#i feel like i had a one night stand when i look at these .

[bu3ck3r]

unconditional love

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: pazzi at wnba draft

a/n: i’m so insanely proud of paige it’s been amazing watching her grow and now seeing her get everything she’s worked so hard for. also feeling incredibly proud of kaitlyn and aubrey just such a big moment for all of them🥹

the hum of new york city sat low and steady outside the window, a constant rhythm against the silence in the hotel room. it was late, maybe 1 a.m. , but paige didn’t care. time felt like it had slowed, suspended between what she’d spent years working for and whatever tomorrow would bring.

azzi lay curled into her, her cheek pressed against paige’s chest, fingers trailing soft circles on her stomach. the tv was on mute, glowing with some random late-night sitcom, but neither of them was watching.

“you’re quiet,” azzi whispered, her voice sleepy but alert.

paige blinked slowly, her hand brushing along azzi’s back, settling just above the hem of her shirt. “i’m just… thinking.”

“mhm.” azzi tilted her head up to look at her. “about tomorrow?”

“yeah. and you.”

azzi smiled. “me? what about me?”

paige leaned down and kissed her temple, her lips lingering. “that i wouldn’t even be here without you.”

azzi scoffed gently. “paige, come on.”

“no, i’m serious.” paige shifted so she could really look at her. her eyes were soft, a little glassy. “every time i felt like i wasn’t gonna make it back, you were there. telling me i would. believing it. even when i didn’t.”

azzi reached up and cupped paige’s face, brushing her thumb along her cheekbone. “that’s because i do believe in you. i always have.”

they held eye contact for a long time. paige didn’t move. azzi didn’t look away.

then paige whispered, “are you proud of me?”

azzi gave her the look. that kind of look where every ounce of love she carried was written across her face.

“baby, i am very proud of you,” she said. “you’re gonna be the number one pick tomorrow. you came all the way back from an injury, from everything… and you’re still you. even better, somehow. you deserve all of this.”

paige’s lips parted slightly. she looked down, trying to blink back the sting of tears. she hated crying before bed, it always made her stuffy in the morning, but she didn’t stop azzi when she moved in closer.

they kissed then—slow, warm, unhurried.

paige sighed into her, pulling her tighter.

“i love you,” she murmured between kisses.

azzi smiled against her lips. “i love you more.”

paige whispered. “not possible.”

they kissed again, this time deeper. azzi’s hand slid up under paige’s oversized hoodie, palm splayed flat against her bare skin. paige groaned softly.

“i don’t wanna sleep,” she whispered, resting her forehead against azzi’s. “i don’t want it to be tomorrow yet.”

“i know,” azzi said gently. “but it’s a good tomorrow.”

paige kissed her again, messily this time, like she couldn’t stand the idea of not getting to do it all the time. azzi laughed into her mouth.

“you’re gonna look so incredible tomorrow i’ll be thinking about you more than the draft”

azzi kissed her nose. “you’re gonna get on that stage tomorrow and you’re gonna smile like you do when you’re trying not to cry. and you’re gonna look so damn good i’ll probably faint.”

“you’re gonna look better.”

azzi grinned. “doubt it.”

paige said firmly. “i won’t survive it. i’ll see you before the carpet and black out.”

azzi bit her bottom lip. “i mean i did get a tighter dress so…”

paige dropped back against the pillows dramatically. “you’re evil.”

azzi laughed and settled back on her. “i want you to remember this. tomorrow. when everyone’s looking at you. when the lights are bright and you’re nervous. you belong there. you earned it.”

paige was quiet for a second.

“promise me something?” she said softly.

“anything.”

“promise me i’ll still be yours when everything changes.”

azzi didn’t answer right away. she kissed paige’s lips, then her jaw, then her collarbone. she kissed every inch she could reach. then she looked back up at her.

“you’ll always be mine,” she said. “and i’ll always be yours.”

they held each other for a long time after that.

and even though paige didn’t sleep much that night—her heart pounding with nerves and excitement and love—she didn’t feel alone. not even a little.

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

paige was awake before the sun.

it was one of those mornings where the light didn’t come through the curtains so much as it glowed around them—soft and slow, like it knew something big was about to happen. she lay on her side, eyes half open, watching the way azzi’s hair spilled across the pillow, how her lips parted slightly when she was deep in sleep.

she looked so peaceful. so unfairly beautiful.

paige stared.

she always stared.

sometimes she still couldn’t believe this was real—that this girl, this best friend turned more, was her girlfriend.

paige smiled to herself and let her hand rest gently on azzi’s waist. she didn’t want to wake her. not yet. she just wanted to look.

god, i’m so in love with her.

azzi stirred a little, brow furrowing. paige leaned in and kissed her cheek softly.

“you’re staring,” azzi mumbled, barely awake.

“how could i not?”

azzi cracked one eye open. “creepy.”

paige grinned. “beautiful.”

azzi smiled without opening her eyes. “flatter me more. i’m not getting up yet.”

“you have to,” paige said, kissing her shoulder.

“ugh. fine.” azzi rolled over, arms wrapping around paige’s waist. “but only if you kiss me awake properly.”

so paige did. slowly. sweetly. like it was the first time.

“mmm,” azzi mumbled. “what time is it?”

“too early,” paige whispered, pressing another kiss to her temple. “but i didn’t wanna waste a second not looking at you.”

azzi cracked one eye open and smiled sleepily. “you’re so corny.”

“only for you.”

“you nervous?”

paige nodded slightly. “yeah. but also… kinda calm. like, i know today’s gonna be wild, but i’m okay because i have you.”

azzi’s fingers slid under paige’s shirt, tracing her hip. “you have me. always.”

they kissed, slow and soft, until paige rolled half on top of her, the weight of the moment settling over them both. azzi’s arms wrapped around her shoulders, grounding her.

“i wish we could stay in bed all day,” paige whispered into her neck.

azzi smiled. “we’ll make up for it later.”

they stayed like that for a little longer. but soon the alarms got louder, the texts started rolling in, and the quiet morning turned into movement.

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

it was 10 a.m., paige was wearing a gray wnba hoodie with the 2025 wnba draft logo on the front, surrounded by her fellow draft invitees, riding up an elevator in the empire state building.

she leaned against the glass, looking out over the city, heart pounding.

“that would hurt.” she said to herself.

the media team had them posing for pictures—goofing off, smiling in sync, laughing like they weren’t all on the edge of a life-changing moment.

paige was good at pretending she wasn’t anxious.

she cracked jokes with shy and georgia, helped fix kiki’s hair before one of the shots, and posed with her hands in her pockets like it was no big deal. but every few minutes, her mind drifted.

i wonder what azzi’s wearing right now.

i wonder if she’s thinking about me.

her phone buzzed while she was mid-laugh. she checked it in the middle of the crowd and nearly melted.

azzi: bts from the photo-shoot just for you.

azzi sent 1 attachment: azzi in glam chair, lips glossed, smiling.

paige full-on blushed.

paige: you’re gonna kill me before the carpet.

paige: thinking about you.

azzi: oh you miss me already, baby?

paige: obviously.

paige: but don’t act like you’re not counting the seconds either, princess.

azzi: okay maybe a little

azzi: but i’m still the baddest

paige: yes ma’am

she grinned at her phone, sighing as she tucked it away.

by 5 p.m., they were back at the hotel. azzi was in a different suite, getting ready separately. paige sat in a chair, letting her makeup artist finish the final touches. her sparkling coach suit—bedazzled, sharp, and perfect—was already on. her hands were slightly shaky.

she texted azzi.

paige: you almost ready?

azzi: 10 mins

paige: i’m gonna lose my mind.

azzi: not yet baby. wait till later p.

paige: you’re killing me azzi.

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

when paige finally walked into the suite where azzi was finishing her makeup, her brain short-circuited.

azzi turned to her in that black dress, long and sleek, with subtle shimmer. hair wavy, soft glam done. her skin glowed.

paige literally stopped in the doorway.

“holy—” she blinked. “you look…”

azzi smiled knowingly. “speechless?”

paige crossed the room slowly. “i’m trying to be respectful, but you’re making it very hard.”

azzi placed a hand on her chest. “don’t touch too much.”

“but i need to touch you.”

“you can touch me later.”

paige let her hands rest low on azzi’s waist, pulling her just close enough to breathe her in. “you promise?”

azzi leaned in and kissed her—soft but with intent. “yes. after the chaos. we’ll have our own moment.”

paige grinned. “you just gave me something to live for.”

they kissed again, this time longer, but azzi pulled back with a teasing smirk.

“no more. you’re gonna smudge everything.”

“ugh. okay.” paige pouted dramatically.

azzi ran her thumb along paige’s jaw. “you’ll survive.”

paige rested her forehead against hers. “barely.”

azzi cupped her cheeks, eyes serious now. “before we walk out there, i want you to know something.”

paige blinked, suddenly locked in.

“i am so proud of you,” azzi said. “like, beyond what words can even say. i look up to you, not just as a player, but as a person. the way you love me, the way you carry yourself, the way you fought to get here. it’s inspiring. you’re inspiring.”

paige’s throat tightened instantly.

“azzi—”

“ah—don’t cry,” azzi warned, gently brushing under her eye.

paige laughed through the tears building up.

“you’re gonna be the first pick, and i’ll be the proudest when it happens. because i know you, paige. and i’ll always be your number one fan.”

paige couldn’t speak at first. she just pulled azzi in, held her tight, and whispered against her ear, “you’re everything to me.”

azzi held her back just as tightly.

they didn’t need much else.

because in that moment, even with the world waiting outside those doors, they were right there—with each other.

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

the car ride to the venue felt surreal.

paige sat next to hailey van lith and sonia citron, the energy in the bus bouncing somewhere between adrenaline and straight-up chaos. everyone was buzzing—lip gloss retouches, checking phones, practicing smiles, hyping each other up.

paige was in her own little world, though.

she kept one hand on her phone, just in case azzi texted. she’d already seen the final look earlier—azzi in that midnight black dress, glowing, but she was still imagining it, counting down the minutes until she saw her again in motion, under the lights, walking toward her like a dream.

the bus pulled up.

the orange carpet was longer than paige expected, the lights and cameras made it feel endless. she stepped off the bus and took a deep breath.

this was it.

“paige bueckers, please!” a photographer called out. “right here, smile!”

she turned, smiled, posed. she’d done this before.

the coach suit shimmered under the lights—soft silver, tailored sharp, catching every flash. her hair was sleek, pulled behind one ear.

she looked confident.

but the truth was—she was scanning the crowd for one face.

where is she?

then—finally—someone from the media team near the edge of the carpet turned and said something to the people behind the barricade.

paige heard that laugh she knew like her own heartbeat.

azzi had arrived.

and paige? completely forgot how to breathe.

azzi stepped onto the carpet slowly, careful with every stride. her dress was even more stunning now, hugging her curves, glowing under the lights like it was made for her alone. her smile was calm but radiant. her eyes scanned the scene.

and when they landed on paige?

they softened instantly.

paige didn’t even think—she walked toward her, a little too fast, like something magnetic was pulling her across the carpet.

azzi met her halfway.

“you clean up nice,” she teased, eyes flicking over paige’s suit.

paige bit her lip. “you look—” she exhaled, “—like a problem.”

azzi laughed, low and warm. “oh yeah?”

paige leaned in, just slightly. “i’m gonna be distracted the whole night.”

“good,” azzi whispered. “then my plan worked.”

a camera flash went off near them, and they stepped back slightly, catching themselves before they got too lost in each other.

“let’s get a couple shots,” someone suggested, pointing them toward the center of the carpet.

they giggled between photos. touched fingers behind their backs. posed like professionals, but always leaned a little too close. paige trying so hard not to stare at azzi the whole time.

in one shot, paige glanced sideways at her with the most obvious “i’m in love with this woman” look the world had ever seen.

“i saw that,” azzi whispered.

“saw what?”

“that look.”

paige blushed. “you caught me.”

azzi nudged her gently. “get your head in the game.”

paige leaned down a little closer. “too late. you are the game.”

azzi turned her head slightly, eyes sparkling. “you’re lucky i like you.”

“you’re lucky i’m obsessed with you.”

they giggled quietly, then stood a little straighter as more photos were taken.

no one said anything out loud, but anyone with eyes could see it—they were each other’s safe place in the chaos.

inside the venue, things moved fast.

paige found her table toward the front—prime spot for a top pick. azzi sat beside her, with a big smile on her face.

cameras swung by occasionally, but paige didn’t care. not when azzi leaned in every few minutes to whisper something into her ear.

“you’re the best looking one in the room,” azzi said once, smiling behind her champagne flute.

paige bumped their shoulders together. “that’s cap cause you walked in.”

azzi shrugged and shook her head and looked at paige with those soft, steady eyes. “no but seriously, i meant what i said earlier. i look up to you, paige. i always have. you’ve gone through more than anyone even knows, and you still show up with heart and grace. that’s why you’re about to be the first pick. not just because of your game. because of what kind of a person you are.”

paige blinked rapidly. her throat tightened again.

azzi smiled knowingly. “no tears. not yet.”

“i don’t deserve you,” paige whispered.

“too late. you already got me.”

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

and then it happened.

“with the first pick in the 2025 wnba draft…the dallas wings select…”

paige bueckers.

paige barely heard the rest. her name rang out like a bell through the crowd, like a song she’d been waiting to hear since she was five years old.

everything froze.

and then—cheers.

loud, proud, overwhelming.

she stood slowly, eyes already glossy while she wrapped her arms around azzi and held her close for a second.

“i love you,” azzi whispered, voice thick.

then she walked to the stage.

barely registering the hug from the league commissioner as her name lit up on the screens.

but what she did register? the look on azzi’s face.

azzi watched from their table, smiling so wide it hurt almost shedding a tear. her heart swelled as paige held up the jersey. grinned into the cameras.

her girl. the number one pick.

tears brimmed in her eyes now, though she blinked them away quickly. her smile was huge, beaming, and filled with every kind of pride.

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

the after party was glowing.

the lights were dimmed, colored spotlights dancing across walls and polished floors. the music pulsed low and warm through the air—some kind of r&b remix that blurred in paige’s ears as she stepped into the room.

she’d just finished a whirlwind round of interviews—camera after camera, mic after mic, all asking the same thing: what does it mean to be the number one pick?

she’d said the right things. she’d smiled, even when her feet hurt and her head spun.

but now?

now, all she wanted was azzi.

and then—there she was.

leaning against the bar in a sparkly short black dress, now with a drink in hand and a faint pink tint to her cheeks. she was laughing at something kk had just said, head thrown back slightly, lips parted.

paige’s chest tightened.

she didn’t even realize she was moving until she was halfway across the room.

azzi saw her coming and smiled—something private, soft, just for her.

“there she is,” azzi said, standing up straight, voice a little slurred at the edges. “my number one.”

paige didn’t answer.

she just stepped in close and wrapped her arms around azzi’s waist, burying her face against her neck.

azzi giggled, startled but not at all mad. “missed me that bad, huh?”

paige just held her tighter.

they stood like that for a minute, not caring who was around. everyone was celebrating. everyone was tipsy. and if a few people stared? so what?

this was their moment.

azzi pulled back enough to look at her. “hey,” she said softly, brushing a hand along paige’s jaw. “you did it.”

paige looked at her, eyes tired but glowing. “i don’t want this night to end.”

azzi’s smile faltered slightly. “me neither.”

there was a beat between them, the kind where time feels thick.

and then someone turned the music up.

azzi tugged paige toward the floor. “come on. you deserve to celebrate.”

they took a few shots and started dancing.

it started slow—hands on hips, small sways, letting the beat move through them. but soon it picked up. azzi spun herself under paige’s arm, laughing, then grabbed paige’s hands and pulled her close again.

they moved like no one else was there.

paige leaned down, lips brushing azzi’s ear. “you’re dangerous when you dance like that.”

azzi looked up at her, teasing. “oh, now i’m the problem?”

“yes. you. always.”

azzi smirked, leaned in, kissed the corner of paige’s mouth. “then maybe you should take me somewhere quiet.”

paige froze for half a second. “az.”

azzi grinned, biting her lip. “not yet. i just like watching you lose your cool.”

“you’re evil.”

“you love it.”

they laughed again, but underneath it all, the weight of time was creeping in. the clock was ticking. and they both felt it.

an hour passed.

then another.

more drinks. more dancing. more whispered things in the dark.

they ended up tucked into a quiet booth in the corner, paige’s arm draped around azzi’s shoulder, azzi’s legs crossed over paige’s lap. the room around them spun a little, all blurred lights and laughter.

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

back in their hotel room, azzi leaned against the wall, shoes already gone, dress sliding slightly down one shoulder. “you coming or what?”

paige was on her in seconds.

they kissed hard, desperate, hands everywhere.

“god,” paige breathed, lips brushing azzi’s jaw. “you know what you do to me?”

azzi smiled lazily. “you act like you’re the only one losing it.”

paige laughed—low, rough, against azzi’s throat. “are you?”

azzi nodded. “every time i look at you.”

paige groaned softly, lifting azzi onto the edge of the bed with ease, her shirt falling to the floor behind her. she stepped between azzi’s legs, hands on her thighs, sliding up slowly.

“you remember earlier?” azzi asked, voice teasing.

paige kissed the space just below her ear. “when?”

“when you were begging for one more kiss before the carpet?”

paige smiled. “i remember being desperate. yeah.”

azzi leaned back, pulling paige toward her. “good. you can make up for it now.”

their mouths crashed together—less careful, more urgent. paige pushed the dress higher up azzi’s legs, fingers teasing the edge of lace. azzi’s hand found the back of paige’s neck, guiding her deeper, closer, hungrier.

paige pulled back for a second, breathless. “should i stop?”

azzi shook her head instantly. “don’t you dare.”

paige chuckled, voice thick. “was hoping you’d say that.”

she kissed her again—long and slow, hands wandering, tugging azzi closer until her dress was bunched around her hips. azzi’s hands moved beneath paige’s shirt, fingertips tracing the warm lines of her back.

they undressed in pieces—slow, half-drunk, half-obsessed. every time paige peeled another layer away, she paused. looked. let herself admire.

“you’re so beautiful,” she whispered. “like, it’s stupid how beautiful you are.”

azzi kissed her collarbone. “you’re not so bad yourself, superstar.”

they made love like it was the last time—tangled up in whispered names, soft moans, skin on skin and hearts pounding in sync. there was urgency in it, yes—but more than that, there was intention.

every kiss said: i need you.

every touch said: i want this moment to last.

and every time paige slowed down—kissed her slower, softer, deeper—azzi arched into her, chasing that closeness like oxygen.

afterward, paige lay on her side, body wrapped around azzi’s, their legs tangled, hands resting on bare skin. the sheets were kicked to the foot of the bed, city lights casting soft shadows over their bodies.

azzi reached up and traced paige’s cheekbone with her thumb. “you okay?”

paige didn’t answer right away. she kissed azzi’s wrist instead. “better than okay.”

azzi smiled faintly. “that was…”

“perfect.”

they lay like that for a long time, not saying much, just breathing each other in.

eventually, azzi whispered, “do you think it’ll be different?”

paige opened her eyes. “what?”

“when you’re on the road. when i’m back at storrs. when we’re not… like this.”

paige was quiet, then pulled azzi even closer. “i think we’ll miss each other like hell.”

azzi exhaled. “yeah.”

“but i also think—” paige paused, kissed her shoulder. “we’re gonna make it work. because we always do.”

they fell asleep tangled together, warm and safe in each other’s arms.

and even though they both knew change was right around the corner, for that one night, they let themselves believe nothing would ever pull them apart.

but later, wrapped up in each other under the sheets, breath soft and slow, paige lay with her head on azzi’s chest and just listened.

the silence between them wasn’t empty.

it was full—of love, of fear, of the quiet ache of change.

“i don’t want to do any of this without you,” paige said quietly.

azzi kissed her forehead. “i’m always with you.”

“but soon… you’ll be in storrs. i’ll be in training camp—”

azzi cut her off, hand cupping her cheek. “and still, you’ll be my girl.”

paige’s throat tightened. “promise?”

azzi nodded. “i promise.”

they kissed again. and again. and again.

like they were trying to memorize it all.

[elliesanqel]

pause, catching ellie drawing you naked !

oops! ⋆˙⟡

warnings; perv!ellie, mentions of nudity, language, suggestiveness, men and minors dni.

a/n; i saw this req and i was like nah i HAVE to write this ASAP. i loved the idea sm and loved writing it. thank you for requesting! ➝ masterlist

~

ellie has a thing for you. you even knew before she herself knew. she was always awkward around you and she did that thing all the time where she rubs the back of her neck any time she’d get close to you. knowing she liked you and knowing how much she liked you were vaguely different, though. you’d often just come over to her cabin, walking in without even knocking because she’d always let you.

that was till now. ellie thought you had been put on patrol today because she’d asked. and she asked for a reason. not very smart of her to be leaving her door unlocked but she was non the wiser that someone else had took your spot and you weren’t leaving today. ellie spun the pen nervously in her hand, images of you flashing up in her head, the ones she could never rid. her diary on her lap, her leg bouncing up and down. there was no way she could ever get rid of these thoughts—ones of you…naked. yeah…naked.

she silently cursed herself for thinking of you like this, but it made the heat growing between her thighs feel hotter. until her pencil meets the paper. “fuck,” she mumbles as she draws you on her page, drawing every single detail and leaving nothing left out, making sure its perfect for her eyes only. she focused on particular areas, such as your boobs, your pussy, your hips, the list goes on. she gave alot of detail, until she heard her door slam open.

“oh my gosh, ellie! you’re never gonna believe what i—“ you paused, your eyes landing on her completely pale and dumbfounded face. she never normally looked like that when you walked in so you immediately raises your suspicions. her demeanour completely changed—almost slamming her diary shut. your brows furrow, looking at her as she never broke eye contact, probably because she couldnt move from shock and silently praying you didnt see anything.

“what was that?” you ask, voice innocent and it ran straight through her. her eyes blinked, her whole body shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “n—nothing…!” she gulped, but you could see right through her lie. your eyes squinted as you walked closer to her, her eyes never leaving you as you did because she didnt know what else to even look at. she held her diary tighter—thinking you wouldnt suddenly take it out of her hands, even though thats exactly what you did. she gasped slightly, her face now growing redder. “w—wait, i…” she stutters. fuck. now she was definitely in deep shit. or so she thought.

your eyes widened at the page you opened up to, seeing your exact figure, but naked. your eyes widen even further, your finger tracing over the paper. you never knew she was capable of such things as this, but nonetheless you never felt uncomfortable. you noticed how she’d payed extra attention to certain places and it made you grin. you put her book down, standing straight infront of her as you look down at her in her seat, looking completely helpless.

“its good, i’ll give you that. but i think you need a reference, hm?” you say, beginning to take your shirt off slowly.

ellies eyes widen and her cheeks grow pure red, immediately shifting in her seat as she now realised what you meant as she watched you completely undress infront of her eyes, absolutely unashamed and she loved that.

it turned out her night was going to be long after all.

taglist: @valeisaslut @elliesfavtoy @ttspenny @ellieswrath @willurms @slutt4ellie @stvrluvrrpres @elliescoochieeater @les4elliewilliams @eveyuyy @starwilliams @eriiwaii @vahnilla @ellieputellas @vampirq @elliesngirl @se4ttlellie @edenspoem

[bizarrelovetriangel]

interruptions.

all he wants is to have you all to himself but everyone keeps getting in his way.

fluff and slightly suggestive. brief references to chaotic velocity and his myth.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

He groans against your lips as his hands caresses your hips, urging you to grind against his thighs.

His bedroom is silent apart from the sounds of your exchange of heated kisses, your heavy breaths in-between, as well as the rustling of your clothes as your bodies yearn for friction.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Sylus thrusted up to let you feel his excitement, and you responded by palming him through his pants, earning a low growl from his parted lips.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

You pulled away as the ringtone of his phone blares closely next to you. You gave him a look before he pinches his temples and reaching for the device on his night stand.

"You better have a good reason to interrupt me on such an important time."

This is the third time in just two days.

Sylus doesn't know how much more interruptions he can take.

"Looks like I'll have to cut our time short again." Sylus frowns as he gets up from the bed. "I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"Don't worry about it."

Being Onychinus' leader can be demanding, so you're not mad at him at all. In fact, at the moment, you're doing your best to hold back a laugh.

"Before you leave, maybe take a cold shower first."

Two days later, as you were leaving your workplace, you ran into your lover who's dressed in his favorite leather jacket, bathing in darkness.

"Sylus?! What are you doing here?"

It's the middle of the week. You usually don't get to see each other until the weekends, unless spontaneous plans come up. You figured this is one of those special cases.

"Do I need a reason to see my girlfriend?"

"No, but you do need to be cautious when picking up said girlfriend from her job, which may or may not be interested in catching some suspicious people who love lurking in the shadows."

There's not an ounce of worry in his eyes at all. "Luckily, I have a strong kitten who'd protect me should anyone dare to put their hands on me."

You playfully punched his arm as you walked next to him. "You could've at least texted me."

"A surprise usually works out only if someone doesn't know what'll happen." He then taps your head. "There's a restaurant that I've been meaning to check out. Want to come?"

Your heart and stomach cheered happily, deeming him as your savior. After all, you're starving after such a long day at work. "Of course!"

Around ten at night, dinner was done and you ended up relaxing at an empty, quiet park. You sat down on a bench surrounded by red flowers and you rested your head on his left arm while he holds your right hand.

At first, the two of you enjoyed the moment of silence and appreciated each other's warmth and company.

You could've fallen asleep then and there.

If only Sylus didn't start leaving kisses all over your face. He dropped them one by one, slowly and softly, as if you're something precious that could vanish at any second if he isn't careful enough.

As his lips pressed against yours, his right hand brushes up and down from your knee to your thigh, warming up your body during the cold night.

Sylus' ragged breaths urged you to deepen the kiss while caressing his face, though your makeout session was short-lasted as a group of chatty, cackling teenagers had decided to hit up the very spot that you two are in.

Clicking his tongue, Sylus stood up and reached out one hand for you. "I guess this is our sign to leave. Shall we?"

"Yeah."

You couldn't even bother to hide your disappointment that your time together was once again shortened.

He came with you back at your apartment, though Sylus couldn't stay the night due to plans he has later on.

He wasn't even supposed to see you tonight; he forced it in his busy schedule because his urge to see you was just unbearably strong during these past few days, and the constant interruptions are absolutely not helping.

It's as if the world is purposely getting in the way.

The next interruption came during dinner at a restaurant that you and Sylus have been wanting to visit for months. You made a reservation two weeks ago, and you got to enjoy all the delicious meals and drinks that made the place worthy of Sylus' attention.

You were given the best seats in the restaurant, which would be the special table on the rooftop, decorated with dimmed, beautiful lights to illuminate the dark night, and flowers for your eyes and nose to feast on.

As you were finishing up your wine, you walked towards the edge of the rooftop to observe the scenery around you.

For a moment, Sylus remained seated, only shifting his position so that he could admire you in your beautiful dress.

It's one of his favorite views — you facing away from him, eyes beaming with happiness and lips curled into a soft smile, completely lost in the scenery around you and unaware of how bewitching you are and the trance that you always put him in.

He'll never get tired of it.

"Sylus, look!"

At your call, he appears behind you and immediately wraps his arms around your waist. He gave you a light kiss on the shoulder before moving his gaze to wherever you were pointing at.

Unfortunately, Sylus never got to learn what caught your interest because suddenly, you received signals that a Wanderer is nearby.

And so, dinner ended early and you spent the rest of your energy jumping in action.

The Wanderers certainly became Sylus' punching bags for the night.

At last, you finally won some time to spend in the N109 Zone.

You're at his house and you've just finished eating the dessert that you two made together a few hours ago.

And now, you find yourself trapped against the counter table with Sylus blocking all the ways to escape.

"Can't run from me now, kitten."

His lips touched yours.

"Boss, look what we found!"

"...."

"...."

"....oops..."

"...sorry!"

Luke and Kieran were frozen by the entrance of the kitchen, almost dropping the fancy looking weapon they were carrying.

You let out a laugh to break the silence. "Hey guys!"

Sylus sighs defeateadly. He did acknowledge the twins and the gift they brought to him by giving them a quick but sincere "well done" before turning back to you with a certain glint in his eyes. "I hope you're up for a midnight ride."

"Wait what?!"

He took your left hand and started leading you out of the kitchen.

"Right now?!"

Luke and Kieran only gave you a wave of their hands, still feeling guilty about the interruption. Sylus didn't look mad at them, but he does look frustrated.

Whatever he has planned out with you, they know not to interrupt. Even Mephisto stayed still after giving you a look.

"Here."

Sylus helped you put on a black and red helmet that matches the one he's about to wear.

You eyed the motorcycle and couldn't hold back your excitement.

"Blackrose Archfiend!"

The half-black, half-pink motorcycle with the trademark of a golden crow made you recall the first time you and Sylus rode it and race against other motorcyclists.

"It's been a while!"

Sylus smirks proudly. "I modified it again. I meant for us to test it out tomorrow when we have more time, but this is gonna be our ticket to peace and quiet so we'll use it now."

"Ticket to peace and quiet?"

He ascends the motorcycle and turns on its engine before reaching out a gloved hand for you, inviting you to join him.

"Will you let me be selfish for a little while?"

With a soft smile, you took his hand and sat behind him, holding onto his waist.

You didn't care where he'll take you or how long it'll take to get there.

Your heart races at the adrenaline rush from the roar and speed of the motorcycle, and the cold wind dances all around you as you dart across the moonlit, empty roads of the N109 Zone.

A high mountain roadside, underneath the stars.

That's where you ended up in.

Other than the noises made by the animals that live in the surroundings, there's absolutely no other sounds that'll disturb the comfortable, peaceful silence.

The only light source you have is the full moon right above you, but that's more than enough for you to see the look of content in Sylus' face.

His features are highlighted in such a way that makes him look like an artwork that deserves to be admired by many, and yet you're the only lucky one to see him like this at this.

"You're staring, sweetie."

"And what about it?"

He smiled and scooted closer to you so that your arms are overlapping as you sit on a giant boulder planted deeply on the ground.

"That means I get to stare at you as much as I want in return, right?"

You held up one hand in front of your face and used it as a wall to block his intense gaze. "No!" The way he gazes at you makes your stomach want to explode with various emotions.

No matter how long you've been together, he never fails to make you flustered as if it's just the beginning of your relationship.

Sylus laughed at your hand before intertwining his fingers with yours and putting your conjoined hands on your lap.

"You're mine for the rest of the evening, sweetie. Any objections?

You shook your head, melting at his words. "Not at all."

Despite your playful rejection earlier, Sylus' eyes were unable to keep away from you, finding you more entrancing than anything around you. While he could look at the moon, the stars, and the city lights, he can always see them every night.

He can't say the same for you.

Once upon a time ago, he lost you and you lost him. It was like having your entire world ripped away from you.

The day he found you again... he'll never forget the way that it felt. It was like seeing light for the first time in forever. Like gasping for air after holding your breath for so long.

He's reminded of how lucky he is to be given a second chance of a life with you. Even though he complains about the distance between your homes and your jobs sometimes get in the way of your plans, he'll always be grateful that he can spend any time with you at all.

He'll always cherish every second with you, and he will never take you for granted.

You didn't keep track of the time at all. You two sat there and enjoyed each other's presence, talking about whatever comes up in your head while admiring the stars above and the lights of the N109 Zone from below.

There were times when you two would pause your conversations and just embrace the silence, bringing nothing but comfort that made you want to cuddle — and you did.

At some point, your body had been enveloped by his arms. You're seated between his legs and your back is against his chest. You could feel his steady heartbeat that would occassionally lose its rhythm.

You're spared from the wind's icy kiss, but not from Sylus' warm, gentle ones.

It started off with him casually dropping kisses on random parts of your face. Sometimes, while you're in the middle of rambling, his lips will linger on your skin and you'd forget everything that you were about to say.

Then, his kisses gradually became more fierce. From the moment he fixated on your neck, you'd become a mess that's unable to talk.

After leaving a couple of marks, Sylus wore a satisfied grin before diving into your lips with his own.

He kissed you over and over and over again, taking full advantage of the isolation. Finally, no one can interrupt.

No one can take you away from him ever again.

[81pastrys]

Gossip Spreads

Summary— Lando and Max F bored Pietra into having her friend over, the very friend Lando had taken the virginity of without knowing

Warnings— smut ; slow sex ; fingering ; belly bulge mentioned ; size kink mentioned ; confession of feelings post sex ; no aftercare desc but implied

A/N— holy shit buckle in. This one is LONG

Lando One Shots

Dividers @bernardsbendystraws @dollywons

Request— Basically the plot it that lando and reader have a one night stand. But later he finds out from Like P or Max F that the reader lost her virginity that night. And lando goes straight to reader and they end up fucking again, but this time lando is a lot more slower with her, like a lot of foreplay and so, trying to figure out what the reader likes and turns her more on. And maybe ends up in confessions and so

Max and Lando were streaming so Pietra asked if she could have a friend over, the very friend Lando had a one night stand with. He didn’t mind, nor did Max. They never really talked about it.

“Do you usually just like chill while they stream?” She asked while they made dinner together. “That seems boring.”

“It can get boring but sometimes I like the alone time, until they start screaming at the games.” Pietra laughed. “I hope you don’t mind that we’re at Lando’s.” She mumbled a bit. She knew what happened and knew it hadn’t been spoken about much.

“No I don’t mind, I just hope he knows.” She lightly laughed. Pietra assured her that she triple checked with both boys they knew. “I wouldn’t mind doing it again.” She halfheartedly joked. Pietra laughed really loud and caught the boys attention.

“P come say hi! The stream knows you’re there!” Max yelled. She playfully rolled her eyes and they both walked to the room. She hadn’t seen the boys so they didn’t know she was there.

Pietra walked in, but Lando was focused on the doorway. He licked his lips as he looked her up and down like candy. “Hi stream!” She swatted at Lando and he looked back to the screens. The chat was asking who or what he was looking at.

“Chat, Lando was being stupid and admiring the picture he hung up in the hallway.” Max deferred. The chat erupted with ‘like he wants to fck it cmon max’ and ‘didn’t know that pictures turned Lando on’ they laughed.

She blushed and walked out of the doorway, hearing more giggles from Lando and Pietra as they made eye contact. Pietra joined her again and they finished dinner. “You know Lando was my first?” She said. Pietra slowed her movements in plating food for the boys and deadpanned to her.

“What?” Pietra asked. “Does he know that?” P didn’t know Lando that well, but she knew him well enough that if he didn’t know he would be enraged that it was a measly hookup for him and something that should be special for her.

“I don’t think so.” She shrugged. “I never said anything about it.” Pietra nodded. When they finished plating the food she brought it to the boys and asked max to mute the mic. She told Lando to stand up so the stream couldn’t see his face and told him.

Max had little to no reaction besides spinning in his chair to look at them talk. P was talking quietly so that she wouldn’t hear from the kitchen. “I’m such a dick.” Lando said.

“If she never mentioned it so it’s not your fault.” Max chimed in. They went back to gaming and eating while P and her talked over dinner.

Once the stream was done they were cleaning the kitchen of remnant ingredients and messes they may have missed in the moment. The boys sat on their phones while the girls finished cleaning and she mentioned she was heading out.

“Wait can we talk?” Lando asked. She blushed and stuttered a ‘sure’ towards him. They talked on the front porch, away from P and Max. “Why did you tell me I was going to be your first?” He asked, quiet and disappointed in himself more than anything.

“I didn’t think it mattered much.” She nervously laughed. “I mean, would it have made a difference?” Her voice cracked. This was not the conversation she was wished upon herself by telling P.

“I wouldn’t have rushed it, or been so rough.” He admitted. “I’m sorry.” She gave him a weak smile and didn’t know how to respond. “Can I make it up to you?” He asked.

“How would you.. like tonight?” She asked. He looked through the window to P and Max at the table. He thought for a minute before responding.

“We can, or tomorrow if you’re free.” He said a boyish smile on his face. “Max and P are staying at a hotel tonight.” She looked at her watch reading around 10 pm.

“It is really late, but I have so many things to do tomorrow.” She nearly whined. She wanted him to make it up to her.

Almost as if Max and P were listening, they opened the door and claimed they were heading out because of the time and flight times or whatever. The uber they had scheduled picked them up.

“Looks like I can’t say no now.” She smiled. Lando smiled back and they went inside. She set her things down and he held her hand as they walked to the bedroom.

He kissed her gently and soft, unlike the last time. He was slow and unhurried in his movements to feel her body as she did the same. He grabbed the side of her neck and she bat her eyelashes at him.

Lando’s breath hitched at her reaction and she smiled dopily at him. She was getting lost in his touch, his kisses, everything. She tugged at his shirt and he took it off, her small hands running over the ridges of his abs, making him tense and relax.

He groaned at the touch and she flinched away at the sound. He pulled her back in and removed her shirt. He did the same with his hands, runnng them along her belly and up her arm. The size difference was getting to him. “How did you even take me last time with such ease?” He questioned in a murmur, more to himself.

“I’m good at hiding when I’m in pain.” She admitted truthfully. He froze in his tracks at her words. He grabbed her face on either side and darted his eyes back and forth between hers.

“Never do that again, tell me if I’m hurting you, please.” He whispered before placing a tender kiss on her lips. She hummed through the kiss and they made it to the bed.

Lando took off her shorts and underwear, lightly running his hand over her thigh. He watched her face as he did so, her reactions beautiful to him. He could see her arousal and smirked before moving up to her face.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” He whispered in her ear. She nodded with a lip in between her teeth and he chuckled in her ear. “Can you say it for me?” He left kisses on her neck and collarbone, waiting for a verbal confirmation.

“Yes, please touch me Lando.” She said, bringing a hand to his soft, fluffy, curls. He brought his right hand to her core and swiped a finger through her wet folds. “You didn’t do this last time.” She mentioned.

“I didn’t know it was your first baby, let me take care of you this time.” He said, still peppering kisses as he found her clit. She moaned at the contact and he ran feverish circles around it, making her hips buck and her back arch slightly.

He teased her hole and he looked to her face as he thrust it slowly in and out of her. “So much bigger than mine.” She panted. He added a second and curled them as he thrusted in, feeling the spongy spot that made her back arch.

Her hips were also bucking, causing his other hand to hold them down against the bed. “Relax for me, it’ll feel good.” He said, focusing on her expression. She looked almost confused, like she didn’t know what to do. “There you go, don’t think. Just feel.” She took a shaky breath and he felt her muscles relax under him.

He sped up his fingers and she moaned involuntarily, slapping a hand to her mouth with her eyes wide. He chuckled and kept going. Her noises were muffled by her hand as he pleased her. He pressed his free hand firmly on her belly and she moaned again.

“Yeah?” He teased. He sped up his fingers and she writhed on the bed, the new sensation wracking to her brain. His thumb started light circles on her clit and she took her hand off her mouth and threw it across her face.

“Oh my god, that feels amazing- holy shit.” She panted. His free hand moved from her belly and down her hip to her thigh. He pushed it further to open her up more and got a better angle with his fingers.

He knew she was close from the way her walls contracted. He looked to her face, her mouth hung open as her hips wriggled for more. She was taking shaky held in breaths. “Breathe normally baby, I’ve got you.” He reminded.

She tried to control her breathing and relaxed as he worked magic on her insides. He sped up a tiny bit and angled his hand, her body jolted and her hand flew to his wrist. The loudest moan came from her mouth and her legs were shaking now. “Ok, ok.” She panted.

“You didn’t finish yet baby, you’ll know when you do.” He whispered, now kissing her belly and up to her breasts. He was giving them the attention he had forgotten to give earlier. “Relax, and let it go.” He breathed over her nipple. He started sucking and her hips were bucking slowly.

“Oh god!” She moaned, grilling the sheets like they’ll disappear. Lando kept his movements the same as she fell apart and came over his fingers. Her moans were loud and uncontrolled.

He smirked as he helped ride out her high. “So pretty when you cum.” He whispered in her ear. He kissed her and removed his hand from her slick cunt. “How was that baby?” He asked. She panted and could feel the aftershocks of an orgasm for the first time.

“Do it again.” She laughed. He smiled and promised he would. He gave her a cooldown minute and she came back to her senses, pulling him in for a messy and sloppy kiss.

He took off his boxers and grabbed a condom from his nightstand. “Remember, you tell me if it hurts or gets too much okay?” She nodded before shaking her head, remembering he wants verbal confirmation.

“Yes, I will, please I want it.” She whined out. He lined himself up and moved her legs around his waist. She took a deep breath and he asked if she still wanted to. “Yes, yeah, I just- don’t want it to hurt.” She said shy now.

“If you took it the first time, I think you can take it now.” He chuckled a bit, cringing that he went so hard and probably bruised her cunt badly for at least week. “I’ll stop if it hurts or gets uncomfortable, I promise.”

“Okay, I’m ready.” She said. He watched her face as he slowly thrust his hips forward. It was different this time, slow and sensual. She moaned as he slipped in easily from her arousal and the condom.

She wiggled her hips and he kept going slow. She felt every inch, every vein, rolling her apart. Slower this time. He fit as much as he could and leaned in to give her a kiss, her arms wrapping around his neck. “Look at that, just like a champ baby.” He teased. He felt her walls contract around him.

“Feel so.. full.” She breathed. “God it’s so good, so good.” She kissed him again, her nails scratching his scalp as they stood interlocked for a minute. “You can move, it doesn’t hurt.”

He watched her face as he did an experimental small thrust out and back in. Her mouth dropped and he knew that she was enjoying it. He nipped at her bottom lip and she moaned. The slow pace was exactly what she craved. “You’re doing so good, taking all of me.” He said, now watching in between their bodies as his enters hers in the most intimate way.

“Can you go faster, or harder, or something more?” She mumbled out to him. He smiled at her fucked out expression as she let his neck go and he sat back. He held her hips and sped his pace up as she asked. He reached by her head and grabbed a plush pillow, lifting her hips enough to place it under.

She moaned every thrust now, the set pace perfect for her as she gripped the pillows, sheets, anything. His hand traveled her body again, one massaging her boob and the other on her hip. He got an idea from earlier when she reacted.

His hand moved from her boob to her belly and he pressed firmly, suddenly feeling the skin bulge when he thrusted in. A pornagraphic moan escaped her lips as he kept his hand there. Her walls twitched and contracted as he sped up more.

His head flew back and he groaned at her tight walls closing in on him. “Fuck, go ahead baby, cum for me yeah?” He said. Her back arched and she felt her legs shaking violently as he didn’t slow or alter his thrusts.

She screamed and nearly ripped the sheets as her climax tore through her body. Lando stilled all the way inside her as she finished. She placed a hand on his hip, feeling him twitch inside her. He pulled out and jerked himself a few times before cumming in the condom.

He took it off and tied it, tossing it to the floor to deal with later. “How are you feeling? Was that a better first time?” He asked. He laid down next to her and she curled into his body.

“Thank you, that was perfect.” She whispered. He rubbed her arm as she leaned on him. “I know this is probably a bad time, but I’ve always had a crush on you.” She said. Lando smiled and gave her arm a sweet squeeze.

“I was thinking the same thing.” He said back, placing a kiss on her head. “Now I redeemed your first time sex wise, but we need to clean up.” He mentioned. The last time he just let her leave, it was a party and quite quick. At the end of the night she didn’t leave but spent the night and left the next day with a boyfriend.

I have history with writing Max, Lando, Pietra, and a reader… you’ll soon know more when I release Quadrant Racer

@il0vereadingstuff @angelluv16 @pandabiiissh @itznotsophia @kallanfiona

[ari-ana-bel-la]

Hello! I absolutely love your work! If you feel up to it could you do one where Lando’s little girl has separation anxiety since he travels so much. Like maybe she always wants to sleep in his bed, always climbs into his laps when he’s trying to work, basically always wants to be close to him. I just think I’d be so cute to see Lando take care of his baby anxiety and maybe learning to take care of his own at the same time

Anxiety

The morning sun peeked through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the cluttered nursery. Toys were scattered across the floor, a tiny pink sock was hanging from the side of the crib, and in the middle of the chaos, Lando sat cross-legged on the floor, trying to coax a little girl into her clothes.

"Come on, baby, arms up," Lando said gently, holding out the tiny blue jumper.

Yn, three years old and stubborn as ever, shook her head, curls bouncing. "Nooooo, Daddy! No shirt today! I wanna stay in jammies."

Lando sighed, hiding a smile. "If you stay in pajamas, how are we gonna go see the ducks later? They don’t like jammies, remember?"

Her big brown eyes widened. "Ducks don’t like jammies?"

"Not even a little bit," he said seriously, tugging the jumper over her head while she giggled. "They said so last time. Quack quack, no jammies, Daddy!"

Yn dissolved into laughter, kicking her legs playfully as he got her dressed.

It had been three years since he became a father, and not a day went by that he didn’t think about how lucky he was, even when it was hard. Especially when it was hard.

She clung to him like a shadow. Lando had expected some level of attachment, but Yn’s separation anxiety made everything just a bit more difficult. From the moment she woke up to the moment she went to bed, she wanted to be within arm’s reach of him.

"Breakfast?" he asked, standing and lifting her effortlessly onto his hip.

She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. "But you not going away today?"

His heart ached. "Not today, baby. Today is a Daddy and Yn day."

She grinned. "Daddy and Yn day! Pancakes?"

"Pancakes it is."

---

Later that afternoon, Lando sat on the couch with his laptop balanced on his knees, trying to review some sim data for the next race weekend. Yn was curled into his side, her head resting on his chest, watching a cartoon on the tablet he had reluctantly given her.

She kept poking his cheek every few minutes.

"Yes, baby?"

"You not leaving yet?"

"Not yet."

"You promise?"

Lando kissed the top of her head. "I promise."

She didn’t say anything for a while, just quietly lay there, her little hand gripping the sleeve of his hoodie.

Mary, their nanny, arrived in the early evening.

"Hey sweetheart!" she called out, entering the living room. "There’s my girl!"

Yn peeked up and gave her a small wave but didn’t move from Lando’s lap.

"Tough crowd today," Lando murmured with a smile.

Mary chuckled. "She’s been stuck to you like glue lately. You think it’s the travel?"

"Has to be. Every time I leave, she wakes up crying for three nights straight."

Mary reached out and brushed some hair from Yn’s forehead. "Poor little heart."

"Yeah. I try calling as much as I can, but it’s not the same."

Yn looked up at him suddenly. "Can I come with you next time? In your car?"

He laughed, even though it made his chest hurt. "You want to race, huh?"

She nodded solemnly. "I be small driver. I go zoom!"

"You already go zoom around this house. That’s enough danger for me."

---

That night, Lando tried to put her to bed in her own room.

"One more story?" Yn pleaded, eyes wide, clutching her stuffed penguin.

He sighed but nodded. "One more."

By the end of the story, she was half-asleep. Lando stood carefully, tiptoeing out of the room.

"Daddy?"

He paused. "Yeah, baby?"

"Stay. I don’t like the room when you go."

He hesitated. "I'll be right down the hall. You can call me anytime."

"But I want your bed. Please?"

It was the third night in a row. Lando ran a hand through his hair. He knew the experts said not to give in, that it would make it harder later. But every time he saw her lip tremble, something in him caved.

"Alright. Come on then."

She beamed, hopping out of bed and running to him. He scooped her up, carrying her to his room, where she immediately snuggled under the covers.

"Best bed," she mumbled sleepily.

Lando climbed in beside her, pulling the duvet up. "Only because you’re in it."

---

The following week, Lando had to leave for the race in Monaco. He knelt by the sofa, where Yn was hiding behind a cushion.

"Come here, baby. Let me give you a big hug before I go."

"No!"

"Yn..."

She peeked out, her face already scrunched up. "You always go. I don’t want you go."

Lando sat down beside her. "I don’t want to go either. But I have to. It’s my job, remember?"

"I don’t like your job," she muttered, wiping her nose on her sleeve.

He pulled her into his lap. "I know, I know. But you have Mary here, and you’ll get to call me every day. And when I come back, we can go see the ducks again."

"Promise?"

"Pinky promise."

She linked her tiny pinky with his, then threw her arms around his neck.

"I love you, Daddy."

"I love you more."

Mary stood by the door, giving him a small nod. Lando stood, placing one last kiss on Yn's head.

"Be good, alright? I’ll be back before you know it."

She sniffled but nodded.

---

Every night during the trip, Lando FaceTimed her before bed.

"Did you eat your veggies?" he asked one night.

"Yes. Mary said if I eat carrots I get bunny powers."

He laughed. "Then you better be hopping all over when I get back."

"I miss you, Daddy."

"I miss you too, sweetpea. Only two more sleeps, okay?"

She held up two fingers, then yawned. "I sleeping in your shirt."

He smiled. "Good. You look extra cute in it."

---

When Lando finally got home, it was late. Mary met him at the door.

"She tried to wait up. She fell asleep in your bed again."

"Of course she did," he whispered, setting his bag down.

He tiptoed into his bedroom, and there she was—curled up, clutching his hoodie like a lifeline.

Lando changed quietly and slipped under the covers. Yn stirred almost instantly, rolling into his chest.

"Daddy?"

"Hey, baby. I'm home."

She blinked sleepily. "You back for real?"

He kissed her forehead. "For real."

She sighed happily and snuggled in. "Best bed again."

And this time, Lando didn’t mind at all.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you.

-🤍🦢

[lascvitae]

❀ ༉ ‧ ₊ ˚ LIKE A FEVER

♯┆ you’re the coach’s daughter & karina is the skater who falls for you anyway. you were never hers to keep, but she loves you.

pairing. ice skater!karina x coach’s daughter!reader genre. friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending (thank faith bc yall almost didn’t get it), slow burn (kinda), mutual pining, forbidden love warning(s). cursing, cheating, kissing (making out), reader is in a failing relationship, this is a yearnfest man, coach is mean af, brief argument, suppressed emotions (karina my shayla 😔)

word count: 11k (this seems to be my limit chat)

“the more i hurt, the more i want you.”

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ katty ᥫ᭡: guysss when i tell you i sobbed while writing this like three times... (is an easy crier) but thanks for 600!!! (also i made a spotify playlist if you would like to listen while you read)

masterlist.

three weeks before regionals. 

the rink is quiet this late at night.

you never even really plan to check on her. not really. you just happen to walk by the glass doors on most nights. most of the lights are off except for the spotlights above the center, casting shadows over the ice.

and there she was.

karina. 

she was alone. as always.

the two of you weren’t very close, but you had conversations here and there. she was the type of person that focused on her passion more than anything else. it was admirable, really. 

her movements were so sharp and precise. she was so clean it looked effortless. but you knew better. you knew the amount of hours she’s poured into every jump and every spin. you’ve heard the way your dad talks about her. 

“she’s got the skill. but i need her to stop feeling so much.” he said once. 

but you like it. the way she skates like there’s something breaking inside of her. that’s where the real beauty is.

you don’t reveal yourself at first. you just stand by the edge of the rink and pulled your coat tighter around your shoulders. the cold seeped in fast but you didn’t mind. not when you were watching her.

karina doesn’t notice you. or maybe she does and chooses not to look. she was always like that, distant but aware.

you wait until she finishes her routine, skates slowing to a stop in the center of the rink. she bends at the waist, catching her breath with hands on her knees.

that’s when you call out in a soft voice. 

“your landing on the last combo was perfect.”

she was startled, head whipping toward the sound with wide eyes. her mouth parted like she was gonna say something, but then she just straightens and skates toward you quietly.

“i didn’t know anyone was here.” she says.

you hold up the water bottle in your hand. “i didn’t think you would still be here. but… i figured you forgot to bring this. again.”

she slows to a stop right in front of you, carving tiny shapes in the ice with her blades. you hand her the water bottle, fingertips brushing yours for a second.

“you always bring me water.” she mumbled.

“you never ask me not to.”

karina looks at you. there’s a faint sheen of sweat on her forehead. she stares quietly, face never leaving yours.

“i guess i like when you worry about me.” she says after a moment. and then she smiles.

you don’t say anything back. you can’t.

you end up sitting beside her on the bench near the edge of the rink. she unlaced her skates slowly, water bottle sitting between you.

“i didn’t mean to interrupt. you looked… kinda lost in it.” you say after a while.

karina glances up at you and tugs one skate off with a small grunt. “i always get like that when i’m alone. it’s easier to pretend that no one’s watching.”

“but someone always is.”

she freezes for a second and then her lips curl into a smile, an almost amused one. “yeah. like you.”

i’m not— i didn’t mean—”

“i don’t mind. i like when it’s you.” she cut in while shrugging.

you don’t know what to say to that, so you pretend to focus on something else. her shoulder was just barely brushing yours.

karina sighs. “coach is gonna kill me for staying this late.”

“he doesn’t have to know.” you laughed.

“is that the coach’s daughter helping me break the rules?” she turns to you with one brow raised.

“i won’t tell if you don’t.” you reply. 

then there’s a pause. a long one.

then she speaks. “you’re always here.”

“so are you.”

“i have to be.”

“you don’t. not at this hour.” you argue.

karina looks down at her hands. “he says that i need more reps on my loop. and i can’t land it clean if i don’t fix my axis. so…”

she doesn’t finish the sentence. and you feel as if she doesn’t need to.

the silence returns. then, you carefully pull a pair of hand warmers out of your coat pocket.

you hold them out without saying a word.

“you… brought these?”

“i figured you would forget those too.”

she doesn’t take them right away. she stares at them then back at you. and when she finally reaches out, her fingers brush yours again. except slower this time.

“thanks. for thinking of me.” she says softly. 

“someone has to.” you shrug, trying to play it off.

she gives you a quiet laugh. then she leans back on the bench, shoulder still pressed to yours with her hand warmers resting in her lap.

neither of you say much after that.

the silence is comfortable. she hasn’t moved for a while now. her legs were stretched out and her fingers were curled around the hand warmers you gave her. you think maybe she’s falling asleep sitting up. or just enjoying your presence. 

either way, you don’t say anything. 

but then your phone buzzes.

twice. three times.

karina jumps before you even check it, like the sound snapped something inside of her. she doesn’t say anything, but her body moves away from yours. 

you glance down. a name lights up your screen.

your boyfriend.

you forgot he said that he would call. you forgot about him entirely for a second. 

that realization makes your stomach turn.

“sorry. didn’t mean to—“ you mumble, silencing it.

“it’s fine.” she was back to the cold version of her you know from practice days.

she stands before you can stop her, pulling her skates back on. the laces are uneven and she doesn’t even fix them.

“you don’t have to go.” you say stupidly, as if it’ll make her stay.

but she’s already halfway to the ice again.

“i should run the routine again. i’m still shaky on the loop.” she calls out from over her shoulder.

you stay on the bench and watch as she glides back toward the center of the rink, phone buzzing again in your hand. the music doesn’t play. she doesn’t need it.

she jumps before she’s ready. the landing is clean but you can tell.

she wasn’t skating to practice.  she was skating to forget you.

───────────────────────

the next day, somehow the rink feels colder.

maybe it’s the hour. or the way that karina doesn’t look at you when you walk in with your father. or it’s the silence that feels too heavy in between your steps.

she’s already on the ice when you arrive, pacing through her warm up jumps with clean movements. it was like last night never happened.

you sit off to the side as your dad steps onto the ice with his clipboard in hand. 

“all right. start from the top. don’t drop your left arm on the entry again.” he calls, already stern. karina doesn’t reply. just nods once, jaw set. she adjusts her gloves and glides into position without a word.

the music starts.

you watch as she moves like she’s made for this. every jump makes her look as if she’s gliding. she doesn’t miss a beat.

but you see it. the way her chest rises too fast in between movements and the way way she hides the pain in her arm.

your father doesn’t.

“again. you were two seconds late on the last transition. don’t let the emotion get ahead of your technique.” he says the moment the final note fades.

she doesn’t argue. she just bows her head and skates back to the start.

you don’t say anything.

another run through. another correction. another sentence with barely contained frustration in your father’s voice as karina pushes herself harder, and faster. her blade slipped slightly on a landing and she hits the ice with a thud.

you flinch. but he doesn’t move.

“get up. you’re fine.” he says calmly.

karina pushes herself up slowly, lips pressed into a thin line. she doesn’t look at him or at you. you can see her hands shaking.

“i understand.” she says softly. and then she says it again in a quieter tone.  “i understand.”

and she tries again.

it breaks something in you.

she finishes the third run perfectly. doesn’t collapse this time, but her breaths are harsh now. your dad claps his hands together once.

“better. you can take a break.”

he walks off the ice like it’s another day, already reaching for his phone. the door slams behind him.

only then karina sits down, curling slightly forward with her gloves gripping her knees. you don’t even realize you’ve moved until you’re walking down the bleachers and stepping quietly onto the mats just off the ice.

“i’ve been here the whole time.” you say.

her head snaps up.

“i saw all of it. how hard you’re trying.” you continue.

karina doesn’t say anything at first. just looks at you with her eyes wide.

then she whispers. “did it look like i was good enough?”

you walk closer and kneel next to her.

“it looked like you were breaking yourself to be.”

she wasn’t used to being seen like this.

“i don’t want you to skate like that. like you’re trying to prove something to him.” you mumble.

“i’m not.” she lies.

you don’t say anything for a moment. just reach into your bag quietly and pull out the same bottle you brought yesterday. it’s refilled and a little colder this time.

you hold it out to her without saying a word.

she stares at it like it’s a peace offering from another being.

“you need to hydrate. even perfectionists have to drink water.” you say softly with a small shrug. 

karina laughs breathily. her fingers graze against yours as she takes it and she doesn’t let go right away.

“i’m not perfect.” she mumbles.

“you kind of are.” you reply before you can stop yourself.

she looks at you, then down at the bottle in her hands. then back up.

you don’t have to be perfect all the time. not around me, at least.

is what you wanted to say. but instead you just stay silent.

karina swallows like she’s trying not to say anything.

“hey. i brought this.” you say in a slightly playful tone. 

her eyes flicker to it and her lips twitch barely. you catch it.

“you brought snacks?”

“maybe.”

“i love chocolate.” karina mumbles as she takes it slowly and unwraps it with careful fingers. she breaks it in half and holds one piece out to you.

your chest squeezes.

you take it.

she eats her half like it’s one of the first real things she’s had in hours.

“thanks. for not leaving.” she says finally. 

“i wouldn’t.”

“i know. i think i needed someone to stay anyway.” she glances down at the bottle. 

“then i’ll stay.” you nod.

and you do.

you sit side by side on the cold bench. karina’s finished the chocolate, skates finally unlaced and resting beside her. her legs are pulled up onto the bench as if she’s disappearing into her hoodie.

her phone buzzes once between you.

“my ride’s late.” she mutters, her thumb tapping the screen before she sets it face down.

you nod with your hands in your jacket pockets. “i can wait with you.”

“you don’t have to.”

“i want to.”

karina doesn’t argue. she just looks at you with an unreadable expression. 

for a while, it’s quiet again.

“you were always watching me.”

you look over at her with a startled expression. “what?”

she smiles a little. “yesterday. at practice. today too. i can feel it.”

you look away. “you’re kinda hard to miss.”

“i noticed you before that.” she says. almost too quietly.

your heart skips a beat. 

she leans against the bench with her head tilted up. “you came to one of my meets last year. sat way in the back and didn’t talk to anyone.”

you froze.

“i didn’t think you saw me.” you admit.

“i always see you.” she says and the words land with a softness that makes your heart race.

you open your mouth, searching for something to say.

“my dad expects a lot from you.”

she just stays quiet.

“the way you don’t fight back. it’s the same way i used to be.”

“do you ever wish you could quit?” you ask.

karina turns her head, looking at you. “every day.”

you look down at your hands. “but you don’t.”

“no. because i still love it. even when it hurts.”

you nod quietly.

“does anyone know you feel like that?” you ask.

she shakes her head. “no. i don’t tell them.”

“but i tell let you.”

it comes out as a whisper. you’re too surprised to say anything.

then the sound of a car pulling into the lot breaks the moment.

karina doesn’t move right away, she just watches you like she’s still thinking about saying something else. but she doesn’t.

she stands, slowly grabbing her things.

“i’ll see you tomorrow?” she says. 

“yeah. tomorrow.”

and as she walks away, you feel that feeling in your chest. the feeling of someone slipping through your fingers even while they promise they’ll stay.

───────────────────────

it’s past nine the next day when you find her again.

the rink is empty and the lights are dimmed to half their usual level. her bag is forgotten on the bench and there’s a single light glowing from her phone screen. it was probably another missed call or her ride running late again. 

she was alone in the center. there was no music this time, just her blades breaking the silence.

you don’t call out.

you sit on the same bench as before and unzip your jacket. you pull out a small paper bag and inside is a chocolate croissant you picked up earlier. 

she doesn’t notice you until she slows down. she does one last spin and then she slides to the edge of the rink, brushing the hair from her face. that’s when she sees you. 

her eyes widen and her chest heaves from the effort.

“you came back.” she said breathlessly. 

“you’re not hard to find.” you tease gently. 

karina steps off the ice carefully, taking off her gloves as she comes over. her cheeks are pink from the cold.

“what is it this time?”

“guess.”

she sits next to you again, closer than before. your knees almost touch.

she peeks into the bag and smiles slightly.

“you remembered i like chocolate.”

“i remember everything.” you say before you can stop yourself.

she looks at you and there’s something soft in her expression. maybe grateful or just stunned.

she slowly takes a bite and you watch her shoulders relax with the first chew.

neither of you one talk for a bit.

“you don’t owe me this, you know. the snacks, waiting, or the way you look at me.” she mumbled. 

“i’m not doing it because i owe you anything.” you shrug. 

“then why?”

“because i want you to feel like someone’s always there for you. no matter what.”

karina looks down at the half eaten pastry in her hands with an unreadable expression. no one’s ever done that for her, you realize.

just stayed. showed up. believed in her even when she wasn’t performing.

she swallows hard.

“thank you.” she whispers.

you could tell her it’s nothing. that’s it’s easy. that you would do it a hundred times over.

but you don’t.

she leans just a little closer this time and her shoulder almost brushes yours. you pretend not to notice.

she was slowly letting you in. it was pieces of her that she hopes you’ll handle carefully.

and you will. every time. 

───────────────────────

the next day, you return to the rink again.

you were going to give her space but something in your chest pulled you back.

when you walk inside, karina’s already on the ice.

alone again. no music or audience.

you don’t even have a chance to say anything before it happens.

she goes into a spin too fast, and the blade of her skate catches wrong.

you hear the crack of impact before you see it.

karina hits the ice hard.

you froze with your breath caught in your throat.

she doesn’t get up right away. she just lies there, chest rising and falling.

then she slowly pushes herself to sit.

and you see it.

it wasn’t pain.

it was frustration.

she rips off one of her gloves and throws it to the side. her other hand slams against the ice. the sound echoes like a gunshot in the empty rink. 

“stupid, i’m so stupid. why can’t i just—“ she mutters before choking on the words. her other glove comes off and her hands clench into fists.

you’re moving before you can think. sliding open the door to the rink and stepping out toward her.

“karina.”

she tensed.

you see the way her back straightens and her breathing stalls. she turns her head with wide eyes, like she didn’t know that anyone was watching.

you kneel beside her carefully.

she doesn’t look at you.

“i’m fine. i was doing fine. i’ve done this a hundred times.” she says quietly.

“i know.”

“i can’t afford to mess up right now. not when regionals are in three weeks. not when— not when everyone’s already waiting for me to fall.” her voice cracks. 

your heart twists.

“i’m not.” you respond. 

she finally looks at you.

this time, you see it all. the exhaustion just behind her eyes.

“i’m not waiting for you to fall. but i’ll be here to catch you if you do.” you say without thinking. 

something breaks in her expression.

“i hate crying.” she says. 

“you’re not.”

“it feels like i am.”

you pull down the sleeve of your jacket down and gently press the fabric to her cheek, wiping away a tear.

“you’re allowed to be human, karina.”

she closes her eyes.

and for the first time, she leans into your hand. not all the way, but enough to let you know she’s tired of being strong alone.

she doesn’t say anything for a bit after you wipe her tear.

she just sits there with her fists clenched and jaw tight.

but then she shifts, and you know she’s trying to get up.

you offer your hand without saying anything.

she hesitates.

for a second, you think she might not take it.

but then almost reluctantly, her fingers slip into yours.

her hand is cold and her grip is too gentle for someone who just punched the ice a minute ago.

you pull her to her feet and settle her when she wobbles.

she doesn’t let go right away. and neither do you.

you’re closer than you’ve ever been. her face is still flushed from skating and her lips part just slightly when she looks at you.

“thank you.” she whispers.

you almost respond, saying something too honest, but that’s when your phone buzzes. 

you both look down at the same time.

it’s your boyfriend.

you freeze. and karina notices.

she drops your hand before you can even react and steps back like she wasn’t just unraveling in your arms seconds ago.

“i should… i should get back to it.” she mutters, brushing her hands off on her

“karina—”

“it’s fine. you should take that.” her voice returns back to neutral. it’s not angry, but it’s distant. 

you glance down at your phone again. 

when you look up, karina’s already lacing her gloves back on.

you don’t stop her.

and somehow, that hurts more than the distance that she just put between you.

because now you know what it looks like when she almost lets someone in. 

and what it feels like when she slams the door shut just as fast.

───────────────────────

the rink is even colder tonight.

you’re not here just to watch this time. you’re here because you couldn’t stay away.

karina hasn’t looked at you once since yesterday.

you came in quietly, settling into the middle row with a blanket around your shoulders and a box of fruits in your lap. you didn’t expect her to notice you.

but you still hoped.

she steps onto the ice like nothing ever happened.

she’s different today. you can see it.

she’s trying harder. like she’s trying to prove something.

you watch her routine in silence. it’s the same one she’s been perfecting for weeks. there’s no music, but you know it by heart now. you could probably hum the entire song if she asked.

she doesn’t fall this time.

but her landing is shaky and her spin is off center. her arms falter for half a second in the last sequence.

she finishes with what would be flawless from anyone else’s eyes.

but when she stops and lets out a heavy exhale, you can tell she’s not satisfied.

you wait until she comes off the ice and tug her sweatshirt back over her training top.

then you call out.

“that was beautiful.”

karina looks up so fast you wonder if she ever knew that you were here.

you hold up the water bottle and the fruits you packed earlier. strawberry and banana slices with two small chocolates tucked into the corner.

she walks over slowly. almost cautiously.

“i didn’t know that you were coming.”

“didn’t want to miss your performance.” you shrug. 

she sits next to you on the bleachers. you hand her the box and she takes it wordlessly, taking the top off of the container. 

“you’re really good, karina.” you say softly. maybe a little too soft.

 “like... i don’t even know anything about skating but i can feel it when i watch you. that’s gotta mean something.”

karina froze mid bite.

you glance at her but she’s not looking at you. just staring down at her fruits.

“…what?” you ask.

“no one’s ever said that to me. not like that.”

“really? you’re one of the best.”

“your dad is always too focused on what needs to be fixed. where my lines are off and where i’m not centered. he says praise makes you soft.”

you feel something in your chest. then you nudge her with your shoulder. 

“then i’ll do it for him.”

that makes her look at you. her eyes are slightly wide and her expression is unreadable.

you smile. “i’ll be your fan. i’ll even be loud and annoying. if you want me to.”

karina looks away but you still catch the shade of red rising to her cheeks.

“you’d be my audience?”

“i am your audience. right now. front now.” you say. 

she hides her laugh behind a sip of water. then she asks.

“will you stay if i go again?”

you nod without a second thought. 

you stay in the same seat while she steps back onto the ice and it looks like her entire body is lighter. you didn’t know it was because of your praise. 

when she begins again you catch her stealing a glance at you during the first spin.

then she does it again during the glide.

you wave.

and she almost stumbles from smiling too hard.

karina finishes her routine again and this time, she nails it.

everything was flawless.

when she comes to a stop in front of you, she doesn’t say anything. she just looks at you like she’s searching for something in your expression.

you don’t hold back.

“that was perfect.”

“you think so?”

“i know so. you were scary good. i got chills.” you hug the blanket tighter around your shoulders. 

karina lets out a soft laugh and looks away, but she’s smiling. her shoulders lower like she’s allowing herself to feel proud for once.

she walks over to the edge of the rink and sits beside you again. this time she sits closer. her thigh brushes against yours and neither of you move away.

you offer her a chocolate from the snack box. she takes it.

“i’m serious. you skate like your entire heart is in it.” you say. 

her smile fades, but not in a bad way. it turns into something softer. 

“it is.”

you look at her. you’ve never seen someone work so hard for something that almost no one praises them for.

“you should be proud of yourself, karina.”

she doesn’t respond right away. she just eats the chocolate in silence.

maybe you lean a little closer than you should.

maybe she does too.

because you feel something change again.

she turns her head to look at you.

and the way she’s looking makes your stomach do a thing.

like she’s never had someone talk to her like this.

like no one’s ever stayed.

“i like it when you’re here. i skate better.” she says suddenly.

you smile and your heart does a weird skip. “then i’ll keep coming.”

karina’s eyes flick down to your mouth for a second too long.

and then, you see it happen. the moment she remembers.

your boyfriend.

your father.

everything that makes this too complicated.

she pulls away slightly. but it’s enough for you to notice.

you don’t know what you did wrong, but she’s straightening her spine again. putting space between you.

“you should probably head out soon. it’s getting late.” she says. her voice was too polite for you to like it. 

“karina—”

“your dad doesn’t like when you stay late, right?”

you pause, reading her face.

it’s completely changed. her composure. she’s still distant. 

the softness is still there, but it’s tucked away. 

still, you try.

“i don’t mind staying.”

she stands up anyway, avoiding your eyes.

“i’ll lock up after i’m done.”

then she’s skating away again.

but as she gets back into position, her gaze flicks to you. just once.

like maybe she wished you would stop her.

but you don’t.

not this time. 

───────────────────────

the next night, you show up again.

you don’t say anything. 

you just walk in with your tumbler of hot chocolate, blanket folded over your arm. 

karina’s already skating when you get there and her movements are sharp but you can tell that she’s tired. her routine looks less precise, like her mind is somewhere else.

you settle into your now usual seat and wait, wrapping yourself in the blanket. you don’t cheer or wave this time. you just watch.

when she finishes the routine and finally notices you, she doesn’t look surprised.

she just comes to a stop and lets her hands rest on her hips while panting softly.

“hey.” you say. 

she skates over slowly.

she doesn’t sit next to you this time. just leans against the railing while looking down at her skates.

“you didn’t have to come again.”

“i wanted to.”

karina doesn’t reply.

you hold out the tumbler. “it’s hot chocolate.”

she glances at it then at you. then, she reluctantly takes it. 

you watch her sip it slowly.

“you don’t have to be alone all the time, you know.”

karina’s shoulders tense.

but she doesn’t look at you. she just stares at the ice, jaw tight.

“it’s easier this ways.” she says after a long pause. 

you’re caught off guard by the honesty. “easier?”

“no one expects anything from me when i’m alone.”

there’s something about the way she says it. like she’s told herself that a thousand times before.

you want to reach for her. but you don’t.

“i expect something from you.”

she looks at you. almost defensively. but your gaze is soft.

“i expect you to take care of yourself. to eat. to rest. to let people care about you.”

karina swallows.

you think she might say something, but instead she just looks down. 

“you have a boyfriend.”

your stomach twists and you look down at your hands.

“i know.”

“you’re the coach’s daughter.”

“i know that too.”

silence stretches between you. and then she whispers.

“i can’t let myself like you.”

it’s the closest thing to a confession she’s ever given you. and you’re afraid that it’s the closest that she ever will. 

your heart breaks in two.

you don’t know what to say. you don’t even know if you’re allowed to say anything at all.

so you just sit there with your fingers trembling inside the blanket.

she takes one last sip of the hot chocolate then hands the tumbler back to you, fingers brushing yours like she doesn’t mean to. but maybe she does.

then she skates away again.

the sound of your heartbeat is louder than her blades cutting across the ice.

“karina.” you call out, voice echoing through the empty rink.

she doesn’t stop.

you stand up. “karina, wait—”

she’s still skating. even faster now.

it stings. the way she shuts down, like she’s trying to outskate the things you make her feel.

so you raise your voice.

“why do you keep doing this?”

that makes her stop abruptly. her skates carve into the ice, and send up a sharp spray of frost. she turns to you with an unreadable expression. 

“doing what?”

“this.” you gesture between you both. “one second you let me in and the next you’re skating away like you hate me.”

she exhaled hard, looking away. “i’m not doing anything.”

“yes you are. you talk to me, open up, and then remember i’m someone you shouldn’t like and you shut down again. every single time.”

karina’s jaw clenches.

you step closer. “i’m not trying to confuse you. i just want to be there for you. and i thought… i thought maybe you wanted that too.”

“i do. god, i do. but what do you want me to with that? you have a boyfriend and your dad hates me. this isn’t about just skating anymore.” she says, voice cracking slightly.

you pause.

“i never said it was about just skating.”

karina looks at you. her expression softens but you can see something else in her eyes. 

she shakes her head, scoffing slightly. “you don’t get it.”

“then make me get it.”

“i can’t! because if i say it out loud then it’s real, and if it’s real then i’ll want something that i can’t have.” she nearly yells, voice echoing off the walls.

the silence that follows is so loud that it hurts.

she blinks fast like she didn’t mean to say that.

and you just stand there, stunned.

“karina…”

her name comes out softer now. 

she looks down at her skates, biting her lip.

“i think you should go.”

your throat tightens. “do you really want me to?”

karina closes her eyes.

“no.”

but she turns away anyway.

and this time, you just let her skate.

because now you know. she’s not pushing you away because she doesn’t care. 

she’s pushing you away because she does.

───────────────────────

the rink feels colder again.

it’s not the weather. it’s the emptiness.

karina gets there late, hoodie pulled tight over her head with her headphones in. her water bottle is half full.

but when she steps onto the ice, the first thing she does is look at the stands.

you’re not there.

she pretends that it doesn’t bother her. pretends that she doesn’t notice.

she warms up and does her stretches, then she goes through the footwork section of her routine easily.

but when it’s time to start the real run through, she hesitates.

you’re still not there. 

there’s no voice cheering her on softly. 

no tumbler clutched in your hands.

no little smile whenever she glances over her shoulder.

she tries to push through it, starts the routine anyway. but halfway through the first turn, she tumbles. her balance slips and her hand scrapes the ice hard, making her curse under her breath.

she gets up and starts again.

falls again.

but it’s worse this time.

she sits on the ice for longer, breathing heavily. her eyes are unfocused and for the first time in weeks, she feels it creeping back in. that voice in her head that tells her she’s not enough. that she’ll never be enough.

she presses the tip of her palm against her forehead.

she doesn’t cry. but she’s close.

and then she reaches into her pocket and pulls out her phone.

your name is right there, but she doesn’t call.

she just stares at the screen for a long, long time.

her thumb was hovering over the call button. 

just one tap. but she doesn’t do it. she locks the phone, puts it back into her pocket and stands up.

this time, she doesn’t try the routine again.

she just skates in slow, aimless circles.

alone.

two weeks before regionals. 

it’s been a week.

seven days.

karina counted them all. skated through every single one one of them like it meant nothing, but it did. she just got better at pretending it didn’t.

there was two weeks until regionals now.

everyone’s tense and the rink is busier than usual. there’s more skaters and more pressure but tonight, she’s the only one left. again.

she’s been pushing herself too hard. trying things she shouldn't be attempting this late. her left ankle’s bruised and her back aches. her music plays on loop but none of it feels right. nothing has felt right ever since you stopped showing up.

she doesn’t expect to see you again, which is why when she hears the door creak open mid routine she doesn’t stop right away.

it’s only when she glances toward the stands and sees you with your blanket, tumbler, and uncertain smile that she fumbles a landing.

not enough to fall. but just enough to feel it. just enough to feel everything again.

you stay quiet for a moment and just sit there. 

karina lets out a shaky breath and skates to the edge, stopping right in front of you. neither of you say anything right away.

you hold out the tumbler.

she hesitates but takes it and wraps her hands around it like she did before.

“you’ve been pushing yourself too hard.”

she looks at you.

“noticed that from your seat?” she says, trying to sound teasing but it comes out tired.

“i noticed from not being in it.” you reply and her chest twists.

she leans against the edge of the rink, back against the wall. you lean forward next to her, elbows on the railing. 

“i didn’t think that you would come back.” she admits.

“i wasn’t sure if i should.”

“why did you?”

“because you looked like you needed someone.” you shrug. 

she glances up at you, something vulnerable showing in her eyes.

“i always do.”

that breaks something in you.

yet, neither of you move.

she sips the hot chocolate and you rest your chin on your hands.

“i missed watching you skate.” you whisper. 

karina closes her eyes for a second, as if she’s allowing herself to believe you again.

“i skated better when you were here.”

you heart stutters.

it always does when she says that. 

karina doesn’t look at you when she says it. she just stares down at her hands, thumbs moving over the tumbler. she looks small like this. not because she is, but because she’s tired. tired in a way that you’ve never really seen her before.

“then i guess i should’ve never left.”

she looks up. your stomach makes you feel weird in the way it always does when she looks at you like that. and she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it. 

“you skate like you don’t even need air.”

“i don’t. until you’re not here.” she says quietly. 

there’s silence after that. you’re not sure of what to say next. 

“i brought you chocolate.”

karina lets out a quiet laugh. 

“you remembered?”

“of course i did. you barely eat.” you say this time. 

“that’s scary.”

“what is?”

“being known.”

the way she says it makes it seem like it’s a luxury she doesn’t let herself have.

you don’t reply. you just pull out the bar and hand it to her.  

“then i’ll be careful with you.” you mumble.

and that is the moment she knows she’s completely fucked.

because you’re kind and careful. and also someone else’s. and her coach’s daughter.

and she’s still never wanted to kiss someone more in her entire life.

she doesn’t say anything after that.

just keeps her eyes on the bar of chocolate like if she looks at you again, then something might break.

you don’t move either. you just sit there.

you can hear her breathing. see the way her fingers tap against the tumbler, then stop, and then start again. she’s fidgeting and that alone is strange.

“were you okay? the days i didn’t come.” you ask softly, breaking the silence.

her eyes drop.

“no.”

the honesty stings.

but she doesn’t apologize for it.

she shrugs a little, like she’s trying to play it off. “it was just… harder.”

“i’m sorry.” you nod slowly. 

“i didn’t want you to feel like you had to come.”

“i didn’t. i wanted to.” you say, meeting her eyes.

her breath catches. you notice but you pretend not to.

“i used to wonder if i actually helped at all. or if i was just a distraction.”

“you weren’t.” she says immediately with no hesitation. “you aren’t. you’re…”

she trails off.

“i’m what?”

she looks back at you, but she looks scared.

“you’re part that makes it hurt less.”

and that does something to you.

you don’t say anything. you can’t, really. not when your throat feels tight and your chest is full of something you can’t name. or you’re too scared to. 

so you reach over slowly, placing your fingers over hers.

she doesn’t move. her hand stays beneath yours, still and warm and trembling.

and for a moment, neither of you breathe. 

then your phone buzzes on the bench behind you.

karina pulls her hand away before you could even blink.

you turn around, already knowing who it is.

karina stands and grabs her bag without saying anything.

you wish she would. you wish you could.

“thanks for the snack.”

and then she’s gone.

───────────────────────

the next day you show up earlier.

you don’t pretend it’s not for her anymore. you’re sitting in your usual seat with your blanket, tumbler, and snack beside you as you watch the skaters rotate through their drills.

but karina doesn’t come out right away.

you see her peek through the glass from the hall. you catch her gaze for a second, then she disappears.

she doesn’t return until everyone else is wrapping up.

and even then, she still doesn’t look at you.

she glides past the bench, focused with her headphones in. you try not to take it personal, but it’s hard. her eyes don’t meet yours once.

you wait until she finishes her routine. she lands the last jump perfectly. almost too perfectly. like it’s anger and not focus pushing her through it.

you stand when she skates off.

she walks past you like she didn’t see you at all.

so you follow.

“karina.”

she doesn’t turn around.

“hey— stop.”

she finally stops by the far end of the rink right by the locker hallway, but she doesn’t face you. she just stands there with her fists clenched at her sides.

you take a step closer. “are you avoiding me?”

she exhaled. “i’m not avoiding you.”

“you literally didn’t look at me all night.”

“that’s not avoidance.”

“then what is it?”

“It’s self preservation.” she snaps.

you froze.

her chest is rising and falling quickly, eyes glossy with something she’s trying hard to suppress.

“karina.”

“i can’t do this. not when i know you’re gonna leave again. not when i know who you go home to. i’m trying to stay focused. this—“ she gestures between you two. “— this messes with me.”

“so what, you’re just cutting me off?”

she looks at you like she wishes she could say no. but she says nothing.

you shake your head. “you don’t get to push me away just because you’re scared.”

“i’m not scared.” she says too fast.

“then what are you?”

silence.

she looks at you and it breaks something in both of you.

“falling.”

your heart drops.

“falling. and you’re not allowed to catch me.”

neither of you move.

everything feels louder now. her hands are shaking again and you want to grab them, tell her you're already falling too, even if you’re too much of a coward to admit it yet.

but your phone rings again.

and this time, she doesn’t wait for you to answer it.

she just walks away.

───────────────────────

the next day is cold. like always. 

you’re already in the stands when karina steps into the rink, tying her jacket tighter with her head down. she’s barely slept either, but she’s used to that.

then she sees you. and her heart stops.

you’re curled up on the bleachers in the same blanket, but you look different. 

you’re always soft and always quiet, but this time there’s something hollow behind your eyes.

they’re puffy. and red.

your smile is barely there. 

she sees the dark circles immediately. and the way you’re not waving or calling out to her like usual. you don’t even look like you’ve eaten anything.

karina slows to a stop in the middle of the walkway, just staring at you. 

she can tell that something’s wrong.

and then the sound of your father’s voice cuts through the silence.

“again!”

karina flinches.

he’s not yelling, but his tone is sharp, cutting in that way only coaches can be. 

disappointment wrapped in professionalism.

“you’re stiff. you’re late on your rotations. you want to fall in front of the judges? pick it up. again.”

she doesn’t respond. just nods. she’s good at taking hits and pushing through. 

but even from the bleachers, you’re watching every second like it physically hurts to witness.

karina’s eyes change to you between jumps, just once, for a second.

and you’re already looking at her.

your eyes crack in heartbreak. 

like it’s killing you to see her go through this after the night you just had.

she lands the jump. barely.

your father says nothing this time, just mutters something under his breath and walks off toward the office.

karina exhales and then she looks at you.

that’s when she realizes. you weren’t just tired. you were crying. 

all night.

and somehow, she knows it wasn’t just about him. it was about her, too. about everything you’re not allowed to say. about everything that she made worse by pushing you away.

her throat tightens and you try to smile at her.

you don’t even think before you stand. you just move, blanket slipping off your shoulders and your feet hitting the bleachers faster than they should. your heart was pounding in your throat like it wants to say something first.

by the time karina’s stepping off the ice, you’re already waiting by the edge with your arms crossed.

she sees you and it wrecks her.

you can tell by the way she hesitates just for a second. the way her eyes linger on your face then drop to your hands. they’re empty.

she unties her skates slowly, like she’s trying to draw out the seconds. maybe she’s hoping that you’ll leave.

you don’t.

you crouch down beside her instead and she still doesn’t look at you.

“i brought water. it’s in the stands.” you say quietly. 

she doesn’t respond.

“i couldn’t sleep.” you add. 

she exhales shakily. “why are you here?”

you swallow. “because i can’t not be.”

her fingers pause on her laces.

“i kept thinking about what you said. that you skated better when i was here. that this messed with you.” you continue, looking at her hands instead of her face.

she doesn’t say anything.

“do you think it doesn’t mess with me too? do you think that i don’t feel it? when you look at me like that? when you won’t look at me at all?” you whisper.

she finally looks up. and it’s all there.

the hurt. the want. the grief of something she hasn’t even let herself have yet. 

“i don’t know what i’m allowed to feel when it comes to you. you’re the coaches daughter. you have a boyfriend. and i’m just—“

“stop.” you interrupt. “don’t do that. don’t reduce yourself to that.”

karina flinches.

“last night we got into an argument. i told him that it wasn’t fair. that someone else— you— make me feel more in the ten minutes after practice than he has in months.” 

her lips part. she looks like she’s trying not to break.

“you’re the only person who sees me for me.”

karina swallows hard. “you can’t say things like that.”

“why not?”

“because i want to believe them.”

you both fall silent.

you don’t touch her. you don’t move. You just sit in the silence, watching the way her eyes glisten and dart to the ground like she can’t bear to look at you for too long.

“i kept waiting for it to go away. whatever this is.” she says finally.

“and?”

she looks up.

“it never did.”

your breath hitches.

neither of you say it. you don’t need to. it’s the distance neither of you dare to cross yet.

“i skated better when you were here.” she says again. like it’s a confession now.

“and i broke when you weren’t.”

this time, you don’t look away. and neither does she.

she stands first.

you think she might reach for you, but her arms stay at her sides. her fingers twitch like they want to move but don’t know how to move without ruining everything.

“i should go.” she says quietly. 

“my ride’s waiting.”

you nod slowly. “okay.”

neither of you move. 

there’s a second where it feels like she might stay. like she might say screw it and finally do something reckless.

but she doesn’t.

she looks at you like she’s memorizing you in case this is the last time she gets to.

“you make things better. just by being here.” she says almost too softly to hear.

and then she turns.

no goodbye. no wave.

when you finally stand, your hands shake.

because you know it’s not over.

but it hasn’t started yet, either. 

it’s just waiting.

like you are.

one week before regionals. 

you’re curled up in your usual spot with a tumbler of tea between your hands. 

karina’s been skating for over an hour. and for once, she hasn’t looked your way.

you don’t blame her.

not really.

you told him the truth two days ago. you ended it.

but endings don’t mean freedom. not when guilt clings to you.

you’ve barely talked to her since.

not about it.

not about anything.

but you’re here. you’re always here, and she knows that.

when her routine finishes you stand without thinking, legs sore from sitting too long. you meet her by the edge of the rink. the way you always do.

you offer the water bottle without saying a word. she takes it with tired eyes, lips parted like she might say something.

but she doesn’t.

“you’re sharper today. your landings are cleaner.”

“thanks.”

just that. no warmth behind it. 

you swallow it down and try again. “do you want to run through it again with music? i can play it for you.”

she hesitates before shrugging. “if you want.”

it stings a little. but you press play anyway.

and as she skates, you watch her the way you always have. you’ve seen it a million times before, but it still knocks the wind out of you every time.

because she’s beautiful.

because she’s yours in all the ways that don’t count.

and it’s killing you.

when the music fades you’re already moving to meet her again. she unlaces her skates in silence.

you crouch beside her like you did the last time, and you’ll probably keep doing it until she tells you not to.

“you don’t have to keep showing up.”

“i want to.”

she glances at you quickly. 

“you’re going through stuff too.” she says.

“so are you.”

for a second, she just stares.

“does it hurt?”

“what?”

“the breakup.”

“yeah.” you don’t lie. 

she nods once. slowly.

then she says your name like it’s fragile. like if she speaks it too loud you might shatter.

“i hate that it hurts. but i don’t regret it.” she mumbles. 

you stare at her.

and you know. you know she’s not just talking about the breakup.

you know she means this. you. whatever’s going on between you two that neither of you fully touch yet.

“me neither.”

she doesn’t touch you.

you don’t ask her to stay.

you just sit side by side on the cold floor of the empty rink, hearts quietly breaking for each other in a way that feels like a promise. even if neither of you said the words. 

it happened four days before regionals. 

it was so fast that you barely registered it.

your dad’s voice was sharp as it echoed through the rink. words like focus, sloppy, and disappointment cut through the air with every frustrated step he took. 

karina stands perfectly still on the ice, arms stiff at her sides.

she doesn’t look at him.

she doesn’t look at you either.

“again. and this time, land the jump like someone who actually wants to qualify.” he barks.

you open your mouth like you were about to say something. but you don’t. you know better than to poke the fire when it’s this close to regionals. so you stay still and bite your tongue until it tastes like metal.

karina just nods quietly. 

like always.

like she’s learned to.

she runs the routine again.

it’s not bad.

but it’s not perfect. and he lets her know.

another critique and another sigh. then he walks away without even a good job to soften the blow.

you hear the door to the rink slam shut behind him.

and then it’s silent.

karina glides off the ice and sits on the bench without a word, untying her skates with trembling fingers.

you approach carefully.

she doesn’t look at you.

“i can’t do this.”

it’s so quiet you almost miss it.

her voice breaks on the last word, and she’s leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, hands gripping her hair like she’s trying to hold herself together.

your chest hurts.

you kneel in front of her without thinking. 

“karina—”

“i can’t breathe anymore. every time i mess up it’s like— he looks at me like i’m wasting everyone’s time. like i’m not worth it.” she chokes out. 

“hey. that’s not true.” you whisper, reaching up slowly but not touching her.

tears fall down her face, but she doesn’t wipe them. “i’ve done everything. i’ve pushed myself so hard i can’t even feel my legs anymore, and it’s still not enough.”

“you are enough.”

she shakes her head. “i’m so tired. and i don’t even know why i’m still trying. i keep thinking maybe… maybe if i do it perfectly, just once, someone will finally say i did good.” she whispers, voice trembling.

you feel your heart break. because you know that feeling.

so this time, you do reach for her.

you hand lands lightly on her knee. “i see you. i’ve seen you this whole time.”

karina finally looks up.

it looks like she’s been holding this in for years.

“you skate like it means something. i don’t care if you fall or if it’s messy. or if my dad doesn’t say anything. i’ll always think you’re perfect.”

she blinks and more tears slip down. then her lip quivers.

and then carefully and hesitantly, karina leans forward and rests her forehead on your shoulder. its not a hug but it’s close.

you don’t move.

you just stay there with her in the silence, letting her fall apart without asking her to stop.

because she’s always been the strong one. and maybe this once she needed someone to hold the weight.

───────────────────────

it’s late when your phone buzzes.

you’re still awake, staring at the ceiling. you’ve been replaying the moment in the rink all evening. the way her forehead pressed to your shoulder like she was scared to go any closer.

you reach for your phone.

karina are you still up?

you sit up instantly.

you yeah. are you okay?

there’s a pause. it’s long enough that you start to wonder if she’s fallen asleep.

karina can you come over? i don’t want to be alone tonight.

and in less than fifteen minutes later she opens the door in an oversized sweatshirt and leggings. her hair was pulled back messily.

you love her so much in that moment it actually hurts.

“hi.” you say softly.

karina steps aside to let you in.

“you didn’t have to come.”

“you asked.”

she doesn’t argue.

her skates are drying by the heater, and sits cross legged on her bed. you follow hesitantly, leaving just enough space between you to make her feel safe.

“thank you.” she mumbled.

“for what?”

“for being there today. i don’t think i could’ve kept it together if you weren’t.” she shrugged. 

“you don’t always have to keep it together.” 

“yeah. try telling my brain that.”

“he was hard on you today.” you say after a while. 

karina nods, looking down. “he’s always been that way. but i guess it hit harder today.”

you watch her for a moment.

“i already think the world of you.” you say without thinking. 

karina blinks, breath hitching.

and she leans in. just a little.

“if i ask you to stay… will you?”

you don’t hesitate.

“i’m already here.”

and you don’t know what time it is now.

only that the world has gone still.

karina hasn’t moved in a while. not since she adjusted the blanket over your legs. she’s barely said anything, really. but she hasn’t stopped looking at you.

and you haven’t stopped pretending you don’t notice.

you should go.

you tell yourself that again and again, but instead you turn your head and find her already watching you. her lips were parted like she was about to say something but changed her mind.

“what?” you whisper.

she shakes her head. “nothing.”

you hesitate. 

“you can say it.”

karina’s eyes search yours, and for a second it looks like she might. like she’ll confess something. or maybe let go of something she’s been holding in for so long.

instead, she mumbles. “i skate better when you’re here.” she says again. 

“i’ll be here. if you want me to.” you say.

“that’s the problem.”

your heart stutters.

she doesn’t explain. but she doesn’t have to.

you’re the coach’s daughter and she has a championship to win. and yet, you’re here.

and she wants you.

you’re both still sitting close, knees brushing under the blanket. close enough to kiss if you leaned in just a little.

and maybe she’s thinking the same thing. because she leans in.

barely.

barely enough that it could be a dream.

your breath catches.

your eyes flutter down to her mouth. and she hesitates.

she sits there, fingers twitching like she wants to reach for your hand.

but instead of kissing you, karina leans in further and folds herself into you.

her arms go around your waist, gentle and unsure.

her face buries into your neck.

and you hold her without saying a word. you let her heart beat against yours. your fingers find the edge of her sleeve and just stay there, gripping gently.

you don’t move after that. neither of you do. 

you’re half-asleep when you feel her exhale against your neck. 

her arms tightened slightly around you, and her forehead rests just beneath your jaw now. her warm breath fans your collarbone.

“i don’t know how to stop wanting you.”

you freeze. not all the way, but enough. enough that your breath stutters.

you don’t breathe for a full second after she says it.

you wonder if she even knows she said it or if it slipped through the cracks of exhaustion and everything else that she’s been holding in.

you feel her body relax against yours a moment later. her breathing slows. she’s asleep.

and you’re still wide awake, repeating her words in your head. 

you close your eyes and press your cheek lightly to the top of her head.

“i don’t want you to stop.”

she doesn’t stir. she doesn’t answer.

maybe she won’t remember the words she said. maybe she won’t remember yours. but you will. you always will.

───────────────────────

the rink is full of silence. when you arrive you just stand there and watch her for a moment.

karina is skating slow mindless loops, nothing like her usual precision. she’s moving like she’s trying to outrun invisible. you know what it is. because you heard it.

your father’s voice still rings in your ears, loud and relentless. it was another round of “you’re still not landing clean” and “if you’re gonna do that tomorrow, don’t even bother showing up.” it was another night where she nodded without speaking, biting her tongue hard enough to keep the tears from slipping out.

you didn’t interfere. you never do. but you watch. you always watch.

and maybe that’s why you’re here now, stepping through the gap in the railing and walking out onto the empty rink.

she doesn’t notice you right away. her eyes are focused elsewhere and her gaze is distant. you wonder if she even feels her skates gliding beneath her anymore, or if she’s somewhere else completely. a place where no one’s yelling.

you kneel at the edge of the rink. “karina?”

she slows instantly, head snapping toward your voice like muscle memory.

“hey.” you say softly. 

she looks at you for a moment.

“you— uh— your dad said that you left.” she says. her voice is quieter than usual.

“i came back.”

she skates closer, finally stepping off the ice. she doesn’t sit, she just stands in front of you while hugging herself.

“you saw.”

“i did.”

karina lets out a humorless laugh and looks away. “whatever. i’ve had worse. 

“that doesn’t make it okay.”

her eyes flicker back to yours. there’s a flash of something there but she looks down quickly, beginning to untie her boots.

“you were good today. better than good.”

“not good enough.”

“for him. but you don’t skate for him.”

her hands fall away from her laces. she straightens slowly and finally looks at you. there’s something about her expression, like she’s trying to figure out whether to let this moment happen or shut it down.

“and who do i skate for then?” she asks. your heart skips. “i don’t know. but when you skate, i can feel it. the emotion. it’s indescribable.” you mumble.

karina swallows.

you take a step forward, closing the space between you.

“but i can see it.”

“you always show up when i need you most. even when you don’t know it.” she whispered after a bit. 

“what, are you keeping track?” you laughed. 

she hums. “maybe.”

you don’t know that she cried last night. that her hands shook as she held the letter. she read the email from the coach six times before your dad finally admit that he recommended her. that she almost said no.

almost.

you also don’t know this might be the last time she skates in front of you.

not yet.

“you nervous about tomorrow?”

“you’re the one competing.”

“yeah, but… i skate better when you’re here.”

there it is again. the quiet truth that she keeps letting slip piece by piece.

you don’t know how to answer, so you just stay silent. karina’s blades click softly against the ice before she kicks them off and pulls on her sneakers.

then she’s looking at you again. the look that always makes your heart clench a little too tight.

“you ever think about what happens after regionals?” she asks suddenly.

“like nationals?” she hesitates. 

“no. i mean like… after us. after the season ends.”

you pause. “i haven’t. not really. why?”

but she’s already looking away, shoulders tense in a way that makes your stomach twist.

“you okay?”

“i just… it doesn’t matter.”

it does matter. you know it does, but you don’t push. instead, you laugh quietly. 

“you’ll win tomorrow.”

she laughs a little brokenly. “that’s not what i’m worried about.”

you don’t ask what it is. because maybe you’re scared to hear the answer.

karina fiddles with the edge of her sleeve with her eyes fixed on the rink, but her focus is elsewhere.

“you sure you’re okay?” you ask again, softer now.

she inhales. her throat bobs as she swallows.

“i got an offer. to train in america.” she says finally.

“america?”

“yeah.”

“for summer training?”

“no. like— move there. train full time. i’d be part of a national development program.”

your stomach drops. “oh.”

“it’s… huge. like, dream level. career changing.”

“wow. that’s amazing.”

and it is. it is. but you feel the words hurting in your throat like they’re glass.

karina’s fingers flex against her knee. “i leave monday.”

silence crashes over you.

“oh.” you say again, because it’s all you can say. your voice barely comes out. she finally turns to look at you. and this time, she looks right at you.

“i wasn’t going to tell you. i didn’t want to ruin tomorrow. but then you showed up and i… i needed tonight.” she says.

your heart twists.

“so this is goodbye?” you ask and you hate how small you sound. karina’s jaw clenches. “don’t say it like that.”

“how am i supposed to say it?”

you get ready to leave and she follows.

“i didn’t ask for this. i didn’t want to leave. but your dad— he pushed for it. he said it was the only way i’d make it.” she says.

your eyes sting. “and you didn’t tell me?”

“i didn’t want to make it harder.”

“it already is.”

she’s standing right behind you now. you can feel the warmth of her breath on your shoulder.

“i would stay. if i could. i almost did.” she whispers.

you turn to face her and she’s right there. closer than she’s ever been. her eyes flick to your lips once and that’s all it takes.

you kiss her.

it’s instinctual. you don’t even mean for it to happen. you just do it. a gentle kiss pressed to her lips. 

she goes very still.

you pull back the second you realize what you’ve done, already panicking.

“i— i’m sorry. that was— god, i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have—“

she grabs your wrist and pulls you in again.

she pulls you back in like she’s starved for you. your back hits the rink railing with a thud and the cold metal shocks you through your shirt, but you don’t even register it. not when she’s kissing you this messily, frantically, and desperately. 

her hands are everywhere. gripping into your hair, hugging the curve of your waist, keeping herself against your hips like she’s scared that you might disappear if she lets go. and maybe she is. maybe she knows.

“karina—” you gasp in between kisses, but she cuts you off with another kiss.

“i shouldn’t. you’re the coach’s daughter. i shouldn’t—“ she murmurs against your lips, but she doesn’t stop.

she pulls back long enough to look at you, eyes revealing that she’s trying to memorize this moment. and then she kisses you again. harder.

her hands slide under your jaw, cupping your face like it’s fragile, even though she kisses you like you aren’t.

the railing rattles under your grip as your body arches into hers, needing her closer before this all slips through your fingers.

because she’s leaving soon. because this ends soon. and you both feel it.

that’s why she kisses you like this. like she’s trying to carve the memory into her brain. like she’s terrified that this might the only time that she’ll ever get to touch you like this, and she needs to make it count.

“i’m so scared. i could win everything and i’m scared of what happens if i lose you after.” she whispers, forehead against yours.

you don’t answer.

you just hold her tighter.

you stay like that. pressed between her and the railing until the lights in the rink finally begin to dim for the night.

and she pulls back, with teary eyes.

“come tomorrow. please.”

you nod. 

three months after regionals. 

karina didn’t mean to come back to korea for long. it was just a short break so she could breathe again. she told everyone it was to reset. to clear her head before the next competition cycle. but no amount of sleep, early morning runs or phone calls with her mother, can ever fix the ache that settled in her chest three months ago.

not since she left you.

now she walks through familiar streets with a scarf tucked around her neck, hands in her coat pockets. she doesn’t tell anyone where she’s going. just says she’s going out for a bit and slips away before anyone can ask too many questions. her feet know the route before she does. every turn.

the closer she gets to the rink, the quieter her thoughts become. she pauses at the entrance for a long time, fingers stuck at the metal door handle. thr old banner hanging above the entrance has started to peel at the corners and a few letters faded. but it’s the same. everything is the same.

except her.

when she steps inside, it hits her all at once. the soft echo of her own footsteps against the floor reminds her of it all. this is where she became who she is.

and this is where she left the person who made her feel like herself.

she doesn't lace up her skates. doesn’t even sit down. she just walks the edge of the rink slowly, one hand following the railing. she can see her reflection staring back at her in the glass. she’s more tired and her eyes are flooded with something deeper than exhaustion.

she stops near the bench where she used to sit after practice. the same bench where you handed her water bottles, chocolates, and hand warmers. the same place where she started to let herself hope.

her chest tightens.

she doesn’t know what she was expecting. a sense of closure? a ghost of you?

but instead. you’re really there.

like no time has passed at all. like a prayer she didn’t know that she was still saying. and she can feel herself breathing again. 

at first, she thinks she’s imagining you.

you’re sitting on one of the benches, and your coat is pulled tight. your hands tucked into your sleeves and there's a water bottle resting beside you.

her heart stutters.

she blinks hard. more than once. and you’re still there.

she opens her mouth before she can stop herself, voice shaky and unsure for the first time in months. “…y/n?”

you look up. and that’s all it takes. karina swallows hard, taking a step forward. “is it really you?”

you nod slowly. like you can’t believe she’s real either.

“i didn’t think you’d be here.” you say quietly.

“i didn’t think you would.” she answers. “i was just just… I was passing by. I didn’t mean to—”

“you always pass by when you’re thinking too much.”

she huffs out a breath that was almost a laugh. her eyes are glassy now and she tries to blink it away but it clings.

“you look the same. but different.” she says.

“so do you.”

she hesitates before asking. “can i… come closer?” you don’t answer right away. you just shift slightly to the side on the bench to make space for her. that’s all she needs.

she walks across the empty floor slowly, skates swinging from one hand. she sits beside you, like the months between now and the last time meant nothing. or maybe they meant everything.

she finally breaks the silence with a voice that was barely above a whisper. “i skate better when you’re here.”

you turn to her and she’s already looking at you. “i don’t know why i said that,” she adds, flustered now. 

but you do. you know exactly why.

you lean your shoulder against hers and she leans back, like muscle memory.

neither of you speak again for a long time. but the familiarity of the silence is inevitable. like no matter how far you run, this was always where you’d end up. 

sitting next to each other. 

taglist — @saysirhc @prologue-ae @yuyuy90

[shy9-29]

I actually need a two faced jake where at school hes a sore loser versus when he’s alone with yn—complete menace. Biggest cocky flirt out there. At first, yn didn’t know much about jake until he bent her over and fucked the living shit outta her. I’m just down bad for Jake ok.

Two Faced, One Heart: Who is Sim Jake?

심재윤 x reader

୨ৎ Two versions of Jake Sim—one the shy, clumsy boy who spills his coffee at school, the other the filthy-mouthed menace who had you shaking in his lap just hours before class—and somehow, you’re hopelessly addicted to both. ✉️ wc. 13.1k ⋆˙⟡ ⚠️ warnings : oral (both received), begging, teasing, cream pie, minor slut shamming, bullying, pet names, making out, swearing, harsh language, haur pulling, unprotected sex

📝: thats so fucking hot omg? I need jake so bad rn it’s not even funny

mndi · req open

———

The words come out before you can stop them.

“Do you think I could get Jake to fall for me?”

Your friends stare at you like you just confessed to having a crush on the cafeteria salad bar.

“Jake Sim?” Min gapes. “The guy who thanked the printer for working?” Jisoo raises a brow. “His Instagram only has twelve followers. Twelve. One of them is his dog’s account.” You try not to laugh. “Okay, but he’s kind of… sweet?” Min scoffs. “He wears socks with sandals.” You shrug. “Maybe I like that.” You don’t tell them that two nights ago, Jake had you bent over your tiny dorm desk, fingers tangled in your hair, voice low and smug in your ear while you struggled to stay quiet. Because no one would believe you.

Not when the Jake they know fumbles over his words in group projects and blushes when people look at him too long.

But you’ve seen the other side. The one who locks his door with a click and flips like a switch. You see him again the next day in class, right on time as always. Same oversized hoodie, same messy hair. He sits two rows behind you and doesn’t say a word.

You don’t look at him. Not really. But you feel him watching you. The weight of his stare pressed between your shoulder blades. Like he knows exactly what you’re thinking about. Then, when you stand to leave, he brushes past you. Just a little too close. His fingers graze the small of your back—light, subtle, hidden. But it sends heat shooting down your spine. You catch up to him by the vending machines, just outside the library. He’s pretending to debate between orange juice and sparkling water.

You stop beside him. “Healthy choices.” Jake doesn’t look at you. “You wore that lip gloss again.” Your lips curve. “Maybe I like the flavor.” He reaches forward, selects a drink without thinking, and pays. His voice drops, just loud enough for you to hear. “I like it better off my tongue.” Your breath hitches. A pair of students walk past, one of them waving vaguely in Jake’s direction. He nods back with that usual shy smile, all harmless and mild-mannered.

The second they’re gone, his hand brushes against yours, fingers curling briefly around yours before letting go. You’re not sure your heart knows how to keep a steady rhythm around him anymore.

You didn’t know when it started—maybe it was the way Jake always sat in the back of class, quiet and unassuming. Or the fact that, every time you glanced at him, he never seemed to notice. He’d scribble in his notebook, the only sound in the room his pencil moving across the paper. You thought he was weird at first. Too quiet. Too in the background. The kind of person everyone else ignored. But there was something about him you couldn’t shake. The way his glasses would slide down his nose when he concentrated, or how he always wore the same hoodie, despite the weather.

The first time you spoke to him was after class. Your notes were mixed up, and you needed help with something—so you took a deep breath, made your way to him, and asked.

He looked up, startled. His cheeks went pink, and he mumbled something about being “kind of bad at explaining things,” but he agreed to help. That’s how it started. He was awkward. Shy. And he was perfect. You thought about him more than you should have, even as your friends teased you about how he was “just a soft loser” or “too quiet to ever be interesting.” But something about the way he treated you—how he never rushed you, never pushed, always listened—had you intrigued.

Then, the texts started coming. Small things at first—like a picture of a puppy he saw that reminded him of you. Or a random meme about books you both liked. They came at odd times, too. Late at night. In the middle of the day. And you found yourself looking forward to them, even though you knew he wasn’t exactly the “popular” guy at school.

One night, after a study session that stretched long into the evening, you both found yourselves alone in the library. It was just the two of you, the quiet hum of fluorescent lights above, the scent of paper and coffee between you. He looked at you like he wanted to say something, but he never did. Instead, he helped you pack up your things, careful not to touch you too much, but his fingers brushed yours when he handed you your coat. You thought you imagined it, the little spark that shot through your hand, but the way his eyes flicked to yours said otherwise.

“Uh, good night,” he mumbled, voice hushed. You smiled, feeling your heartbeat in your throat. “Good night, Jake.” You didn’t know it then, but that would be the night it all started to shift.

The next few weeks were a blur of fleeting glances, stolen moments. You’d catch him looking at you in class, only for him to quickly look away. Sometimes, he’d find reasons to walk the same path as you, his steps light, as if testing the water between you. And each time, the air between you would grow heavier, electric, like something unsaid was hanging in the space between your words. It wasn’t until one rainy afternoon that things finally tipped over the edge. You were on your way to the library when you spotted him standing under the awning of a building, looking at his phone. His hoodie was pulled up over his head, and he seemed to be oblivious to the fact that the rain was starting to soak through the sleeves.

“Jake!” you called out, jogging over to him. “You’re gonna get soaked.” He looked up in surprise. “Oh, uh… I was just trying to figure out when the rain’s supposed to stop.” He smiled sheepishly. “I should’ve checked the forecast before heading out.” You shook your head, already pulling your umbrella out. “Come on. You’re coming with me.”

He blinked. “What?”

“You’re not standing out here getting drenched. You’re walking me to the library.”

He hesitated, then smiled, a soft, shy grin. “Okay.”

You shared the umbrella, walking side by side. The world outside was blurred by the rain, everything muted except for the sound of your shoes on the pavement and the occasional brush of his elbow against yours. It felt casual, but something about it—something about him—made your heart race in a way you couldn’t explain.

When you reached the library, you both stood under the awning for a second, the warmth of the building just inside. You were both still close, the air between you thick with unspoken things.

And that was when it happened.

Without saying a word, Jake leaned in just enough to let his breath ghost against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “If I walked you to class every day, would you still act like I’m invisible?” he whispered.

Your heart skipped, and you didn’t know how to respond. You didn’t know what to say, or what he was really offering. But you knew, in that moment, everything between you had shifted.

And you weren’t sure you were ready for it.

But you wanted to be.

You’d never seen Jake without his glasses.

The guy everyone knew—shy, reserved, a little awkward—was always framed by those round lenses. It was part of his quiet charm, the way they softened his features, how he hid behind them like a shield. No one really saw the guy underneath, the guy who barely made waves, who faded into the background of every class.

Until today.

You hadn’t expected this when you got the text. “Roommate’s out. You wanna come over?”

It wasn’t anything crazy. It could be a quiet hangout, maybe some late-night studying. But there was a strange feeling building in your stomach, something telling you that tonight might be different.

When you knocked on Jake’s door, you barely had time to brace yourself before it swung open.

And there he was.

Jake, standing there, no glasses. He was wearing contacts, and the difference hit you immediately. His eyes, normally hidden behind lenses, were now wide open, sharp, clear. They looked darker somehow, and for the first time, you saw something in them that wasn’t there before. Confidence. A kind of intensity that threw you off guard.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice smooth, low—nothing like the awkward, stuttering Jake you were used to.

“Hi,” you replied, unsure of what to say, suddenly aware of how close he was standing.

Jake stepped aside, letting you into the room. You took a quick look around—same dorm, but the vibe was different. The room was tidier than you expected, clean, almost meticulous. No clutter, no random piles of clothes or books. It felt… like a space where Jake had control, where things were on his terms.

“You can sit wherever,” Jake said, leaning back against the wall, arms crossed. His posture was relaxed, but there was an edge to it now, something about the way he stood that was different from the usual quiet guy you saw on campus.

You sat on the edge of his bed, but you didn’t know where to look. His eyes were still on you, and the way he watched you made the air between you feel thick, charged.

He took his time, like he wasn’t in any rush. “You didn’t expect this, did you?” Jake’s voice was quieter now, almost like he was daring you to admit it.

You shifted slightly, trying to act casual, but it was hard. “No. I didn’t think you’d be like this.”

He smiled, but it wasn’t the kind of shy, soft smile you were used to. It was different. “Like what?”

You hesitated, but then shrugged. “I don’t know. More… sure of yourself. Less… nervous.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, and there was a flash of something dark in his eyes. “You think I’m nervous?”

You nodded slowly, testing him. “Yeah. I mean, you’ve always been… kind of quiet.”

Jake took a step closer, his expression unreadable now, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “I’m not shy. Just don’t feel the need to put on a show for anyone. And I don’t think you’re stupid enough to believe I’m some clueless guy.”

You stayed silent, suddenly aware of how close he was now, how his presence filled up the space between you.

He was different tonight. No hesitation. No awkward stutter. Just… Jake. But the version of him that you never saw—sharp, self-assured, and unbothered by anything or anyone around him.

“Want to see how different I am?” he asked, his voice lowering, the question hanging in the air.

You barely had time to process before his fingers brushed your arm, the simple touch making your heart race. And just like that, you realized you weren’t ready for the change that was happening between you—but you were already in too deep to turn back.

You weren’t sure what you expected when you agreed to come over, but it wasn’t this.

Jake leaned against the wall in front of you, and for the first time, you felt a shift in the way he held himself, like there was something between you that wasn’t there before. His gaze didn’t flicker away from yours, and his posture was different. He was comfortable—too comfortable, and it made the room feel smaller, hotter.

You opened your mouth to say something, but Jake beat you to it, his voice low and steady. “You don’t look at me the same way you used to.”

Your chest tightened. “What do you mean?”

His smirk deepened. “You’re looking at me like you’re seeing me for the first time. Like I’m not just the quiet guy in the back of class.”

You tried to ignore the way his words made your pulse pick up speed. He was right, and it unsettled you more than you wanted to admit. The Jake you knew was always reserved, always hiding behind his quiet act. But the Jake in front of you now? He was different. More sure of himself. More… commanding.

Before you could find the right words, Jake pushed off the wall and closed the distance between you. He didn’t touch you at first, but you could feel the heat coming off him. You took a shallow breath, the air between you thick with tension.

“Are you nervous?” he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

You shook your head, but you could feel the unease building in your stomach, creeping up your chest. It wasn’t nerves—it was something else. Something new. Something dangerous.

He seemed to sense it, that tiny shift in your energy, and it made him lean in closer. “You can admit it,” he whispered. “I won’t bite.”

Your lips parted slightly at the sound of his voice, thick and low. There was nothing innocent about him now. You could see it clearly. This wasn’t the guy who stumbled over his words or blushed at the slightest attention. This was a version of Jake you hadn’t been prepared for.

And now that you were seeing him—really seeing him—you weren’t sure you wanted to turn away.

Jake’s hand came up to touch your chin, his thumb brushing over your skin with purpose. He tilted your head slightly, studying you like you were a puzzle he was dying to solve. His touch was slow, deliberate, and it made every nerve in your body stand on edge.

“Do you like this?” he asked softly, his thumb tracing along your jawline. “Do you like seeing me like this?”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you found yourself staring at him, watching how his eyes flickered with something darker, something that made your heart race in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

“I don’t know,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jake’s smirk only grew, and before you could react, he leaned in and kissed you.

It wasn’t a soft kiss, the kind you were used to. It wasn’t gentle or cautious. No, this was different. This was hungry. It was messy. He kissed you like he’d been waiting for this moment, like he couldn’t wait any longer. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, his lips parting against yours as if he was trying to steal every breath from your lungs.

You let him. You let him pull you in, let him show you what he was capable of when there was no one around to see it.

When he pulled away, just enough to let you catch your breath, his eyes never left yours. There was something predatory in his gaze now, something that made your pulse race.

“You’ve been looking at me for a while,” Jake murmured, his breath warm against your lips. “You never thought I could be like this, did you?”

You swallowed hard, your mind scrambling for something to say, but all that came out was a shaky breath.

Jake smiled, that same smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “I’ll show you just how different I can be.”

And that was when you realized—there was no going back now.

Jake’s lips hovered just inches from yours, his breath mixing with yours, the tension in the air making every nerve in your body feel alive. His eyes were locked onto yours, and you could see the way he was waiting for you—waiting for you to decide how far you wanted to go, how far you were willing to let things shift.

You had never seen him like this. The quiet guy you knew had been replaced by someone far more confident, far more intense. His hand was still resting at the back of your neck, and the way his thumb traced small circles against your skin sent a shiver down your spine.

He didn’t kiss you again right away. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, studying you, watching for any sign of hesitation, any sign that you weren’t ready. His thumb grazed your jaw again, this time a little firmer, almost as if he was marking his territory, making sure you knew he was in control now.

And then, without warning, he pressed his lips against yours again—but this time, the kiss was slower. It was deeper, more deliberate, as if he was savoring it. His other hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer until you could feel the heat of his body against yours.

You tried to breathe, but it was hard. It felt like the world was closing in around you, leaving only the two of you in that small, charged space. You couldn’t focus on anything except the way his lips moved against yours, the way his hands shifted, each touch sparking a new wave of heat in your body.

He pulled away just enough to speak, his voice low, gravelly. “I told you… I’m not the guy you thought I was.”

You nodded, your throat tight, your chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. You could barely process what was happening. Everything about this felt different, so different from anything you’d imagined. The shy, awkward Jake had been replaced by someone who wasn’t afraid to take what he wanted.

His lips trailed down to your neck, and the soft press of his mouth against your skin made your breath catch in your throat. He moved slowly, deliberately, his hands never straying far from you. The warmth of his touch spread through you, and you felt your body responding in ways you hadn’t expected.

“Jake,” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper as his lips traced along your collarbone.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with something primal. “Tell me what you want baby?” His voice was barely audible, but it cut through the fog in your mind.

You didn’t know how to answer, not with words. You had never been this close to him, not like this, not with the air crackling between you like it was about to catch fire. The way the pet name slipped so easily from his mouth made your pussy clench around nothing. But the look in his eyes, the intensity of his gaze, made something stir inside you.

Without thinking, you leaned in again, your lips pressing against his. This time, there was no hesitation. You kissed him back, a little harder this time, both groaning into the kiss as if you were trying to prove something—prove that you were ready for whatever came next.

Jake didn’t pull away. Instead, his hands slid lower, around your waist, pulling you even closer. You felt the heat of his body against yours, his chest rising and falling with each breath. His hands were firm, confident as they explored the curve of your back, the tension in your muscles, the way your body responded to him. 

Every inch of space between you seemed to vanish, and soon there was nothing but the heat, the closeness, and the feeling of his hands on your skin.

For the first time, you weren’t sure if you were in control anymore—or if you ever had been.

Jake pulled away from the kiss, his breath ragged as he looked at you with that same intense gaze. There was something in his eyes—an unspoken challenge, a promise of something you couldn’t quite yet name. You could feel the tension building, heavy in the air between you, thickening with each second that passed.

He reached up slowly, his fingers brushing the collar of his shirt, and your heart skipped a beat as he pulled it over his head, revealing the smooth skin of his chest. The movement was casual, effortless, like he’d done it a thousand times before. His muscles shifted under his skin, the soft light of the room catching the contours of his body, and it was like everything about him felt real now—far more than you ever thought.

You couldn’t help but stare, your gaze tracing over the way his chest rose and fell with each breath. There was no trace of the shy, reserved guy from before. Instead, he stood there—bare, exposed—looking at you with a calm confidence that made your pulse race.

Jake didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. His eyes spoke volumes as they flickered to yours, waiting for you to respond, to make the next move.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you took in the sight of him, suddenly feeling a shift, a hunger building within you that mirrored his own. It was a quiet power, a tension you could feel in your very bones.

Jake’s eyes never left yours as you stood there, frozen for a moment. The air felt thick, charged, as if time had slowed down, and the weight of his gaze made everything around you fade into the background.

He stepped toward you, his chest still bare, his body moving with a kind of fluid confidence that made your pulse spike. Each step he took seemed to make the space between you shrink, until you were once again within inches of him. He didn’t rush. His movements were slow, deliberate, as if he were savoring every moment.

“Do you want this?” he asked, his voice low, steady. The question hung in the air, but there was no hesitation in his tone—only the calm certainty of someone who knew exactly what they wanted.

Your throat tightened, and you nodded, though words seemed impossible to find. The only sound in the room was the quickening rhythm of your breath, mingling with his.

Jake’s hand reached for the hem of your shirt, his fingers grazing your skin as he lifted it, gently pulling it over your head. You let him, your heart pounding in your chest, your skin heating under his touch. He didn’t rush, his hands tracing the curves of your body with careful attention, like he was memorizing every inch of you.

When your shirt finally joined his on the floor, he stepped back slightly to take you in, his gaze sweeping over your exposed skin. His eyes darkened further, a look of quiet admiration in them, but there was something else there too—something predatory, possessive.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice rougher now, the words low but full of meaning.

You could barely process what was happening, but the way he said it—like he was claiming you, and yet somehow honoring you at the same time—made your chest tighten. His hands were at your waist now, pulling you closer again, and his lips found the curve of your neck. He kissed you there softly, his mouth warm against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

As he kissed you, his hands moved lower, slowly, deliberately, until he was holding you, guiding you gently toward his bed. There was no rush, no urgency—just the feel of his strong hands, the weight of his body against yours, and the soft pressure of his lips as they trailed down to your collarbone.

Jake was taking his time, savoring the moments. He wanted you—he was showing you that much, but he was also letting you see a side of him that no one else got to experience.

And as he lowered you onto the bed, his lips never leaving your skin, you felt a kind of surrender that you couldn’t explain. He was confident, sure of every move he made. But so were you.

This was new. You were new.

Jake’s lips found the delicate curve of your neck, and you inhaled sharply as a wave of warmth flooded your body. His kisses were slow, teasing, each one leaving a faint, tingling trail on your skin. You could feel his breath against you, warm and steady, as he placed soft, lingering kisses along the sensitive spot beneath your ear.

His hands, still resting on your waist, tightened their grip slightly, pulling you closer to him. Every movement was deliberate, purposeful, as if he was in no rush to get anywhere, wanting to savor every moment.

“You’re such a good girl,” Jake murmured against your skin, his voice low and rough. The words sent a shiver down your spine, stirring something deep inside you. His praise, soft yet commanding, made your heart race even faster, the air between you growing thick with desire.

You couldn’t help the soft gasp that escaped your lips, your body reacting to the way his voice made you feel—like you were exactly where you needed to be, like you were his.

Jake smiled against your neck, the words lingering in the air. “So good for me,” he whispered, his lips brushing the spot again. You could feel the confidence in his words, the way he was claiming the moment, claiming you. The heat that had been building between you both was undeniable now, and you knew, without a doubt, that this was no longer the shy, quiet guy from school.

This was Jake. The Jake who knew exactly what he wanted—and wasn’t afraid to take it.

The room felt smaller now, even with the space around you. The air was thick with a quiet tension, a sense of something inevitable hanging between you two. Jake was no longer standing across from you, maintaining that careful distance. He was close—too close—and it was clear that neither of you wanted to back away.

You could feel the pull of him, an invisible force that seemed to draw you in, making it impossible to ignore the heat that had been simmering between you both. You’d known this feeling, this desire, had been building for weeks. But now it was no longer just something you could push aside, something you could pretend wasn’t there.

“Do you trust me?” Jake’s voice was soft, but there was a weight to it, a seriousness that sent a ripple of excitement through you. He was close now, his chest nearly brushing yours, and the way he spoke made it clear he wasn’t just asking out of curiosity.

You nodded, unable to find your voice for a moment, the words lost in the heat of the moment. Jake smiled—genuine, a little wicked—and his hand reached out to guide you toward the desk.

The desk that had become a symbol of something you didn’t even fully understand yet. He placed his hands on your hips, his touch firm but not rough, leading you with careful, deliberate steps. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt the edge of the desk against the back of your knees.

He stopped, his lips grazing the side of your neck as he whispered, “Stay still for me baby.”

There was an undeniable force in the way he held you, a promise in his words. Your pulse raced as your hands rested against the cool surface of the desk. The room was suddenly quieter, the sounds of your breaths louder than anything else.

Jake stood behind you, his chest pressed against your back. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the way his breath ghosted over your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. There was a certain thrill in knowing that he was completely in control, that he was in charge.

His hands moved with purpose, sliding from your hips up your sides, lingering over the curve of your waist, tracing slow circles over your ribs. You wanted to press back against him, to feel the weight of him against you, but something kept you still, some tiny shred of self-control.

Jake's hands moved higher, fingers trailing over your collarbone, and you couldn't help the soft gasp that escaped your lips. His touch was firm, possessive, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. You wanted to arch into him, to feel the weight of his body against yours, but you kept your hips planted against the desk, fighting the urge.

Jake's lips traced a path down your neck, and you could feel the smile on his face as he spoke, his voice low and rough. "You're doing so well for me," he murmured.

The words slipped out before you could stop them, your voice shaky and desperate, "I need to feel you-need your cock."

You could feel him smirk against your skin, his hands tracing slow, teasing circles over your hips. "You that desperate, you slut?" he scoffed, his words like a taunt, a challenge.

Jake's words sent heat coursing through your veins, the sound of your own whimpering catching you off guard. It was a sound of desperation, of need, and it betrayed a vulnerability you hadn't meant to show.

But he heard it. Of course he did. He was so close to you, his body pressed against yours, and there were no more secrets between you.

You could feel the anticipation building, the air around you thick with tension. Jake's hands moved with purpose, tugging at your skirt, and it came down in a swift motion, pooling around your ankles. He took a step back, giving you space, and for a moment, you were left standing in just your underwear.

Jake's eyes darkened as he watched you, the desire in his gaze unmistakable. He moved closer again, crowding you against the desk, and you could feel the heat radiating off his bare skin, the way it made your skin prickle with anticipation.

You looked back to see Jake stroking his already leaking cock, letting out a low groan in the process. You could feel a smirk form on his lips as he shoves your panties aside. “Jesus yn, you’re dripping.” His words brought a throbbing sensation to your pussy, a desperate whimper leaving your mouth. “Jake…please,” you begged. “I need to feel you.” The heat in your body was almost unbearable now, your words little more than a ragged breath as you plead with him, "Fuck, Jake." It was like all the thoughts had slipped away from you, replaced by a pulsing need.

Jake didn't hesitate. He was still gripping your hip with one hand, his other wrapping around your waist as he pulled you back against him. There was no more waiting, no more teasing. He was hard and ready, and you could feel it pressed against you, and you were slick and wanting, and you couldn't take it any longer.

With a low, guttural groan, Jake slammed his cock inside your soaked cunt in one motion, causing you both to let out the filthiest sound. 

“fuck, look at you,” jake groaned quietly, fingers spreading your ass apart. “such a filthy little thing, huh? letting me use that pussy mouth like it’s all you’re good for.”

his hand is tangled in your hair now, not tugging—just resting there, warm and heavy, like a crown you’ve earned. you try to stay quiet, knowing that the building has thin walls, spit pooling and dripping down your chin as your rhythm falters under the weight of his words. “Jake, it feels go good—“

“quiet,” he snaps softly, and your lashes flutter as you obey.

good. obedient. ruined.

“that’s it, baby. show me how good you are at taking my cock,” he says, voice almost tender if not for the filth of it. “can’t even breathe right, but you don’t care, do you? you love it too much. love being my perfect little toy.”

you whimper around him, and it makes his hips stutter. his thighs tense.

his control cracks just a little.

“god, you’re so good for me. fuck, baby—so fucking perfect.”

he grits his teeth, hand tightening just slightly in your hair. “no one else gets to see you like this. no one else can. only me.”

your jaw aches. your throat burns. but still, you don’t stop. “this pussy is made for me,” he continued, throwing his head back. “Fucking made for me yn.”

Jake was losing control, his words coming out in sharp breaths. He'd never spoken to you like this before, never so openly, so shamelessly filthy. Your mind was reeling, the sensations overwhelming as he took what he wanted from you, his words only fueling your own desire.

“J-Jake- too much.” you whisper cry to him. He giggles a bit, only looking at you the whole time. “And you love it.” he grabs onto your waist gently. 

You help fuck yourself on him a bit faster and he lets out a groan. “You’re so tight around me.. y/n..” he thinks he hasn’t stretched you out enough beforehand. “We can.. do it..” you say, already out of breath.

You spread your legs a bit more, releasing a bit of tension on him. You succeed taking on his big cock, whilst using his shoulders as handles. “You’re taking it so good..” he whispers. You go faster at his praises.

He’s been stretching you out for a while now, and it definitely got easier over time. The slight discomfort turned into satisfying pleasure for you. His swollen tip hits your g-spot every single time, making you want to cum right there. However, he’s been wanting to finish ever since you started. You feel so good wrapped around him he’s surprised he hasn’t let out any further moan yet. 

His hips move faster again, getting closer to cumming again. Your puffy cunt is crying at this point, while you let out a slight moan with every thrust. You keep going for a bit before, before rolling your eyes back to cum. “I’m— gonna… I… oh m… Jake..” you struggle. 

You don’t get to say anything—your body gives out before your voice can even catch up. Your thighs tremble around him, and you’re a mess in his lap, clinging to him like he’s the only thing grounding you. The sound you let out is raw, louder than before, and Jake just leans back in his chair, watching you fall apart with that smug, wrecked grin of his.

His hands tighten around your waist, keeping you moving even as your body begs for mercy. He’s not letting go—not yet.

“You’re not done,” he mutters low against your throat, lips brushing your skin. “Not until I say so.”

You try to respond, but it’s all heat and haze now. Your chest presses against his as your head drops to his shoulder, and he doesn’t stop—he guides you through every slow grind, every twitch of your body that draws another gasp from your lips. His voice is rough, breathless, right in your ear.

Then his body jerks beneath you, and the way he holds you after—tight, possessive—tells you everything you need to know. His hand slides up your back as you both sit there, the room thick with the aftermath, your bodies still tangled.

You think it’s over. You think maybe now he’ll let you breathe.

But then his grip shifts, and he pulls you right back down onto him, your body jolting at the sudden contact.

A gasp leaves you, and his laugh—low and dangerous—rumbles against your collarbone. “Still so sensitive,” he teases, brushing your hair back as he presses a kiss just below your ear. “Thought you could handle me.”

Your arms drape around his neck again, head buried against his skin, and all you can do is hold on. You kiss the sweat-slicked curve of his jaw, trying to catch your breath while he stays buried deep, unmoving, content to just keep you there—full, overwhelmed, and completely his.

And with one hand still steady on your hip, Jake casually slides his chair back toward his desk, like it’s just another night—like you’re not still trembling on top of him.

Just before he grabs his headset, he whispers, “You should hear yourself.”

By the time you got back to class Monday morning, it was like nothing had ever happened. Or at least, that’s how Jake made it seem.

There he was, slouched in his usual seat at the back of the lecture hall, hoodie half-zipped, glasses perched slightly crooked on the bridge of his nose. He was typing away at his laptop like he hadn’t just had you moaning his name into the crook of his neck two nights ago, skin flushed, bodies tangled.

He glanced up as you walked in. His eyes found yours for a second too long—and then he looked away, pretending to be distracted by something on his screen. You swore you saw the corner of his mouth twitch, like he was fighting a smile.

You took your seat a few rows ahead of him, and a minute later, you felt the faintest buzzin your pocket.

“I had fun.”

You turned around. He was staring at his laptop like he hadn’t just texted you that. Like he hadn’t just ruined you on that same voice he used to answer class questions with a stutter.

Jake was still quiet in public, still awkward. He still pushed up his glasses too often and knocked over his water bottle when reaching for his pen. But now, there was a glint in his eyes every time he looked at you. A silent smugness. A private joke only the two of you knew the punchline to.

And when your professor called on him to answer a question, and he stumbled over the words “data structure,” turning slightly pink, you thought—no one else in this room had a clue. No one knew that he’d whispered “stay still for me” against your skin like a command. That the same clumsy guy blushing in front of the class had told you with a dark smirk, “such a good girl, you took me so well.”

You looked over your shoulder again. Jake met your eyes, and this time, he didn’t look away. Just popped a piece of gum into his mouth, chewing slow, gaze steady. And then he winked.

You almost dropped your pen.

You tried to keep it to yourself—you really did. But your friends had spent the last ten minutes at your table giggling over Jake like he was some weird cryptid.

“I checked his Instagram again,” Yuna said, sipping her iced coffee. “He lost a follower. And he posted a blurry picture of a squirrel once.”

“Do you think he even knows how to use Instagram?” Soojin added, snorting. “He gives off ‘my mom made this account for me’ energy.”

You bit your lip, trying not to smile too hard.

“What?” Yuna asked, eyes narrowing at you. “Why are you smiling like that? Don’t tell me you actually think he’s hot.”

“I don’t think he’s hot,” you said slowly, stirring your drink.

They leaned in.

You sighed, leaning back in your seat, glancing over your shoulder out of habit.

“Okay,” you whispered. “This doesn’t leave this table.”

Yuna and Soojin practically vibrated with anticipation.

“I went to his dorm,” you started, voice low. “A few nights ago. His roommate was gone. And he wasn’t wearing glasses. He had contacts in. And he—” you hesitated, heartbeat picking up. “He was acting completely differnt. And we kinda.. you know.”

Yuna let out a dramatic gasp. “No way.”

Soojin cackled. “Shut up. Jake? Jake Sim and y/n fucked?”

You nodded slowly, lips twitching.

“And?” Yuna prompted. “And? What, did he trip over his desk accidentally slip his dick into you?”

You hesitated. “We, uh… no…”

Both of their jaws dropped—and then they burst into laughter.

“No, no, you’re joking,” Soojin said, leaning into Yuna for support. “Jake? Jake had you—what, bent over his gaming chair while his twelve Instagram followers cheered him on?”

“I’m serious,” you said, laughing despite yourself. “He’s not—he’s not how you think he is. Not when we’re alone.”

“Okay, now you’re just making it sound like he’s Batman,” Yuna snorted. “By day, he’s a bio major with a screen protector on his calculator. By night—”

“Hey.” A voice cut in behind you.

You froze.

Yuna’s eyes widened.

Soojin slapped a hand over her mouth.

You turned your head slowly—Jake was standing there, tray in hand, his expression unreadable. His glasses were on, hoodie loose, hair a little messy like he’d just rolled out of bed.

“Hi,” he said, voice calm, like he hadn’t just caught you mid-confession.

You blinked up at him. “Jake.”

He looked at your friends, then back at you. “You forgot your charger last night.”

He placed it next to your drink, eyes flicking down to your hand for half a second.

“Thanks,” you said, voice quiet.

Jake gave you a lazy smile—barely there, but you knew it. You knew that look now. He turned, walked away like nothing happened, headphones already around his neck.

You turned back to your friends.

Their mouths were hanging open.

“…You’re not joking,” Yuna said flatly.

“I told you,” you whispered, trying—and failing—to hide the grin pulling at your lips.

Your friends were still frozen, processing, as Jake walked off toward the other end of the café like he hadn’t just detonated a bomb and left you to deal with the aftermath. He didn’t look back, but the slow, smug drag of his steps made it very clear—he knew exactly what he was doing.

“I…” Yuna blinked. “Was that your charger?”

You nodded, sipping your drink to hide your smirk.

Soojin finally found her voice. “Did he say last night?”

You nodded again, this time a little slower.

Both of them let out the most synchronized gasps you’d ever heard in your life.

“Girl,” Yuna whispered, leaning across the table like she was afraid someone would overhear, “what the hell is going on? That’s not even—Jake? Like, Jake Sim? He’s—he’s a meme. We literally made a Bingo card of the number of times he trips in the hallway!”

“Yeah,” you said, unable to stop the warmth in your cheeks. “And apparently, he’s also capable of blowing my back out while explaining the difference between RAM and ROM.”

Soojin shrieked. “Stop!”

You were laughing now, the kind that bubbles up and won’t stop. It was ridiculous. All of it. And yet, every time you thought about the way he kissed you—like he knew what he was doing, like he’d been waiting for the right moment to show you—you felt your knees threaten to give out.

“Okay,” Yuna said, gripping your arm. “So, wait. Is he, like… your boyfriend now? Or is this just an elite phase?”

You opened your mouth—then closed it again.

You hadn’t even thought that far.

Jake hadn’t said anything official. No labels. No talks. Just quiet texts. A stolen charger. A wink in lecture. And the memory of him whispering in your ear, voice low and breathless, like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

“I don’t know,” you admitted honestly. “But I don’t think this is just a one-time thing.”

At that exact moment, your phone buzzed again.

“also, I meant every word I said to you”

Your head snapped up. Across the room, Jake was seated with his laptop open, headset slung around his neck, biting into a sandwich like the most innocent man alive.

Your stomach flipped.

This menace. This liar. This actor.

Your thumbs hovered over the screen, a mix of embarrassment and fondness curling in your chest.

“you’re actually evil”

“i hate you”

“i hate that i don’t hate you”

A beat passed.

“you’re cute when you fluster. wanna come over after chem?”

Your friends didn’t even need to ask who you were texting. They saw your face and groaned in unison.

And for once, you didn’t even deny it.

Jake was a master of the double life. You didn’t know how he did it, but it was like he could flip a switch whenever he stepped foot in the hallways of the university.

In class? A complete disaster.

The shy, bumbling guy you’d always seen—his glasses slipping down his nose, tripping over his own feet as he made his way to his desk. He’d stammer when he spoke to the professor, barely making eye contact with anyone, and was always the first to look down at his phone when group discussions came up. The Jake everyone saw was awkward, quiet, and somehow endearing in his nerdy way. The one who sat by himself in the cafeteria, fiddling with his notebook, hoping no one would notice him.

And yet, you knew. You knew there was something more beneath that awkward exterior. Something darker, something confident. You’d seen it for yourself, just two nights ago. The quiet guy who barely spoke a word in class had turned into a completely different person behind closed doors.

But here, in the hallway, between classes, you wouldn’t have been able to guess that same Jake was the one who had you shivering under his touch, whispering praises into your ear like he owned you.

You were walking past his usual spot in the library when you caught him fumbling with a stack of books, his face scrunched up in concentration. He didn’t notice you at first, too focused on his task. But when he looked up, the usual blush crept up his neck, and his mouth opened, but no words came out.

“Hi,” you said casually, a teasing grin tugging at the corner of your mouth. “You need help with those?”

He gave a nervous laugh, adjusting his glasses and dropping the books onto the table like his hands suddenly didn’t know how to hold them anymore. “Uh, yeah, no, I—um, I got it. Thanks, though.”

You could barely contain your laughter. Here he was, this guy who had literally whispered praises in your ear only days ago, looking like a total mess in front of you. He couldn’t even manage eye contact without turning an embarrassing shade of pink.

“So,” you said, leaning against the bookshelf beside him, your arms casually crossed. “You been doing any more squirrel photography lately?”

Jake froze, his face flushing deeper. “Uh, n-no,” he stammered, grabbing his books a little too quickly. “I— I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

It was like watching a completely different person. Gone was the guy who had held you close, kissed you with authority. Gone was the guy who made you forget everything when his lips were on your neck. Now, he was just a bumbling mess, avoiding your eyes, looking everywhere but at you.

“You’re so weird,” you teased lightly. “You know, I’ve been wondering… is it really the glasses, or is it the awkwardness? Which one is the real you?”

Jake opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. He just looked at you, a mixture of embarrassment and—was that a hint of guilt? Like he had a secret he didn’t want anyone to know.

“Never mind,” you said with a smirk, walking away from him. “Keep up the good work, loser.”

You could feel him watching you, probably frozen in place, but you didn’t care. It was almost unbelievable how different he could act when it was just the two of you alone in a room. The guy who couldn’t make it through a simple conversation in public had turned into the man who made you forget your own name when he had his hands on you.

But for now, all you could do was shake your head and laugh, marveling at how Jake was pulling off his double life—completely clueless and completely in control, all at once.

The cafeteria went silent the moment you walked past your usual table and headed straight for his.

Jake was sitting alone, as usual—tray of barely-touched food in front of him, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands like he was trying to disappear into himself. He was hunched over his phone, earbuds in, completely unaware of the social earthquake that was about to hit.

You plopped down across from him without warning.

His head snapped up. He blinked, startled. “Wh—uh… hey?”

Conversations around you dipped, and you could feel the whispers starting. Not subtle ones either. Real, full-body turns. Eyes darting. Forks pausing mid-air. People whispering you’re joking, is that Y/N? and she’s sitting with him?

You just smiled, opening your drink like this was the most normal thing in the world. “Relax,” you said, lowering your voice and leaning forward just a little. “You’re acting like I just declared war on the entire social order.”

He pushed his glasses up and blinked a few times. “You… you don’t usually—uh, sit here.”

“Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’. “But today I felt like sitting with my favorite academic weapon slash secret menace.”

Jake choked on his water.

You grinned. “Also, I think I’ve figured you out.”

He swallowed hard. “F-Figured me out?”

“Yup.” You tilted your head at him, keeping your voice low and teasing. “I think your glasses are what activate your awkward personality. Like a switch. You wear them? Jake the human embodiment of a shy turtle. You take them off? Boom. Total menace.”

His ears turned pink. He scratched the back of his neck, trying to look casual but failing completely. “They’re prescription…”

“And yet they’re also your disguise,” you smirked.

Around you, the buzz of conversation slowly picked back up. Everyone was still sneaking glances, but they were getting bored now that you weren’t making out on the table or confessing your love with a boombox overhead. One by one, people returned to their own lunches.

And that’s when he looked up at you—and really looked.

The second your audience was gone, the timid act melted off his face like it had never existed. His back straightened. His expression shifted, eyes sharpening just a little, mouth tugging into that familiar slow smirk that made your stomach flip.

“You like the glasses?” he asked, voice lower now, smooth and lazy.

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden switch.

He leaned forward on his elbows, gaze steady and annoyingly smug. “You think that’s what keeps me from bending you over this table right now?”

You nearly choked on your drink.

“There’s the menace,” you muttered, eyes narrowing as your pulse spiked.

Jake smiled like he’d just won something. “You came to my table, remember?”

“And now I’m questioning everything.”

He laughed under his breath, picking up a fry from his tray and tossing it into his mouth like he had all the time in the world.

“Too late,” he said, chewing. “You already made your choice. Better hope no one figures out what I look like without the glasses.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Are you threatening me?”

He grinned. “I’m warning you.”

And just like that, he went back to sipping his water, glasses slipping again, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands. Back to harmless, quiet Jake.

But you knew better now.

So did he.

You were two seconds away from dragging Jake by the collar.

He sat stiffly next to you on the couch, surrounded by your friends, looking like someone who’d just been dropped into a completely foreign dimension. His hoodie was zipped all the way up to his neck, hands tucked into his sleeves, legs pressed together like he was trying to take up the least amount of space possible.

Your friends were trying. God bless them, they were.

“So, Jake,” Yuna said, passing him a slice of pizza. “What are you majoring in again?”

Jake blinked. “Um. Bio.”

Silence.

Soojin tried to jump in. “Cool! Are you doing like, pre-med or something?”

Jake stared at the pizza in his lap like it personally offended him. “No.”

You gave him a sharp elbow to the ribs. He flinched. “I, uh… I just like cells.”

More silence.

You shot him a look.

Jake gave a weak smile. “Cells are nice.”

You excused yourself to the kitchen before your soul could physically leave your body from secondhand embarrassment. Jake followed, like a lost puppy—but once the two of you were out of earshot, you whirled on him.

“Are you serious right now?”

Jake blinked innocently. “What?”

“You’re acting like a scared freshman at their first club meeting. Can you just…” You groaned, tugging him by the sleeve. “Be normal. Be you. The you that had me on my knees last weekend.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You want me to flirt with your friends?”

You narrowed your eyes. “I want you to act like you’re not a socially-anxious squirrel.”

He leaned against the counter with a little too much confidence now. “Babe, I already got what I wanted. I don’t need to charm your friends.”

You stepped closer, lowering your voice. “If you keep acting like a brick wall, I swear to god I’m not giving you head again.”

Jake blinked.

Then he straightened.

“You wouldn’t.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Try me.”

There was a moment of silence. He stared at you like you’d just ripped the moon from the sky and thrown it in his face.

And then—he sighed dramatically. “Fine.”

You watched him walk back into the living room, a defeated slump in his shoulders. But right before he sat down again, he glanced back at you and mouthed, rude.

You just smiled sweetly.

You watched him march right back into the living room like a man on a mission. No hoodie shielding his face, no sleeves hiding his hands—Jake dropped onto the couch next to Yuna like he belonged there. Like he hadn’t just been threatening to pretend he didn’t know the English language five minutes ago.

“So,” he said casually, draping one arm along the back of the couch. “Y/N tells me you guys stalked my Instagram.”

Your head snapped up.

Yuna blinked, caught. “W-What?”

Jake smirked. “Twelve followers and still managed to bag your friend. Pretty impressive, right?”

Your jaw dropped.

Soojin choked on her drink.

Yuna looked like she’d just short-circuited.

“I mean, I don’t post thirst traps or anything,” Jake continued, tone light but clearly enjoying himself. “Y/n says I should.”

You were frozen. You hadn’t even known he could talk in complete sentences around your friends, let alone roast them.

He glanced at you mid-sentence, lips twitching. “What? You said be normal.”

“This is not what I meant by normal,” you hissed under your breath.

Jake only smiled wider.

“I mean,” he said louder now, eyes gleaming, “Y/N didn’t really stand a chance. She was obsessed with me from the moment she saw me trip over a recycling bin.”

You stared at him, half-horrified, half-impressed. The duality of this man was actually insane.

“You’re the worst,” you muttered, but your voice was shaking with barely contained laughter.

He leaned back on the couch, one leg crossed over the other like he’d been doing this all his life. “I prefer ‘underrated.’”

Soojin blinked at you, stunned. “Is this the same Jake?”

“Sadly,” you deadpanned.

Jake stretched his arms overhead, smirking like he’d just won something. “Told you. Glasses on—loser. Glasses off?” He looked at you over the rim of his drink. “Problem.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling.

Because he was right.

The conversation shifted, but Jake didn’t shrink back like he normally would. In fact, he leaned in. Tossed out a few sarcastic remarks, made a joke about the weird guy in your chem lecture, and even stole a fry off Yuna’s plate like he’d known her for years.

You sat there stunned, barely able to process the whiplash of it all.

At one point, Soojin gave you a look—eyebrows raised, lips parted like girl…—and you just blinked back, equally bewildered.

Jake caught the exchange, of course. He always did. He leaned over toward you, his voice dropping low, just for you to hear.

“Still mad at me?” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

You didn’t look at him. “You’re skating on very thin ice.”

He chuckled softly. “You threatening me again?”

You smirked, finally glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “I don’t threaten, Jake. I warn.”

That seemed to only encourage him. “You know I love when you talk like that.”

You elbowed him under the table, but he didn’t even flinch—just grinned like the menace he was.

Eventually, your friends began packing up their things, saying goodbye, and heading out one by one. Jake stayed close beside you, still riding the high of finally breaking his “awkward loner” act in public.

As the room cleared, he bumped your shoulder lightly. “So… did I do good?”

You stared at him. “You did too good.”

He raised a brow, amused. “Jealous?”

“No,” you scoffed, gathering your stuff. “More like terrified of the monster I just unleashed.”

Jake slung his bag over his shoulder, his grin never fading. “Told you. You’re the one who wanted me to be social. You made this happen.”

You paused at the doorway, giving him a long look. “You’re still not getting head tonight.”

He laughed, following close behind you. “Liar.”

God help you—he was right again.

Jake walked you back to your dorm with a bounce in his step, like he hadn’t just caused a minor social earthquake in your friend group. You kept glancing over at him, trying to find even a trace of the shy, fumbling version of him your friends had always known—but nope. Gone. Completely replaced by this smug, way-too-proud-of-himself creature strutting beside you like he’d just won an Oscar.

“You seriously said ‘bagged your friend,’” you muttered, shaking your head.

Jake shrugged, completely unapologetic. “I was being honest.”

“You’re impossible.”

He smirked, leaning closer so his shoulder bumped yours. “But you love me anyway.”

Your heart did a weird little skip, but you masked it with a scoff. “Mm, debatable.”

He laughed, but you could tell he noticed the way your ears flushed. Jake always noticed. Which made it all the more dangerous when he decided to push.

“You sure?” he said lowly, glancing at you sideways. “Because if I remember correctly, few nights ago you were practically begging—”

You slapped a hand over his mouth before he could finish. “Don’t you dare say that sentence out loud.”

Jake’s laughter vibrated against your palm, and he licked it just to be annoying.

“Jake!”

“What?” he said, completely unbothered, mouth curling into that damn smile again. “I’m just saying, you seemed pretty in love with me when you were—”

“I swear to god, I won’t let you cum tonight.”

He grinned. “Still wouldn’t change what happened on my desk.”

You groaned, unlocking your door and stepping inside, not even bothering to push him out. He followed like he lived there, already dropping his bag on your floor and toeing off his shoes.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” you muttered, tossing your jacket on the chair, “but I kinda miss socially awkward Jake.”

Jake leaned against your desk—the very one he had completely ruined you on—crossing his arms with a smug tilt of his head.

“I’ll bring him back next time we’re around your friends,” he said sweetly. “Wouldn’t want to scare anyone.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re the worst.”

He took a slow step toward you. “And yet…”

You backed up until the backs of your knees hit your bed. Jake caged you in without touching you, just that cocky little smirk inches from your mouth.

“…you keep letting me in.”

Your breath hitched.

You hated how right he was.

He didn’t even have to touch you—just standing there, close enough to fog up your brain, was enough to make your breath catch. That same smug little smirk tugged at the corner of his lips like he knew. (And he did. He always did.)

You crossed your arms, trying to look unaffected. “We’re not doing anything tonight.”

Jake tilted his head, feigning innocence. “Didn’t say we were.”

“You were thinking it.”

He grinned. “Can’t a guy hang out with his girlfriend without being accused of crimes?”

You blinked. “Your what?”

Jake froze for half a second—just enough to catch it—then played it off with a shrug, looking entirely too casual. “You. My girlfriend.”

“Jake,” you said slowly, “we haven’t even been on a date yet.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Okay, and?”

You stared at him.

He held your gaze, deadpan. “We’ve had sex on your desk.”

Your mouth opened, then shut again. He just kept going.

“I’ve had my tongue in you. Multiple times. You think a coffee date is gonna make it moreofficial?”

You smacked his shoulder, cheeks burning. “You’re insane.”

Jake smiled, wrapping his arms loosely around your waist. “You’re stuck with me now. Might as well give me the title.”

You rolled your eyes, but your hands found the hem of his hoodie anyway, fingers curling there.

“This better not mean I have to start posting you on my story.”

“Oh no,” he teased. “Anything but that.”

You sighed. “Fine. One date. But you’re planning it.”

Jake smirked, already way too pleased with himself. “Good. I was gonna make you fall in love with me anyway.”

It became… a problem.

First it was your friends catching you two making out in the library stacks. Then it was the quad. Then the empty art building stairwell. At one point, Yuna dramatically threatened to carry a spray bottle in her bag just to spritz you both like misbehaving cats.

You tried to tone it down. Really. But Jake had this stupid, unfair ability to get under your skin with just one look. One whisper. One brush of his hand against your lower back when no one was watching.

And then there was the incident. The one no one dared to speak about—but everyone knew.

You’d followed Jake into the men’s washroom between lectures, heart pounding, brain nowhere near your upcoming lab. One minute you were teasing him red, leaking tip with minor kitty licks, the next—A very unfortunate and traumatized TA walked in at the exact wrong time.

To this day, you’re not sure who was more horrified: you, Jake, or the TA who immediately did a full 180 and walked straight back out without a word.

Jake couldn’t stop laughing. You couldn’t show your face in that building for a week.

Now every time you pass that hallway, he leans in with a whisper and a smug, “Wanna relive the glory days?”

You elbow him. Hard. But your ears still burn.

Because the worst part? You absolutely do.

You hadn’t even had a chance to settle into the cozy atmosphere of a movie night with Jake, Sunghoon, and Sunoo before everything went to hell.

It was supposed to be a simple night. You, Jake, and his friends, chilling on the couch, watching some random movie Sunghoon picked out after a few too many awkward silences. You’d been mentally preparing yourself for this, maybe even looking forward to getting to know his friends better. You’d heard so much about them, and Sunoo had been sending you memes for weeks now, always so sweet and teasing.

But instead of a normal movie night, you ended up on Jake’s lap with your lips pressed to his, unable to hold back as he slipped his hands beneath your hoodie. Your fingers were tangled in his hair, and you completely forgot about the stupid film Sunghoon had started. All that mattered was the heat building between you and Jake, the sound of his breath against your mouth, the way he was slowly getting bolder, moving his lips to your neck—

And then, the unmistakable sound of a throat clearing from across the room.

You froze, eyes widening, and pulled back from Jake just as Sunghoon and Sunoo exchanged awkward glances.

“Well,” Sunghoon said, adjusting his glasses with a little too much casualness, “This is… an interesting way to start a movie night.”

You sat up quickly, heart racing. “We—uh, we weren’t—”

Sunoo cut you off with a laugh that had a slightly knowing edge to it. “Don’t worry, I’ve seen worse. But wow, didn’t think I’d be walking in on this so soon.”

You could feel your face heating up, but Jake, the menace, only smirked, his arm still casually draped around you. “I was just showing her how comfortable the couch is. Isn’t it nice, babe?”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow at that, glancing between you two. “Comfortable, huh? Good to know.”

Sunoo chuckled. “I guess I’m glad we finally got a front-row seat to Jake’s ‘split personality.’” His voice dropped to an exaggerated whisper, adding, “Who knew the shy, awkward guy could get so… intense.”

You looked at Jake, whose eyes were practically glowing with mischief. You knew exactly what that meant.

“I told you guys,” Jake said, sliding his fingers through your hair, his voice low and smooth. “She’s got me wrapped around her finger. Not just with the whole ‘studious boyfriend’ act.”

Sunghoon chuckled and shook his head. “I’m just here for the popcorn, but whatever you guys are doing, you’re definitely ruining the vibe of the movie.”

You swore you could feel the heat radiating from your face, but Jake was entirely too smug, his hand never leaving your waist. “Movie’s overrated anyway,” he said with a wink. “Better company right here.”

The tension in the room was palpable, but somehow, you knew this was just the beginning. Jake wasn’t about to stop teasing you in front of his friends, and now they definitely knew what he was like when he wasn’t playing the quiet, shy guy.

It had been exactly one month since you and Jake made things official, and somewhere along the way, he had somehow charmed all your friends.

Yuna, especially.

What started off as teasing glances and snarky comments turned into him greeting her with “What’s up, my other girl?” in front of literally everyone—like it was the most normal thing in the world.

You’d laughed the first time. Sort of.

The second time, your smile was tight.

By the third, you didn’t even look at him. Just turned around, grabbed your bag, and left without a word. The silence that followed was deafening.

He texted. Called. Showed up at your dorm with snacks, guilty puppy-dog eyes, and one of your hoodies you’d accidentally left at his place.

You didn’t budge.

Not when he spammed you with voice memos or when he got Sunoo to send you dramatic apologies on his behalf. Not even when Yuna told you that Jake had asked herhow to fix it, which was ironic in the most painful way possible.

A week passed. You were starting to miss him—his touch, his stupid jokes, the way he looked at you like you hung stars in his sky—but you were petty, and prideful, and notabout to forgive him over something as dumb as a nickname that made your stomach twist.

But Jake knew you. And Jake never lost.

The night you finally gave in, he showed up to your dorm without a word, eyes dark, hands careful. He didn’t ask if he could stay. Just got down on his knees, pulled you to the edge of the bed, and showed you how sorry he was.

You didn’t even realize your fingers were tangled in his hair, hips shaking as he flicked your clit around with his tongue, breath caught somewhere between a moan and a sob.

By the time he looked up, lips swollen, pupils blown wide, your legs were trembling and you couldn’t remember what planet you were on.

“Still mad at me?” he asked, voice hoarse, a little smug, but mostly sincere.

You tried to speak, failed. All you could do was blink down at him.

He kissed the inside of your thigh. “Good. Because you’re my only girl.”

And yeah—he won. Again.

The next morning, Jake acted like nothing happened.

He was sprawled across your tiny dorm bed, hair a mess, hoodie half-off his shoulder, munching on the cereal you kept strictly for late-night study stress. Like he hadn’t just given you an out-of-body experience twelve hours ago.

You stood at the mirror brushing your hair, shooting him a look through the reflection. “You’re really just gonna sit there like you didn’t have me literally sobbing last night?”

Jake grinned around a spoonful of cereal. “I figured you forgave me when you couldn’t feel your legs after.”

You tossed a hair tie at him. He dodged, laughing.

“You’re lucky I didn’t call you a cab,” you said, turning back around.

“I am lucky,” he said, voice lower now, more serious, “but not just for that.”

You paused. Met his eyes.

Jake set the bowl aside and stood up, crossing the room to wrap his arms around your waist from behind. His chin rested on your shoulder, voice soft. “I’m sorry for the Yuna thing. I thought I was being funny. I didn’t realize it hurt you.”

You didn’t respond right away. He held you tighter.

“You know I only want you, right?”

You nodded, finally. “You’re still an idiot.”

“Yeah,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “But I’m your idiot.”

You rolled your eyes, but leaned into him anyway, the tension finally melting.

Later that day, Yuna raised an eyebrow as you walked into the café together, hand-in-hand with Jake.

“Back from the dead?” she teased.

Jake smirked. “Had to perform a little resurrection.”

You buried your face in your drink. Yuna just laughed.

“Oh god,” she muttered. “Don’t tell me it was head.”

Jake shot her a look. “Mind-blowing head.”

You choked.

“Please stop speaking,” you begged.

Jake just kissed your cheek and pulled you closer.

You really were doomed.

You’d completely forgotten your parents were in town until you got the text while Jake was still whispering absolute filth into your ear in the café line.

[Mom]: Just landed. So excited to see you, sweetie! Brunch tomorrow? Bring your boyfriend!

You choked on your iced americano so violently Jake had to pat your back.

“Everything okay?” he asked, smirking like he already knew it wasn’t.

You turned your phone around to show him the message.

He blinked. “Wait. Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Like—your parents tomorrow?”

“Yes, Jake. My parents. Brunch. You. Me. And them.”

He stared at you for a full three seconds, then grinned. “I’ve already got the button-up shirt in mind.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re way too calm about this.”

“I’m amazing with parents.”

“You’re amazing at pretending to be someone’s quiet, innocent boyfriend. That’s not the same.”

Jake leaned in, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Don’t worry, baby. They’ll love me.”

“You’re gonna wear your glasses, right?”

“Obviously.”

“Act like you’ve never touched me.”

“Sweetheart, I’ll act like I don’t even know what a woman is.”

You snorted, already stressed. “This is going to be a disaster.”

Jake pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Nah. I’m gonna charm them. Just like I charmed you.”

You turned to give him a look. “You charmed me by blowing my back out in a library storage room, Jake.”

“Exactly,” he said, way too proud.

You groaned.

Tomorrow could not come fast—or end—soon enough.

The next morning, Jake showed up ten minutes early to your dorm, looking like he’d walked straight out of a K-drama.

Crisp white button-up, hair brushed neatly off his forehead, his glasses perfectly in place—he even brought your mom’s favorite pastries, like he’d been studying your family’s group chat for weeks.

“You look…” You blinked, slowly dragging your gaze down his outfit. “So well-behaved.”

Jake smirked, tucking the pastry box under one arm and reaching for your hand. “Don’t worry. I left the demon version of me in your sheets.”

You nearly tripped on the way out the door.

Your parents were already waiting at the little brunch spot downtown, and as soon as your mom saw you, she lit up—then caught sight of Jake behind you and blinked like she was seeing a puppy dressed in a tuxedo.

“This is Jake?” she asked, already halfway through hugging him. “You’re even cuter than she said!”

Jake laughed, soft and shy, adjusting his glasses. “Thank you, ma’am. It’s really nice to meet you.”

You sat stiffly across from them, fully prepared for the absolute chaos that was surely coming, but Jake? He played the role like he’d been training for it all his life.

He complimented your mom’s earrings. Asked your dad smart, boring questions about work. Even waited until you were done speaking before cutting into his food.

It was unsettling.

“Jake’s in my organic chem lecture,” you said at one point, trying to keep the conversation neutral.

“Oh, is he any good?” your dad asked.

Jake smiled bashfully. “She usually tutors me, actually. I’m a bit hopeless when it comes to chemistry.”

You almost choked on your orange juice.

Your mom beamed. “I love that. I always told her she’d be such a good teacher.”

Jake nodded sincerely, resting his hand on your knee under the table, subtle and grounding. “She’s been teaching me a lot.”

Your stomach flipped for a very different reason.

By the end of brunch, your mom was begging him to come over for dinner “next time we visit,” and your dad gave him a shoulder pat like he’d just been accepted into the family.

As soon as you were out of earshot, walking back toward campus, you smacked his arm. “You manipulative little bitch!”

Jake grinned, holding up the box of leftover pastries like a trophy. “They love me.”

“You were lying through your teeth!”

Jake shrugged. “It’s not lying if I really do think you’re amazing at teaching me things. Like patience. Self-control.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re a menace.”

“And yet,” he said, stepping in close, voice low in your ear, “your mom just called me boyfriend material.”

You shoved him. “You are never seeing my parents again.”

“Sure, baby. You tell yourself that.”

And yeah, fine—he was boyfriend material. Just not the kind your parents had any idea about.

That night, you laid in bed scrolling through your messages while Jake sat cross-legged at the foot, shamelessly eating the last of the leftover pastries your mom had insisted he take.

Your phone buzzed again.

[Mom]: He’s adorable. Polite, smart, and that accent?? Keeper.

You rolled your eyes so hard your soul almost left your body.

Jake leaned over your shoulder. “What’d she say now?”

You turned the screen toward him. He read it, then bit into a croissant like he’d just won a championship.

“I am polite. And smart. And my voice is sexy, apparently.”

You deadpanned. “You’re a literal demon. With glasses.”

Jake leaned down and nuzzled against your neck with the fakest innocence he could muster. “You weren’t saying that when I was—”

You slapped a hand over his mouth. “No. My mom said ‘keeper.’ Don’t make me reevaluate.”

He laughed into your palm, biting it lightly before you yanked it back. He flopped onto the bed beside you, stretching out with a satisfied sigh like he’d just wrapped up a performance of a lifetime.

“I could get used to this,” he murmured, eyes half-lidded. “Winning over your friends, seducing your parents…”

“Manipulating the entire population,” you muttered.

Jake turned his head, smirking. “But only for you.”

You tried not to melt. You really did. But then he pulled you down beside him, arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you into the warm curve of his body.

“You know,” he whispered, voice dropping back into that cocky, devastating register, “your parents think I’m this sweet, respectful, glasses-wearing boyfriend who can’t even pass chem without your help.”

You blinked up at him, breath catching.

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear. “And they’ll never know what their daughter sounds like when she’s underneath me, begging.”

You slapped his chest with a muffled laugh, face buried in his shirt. “You’re the worst.”

Jake just grinned against your temple.

“I’m yours.”

The next morning, Jake was already pulling on his hoodie, his bags—stuffed with random clothes, books, and a few things that had slowly found their way into your dorm—strewn across your floor.

You sat up in bed, the lingering warmth of his body beside you still making your heart flutter. It had become a regular thing now—Jake staying over, bringing more of his things each time, settling into a routine that felt strangely comfortable. It was a mixture of affection and chaos, and you loved every minute of it.

“You should’ve just left your stuff here last night,” you teased, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. “Could’ve saved us the trouble.”

Jake smirked, looking up from rummaging through his backpack. “Don’t want to seem too comfortable too soon, babe. You know, I’ve still got that mysterious ‘bad boy’ act to keep up.”

You rolled your eyes. “Uh-huh. Sure. That’s what you’re going for.”

He shot you a wink, tossing a hoodie at you. “Anyway, can’t let the world see the ‘good boy’ too much, can I?”

He was back to his cocky self, the guy who showed up to school acting like the confident, teasing Jake you had come to know, and honestly, you couldn’t help but smile at how effortlessly he flipped between his personas.

You both left the dorm and started the walk to campus, his hand in yours, the usual mix of comfortable silence and random teasing that filled your daily routines.

Just as you were about to walk up the steps to your building, Jake, always the graceful disaster, tripped on the stairs and sent his coffee flying across the sidewalk.

“Are you serious?” you asked, blinking in disbelief.

Jake stood there for a second, coffee splattered all over his hoodie and the ground beneath him, looking utterly stunned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You couldn’t stop laughing. “Every time. I swear to god, you’re like a walking disaster.”

Jake turned to you, the faintest blush coloring his cheeks as he scratched the back of his neck, trying to play it off. “I meant to do that. Just making sure everyone’s paying attention.”

“Yeah, you definitely got their attention, Jake,” you teased. “Don’t worry, I’m sure everyone saw your epic performance.”

He shot you a grin, wiping at his clothes like it would make a difference. “I’m not a loser. I’m just… trying to get a reaction.”

“And you definitely got one,” you snorted, taking his hand and leading him inside.

Even though he tried to play it off as cool, the truth was, you were starting to see a side of Jake that was a little more… normal than you first expected.

And as ridiculous as the whole thing was, there was something about it—the balance of confident teasing and hilarious clumsiness—that felt right.

At least, for you and him, it did.

You nudged him with your elbow. “You gonna be okay, or do I need to get you another one before you wither away in front of me?”

Jake groaned dramatically. “I needed that caffeine. My whole personality relies on it.”

You laughed as you pushed open the lecture hall doors. “Your personality is currently soaked into your hoodie.”

Unfortunately for Jake, your shared class had already started to fill up. A few people looked up as you both walked in—him with wet coffee splatter down his front, you trying not to laugh loud enough for the whole room to hear.

“Is that Jake Sim?” someone whispered behind you.

You heard a snort. “Why does he look like someone’s intern who just got fired?”

Jake sat down beside you with a huff, dropping his bag and whispering, “This is the most humbling morning of my life.”

You rached over, wiped a little splatter off his sleeve, and leaned close. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

He blinked at you, caught off guard. “Wait. You think I’m cute even like this?”

You grinned. “I think you’re cute especially like this.”

Jake slumped in his chair, defeated but amused. “I’m literally a walking split personality. Demon boyfriend at night, clumsy nerd by morning. This isn’t sustainable.”

“You say that like I’m not completely obsessed with both versions.”

He paused, looking at you with that soft, wide-eyed gaze he got when you caught him off guard.

“Yeah?” he said, quieter this time.

You nodded, bumping your knee against his. “Yeah.”

Jake smiled down at his ruined coffee cup.

“Still not over the fact I tripped in front of like thirty people though,” he muttered, and you snorted so loud the row in front of you turned around.

At least now, everyone knew—Jake Sim might’ve been a quiet loser to the rest of the campus, but to you?

He was everything.

perm taglist: @kristynaaah @firstclassjaylee @chvconn3 @wonzzziezzzz @sheseung @blvengene @gvtdoll @a3r4-for3ver @sunghoon-cam @luvksnn @aaaaarmiiiiin @blckorchidd @gyulune @marimariiisblog @pinknjm @bloomiize

[ariestrxsh]

sub!virgin!matt x neighbor!reader

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 content warning: smut, angst, jealousy, mommy kink, oral (f!receiving), dirty talk, hair pulling, matt cums in his pants

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 summary: after finding out that matt's ex, may, is in town, you become overwhelmed with jealousy, and you make him go down on you to get his mind off of her while his dad is downstairs

sorry that it takes me three months to write one fucking chapter 💔

dividers by @/anitalenia

Me & U

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |

"You did what?" You asked Matt, standing in his bedroom after he'd just broken the news to you that May's in town, and he had gone to breakfast with her while you were stuck at work, stocking butt plugs and dildos. You shot him a glare, letting him know you weren't happy with him talking with his ex, much less meeting up with her.

"It's not a big deal. We both just needed closure," Matt shrugged, avoiding eye contact with you. "You needed closure?" You scoffed at his comment. What in the hell would he need closure with May for when he had you?

"Couples who break up don't need closure. Closure means you still care about someone and are trying to keep them in your life. Plus, you guys don't need to sit down and talk about it over fuckin' french toast! Sounds like something that could've been done over text."

Deep down, Matt knew that there was a little bit of truth to what you were saying. However, May was the one who blindsided him by showing up in his new town and making him feel obligated to go to breakfast with her.

What he didn't want to tell you is that she had begged for him back, cried in his arms after he'd told her he had a new girlfriend, and stuck him with the bill when she stormed out in the middle of the meal.

"Look. I didn't invite her here. I didn't want to go, but she sprung this on me," he explained, raising his hands in a defensive gesture.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" You crossed your arms over your chest, tightening your jaw. "I didn't know she was going to come out here until she texted me today, telling me she was in town. This is the soonest I could tell you unless you wanted me to do it over text while you were at work," Matt quietly replied, replaying the morning in his head.

You were silent for a moment, caught somewhere in the middle between wanting to ask how the meeting went and not wanting to know in case anything happened that would hurt your feelings.

"Did you tell her how good I fucked you the other night?" You inquired, raising an eyebrow as you took a step closer to him. His blue eyes flicked up to meet yours. "No.. I wouldn't tell her that kind of thing. It would upset her," Matt sternly said. That's kind of the point, you thought to yourself.

You could see the hurt in his face. You hated seeing him like this, especially over another girl. Jealousy welled up inside of you, begging for some kind of outlet. Out of nowhere, you kicked off your shoes and started undoing the button on your shorts.

"W-what are you doing?" Matt asked, looking at you wide-eyed while he watched you undress. "Helping you get over her," you casually said. "I thought you were mad at me. What is actually happening right now?" He asked, furrowing his brow but unable to take his stare off of you.

"I'm going to make you forget all about her," you responded, removing your oversized t-shirt and slipping out of your lacy underwear, tossing both carelessly on Matt's bedroom floor along with the rest of your clothes.

Matt's confused expression slowly transformed into a lustful gaze as you climbed onto his bed, laid on your back, and slowly spread open your legs. His eyes danced across your breasts and your pretty pink hole.

"My dad's downstairs.." Matt started to say, worrying that the two of you would be caught if he gave into you right now. "Then you better hope he doesn't hear us, hmm?" You replied, a smile forming on your lips as you began to rub your clit in circles.

He watched you, intrigued by what you were going to do next. Blood rushed to his cock, and it twitched to life as you let out a few soft moans. "Why don't you be a good boy and come lick it?" You gazed into his eyes, spreading your lower lips open with your two fingers to show him you were dripping with arousal.

Matt gave you a needy look and nodded, "Yes, mommy." He slowly nestled himself between your thighs, leaving a trail of kisses along the inside of each one. He teased you for a few more minutes, grazing your skin with his soft lips and his warm breath drifting over your cunt.

It wasn't long before he made direct contact with your clit, his tongue flickering over it and sending waves of desire through you. He tenderly latched onto your sensitive bundle of nerves, gently suckling as you let out a few oohs and aahs.

His tongue worked tirelessly, manipulating your delicate folds and trying to elicit as many sounds from you as he could. "Such a good boy. Mommy's so proud of how well you eat pussy," you quietly praised him, running your fingers through his hair.

He hummed against your clit, delivering ripples of pleasure through you as he delighted in your sweet words. "You sure you've never done this before?" You wondered aloud, impressed by the fact that he matched the exact technique and pressure you liked without needing any direction.

He glanced up at you for half a second, shook his head, and diverted his eyes again, growing shy from having you watch him. His cheeks grew red, and his palms started to sweat, but his tongue never faltered.

Matt wasn't exactly sure what he was doing, but he'd been dreaming of burying his head between your legs from the moment he met you, and his enthusiasm about doing it was enough to have you humping his face.

"Look at me, pretty boy," you whispered, tugging on his locks of brown, and Matt's blue eyes obediently met yours as he whimpered against your sweet spot once more. "That's it. Lick it faster," you directed him, lifting your hips and grinding against Matt's skillful tongue he eagerly explored you.

With your free hand, you gripped the sheets beneath you as his perfect lips alternated between kissing and sucking on your clit. "It's hard for you to think about May when my pussy's in your mouth, isn't it?" You cooed, pushing Matt's head down until his tongue was penetrating your cunt. "Mhmm," Matt moaned and nodded while he pleased you.

Matt's hard cock starting aching while you spoke to him, and he started rutting his erection into the mattress beneath him to chase away the pressure that was building. "Good boy. The only thing you're going to think about for the rest of the day is being between my thighs. Got it?" You cooed.

"Yes, mommy," he murmured against your heat. You threw your head back and let your eyes fall shut while you relished in the velvety sensation of Matt's lips. You felt the knot in your stomach forming, threatening to snap any moment. "You're making mommy so close," you squealed, smiling and biting down on your lip.

"Who's a good boy?" You sweetly asked Matt as you peered back down at his glazed over eyes and pussydrunk expression. You felt yourself starting to relinquish control to the incredible release that started to wash over you. Your legs started to shake and close down around Matt's ears as you gripped his hair a bit more tightly with one hand and the blanket beneath you in the other.

He continued grinding against the bedding, coming undone with you as you were rolling your hips forward, riding your orgasm out to the very end. "Oh, Matthew," you whined, finishing all over his tongue while Matt finished in his jeans, delightfully moaning against your clit.

You let out a final sigh, leaning back onto Matt's pillow while you recovered from the intense feeling, but you held Matt in place with your thighs wrapped around his head. "You're my boyfriend now. And I don't want you talking to May unless it's to tell her how good I taste or how hard you cum when I ride you. Got it?" You glared down at him.

"That seems unfair. It was a three-year long rela-" Matt started to say, but you cut him off. "Matthew, what did I say?" You asked in a stern voice, tightening your grip around his head with your strong thighs. "Yes, mommy," he obediently responded. "That's what I thought you said," you told him, loosening the headlock you held him in.

The corner of his lip turned up into a smirk, secretly loving the idea of you getting possessive over him like that. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but are you.. jealous?" Matt wondered, standing to his feet and wiping your arousal from his chin with the back of his hand.

"I don't get jealous," you lied, rolling your eyes. "Sure, you don't. You don't get jealous, and I don't cum in my pants just from eating you out," Matt teased, peering down at the wet spot on the front of his jeans.

"Shut the fuck up," you playfully smiled at him. "It's a shame May never got to see you like this, hmm? See how easy you are to please?" You taunted him. He chuckled, picking your clothes up off the floor and tossing them onto the bed beside you.

"Even if we had ever done anything sexual, I don't think she could have ever made me cum that fast," Matt admitted, unbuttoning his pants to change out of them. You grinned in satisfaction at Matt's admission. "Good."

[cyripticchronicler]

How Could I Hate You?

Paring: James Potter x Fem!reader

Summary: You’ve hated James Potter for as long as you could remember. However, entering your last year as Head Girl and James as Head Boy, you’re forced to interact with the man you want nothing to do with. What are you supposed to do when you realise he’s not the egotistical jerk you made him out to be?

T/W: None

A/N: It's been way too long!! I've been more into writing poems lately, so I haven't had time for my lovely fan fictions. However, I sat in a forest and listened to the birds sing for a while today and finally gained enough inspiration to finish writing this fic I started a little while ago (this is also my longest fic yet, so go me). I hope everyone's doing well!!

Masterlist James Potter Masterlist

You absolutely hated James Potter. His egotistical smile grated at your nerves like no other, an unhappy frown pulling at your lips every time he was around. Paired with his unserious personality and sickly handsome face, you wanted nothing to do with the man. 

However, fate - or Hogwarts for that matter- had other ideas, and both you and James Potter became Head Boy and Head girl during your last year. 

James Potter barely knew anything about you. He vaguely remembers you during third year, the meek, quiet girl that accidentally fell victim to one of the Maruader’s prank’s, leaving you with half of your hair coloured pink. The half-assed apology you received was nothing compared to the judgmental and amused looks you received in the month it took for your hair to return to normal. 

The ever-loved James had planned to mention this story to break the ice between you both. He was so used to being loved by everyone that he couldn’t hide the disappointment on his face when you merely smiled at his story and kept walking. 

He was not one to give up. “You really did suit the pink,” He jokes, bright, eager eyes looking at you in hopes of seeing just a smidge of a smile. All he got was a fake laugh in return. 

You didn’t hold a grudge against him for the prank he did years ago, but still couldn’t get over the mere audacity this man possessed with each step he took and flirty comment he made. You look over at him from where he walks beside you, head down, hands in his robe pockets. Perhaps you were being too hard on the boy. He’s Head Boy, so he can’t be that bad- “You always take things so seriously, don’t you? It’s no surprise that you’re only friends with boring nerds.” He laughs, nudging your shoulder playfully. 

Ouch. Hurt stings your heart, and you attempt to shake it off. Your steps falter for a short moment, but long enough for James to notice. He frowns, worried that he’s hurt you. Before he can backtrack or apologise, you’re already ahead, speaking your first words of the night to a third-year roaming the corridors and ordering them to go back to their dorm. They roll their eyes but comply, and James feels it too late to apologise. 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ 

“Don’t make me go,” You plead like a four-year-old, wrapping your arms around Dorcas’ right arm. She looks up from the book in her hands and attempts to shake you off, her voice laced with amusement. “You’re the one who wanted to be Head Girl. So go and fulfill your duties and patrol with the infamous James Potter.”

“He’s horrible, Dorcas,” You whine, falling down to the floor when she manages to shake you off, a low groan escaping your lips when you hit your head particularly hard. You know you’re being pathetic, but you’re allowed to be when you’re stuck walking with an egotistical teenage boy three nights a week.

“He’s the golden boy with a six-pack and a cute smile. Stop complaining and flirt!” A pillow is thrown at you to emphasise her words, and you groan once again. With a glare sent her way and a huff, you stand up from your spot on the carpeted floor, still staring at her as you dramatically open the door. 

“Don’t have too much fun!” You scoff, turning around to leave and running into the one person you really didn’t want to see. 

James Potter leans against the wall beside the door, a playful smirk playing on his stupidly handsome face. “Not too much fun, hey?” You resist the urge to pull his glasses off of his face and throw them to the floor. 

You hate that you can feel your cheeks start to heat, growing shy at the realisation that he heard what Dorcas said. Avoiding his eyes, you close the door behind you and rush down the steps, trying not to focus on the steps sounding behind you. 

It’s only when you exit the common room that he speaks again. “How are you?” He questions, ensuring his steps match with yours. “Fine.” You bluntly respond. At the awkward silence and the fact you can’t stand being impolite, you coldly ask, “How are you?”

He visibly perks up at your question, raising his head to look at you with his golden brown eyes and million-dollar smile. “I’m good! I’ve been practicing for the Quidditch match this weekend. Are you going to come?”

“No.” You state, folding your arms against your chest and looking ahead. Your shoes clatter against the stone steps, the cool night air hugging your skin. 

“You don’t have to feel bad about going alone. It will still be fun!” He smiles goofily, revealing more of his throat as he looks up at the stars. Your admiration is cut short when you process what he said. “Um…what?”

The way James’s eyes widened would have been almost comical if you weren’t so offended. “That sounds bad. You can bring people, obviously, but I just figured you’d go alone-“

“Do you think I have no friends or something?” You've stopped in the middle of the field, eyes narrowed in accusation. You dig your nails into your arm, focusing on the pain it creates instead of the pain his words inflict. 

“No! I mean - you're just always…y’know…by yourself.” He stumbles, hands raising in defence. Your tongue rolls against the inside of your cheek. “So now I’m a loner?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation. “No. No. Merlin, can you just listen to me?” At your silence, he continues, “I shouldn’t have assumed that you'd go alone, but can you blame me? You never go out, and I just figured that if you were to go out, you'd be by yourself.” 

The sound of crickets is the only thing that can be heard, an uncomfortable silence thick between you. You take a deep breath and turn your back to him, beginning to walk back to the castle. “I saw a movement in one of the potions classrooms, I’m going to check it out.”

“I’m sorry-“

“Don’t, James. Just don’t.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ 

James Potter’s eyes bore into yours from across the Great Hall, and you’ve never been so grateful for Miss McGonagall as she leads you around the room, pointing at areas in the room. “This year's theme for the yule ball is going to be Winter Wonderland. You and James have two months to decorate this entire hall. I want you two working together on making a wonderfully decorated ball…”

Her words are quickly drowned out by the discomfort bubbling in your stomach. James walks away from where he is, looking around to listen in to what Miss McGonagall is saying. It’s only when she walks away that you finally process your surroundings. “Looks like we’re going to have to spend a lot of time together.” He laughs uncomfortably. 

You guys haven’t spoken since that awkward night two days ago, and he’s unsure how to act around you. “I guess we will.” You lean against the wall behind you, sliding down and sitting on the cool floor with crossed legs. Taking out a pad of paper and some charcoal from your bag, you begin a quick sketch of the room. 

You’re surprised when James sits beside you, stomach fluttering with anxious butterflies. “What…are you doing?” 

He turns to look at you, dimples staring right at you. “You heard her, we’re doing this together.” He’s careful to keep a good distance, and you keep your head down, eyes on the paper in front of you. “I’m just doing a quick sketch.” 

He taps the paper gently. “It’s very good. Do you draw often?” You ignore his attempts at making conversation and instead begin a hopefully short conversation about the decorations. “I was thinking we could have white roses in the middle of each table and maybe this tree archway.” 

He sighs at the change of conversation. “Listen, about the other day-”

“James, we really don’t need to talk about it. I don’t like you, but I can remain professional, and that’s all that matters.” At the defeated, almost frustrated look in his eyes, you can’t help but scoff. “What? Can’t you handle the thought that someone doesn’t like you? As much as people say you are, you’re not all that.” You abruptly stand up and begin walking out the hall, poison lacing your voice, “I’ll send you the list of ideas I have for the ball, and you do the same. We can talk about it more next time you’re free.”

You’re already out of the room before he can utter a word. 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ 

Despite the cruel words you uttered the last time you saw each other, James Potter shows up to your library get-together with a bright smile on his face. “Hello, love. I brought you a cupcake. Red velvet.” He places it on the table in front of you, and you shift your attention from your book to the small, delicious treat. 

“You’re late,” You mutter grumbly. Despite your angry mood, you still slowly grab the cupcake, immediately bringing it to your mouth, unable to resist taking a bite. “I’m sorry. I’m a busy man, y’know?” 

“I’m busy, too, James. We only have ten minutes to go over everything before I have to help this group of first-year students with Potions.” You scowl, rolling your eyes and continuing to eat the cupcake. 

He ignores your words and instead grabs the book you were reading in front of you. “This is a muggle book, is it not? I’ve seen my friend Remus reading this.” You yank the book back and carefully put it into your bag. “Yes, he’s the one who recommended it to me.”

In hopes of reducing personal conversation, you jump straight into talking about the ball. “Now, about the ball. I’ve given the list of things we need to Miss McGonagall. The stuff should arrive next week Monday. We need to figure out what days we’re free to decorate.” You fiddle with the cupcake wrapper, looking down at his ruffled robes rather than his eyes. 

“I’m busy on Saturdays for Quiddich practice, and I’m going to a party on Friday.” He smiles, unbothered by your quiet, grumpy mood. 

“Okay, we can do Sundays and Tuesdays after school. Now, because you showed up so damn late I have to go and we’re going to have to meet again so let me know when you’re free.” He follows you when you stand up, gently grabbing hold of your arm before you can leave. 

He forces you to stare into his eyes, and you’re surprised at the pure sincerity in them. “I’m sorry for being late. It won’t happen again.”

You take a deep breath, overwhelmed with confusion at the fact he apologised. “Okay. I forgive you. Don’t let it happen again, please.”

“Of course.” He doesn’t let go of your arm like you expected, instead, he holds it tighter. “Are you free Friday night? Come to the party with me.”

“I’m not free Friday. I have a date.” 

“A date?” His voice is deep, unfamiliar. You nod awkwardly and pull your arm from his grip. “Yeah, I’m not actually a loner, James.” You laugh awkwardly before walking away. 

You leave him standing there, gaping at your retreating figure.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ 

You can hear James before you can see him. His loud, heavy footsteps, matched with his obnoxious laugh, is enough to warn you about his presence.

You keep your focus on the task at hand, moving your wand up as you attach decor to the roof. He’s unfazed by your cool attitude, playfully nudging your shoulder. 

“So…” his voice grates at your nerves more than usual, “how’d  your date go?”

Right. The date. The reason for your extra pissy mood this morning. “It was fine.” You hoped he would get the hint that you didn’t want to talk about it, but James couldn’t take a sign if it smacked him in the face.

“Just fine? Tell me about it,” he pestered, gently poking your side, the hand holding your wand falters, the decoration almost falling to the floor. You give up on your task, glaring and beginning to walk away.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Cmonnnn,” his voice raises a pitch and you scowl, “tell me how it went.” He goes to grab your arm, and you move back. You scoff. “I don't want to talk about it.”

His brown, usually playful eyes turn serious in an instant. A crease formed between his brows, and a frown that didn’t suit his usually happy face painted his lips. “Did he do something?”

At the concern and genuine curiosity in his voice, you can’t help but let your shoulders fall, keeping your head down as you whisper, “he didn’t even show.” 

“Oh.” Pink tints your cheeks, and shame curls your spine. “Wel,l it’s his loss. I’m sure he would have had a blast if he went”

You clear your throat and begin sorting through boxes, trying to ignore the lump in your chest. “Yeah, I guess.” He moves to stand next to you, shoulders almost brushing while he sorts things next to you. 

“I mean it.” He turns his head to look at you, and you look back, captured by those swirling brown eyes. “Any guy would be lucky to go on a date with you.”

A shaky breath leaves your parted lips, and you're unsure why his words have such an impact on you. Maybe it’s the way his eyes never broke eye contact. Maybe it’s because he’s standing right under a lamp, and his hair looks golden brown. Or maybe it’s because his words only held sincerity- even longing, if you felt like being delusional. 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ 

James Potter was pointing a wand at your face. 

He was all arrogance as he crept closer towards you, a stupid smirk on his stupid face, his stupid eyes alight with mischief. 

You raise your own wand, the wood cool and familiar in your hands, gripping it tightly. You watch his movements- the way his shoulders tense slightly and his eyes squint a smidge. “Expelliarmus.” His voice rings out, sure and loud. Expecting his attack, you're quick to block the spell. 

You address the crowd without taking your eyes off of the boy in front of you. “When sparring, you want to study the person. Learn their tells.” The group of students nod in acknowledgment, much more interested in seeing who will win instead of learning. 

The Defence against the Dark Arts teacher wanted you and James to come in and give a visual demonstration of sparring for some of the younger students. You were happy to agree, having only dreamed of a moment like this. 

James was making it easy to spar with him: with his cocky comments about how he was going to win and the flirty winks he keeps shooting your way, you were more than happy to get him on his knees. 

“Stupefy,” you mutter, scowling when he shouts a defence spell. “You're doing well,” he smiles encouragingly, “I’m pretty good at sparring and most people would have been on their ass by now.” 

It’s the fact that he seems genuinely surprised at your doing well that sends annoyance travelling up your spine. His ego is bigger than Snapes, Merlin could he be anymore of an ass? 

“Do you want me to go easy on you-“

“-langlock.” He’s quiet in an instant, unable to speak with his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth. Eyes widened in shock, the hand that holds his wand falters, and you don’t hesitate to yell, “Levicorpus.”

The forgotten crowd behind you laughs as an imaginary force holds James in the air by his ankle. “I saw you use this on someone just the other day. How does it feel to be on the receiving end?” Despite the obvious annoyance swirling in his eyes, a glint lightens the caramel brown. 

“It feels rather sickening, I’d admit,” he groans, his head getting redder by the second. You smile at his obvious discomfort. “Do you want me to go easy on you?” You mock, voice lowering in a feeble attempt to match his voice. 

Despite his complicated position, he smiles brightly at your teasing. “If you wouldn’t mind, love.” You point your wand and smile innocently. “Okay.” The loud thud of him falling to the ground is enough to make you smile.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ 

“She beat me at a duel. Me, James Potter.” His voice was especially loud as he walked around aisles in the library, an amusing look of shock on his face. Remus snorts from beside him, walking towards a particular genre of books. 

“Believe it or not, James, you’re not always going to win. And she’s one of the best students in the school.” Despite James’ whiny tone, his heart was filled with pride. He knew you were a good witch, and he was finally glad to witness first-hand what you were made of. 

“Now,” James catches himself before he completely stumbles into Remus, shooting the scarred man a sheepish smile. “This is the book you wanted, right?” Despite himself, James feels the apple of his cheeks turn red at the familiar book cover in Remus’s hands. 

Merlin, what he’s doing is so dorky and pathetic. But he didn’t like the idea that he knew nothing about your hobby of reading - a hobby you waste most of your days doing. So he forced Remus to come to the library with him, under the guise of wanting to pick up a new hobby. He managed to remember the name of the book you were reading and asked Remus to find it for him. 

Grabbing the book from Remus’s hands, he began walking towards the counter, hoping Remus would return to studying and leave it at that. His hopes were not answered. “I’m surprised you’re getting into reading. It’s never been your thing.”

Recognising the suspicion in his voice, James walks faster. “Just wanted to try something new.”

“Well, it’s funny you picked that book; you know this is a certain Head Girl’s favorite book?”

He doesn’t look back. “Really? I didn’t even know she could…read.” At his mix-up, he comes to a complete halt, shoulders slumping in defeat. He keeps his head down as he mutters, “Fine, I chose this book because she read it.”

“Really? I thought she couldn’t read.” At James’ glare, Remus’ amused expression turns into one of pity. “James Potter is reading for a girl. A girl that beat him in a duel, nonetheless. Do you have a crush?” James scowls despite his pinking cheeks, and Remus laughs gently in response. 

“I do not have a crush. I just think I should be getting to know her more since she’s Head Girl and she doesn’t like me much.” James finally reaches the counter, chucking the dastard book on the counter much too harshly for the librarian's liking, earning a scathing glare that he ignores. 

Remus doesn’t continue the conversation any longer, but the silence does nothing to calm the fast beating of his heart as his thoughts spiral and his breathing becomes uneven. James might just have a crush on you.  

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ 

It was becoming harder and harder to dislike James. In fact, you weren’t sure why you were ever angry at him. Sure, he’s arrogant and immature, but right now, all you can think about is the way he’s comforting a crying first-year in the hall, genuine worry coating his actions as he pulls the little boy in for a hug. 

You’re not sure what to do, standing there awkwardly in the hall and shuffling on your feet. You can’t look away; the kind look in James’ eyes is too sincere, his smile is too perfect, and his words are too warm. You’re scared you’re going to melt. 

“It’s okay, bud. They’re mean and cruel, but you’re strong. You stood up for yourself, and that’s pretty great.” You can’t take this side of James. His caring, nurturing side. 

So you turn around and smile awkwardly at one of the moving paintings. Behind you, you can faintly hear James mutter the words, “You’re going to be a great seeker one day,” then some shuffling before a gentle hand is placed on your shoulder. 

You jump and turn to meet James’s amused eyes. “What are you doing staring at the wall, love?” Your eyebrows raise, and your eyes widen, mind whirring to come up with an answer besides the truth. “I just realised I’ve never actually stopped to appreciate the stone walls.”

“You’re an interesting one,” He claims with no real malice. You just laugh awkwardly and keep walking. “Is that first year okay?”

His smile dims at the thought of the young boy. “He’s alright. I promised to take him to Quiddich training one day; he wants to be a seeker.”

“That’s awfully thoughtful of you.” You smile, raising your eyes to look into his for barely a minute before looking away. If you had looked long enough, you would have noticed the pink that travelled up his neck and painted his cheeks, mouth open like a blubbering fish. 

In hopes of looking calm and casual, he strugs off your compliment with an awkward,  “U-u,h it was nothing, really.” You’re not ready to let the conversation end. “No, it was really sweet-”

“I’m reading a book!” 

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. James Potter was a stupid, awkward young man - or at least he thought so. You didn’t mind the abrupt change in topic, especially if it was about a book.

Your face visibly lit up, the warm spark in your eyes growing tenfold. “Yeah? What book?”

The casual name drop of your favorite book coming from James’ deep voice has a bright smile taking over your gleeful face. James was too happy to be blinded by such a light. 

“Really?” At his nod, you grip his arm and jump like a crazed woman. “I love that book!” You stop jumping and stare hopefully, wanting to know his every thought about the book you’ve read more times than you could count. 

“Really? I had no idea,” He laughs awkwardly. “The main character is probably my favorite.” It’s only when he starts walking do you remember that you’re still holding onto his arm, awkwardly dropping it at your side. 

“The main character?” He nods. You move your hand to fiddle with your hair. “I…She always reminded me of me. She’s always underestimated because she’s quiet, which I understand, and some of the things she’s gone through reminds me of my own memories- not that I’m saying you like her because she reminds you of me or anything.” 

At your anxious ramblings, James stops, a gentle smile pulling at his plush lips. He moves so his eyes meet yours, and you’re too captivated to look away. “No, that’s exactly why she’s my favorite. She reminds me of you.” 

Your stunned silence doesn’t bother him, and he moves closer, the soles of his shoes touching yours. A large hand moves to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and you’re sure that you’re dreaming things when he mutters, “And that guy she’s dating? The captain of the football team? He reminds me of me. Different sport and all, but desperate for the attention of the girl.” 

The whispers of his words graze your cheek, and you’re glad he had pulled away quickly before you did something stupid like kiss him. 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ 

You stared at the hall like an artist would stare at their paintings. Everything had come out better than you expected, and you were in awe of the glowing lights that shimmered in the eyes of the happy students as they danced and laughed. 

Your eyes shimmered, but you were void of laughter and dance. No one had asked you to the Yule Ball, and you had no desire to ask anyone yourself. You didn’t mind being alone, you just didn’t like the pitying looks being thrown your way. Dorcas was already lost on the dance floor, and you didn’t want to ruin her night.

So you stood in the corner, smiling at the buzz of happiness that floated across the room. You weren’t alone for long. “Would you care for a dance?” James Potter was clad in a suit, standing in front of you with a playful smirk and outstretched hand. 

A laugh of absurdity broke free from your coloured lips. “Ginny has been looking at you ever since you entered the hall. Go dance with her.” Despite your words, you wanted him to stay. His presence was comforting.

“Ginny and I didn’t work hard for months decorating this hall. Now,” He shakes his outstretched hand impatiently, “let’s dance.” 

You wouldn’t be surprised if the punch was spiked because you lost your inhibitions too quickly for your liking, grasping his warm hand and letting him drag you onto the dance floor. 

With his hand on your waist and the other holding yours, you’re forced to distract yourself from his touch by the band that plays at the front, the slow, deep voice of the singer enough to make you want to fall asleep. 

You rest your cheek on his shoulder and close your eyes. 

“Tired?” The kiss he places on your neck is enough to make you wide awake again, but you still nod.

“I bet you are. You’ve been working so hard lately with the ball and with the test you had today. How did that go, by the way? I’m sure you did great-”

“What are you doing?” You tense under his touch, his words, his hands, all becoming too much. As if sensing your discomfort, he pulls away. “What do you mean?” 

You stare at him for a short moment before your gaze falls to your fiddling hands. “You’re being…kind. I don’t know what to do.”

“Be kind back, maybe?” He attempts to joke but falls short. “I don’t know why you have such a hard time being kind to me, but if I’ve done something wrong, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, and I really do like you.”

Your silence is enough to make him pull away; you grow cold without his touch. 

“I’m sorry.” He stops his quick actions of leaving. “I’m not…I’ve been cold, and I’m sorry. You’re just so…scary. Merlin, the only interaction we had before we became Head Boy and Head Girl was when you turned my hair pink.”

He takes a step closer, and you take a step back, guilt spilling out of you in the form of words. 

“It’s just…I judged you wrongly, and I’m sorry. I really am. You’re not an egotistical and mean person. You’re actually really sweet, and it’s playing with my heart. I’m torn between caring for you like I haven’t cared for anyone before and thinking of you the way I always thought of you. 

He reaches for your hands, cradling them gently. “I understand. I’ve only really shown you the arrogant side of myself, and it’s not wrong for you to assume I am otherwise. It’s just much easier to talk to a pretty lady when I feel like I can make her mine.”

“You could have any girl in the school, and you know that.” He shakes his head at your words, the sound of laughter fading behind you as he leads you away from the hall, down corridors and through doors until you’re both outside, the moonlit glow hugging you like a baby’s blanket.

He tightens his grip on your hands and utters with a small smile, “I couldn’t have the only one that really matters because I messed it up when I dyed half her hair pink.”

You scoff and avoid his eyes. “You could have me.”

“Yeah?”

You nod. “Just don’t break my heart.”

“To break your heart would be to break my own. Why would I want to break something that I care for so deeply? That is worth the gold of millions of men?” He falls to his knees in front of you, hands gently gripping the fabric of your dress, looking up at you with eyes filled with more passion than a writer writing a romance. 

You let yourself breathe in the cool night air, the cold spreading against your flushed skin. “I’m scared. You’re too good for me, James. Too good for me.” Despite yourself, your shaking hand moves to cup his cheek. He places a long kiss on your palm, never breaking contact with your misty eyes. 

“Why would you say that, my love? You have so much courage. So much power and kindness.” At your silence, he slowly raises, never wanting to be separated from your touch as his hands move to your hips and his head falls to the crook of your neck. 

Your hands fall to his head, playing with his soft curls. You look up at the ceiling and sniff as a lone tear falls down your cheek. “I’m sorry for being so rude when we first met.”

“And I’m sorry for turning your hair pink.” His breath tickles your neck. 

“You’re forgiven.” 

You can barely get the words out before his lips are against yours, gentle and warm and right where you want them to be. 

[littlesoulshine]

you loved the gasp dean gave when he saw the receipt—lace, silk, and more ridiculous things he can’t pronounce. the scratch off he'd grumbled about at the gas station had hit three hundred big ones, which made you look at him with those eyes, wide and twinkling like you didn’t know exactly how to wrap him around your finger. now here you were in the cheap motel, panties like floss and a babydoll dress clinging to your tits.

"alright, bunny," dean drawled from the rickety cushioned chair in the corner, his voice low with a cocky smirk, painted on his face. “show and tell....turn around slow, yeah?”

you bite your lip, swaying just enough to make the hem flutter up your thighs. you know he’s watching the shift of the soft fabric across your ass.

sam lays on the bed, arms folded behind his head and looong legs spread. "you gonna model all of it, bunny? or just tease us like that all night?"

"mmm, well depends if you boys behave," you murmur, stepping into the fluorescent light. this set....powder pink, with a lace so sheer it might as well be painted on. your nipples are hard, visible through the cups and your thighs glisten from lotion and oil, dean so happily rubbed into your skin after your shower.

you twirl, slow, hands in your hair, and when your back’s to them you hear dean’s chair creak forward.

“bend over,” dean says (which was definitely not a question).

you glance back over your shoulder, feigning innocence, but your cunt clenches just hearing the shift in his tone, command. you bend slow and exaggerated with your hands on your knees, ass high, the lace wedging between your cheeks.

there's a low whistle behind you. then, sam’s voice, groans “you’re lucky i’m not closer, bunny....that’s a dangerous view.”

you arch a little more because you want them to see the little bow on the back of your cheeksters, the strip of fabric that hides almost nothing. you hear dean's breath hitch. "fuckin' hell," he mutters. "that ass should be illegal."

after a couple minutes, you feel it—someone's hands, large and warm. dean's palms smoothing over your hips, thumbs dipping dangerously low on your body. “you wear this shit for us?” he growls, low and rough against your ear. “or just cause you like makin’ us hard and not gettin’ dicked down?”

sam stands behind you now, silent till you feel his hands on your shoulders, slowly massaging them. “c’mon, bunny,” he hums. “you love when we look at you like this. makes you wet, doesn’t it?”

you moan, a small thing sound,very involuntary.

sam chuckles, low. “uh huh....knew it.”

you’re sandwiched now. dean’s fingers tugging the lace down, super slowly teasing you with the friction. while sam, pressing soft kisses to the back of your neck while his hands smooth down your sides, gripping, mapping every curve and dip.

“this one’s cute,” dean mutters, snapping the waistband and making you jump. “but i wanna see the black one next....the crotchless one.”

sam makes a noise, dark and approving. “that the one with the garters?”

“fuck yeah, sammy.”

your knees wobble. but you like it. the attention, the heat, the way they look at you like you’re dessert.

"better change fast, bunny," dean says, smacking your ass once, very rough. “or we’ll help you outta it.”

sam adds, "and we won’t be gentle."

you straighten, cheeks flushed, thighs slick, and heartbeat in your cunt.

“okay,” you whisper, turning with a smile so saccharine it could kill. “but you’re not allowed to touch...just watch.”

both of them groan. but they sit obedinantly watching as you changed into the next set—this one even worse. black mesh, no modesty, and lace stockings that cling to your thighs.

"bend again," they both say, and you obey, because you like when they look at you like that. because you’re their bunny.

tags: @soldiersgirl @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis @whisperingdaze @cherrygirlfriend @bittersweetfig @sunsbaby @ambiguous-avery @bocadelinfierno @sunnyteume @bejeweledinterludes @k-slla @lunaleah @pieandflannel @zepskies @liiiilsss

[pretty-little-mind33]

Tangerine x best friend fem!reader

Summary: When your best friend has said, "—in ten years if we're both single, I'll gladly marry you." You didn't think his words had any weight. Turns out, they did.

Genre: Angsty hurt and comfort

Warnings: if canonTangerine can jump onto a moving bullet train, fanon Tangerine can jump from a train as well, violence, guns, swearing, best friends to lovers, Tan and Lem have real names but they aren't mentioned (apart from the first letter ;)).

~ inspired by @little-miss-dilf-lover <3 ~

TANGERINE MASTERLIST

The party is loud and you're not quite sure how your friends have managed to convince you to come, especially on exam week, but here you are—sweaty, slightly drunk, and also starving?

"Oh, look, it's that guy you like!" Your friend, Allie, exclaims as she points through the swarm of students. She's drunker than you, her words horribly slurred.

You look where she's pointing and see the boy who sits behind you in your Biology class. The one that always looks bored and uninterested and still somehow always has a higher score than you do. It would annoy you if he didn't intrigue you so much. 

"His friend is cute," Allie says, seemingly interested in the boy's friend; the slightly taller boy with the lopsided baseball cap and football jersey. You aren't surprised Allie likes him. His smile could light up any room.

"C'mon, I want his number—" she tugs your arm, practically stumbling over with you close behind.

You know the drink you're nursing is kicking in because you're not nearly as nervous as you should be standing in front of this boy now. His chestnut curls fall across his forehead as he looks at you, his blue eyes so sharp you can almost feel them cut through you. His expression doesn't shift. 

"Hi," you say, watching as Allie and his friend fall into easy conversation beside you. Their voices are drowned out by the music but you can see them laughing as Allie touches his arm. You glance up at the boy from your class—you can't seem to remember his name. Tyler? Theo? Thomas? Something with a T—

"Hey," he says, a question in his voice as he tilts his head and studies you. "Do I know you?"

Embarrassment creeps up your cheeks. "Oh, we're in the same class. Bio? With Professor Cooper?"

Recognition passes across the boy's features but he doesn't mention it. He simply nods, looking away. "Ah," he looks down at you again after a moment, "And what do you want?"

Any sensible person would have fled this conversation immediately, but you're too stubborn and drunk to heed the warnings. You excuse his snappiness because the loud music is annoying you as well. "Do you want to go somewhere quieter?" you ask, chewing your lip. 

You couldn't possibly handle rejection. 

He is silent for a moment, simply staring at you, but he nods and lets you lead him across the party and towards the fire escape. The fresh air feels nice on your skin as you climb, the cool metal from the fire escape pressing against your thighs as you sit on the edge. The boy joins you, sitting in silence for a moment. It isn't awkward, but you assume that's the alcohol. 

You shiver, breathing out into the cold air. 

"Here," he interrupts, handing you his worn-out leather jacket. He doesn't smile, but the gesture is enough to show his kindness and you accept happily, slipping your arms into the velvet of the sleeves. You hum.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it," he says, cracking his first smile of the night. 

Turns out, he isn't as uninterested in you as he seemed. Conversation flows easier and he's surprisingly funny. The drinks you've had makes your cheeks burn and you're now ranting about your favorite fruits, as the boy, whom you still haven't asked his name, looks at you with round, confused eyes.

"You don't like them?!" you practically screech, leaning forward and the boy's arm stops you from falling over the fire escape but he doesn't mention it. Instead, he's staring at you with his eyebrows scrunched. 

"No? I mean, aren't they just oranges? What's so special about them?"

You gasp, blinking at him as if he'd just said the most outrageous thing and a smirk curls his lips. 

"Tangerine's are so delicious! They're much sweeter in taste than an Orange and in China, they also represent good fortune. They're my favorite out of the citrus family. And doesn't the name sound kinda sophisticated? T-an-ger-ine—" you spell out, turning and locking eyes with him. You're too tipsy to see the faint blush creeping up his cheeks but he clears his throat and looks away.

"I'll have to keep that in mind," he hums, looking out into the night sky with a small smile. A few moments pass until he feels a weight on his shoulder and his lips curl downwards. He tilts his head and when he sees your cheek resting on his shoulder, your chest rising and falling with light snores, he doesn't have the heart to move you. 

You look so peaceful. So beautiful. 

Instead, he pulls you in just a little closer and helps you become comfortable on his shoulder. 

~ Around Ten Year Later ~

The rattling from the train wakes you up, your cheek hitting the glass and then you jolt your head up and you quickly wipe your hand across your mouth to eliminate any proof that you'd been drooling in your sleep. Your cheeks burn hot and you look around. Your eyebrows knit together. The compartment is empty. Weird. How long have you been asleep?

You stand, moving into the alley. You look up at the name of the next station and curse. You missed your fucking stop. You pinch your nose. At this point, you're gonna miss your business meeting and your boss might as well fire you. 

You sit down again, holding your head in your hand. "Fuck, fuck, fuck—" you groan and you startle when you hear the doors of the compartment slide open. Strong footsteps follow. You look up absentmindedly, your breath catching in your throat when you see someone you haven't seen in years. Instantly, you shoot up, catching the man's attention and he pauses. 

Apart from the blue of his eyes, he looks different. His shoulders are slightly broader and he looks hardened by life. His boyish clean-shaven face is replaced by scars and wounds and a thick mustache that shouldn't work with his features as well as it does. 

You're moving on autopilot as you walk away from your seat and into the aisle, looking him over. You must be mistaken. He's covered in blood. He's wearing a dark blue suit, although half of the suit is missing, and he is staring at you like he's just seen a ghost. 

"T–" His name begins to fall from your mouth but he quickly interrupts you and walks over, gently pushing his hand over your mouth. 

"Tangerine," he whispers, his voice hoarse and the familiarity causes a shiver up your spine.

"What?" you ask behind his hand, your body tense. Is this not—

Suddenly, there is a loud screeching and the train comes to a half. You gasp, falling forwards and onto Tangerine's chest.

He topples backwards, his large hand cupping the back of your head, keeping you still against him, as you fall on top of him. He grunts, his side colliding with the bottom of the seats.

You push on your arms, hovering over him. "Are you alright?" You exclaim, examining him for injuries that weren't already there. 

"Just peachy," he grumbles sarcastically, running a hand in his hair. Tangerine sits up once you've scrambled off his lap and his gaze lands on you. He frowns, standing up and helping you up as well. He lowers his gaze to your left hand, his fingers skimming your ring finger and you hold your breath, looking up at him and then down to his left hand.

No ring, you both think as the memory remains ingrained in both your minds.

It had been your twenty-second birthday, the one where your arsehole of an boyfriend had broken up with you and you'd found yourself in Tangerine's dorm, curled up against him on his bed as you cried into his shoulder. Since the party, you've grown into very close friends. He wasn't cold anymore, he was gentle and kind and utterly hopelessly in love with you—something he didn't want you to know. 

"He's a twat," he spits, stroking your hair. 

"I'll be forever alone, T!" You exclaim, not listening to him as you sit up and stare at him with wide teary eyes. What was said next differs from both your memories, but that proposal, the one he'd made of his own accord, remains clear—

"I'll tell ya what, if in ten years we're both single, I'll gladly marry you."

You'd laughed, unaware of the truth behind his words, and neither of you ever mentioned it again. Although, as the years passed and he distanced himself from you—his words lingered in your mind. You'd been sure he'd forgotten them, but judging by the look on his face now—he must not have. 

You pull your hand away and clear your throat, pulling you both from the memory. You're about to ask why he's here and covered in blood but the sound of gunshots interrupts your plan.

Tangerine pushes you behind him, pulling out his revolver from his suit pants and checking the chamber. He curses and points his gun at the door. You grasp his arm and ask in a whisper. "What's happening? And why do you have a gun T—"

"Tangerine," he growls, anticipating your next word, looking at you through the corner of his eye. 

"Why do you keep insisting I call you that? You hate—"

"I don't know who's around," he interrupts. There is another round of gunshots and you tighten your grip on his arm. "Now back up slowly."

You do as he says, sensing an authority he didn't possess ten years earlier. Once you pass the compartment doors, you feel the wind in your hair and look to the side. "T, why is there a hole in the train?!" You ask, watching as Tangerine jams the door with his gun. "Wait—don't you need that?" You squeak.

Tangerine looks at you, his gaze hard. "Do you trust me?" he asks sternly.

Your eyes widen even more as the train suddenly speeds up and you crash into the opposite wall. 

What the fuck is happening?

Tangerine grips your arm and pulls you upright. "Do you trust me," he asks again, his voice strained.

You falter. "I- I don't know!"

"Well make up your mind, because we don't have much time!"

"What?" You gasp when he grabs your waist and pulls you into him, facing him. He walks closer to the hole and you push against him. "Are you crazy?" you hiss, "back up!"

"No," Tangerine looks directly into your eyes, his gaze hard. "Do you trust me?"

"Stop asking me that!" 

He says your name and you pause. Something you can't decipher hangs in the air as you stare at him and before he can ask again, you nod hastily. "I trust you. Okay. I trust you." 

You almost think you see a hint of a smile but then his hand tightens on your waist as the other pushes your face into the crook of his neck. 

And then he jumps through the hole and from the moving train. 

You feel like you can't breathe. For a moment, you're sure you've fallen onto the tracks and you're dead. Nothing hurts, not really, but your eyes are still screwed shut against Tangerine's shoulder. He smells like smoke and pinewood and you can feel his heartbeat against yours. 

He's breathing.

You use your hand and lift yourself. Tangerine's hand falls to his side as he grunts. You realize you're sitting on him. "Fuck," you say and try shifting off him. He only groans more and steadies your hips. You pause, looking down at him; he's bleeding from his shoulder and his hair is damp with blood.

If he didn't already look like shit, he sure does now. 

"Gentle," he coughs, opening one eye. "M-my ribs."

Your blood runs cold and you jump up, not listening to him. Tangerine groans. You look around. The platform is empty and the train has passed. You look at Tangerine and your voice comes out shaky when you say, "You jumped from a moving train! What the fuck is wrong with you?" You kneel down, assessing his injuries. He's hurt but he's still aware and breathing. You press a hand to his side and he hisses. 

"Who the fuck are ya?" A familiar voice rings out and you hear the cocking of a gun. The metal presses against your head and you freeze. Slowly, you turn around and see his brother. 

His name falls from your lips as he does the same with yours and his arm lowers.

"Lemon," Tangerine groans, managing to sit up. He coughs, blood dripping out of his mouth. 

You turn around. "Lemon?" you narrow your gaze and point, "and Tangerine."

Lemon nods, putting his gun away as he kneels beside you. "Code names, so shh," he presses his index to his lips and grins. He turns his attention to Tangerine and cocks his head. "Now what happened to leaving the train normally, and where's the boy?" 

You sit back on your heels, listening to them. 

"They found me. Had a shit ton of guns and shit. And, my landing would have been much easier if I didn't have to cushion her fall," he looks at you but there is no real bite behind his words.

Your cheeks feel warm. "I didn't ask you to do that!" 

"Would ya rather I left ya defenseless on a doomed train?"

Your head is spinning. You fell asleep for what? At most 30 minutes and all went to shit? 

"T, she's clearly shaken up. Be nice."

"I am nice. I saved 'er life." 

Lemon rolls his eyes and assesses his brother's injuries. You watch them, seeing how different and grown-up they look now. Still, they bicker in the same way as they did in Uni and you can't help but smile.

"Next time, we do this together, easy job or not, Lemon says as he helps Tangerine up. The latter leans against him for support and grumbles something in return. He doesn't look very pleased. You stand as well and call after them. 

"Wait," you say and run up to them, "Can I come with you?"

Lemon pauses and looks over his shoulder. "It isn't safe for ya, sweetcheeks. 'Tis best if ya just hurry home now." You hear Tangerine whisper something that sounds like, "don't let her come," and your chest tightens. Still, you don't simply take the no. 

"He needs a doctor," you argue. 

"He's fine."

"Yeah. I'm fine."

"You both know I studied medicine in school. Please. If you won't take him to the hospital could you please let me look him over?" you plead, holding onto Lemon's sleeve. He pauses and looks down at his brother. Tangerine looks pale and more blood drips from his lips. You whisper Lemon's real name and he sighs. 

Soon, you find yourself in a luxury hotel room, kneeling on the floor of the bathroom as you wipe Tangerine's wounds clean. He's leaning against the bathtub, his shirt abandoned on the tile as you apply some antiseptic to the wound on his temple.

He shifts and you shake your head, pushing on his shoulder to steady him. "Stay still," you command and press on the bandages gently, making sure the ice packs stay in place. Tangerine's sharp blue eyes are glued to you. He looks serious and stoic. However, there is also a glossy shield over them from the pain meds you'd given him. It would have been torture to leave him in the state he was in. And after all, it was your fault he'd gotten badly hurt. 

"Why didn't you become a doctor? That's your dream, innit?" he blurts out suddenly, his words slurred. 

You shake your head, smoothing a hand over the bandage. "It was. I guess I wasn't cut out for it—medical school kicked my arse." 

"Bollocks," Tangerine says, narrowing his gaze as he lifts himself up to position himself better against the tub. "Ya were the best in your year at Uni. Everyone knew that. What happened?"

Your heart sinks as you press like cloth against another cut on his cheek. Biting the inside of your cheek, you whisper, "Drop it? Please." How can you tell him you'd just given up when things got hard? How could you tell him when he was your biggest supporter? How could you tell him all that without blaming him for leaving you?

Ten years with no contact. Not one response to your texts or calls. You'd gotten the message quickly enough. 

You push back some of his curls, watching as his head falls back and his gaze remains on you. "I didn't think I would ever see you again," you say, changing the topic of discussion. Tangerine doesn't say anything for a moment until he sniffs. 

"I've seen you," he starts and tilts his head. His voice becomes softer. "In my dreams."

You hold your breath, leaning back against your heels. "T—Tangerine," you whisper.

"You can say my name now," Tangerine exclaims, looking at you almost guiltily. "There is no one that could hurt us. Please, say my name."

You hold your breath before whispering his name. When you do, he shuts his eyes and makes a small sound. You frown, confused why you saying his name would cause this big of a reaction. You feel him reach over, holding your hand and your heart speeds up.

"You aren't married," he breathes out. 

Your gaze snaps to him. 

"Neither am I—" he adds, his thumb stroking over your skin. 

"T—that was years ago—"

"And yet, you remember. You know exactly what I'm referring to because you remember."

There is truth in his words. Had you gone that long without thinking of him or that stupid proposal?

No.

You'd dated and did all you could to pretend that he hadn't said that and to pretend that he wouldn't show up out of the blue and marry you like he'd said. 

And yet here he is, reminding you of his words. 

"I never looked for someone. Not when I knew you were out there somewhere. It's always been you," he admits, his eyes still glossy and he's still breathing heavily like he's in pain. You want to believe him, you do, but realistically you know that it's the pain medication. He isn't thinking properly. 

"That's sweet, T," you say and squeeze his hand. "Really sweet."

He frowns. "It's not supposed to be sweet. It's the truth. I love you."

You stand up, your mind is fuzzy. "Okay–I'm gonna call in your brother. He can take care of you from here—"

"Wait, l-love, it's the truth. I love you. I always have, please don't leave," he pleads but he's in too much pain to walk after you. All he can do is sit there as you slip from his grasp once more. 

Outside, you run into Lemon as he walks over with two warm teas. "What's wrong?" he asks, frowning as he sees the look on your face. You shake your head, not bothering with a response, as you walk to the entrance to find your coat. Coming here was a mistake. This entire ordeal was a simple mistake. A trick of fate.

"Oi, wait." You hear just as you open the front door. You look over your shoulder and an envelope hangs in front of you. You look up, catching Lemon's intense stare, and you only receive a nod. Once outside, the cold air stings your skin as you walk away from the hotel. The city is busy and the lights shine bright over the darkness of the night. You squint, wasting no time in opening and reading the letter—

Y/n,  I know you will not understand why I need to leave. Or why I won’t respond to your calls or your texts. I can’t make you understand either. Not yet, not until I’ve figured things out for myself. It’s too dangerous for us now. I would rather never see you again than put you in harm's way.  I’m not even sure if I will ever send this to you. I don’t think I deserve it. Not after what I must do. But still I must tell you.  Do you remember what I told you? How I would marry you. You laughed and I know you did not believe me. I’m not sure if I will ever see you again anyways, not anymore, but if by luck it’s ten years later and I see you. Just know I’ll marry you in a heartbeat.  Because I love you.  I love you so much.  Yours forever,  T

Your hands tighten around the paper. You think back to the train—the gunshots—the codenames—the codename of your favorite fruit—the mention of a job—and nothing makes sense but the apparent danger you'd been in and one that the brothers' seemed familiar with. 

He left you to protect you.

Tears sting at the corner of your eyes as you press the letter to your chest. You've stopped walking. 

He loves you. 

And you don't want to accept that you love him just the same. 

But you can't help yourself as you run back to his apartment, his real name falling from your lips as your tears roll down your cheeks. 

[mattrempeswife]

GAME MISCONDUCT

series: blue and blind hearts | part: 01 02 03 04

pair: quinn hughes x f!reader

genre: angst, slow burn, friends to lovers.

warnings: emotional angst, unrequited love, reader feeling like a second choice, mention of breakup, slow-burn tension, unresolved feelings, a soft but heavy confrontation.

summary: you try to move on, to create distance between your heart and the boy who’s unknowingly held it for years. but after his breakup with sophia, quinn finds himself unraveling and reaching for the only constant he’s ever had. the only person who’s always been there. you. but when he finally shows up at your door, you’re no longer sure whether you want to open your heart again or slam it shut for good.

fia’s notes: there’s no official taglist for this series, but if you’d like to be tagged just let me know!

You didn’t realize how quiet your apartment could feel until you came back from Vancouver.

The silence wasn’t just peaceful… it was hollow. Something was missing, and you hated that your brain automatically tried to fill the void with Quinn’s voice, his laugh, the sound of him opening your fridge like it was his own.

You hated even more that it had been over a week and he still hadn’t really reached out.

A simple, vague text ‘you okay?’ had arrived six days after you left, as if he were checking a box. You’d responded with a halfhearted, ‘yeah, just busy,’ and that was that.

But you weren’t busy.

You were avoiding.

Avoiding the ache in your chest that pulsed every time you remembered how Sophia looked at you like you were a threat. How Quinn didn’t notice. Or how maybe he did and just didn’t care.

You tried. God, you really tried not to care anymore.

But caring had become muscle memory. You didn’t know how to stop.

Quinn, meanwhile, was falling apart.

The media noticed first. Sloppy turnovers. Lazy shifts. Uncharacteristic mistakes. His skating still looked sharp, but his head wasn’t in the game. And when you’re the captain, people start to whisper.

His phone buzzed after practice one night.

Jack: What’s going on with you?

Quinn stared at the message. He didn’t respond.

What was he supposed to say? ‘I can’t think straight because I let the most important person in my life slip through my fingers and now I can’t breathe without wondering if she’s already forgetting me?’

Instead, he turned his phone face down and leaned back against the wall of his apartment, eyes closed, jaw clenched.

Sophia was gone. Her stuff too. She left three days ago, and it hadn’t sunk in until now. Until the silence started to sound like your voice instead of hers.

He didn’t remember the last time he felt this alone.

You got the text at 10:43 PM on a Wednesday.

Quinn: Can I call?

It wasn’t unusual for Quinn to call late. But something about this one made your stomach knot. You stared at the screen for a moment, then typed.

You: Everything okay?

His reply came fast. Almost too fast.

Quinn: No.

You didn’t even get to ask before the next message came in.

Quinn: Sophia and I broke up.

Your chest went still.

You read the text over and over, but it didn’t land. Didn’t feel real. This wasn’t how you wanted it to happen. You didn’t want to be the person he came crawling to because someone else decided to walk away first.

And yet, some small, stupid part of you still hoped.

Quinn: Can I come see you?

You didn’t answer.

Not that night.

Not the next day either.

But two days later, when you opened your front door and saw him standing there hoodie half-zipped, face tired, eyes softer than you remembered you knew it was too late to pretend.

You stepped aside silently.

He walked in without a word.

The tension filled the room before either of you said anything.

Quinn stood in the middle of your living room like he didn’t know what to do with his hands. You didn’t offer him a seat. You didn’t ask if he wanted something to drink.

You just… looked at him.

He looked smaller than usual. Not physically, but emotionally. Like the weight on his shoulders had finally started pressing down hard enough to show.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” he said quietly.

You swallowed.

“I didn’t think you’d come at all.”

He looked at you for a long moment.

“I should’ve come sooner.”

“You should’ve done a lot of things.”

The silence was sharp.

He nodded slowly. “I deserved that.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, trying not to fold under the way he was looking at you now like he was seeing you clearly for the first time. Like you weren’t just a safe place, but the place.

“She said I didn’t love her,” he said suddenly.

You blinked.

“Sophia?”

He nodded. “She said I loved someone else.”

You didn’t say anything.

“She said I looked at you like… like I couldn’t look away.”

Your throat tightened.

“And what did you say to that?”

“I didn’t deny it.”

A crack formed somewhere deep in your chest.

“I think I’ve always known,”

He said, taking a step toward you.

“That it was you. Even when I was with her. Even when you were smiling at me like I hung the moon and I was too fucking blind to see it.”

You let out a sharp breath. “Quinn, don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Don’t stand here and tell me you’ve always known. Don’t make this into some romantic realization just because your girlfriend left.”

“She didn’t leave because of you,” he argued.

“She left because you wanted me,” you shot back.

“Even if you didn’t know it yet.”

He didn’t respond.

You shook your head.

“You don’t get to show up and confess now that you’re lonely.”

“I’m not here because I’m lonely,”

He said, stepping closer.

“I’m here because I finally pulled my head out of my ass and realized what I’ve been doing to you. To us.”

“There is no ‘us,’ Quinn.”

His expression cracked. “There could be.”

You laughed, but it wasn’t kind.

“You think I didn’t spend years dreaming of that? Of this? Every time you made me feel like the only person in the room, only to go home to someone else? Every time I listened to you talk about your relationships like I didn’t already love you enough for both of us?”

Tears burned in your eyes, but you didn’t let them fall.

“You’re not allowed to make me your second choice after all this time.”

“I’m not,” he said, voice breaking.

“You’ve never been second. I just… I didn’t know how to face it. How to admit that the one person I can’t lose is you.”

You shook your head again, this time weaker.

“You don’t get to rewrite the past just because you’re ready now.”

He looked like he wanted to say something like there were a thousand apologies sitting on his tongue but none of them were enough. So he just stood there.

And you let the silence speak instead.

“I can’t be your rebound,” you whispered.

“You’re not.”

“I can’t be the girl you come to when things fall apart.”

“You’ve always been more than that.”

“I needed you to choose me,” you said, voice trembling.

“Before. When it mattered.”

His eyes filled with something you hadn’t seen in them before with regret, raw and real.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t see it sooner.”

You looked away. “I’m tired, Quinn.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know if I can do this again.”

He nodded, slowly. “I’ll wait. As long as it takes.”

You met his eyes again, and for the first time, he didn’t look like a boy with the world at his feet. He looked like a man who realized he could lose the only thing that ever felt like home.

You didn’t say yes.

But you didn’t ask him to leave, either.

And maybe, for now, that was enough.

[chococolte]

I think a sagau! touch starved/needy childe, scara and zhongli feels very attractive, to have two powerful harbingers on their knees just for a shred of attention from their god makes me wanna pamper them

but also like zhongli?? That man is so touch-starved like poor dude has been worshipping for hundreds of years without a reward for his good work probably drives him insane. I cannot imagine how he hold it together and doesn’t ascend on the spot when he breathes the same air as his god because I genuinely think he’s THAT needy

also your writing really brought me a lot of comfort!! Thank you for running the blog and doing what you do💜💜

word count. 3.8k

୨୧ — ꒰ cw. yandere, unhealthy relationships, possessive & obsessive thoughts/behaviors, religious + cult themes, sagau + cult au, g/n reader. i do not condone yanderes irl.

୨୧ — ꒰ a/n. im so happy you like my writing!! im sorry i took forever to write this, but i still hope you like it !!!!

childe

In the unfathomable dark of the abyss, you were the only thing Childe had to keep himself sane.

Without you, he would've lost himself; without you, he is nothing. He only survived because of your guidance. In his eyes, his ever consuming need of you is only right— he has no need of anything else, and sees no purpose to think otherwise. You've only ever proven how worthy you are of worship.

When light seeps through tree boughs, he sees you. He sees you in the way the leaves leave a shadow. He feels you in the cast of the wind's breath. Every breath he takes is inlaid with your name. The mere thought of the opposite makes him sick.

He's pathetic, but his pitiful appearance is only for your eyes.

Just breathing in your presence is enough for him to feel weak and fluttery, but your eyes on him leave him delirious; the sort of dizzy where he can’t bring himself to move at all. All you have to do is glance at him for his knees to tremble like they're about to buckle underneath his weight.

Somehow, he keeps himself standing each time. He should be ashamed, he knows, embarrassed— but drool pools quickly in his mouth as your eyes linger, and any sort of dignity is discarded in the light of your gaze.

As a Harbinger, he should have more pride than he does, but Childe's only arrogance is his belief that he's special to you. That belief was the only thing he had to ground himself in the abyss, and he clings to it as if to let go would mean death. In his mind, it would be no different.

You were the only thing he had, even if he only knew you in the form of whispers and imperceptible kisses of wind. He didn’t need to touch you, no matter how tortuous of an existence it may be, as long as he could feel you.

That was enough. He thought it would be enough.

Seeing you is an entirely different matter however, and quickly, he finds himself wondering what your skin would feel like under his calloused fingertips.

He wants you to touch him. It's a selfish want, but one he carries with him all the same.

He wants you to play with his hair and hold him close as if he's something precious. He wants you to run your fingers along his spine and see him as he reveals every dark, nasty part of himself. He wants you to look and still find something to love.

Childe doesn't speak a word of his desires. He sits with them in the dark and tries to will them away. He tries to withstand their passage, but only ends up choking on each thought.

He tries to hold himself at night, imagining his arms are yours, but it only makes the ache worse.

He imagines loving you, and you loving him.

When you summon him to your chambers, Childe has to hold every nerve in his body to keep himself from running to you. It’s with a clearly restrained gait that he reaches you, just barely, his knees still wobbly and the floor a shifting kaleidoscope of colors.

It doesn’t bother him. Childe feels weightless, alight with fervor, and it’s a struggle to stop himself from rushing forward just to breathe a little closer to you. He drops to his knees, bowing his head until his forehead sits against your marble flooring.

Touch me, he thinks.

He somehow manages to choke a greeting out of his throat, unable to stop the small shudder that runs through him when he feels your gaze settle on him.

It feels right, being beneath you. It feels right, the slight tension in his body as he waits for you to speak.

Childe doesn’t say anything else. You’re the only one he truly respects, the only one he’s ever felt so fervently for— in your name, he would burn the world and scorch the earth. For you, he’d stain his hands so terribly the waters turn red. He holds no desire to clean his hands with anything other than your forgiveness— and so he doesn't dare to speak out of turn, unable to bear the thought of you being upset with him.

"Come here," he hears you say, your voice gentle and cooing. Childe doesn't hesitate, taking your words as a command, crawling towards you like some sort of dog.

Despite how eager he is to be near you, his hands rest dumbly at his sides. His fingers twitch, aching to touch you for just a moment, but he sits still, trying to be good. Without your permission, all he can do is sit, no better than a well-trained hound.

Childe looks up at you with a dumb, dopey smile on his face. He knows he must look like a fool, dazed just by sitting so close to you— he can already feel heat spreading across his freckled cheeks, and he knows it must be obvious— but he can't find it in himself to care.

It’s you.

You're so close he could touch you if he dared. Your warmth is only a few inches away from him, and he inhales, trying to breathe you in. For a brief moment, he allows himself the blessing to imagine what it would be like to touch you.

He imagines running his fingers against your skin. He imagines brushing against your hand. He imagines his palms gliding across the length of your robe, pretending the silk is your flesh. The thoughts strike him dumb, and he lets out a small whine before he can reel himself back in.

It's a breathless noise, but one he's sure you heard.

Your hand reaches forward to cup his cheek, and he nuzzles into your palm, leaning into your warmth as if trying to drink you in.

"So cute," you say, and every dark, needy part of him lights up all at once.

Childe makes another sound, a soft whimper drawn from the back of his throat. His russet lashes flutter shut, and any sense of propriety is promptly thrown to the side.

Touch me.

Another sharp shudder runs through him when you rub your thumb over his cheek. He almost falls limp against your hand, his breath locked in his throat, but he manages to steady himself in time.

His hands find your ornate robes within a second, and then he's clutching onto them until his knuckles are white. Childe can feel himself digging little crescents into his palms, but your touch means he's unable to focus on anything else, and the thought of lessening his grip makes him afraid you'll pull away.

Childe bites his lips, trying to stifle another noise. He never wants this to end. You could spit in his face, and he would thank you for it.

Just as he jerks forward, chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath, overwhelmed by how good your touch feels— you're letting go, and pure, unbridled fear rushes over him.

"N-No!" Childe begs hoarsely, unable to realize that he's acting out of what he's allowed. "No, no, d-don't stop, please! Please, please…" he pleads weakly, fingers digging into your robes again, tighter this time.

Unshed tears wet his eyes. If it means having your attention on him, he would do anything. Nothing is too far beneath him. He’s already done unspeakable things in your name, hoping to garner your favor; if it means having your touch for one second longer, then there’s no low he wouldn’t fall too— no covenant he wouldn’t break, divine or mortal. 

As long as it means being by your side at the end of it, any agony would be worth it. No shame is too much for him to bear. 

"Oh, puppy," you murmur softly. One of your hands cups his cheek, while the other gently tugs at his hair. "How could I say no to you?"

The fear coalescing around his heart dissipates, and the fingers that were clutching onto you lessen their grip slightly.

"Mhm," Childe hums at too high of a pitch, but he's much too drunk on you to think about anything else, much less whether he's ruining your perception of him. He hides his face in your hand.

Your puppy, he wants to add, but his mind is too frazzled to get the words out.

Your fingers in his hair tighten, and Childe can't help the little bit of drool that falls from his lips.

scaramouche

He shouldn't be ecstatic with just this much.

All you’d done was look at him. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, and it was enough for him to feel every nerve bursting like stars all over, pin pricks dancing under his skin. It was enough for every ugly, horrible little part of himself to reveal themselves like he'd done nothing to hide them.

The sudden surge of emotion, an incessant and desperate need to please you— to give you no reason to give him away— breaches the surface far too quickly. His every move is then dictated by how it might affect you, whether it'll give him your favor or ire; and an ever increasing chittering spawns in the back of his mind, crying for you to touch him.

All you'd done was look at him.

Scaramouche tries to ignore it at first. He, very pointedly, does his best not to think of how his skin burns when a thought of you touching him enters his mind unbidden, nor how it simultaneously destroys whatever preconceived notions he had of himself.

He knows titles are meaningless in front of you, but that doesn't quite quell the petulance he feels when he crumbles each time you look at him. You don't have to touch him for every wall to burst like they were nothing. You don't even have to be near him. Your eyes meet his for a moment, and it's like everything he is shatters.

It makes him feel disgustingly weak and as insignificant as the day he was born.

Scaramouche is one out of many; one interaction you may have out of hundreds. He knows how many clamber for your affection, and how many more would ruin themselves for it.

You hold his gaze for a meaningless amount of time, and he knows it means nothing to you. His body still reacts like it does. He knows once you've turned, you'll have already found something else to capture your attention. His pulse still churns as if you’d just held his face in your hands.

It's nothing to you. It should mean nothing to him.

He hates the fact it bothers him.

He shouldn't care. It's not the same as you abandoning him. That you look at him at all should mean something. But it doesn't change the way fear bundles inside of him when you look away, nor does it change the disgust that rises at the very fact he feels that way at all.

He shouldn’t care. It shouldn’t bother him. But it does. It does.

It eats away at him like a festering wound. It hurts like nothing before it. He wonders if you’ll grace him with a look, and when you do, that’s the only thing that matters. When you turn away, he wonders how he ever got to this point. When you don’t, it’s like his breath’s been wrung from his lungs, and he wonders again, at what point did he let himself fall so far. 

It’s a point of irritability for him, and he ignores it like acknowledging it would be the death of his ego. Knowing that it would only serves to make him suffer more.

Whether you smiled or twitched your brow shouldn't feel the same as being reborn or having life torn from him. 

You haven't left him yet. He constantly feels like you're about too.

Scaramouche has to sit and watch when you interact with others. It feels like torture. You smile, and for some reason, it feels like fire washing over him. You laugh, and somehow, he hears it as vividly as he would if he was next to you; only it hurts because he's not the one you're sharing it with.

He could at least pretend he wasn't so pathetic before. He could hold himself up with some pride, even dignity— mask his emotions well enough they couldn't be used against him. Now, sitting in front of you like this, he can't even have that much.

It's piety, worship, love, or something in between or all of them at once. He's weak all over because of it, and it makes him furious at the same time it makes him euphoric.

He wishes he was stronger. Tempered by the abyss, and he still can't resist falling into you.

Your hand runs across the nape of his neck, and he shivers, skin burning where your fingers brush. A soft, shuddery breath escapes him, and his fingers curl where they're latched onto your robes.

If it was anyone else, maybe he would have mauled them for seeing him in such a state. People are perfidious; quick to betray, and even quicker to exploit whatever they've gleaned. Faster still to take away anything that makes him happy.

It's not just anyone, though. It's you. And despite how terribly he fears and how deeply he wishes to bury his emotions, his want of you runs deeper. If it means holding your attention, then you can have anything. If it means feeling your touch, then he'd let you use whatever you wanted against him.

If it meant having the assurance of your presence, then he'd kneel and discard his every title and name. He'd become nothing, if he knew he'd still have you.

“Good boy,” you whisper, and Scaramouche instinctively moves closer, rubbing his knees raw against marble, trying to breathe in your warmth.

He despises how fast he weakens at your beckoning; how he can't even will himself to resist, or fathom the thought of it— malleable to your every whim, and unable to be truly angered by it. He only shifts to be nearer to you, dreaming of your touch, hoping to share some of your eternity.

A whimper rises from his throat, trying to kill his desperation.

"Don't leave me," he says, the words wrenched from his throat. "Don't leave me."

Don’t betray me, he wants to say instead. Don’t abandon me.

It's a disgusting display of weakness. He wishes he could kill his voice so he wouldn't speak at all, but even without a heart, his emotions feel like they might choke him.

The things you do to him are terrible. Pleas for you to only look at him sit and die on his tongue. He reels himself back in before he can make a fool out of himself even further, but he knows you only have to look at him for a little bit longer for any sense of resistance to die alongside his pride. 

"I won't," you say softly, holding his cheek against your palm. "I'm here."

Scaramouche leans into your touch, hiding his face against your hand. He manages to keep himself from making an improper sound through sheer will, though he has to clench his jaw and close his eyes. 

Even just knowing he has all of your attention makes him feel dazed, and as you rub your thumb over his cheek, he can’t even muster any anger at being reduced to such a state. He hums, somehow leaning even further into your touch. 

“I’m here,” you say again, and Scaramouche whimpers into your palm.

zhongli

Zhongli dreams of you every night.

He knows he shouldn’t. It’s not proper of him, nor is it right for him to sully your image with his thoughts. Still, though, the thoughts come unbidden and leave him a wreck in their wake. 

What troubles him is what he knows to be the cause of them.

Zhongli has always been eternally grateful. He's sat with the love of you until it permeated every thought. He's lived beside the worship of you until it coated his every word and nerve. 

Being able to serve you past fantasies in his imagination brings him purpose, and that should be enough. And for a time, it was. 

He could see you and feel fulfilled. He could breathe your air and feel like the thousands of years spent waiting for you had been worth it. Even following you around like some sort of dog was more gratifying than splitting the earth apart. This, he thought, is enough.

This sense of greed, then, shouldn't exist.

Zhongli pretends it's not his own, but the truth is that every thought is painfully his. 

He imagines you running your fingers through his hair. He imagines touching your skin. He imagines you whispering praises against the pale column of his throat, and he imagines being yours in such a way that he knew he was special to you. He imagines you breathing his name and it feeling like rebirth. He imagines your touch. He imagines being able to worship you selfishly, entirely, in a way that no one but him could claim the honor of.

In a way, he thinks he deserves it. To be tortured with visions of things he knows he doesn't deserve and thoughts he knows you wouldn't approve of. 

Zhongli would think of you often before, when all he had of you were the prayers on his lips and promises of piety. It was difficult to imagine you as something physical, but still, his heart stirred. His most meaningful company was the thought of you beside him.

What he thinks of now is different.

He wouldn't have dared to imagine touching your skin. He wouldn't have let the thought escape the darkest of his subconscious. He wouldn't have dared to let himself the simple fantasy of you speaking his name like he's something precious to you. All he wanted, then, was to share the same plane of existence as you. A selfish want, but it was pure.

What pervades his mind now is some sort of sacrilege. He should know better, but he still sullies you every time he closes his eyes, unable to fight and equally unwilling too. 

His greatest arrogance. Even with thousands of mortal lifetimes lived, he still can't rid himself of it— even with his own self-hatred, his thoughts continue to defy him. 

Even when he knows he's failing you, he falls deeper. 

It's worse when you interact with others. Zhongli hugs your shadow and trails after you always, eager to please but always hiding behind a mask of propriety and decorum. He likes to pretend to have a semblance of control in your presence, though he knows that if you’d only ask, he would rid himself of it entirely and be thankful for it.

You're perfect, which is why you're kind even to those that don't deserve a modicum of your attention. You smile, and each time it's not directed at him, he tries to choke the indignance out of him. It’s selfish of him to expect that he be the only one to receive your affection, despite how his mind whispers it’s because he hasn’t done enough to prove himself to you. 

Why else, it supplies, would you waste your breath on those undeserving of it? 

He reminds himself of his place. It assuages him for only a moment.

Zhongli dreams of your breath. He dreams of you cracking him open and bearing witness to every depravity and every virtue and still whispering your love to him. He dreams of looking at you and knowing that he means something to you. He dreams and he wants so terribly, and he knows none of it is his to imagine.

He reminds himself of his place, repeating the words over and over in his mind. He whispers them to himself at night in hopes that maybe, it'll finally stick this time. 

Be pleased with this much.

He's meant to be. He tells himself that, maybe, if he perseveres well enough, he'll be rewarded. 

Maybe you'd let him touch you?

He wouldn't ask for much. Maybe you would be kind enough to let him hold your fingers in his. He wouldn't do so for long. Maybe, if he was good, you'd let him kiss your fingertips with the reverence you deserve. 

It’s an impossibility, he knows, but it's his sole comfort. If he withstands just for a while more, you'll be proud instead of disappointed that he's fallen so low. 

Then you ask for him to kneel, alone in your chambers, and he doesn't know what to do with himself.

Zhongli does as you say immediately. He falls to his knees so quickly that his mind doesn't have the chance to catch up. Vaguely, he understands that maybe he should be ashamed with how fast his body responds. He decides he doesn't care. All he knows is that you're looking at him, and that it feels sweet and good, and that he doesn't want you to stop. 

His breath is lodged in his throat. His heart sounds like a roar in his ears. Nothing exists but you and your words. All you have to do is whisper a word that could vaguely be understood as a command and he would be at your feet, ready to be used. 

He wants you to touch him. 

You smile, and his nerves feel alight with fervor. Zhongli’s hands stay clenched on his knees, trembling with the strength needed to resist touching you. 

You haven't given him permission, so he keeps himself still. 

You cradle his face in your hands. He can feel the warmth of your palms caressing his cheeks, and he wonders— how can there be anyone who doesn't worship you? 

“Good boy,” you say, and Zhongli inhales sharply. 

For you, he wants to say. Only for you.

He doesn't, afraid to speak; afraid that to murmur even the softest of praises would cause you to pull away. 

Does he tell you, he wonders, that he wants you to play with his hair? Does he tell you he wants you to love him completely, innocently, selfishly? Does he tell you he wants you to touch his skin, anywhere if it means having that small piece of contact? 

“Where do you want me to touch you?” you ask, and he can hear the small tint of mirth in your voice.

The question strikes him dumb. His body burns and his blood is singing. Zhongli doesn't care if you find him amusing. No, he delights in it. It doesn't matter as long as he means something at all to you.

His fingers twitch, and just barely does he manage to keep his hands to himself. 

“Everywhere,” he breathes.

[long-live-aelin]

Unrequited Love

Quick background summary.

Reader is new to inner circle and is secretly in love with Azriel. Azriel is courting Elain and reader is jealous.

This is just something I couldn't get out of my head. It's not a fully fleshed out idea but thought I would post anyway. Enjoy!

----

I was leaning against one of the uppermost railings in the house of wind breathing the crisp air. The laughter and chatter of the people below echoed up to me and it reminded me of this time last year. My first Starfall would be a memory I would never forget.

I had spent the start of the night in exhilaration and excitement to the build-up to the stars falling, hoping that the view looked as stunning as everyone described. My breath left me when I saw those beautiful souls in the sky and it was unlike anything I had ever seen. I remember thinking that I was born to see those skies lit up in the most magical way.

I remember dancing with my friends who were steadfast becoming a new family. I had never had friends that I could call such a thing. I spent the night dancing upbeat songs with Mor and Feyre, songs that’s wild beat felt like it was echoing in my heart. Laughing at Cassian’s dancing, his booming laugh making me laugh. Slow dancing with Azriel at the end of the night my heart beating so loud in my chest I thought he could hear it. Ending the night with my feet so sore I thought I would never walk again, a wild smile on my face. Brightness bubbling in my chest how lucky I was to find Velaris, these people around me.

Tonight felt very different than that. The wild opposite. My chest felt hollow, longing haunting my every step. I didn’t know how long I could live with that hollowness in my chest reaching for something I would never get, it was madness. The moment I had arrived here I had avoided Azriel at any cost. I knew tonight would be tricky, so I convinced myself I wouldn’t have to see him. See him looking at Elain with his own longing showing on his face, so similar to how I knew mine would look looking at him. And I knew I couldn’t bear it, so I escaped up here after saying enough pleasantries to my friends that they wouldn’t suspect a thing. Mor had given me a brief sad look when she saw me, but I quickly looked away looking for the next person to say hello to so I could get away from the pity in her face. I was starting to regret telling her I was secretly in love with Azriel.

The longer I had stayed up here the more my worries seemed distant. The breeze singing its sweet song to me, the cold wind calming my frayed nerves and soothing my aching heart.

“I had a feeling I would find you here.” I started out of my thoughts, twisting around to the sound of Azriel’s voice at the door to the balcony, only a few steps from me. This balcony felt far too small for the distance I had been trying to keep from him the past few weeks. The closest I had been to him in a while. And god did he look good I could hardly stand it. He was wearing his usual black, but it was more tight fitting and smoother than the Illyrian leathers or the thick armored fighting clothes he wore so often. His shadows swirled haphazardly at his shoulders which I knew meant he was unsure.

He studied me, a serious look on his face. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

I shook my head not knowing what to say. I leaned against the railing subtly as much as I could trying to get distance.

His sharp eyes detected it. He looked back up at me his eyes narrowing even more.

He took a step toward me, a pleading look on his face.  “Y/N I just want to talk. If there’s something I have done tell me because I can’t take this anymore. We’ve been close for so long and every time I try to talk to you or even get close you, you back away like you can’t stand me.” He took another tentative step forward like I was a scared cat he was afraid would bolt at any second and he wasn’t wrong.

I shook my head once more. “You didn’t do anything.” I forced a smile onto my face and even its feeling felt too forceful for me. “Everything’s fine Az.”

He arched a brow smoothly. “I’m sorry but I find that hard to believe with how much you have been avoiding me the past few weeks. And then I find you up here hiding.”

“It’s just-“ my words failing me again. What could I say? I found it so hard to lie to him. How could I say the truth? Ever since you and Elain have been spending time together these past few weeks I can't stand to be around you because of my angry hateful jealousy?

“It’s just me Az, you didn’t do anything.”

“What’s just you?”

I made a frustrated noise, looking away from him toward's Velaris below. I was afraid the emotions on my face would reveal all. He was always so good at reading me.

“Please Azriel I can’t. Just not know.” I whispered.

“Than when y/n.” he said softly but sternly, “Because I know how good you are at keeping things bottled up and I’m not going to let it go on for any longer.”

“Oh what and your any better?”

He took an annoyed breath in, his chest expanding before letting it out in a rush. “No I’m not, we’re both great at holding things in. But I can’t walk away without knowing a reason why. Did I do something to hurt you? Say something I shouldn’t have? It’s been driving me mad the past few weeks and I can’t let it go. And don’t say it’s nothing, because I know you and somethings happened between us that I can’t understand. Somethings changed the way you look at me and all I can’t chalk it up too, is that you loathe me.”

My heart broke at his words knowing that I had hurt him. I couldn’t stand to know it. Even though it’s what I had preferred in the beginning when I was avoiding him. I had wanted him to think I was angry at him to hide my feelings. Had been happy to hide behind it. But now the shame of that, the cowardice and shame of everything washed over me. All the emotions I had kept bottled up started to raise to the surface and a cry broke from me. I looked away trying to stop it because I couldn’t stand to look at that pleading look on his face.

“I can’t tell you Az because I don’t want to loose you.”

He crossed the distance between us and turned my chin with one hand so I was looking at him again. And didn't let go so I couldn’t look away from those piercing eyes.

“You could never loose me." And I knew he meant it by the stern look on his face. He truly thought there was nothing that could ruin our friendship, but I wasn’t so sure. Even if he did mean it, things would change when I told him and never go back to the way they were. And I knew he meant what he said but I couldn’t hold it to him. Even when you don’t want it to feelings change and I knew that better than anyone.

“Why do you choose Elain?” I blurted.

His brows furrowed, confusion dancing on his features. “What?” 

“Why do you want to be with someone who doesn’t know what she wants?”

He leaned against the railing letting go of my face in shock.

“Love is tricky sometimes, it’s not always perfect.”

“No Az, love is when someone chooses you completely and doesn’t have thoughts of someone else in their head.  You know she is interested in Lucien. Why do that too yourself when there’s someone out there who will choose you? Want you.”

Az’s face turns angry like I’ve never seen before at least not directed at me. His amber eyes near glowing, his jaw set tight.

 “Oh and I suppose you know this from your experience? You have never experienced what it’s like to be in a real relationship how complicated it can be.”

I laugh hatefully. “I never want to experience love if that’s what it is. Pining after someone who doesn’t even respect you to let you go. Driving you mad to the point that you run to your friend every time she hurts you.”

He stood upright again off the railing and took a step toward me until he was looking down at me with those beautiful eyes so close I had to look up. His chest was rising up and down in angry puffs and as he got so close to me I could see the amber hues in his eyes near glowing. His anger was near radiating from him.

His sharp eyes studied me intently, too intently I wanted to look away.  “Where is this coming from, why are you so concerned by Elain’s intentions toward me?”

“I think I have a right as a friend to be concerned.”

“Answer the question.” He growled.   

"I'm in love with you!" I pushed him and he took a step back. I wasn't sure if it was from the shock or the force of my push. "And your in love with Elain and I can't stand it Az. I can't stand to see you two together because I've been in love with you since we met."

I took a big breath in realizing what I was saying. But I couldn't stop the words that I so desperately needed to get out. "and I know you'll never feel the same. And that's ok." My voice broke at the honestly in those last words, but it was like a weight off my shoulders saying it.

The shock on his face was all I saw before I turned away from him heading to the balcony door. I couldn't bare to hear the rejection from him so I ran away like the coward I was.

[nightplvmes]

birthday girl

you'd always known you had a different side of Sylus, a side no one else had because you couldn't remember a time he hadn't made you feel special. he had made your birthday special after so many years. ☆ sylus x fem!reader — fluff ! MDNI! ☆ birthday special ☆ an: hi! so it's my birthday!! and i wanted to post a special. it's not a long one shot and it's not a big deal, i thought about making it a bit more personal, mentioning that Sylus' birthday was also close but i felt like that would be tooooo self insert. anyway, save this and you can read it when your birthday is close 🫶🏻 i was planning to do something with the rest of the LIs so you all can read them on your bday too but i didn't have time, especially because of Sylus' birthday :( anyway, if anyone is interested in a special like this from another LI, you can request it <3 – likes and reblogs are appreciated!! :) ★ masterlist here

your birthday wasn't something you liked. you'd done your best to hide it from Sylus because didn't want to celebrate it, especially this year. you knew your efforts to hide it hadn't worked when you got home that night. you opened the door, and the lack of light made your brows furrow, but the small flicker of candles caught your attention.

Sylus was standing next to a table, his hands behind his back, and beside him was a beautifully set table. it was a dinner party, and you probably would have thought it was nothing more than a date night, if there wasn't a cake in the middle of the table. "what... what's this?" you asked, a lump beginning to form in your throat, even though you knew the answer perfectly.

"you thought you could hide your birthday, sweetie?" Your cheeks turned red. you'd suspected it; you knew he was going to find out somehow, but something inside you hoped he wouldn't.

"I... it's not important. I don't like my birthday." you shook your head. you expected something from him at home if he found out, and maybe something like a forced outing the next day as a celebration. however, you didn't expect that. you had called him an hour ago, and he had said he'd be home maybe two hours later because he still had a few things to do.

"it's important." Sylus approached you, his arms around, pulling you close to his body. "I cooked for you and this is your birthday dinner." a small smile spread across your face, and you felt... a kind of tranquility. it wasn't a lie that you had never liked your birthday, but there was something intimate about just the two of you, about this being your birthday celebration.

"when did you do this? I thought you were working." you placed a kiss on his cheek as he moved away from you enough to walk to the table where he had prepared dinner.

"when I said I had things to do, I meant dinner." a laugh escaped your lips. you didn't even know how he'd found out about your birthday; you'd kept it a secret until... a memory came back to you. yes, you could remember Luke and Kieran standing around you asking questions.

"so... you'd say your stay at Onychinus was good?" you looked at Luke with a frown and then at Kieran, who was sitting on your other side.

"I'm not even staying here. it's not a hotel."

"you're the boss' girlfriend. you sleep here all the time," Kieran said, making your eyes widen in a mixture of embarrassment and surprise. he wasn't actually lying, but it still wasn't a hotel you had come to talk about your stay there. your didn't work for Sylus either.

"yeah, my stay at Onychinus is good," you replied, giving up. the twins were too persistent, and you knew you wouldn't be able to win against them. at some point, you stopped listening to them completely; even Luke's voice sounded so distant that you only just started answering without thinking.

"how old are you?" it had been one of the casual questions Kieran had asked, even though they knew your age perfectly well.

"when is your birthday?"

"those two..." you muttered to yourself as you narrowed your eyes, remembering all of Luke and Kieran's questions. they had inundated you with questions to the point of exhaustion, so you'd answered everything without even thinking about it. Sylus chuckled as he sat down across from you, he'd realized you'd already figured it out, and that there was no evaluation for Onychinus residents—it was just him trying to find out your birthday. well, he'd done a pretty good job, you had to admit. "I can't believe you sent your two shadows to get information out of me," you muttered, annoyed.

Sylus seemed to be searching for something in his pocket, and it took him a couple of seconds to answer. "they were gathering information for an Onychinus project." you rolled your eyes, knowing it was a big lie and you were about to say something, but something stopped you suddenly.

Sylus placed a small box on the center of the table. for a second, you thought it was an engagement ring, but then you realized it was a necklace as soon as he opened it. but it wasn't just any necklace, it was obviously expensive; it was shaped like a kitten and surrounded by red diamonds. "what's this?" you asked, still open-mouthed in surprise, despite knowing the answer perfectly.

"happy birthday, kitten." that was enough to know it was his birthday present. Not only had he taken the time to research your birthday and prepare an entire dinner, he'd bought something else for you. something that was actually meaningful.

maybe you were too excited or too stunned that words came out of your mouth, but you didn't even know what you had said. when you came back from your little bubble, Sylus was behind you, helping you put the necklace on. "you didn't have to, really." you shook your head as he placed a kiss on your forehead before returning to his seat across from you.

"how could I act like your birthday didn't matter?" you narrowed your eyes at his words, knowing they were something you'd said last year after throwing him a surprise party. he'd used your own words against you.

you looked down at the necklace now on your neck and circled the tiny kitten with your fingers, gazing at it for so many seconds. you'd always known you had a different side of Sylus, a side no one else had because you couldn't remember a time he hadn't made you feel special. he had made your birthday special after so many years.

[straylightdream]

bed chem

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: yoon jeonghan x afb.reader, past seungcheol x afb.reader

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: coming soon

How you talk so sweet when you're doing bad things. That's bed chem. How you're looking at me, yeah, I know what that means. And I'm obsessed. Are you free next week? I bet we'd have really good

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞(𝐬): romance, porn with some plot, smut

𝐚𝐮(𝐬): nonidol

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: ?? 670 for the teaser

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: drinking

𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected sex (mc has an iud), dom jeonghan, brat reader, use of lube, big dick Jeonghan, pussy streching, doggy style, mating press, squirting, oral (both rec), fingering, pussy whipped jeonghan, p in v intercourse, mentions of past semi public sexual acts, mentions of past threesome. nicknames: angel, brat, good girl, baby (hers) Hannie, big boy, baby boy, sir (his)

𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 18+ nsfw

𝐚𝐧: inspired by the song of the same name by Sabrina carpenter. Thank you @aeristudios for helping me come with this idea and helping me work on this.

🎧: bed chem - sabrina carpenter

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-PREVIEW-

Seungcheol gives him a knowing look. “I feel like you and her would make a great pair.”

“As friends?”

“No sexually.”

“Haven’t you fucked her in a jucuzzi or something? Why would you want me to hook up with your best friend who you have fucked?” Seungcheol must be absolutely insane.

“I haven’t fucked her. I fingered her one time at the pool. While she kissed me like she was trying to suck the life out of me.”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “You’re fucking insane.”

“Listen Joshua walked in on us and nothing has happened since.”

“I stand by my statement you’re fucking insane.”

“I think you guys will be a good match. You have all the qualities she likes in a man.”

Cocking his brow he shakes his head. “Cheol what qualities would those be?”

“You are handsome, tall, you have a huge dick, and ladies fall at your feet.” Jeonghan knows he’s a catch. He doesn’t need his best friend to inflate his ego anymore. When it comes to getting any women he doesn’t necessarily have to put in a ton of effort.

“Don’t you have all the same qualities?”

“Sure, but she’s one of my best friends and I took someone seeing me finger her was a sign we shouldn’t fuck.”

“Cheol-“

Seungcheol gives him a gummy smile. “Listen, just flirt with her and see where it goes.”

Almost on cue Joshua is walking towards the table with you in tow. You’re dressed in a quite revealing sheer dress.

Immediately Jeonghan can tell Seungcheol and Joshua have planned this outing as a way to try to set him up with you.

The moment you’re in front of him he watches as your eyes travel up and down his body. You’re practically stripping him naked with your eyes in front of your shared best friends.

“So you’re the Hannie that Cheol always tells me about.”

“I’m going to get a drink, let's go Shua.” Seungcheol immediately leaves the two of you alone.

“You’ve heard about me?” Jeonghan cocks his head to the side.

“You’re just as good looking as he said you are.” You waste absolutely no time. “He says we would make a great pair.” It’s very clear Seungcheol is trying to play wingman.

“How so?” He brings his beer up to his lips.

“Something about you have a huge dick and you’ll fuck me so good I’ll cry.” A laugh passes his lips. He’s not used to a woman being so blunt with him.

“Is that so?”

“My type in men is the type that know how to fuck me good.”

“How are you so confident I would?” Jeonghan is well aware he’s good in bed, but he doesn’t want to let you know that right now.

“I don’t think our dear Cheol would lie about your abilities.” You lean close to him.

“Why would he know what I’m like in bed?”

“Oh sweet boy, Cheol told me all about the time you double teamed that girl.” Jeonghan has had one threesome ever with Seungcheol and he learned that fateful night he and Seungcheol don’t like to listen to each other. Him and Joshua are the pair that’s more compatible when sharing a woman. He has no issue having another threesome with Joshua. But Seungcheol is a definite no.

“I didn’t know Seungcheol was out there sharing what I’m like in bed.” Seungcheol has always been the town gossip once he got a little bit of liquor in him. Lord only knows what he’s shared with you.

“He didn’t give me too many details. He just told me you know how to use your huge dick. I’ve heard you fucked her so good she squirted. I can’t lie, I’ve never been able to achieve that. Maybe you could help me live my dream.”

My god you are just as insane as Seungcheol. What the fuck is happening. You’ve caught him fully off guard. He never had a woman leave him speechless like you have.