking as bored as you felt. As if he felt you staring, his head shot up and your eyes met. He perked up slightly and he gave you a smile. His uncle waved his hand, gesturing to you to come over. 

That was all the encouragement you needed. You excused yourself from your parents with a quick, “I’ll be right back,” and made your way over to Jake’s table. 

But as you reached the table, your stomach dropped. Sitting directly across from Jake was Marcus’s dad, and next to him was Jake’s dad. Both men turned to look at you as you approached, their expressions unreadable but distinctly unwelcoming.

“Y/N,” Jake’s dad said, his voice cool and measured. “What a surprise. I didn’t realize you’d be joining us.”

You forced a polite smile, sliding into the empty seat next to Jake, where his brother was sitting before. “I thought I’d keep Jake company,” you said, your tone light but firm.

Jake shot you a grateful look and grabbed your hand. 

Marcus’s dad leaned forward, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. “So, Y/N,” he began, his tone dripping with faux curiosity, “we haven’t seen each other in a while. How are your studies going? Still pursuing that… what was it again? Forensic anthropology?”

You nodded, keeping your expression neutral. “Yes, that’s right. I’m in my second year now.”

“Hmm,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Interesting choice. Not exactly the most… lucrative field, is it? I always thought you had so much potential. Shame to see it wasted on something so… niche.”

You clenched your fist under the table but kept your voice steady. Marcus' father was never really a fan of you. Apparently you had a really appalling charm to rich old men. “It’s not about the money for me. I find the work meaningful.”

Jake’s dad chimed in, his tone equally condescending. “Meaningful, yes, but surely you’ve considered the practicalities. It’s a gruesome line of work, isn’t it? Handling… remains and such.”

You could feel Jake tense beside you, but you didn’t look at him. Instead, you met Jake’s dad’s gaze head-on. “It’s not for everyone,” you said evenly. “But I believe in giving a voice to those who can’t speak for themselves. It’s important work.”

Marcus’s dad smirked, clearly unimpressed. “Noble, I suppose. But tell me, do you really see yourself doing that long-term? It’s not exactly a career that lends itself to stability.”

Before you could respond, he added, almost as an afterthought, “Though I suppose it’s a good thing you’re not with Marcus anymore. He needs someone who can match his ambition. Someone who understands the value of a real career.”

The words hit like a slap, and you felt your cheeks burn. Jake’s hand tightened around yours under the table. You forced a tight smile and said, “Well, I’m glad Marcus found someone who meets your standards.”

The table fell silent for a moment, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Marcus’s dad raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your response, while Jake’s dad gave you a look that could only be described as disapproving.

“Well,” Marcus’s dad said after a moment, “I suppose time will tell if this little… experiment of yours pays off.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Jake beat you to it. “Y/N’s one of the smartest people I know,” he said, his voice firm. “She’s going to be amazing at whatever she chooses to do. And for the record, Marcus is the one who missed out.”

The table fell silent again. Marcus’s dad looked momentarily taken aback, but he quickly recovered, his smirk returning. “We’ll see,” he said, his tone dismissive.

Jake’s dad cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken. “Well,” he said, “I’m sure Y/N will… figure things out in due time.”

You forced another smile, though it took every ounce of self-control not to roll your eyes. “Thank you,” you said, your tone clipped. “I’m sure I will.”

Jake’s grip on your hand tightened even further, his thumb running soothing circles against your palm. His jaw was clenched, and you could practically feel the effort it took for him to keep from snapping back.

Marcus’s father hummed in amusement, sipping his wine before tilting his head towards Jake. “And you, Jake? Still chasing that little hockey dream of yours?” His voice was laced with mockery.

Jake’s smile was polite, but you could see the flicker of irritation in his eyes. “It’s going well, actually.”

Marcus’s father let out an unimpressed hum, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “Hockey,” he mused, as if it were some fleeting hobby rather than something Jake had poured his heart and soul into. “It’s a shame, really. You have all the resources at your disposal, and you choose this?”

Jake’s father exhaled through his nose, setting his glass down with a faint clink. “I agree,” he said, eyes sharp as they settled on his son. “You can’t keep pretending this is a long-term career. At some point, you need to accept reality. The company isn’t going to wait forever, Jake.”

Jake barely reacted. At least, outwardly. But you felt it in the way his fingers twitched against your palm, the slight clench of his jaw, the way his shoulders tensed.

Jake’s voice was quiet but firm. “I never said I was going to take over.”

His father’s expression didn’t change, but something in the air around him did. It was an almost imperceptible shift, a flicker of disapproval so cold it made your skin prickle. How, in which universe was Jake closely related to this man? 

Marcus’s father let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Honestly, Minjae, I don’t know how you put up with this. He has everything right in front of him, yet he’s throwing it away for what? A sport that won’t last past his thirties?”

You had never wanted to punch an old man before, but there was a first time for everything. Actually that was a lie you wanted to punch this man 2 years ago when you were with Marcus as well. 

Jake exhaled slowly, his grip on you loosening slightly. His father barely looked at him, already sipping his whiskey again, as if the conversation had bored him.

Jungjae, who had been quietly observing the conversation, finally cleared his throat. His voice was calm.

“Gentlemen,” he said with a practiced smile. “Let’s not turn this into a lecture.”

Jake’s father raised an eyebrow, but Jungjae continued before he could interrupt.

“I understand the concerns,” he said, his gaze sweeping across both men. “Jake’s future is important, of course. But I also think it’s worth acknowledging that success isn’t a singular path.” His eyes flickered to you briefly, then back to Jake. “And, more importantly, we should trust that Jake is capable of making the right decisions for himself.”

It was a diplomatic way of telling them to back off, and you wanted to hug him for it. You made a mental note to thank him later. 

Marcus’s father let out a soft scoff but didn’t argue, while Jake’s father merely exhaled sharply through his nose.

Jungjae turned to you and Jake, his expression softening. “Why don’t we step away for a bit?” he suggested. “I think we could all use a breather. And maybe a drink.”

Jake hesitated for a second before nodding. “Yeah,” he muttered. “That’d be great.”

Without another word, you stood, relieved to escape the suffocating presence of the two men behind you. As you walked away, Jake exhaled slowly beside you, his hand slipping down to intertwine with yours properly, fingers lacing together.

He leaned in slightly, his voice just for you. “I think I need, like, five shots. Even without Katy.”

You let out a breathy laugh, squeezing his hand. “I’ll match you.”

The bar was quieter than the rest of the reception hall, tucked away near the edge of the venue where the music wasn’t as overpowering. The soft hum of conversations and the faint clinking of glasses filled the space as you slid onto one of the stools, Jake settling beside you while his uncle flagged down the bartender. Jungjae let out a long sigh, shaking his head as he leaned against the counter. “I apologize for my brother,” he said, tone gentle but laced with frustration. “He can be… difficult.” Jake scoffed under his breath. “That’s one way to put it.” His uncle shot him a knowing look but didn’t press further. Instead, he turned toward the bartender and ordered a round of shots. “Three, please. Something strong.” You exhaled, your body finally relaxing now that you were away from the oppressive presence of Jake’s father and Marcus’s dad. “You don’t have to apologize for him,” you murmured, your fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns against the smooth bar top. “But thank you.”

Jungjae offered you a small, appreciative smile. “I do, though,” he said. “He forgets that respect is earned, not demanded.” Jake let out a breath of laughter, shaking his head. “Try telling him that.” The bartender set down three shot glasses in front of you, each filled with clear liquid. Jungjae lifted his with a small grin. “To keeping our sanity intact.” You and Jake clinked your glasses against his before downing the shot in one go. The burn was immediate, spreading warmth through your chest, and you let out a small hiss, shaking your head. “Damn,” you muttered, blinking rapidly.

Jake chuckled beside you, setting his glass down. Jungjae downed his shot smoothly, barely flinching as he set the glass down with a quiet clink. He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I swear,” he muttered in Korean, rubbing his temples, “your father drives me crazy sometimes, Jaeyun.”  You let out a breathy laugh, warmth still lingering from the alcohol. “Then why do you still put up with him?" Jungjae huffed a laugh. “Someone has to make sure he doesn’t scare away every decent person around him.” He gave Jake a pointed look. “And someone has to look out for this one.” Jake rolled his eyes but smiled, shaking his head. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Oh, but I do,” Jungjae replied smoothly, placing a firm hand on Jake’s shoulder before shifting his gaze to you. “Especially now that you’re in the picture.” Something about the way he said it made your stomach twist in an unfamiliar way.  Before you could respond, the DJ’s voice rang through the speakers. “All couples, please join us on the dance floor for a special slow dance.” You stiffened slightly, instinctively glancing toward Jake. He was already looking at you, his brows slightly raised in question.

Jungjae, however, grinned and clapped his hands. “Perfect timing.” Jake turned to his uncle. “What?” Jungjae jerked his chin toward the dance floor. “You two should go.” Jake scoffed. “We’re not leaving you to drink alone.” His uncle waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, please. I’m a grown man. I can handle myself.” Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he leaned in slightly and added, “Besides, who am I to hinder you from dancing with your beautiful girlfriend.” Your breath caught. Jake blinked at his uncle before sighing, shaking his head with a small smile.  You bit your lip, eyes flickering to Jake’s. He sighed but smiled, holding out his hand. “Shall we?”

The opening notes of Lover filled the reception hall. Around you, couples swayed in each other’s arms, lost in their own little worlds, and for a brief second, you hesitated.

But then Jake’s hands found your waist, gentle and sure, pulling you in just enough that your bodies aligned. His warmth seeped into you instantly, and before you could even process it, your arms had wound around his shoulders, fingertips brushing against the short hairs at the nape of his neck.

A quiet sigh left him as he swayed you in time with the music, his grip steady, reassuring.

You swallowed hard and let yourself sink into the moment, tilting your head slightly to glance up at him. The golden lighting of the reception cast soft shadows across his face, accentuating the sharp lines of his jaw, the slope of his nose. His lips were parted just slightly, his breathing even, and then-

Then he rested his forehead against yours.

It was such a simple action. The world around you blurred, and all you could focus on was the warmth of him, the steady rise and fall of his chest against yours, the way his breath fanned against your cheek.

Your stomach flipped.

You sucked in a breath, blinking away the sudden rush of warmth blooming in your chest.

God, if this was fake, then why did it feel so incredibly real?

Trying to distract yourself from the way your pulse was betraying you, you let out a soft chuckle and murmured, “Kotone wants this to be her first dance song at her wedding. ”

Jake’s brows lifted slightly, his eyes blinking open as he leaned back just enough to look at you. “Really?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

You nodded and hummed.

His lips curled into a smile, something undeniably fond flickering across his face.

The warmth in his gaze did something dangerous to your heart.

A second passed. Then another.

You could feel his heartbeat where your chests were touching. Or maybe that was just yours going haywire on its own.

You were hoping he closed the small distance between you. Hoping that he would press his lips against yours. 

But he didn’t.

Instead he cleared his throat slightly and pulled away. His face was still close  enough to yours, that you could feel the heat radiating from it. “You look gorgeous today, Y/N. Marcus is surely biting his ass right now.” 

Jake’s fingers traced slow, featherlight circles against the bare skin of your lower back, the heat of his touch burning through you. Every movement was deliberate, teasing, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you. Which he probably did. Stupid idiot.

You tilted your head, lips curling into something playful.

“Oh, I know he is,” you teased, letting your fingers trail lazily over the back of Jake’s neck, knowing that he really liked it when you played with his hair. “Not that he’d ever admit it. But I saw the way he looked at me during dinner. He was so mad it was almost funny.”

His fingers pressed just a little firmer against your skin as he pulled you even closer, the warmth of his palm spreading across your back. “Yeah? What about Sophia?”

You smirked, ignoring how his touch was burning on your skin. “She looked like she swallowed a lemon.”

Jake laughed at that. “I almost fell bad,” he mused, then paused before grinning. “Actually, no, I don’t.”

You laughed softly. “Neither do I.”

His gaze softened as he looked at you. “I wasn’t lying, you know.”

You blinked up at him. “About what?”

His hand slid a fraction higher, his thumb grazing over your spine, sending a shiver down it. “You look absolutely stunning tonight, Y/N.”

Your breath caught in your throat for a second before you regained control. “You’re not so bad yourself, Sim.” Your voice was teasing, but there was something sincere beneath it.

Jake scoffed, his grin widening. “Not so bad? I’m wearing a damn three-piece suit.”

You hummed in agreement, letting your fingers drag lightly over his shoulder. “And looking very expensive while doing so.”

Jake smirked. “Would you believe me if I said I picked it out myself?”

You raised a brow. “No.”

He let out another laugh, shaking his head. “Fair enough.” Then, his voice lowered just slightly, gaze locked onto yours. “I wanted to match you.”

Your heart did something stupid in your chest, skipping a beat before speeding up. You swallowed. “You did?”

Jake nodded, his fingers tightening slightly on your waist. “Of course. Can’t have my girlfriend looking better than me, can I?”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile didn’t waver. “Oh, so that’s what this is? A competition?”

Jake leaned in just a little again, his breath warm against your lips. “If it is, you’re winning,” he murmured.

Your stomach flipped, your fingers curling slightly against his shoulder. 

Your eyes flickered from his eyes to his lips and back to his eyes. 

You needed to say something.

“Well,” you managed, clearing your throat, “we definitely made an impression tonight.”

Jake chuckled, his grip not loosening. “My mom is obsessed with you. She and uncle Jungjae were raving about how great they think you are.”

You laughed at that, shaking your head. “She hasn’t even had one proper conversation with me.”

“Oh but uncle Jungjae had plenty.” Jake groaned. “I think he’s already planning our wedding.”

You let out a loud laugh, burying your face briefly against his shoulder. “Oh my god. Really?”

Jake sighed dramatically. “I swear he looked at me like I’d personally blessed the family bloodline or something.”

You grinned, tilting your head. “Well, I mean we would make pretty kids. You know, maybe Mr. Fluffington the third needs a sibling? I was thinking about the Kitty plushie we saw in butter last week?” (pls its so cute look at the link) 

Jake laughed and shook his head slightly. “You think we are ready for a second one? Isn’t Mr. Fluffington the Third enough for you? We haven't even told our parents yet.”

You just shrugged and kept on smiling. “If you are up to it. I want a girl though.”

Jake’s eyes flickered to something behind you. 

His smirk didn’t falter, but something in his eyes shifted. His fingers, still warm against the bare skin of your back, tightened ever so slightly.

“My dad’s watching.”, he murmured. 

Your breath caught in your throat. Without thinking, your hand smoothed over the fabric of his suit. “Oh?”

Jake hummed, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “Yeah. Probably trying to decide if you’re worthy of the Sim family name.”

You scoffed, tilting your head. “Oh, please. He can go fuck himself and the Sim family name. You’re taking on mine.”

Jake let out a soft chuckle. “Your last name is Sim as well.”

You pretended to consider. “Right. Let’s ask Heeseung to marry both of us first so we can be Lees.”

He shook his head and laughed. “You are an idiot.”

“Lies. That's a totally valid and good idea.”, you patted his chest.

His fingers absentmindedly played with the fabric of your dress. “I think this is a person that requires us to step our game up.”

“What do you mean?”, you tilted your head slightly. 

Before you could even process it, his lips were on yours.

The kiss wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t hesitant either. It was deliberate, slow, like he had all the time in the world to make sure you felt every second of it. He tasted like tequila. 

His hand trailed down your spine, fingers grazing over every inch of exposed skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Your breath hitched, your hands tightening around the lapels of his suit jacket.

You should stop.

For your own sake. You should stop.

And yet, you weren’t pulling away.

But then, the song ended.

And reality came crashing back.

You both pulled back slightly, just enough to look at each other. Jake’s breathing was uneven, his pupils blown wide, his lips slightly parted as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

You weren’t doing much better. Your heart was pounding against your ribs, your skin burning where he had touched you.

What now?

Before either of you could figure it out, a voice cut through the haze.

“Y/N!”

You turned just in time to see Sophia weaving through the crowd, her expression unreadable but her gaze locked onto you with determination.

“Can I talk to you?” she asked, barely sparing Jake a glance. “Alone.”

You blinked at her and then at Jake, still breathless, still reeling from whatever the hell just happened. Jake's shoulder tenses under your hands and you could feel his disapproval.

His hand remained on your waist. “Do you want to go with her?” You hesitated and looked at him, at his lips and back to his eyes, that were full of worry and something you couldn’t fully decipher. You nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be right back. Don’t worry.” With one last glance at him, at the way his jaw was clenched, at the way he still looked like he wasn’t sure if he should let you go, you turned to Sophia.

You followed Sophia out of the ballroom. Your heart was still beating way too fast. 

The air outside was cooler, the music fading into a dull hum as you both stepped into a quieter hallway.

Sophia wrung her hands together, her expression torn between guilt and nerves. You had no idea what she wanted to say and why it had to be outside, but you figured you might as well get it over with.

You cleared your throat. “So… congratulations, I guess?”

Sophia let out a short, breathy laugh, but it sounded more like a sigh. “Thanks,” she murmured before shaking her head. “God, this is so weird.”

You didn’t disagree. It was weird. A few years ago you thought you would be the one marrying Marcus and Sophia would have been your maid of honor. But now she was standing there in a white dress, finger adorned with a ring that was supposed to signal her undying love for someone you once loved. 

Before you could think of anything to say, she blurted, “I’m so sorry.”

You blinked, taken aback. “Uh–”

“I didn’t want to invite you,” she rushed on, eyes wide, hands gesturing wildly. “I swear I didn’t. Our families said it was only proper because of how close our parents are, and we invited all the other kids of their colleagues and it just–it wasn’t up to me, Y/N.”

You nodded slowly, not sure what to do with that information.

Sophia exhaled shakily. “I know I don’t deserve to say this, but I really am sorry. For everything. For hurting you, for ruining our friendship. I hated what I did to you, and I hate myself for it.” Her voice cracked slightly. “You were my best friend.”

A lump formed in your throat. This situation was eerily similar to the one two years ago, when she tried to apologize for sleeping with your boyfriend. When she tried to tell you she didn’t mean to and she was drunk and out of her mind.

You swallowed. “Yeah, well… you made your choice.”

“I did,” she whispered, looking down. “And it was the worst one I ever made.”

For a moment, you just stared at her. You had spent so much time resenting her, being angry, feeling betrayed. She deserved your anger and resentment but you were over it. You had come to terms with their decision and you were not too hung up on it anymore. You closed that chapter. 

“I’m glad you’re with Jake,” she said after a beat, lifting her gaze again. “He’s a good guy. You look really happy together. Happier than you did when you were with us.”

You hesitated. Your instinct was to scoff, to remind her that she had no right to comment on your relationship. But for a split second, you felt bad for her.

“He makes me really happy.”, you say softly. 

You were still staring at her. Really looked at her for the first time in two years. 

Her fingers were twisted together and she was blinking rapidly. You realized she was blinking away tears. 

Sophia had always been a confident person. Sharp, bold, never second-guessing herself. But right now? Here at her wedding, where she should feel incredible, like the main character of the evening she looked small. She looked…sad?

“I really do hope you’re happy,” she murmured, glancing away. “I mean it. I hope you and Jake make it. Because, well…” She let out a soft, humorless laugh. “It’s not as easy as it looks, is it?”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

She hesitated, chewing on her lip. Then, with a quick glance over her shoulder, she leaned in just slightly.

“You know how our families are,” she said quietly. “How things work. There was no way Marcus and I were going to get away with what we did without…consequences.”

A strange feeling stirred in your chest. “Consequences?”

Sophia gave you a tight smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “A scandal like that? The golden boy caught cheating on his long-term girlfriend? Me being the other woman?” She shook her head. “Our parents were furious. It was bad for business. A nightmare for their image.”

Your blood ran cold.

“So, what?” you asked, voice quieter now. “This marriage… it’s not–”

“It makes things easier.” Sophia’s lips parted like she was about to say more, but then she pressed them together in a firm line. She exhaled sharply. “It’s just… easier this way.”

And suddenly, things made sense.

The rushed engagement. The extravagant wedding. 

You knew Marcus. You knew how egoistic and self centered he was. How he always had everything to go his way.

And you knew Sophia. You knew she never wanted to marry. If she did, she always wanted to marry in Italy, at some weird lake that you couldn’t remember the name of, with only her family and friends present. After she traveled the world. After she has lived her life. After she has experienced all the things you would daydream about together.

You also knew their parents. Parents that would’ve done anything to protect their image. To smooth over the scandal of their heirs being caught cheating, partying, taking drugs.

They weren’t marrying because they loved each other.

It was damage control.

That realization made your heart drop. Where just minutes before you felt butterflies and your heart was beating in overtime just thinking about Jake in his stupidly good looking suit right now the thought of him holding you, kissing you made you want to scream and punch someone.

Sophia and Marcus weren’t together because of love. They were together because it was the easiest way to clean up the mess they had made. Because their parents had decided it was the best way to protect their reputations.

It was how their world worked. How Jake's world worked. 

You liked to forget that Jake came from a family that is not just given scholarships because they work hard, he comes from a family that gives those scholarships. 

You weren’t stupid. 

You knew Jake was different from Marcus. 

But his father? His family?

Would they ever accept you?

Would they look at you the way Marcus’ parents had, like you weren’t good enough? Would they do everything in their power to make sure Jake ended up with someone more… fitting? His mother and his brother seemed nice enough, but how much say did they get in their lives?

The thought made your chest tighten.

You were already scared. 

Scared of how easy it was to fall for Jake. How it was just like when you started dating Marcus. How you fell in love with Marcus. 

He betrayed you. It was Marcus' decision to fuck your friend. 

But Jake? How much is he actually allowed to decide?

No matter how much you wanted him, no matter how much he wanted you, there were forces so much bigger than the two of you.

And you weren’t sure you could survive being broken by another rich boy.

Jake watched you go. He turned around to join his uncle at the bar again but before he even got off the dancefloor, a voice stopped him in his tracks. “Well, well,” Marcus drawled, stepping into his path. “Look who decided to show up. I was quite surprised when we received your RSVP back. And you came with little Y/Nie.” Jake clenched his jaw, already exhausted by the conversation that hadn’t even started. “What do you want, Marcus?” Just like that the butterflies and the nice tingles from your touch disappeared and he asked himself if the happy couple planned this. Destroying your and Jake's nice moment. 

Marcus laughed, low and mocking. “Still got that temper, huh? Guess some things never change.” He took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes flicking toward you before settling back on Jake. “Speaking of things that never change. Y/N looks good, doesn't she? Almost made me forget how… boring she used to be. Almost. Guess it makes sense, though.” Jake exhaled sharply. “What do you mean?” Marcus only laughed, low and mocking. “She always had a thing for lost puppies. Guess she hadn’t outgrown that yet.” He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “Tell me, does she still make that little noise when you kiss her neck? You know the one, like she is trying to hold back but can’t? Does she still refuse to take dick down her throat? She never liked to be face fucked. She wasn’t really into anything really. She was just, well, boring."

Jake's vision blurs with a sharp flash of white-hot rage for a second, fists clenching at his sides. His whole body goes rigid, his muscles tightening as a rush of anger courses through him. ‘Smoking, drinking, sex when I didn’t even want to‘, that is what you told him. Did Marcus do that? Make you go down on him even if you didn't want to? He takes a step forward without even realizing it, his fists rising ever so slightly, the urge to slam them into Marcus' face overwhelming. If this were a hockey rink, he'd have already thrown his gloves down, ready to go. Marcus grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “What?” he taunted. “Gonna hit me? At my own wedding? Do it, Sim." Jake’s jaw tightens, his breath coming in shallow, measured bursts. The heat of the moment almost drowns out everything else, but he manages to force his anger down. He takes a slow, deliberate breath through his nose, trying to regain control.

“You don’t know shit, Marcus,” Jake mutters, his voice low and dangerous, the kind of tone that signals a warning. “You don’t know a damn thing about her.” Marcus scoffs, looking at Jake with mock innocence. “Oh, I know plenty, Sim. I basically shaped her into the person she is now. Tell me, does she still smoke?” Jake's face did something out of his control and Marcus smiled triumphantly. “Seems like she does. Looks like I could get the little weirdo to do stuff she despised. Made her addicted.  I bet she thinks of me every time she lights a cig.” Jake’s jaw tightens, his knuckles white as he fights the urge to slam Marcus into the nearest wall.

But before he can move, an arm slings around his shoulders. “Jake, bro!” Tobi’s voice is light, casual, but his grip on Jake’s shoulder is firm. “Come on, man, you owe me a drink.” Jake keeps his gaze locked on Marcus for a beat longer, watching the way his jaw tics. Then, he exhales sharply, forcing himself to turn away. “Right,” he mutters, letting Tobi steer him toward the bar. As they walk away, Marcus calls after them, his voice dripping with mockery. “Enjoy it while it lasts, Jake. She’s not the type you'd want to stick around to. Trust me, I know.” Jake doesn’t look back, but his shoulders tense under Tobi’s arm. “Ignore him,” Tobi mutters, guiding Jake to the bar. “He’s just trying to get under your skin.” Jake nods, but the tension in his body doesn’t ease. He grabs the drink the bartender slides toward him and takes a long sip, his mind racing.

At one point you made your way back to Jake, sliding your hand into his and resting your head on his shoulder, while he was chatting with a few of his former teammates. He knew that as soon as you got clingy you were either drunk or tired and judging by how you were talking without slurring your words he conducted you were just really tired. 

“Hey Y/N.”, he softly petted your hair. 

“Mhm?”, you hummed, tilting your head to look at him. Your lipstick was slightly smudged and your cheeks had a reddish hue thanks to the warmth in the building and the few shots he knew you had. You were beautiful.

“Do you wanna go home?”

You lifted yourself from his chest. “You think we stayed long enough by now? I kinda wanna be rude but also not, you know. Your dad would be up your arse if we left too early.”

“You’re tired Y/N. I don’t care about my dad.”, he shrugged and pulled you back against his chest. 

“Where should we go? I mean it would be weird if we left to go separate ways right now, right?”, you said, settling back into the position you were in before. 

“Can we sleep over at your place? I kinda don’t want to spend a lot of time at home.”, Jake took your hands and started to play around with the rings on them. 

“Sure. Do you wanna stop at your place first? To get toiletries and stuff?”, you asked, slightly wiggling your fingers.

“Sure. Are your parents going to stay here longer?”, Jake craned his neck and searched for your parents. They were still sitting on their original table laughing at something.

“Probably. My parents are social butterflies. Wouldn’t surprise me if they came home at like 6 am. Where are yours?”

“Dunno. But probably still here.”, he shrugged, not really caring.

“Okay then let’s go. I want to sleep.”, you said and stood up. The two of you bid farewell to his and your friends and called a cab to drive you to his house. 

Jake was laying on your bed, mindlessly watching Tik Tok while you were showering first. Jake had heard the sound of the water running, the occasional hum of your voice. By the time he stepped into the shower you were probably already half asleep, your eyes were already heavy when you two were in the cab to your parents house.

Jake let the hot water pour over him, leaning his forehead against the cool tile. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the steam fill his lungs. The heat felt good, but it didn't help to get the tension out of his body. His thoughts drifted back to Marcus’ words. The things he had said about you. How did he dare to ask Jake that? How did he dare to talk like this about you?

He clenched his fists for a second, exhaling sharply as the water ran over his face.

When he finally turned off the water, he towel-dried his hair and stepped out of the shower, still lost in thought. The bathroom mirror fogged up, and he wiped it clear with his hand, catching his reflection for a moment before he walked into the bedroom, where you were waiting, curled up on the bed in one of his oversized shirts, you stole from his suitcase.

You looked so peaceful, your hair a little messy, your face soft, without make up and relaxed. The dim light from the bedside lamp cast a warm glow over the room. He slid under the covers, his body brushing against yours as he settled in beside you. You shifted, resting your head on his chest.

Jake swallowed hard.

He should leave it alone.

He really really should.

Your sex life was none of his business. You weren't a real couple. Jake didn't have to well more or less compete with your ex. He was a close friend of yours that just happened to be your fake boyfriend. 

That you were cuddling with right now. 

After slow dancing at a wedding. 

And kissing at said wedding.

Okay. Maybe he could ask. 

Jake shifted slightly, his arm resting loosely around your waist. He stared up at the ceiling for a second, debating how to even ask that. He knew he was going to regret it the second the words left his mouth. 

“Can I ask you something?”

You hummed sleepily against his chest. “You just did.”

Jake huffed out a quiet laugh. He hesitated for a second longer, then finally asked, “What was it like with Marcus?”

You stilled. 

Your body tensed for just a fraction of a second before you shifted against him. His fingers twitched against your back.

You lifted your head slightly to look at him, blinking blearily like you weren’t sure you’d heard him right. “What?”

Jake cleared his throat. “I mean, like… you and him. Sexually.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Huh. Why are you asking that all of a sudden?”

He wasn’t even sure he knew.

Jake exhaled sharply, staring up at the ceiling again. “I don’t know. It’s just. Marcus said some shit earlier, and I guess I started wondering.” He glanced back down at you. “I know it’s none of my business, but I just–” He sighed, shaking his head. “Forget it.”

You didn’t say anything right away. You just watched him, your expression unreadable. Then, after a long pause, you let out a quiet sigh and rested your chin on his chest.

“It was awful,” you admitted.

Jake blinked. “What?”

“Sex with Marcus,” you clarified. “It was awful.”

Jake frowned. 

“I mean, I thought it was normal at first,” you continued, voice softer now. “I thought maybe I just wasn’t really into it. Or maybe that was just how it was supposed to be. But looking back…” You shook your head, lips pressing into a thin line. “I faked it. A lot. Most of the time, actually.”

Jake just stared at you, trying to process that. “Wait. You mean you never came with him?” 

You huffed out a quiet laugh. “Maybe once or twice? I don’t really know. I kind of refused to sleep with him for the first like six months. And well after that? Let’s just say Marcus isn’t really familiar with female autonomy and well, quite egoistic. So he came and I just didn't?”

Jake fell from all the clouds at once.

“What the fuck?” he blurted out before he could stop himself. He pulled back slightly, staring at you. 

Jake’s brain short-circuited.

Fuck. 

What the fuck. 

He has kissed you like four, five times by now and knew that you were very sensitive. He knew how easy it was to get you to shiver slightly, how you enjoyed it when someone trailed his fingers down your neck. And he didn't even made out with you. Okay, borderline. But how in the hell did that stupid asshole not get you to cum? 

He sat up a little, resting on his elbow as he looked down at you. “You’re telling me that in years of dating, he didn’t —”

“Nope.”

Jake ran a hand down his face, trying to wrap his head around that. “And you just faked it?”

You rolled onto your back, staring up at the ceiling like you were remembering something far away. “Yeah. I just wanted it to be over most of the time. It was easier that way.”

Jake felt something hot and annoyed settle in his chest. He should just have killed Marcus at the wedding. Not just hit him. How did he dare to treat you this bad in your relationship and then talk shit to your boyfriend, well fake boyfriend but not from Marcus point of view, after he made you feel like you wanted sex to be over?

“I mean, it’s not like I had anything to compare it to,” you added, voice lighter. You were trying to brush it off. “I just assumed that’s how it was supposed to be.”

Jake scoffed. “That’s not how it’s supposed to be.”

You turned your head toward him, amusement flickering in your eyes now. “Oh I know that now. But back at 16 I thought it was kinda weird, especially since I had a boyfriend to touch myself.”

Your smirk deepened. Oh you were enjoying this. 

“I mean,” you continued, “at first I thought maybe something was wrong with me, y’know? Like, maybe I was doing something wrong? Sophia always told me how good you made her feel and how good her orgasms were. But I never really understood what she meant.” 

Jake stilled. He forgot that you and Sophia were close friends before she cheated, so of course you probably knew about his and Sophia’s sex life. 

“But then I started thinking…” You tilted your head, voice going mock-thoughtful. “Maybe it wasn’t me that was the problem.” Your eyes found his and you batted your eyes.  “Maybe Marcus was just that bad.”

Jake exhaled harshly. “He was that bad.”

Your grin turned downright wicked. “Mhm. He was. I figured that out as well. But now i got it all covered, don’t worry Jakey. I can do his job way better and I do find my own clit, compared to him.”

Jake swallowed harshly. “I- I am glad you do.” 

He wanted to slam his head against the nearest wall. Or maybe your head, just to knock some sense into you.

His grip on your waist twitched, but he didn’t let go. Maybe because if he did, he had no idea where your hands would wander next, and he really didn’t trust himself to handle that like a sane person.

You let out a soft hum, watching his throat work as he swallowed. “You seem awfully invested in my lack of orgasms, Sim.”

Jake wanted to argue. He really, really did. He clenched his jaw. “I’m not.”

Your brows lifted, teasing. “No?”

“No.”

You hummed, unconvinced, shifting onto your side again, way too close. “I don’t know… you seemed pretty worked up about it just a second ago.”

“I was worked up about Marcus being a shit boyfriend,” he corrected, voice tight.

“Oh, so my orgasms or lack thereof does concern you.”

Jake swore under his breath, running a hand down his face. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I am,” you agreed easily. “And very flexible, too.”

Jake nearly choked. “Jesus Christ, Y/N.”

You giggled, absolutely delighted by his suffering. “What?”

He shook his head, staring up at the ceiling like it could save him. “Nothing.”

You poked at his side. “You’re blushing.”

“I am not.”

“Oh, you so are,” you teased. “Are you flustered by my sexlife, Jakey?”

You hummed, clearly not convinced. Then, before he could stop you, you reached out and tapped a finger against the center of his chest. “You’re acting weird, Sim.”

“I’m not acting weird.” He was definitely acting weird. Fuck his brain was acting weird.

You grinned, dragging your fingertip slowly down the fabric of his shirt. “Ohhh, I think you are.”

Jake caught your wrist, stopping you before you could do something stupid, something worse. You blinked up at him, wide-eyed, as if you were the innocent one in this situation. His grip tightened just slightly. “Are you done?”

“Dunno.” You leaned in. “Are you?”

Jake exhaled sharply through his nose. “You’re insufferable.”

You smirked, completely unbothered. “And yet, you still keep playing along.”

“Go to sleep,” he ground out, glaring down at you.

You grinned smugly. “Why? Am I making you uncomfortable, Jakey?”

Jake hated you. He hated you so much. (He did not, in fact, hate you.)

You weren’t sure why you agreed to this. Or more how Jake got you to agree to this. Two days after the wedding Jake stood in front of your parents doorstep and told your dad he was here to steal you away for the day. You were still in your Pyjama, your hair a mess and barely awake, when your dad and Jake came into the kitchen laughing about something.  “Jake?”, you asked, swallowing the bite of toast you just stuffed into your mouth. “What are you doing here?” “It’s Tuesday. We are going ice skating today.”, he said while plopping down next to you. “Huh. What do you mean?”, you asked. 

“I am taking you to my old rink today. They have public skating hours every Tuesday so I thought it was fun to bring you along.”, he shrugged and stole one of the bananas on your plate.  “Oh I don’t know how to ice skate?”, you said and took another bite from your toast. “Good thing I know how to skate.”, he grinned at you. An hour later you were inside a freezing cold ice rink, staring at a pair of rental skates. Jake was sitting next to you, lacing up his own skates with practiced ease. He found some of his old skates at his parents house and got them sharpened, while you got fitted for your skates. Stupid hockey player.

You exhaled and shot him a look. “You realize I could die, right?” Jake smirked, not even looking up as he tied his laces. “You’re being dramatic.” “No, you’re being dramatic,” you countered. “Dragging me to an ice rink when I can barely walk on solid ground." Jake grinned. “Ice is solid as well Y/N.”

You groaned and went back to fumbling with your skates. They felt stiff, awkward, and way too tight, and you were half convinced that this was all part of some elaborate scheme to make you fall on your ass. And maybe break some bones in the progress.  After a few moments of struggle, you let out a defeated sigh. “Okay. I can’t do this.” Jake snorted. “C’mon, princess.” He moved, crouching down in front of you before you could protest. “Let me help.” You stiffened, watching as he easily took over, fingers brushing against your ankle as he tightened the laces. “There,” he said, sitting back with a satisfied grin. “Now, are you ready to go humiliate yourself in front of a bunch of kids?” You glared. “I hate you.” Jake just winked. “Not you don’t.” Standing on the rubber mats was fine. Walking to the rink entrance was less fine. Stepping onto the ice?

Absolutely not. Jake tugged on your hand, but you dug your heels in, refusing to budge. “I can’t.” “You can,” he said, voice infuriatingly patient. “Just take it slow.” “Jake.” You looked at him with wide, pleading eyes. “I will fall.” “I won’t let you fall.” You hesitated.  Jake sighed, stepping onto the ice first and turning to face you. “Here,” he said, holding out both hands. “Just hold onto me.” You squinted at him. “If let my hands go, I swear—” “I’m not letting your hands go. I won‘t let you go.” With a deep breath, you cautiously put one foot forward. The second your skate touched the ice, you panicked, immediately grabbing onto Jake’s arms.

Jake laughed, barely budging from the impact. “Okay, okay,” he soothed, steadying you easily. “I got you. See? You’re fine.” Your heart was racing. “I hate this. I hate you. Fuck yourself Jaeyun Sim.” Jake grinned. “You’re doing amazing.” You groaned, fingers tightening in his hoodie. “I swear to god, if you let me go, I will personally make sure you never skate again.” Jake grinned wider. “Noted.”

You were going to kill him. If you ever got off this ice alive. You clung to Jake like your life depended on it as he slowly guided you forward. Your movements were stiff, jerky, and entirely uncoordinated, but at least you weren’t on your ass yet. “Relax,” Jake murmured, tightening his grip on your hands. “You’re way too tense.” “That’s because I’m trying not to die.” Jake laughed, the sound bouncing off the high ceilings of the rink. “You’re not gonna die.”

“You can’t guarantee that,” you shot back. “I literally can.” He smirked. “Besides, you’re already better than the last time you tried.” You frowned. “I’ve never tried.” “Exactly.” You groaned, but somehow, your feet started moving. Jake kept you steady, skating backward with ease, like this was second nature to him. It probably was. You loved seeing him on the ice. He looked so happy there, albeit during games he didn’t look all too happy, but a bit constipated at times. He was a competitive idiot. But you really didn’t love seeing yourself on the ice. 

He must’ve noticed you staring, because his smirk softened. “I used to skate here all the time when I was a kid,” he said. “Like, all the time. My mom would drop me off and I’d stay for hours. Just doing laps, messing around with the puck until my actual training started. Tobi and I always fought who spend more time on the ice.” You blinked. Yup, competitive idiot. 

“Sounds nice,” you murmured. Jake shrugged. “Yeah. It was.”

Before you could say anything else, a blur of movement zipped past, and you barely had time to register a kid skating perfectly before you let out a scandalized noise “Oh, come on.” Jake lost it, throwing his head back in laughter. “What?” You gestured wildly. “That kid is showing off.” Jake grinned. “He is not. Y/N he literally just skates at a normal speed. You’re just slow.” “Well, this shit is hard. The floor is slippery and I am standing on two blades. How am I supposed to be faster than this?” Jake laughed. “Well by doing the same thing that kid is doing.”, he shook his head, still chuckling. “Alright, c’mon, let’s do a full lap. You’re not doing too bad.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “I will hold this over your head forever if I fall.” “I won’t let you fall.”

You eyed him suspiciously but nodded, gripping his hands tighter as he led you forward.  And, miraculously, you weren’t completely terrible. You still needed Jake’s help, but eventually, you started loosening your grip, even skating without his help. By the time you made it back to where you started, your legs were shaking, but you were upright. A miracle. Jake gave you a crooked grin. “Told you.” And just as he uttered that, a kid barreled into you, and suddenly, you were on your ass, the cold ice seeping through your jeans as you glared up at Jake.

His expression morphed from shock to amusement in a matter of seconds. “Oh my God.” “Don’t,” you warned, pointing a finger at him. Jake pressed his lips together like he was trying to hold back his laughter, but his shaking shoulders betrayed him. He crouched down in front of you, eyes way too bright. “Are you okay?” “No,” you huffed. Jake grinned. “You actually did great, right up until you got taken out by a four-year-old.” Your eyes narrowed. “I hate you.” “No, you don’t.”

Yes Jake. That was the problem. You forced a scoff, shoving away the warmth creeping into your chest. “Just help me up, Sim.” Jake smirked but obliged, easily pulling you to your feet like you weighed nothing. His hands stayed at your waist steadying you and making sure you had your balance before letting go. Jake arched a brow. “But really are you good?” You straightened, forcing an easy smirk. “Yeah. Just debating if I should throw you onto the ice.” He chuckled. “I’d like to see you try.” “Oh, you will.” Jake laughed, shaking his head as he started leading you forward again.

Jake was good with kids.

You weren’t sure why that surprised you, but it did.

At some point, after he had successfully gotten you to skate on your own for at least five seconds without clutching onto him for dear life, a group of kids had asked him to race them. And, of course, Jake being Jake, he hadn’t been able to resist.

So now you stood at the edge of the rink, watching as he lined up with a few kids, all of them grinning and buzzing with excitement.

“Alright,” Jake called out, pointing at the far end of the rink. “First one to the boards wins!”

The kids nodded eagerly and got into position.

You bit your lip as you watched him, your chest tightening. The way he fixed a kid’s helmet before skating backward into position, the way he still looked like the same boy who had probably spent hours at this rink, just because he loved it, everything about this made your heart clench.

He was so stupidly cute when he was excited.

And God, that made everything so much worse.

Because this, this, was what you were going to miss.

Him.

Jake.

His dumb competitive streak. His stupid grins. The way he looked at you sometimes. All the little acts of kindness. 

A whistle blew, breaking you out of your thoughts. The kids shot forward, skating with all the energy in the world.

Jake let them win.

He didn’t make it too obvious. He still skated fast enough to keep them on their toes, but you could tell. He slowed down just enough to make sure one of them reached the boards first, throwing his hands up in mock defeat as they cheered.

You were going to miss him.

More than you were ready for.

Jake’s house is quiet when you step inside. 

“I wanna show you something,” Jake says, tugging you toward the hallway.

You let yourself be pulled along, through the house and into his childhood bedroom. Hockey trophies line the shelves, medals hanging from hooks and different lego builds were scattered around the shelves.

Jake gestures toward them with a small, almost sheepish grin. “Told you I used to be good.”

You roll your eyes but step closer, trailing your fingers along the glossy wood of a championship trophy. “Used to be?” you echo, raising a brow. “Please. You still are.”

Jake chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well. My dad doesn’t think so.”

Something in his voice makes you pause. But before you can press further, he flops onto his bed, stretching his arms above his head. “Ugh, I need a nap. Skating was a workout.”

You scoff, crossing your arms. “I’ve seen you sprint for sixty straight minutes. That wasn’t even close to a workout for you.”

Jake just grins, patting the empty space beside him. “C’mon. I know you’re tired too.”

You hesitate, but not because you aren’t tired.

Because you are. Because you know that lying down next to him, in this room, in this house that holds pieces of his childhood, pieces he’s willingly showing you, will only make everything worse.

You do it anyway.

You slip off your jacket and crawl into the space beside him. The bed dips as Jake shifts, his body instinctively curling around yours. His arms loop around your waist, his chest warm against your back, and the moment he exhales, fully relaxing into you, you feel your stomach twist again. Because this isn’t real, even if it felt real. It should’t be.  In two days, this will be over. And you’ve already decided you have to let him go. 

To protect your heart of what was going to come in the end. 

Your throat tightens as you stare at the ceiling. Keeping him in your life after this would only be self-inflicted torture.  Pretending to love him had been easy. At one point it probably wasn’t pretend. So pretending you didn’t would be impossible. And that was why you had to let him go. You have to go no contact. For your own sake.

And as he presses his face into the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin, you already feel sorry for it. Already grieving a friendship you haven’t even lost yet. You feel the weight of Jake’s arm around you, his steady breaths against the nape of your neck a lullaby you shouldn’t let yourself sink into. 

But you do.

For just a moment.

You blink up at the ceiling, the familiar scent of his cologne clinging to the sheets, wrapping around you. Your fingers twitch against the fabric of his hoodie. You should have given it back. You should. But it smells like him. It feels like him. And soon, you won’t have any of him left. You press your lips together, ignoring the sting in your throat.

Jake doesn’t know yet. That, when you get off that plane, you’re cutting ties. You’ll ignore his texts. His calls. You’ll block his number if you have to.  He doesn’t know that you’ll do the same to Jay. To Heeseung. To all of them.

Jay will know. Jay will see right through you. He’ll hear it in your voice, feel it in the way your texts grow shorter and shorter, until they eventually stop coming at all. He’ll know. And he won’t let you go without a fight.

But this is what’s best. For you, so you don’t destroy yourself in the process of loving Jake like you did with Marcus. For Jake, so he doesn’t have to be put in the awkward position of letting you down gently. So that he doesn’t have to be scrutinized by his father. So that he doesn’t have to break your heart. 

Jake shifts behind you, his arm tightening, his nose brushing against your shoulder. Your chest ached as you swallowed down the lump in your throat, forcing yourself to focus on the warmth of Jake’s arm around you, on his hand resting against your stomach. ──────────────────────────Jake woke up slowly, blinking into darkness. His room was quiet, save for the steady rhythm of your breathing and the occasional soft sigh escaping your lips. He felt the warmth of your body pressed against his, your head tucked beneath his chin, your legs tangled with his beneath the blankets.

His arms were wrapped around you, holding you close.

A quick glance at his alarm clock told him it was nearly 11 p.m. He probably should wake you up, take you home. Jake exhaled softly, gaze flicking down to you, taking in the way your lashes fanned over your cheeks, the way your lips parted slightly with each slow, steady breath. You looked so soft like this, so unguarded. And fuck, he loved seeing you like this.

Because as much as he adored your quick wit and your stubborn streak, there was something about these rare, quiet moments that made his chest feel too full.

He’d always liked making you laugh, riling you up just to see you roll your eyes at him. But seeing you like this? Safe, peaceful, trusting him enough to just be, it did something to him.

Jake swallowed hard, his fingers twitching against your back, resisting the urge to smooth his hand over your hair.

He liked this.

He liked you.

He might even love you.

He has known that for weeks now.

He wasn’t sure when exactly things had shifted, when pretending had started feeling so much like something real, but he knew he wasn’t ready for it to end. Even after this week was over, even when you both got back home, he wanted this. Wanted you in his life just like this.

Because how could he go back to before? 

He’d been thinking about it a lot, how things would go back to ‘normal’ once you got home. But the more time he spent with you, the more he realized that he didn’t want normal. He didn’t want to go back to before.

He didn’t want to go back. He didn’t want this to change.

Carefully, he shifted, reluctantly pulling his arm from beneath you. “Hey,” he murmured, voice low and soft as he nudged your shoulder. “Y/N, wake up.”

You stirred slightly, your brows scrunching in mild annoyance before your eyes fluttered open. A sleepy frown pulled at your lips. “What?”

“It’s late,” he said gently. “Do you want me to take you home?”

You blinked, still half-asleep, before shifting against him, rubbing at your eyes. “Do you have a spare toothbrush?”

Jake’s brows lifted slightly. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” you mumbled, already nestling back into him. “Then I’ll just stay.”

And just like that, you were asleep again, your breath evening out, completely unbothered.

Jake let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. His chest felt warm, something almost giddy curling in his stomach at how easily you had decided to stay.

Because that meant something, right? You wanted to stay.

Jake had never been a fan of long flights. Too much time to think. And right now, thinking was the last thing he wanted to do. Especially when you were sitting right next to him, head bent over your notebook, highlighter in hand as you studied whatever notes you had stuffed into your carry-on. Jake didn’t even pretend to be interested in anything else. He just…watched you.

The way your brows furrowed in concentration, the way you chewed on your bottom lip when you were focused, the way you absently twirled your pen between your fingers before underlining something on the page. God, you were so fucking cute. He had the urge to reach out and tuck that one loose strand of hair behind your ear. You must have felt his gaze because you suddenly nudged him with your elbow, not even looking up from your notes. “Stop staring.” Jake smirked. “Not staring.”

You huffed, eyes flicking toward him, unimpressed. “Go to sleep or something.” Jake stretched his legs out, completely unbothered. “Not tired.” You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue further, going back to your notes. And Jake went back to watching you. He didn’t know how much time passed, maybe an hour, maybe two, when you spoke to him again.

“What are we going to tell our friends?” Jake blinked, pulled from his thoughts. He turned his head slightly, noting the way you were still looking down at your notes, your fingers lightly tapping against the page. “About what?” You still didn’t look at him. Just kept tapping your pen. "About our breakup. The wedding is over, right? No need for us to be fake dating anymore."

His stomach dropped. The song playing in his ears–one of your favorites–turned into nothing but static. For a second, he thought maybe he misheard you. Maybe he had dozed off, lost in the lull of the plane, and imagined it. But then you finally looked at him. Waiting. Expecting an answer. Jake forced his face to stay neutral. "What?"

You exhaled, glancing down at your notes like this was just some minor inconvenience to get through. “I mean, we should probably have a story, right? You didn’t want to tell them we were faking all of this. So like, maybe we had a mutual breakup? Or—” His head spun. Because what the fuck? Jake should have known this was coming. He wasn’t stupid. He knew the plan had always been to end things after the wedding.

But hearing you say it fucking sucked.

For a brief second, he considered arguing. Because if this was how you saw it, the whole situation still being you and him fake dating, then he didn't have much say in this. If you weren't feeling the same way he did for you, which you obviously didn't, then there was nothing to argue about. He didn't have to fight for a fake relationship, even if it broke his heart.

Jake felt his fingers tighten around your phone. His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke. “Sure.”

And he hated how hollow that one word felt in his chest.

You hesitated. Just a fraction of a second. Then you nodded slightly.

Jake swallowed, staring out at the dark sky stretching endlessly outside the window.

Then, carefully, he asked, “We’ll still see each other, though, right?”

Another pause. Longer this time.

Then you nodded again. “Yeah. Of course.”

Jake exhaled slowly. “Good.”

Silence settled between you again.

Then you spoke, softer this time. “Should we say it was mutual?”

Jake turned to look at you, something unreadable flashing across your face.

You met his gaze, biting your lip. “Like… should we say we had a reason?”

Jake had to bite back a humorless laugh. There was no reason for this to happen. At all. Not even two days ago, you had woken up in his arms. Stayed for breakfast. Laughed at the way he threw himself into the pool. Stayed until your mom called you to come home.

You looked happy.

He just shrugged, like his heart wasn’t actively splintering inside his chest. “I guess mutual sounds good.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

And just like that, it was decided.

Jake turned back toward the window, shoving his headphones deeper into his ears, but he wasn’t listening to the music anymore. Why? He just didn't understand why. 

You had to be a really good actor. That was the only explanation. Maybe he had been an idiot from the very start. But he knew. He knew the second he kissed you in that bar. The way you had responded to him, the way your fingers had twisted into the fabric of his shirt, the way your breath had hitched just before he pulled away. That hadn't been fake. And neither had the way you looked at him at the wedding, standing so close, your eyes flickering down to his lips. He had felt it, that moment stretching between you, the way your body leaned into his just a fraction before he kissed you.

Jake kept his eyes locked on the window, the reflection of you flickering in the glass. You had gone back to your notes, highlighter in hand, looking like this conversation had already left your mind. He wanted to laugh. Because that was it. All of it. Over, just like that. He should've seen it coming. He'd let himself believe, for just a second, that this wouldn't end. That maybe, when you got home, you'd still be his somehow.

It has been six days since Jake and you arrived at home. Six days since you last saw each other. Six days since you asked him to fake break up. Six days spent trying to dodge Jake at all costs. Which was harder than you anticipated.

You stared at the screen of your Ipad, you were at least ten pages behind your professor in the script. At the beginning of the class you still were paying attention, knowing that this professor likes to ask random students questions during the class to check if you were paying attention but at some point our mind wandered away from nerve damage and to the damage you have done. 

Your phone is heavy in your hand, when you pick it up to check the time. Your heart stops for a second when you read over Jake's most recent message from last night.

Jakeyboy 11:08 am: Hey Y/N! Do you wanna go for fried chicken today? We should celebrate that we survived last week!  Jakeyboy 09:29 pm: So…no fried chicken then?

No. No fried chicken. And definitely not in that small restaurant you had your first date-not-date in almost 4 months ago now. That felt like a lifetime now.

You read it immediately. Almost replied. Almost said, Yeah, okay, let’s go. But instead, you locked your phone, flipped it over, and tried to ignore the hollow feeling in your chest. 

It’s been only six days but you miss him. God, you miss him. You didn’t realize how much time you and Jake spent together and spent texting until you stopped. Or at least tried to. 

Your name being called cut through your thoughts. Your head snapped up. Your professor was staring at you expectantly.

“I am sorry, Professor Kim. I didn’t catch that, could you repeat that question?”

Your professor sighed but repeated his question. You answered the question and he moved on.

You let out a breath when he went back to the slides and closed your eyes. This can’t continue like this. You had to get a grip. That thing between you and Jake was fake and you shouldn’t be as weird about this as you were. 

Your phone vibrated again.

Jakeyboy Are you coming on Friday? 

Jake had the Providence Regional this weekend. If they won, they’ll be headed to the Frozen Four. This was important to him. If you don’t go, he wouldn’t spend the whole game wondering why you weren’t sitting in the stands cheering on him, wondering what he did wrong. You refused to be the reason he’s distracted.

Before you can overthink it, your hand moves toward your phone.

You unlock it. Open your chat with Jake.

You type quickly.

Y/N I am sorry I was swarmed with work yesterday :( Prof Hwang wanted me to hand in my essay until yesterday instead of Friday so i had to focus and i banned my phone to the kitchen  I’ll be at your game tomorrow! I promise!!!

And then, before you could second-guess yourself, you locked your phone, flipped it over again, and tried to pretend you didn’t feel relief washing over you. ──────────────────────────Jake leaned against the wall outside the locker room, one foot tapping against the floor, hands gripping his phone way too tight. The screen was blank. No notifications. No texts from you.

He checked the time. Five minutes until he had to start getting ready.

You weren’t coming.

He knew it, but he still kept glancing up every time someone walked by, heart jumping for half a second before sinking again. Maybe you got held up. Maybe you forgot. Maybe–

Beomguy came running in, just barely making it around the curve to almost crash into Jake.

"Dude. What are you still doing out here?"

Jake shoved his phone into his pocket. "Nothing."

Beomgyu gave him a once-over. "Right. So you’re just lurking outside the locker room like a lost puppy for no reason?"

Jake rolled his eyes, pushing off the wall. "Shut up."

Beomgyu’s eyes narrowed. "Where is Y/N?”

Jake didn’t answer.

Beomgyu whistled low. "Damn. She’s always here." He shifted, lowering his voice. "Did you guys fight or something?"

"No," Jake muttered, jaw tightening. "She’s just busy."

Beomgyu studied him for a second, like he didn’t quite believe it, but he let it go. "We gotta get changed before Coach loses his shit."

Jake nodded, but even as he followed Beomgyu inside, he couldn’t shake the disappointment curling in his chest. The question lingered, gnawing at the edge of Jake’s thoughts even as he stood and grabbed his helmet.

Had you fought?

No.

But it sure as hell felt like he was losing you anyway.

You’d promised to come.

You knew how important that game was.

And that, more than anything, fucking hurt.

Jake tried to shake off the gnawing disappointment clawing at his chest. The game was happening around him, sticks clashing, skates cutting across the ice, the sharp echo of the puck ricocheting off the boards, but his mind wasn’t in it.

You weren’t there.

Not outside the locker room before warm-ups. Not by the tunnel where you always wished him luck. Not even a last-minute text. Just silence.

He told himself it was fine. You had school, you were busy—but damn, it stung. More than he wanted to admit.

Then he spotted you sitting down next to Sunghoon.

Jake barely processed the wave of relief that crashed over him. His chest felt lighter, and before he could stop himself, a stupid, lopsided grin tugged at his lips.

The second the puck dropped again, he forced himself to focus, taking long strides, chasing it down along the boards. He caught a pass cleanly, shifted his weight to turn–

And then he got crushed.

Pain exploded through his side as he slammed into the boards, hard enough to make his teeth clack together. His helmet rattled. Someone shouted. He barely heard it over the ringing in his ears.

Jake hit the ice but pushed himself up immediately, shaking it off. His ribs screamed in protest, but whatever. Pain was part of the game. He took a deep breath, forced his focus back, and skated after the play.

As he lined up for the next face-off, he couldn’t help but steal another glance at you.

And for some reason, the ache in his chest hurt worse than the hit.

Jake exhaled, flexed his grip on his stick, and forced himself to look forward. He’d deal with everything else, you, after the game. ──────────────────────────The cool night air wrapped around Jake as he stepped out of the rink, scanning the small crowd until his eyes landed on you. You stood near Sunghoon and one of the guys’ girlfriends, leaning against the railing. Your shoulders were slumped, and there were faint bags under your eyes, like you hadn’t been sleeping much, and your hair, normally styled with some effort, was lazily pulled back, like you just hadn’t cared today. When you spotted him, you smiled. “Congrats,” you murmured, stepping forward and wrapping your arms around him.

Jake barely hesitated before hugging you back, pulling you in closer. He inhaled the familiar scent of you and suddenly, the ache in his ribs wasn’t the thing making it hard to breathe. You held onto him a second longer than usual, and when you spoke again, it was barely above a whisper. “Are you okay?” Jake exhaled against your hair, feeling his chest tighten. He knew you weren’t just asking about the hit.

“Yeah,” he muttered, even if it wasn’t entirely true. You pulled back just enough to look up at him, eyes searching his like you didn’t believe him. He tilted his head slightly, studying your face as well and he whispered back, “Are you?” For a second, he thought you wouldn’t answer. Your lips parted slightly, but no words came out. Then, finally, you nodded. Jake didn’t believe that either. But he let you lie. Just like you let him. ────────────────────────── You were standing next to Jay and Yeonjun at the bar, sipping on your second sex on the beach when the DJ played his third Katy Perry song of the evening. Usually the hockey team celebrated with fried chicken or at the small bar near the rink but today they decided to go to the club. A decision you weren’t too enthusiastic about but went along nonetheless. It was nice to see the others.

It was however not nice to see Jake dancing with another girl. She was way too close for it to be friendly dancing. You swallowed and took another sip, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling in your stomach. 

Beomgyu wrapped his arms around your and Yeonjuns shoulder shouting “Katy shots everyone! Yeonjun hyung is paying!”

Everyone meant you, him, Jay and Yeonjun since you were pretty sure none of the other players heard what he just said. 

Yeonjun just rolled his eyes, but motioned to the bartender ordering four shots. He was already slurring his words and you knew he should probably stop soon. But you didn’t really care. Maybe another shot would help you forget what you just saw. 

You drowned your already half empty sex on the beach and took the shot, laughing at Beomgyu who was trying to get you to dance with him. 

He turned the two of you and you were happy to not see Jake anymore.

But that also meant Beomgyu did. 

“Damn Y/N. You let Jake get flirted with by other girls? I know you are chill, but this chill?”, his hands grasped your shoulders and he turned you back towards the bar, to Jay and Yeonjuns gazes were following where Beomgyu was now pointing. 

“Oh yeah. Why not?”, you asked, ignoring the hot disgusting feeling in your veins when you watched her grasp Jake's biceps. 

“Because he is your boyfriend?”, Beomgyu asked bewildered.

Fuck.

“Didn’t he tell you?” You tilted your head, feigning mild surprise. “We broke up.”

The second the words left your mouth, the entire table went silent. Oh, it seems like there were more of his team at the bar than you thought. 

“You… what?” Sunghoon blinked at you, beer bottle paused halfway to his lips. Where did he come from? You swore he wasn’t at the bar two seconds ago. Or maybe you were just really drunk already. Probably.  

“We broke up,” you repeated, keeping your voice light. You even forced a small, casual shrug, ignoring the tight knot forming in your stomach. “Just realized we were better off as friends.”

More silence. Or well as silent as a full club could be with the music and conversations bouncing from the walls.

“Since when?” Jay demanded, looking between you and Jake like he was waiting for one of you to jump up and yell ‘gotcha!’

You felt the heat of Jake’s stare from across the room. You knew he was watching you. But you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes, not when that girl was practically draping herself over him.

She was giggling at something he said, pressing a manicured hand to his bicep.

Your jaw clenched.

“A couple days after the wedding,” you answered smoothly, taking a slow sip of your drink. “We just didn’t make a big deal out of it.”

“Bullshit.” Heeseung scoffed, narrowing his eyes. “There’s no way you two just broke up and didn’t say anything. He would have told us.”

You rolled your eyes, waving a dismissive hand. “What do you want me to say? It just didn’t work out. We’re still friends.”

Lies.

You wanted it to work out. 

You wanted him. Wanted him to love you. To not be talking to a random girl in a club.

But you were scared. 

Jay crossed his arms, studying you carefully. “You’re telling me you guys just… mutually decided to go back to being friends?”

“Yep.”

An arm suddenly draped over your shoulders.

“Wait, wait, wait,” one of Nicolas slurred, his grin sloppy from too many drinks. “So that means you’re single now?”

Your stomach twisted.

“I mean, technically, yeah,” you said, and smiled at him.

The guy let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Damn.” He glanced toward Jake, then back at you, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. “Guess that means EJ has a chance now, if you let him.”

You forced a laugh.

“Yeah,” you said, ignoring the sudden, unbearable heat crawling up your neck. “Guess so.”

──────────────────────────

The walk back to your apartment felt both too long and not long enough. The world was spinning slightly.

Jake walked beside you, hands shoved deep into his pockets, his head tilted slightly downward. He insisted on walking you home. After he finally got rid of that girl and came back to the bar to drink a Katy shot he realized how drunk you were getting and forbade you to drink your Katy shot. That was fine with you. The alcohol didn’t help you forget. It made everything worse. So stopping was definitely the more clever thing to do. 

Now you were here. Alone.

You should have said something. Cracked a joke. Made fun of him for how he had let some girl hang all over him at the party.

But you didn’t.

“I’m glad you came tonight,” he murmured, breaking the silence.

You exhaled, your breath curling in the cold night air. That wasn’t what you expected him to say. Your heart clenched. 

“I’m sorry I was late,” you whispered into the dark. “I should have been there to wish you good luck before you went on the ice.”

Jake slowed down slightly, tilting his head toward you. “It’s okay.” 

It wasn’t.

You had spent almost an hour trying to talk yourself into going at all. Sitting on the edge of your bed, staring at your phone, watching the minutes disappear. You had almost bailed. But you had gone anyway. You had forced yourself to get dressed, to push through the nausea curling in your stomach.

“You don’t have to say that,” you mumbled, eyes trained on the sidewalk.

Jake huffed a small laugh, shaking his head. “I mean it. It was just a game.”

Just a game.

You bit your lip, arms wrapping around yourself. You should have been there. From the start.

“I still should have been there. I promised after all.” you said, your voice quieter now.

Jake glanced at you again, his expression shifting into something softer.

“Hey,” he said after a beat, nudging you lightly with his elbow. “You still showed up.”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t know how to.

He slowed down slightly, looking at you with an earnest expression. “Are you okay?”

You swallowed, fighting to keep your mind clear. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you said quickly, but the lie felt bitter as it left your mouth. It tasted awful. Felt even worse.

Jake didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t push it. Instead, his face softened in that way he did when he was being gentle with you, like he could tell something was off but didn’t know how to ask. He always did that when he realized you had a hard day in the lab. He knew he had to wait for you to open up. Which you did. Always.

But today you continued to walk to your apartment in silence.

When you reached your building, you turned to hug him goodbye. When you wrapped your arms around his torso he stiffened. It was small, almost imperceptible, but you felt it in the way his muscles tensed beneath your arms, the way his breath caught just slightly.

You pulled back, blinking up at him. “Jake?”

He forced a smile. “It’s nothing.”

Your eyes narrowed. “You flinched.”

“It’s fine,” he muttered.

Your chest ached. A deep, gnawing, ugly ache. Because of course he was hurt. YOu saw him get hurt. 

You crossed your arms, ignoring the slight sway in your vision. “Let me check.”

Jake exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “I don’t think–”

“Please Jake.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, and you hated how raw your voice sounded. 

Jake hesitated. He watched you carefully, like he was trying to read something on your face. But then, finally, he sighed, giving in with a tired nod.

You led him inside, neither of you speaking. The silence was thick, pressing down on you, and you wondered if he could feel it too.

Your bathroom was dimly lit, a single overhead bulb casting long shadows against the tiled walls. The space was small. When Jake leaned back against the sink, you had no choice but to step between his legs, your knees brushing against the rough fabric of his jeans.

“Take it off,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

He swallowed. Then, slowly, he pulled his tshirt over his head, the fabric ruffling his already-messy hair.

Your breath caught.

Jake was warm. His skin golden under the dim light, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. The bruises were already starting to bloom across his ribs, dark and violent against his skin.

You reached out, your fingertips grazing the swollen area. Jake hissed, his body jerking back, before relaxing under your touch. “Jesus, your hands are cold.”

“Sorry,” you murmured, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you let your fingers trace lightly over the bruises, moving carefully, feeling the way his stomach tensed beneath your touch. The dim light illuminated the way his chest rose and fell, making him look almost vulnerable in that moment. You gently probed his side, checking for any fractures. You didn’t realize you were swaying slightly until his hands found your hips, steadying you. The warmth of his palms burned through the fabric of your top, making your head spin more. Your heart pounded, your pulse a steady, traitorous rhythm in your throat. As your hands ran over the bruise, you felt his body stiffen and his eyes tighten, but you continued, feeling for anything that seemed off. You pulled your hand back slightly, a slight frown pulling at your lips as you looked at him. He was fine, no broken ribs, just bruising. 

He was watching you. You could feel it. The weight of his gaze pressing into you, heavy and unreadable. Like he was waiting for something. For you to say something. To do something.

You couldn’t.

And then, his fingers moved-just slightly, just enough to brush under the hem of your top, to touch the bare skin of your waist. His touch was light, but it sent a sharp shiver up your spine.

Something inside you snapped.

Before you could stop yourself, you surged forward, pressing your lips against his.

Jake froze. Just for a second. But then he was kissing you back.

And fuck, it was good.

Too good. Too much.

His hand slid from your waist, up, fingertips ghosting over your ribs, over your side, up to the base of your neck. And when his fingers pressed against your skin, when his thumb dragged over the column of your throat, you shuddered. A small, broken sound escaped you.

Jake made a noise low in his throat, something between a groan and a sigh, and it made your stomach twist painfully. 

You didn’t even notice you were crying until Jake pulled back, his brows furrowing.

His hands gently cupped your face, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin, “Why are you crying?”

You shook your head. You didn’t want to answer. You didn’t want to talk.

So you kissed him again.

This time, he was gentler. Softer.

And it only made you cry harder.

Because it felt like grief.

Because you were mourning something you never really had. Something you couldn’t have.

The moment your lips left his, Jake didn’t pull you back. Instead, his hands found your face again, holding it with just enough space between you that he could see your face.

Tears clung to your lashes, slipping down your cheeks silently. 

“Hey,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head. You couldn’t answer. 

Jake’s thumb stroked over your wet cheek “Y/N.” His voice was firmer now, but still careful.

Instead of answering you hiccuped, shook your head and pressed your face against his bare chest.

And then, barely above a whisper, barely audible over the sound of his heartbeat against your ear, you choked out, "I’m so sorry."

Jake stiffened, but it only lasted a second. Then, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you in without a second thought. No hesitation. No questions. Just warmth.

His hands ran soothingly up and down your back, gentle, steady. “Hey,” he said again, quieter this time. “Why are you –”

"I’m sorry," you interrupted, voice barely working through the lump in your throat. "I’m so sorry."

Jake’s fingers curled slightly into the fabric of your hoodie, his grip tightening. “Why are you saying that?”

But you just shook your head again, screwing your eyes shut, pressing your forehead harder against his collarbone.

Because you shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be in his arms.

You should have gone no contact. You had gone no contact.

And now you had ruined it.

“I am sorry Jake.”

Jake exhaled slowly, resting his chin lightly against the top of your head. His chest rose and fell against you, his heartbeat strong, steady, the only sound in the dimly lit bathroom.

“You don’t have to –” he started, then stopped himself, like he wasn’t sure what to say. He tried again. “Whatever’s going on, you don’t have to go through it alone.”

That made your chest ache.

You sucked in a shaky breath, but it didn’t help. It just made the tears come harder, your fingers gripping onto him.

Jake didn’t move. Didn’t push for answers. Didn’t ask you to stop crying.

He just held you, warm and quiet and safe.

And you hated yourself for wanting to stay.

──────────────────────────Jake stared at the black screen of his phone. He tapped it. Nothing. No messages, no missed calls. Just the same empty notifications that had been there five minutes ago.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair before letting the screen fade back to black.

The day after the game, after the party, after you kissed him and broke down he thought you were just tired and wanted to be left alone. Maybe something had happened in the lab. He didn’t know. You apologized over and over again and didn’t stop hiccuping until you felt asleep. You never told him what you were apologizing for and he didn’t know what you could be apologizing for. What he did know was that it broke his heart. 

By the second day, he was uneasy.

By the fourth, when his messages were still left on read, when every TikTok he sent remained unopened, when you hadn’t even sent him a half-assed meme in return, something inside him twisted tightly.

You never cried. He had never seen you cry, not once. And now, not only had he seen it, but you were pushing him away.

And worst of all, he had no idea why

It didn’t make sense. Nothing had happened, right? At least, nothing bad.

He scrolled through your chat again. 

Jake Hey, how’s your day? Jake Y/N? Jake Are you okay?

No reply.

The worst part? It wasn’t just him. 

He hoped you might be studying with your friends in the empty classroom you preferred to use, but your friends told him you didn’t answer their texts. Chaewon was looking as worried as Jake felt, when he told them that you weren’t answering his either.

Sunghoon had told him you skipped out on lunch with him.

If this was just about the kiss, why were you avoiding everyone?

It made him feel sick.

And now, Jay was standing in front of him in the rink’s locker room, arms crossed, staring at him like he was a fucking criminal.

“What did you do?”

Jake looked up, brows furrowing. “What?”

Jay huffed, shifting his weight like he was trying to stay patient. “Y/N. She’s avoiding all of us. So, what did you do?”

Jake exhaled sharply, leaning against the bench behind him. “I don’t know.” His voice was hoarse, tired. Defeated. “She just… stopped answering me. I don’t get it.”

Jay narrowed his eyes, like he was trying to decide whether Jake was lying or just stupid. “You don’t get it? You two were practically glued together at the hip a week ago. Now she won’t even look at you? I know you broke up, but she said you were still friends? That you ended it mutually?”

Jake dragged a hand down his face. “Yeah I thought so, too.”

Jay’s expression softened, just slightly. “Did something happen at the wedding? Or after?”

Jake hesitated. He thought about telling Jay the truth. About the kiss. About the way you had melted against him one second, only to shut him out completely the next. 

“I–” Jake’s throat tightened. “I really don’t know.”

Jay studied him for a moment before shaking his head. “Well, whatever it is, you need to fix it.”

Jake let out a humorless laugh, hollow and bitter. “Yeah? How am I supposed to do that when she won’t even talk to me?”

Jay sighed. “Figure it out.”

Jake swallowed hard, staring at the unread messages on his screen.

He just wished he knew what he did wrong.

────────────────────────── Your hands were shaking.

You made a mistake.

You don’t make mistakes.

Mistakes mean carelessness. A lack of control.

Yet here you were, standing over a decomposed body in the forensic taphonomy lab, staring at the mistake you just made.

Your pulse roared in your ears as you tried to correct your mistake, but it was too late. A single misstep in this field could mean an entire case being thrown out in the real world. You couldn’t make mistakes. The stakes were too high for mistakes. You knew better. And yet, today, you made a mistake.

Your professor’s voice cut through the haze. “Y/N.”

You flinched.

Professor Kim, looked at you with something close to concern. He rarely stepped in during labs unless absolutely necessary, but now, he gently pulled off his gloves and nodded toward the door.

“Step outside with me.”

Shame crept up your spine as you followed him into the dimly lit hallway, away from the smell of decay and chemicals. The second the door shut behind you, he sighed.

“What’s going on? You’ve been off the whole week.”

You stared at the floor, hands balled into fists. You didn’t want to have this conversation. Not with him, not with anyone.

But Professor Kim knew you too well. He had seen you excel, seen you obsess over every little detail until it was perfect. And now he saw you fail.

“I don’t make mistakes,” you murmured, voice tight.

He exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. “No, you don’t. Which is why I’m asking what’s wrong.”

You swallowed hard. The lump in your throat was unbearable.

You wanted to tell him everything. That you kissed Jake. That you regret it. That you regret giving him hope. That you can’t stop thinking about the way his hands felt on your skin, the way his voice broke when he asked what was going on.

That you can’t even focus on yourself anymore.

But you can’t say any of that.

You should lie. Say you’re fine. Say you’re just stressed, that it won’t happen again.

But your throat feels tight, and before you can stop yourself, the truth slips out.

“I don’t know.”

Professor Kim nods, like he expected that answer. “Take the rest of the day off.”

Your head snaps up. “What?”

“You’re not helping anyone in this state. Not yourself, not your peers, and certainly not whoever’s lying on that table.” His voice is firm, but there’s something gentle underneath it. “I won’t mark you for today. But, Y/N… get your head together.”

His words cut deeper than they should. You nod stiffly, barely managing a choked-out “Thank you” before walking away.

Because the truth is, you don’t know how to fix this.

How to fix yourself. ──────────────────────────You didn’t go to class the next day. Or the day after. It didn’t even feel like a decision. You just couldn’t. The exhaustion seeped into your bones, weighing you down like an anchor, making everything feel distant and dull. You woke up, stared at your ceiling, and the idea of getting dressed, walking outside, pretending you were fine—it was unbearable. So you didn’t. You called your doctor, told him you were feeling like shit—physically, mentally, you didn’t even clarify, and he didn’t ask. He just signed off on an excuse for the rest of the week. No questions. No judgment. You should have felt relieved. You felt nothing. The days blurred. You ignored texts, ignored missed calls, ignored the quiet ache in your chest every time you saw Jake’s name light up your screen. You thought about answering, about saying sorry, I just need time, but even that felt like too much effort.

You didn’t know how long you had been sitting there. The sky had been soft and golden when you first stepped outside, the sun dipping lazily toward the horizon. You watched it set, watched the world shift from warm orange to dusky purple, then fade into black. Now, only the distant glow of the city lights kept you company.

It wasn’t particularly cold, but it wasn’t warm either. The kind of in-between temperature that should have been comfortable but somehow wasn’t.

Your fingers fumbled with the cigarette between them.

You didn’t usually hesitate. But now, you just stared at it. The lighter sat beside you, untouched. It was stupid—after everything, this was what made you pause? You had been craving the nicotine all day, the mindless comfort of smoke filling your lungs, but for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to light it.

Maybe because you knew Jake would hate it. Maybe because, for the first time in weeks, you didn’t want to disappoint him any more than you already had. Or maybe, deep down, you knew it wouldn’t actually make you feel any better. You squeezed your eyes shut, tilting your head back against the wall, exhaling shakily.

You just needed one second to breathe.

Just one.

You exhaled slowly, staring at the cigarette pinched between your fingers.

Then, before you could think about it any longer, you flicked the lighter. The flame danced in the dark, small and fleeting. You brought it to the end of the cigarette, inhaling deeply as the ember caught, glowing softly in the night.

The first drag burned.

It was sharp in your throat, settling heavy in your lungs. You held it in for a second, like it would make a difference, like it would calm the storm in your chest.

It didn’t.

You let the smoke slip past your lips, watching it curl into the air, disappearing into nothing. The taste lingered—bitter, stale, wrong. You waited for it to do something, to ease the tension in your body, to make you feel anything other than this crushing weight of regret.

Your phone sat beside you, screen dark. You hadn’t checked it in hours. You didn’t need to. You already knew.

Jake played the Frozen Four today.

And you weren’t there.

You never went to away games—traveling was too much, and he understood that. But you always texted him. Always. Even when you were too busy, too tired, too overwhelmed with school, you always managed to send him something. A dumb joke. A simple You got this. A reminder that he wasn’t alone. Because he deserved support. Because his family wouldn’t give it to him. And you swore you would. Even if you weren’t currently in the midst of fake dating. You were—you are—friends. And friends support each other.

But you didn’t.

You let the entire day slip through your fingers, drowning in your own mess, spiraling so deep into yourself that you forgot about him. A sharp inhale stung your throat as you brought the cigarette to your lips again.

You took another drag.

The weight in your chest didn’t lift. The guilt didn’t ease. You exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl into the air before vanishing into the night.

Jake’s voice echoed in your head, uninvited.

"You know that shit’s bad for you, right?"

He never scolded, never judged. He just looked at you with that quiet concern, the kind that made you feel seen in a way that was almost unbearable. "Seriously, Y/N."

Your stomach twisted painfully. You should have wished him good luck. The least you could have done was let him know you were thinking of him. That you still cared, even if you were trying so damn hard to stop.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you pressed the cigarette into the brick ledge, snuffing it out before you even finished.

It didn’t fix anything.

And now, you regretted another thing. ────────────────────────── Winning should feel better than this.

The crowd was roaring. His teammates were celebrating, their cheers echoing off the locker room walls, but Jake just sat there, hunched forward on the bench, elbows on his knees, staring at his phone. The screen stayes dark. No messages. No missed calls. At least not from you. Instead, his dad called.

"Congratulations, son. I heard you won."

Jake didn’t answer right away. Just gripped his phone so tight he thought it might crack.

Because he knew his dad hadn’t watched the game. He never watched.

"I’ve been thinking," his dad continued, voice calm, detached, businesslike–just like always. "I’ll be transferring to the satellite office in Seoul. I want to be closer to my family. Closer to you."

Jake’s blood turned to ice. His dad didn’t do things like that. He didn’t just decide to be around. He didn’t care about being close to Jake.

"We should have dinner tomorrow. Just the two of us. Catch up."

Jake felt sick. His dad never just did things for him. There was always a catch. A reason. A way it benefited him more than Jake. This was exactly why it all started, wasn’t it? The fake dating. The whole fucking mess.

Because of him.

Because Jake had wanted, for once, to have some kind of control. To be able to tell his dad: Look, see? I have something good. I don’t need you to approve of me, because I’m happy without it. And you had gone along with it. Had agreed just to piss off Marcus. And now? Now you weren’t even speaking to him.

Maybe he could call you. Maybe he could try to explain how much this sucked, how it was making his skin crawl, how the last thing he wanted was to sit down and have dinner with the one man who had never once supported him. But he knew you wouldn’t pick up. You barely even answered his texts. When you did, it was short, vague, nothing like the way you used to talk to him before. Before you kissed him in you dimly lit bathroom. Before you cried against his chest. Before everything changed.

Jake ran a hand through his hair, his jaw clenching so hard it hurt. You had promised to be there. Not just for this game–for him. You had promised to be supportive, because his family wasn’t. But you hadn’t even wished him good luck. And fuck, it hurt.

Jake swallowed back the instinct to refuse his dads invitation. Because he couldn’t refuse. Not without making it worse. So he said yes. And now he was sitting here, in the locker room, watching his teammates lose their minds in celebration while he felt like absolute shit.

He played like absolute shit.

The first period had been a disaster. He was still skating around like a ghost, head stuck somewhere else. Then he spotted an opening, a clean pass heading his way, and suddenly he was laying on the ice, unable to breath. The hit came from his blind spot, full force, slamming him into the boards.

Pain exploded through his ribs. His vision blurred at the edges, and he collapsed onto the ice. He managed to push himself up, wincing hard, gripping his stick like it was the only thing keeping him upright. His entire side throbbed in time with his heartbeat. His ribs, still sore from last week, felt like they had been lit on fire. He skated off during intermission, barely making it to the locker room before leaning against the wall, eyes squeezed shut.

"CC, I can’t," he admitted, voice tight, breath shallow. "It hurts too much to breathe." The Coach barely questioned it. Just eyed him, saw the ice pack he pressed to his ribs, and nodded. Jake was benched. And the worst part? He was relieved.

He couldn’t keep playing like this. Not when he was this distracted, this fucking miserable.

He overheard Chaewon and Yujin talk yesterday. You weren't coming to class. Or to study meetings. Or anywhere. Jake had only half-heard it at the time. But now, the words echo in his head, over and over. You weren't just avoiding him. You were avoiding everyone.

And he had no idea why.

His fingers tighten around his phone. His stomach twists. He misses you. So much it’s physically painful now. ────────────────────────── Jake sat stiffly in his chair, barely touching the wine glass in front of him. He should’ve expected this. The pristine, dimly lit private dining room. The carefully curated silence. His father sitting across from him, impeccable as always, as if he hadn’t just summoned Jake here to systematically dismantle him. He should’ve expected it, but it still made his stomach churn.

“You’re quiet.” His father’s voice was as sharp as ever, but there was an air of disinterest to it, like he wasn’t particularly concerned about the answer. Jake forced a shrug, fingers tracing the stem of his glass. “Just tired.” His father hummed as if that was an acceptable excuse, but they both knew it wasn’t. They made small talk, if you could even call it that. His father updated him on the company’s numbers, on his brother’s continued excellence, on things that were supposed to matter to him but never had. Jake responded when necessary, nodding at all the right times, murmuring an occasional “hmm” or “sounds great” even though none of it registered. He felt disconnected. Like he was watching himself from the outside, just waiting for the inevitable shift in conversation.

“Y/N,” his father said, casually cutting into his steak. “Marcus’ father had plenty to say about her. And after seeing her at the wedding myself, I can’t say I disagree.” Jake’s jaw locked, but he said nothing. “She’s… bleak,” his father continued. “Certainly not the kind of woman I expected you to be involved with.” He set his knife down with a soft clink. “You could do better. You already have done better.”

Jake stared blankly at the table. There was something almost funny about it, really. His father didn’t even say it cruelly. Just plainly. Like it was a fact. Like he wasn’t talking about the person his son is in love with, at least in a fake way for his father.

“She’s not a good fit for you,” his father continued, taking a sip of wine. “Especially not considering your future.”

Jake exhaled slowly, exhaustion creeping in at the edges of his mind. He was so tired of this conversation. So tired of being told what he was supposed to be, what he was supposed to want.

“And I am not talking about hockey. Hockey isn’t a future, Jaeyun.” His father finally met his gaze. “It’s a distraction. A temporary indulgence. You always knew that.”

Jake swallowed, his throat dry.

“I let you have this because your mother insisted. But you’re not a child anymore. It’s time to stop pretending this is something you can build a life around.”

His father spoke like it was obvious, like Jake should be grateful for being allowed to chase a dream that was never meant to be permanent. Jake felt… hollow. He should be angry. He should feel something. But all he could think about was how small he felt sitting here.

“You will take over the Seoul branch,” his father continued smoothly. “That’s non-negotiable. You’re a Sim. It’s your responsibility.” Jake forced himself to breathe. “And if I don’t?” His voice came out quieter than he intended. His father’s expression didn’t even flicker. “Then I will cut you off.” There it was. So simple. So matter-of-fact. Jake just… nodded. Not because he agreed. Not because he was backing down. But because he suddenly felt too drained to keep going in circles. His father sighed, picking up his knife again, as if this entire conversation had been a minor inconvenience. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but you’ll understand in time. You have too much potential to waste on something so fleeting.”

Jake didn’t respond.

Because what was the point? His father had already decided who he was, what his life should be. There was no convincing him otherwise. Jake pushed his chair back, standing on legs that felt unsteady beneath him.

His father barely glanced up. “Where are you going?” Jake’s voice was quiet, almost empty. “Home.” He turned and walked out.

The restaurant doors shut behind him, but the world outside didn’t feel any lighter. The streets buzzed with life, but it all blurred together. He felt like he was moving through static, like nothing was real. He exhaled shakily, pressing his fingers to his temples. His hands felt cold.

And all he could think about was how much he wanted to see you. Because somehow, you were the only thing that had ever made all of this feel bearable. And whatever Jakes dad wanted, it was never Jake’s happiness. It was control. Molding Jake into the perfect heir, and in his father’s eyes, you didn’t fit into that equation. His mind felt foggy, his body running on autopilot as he walked without thinking. Step after step, streetlight after streetlight, but it didn’t make him feel any less numb.

He knew Jay and Heeseung would be at the dorm when he got back. Knew they were probably waiting, wanting to ask how dinner had gone, if his dad had finally backed off, if the conversation had been tolerable for once. It wasn’t. It never was. But he didn’t have the energy to talk about it.

So when he finally reached their building, when he stepped through the door and saw them sitting on the couch, their heads turning toward him immediately—he ignored them.

“Jake–” Jay started, already pushing off the couch, but Jake didn’t stop.

Didn’t look at them. Didn’t acknowledge Heeseung’s furrowed brows, the concern etched into his face. Didn’t say a word. He just kept walking. Straight past them, down the hall, into his room. The door shut behind him with a quiet click.

And finally, finally, he let himself breathe.

He didn’t turn the light on. Just stood there in the dark, fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket before he slowly peeled it off. His movements were sluggish, detached, like his body wasn’t fully connected to his mind. His dad’s words echoed in his head, looping endlessly.

Hockey isn’t a future, Jaeyun. You’re not a child anymore. You have no choice.

Jake swallowed against the lump in his throat and let himself collapse onto the bed. He barely managed to toe off his shoes before pressing his face into the pillow, shutting his eyes like it would make everything disappear. But it didn’t. He felt like a fucking failure. No matter what he did, no matter how hard he worked, it was never enough. His brother would always be the golden child. Jake would always be the disappointment–the one wasting his time, the one throwing his potential away.

He had spent his whole life trying not to care about that.

But he did. God, he did.

He knew his father’s words had shaped him more than he wanted to admit. The way he second-guessed himself. The way he always pushed himself harder, trying to prove something, even when there was no one left to convince.

His father had made him feel like he wasn’t enough so often. Every single time he tried to be the son his father wanted. Every single time he failed.

That’s why he dated Sophia. He wasn’t sure he had ever actually even liked her. Not really. Not in the way he liked you.

With you, it was different.

He never had to force himself to be excited to see you, it just happened. You could be talking about the most gruesome, disgusting cases, and he would still be hooked, watching the way your eyes lit up when you explained something you loved. You never made him feel like he had something to prove. Like he was something to parade around in school or in front of your friends, a trophy boyfriend per say, like Sophia did. She definitely didn't date him because she liked him either, judging by how ugly all of it ended. You supported him without hesitation, without making him feel like he had to earn it first. You believed in him, even when his own family didn’t. You made him feel like he was enough.

And god, the butterflies. The stupid, stupid butterflies. He hadn’t felt that way in years. Giddy, like a little schoolboy. 

But apparently, none of it mattered.

Because you didn’t feel the same. ────────────────────────── A few days after Jake played the Frozen Four, you forced yourself to pull it together and go back to class. Your professors had assigned you essays on the topics you’d missed, and for once, you were actually grateful for the workload. It gave you something to focus on.  You texted Jake two days after the game, apologizing for not wishing him luck and congratulating him on the win. But he didn’t answer. You told yourself you understood. If he was mad, if he didn’t feel like talking to you, that was fair. You had pulled away first. But you decided that the two of you had to talk.  This couldn’t go on like this. You had to tell him how you felt. And you had to explain why you needed to step back. You didn’t hear Jay come in. You barely noticed him at first, too focused on the essay you were working on. He sighed and slid into the chair across from you, setting his arms on the desk, catching your attention. You swallowed, shutting your laptop. “Hey, Jay.” “Hey, Y/N.” His voice was quiet, careful. You glanced at him. He was watching you, brows furrowed in concern. "You scared me." Your throat tightened. "Jay—" "I mean it," he cut in, shaking his head. “You disappeared. You stopped going to class, you didn’t go to the game, you barely answer texts. And I wanted to give you space but it's been two weeks and I am worried." Guilt curled in your stomach. You looked away. You had been avoiding him. Not because you wanted to – but because you didn't know how to explain what had been running through your head these past few weeks. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I need you to talk to me, because I don’t think you’re okay.”, Jay exhaled. "You don’t just get to disappear," he said, his voice quieter now. "You don’t just get to lock yourself away and expect people not to care. I care. Jake definitely cares." He let out a slow breath, watching you carefully. "I just – I need to know what’s going on in that head of yours."

You hesitated and focused on your laptop again.  You wanted to tell him. Jay had grown to be one of your closest friends, until you started pulling away from everyone. "Did Jake do something?" That made you look up. "No, Jay." The words came out harsh and immediate, your voice cracking under the weight of them. "That’s the problem."  And just like that the dam broke: “Jake and I were faking it all. We were never together. Or like kinda? I have no idea. He asked me because his dad is such a stupid arrogant asshole who makes him feel like shit even though Jake is such an amazing person. And I just went along and then you thought we were like you know dating without saying anything and we just thought oh why not. If you would believe us his dad definitely would do too. But-”  You swallowed hard, fingers tightening around the desk. "Then- then this stupid fake dating thing didn’t stay fake for me and I actually fell for that stupid idiot. And now I am living through a cliche rom com crisis."

Jay stilled. For a second, he just stared at you. Then he let out a slow, almost pained breath, dragging a hand down his face. "Jesus Christ. Are you actually telling me that you and Jake spent months pretending to be together, being disgustingly obsessed with each other, making literal heart eyes across the room, and you thought–what? That you were faking it?", he let out a breath, shaking his head. You nodded. You were surprised he wasn’t more surprised at the whole dating thing.  “Why did you end it then, Y/N? If you knew you liked him. That it wasn’t fake for you.”, he asked. “Because I don’t belong in his world Jay. I saw that at the wedding. I don’t belong in his world of rich people who marry their kids off because it looks better for their company's reputation.”, you swallowed and looked away. Jay just shook his head. "So you pulled away because you were scared." It wasn’t a question. You nodded again. Jay let out a quiet, frustrated sigh, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Fuck,” he whispered. “Y/N. You really thought walking away was the best thing to do?"

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening. "I thought if I ended it first, it would be easier." His lips pressed together. Then, softer he asked, "And? Was it?" You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to.

He shook his head. "You know, I don’t think you even realize what you did to yourself. You isolated yourself. You disappeared from everything. And I get it, okay? I do. When you care about someone that much, it’s scary. But shutting down? Pretending it doesn’t hurt? That’s not protecting yourself. That’s just making sure you have no one to catch you when you finally break." His words hit you like a punch to the gut. You clenched your jaw, blinking hard. "I didn’t want him to feel bad," you said, your voice small. "I didn’t want him to have to let me down gently when his dad finally thought I wasn’t enough. I didn’t want him to deal with me."

Jay let out a soft, exasperated laugh, shaking his head. "And who told you that he would? In which world would Jake allow his dad to destroy his friendships, his relationship for fucks sake." You looked away. He was right. Jay was silent for a moment. "You don’t have to do this alone, Y/N. You shouldn’t do this alone." He shook his head, a small, wry smile tugging at his lips.

"You pulled away from me, too," he said, quieter now. "You don’t get to do this alone, okay? You don’t have to." Your heart broke hearing him say that. "I miss him," you whispered. Jay sighed, shaking his head. "Yeah. And he misses you." You let out a slow breath, staring at the desk. “Y/N, you love him. And he loves you.”

You flinched. “Jay—” “He does. It's probably too early for him to say it himself, but it's so obvious.” His voice was firm, like he needed you to believe it. “He’s miserable, Y/N. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this. His dad took him out to dinner.” Jay exhaled sharply. “And you weren’t there. You weren’t anywhere.” Guilt curled in your chest like a vice. Jay sighed. “I’m not saying this to make you feel worse. You didn’t ruin this, Y/N. But you will if you don’t fix it.” You let out a slow breath, staring at the desk. Jay nudged you one last time. "So. What are you gonna do about it?" You stared at your hands, feeling your pulse in your throat. “I don’t even know where to start,” you said, voice small, defeated. Jay’s face softened. “You start with him.” His voice was steady, the kind of gentle guidance you hadn’t realized you needed. "But you start now. You don’t have to have the perfect words. You don’t have to have some big, dramatic confession. You just have to talk to him.” You met his eyes, feeling that old ache return, but this time, you knew you could do something about it. “I’m scared,” you admitted quietly. “I know.” Jay nodded, his eyes softening with empathy. “But you won’t know until you try.”

You exhaled shakily, staring down at your desk.

Jay was right. ──────────────────────────

The glow of Jake’s phone was the only source of light in the dark room. He was laying on his back, staring blankly at the screen, watching as the minutes ticked by.

4:12 PM.

He hadn’t moved in hours. Hadn’t gone to class. Hadn’t gone to practice. Tomorrow was the NCAA National Championship, and he should be panicking about the fact that he was getting benched. But he wasn’t. Because even if Coach wasn’t benching him for missing practice, he physically couldn’t play. Not with his ribs still fucked from the last two games. He had known something was wrong when every breath felt like a knife to his side, but he hadn’t cared enough to get it checked out until Jay practically dragged him to the team doctor. Fractured ribs. A solid six weeks of recovery. No hockey. He should care. But he didn’t. Not about the game. Not about the championship. Not about anything.

The only thing rattling around in his brain was you. And his dad. And the overwhelming, crushing feeling of failure. His phone buzzed suddenly, cutting through the silence. Jake squinted at the screen.

Joshua [Incoming Call] For a second, he debated letting it ring. But then he picked up. Josh never called, so it had to be something important. 

“…Hey.”

“Hey, Jake,” Joshua’s voice came through, steady but softer than he remembered. “You got a minute?”

Jake let out a short, humorless laugh. “I got a lot of minutes.”

Joshua sighed. “Yeah, I figured.” There was a pause before he said, “Dad told me what happened at dinner.”

Jake let out a bitter laugh. “Of course, he did. What did he say? That I was throwing my future away? That I was making a fool of myself?”

“What did he tell you?”

Jake exhaled, pressing a hand against his aching ribs. “Not much to say. He laid out his usual bullshit about how hockey isn’t a future, how I have no choice but to take over the Seoul branch. Then threw in some shit about my relationship being a bad look for the family—because apparently, Marcus’s dad had some opinions.”

There was a beat of silence before Joshua asked, “What did you say?”

Jake closed his eyes. “Told him I wasn’t gonna be his chess piece.”

Joshua huffed out something that almost sounded like a laugh. “Bet he loved that.”

“Oh yeah. Real father-son bonding moment.”

Another pause. Then Joshua’s voice came through, quieter.

“Jake… I’m sorry.”

Jake frowned. “For what?”

“For all of it.” Joshua hesitated. “For how Dad treated you. For how I just—let it happen. I didn’t know how bad it was, but that’s not an excuse. I should’ve done something. I should’ve been there for you.”

Jake swallowed. He wasn’t used to hearing this from his brother. Joshua had always been untouchable—the one their dad never criticized, the one who seemed to just belong in that world.

But now, for the first time, he sounded… human.

“It’s not your fault,” Jake muttered.

Joshua sighed. “Maybe not. But I still should’ve told you sooner that you don’t have to listen to him.”

Jake didn’t say anything.

Joshua was silent for a long moment before saying, “Jake, you don’t have to do this. You don’t have to let him control your life.”

“I don’t exactly have a choice,” Jake muttered. “He made it clear. No Seoul branch, no financial support.”

“You do have a choice,” Joshua countered. “Go no contact. Cut him off before he can do it to you. I know you’re worried about money,” Joshua continued, “but listen. Whatever you need, I’ve got you. You don’t have to keep trying to please him just to survive.”

Jake swallowed hard. 

“Why?” Jake asked. “Why are you even calling?”

Joshua sighed. “Because I should have done it sooner. Because I hate how Dad treats you, how he’s always compared us, like you were some failure when all you’ve done is chase what makes you happy. I never wanted to be the golden child, Jake. I just- I loved playing music, and I was good at business, but I didn’t want it to be at your expense.”

Jake let out a shaky breath. “You don’t know how fucking hard it’s been,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Trying so goddamn hard just to be enough for him. And no matter what I do, it’s never enough.”

“I know,” Joshua said. “And I’m sorry.”

Jake swallowed past the lump in his throat. He was too tired to be angry, too drained to hold onto the resentment he had clung to for so long. He exhaled. “I think I’m done, Josh. I think I’m done trying.”

“Good,” Joshua said. “Because you don’t need to prove anything to him.”

Jake closed his eyes, the weight on his chest shifting—not gone, but lighter. “Thanks, Josh.”

“For what?”

“For calling.”

There was a pause, then Joshua chuckled softly. “Anytime, little brother.”

Jake ran a hand through his hair. “Guess I’m officially the family disappointment, huh?”

Joshua let out a breath of amusement. “Nah. You’re the one who actually had the guts to walk away.”

Jake didn’t know what to say to that.

Then Joshua added, “For what it’s worth? I’m proud of you.”

Jake blinked.

He didn’t think he’d ever heard those words from a family member before.

It shouldn’t have made his throat feel tight.

But it did.

He forced out a chuckle, trying to cover up the sudden swell of emotion. “Damn, hyung. That almost sounded sincere.”

Joshua laughed. “Don’t get used to it.”

Jake let out a deep breath, leaning back against the pillow as he tried to keep his mind from wandering. He didn’t want to think about the game. He didn’t want to think about anything. But Joshua kept going, his voice cutting through the fog in Jake’s head.

“So, what about tomorrow?” Joshua asked, casually. “The championship, right? Are you nervous?”

Jake blinked, surprised. “Wait, you know about the game?”

Joshua snorted. “Sure. I might not watch all the games, but I try to keep up. I mean, how could I not know about the biggest one of the season? It's your biggest game yet. Maybe you'll get the opportunity to get into a professional team if a agent is watching?”

Jake rubbed his temples, trying to focus on his brother's words. His chest felt tight just thinking about it.

“Yeah, well…” Jake hesitated, his voice faltering. “I’m not playing.”

Joshua went quiet. Then, after a long moment of silence, he said, “What? Why not?”

Jake took a shallow breath, avoiding the words for as long as he could. “I, uh… I have a rib fracture.”

The words hung in the air between them, and Jake felt a knot tighten in his stomach, because as soon as they left his mouth, the memory of the last time someone checked on him, the way you had kissed him after your conversation two weeks ago, flashed in his mind.

“What? Jake, a rib fracture? What the hell? Why didn’t you say anything sooner? You can’t just—”

"It's okay. I had worse.", Jake shrugged, cutting him off. He swallowed hard, still trying to suppress the memory of your touch.

“Jake,” Joshua said urgently, his voice low with concern. “You need to get that checked out. That’s serious. Why aren’t you-”

Jake interrupted him again. "I'm fine. Y/N checked on me and said it's probably fine but then during the game on Saturday I was distracted and someone pushed me into the board. Jay made me see a doctor and everything is fine. I just have to be careful for the next few weeks. Don't worry. But uhm maybe don't tell mom. I don't want her to freak out."

Joshua let out a huff. "Jake, you are insane. I hope Y/N is taking good care of you, if Mina knew I had a broken rib she wouldn't let me out of bed."

Jake let out a dry chuckle, but it lacked any real humor. He ran a hand through his hair, hesitating for a moment before finally saying, “Yeah, well… Y/N’s not taking care of me.” His voice was quieter now, more strained. “I haven’t seen her in almost two weeks.”

Joshua was silent for a second. Then, incredulously, “Wait. What do you mean you haven’t seen her?”

Jake exhaled sharply, staring up at the ceiling. “I mean exactly that. She’s avoiding me.” The words felt heavy as they left his mouth, pressing down on his chest in a way that had nothing to do with his ribs.

Joshua scoffed, completely baffled. “Why the hell would she avoid you? I thought she is your girlfriend.”

Jake let out another humorless laugh. "Yeah she kinda never was.”

 “Jake… what do you mean?”

Jake shut his eyes, pressing his fingers against his temple as if that would somehow make everything disappear. “We were never real.”

“What?”

Jake exhaled, pressing his knuckles against his eyes. “It was fake. The whole thing.”

Joshua still didn’t say anything, so Jake kept going before he lost the nerve. “I asked her to be my fake girlfriend for the wedding. That’s how it started.” The words felt heavy in his mouth, like he was confessing to a crime. “We… we went on these, like, ‘not-dates’ to get to know each other. But then our friends assumed we were actually together, and we just went with it. I don’t even know when it started feeling… different.”

Joshua let out a breath. “Different?”

Jake groaned, flopping onto his back. “I don’t know, man. At first, it was just fun. But then we kissed. And I thought—God, I don’t even know what I thought. Then we kissed again at that stupid party, and we kissed at the wedding and she kissed me again after telling everyone we broke up and then—” He stopped himself, voice catching.

Joshua’s voice was quiet but firm. “And then what?”

Jake swallowed past the lump in his throat. “And then she broke down during the kiss. And apologized. Over and over. And I still don't know what she was feeling so sorry for. Probably for ghosting me. She probably knew she was going to do this.”

Joshua didn’t respond immediately. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer. “Shit.”

“Yeah.” Jake let out a bitter laugh. “And now she won’t answer my texts. Or anyone’s. She’s not going to class. It’s like she just… disappeared. And I don’t know what to do.”

Joshua was quiet for a moment before saying, “And you miss her.”

Jake let out a dry, humorless chuckle. “Yeah. A fuck ton.”

Joshua hummed in understanding. “So, let me get this straight. You asked her to be your fake girlfriend, but now you actually want to be with her?”

Jake let out a slow breath. “Yeah.”

“And she kissed you and then cried, and now she’s avoiding you?”

Jake winced. “Basically.”

Joshua exhaled. “Jake.”

Jake closed his eyes, shaking his head. “She made it pretty clear how she felt.” His voice was quiet now, defeated. “I was stupid for thinking it could be something real.”

Joshua made a frustrated noise. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Jake. Are you serious?”

Jake frowned. “What?”

“She likes you.”

Jake let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Clearly not.”

Joshua groaned. “Jake, I was at that wedding. I saw you two together. I saw the way you looked at her. I saw the way she looked at you. That was not fake."

Jake’s stomach twisted. “You’re imagining things.”

“I’m not.” Joshua’s voice was firm. “She looked at you like you hung the damn moon, Jake.”

Jake pressed his palms into his eyes, trying to fight the wave of emotion building in his chest. “Then why is she gone?”

Joshua sighed. “That’s what you need to figure out.”

Jake let out a shaky breath. “I don’t even know if she wants to see me.”

Joshua’s voice softened. “Then find out. Kissing you and then crying about knowing she will ghost you doesn't sound like someone that doesn't feel something for you, you know. Maybe it started as fake. But it seems like it isn't anymore. For neither of you.”

Jake huffed. “Yeah, well, if she does have feelings, she’s doing a great job of pretending otherwise.”

Joshua sighed. “Jake, this girl spent weeks pretending to date you. You really think she’s incapable of pretending something else?”

Jake clenched his jaw, the words slipping out before he could stop them. “I don’t know what to do, Josh.”

Joshua was silent for a moment, like he was carefully choosing his next words. “You talk to her.”

Jake huffed. “She’s avoiding me.”

“Then make her listen.”

Jake let out a humorless laugh. “That easy, huh?”

“I didn’t say it’d be easy,” Joshua shot back. “But what’s the alternative? Just giving up? Accepting that the best thing that’s ever happened to you just walked away?”

Jake sucked in a sharp breath. He hated how easily his brother could see through him.

“I know you,” Joshua continued. “You don’t just let things go when they matter. And don’t even try to tell me she didn’t matter.”

Jake didn’t say anything.

Joshua sighed again, but this time, it was softer. “Just… think about it, alright?”

Jake ran a hand down his face, feeling utterly drained. “Yeah. I’ll think about it.”

He had been thinking about nothing but you for the past two weeks. ──────────────────────────They lost.  They fucking lost.  Jake was sitting next to Sunghoon and Chaeryoung behind the players bench in the stadium not believing his eyes. The opposing team managed to get the puck into their net two times within 10 seconds in the second period. The goals were brilliant and there was a reason why Seok Matthew got drafted by the eagles, but fuck. This couldn’t be happening. The buzzer ran to signal the end of the third period and Jake basically jumped down to his team, ignoring the sharp pain in his ribs. This couldn’t be happening.  Jay ripped his helmet off and looked up towards the ceiling, Heeseung skated to the bench and slowly undid his gloves and helmet, looking absolutely devastated. Beomgy looked like he was about to cry and Soobin and Yeonjun immediately hugged him and presumably told him it was not his fault.  Jake just stood there.  They lost.  Their coach gathered them in the locker room, his voice softer than usual, a hand resting firmly on Soobin’s shoulder as he addressed the team. “You boys played a hell of a season. Hold your heads high. You gave it everything.”

Jake had wanted to send him and Yeonjun off with a win, a championship, a night of celebration that would go down in history. Instead, all they had was silence. The bus ride home was heavy. No music, no usual post-game excitement. Just quiet. After a while, their coach stood up and grabbed the mic at the front of the bus.  “Guys,” he started, glancing back at them. “You played fantastic. This whole season was incredible. I rarely have a team with this much connection, this much passion. It was an honor coaching you. So many of you have a bright future in hockey. And this? This isn’t the end. It’s just fuel for next year.” He gave them a small smile. “Next season, the cup will be ours.” A few murmurs of agreement rippled through the team, some nods, some tired smiles. Later that night, they all found themselves crammed into their regular bar. The air was filled with the low hum of conversation, the occasional burst of laughter that felt a little forced at first, but eventually, the drinks started kicking in and they took over the music cranking it up high. “Alright, alright,” Beomgyu announced, standing on one of the bar stools and clinking his beer bottle against his ring. “We may have lost, but we’re still the hottest hockey team in the league, and that counts for something, right?” A weak cheer went up, and Beomgyu scowled. “No, no, no. That was pathetic. Let’s try again – we are still the hottest hockey team in the league, and that counts for something, right?” This time, the response was louder, mixed with laughter and a few playful boos. Jake, slouched against the booth with a whiskey in hand, cheered along, with less enthusiasm as some of the others. He wasn’t feeling particularly celebratory. But the others had enough to drink already to feel enthusiastic again. Beomgyu climbed down from his chair and steered right at Jake. “Okay Jake. Stop pouting. We lost, so what. Smile dude. I just called you hot.”

That actually made Jake chuckle a bit. “I am not feeling very hot right now to be honest.” “Oh wait wait! I know what will make you feel hot within a few seconds again!”, Beomguy turned around and made his way to the DJ and then to the bar. He returned a few minutes later holding up shot glasses filled with red liquids. “Prairie fires!” And then, as if on cue, the opening beats of Hot N Cold blasted through the speakers. “Oh, fuck off,” Jake groaned, while Beomgyu cackled and slammed a shot glass down in front of him. “Katy Perry rules, baby,” Beomgyu smirked. “Take the shot.”

Jake sighed but tipped the tequila back without complaint. The rule was dumb as hell, but it was his rule, and he had to respect it. The alcohol and the hot sauce bruned in his throat when he swallowed the shot.  Then the next song started. Last Friday Night. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.” “Rules are rules,” Beomgyu grinned, already handing him another one. Jake exhaled heavily before knocking back another shot.

Then, California Gurls. Jake groaned but took another. Then Teenage Dream. Then Dark Horse. And before he could even process how many shots he had downed in the span of 45 minutes, he was already way past the point of being buzzed.

“I hate all of you,” Jake slurred, swaying slightly as he grabbed onto Nicolas’s shoulder for support, which turned out to be a horrible idea, since he was swaying just as much as Jake. “Correction: you love us,” Beomgyu grinned, drowned another shot alone and turned around. “Soobin hyung! I come to give you my love!” Across the bar, Soobin barely had time to react before Beomgyu launched himself at him. “No!” Soobin’s voice rang out in pure, genuine panic, which send Nicolas and Jake into a laughing fit so hard, that Jake was scared he was going to pee his pants.

Jake was still catching his breath when another Katy Perry song blasted through the speakers, and suddenly, an arm slung around his shoulders. “Jake! It’s Katy! Where are our shots?” “Kotone!” he laughed, spinning around and wrapping her in a bear hug. Without thinking, he lifted her off the ground, making her shriek. “My favorite shots partner!” “Fuck, let me down,” she gasped between laughs. “Imma vomit if you spin me!”

Jake just squeezed her tighter. “You’d still be my favorite!” She smacked his shoulder, still laughing as he finally set her down. “Jay should get us shots,” she declared, nodding seriously. “I want those weird apple shots we had last time. Where’s Y/N? She also has to have one!” His heart stumbled. “She’s… at home,” he said, trying to keep his voice neutral. Kotone frowned. “Aw, no. Why? She needs some Katy shots.” She spotted Jay and almost threw herself into his arms. “Baby. Can you buy us apple shots? Its Katy.”

Jay looked at her with such a love sick facial expression Jake felt like kicking him in the nuts. Jay absolutely deserved to be happy and Kotone made him so happy, he was such a simp for that girl it made Jake sick. He just wanted to kick him for being happy in front of him. And then someone skipped Teenage Dream and he heard the first notes of Finesse by Bruno mars. His heart stopped. In fact everything felt like it stopped. He had to blink aggressively to stop his tears from falling. His breath hitched, his pulse quickened, and the bar faded around him. This song. This fucking song. His eyes darted around, and suddenly, it was like watching a slow-motion montage of all his friends pulling their boyfriends, their girlfriends, their person in for a kiss. Jay and Kotone. Yeonjun and Chaeryoung. Even Beomgyu, drunk out of his mind, was spinning some girl in a circle before kissing her forehead sloppily. It was tradition.

And the last time he heard that song he took part in it. Pulling you close. Kissing you. And you kissed back. It was soft and dizzying, the taste of cigarettes and tequila on your tongue, your hands tangling in his hair. Fuck. He could still feel it.

Still taste you. And he wanted to kiss you again so badly it made his head spin worse than the alcohol ever could. Before he could think, he turned on his heel and started toward the door. He needed to go. He didn’t know where exactly—your place? His? Somewhere else? But he had to go.

It didn’t matter that you hadn’t answered his texts. Didn’t matter that you had been avoiding everyone. Didn’t matter that he had no idea if you even wanted to see him. He needed to find you.

And so, without another word, he turned and stumbled toward the door. ──────��─────────────────── You were on the cusp of sleep when the sound of your doorbell ringing woke you up again. You groaned and glanced at your alarm clock.  2:14 am. Who would ring your doorbell at two am in the morning. Who would need anything from you at two in the morning? Your doorbell rang again, this time longer. And again. And again. You signed and peeled your blanket off your body. Shuffling toward the front door, you pressed the button to the intercom. “Hello?” “Y/N?” Jake. What was Jake doing here at 2 am.  You furrowed your brow in confusion. “Jake? What are you doing here?” “Y/N please please let me in.” His voice was slurring, and you could tell he was drunk. Without thinking, you grabbed your keys and slipped on a pair of flip-flops before rushing down the stairs to the entrance door of the building. When you opened it you froze for a second. Jake was slumped against the wall next to the door, looking absolutely wrecked. His eyes were glassy and his cheeks and neck flushed. He smelled like alcohol. When he saw you, his head shot up, and before you could even process what was happening, he staggered forward, wrapping his arms around you. His body trembled slightly as he pressed his face into your shoulder. He was crying. You felt his hot tears soaking through the thin material of your Pyjama shirt. “Why did you leave me, Y/N?” he whispered, his voice breaking. “What did I do?” You had to close your eyes for a second swallowing hard. “Jake…” You gently pushed him away just enough to look into his face. He looked beautiful, even while he was drunk and crying he looked devastatingly beautiful.

You couldn't stop yourself from wiping his cheeks with your thumb. “Jake you’re drunk.” His glassy eyes locked onto yours, a deep frown tugging at his lips. “No,” he mumbled, shaking his head sluggishly. “Not Jake.” His bottom lip trembled. “I’m not Jake. I’m Jakey. Or Jakeyboy.” His brows knitted together, voice turning small, wounded. “Why are you calling me Jake?” And just like that, your heart shattered. It felt like the air had been punched out of your lungs.

Your throat tightened painfully. You blinked hard, forcing back the sting in your eyes. "Why, Y/N? Why aren’t you speaking to me? Why aren't you speaking to anyone?” His voice cracked as he buried his face into your hands, seeking comfort, yet his words only made everything worse. “I miss you.” You couldn’t believe this was happening. It felt like a bad dream. You were the reason why he looked like this, why he was feeling miserable, as Jay put it, and it broke your heart. “Let’s go inside, Jake,” you said softly, trying to keep your voice steady. “Let’s get you some water.” Jake nodded against your hands, his eyes fluttering shut as if the simple gesture had exhausted him.

You carefully took his hands and helped him stumble inside, leading him to your small apartment. It was more of a one-room studio than anything, but you guided him to sit on the bed and knelt before him. His eyes never left you but he calmed down slightly, not crying anymore.  When you got him to remove his jacket and shirt, you handed him one of his shirts he left at your place after training once. You washed it and it had been lying in your closet ever since.  He looked like a kicked puppy, his face full of hurt. You stood in front of him, standing between his legs, gently cupping his face in your hands again. His skin was warm and flushed from alcohol. “Jake, I’m so sorry. I should’ve talked to you. I should’ve—” Your voice broke, tears welling in your eyes. “I’m so sorry.” Before you could say anything more, he suddenly pulled you toward him, burying his face in your stomach. His arms wrapped tightly around you, fingers clutching at the fabric of your shirt like he was afraid you’d slip away again. You felt the warmth of his breath against your skin, the way his shoulders shook, and the wetness of his tears seeping through the thin cotton. “Why did you disappear, Y/N?” His voice was so small. Your hands trembled as they found their way into his hair, your fingers threading through the strands. “I don’t know, Jake,” you whispered, your own voice breaking. “I don’t know—but I am so, so sorry.” A sob caught in your throat, and the dam broke. You tried to hide your face in your hands.

Jake pulled back slightly, his hands reaching up to wrap around your wrists, gently tugging them away from your tear-streaked face. You just shook your head and another sob made its way from your throat. “Jake, I’m sorry. I was scared. I–I didn’t know what to do,” you choked out. His grip on your wrists tightened and he carefully pulled you onto his lap. “You just disappeared, Y/N,” he whispered against your temple and you could smell the faint taste of tequila.  Why did it always have to be tequila?  

“You were gone. You promised.” He exhaled shakily, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your temple. Then another. And another. “I was so worried,” he murmured against your skin. Another kiss. “I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice barely more than a breath. “What happened? Please, I need you to talk to me.” You squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head. Not now. You had promised Jay and yourself that you’d talk to Jake, that you’d tell him everything. But not while he was like this. Not when he was clearly drunk. “Tomorrow, Jake,” you whispered, sniffling as you leaned further into him. “I’ll tell you everything tomorrow, when you’re sober. I promise. And this time, I’ll keep it.”

His hands lingered on your wrists for a beat longer before finally loosening, though he still didn’t let go. You pulled away just enough to grab a box of tissues from your bedside table, dabbing at your cheeks before handing him one. He took it, wiping his face, but his fingers never left your skin, still curled loosely around your wrist, as if he was terrified you’d vanish the second he let go. You swallowed the lump in your throat and mustered a small smile, tugging on his hand. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Jake let out a quiet sigh but nodded, letting you guide him toward the bathroom. As soon as you flicked on the light, the déjà vu hit you like a tidal wave. Him, slumped against your sink. A spare toothbrush hanging lazily from his mouth. The way his gaze lingered on you in the mirror, unfocused but so unbearably soft. He washed his face, dried it off, and the second his hands were free, they found your wrist again. You led Jake back to your bed, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of the streetlamp outside. You could see how exhausted he was, he was moving slowly and sluggishly.  You pulled back the blanket and nudged him toward the mattress. He didn’t argue, just sank onto it with a quiet sigh, rolling onto his side. You hesitated for a moment before lying down beside him, careful, unsure. But Jake didn’t hesitate. The second you were within reach, he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you against his chest, his nose pressing into the crook of your neck.

He exhaled softly, his breath warm against your skin, and you felt the way his body slowly relaxed against yours. His grip on you remained firm, but the tension in his shoulders faded, his breathing evening out as he fell asleep. Your eyes flickered to the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. You shifted slightly, your hand brushing against something soft, and when you turned your head, your fingers curled around a familiar plushie. Mr. Fluffinton the Third. Your chest ached. You should’ve talked to Jake. You should’ve stayed. Instead, you ran. And now, lying here in the quiet, feeling his steady breathing against your neck, all you could think about was how much you had missed him. How much you still missed him. And how afraid you were that you had ruined everything. ────────────────────────── The city was still quiet when you stepped onto the rooftop. A cold breeze kissed your skin, sending a shiver down your spine as you crossed your arms over your chest.  Just standing up here made you itch to light up a cigarette. Letting the nicotine calm your nerves when your mind was too loud to sleep. You haven’t bought a new packet since you threw your last one into the trash two weeks ago.  The day you missed his game. You took a deep breath, staring out at the streets that were still dark. You hadn’t slept – not really. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw Jake. The way he had looked at you when you let him in. The way he had held you, his grip tight like he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers again. The way he had whispered, Why did you leave me? Why are you calling me Jake? You swallowed hard, rubbing your arms before turning back toward the stairwell. You weren’t sure how long you had been up there, but the sky was starting to lighten, the first hints of dawn creeping over the horizon. You sighed, shaking off the lingering chill as you made your way back down to your apartment. The sound of you opening your apartment door woke Jake up, his face soft with sleep, hair a mess against your pillow. His brows furrowed as he blinked, his eyes searching the room until they landed on you. “Where’d you go?” His voice was thick with sleep, raspy and quiet. Your heart clenched.  You crossed the room without thinking, dropping to your knees in front of him. Your hands found his face, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones, and he leaned into your touch instinctively, his eyes fluttering shut for a second. “Just the roof,” you murmured. “I couldn’t sleep.” Jake blinked up at you, and for a moment, he just studied you. Your fingers moved from his cheeks to his hair, gently carding through the strands, trying to lull him into sleep again. Then your hand brushed against something soft, and you glanced down to see Mr. Fluffington the Third, clutched loosely in Jake’s grip.

Your throat tightened, and you stroked his cheek with your thumb, voice barely above a whisper. “Go back to sleep, Jake.” His lashes fluttered, but he didn’t take his eyes off you. “You’ll be here when I wake up?” You swallowed against the lump in your throat. “I’ll be here.” Jake didn’t say anything else. He just nodded sleepily, his grip on Mr. Fluffington tightening slightly as he let his eyes slip shut again.

You stayed there, kneeling beside the bed, watching as his breathing evened out. His lashes cast soft shadows against his cheeks, lips parted just slightly, his face still carrying that gentle confusion, like even in sleep, he wasn’t sure if you’d really be there when he woke up again. You exhaled shakily, brushing a strand of hair off his forehead before you finally stood. Slipping back into bed beside him felt strange. It felt like too much and not enough all at once. But the moment your body settled against the mattress, Jake’s arms moved instinctively, wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer. You turned onto your side, facing him, and let yourself study him in the dim light. How had you ever thought you could just leave? Your fingers hovered near his face, tracing over the air between you before you finally gave in, brushing your knuckles against his cheek. He sighed softly in his sleep, leaning into your touch even unconsciously. You bit your lip, eyes stinging.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow you would talk. Tomorrow you would tell him everything. ────────────────────────── You stirred awake to the feeling of soft fingers running through your hair. The warmth of Jake’s body beneath you, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the gentle touch against your scalp. The slight scratch almost made you fall asleep again but Jake's voice interrupted your almost slumber. “You’re awake.” His voice was quiet, still thick with sleep. You hummed in response, not ready to move, not ready to look him in the eye. His fingers didn’t stop moving in your hair. “You didn’t sleep much, did you?” You swallowed hard. “Not really.” Jake let out a small sigh, his thumb brushing lightly against the nape of your neck. "Y/N..."

You tensed. You knew what was coming. You had promised him answers. "Tell me what happened," he murmured. "Tell me why you left." Your fingers curled into his shirt, your heart pounding. "Jake..." "I'm right here," he whispered. "Just talk to me." You took a shaky breath, forcing yourself to speak before fear could make you run again. "I—" Your voice broke. "I'm scared Jake."

His breath caught, but he didn’t say anything, just kept running his fingers through your hair, waiting. You took a deep breath, but it felt like your lungs couldn’t expand properly. Like the weight of everything you had been holding in was pressing down on your chest, threatening to suffocate you. Jake waited. Patient, steady, warm. His fingers still moved through your hair. "I know I don’t belong in your world, Jake." The words tumbled out before you could stop them, before you could talk yourself into silence again. Your voice was hoarse, raw with the truth you had tried to bury. "I’ve always known." Jake’s body stiffened beneath you. “Y/N…” "Sophia told me," you went on, your fingers gripping his shirt a little tighter, needing something to hold onto. "At the wedding. She told me that her marriage with Marcus was just a business deal. That none of it was real." You felt Jake inhale sharply.

"And it just—God, it hit me all at once," you whispered. "Everything your father said to me that night. The way he looked at me like I was nothing. Like I wasn’t good enough." Jake swore under his breath, his hand stilling against the nape of your neck. "He would never approve of me, Jake," you said, voice breaking. "And I couldn’t—I couldn’t put myself through that again. I can't be the girl who gets tossed aside when something better comes along. I’ve already been that girl." Jake exhaled sharply. "You think I would do that to you?" "I don’t know." The confession felt like ripping open an old wound. "I just—I am scared. Scared of getting my heart broken again by another rich boy who’s out of my league." His hold on you tightened. "I thought—" you swallowed hard, squeezing your eyes shut. "I thought if I ended it first, it would hurt less. For me. For you." Jake was silent for a long moment. And then, so quietly you almost didn’t hear him—“You really think it hurt less?” Your throat tightened. Because looking at him now, feeling the way his body trembled underneath yours, the way his breath came unsteadily, the way he had shown up at your door last night looking absolutely wrecked.

No. It hadn’t hurt less at all. Jake let out a shaky breath, his hand still resting against the nape of your neck, his thumb tracing absentminded circles against your skin. He wasn’t saying anything, but you could feel the tension in his body, in the way his chest rose and fell unevenly beneath you. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet.

"I can’t believe you think I would’ve done that to you." You squeezed your eyes shut, guilt clawing at your ribs. "Jake–" "No," he said, shaking his head slightly. "I need you to hear this." His fingers slid into your hair again, not to comfort, but to tilt your face up, forcing you to look at him. The hurt in his gaze made your stomach twist painfully. You felt your eyes water. "I would never do that to you, Y/N," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "I would never let my dad, or anyone else, decide who I should be with. You think I give a damn about his approval?"

Your breath hitched. "You really thought I would’ve just–what? Tossed you aside when it got hard? When he didn’t approve?" His jaw clenched, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. "You think so little of me?" Your stomach churned. "It’s not that," you murmured. "I was trying to protect myself. And you." Jake let out a soft, bitter laugh. "Yeah? Well, you didn’t. You just hurt us both." He was right. You did. "Jake…" "Do you know how fucking miserable I’ve been, Y/N?" His voice cracked slightly, and it broke something in you. "I kept telling myself there had to be a reason. That there was something I did wrong, something I could’ve fixed if you had just talked to me." You shook your head, throat burning. "There wasn’t."

His eyes softened, but there was still something so profoundly wounded in his expression. "Then why didn’t you let me fight for you? Why did you let me love you." Your throat tightened as his words settled deep in your chest, heavy and suffocating. You had thought you were doing the right thing. That cutting things off before they got too real would save you both the pain of an inevitable ending. But looking at him now, at the hurt in his eyes, at the way his fingers trembled ever so slightly where they held you, you realized you had only rewritten the ending in the worst way possible. Your vision blurred. “Jake, I—” Your voice cracked, and you sucked in a shaky breath, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. "I was scared." His jaw clenched, but he didn’t say anything, just waited. "I thought—" You swallowed, your hands tightening into fists against his chest. "I thought if I let myself have this, have you, it would hurt even more when I lost it." Jake’s breath hitched. "You never even gave me the chance to prove you wouldn’t lose me." A tear slipped down your cheek, and his eyes immediately flickered to it, his thumb moving instinctively to wipe it away. His touch was so soft, so heartbreakingly gentle that it only made your chest ache more. "Your dad hates me, Jake," you whispered. "And he’s right. I don’t belong in your world. I was never supposed to."

Jake inhaled sharply, and for the first time, anger flickered through his pain. "Fuck that." His voice was still quiet, but there was an unmistakable edge to it now. "You think I give a shit what my dad thinks? You think I would’ve let him ruin this for us?" A sob escaped you before you could stop it, and then his arms were wrapping around you completely, pulling you into his chest like he was afraid you’d slip away again. Your hands fisted into the fabric of his shirt, holding onto him just as tightly. "I’m so sorry," you whispered, the words barely making it past the lump in your throat. "I’m so, so sorry." Jake exhaled shakily, his lips pressing against the top of your head. "You should’ve let me fight for you," he murmured again, voice wrecked. "I know," you choked out, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks. Jake pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands cradling your face like you were something fragile. "I can't lose you again," he whispered. "You won’t," you promised, voice trembling. And then, he kissed you.

His lips were soft against yours but he kissed you with a sense of urgency you weren’t used to from him. One of his hands buried itself in your hair and the other one slid down to your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. You melted into him, your hands moving up to tangle in his hair, tugging lightly, just to reassure yourself that he was real, that this was real. Jake groaned softly against your mouth. The hand in your hair found its way to your neck. It slid down your spine, slow and deliberate, the tips of his fingers barely ghosting over your skin. You gasped into the kiss, and he took full advantage of it, tilting his head and deepening it, his tongue tentatively brushing against yours. You slightly pulled on his hair and he gasped into your mouth, pulling away slightly to breath before connecting your lips again.  You caught his bottom lip between your teeth and bit down gently. 

He whined. He fucking whined, a soft, needy sound. His grip on you tightened. His breath hitched, his body pressing even closer to yours. Jake pulled back just enough to press his forehead to yours, his lips parted, his breaths coming just as uneven as yours. "Are you still scared?" he murmured, his thumb brushing over your cheek. You swallowed hard, your fingers tracing absentmindedly over his collarbone. "Terrified." A small, breathless laugh escaped him. "Me too."

You giggled and put your head onto his chest again, interviewing your fingers and relishing in the warmth of Jake's body. Neither of you spoke for a long time. You were just there. In each others arms, breathing slowly.  Then, after a while, Jake sighed. His chest rose and fell beneath you, and you felt his fingers tighten slightly against your back. “I, uh… I cut contact with my dad.” You blinked, shifting slightly so you could look up at him. His gaze was fixed on the ceiling, his jaw tight, like he wasn’t sure how to say the words out loud.

“Jake…” “He invited me for dinner.” he said, voice quieter now. “I just…couldn’t do it. I walked out.” He exhaled sharply. “I think I always knew it would end up like this. I just didn’t want to admit it.” You reached up, brushing your fingers lightly over his collarbone. “I’m sorry.” “Don’t be.” He swallowed. “It’s better this way.”

You didn’t say anything, just traced slow circles against his skin, letting him know you were here, that you were listening. He let out a small, almost self-deprecating laugh. “Josh called me.”, he paused. “ To apologize. It’s weird, you know? I spent so long thinking he was just another part of the problem. That he only cared about himself. But he actually… He actually cares.” Your chest tightened. “Of course he does, Jake.” Jake nodded, exhaling. “Yeah. I think I finally get that.” His fingers brushed over your shoulder, absentminded, like he was still trying to process it all himself. “I don’t know if we’ll ever be close. But at least we’re not fighting anymore.”

You smiled softly, reaching up to cup his face. He leaned into your touch instinctively, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief second. “I’m glad,” you whispered. Jake looked at you then, really looked at you. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Me too.” Jake didn’t say anything for a while. He just held you, his fingers running gently through your hair, his breathing steady against the top of your head.  You let your eyes flutter shut, exhaustion settling deep in your bones. You felt your body growing heavier. “You should sleep,” Jake said softly, like he could feel how close you were to slipping under. You tried to fight it, but your eyelids were so heavy, your body sinking deeper into the warmth of his body. “You’ll still be here?” you mumbled, barely awake now. Jake’s arms tightened around you. “I’m not going anywhere.” That was the last thing you heard before sleep finally pulled you under. ──────────────────────────Jakes mom called him while he was still laying in your bed, eating nachos while watching Bones with you. Well he was watching Bones and you were dozing on his chest. He reached for his phone lying on the bedside table next to him, but before he could pick up his phone his mom already ended the call. She had texted him half an hour earlier. 

Mom Hello Jake I am going to be in Seoul from tomorrow until Sunday 🤗 Would you and Y/N like to eat dinner with me? In the small DakGalbi restaurant near your grandmas house?

Jake felt you raising your herald peeking onto his phone screen. “Say yes.”, you said, your voice a bit rough from disuse.  “Mhm?”, he raised an eyebrow and watched you sit up in the bed gathering your hair in a messy ponytail. His eyes got stuck on the soft skin on your neck. His hands haven't left that spot alone since he woke up this morning. Something about it was just so alluring to him.  “Tell your mom we will be there. Tomorrow evening. She was nice compared and seemed to genuinely like me. Even when we only played pretend.”, you shrugged. 

Jakes had to really make himself to look away from your neck. The tshirt you were wearing didn't make it better. The oversized and stretched material exposing your collarbones. His fingers twitched with the urge to trace along the delicate curve. God, you were so unfair. "You want me to say yes?"  You hummed and climbed over his body out of the bed. Now that he was officially your not fake boyfriend anymore he was allowed to stare at you without feeling weird or like a creep. You made your way to the bathroom and his eyes didn’t leave your body for a second.  Jake sighed and texted his mom back. 

Instead of coming back to your bed you stayed in of the area you called kitchen and pulled a carton of eggs from your fridge and frozen berries from your fridge. You tossed the berries at Jake, who was almost hit square in the face.  “For your ribs.”, you nodded, while you gathered everything you needed for whatever you were planning to cook right now.  Jake caught the frozen berries at the last second, hissing at the cold against his fingers. "You're really out here trying to kill me when I am already injured, huh?" You smirked as you cracked an egg into a bowl. "If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t miss." Jake let out a dramatic sigh, tossing the berries onto the counter before sliding off the bed. "My own girlfriend is a menace."

"Oh? So now I’m your girlfriend?" He froze mid-step, narrowing his eyes at you. "What else would you be?" You only hummed in response, the corner of your lips quirking up as you turned back to the stove.  He walked right up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in your neck. You let out an exasperated sigh, though you didn’t push him away. "Jake."

"Mmm." His grip tightened slightly, and his lips brushed against your skin.  "You’re like a lost puppy." Jake smiled against your neck. "And you love it." You scoffed. "I tolerate it." "Liar."

You were about to fire back some witty retort, but then Jake’s lips parted, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss just below your jaw. Your breath caught. His hands slid lower, fingers skimming the hem of your shirt, thumbs pressing softly against your stomach. He kissed you again—slightly higher this time. "Jake," you warned, but it came out weaker than intended. "Hmm?" His voice was innocent, but his actions were anything but.

He kissed along the line of your neck, trailing down until he reached your shoulder. You could feel the smirk on his lips when you inhaled sharply, your hands gripping the counter for support. You turned your head slightly, meeting his gaze with a smirk. "You are a weak man, Jaeyun Sim.” Jake scoffed, pressing a hand to his chest in mock offense. "Weak? Me?"

"Mm-hmm," you hummed, lazily dragging a finger down his bare arm that was wrapped around your front. "You’re all over me, Sim. Can’t even let me cook without trying to get me distracted." He narrowed his eyes playfully, grasping your shoulder to turn you around, caging you in between his body and the inner edge of your counter.   He leaned forward slightly and he slotted his thigh between your legs just to watch the way your breath caught. "You’re talking an awful lot of shit for someone who’s letting me touch them right now," he murmured, his thumb brushing along your jawline.

You tilted your head, eyes dark with amusement. "Who said I was letting you?" Jake groaned. "I hate you." You grinned. "No, you don’t." "No, I don’t," he sighed, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you even closer and you rolled your eyes before pressing your lips against his burying your hands in his hair. He let out a satisfied hum blindly but before the kiss could go further he pulled back a bit. You opened your eyes and pouted at him. “Hey! Now I let you and you pull away?” He giggled at that and pressed his forehead against yours. “I don’t want to kill the mood but I am getting really fucking horny at whatever you do and I really want to be sure that you are okay with whatever we are about to do. I don’t want to give you the impression you have to do anything with me.”  He watched you swallow and your eyes searched his. “What gives you the impression I think you make me do anything Jakeyboy.”  Now it was his turn to swallow. He watched how your hand traveled from his scalp over his upper body until you reached the loose pair of shorts he was hearing. You grabbed him by the strings dangling there and pulled him closer. He was pretty sure you could feel his growing problem very prominently against your thigh.

“I don’t know what Marcus told you.”, your eyes traveled from his lips to his eyes. “But I am not 16 and inexperienced anymore. I know how to stand up for myself. And Jake. I promise I’ll tell you whenever I feel uncomfortable or want you to stop.” Jake groaned and closed the small gap in between your bodies. He pressed himself against your warm body and almost lost his mind when you whined into his mouth.  You carefully traced his lower lip with your tongue and he parted his lips slightly, inviting you in. You rolled your hips into his. It was a miniscule movement but his hands tightened on your waist, fingers digging in just when he gasped. You took full advantage of it. You swallowed the sound, your tongue sliding against his, hot and demanding, making his entire body shudder. But then Jake’s hand slid down your spine, slow and deliberate, the tips of his fingers barely ghosting over your skin. Just to feel and hear your reaction again, to make you shudder. Marcus can go fuck himself. He will never get the chance to experience this. And that thought filled Jake with so much satisfaction he traced your spine back up again, stopping at your neck. You arched into his touch, and he could feel the hitch in your breath against his lips, the soft shiver that followed. He loved how you melted under the simplest touch.

He couldn't help but smile, pulling away from your lips to attack your neck with small kisses. His lips curled against your neck as he spoke. “God, I love how sensitive you are.” You tilted your neck to the side to give him more access and bit your neck. As his fingers dragged lower, tracing along the curve of your back, savoring the way you reacted to every little movement you let out a breath that sounded suspiciously close to a moan. 

You swallowed hard, and your hands slid into his hair, fingers tightening. He could feel your pulse racing beneath his lips as he pressed a soft kiss just below your ear. Your skin was burning under his touch, and he couldn’t resist the temptation to drag his nails lightly down your spine, after he sneaked his hands under your shirt. The quiet moan you let out nearly drove him wild, and he groaned at the sound, pressing his forehead against yours. “You have no idea what that does to me,” he confessed, his voice strained, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. Your hands slid down to his shoulders and pushed him away from your body slightly. “Jake fuck”, your pupils were blown wide, when you looked at him. “We should eat something first. And shower. I am hungry and I feel like I stink and you should eat so you can heal properly. Also we need condoms. I don't have any here.”, you said breathlessly against his lips.  Jake hummed. “I think I have some in my wallet.”   “You carry around emergency condoms?”, you asked, raising one eyebrow. He shrugged casually. “I sure do. You never know when you stumble into your fake girlfriend’s arms, fully drunk, only to turn her into your very hot and,” he pressed his lips against yours, “attractive and,” another kiss, “clever and,” yet another kiss, “emotionally stupid girlfriend who thinks running away is an option when her gorgeous boyfriend is a hockey player who can run way faster than she can.” You rolled your eyes, slapping the back of his head with enough force to make him laugh. “Go fuck yourself, Sim. I am a fast runner. Have you seen me run anywhere? No." Jake grinned, clearly unbothered by your slap. “Baby, I’ve seen you on the ice. You were taken out by a four-year-old,” he teased, his voice full of laughter. You just slapped his head again.  Jake chuckled, catching your wrist and pressing a kiss to it before you could land another playful hit. His fingers wrapped around it gently, his thumb tracing over your pulse point. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop,” he said, still grinning.  You narrowed your eyes at him but didn’t pull away. “You really think I’m emotionally stupid?” you muttered, arching an eyebrow at him. Jake’s smirk softened. He leaned in, brushing his lips against your forehead before meeting your gaze. “I think you’re scared,” he said simply. “And I think you run when things start feeling too real.”

You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening around the fabric of his shirt. He wasn’t wrong, and you hated that he knew you well enough to say it out loud. But instead of pressing further, Jake just kissed the tip of your nose and pulled back. “Come on,” he said. “You said you were hungry, and if I remember correctly, I have to eat so I can heal ‘properly.’” He shot you a wink. “Your words, not mine.” You rolled your eyes but continued on cooking while he sat down on a chair in the kitchen area. “You’re staring,” you muttered, not looking up. “I like looking at you,” he admitted easily, no hesitation, no teasing. Your hands faltered for half a second before you shoved a fork in his direction. “Shut up and cool your ribs, Sim.”

He laughed but took the fork, nudging your hip with his before getting the now not so frozen berries from your bed.

Thank you so much for reading! Lots of Love, Patty

all feedback and reblogs is welcome ⭑.ᐟ ⤷ if you liked this you might also like the rest of this series ⭑.ᐟ

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