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rhysazriel · 4 months ago

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Only Angel [Mafia!Azriel]

SUMMARY: Azriel's a dangerous Mafia leader, Y/N is his favourite dancer at his strip club. His usual Friday night dance turns into something a little more. (6.2k)

WARNINGS: mentions of the mafia and illegal activities, kissing, teasing, swearing, smut; dirty talk, sexual intercourse, spanking, fingering, lap dance.

A/N: This is a rewrite of a very old fic from an old fandom I was in. I’ve edited it the best I can to fit around Azriel’s character, so I apologise in advance if anything appears out of place :)

Azriel owns a lot of businesses. From stores to hotels, to apartments to clubs. To many, he's a man of business, a man of money. To those aware of the world around them, he's a man of the mafia. Powerful and dangerous. Maybe that's what caught her eye all that time ago, the mysterious aura that bubbled around him.

Y/N's been a dancer at his club since it opened three years ago. It started as a joke between her friends. She was fresh in college and desperately needed a part-time job to pay her bills after she was laid off from the bakery she'd been working at. Callie had mentioned a new strip joint opening on the outskirts of Prythian, that it was a more underground, elite sort of club.

Y/N had laughed it off, joking that she'd look into it and then didn't think of it anymore. But after two weeks of job hunting and no luck, she found herself bumping into a group of young women in a restroom at a bar, and somehow snagged herself an interview at said club.

Eria Vanserra, manager of the club, had hired her the second she opened her mouth and her pretty little voice spoke her name. Y/N was attractive, there was absolutely no doubt in that. She had that look of pure innocence in her eyes, but her lips were wicked.

The girls had trained her up, taught her the basics on the pole. She's grown close to them, thinks of them as her sisters more than colleagues. They're a team, have each other's backs when new customers try to take advantage and hype each other up for when the regular 60-year-olds come in and request private sessions.

Y/N -- or rather Angel -- only offers private sessions for one customer: The Boss. They met just over a year into her employment, and it was on their first greeting that Azriel took an instant liking to the devilish dancer, and she took the same approach with him.

Y/N's been teased for it relentlessly; snickers made from a few of the girls that didn't like how much Azriel liked her, but she didn't care then, and she doesn't care now. Not when every other Friday night, he has her booked for an intimate performance in the back room -- the room that's only ever reserved by him.

It's been a long week. Classes were cancelled due to some ongoing investigation with one of Y/N's professors, and so she's been able to pick up shifts every night at the club. Shadow's is an elite place, and Y/N knows it. It's a home for the best dancers and the richest of men that sneak off to get their fix.

It's not a brothel -- at least, not primarily. And none of the girls is ever forced into anything they don't want to do. That's one of the first things Eris made very clear.

You're here to dance. Private sessions are your own choice, and anything that goes on behind closed curtains is your decision. If you want to offer extra services, the club doesn't touch that money.

Y/N's never been one to stray from the pole. She knows her strengths, and she knows her weaknesses. She's strong, it's obvious, but even the strongest of dancers find it unsettling to be behind a closed curtain with a strange man that clearly can't get much outside of what his money can buy.

The thought unsettles her, but she's never let her own discomfort project on the other girls that spend hours in private rooms with a different man every twenty minutes. They're the real talent, she thinks. Inspiring and badass, and Y/N wishes she had that extra ounce of confidence that they do.

Or at least, she used to wish so. Before she met Azriel -- before he started watching her whenever he stopped by. For two years, she's the only dancer his honey eyes have watched, and something about that knowledge gives Y/N all the confidence she thinks she'll ever need.

Because she's the one that gets under the mafia leaders' skin. His eyes are always on Y/N. She's the one that occupies his mind and tightens his pants from her presence on the pole. It wasn't until almost five months ago that Azriel made a move to ask for a private dance.

He's done it before, many times. He's had his dick sucked more than he can remember behind those red curtains, but never by a woman as captivating and as talented as her -- his Angel.

Azriel still remembers the first time he laid eyes on her, upon that risen stage with soft lights offering a halo effect on her silhouette. He saw her hips first, her long legs as she wrapped them around the poll and jutted her ass out deliciously. Then he saw her face -- those angelic eyes and sinful lips, and he knew he was fucked.

He remembers pulling Eris to the side, eyes still on her as he asked who the fuck she was, and why someone so beautiful was working for him. Remembers the way Eris told him her stage name, how it had his cock springing to life in appreciation for the way she moved.

It all seems like a lifetime ago when he thinks back to it. And while there have been plenty of Friday nights that he frequents the club, he's yet to take things outside of the red room.

And it's not that he doesn't want to, because he does -- more than he wants a lot of things. But Azriel is a man of honour (even in his line of work), and he's never been one to pressure a woman into something he wants.

But Angel isn't like any woman. Not to him.

Azriel deems she's by far the most precious thing he's ever laid eyes on, and he has a need to hold and protect her and show her just how a woman like herself deserves to be treated.

He could give her the world, and they both know it.

Tonight is like every other late Friday evening. Y/N's dolled up to the nines as she reapplies her lipstick. She's been at the club since seven, and three dances later and a round of waitressing, it's nearing midnight. Y/N's ready to go to bed.

She's ready to call it a night, to tell Eris she's heading out early after picking up so many shifts in the week. Not only because she's tired, but also, Azriel hasn't shown up yet, and he's never come this late before.

Just as Y/N is adjusting her bra straps, she sees Mor’s head pop out through the corner of the door through the mirror. The blonde has a wide grin on her face, and she knows exactly what that suggests.

"He's here."

Y/N rolls her eyes. "He's also late. My shift ends in ten minutes."

Mor pouts out her lips, shaking her head, and her breasts bounce slightly on her covered chest. "But he's asking for you. And stop pretending like it's such a burden. You love when he shows up, and he loves when you dance for him. We all know it. Quit acting like you don't secretly enjoy it." She bites back, stomping her foot to make her point and Y/N spins in her chair to look at her full on.

Mor raises her brows. "All the other girls would kill to dance for him, to have him ask for them. Myself included. Stop acting like a brat and put on a fucking show."

Y/N isn't given a chance to reply because Mor is sauntering out of the dressing room, and she's left alone to swiftly get ready. She pretends to ignore the rampaging butterflies in her stomach at the idea of seeing him again.

She's never scared, could never be. Y/N knows Azriel would never hurt her. But, she's nervous. Azriel always gives Y/N his undivided attention when she's dancing for him, and it's intimidating and exciting all at once. His eyes are so dark and calculated, and he's always so damn respectful when she sits on his lap -- never wanting to make her uncomfortable.

Sometimes, Y/N just wants him to take charge. Even knowing exactly what he's capable of, she wants him to take her. Ravish her. Have his way with her. She wants him to completely dominate her, and often, Y/N finds herself wondering what would happen if she riled him up enough to get him to that state.

If she acted like a brat, would he throw her over his lap and spank her?

If she talked back, would he pull her hair or spit in her mouth?

If she asked for him to touch her, would he grip her ass and kiss her neck?

Y/N's mind swirls with the unanswered questions every time she sees him, and it's getting a bit much to keep to herself. She's getting tired of being a little plaything to him –- not that she has the right to be upset, but she is.

She doesn't like that he only comes to her every Friday night. To the club. Is she not worth more than two hours a week?

Then spirals the anxiety.

Is he only coming to her because he thinks she's easy? Is he doing it because he knows he'll never have to do anything more than let her dance? Is he doing it out of pity? Because he thinks she's lonely, so it's to make her feel special?

Is Azriel even attracted to her, or does he just do it for shits and giggles? Does he go back to his brothers and his men and laugh about her? At her? Is it all a bit of fun to him?

Y/N gets too in her head, and then the idea of seeing him again is revolting. She doesn't know him -- she can't say whether her thoughts are crazy or valid. She doesn't know the kind of person he really is -- despite the rumours.

But though she goes through these motions, Y/N pushes them to the back of her head and gets on with it. She puts on her smile, and she dances.

Azriel tends to book her out for an hour at a time, sometimes two hours if he's feeling extra needy or he has the time. And he's generous with his money, too. Typically, he pays double for her time, which is a month's rent for Y/N but pocket change for him.

It makes her feel dirty, but she has to remind herself that actually, this is her job and he does have the money and means to pay for her time.

That's all he's doing -- paying for her time. For her. Like some sort of cheap and easy prostitute that he can go to whenever he needs a fix. And she never touches him (not under his clothes), but it still makes her feel dirty.

Y/N knows what the other girls do in the private rooms; the type of shows that they offer. She doesn't judge them, she could never. They're all in the same or similar boats: broke and trying to make a living, to make ends meet. But none of them dance for the owner. None of them are ever requested by him.

Y/N takes a deep breath and composes herself. She can't look in the mirror for a moment longer because if she does, she'll start seeing every flaw she has, and she'll never leave the damn dressing room.

The club is busy, it always is on a Friday night. There's a party in the upper left tier, a few dancers that have been hired for the night and Y/N is more than pleased that she wasn't booked for it. It's a bunch of frat boys celebrating one of their friend's birthdays, and from Y/N's place on the lower deck, she can already recognise a few familiar faces from her classes.

The last thing she needs is for people to know she's an erotic dancer at one of the most elite, secret clubs.

She doesn't bother questioning how the younger men know about the place.

Y/N makes her way toward the private booths, and the one to the far right has its curtains closed. She takes a deep breath, knows he's sitting behind it, waiting for her.

She doesn't give herself any time to hype herself up or change her mind, because she's pushing through the red velvet curtain and closing it behind her.

The booths are all the same. Dim lighting and velvet cushioned seats. The walls are deep, silky pink, the furniture all an intoxicating shade of red, and in the centre of the rounded chair, Azriel sits.

His legs are spread wide, dressed to the nines in a slick black suit, and his bulging arms are outstretched across the back of the chair.

He's shed his blazer, has it hanging on the side, his shirt sleeves folded up to his elbows, swirls of black ink coating his dark complexion. Everything about his attire screams power and sex, and Y/N hasn't even looked at his face yet.

"There’s my pretty girl."

Her eyes dart up, his lips are parted. There's a knowing smirk on his pink mouth, and Azriel's eyes are a glimmering caramel under the dim light. Y/N thinks he's never looked more handsome, but that's always her thought whenever she sees him.

She can't help the contagiously shy smile that tugs on the corners of her plump lips.

"Little late tonight," she mentions quietly.

He doesn't say anything, and his eyes are too busy taking in her appearance. He hasn't seen this outfit before; a lilac cami bodysuit, entirely of lace. The chest of it is plunged yet lifted, and her supple breasts look the most inviting they've ever been.

Azriel struggles to wrap his head around the sight of her -- he always does. Always thinks she looks even prettier every time he sees her.

Azriel finally shrugs his shoulders. "I'm a busy man, Angel. Thought you knew that by now." He doesn't take his eyes off her, he can't.

Completely fucking mesmerised.

Y/N shrugs. "Must've been extra busy to be this late." She tells him.

Y/N is making her way closer, her hips swaying with every small step and Azriel's sure he can feel his cock twitch in his pants from anticipation.

"I was starting to think you weren't going to come."

He raises a brow as she settles herself in his lap, his scarred hands–that she’s never shown any distaste to–slowly yet respectfully finding her waist.

"Oh, I always come, baby."

She knows there's a double meaning to his statement — can tell by the smirk on his lips and the tone of his voice. Always a smooth talker.

Y/N decides that if he can play, so can she.

"I wouldn't know."

Azriel's the one to stop her hips from moving on top of his, and he chases her gaze to lock eyes. She's deadpanning -- void of emotion on her pretty little face and Azriel thinks this newfound side of her is the sexiest thing he's witnessed in a long time.

He cocks a brow. "Playing like that tonight, are we?" He asks, his thumbs pressing into the fleshy skin of her side.

Y/N shrugs her shoulders, plays coy. "I don't know. Are we?"

She twists the question, unsure where this surge of confidence is coming from, but she isn't about to back down from it, from him.

She wants more than just a lap dance. She thinks Azriel does too.

Azriel stays quiet for a moment or two like he's toying with the idea of having his way with her -- of letting her have him.

He squints and tries to look for an ounce of uncertainty or hesitancy. He comes empty, finding nothing short of confidence and desire. But has she thought it all through?

Has she thought about what this could mean? Has she accepted the fact that they may never see each other again -- something so silly because Azriel quite likes the girl, but if he kisses her, touches her -- what if it inherently puts her in danger?

She senses his dismay and offers an ultimatum; one that she knows she'll win.

"Because either we are, or you need to find a new dancer."

The threat awakens something in him. Something primal — animalistic. His eyes flash, darker and darker until his swelling pupils almost completely drown out the honey in his eyes.

His grip on her hips tighten, and Azriel forces her closer; lace-clad chest bumping against his clothed one. "I don't want a new dancer." He tells her. His voice is firm, tone even and stable. He knows what he wants, and now, she knows it's her.

Y/N lets her fingers reach for the longer curls on the nape of his neck. She intertwines her fingers around them, generously tugging, so his head pulls back just enough for her to use her other hand to grip his chin. Azriel's lips are parted, eyes hooded. He can feel her breath fan across his face as she brings hers closer.

"But that's all I am to you, right? Just a dancer?"

He isn't sure what she's doing -- whether she's fishing for something more or if she's about to walk out of the booth and leave him panting and painfully hard.

He plays into it, though. Let's see where this is going.

"More than just a dancer, baby." He promises.

Y/N ghosts her plump lips over his. "Yeah?" She breathes, her voice an airy whisper and Azriels got the perfect fucking sight of her cleavage. Reckons he wants nothing more than to bury his face between her pert tits.

He nods. "Mhm, you're my Angel." He tells her.

Azriel's hands reach around for her ass, grabbing handfuls and pulling her cheeks taut. He removes his hand and strikes it back down on her warm, fleshy skin. Y/N jolts into his body, teeth gnawing painfully on her lower lip to bite back her desperate pleads and whines.

Azriel gropes her again, massaging her cheeks and grabbing fistfuls. "My Angel."

His. She's all fucking his.

Her breathing is laboured as she takes in his words. Y/N tries not to let him see how riled up they make her, but she knows Azriel can see straight through any facade she tries to hide behind.

"Well, if I'm an angel, that must make you the devil."

Y/N's words echo through his mind, and his grip on her waist tightens in a squeeze before it loosens. His eyes find her chest, lip taut between his teeth.

"Maybe I am. Tell me, Angel… are you really ready to be corrupted?"

His eyes find hers, low and hooded and full of so much excitement and darkness, he gets lost in the way she pulls him in. Y/N's hands find his on her waist, her fingers gripping over his and his hold tightens again.

She rolls her hips against his crotch. "Maybe that's exactly what I want," she whispers, her lips trailing over the shell of his ear and her warm breath fans across his neck. "Maybe I'm already a little wicked."

She pulls away, nose brushing past his but he doesn't let her put any more distance between them. He wants her close, likes the feel of her warm breath on his face, likes the sweet scent of vanilla and coconut that's splattered on her skin and lingers in his mind.

Her lips are parted, as is Azriel's, and he can see the little peek of her glistening tongue, teetering between her teeth. His own does the same, subconsciously matching her teasing and his length throbs beneath her; something they both feel but neither say.

"If we do this, there's no going back. You're not just a fuck to me."

Y/N's heart skips, her heat quivering and chills run down her spine. So she is more to him... but what will this mean after?

"If I'm not just a fuck, then what am I?" She pries.

Azriel nudges the tip of his nose with hers. A smirk ghosts on the corners of her lips as they brush against hers. "My Angel," he whispers. "My only Angel."

Y/N envelopes Azriel's lips in hers, fingers reaching for the back of his head and they tug at the curls on the nape of his neck. It's hot, fiery. She can feel her soul ignite in bursts of white flames, and Azriel's no better at controlling himself.

His mind is foggy, judgement clouded, but he knows he never wants to live a day without feeling her pillowy lips on his. So he kisses her harder, grips her hips with such force they both know she'll bruise by morning. But she loves it, loves the idea of having him mark her and the animalistic part of Azriel craves it too.

"I'm not gonna go easy on you." He warns her breathlessly through the smacking of lips, but Y/N rolls more rigid atop him; pulls his hair that little bit eager.

"Good," she pants, pulling away. "I want it hard."

Y/N stands between his thick, parted thighs. She lets her mouth water as her gaze takes him in. Azriel's no better. His cock is leaping eagerly in his pants at the sight of her. Perfect body in a perfect set, lips swollen and eyes wholly fucked. Her hair is a mess, lipstick smudged and fuck, does he want to shove her face into his silk pillows and ram her little pussy from behind until she can't breathe.

"You're gonna kill me, Angel." He chokes out through his lust-filled daydream, chest heaving in anticipation.

Then she starts to sink to her knees and rubs her palms up his inner thighs, and Azriel about loses it. He shakes his head, breathing hard through gritted teeth and his hands find her wrists, halting her movements.

He shakes his head as he pulls Y/N to her feet, dragging closer until she's straddling him again. Azriel's hands cup her jaw, fingers tangled in her hair. "Gonna take my time with you, have you squirming beneath me until you beg me to stop." His promise has her drooping eyes flutter close, and her lips parting. Thinks she's the sexiest thing he's ever laid eyes on.

His nose bumps hers, lips touching but they don't kiss. "But right now, I need you to be a good girl and turn around."

Azriel's voice is stern, commanding. It makes her pussy throb and clench and gush, and he knows it. She nods and moves on trembling legs, turning so her back is to him, and Azriel's hands find their home on the swell of her ass.

There's something about him being so strong and dominant to her that has Y/N a puddle of arousal and submission.

She bites back a squeak as he smacks a palm down on her cheek, her eyes squinted closed while Azriel licks his lips at the way her flesh moves with the force of his strike. "Perfect fucking ass."

Y/N gnaws on her bottom lip, teeth piercing the skin but the slight sting of pain only spurs her on -- makes her even more eager for him. She sways her hips, ass a perfect peach shape as she does so and Azriel grips her hips and forces her on his crotch.

Her arousal is sticky against the lace of her panties as she can feel the thick outline of Azriel's cock when she gets seated over his clothed centre.

"Holy shit," she gulps.

Y/N has heard the rumours, the ones that are whispered in the shadows of the night -- of the one that's half man, half something else.

Now she can feel him directly beneath her, and Y/N's mind is heavy and clouded. "Feel how hard you make me?"

His lips are ghosting across her ear; teeth nibbling hauntingly on the shell of it which sends shivers down her spine.

Y/N nods, breathless and wanton. She can't make sense of anything, but she knows she wants this -- needs this.

"Use your words."

She swallows, shaky whimper teetering on the tip of her tongue. "Yes, I can feel you."

Azriel's sick behind her; full of himself as she strokes his ever-growing ego. There's something about hearing her so vocally express how much she wants him, how much she can feel him that has Azriel seeing stars. He isn't blind, he can see just how desperate and hungry the woman is, but a little verbal confirmation never hurt anyone.

His hands rest upon the globes of her ass again, swatting and smoothing however he pleases. The hits have her jolting and shrieking — they have tears stinging at her eyes but fuck, she wants more. She needs it harder.

"Please," she coos softly.

Her voice is cracking and unsteady like she's walking on eggshells.

"Please." Azriel mimics, voice high and childish, one that has her squirming in his lap.

He spanks her again. "Please, what?"

There's a pause of silence as Y/N attempts to catch her breath. She knows what this man can do to her, how he can make her feel. She knows he'll be far from vanilla, and maybe that's exactly what she wants and needs.

"Please, sir." She breathes. "Fuck me."

Smack!

A shrill shriek tears through her chest, and Azriel strikes his palm back down on her skin. His other busies with his belt, tugging it open and popping the button of his pants. He drags down the zip, a sound that echoes through her ears and sends shivers down her spine.

Y/N looks back over her shoulder, her hands steadying herself on Azriel's parted knees when she sees him. Thick, long... oozing with his sweet arousal that she wants to suckle up and swallow down her throat.

His cock stands tall, smacking against his lower stomach and he's big -- better than anything Y/N's ever had before. Her mouth waters at the sight. She can feel her cunt pulsing when his scarred hand wraps around his length and tugs deliciously at himself.

She whines, eager and needy. Azriel's eyes are on her ass, hasn't even realised that she's looking back at him.

He toys with the lace of her panties that disappears between her cheeks. Looping his pointer finger under the fabric at the top of her ass, he lifts it and bunches the lace in a fist, effectively tugging friction across her cunt as he gets a better view of her ass.

She's glistening, he can see. Y/N's pussy is swollen, and the sides of her lips threaten to spill out of the fabric that barely covers her.

"I'll fuck you, baby." He tells her.

Azriel tugs the lace to the side, her pussy soaked and perfect. He swipes a thumb through her wetness, swirling around her tight hole and bringing his thumb to his mouth as he suckles her arousal.

Sweet. So fucking sweet.

He grasps his cock in his hand again, pumping a few ample times before holding himself at the base and lining up with her sopping cunt. Azriel teases her for a moment, smacking the ruddy head of his prick against her pussy and she whines, rolls closer to him.

With a sick grin, Azriel massages his tip against her hole, jutting softly as he pushes in just enough to get comfortable. A low whine echoes through the room, but neither of them knows who it belongs to.

His hands find her hips, squeezing at her flesh. "But you won't be dancing on that pole for a few days."

Lifting his hips and pulling her down by hers, Azriel sheathes into her at once. Her frantic gasp tears through her lips, and her eyes are wide and watering with complete bliss and pain.

Azriel's gritting his teeth, sharp breath spitting through between them. He can't believe how fucking tight she is, and Y/N is fairly confident she can feel him so deep in her fucking stomach.

"Such a tight fucking cunt, Angel." Azriel's mind is in turmoil, can't quite fucking believe a cunt can feel this good.

Y/N is no better; she's a quivering mess on top of him, her grip on his clothed knees surely carving half-moons upon his skin but if it's causing Azriel any pain or discomfort, he seems to love it.

"So big, feel so full," she whines out.

Her ass is nestled in his lap, the coarse hairs of his pubic bone tickling at her supple skin and Y/N rolls her hips experimentally against his. He's still gripping her hips as she moves, her cunt clenching deliciously around his length and he's positively amazed by just how fucking tight she is.

"Yeah? Feel me in your tummy, Angel?"

She's nodding, whining filthily, and she can't comprehend how sex can feel this good. One hand of Azriel's snakes around her body, tips of his fore and middle finger massaging tight circles on her clit.

Y/N's cunt is on fire, swelling and pulsing and fucking gushing all over the thickness of Azriel's entire dick. He's a mess below her, though. He can't believe how well she's taking the entirety of him.

She's snug, tight — warm and fucking soaked. The feeling of her swallowing him up is completely euphoric; has Azriel's eyes rolling to the back of his head.

His rhythm on her clit is furious; strong, tight circles that have filthy cries and moans slipping past her flawlessly painted lips. Y/N's still gripping his knees, hips rolling and pussy squelching.

"Yeah, right in my tummy. God, it's so good. Don't stop, Azzy... please don't stop."

Y/N is a blubbering mess, eyes squeezed shut and jaw slack. She bounces quickly on top of him, feeling every vein and ridge of his thick cock as it pounds into her and tears her apart. Her walls are slick around him, desperate to milk him dry and take his sticky cum.

Azriel lets his eyes focus on her ass, the way it's spread just a little and how the imprint of his ringed hands are starting to bloom on her supple cheeks. Azriel's eyes divert lower when he sees it, sees her take him.

Her lips are swollen, clinging to his length as she comes off him. The base of his cock is soaked, the start of a creamy ring forming around him and Azriel can't get enough. He relents his assault on her clit, makes for her ass instead and pulls her cheeks as far apart as he can.

His hands massage her skin, saliva welling on his tongue and parting his gritted teeth for a split second, he spits down on her puckering hole and rubs the lubricant across her ass.

Y/N keens at the touch -- the welcomed intrusion -- and bounces faster. Azriel's thumbing at her hole, teasingly rubbing the tip of his thumb around her but it has her a quivering and desperate mess.

"Please, please." She pants out, head falling back and eyes tightly shut.

Azriel gnaws on his lower lip, biting back a smirk, but his hooded eyes are a dead giveaway he's having the time of his life. "Yeah?" He rasps. "Want me in both your holes, Princess?" He baits. He knows it's exactly what she wants.

Y/N nods quickly, crying and pleading for something. He knows precisely the effect he's got on her right now, the power Azriel holds over her, (not that he sees it that way, but knowing she's in such a besotted state from him playing with her ass a little, is feeding Azriel's ego tremendously.)

"Now that's not very Angel-like of you, is it? Angel?"

A shriek leaves her lips as the tip of his finger pushes through, immediately enveloped in warmth and softness. She's blubbering, can't make sense of fucking anything and it feels so damn good.

Azriel never anticipated such a reaction from her, but he's got it, and he fucking loves it.

"Who would've thought," he pants, feet firm on the ground as he fucks up into her cunt, completely obliterating her soul, "that my Angel likes having her sweet little ass stuffed?"

A borderline pornographic cry teeters past her silky tongue, and Azriel's mind is keening. She's still as she hovers over his crotch, letting him fuck her however he damn well pleases. His pace is fast, cock brushing every overwhelming part it reaches as he pushes his thumb deeper into her ass.

"Your Angel," she whimpers out, eyes watering and thighs spasming. "I'm yours, all yours. Only want you stuffing me this good."

Her words are drawled in a matted string of barely comprehendible syllables, but Azriel can understand what she's saying.

"Yeah? Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum, sweetheart."

"Cum! Please, cum in me, wanna feel it."

Azriel curses silently behind her, can't believe how fucking perfect this woman is. His balls feel tight, can feel her squeezing him harder and he knows she's about to come too.

"Yeah? It's gonna be a lot baby," he warns. "Think you can handle it? Think you can take my cum, Angel?"

Y/N nods quickly, vigorously. "I can take it! Please, I promise."

She's despondent, like a child. The need in her voice spurs Azriel to his edge, and as his cock bloats and shoots his arousal across her walls, she reaches her own high of euphoria.

They're both panting, grunting and moaning and whining. Y/N's gushing around his cock, creating a decent spillage on the base of him but even as he softens, he's still quite hard.

Azriel doesn't move, no. He makes no endeavour of pushing her off him. Instead, Azriel slowly pulls his fingers from her ass and cooing at the winces and whimpers that resound through the private booth. He shelters his arms around her waist to pull her back flush to his chest.

They both whimper, bodies spent, and eyes hooded. The back of Y/N's head is lounging on his shoulder when Azriel finally gets a glimpse at her face.

Totally fucked.

A wheezing laugh rumbles deep in her chest, and he reaches for her face, cupping the side of her jaw and guiding her lips to meet his in a messy, wet kiss. She pulses around him.

"You're fucking phenomenal."

Another breathy snicker falls past her lips to his. Azriel pinches her hips. "How are you feeling?"

Y/N puffs, eyes fluttering as she slowly raises, bites back the whine she wants to pout at the hollow feeling of him slipping from her cunt.

"The big bad Mob boss wants to know how I'm feeling?" She tantalises.

Azriel watches her make quick work of pulling her panties back over her cunt, halting his cum from leaking out and down her thighs, but he makes no effort to tuck his softening, yet still majestic, length back in his pants.

He lies back with his arms outstretched across the back of the oval couch. "He does," he agrees. "Cares about you, if you didn't already recognise that."

Azriel doesn't miss how she shies away from his gaze, turning her back to him to alter her outfit and to take a moment to compose herself. He takes the opportunity to fix himself too, before he's right behind her, nosing at her hair.

"I meant what I said, Angel," he murmurs. "You're not just a fuck to me."

Y/N turns, chin raised as she eyes him. Her shoulders are strained back, and Azriel knows she's making this posture move to assert confidence, and he doesn't doubt her one bit.

"Then what am I? And don't say your Angel."

"You're a strong, elegant, smart, badass, sexy, intelligent, confident woman," he begins, his hands finding her hips. "And I want you. I want you all to myself."

She peeps, her heart thumping sporadically in her chest. For a moment, it's like the mind-blowing sex from just seconds ago has been utterly omitted.

"You trust me enough for that?" She asks, and Azriel knows precisely what she's asking.

Does he trust her with who he is and what he does? Does he have trust that she will keep her mouth shut and not see him differently when she learns what he's truly capable of? Does he trust that she's all about him?

Azriel quirks a brow. "Do you trust me?"

Does she trust him with her life, because that's what it boils down to? Does she trust him enough to put her life in perpetual danger? Does she trust that he will only desire her, that he will put her before his work? Does she trust that he will never harm her?

Y/N nods. "I trust you."

Azriel drops his head, face closer to hers and the tips of their noses brush.

"Then I advise you to get your things and let me take you back to my place. Because you're in for a long fucking night, Angel."

Thank you for reading!! If you enjoyed it, please consider giving it a reblog and leaving some feedback!! <3

#azriel #azriel smut #azriel imagine #azriel angst #acotar smut #azriel oneshot #acotar imagine #acotar #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #acotar x you #acotar x reader #mafia!azriel

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blkkizzat · 9 months ago

Text

❛ MY SHORTY ALWAYS ON SOME BULLSHIT LIKE CHICAGO ❜

part of the 420 'We Be Burnin' dispensary series

⋙ MENU ITEM: PLUG!CHOSO x SORORITYBRAT!READER ⋙ PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 (completed)

⋙ product description (summary): you can't stop fucking your drug dealer with the big dick but you can't let your reputation be ruined by actually dating him—he'll just have to deal with it—or is it that he will end up dealing with you? ⋙ side effects (tw): cunnilingus, car sex, backshots, riding, dick sucking, sex for drugs, slut reader, reader being a huge bitch lmfao. slightly black girl coded but no descriptors. this is just p1 tw, p2 will have its own lol. ⋙ thc levels (wc): 3.9k of 22.1k ⋙ inventory notes (a/n): best viewed in dark mode. had to split it up into two parts because i wanted to post on time for 420. barely made it lol!

Plug!Choso who you walked all the way across campus to meet, nervously waiting in the almost always empty parking garage underground level. You don’t even really smoke weed but sorority elections are coming up soon and if you can be the “cool one” to get everyone lit on 420 (as your last plug recently got busted) you could secure a lot more votes. Sure, you were going to an extreme length to win but the last 4 generations of your family have been president of this chapter at your university. You didn't think your mother would even let you back in the house this summer if you didn’t win. So reluctantly, here you are.

Plug!Choso who when he finally pulls up intimidates you with his looks when he rolls down his window as he’s all dark hair, piercings and tattoos. You want to just do the transaction through the window but he tells you to “get in”. You were a new customer and he had to vet you first to make sure you “weren’t 12.”

Plug!Choso who laughs in your face when you angrily slam the door taking offense and yelling at him if he ‘that regardless of your baby face he was fucking blind if he really thought you looked like a 12 year old.’ You turn up your nose at him but quickly are made to feel like an idiot when he clarifies he meant 12 as in the cops. You blush even harder when he says ‘he’d never mistake anyone with tits like yours for being that young.’

Plug!Choso who you only end up hooking up with because your sorority sisters short changed you. How the hell were you supposed to know an ounce was $250!? You ask if he could let you have a deal at $150 as that's what your old dealer Mahito sold it for before he got busted.

“S’cause his shit was weak, princess. Shouldn’ve even been payin’ that much to be real with you. This is that dank shit and if you want it you gotta pay. I ain’t running a charity.”

You ask if you can pay via venmo, cash app, anything but Choso only takes cash.

Panicking as you did not have $100 extra bucks in cash it’s you who suggests if you could you pay it off in a different way.

Plug!Choso isn’t one to get sexual favors for weed as he had bills to pay and a baby brother to take care of, but your cute prissy ass reminds him so much of girls from his high school. The ones who’d only ever looked at him back then with disdain. Who came from stable families, were spoiled rotten and thought anyone who didn’t live their perfect cookie cutter life was trash. Choso wasn’t a virgin but he’d lived a damn near celibate life for the last few years, he could use a little stress release from a lil’ snobby thing like you.

Plug!Choso who you only agreed to give a handjob to and you unbuckled the belt on his tattered black jeans as he sits back and lights a joint. You roll your eyes and steel your nerves with a breath as you pull down his boxers. However the sight of his freed cock immediately has your inner slut going crazy.

How is it that you can’t fit your pink manicured nails completely around his thick shaft?

Why did his dick have to be so pretty fully erect, red tip throbbing as he pusles in your hand when you tease his frenulum with the pad of your finger?

And just what's gotten into you now? It's shameful how you're rubbing your thighs together just from seeing him throw his head back while biting his lip to keep from whimpering. You have his sculpted hard abs trembling from you flicking over the bent barbell of his prince albert piercing.

The silver reflected even in the dim garage lighting as his thick pre collected in drops on the ball of the piercing before dribbling down your hand. You unconsciously wet your lips. You know you only said a hand job but you wanted a taste—badly.

It isn’t long before you are giving into your cravings and talking him fully into your mouth needing a taste of him and forcibly gagging around his girth curious to see how much his cock could have you choking.

Plug!Choso’s eyes flew open and he almost dropped his joint once he felt the hot n’ slick wetness of your velvety tongue slurping up the pre leaking off his piercing and taking him fully into your throat until he was hitting tonsils.

Yet it’s because you are the massive slut that you are, it’s an even shorter amount of time before you pop him out of your mouth, lift your skirt and slide your panties to the side in order to bounce on him raw in the driver's seat. He makes you cum so hard your squirt splashes to drench his pants and even hits his dashboard and steering wheel. He reluctantly has to lift you off him at the last minute so he doesn’t come inside, further soiling you and his car. Choso doesn’t mind though as seeing you getting that messy for him made him hard all over again— and he pulls you into the backseat for round 2 which consists of you face-down ass-up getting the backshots of your fucking life.

Plug!Choso who you quickly start secretly hooking up with on the regular. Seeing as everyone loves how hard his shit hits they send you more frequently to pick it up. You pretend like it's a minor inconvenience but your stomach clinches in anticipation thinking of his fat cock inside of you. Of course, you aren’t disclosing to your sorority sisters how his dick hits even harder than his than his weed. You shiver just thinking of it carving through your guts ruthlessly every time you fuck.

Plug!Choso who you are now secretly texting ‘cowboy’ and ‘eggplant’ emoji whenever you want your doonies beat down— regardless if you are getting weed from him or not that day. However when you are sent to get weed from him, he isn’t even charging you any longer. He tells you to keep it and get a new full set. You always manage to fuck up your acrylics bad when you are with him. Not your fault he fucks you so good you are desperate in the moment to cling to him, the handles, the dashboard— whatever you could get your hands on to grip to keep from loosing your mind as you always end up fucked absolutely dumb.

Plug!Choso who you end up low-key dating but you are still a huge bitch to him in public. Acting like you don't know who he is when you see him. Tsk, you were just begging for him this morning to meet you in the ‘usual spot’ in the near abandoned campus garage lot so he could fuck you. You treated him like he was dirt beneath your shoe whenever you’d see him even though you’d be crying on his cock beneath him just a few hours prior. Choso thinks it’s disrespectful and annoying as fuck but he just deals with it. It's not like he's caught feelings or anything yet.

Plug!Choso who puts up with your shitty attitude and being your dirty little secret as you are the best— and only pussy— he’s had in a while. Not to mention you are always super sweet to his brother Yuji, who adores you. Choso didn’t intend to ever have you meet him but he ended up having Yuji with him one day. He had to pick him up out of the blue as an emergency near the same time he was supposed to pick you up from the nail salon.

Although you had even got a fresh wax at the salon and were ready to show it off, finding Yuji, all of 7 years old, in the backseat was an immediate buzz kill. Initially expecting Choso to tell you that’s his kid, a pang of guilt ran through you when he explained his little brother who he takes care of got sick at school and needed to be picked up right away. You weren’t answering his calls or texts and he didn’t want to leave you hanging without a ride.

You don’t tell Choso you’ve silenced notifications from him (in case one of your sisters were to see his name popup). Instead, you offer to cook Yuji soup when you learn it's only Choso solely taking care of Yuji. Especially after Choso confesses he was just going to pick up a can of chicken noodle and some crackers from the store.

Heart fluttering at how gentle you are with Yuji in contrast to your usual demanding and bitchy nature, Choso curses at himself that he might be falling in love with you. Although he is well aware his feelings would never be reciprocated by you. Nevertheless, as a ‘thank you’ for dinner, after putting Yuji to bed Choso eats you out for 2-hours straight on the sofa. You end up having to stuff your soggy panties in your mouth to keep your cries in and not wake up Yuji. The way Choso is sloppily munching on your pussy has you cumming deliciously back to back to back on his thick pliable tongue.

Plug!Choso who after you end up fucking more at his house, a mile or so away from campus, rather than his car these days. In fact, it isn’t even all about sex anymore as you spend the majority of your time over there helping Yuji with his homework, baking cookies, playing games and movie nights with the two of them.

Once Yuji would go to bed Choso would bring you to the basement to smoke you out before he fucked you out. It’s during one of these smoke sessions though you learn that Choso actually got a full ride scholarship to go to the same university you do now 5 years ago but one quarter into his first year his parents had both died in a tragic accident. Yuji was only 2 then and the thought of losing the only family he had left to foster care was not an option for Choso. When the time came he stepped up to the plate and didn’t think twice about dropping out.

However fast food jobs and grocery store shifts weren’t cutting it. He’d have to spend nearly all day and night away from Yuji just to keep a roof over his head to afford his late-parent’s mortgage. Dealing, although dangerous, was the best option and being the actual genius Choso was, he was smart about it. More guilt fills you always assumed anyone slanging drugs on the street was a burnout who couldn’t cut the real responsibilities of life. Yet Choso already had way more responsibility than anyone his age should have had.

You had sorely misjudged him.

Plug!Choso who realizes sooner than you do the closer the two of you become the harder it is for you to juggle Sorority life and Choso and Yuji— it’s almost as if you are living a double life. Truthfully you are, in a way as you are always sneaking off. Choso wonders what lies you tell your sorority sisters to be gone most weeknight evenings and weekend mornings. The lies of ‘labs' or ‘volunteer work’ wouldn’t likely cut it much longer. When you’re not around, Choso reasons he should probably cut things off with you before the inevitable fall out happens. But he always reconsiders when Yuji kept consistently inquiring as to where his ‘pretty lady girlfriend is’.

Choso doesn’t have the heart to tell Yuji you aren’t his girlfriend yet.

Plug!Choso who starts inviting you to Yuji’s little league games on weekends once Yuji expresses with abundant enthusiasm he wants you to see him play! The little guy, who is not so little for his age, is actually pretty athletic. Adorably every home run he hits he always makes sure to wave to you and Choso in the stands. Grinning widely Yuji blushes at your praise and cheering for him, which makes you just want to cheer harder. Your high school cheerleading experience finally coming in handy again. You go so often that sometimes other parents mistake the two of you for Yuji’s mom and dad. You always hastily respond “I’m just a family friend!”

A family friend. Not Choso's girlfriend.

Plug!Choso whose jaw clenches whenever this happens— not that you ever notice. What the fuck were you doing if you weren’t dating? Yet Choso knew he couldn’t be completely mad at you as even after 3 months he still hadn’t technically asked you to be his girlfriend. Still that fact angers Choso too as he knows he hasn’t because he fears— no he knows— you wouldn’t say yes. Choso picks you up and drops you off blocks away from campus. You also managed to deflect every suggestion for going out on an actual date night on the town when Yuji is over his friend's Megumi or Nobara houses. Also you sure as shit don’t invite him to the many greek life parties you attend (not that he even wanted to go— I mean he would for you. If you'd ask him). Hell, you don’t even follow him back on IG and he knows better than to like or comment on anything other than your stories which goes straight to your DMs.

Plug!Choso knows you have a reputation to protect and how it would look for the tall n’ scary pierced n' tatted emo drug dealer to be the one by your side. Choso eventually resigns himself to live in the shadows of your life for now. Choso would just have to work harder to pay off the house so he could stop dealing and be someone you’d want to show off (even if deep down he feels he will never be good enough).

However this all comes to a boil a few weeks later the morning of the championship game for Yuji’s little league. As their star player Yuji was so excited to be in his first championship and made you pinky promise you would come.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, kiddo!” You lovingly beamed at him.

But you lied.

You did miss it.

Finals and the sorority election week had come up fast out of nowhere and hit you like a whirlwind. As a result you saw little of Choso and Yuji in the days leading up to it. Yet at the end of the week you emerged victorious, both in keeping up your 3.8 GPA and winning the election for sorority president. You were so ecstatic on both accounts that you partied hard the night before Yuji’s big game.

Coincidentally forgetting about it entirely as the next morning was the Annual Greek Council Brunch event to officially inaugurate all new Greek council members across all sororities and frats. As newly elected president and since your sorority was hosting this year it was your job to throw it. It was a huge event that even parents and chapter alumni attended.

Plug!Choso who smoked 3 cigarettes as he waited for you for nearly 40 minutes before he knew he had to leave soon or he’d miss the start of the game too. Deciding to drive by your sorority as a last ditch effort Choso sees red when he spies you on the lawn giggling and flirting with the campus caterers as you direct them to the back of the house. You looked gorgeous, all dolled up, hair done and make-up flawless. The dress you wear looks expensive, something he might even be able to afford to buy you if he wasn’t making triple mortgage payments each month to cut the interest and pay off his home faster. However, he can't deny the baby blue checkered fabric looks great on you. A fact Choso notices the caterer douchebags didn’t miss either as they fall a few steps behind you to check out your plump ass and rib at each other.

Plug!Choso who knows the reasonable thing to do would be to just drive away and avoid any conflict. Although before his mind registers it his body is already flicking his cigarette butt out of the open car door before slamming it shut as he storms across the lawn of your sorority house. Reaching the back of the house Choso was taken back by how grand everything looked. A sea of pristine white tables adorned with arrays of bouquets, fine china and crystal glasses that sparkled divinely in the morning sun. The event was still in setup mode so more flowers, decorations and adornments were being brought in by the second by workers brushing past Choso like he wasn't even there.

In any other scenario a grand display of refinery such as this would have Choso feeling self-conscious and out of place. He is aware as good as anyone else how sorely his dark looks contrast with the peppy and airy vibes of greek life.

However, all that flees out of his mind as soon as he sees you near the DJ booth—now having the nerve to shamelessly flirt with him too.

“Yo, princess.”

Plug!Choso who seems casual from his tone but the look on his face is anything but. You on the other hand looked as if you had seen a ghost as all the color drains from your face.

“Choso!”

You squeaked out a greeting as your head whips around to see who all was around.

Phew! Thankfully it was mostly staff and the greek members who were helping with setup were still inside.

But what the fuck was Choso even doing here?

You started to get pissed as he knew better than to roll up on you like this and today of all days!?

“Come on, let’s go, we're gonna be late.”

He grabs your arm which you quickly snatch back from him giving him an incredulous look as if he just sprouted two more heads.

“What the fuck Choso, you can’t just barge in here like this! Have you lost your mind?! What are you even doing here?!”

You try to keep your voice hushed as you pull him to the side of the DJ booth trying not to draw attention.

“Nah princess, the question is what the fuck are you doing here?”

Irritation was dripping from Choso’s words who clearly didn’t give a single fuck about how loud he was being or the boundaries you’d set around your school life and it made your blood boil. He knew this was a busy week for you and you wouldn’t be around as much, he couldn’t wait a few more days!?

What right did he have to be here right now?

Let alone be this upset with you?

You roll your eyes as you scoff.

“Well as I am the newly elected president of this sorority it's my job to throw this brunch! I’ve had a really long stressful week and this is a really big event for me. My first event even! I have so much–”

“—Fuck! Are you really this clueless?!”

Choso angrily snaps at you and you are visibly startled into silence as his interruption immediately shuts you up.

He’s towering over you now and you’ve never realized before just how much bigger than you he was. His personality was usually so chill and unassuming that it shrunk his overall presence.

Come to think of it you’ve never even seen him angry before, annoyed sure, but he was clearly mad mad now.

“I– Me– My— Goddamn it, do you really think of no one but yourself?!”

The DJ, who had been overhearing your conversation tries to butt-in to white knight for you but is quickly told off by Choso who tells him ‘walk the fuck on while he still had legs that could walk’. The advice which was expeditiously taken as the DJ quickly left the conversation just as fast as he’d entered it.

“Choso– what the—”

Choso doesn’t let you finish, cutting you off again.

Fed up with this, you and whatever twisted situationship you currently had— he needed to say his piece.

“—I’ve been waiting for you for almost an hour, princess. Does your self absorbed lil’ brain even remember why?”

Your own anger is quickly dissipating into confusion as you cannot fathom what in the hell Choso was even talking about. It takes you a few good moments but your eyes widen once you realize.

Oh shit…

“Umm…Y-Yuji’s big game, isn’t today– is it?”

You meekly asked but you already knew the answer.

“Bingo, princess! You’d promised him you’d be there. Do you know how much he’s been looking forward to this? It’s all he’s been talking about. Do you know how crushed he’s going to be if you aren’t there?!”

Shit! Shit! Shit!

You knew balancing seeing Choso and Yuji with your increasingly demanding school life was starting to get more challenging but you didn’t realize you’d fuck up this badly.

You really didn’t want to disappoint Yuji, who at this point felt like your own little brother that you never had —but you’d be prepping for this sorority presidency nearly your entire life!

Your parents were even coming to this!

Shit, which reminds you Choso cannot be here when they show up.

Plug!Choso who knows he’ll have to speed now when he leaves if he wants to make the first pitch of Yuji’s game and makes one last ditch effort to get you to attend, but of course it fails.

“Choso, I– I can’t. I want to... but you know how important this is to me. My family. They will be here soon too I—”

Choso tunes out the rest of your excuses as your mention of ‘my family’ had cut unintentionally deep.

You’d gotten so close to him and Yuji that you did feel like ‘their family’. But you weren’t and it was the foolish hope that you could one day become that Choso selfishly indulged in.

He could deal with the hurt, he was used to life shitting on him but it wasn’t fair to Yuji.

“There he is! That’s him!”

The pussy ass DJ had gone and gotten back up as a group of frat guys in suits rushed over. The commotion was also drawing a few of your sorority sisters and you curse under your breath as a small crowd forms and all eyes draw to you.

“It’s okay guys, he’s clearly lost and is leaving now, right?”

Your voice is bitchy but your eyes are pleading with Choso.

You're pleading with Choso: Not to ruin the event.

Not to be angry with you.

And not to make this situation any worse than what it was.

“Wait— this guy? He’s that burnout dealer, yeah?”

One of the frat guys chime-in and there's laughter and giggles around.

“Oh my god, it is! He's like so obsessed with her. I always see him creeping around.”

One of your sisters adds with a sneer.

“Not a stalker! Ew!”

Another one adds.

“What does this weirdo even want with you!?”

More of your sisters chime in.

Choso doesn’t care though.

He only cares what you think. What you’re going to say.

Your phone dings and you look at it. Shit. Your parent’s just arrived on campus.

You didn’t want to do it this way but you had to end this now.

It was better this way. That’s what you would console yourself with later at least.

“Look—Choso was it? This is a private event and you need to leave.”

You turn to your sisters to explain further. “I tutor his little brother for my volunteer work and he somehow got the crazy idea that I was going to go to some little baseball game with them or whatever.”

You turn back to Choso.

“Well— as you can clearly see. I can’t go. I’m busy and like I said this is a private event so again, you need to leave, understood?”

You turn away not being able to stomach the look on his face like a coward and make up some excuse about checking on the ice sculpture which should have been already placed on one of the center banquet tables.

You know he’s left from the jeers of ‘bye loser!’ ‘fuck outta here freak!’ echo out from the garden.

This was for the best after all….

….right? PART 2

⋙ ©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.

⋙ lol y/n is a huge bih who doesn't deserve our sweet baby. no worries though she is gonna learn her lesson good in part 2 where she finds out shit ain't so sweet lmfao. lmk if you wanna be tagged in comments/reblogs. eta— omg there were so many errors lmfao see this is what happens when i dont re-read my shit 50x before posting lol. i fixed it! sorry to anyone who read it before lol. ⋙ reblog to smoke on choso's joint but comments and likes are appreciated!

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star-sim · 9 days ago

Text

show me how ☆ jake sim

☆ non-idol! jake x fem! reader ☆ summary: jake didn't think his casual crush on you, his hot coworker at the local ice cream parlor, would flourish into anything. but one day, after a power outage during a shift, the two of you are forced to huddle up together to keep warm, opening up many, many, many doors into your relationship. ice cream was sweet and soft. and despite your appearance, so were you. ☆ genre: coworkers to lovers, fluff, a lot of bickering, alternative! reader, jake is kind of a loser, rock references, nonchalant crushes, summer romance, baddie reader, JAKE IS JUST REALLY DOWN BAD ☆ warning(s)? slightly suggestive? just tbh its js jake being really attracted to you LOL ☆ word count: 12.3k ☆ joining @bywons 1k event for "show me how" by men i trust. i had a little bit of a different approach to crushes this time. this is extremely late im so sorry enjoy!

"Can I get uhhhhh…"

Jake deadpanned for the 15th time in the past hour.

He was trying to be kind, to be understanding, to be loving in all ways possible… He really was.

But was it that difficult to order a mint chocolate cone with rainbow sprinkles?!

Jake watched as the snotty child before him picked his nose, his eyes glazing over the menu. It’s been ten minutes and this kid was taking too long to order. For fuck’s sake, he was holding up the line!

For his summer job, Jake started working at the ice cream parlor near the pier. He thought it was a good idea, since the pay was above minimum wage and he liked ice cream.

Wrong!

It was horrible!

From rude customers to his asshole of a boss to his incompetent coworkers, Jake dreaded coming into work everyday.

It was another summer afternoon, where Jake slaved away for his corporate overlords. Summer was only kicking off, so the June gloom stuck like glue. This morning, there were already storm warnings, so imagine Jake's surprise when a whole bunch of people went to the beach today and the ice cream parlor next to it.

"Please take your time," Jake said with a tight-lipped smile. Translation: I’ve given you enough time, kid. Hurry up and order or I’ll actually snap.

The kid blinked at Jake, before picking his nose. "Can I get uhhhh…"

Jake winced, but forced a smile with a nod. "Would you like any recommendations?"

Translation: You better tip me, you little punk.

By now, he could see the angry mothers and kids at the back of the line, quietly complaining about the hold-up. All Jake could do was smile apologetically, hanging his head in embarrassment.

And to Jake's horror, as the snotty little kid was still deciding on what he wanted to order, Jake could hear the back door creaking open, followed by a "Bye, Jake!" before it slammed.

Did Jake ever say that he hated his coworkers?

Today wasn't even Jake's shift, but he had to cover three shifts, because his other coworkers couldn't give a damn. They loved to leave early because they knew that Jake would work his ass off either way. So here he was, now forced to run an entire ice cream parlor with already angry customers all by himself!

"Actually, I don't want anything," the snotty kid blinked at Jake. "Bye, mister."

With that, the kid left, oblivious to Jake's gawking face.

You've got to be kidding me.

If it weren't for the fact that his name tag had his name printed in big, thick letters and that there was already a line of impatient customers, Jake might have yelled.

As he put on his customer-service voice for the next customer in line, Jake could hear the back door creak open again if he listened past the generic pop music playing in the background.

And the moment that he heard a familiar voice, Jake nearly ascended into the sky.

"Jake, I'm here!"

There was only one part of working at this dinky little ice cream parlor that Jake liked.

And it was you.

His savior, you.

You were the only coworker that actually did your work. In fact, you went above and beyond. The only shifts that seemed to be productive on all ends were when it was you and Jake.

If he could recall correctly, today wasn't your scheduled shift either. You were probably covering someone's shift like him, too.

And plus, you were cute.

Really cute.

Jake never really thought he had a "type" when it came to girls. In fact, Jake couldn't even remember the last time he had a crush. But the moment he saw your smudged eyeliner, constant annoyed look, the multiple tassel and charm bracelets on your wrists, and your black nail polish, he knew that you were his type.

You looked like you could probably scare a baby with a single look. Honestly, you could make Jake piss himself with a single look, too. And for some reason, he liked it. A lot. Which was weird.

Within seconds of just arriving, you were already throwing on your apron, fixing up your work uniform before appearing at the counter, ready to do your fucking job.

Jake tried his best to focus on the group of middle schoolers who giggled over every word as they ordered their ice cream, but even from behind him, he could hear you cleaning one of the scoopers and getting the keys for the second cash register. Even though all you were doing was your job, Jake couldn't help but straighten up his posture and run a hand through his hair as you took the register beside him. Just in case you spared him a glance, he had to look his best.

"Hi, what can I get you?" you said chirpily, putting on your best customer-service voice, something that Jake could tell was not your forte. Although he didn't know you seriously, he's had conversations in passing with you, whether it be on slow days, during breaks, or as the two of you closed up the parlor together. You never sounded as enthusiastic as you did now, as you happily helped an old lady pick her order.

You were cool like that.

Actually, really cool.

Jake couldn't think of anyone cooler than you.

And you were pretty, and hardworking, and honest, and responsible, and cooperative, and a little bit scary, but that was hot. You were also very kind to customers, and even though Jake could see your lips— which were nice, by the way— twitch, he could tell that you were trying your best, which was good, and—

"Um, sir, can I order now?"

Jake snapped out of his daze, tearing his eyes away from you.

"R-Right!"

Completely missing the way you rolled your eyes at him, though without a little chuckle.

It wasn't always easy being the only competent worker at the parlor. While it meant you got paid more for covering so many shifts, you couldn't say it was fun working the late shifts.

The parlor closed at 11PM on weekdays, so here you were, working late into the night.

You yawned as you rang up the last customer of the night, using all of your last bits of strength to muster a smile, before saying, "Have a good night!"

As the door slammed shut, the building winds outside providing more than enough force to ring through the entire parlor, you let out a sigh.

"They're gone, Jake," you called.

From inside the break room, you could hear Jake groan something muffled but definitely, "Finally."

Jake Sim was the only coworker you could rely on. He was the only person your age, both of you were freshly graduated highschoolers working to prepare for college experiences. Despite his party-boy look, he was surprisingly diligent. You definitely noticed how he ended up picking up another person's shift, just like you. Unlike everyone else, he actually gave a damn, which you could appreciate.

Tonight was no different from any other.

It was just Jake and you, working the closing shift together.

The moment you entered the break room, you let out an exasperated sigh, leaning on the door frame. Jake, too, was slumped over on the table, his face buried in his arms.

Your shitty coworkers always tried to convince you that you should be happy to work extra shifts: extra pay, more work experience, have a good rep with the boss.

But what they didn't mention was how absolutely draining it was to work 7 hours straight in a short-staffed busy ice cream parlor.

"Why were there so many people?" Jake groaned, shoving his face deeper into his arms. If you weren't exhausted out of your mind, you would've thought the scene before you was a funny sight. Jake, in his silly white uniform designed to look like that of a sailor's and crooked worker hat, practically melting on the break room table.

"And why were there only two of us?" you added, letting your eyelids fall shut as you leaned against the door frame.

Though, you would say, you did like working for one extra reason: Jake Sim himself.

He was as cute as a button, and pretty easy to talk to.

Jake lifted his head, quickly checking his phone.

"No seriously," he rested his face on his fist. "It was cold and dreary all day— and wasn't there a storm warning?— Why would anyone want to get ice cream on a day like this?"

You shrugged. "Beats me."

The two of you stayed in the break room in silence for a few more moments, catching your breaths after a long day. "Let's get outta here, Jake."

Here was your favorite part of the work day: closing up. Not just because it meant that you got to leave, but you could do whatever you wanted.

Jake locked up the front door and flipped the sign, while you locked up front displays and cash registers. The two of you tidied up the breakroom (which was empty because your slobs of coworkers weren't here), before pulling out the mops and cleaning up the floor.

This was the fun part.

"Hey!" Jake cried as you splashed water onto the floor, your wet mop sludging up the water as it moved against the checkered floor. Looks like some of the water got onto his pants. "What was that for?"

You shrugged, with a sly grin. "No reason in particular— Hey!"

Jake shook off the excess water on his mop, pointed directly at you, the water droplets spraying all over your shirt.

"See?" he pointed to the wet drops on your shirt. "We're even now."

You rolled your eyes, but you knew he was being playful.

It was fun now because this was the time that you could play whatever music you wanted. Your manager always insisted that you'd play generic pop music during store hours, but now that it was closed, you could play any music you wanted. And it was great, because you and Jake had the same music taste.

"Really?" you whipped your head over to Jake as he passed your phone, which controlled the sound system, back to you. "Bon Jovi?"

You winced as loud vocals, strong guitar riffs, and a drum louder than you could imagine blasted through the speakers.

"Bon Jovi is good!" Jake shouted all the way from the freezers.

Maybe your taste was just a little bit different.

Jake was a cool guy. He really was. Very personable and someone that you could have fun with, even if you weren't that close to him. But sometimes his music choices were too much.

"You have no reason to be blasting hard rock at 11PM," you murmured.

"I heard that!"

You stifled a chuckle.

As you cleaned the floors, you nodded your head to the music. You could hear humming along wherever he was. It was all quiet, only the sound of mops, the freezers' buzzing, and your queued music playing in the background. It was small moments like his that made you want to keep working (other than the pay).

And plus, the parlor was very close to the beach.

At times like this, you could hear seagulls squawking overhead, with waves crashing against the shoreline.

Which... now that you thought about it...

Why couldn't you hear any of that?

Usually, even if Jake was blasting the hardest rock, you could still hear the sounds of the sea.

But now, all you heard was wind.

You glanced out the window.

Palm trees blew against the night sky. Wind whirled, creating a howling sound.

And before you could think anything of it, you heard two things: the back door slamming, and the sound of electricity buzzing.

One moment you could see everything, and the next moment it was completely dark.

Your blood ran cold.

The music stopped. The buzzing of the freezers stopped, too. It was completely dark, so dark that you couldn't even see your own hands, save for the single stream of moonlight leaking through the front windows.

You would consider yourself a calm person, you really would.

But in that moment, you felt panic set in.

Because here you were, working a late shift in a tiny little ice cream parlor in the middle of the beach, with no one but your teenage coworker. And now all the power went out.

And because you were afraid of the dark.

The mop in your hand dropped, clunking! against the checkered flooring.

Your heart pounded, so loud that you could hear it in your ears. You could feel it jumping out of your chest.

"J-Jake?" you called out.

No response.

Your mind did wonders to scare you, and now it was working over time.

What happened to Jake? Did he disappear with the lights too? You dug your teeth into your bottom lip.

Were you all alone in the dark? Just you and this dark abyss, a dark abyss so suffocating yet so cold that you couldn't even tell if you were standing or curled up. By this time, your legs were feeling weak, so you wouldn't be surprised if you were on the floor, your knees to your chest.

You squeezed your eyes shut.

The howling of the wind sent chills down your spine. Realistically, nothing could get you. You were just at work, like always, but it was just dark. But you felt like something would jump out at you, something scary and from your worst nightmares. It would get you, maybe hurt you. Were you going to die? Why did you feel so alone? What happened to everyone? What happened to Jake—

"[Name]?"

At the sound of a familiar voice, your eyes shot open.

But instead of being met with a pure, unknown darkness, you were met with a tall figure before you, completely shrouded in darkness, save for the stream of yellow light coming to illuminate its face.

Terrifying.

You let out a shriek as you jumped back.

What the hell was that? Was that what got Jake?—

It took a step forward, and before you could scream again—

"[Name]!" it was Jake's voice. He reached out for you, his hand resting on your shoulder. "It's me, Jake!"

You heard a bit of clicking, and it was then that you realized that the scary figure that you saw was just Jake with a flashlight. You relaxed.

"You okay?" Jake crouched down to your curled up figure, the yellow light of the flashlight glimmering against the floor. Although your eyes had slightly adjusted to the darkness, you could see your hands now. "I think the power went out."

You nodded slowly, still with your knees against your chest. Your heart was still pounding in your chest. You felt Jake's hand reach out for yours, interlocking fingers before giving it a squeeze.

Boom!

You jumped away from Jake, a small "eep!" escaping your lips.

Jake flinched, pointing the flashlight at the front windows.

"Thunder," he muttered under his breath. Although all the streetlights and signs had shut down too, he could see the lightning as it struck in the night sky.

He glanced at your startled form.

"Damnit," he cursed under his breath. "There was a storm warning earlier."

You hid your face in your palms.

This was everything that you didn't want to happen.

It was completely dark, and here you were practically trapped inside. It was impossible to get home, because the roads were all dark, and there was probably an oncoming storm, too. It was cold, and it was just you and your coworker. You just wanted to go home!

Although he couldn't see your face, Jake could sense your uneasiness.

"C'mon," he tugged at your hand. "Let's go to the back."

Although Jake bumped into a few tables and counters on the way to the break room, he didn't mind. After all, there was you, who was clearly startled. He'd rather get a bruise on his hip than you.

He could hear your breath hitching, small whimpers of fear tumbling out as he led you through the dark abyss. Jake had to admit, it was much scarier when it was completely dark than when it wasn't.

The breakroom wasn't much better than in the middle of the floor, but at least there were chairs. Not that it mattered.

You and Jake decided to sit under the break table, shoulder to shoulder with the flashlight between you.

It was silent. You couldn't see Jake, but the feeling of him next to you relieved only some of your anxiety.

The flashlight only illuminated enough for you to see a few feet around you. Otherwise, everything else was a dark, bottomless void.

You knew it was illogical and practically impossible for something else to be lurking. But as minutes passed in silence, the thought of something—or someone— prowling in the dark and ready to jump out at you gnawed at you more and more. Goosebumps rose along your arms, the hair on your neck standing.

"I'm scared, Jake," you whispered, your voice shaky. "I'm so scared."

Thunder boomed in the air, lightning crackled, while heavy rain began to shower down. You jumped at the sound, your hands immediately shooting to grab Jake's arm and leaning into his touch. You squeezed your eyes shut, a scared squeak escaping your lips.

"I'm scared!" you squealed.

Jake's brows furrowed, throwing his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer to him.

"Hey," he said into your ear, watching as you curled up against him, clutching his arm tight. "Hey, I got you."

Your hold on him only tightened as another round of thunder boomed through the night. "Open your eyes, [Name]. It's okay."

You shook your head profusely, your face pressed into his shoulder.

"Nothing's gonna get ya," he whispered, slowly rubbing circles on your back. "You're okay."

You shook your head again.

"It's so dark," you peeped. "Too dark."

"It's okay," Jake's voice was soft, soft as a cloud as he comforted you. "I'm here. I got you."

You nodded into his shoulder, but you kept your face pressed against it, not letting up.

Jake watched you, both with a soft heart and with wide eyes.

He wouldn't say he knew you too well. Even so, he'd spent a lot of time with you this summer so far, he had a few good memories with you. You were always so... cool.

Always on-task, always ready to fight a rude customer, always ready to speak up if you thought something was wrong.

It was weird. Seeing someone that Jake had always seen as a pillar of support one way or another completely drop that image of strength was… something that he never expected.

Here you were, so vulnerable in his arms.

Jake would have never expected you to be afraid of the dark, let alone some thunder, but he didn't mind. Even with your eyes closed, and even with his arms wrapped around you, you still jolted at each crackle in the sky.

If only he could do something to help you...

Jake let out an 'ah' sound.

He leaned into your ear, whispering right against the shell of your ear, "I'll be right back."

You let out another squeak as you felt Jake slipping away from you, yet he didn't take the flashlight with him.

"J-Jake—!"

"I'm still here," he said, yet you heard as he took a few steps. He was rummaging through his bag. He tried his best to feel for what he was looking for: a small, square case. "I'm with you, don't worry."

And as quick as he left your side he was back. Jake slithered his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him. Your eyes widened a fraction as Jake fished for his phone from his back pocket.

"What were you—" you furrowed your brows— "Why’d you get up?"

You could feel Jake turn his head to look at you, and you could hear him grin.

"To get this." In his palm, Jake revealed a small, square case. His earbuds.

You blinked. "W-Why?"

"Don't worry about it." You watched confused as Jake took his earbuds out, jabbing it into the headphone port of his phone. Then, he handed you both of the ears.

"For you," he said simply.

As you were about to object, lightning striked again in the sky, yet another squeal coming from you.

You took his earbuds, jamming them into your ear.

Jake pressed the first song in his playlist.

And if you weren't scared out of your mind right now, you would have yelled at him.

Because really?

Bon Jovi?

At a time like this?

The music was loud enough that you could be distracted, but quiet enough that you could still hear Jake's voice. And when Jake noticed that you were relaxed enough, he opened his mouth.

"I'm surprised you didn't want to rip out my earbuds the moment you heard Bon Jovi," he said.

You elbowed him, yet you were still clinging onto him for dear life.

"Read the room, man," you muttered. "I'm scared shitless."

Jake laughed, and you rolled your eyes again. "This is the only time that I'll willingly listen to Bon Jovi."

"Hey!" Jake cried. "Bon Jovi is a good band."

You shot him a look. "Play some Pink Floyd, something."

You cursed Jake. Of course he'd let you listen to his music, because he got to control it!

"Nah," Jake said. "Bon Jovi is perfect for rainy nights."

You scoffed. "In what world?"

You could hear him grin again. "In my world."

What a loser.

You could see his phone screen light up, probably texts from his parents, but he ignored it. Jake’s phone was on the floor on the other side of him, the side that you were not on.

“Are you sure you won’t play Pink Floyd?” you asked slowly.

“Nope.”

Extreme times call for extreme measures.

Your arm reached across Jake’s lap, jerking to take his phone.

“Hey!” Jake yelped, squirming away from you in a way that blocked your hand from reaching his phone. “What the hell are you—“

“I’m changing the song!”

The two of you struggled like that for a few more moments, and then the next thing you knew you were on Jake’s lap, your arms pinned above your head.

“Let go of me!” you writhed, the earbuds in your eyes still blasting the hardest rock you’ve ever heard. Although you managed to take Jake’s phone, there wasn’t much you could do if he was pinning your hands above you.

“Then give me my phone back,” Jake ignored your struggling.

“Then change the song!”

“No!”

You huffed, continuing your attempt to wriggle out of Jake’s hold, but alas, he was stronger than you. “How are you so strong—“

Boom! Crackle! Thunder and lightning struck.

“Eep!” Immediately, you collapsed onto Jake’s chest, pressing your face into his shirt. You clung onto him, squeezing your eyes shut. When you could feel his chest rumble with a few chuckles, you punched his shoulder lightly. “Shut up.”

Jake chuckled again, but he only pulled you in closer by the waist, allowing you to cling to him more comfortably.

As the storm raged on, any hope that the power would be back up was lost. Jake's phone still had service, but you could tell he was being polite and not going on his phone to not make you feel alienated. Your phone was somewhere in the front, probably on a counter or something.

"We really shouldn't have agreed to cover shifts today," you murmured, your cheek pressed against Jake's chest.

Jake hummed.

He wanted to get past the way that anytime you spoke to Jake, it was either about music or work. He didn't mind talking about these things with you, but he wished he could say more. He wanted to know what you were thinking, and hear about what you liked and disliked, what silly stories or memories you had to tell him.

He wanted to get to know you.

“What’s your favorite color?”

???

"What?"

Jake blinked. "What's your favorite color?"

You stared at him. "Why?"

He shrugged under you. "I dunno. I just wanted to get to know you better."

"Oh." What a simple reason. It made sense for such a simple question. "I like black."

Jake scoffed. "That's not a color."

"Huh? Then what is it?"

"A shade."

"Says who?"

"Says science!"

And then it was quiet again (at least on Jake's part, you were still listening to his music)

But not quite awkward.

Despite the compromising position that you were in, there wasn't any feeling of embarrassment or discomfort.

That's how Jake would describe how he felt toward you. It was an easy thing. You were cool and pretty, and he liked you. Nothing more, nothing less. No games to play, no extra calculations or hours of planning. He liked you, and he was just going to do what felt right. It was as straightforward as that.

"What are you doing after this summer?" you asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

That's right. You and Jake had never discussed much about your personal lives, like where you went to high school, what your plans were post-high school, etc.

And now that the two of you were alone, in the dark, with virtually nothing to do, it was the perfect time to talk about it.

"I'm going up to Santa Barbara," Jake said coolly. "I'm studying biomed engineering."

"Oooh," you mused. "How exciting."

Jake let out a chuckle. "You don't sound excited."

"I am," you deadpanned, and Jake couldn't hold back a laugh.

"What about you?" Jake asked. "What are you doing?"

Even though it was dark, Jake could hear you frown.

"I'm going to Davis for International Business." You paused. "I don't know."

"Whaddaya mean?"

You shrugged. "I dunno if it's really my passion. I just chose it because—"

You're interrupted by a loud bang! followed by buzzing. You jolted, tensing up in Jake's hold, whose hand shot to the small of your back protectively.

"Eek!" you cried, and the next thing you knew, all the lights were back on.

You and Jake stayed where you were for a few moments, long enough for the freezers in the back to start buzzing again. As if someone just snapped their fingers, everything turned back on. The bright lights hitting your darkness-adjusted eyes made your eyes water.

"Oh," Jake said plainly. "The lights are back on."

"No shit, Sherlock," you muttered, earning a pinch to your side. It was now that you and Jake really realized your current positions: you were on top of him, with your head resting on his shoulders, with his arms wrapped around your waist. And it seemed like the two of you realized this at the same time.

"We should—" Jake averted his gaze from you, finding the floor next to him very interesting.

"Yeah, you're right, we should—" you slowly pulled away from him, grimacing at the feeling of Jake's arms slipping away from you.

"Yup, and—" Jake trailed off, not fully completing his thought.

Awkward.

The two of you were back on your feet in no time, both with slightly-disheveled work uniforms, but hey, it was to be expected.

Together, the two of you inspected the parlor. Just in case something slipped in while it was dark (even though that was virtually impossible).

Everything was exactly as you left it.

The mop that you dropped on the floor, your phone on the counter, the keys to the freezer that Jake threw by accident, even the messy chairs.

"Are you scared right now?" Jake asked with a chuckle as you stayed close behind him, your fingers clutching his broad shoulders. From time to time you'd peek around him, but for the most part, you stared straight at his back, unwilling to look ahead. Just in case a monster jumped out!

"I'm not." Lie.

Jake laughed, but before he could poke fun at you more—

Boom!

Oh right, the storm.

Like a cat, you jumped almost immediately, gripping Jake's shoulders for dear life.

Jake peeked out the windows. The streetlamps and signs were illuminated again.

"Looks like all the lights are back up," he said. He glanced over his shoulder to you, who clung to him. "I think we can go home now. The storm's dying down already."

You nodded, and the two of you finished closing up in silence, before preparing to leave.

"Do you have a ride?" Jake asked you as the two of you packed up your things.

Shit.

"My mom was going to pick me up because she didn't want me driving late at night," you groaned. "I'll call her right no—"

"No," Jake shook his head, reaching inside his pocket. You watched as he really shoved his hands in there, like he was searching for something. At last, after digging through his pockets for what felt like hours, he pulled out a bunch of keys, with a tiny lego keychain dangling off of it. "I'll drive you home."

After that day, you weren't called into work again for a few days. In those few days, for some weird reason, you couldn't get Jake off your mind. Which you thought was weird.

You never really thought about Jake aside from work. And it wasn't even the fact that you were thinking about him! It was the fact that you felt weird for feeling weird about thinking about him. If that even made sense.

He's always been cute. Gentlemanly, too.

When he drove you home the other day, he insisted that you didn't need to pay him back for driving you home. In fact, he said that he'd rather use more gas than have you wait alone at the parlor to be picked up. He opened and closed the door for you, showed you how to control the heaters so that you could be warm, and even let you play your music!

He was reliable too, someone that you knew you could count on. And he was very kind, because no matter how many rude customers there were, he understood that everyone was human and served them with a smile. Unlike you, who always exercised that "we reserve to deny you service" right.

These were all things that you knew. It was no surprise. You knew these things.

But after that day, you couldn't help but feel like it was... amplified.

Jake was cute, but now he was cuter. Way cuter.

He felt even more gentlemanly and reliable and kind now. Him going out of his way to comfort you, even if it meant that you had to listen to his god-awful music, warmed your heart.

And that was the weird part.

It was just so odd. You couldn't stop thinking about him. And you felt all weird and mushy for thinking about him, which made you feel even weirder!

You didn't really get it.

Surely, it wasn't a crush.

It wasn't like you were all over the place, distracted and spacy and blushing now that Jake was on your mind. You weren't rolling around and kicking your feet, nor were you giggling.

But you would be lying if you said that the simple thought of his name didn't make you excited.

Meanwhile, Jake knew exactly what was happening to him.

And it was that his crush on you definitely deepened tenfold.

In the moment, when he was with you, whether it be the other day or any other day at all, he was always nonchalant. It was a casual crush, he'd say. Everything was straightforward with no games to play.

But that was a lie.

Because here he was, lying on his bed and staring at his ceiling. He hugged his pillow, embarrassingly pretending that it was you. He felt like a weirdo, but he couldn't get the feeling of you clinging to him and in his arms out of his head!

Just the mere thought of that night made him have to roll around and giggle for a few moments.

Jake sucked in the scent of his pillows. Unfortunately, they didn't smell like you, just like laundry with a faint scent of his own cologne.

You were so pretty, and cool, and kind, and smart, and practical, and just everything good in the world. And then when you got scared and clung to him, it made his heart flutter, because who knew you could be so cute?

Jake let out a squeal into his pillow, his cheeks hurting from how much he was smiling.

For the first time ever, Jake actually wanted to go to work. Just to see you.

He couldn't wait for it.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," you said for the millionth time today. "We don't have that here—"

Another day at work. Just when the idea of going to work didn't sound too bad, you're reminded why you hate it.

Apparently some kids on TikTok spread a rumor that your parlor had a special, limited-edition, summer unicorn flavor. And even worse, your damn social media manager was hinting at it on Instagram, too.

So here you were now, trying to explain to a hoard of angry customers that this limited-edition unicorn flavor was absolutely false. To think that your own social media manager would betray you and your coworkers like this just to attract more customers... You shouldn't be unsurprised but you were.

Diabolical.

It must've been the 90th time in the past hour that you had to explain that you had no fucking clue what a unicorn flavor would be, and if you weren't a tired and overworked teenager, you would've felt bad when a little girl bursted into tears in the middle of the store.

Cry about it, you thought, and you couldn't tell if that sentiment was towards your angry customers, or if it was towards upper management that were about to get multiple complaints about you.

Breathe, you had to tell yourself. It's not worth it. Where was everyone else anyway? You couldn't believe that you were left completely alone to operate the establishment on your own. And most of your coworkers were older than you anyway. Those bums!

You sucked in another breath, putting on your best smile.

"You're telling me that you don't actually have the limited-edition unicorn flavor?!" an angry father crossed his arms, upset with his children cowering beside him.

"No, sir," you said as politely as you could. "That was just a rumor. My apologies for the inconven—"

"Unacceptable!"

You winced, feeling your ears warm up. If everyone in the parlor wasn't already watching you like a hawk, all eyes were now on you.

"I had to drive two hours here," the father slammed his hand on the counter, leaning in so close that you could smell him. "I drove two hours here for unicorn ice cream and you're telling me that it was all a lie?!"

All of this.... for ice cream?"

"I apologize, sir," you hung your head low to appear genuine, clasping your hands together. "That must have been a long ride and—"

"Shut up and give me my ice cream, you bi—" Your eyes widened a fraction as you saw a big palm swinging your way... Was he about to slap you? In the milliseconds that you could even react, you squeezed your eyes shut, preparing for the stinging feeling of a hand against your cheek.

But instead, you felt nothing, only the sound of a few gasps and light chuckling.

"Hey, there, sir," you heard Jake's voice as you peeled your eyes open.

Jake was beside you, his hand wrapped around the man's wrist that was mere inches away from your face.

"J-Jake?!"

The man struggled in Jake's grip, attempting (and failing horribly) to pull his wrist out of Jake's hand.

"Let go of me, boy!" he yelled. Everyone's eyes were on the scene now. How embarrassing.

Jake narrowed his eyes, tightening his grip.

"Here at Layla's Ice Cream Parlor, we reserve the right to deny any patron service," he said plainly.

The man scoffed. "And are you about to deny me service? What are you, the manager?"

Jake only shook his head calmly.

"You were about to assault my coworker here," he motioned toward you, then to the man's still-raised hand. "I don't need to be any manager to realize that someone of that sort has no business here."

Jake shot him a smile, before roughly letting go of his wrist, letting it fall to the counter.

"Please leave, sir."

He glanced around the room, noticing the way everyone stared at him. Another tight-lipped smile spread on his face.

"There are no limited-edition summer flavors, so if that is what you are here for, I apologize for the disappointment. " Jake glanced at you. "Please help yourself to the flavors that we actually have."

With that, Jake took you by the wrist, pulling you into the breakroom.

"W-Wait Jake—!" you tried to pull out of his grasp. "There's still customers out there."

He gently pushed you down onto a chair.

Jake crouched down at your sitting figure, putting his hands on your knees. He squeezed them playfully. "You've done enough today. I'll handle the rest."

"But— But there's a lot of people today," you reasoned, placing your hands on his. "You can't run the entire place on your own...!"

But before the last syllables could even leave your lips, Jake was already retying his apron, fixing his dumb uniform hat. Before he slinked away through the door, he glanced over his shoulder, gripping the door frame.

"I'll prove you wrong," he said with a grin. "Just watch."

(You were right, he was wrong. Not even the most exemplary worker like Jake could handle an entire exuberant ice cream parlor by himself. The moment you saw his tired eyes you were already throwing on your apron. Though, you got a good laugh out of it afterwards.)

You deadpanned.

This was not what you signed up for.

It was Saturday, the day that you swore was your break day from work. And then all of a sudden you got an urgent call from your manager and you rushed to work immediately.

You thought that the parlor got robbed, or maybe something broke down.

Nope.

"You want me..." you blinked, "To wear that?!"

Lo and behold, before you was a comically large ice cream costume, with a brown waffled body for the cone and the most obnoxious white swirl reaching high in the ceiling, with only a circular cut-out to see your face.

Apparently, sales were dwindling, so your managers decided to try out some new advertising.

You were going to wear that godforsaken ice cream costume and hang outside the parlor to attract customers.

"Kid-friendly language only," your manager instructed you matter-of-factly. "No swearing, no saying mean words."

You tuned him out.

And if the walk of shame out of the bathroom in your ice cream costume wasn't bad enough, you were hit with the last thing you wanted to see: Jake Sim.

You were about to jump and shriek and let the ground open up and devour you whole... when you realized that he was wearing an ice cream costume too...!

"You too?!" you cried. Behold, in front of you stood your favorite coworker Jake Sim with an equally deadpan expression, clad in the ridiculous ice cream costume.

"Yup," Jake muttered, popping the p. "I guess we'll never be free."

And he was indeed correct.

There was truly nothing more mortifying than standing outside the damn ice cream parlor, holding an even more obnoxiously bright sign and trying to attract customers... all in your humiliating ice cream costume.

Kids laughed at you from across the street. Cars that passed by you probably did the same. Absolutely demoralizing.

"Come to Layla's Ice Cream Parlor," you said in a monotone voice, trying your very best to not burst into tears of sheer embarrassment. "We have ice cream... and... uh—"

You glanced at Jake, whispering to him, "What else do we have?"

"Ice cream." He said, absolutely no expression in his voice or face. Oh god, we must have lost him too! "Nothing but ice cream."

Poor guy, he looked like he wanted to disappear.

This must have been a punishment, or something. Maybe a humiliation ritual. But after a good ten minutes, you and Jake just decided to commit to the bit. After all, you were getting paid extra for this.

"Ice cream, ice cream!" you and Jake chanted as you paraded around the vicinity of the parlor. After all, there was nothing you could do but make the best of it. You went out of your way to speak to oncoming customers, advertising with the most energy you could. "Come to Layla's Ice Cream!"

But it wasn't always easy.

Like always, customers and children were rude.

"Hello, miss, are you interested in trying some of Layla's yummy yummy ice cre—" and then you got laughed at. Like actually. They just started pointing and laughing at you. Like you were some freak.

And then Jake tried to square up some little kids a few times, it was a mess.

And finally, after what felt like years out there trying to advertise to people, your manager finally called you guys back in. Apparently, you and Jake did such a wonderful job that you guys were needed back at the front. Your coworkers couldn't seem to keep up. Lazy asses.

You and Jake went back inside to change back into your work uniforms— those stupid blue and white sailor uniforms. Except, one of your coworkers was having an "emergency" in the staff bathroom (you were certain it was just Beomgyu sitting on the toilet with his phone and refusing to do his job), so both you and Jake had to change in the staff break room.

At the same time.

"Okay, you will change, and I will cover you—"

"Shut up!" you exclaimed. "Why can't we just change at the same time?"

Jake was being terribly awkward about it.

"B-Because!" he reasoned, unable to hide the way he couldn't look you in the eye. "Because.... you're a girl, and I'm a guy!"

"Aaaaand?" you drew out your syllables, crossing your arms over your chest.

"We can't possibly change in the same room?" Jake cried. "What if— What if I accidentally see your—"

Your cheeks warmed up. What was he on about? "You're not going to!"

Your boss was really annoying about punctuality, so you and Jake should probably change quickly anyway. You ignored Jake's fussing, raising your arms as you began to pull your shirt over your head.

"What are you—"

"Just change!"

In the end, you guys just did the easiest option: turning around so that you faced opposite directions while the other changed... which should have been intuitive for Jake (but he's a little slow).

When you two were both done changing, you turned back around to face Jake, about to let out your grievances about working.

Except, when you saw him, you couldn't help but let out a giggle.

Because your work uniform was supposed to resemble that of a sailor, there were a few complex pieces, such as the sailor scarf draped over your shoulders and neck. Usually, you need a mirror to tie it properly. There was also the damn paper sailor hat that you had to wear.

Since you weren't changing in the bathroom, there was no mirror, so poor Jake's hat and tie were sloppily done, crooked on his person.

"Jake," you smiled, motioning for him to come toward you. And when he was close enough, you yanked him even closer to you by his shoulders, causing him to let out a yelp.

"W-What are you doing?" he asked, unable to hide the panic in his voice.

You giggled again. Your hands began to work on his tie, undoing his sloppy tie and neatly folding it. "Relax, you big baby."

When you were done with his tie, you fixed Jake's hat, oblivious to the way Jake's ears and neck turned a noticeable shade of red.

"There you go," you said with a grin. "All good!"

Jake looked at you with shaky eyes. You were close to him now. Close enough that he could feel your breath fanning his cheeks. Close enough that if he just leaned in a bit more, he could kiss you— Jake jerked himself away from you abruptly. His heart was pounding in his chest at an abnormal rate.

Don't think about kissing her when she's right in front of you! he scolded himself. You gave him a questioning look, before you just grinned again and left the break room.

Ah, Jake was going crazy.

Man, fuck you Beomgyu! you mentally cursed your other coworker. You were absolutely correct; earlier he was indeed hogging the staff bathroom so that he could shirk his responsibilities. According to Jake, Beomgyu did this really often, to the point that the staff bathroom ran out of soap too fast because Beomgyu was busy playing with soap and making dumb ass bubbles in there.

Of all times, it had to be now that the staff bathroom just decided to run out of soap?

It was getting late, so your manager told you to start cleaning. And just as you began, some little unsupervised middle schooler skateboarded right into you, spilling his three scoops of chocolate ice cream with layers of caramel and peanut butter sauce all over your white uniform.

And all you were given were a few measly napkins to wipe but the sticky sweet mess, only after you cleaned up the mess on the floor. Now as you desperately tried to clean the mess off your uniform in the staff bathroom, you were certain that your manager was going to yell at you later.

As you reached for another hand towel from the dispenser, you let out a groan as you realized that there were no more. Seriously, what was Beomgyu doing in here that he just used up all the soap and paper towels?

"[Name]," you heard a knock on the door. It was Jake. "You good in there?"

You groaned again.

"No!" you cried from the other side of the door. You were frustrated, how bothersome! Even if there were more paper towels, there still was a giant brown stain on your shirt. And you'd probably have to get another uniform. "It looks like a shit stain!"

You heard Jake chuckle from the other side of the door, before his footsteps retreated. After a few minutes, Jake came back.

"Can I come in?" he asked, knocking again on the bathroom door.

"Door's unlocked."

Except, instead of seeing Jake in his usual work uniform, he had a big black hoodie thrown over him, probably one that he was wearing before he changed into his uniform earlier. In his hands was a white shirt.

"Wear this," he said as he shoved the white shirt into your hands.

It was his own uniform shirt.

"But—" you tried to reason with him, but he put his hand up, silencing you.

"Can't have you walking around with a shit stain on your shirt," he said with a cheeky grin, earning him a slap on the arm.

"But you'll get in trouble," you breathed. Your manager was really particular about workers wearing uniforms, and for some reason not about workers actually doing their job.

Jake shrugged. "It's about time I did." And flashed you another smile. "And plus, I was going to get in trouble anyway. Apparently, defending my coworker from a rude customer is punishable."

Ah, the unicorn ice cream incident from a few weeks ago.

Was he really that willing to get in trouble for you?

As you closed the door to the bathroom, you could already hear your manager and another coworker making their comments about Jake. Although you couldn't exactly hear what they were saying, it must have been the usual remarks about inefficiency. And probably about how he wasn't wearing work-appropriate clothes.

You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip as you listened to their muffled voices.

Jake was really getting in trouble all for your sake.

As you buttoned up his white shirt, you noted that it carried the scent of his cologne. It smelled good, and you instinctively brought the sleeve up to your nose to catch a better whiff. But then you felt weird and stopped immediately.

It wasn't fair. Everything about your job.

You and Jake had to do all the work, but even so, the managers were disproportionately harsher with Jake than they were with you. Probably because of some sexist bullshit.

And then there were rude and entitled customers.

Jake was taking the fall for you too much.

And you couldn't keep letting it happen.

As you made your way out of the staff bathroom, you could hear your manager berating Jake, with another coworker joining in.

"And why are you not in our employee dress code?" your manager chided. "This is unacceptable! A hoodie? What do you think will happen to our store's brand?"

Jake just hung his head low, but you could tell he was annoyed more than anything. "It was because [Name]'s shirt got ruined, and she was uncomfortable."

"And what business do you have with [Name]?" your coworker joined in lambasting the poor Jake.

"Look, man," Jake looked up at them. "I was just helpin' her out." Jake paused for a moment. "And plus it's closing hours anyway. It's not like anyone sees me out of uniform."

Your manager and coworker thought for a few moments, before your coworker said, "Well, you're still causing a hindrance for our parlor. I think we will cut you weekly pay—"

His weekly pay? Ridiculous. Your body moved on its own, and before you knew it, you had bursted through the door.

"I-It was my fault!" you blurted, your lips moving faster than you could think. "Jake was just helping me."

You ignored the way Jake looked at you with eyes big as saucers, surprised. You swiped your tongue over your lip. "I-It's really my fault. If there's anyone that should get their weekly pay cut, it should be me."

Jake's face visibly contorted, his brows crashing together. "[Name]—"

"That's enough," your manager finally spoke up. The older man sighed, before checking his wrist watch. "Jake, [Name], just forget about it. Don't make this mistake again. Just close up for the night."

And with that, you and Jake were left alone once more.

"What was that all about?" Jake asked you as the two of you closed up.

"What was what?"

Jake huffed, leaning on the mop. "You know, what happened earlier about uniforms?"

"Oh." You shrugged, not really paying him any mind. "What about it?"

Jake huffed again. "Y'know... Why did you step in?"

You finally looked at him, before blinking a few times. "Isn’t it obvious?"

Jake smiled. "No, that’s why I’m asking you."

You scoffed playfully. "Okay, smartass."

You paused for a few moments. "You’re my friend, Jake. You’ve protected me in the past, so I'm just returning the favor."

"Thank you," Jake replied, unable to hide the smile growing on his face. "That's very kind of you.

You just hummed in response, going back to cleaning up.

Jake teetered on his feet, back and forth, as he played with his fingers. His heart pounding in his chest, Jake chewed on his bottom lip.

He was nervous.

Just this morning, you texted him if he wanted to hang out with you, because as you said, you were bored.

Hanging out? With you? The hottest girl that he's ever seen? There was no way in hell that he'd say no to such a golden opportunity.

You'd told Jake to meet you at the pier, because there was a nice mall area around there. As you relayed in your texts, you were going on vacation in a few weeks, and needed to go shopping for it.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't have any ulterior motives. You weren't really sure how you felt about Jake. He was cute, and sweet, and you definitely wanted to get to know him better. And there was a part of you that desperately wanted to impress him.

Maybe today could be an opportunity for you.

You checked your reflection in the car window before you got out of your mom's car. Muttering a "bye," you made your way toward where you told Jake to meet you.

It was a sunny day. You chose to wear something breathable, a pretty pink sundress with a cardigan. You didn't dress like this on most days. You liked to opt for dark colors, but today you wanted to be... cute.

Pretty for Jake.

You spotted Jake pretty easily. Not because he had anything that made him physically easy to identify, not at all. It was more like... you simply could just spot him. It was like you had a newfound Jake-radar.

"Hi," you said with a smile. And for some reason, it seemed like Jake was startled, with his eyes widening as he caught sight of you. "Are you okay?"

Jake stared at you for a few moments, and you swore you saw the way his eyes looked you up and down. His lips parted, and he sucked in a sharp breath as he swiped his tongue over his lips.

You felt a twinge of embarrassment. You didn't wear light colors normally, was it obvious that this dress was not something that you usually wear? Did you look strange? Maybe you should've worn your typical black clothing, and—

"N-No," Jake stammered, his eyes still looking you up and down. Truth be told, he had to bite back a "damn." Because yes, damn, you looked hot. "You look— You look nice today."

Your cheeks prickled with warmth. "Oh. Thank you."

"You don't..." Jake continued, as if he was on autopilot. You were beginning to feel really shy when you realized that he was really staring at your chest area. "You don't wear pink often, do you?"

You averted your gaze. "You're right, I don't." How embarrassing! So he notices the things you wear... and he probably 100% knows that you don't wear pink at all. "Does it look weird, or—"

"No!" Jake blurted, before catching himself. He cleared his throat, his ears a warm shade of pink. "Not at all. I really, uh, meant it when I said— When I said you looked nice."

You nodded slowly. Was it normal to feel so warm? Maybe you should check the weather again?

"Really nice," Jake echoed himself. If you weren't busy feeling shy yourself, you would have noticed Jake checking you out for the 50th time already.

You murmured a brief "thanks," before you quickly changed the subject.

"Shall we go?"

It was unusual to feel awkward or shy around Jake, and vice versa. You knew for sure that Jake was a special person, but it never affected you. For Jake, he was determined to be calm and nonchalant when it came to you. And plus, your friendship was always casual anyway.

Which was why all of your shyness dissipated pretty quickly.

You took Jake along to all the spots at the pier's mall area.

"What are you looking for?" Jake asked as he trailed after you. Jake will never understand women. You've been to 4 stores already, and all you've done is touch things and say, 'Oh this is cute.' And then you'd leave.

You shrugged. "Cute things for vacation."

Jake looked around, through the store mirrors as you two traversed the mall area. "Any preferences?"

You shrugged again. "I like dark colors, but I don't mind brighter colors for vacation, yaknow?"

Jake hummed.

The two of you walked around for a little longer until you stopped in front of a store.

"What's this?" Jake asked.

You grinned. "A swimsuit store."

Listen, Jake wouldn't consider himself an easily-excitable guy. He wasn't pervy, either. Especially toward you! He was nonchalant!

But as he entered the girly swimsuit store, he couldn't help but redden at the thought of you in some of these swimsuits. Some of them were provocative and cheeky, making Jake's stomach do flips as his mind crept into places that made it hard for him to make eye contact with you. Other ones were cute and frilly, arguably making Jake's heart pound even faster as he imagined you in them.

"Hey, what do you think about this one?" you asked Jake as you took one of the suits off the rack.

On the inside, Jake was already drooling at the thought. But on the outside he simply nodded, giving a playful smile and a thumbs up. And really, he thought that if he could maintain that attitude for the rest of the time in this swimsuit store, he'd be fine.

But he was wrong.

"Okay, I'm gonna try these on, and I'll have you give me feedback."

What.

What?

And so Jake sat in the couches in front of the changing rooms, simply awaiting his death.

He's not weird, he swears. He doesn't want to be creepy or gross toward you.

But how could he not sweat and basically hyperventilate in these changing rooms when the hottest girl that he's ever seen (you) is about to ask him for his opinion on swimsuits?

Jake was certain that no matter what, you would look hot.

And he was proven correct when you slipped out of the changing rooms.

"Okay, first one," you said, in a voice that was a little too relaxed. You went on your tiptoes, doing a few turns here and there so that Jake could see the full extent of the suit on you. "What do you think?"

And oh.

Good lord.

Jake was really trying his best not to make you uncomfortable.

But there was absolutely no way that he could just sit there and not react. His jaw quite literally dropped the moment he saw you.

The way the suit hugged your body, the way the colors illuminated your skin, the way you were 100% feeling yourself in it— All of it was making Jake 2 seconds away from crashing out.

You must have been a goddess. Or maybe Jake saved a country in his past life.

"It looks— You look— I— You—" he stumbled over his words. There were no words to describe how you looked. You looked downright beautiful. Like, if Jake died now he wouldn't mind. And when you giggled at his reaction, he took a deep breath. Don't be a weirdo! he told himself.

"You look beautiful," he breathed, finally catching himself. His eyes flickered back up to your pretty, pretty face. "You look really beautiful in this one."

"Thank you," you smiled at him. You did another twirl, something that you definitely knew drove him crazy. And if you hadn't noticed him checking you out, Jake was certain that you definitely knew now.

And maybe Jake didn't know enough about women. Because he really believed that that one swimsuit was the only one that you were trying on.

And he was so wrong.

Because there were at least 3 more that you wanted to show him!

Oh, he wasn't going to survive this.

Well, Jake did survive.

After insisting on carrying your shopping bag full of your new swimsuits (Jake didn't dare peek inside because he thought he'd combust), you decided to do some more exploring.

You got some food to munch on, and went to all types of stores. And you took many pictures, too! Pictures together, of you trying on hats and sunglasses. Candid pictures of each other, many of which where you look pretty without even trying and Jake's mind is blown.

More exploring, walking, sitting down, walking, and then sitting for 30 minutes because both of your feet hurt. A lot of laughing, a lot of dumb conversations, and even more laughing.

And before you knew it, it was getting dark out. Suddenly, the sound of the waves crashing filled the air, the cool beach wind blowing against your cheeks.

"Let's go walk along the shore!"

And so you did.

The orange sky was fading into a dark blue, and yet, the sun still shone so brightly as it submerged into the horizon. The water gently rocked against the shoreline, while the scent of sea salt and seaweed filled your senses.

It was a cool evening, and you tugged on the sleeves of your cardigan to warm your cold hands.

By now, the beach was quiet. Many people had already left, as it was slowly becoming nighttime.

In quiet moments like this, you couldn't help but fully conceptualize Jake as a person.

He was a handsome boy your age. He was kind, sweet, responsible, silly, everything great in a person. And he had a similar music taste to you, too. And here he was, walking alongside you as the sun set.

Your eyes fluttered over to him. His eyes were trained on the sand below his feet, appreciating the way the wet granules covered his skin.

He was a straightforward person. Things went from A to B with him easily. No games, nothing to hide. And yet, you felt like there was so much to discover about him. There was an entire world undiscovered in his head. And you wanted to be a part of it.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked suddenly, interrupting the calm silence.

"You."

You?

You could feel your heart picking up speed, but you kept your composure. Meanwhile, you swore your skin was prickling with an uncharacteristic warmth.

"I-I mean—" Jake seemed to snap out of his daze. "I— I was just thinking about you, and work, and summer, and—"

You blinked, but your lips spread into a tight smile. You didn't know why you felt disappointed.

You sucked in a breath. "The water's really nice tonight."

"Mhm," Jake agreed. He wasn't blind. He could see the way your face fell ever so slightly. He could see when you felt flustered or shy because of him.

But what if he was misinterpreting things? What if his eyes were playing tricks on him?

But then you'd look up at him with those shiny eyes, almost like you were begging him to give you his heart.

Just go for it.

His eyes dropped to your hands, which were still tugging on your sleeves to keep warm.

Jake clicked his tongue. Boldly, he grabbed your hands, clasping them in yours.

"Hey!" you cried.

"Geez, your hands are so cold," he murmured, before locking his fingers with one of your hands. As if nothing happened, Jake just continued walking along the shore, this time with your hand in his.

You stared at your interlocked fingers for a few moments, before you swallowed all of your shyness and continued trailing with him.

The two of you returned to walking in silence, nothing but the sound of the water and your breaths filling the air.

Jake wasn't lying when he said he was thinking of you, because he really. He always was. And just as he was about to fall back into thought, your hand pulled away from his.

With curious eyes, Jake watched as you silently pulled out a tiny plastic case from your purse.

Your earbuds.

You plugged them into your phone, before jamming one of the buds into your own ear. You looked at Jake expectantly, and he took the second earbud graciously.

You bit back a laugh as you turned on your music.

The second you pressed 'play,' a hardy bass and an unforgettable drumline played into your ears.

"Are you serious?" Jake immediately snapped his head at you. "Fleetwood Mac?!"

You laughed, throwing your head back. "I wasn't about to let you ruin the beach vibe and play Bon Jovi."

"I don't only listen to Bon Jovi—!"

And just as you and Jake were enjoying music, the beach, and most importantly, each other, Jake's phone rang. And of course, his ringtone was a Bon Jovi song.

You gave him a look as his lips spread into a goofy smile.

Not daring to tear out the earbud, he picked up his phone and listened with his other ear.

And even though it was nearly nighttime by now, you could still see how Jake's face morphed.

When he hung up, his face dropped.

"They need me to take someone's shift."

Oh.

This was really, very, genuinely, seriously annoying.

Because unfortunately, the truth was that if they needed Jake to work, then they probably needed you to work too.

Because they always needed you and Jake to work.

And so, here your (not-so official) date was ending.

Apparently, it was extremely urgent, and they insisted on paying Jake extra if he came. Not to worry, because he texted your manager to make sure that you'd get extra pay if you came along, too.

The moment that you stepped into the parlor, you could feel all the joy leaving your body. You swore that Layla’s Ice Cream Parlor had evil spirits in there, designed specifically to simply fill your body with dread.

You put on one of the spare work uniforms that the parlor had in the back. It was a little big, and a little itchy, but whatever.

When Jake got the phone call and explained to you the situation, you were fully expecting a packed parlor, with a line that went out the door and your incompetent coworkers couldn't handle it, or something. But now that you were in the parlor, you realized that that was just a load of bullshit.

"Empty," Jake muttered behind you. "There is absolutely no one here."

You hummed in agreement, equally deadpan.

Those lazy bums.

They just didn't want to work the closing shift. They just didn't want to do the cleaning or locking up. They just wanted you to take their shifts so that they could go home and relax.

And so here you two were, just lazing around in the breakroom, just trying to pass the time. You let your phone play some random playlist.

"I'm sorry," Jake said, with his cheek pressed against the breakroom table. "We were hanging out and I decided to take us to work."

"Nah, you're justified," you said lazily. "They're promising us extra pay, so it's fine."

The room went silent again, but you could tell Jake was thinking something. And indeed, he was.

Jake felt horrible! Although you did agree to come to work with him, he still felt back. Did he just fumble your first (unofficial) date? God, he's so stupid! Now you two were stuck in the worst place on earth.

He stared at your bored expression.

He couldn't let you stay bored.

Without a word, he got up from his seat in the breakroom and disappeared out to the front. You could hear some cluttering and buzzing.

"Close your eyes!" he yelled before he came back to where you were in the breakroom. And you complied.

"What are you doing, Jake?" you asked, but you couldn't help but smile. He was definitely up to some antics.

"Just close your eyes," he instructed you, before sitting down with you at the breakroom table again.

Jake clasped his hands together. "I have three cups of ice cream here. You will close your eyes and guess which one is which."

You let out an exasperated sigh. "Are you serious?"

"Yes!" Jake laughed. "We can't get bored in here."

You chuckled. "Okay, fine."

Jake watched you intently as he spoon-fed you the first spoonful of ice cream.

The first flavor was strawberry, your personal favorite.

Maybe it was getting late, or maybe Jake was just too obsessed with you, but he couldn't take his eyes off of the way your pretty lips opened up for the ice cream. He was simply so mesmerized by the way you licked your lips, relishing in the way the sweet strawberry ice cream melted on your tastebuds.

"This is so obvious," you nudged him, kicking him from under the table. "At least make it hard for me!"

Jake rolled his eyes playfully. "Just guess!"

You huffed, mumbling something about him being stupid under your breath. "Strawberry. Duh."

"Woo hoo!" Jake cheered for you. "It was strawberry!"

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock."

The second flavor was ube. Which you guessed almost immediately.

"Next flavor, please," you giggled. "This game is too easy,"

But Jake wasn't listening to you in the slightest.

Just why did you have to start licking the spoon clean? The way your glossy lips wrapped around the spoon, your tongue wrapping around the smooth plastic, and now he was feeling all types of things, and—

"Seriously, make it harder for me!"

Jake gulped.

The last flavor he had was salted caramel. His own personal favorite.

He'd already taken a few bites out of it.

He glanced at your lips, then down at the salted caramel ice cream.

Even under the corporate light of the break room, you still glowed so prettily. And you must have been doing it on purpose, the way you were keeping the spoon in your mouth, with your lips wrapped around it so prettily.

Jake's eyes flickered back to your lips once more, then to the salted caramel ice cream.

His heart was already pounding in his chest. All the blood was rushing to his head and Jake thought that he'd faint.

Your lips were just so damn pretty.

It seemed like something was possessing Jake's body. While his mind was frozen on your lips, his body was moving on its own.

He reached out for you first, his large hand taking solace on your shoulder.

And in one, fluid motion, Jake leaned in, and closed the gap between his lips and yours.

Your lips were soft and sweet, like clouds. Jake's eyes had unconsciously fallen shut, and the moment that he realized that he was kissing you, they shot open. However, just as he was about to pull away, because oh my god he was kissing you, and he didn't even ask!, Jake felt your hand slither up around his neck.

You pulled him in even closer, deepening the kiss.

Jake felt dizzy. It was the way your tongue dipped into his mouth when he let out a little gasp. Or maybe it was the way your fingers ran through his hair, almost as if you were desperate to keep his lips on yours. Your everything— your hands, your lips, your scent— they were all driving him insane.

Jake didn't want it to end, and if it weren't for his need for air, he wouldn't have pulled away. Ever.

The two of you sat there, breathless, staring into each other's eyes for what felt like an eternity. Jake's cheeks were red, his pupils blown out with desire. His eyes fell down to your lips.

"Salted caramel," you breathed, your hands sliding down to his shoulders. You squeezed his shoulders. "You taste like salted caramel— kiss me if that's the answer—"

And you didn't need to ask him twice, because Jake was already crashing his lips against yours.

There was something so addictive about your lips. The way you moaned against his lips, the way you clung onto him like you needed him, it was all driving him crazy.

Jake needed more, he needed you.

In his head, it was all just you, you, you.

"I want you so bad," Jake mumbled against your lips. "Please."

He could feel you giggle, but he simply just slides his hand around your waist to pull you closer.

Your lips moved against his in ways that were too perfect to be real. Jake felt like he was in heaven. You were heaven. You were angelic, you were godly, you were—

"Um, excuse me, are you guys still open?"

!!!

You and Jake jumped away from each other.

Shit.

It was still store hours.

"Are we going to get fired?"

Now it was actually closing hours.

You and Jake started cleaning after you were so rudely interrupted, and now it was time to close up.

And it was awkward.

Your heart was practically leaping out of your chest. It felt like forever since you shared your kisses with Jake. And now, you craved his lips once more.

But what if it was just on the whim? What if Jake just did it to do it?

You just wanted him so bad. You wanted to kiss him again, you wanted to feel him again.

"For what?"

You shifted uncomfortably, your eyes refusing to meet Jake's.

"Kissing coworkers."

"No!" Jake's cheeks flared up. "Of course not!"

"Then..." your brows furrowed. Your face felt hot to the touch. You felt like you were going to get a heart attack. Seriously, you felt like you were burning up, all the while you felt frozen in time and space. You slowly looked up at Jake. "Then can we... you know... keep doing it?"

"I— I mean, if you don't mind— and if it's not something that we could get fired for—" you stammered— "Then can we... you know— can we keep kissing?"

Jake was already on it.

“Eek, Jake, lock the doors first!”

After a few more weeks of hiding in the storage closet to makeout, and honestly straight up shirking your responsibilities to kiss in the breakroom, you and Jake did the unthinkable.

"We resign!"

Your manager looked at you incredulously. "W-What?"

You and Jake smiled. "We quit."

You've never felt more free. With your boyfriend at your side, it seemed like the summer was endless.

BONUS

"Did I ever tell you that I liked you?" you asked Jake, in his car just moments after you quit your job.

"I don't think you did, babe," Jake laughed.

"Oh."

You should probably put that on your to-do list.

You glanced at your boyfriend. How his lips looked so kissable.

Sigh. You'll tell him what you like later. It's time to kiss!

note: please reblog n comment if you enjoyed! xoxo vanya >_<

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