#it's only midnight and I've been writing this on and off for two hours...

[jakedustry]

𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐔𝐓 - 𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐌

IN WHICH Jake Sim loves hockey, he loves it so much he is willing to spend his every free minute on the ice skating, but he also finds himself falling in love with you—the only girl his coach doesn't want him to date. But with the way you look at him, can he stay far enough to keep his position as the captain?

pairing– hockey captain!Jake x fem!reader

featuring– Enhypen members, Dani and Manon of katseye, Taehyun and Huening of txt, Keeho and Intak of piwon

genre– Fluff, Smut, slightly angst

warnings/contains– SMUT, simp!jake, kinda love at first sight, protective father, good relationships with parents, food mentions, Jake is very much a dream boyfriend, jake has a license, lots of teasing and flirting, secrete relationship, reader is told to be slightly shorter than Jake, nicknames/pet names used, parents get in the way of their relationship, masturbation (m & f), sexting, nudes exchange, oral (m & f), unprotected and protected sex, not proofread

word count– 25.5k

playlist »» ❝ It took five seconds to fall in love and two more to make you mine ❞ — Elijah Woods

↪ izzy adds... I've spend a good amount of time just looking at this picture of Jake instead of writing but honestly...can you blame me? It's the way he looks at me, I just can't adalhdlad Anyways, i'm glad to finally show you my baby because I've been meaning to write a hockey romance for sooo long. And what better present could I give myself than finally publishing it AND with Jake as the star character haha

m.list

Ice. Water. They were the same thing, right? And if water was a necessity, ice was as well, wasn’t it? Because truly, it was. 

There is no difference. Ice is simply frozen water, something we need to survive. 

And you needed ice to survive. The feeling of freedom when you moved around, the way your skates clung to your feet perfectly, and especially the memories the ice held. You couldn’t just give up on them, no matter how much you tried to. 

It wasn’t because you wouldn’t want to, in fact, you’d do anything to be able to step on the ice rink again, but it wasn’t within your capabilities to argue about the matter. It was overnight, without any previous warnings or discussions, and as you were picking up your things to leave for the ice rink before school, your dad stopped you, and your whole world had crumbled down. I don’t want you on my ice anymore. His words ring in your ears to this day, making you feel worse each time.

When you were younger, it was part of your daily routine to spend the afternoon there, hanging around with the players until late nights. One of the perks of being the NHL player’s daughter, you suppose. But then, in the blink of an eye, the father-daughter moments you loved so much, suddenly stopped. 

At first, he tried to excuse it by telling you you needed to focus on your studies, but the more time passed, the more obvious it became that he simply didn’t want you around. Whenever you asked him if you could join him when he had training, he brushed you off without any good reason. It didn’t matter who was on the ice, if he had a lesson with the kids or people your age—you just couldn’t go. 

It’s been four months since you last got to skate, and it felt like a part of you was missing. 

“Why don’t you just go when he isn’t around then?” Your roommate, Daniela, asks, her eyes softening when she notices your tired expression as you stare at your phone, looking through old pictures. “I don’t want to go behind his back,” you mumble without glancing up at her. 

“But you want to skate,” your other roommate, Manon, reminds you. You nod, putting down your phone and sighing as you notice the worried looks on their faces. “Well, then, how about we all go together? I might be able to get us in after closing hours,” you offer.

“I’m sorry, angel, I need to finish this project by midnight, so I can’t,” Manon excuses herself, and Dani follows soon after, saying she has two exams in the morning. “But you should still go,” she encourages you. “Go and have fun. We know how much it means to you,” Manon agrees with her, and you know you can’t back away now. You’ll definitely go tonight. 

As soon as your feet stepped on the ice rink, it felt as if everything was back to how it was supposed to be. The cold air hit your face and all your worries, all the stress you were feeling in the past few days, have washed off. You moved quickly, the blades of your skates cutting through the ice with ease. 

In that moment, you knew there was nothing else you needed. As long as you had the ability to skate, nothing else mattered. 

So, just like that, it became a routine. Every day, shortly after ten, you’ve gone to the ice rink, borrowing the keys from the manager and staying there for an hour at least. Daniela went with you from time to time, keeping you company as much as she could but at the end, you realized it was more convenient to just go alone, without having to worry about the time you’d leave or come back. 

You didn’t mind. You were skating again and that was enough. 

“Hello, Mr. Park,” you greet him with a smile, just like you had many times before. “You’re earlier than usual,” he comments, putting on his jacket and taking out a bunch of keys from his pocket. You smile, grabbing the keys from him. “I needed to get out,” you shrug. 

“You kids seem to do that a lot,” he shakes his head slightly. “School is a lot on you, huh?” You don’t answer, knowing just one look is enough as a response. When was it not a lot? “I see,” he nods, understanding. “In that case, I hope it helps you clear your head. Both of you.” 

“Both of us?” You frown as you tug the keys into your pocket. “Dani isn’t with me today, I’m alone.” 

You catch a change in his expression, a small yet visible flicker in his eyes, and it almost feels like he is planning something, as if there was something meaningful behind his actions. “Mr. Park,” you narrow your eyes at him, trying to see through him. He chuckles, sending you a warm smile before patting your shoulder and walking away. 

You watch him confusedly until his figure disappears and you turn around again. That was…weird, to say the least. Still, you decide not to pay it much attention and do what you always do—go on the ice. 

You smile, letting the feeling sink in before you furrow your eyebrows, the loud movement of the puck ringing in your ears. You look around, your eyes following the hockey player on the other side. You stare at the number 4 on his back, frowning when you realize you don’t recognize him. You always knew the names of every player on the team, their practice schedules, positions, and even the rankings your dad had for them. But now…you had no idea who this one was. 

A part of you hated your dad for it. 

You hated him for taking it from you. For taking the excitement you felt when you watched hockey players or figure skaters. Now, you felt like there was nothing connecting you to those sports. 

You take a seat on the closest bench, switching your shoes to your skates. You’re tying the laces when a loud pank interrupts you, the sound of the puck hitting the plexiglass making you flinch. You raise your head, watching as the boy stops in front of you when he sees you. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes, pulling his helmet off with his empty hand, his hair sweaty. “That wasn’t meant to attack you or anything.” 

“I’m fine,” you brush it off, standing up with a casual shrug. “It’s not me you should be worried about, though. But rather your aim,” you point out. “And that stop didn’t look exactly stable, either.” You see him scoff, and slowly make your way toward the nearest entrance to the ice, your skates cutting through the surface with ease. 

“And who are you to judge? What exactly makes you think you know better than me?” he challenges you, his voice dripping with amusement as he leans on his hockey stick. 

You chuckle, turning slightly to look over your shoulder. You smirk. “Should I show you?” you tease, not bothered to wait for his answer as you swiftly push, gliding towards him, picking up your speed. 

His dark eyes widen in surprise and he drops his stick, his helmet following right after, expecting you to bump into him. However, you’re ready for that. With a swift movement, you take a sharp turn around him, coming to a perfect stop just behind him. “How’s that?” you ask, your voice filled with playful confidence. 

“Pretty good,” he breaths out, laughing in awe as he turns around to face you. “What’s your name, figure skater?” He asks, the mockery at the words ‘figure skater’ painfully obvious. “I’m not a figure skater,” you clarify, your movements precise as you pick up his dropped hockey stick. “I can handle the puck just as well,” you grin, imitating his moves from before and quickly scoring into the net. You strike a mockingly exaggerated bow, your name slipping past your lips, almost like a laugh in his face. 

What an introduction. 

“I’m Jake,” he says before picking up his helmet from the ground. You smile, skating backward away from him with his hockey stick still in your hands. He follows right away, and it’d be impossible not to notice the grin on his face. 

You take a few rounds around the rink, joking around with him as you skate backwards so you can see him. He has a cocky grin on his face, and for the first time, you don’t mind. You always hated seeing that look on men’s faces, when they thought they were above you, above everyone. But for some reason, his smirk didn’t look the same. 

At that moment, you think it might have hit both of you. The spark, the flame burning deep down in your stomach as you laugh together over nothing. 

You slow down so he can catch up to you. “Are you on the hockey team?” You ask even though you already know the answer. Of course, he is. The jersey made you figure out as much. “Yeah,” he nods. “The captain himself,” Jake laughs, speeding up to get in front of you and get the roles switched. “But I guess the coach made a mistake if there is so much I still need to develop.” 

“I mean, you’re decent,” you smile. “Oh, thank you. I appreciate that, figure skater,” he teases you again, but this time, you don’t hear any annoying mockery in his voice. “And anyway, the coach doesn’t make mistakes. He must have had something in mind when he made you the captain, number four.” 

“You seem to know a thing or two about him, huh?” You shrug. For a moment, your focus fades away as you think about your dad. You could have known the team sooner. You could have hung out with them just like with any of the other guys your dad trained. Sure, back then, you were a kid, so it was mostly just them looking after you, but you loved it nonetheless. You would give anything to feel that again. 

Jake uses the lack of your attention, grabbing the bottom part of his hockey stick and pulling you with him. You snap out of your thoughts, holding on tighter so you wouldn’t fall, letting him drag you around the ice rink. 

You stumble forward when he pulls with his full strength and you let go of the stick to be ready for the fall but before you hit the ground, his arms catch you, spinning you around as if it was a part of a performance. You end up laughing again. Honestly, you lost count of the amount of times he had made you laugh. 

“Thank you,” you mumble when he stops again, sending him a grateful smile. “For everything.” Jake shakes his head, “I didn’t do anything.” — “You did everything,” you correct him. “I needed this. So, thank you for reminding me why I love skating again.” 

Jake’s bag swings over his shoulder as he walks out of the ice rink with you, your bag in his other hand, despite all your protests. He insisted on carrying it for you, saying something along the lines of wanting to be gentleman-like. So you let him. 

“What exactly are you actually, figure skater? If you don’t play ice hockey or figure skate either, then what do you do?” He wonders as you lock the door behind you. “Nothing and everything,” you proclaim. “I grew up on this ice. I watched every game the Tigers played for the past thirteen years,” you shrug as if it was completely normal. It was normal, though. For you, at least. 

“So, are you some sort of Mowgli of the ice?” Jake laughs, causing you to do the same. “I guess you could say that. Even though it were still people who raised me, sometimes I feel like the ice rink had a big part in it too.” He nods, humming in response.

Jake ends up walking you to your dorm that night. You never mention who your dad is, nor what your last name is, because you don’t think it’s important. You talk about everything else with him—from your major, through your childhood hobbies, to your friends. You tell him all about it, and he tells you all about everything that he can think of at the moment as well. 

“Then, I’ll see you around, figure skater?” He wonders as he hands you back your bag, running his fingers through his hair. “Maybe,” you smile. “I hope you learn to stop more smoothly until we meet again, number four.” He chuckles, nodding. “I’ll do my best,” he promises, awkwardly snapping his fingers as he points at you and swallows what he wants to say next. You raise your eyebrows, questioning what it is, but he shakes his head, not saying anything else. He sends you one last smile before turning around on his heel. “Good night, figure skater.” 

“Night,” you mumble softly, smiling when you open your dorm door. 

“You’re acting weird,” Manon comments, eyeing you from across the room. You look up from your notes in your lap, raising an eyebrow at her in confusion. “What do you mean?” 

“Your book is upside down,” Dani points out and your eyes immediately fall down again. You quickly turn the book around, embarrassed. “For the last few days, you’ve been completely out of it. Why?” 

“I just can’t focus,” you sigh, resting your head against the headboard of your bed tiredly. “Tests?” Manon asks, but you’re not sure, honestly. Ever since that night, since you’ve met Jake, you couldn’t get him out of your head. You couldn’t stop thinking about how the hockey team was doing this season, who was on the team, and if your dad was still just as strict with them as before. 

You just wanted to be a part of the life again. 

“Boys?” Daniela chimes in. You give her a look—almost a warning one, but it only creates a smirk on her face. “Bingo.” 

“What boys? What do I not know about?” Manon’s eyes widen, searching for answers in your eyes. “Nothing,” you shoot back. “There’s no one. I’m thinking about the Tigers.” 

“Those, Angel, are men as well,” she reminds you with a teasing grin. “Some fine ones, may I add.” You roll your eyes at her, but you don’t argue. You might have only met one of them so far but if his teammates looked anything like him, it was only another reason to meet the team. 

You needed to convince your dad soon, no matter what. 

“So, what about the Tigers?” Dani asks, the study notes on her desk long forgotten as she turns all her attention to you. “I’ve heard they are doing pretty well this season. Apparently some good first years joined this year.” You hum in response, thinking about it for a second. 

“I met their captain a few days ago, he was training when I got to the ice rink so we skated together,” you admit, watching their eyes widen in excitement. “It was nothing like that,” you roll your eyes at them even though a part of you knows it was like that. You can’t forget about the way he made you feel that day. “It just got me to miss them even more. You know, watching their trainings and stuff.” 

Their eyes soften and you shake your head when you notice the pity in their expressions. “Good thing Uni is keeping me busy anyway,” you joke, but the sadness in your voice is painfully obvious. Still, they don’t press you any more, understanding when it’s the time to just stay quiet.

It’d be silly to say Jake found his love at first sight. 

Still, he can’t seem to get you out of his head, and it’s getting to the point it disturbs his everyday life. 

“How about you stop thinking about getting your dick wet and focus, captain?” Jake’s roommate asks, dropping his notes in front of him. The black-haired boy snaps out of his thoughts, picking up the small notebook. “What’s this?” He frowns, opening the first page. “Ideas for our next game’s tactics. Discuss it with the coach if you like any of it.”

“And really, start paying attention. If you fail your exam just because of some stupid girl and we lose our captain, I’m going to beat you up.” Jake laughs, nodding. “I’ll pass, Jay. I’ve been studying,” he assures him, but the snort that leaves Sunghoon’s lips on the other side of the room makes Jay worry again. “What?” He raises his hands in the air in defence when he sees Jake glare at him. “I didn’t say anything.” 

“You didn’t need to,” Jake rolls his eyes. 

“Look, guys, you don’t get it. You should have seen her! She was so cocky! She thought she could skate better than me!” He exclaims, a smile appearing on his lips as he thinks about the girl he met two weeks ago. “Honestly, she might have been better,” he chuckles. “I just know I was supposed to meet her there.” 

“And here he goes again with the fate thing,” Sunghoon scoffs, turning around on his chair to focus on his new skating choreography instead. “If you two are fated as you say, why haven’t you met again, huh?” Jay shakes his head at him, sighing. “Just look over the game plans. I’m going to the library,” he waves his two roommates a quick bye, grabbing his bag from the floor and leaving the dorm. 

The room falls silent for a moment before Jake speaks up again. “What if I went to see her?” 

“Oh God,” Sunghoon groans. There was nothing good that could come out of this. No matter how he looks at it, Jake’s sudden obsession could only go left. Still, it didn’t stop him. Before Sunghoon could say anything else, try to explain why it wasn’t the best idea, Jake was already up on his toes, packing up his laptop and some books for his afternoon lesson. 

“It’ll be fine,” he proclaims when he sees his roommate’s face, chuckling at his worries. “I’ll just say a quick hi to her, maybe get her number, and then I’ll go. I have math anyway, remember?” Sunghoon sighs, shaking his head. He lets him go, though, deciding to leave it up to him to deal with whatever he is planning to start. 

Jake hesitates as he stands in front of the same door he last saw you at, debating what he wants to say. Just as he reaches his hand up to knock on the door, the wooden furniture flies open and he almost bumps into a blond that tries to leave the dorm. He quickly blinks a few times, asking her if she’s okay. 

“Yeah, no worries,” she brushes it off, her eyes wandering all over his face curiously. “I feel like I’ve seen you before.” 

“Ah,” he offers his hand for a handshake with a smile. “Jake Sim. I, uhm, am the captain of the hockey team.” She chuckles as she shakes his hand, connecting the dots. “Daniella Avanzini.” 

Jake awkwardly rubs the back of his neck as he looks at her, realizing that he really had no plan at all when he came here. She, however, just smiles at him, and as if she knew what was going on through his head, she informs him you’re not home at the moment. He nods, quickly apologizing as he turns on his heel to leave. 

“Wait,” she stops him, her grin somehow mischievous. “She mentioned you before, just so you know. If you want, she plans to go skate at ten tonight again. I need to study so I can’t go with her, maybe you could keep her company.” 

Without realizing what he is doing, Jake’s lips turn into a smile and he nods, saying his goodbye quickly and running to his lesson. 

It’s six when Jake arrives at the ice rink, cursing himself out for being late. Coach was going to kill him sooner or later. He does his best to change as fast as possible but when he steps on the ice, it’s already 6:12. 

“Sim, you’re late!” Coach yells at him from across the rink, only sparing him a mare look before turning his attention back to the boys in front of him, watching them closely. “Practice speed drills,” he proclaims, quickly entrusting for Jay to lead it as he walks towards the team captain. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” Jake apologizes without hesitation. “I got caught up in school work but I’ll make sure I’m on time from now on.” Coach scoffs, shaking his head slightly and patting his shoulder. “I get it kid, don’t worry about it.” Jake confusedly glances Jay’s way but he is too busy with his own thing to notice. Something feels wrong. He shouldn’t be this understanding. 

“You–You do?” 

Coach chuckles, nodding. “I have a kid myself, I know how hard it can be for you youngsters.” 

Jake’s brows furrow but he nods anyway. He isn’t sure why he is so calm about it but if Coach is in a happy mood, he doesn’t need to piss him off. “Right, thank you,” he mumbles, offering a small smile before putting on his helmet and joining the others. 

“Dude, how are you this late and still alive and breathing?” One of the guys, Huening, asks as he comes to a stop right before the captain. Jake simply shrugs, glancing back at the coach again. “Not sure, but not complaining either,” he says, patting Kai’s shoulder slightly as he looks around to see how everyone’s doing. 

“Okay, I need to warm up. Jay, you got it for a bit?” He calls at the older man, receiving a simple nod in return. “Okay! No more lazing around, let’s go!” Coach yells at the same time as Jake starts moving again, tilting his head slightly. This seemed more like the coach he knew so well. 

The training goes on; from passing, through rebound drills to a full practice game where Jake almost curses out one of his closest friends, Heeseung, after they collide together and both bump into the plexiglass, causing Jake’s vision to blur for a few seconds. And when they finish, they all skate to one side where Coach is already waiting for them, a pen and notebook in his hands. 

Jake groans, tiredly plopping down onto the ice and taking down his helmet, brushing his sweaty hair back so they won’t get in front of his eyes. The rest of the team follows shortly after, until it’s only the coach standing. 

“Okay, first off, you all did well today, and I’m sure you know what you each need to work on so I’m going to make it short,” he says before handing his notes of the practice to the captain so he can go through them with his teammates later. “I won’t be able to be here on Friday so please, practice just as if I was and focus on the things I pointed out,” he continues, signaling to the notebook Jake is holding. “And after you’re done, you’ll find videos from some games in my office, take it as your homework and study them before our next game.” 

They all chant in unison, assuring him they will. “Alright, any questions or suggestions from anyone?” Jake looks around. “Well, actually,” Huening clears his throat nervously. “I’ve been thinking– I mean, we’ve been thinking,” he directs to a few guys around him. “A lot of teams gain their popularity online and you know, we only have our instagram account that no one really visits anyway. Maybe…we could get a media girl or something?” 

“A media girl?” Coach questions. 

“Someone who would film videos for us, take pictures and take care of our media for us,” Taehyun explains simply. 

“More people would know about us that way which also means more people to cheer for us at games,” Heeseung joins in. “More pretty girls thirsting over us,” he adds with a laugh, high-fiving with Keeho beside him. 

The coach tilts his head, watching the boys in front of him as he thinks about it, eventually nodding. “Sure, if you can find someone who’s willing to, then why not,” he approves and the guys cheer quietly. 

Jake’s eyes widen as it hits him, immediately raising his head to join the conversation. “I think I know of someone.” Jay catches the small spark in his eyes and shakes his head, knowing damn well what he was thinking about. He wasn’t even surprised. 

“So, who are you thinking about?” Keeho asks as he takes off his gear in the locker room. Jake’s lips turn up into a smile just at the thought of you, and that’s enough for all the guys to corner him, questioning him about this someone on his mind. “What? Are you too scared one of them is going to flirt with her before you can?” Jay teases, shaking his head as he walks into the showers, a towel wrapped around his waist. 

“Oh? So your girl?” Heeseung wraps his hand around Jake’s shoulder but he escapes right after, grabbing his towel quickly to run to the shower instead. “Not my girl. Yet, at least,” he finally speaks up, disappearing before anyone can say anything else. 

Jake might not be the most responsible person on Earth or the most punctual, but when he knows a girl he can’t stop thinking about will be somewhere at ten, you can be sure he will be on time. 

Your eyes widen when you notice him sitting at one of the benches, a phone in his hands and his skates ready on his feet. Unlike the other day, this time he isn’t wearing his gear. He has a simple dark grey hoodie on with black pants, and you can’t help but smile. 

“You got lost, number four?” You ask as you slowly approach him. He looks up from his phone, grinning as he puts it aside. “My name is Jake, figure skater,” he reminds you while still keeping up. He watches you as you sit down next to him, putting on your skates. “And I am not a figure skater, Jake,” you say, unable to contract your smile as you glance at him again. 

“Guess I’ll have to think of a new nickname for you then.” 

“I guess you will,” you nod, standing up when you finish lacing your skates. “I’m not sure what you’re doing here but…first to be on the other side wins?” you suggest playfully, already stepping on the ice before he can even register your words. As soon as he does, he quickly tries to catch up to you, putting all his skills to use just to be faster than you. 

And he manages, even though it’s not the way he’d want. 

Just as he catches up to you, you step badly and the next thing he knows, you’re on the ice and he is turning around to get to you again as fast as he can. “Are you okay?” He asks, the worry in his voice painfully obvious. You take his hand when he offers, standing back up awkwardly. “I’m good.” 

He sighs in relief, shaking his head at you slightly. He ruffles your hair and you yell immediately, making him laugh. “Alright, bambi, I think I won. What’s my reward?” He teases, the nickname making you frown. “Bambi?” He only smirks, slowly skating away from you, not taking his eyes off you in the process. “Fine, what do you want?” You ask, your skates cutting through the ice once again as you follow him. 

“We need a media girl,” he admits without a second thought. “I said I would find one. And I want you.” His words send shivers down your spine. You bite your bottom lip, watching him nervously while thinking about it. But really, if Jake tells you he wants you, can you refuse? 

“The coach agreed to this?” You ask before giving him an answer. As much as you’d love to hold onto this excuse to be on the rink, you still don’t want to just go behind your dad’s back like this. “Yeah, he said I can handle it. He has a big thrust in me, you know,” he says proudly, making you chuckle. “I’m sure he does.” 

“We have practice on Friday. Come by, I’ll introduce you to the team and you can decide then. I’ll understand if they piss you so much you won’t want to work with them,” he jokes. 

“And what if you’ll be the one annoying me so much that I decide not to?” You grin and he rolls his eyes. You manage to do a full lap by then, still following him around the ice rink. 

“Also, I want two rewards,” he proclaims all of a sudden before stopping. You mimic his movement with a raised eyebrow. “And why exactly should you get two?” 

“Because I’m amazing?” Despite his lame act, a chuckle escapes your lips and he knows he’s already winning. “Egoist maybe, yeah,” you smirk, scanning his face with your eyes. “Okay, what is it? I warn you though, if it’s stupid, I’ll kick you to the balls.” 

“Not my kids!” He fake-gasps dramatically, putting his hands in front of his crotch to prove his point. You laugh again, shaking your head. He smiles when he sees you, and the moment you notice it, you feel like something shifts between you. You swallow a lump in your throat, prompting him to finally tell you what he wants. You know you will definitely think about that smile of his later, though. 

“Okay, jokes aside, I want your number,” he admits, your eyes widening. “Why?” He chuckles. “What do you mean ‘why’? I want to be able to talk to you. I mean, what if I decide to stay late for training and need a goalie?” 

“So that’s what I’m good for, huh?” 

“That and maybe…just in case I feel a bit lonely here all alone,” he whispers, skating away again before you can say anything. You take a deep breath, sorting out your thoughts before you follow him, taking a turn towards the exit while he takes another lap around. 

You grab his phone from the bench, showing it to him. “Come here and unlock it if you want it!” You don’t have to say more. Jake doesn’t show any signs of hesitation before rushing to you, barely stepping off the ice as he takes the phone away from you. You chuckle at how determined he is, writing down your number when he hands you the phone again. 

“Why exactly am I a bambi now?” You frown as you watch him add a contact name. “Smile,” he says instead of answering, positioning the phone right in front of his eyes to get a picture of you from his perspective. He isn’t much taller than you but you still look up, forming an awkward smile. You’re not sure why, but there is a smile on his lips when he lowers his phone again. A smile so adorable you want to savor it. 

“Bambi is a cute animal,” he proclaims suddenly, making you blink a few times. “And even though you scared the shit out of me for a moment when you fell down, you were kind of like a bambi.” 

“I’m not sure what that means or if I like it.” 

“I’m telling you you’re cute,” he clarifies and a blush creeps up your cheeks. “See?” He shows you the picture of you he just took and your cheeks just redden. You do look pretty cute in that. “Thanks,” you mumble, avoiding eye contact with him and trying to get past him on the ice again. He laughs quietly at that but still steps aside to let you go, putting his phone back down. As he turns around to join you again he stops for a second, simply admiring you as you spin around, doing a few tricks as you have the space now. 

A part of him wishes to watch you like this forever. 

“Did you know I’d be here?” You ask as you walk side by side with him outside, your hands in your hoodie pocket to keep them warm. “I did,” he admits. “I met Daniela earlier today when I stopped by your dorm and she told me you’d be here at ten.” Dani, I need to thank you for the rest of my life, you think, chuckling softly. “I see.” 

“She seems nice.” 

“She is,” you agree. “And so is Manon.” Jake smiles, fixing the strap of your bag as it falls off his shoulder. “Wait, shit, that means they’ll ask me about you,” you groan at the realization. Maybe you weren’t going to thank Dani for so long after all. Yes, you did enjoy your time with him but that didn’t mean you were ready for their questions when you got back. Honestly, a part of you wanted to keep it just between the two of you. A secret only you two knew about. 

“Oh, yeah? What are you going to tell them?” He teases, leaning slightly down to reach your ear. You roll your eyes at how cheeky he sounds, pushing him off again. “That you’re childish.” 

He chuckles. “And? What else?” 

“That you still can’t skate.” He fake-gasps. You bite your bottom lip, rethinking your words as you remember the moments you spent with him on the ice. “And, maybe, that I enjoyed tonight,” you mumble, so quietly he almost doesn’t hear you. 

“So you do like me!” He grins, clenching his fist in excitement as if he had just won a match against the strongest team in the league. You scoff, shaking your head at him. “You’re an idiot.” 

“Idiot you might consider going out with?” Jake asks, turning his head to face you, the hope in his eyes obvious. Your breath catches in your throat, the question loud and clear. Your eyes widen and you quickly glance at him to see if he’s being serious or just joking around. When you gaze into his eyes, you get your answer. 

“Maybe,” you mumble, averting your gaze again. “If you try hard enough.” 

And he does. He tries as hard as he can. Not only does he walk you to your door again, almost being dragged in by Manon when she sees him, but when he gets to his own dorm, he’s already texting you. It’s a stupid question, one that makes you raise your eyebrow, but it gets the job done, and you end up texting him for the rest of the night. 

You don’t think you’d be able to hide the smile he creates on your face even if you wanted to. 

Especially when he keeps sending you random pictures. Of his face, his roommates, of the notes he is studying at the moment, anything and everything. He’s cute, you have to give him that. 

Your Thursday lessons pass by in the blink of an eye and Friday rolls in faster than you’d expect. Jake provided you with the team practice schedule the day before and you were never this happy to know most of your lessons were in the morning and didn’t collide with any of their practice hours. 

You weren’t sure how you’d face your dad just yet, but that was a fight for your future self. Right now, the first thing on your list was to get out of your room as fast as possible so you can still make it to class on time. 

“You know, just saying like, you don’t need any makeup. So maybe, if you just ditched that, you won’t have to rush so much now,” Jake comments, watching you as you sit at your table, finishing up your hair. You glare at him. “I’m not letting you here again,” you warn him and he immediately raises his hands in surrender. “I got you coffee, come on!” You avert your gaze again so he wouldn’t see your smile. Because he did, and god damn. Who would have thought a man showing up at your door in the morning with a cup of coffee could be so fucking attractive? 

Manon and Dani left shortly after he came but they didn’t forget to mimic kissing together before they walked out of the door. You had to roll your eyes at them because even though Jake’s lips looked attractive, you weren’t just going to make out with him in your room when you were already running behind so much. 

“Okay, let’s go,” you proclaim, quickly collecting your books into a bag as you glance at him. He’s smiling when his eyes lock with yours, and it makes you melt just a bit more. “What?” you question, feeling slightly embarrassed with his eyes on you. “You’re pretty,” he says, standing up from your bed and handing you your cup of coffee. You blink a few times but before you can say anything, he is already out of the door. 

“Jake, you’re impossible,” you mumble, feeling your cheeks heat up. 

You catch up to him quickly, sipping on your drink as you walk side by side with him, sneaking glances at him until he calls you out on it. “You can just say you like my face and I’ll let you look at it all day but don’t be this secretive about it. You’re not good at it anyway,” he chuckles and you close your eyes in regret. You weren’t sure if letting Jake into your life was such a good idea after all. 

What even were you doing, honestly? Skating together at night, texting all day and at night where you should be long asleep, and now this. Why exactly did he just turn up at your door unannounced with your favorite coffee order as if it was normal? As if he’s been doing it for ages. 

But no matter how weird or rushed it might seem, it felt somehow right. You didn’t mind the attention he was giving you, and you definitely didn’t want him to stop. If anything, a part of you was just waiting for him to take a step forward. 

“I’m not looking at you,” you argue, averting your eyes. 

“Right, and I’m absolutely terrible at hockey,” he scoffs, shaking his head. “It’s fine, you can steal glances all you want. But just because it’s you.” 

You feel your heart skipping a beat at his words. He had his way of gently flirting with you and it was making you crazy. You knew he was interested in you, you’d be blind not to notice that, but you still didn’t know what to do with his compliments and flirting, how to react to them. 

When you got to class, you thought that was your moment, a free minute to think about everything and figure it out, figure Jake out, but you’ve barely settled down in the class when your phone buzzed, announcing a message from no one else but the lost puppy himself. 

Jake: one attachment You: what exactly am I looking at?  Jake: flowers You: yes, I see that You: but why? You: also don’t you have a lesson?  Jake: oh, no, I’m free for another hour so I’m just walking around campus Jake: saw these and thought of you

You stared at the messages, a blush spreading across your face. He couldn’t get any better. Everything he did, every little comment or action, made you feel important, seen. And honestly, you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep talking to him without pulling him into a kiss and claiming him yours. 

Because right now, there was nothing you wanted to do more. 

At five, you arrived at the ice rink, the loud chatter of the boys from the locker room reaching you right after you stepped inside. You chuckle at it, the familiar feeling making you at ease. You sit down at one of the benches, pulling out your phone and scrolling through your messages—a few emails from the school, a message from your girls, wishing you good luck, and also a text from your mom. You quickly open the text, smiling softly as your eyes land on a picture of your mom in a red dress, asking you if she looks good. You immediately tell her that she’s beautiful and ask her what she’s getting ready for. 

Just as you do, the guys’ voices grow louder and you look up, watching them step on the ice one after another. You immediately find Jake with your eyes, your smile widening as he waves at you, skating to the plexiglass in front of you. “Come here, I’ll introduce you.” 

You step on the ice in your sneakers, awkwardly smiling at the few boys staring at you. “Coach is out today, said he’s got something with his wife. He might seem a bit scary at first but he is nice, the biggest Tiger of us all,” he explains with a smile, his hair falling in front of his eyes. So that’s what mom is getting ready for, you realize. 

“Oh, wait, you probably know him already, right? Would be weird if you haven’t after, what, thirteen years, huh?” He laughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, quietly cursing at himself to just shut up. You chuckle, sending him a reassuring smile, your heart making a little flip at the way he remembers your words. 

“Okay, well, these are the tigers. Boys, our new media girl,” your name sounds fancy on his lips, little too good, honestly. You scan the faces in front of you, a few familiar ones you remember from the hallways or parties. “If you need any help, feel free to text me,” a taller guy skates towards you, reaching his hand out. You grab it hesitantly, your eyes narrowing at the smug smirk on his face. 

“Back it off, Hee,” Jake warns him, almost pushing him out of the way, which only gets the older man to laugh. “No need to worry. I’m not stealing your girl,” Heeseung chuckles, turning his head towards Jay with a knowing grin. They exchange a few words but you don’t catch them anymore, not when Jake starts talking to you, mumbling a quiet sorry. 

“It’s fine,” you shake your head. “But…” a smile spreads across your lips as you gaze into his eyes, tilting your head slightly. “Your girl? How come I don’t know about that?” The worry in his eyes disappears, a hint of mischief replacing it. “They can probably just see the look in your eyes,” he proclaims, leaning in closer to reach your ear. “You’re basically undressing me with your gaze, Bambi.” 

You scoff, but before you can say anything, Jake is already skating away, leading their training and you have no other choice but to go back to the bench and think about it, about him. Were you doing that? Surely not… right? 

You watch Jake lead the practice and something in your shifts. As if he wasn’t already attractive enough, seeing him like this, helping everyone out and yelling at them what to do, he felt somehow hotter. 

Maybe you were actually undressing him with your eyes when you thought about it. 

And as if that wasn’t already enough on its own, every chance he got, he found a way over to you, asking you what you thought about them, if you were enjoying yourself, and also occasionally just saying a stupid joke that just came to mind. You laughed each time. Because no matter how stupid the joke might be, you weren’t thinking straight at the moment. 

“So, what do you think? Am I good?” He leans against the plexiglass, a smug smile on his lips. You shake your head with a chuckle, stepping closer to him. For a moment, you completely forgot about the other guys on the other side of the rink, only focusing on the golden retriever in front of you. “You’re not too bad.” 

“In that case,” he starts, quickly glancing around to make sure none of his teammates are standing behind him, ready to tease him to death the moment they hear him say the words out loud. “Can I finally take you out? Who wouldn’t want to date the greatest player on the hockey team?” 

You roll your eyes at his confidence but don’t refuse. Instead, you think. “Alright, Manon and Dani will be gone for the weekend but I said I’d stay at the dorm. If you want, you can come over and we can watch something.” 

He narrows his eyes, shaking his head. “No.” 

“No?” 

“I want a proper date with you. Not fuck you on the couch with a movie in the background just because you have an empty place,” he states, gazing into your eyes. Even though, if he was honest, he could still fuck you on the couch after the date if you wanted. 

Your breath hitches just so slightly as you look at him, averting your eyes. God damn it, Jake. He was better and better each second, and if he was in for the long game, so were you. “Fine, then pick me up,” you mumble, refusing to look at him again. But Jake doesn’t mind because he heard what he wanted, and he couldn’t be happier at the moment. 

You groan and close your eyes as you hear Jake turn around and yell “She said yes!” at his teammates, regretting your choice of date for a second. But when he glances at you again with his little boyish grin, you completely forget about it, telling him to get back to practice with a smile on your face. 

When the practice wraps up, your phone is full of pictures you took of the boys as they practice (most of them of Jake because every time he saw you pulling out your phone, he got into the shot), and it makes you smile again. Just being here with them makes you happy. Watching them bicker and tease each other, it was exactly what you were missing before. 

A few of the guys pat your shoulder as they leave, something about wishing you good luck but honestly, Jake is the only one you can focus on again. “Undressing me again, aren’t we?” He teases and you roll your eyes. “You’re on thin ice, boy. Might have to reconsider our date,” you warn him and he immediately raises his hands in surrender. 

“Okay, my mouth is shut,” he says, getting off the ice as well. He takes off his helmet, his lips turning up in a smile again as he watches you. “Wait for me? I’ll be quick.” You nod without a second thought, agreeing. 

It’s the third time he walks you back to your dorm from the ice rink. It might seem like a simple gesture, and really it is, but you still feel the warmth in your chest. You find yourself opening up to him more than night, sharing a few of your dreams and places you want to visit with him and he doesn’t miss out on the opportunity to offer you to go there with you. You brush him off but honestly, when you think about it, it doesn’t sound bad at all. 

“Darling, we haven’t seen you in so long. I miss you.” You smile gently as you listen to your mother’s voice, sipping on your morning coffee. At eleven. “I know, I’m sorry. But I have a break in a month, I’ll definitely come home then, I promise,” you say, a part of you feeling sorry that you haven’t been around for so long. Your mom sighs, putting her hand over the phone microphone as she shares the information with your dad. You catch a glimpse of his voice in the background but it’s not loud enough so you could make out words out of it. 

“And why not this weekend, Angel? I’ll make your favorite food.” You hesitate for a second, debating on if you should tell her or not. But in the end, honesty wins. After all, it’s your mother who you’re talking about. The same woman who held you in a tight hug after your first breakup, who told you stories about princes, saying she wishes you nothing less than a charming prince who would love you dearly. You knew she’d be happy to hear about it. Even if it means you won’t come home this weekend. 

“I’ve actually got a date later tonight,” you mumble and the soft gasp that leaves her lips makes you chuckle. “Oh my! Who is the lucky boy?” 

“He’s…” a smile spreads on your lips as you think back to the puppy-like-boy who’s been flirting with you since you first met him on the ice rink. “An engineering student. He…He’s nice to me, mom. And makes me smile a lot. I like him.” 

“That’s great,” she nods, approving quietly. “In that case, I hope you’ll have fun tonight. And, darling.” You narrow your eyes, catching the suspicious tone in her voice. She has something planned and whatever it is, it can’t be good. “If it works out, bring him with you next time. I’d like to see him.” And you were right. Even though you knew your mom would love Jake if she met him and that Jake would love your mom, thinking about bringing him to meet your parents when you haven’t even had one date yet wasn’t something you wanted to do. 

Still, you force a smile, almost as if she could see you through the phone. “Of course. I’ll see how it goes.” 

The conversation changes shortly after as she asks about Manon and Dani. You tell her about how they are doing in school, how you are holding up, and the conversation just flows naturally after that. 

At one point, she hands the phone to your dad and you repeat everything you just said, well, except for the fact you were going on a date. While your mom was always excited when you told her about boys you were interested in, you saw the way your dad’s jaw clenched just at a mention of a boy’s name. And while you loved being his little princess while you were little, you thought his overprotectiveness now was unnecessary. 

It’s around five when you hear the knock on the door. You get up from the chair you’ve been sitting in and open the door, your eyes falling on Jake immediately. He is wearing jeans and a simple white shirt with his denim jacket over it but god, he looks fine. 

“Why didn’t you call or text? I would have gotten ready first,” you mumble, stepping aside so he can walk inside. He just shakes his head, saying something about being able to be with you for longer like this. You sigh, closing the door behind him. “Alright then, how fancy do you want me?” He smiles, glancing back at you. “I want you comfortable,” he proclaims and this time it’s you shaking your head. Alright, fancy it is. 

Jake settles down on your bed, his eyes following you as you scan the clothes in your closet. Then, finally, your eyes land on a brown dress, one you know hugs your body well. You glance at him with a teasing smile before grabbing the piece and disappearing into the bathroom to get dressed. 

When you walk out again, Jake’s jaw is practically on the floor and he has to hold himself back as he leans against the wall, watching you from the comfort of your bed. “God,” he breathes out and you chuckle, whispering a quiet thank you as you sit down at the table beside him so you could do your makeup. “You’re beautiful, gorgeous.” 

A smile spreads across your lips without you being able to control it, looking at him through your mirror. “You already convinced me to go on a date with you, no need to try so much anymore.” He only shakes his head at your words, “I’m not trying for anything. I mean it. You look amazing, love.” The nickname sends a shiver down your spine but you don’t let it show, applying your makeup and trying to ignore the blush creeping up your cheeks. 

“Alright, let’s go,” you say, turning to face him. He smiles when you do, averting his eyes from you for the first time since you sat down as he gets up, offering you his hand immediately. You roll your eyes at how cheesy he is but hold his hand nonetheless, letting him lead you out of your dorm. 

“Where are we going?” You wonder, following him to his car. You walk slightly ahead of him, trying to open the car door but it’s locked. He chuckles, shaking his head as he reaches you, unlocking the car with a simple click of a button and then opening the door for you. “You think I’d let you open that on your own?” You blink a few times, sliding into the passenger seat without another word. You weren’t sure how you were going to survive the night if he had your heart racing so much already. 

The drive is calm, quiet, with jvke playing on the radio, only setting the mood for what’s to come. You softly hum to the songs as you look out the window, smiling. You weren’t even doing anything yet and it already felt nice. Just being with him, spending time together, was enough. 

When the car stops again and you try to open the door to step out, Jake sends you a warning glare, making you chuckle. Your hand falls back to your side while he walks around the car, opening the door for you and offering you his hand to help you step out. You shake your head at him, squeezing his hand tighter as he locks his car. “You really don’t have to do all that.” 

“Opening the door for you is the least I can do,” he assures you, the puppy eyes he gives you making your heart skip a beat. “Let’s go, everything is prepared already,” he says, taking you towards one of the buildings beside you. 

Your mouth falls open in awe as you step on the empty rooftop, your eyes landing on the blanket set in the middle with two baskets full of—how you assumed—food. You glance at him immediately, your eyes wide as you search for anything that might prove this isn’t real. Because honestly, how could it be? How lucky did you have to be to meet this man? 

“How did you–” 

“I have connections,” he shrugs, smirking when he sees your face. The innocent smile, with those wide eyes of yours was something he could look at forever. “I wasn’t sure what you would like but I thought dinner couldn’t go wrong, right?” He asks, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. You don’t answer him immediately. Instead, you move your hand to his forearm, squeezing it tightly as you stand on your tiptoes, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. 

Jake has to blink a few times to process what’s happening and before he can do anything, grab your waist, kiss you on the lips, smile, respond, anything, you’re already walking away, sitting down on the blanket he prepared earlier. 

He chuckles, shaking his head in awe as he comes to sit down beside you. You smile as you watch him, genuinely happy. “This is amazing, Jake. You couldn’t have made the first date better.” He smiles as well, opening the basket and taking out a bottle of wine. “I assure you it will be even better with this wine.” You laugh, taking out two glasses out of the basket and moving them towards him so he could pour the wine. 

The night went on with Jake feeding you all sorts of fruits he brought after you ate a dinner he ordered, drinking wine under the moonlight and watching the stars appear in the sky as you talked about all sorts of things. You’ve found a comfort rhythm together, making it feel easy to talk to him. And honestly, it felt almost like you were an old couple already, on your tenth date as least. It was a comfortable feeling. 

“Do you have any plans for the upcoming break?” You ask, taking a bite of a strawberry. “I was planning to go home, be with my parents and hang out with the guys. Riki has been bothering me about wanting to go out play basketball lately,” he laughs quietly at the thought, his smile turning into a teasing grin when his eyes land on yours again. “Why? Want to do something together?” 

You hesitate, rethinking if it was an appropriate topic of conversation when it was only your first date but the look in his eyes reassured you that whatever you want to say, he isn’t going to run away. “I might have mentioned you to my mom earlier today,” you admit and his eyes immediately light up. “Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “Said that you’re an annoying little puppy that has been following me around for weeks,” you stick out your tongue, making him laugh. “Yeah, and what else?” He teases, leaning back on his elbows. Your eyes shift to something more serious but the smile on your lips never leaves. “That I like you, and hope this works out.” 

“I like you too,” he says without a second of hesitation and you can feel your cheeks heating up. He said it as if it was easy, no big deal. “She told me to bring you with me,” you add, searching for any sign of discomfort in his eyes. He doesn’t budge a bit though, his smile only growing wider as he nods. “I’d like that, for sure. Riki and his basketball can wait.” 

“Are you sure? You should probably be with your family. And if Riki has been asking you for so long–” 

Your name leaves his lips, interrupting you. Your cheeks flush pink and you gaze into his eyes again, swallowing a lump in your throat. God, why does your name sound so good coming from his mouth? “I’d let Riki wait for the rest of my life if it means being able to spend more time with you.” 

“He probably wouldn’t like hearing that,” you say, trying to mask the fact your heart is practically about to jump out of your chest. Because Jake? He had a way with words. But not only that. In the end, it came down to him as a whole. The way his eyes wandered over your body, the way he always knew what to say and do, the way he put so much effort into your first date—yeah, you did want to bring him to meet your mom. Who cared that this was only your first date? You knew it wasn’t the last. 

“That’s fine. I only care about what you like hearing.” You roll your eyes at him playfully, finishing the rest of the wine you had in your glass before standing up, walking to the rooftop edge. You lean forward, looking down at the street beneath you, watching the cars drive through and people walk to their homes. 

Jake admires you for a second before getting up as well, walking over to you. He hesitates for a second but then hooks his arm around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder with a smile. You freeze for a moment, slowly turning your head towards him. “Jake,” you whisper, your breath landing right on his lips. “Yeah?” Your breath hitches as you gaze into his eyes, his close presence sending shivers down your spine. Not in a bad way, though. A far from it, actually. 

Your eyes flicker from his eyes to his lips and that’s all Jake needs before quickly spinning you around so your body would face him. He doesn’t wait for anything anymore and crashes his lips with yours, his hands coming to hold your head. His thumb brushes over your cheek as he pulls you closer to himself, kissing you as if you were the air he breathes. As if you were the only person in the world. 

And you kiss him back with just as much passion, one of your hands resting on his chest while the other holds onto his shirt, keeping him as close as possible. His right hand slowly moves down to explore the curves of your body, fingers digging into the skin on your waist in an almost possessive way. You moan under his touch, never pulling away, not even as his hand slides lower, wandering over your thigh before holding onto it, making you raise your leg and wrap it around him. 

“Fuck, wait,” Jake is the first to pull away, breathles as his fingers dig into the flesh of your thigh, still holding your leg around his waist. “Wait,” he repeats, resting his forehead against yours. He closes his eyes, a soft groan leaving his lips. Your eyes widen, and even though he told you to wait, you kiss him again, the little sound he left out driving you crazy. 

Your body fits perfectly with his and you melt into him, the movements so natural you forget this is the first time your lips met him for a moment. Jake pulls away again, stopping you before things can turn in the wrong direction. Because fuck. He felt that kiss in every part of his body. 

“What’s wrong?” You frown, slowly standing on both of your feet again. “Nothing!” He panics immediately, his eyes shooting up to meet yours. “No, this was– This was perfect, like I can’t even–” You chuckle as he stutters, trying to find the right words. His cheeks have turned pink, making him cuter than you’d admit. “I just,” he clears his throat, trying to regain his composure. “I don’t want our first date to go like that.” 

You raise an eyebrow at that before it finally clicks and you realize what he’s referring to. Your eyes soften, your lips turning into a smile. You can see it all in his eyes, the way he holds himself back, the way he eats your whole body with his eyes and yet, still only thinks about how to make your date perfect. 

“Alright, but what if I want to kiss you again?” 

“Then I’ll try really hard not to get hard.” 

You chuckle, the smile staying on your lips as you watch him. “Come here,” you say and he closes the space between you again. You place a soft kiss on his cheek, your hands resting on his shoulders. “Thank you. For trying so hard and making this the best first date I’ve been on.” You pull back again, scanning his features for a second. He looks proud of himself but also genuinely happy, his cheeks still slightly pink. You walk past him, getting back to the blanket while he stands still, thinking about everything that just happened. 

You glance over your shoulder at him, smiling. “Let’s go?” He nods, catching up to you and casually throwing his jacket over your shoulders as you crouch down to clean up. “Come on, I got it,” he says, squatting beside you and filling the baskets again with the food you haven’t finished. 

“You’re going to be cold,” you mumble as you stand up again and let him pick it all up. He only throws you a glance and you squeeze the jacket around your shoulder tighter, ignoring the way your heart tries to get out of your chest. 

Jake leaves everything in his car and walks you up to your dorm, lingering in the doorway. “If you want to come inside, I wouldn’t mind,” you offer, opening your door. He smiles as he looks you up and down, taking the sight of you into his head once more. “I’ll come inside another time. If we win our next game. I can promise you that,” he answers, and you roll your eyes at him, masking the fact that maybe you wouldn’t mind that. 

“You’ll have to dream about that.” 

“Oh, trust me, I will.” 

You smile, “Good night, Jake.” 

Jake smiles as well, a soft genuine smile you could find yourself falling for. “Good night, love.” 

On Monday afternoon, you spend a little too long in the bathroom and your roommates notice, watching you from the doorway with curious expressions. You sigh, turning to them. “I’m overthinking it,” you breathe out and Manon nods immediately. “What’s going on?” 

“This is the first time I’m going to see Jake since our date. I don’t know, I’m nervous!” You explain, groaning. Daniella only laughs at you, shaking her head. “So? You’ll watch him be all hot on the ice, take a few funny videos and then you can make out with him against the plexiglass. What’s the big deal?” 

You roll your eyes at her, pushing past them and stepping out of the bathroom. “How am I supposed to just be there and act all normal around him? What if his teammates know?” You quickly shoot them a glance, making the two girls laugh. “Oh they definitely know,” Manon assures you. “You think he wouldn’t brag about absolutely winning you over with that date?” 

“And even if he didn’t tell them, one look at you and they’ll all see you’re absolutely head over heels for him,” Dani adds, plopping down onto her bed. 

“Just kill me,” you whine, jumping onto your bed as well. 

But honestly, Jake should be the one you worry about the least. Because it wasn’t him who was going to be surprised to see you on the ice. 

Shortly after, a loud knock on the door echoes through the dorm and Manon goes to open it, stepping aside immediately when her eyes land on the hockey captain. You hear his chuckle when he comes closer to you and when you open your eyes to look at him, his hand is reached out towards you, helping you get up. “Let’s go. I can’t be late,” his voice is soft, causing a blush to creep up your cheeks as you gently hold onto his hand. He laces your fingers together, offering your roommates a quick hello with a smile before walking off with you by his side. 

You’re laughing when you enter the ice rink. Jake quickly disappears into the changing rooms but doesn’t forget to kiss you before he does, making you freeze in your place for a second as you watch him. Suddenly, you don’t feel so scared about how things were going to look like. Because with Jake, it felt easy. 

Except it wasn’t. 

Because as you enter the playground, your eyes fall to a person you completely forgot would be here today—your dad. Oh god. Okay. You take a deep breath as you walk towards him, preparing what you were going to say. He doesn’t notice you approaching as he focuses on his conversation with the goalie, Intak if you remember correctly. You clear your throat nervously, getting their attention. “Sorry to interrupt,” you start, watching as your dad’s eyes widen when he realizes you’re there. “I just wanted to say that I’m here.” 

Intak smiles at you immediately, greeting you warmly before skating off to warm up, assuring you their conversation already ended. You finally look your dad in the eyes, catching the mixture of emotions in them. Is he mad, glad to see you, or even disappointed? You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to find the right words to say. Then, his lips curl into a smile and he pulls you into a hug, making all your worries vanish. 

“What are you doing here, darling?” He asks as he takes a step back again. “Well, I know you said– I know you don’t want me here, for whatever reasons but…the guys asked me to be their media girl and I thought– it was a way to get back again,” you start blurting out words, unsure if they even make sense, avoiding eye contact as you wonder what he’s going to do. Kick you out, remind you you’re not supposed to be here? Whatever it is, you don’t want to hear it. 

But then he says what you least expected. “Angel, it’s fine,” he chuckles. “I know I…told you not to come here anymore but I’m glad you’re here.” 

“You are?” Your eyes lit up with a spark of hope. “How could I not be? You’re my daughter, I’m not going to say no to hanging out with you. And also, your mom has been all over me lately, telling me I’ve gone too far and should let you come here when the ice is free,” he sighs. 

“Why didn’t you want me here in the first place?” You wonder hesitantly, watching his smile fall, catching a spark of regret in his expression. “It was stupid,” he admits. “I’ve realized that right after I’ve done it. I just thought that now you’re all grown up you…” 

Before he can finish, another voice interrupts him and you feel a familiar arm hook around your waist. “Coach! I see you’re already getting to know our new addition to the team, this is–” 

“Hands off my daughter, Sim. Immediately,” your dad commands, his eyes darkening as he watches his captain pull you close so naturally. 

Jake’s eyes widen and he obeys right away, blinking a few times as he places the pieces together. “Your daughter?” He asks, trying to remain calm. But honestly, he was far from that. “You didn’t know?” He frowns, scanning the boy with his dark eyes. “Uhm, no, sir,” Jake answers, quickly glancing at you for some sort of explanation. You just swallow a lump in your throat, trying to figure out what even is the right thing to say at the moment. 

“Dad, stop. He did nothing wrong.” 

“This is exactly why I didn’t want you on my ice.” 

You frown, a part of you mad at your dad again. Because what did that even mean? That his reason behind forbidding you to skate was even stupider than he made it seem seconds ago? “What, Jake? The guys? You can’t be serious, right?” 

“I am serious. These guys are exactly what I’ve tried to keep you away. I know them, know what they are like. These players scream trouble.” 

You scoff, “ironic coming from a NHL player, don’t you think?” Unbelievable. You turn to face Jake, ready to assure him, tell him to ignore your dad, but before you can even as much reach for his hand, he steps away, his gaze fixated on his coach. “I’m sorry. I’m gonna…start the practice,” he excuses himself quickly, disappearing without a single glance in your direction. 

If you were mad before? You’re furious now. “Great. Really great, dad. Thanks for ruining all the good things in my life. As if taking skating from me for months wasn’t already enough.” Before he can say anything, argue or apologize, you’re already on your way out of the complex, ignoring his calls after you. 

You manage to bump into Heeseung on your way out, mumbling a quiet sorry as you try to move past him. He frowns, stopping you. “You okay?” He asks but you just brush him off, sparing him just one simple glance before he moves aside, letting you leave. When you step out, you realize it was so easy because there are tears in your eyes. 

You wipe them off with the back of your hand, cursing yourself out. You’re not sure why you’re crying, if it’s all the frustration building up in you, your hormones making fun of you, or because Jake, the boy who made you feel so good in the past few weeks, has just acted like he barely knew you. 

You hated the feeling. 

Heeseung quickly blurts out an apology as he steps on the ice, frowning when he sees no one is paying him any attention. He skates towards the others, raising an eyebrow confusedly at the way the coach’s eyes stay glued to Jake, following his every movement. “Jake!” He calls after him, bringing him back to reality. “What?” Jake blinks a few times, subconsciously glancing at the coach nervously before focusing on his friend. 

“What did you do? Why did I just see your girlfriend run out of here crying?” He questions and Jake’s eyes widen immediately. He doesn’t even care to correct Heeseung that you’re not his girlfriend as he asks a different question, “she was crying?” 

“Yeah, man. I don’t know what happened but she looked…sad, broken I’d say even.” Jake’s hand clenches into a fist, partly mad at himself for disappearing like that before and partly just…worried. Whatever it is that got you feeling like this, he hates it. And he hates himself even more, knowing he might be the reason. 

Jake is out of focus for the rest of the training, too lost to even notice the coach yelling at him for being on a completely different side than he should be. It’s all in a blur, the whole training, the way he crashes with Taehyun as they do speed drills (Jake’s fault, no doubt), and even the way some of the guys ask him why you’re not here and if you’ve already decided you don’t want to be their media girl. 

His head is fully occupied with the thought of you, the way you tried to reach for his hand before but he just stepped back, the way you looked at him when the coach said something about Jake not being good enough (he didn’t but that was how Jake interpreted it), and the way you had kissed him just a few days ago. 

So, naturally, when practice came to an end, he tried to get off the ice as soon as possible, needing to see you, talk to you, apologize, and kiss you again. 

But he had to freeze mid movement as the coach’s voice rang in his ears, calling after him. Jake made a spin, a soft sigh escaping his lips when he saw the look on his face. “Get changed and come see me in my office, Sim.” 

“Yes, sir,” Jake mumbles back, no questions needed. It was way too obvious what he wanted to talk about. 

“What did you do?” Keeho asks curiously, glancing at the captain as he takes his gear off. “Don’t even ask,” Jake groans, sitting down in his place. “Did you guys know she is his daughter?” He shoots them all a look, the hidden desperation to find out he wasn’t the only one out of the picture passing by unnoticed. “Who?” Kai frowns confusedly. 

“Guess. Maybe the only girl Jake ever flirted with?” Taehyun chuckles, making Jake roll his eyes. “She isn’t the only girl I ever flirted with,” he argues but Taehyun doesn’t care enough to argue back. He just shakes his head, gently patting his shoulder as he moves to the showers. 

“She’s the coach’s daughter?” Jay speaks up, getting Jake’s attention immediately as he nods fiercely. “Apparently! He almost killed me when I put my hand around her waist earlier!” 

“And what did you do?” Intak eyed him from across the room. “Left,” he answers, so quietly the guys around him almost don’t hear him. Heeseung, however, catches it, his eyes widening. “You what?! Is that why she was crying?” 

“I don’t know!” Jake groans, hiding his face in his hands. “And now coach wants to speak with me as well. I don’t want to speak to him! What if he kills me?” 

“Should have thought about that before you made moves,” Intak snickers, disappearing into the showers as well. 

Slowly, everyone gets into the showers so they can be back at their dorms sooner but Jake takes his sweet time, delaying the meeting for as long as possible. However, when Huening peeks back into the dressing room a few minutes after he’s left to inform Jake about the fact the coach looks impatient, he collects his things and finally makes his way out of the dressing room. 

“You wanted to see me?” Jake says awkwardly as he steps into the office, placing his bag on the floor near the door but not sitting in the empty chair in front of him. All of a sudden, it didn’t feel the same as when he came into the office after practice to discuss game tactics. “You can sit down, Jake,” he says, more calm this time. 

The hockey player nods hesitantly, taking a few steps forward and then sliding into the chair. He stares down at the table, thinking about what he was supposed to say, how he would explain himself. “So,” the man clears his throat and Jake finally looks up. “You’ve been…seeing my daughter?” 

“Uhm,” Jake hesitates but when he sees the look on his face, he realizes lying isn’t going to get him anywhere. “Yes, I’ve– We met here a few weeks ago when I stayed late after practice to train some more.” 

He hums in response, eyeing him up and down. Jake swallows a lump in his throat. “And I’d like to keep getting to know her if that’s okay with you.” The coach stays quiet for a while, his brows furrowed into the same thoughtful look he always had while watching a team’s gameplay and figuring out what they could do to stop them. It makes Jake nervous. 

“And you’re the guy my wife told me about before? The one she had a date with this weekend?” 

“That would be me,” he nods. 

“What did you do?” 

“We had dinner together, sir.” 

“And then?” 

“I…took her back to her dorm. Walk her to the door and then we parted ways.” 

“You didn’t come in?” 

“No, sir,” Jake answers, frowning slightly. “I was respectful the whole time,” he adds, leaving out the fact he almost got a boner after kissing you. That definitely wasn’t something he’d want to discuss with your father. 

He hums again, not saying anything else. 

“I want you to keep your distance,” he proclaims suddenly, making Jake’s eyes widen. “What?” 

“You heard me, didn’t you? You have games to focus on, tactics to go through and teammates that rely on you. You need to have a clear head with no distractions if you want to take it somewhere.” 

Jake wants to argue, say that you’re not a distraction, that he can easily play as well as he did until now and still be a good boyfriend to you, but when he sees the firm look on his coach’s face, one telling him that it’s already decided and he can’t do anything about it, he only squeezes his hand into a fist, gripping tightly onto his pants as if that could possibly ground him. 

“You can go now,” he says but it’s more like a command, telling him to get out of his sight. “I’ll see you on Wednesday, rest well.” 

“Right,” Jake mumbles, the sound coming out more grumpy than he’d intended for it to. He doesn’t care to apologize though, pushing the chair back and getting out of the office as soon as he can, almost forgetting to grab his bag on his way out.

Jake [19:52]: I’m sorry Jake [19:52]: for brushing you off like that before

You stare at his messages for a few seconds, squeezing the phone tight in your hands as if that could make them go away. Well, maybe if you squeeze hard enough they will. You sigh, turning it off. You’re not even sure what or who you’re mad at but the feeling sits on your shoulders, reading the messages with you and it makes you feel even worse. 

Manon looks at you from across the room, glancing at Daniella before they both walk over to you, sitting on your side each and pulling you into a hug. You chuckle softly but in reality, it comes out broken. “Men are idiots.” 

“Absolutely,” Manon agrees, her grip tightening just a little. You smile, allowing yourself to melt in their warm embrace. “Yeah but one of them is my dad and the other a boy I really want to keep in my life.” 

“And that’s fine, just–” before Dani can finish her sentence, probably say something about how there will be more men interested in you and that Jake doesn’t have to be the one you settle for, your phone lights up again with another message from him. 

Jake [19:55]: Your dad held me after practice, wanted to talk to me

You blink, ignoring Daniella’s frown and unlocking your phone immediately. 

you [19:55]: About?  Jake [19:55]: Us Jake [19:55]: He asked me about our date Jake [19:55]: What we did and then basically if we slept together you [19:56]: what did you tell him? Jake [19:56]: The truth Jake [19:56]: That I took you back home and left immediately after you [19:57]: hm  Jake [19:57]: I’m sorry, Bambi Jake [19:57]: I planned on running to you right after practice  you [19:59]: But you didn’t Jake [19:59]: your dad told me to stop seeing you 

Your heart drops when you read the last text, part of you mad at your father, the other just disappointed. Because if your dad telling him to stop was enough for him to actually do so, then maybe you were wrong about him all along. 

Jake [20:00]: he practically told me that if I want to play I have to 

“My dad is officially not an actual person,” you groan dramatically, showing the text messages to your two friends. Dani reads through them with a frown, judging every word silently. 

you [20:01]: Are you going to listen to him? Jake [20:01]: I don’t know 

You want to tell him that if he’s even thinking about it then you should put an end to whatever it is that’s between you two, you should tell him that but as you watch the three dots appear and disappear all over again, you decide you can’t. 

So instead, you change the topic of your discussion, acting as if nothing happened. You can sense that Jake is somewhat relieved when you do but it lingers in the air for the rest of the conversation. How could it not? 

You know Dani judges you when she sits at her bed again and focuses back on her work but you try to ignore it, focusing on Manon’s support as she encourages you to text him, and then eventually, when the clock hits eleven, forcing you to talk about the elephant in the room as well. 

You sigh but listen anyway, your fingers hesitantly moving across your phone keyboard. And so, you talk about it. About what your father said, how you feel about it, and how Jake wants to do the complete opposite of what his coach told him to. It makes you smile. 

you [23:26]: How about this you [23:26]: We can pretend to listen to him Jake [23:26]: I’m listening Jake [23:26]: Enlighten me princess you [23:27]: Shut up you [23:27]: Around him, I can pretend I’m mad at you you [23:27]: And we won’t talk you [23:27]: You’ll simply act like he asked you to you [23:28]: while in private… Jake [23:28]: We continue seeing each other you [23:28]: exactly Jake [23:28]: I can definitely work with that Jake [23:29]: it’s not like I want him around on our dates anyway Jake [23:29]: Even less if I’m coming in you like I promised 

You roll your eyes at him, ignoring the smile that spreads across your lips as you read his messages. Who cares what your father thinks. If Jake is supposed to scream trouble, you’ll gladly listen to it all. 

The following days pass by exactly how you planned. You stay as the team’s media girl, talking to your dad as if nothing ever happened and acting as if Jake didn’t exist. And then, in private, you make use of all the time you can get together. 

“Missed you,” Jake mumbles as his lips crash with yours, guiding you towards his bed. You smile into the kiss, your hand finding a few hair strands and tugging at them slightly. He groans, sending a shiver down your spine. “You were with me the whole evening,” you remind him, holding onto his collar as you sit down on his bed, bringing him down with you. “That’s different,” he argues, stealing another kiss from you. 

His hand grips onto your waist, keeping you as close as possible, his lips never leaving yours. “Well, if you want to be with me more, feel free to tell my dad,” you smirk, pushing him off slightly. He frowns, “don’t talk about my coach while being in my bed.” You giggle, a soft sound that makes Jake’s heart skip a beat. 

“Then talk about what you want to talk about,” you tease, moving back until your back hits the wall. He immediately moves to sit in front of you, his hands gently parting your legs so he can move between them, coming closer as he kisses you again with so much need it causes a moan to escape your lips. 

“Be my girlfriend,” he says between kisses, squeezing your tights firmly. Your eyes widen immediately but the surprise vanishes when you see his sincere eyes, waiting for your answer, his thumb gently stroking your skin. “That’s how you ask a girl you like?” You tease him, trying to ignore the butterflies forming in your stomach. 

“Please,” your name on his lips makes you weak every time but now that he has that look in his eyes—the one that makes you want to kiss him until neither of you is able to breathe—it makes it even harder for you not to jump him immediately. “Let me take care of you, cherish you, and make you smile every day as your boyfriend. Because as much as I love this, I want to be yours completely.” 

By the time he finishes his sentence, you’re already pulling him in for another kiss, your cheeks completely red and your heart beating faster than before. Because, god, Jake Sim was going to be the end of you. “Yeah, I’d like that,” you say and he immediately cups your face, pulling you even closer than before, his body fully on yours now. 

His hand moves down again, his fingers gently wandering under your shirt when the door swings open and you quickly push him off, turning your head to see who came in. “God, get your own room for this,” Jay groans, closing the door behind himself. Jake sighs, running a hand through his hair before glancing at you, giving you one of his boyish grins. Your breath hitches for just a second before you clear your throat, recollecting yourself. 

“I thought you would be out,” Jake shrugs, moving to sit beside you, casually hooking his arm around your shoulders. You smile at him and shake your head slightly. “It’s fine, I should go anyway. I still have stuff to learn.” He turns his head to you to argue but when he sees your soft, reassuring smile, he just nods. “Text me later?” 

“Of course,” you nod, leaning closer to place one last kiss on his lips before standing up. “Don’t kill Jay while I’m gone.” 

“I’ll try,” Jake promises with a laugh, watching you leave the dorm with a smile. 

“Sorry, man. I didn’t know you two would be here. Put a sock on the knob next time or something,” Jay sighs, throwing his bag onto his bed. Jake just shakes his head, brushing him off by saying it’s fine. “Sunghoon has practice later and I have a date so if you want, the room will be free then.” 

“You’ve heard the lady, she has work to do,” Jake chuckles. “But thanks, I’ll figure something out.” 

Jake must have been the luckiest person to ever live because what were the chances of having an empty dorm and a girlfriend who loves to make him go crazy? 

Jake [21:05]: Still studying? 

He waits for an answer for a few minutes, trying to focus on his own work but honestly, it’s impossible. He reaches for his phone to check his messages when it suddenly lights up, announcing that you answered. He doesn’t hesitate at all as he opens your conversation, his eyes widening when he sees the picture you’ve sent him. 

It’s simple; you lying in your bed, your hair a mess on your pillow with your lips slightly parted, your eyes piercing at him through the screen. He groans as he watches you, his eyes falling to your bare shoulders. You’re in a white tank top, the straps falling off your shoulders enough for him to picture how you’d look with nothing to cover your body. 

Before he can do anything about it, he remembers how you laid in his bed just mere hours ago, thinking about how it’d feel to have you here again. You, bend over this very desk he’s been sitting at for the past hours, when he finally gets to touch you in a way he dreamed of from the very first moment he laid his eyes on you. He can hear you moaning his name and groans, sliding his hand between his legs. 

 He palms himself at the thought of you, your pretty eyes looking at him as he slides his tongue between your folds, knowing you taste incredible. He closes his eyes shut, his brows furrowing as he thinks about you in his bed, screaming for him to slow down to loudly all the kids on this floor would know just how good he makes you feel. 

He thinks about you in every part of his dorm, the shower, where he helps you wash up just for his cock to find your hole again, at the entrance where you’re so impatient you can’t even wait to get to his bed before you wrap yourself around him, even on the floor, sucking him off under the table while he tries to focus on the new hockey tactics you helped him come up with before. 

He chases his high as he thinks about what kind of face you make when you come, his hand moving faster, with more force. Soft moans leave his lips as he reaches the edge, his cock twitching in his hand and your name falling off his tongue before he releases, imagining it’s your mouth wrapped around him, your lips that swallow his sperm. 

“Fuck,” he curses, his head falling back as he catches his breath, pushing all the dirty thoughts that still hang in his head aside as he looks at your photo again, typing his answer. 

Jake [21:17]: That’s my pretty girl you [21:17]: Took you a while to answer for someone whose I’m supposed to be Jake [21:17: had a problem I needed to take care of, sorry baby

Your cheeks flush red immediately when you read his message, your mind going blank. Daniella notices the shift in your behaviour but before she can say anything, you run away to the bathroom, locking the door behind you as you slide to the floor against the door, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. 

you [21:18]: Show? 

You bite the inside of your cheek as you wait for his response, the room getting hotter when you see a picture he sent you. You swallow hard, feeling your pussy clench around nothing but thin air as you stare at the picture of his hard cock in his hand, catching a glimpse of his cum. God. 

He’s big, bigger than you expected. You slide your pants down with ease, your fingers finding your clit immediately. You bite onto your bottom lip so you wouldn’t let out any sounds, keeping your eyes on his picture. 

Jake [21:20]: Feels good?

He sends the questions as he palms himself again, watching the three dots appear and disappear again. He smirks, knowing damn well what he’s doing to you. 

you [21:20]: yeah

You send him a quick picture of you sitting on the floor, two fingers deep in your hole while your thumb presses against your clit. Your face is out of the picture but you know he won’t mind that, not when he now has a better material to jerk off to. 

You keep your eyes on your phone, reading through his new messages as he praises you while also trying to guide you through it. It works. Too damn much, if you’re honest. You close your eyes as you feel your orgasm building up, the thought of his long fingers (that you fantasized so much about before) replacing yours sending you over the edge. 

You sigh, your breathing heavy as you text him again, trying to calm down. If you don’t find a time when no one will be at the dorm quickly, you’re sure to go crazy soon. 

The following Saturday you find yourself standing in the coaching box alongside your dad, watching your boyfriend and his team skate around the rink. It’s the second period already and Tigers are winning by three points but you can’t help but feel nervous every time they lose the puck. Maybe because it’s the first game you’re watching as a girlfriend of one of the players, or maybe because you know there are scouts watching the game and this could be a great opportunity for Jake (or any of his teammates). 

You yell excitedly, cheering them on as you see the number four pass by two defenders all alone, the nervousness building up in you as you watch Jake make it to the goal. “Come on, come on,” you mumble as he shoots, praying for the puck to make it in. “Yes!” The whole team yells at the same time as Jake scores another point for them. 

The buzzer announcing the period end rings in your ear and you watch Jake skate towards the bench as quickly as he can, wishing to do nothing more than to pull you into the warmest hug he can. However, before he can do anything stupid, his coach pulls him into a hug instead, patting Jake’s back while praising him about the goal he just made. 

Still, his eyes stay glued to you, his coach’s words passing unnoticed by him. You smile at him, jokingly rolling your eyes when you see your dad. Jake chuckles, taking a step back and finally looking at the coach. 

“Thanks, coach,” he laughs before his teammates pull him into another hug. Your dad walks back to you, smiling proudly. “He’s going to take it far. If he’s lucky the scouts are all already writing his name down.” You smile as well, glancing at Jake for a brief second before you mask your excitement again. “Yeah, he isn’t all bad,” you mumble, making sure not to pay him more attention than absolutely necessary. Because if Jake’s truly lucky, your dad won’t notice the way his eyes linger on you throughout the whole fifteen minute break. 

The third period passes in a blur, ending with the Tigers’ win eventually. You watch as Jake and Heeseung find each other when the game ends, laughing as they pull each other into a hug. Huening and Jay skate to them immediately after, the rest of the guys following as soon as they can, jumping from the bench and skating to them to celebrate. You smile, a proud genuine smile your dad hasn’t seen on your face in what feels like ages. At that moment, it was completely clear to him that forbidding you from stepping on the ice was a bad idea all along. Because this was where you belonged, in the stands, watching his team take home another win just like you always had. 

“God, you were so pretty standing there and cheering me on,” Jake mumbles against your lips as he kisses you again, his hands wandering under your shirt. Your back hits the wall as he cups your breast in his hand, moving to kiss your jaw. “Are you sure no one’s here?” You ask, tilting your head slightly to give him more space as he moves lower, placing wet kisses on your neck. 

“The guys are all long gone. I told them not to wait for me,” he says and you gasp as you feel his teeth on your skin. The game ended almost an hour ago, no one should be at the rink anymore. Yet, you couldn’t shake off the feeling that you could get caught any minute. Even though the changing rooms were more private than the game area, it still felt too exposed. You just want to take him back home with you but you know that isn’t possible, not when both of your roommates are there. 

With the way he sucks onto your neck he’ll definitely leave hickeys but you’re not in the right mind to care enough, so, instead of telling him to be careful not to leave any visible marks, your hand finds his hair and you keep him in place, a soft moan escaping your lips at the feeling. He smirks, rolling up your shirt to get a better view. “Remember my promise?” 

“That you’d come inside of me if you win the game? Very clearly,” you assure him, your breath hitching when his cold fingers wander over your bare skin. He smirks as he watches you, his hand moving to your back, holding onto your bra clips. “Can I take this off?” You nod, your eyes following his every movement. He’s hot with his hair still wet from his previous shower, standing in front of you in that annoyingly handsome tank top of his. 

He unclips your bra, letting it fall to the floor. He groans at the sight, feeling his cock twitch in his pants. But just as he leans down, cupping one of your breasts with his hand and kissing the other one, the door swings open and he is quick to fix your shirt so that whoever just walked in won’t see what’s meant for his eyes only. Probably a cleaning lady, he forgot about the possibility of one of them coming in. Still though, how unlucky did he have to be to be interrupted both times he was about to be intimate with you? 

He opens his eyes, ready to apologize to the lady for still being here but he stops when his eyes land on a male figure instead, the words catching in his throat. 

“What the hell is going on here?” Your father’s voice rings in your ears and you quickly stumble forward to collect your bra from the floor, hiding behind your boyfriend to put it back on. Jake clears his throat in the meantime, opening his mouth and closing it again because truly, he had no idea what the appropriate answer to that question was. 

“Sim?” His voice is stronger now, sending shivers down Jake’s spine. “We uhm– this isn’t–” he tries to figure something out but when he comes to the conclusion there’s no possible way out of this, he closes his mouth again. 

He calls out your name next and you squeeze your eyes shut as you take a step forward again, standing by Jake’s side. “We are going home. Now. And you, Sim,” he turns to him again, staring a hole in the middle of his eyes. “We will talk about this later. I thought you had a good shot at making it somewhere but you– don’t expect to play on my team again.” 

“What?!” You and Jake shout at the same time. You immediately look at him, your eyes full of regret while his just show…fear, vulnerability. You hate seeing that. “You can’t be serious!” you yell, looking at your father again. “You can’t– He is your best player! You’ve seen him play today! You hugged him and called him son!” you remind him but your dad just scoffs. “I’m not talking to you about this. Take your things and get to the car. End of discussion.” 

“No, you–” you try to argue again but Jake stops you, holding your hand in his and making you look at him. “It’s fine, darling,” he assures you, giving you one of his smiles, except this time it not only feels but also looks forced. You open your mouth again but he leans down and presses his lips on yours, squeezing your hand tightly so you’d know he is there. “I don’t regret you in the tiniest bit,” he says gently, slowly letting you go. The pain in his eyes makes it feel like your heart is being ripped out of your chest and there is nothing you can do about it. You hate the feeling. 

“Go,” he nods, mouthing the words “text you” as he places his hand on your lower back and guides you forward until you finally move on your own, stopping only once you reach your dad. “Fuck you,” you look him straight in the eyes with not a single care in the world before walking past him to get outside. 

Jake exhales deeply, running a hand through his hair. “I love her,” he proclaims confidently, catching his coach off guard. Your dad stands at the door, still trying to make sense of what just happened and if you really cussed him out. He focuses on Jake again, his glare never falling. “And honestly, I don’t care if you won’t let me play because of it. But we both know Heeseung won’t perform that well without his duo and it’ll only be a matter of time before the team falls.” 

“Are you threatening me?” He raises an eyebrow in disbelief. 

“No. That’s your hobby lately, don’t you think?” Jake doesn’t say anything else, taking all his things along with your jacket that you left just lying on one of the benches and making his way past the coach. He stops again in the doorway, hesitating for a second. “I won’t stop seeing her.” 

“Right,” the coach mumbles but all the confidence he had while yelling at the two before is gone, replaced with uncertainty and fear. “Good luck with the rest of the season,” Jake adds, the genuinity in his voice only pissing off the coach more. 

The door closes again and just like that, he’s standing there alone. He needs to blink a few times to gain control again because everything about this conversation was only proving him of the fact he had no control anymore. His little girl was growing up faster than he could comprehend, and his team was slipping through his fingers just as fast. He knew what Jake was like and that he had a great potential to continue with hockey and honestly, he wasn’t sure if he was protecting his daughter’s future on Jake’s. 

“Darling,” he breathes out as he slides into the driver’s seat. You don’t turn to look at your dad though, focusing solely on the game on your phone. He sighs, running a hand through his hair before fastening his seatbelt. “I’m just looking out for you. You have the whole life ahead of you, so many opportunities and goals to still achieve.” 

You scoff, ending the game and switching to instagram to scroll through new posts, not paying him the slightest bit of attention. Your childhood nickname falls from his lips and you squeeze your phone tighter, holding onto the last bit of strength you had. He sighs again, starting the car and driving off the parking lot. 

You sit in silence, still on your phone and texting Jake to even notice the road you’re taking, ignoring the way you catch your dad’s eyes in the rearview mirror every now and then. 

you [14:26]: The worst card ride ever Jake [14:26]: it’ll be fine love  Jake [14:26]: you just need to make it back to the dorm and then we can go out Jake [14:26]: I’ll take you out on dinner, hm? Jake [14:26]: what do you say? you [14:27]: I say that I’d absolutely love that Jake [14:27]: okay good <3  Jake [14:27]: I need to give you back your jacket anyway

It’s only then that you notice the missing piece of clothes, smiling as you read his messages. No matter how mad you were seconds ago, he managed to calm you down in the single minute you talked with him. And that was something you weren’t giving up on, no matter how much your dad wanted you to. 

you [14:28]: Shouldn’t it be me stealing your clothes sir? Jake [14:28]: Just say a word and all my hoodies are yours Jake [14:28]: I’d actually kill to see you in my clothes Jake [14:28]: Please

You giggle, stretching your legs slightly. Your dad looks at you immediately, the grip he has on the steering wheel tightening as he notices Jake’s name on your screen, a mix of emotions rushing through him. He wants to be happy for you, cheer you on in your relationship if he had you smiling like this, but he just can’t push aside the thoughts of what the future holds. You being with Jake could make him give up his career for you or it could make you give up on your dreams in order to support him just like your mom did, and he would hate for that to happen. 

you [14:29]: That could be arranged  you [14:29]: If we happen to go back to your dorm after dinner and casually decide to sleep over I’ll need to wear something Jake [14:29]: I’m telling the guys to find a different place to sleep at tonight Jake [14:29]: Can’t let them see that

The smile on your lips never leaves, not even when you finally look up from your phone and see the unfamiliar road, frowning. “Where are you taking me?” 

“Home,” he answers simply and it takes you a second he isn’t talking about your dorm. “What? I have plans, I don’t have time to drive home and back.” 

“You should have thought about that before I saw you half naked with my player,” he says through gritted teeth, more judging than he intended. He’s not sure why he says it in the first place. He really wants to reconcile with you, forget about the whole thing and act like nothing happened but for some reason, every time he opens his mouth, the wrong words come out. 

“I’m an adult!” you remind him, looking at the time on your phone. “You can’t be fucking serious.” 

“Language!” You huff, taking a deep breath as you finally turn your head to face him fully. “The fact you’re mad at me doesn’t mean you’ll be speaking to me like that.” 

You don’t say anything back, writing Jake a quick text explaining the situation before turning your phone off and placing it down in your lap, crossing your arms as you watch the road ahead. If he wanted to kidnap you then so be it. It’s not like you would sit around saying nothing forever. 

“Honey, how come you’re so late?” Your mother’s voice makes you look up as you step out of the car, her eyes lighting up immediately the moment she sees you. You smile, greeting her warmly and walking over to her. “What are you doing here? I need to cook something for dinner! You’re staying, right?” She asks, hopeful and excited. You chuckle, nodding. “I didn’t plan on visiting this weekend but dad kidnapped me so I had no choice,” you shoot him a look but he ignores it, taking his things from the car and coming to greet his wife with a kiss. 

“Kidnapped her?” She asks confusedly but he just brushes it off, saying that you’re talking nonsense. You scoff, moving past both of your parents inside the house. It’s been around a month since you last came by, with school and Jake keeping you busy, there wasn’t a chance for it before. And even though you didn’t want to be here, you would be lying if you said you don’t like being home. 

You pull out your phone again, glancing back to make sure your parents are still outside before you start a video call. You don’t even have a chance to fix your hair or make sure you look good when the call goes through, Jake’s face lighting up your screen immediately. You smile, a soft “hi” leaving your lips. “You ran away or something?” He asks after a greeting. 

Rolling your eyes, you glance behind yourself again before walking towards your room. “No, I successfully made it home. Want to see my room?” You ask but before he can even answer you enter the room, giving him a quick tour when he says he needs to see every corner, mentioning something about how a childhood bedroom creates a character and he needs to see everything. He’s a bit weird but honestly, you couldn’t find him more attractive. 

You sit down on your bed, resting your head against the headboard, watching him talk about how the guys jumped at him the moment he stepped into his room, congratulating him on his play. The excitement in his eyes as he talks about hockey makes your heart melt, until you remember your dad’s words. Don’t expect to play on my team again. 

Hockey was his whole life, the thing he was the most excited about, something he spent every free minute thinking about, you couldn’t be the reason why it was taken from him. You’d rather never step on the ice again yourself if it meant he could still play. 

“Heeseung said that he spoke to one of the scouts after the game, apparently they are thinking about me!” He grins and you can’t help but smile. “That’s amazing, Jake. I knew you could do it from the moment I first saw you.” He gives you a look but the smile never leaves his lips. “You told me I’m terrible and need to fix everything.” 

You shrug, laughing. “Yeah, that was me telling you I think you’re amazing.” 

“So you were in love with me back then,” he teases, making you roll your eyes again. You open your mouth to answer but a soft knock on the door interrupts you. You give Jake a quick look so he stays quiet and watch the door open, your mom walking in with her usual gentle smile. 

“Is that the boyfriend of yours?” She asks, immediately noticing the cause of your smile. You nod, biting the inside of your cheek. She walks over to you, sitting down on the edge of your bed. “Can I?” You don’t hesitate before moving closer to her, holding the phone so Jake could see both of you. He immediately greets her, the boyish grin on his face making you roll your eyes. “Jake, was it?” she questions and he introduces himself fully, saying that he’d offer her a hand as well had it been a different situation. It’s lame but she laughs nonetheless. “Well, we can shake hands when you come to visit next week. My daughter told you about it, right?” 

“She did,” he nods. “And I’d love to come, if I’m welcome to, I mean.” 

“Dear, of course! I wouldn’t have invited you if you weren’t.” 

“Dad isn’t a big fan,” you mumble, causing Jake to chuckle and your mom turn to you. “He met him before I could?” There’s a hint of betrayal in her voice but you already know that once she knows the full story it will be replaced with something else—disappointment. Not towards you, but your father. 

“Jake is on his team, the captain.” 

“Was,” Jake corrects and you roll your eyes again. “I was on the team, but Coach kicked me out today.” 

Your mother’s brows furrow, already sensing something iffy about it. “Why would he do that?” 

“Ask him, I’d love to know the reason as well,” you say, getting more and more annoyed as you speak. You sigh, running a hand through your hair to calm yourself. “Let’s not talk about it now, though. And for your information,” you turn towards Jake again, a shy smile spread across your face. “I’d love to have you here.” 

“Then I’ll definitely come,” he assures both of you, watching as your mom’s smile grows wider. She sits there with you for a bit longer, asking Jake about all sorts of things and watching you interact together, somehow feeling proud. She always wished you the best in life, and from what she saw in the short moments, Jake was exactly that. 

She goes to leave the room but stops again as her hand grabs the doorknob, glancing back at you one last time. “I’m not sure what you and your dad did to each other but I don’t want to stir the pot even more so, honey, try to cover that hickey of yours so he doesn’t have a reason to freak out,” she winks at you before disappearing from the room. 

Your cheeks grow red from embarrassment as you lean closer to your phone, looking at the hickey Jake has left on your neck in your front camera. He laughs on the other side of the phone, saying that it looks great but you only send him a pointed look. You groan, “I’m going to strangle you, Jake Sim.” It’s a threat, but he smiles. “With your thighs I hope.” 

You close your eyes, exhaling tiredly but Jake notices your lips twitch as you try to hold back your smile. He knows he’s got you exactly where he wants. 

You spend another thirty minutes on the call with him before finally stumbling out of your room as the smell of chicken hits your nose. Your dad tells you to sit that as he plates everything so you do, playing with your sleeve awkwardly. 

The food is set on the table soon after and your parents both sit opposite you, your mom asking you about exams and friends casually while your dad eats in silence, humming sometimes as a form of response. 

You stare at your plate for a few seconds before deciding to look up, catching your dad’s eyes at the same time. He sighs, visibly exhausted. You’re not sure if it’s because of the continuous arguing with you or just today’s game, though. “You didn’t mean it, did you? That you’re not going to let him play anymore.” 

Something flickers in his eyes, a moment of hesitance, regret maybe, you don’t know. He doesn’t answer, just putting another piece of meat into his mouth. You don’t just let it go like he seems to want, though. “He is your best player and you know it. You can’t kick him out just because he is dating your daughter instead of being fucking happy for me.” 

That seems to work because he winces, finally looking at you, really looking at you. “Darling,” your mom coos softly, tilting her head slightly, almost as if to tell you to calm down. You shake your head, refusing to drop the conversation. “I’ll…I won’t go on the ice ever again like you wanted, I won’t be near when you have practices and I’ll stop coming to games just please.” The plea sends a shiver down his spine, making him drop his fork on the table. 

“I don’t want you to give up on skating for him.” 

“So you’d rather make him give up on his whole future for me? Because we both know he doesn’t plan on leaving. If he did, he wouldn’t have talked to me again after you told him to stop seeing me the first time. And honestly, I don’t want to leave either.” 

“You did what?” Your mother turns her attention to your dad immediately, slapping him across his shoulder. “That poor boy does nothing but make our daughter happy and you told him to stop seeing her?” You knew that if someone was going to have your back it’d be your mom but you didn’t expect her to be so into it. She didn’t know Jake. There was no reason for her to get all worked up and start a whole argument with him. 

But, you weren’t going to stop her. 

You watch your parents argue for a while, your mom telling your dad he’s unreasonable and should finally realize you’re an adult while he tells her something about thinking about the future of the both of you, which only makes things worse. They start arguing about how their situation used to be similar and he doesn’t want you to go through the same thing your mom did but you disappear then, figuring that’s not a conversation you should be a part of. 

Later that night, a knock on the door makes you look up from your phone. You expect it to be your mom, after all, it’s always been her who talked to you after they had arguments when you were little, wanting you to know it was all okay and you didn’t need to worry about anything, but when the door opens, it’s your dad you see standing there. You sit up, nodding for him to come in. He sighs, closing the door behind himself as he pulls out a chair from your table, placing it right in front of your bed and taking a seat. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, running a hand through his hair. You frown, not saying anything as you watch him, waiting for him to say more, explain himself. “I know it’s stupid and unreasonable,” he repeats your mother’s words, his brows furrowing in a way that tells you he doesn’t completely agree with it. “You know I love you, right?” He finally looks up to meet your eyes and you nod, a part of you feeling bad when you see the look on his face. The regret you thought you saw before is now way more visible, accompanied with a sign of simple care. “And I love the boys on my team, all of them. I think…Jake is a great kid, darling.” 

His words catch you off guard but you still stay quiet, knowing that’s not all he wants to say. “When me and your mom met we were around the same age as you, did you know that?” He doesn’t give you enough time to answer before he continues. “She wanted to be a doctor, she had her whole life figured out while the only thing I knew was that all I wanted to do was skate and be with her.” You smile, the thought of your parents at your age warming your heart. You can see yourself and Jake in their place. You can see Jake loving you all the years later just like your father loves your mom. 

“Then I got an offer, a contract with a team I really wanted to join. It was on the other side of the country and your mom…she dropped everything without thinking about it so she could go with me. I know she doesn’t regret it now, and neither do I, but knowing she gave up her future plan for me ate me alive for years.” 

“I never wanted to see you go through the same, so I did what I thought was the best at the time; told you not to skate so you couldn’t meet any hockey players that could mess with your future. I know it’s stupid, that it’s up to you what you do with your life I just…I simply didn’t want hockey to be the reason for another girl I love to lose something she’s passionate about.” 

You stand up from your bed, regretting all the bad words you said about your dad in the past few days. He watches you walk over to him, waiting for you to say something, anything, but you just pull him into a hug. “I love you too, dad,” you mumble. “And I’m sorry for cussing you out before.” He chuckles softly as he pulls back, shaking his head. “I deserved it.” 

“I’m not going to force Jake to leave my team, by the way. I’d be incredibly stupid to let that sort of talent escape.” You grin proudly, thanking him. “And…if it’s something you both want then,” he clears his throat, visibly stalling as he thinks it over. “Then I’d like to see him come with you next time,” he nods slightly, almost as if he was approving of his own words. “But just, please, promise me you won’t make your whole life about hockey, his games and plans. Promise me that if you stay together, you’ll figure something out while you both do what you love, even if it means being away from each other for a while.” 

You nod, it’s the least you can do. “We will,” you agree. 

Not having to hide a whole hockey player from your dad feels great. You still have to stay professional while filming the guys and limit Jake’s neediness while being around your dad but that’s understandable. And Jake knows that as well, still, he loves pushing the limits. 

“So, you’re going to be at our game tomorrow, right?” Jake asks, his hands resting on each side of you on the bench, trapping you in. He hovers over you, and even though you want nothing more than to pull him into a make out session when he gives you that boyish grin of his again, the presence of your father next to you reminds you to think straight. 

“Yeah,” you nod slightly, unable to take your eyes off him. He smirks, quickly glancing at his coach before leaning closer to you, stopping just below your ear. “And then you’ll let me go for as many rounds as I score.” He says it like it’s a deal you agreed to before but when he backs up again, there’s a question in his eyes, mixing with a sign of hope and mischief. “You better score a lot then,” you smirk, pressing your hand on his chest and pushing him off gently. “Go practice.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he does a little prince bow, winking at you once more before putting on his helmet and skating away, joining the others. 

“Is Jake going to drive you afterwards or should I wait and take both of you?” Your dad asks, keeping his eyes on the boys while sitting down beside you now that Jake’s gone. “Jake will drive. I agreed to go grab some food with the team after the game so we’ll drive on our own.” He nods, glancing at you again. “And he’ll be staying the whole week?” 

“The whole week,” you agree, causing a sigh to leave your dad’s lips. “In your room?” You roll your eyes, “yes, in my room. And in my bed, you’re not expecting me to make him sleep on the floor or something, are you?” 

“No,” he answers through gritted teeth, making sure you know he isn’t exactly happy with the arrangements. “Just don’t…no, nevermind, I’m not talking about this,” he shakes his head aggressively. “I’ll talk to Jake instead.” Your eyes widen, realization hitting you. “Don’t talk about sex with my boyfriend!” you smack his arm. 

“I need to talk to him as a worried coach to make sure my player doesn’t get a girl pregnant in his prime year,” he shoots you a pointed look and you sigh. The following week was going to test your strength and love for your father a lot. 

8:00 am lights up your phone before you knock on Jake’s door, watching as it swings open immediately. Jake doesn’t hesitate before grabbing your hand and pulling you against him, your bodies colliding together. “What’s going on?” you ask, blinking a few times. “Why was I supposed to come?” 

“The guys are out, they went for breakfast as Jay’s pregame ritual,” he explains, still holding your hand as he takes you towards his bed. “I’d like to start a pregame tradition with you as well,” he explains, his eyes glinting with need. “Oh?” Your lips curl into a smirk as you sit on the bed. “And what might that be?” 

Jake kneels down in front of you on the floor, gently pushing your legs open, keeping his hands on your inner thighs as he looks up at you. And god damn is he the hottest person you’ve ever seen. “Can I eat you out?” You blink, feeling hotter just at the thought of that. You bite your bottom lip, slowly nodding. His smile grows wider, his eyes lighting up as if he was a little kid whose parents allowed him to eat ice cream before dinner. 

He stays on the floor, sliding off your jeans, groaning quietly as his eyes land on your panties. “God, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this,” he sounds desperate and your body responds immediately. He runs his fingers over your clothed cunt and the whine that leaves his lips makes a shiver run down your spine. If this was his reaction to barely seeing you, how loud on earth was he going to be during the whole deal? 

It takes no time for him to slide your panties down to your ankles, moving his head closer to you immediately, keeping his eyes on yours as he licks a long strap from your hole to your clit. “Fuck,” you moan quietly, grinding your hips against his face. He smirks, his grip on your thighs tightening as he holds you in place, firm enough so you can’t move on your own. “Relax, baby. I’m going to take my sweet time with your little pussy.” 

And he does. He absolutely fucking does, to the point it drives you crazy. Your legs shake and you squirm under him as he lazily sucks on your clit. It’s torture but god, he’s also the greatest pussy eater you’ve met, definitely the most eager one from everyone you’ve been with. His whines and groans fill your ear and the only thing you can focus on is how he sounds against your wet cunt. “I’m gonna–” your breath hitches and he sucks harder. “Wait just a bit longer, baby.” 

Jake’s hand slides to his pants, pulling out his throbbing cock and slowly palming himself while he brings you closer to your orgasm, his free hand still digging into the flesh of your thigh. “Need you to hold it in, love. Want to cum together,” he groans, his tongue flicking between your folds. “God, your pussy is so good.” 

You whine, your eyes closed as your hand finds his head, pushing him closer against your clit, needing the release. You feel him smirk, letting his cock free for a minute as he holds you with both hands again, opening your legs wider. “Jake!” 

“Fuck,” he whines again, pulling away from you completely which only causes you to whimper. “Say it again.” 

“What?” You shoot your eyes to him again, shaking your head as you try to bring him closer again. You fail. “Say my name again, say it over and over again and I’ll let you cum, okay?” You nod, his name leaving your lips in a broken whine. “That’s my girl,” he smirks before dipping in again. You gasp at his harsh suck but you definitely don’t complain. “Jake, Jak–Jake–mhm.” 

“Yes, baby, it’s me. I’m making you feel all good, aren’t I?” You nod fiercely, throwing your head back as you tug on his hair lightly. He whines again, finally bringing you to your climax with one last lick. Your legs tremble around his head but he doesn’t seem to mind at all, giving you a few more licks so you can ride it out before coming up to you, stealing a kiss from you immediately. “You taste fucking amazing, you feel that?” 

The taste of your own cum on his lips feels weird but you never pull away from him, only deepening the kiss. You glance down quickly, finding his hand palming over his length again as he kisses you, trying to reach his own climax. You wrap your hand around his and he smirks against your lips. “Want to help with that?” 

Your mouth is wrapped around his tip quickly, looking up at him as you move your head for some sort of reassurance. Which is exactly what you get as he cups your face, moaning loudly at the sight of you. He could watch you forever, especially when you’re stuffed with his cock. 

“God, baby, have I told you you’re absolutely gorgeous?” He groans again and you only suck harder instead of responding. He starts blabbing things after that, soft praises leaving his lips as if it was the only thing he knew how to do. You stop paying attention to them in the middle of it but your body still responds, your pussy getting wet again. 

You pull back slightly just to tease him but Jake doesn’t seem to like it much as he thrusts back into your mouth, his cock hitting the back of your throat. You gag but don’t pull back again, relaxing your mouth completely and letting him gently thrust into you on his own. He doesn’t care, closing his eyes and gently brushing his thumb on your cheek just to feel himself. 

He comes down your throat slowly after and you gag again, pulling back completely before swallowing. He praises you again and again, kissing you as if you are the air he breathes. Because to him, you are. Your bodies wrap together as your kisses turn gentler, more loving. 

You just lay in the bed for a while, leaving wet kisses all over each other’s bodies, leaving marks behind before Jake’s alarm rings and he takes you to the bathroom, helping you clean up in the shower. When both of you are done washing he throws a jersey over your head, making you glance down confusedly. You had your own team clothes to wear with the team logo and everything but before you could protest your eyes land on the number on the jersey, realizing it’s his. 

“You want me to wear this?” 

“I want everyone at the rink to know my gorgeous, talented, lovely and smart girlfriend already belongs to someone,” he whispers, capturing your lips in another kiss. You smile, nodding slightly. In that case, you were going to wear his jersey for the rest of your life.

As soon as the game ends Jake runs into your arms, picking you up and spinning around before pushing his lips against yours. You giggle, wrapping your hands around his neck and pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. 

Tigers won 5-2, three of those points scored by Jake because as you later found out, he told Heeseung about your little deal and so he helped him get as many goals as possible. You don’t even care, for all you care he could have scored zero and you’d still let him have whatever he wants. 

Your dad clears his throat behind you and Jake gently places you back to the ground, grinning happily. “How was that?” 

“Amazing,” Taehyun pats his back from behind, the other guys slowly joining in. “As the MVP today you’re buying, right?” Heeseung wiggles his eyebrows as he wraps his arm around Jake’s shoulder, making him scoff. “I only buy food for my lover and myself, I don’t think you fit in either of those categories,” Jake shakes him off quickly. You shake your head at the interaction, the smile on your face never leaving as you congratulate them all. 

Jake wraps his hand around your waist, keeping you close as he talks to his team about the game. You don’t mind at all. You wrap your arm around him as well, smiling back at his friends when they give you a teasing, knowing look. This time, your dad seems to have the same smile on his face, looking at Jake more proudly than as if it was a warning. 

“Okay, go change quickly so we can go,” you say, placing a quick peck on his cheek to which Heeseung laughs with a whistle, taking your boyfriend from you. Jake mumbles something under his breath but you don’t pay it any attention, watching him leave with a smile. 

“The jersey suits you,” your dad speaks all of a sudden, making you turn to him. “Yeah?” You bite your lip nervously, looking down. “Thank you. For accepting him,” you smile, looking at him again. He rolls his eyes, almost as if that wasn’t exactly true, yet. “He still needs to work for it. I’ll have my eye on him during the whole week.” You chuckle, nodding. “Have fun with that.” 

It’s four pm when you finally part ways with the rest of the guys, your fingers laced with Jake’s as you walk towards his car, sliding into the passenger seat after he opens the door for you. He settles in the driver’s position, looking around. “Did you have fun?” He wonders, his voice soft, soothing. You smile, reaching for his hand again as you assure him it was great. 

“But next time, let’s eat alone, just the two of us, yeah?” 

You agree, squeezing his hand in his. “I’d love that.” 

“Good,” Jake smiles, leaning in and capturing your lips with his. “How about dinner tomorrow?” He asks between kisses, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. You hum against his lips, agreeing. Your fingers tangle in his hair, keeping him close as you deepen the kiss, enjoying the alone time with him. You were definitely going to make use of all the time you have during this break, with no roommates standing in your way and no exams watching over your back. 

You stay in the parking lot for a few more minutes, sharing kisses and light touches with soft giggles that make you fall for him just a bit more. “I like you so much,” you mumble and Jake’s grip on your waist tightens. “Yeah?” He teases, a smirk forming on his lips. You roll your eyes at his reaction, kissing him again. “I like you a lot too,” he says and even though you’ve heard him say it many times before, it warms your heart in a way that makes you feel like he just said the other L-word for the first time. 

“Let’s go,” Jake leans back in his seat, finally starting the car and driving off. His right hand rests on your thigh soon after, his eyes focused on the road. You smile, stealing glances at your boyfriend as he drives you home. You could definitely get used to this. 

Jake grabs your bags from the truck of his car while you open the front door of your house, greeting your parents before running out again to help him. However, when you reach him, asking him to give you one of the bags so he doesn’t carry it all on his own, he just brushes you off, saying he’s got it. You know he does, that he could easily pick you up as well but you still want to help. 

“Love, just go inside and watch me with your pretty eyes, yeah? I’m not gonna have you carry some bags when there’s no reason for you to.” 

You roll your eyes but still listen, walking in empty-handed with your boyfriend right behind you. “Dear, go help the poor boy,” your mum nudges your father immediately when her eyes land on Jake. He however shakes his head, still refusing any help. Your dad scoffs but there’s a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Which room is yours?” You point towards a door and he nods, leaving you in the hallway alone. 

“He’s more handsome in person,” your mom teases immediately, making you roll your eyes with a smile and your dad grumble something. “Please, just let him breathe. Both of you.” You mom giggles, taking your dad with herself back to the kitchen so they can resume cooking and you quickly run to your room. 

Jake is sitting on your bed and looking around the room when you come inside. His eyes immediately flicker to you and he opens his arms with a smile, telling you to come closer. You step between his legs, letting him wrap his arms around your waist and rest his head on your stomach. 

The two of you settle in your bed, laptop opened on Jake’s lap as you watch a movie, cuddling together. The moment is sweet, relaxing, something he’s been craving after the intense game earlier. When your mom comes into the room to tell you dinner is almost ready, Jake immediately jumps out, offering his help. 

You watch him joke around with your mom as he moves around the kitchen, helping her finish up. He starts a conversation about today’s game with your dad as well, listening to all his feedback. It makes your heart ache. It’s like he belongs there, in the small space of the kitchen, in your family, in your life. You experienced relationships and grew to realize they weren’t easy, they were hard, with obstacles on every corner but with Jake, it was the opposite. You thought it would be hard, and it was for a while at first but now, it just seemed like this was how things were supposed to be. 

“How many points did you score today?” Your mom asks curiously, setting down a plate in front of Jake. He smirks, glancing at you for a brief moment before answering. “Three. But I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t score anything if it wasn’t for your daughter cheering me on the whole time.” Your mom smiles proudly and you blush, kicking his feet under the table. He chuckles, his hand finding a way to your thigh and giving it a tight squeeze. You stay quiet after that. 

The conversation flows naturally as you continue eating. Your mom talks about memories from your childhood, family vacations, how you first started skating, and even some of your more embarrassing stories you’d rather forget. Your cheeks flush red and it takes everything in you not to shut down the conversation immediately. However, when the familiar sounds of Jake’s quiet laugh rings in your ears and you notice the happiness on his face, you stop yourself. The embarrassment you felt slowly turns into something softer, more gentle. 

Jake eases into the rhythm of your family quickly, assuring your father of his good intentions every time he feels the warry in his eyes, joking around with your mother as she sets the picture of little you into his head. He bets you were the cutest kid. 

He offers to help with cleaning the dishes but your mom refuses, telling him to go spend more time with you, which he happily agrees to. You roll your eyes when you hear their conversation but lead Jake back to your room nonetheless. 

“Your mom loves me,” Jake grins proudly, closing the door shut behind you. You smile, shaking your head. “Don’t let it get into your pretty head, captain. That doesn’t mean you’re not being watched by my father all the time,” you close the space between you, your voice teasing. When you look up at him, he’s smirking. “Call me that again,” something flickers in his eyes as his hands find your hips, pressing your body against his. 

“Captain?” you raise an eyebrow at his request but the tease in your voice never falls. “Is that what turns you on?” you whisper, pressing onto him more until his back reaches the door. “Maybe,” he leans closer, claiming your lips with his as his hands wander to your lower back, taking in every inch of your body as he moves lower, giving your ass a tight squeeze before lifting you up as if you weigh nothing. 

You wrap your legs around his hips, your fingers tangling in his hair as you deepen the kiss, a soft moan escaping your lips. “God, you’re absolutely beautiful.” A shiver runs down your spine as he says your name. “Tell me what you want, baby. What you want me to do.” No words leave your mouth as you press your lips on his again, pressing your hips on his harder as a form of answer. He smirks again, walking over to your bed where he drops you. You gasp but can’t help and laugh as he comes closer, spreading your legs and settling between them. 

“Words, love. I want words from you.” You moan again as he presses himself against you, feeling his bulge through the layers of clothing you’re both wearing. “Anything, everything–” you gasp when he rolls his hips against yours in a slow, teasing motion. “You promised three rounds, Captain.” 

Jake grins, watching your lips part as his hands wander over your body again. Gentle touch on your shoulder, his fingers brushing over the skin of your arms, his hands coming under your shoulder to trace over your stomach and breast. Your breath shakes as you watch him, your eyes following his every movement. “I’ve been waiting for this for so long,” he mumbles, kissing you hungrily, the kiss able to convey all his feelings. “Dreamed of you like this.” His right hand moves lower, stopping between your legs and pressing it over your core. 

“Jake,” you gasp as his lips move lower, leaving wet kisses and marks over your jaw and neck. He hums against your skin, pulling off your pants with ease. “Yes, baby?” He asks as he slides your panties to the side, his fingers flicking between your folds. “What do you need, tell me.” 

You grind your hips against him on an instinct, a soft whimper of his name leaving your lips. “Need you, need– fuck,” you whine, looking up at him. “Come here, closer. Need you closer.” He smirks, leaning down and holding your chin with his left hand, making you look at him. “That’s it, baby. Use your words,” he kisses you again, his tongue fighting with yours as he rips your panties away, making you yelp. 

You barely register him pulling his pants off as he cups your breast in his hands, massaging them as he waits for your every reaction. His mind is clouded with thoughts of you, what he’s going to do, what kind of pleasure he would bring you. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. He needs to hold himself back not to cum untouched just from the way you look at him. 

“In, Jake, please,” you beg and something in him flickers. He moans, the sound sending a shiver through your whole body, and pushes your legs up, making you hold them. His eyes focus on your cunt, aligning his cock with your entrance. “God, you’re so fucking wet, darling. I can just slide into you–” he pushes his tip in, making you gasp, “with ease.”  

Your nails dig into his shoulders, your mouth wide open, the only sounds leaving your lips being a few broken gasps, barely audible once. Yet, they are loud enough for Jake. He leans closer, placing a few open-mouthed kisses on your collarbone. “So good,” he moans against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. “It’s like you were made for me entirely,” he praises, his kisses lowering to your breast. He lets out a silent grunt as your nails dig deeper but he never backs away. 

“I–” I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you. The words are loud and clear in his head, the urge to say them out loud for the whole world to hear so strong he has to bite down his tongue not to do so. But, god, does he want nothing more. “I need you so bad,” he says in the end instead, listening to your quiet moans as he thrusts into you, quickening his pace. 

Your eyes roll back, one of your hands squeezing the sheets beneath you while the other finds Jake’s, lacing your fingers together. Your bodies move against each other, the room getting hotter each second as you get closer to your climax. “So good,” he praises you again, his teeth digging into the soft skin of your shoulder. “Jake, I’m gonna–” You don’t even get to finish your sentence as he thrusts harder into you, making you gasp. It only takes a few more quick hip movements before your breath shakes and you reach your orgasm. 

Jake pulls out right after, cursing under his breath as he palms himself over your stomach, finding his release as well. “Mhm–more,” you beg, holding onto his wrist. He goes crazy over your words, flipping you onto your stomach with ease. “You want more?” he asks with a smirk, pressing his body against your back as he leans to your ear. “You better have a condom on hand then because I do not want to be pulling out again.” 

Your whole body trembles as you point towards a drawer beside your bed, watching his hand reach for it. It takes a few seconds but the same hand rests on your back soon, tracing his fingers across your spine, making you arch your back. He chuckles when you raise your ass, your breast pressing against your mattress. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he mumbles, giving your ass a tight squeeze once again before he feel him enter you from behind again. 

You lose track of time, how long it takes for Jake to bring you to your climax again, how much time passes before he goes down on you, encouraging you on your third release of that night, you don’t remember how many times you truly come on his tongue either, everything getting blurry in your head, the only thing you can focus on being Jake’s moans and whines. It’s music to your ears, just as much as your moans are to his based on what he tells you. 

I love you. Jake fights the words back again as he rests on top of you, gazing into your eyes as if you were the only thing he could see. Because to him, you were. “You did so well,” he says, cupping your cheek and brushing a few sweaty strands of your hair off your face. “You weren’t so bad yourself, Captain,” you smile back, pressing your lips on yours in a soft, gentle kiss. 

“Let me help you wash up?” You nod and he immediately stands up, ready to get to work. 

The rest of the week goes on like a dream. Jake takes you out every day, on dates, night strolls, buying you flowers or sweets the moment he sets his eyes on a shop for even a mere second. You certainly can’t say you’d mind. And somehow, in the mix of the days you spend with him, you notice a shift in your parents behaviour, mostly your dad’s. His intense stares, the ones supposed to dig a hole in the middle of Jake’s forehead, slowly turn softer, watching him with much more appreciation you’d dare to say. 

“You need to come back soon, dear,” your mother says, making you roll your eyes as she eagerly holds Jake’s hands. “Shouldn’t you be saying that to your own daughter?” You question, watching as your boyfriend leaves out a soft laugh. “I’d love to visit soon again, I’m sure we can arrange something,” he agrees and she finally lets go of his hands. You replace his spot, hugging her goodbye with a promise of finding time to visit. 

“Sir,” Jake smiles as he steps in front of your father. They stay silent for a moment, watching each other before they both laugh, your dad pulling him into a hug, as if he was the son he called him before he became your boyfriend again. “I’d like to say you surprised me but I always knew you would be good to her.” 

“Did not seem like it before,” you comment, watching their exchange. Your dad sends you a look but doesn’t say anything. “Just…continue treating her right,” your dad turns his attention back to Jake, “otherwise, your death can still be arranged.” Your mom slaps his shoulder but Jake only laughs, nodding. “I promise to treat her like a princess,” he assures him, mocking a prince’s bow to prove his point. You shake your head at him, locking his arm with yours. “Let’s go.” 

He listens well, that’s something you’ve learnt over the past few days. Your bag swings over his shoulder as he laces his fingers with you, saying one last goodbye to your mom before leaving the house, taking you to his car. 

And as if the dream was to never end, the attention he pays to you, the care he holds for you, never disappears, only growing each day. He keeps to his promise and with every longing look from across the rink, every touch of his when you find yourselves back in your room, and every word he says to you, you find yourself falling for him more and more. 

“Oh but that’s not all,” he laughs, forming a grimace similar to disgust. “As if the whole conversation with Jay wasn’t weird enough on its own, I walk into the bathroom and boom, a lady hiding in there,” he says, skating ahead. You chuckle, following him with ease and listening to his stories. “I ran off immediately and called Sunghoon not to come back to the dorm anytime soon. Something Jay should have done for sure.” 

“But there’s a good thing that comes from it,” he turns around to face you, one of his boyish grins on again. “It gave me a reason not to be in my dorm studying, and also an excuse to see you.” You shake your head slightly, quickening your movements slightly to reach him. He offers you his hand immediately and you hold it without hesitation, letting him pull you closer. “I missed you.” 

“We’ve seen each other earlier today,” you remind him. 

“Not the same. Far from it.” 

You smile, not saying anything for a while as you simply let him guide you around the rink, your eyes locked with his. It’s quiet and yet, it feels like everything about the moment is loud and clear, letting the emotions you’ve been feeling for a while come out. 

“I love you,” you whisper. 

Jake’s eyes widen and he stops in his tracks, making you bump into him. “Say it again,” he begs, his eyes flickering from yours to your lips. “Please.” 

You smile, cupping his cheek. “I love you, Jake.” 

“God,” he breaths out, his arms wrapping around your waist as he picks you off the ground and spins around. “You just made me the happiest man on earth, you know that?” You laugh, telling him to put you back down. The moment he does, his lips find yours in a tender kiss, telling you everything you need to know. He pulls back and smiles, pressing his forehead on yours, “I love you.” 

⋆✶ izzy's tags @beomiracles @adel222 @hwanghyunjinismybae @liaatiny @nxzz-skz @bamgeutsz @xylatox @skyearby @cristy-101 @luvsicktyun @biteyoubiteme @thetxtdevil @alienqbrain @cloud-lyy @ppeachyttae @fancypeacepersona @dearestdreamies @urmomdotcom5678 @cupiddolle @prkhoonlvr @remgeolli @immelissaaa @bamguetismee @semisemirin1i82 @va1entinaa @rikifever @cutehoons02 ✶⋆ want to get notified? join taglist here!

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 ・h.j.

—you help han shave after a long day, leading to kisses and confessions.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠・han jisung x reader // 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐬・fluff, fluff, and some more fluff // 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬・839 // 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬・you shave his face, mentions of blades, hannie baby is really tired, kissesss, honestly nothing else haha.

𝐚/𝐧・I've been trying to just write and not over-edit everything until it feels like my fingers are going to fall off so I might make this a series where I post random thoughts that I haven't edited until my brain explodes :) sooo I only edited this once (everybody clap!) its probably painfully obvious (this took me 6 hours I literally don't know how)

"I feel gross," Han grumbles, lifting his head from your chest and rubbing his 5-o'clock shadow that very quickly turned into a 12-o'clock shadow when he decided to crawl into bed with you after work instead of completing his usual night routine. "M'just so tired, I don't wanna do nothin'."

You peered down at him, his self-conscious frown pressed against your shirt. His chest trembled every time he breathed—heavy with the type of exhaustion that settled deep into his bones, a feeling he knew all too well. Han carried the world on his shoulders and never asked for anything in return; you wished for nothing more than the power to release him from all this weight, and carry it upon yourself for a change.

"M'gonna do something, okay baby?" You whisper, planting a ginger kiss on his forehead as you untangle him from your arms and lift yourself from the mattress. It feels like hours until you come back, Han fidgeting restlessly when you slide back into his room with a silly smile and an impressive spread.

"Is that a charcuterie board?" Han laughs, your smile like a soothing balm to his fatigued muscles. You splayed out various shaving essentials onto the piece of wood, including: a razor, shaving cream, and a large bowl of water that makes him tilt his head, wondering how you were even able to balance all that on your arm.

You nod, seeming very proud of yourself. "Yes, indeed it is."

His face melts into a grin as you set yourself up, placing the board onto the bedside table and settling yourself atop his thighs. Han's thumbs brush mindless circles on your hips, like they always do. His eyelids flutter shut as you slather cool shaving cream over his jaw, basking in the relaxing essence of it all. He breathes, inhaling for the first time in what feels like lifetimes, allowing your gentle hands to ease every ache and pain from his body.

You glide the razor across his jaw, dipping it into the bowl of water every now and then to shake the hair off. The room is silent, save for the quiet hum of your heartbeat and the soft scrape of the blade, walls thrumming with the silent intimacy you two share. You had thrown open the curtains hours ago, now painting the room in splotches of light and cool air, which licks up his spine making him shiver. As if on cue, something stirs inside him, a feeling that blossoms inside his ribs, a warmth that spreads through his skin, making him want to get up and dance yet lay down and kiss you all at once.

This is far from the first time Jisung has experienced this strange phenomenon. It happened when you snuck into his practice room after hours, with nothing but yourself and a sharp tongue, lecturing the staff about his unrealistic schedule. It happened at the sight of your reassuring smile, front and center at one of his concerts. It happened when you kissed him for the first time, breathing life back into his body when it felt like anxiety had taken it all.

And it happens to him now, as you squint your eyes, lips pursed in concentration; you were so kind and attentive, so absolutely ethereal. The midnight stars hung over your head like a delicate halo, strokes of blue and gold sprinkled over your face, leaving him dizzy and breathless.

It hits him, suddenly, intensely, with a flutter in his chest and a trembling exhale—he feels stronger when he's with you. The revelation almost seals his windpipe shut, lashes collecting dew as he peers up at you admiring all the wonder you hold.

You finish, dipping the razor into the water once more before smoothing your thumb over his freshly shaven jaw, eyes sparkling with constellations only he could find.

"You make me feel stronger—" he breathes, the words slipping out before he can overthink them; part of him doesn't understand what he meant, but the other knew it just felt... right.

For some time, you are unable to respond, simply blinking, mouth slightly agape. The silence kills him, making him squirm awkwardly in his seat, suddenly feeling very embarrassed by his confession. And then you press your palms against his damp cheeks and rid the distance between you two.

It knocks the air out of his lungs all over again, no longer thinking about anything except for how your hair smells like vanilla and your lips taste like spring. You feel like the universe, clutched tightly in his hands, and he wouldn't trade it for anything.

[delulujuls]

tinder buddies | ln4

hi! i have no idea how to comment on that. i've got inspiration from the rumors that are now going on twitter and tiktok about lando and his activity in sm and i thought man, i need to write something in this narrative because sexting with him??? scuse me??? but of course all of this is fiction and and i dont have any statement on the rumors about lan, mostly because all of these are rumors and not facts. anyway, pls leave his poor papaya ass alone and enjoy this instead!

summary: when you met your tinder buddy irl and realize how indeed world is small

warnings: masturbation on cam (both male and female), bit of swearing, in general alott of sexual tention

pairing: fem!journalist!reader x lando norris

Y/N thought that she was good at what she was doing. She thought that despite her young age she fit in the world of motorsport really well. Sometimes it even crossed her mind that she was no different from her older colleagues, what's more, sometimes she even thought that she was better than them. However, she admitted this only to herself with complete modesty and behind tightly closed doors.

Apart from the fact that Y/N was a really good journalist whose career was growing at a surprising pace, at the end of the day she was just a twenty-two-year-old girl who, like many other twenty-two-year-old girls in the world, had her smaller and bigger sins.

Y/N breathed heavily as she entered her hotel room. She set her suitcase and bag aside, taking off her shoes and plopping down on the bed. It was well after midnight, her flight was delayed by several hours and she was simply exhausted by the passing day. Even though she was excited about the events that awaited her in a few hours, right now she was just tired. However, she knew perfectly well what would help her relax before going to sleep. Not so much what, but who.

The girl unlocked her phone and easily found the Instagram icon, clicking on it and going straight to the messages. She entered the first conversation and was about to write some prosaic message, but she didn't have time to type out half of the sentence when a new message appeared in the chat.

"u up?"

Y/N smiled to herself. It looked like she could count on a pleasant end to the day.

"I was just about to ask you the same thing"

The reply message appeared a moment later.

"i was waiting for you to be available. i thought the evening would be wasted"

"And yet you see, surprise"

The person on the other end smiled and untied the drawstring on his sweatpants. He quickly wrote his answer with one hand.

"wanna call?"

"I think you know the answer"

She smiled and reached for the switch and turned off the light, pressing the camera icon with her other hand.

Y/N and the boy she had been messaging with for a little over a month knew next to nothing about each other. She had a private account and a few photos, he had a black icon and an empty profile. He only knew her name, she only the first letter of his. They met on Tinder, their profiles there looked quite similar. She has a few photos, more of the body than the face, he has the same, mostly in black and white. They had never seen each other's faces, but they knew each other's bodies inside and out.

Y/N placed her phone on the table and leaned it against the lamp, which she turned on a moment later. The light from it was dim, but it illuminated her body enough. The angle her phone was at only showed her from the neck down. She was perfect at maintaining her privacy.

"New background?"

He asked, seeing that the surroundings behind her were different from those he had seen before. She pulled her sweatshirt over her head, leaving her in only a bra and a thin t-shirt.

"I'm away from home"

"Work?"

"Too many questions"

There was quiet laughter on the other side. He liked her temperament. He liked her curves even more and the sounds she made when, at his command, she pushed her fingers inside her and brought herself to orgasm. Yes, he liked that too.

"Yeah, you're right. Strip."

Y/N pulled the t-shirt over her head and her interlocutor saw a red, lace bra that he never seen on her before. He smiled and ran his hand over his crotch. He felt a chill run through him.

"You look good, baby. Red suits you"

She laughed and pushed her hair behind her shoulders.

"Is this the first time you gonna tell me to keep my bra on?"

"For now, yes. I'd love to look at it for a while" he squeezed his cock and began to lightly massage it through the fabric. "You know what to do, dont'cha?"

Y/N bit her lip and lifted her hands, placing them gently on her shoulders. She slowly moved them down her body and when she found her breasts, she slowly started massaging them in circular motions. She closed her eyes and tilted her head slightly, hearing the sigh that came from her phone. He watched her carefully, following her every move.

"Take it off," he said after a while, "It's pretty, but I think I prefer you without it."

She quickly took off her bra and threw it aside. He smiled at the sight of her breasts. Y/N returned to them, continuing their massage. As she lightly pinched her nipples, she moaned softly. His cock vibrated at the sound that came from his headphones. He smiled.

"Does it feel good, baby?"

"Mhm, yeah" she answered, looking again at her phone "But you're playing unfair again. I have to see you too."

He chuckled and shook his head.

"You don't let me enjoy you"

He replied and put down the phone, quickly pulling his shirt over his head. He fell back on the pillows and turned on the light on his phone. Y/N smiled at the sight of the familiar, slightly tanned and toned torso. Her interlocutor didn't see it, but she smiled even more when he tightened his hand on his cock, which was now clearly visible on the gray material of his trousers.

"Take off the rest of your clothes and lie down"

He ordered. Y/N obediently lay down, taking off her pants and underwear. When the rustle of fabric could be heard on the other side, he easily freed himself from his pants and tight, slightly damp boxers. He spat on his hand and spread the saliva over his cock, feeling it tighten under his touch. Fuck, what he would give if instead of his hand it was this tiny hand that disappeared between the pair of thighs he saw on the screen of his phone.

The girl complied with his command and he saw her middle finger slowly sinking inside her, only to come out after a while covered with her juices.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, "You're so wet, baby."

“I wish you were here and licked me clean.”

Y/N said, rubbing her clit. She felt that she wouldn't need much to reach orgasm.

Her interlocutor smiled under his breath, but she wasn't able to see it.

"I'm afraid that i would make you even more wet."

"Someone has quite an ego here"

"I know my capabilities, baby."

She snorted under her breath and made herself more comfortable, inserting her finger into herself again. First one, quite slowly, and soon she added another one. A long moan filled the hotel room as she began to move them, imagining that it was not her but him who was fucking her. And not with his fingers, but with his wet, hard cock.

"Yeah, just like that, baby. Keep going."

His eyes carefully followed the screen and the activities taking place on it. His hand moved smoothly over his cock, his lips were slightly opened. As he was stroking himself, the glass of his watch on his wrist reflected the light from the phone. He wore it every time they cam together. Y/N didn't know anything about watches, so she didn't know what brand it was or whether it was expensive. They never talked about it, honestly, they basically never had a normal chat. However, he once asked her about the tattoo on her forearm, just below the inner bend of her elbow. He noticed it after the first time they met on camera. When it was all over and they were about to hang up and return to their real lives, he asked about it.

"What does 33 mean?"

He asked when the girl started getting dressed.

"What?"

"Tattoo on your arm"

The girl looked at her forearm and only then did she understand what he was asking about.

"I can't tell you because you'll make fun of me"

Hearing this, he smiled. Not because there was probably some stupid story behind it, but because the girl was concerned about not looking bad in front of him. Even though they absolutely didn't know each other.

"I barely know your name, I don't know why I would make fun of you."

Y/N was silent for a moment, glancing at her tattoo and lightly stroking it with her thumb.

"Do you know Formula 1?"

He smiled and nodded. His reaction, however, was beyond her reach.

"I know a thing or two"

"My favorite driver drives with this number. Well, actually he did, now his number is 1. But for me it will still be associated with 33"

The girl explained. She felt a bit embarrassed to expose herself to him, especially with something like this. However, he did not laugh at her or comment on her confession in any negative way.

"I have a friend who is also involved in motorsport and has the same number. Actually, not anymore, because he also had to change it. But for me it will also be associated only with 33"

Y/N smiled at his words. Sometimes she wondered if they could become friends and get to know each other a little better. But then she decided to come down to earth and remind herself that she had no time for relationships or friendships. Now the most important thing for her is work and career, everything else can wait. After all, no one will satisfy her as much as herself. Right?

"Fuck, I could fill you so good, baby," he moaned, gasping for breath. He felt that he was only seconds away from orgasm "You have no idea how much pleasure I would give you."

The girl's lips were opened, her eyelids were shut tightly. She massaged her clit with her left hand and moved the fingers of her right hand inside her in quick, uneven movements.

"I'm about to- I…oh my god-"

“Yes, baby, thats it" he gasped, speeding up "Cum for me.”

She felt a wave of pleasure wash over her. The moment her back arched, she heard a long "fuck" coming from her phone. He came shortly after her, staining his toned abs with his sperm. He squeezed his eyes shut and tilted his head back, trying to calm his breathing. There was silence on both sides for a moment, neither of them moving an inch.

After some time, Y/N sat on the bed and reached for a tissue, wiping her hands on it.

"I have to go now. I have a lot of work waiting for me tomorrow."

"Me too. I wanted to let you know that we may not be able to have a call tomorrow."

He answered, also wiping himself.

“It's okay, no big deal,” Y/N replied and took one last look at the muscled, tanned torso visible on her phone screen, “Good night. And good luck with your chores tomorrow.”

“Good night, baby. You too.”

She smiled and reached for her phone, ending the call. Exhausted from the previous day and the evening cam session, she just buried herself in the blanket and shortly after fell asleep. The next day, when her alarm went off, she was full of energy despite several hours of sleep. She couldn't wait for saturday's qualifying and all she was thinking about as she was getting ready was whether she would be able to get good material.

As she put on her red bra, she smiled involuntarily as she remembered last night. She wondered if he had already gotten lost in the whirlwind of his today's duties. Y/N quickly got dressed, gathered her things and, putting her pass around her neck, left the hotel. When she got to the track and was in the paddock, she couldn't think about anything else. Her only thoughts revolved around what was going to happen on the track in a few dozen minutes. However, for a split second she wondered what her tinder buddy actually knew about Formula 1. Maybe they could have something to talk about? Maybe she could even take him to some grand prix?

Her thoughts disappeared when she noticed Lando Norris hanging around the McLaren garage. The girl asked the cameraman to prepare the equipment and she would ask the Brit if he would be willing to have a short conversation. She squeezed the microphone in her hand and without thinking, she approached him, introducing herself and asking if it was possible to record a short conversation.

Hearing her name, his heart did a flip. He knew that name very well.

"Sure, no problem"

He replied with a smile, obviously not revealing himself, and ran his hand through his hair. The glass of the watch strapped to his wrist gleamed in the sunlight. Y/N had seen this watch before. Many times.

The girl smiled back and, hearing his agreement, gave a thumbs up to the cameraman. When she raised her hand, the sleeve of her shirt rolled up, and Lando's eyes involuntarily caught the tattoo on her forearm. A slight 33, just below the bend in the elbow.

He felt a sudden wave of heat wash over him. It's a coincidence, right? It must be.

"How's your mood before qualifying?"

Y/N asked, putting the microphone down and straightening her shirt. As she was arranging her collar, Lando's eyes caught a glimpse of her red bra strap. He smiled to himself and looked down. He wondered how many accidents and coincidences had come together in the universe and resulted in this situation.

"What? Something wrong?"

The girl asked, not knowing what made him react like that.

He shook his head and after a moment looked up again. He looked at the girl carefully. However, she was completely lost and looked at him questioningly.

"Sorry, as you can probably see, my mood is great. I'm positive about today's qualifying."

Y/N tentatively gripped her microphone. When the cameraman approached them, they started recording the footage and she had no time to analyze Lando's strange behavior. In fact, it was possible that this was their first and last conversation ever, so why should she care about it. When they managed to record a short material, Y/N thanked him and wished him successful qualifications. After that everyone went their separate ways.

Immediately after entering the garage, Lando found his phone buried in a pile of his things. He quickly entered his latest conversation on Instagram and, without thinking, decided to send the girl a message. Worst case scenario, he'll just make a fool of himself, which isn't a big deal since they don't know each other at all. At best, he would spend tonight as he had long dreamed of.

"ure even prettier than i thought, baby."

Y/N felt a vibration in her pants pocket and without thinking, she unlocked her phone. She was surprised to see a notification coming from Instagram, and she was even more surprised when she noticed who sent her the message. After reading it, she felt a cold sweat break out on her. However, she decided to think and act soberly.

"How do you know what I look like?"

"turn around"

Lando replied quickly and leaned against the threshold of his garage. The girl clutched her phone in her hands and obeyed his command with her heart beating wildly. Lando smiled at her, holding his still unlocked phone. Y/N felt a lack of saliva in her mouth. It's impossible, it's not really happening.

"Are you sure we're looking at the same person?"

She replied, having difficulty pressing the appropriate keys with her fingers. He was amused by her reaction. This whole situation didn't make sense to him. It was crazy.

"im looking at a pretty neat journalist with a mad bunda who has a tattoo with my friend's racing number. and u?"

Y/N blushed. Fuck. It's him.

"I see that your jumpsuit is a little tight in some places."

Lando snorted under his breath. The girl wasn't lying. The whole situation made quite an impression on him.

Y/N bit her lip and looked up. She'd be lying if she said it wasn't arousing.

"u know exactly why its tight"

"I guess I have to find out in real life. The camera likes to lie."

When she sent the message, she looked up again and their eyes locked. The Brit winked at her and quickly replied, turning on his heel and disappearing into the depths of the garage.

"my driver's room in five minutes. ill be happy to dispel your doubts"

[chloewriteswhenshewantsto]

Afterglow

Authors Note: It’s me. Hi. I’m back with another attempt at “writing”. This is an angsty one this time. I felt I should learn to write something that pulls at the heartstrings. I hope this doesn’t disappoint.

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton X Female! Reader

Warnings: Angst, Period Specific Sexism

Word Count: 2.9K

Anthony looks up from his desk, rubbing his tired eyes as he calls out a gruff. "Who is it?"

The rain outside continues to batter the windows, the sound muffled but still audible through the thick oak door of his office.

Anthony's expression softens immediately as he sees you standing in the doorway. He smiles, setting down his pen and pushing himself away from the desk.

"Love, what are you doing up at this hour?" he asks, his tone gentle as he looks over to you. "You should be in bed."

“I couldn��t fall asleep without you.” you admit sheepishly. “The bed doesn’t feel the same without you in it.”

Anthony's smile widens, his heart swelling with a tender affection as he hears your admission. He steps closer to you, his hands coming up to tenderly frame your face.

"You know I'd rather be in bed with you too, darling," he murmurs, his voice gravelly with tiredness. "But the ledgers won't balance themselves, I'm afraid."

“Surly you can do them in the morning, you’ve been working so hard lately, my love.”

Anthony lets out a weary sigh, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as he holds your gaze.

"You know I'd love nothing more, sweetheart," he admits, his exhaustion clear in his voice. "But there's so much work to do. I've been neglecting my duties, thanks to our trip to the country"

“You have been in here all day, it is past midnight surly you can rest now.” you say frustratedly. Your husband is a hard worker, but the dark circles under his eyes betray him. He needs to rest.

Anthony flinches slightly at the tone in your voice, the frustration in your words evident. He lets out another sigh, his hands dropping from your face and going to his hips.

"I know I've been working late, darling," he says, his voice quieter now. "But there's just so much to do. The ton relies on me to keep the estate running smoothly, and with the ball coming up, there's so much to prepare for-"

“Then let me help you lighten the load, I might not know how to balance the books but teach me I am a quick learner. Surly two heads will be better than one.” you say, pleading with your husband to let you help ease his burden.

It is not a woman’s job to deal with finances, you know this, and your husband is a proud man that will want to take the pressure off everyone but himself. You can only hope that he is too tired to argue with you tonight.

Anthony hesitates for a moment, torn between his natural instinct to handle everything himself and the desire to please you.

"Darling, it's not your job to help me with all this," he starts hesitantly, his gaze flickering between you and the papers scattered on his desk. "I'm supposed to take care of everything, that's my responsibility as the viscount-"

“And what of my responsibility as your wife?” you interrupt him sharply. “Is it not part of my duties to help you when you are struggling.”

Anthony falls silent for a moment, your sharp words cutting through the air like a knife. He looks at you carefully, his expression a mixture of surprise and contemplation.

"Of course it is," he admits quietly, his shoulders deflating a fraction. "Be that as it may, these are things that I'm supposed to handle, sweetheart. The estate, the financial planning-"

“I wish to help, I wish to spend time with my husband outside this office!” you frustratedly plea.

Anthony's expression darkens, his shoulders tensing as he struggles to keep his own temper in check.

"You know I wish I could spend more time with you, darling," he snaps back.

"You think I don't want that too?" he retorts, his voice rising slightly. "You think I enjoy spending every waking moment in this damn office, bogged down by paperwork and figures? But it's my job, my responsibility-"

Anthony continues to rant, his frustration and exhaustion getting the better of him as he snaps at you.

"I don't need another problem to deal with. I don't need you hovering over me, trying to help, when I'm the one who has to carry the weight of this estate on my shoulders. You're already distracting me enough as it is."

The words hang in the air like a poison, their harshness cutting deep.

"You need to stop being so bloody needy!" he snaps, his tone sharp and frustrated. "I'm doing the best I can, but there's only so much I can handle! You're asking me to do the impossible. Besides, what on earth could you possibly know about running an estate? All you know is dresses and tea parties and silly little gossip rings, you don't know the first thing about what I’m going through-"

Anthony immediately regrets his words the moment they leave his mouth, his eyes widening in alarm as he realizes the damage his words have done. His lack of sleep and his patience that has been holding on by a thread that has finally snapped.

The words hang in the air like a poison, their harshness cutting deep into your heart.

Anthony's face softens immediately as he sees the tears welling up in your eyes. His anger and frustration disappear, replaced by regret and guilt as he realizes the impact of his words.

"Wait, darling, I didn't-" he starts, reaching out a hand towards you.

“I am sorry I didn’t realise I was another problem that you had to deal with, my lord.” you say stonily, taking a step back from his reach. “I shall leave you be.”

Anthony winces at your formal address, the coldness in your tone cutting through him like a knife.

"Wait, no, that's not what I meant-" he tries to explain, his voice filled with remorse.

Anthony stands there, frozen, as the door swings shut behind you. The sound of the rain outside is suddenly deafening, drowning out the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears.

"Shit," he mutters, raking his hands through his hair in frustration. "I shouldn't have said that, I didn't mean it...fuck." he curses out, swiping the papers of his desk in anger.

Anthony storms over to the corner of the office, pouring himself a generous glass of whiskey. He downs it in one gulp before pouring himself another, the whiskey burning its way down his throat and into his stomach. He paces the room, his mind a maelstrom of guilt and self-recrimination.

Anthony spends most of the night in his office, drowning himself in paperwork and the bottle of whiskey by his side. He tries to focus on the figures in front of him, but his mind keeps drifting back to you.

He can still hear the echo of your hurt and angered voice in his ears, the way you'd shut the door behind you with a sharp click. It pains him how callous and cold he'd been to you, how he'd let his frustration spill out in the worst possible way…

As the first rays of sunlight start to filter through his office windows, Anthony finally falls asleep at his desk, head resting on his arms, his dreams plagued with visions of you. Countless apologetic notions fill his thoughts, he will make things better. He has too.

———————————————————————

Anthony groans, as daylight makes its way through his office windows. Lifting his head off the desk, memories of last night come rushing back, and with them, the sharp pang of guilt. His head is pounding from the liquor, his neck aching from the awkward position he slept in. He sits up, rubbing his temples with a weary groan, the events of the previous night playing over in his mind on repeat.

"Bloody hell," he mutters to himself, shoving a hand through his disheveled hair.

Anthony spots a maid walking down the hall as he emerges from his office, his expression still weary and guilt-ridden. He stops her, and with a gruff in his voice from tiredness, he asks her.

"Excuse me, have you seen my wife this morning? Where is she?"

The maid, a young woman with a cheerful smile, gives Anthony a puzzled look as he stops her in the hallway.

"Good morning, my lord," she says, a little taken aback by his weary and disheveled appearance.

Anthony runs a hand through his hair, attempting to straighten it but failing.

“I have not seen the viscountess this morning, my lord. Would you like me to check with the other maids on her whereabouts?” she respectfully responds.

His heart sinks at the maid's response. He had hoped that he would find you wandering the halls, ready for him to apologize and make things right. But instead, he is left with a sense of confusion and growing dread as to your whereabouts.

"Yes, please. Anything you can find out would be greatly appreciated. I need to speak with her urgently." he says tiredly.

The maid nods her head in understanding as Anthony dismisses himself to ascends the stairs with a heavy heart, his mind still spinning with guilt and worry. As he reaches the door to his bedroom, he hesitates for a moment, taking a deep breath as he mentally prepares himself to face you.

He quietly pushes the door open, peering into the bedroom to see if you are there.

Anthony's heart drops as he sees that the bed is still made and empty. You are nowhere to be found, and he immediately starts to panic.

"Damn it, where is she?" he mutters, stepping further into the room as he looks around frantically trying to find clean clothing to change into.

Stepping out of his room, Anthony runs through the hallways of the estate, calling out your name frantically as he looks in every room and corridor, his footsteps echoing loudly. He checks the library, the study, the drawing room, anywhere he can think of where you might be, but you are nowhere to be found.

"Damn it, where are you?" he repeats, his voice ragged and desperate. "Please, love, where are you?"

As Anthony is running through the estate, he is stopped by a staff member who approaches him urgently. His eyes immediately snap to theirs, a flicker of hope and desperation in his gaze.

"What is it? Where is she?" he asks urgently, his voice betraying his anxiety.

Anthony listens intently to the staff member's words, his heart hammering in his chest as he hears the words "gardens". Without a moment's hesitation, he spins on his heel and takes off in that direction, his steps quick and determined.

Anthony's heart stutters in his chest as he sees you, tucked away in a tranquil corner of the gardens, reading a book. Relief floods through him, but it is quickly replaced by guilt and worry. He pauses, watching you for a moment, his eyes taking in your figure, the sight of you a balm to his weary heart.

Taking a deep breath, he steels himself and starts to walk towards you. Your eyes meet his, and he is struck by the sight of you, sitting there under the tree, reading like nothing had happened between you. His heart clenches in his chest, and he opens his mouth to speak.

"Darling," he says, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Can I speak with you for a moment?"

“I suppose so, if you are not too busy that is.” you dryly respond looking up at him.

Anthony flinches slightly at the cold tone in your voice, but he doesn't blame you for being angry. He takes a seat on the grass next to you, rubbing a hand over his face in exhaustion and regret.

"I am never too busy for you," he replies softly, his gaze fixed on yours. "I... I wanted to talk to you, to apologize for last night."

Your expression does not give him hope that this will be an easy conversation for them to have. Feeling nervous he gestures towards the book in your lap, his expression softening.

"May I ask what you're reading?" he inquired, his voice quieter now, almost nervous.

“It is a book on mathematics, I thought it would be smart to fill my brain with things other than dresses and endless gossip.” you respond hitting back at him for his earlier words.

He winces at your words, his shoulders visibly tense as he absorbs the sting in them. He knows he deserves it, after everything he said to you last night. But still, the reminder of his careless words hurts.

"I deserved that," he admits quietly, his eyes downcast. "And I am sorry, for what I said yesterday. It was careless and cruel, and I didn't mean it, truly. You are not another problem, love. You are my partner, my wife. I was just... frustrated, overwhelmed."

Releasing a sigh you meet his eyes. You can see how tired he looks, how vulnerable.

“I know that, which is why I wanted to help. I never meant to become another issue that you had to deal with when you are already so busy.”

Anthony's heart aches as he sees the hurt in your eyes. He reaches out a hand, tentatively resting it on your knee.

"You are not an issue," he says firmly. "You are the furthest thing from it. I was out of line, love, and I'm sorry. I... I should have let you help, should have been grateful that you cared enough to ask. I know how difficult it is for you, sitting at home while I'm stuck in that office day in and day out."

“You hurt me you know, with your words,” you say sadly. “I went to bed alone last night and I cried for what seemed like hours. Then I thought of how angry I was with your stubbornness, so I woke up this morning and went straight to the library because as much as I am upset with you I still love you too much to see you end up in an early grave because you worked yourself to death.”

Anthony's heart clenches as he hears your words, knowing he is the cause of your pain. He lets out a shaky breath, his hand tightening on your knee as he hangs his head in shame.

"I know," he says quietly, his voice thick with regret. "And I don't blame you for being angry with me, I was a fool for saying those things to you. You have no idea how much I regretted those words as soon as they left my mouth. I hurt you, and for that, I am truly sorry. Tell me how can I make it better."

“If you wish to make things up to me you may sit with me and teach me what you know of accounts. I do not wish to have this argument again so I wish to know so I may lend a hand when you truly need it.”

Anthony's eyes widen in surprise at your suggestion, but he quickly composes himself, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He nods slowly, his hand still resting on your knee, a warm and reassuring presence.

"I'd be happy to teach you," he says softly. "And I promise, I will never be that careless again, love. I'll ask for your help next time, I swear it."

“Hmmm, you better.” you gently smile at him. “Also if I am to help you I would like a desk. A large one.”

Anthony chuckles weakly at your request, a mix of relief and amusement at your stubbornness. He nods, his gaze fixed on you.

"Of course, love. You'll have your very own desk, right next to mine. And I'll make sure to explain everything to you, I promise."

You lean over to kiss him gently. Placing a hand on his cheek. You can never stay mad at him for long you blame his face.

“You know if we are to spend more time together in your office, we might need to think of a way to destress after all our hard work.”

Anthony raises an eyebrow at your words, a smirk playing at his lips.

"Oh, and what do you suggest we do to... 'destress', love?" he asks, his voice dropping lower, a hint of something dark and suggestive in his tone.

“Hmmm something like this prehaps.” you say as you climb upon his lap giggling.

Anthony's breath hitches as you climb onto his lap, and he instinctively puts his hands on your hips, pulling you closer to him. His eyes darken with desire as he looks up at you, a smirk on his lips.

"I like the way you think, love," he laughs, his hands traveling up your waist.

The staff can't help but overhear the sound of laughing and joyous voices coming from the gardens, and a wave of relief washes over them. After all, witnessing the viscount and viscountess argue and bicker wasn't a comforting sight for them. As they continue about their work, they can't help but feel glad that the tension between you and Anthony has been lifted, replaced instead by playful banter and laughter. A happy couple suited the viscount and viscountess a far lot better than a bickering one.

[scuderiasundays]

better together

summary: airline lounges, box box widgets, and a cheesy greeting card 💌

words: 1,045

a/n: the romcom girlie in me has always wanted to write a meet-cute and i've been listening to too much lizzy mcalpine! tagging @vamossainz55, @sainzcaleruega, @monzabee, @ssainzz, @diorleclerc, and @userlando just because. let me know if you'd want a part two! hugs and kisses 🫶🏼

Love comes when you least expect it. Those same old words had fallen from the lips of every person you knew, so much so that they now felt weightless. On this particular evening, you found yourself at your best friend’s wedding reception, zoning out at the open bar. You nodded along as some man who’d had one too many G&T’s rambled on about his meet-cute on the Paris metro. Seeing two people you adored make a lifelong commitment only reaffirmed the fact that you craved the same.

It was no secret you weren’t exactly the MVP of the single scene. On any given night out, you’d leave the club before midnight to get a full eight-hour snooze. Dating apps were a no-no, as reruns of Catfish had made you skeptical about “finding the one” online. At work, you kept a low profile, socializing just enough to have a tight circle of work friends. It was as if you were coasting on autopilot, wanting love but hesitant to steer towards it.

Not to say that being single was all bad. Every hard-earned dollar was invested right back into the things you loved: trips, clothes, and your dog Cannoli. You silently weighed the pros and cons of your lifestyle as you stepped into the airline lounge.

Setting down your latest read to save your seat, you made your way to the breakfast buffet and grabbed a plate of avocado toast, poached eggs, and a glass of orange juice. On your way back, you spotted someone in a hoodie and cap making themselves at home in the armchair opposite yours.

The whole lounge was virtually empty, and this just had to be his seat of choice? You slowly approached from behind and let out a quiet gasp as you noticed them flipping through your book. “Love languages, huh?” The man pointed at the cover and smiled.

Your pupils dilated twice their size as you registered just who it was. The fan-made bracelets, the Leica, and, most of all, the signature McLaren cap—it all fell into place. “My manager and I just got into a huge argument, and honestly, I’d rather be anywhere but with him right now. Do you mind if I-" He gestured towards the seat beside you, his eyes radiating a silent plea.

“No problem. Let me give you your space,” you responded, hastily gathering your things. Just as you were about to step away, his hand gently clasped your wrist. “I could use the company. I’m Bob, by the way,” he mumbled, oblivious to the fact that his cover was blown.

As in, you knew he was currently seventh place in the driver’s championship and slowly but surely climbing up the standings. The last thing he needed was for you to bring any of that up, so you did as he said, trying to give him a sense of normalcy he so deserved.

He headed to the breakfast buffet and returned with the very items you had selected. "Copying me?" you teased. “First step in getting to know you,” he grinned. Curious about your life, he asked about your job in the emergency room. You told him the hours were grueling but watching extremely sick patients leave healthy made it all worthwhile. "Hope I never end up being your patient," he joked.

His interest didn't stop there; he inquired about siblings (only child), your dream vacation destination (Antibes), and whether you were a dog or cat person (not even a question). You, being a proud dog mom, wanted to show your furry guy off and handed Lando your phone.

As he squinted at your phone, you heard him say, "7 days to go. United States Grand Prix." A wave of panic washed over you as you remembered the Box Box widget that also occupied your screen. The silence was deafening as you wished the ground would swallow you up. 

“Let me see the app,” He said. You normally wouldn’t have acquiesced so quickly, but you crumbled and unlocked your phone. He appeared to scroll and click a few things before he handed it back. “Widget Preferences. Constructor: McLaren? Driver: Lando Norris?” You asked as you noticed he’d made some selections.

“You hadn’t bothered with the preferences, so I took the liberty of choosing.” He blushed as the awkwardness of it all hung in the air. “That doesn’t feel fair. I’ve had all this time to get to know you, and I can’t say the same for the other drivers.” You teasingly retorted.

“I'll let the guys know they're in a tight race for your heart." He snickered. The man was on the verge of tears when his manager came by to remind him of his impending flight. “Flight’s in an hour, Lando,” snapped him right back to reality.

He entrusted you with his bags as he ran out to run a quick pre-flight errand. You couldn’t help but squeal the second Lando had vanished from view. What kind of magic was in the air at this airport and could it be bottled?

You tapped through your best friend’s Instagram stories as you awaited his return. The nearly empty lounge echoed as Lando asked a nearby gentleman for a pen and jotted something down. Breathless, he handed you a card, urging you to read it later.

"Your shoelace is untied," he mentioned, and as he bent down to tie it, his blue-green eyes met yours. 

The British racing driver left your life in the abrupt way he had entered it. You took in the card, decked out with drawings of mac and cheese, milk and cereal, and avocado and toast, captioned "Better Together" at the bottom.

It was the only card in the store, but it felt just right. You highlighted “words of affirmation” as your love language, so I thought I’d give this a go. Thanks for keeping me company. Talk soon? - LN 

His number was scribbled at the end. You quickly changed your lock screen widget to showcase his stats and took a screenshot to send his way.

New look. I might be biased, but I think you just became my favorite driver. Let's see if you can keep it up.

He replied right away.

I like the sound of that. When can I see you again?

[facefullofsadness]

The world needs guitarist winter!! 🗣🗣🔥🔥🔥 (i die a little each time i see her with a guitar)

AGREE!!! everyday that has passed since 230225 winter playing guitar at synk hyper line in seoul for the first time has just been me trying to recover and seek guidance bc damn, she ruined my life and it's all I've been able to think about

content - rockstar guitarist!winter, best friend's sister!winter, dom!winter, includes txt members (beomgyu and yeonjun) and giselle, song references, smut (messy and wild sex, slight degradation, fingering, cunnilingus, strap-on usage, choking, breeding kink, quickies, squirting, vibrator usage, semi-public sex/voyeurism)

wc - 3122

a/n - a loaded one since it's been a while. I had sm fun writing this in general, but especially a certain part (I think u'll be able to tell when u get there), I was laughing my ass off so fking hard. also I just got a haircut that's very wolf-cut-y so it helped a whole bunch to get into writing this lol, committed to the bit!

winter's a damn good guitarist.

she's fuckinggg hotttt too when she plays and she knows it. watched a vid of her recently doing her guitar solo during girls and after the final riff she smirked at the camera and I LITERALLY COMBUSTED DEAR LORD.

anyway, I imagine her in a rock band, one with beomgyu, and they're both just the hot, wolf-cut, dark emo guitarists. you're the lead singer and front man of the band and were the reason the band formed in the first place. you were besties with beomgyu and you two wrote and composed music from time to time, always having the idea of a band as a passion project at the back of your minds.

eventually, gyu recruited his sister, minjeong. the three of you worked together diligently, recruiting yeonjun as a drummer who knew and dragged along aeri as a bassist. it was truly a dream come true, getting to pursue what you're passionate about the most with your best friend and a group of people just as enthusiastic as you were.

though, it was hard to focus with such a pretty girl like kim minjeong breathing down your neck at all times. you, beomgyu, and minjeong would primarily work together on music, usually going from the afternoon until after midnight hours. while minjeong was only a few months older than your best friend, she'd boss him around and push him to go home, saying it was late and that their mom needed to see at least one of them to know they were okay. he'd groan and complain about it, especially since you and him were the main collaborators for songs and were the best when you were together, but she'd always promise to take good care of you, whatever that meant (huehuehue).

beomgyu cares more about you as a little sister than he does his own sister so when he gets confirmation that she'll take care of you, he accepts it and goes home early, leaving you and minjeong in the studio alone. you bite your lip as you watch the door close, your friend leaving you behind with her.

"just you and me now, huh pretty?" the girl leans into you on the couch.

you shift uncomfortably at the close proximity and try to subtly scooch away, "uh yeah, I guess so... we should try to finish this arrangement before we get out of here."

you try your best to compose yourself and act professional, hearing minjeong's deep chuckle next to you, "alright then."

actually getting work done and writing some lyrics alongside figuring out the instrumental arrangement with minjeong since she's the other guitarist, besides beomgyu (also bc he left). you tell her that you get frustrated with the fact you're not that good at playing, her having asked why you don't just make the arrangements yourself. and so, she decides to teach you! well, "teach you."

placing her acoustic Silvertone on your lap and crawling up slowly behind you, her warm body pressed up against your back, the brush of her lips against your ear making you shiver. she brings her arms over and places her hands over yours, guiding them around the strings and assisting with the chords.

she whispers deep and raspy into your ear various instructions, "if you cover this entire fret and press down on these strings, you'll get the F Barre chord. it's a little difficult but nothing you can't manage, right princess?"

"the placement kinda hurts..." you complain, feeling the burn of the metal strings against your skin.

"it'll be a little painful when you start, but with practice you'll get better. you have to press down harder than that though," her pressing your fingers down harder against the nylon strings.

whining softly at the pain, making her lips come closer to your ear, "come on baby, you can do it, a little pain goes a long way. I know you can handle it."

a chill runs down your spine at her words, proceeding to repeatedly attempt to strum the chord correctly until the sound was full.

"good girl, it wasn't that bad right?" you turn to face her, her lips just centimeters away from yours.

your breath picks up at her proximity and a smirk tugs at her lips, moving her face into your neck and hotly sighing against it.

"how badly do you want it, hm? how badly do you want me to fuck you like a rockstar?"

your grip on her guitar tightens as her mouth trails around your neck, gasping when you feel her tongue drag across slowly.

"what do you think you're doing?"

"nothing you don't want me to already, sweetheart."

you lean into her touch, moving your hand away from the body of the guitar to lace your fingers through her soft wolf-cut hair, pulling her head in further into your neck, now placing wet kisses against the skin.

you suddenly shoot your eyes open at the realization of what you two are doing and stutter, "I-I don't think we should be doing th-this... we need to finish the arrangement... and also, y-your brother, what will h-he think?"

you stumble over your words as minjeong just hums in response to, continuing to leave sloppy marks across your neck, feeling her make hickeys on parts of your skin that wouldn't be noticeable.

"we have all the time in the world to finish the song. but what about gyu? did you want him instead then?" she asks, almost threateningly, challenging you to say yes.

in response, you whimper and pull her head in further towards your neck, practically begging her not to go away.

"don't you feel ashamed letting your best friend's sister do this to you? or are you just a slut?"

you don't answer, only shut your eyes and bite your lip. minjeong doesn't like that, resulting in her hand to pull you by the hair backwards, head facing the ceiling. your eyes shot open at the contact and you see her blown pupils staring into yours.

her voice comes out low and dark, "answer me whore. tell me what you are, I wanna hear you say it."

you gulp down a lump in your throat, debating if you should listen to her or to your morals. all sense jumps out the window when she sexily raises her eyebrow at you, an expectant expression sitting on her aroused face.

fuck it whatever, she's too fucking hot, "I'm your slut, minjeong, all yours."

finishing the arrangement? what a joke! she has your legs spread wide open on the soundboard, skillful fingers pumping in and out of your squelching cunt, your head thrown back, moaning into the hot air of the studio. her one hand plunging deep into your pussy while the other one is wrapped around your waist, holding you close, keeping your thighs propped open with her body. and she's just watching you, her mouth slightly open and lips a deep dark plump red, her messy hair tousled, bangs sticking to her sweaty forehead. she loves watching how your face contorts in response to her digits curling to hit that delicious spot in your hole, hitting it repeatedly, her palm slapping against your clit with every quick thrust of her hand. the sounds of your croaky moans, wet and clenching pussy, and her heavy breathing fill the sound-proof room, the thought of productivity not even grazing either of your minds.

the pleasure built so much, you felt that knot in your stomach tighten. minjeong quickened her pace as she felt your legs start to shake around her, sensing how close you were to cumming. it was all too much and you suddenly orgasmed, crying out moans with every wave of delight that surged through your body, thighs trembling, eyes rolled back and mouth hung open, your hands gripping her shoulders for dear life. she intently watched with a lustful stare at every expression your face made while you came, memorizing how good you looked when she fucked you. pulling her fingers out and collecting every drop of cum you leaked onto her hand and wrist, licking it clean until a thin sheet of her saliva remained.

"open your fucking mouth and stick your tongue out," she demanded with a deep voice.

you obeyed and gagged, feeling her tongue shove itself down your throat, forcefully swallowing her saliva and your cum. drool seeped out the sides of your lips as she continued her onslaught in your mouth, feeling her clothed hips grind against your sensitive clit, moans slipping out of your throat in the form of gags.

she'd pull away suddenly, tongue exiting your mouth with a wet slurping noise, making you cough. "you. are. mine. remember that."

she'd remind you, running her damp fingers through her hair.

these late night escapades continued to occur with every single long session held in the studio (she definitely recorded some audios of you guys fucking for sureeee). the creative part of you wanted beomgyu to stay and help with the music, but the sinful part of you so desperately wanted him to leave as soon as possible to have his sister all to yourself. your best friend never caught on to you and minjeong, but oh, yeonjun and aeri caught on like THAT. the tension between you two was so palpable, the two older members would side eye you during practices and giggle to each other, watching the two of you eye fuck from across the room.

eventually, the band's popularity would build and proceed to skyrocket, leading to your guys' first tour. tour meant performing together, traveling together, being with each other, and ultimately, tour meant being with minjeong. and so when management would get 3 hotel rooms for you all, 1 for the boys, 1 for the girls, and well, 1 for aeri being the sleeping beauty she is, rooming with minjeong meant a few things. practicing together, writing and composing together, and sleeping together (for the girls in the back, SEX).

throwing you onto the bed as soon as you reach your hotel room, tearing your clothes off and pinning you down, sloppily kissing each other. she'd prep you by eating you out, sticking her wet muscle inside of your leaking core, caressing your walls and flicking against your g-spot. you bit down hard on the pillow, muffling your moans as her thumb covered in her saliva rubbed against your throbbing clit. her pulling away right before you came and putting on a strap-on she brought on tour (for you of course!), wasting no time in thrusting it into you.

the pillow probably did nothing to silence your screams as she mercilessly fucked you into the mattress, hand pressing down on your lower stomach to feel her cock pumping in and out of you, the tip of her dick hitting your cervix again and again, her thumb still stimulating your clit. minjeong had your back arching, your hands flew everywhere, trying to grip onto anything to ground yourself, but nothing was enough, even as you screamed and bit down on your pillow. your eyes watered and your vision blurred as she rammed into you, the dark-haired girl moving her hands to wrap around your neck, choking you, gradually adding pressure with every rough thrust. her pants eventually became moans too, loving the feeling of the side of her strap hitting that delicious spot inside of her too, slapping her clit against yours as she bottomed out in you.

"I'm gonna fucking cum in you y/n, I'm gonna knock you up, fill you up until you're leaking both of us," minjeong growls above you, lowering her face to level with yours.

you feel tears fall down the sides of your face and your throat sore from another scream ripped out of you as well as her hands around your neck as she throws the pillow in your mouth onto the floor, attaching her mouth to yours instead. you cry onto her tongue as you orgasm against her strap, toes curling and legs wrapped around her waist, nails digging into minjeong's shoulders, cum gushing out of you as you feel her cock shoot fake ropes of white liquid into you, filling you up. you feel her shake in your arms too as she cums, her pleasure leaking out onto your thighs, soaking the bedsheets. she collapses on top of you, both of you desperately gasping for air, her dick still inside of you, keeping the fake cum from leaking out.

"good thing we have another bed."

of course being on tour also meant fucking in the green room before a performance. having done interviews all morning, having a concert for the tour tonight, minjeong was so mean! she had you wear a vibrator the entire day! it would be on the lowest setting up until the interviewer would ask you a question. she would turn up the intensity and you would squirm as you tried to answer, gripping your ripped jeans, almost causing another tear. and so when you two were left alone in the green room for just a minute, she took you right then and there, your legs wide open on the sofa, her mouth stimulating your clit while she increased the vibrator's setting to max, thrusting it in and out of you.

you were screaming in pleasure, all the built up tension in your stomach finally being relieved with each pump of the sex toy in your pussy. you clutched onto her leather jacket for dear life as you came all over her face, squirting everywhere. she licked as much as she could and you both worked quickly to clean before anyone came back. your members, staff, and the fans would notice you limping around on stage that night, winter with an especially evil smirk resting on her face.

being on tour also meant getting fingered in the bathroom backstage. it's literally 10 minutes to showtime, but minjeong NEEDED to fuck you now! her calloused fingers pumping in and out of you while you reciprocated fingering her too. both of your skirts hiked up and panties pushed to the side (no safety shorts? idk this is fiction, ignore it!), moaning desperately into each others mouths as you messily and sloppily made out against the bathroom stall door. curling your fingers at the same time, biting down on her lip while her fingernails dug into your thigh at the feeling. rolling your hips against her palm to stimulate your clit, her repeating the motion and pinning you harder to the door so that your bodies were flush against one another.

screaming into each other's mouths as you came at the same time, cum dripping down your wrist. quickly cleaning one another up (with your tongues, yup) and running to your places since there was literally THIRTY SECONDS to showtime! beomgyu confusedly looking at you two in frustration, asking where you guys had been, yeonjun and aeri rolling their eyes laughing, still lowkey irritated that you guys were LITERALLY FUCKING instead of getting ready to perform smh. everyone definitely noticed the redness in both of your cheeks. winter had fingered you with her calloused hand, the dampness making it more difficult to play the chords during that show, the band noticing the change in effectivity too (how technical!).

at some point, the fans would notice the tension between you two. who wouldn't ship the lead singer with the guitarist in a band anyway right? especially when it's the hot dark wolf-cut emo guitarist winter and the stunning pretty charismatic lead singer. but of course that wasn't the only reason, you guys were soooo obvious. you're singing the flirty and seductive lyrics towards her, minjeong returning a smirk back at you and sticking her tongue out while she fingerpicks her guitar, raising her eyebrows when she does. trailing your fingertips over her bare skin in skimpy outfits they'd put her in onstage, singing the lyrics into her ears.

or literally just flat out fucking saying it. like having those soundcheck Q&As where fans would ask you questions like "if you were to date one of the members, who would you date?"

answering each other's names at the same time, causing everyone to laugh in the audience, beomgyu gagging, and yeonjun and aeri holding back laughter. minjeong following up by saying something like "I mean, it's not like it hasn't happened before." LIKE WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?

or when you and winter are in an interview and they ask what the inspiration was behind a particular song, let's say a more sexy song, and she responds first, "well, every song that we've written has influences from our own personal experiences."

the interviewer would be like, "so then is it true when you sing quote 'I might fuck your friend, I made my mind up'?"

you blush profusely and winter just dies laughing, "I'll let you guys decide that one."

"y/n, you wrote "we go for hours and it's still good" correct?" the interviewer continues.

"yes yes but the details don't really matter do they?" you nervously laugh while minjeong drills holes into the side of your head, staring at you with a playful and sinister smirk on the side.

my favorite headcanon to think about is online discourse regarding you and minjeong. your guys' new mv dropped for your latest single and there are a bunch of scenes with you and winter acting like an angsty couple in the rain, making up in the end by having an alluded to sex scene (lmao, wild if this actually would ever happen).

I just imagine twt going INSANEEE.

slut4winter: DID Y/N AND WINTER FUCK AT THE END OF THE VIDEO?!?!?

y/nonechancepls: i literally cannot defend minjeong and y/n anymore...

beomgyuswolfcut: bro, winter fr cucked her brother from y/n 😭😭

aerifuckinguchinaga: win-y/n's chemistry is a lil too real yall 💀

drumjunyeonjun: not them saying it was their fav scene to film, the closet is made out of AIR, IM SICK OF U F WORDS !!!

and of course, despite all of this, your dear bestie and minjeong's brother doesn't catch on. at times, beomgyu will be all what the fuck is going on when you two say something that has double entendre or has some sort of underlying meaning.

yeonjun usually just pats him on the back while laughing, "oh my friend, never change, never change."

aeri being such a nosy friend LOVES hearing you rant about it, chin propped up on her fist, leaning forward against the table, a cheeky grin on her face. with every spicy detail, she's always just like, "girllll, you're insane and wild, but good for you!"

a/n - like rq, through a guitarist pov, winter is so attractively good at guitar it pisses me off. also headcanon songs this band would make are like wdywfm by the neighbourhood, sex by the 1975, do I wanna know by arctic monkeys, and slow down by chase atlantic. incredibly self indulgent hc and WHAT ABOUT IT!!

[the-marshals-wife]

Refuge (Sierra Six x Reader)

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ 𝐑𝐘𝐀𝐍 𝐆𝐎𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ⋅☆⋅ 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ⋅☆⋅ 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

A/N: It's official: I'm obsessed with The Gray Man. I've watched it 3 times so far in under 2 months, and I really wanted to write something sweet for my current favorite Goose character.

Description: Sierra Six/Courtland Gentry x Fem!Reader, established (secret) relationship; flirty, steamy fluff + angst if you squint | Warnings: suggestive themes, kissing, alcohol | Setting: post-movie | Word count: 1,746

Gif credit: user magnusedom

Imagine Six returning to you, his best kept secret, and asking you to come away with him

There was only one thing in the world that could make you open the front door of your apartment after midnight. The instant you recognize the familiar, distinct sequence of knocking, you shoot upright from your slumber and scramble off of the sofa, the book on your chest flying across the floor from where you had dozed off. Having almost tripped on the rug, you release the dead bolt and frantically fumble with the chain lock. Heart pounding, you slide it loose and jerk open the door.

Waiting on the other side like an apparition was a smiling face you weren't sure you'd ever lay eyes on again.

"Sorry for the late hour, ma'am. Could I trouble you for a cup of sugar?"

"Court!"

You couldn't help it. His name, the name only you could use, escapes your lips like a cry.

"May I come in?" he gestures.

You grab his arm and usher him inside.

"Where have you been?" you asked in a hushed voice, looking over him.

"Here, there, everywhere," he answers, leaning back against the closed door. "Spent a little time in nowhere too."

"I've been so worried about you! I haven't heard from you in months. I know that's the job, but it's been so long without a sign or anything. I was afraid something happened to you. I didn't know what to think," you say all at once.

"I know, I'm sorry. I'll explain everything, I promise. Just, let me look at you first," he says, gazing on you softly, "Wow. How is that possible?"

"What?"

"How are you more beautiful than the last time I saw you?"

You feel your cheeks turn red, but it doesn't keep you from pointing a finger to his chest.

"If you think being a smoothie is going to get you out an explanation, think again, buster."

He wraps his arms around your waist.

"Fair enough," he nods, "It's still true though. You're even prettier when you're angry."

"I must be stunning then," you smirk.

He brings his hand up to lift your chin, leaning in close, "Incredibly."

The waning space between you vanishes as he captures your lips. You lean into his touch, savoring every sensation you'd missed so much. From the warm, smokiness of his scent to the gentle scratch of his beard on your skin. When he finally pulls away, you're nearly breathless.

"Why don't you make yourself at home, stranger?" you propose, composing yourself, "You want a drink?"

"I wouldn't say no to a beer," he replies.

"Coming right up," you say, turning towards the kitchen, "They feed you in 'nowhere'? I got half of a leftover sub here, and some really leftover pizza I can nuke in the microwave."

"Tempting, but I'm good for now, thanks. Just the beer," you hear him say as you grab two bottles from the fridge.

"Good call, honestly. We can just order take out or something."

He doesn't respond, and it immediately catches your attention. You grab the bottle opener from the drawer and make quick work of the caps. With a faraway look in his eye, he stands on the other side of the modest island that separates the kitchen area from the living area. You extend the bottle towards him, and even when he takes it from your grasp, he's barely shaken from his silent reverie.

Too worried to imbibe, you set your own drink down on the counter. "Court, what's wrong? I can tell something is bothering you."

He takes a drink, which is followed by a long pause.

"Do you remember Fitzroy's niece, Claire?"

You nod. "Of course. Is she alright?"

"She is now," he sighs, setting his jaw, "Fitzroy is gone."

"What?" you say, rounding the island to be at his side.

"It's a long story, but some bad people got ahold of Claire to get to him, because of something that I did. We took care of it in the end, but...he didn't make it."

He takes another hefty drink and puts down the bottle.

"Court, I'm so sorry," you say, touching his arm, "I know how much he meant to you."

He turns to face you. "He did. Now Claire has no one, except me. And that's what I came here to talk to you about."

Your pulse quickens at the seriousness in his voice.

"Her and I have been on the run the past couple weeks. Staying ahead of Carmichael and his goon squad."

"Wait, you escaped the agency?" you ask, shocked.

"Didn't have a choice after they tried to use her as leverage to get me to keep doing their dirty work. I got her out, which means I'm out too, for good," he confirms solemnly, "I've found a place for us where we might actually have a shot at a normal-ish life."

You stare at him wide-eyed.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying...I'm all she has left. She needs me. And I need you," he says, gently rubbing your upper arms, "Before, I couldn't give you the life you deserved. But this could be my second chance. I think I might have finally gotten to the top of the hill, and I want you there with me."

"Oh Court, I don't know..." you hesitate, mind reeling, "I don't know anything about raising a kid."

He grins. "Neither do I. We can figure it out together. I mean there's gotta be a manual or something, right?"

You can't help but snort at the idea. Just as more protests are forming on your tongue, he gives you a look so disarming that you forget the words entirely.

"Come away with me, Y/N."

He takes your hand in his.

"It won't be easy, and it definitely won't be perfect. I know I've got no right to ask you to leave everything behind. But I've loved you from the very beginning, and I will protect you with everything I have."

His vow brings tears to your eyes. He laid his heart bare, and in doing so, he'd banished the last of your meager doubts.

"Well, when you put it that way," you say.

You grab the collar of his jacket in your fists and pull him into a kiss. He hums in pleasant surprise and laces his fingers through your hair. After another heated moment of rediscovery, you at last loosen your grip and surface from the embrace.

"Is that a yes?" he chuckles.

"It is," you answer, your smile becoming nervous as your thoughts turn to the future, "Do you think Claire will like me?"

"Oh, don't worry, she's going to love you," he smirks, letting you go and walking over to the window. "Honestly, I'm not sure I'm going to survive you two. This was probably a bad idea."

"Now I really I can't wait to meet her," you tease.

Your amusement fades, however, as you watch him part the curtain and cautiously peer up at the surrounding rooftops.

Dread stirs in the pit of your stomach.

"How much time do we have?" you ask.

"We should probably get you packed up," he says over his shoulder.

"Really? I thought we'd at least have tonight. Are you being followed right now?"

"Not yet. No one knows about this place. But the longer I'm here, the greater the possibility that changes," he frowns, "I need to get back to Claire. I took a risk coming here. She can't be alone for long."

You mind begins to race as your gaze darts around your apartment and belongings. The framed pictures scattered across the walls of old friends and family you hardly see suddenly meant more than anything tucked away in the safe beneath your bed. But could you even take them? Would having any ties to your old life be too dangerous?

Old life. The thought makes your head spin.

"This is happening so fast," you say as you rub your temples, "I never thought I'd just leave everything. I don't even know what to take with me."

"Hey," he says, stepping back over to you, "It's alright. Listen, I know I got caught up in pouring out my dumb old heart a minute ago, but you don't have to do this, Y/N. If you want to stay, I understand."

"No, I'm coming with you," you deny, "I want to be with you, no matter where we have to go. I've never wanted anything more. You have made it to the top, Court, and I wouldn't miss the view for anything."

All this time, you had been the only refuge in the world for "Sierra Six". Now, more than ever, he was becoming yours.

He kisses your forehead softly and smiles down on you.

"How about we just start small, and go from there. Baby steps. Like, maybe a suitcase?" he suggests.

"Sounds good," you agree, "Guess I don't need to pack the kitchen sink for wherever we're going?"

He snickers, "No, we have one of those. Got one in the bathroom too. We even have a toilet."

"I wasn't expecting such luxury," you smirk.

"I mean you have to hold the handle down a little to get it to flush, but other than that," he quips.

"Well, I suppose I'll survive," you say in mock exasperation.

"We do have a TV, so that kinda makes up for it. Plus, I got queen bed all to myself. I might could be persuaded into sharing, though."

You cross your arms, eyeing his suggestive look.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, but you'll have to sleep on top of the covers. I don't wanna get your girl germs on my sheets."

"Courtland Gentry," you grunt, smacking his arm.

You take off down the hall to your room, and he follows after you laughing.

"What? What'd I say?" he asks, knowing full well.

"Why don't I just sleep on the floor?" you pose.

You bolt over to your dresser and start rummaging through your clothes, keeping your back to him.

"Okay, you're right. That was unfair of me," he concedes.

Biting your lip, you spin around with your eyebrows raised.

He stands in the doorway, pulling a stick of gum from his pocket and unwrapping it, "You can get under the comforter."

You throw a shirt at him, shaking your head.

"Shut up and help me pack."

He pops the gum in his mouth and smiles.

"Yes ma'am."

[my-mind-is-incognito]

Wanna Duet? (Hugh Jackman x Reader)

summary: you're an interviewer sitting down with 2 of the hottest celebrities, both fresh off their latest movie. during the interview, one of them feels the need to shake up the script a bit

warnings: None that I can think of, other than intense yearning for an unattainable man (tbh isn't that why we read and write these sort of things anyway?)

author's note: Um, hi. It's been a couple of years since I've contributed to this site and this particular blog, other than reblogging other people's much more notable work. But the new deadpool movie, as well as Hugh Jackman, has literally got me hostage by the ovaries and I just needed to put this random fantasy into words and put it out there into the world. Please be gentle. I haven't written anything in years and it is so weird to me now.

When you call my name

It’s like a little prayer

I’m down on my knees

I wanna take you there

In the midnight hour

I can feel your power

Just like a prayer

I wanna take you there

The lyrics to that familiar song softly tumbled from your lips as you studied the notecards in your hand while your shoulders softly rocked to the beat. You wanted to make sure the questions were etched in your brain; as a journalist tasked with interviewing celebrities, you needed to maintain your A-game when it came to these video shoots with the Hollywood elite. You couldn’t afford to stumble over your words or, even worse, have an awkward silence creep into the conversation. 

A knock at the door brought you out of your reverie, and Maggie, the producer, poked her head in. “They just arrived,” she informed you. “Ten minutes.”

You flashed her a thumbs up and got out of your seat to loosen your stiff muscles and fight the enormous grin spreading across your face. Today’s scheduled shoot was one you were particularly looking forward to: a simple sit down interview with two of the hottest stars, fresh off the premiere of one of the most anticipated movies of 2024. Somewhere on the premises, Hugh Jackman and Ryan Reynolds were waiting to speak to you, and your Marvel-loving heart was hammering in your chest in anticipation. The butterflies were certainly in hyperactive manic mode today. 

Maggie studied you with a laugh. “Excited, are we?”

“Aren’t you? We’re about to meet Deadpool and Wolverine!” You took a few deep breaths, channeling your professional side. But soon, the facade fell and you were grinning like a jittery idiot. ”How are they? Are they as ridiculously gorgeous in person?”

Maggie grinned. “Yes, plus super nice. Definitely making the top 10 nicest guests list. Hurry up and get out there.” She then left and shut the door behind her.

Biting back the urge to squeal, you took a few composing breaths and willed your heart to stop racing like a schoolgirl in love. Picking up your phone, you started scrolling your phone for a song. Singing was always a typical warm-up exercise for you; it helped you loosen up and provided an outlet for your nervous energy. Showtunes were usually your go-to songs, and you had a particular soundtrack stuck in your head for the past few weeks. 

“Ladies and gents, this is the moment you’ve waited for,” you sang softly, shimmying your hips to the beat of the song. “Been searching in the dark, your sweat soaking through the floor.”  Another hip wiggle on beat as you spun on your heel and held out a dramatic fist in the air. “And buried in your bones, there’s an ache that you can’t ignore, taking your breath, stealing your mind, and all that was real is left behind…

Don’t fight it’s coming for you, runnin’ at ya

It’s only this moment, don’t care what comes after

Your fever dream, can’t you see it gettin’ closer?

just surrender cuz you feel the feeling takin’ over

It’s fire, it’s freedom, it’s flooding open

It’s a preacher in the pulpit and your blind devotion

There’s something breaking at the brick of every wall it’s holding

All that you know

So tell me, do you wanna go?

Where it’s covered in all the colored lights

Where the runaways are running the night

Impossible comes tre, it’s taking over you

Oh, this is the greatest show!

We light it up, we won’t come down

And the sun can’t stop us now

Impossible comes true, it’s taking over you

Oh, this is the greatest show!”

You blew out one more calming breath and grinned with confidence before striding out the door. Time to get to work.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“So I’m sitting there, my brain melting in my skull from all these fucking hot wings, and the first sentence out of my mouth is ‘I CHEAT AT WORDLE!’”

You and Hugh burst out into laughter as Ryan recounted his and Hugh’s recent experience on Hot Ones. As expected, the interview was going without a hitch. Both men were excellent subjects, genuinely enjoying the process and providing laughs amongst the crew in between the Q+A. Their bestie banter and overall chemistry was so contagious that it brought everyone at ease. And also as expected, both men gave you the urge to subtly fan yourself with your notecards. While both had the leading man looks, Ryan had a dry wit and a delivery that was deadpan and entirely on point, never failing to get a laugh from everyone in the room. Meanwhile, Hugh had a megawatt smile and an Aussie timber in his voice that had you shivering in your chair, and his laughter was as warm and pure as sunshine itself.

“So, Hugh, you’ve mentioned how you were still doing Music Man when you were cast to return as Wolverine. Did the mental and physical preparation for this role clash with your preparations for your Music Man performances?”

Hugh chuckled. “It’s funny you mentioned that, because I had actually lost a bit of weight while doing Music Man. I mean, it’s eight shows a week and each show is a cardio workout like nothing else! So I had to start increasing my calories and, you know, pumping iron in between shows and it got to the point where I actually split my pants onstage during a show!”

You gasped while Ryan just shook his head and laughed. “Yes, the legendary Jackman ass returned, as jacked as ever!” Ryan snarked, which had Hugh guffawing. “Oh, easy there, buddy. No need to break a hip on top of that.”

You futilely hid your laughs behind your notecards, genuinely enjoying this experience. “Well, guys, this has been an absolute pleasure. As a Marvel fan myself, this movie has been long awaited and completely worth it. Any parting words you’d like to leave the audience before we sign off?”

”Actually,” Ryan suddenly interjected, shooting an offhanded smirk at Hugh, “I had a question for you.”

Well, that was unexpected. “Wait, really? For me?” you asked, confused. 

”Yeah, betcha didn’t see this coming, but yes, the tables have in fact been turned. The interviewee is now the interviewer.” Ryan crossed his legs and placed his hands on his lap, smiling mischievously. “See, I happened to be skittering around backstage, and whilst—“

”Whilst?”

”Don’t interrupt me when I’m talking, Hugh Bear. It’s very rude. Yes, whilst skittering back there, I happened to pick up on some backstage karaoke from a certain interviewer.”

Your eyes widened and you hid your gaping mouth behind your hand. “Oh God.”

“Do you deny it?”

“You heard that?!”

Ryan pointed an accusatory finger at you. “Don’t your DARE hide that angelic voice from us, ma’am!”

Hugh switched his focus between you and Ryan. “Wait, did I miss something? What’s happening?”

”Dude, get this. I heard her singing Greatest Showman in the back and she sounds amazing!” Ryan nudged Hugh before holding out a hand to you reassuringly while you continued to gape. 

“Is that right?” Hugh inquired, interest piqued.

You laughed nervously, shielding your face in your hands. In the back of your mind, you wondered if your makeup was good enough to hide the flush spreading across your face. “Oh my god, this is so embarrassing.” 

“Please don’t confuse my enthusiasm for mockery!” Ryan was quick to say, holding out a reassuring hand. “Honestly, I had chills hearing you. Your voice is gorgeous! And clearly you have excellent music tastes due to your song choices. Seriously, I loved it!” Ryan gushed. “My question is, where did you learn to sing? Like, I’m literally jealous because out of the three of us sitting here, I have no musical talent whatsoever, and my singing usually results in children crying. But yours just sounds so good!”

”I wanna hear her sing now,” Hugh remarked cheerfully. “High praise from Ryan is definitely a good voucher.”

“Oooh, that would be so great, Hugh. You could audition her, because her choreo needs a little bit of work. Kinda limited, but I’m sure your rusty hips still got enough wiggle in them to teach her something.”

Both men laughed and leaned forward, their attention on you, and you couldn’t help but cower behind your papers and burst into another fit of panicked giggles. “I have no idea what is happening right now,” you remarked shyly.

Ryan got out of his seat and stood beside you. “Audition jitters, I get them all the time. Here, I’ll coach you through it!” He cleared his throat and adopted a more professional tone, gesturing between you and Hugh. “Alright, so you are at your callback audition. The casting director—obviously, that’s me—liked your stuff and now I wanna do a little screen test with our leading man—that’ll be Hugh.” 

At this, Hugh leaned forward and shook your hand warmly. “Hey there, I’m Hugh Jackman. I’ll be doing this scene with ya.”

You shot a quick glance at Maggie, who silently urged you to play along. So you chuckled and firmly shook Hugh’s hand. “Pleasure to be working with you, sir.” He replied with a warm smile that made your stomach somersault.

Ryan clapped his hands. “Alright! We are looking for some chemistry between our two leads. Let’s see, what’s a good duet song?” He eyed you expectedly. “I won’t ask Hugh, because the man is a neverending jukebox of showtunes. Now’s your chance to put a quarter in him and pick a song.”

You fidgeted in your seat, pausing to think before replying, “Okay, if we are going to do this, I just want to get this off my chest. Hugh, I am a HUGE fan, not just of your work as Wolverine, but your musical roles as well.” In response, he patted his heart and mouthed ‘thank you’ while Ryan rolled his eyes and made the yak-yak motion with his hand.

You continued. “So, if we could, and this is something I’ve always wanted to do…could we sing ‘A Million Dreams’ from Greatest Showman together?”

His eyes lit up and he nodded. “Yeah! I’d love that!” 

You practically bounced in your seat, shaking out your hands in pure excitement while a huge grin spread across your face. “Oh my god, I can’t believe this is happening!”

Hugh got out of his chair and gestured for you to do the same, which you did quickly. “Gotta make it like a real audition,” he informed you with a wink that got you giggling.

Ryan scooted his own chair back and sat back in it, much like a director overseeing a scene. “Okay, are we all good? Pay no attention to the multiple cameras looking at you or the lights beaming down at you, mmkay? It’s most likely nothing new for you. And…action!”

Hugh made a big show of clearing his throat a few times. “Sorry, I’m not warmed up,” he said.

“No one cares, Hugh.”

“And there isn’t any music.”

“Still not caring, Hugh.”

“Thanks, Ryan.”

With the rest of the crew laughing, Hugh finally took your hand in his and, gazing into your eyes, began to sing:

Every night I lie in bed

The brightest colors fill my head

A million dreams are keeping me awake

I think of what the world could be

A vision of the one I see

A million dreams is all it’s gonna take

Oh, a million dreams for the world we’re gonna make

You were mesmerized by his singing. Listening to him on recording did absolutely no justice for him. Never in a million years (no pun intended) did you think this could be happening to you, that Hugh Jackman could be singing one of your favorite songs directly to you. You forced yourself to focus on your breathing and remember your cue. And when it came, you were more than ready to belt out:

However big, however small

Let me be part of it all

Share your dreams with me

Ryan was flashing you a thumbs up while the rest of the crew were cheering you on. Hugh was grinning ear to ear, clearly enjoying himself.

You may be right, you may be wrong

But say that you’ll bring me along

To the world you see

Hugh nodded encouragingly, joining in:

To the world I close my eyes to see

I close my eyes to see

He got down on one knee, clutching his chest dramatically as he still held your hand.

‘Cause every night I lie in bed

The brightest colors fill my head

You grinned in reply and posed cutely in response.

A million dreams are keeping me awake

A million dreams, a million dreams!

As he shot back up, he spun you around, and the two of you both dramatically sang back to back, harmonizing on the final verse.

I think of what the world could be

A vision of the one I see

A million dreams is all it’s gonna take

A million dreams for the world we’re gonna make

As you held that last note, you felt Hugh wrap his arms around your shoulders. Knowing your role, you smiled and leaned against him.

For the world we’re gonna make

The end of the song was met with thunderous applause from everyone on set, with Ryan being particularly enthusiastic in his clapping. “You got the part!” he exclaimed.

You laughed breathlessly as you and Hugh separated. You clutched your face, grounding yourself from the incredible high you were flying on, all while that silly smile on your face still shone brightly. 

Hugh clapped you on the shoulder. “Very well done!” he remarked. “I’ll be sure to keep you on call as my backup leading lady.”

“Oh my god, stop,” you beamed, still a bit breathless. “Karaoke is one thing, but I dunno about leading lady stuff.”

He smiled and gently kissed your hand. “Don’t sell yourself short,” he replied with a wink.

Maggie caught your eye from behind the camera, signaling you to wrap it up. Remembering your job, you quickly looked at the camera and said, “Uh, Deadpool and Wolverine is out in theaters now! Many thanks to Hugh and Ryan for joining us today!”

“Cut!” Maggie announced.

And thus ended probably THE most exhilarating interview of your entire career!

[silassinclair]

Making up with ID! Leon after an argument? (fluff?)

Of course anon! Thank you for the request, I hope you like it <3 Sorry it took so long to respond I've been busy asf. Anyways this one is pretty short because I didn't really know what to write. CW// Alcoholism, Arguing, Jealousy

Masterlist Here!!

Workaholism

ID!Leon x Reader

You knew what you were getting into when you married Leon Kennedy. Whether it be helping him fight alcohol addiction or cuddling close in the midnight hour. You fell in love with every part of him and adored him for it. But sometimes he would really be a stubborn old pain in the ass. Especially right now.

"Leon I really miss you. I understand you have a really intense job but you don't have to take this mission! The mission was optional yet you took it on anyways. And in December too? I want to spend Christmas with you." You say, pouring your heart out into every word. You two have been at it for over an hour.

But there was no winning with your workahoic husband. He was as stubborn as a bull. And when he wanted things his way he would get it. But you couldn't let him win without putting up a fight, there was always a chance after all. This is for his own good. The hours he put in were unhealthy and you see the tolls it takes on his body.

"Y/n." Leon utters lowly. "I need to do this. Who else will?" He was sitting on the couch manspread; pouring himself a glass of bourbon. You've been helping him fight alcohol for years but here he is drinking right in front of you. He may as well spit on you because of how blatantly disrespectful he's being.

You're standing in front of him arms crossed and hands clenching your biceps. You're at your limit right now, there's only so much you can take. Everything feels hot; your throat, your eyes, and the grip you have on yourself.

"Leon do you not want to be with me? That you'd rather fight bioweapons than spend Christmas with you wife?"

The annoyed groan Leon lets out only makes you feel 100x worse. If this is what he wants then fine. What was the point in even trying anymore? If you two did spend Christmas together it would probably be miserable knowing his attitude.

Walking to the other end of the couch you plop down in defeat. "Forget it." You mutter. "Spending Christmas together would only make us both miserable. Just go do your job, I'll spend Christmas with someone else."

Leon turns to face you, his attention off his drink for once. "Someone else?"

You nod with an eyeroll. "Yeah, I'd rather not spend the holiday alone so I'll spend it with someone else."

"Who?" He mutters darkly.

"Well Chris is taking off so I'll spend time with him and Claire if she's available to-"

The sound of Leon's glass slamming down onto the coffee table makes you halt in your words. Leon was pissed before but now he looks downright enraged.

"No way in fucking hell am I letting my wife spend Christmas with another man." He seethes, now standing over you with either hand by the sides of your head on the couch.

You on the other hand are sitting stark still. Like one move would cause the cobra to strike.

"What else am I supposed to do then?" You say softly. Leon has never been this mad at you before and you were honestly scared.

Leon exhales through his nose slowly and shuts his eyes. "Baby do you know why I've been putting in all the extra hours?" He questions, answering your question with one of his own.

"Because you want to keep the world safe?" You mutter hesitantly. But Leon only chuckles and shakes his head back and forth. He opens his eyes and looks down at you with a crooked smile.

"Yes and no." His hand moves to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. "The world is only worth saving because you're in it. But the reason I work so much is so I can provide for you. Every cent counts because I wanna spoil you baby."

His words make you deflate. All the anger built up over the past hour from arguing has left your body.

"Leon..." You whisper; but his lips kiss yours in a soft, quick, peck and you're immediately silenced again.

"I wanna provide for you sweetness. I hate imagining you cooped up alone in this apartment while I'm out. I wanna see you in a big open kitchen just like you wanted. A living room with a grand fireplace and closet to hold all those sexy clothes I love seeing you doll yourself up in."

He sighs and looks down off to the side. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before I just... It's embarrassing. Being unable to provide for you."

You frown firmly and hold his face in place causing his blue eyes to widen.

"It's your turn to listen to me now Kennedy." You state. "Don't put yourself down like that you hear me?"

He gasps when you pull him into a hug. Your fingers rake through his silken blonde locks and your other hand rubs calming circles into his back.

"Don't ever feel like you're not doing enough for me. I don't need fancy things to be happy okay? I need you to be happy. So instead of working so hard to afford fancy shit, work less so we can spend time together. Because you're all I really want."

Leon sighs shakily and cradles the back of your head, bringing you into the crook of his neck.

"I'm sorry baby... I just want what's best for you."

You reply softly, "You're what's best for me Leon."

He brings you into a passionate kiss. One the two of you have been needing for a long time. His lips taste like cheap liquor and it has you feeling tipsy. Rough hands feel down your waist and touch at the belt loops of your jeans.

"Now what was that about spending Christmas with Chris huh?" He rumbles roughly through sloppy kisses.

You part away panting to catch your breath. "That was just to get at your nerves."

Leon smirks. "Bad girl. I should teach you a lesson huh?"

[thirstydemisexual]

Blood path || Jason Todd x vampire!reader

Prologue

divider by: @sister-lucifer

PSA: the povs will switch from second to third person as convenient. also I'm writing this as I go so yeah the pacing between the parts hopefully will be coherent

warnings: 18+ content, mention of r4pe, blood, a p3do getting what the fuck he deserves, (and bad grammar)

I've made mistakes, Lord struck me down Caught in a landslide, lost underground I hear them gates, swing open loud Come close to midnight, hell fade me down - Used To The Darkness by Des Rocs

The night was young. As the last shades of orange had just dissipated in the sky, Gotham prepared itself as their usual over abundance of criminals took to the streets. Some of them tho, were busy browsing on the internet, unlucky them.

Phil, 38, child predator who escaped Arkham a couple weeks prior, sneaking away as the Bat and the other heroes took care of the bigger fishes, was browsing on the dark web, looking on his phone at his favorite source of inappropriate child videos with a fist down his pants.

The abandoned building in which he resided, which was once an apartment complex before a villain attack, was located in a rather well populated zone of Gotham. Only two streets down from The Wayne foundation preschool.

Unlucky for him, his connection wasn't the most secure. Even a high schooler with basic computer science knowledge would have been able to dox him.

The dumb fuck didn't even try locking the door, not like it had a functional lock to begin with. But non the less, she still wouldn't be stopped by a mere lock as that men's refuge wasn't his home, thus the threshold didn't bound her. She was able to sneak into the premises without as much as a sound.

She was hungry and her face was morphed into an inhuman shape.

He doesn't even have time to scream or fight as her fangs sinks in his neck, tearing his carotid artery. Long claws shredding up the skin on his forearms as he tries to reach to stop his attacker. He stops squirming in seconds as she feasts on his blood, draining him in mere moments.

After she's done she quickly leaves the building, ready to go home and wash her hands and mouth throughly as just the mere thought of having touched that individual, let alone feeding from him, in her post feeding shame(and because of than mans nature) made her regret her choice of feeding.

Although she would never regret ridding the world of scum like him.

It was a weirdly sunny day in Gotham, Jason Todd noticed as he turned off the engine of his motorcycle after parking in the Gotham University parking lot.

Last night patrol had took a tool on him, and he was more exhausted than normal. He threw his book bag on his shoulder before entering the building, toward his first class of the day.

Jason normally quite enjoyed his Modern Literature class, but today all he wanted to do was crush on his bed at his safe house and sleep away until patrol hour came.

He sat down in one of the last rows in the room and crossed his arms on the desk before laying his head down and closing his eyes, he couldn't wait for the day to be over.

"Slept bad?" a familiar voice came from his side. Jason lifted his head up, a little smile at the realization of who it was.

"You could say that" His eyes didn't leave you as you sat down next to him and started to get your stuff ready for class.

"You could have skipped class today Jay, you seem way too tired to be here"

"And miss the chance to have our daily banter, no way miss" he replied, smirk on his face. You couldn't help but roll your eyes.

"Seriously Jay, you can't keep coming to class looking like a zombie"

well technically I am a living dead so its not that out of character for me, thought Jason but didn't voice it out to her.

"I'll take a nap between classes alright? Come on, don't act like you wouldn't miss me if I were to go back home"

"You're incorrigible Todd"

"I don't hear you denying my claim" he kept smirking at you, you shushed him as the professor started class.

"Just rest your eyes, I'll give you my notes later" he chuckled a bit as he put his head down on the desk again,

"You'd be a light saver sweetheart"

If you could blush, the nickname would have done it. You tried to stay concentrated but your gaze would often stray onto Jason's figure, slumped over the deck, neck slightly exposed.

Looking so appetizing

You mentally slap yourself as you divert your eyes. That is Jason, one of your only friends NOT a charcuterie board.

You took a deep breath and tried to calm down. You didn't know why but even after feeding the thought and sight of Jason Todd just riled you up, hunger rising through your undead body and plaguing your mind.

Hopefully you'll keep being able to control yourself around him.

You have to

TAG LIST: @deimks , @amber-content , @deans-spinster-witch , @that-one-goblin , @snowy-violet , @thenightwingnerd , @zffhahaa

Ask in the comments to be added to the taglist

[whoredyceps]

"OH LOVER BOY!" || 28 Days of Love: A Valentine's Challenge + Series

day fifteen: old wound

ᰔ pairing: agent whiskey x reader

ᰔ summary: first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes jack daniels unsure if the two of you are making the right choice.

ᰔ author's note: this one is going to be a bit longer and is p angsty. sorrrrryyyyyyy. thank you again to everyone who's been reading there, i've been having a lot of fun writing them 🥹💙

ᰔ content warning: afab!reader, reader is pregnant, conversation around pregnancy, mentions of abortion, bits of canon in an au setting, angsty angst, fighting, mentions of character death, no beta- we die like men

"Baby, can I talk to you?" You peaked your head into Jack's office.

It was late, and you had just finished up your nightly routine of tidying up while he tied up the loose ends of his job for the day. You detested the idea of him working after hours, but that was an uphill battle you had yet to see the other side of. For now, you had bigger fish to fry.

"Of course, darlin'. You okay?" Jack looked up from his computer. He had his glasses on, already showered and in his pajamas. It was a good look on him— hell, everything was a good look on him.

"I wanted to talk to you about something. It's..." Your sentence trailed off. You stepped further into the office, and found your way behind the desk. Jack's chair turned towards you as you leaned your thigh against the sharp edge of the wood.

Jack reached his hand out, placed on your hip to offer some form of comfort. Whatever had plagued you seemed to be written all over your face. Though you two had only been married for a few months, you had known each other for years.

So long, in fact, that you remember the days when you used to hang out with Jack's deceased wife. A beautiful woman ripped away too soon, herself and their unborn son caught in the crossfire of an incident no one could have predicted. The two had become the untouchable subject between you and Jack, and you abided by that without question.

Up until now, that was easy enough to follow. You left it alone, and looked the other way when Jack stared at pictures from high school for too long. He had his better days, and the worse days were spent at the distillery— long evenings of work until he'd trudge back home past midnight, too exhausted to think, let alone face his grief head on.

While it wasn't perfect, it worked. You tried to support Jack in whatever way he needed. He did the same for you, and it had all become apart of the give and take you two had.

Now though, you had to address the elephant in the room. One in the form of a polaroid tucked away in the top drawer in Jack's desk, with a sonogram clipped to it. As badly as you wanted to drag out the entire situation, you were on borrowed time.

"Talk to me," Jack gently urged. "It ain't like I'm gonna bite your head off." His tone was concerned, but a bit amused at his own joke. With his free hand, he removed his glasses and placed them on the keyboard of his computer.

You gave a weak chuckle and tapped your foot. The amusement in Jack's tone seemed to die off as you squirmed in your spot. It was rare that he saw you in such a state.

"I went to the doctor today," you started. "Got some tests done like we had talked about." You didn't meet Jack's eyes, wouldn't even look in his direction. His hand felt like it had burned its imprint through your leggings and into your skin.

"Everything okay, darlin'?" Jack sounded immensely concerned, which you expected.

You weren't going to visit the doctor in the first place, if it had been your choice. Over the last few weeks, you just hadn't been yourself. You had been plagued with debilitating headaches and stomachaches that could lay anyone out. Jack begged you to get them checked out, worried that you were facing some sort of terminal illness.

Thankfully, you were given a clean bill of health. That was, until the doctor came in with a round of congratulations and talks of scheduling an appointment with your obstetrician. In that moment, it felt as if something you had locked away for so long finally popped open.

You hadn't even considered kids with Jack. After the passing of his wife and son, you didn't recognize him. It took a long time for him to shed that version of himself and return to some version of the man he once was.

One drunk night, back at your place after a date early on in your relationship, he went on and on about how it was a terrible idea to have children. Nothing good happens, and even if they live, they were set up to face a cruel world. You didn't disagree, but you knew the voice of grief well enough.

Now, since you had left the doctor's office, you had a different stomachache. How were you going to tell Jack? You were in no mood to fight, but you knew it was going to be a spectacle when you did tell him.

"Yes... and no. Jack, honey, I don't really know how to say what I need to say." You fidgeted with your hands, suddenly aware of the manicure you had gotten last week.

"Well, if it ain't terminal, then that's a good start," Jack tried to reassure you. He had never seen you like this, so unsure and hesitant. You were strong and confident to your very core, so sure of every move you made or whatever came out of your mouth.

"I'm pregnant," you blurted out. There was no other way to put it.

Jack was silent, his hand stilled on your hip. You watched as his expression turned steely and his jaw tensed. It hurt more than you cared to admit when he moved his hand away from you.

You looked to him, then back to your feet. The silence hung in the air ate at you, tense and thick with animosity. What was supposed to be a picture perfect moment– or at least what you had imagined when you were younger– was now anything but.

The silence only made you fidget more. You felt that sour pit in your stomach return as you waited. After a while, you couldn't take it anymore.

"I asked how it was possible, and the doctor said it could happen on some birth control pills. We discussed some options and how to proceed with this." You hoped it would help, but Jack refused to look at you. Instead, his gaze lingered on the top drawer of his desk.

You waited for something, anything from him. All day, you had braced yourself for what was to come. You had even considered removing the fetus without Jack knowing, but that just didn't seem right. The only option you felt you had was to face the problem head on.

"I know we haven't talked about it, but I need you to say something. Anything, really." You reached for his hand, only for him to pull away. It hurt more than you expected, and you moved your hand back to your side.

"You know how I feel about it," Jack finally said. "Just– I need some time to think."

You almost rolled your eyes, but refrained. In the time you had known the man, he said what he wanted when he wanted to. Over time, you had learned what that meant. It was Jack for 'I don't want this kid and I don't know how to do that without upsetting you'.

"Take the time you need," you assured him. Even in your turmoil, you understood he had a lot to process. You knew grief too well, and what it did to a person.

The silence had returned, this time heavier. You watched Jack quietly turn back to his work, a dismissal of you and the conversation all together. Without a word, you left his office.

You went to bed alone that night. Not unexpected, but it still cut deep. Right now, you just needed your husband and the simple act of comfort. All lost because of one little confession. Something you tried to prevent, but failed.

You had barely slept a wink. All night, you tossed and turned in the empty bed. When the sun peaked out from over the horizon, light slow to fill the room, you finally gave up. You decided to take a shower and get yourself ready for the day. Even if you wanted to wallow in bed, there were still tasks that had to be completed.

"Jack?" You called out as you headed downstairs. The house was empty, and a quick glance out the front door confirmed the truck was gone.

Anger bubbled inside of you as you slammed the door. He never did things like this to you. Jack made it a point to kiss you goodbye and love on you until the absolute last minute. Now, he was gone before you made it out of bed.

All day, your anger sat with you. It lingered in everything move you made, every thought you had. If there was anything you hated most of all, it was the feeling of anger. You found it did you no good, but all of your logic had flown out of the window the second the confession came out of your mouth.

Jack wasn't the only one who struggled with this. You were the one that had to create a human— one that you had never intended to have. This whole situation was terrifying, and the one person you needed most was too wrapped up in his own mind to see what stood in front of him.

When it was Jack's usual time to come home, you were surprised to hear the truck pull up. Instead of greeting him at the door as you normally would, you continued to work on dinner. You didn't have it in you to be the sweet, doting wife you liked to be.

"Hi, darlin'." Jack's sweet tone felt like a slap to the face. There was no way he had forgotten last night, no way he thought you had forgotten what happened last night.

It was your turn with the silence. You continued to make meatballs with your back turned to him, the only sound in the kitchen came from the radio you had turned on.

You heard Jack sigh as he placed his keys and wallet on the counter. The sound of his cowboy boots clicked against the tile of the kitchen floor. His hand found the small of your back, and he didn't miss the way you tensed at his touch.

"I thought about what you said," Jack muttered. He was close enough that you heard the way he talked under his breath.

"I hope so," you huffed. "Not like we had much else to talk about between now and then." You didn't look back. If you saw those sweet brown eyes, you'd melt and forgive him in a second. You had to stuck up for yourself, even if that meant focusing on the meatballs instead of your husband.

"That wasn't right, me leavin' you on your own after what we talked about last night." Jack's hand didn't move from your back. His fingers gently pressed into your side as he spoke.

"Came to that conclusion all on your own?" You tried to bite back some of the venom, but it had been stewing inside of you all day.

"Darlin'," Jack sighed. "I- You know why I acted the way I did. I mean, I can't-"

You whipped around to cut him off. Everything that had festered inside of you had come to a head, and if you wanted to stick up for yourself, now was the time.

"I do know, Jack. I'm well aware of what's been lost. You know, she was my friend too. You weren't the only person who lost someone," you began. "I know what loss is. I've lost a lot of people, but I can still acknowledge that life goes on. You ignoring me and the pregnancy doesn't make her come back. Grief is a fickle bitch, but I'm still pregnant and it's still your kid." You poked Jack's chest as you spoke.

"I-"

"No, you're going to let me finish. If you don't want the baby, fine. I'll call my doctor and that will be the end of that. If you want to keep it, that's fine too. Stop comparing me to her. I'm not her. This baby isn't him. You can feel the sadness and grief, but what you won't do is ignore me." You took a long, deep breath before you spoke again.

"If you ever do that again, I'm gone. Don't try me."

Jack waited a beat, but you finally settled and crossed your arms over your chest. You gave him an expectant look. The ball was in his court now. He sighed and rubbed his jaw as he tried to collect his thoughts.

"That was wrong of me, and I'll be the first to admit it," Jack started. "It's also wrong of me to compare the two of you. The truth is I never thought we'd be here, havin' this conversation."

You raised an eyebrow, your hip cocked to the side.

"You never thought that there would be a chance at me getting knocked up? With how often we go at it, that's just delusional." You tried to refrain from the attitude, but once your feathers were ruffled, that was the end of that.

"We've taken the proper steps for precaution," Jack argued. His jaw tensed as you rolled your eyes.

"You ever taken a sex ed class? There's always a chance. Look, that's not what I'm getting at. I've tried to avoid the subject as long as possible, but there's no more waiting. There a fetus in me, and we need to decide how we're gonna handle this before it's too late."

Jack sighed as he leaned back against the island, his hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket. You were right, as you had always been. How you saw right through him was beyond him, but then again, that's what he admired about you.

"I don't know if I can handle another loss," Jack admitted. "I can't lose you."

You huffed a bit, your hands curled up at your side.

"Stop trying to get me killed! It hurts, Jack. It hurts to think that you're prepared for my death, that I can't make it through and have this baby— to know that you've accepted my death before you could even think of the life we could have." You turned back to the meatballs, and grabbed a hunk of meat. It did not ease your aggravation, but the physical work was cathartic.

Jack was silent. Between the two of you, an old country song wafted through the air. If the circumstances had been different, you'd be drinking wine and laughing with him. You were sure the two of you would be—

Your thoughts halted as a hand wrapped around your waist. The meat was dropped and you wiped your hands, all before Jack tugged you away from the counter. His strong arms wrapped around you as he pulled you to his chest.

Even in the thick of a fight, Jack made you dance with him. The first time it happened, you were so bewildered that you just let it happen. Every time since, you let him apologize in his own way.

Jack held you as the two of you swayed to the music. He was a sucker for Jonny Cash, you had come to learn. Whether it was slow and sweet, or something with a quick pace, he had to hold you close and dance with you.

If I Were a Carpenter played through the speakers, Johnny and June bore witness as you let Jack take lead. The two of you were quiet, but the footwork seemed to say a lot. As angry and hurt as you were, he knew every move you'd make. He knew you as well as you knew him.

"Would you'd love me if I was a carpenter?" Jack's voice was soft. You had one arm around his neck, the other wrapped around his as he led you.

"I'd love you no matter what," you assured him. It was true, you loved him through and through.

"Even now?" Jack asked. "Through it all?"

You nodded without hesitation.

"Through it all, even if I want to strangle you."

Things would be fine, and you knew that. What Jack had to work through was beyond you and the baby. As badly as you wanted an answer right now, that wasn't going to happen. He had to think and piece it all together himself. It got under your skin, but you meant what you said.

You'd love him no matter what.

[minxmut-cafe]

Hey, I love your stuff, idk if you take requests but i would love it if you could write this fic. This idea has been trotting in my head, basically the plot is this: you know Yoongi's girlfriend from pre début, who cheated on him? Well this is about their relationship. I would love if it could start back in the day so we get a glimpse of baby yoongi and what their relationship was like, especially since he was struggling at the time I really see her as being his safe space. But then she starts struggling herself and gets into substance abuse: what he walks in on when he delivers for the guy in a hotel and she answers the door is actually her buying drugs, but she lets him believe she is cheating because she ashamed and doesn’t want to let anyone else down. So he is heart broken, but they move on (or try to) until they run into eachother during yoongi's military service. Sudenly they are forced together again and feelings bubble up again, but Yoongi still doesn’t know the truth and can’t forgive her until he does. You can put your spin on it of course, but I really lile this idea and would love to see it as an actual fic.

WHAT REMAINS

Pairing : Min Yoongi x Reader

Word Count : 6k

Trigger warning : Sexual intercourse, drug addiction, smuts, oral stimulation, mentions of death, angst, second chance, infidelity, heartbreak, fetus Yoongi, drug dealing.

Authors Note : @chloepiccolinniii here is the fic, I'm so sorry for the wait Ik it took a long long time but things have been going BATCRAP crazy for a while and I've had to deal with a lot of things in my personal life. But I hope you like it and I'll be happy to write more of your requests and I'm sorry again for the wait and I apologise if there's some loop holes you see or if it's not up to your standards.

The ramen shop is half-lit and smells like oil and warm broth. You wipe down the counters with half-frozen fingers, humming along to the radio that buzzes faintly in the background. It’s past midnight, and the streets outside are quiet except for the soft patter of snow.

__________________________________________________

He walks in just as you're turning off the sign.

Yoongi.

He’s soaked to the bone. His hoodie clings to him, heavy with snowmelt, and his eyes look like he hasn’t slept in days. Which, knowing him, is probably true.

"You’re late," you say, flicking the towel over your shoulder.

He shrugs. "Missed the last train. Walked from the station."

You roll your eyes and motion him in. "You’re going to catch pneumonia. Sit."

He drops into the same stool he always takes—far end of the counter, where the light is dimmer. It’s quiet between you, but never uncomfortable. You set a bowl of ramen in front of him without asking. He doesn’t thank you, but he gives you a look. That look. The one where his eyes go soft and heavy, like you’re the only warmth left in the world.

He eats slowly, like his bones ache. Halfway through the bowl, he finally speaks.

"They said my lyrics are too dark again."

You lean on the counter. "They’re honest."

"That’s not what they want."

"So give them a lie that hurts less."

He huffs out a laugh, but there’s no humor in it.

Outside, the snow keeps falling. Inside, he stays longer than usual. You let him. When the lights dim and you lock the doors, he walks you home with ramyun breath and frozen fingers tucked into his sleeves.

That night, when he kisses you under your apartment’s flickering hallway light, it’s quiet. No grand confessions. No promises. Just two tired teens trying to hold onto something warm.

You didn’t know it then, but that was the beginning of the end.

You stop answering his texts first.

It starts with a few hours’ delay. Then a day. Then you don’t answer at all.

Yoongi notices, of course. He notices everything.

“You okay?” he asks one night, crouched low on the edge of your bed, his hand brushing your ankle.

You nod, but your smile is wrong. Crooked and tight. Your eyes flick away before they meet his. “Just tired,” you say. “I’ve been working more shifts.”

It’s not a lie. But it’s not the truth either.

He kisses your forehead, like that’ll fix it. He always kisses you like you’re something soft that needs saving. But you don’t feel soft anymore. You feel frayed. Brittle. You feel like something rotting at the edges, and it’s getting harder to hide it.

He keeps texting. You stop replying.

He calls. You stare at your phone until the screen dims again.

You don’t know how to tell him that things aren’t okay. That your chest feels too full and too empty at the same time. That sometimes, the silence in your apartment is so loud it makes your skin itch. That you’ve been hanging around the wrong people. That you said yes to something you should’ve said no to, and now you can’t stop.

And you really don’t know how to tell him that the only thing worse than being this broken is having him see it.

So when you get a knock on the hotel door and you open it to him—Yoongi, standing there with a brown paper bag, looking confused and nervous and so heartbreakingly beautiful—you freeze.

He wasn’t supposed to see you like this.

His eyes rake over you. You know what he sees: smeared makeup, thin straps, eyes too wide. And behind you, the low voice of a man telling you to close the damn door.

Yoongi’s face shifts. It shutters.

He steps back like you slapped him.

“Yoongi—” you start, but your throat closes. You don’t know what to say. You don’t know how to fix this.

He laughs, but it’s not real. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

He holds up the bag, like a joke. “Your guy’s food.”

You try to say his name, but your tongue is heavy. You could tell him the truth. That you’re drowning. That it’s not what he thinks. That you need help.

But shame tastes stronger than regret. And it’s easier, somehow, to just let him believe the worst.

So you say nothing.

And he walks away.

You watch his figure retreat down the hallway until he disappears. Then you close the door and slide down to the floor, arms wrapped around your knees, trying to breathe around the hole in your chest.

You don’t remember the first time you used it.

Not really.

You remember a bathroom with a broken mirror. Someone’s hands. A floor sticky with something you never looked too closely at. You remember thinking, Just once. Just to take the edge off.

But then it was twice. Then three times. Then you stopped counting.

Yoongi never called again.

You told yourself that was a good thing.

You lost your job. Then your apartment. You couch-surfed for a while, did things you don’t think about. You learned how to lie without blinking. How to smile when your stomach was gnawing at itself. How to disappear in a room full of people.

You didn’t look in mirrors anymore.

Then, one night, you woke up in an alley behind a club you didn’t remember entering. Your nose was bleeding. Someone had taken your shoes. Your old phone was gone. You could still taste vomit in your mouth.

You crawled out of that alley on shaking hands and knees, and somewhere between the gutter and the curb, you thought:

Is this it? Is this the story?

You didn’t get sober because of some epiphany. You got sober because your body was quitting before your soul had the guts to.

It was a rehab center with peeling paint and plastic chairs. You went in stinking of old sweat and fear and didn’t talk for the first two weeks. When they asked you about your family, you lied. When they asked about friends, you lied harder.

But when they asked if you had ever been loved, you were quiet.

Because yes. Yes, you had. And you destroyed it.

One night, after lights-out, you pulled out the crumpled photo you kept hidden at the bottom of your bag. A snapshot someone took years ago. Yoongi—smiling, eyes half-lidded, a lollipop in his mouth, arm around your shoulder. You look happy. Both of you do.

You almost called him that night.

You held your phone for an hour, staring at his name, hovering over it.

But what would you say?

Hey, I ruined my life, but I’m trying now. Just thought you should know.

No. You didn’t call.

You deleted the number instead.

You promised yourself: If I ever see him again, it’ll be when I’m someone worth knowing.

You went back to bed. The photo stayed under your pillow that night. It smelled like old paper and loss.

The café’s quiet when he walks in.

Clean, white walls. The smell of espresso and hand sanitizer. You’re wiping down a table when the bell above the door jingles.

You look up, and the breath catches in your throat.

Yoongi.

Hair buzzed short, uniform sharp, eyes flat.

He doesn’t flinch when he sees you.

Doesn’t blink.

Just walks past like you’re a stranger.

And maybe you are.

You don’t speak. You take someone else’s order. You wash mugs. You breathe around the lump in your throat.

He shows up again a week later.

Then again.

And again.

Always silent. Always unreadable. You don’t talk, but you notice everything.

He still takes his coffee black. Still avoids eye contact. Still taps his fingers to invisible beats when he’s bored.

You wonder if he recognizes you. Maybe he forgot.

Maybe that’s mercy.

The first time he speaks to you, it’s because you spill hot water on your hand and hiss under your breath.

“You always were clumsy.”

His voice is dry. Flat. Not cruel—but close.

You blink at him, caught. “Didn’t think you remembered.”

He shrugs. Doesn’t look at you. “Some things are hard to forget.”

He takes his drink and leaves.

You stare after him, burned in more ways than one.

Over time, the circle tightens.

A mutual friend. A volunteer event. Someone's birthday.

You end up sitting near him more often. Not by choice. Not exactly.

Sometimes he says nothing.

Sometimes, it’s worse when he does.

“That your attempt at latte art? Looks like a disease.”

“Still addicted to caffeine and bad decisions?”

“You ever learn how to text back, or is that just a you thing?”

He’s sharp. Clipped. Cold. But not gone.

You don’t know what’s worse—the silence, or this version of him.

But sometimes—sometimes—his eyes linger.

Soft. Sad. Like maybe he remembers the ramyun shop. The hallway light. The version of you that didn’t self-destruct.

And that version of him—the one who used to whisper lyrics into your hair at night—sometimes flickers behind the soldier’s uniform.

The fire crackles, spitting embers into the night. Someone’s passing around beer. Laughter rings in the air—too warm, too easy. You shouldn’t be here.

Yoongi sits across from you, half-shadowed by the firelight. His face unreadable. His jaw clenched.

You haven’t spoken more than five words to each other in one sitting since that day he spilled venom into your coffee cup.

But tonight, something’s different.

He catches your eye. Doesn’t look away.

You offer a quiet smile, unsure if it’s allowed.

He nods. Barely. But it’s something.

Later, you find yourselves alone. People have drifted off. The fire burns low, soft. The stars feel too close.

“You’ve changed,” he says, suddenly.

You blink. “So have you.”

He hums. Doesn’t smile. “I’ve been thinking about you. Ever since I saw you again.”

Your breath catches.

“And I hate it,” he adds. “I hate you. For what you did to me.”

Silence. Just the fire between you.

He turns his head, eyes fixed on you now. “You knew I had no one. And you—you were it. You were everything.”

His voice cracks—barely, but enough.

“So tell me. Was it worth it?” He leans in. “Was he worth it? Was it fun playing me for a fool? Knowing how much I loved you—was that your favorite part?”

You don’t answer.

You can’t.

The shame roots your tongue to the floor of your mouth. All you can do is look away.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

Yoongi laughs—a bitter, hollow sound. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

You still can’t meet his eyes.

He stands. “God, you’re such a coward.”

The word hits like a slap.

“Get over yourself and talk, dammit!” His voice rises. “Tell me why. Tell me something. Anything!”

The fire flickers wildly now, flames catching the edge of his uniform. His chest heaves. He looks like he’s seconds away from falling apart or burning the whole night down.

You open your mouth.

Close it again.

Your throat tightens.

“I can’t,” you whisper.

He scoffs. Shakes his head like you’re nothing but noise. “Of course you can’t.”

And then he walks away.

Not running. Not storming off.

Just… leaving.

Like he’s done it before.

Like he’s had practice.

Yoongi doesn’t mean to linger near the rec room. But he does. He says it’s for the free coffee, for the quiet, for anything but the real reason.

You're not there today.

Instead, a few of your coworkers—staff and former patients—are sitting around, swapping old war stories over half-stale cookies.

Someone says your name. His head snaps up before he can stop himself.

“Yeah, she’s been through hell,” says one of the older guys, a broad-shouldered ex-addict with track marks still fading from his arms. “You wouldn’t think it now, but she was deep in the shit. Like deep.”

“What happened?” asks another, a young nurse, wide-eyed.

“She doesn’t talk about it much, but I was in her intake group,” the man says, lowering his voice like it’s a secret. “Started with pills. Then coke. Then heroin. Fentanyl, too. There was a dealer she used to see. Not like that, I mean. Just drugs.”

Yoongi’s fingers clench around his cup. Something cold crawls down his spine.

“She told me once,” the guy continues, “her boyfriend at the time walked in on her in some shitty hotel, thought she was cheating. She never corrected him. Said it was easier that way.”

A dry laugh.

“She was ashamed, man. Said he was the only good thing in her life, and she broke it. After he left, she spiraled hard. Two ODs in one year. Almost didn’t make it.”

The room quiets.

“She’s clean now,” the nurse says gently.

“Yeah,” the guy nods. “Tough as hell, that one. I respect her.”

Yoongi doesn’t realize he’s still holding his breath until someone touches his arm.

“You good?” the nurse asks.

He nods.

But he isn’t.

His mind’s back in that hallway.

The hotel room. Your wide eyes. The silence. The way you looked at him like you were already gone.

He’d thought you'd picked someone else over him.

He didn’t know you were drowning.

He didn’t know you were trying to disappear.

And now—he doesn’t know if he wants to scream or break or crawl back to that night and hold you tighter.

You didn’t cheat.

You were hurting.

And he left you alone.

Yoongi leans against the counter in the break room, pretending to be absorbed in the notices on the bulletin board. His heart’s a clenched fist.

He clears his throat. “Hey. Uh… anyone seen Y/N today?”

A few heads turn. One of his coworkers—Sejin, big mouth, bigger heart—grins like he’s just smelled a scandal.

“Why?” Sejin teases. “Finally gonna ask her out, eh? We see the way you stare at her” she winked.

Yoongi scoffs. “No. She left something in one of the rec rooms, that’s all. I figured I’d return it.”

It’s a lie. A clumsy one.

He hadn’t even thought that far ahead—he just knows he has to see you.

“Ohhh,” someone sing-songs. “Returning stuff now? That’s boyfriend behavior.”

“Shut up,” Yoongi mutters, ears pink. “Just tell me where she’s staying.”

Sejin chuckles and rattles off the address like it’s no big deal. “Couple blocks down, near the community garden. Third floor. She’s got one of those dorm-style setups—tiny, tragic kitchen, lots of plants, smells like vanilla and sad indie girls.”

Yoongi tries not to react, but something twists in his gut.

She smells the same?

He nods, mumbles a thanks, and heads out with his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets.

He tells himself he’ll just knock. Say whatever nonsense he needs to say to not look completely insane. He’ll leave after five minutes.

Ten, tops.

Just enough time to see your face.

To see if it looks different now that he knows the truth.

To see if he still hurts.

To see if you still matter.

Spoiler: you do.

You open the door in sweatpants and a paint-stained tee, hair messy, lips parted in shock.

Yoongi doesn’t wait for an invitation.

He steps inside like he owns the place. Like he's been holding this in for years.

You don't stop him. You just stand there, staring like a deer caught in traffic.

“Yoongi—?”

“Don’t Yoongi me,” he snaps, turning to face you. “What the fuck, Y/N.”

You swallow, backing up a step. “I—what’s going on?”

“What’s going on?” he repeats, voice rising. “What’s going on is that I just found out you weren’t cheating on me. You were buying drugs.”

Silence. You freeze. Your knuckles go white around the mug you hadn’t had time to set down.

He laughs—cold, bitter, wounded. “All this time, I thought you picked some dealer over me. Thought you looked me in the eye and chose him.”

You don't say anything.

“Why?” His voice cracks. “Why, in the goddamn, God-fearing fuck did you let me think that? Why was that better than the truth?”

Still nothing. Your throat works like you're trying to speak, but the words won’t come.

“Was it fun?” he goes on, almost manic now. “Letting me think you played me? Letting me think you knew I had nothing but you, and still chose to stab me in the chest?”

“No,” you finally whisper. “No. It wasn’t—”

“Then why,” he barks. “What was the thought process, huh? Because I’ve been racking my brain trying to figure it out and it doesn’t make sense.”

Your lips tremble. “I didn’t want you to see me like that.”

His chest heaves. “So you’d rather I think you were a liar? A cheat?”

“I was already broken,” you choke out. “I didn’t want to break you, too.”

He flinches.

You stare at each other. Two people who once knew everything. Now strangers on opposite sides of a battlefield made of silence, shame, and all the things they didn’t say.

Yoongi exhales shakily. “You could’ve told me.”

“I know.”

“You should’ve told me.”

You nod, a tear slipping down your cheek.

He shakes his head. “You let me hate you.”

“I hated me too.”

Yoongi doesn’t move, doesn't blink. He just stands there, chest rising and falling like he’s run ten miles straight, like the weight of your words punched him square in the ribs.

And you… you look at him like you're drowning in your own skin. Fingers curled around the hem of your shirt, nails digging in.

“What was I even supposed to do, huh?” you snap suddenly, the words spilling out too fast to stop. “You were already struggling—starving yourself to buy studio time, working odd jobs, barely sleeping, carrying your family on your back even when they blamed you for everything wrong in their lives.”

Your voice shakes, but it gets louder.

“And I was falling apart. I was drowning, Yoongi. Drowning in it. In the quiet, in the pressure, in the fear that I would never be anything but a broken, messed up girl who ruined the only good thing she had. And what was I supposed to do?”

You step forward, eyes wet and blazing.

“Break down and become another burden for you to carry? Let you see that version of me? The one who couldn’t get out of bed? The one who sold her phone for cash and got high in public bathrooms? The one who lied to your face because she couldn’t admit how far gone she was?”

His face is unreadable, but his hands have curled into fists.

“I was supposed to be your safe place,” you choked. “Not another damn weight you had to drag with you. You were chasing something bigger. Something better. And I was just... static.”

He swallows hard, jaw clenched.

“I didn’t want you to see me like that,” she whispers, barely audible now. “Didn’t want to be the reason you gave up.”

A beat of silence.

Then he laughs, bitter and sharp.

“You think I didn’t give up?” he snaps. “You think losing you didn’t gut me?”

You look away, lips trembling.

“I did give up,” he growls. “On love. On trust. On the idea that maybe, just maybe, I could have something for me—something safe. Something that didn’t leave.”

Your breath hitches.

“I didn’t leave,” you whisper.

He stares at you. “Didn’t you?”

That’s when you finally break. Your knees go weak, and you sink down onto the little couch by the window, burying your face in your hands like it’s the only way to keep the pieces of yourself from shattering all over again.

And Yoongi? He stands there in the wreckage of everything you were.

Torn between walking out and falling beside you.

The silence stretches, thick and suffocating, hanging between them like smoke in a burning room.

You don't look at him.

Don't dare.

Just keep your face buried in your palms, shoulders trembling with the weight of everything you never got to say. Everything you lost. Everything you broke.

Yoongi stands frozen for a long minute, jaw locked, breath uneven.

Then, quietly… he moves.

The couch dips beside you, and you stiffen for a second—unsure. Braced. But he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t ask. Doesn’t demand.

He just sits there.

Close enough for you to feel his warmth.

Close enough to remember what it felt like to be safe.

And after a while—after the weight in your chest stops pressing quite so hard—You feel his hand brush yours. Hesitant. Heavy.

Then, wordlessly, Yoongi pulls you closer.

Not in anger. Not in forgiveness.

But in grief.

In knowing.

You let him. Lean in like it’s second nature, head resting against his shoulder, tears sliding silently down your cheeks. And he holds you—not tight, not possessive—just there, arms wrapped around you like he’s afraid if he lets go again, you'll disappear.

No words.

No apologies.

Just the echo of years between you and the quiet hum of a world that kept turning while they both broke.

And for the first time in years, neither of you run.

It’s been hours.

Neither of you moved for a long while. Just sat there—tangled in a silence too old and too heavy to untie.

But eventually, you shifted. Pulled away gently, quietly. Yoongi let you go.

Now he’s still on the couch, elbow propped on the armrest, head tilted back, eyes closed.

She sits on the floor across from him, legs crossed, a convenience store bag half emptied beside you.

“Dinner,” you say, voice hoarse from crying but light in a way that feels like you're trying. “Kind of.”

He cracks one eye open to look at you. Watches as you line up your makeshift meal like some weird little ritual. Rice ball. Kimbap. Cup ramyun—beef flavored. Sausage stick, wrapped in greasy wax paper. Strawberry milk. And, inexplicably, a can of black coffee.

Yoongi stares.

“Is this… normal?” he asks, brows furrowing.

You shrug, half a laugh escaping you. “It’s dinner if you squint.”

He huffs, lips twitching just slightly. “And I thought I used to eat like shit.”

“You still do,” you deadpan. “Don’t act superior.”

That earns a real smile. Small. Brief. But real.

You hand him the sausage stick wordlessly. He takes it. Doesn’t thank you out loud, but his hand brushes yours on purpose when he does.

You sit like that for a moment— you slurping noodles, him chewing slowly, the warm hum of the room wrapping around them.

“Hey,” he says after a while, eyes still on the table.

You look up.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he murmurs. “About hating you.”

You nod. Quiet.

“But I..I guess I hated me too,” he adds. “For not seeing it. For not fighting harder. For moving on like you didn’t take a piece of me with you.”

Your hand stills around the cup of ramen.

“And I don’t know what this is,” he continues, voice low. “I just know… I don’t want to walk away again pretending it never happened.”

There’s a beat.

Then you push the strawberry milk toward him.

A peace offering.

He stares at it, then at you. “You still drink this?”

“Only on days that hurt.”

A pause.

Yoongi picks it up. Twists the cap.

Takes a sip.

Winces. “Still disgusting.”

You laugh—really laugh—and it breaks the tension like a dropped plate.

And just like that, the world feels a little less heavy.

The sky’s already dimmed by the time he stands to leave.

Neither of you really wants to say it. That this—whatever it is, whatever it’s becoming—is over for the day. But time moves whether you're ready or not.

You walk him to the door, even though it’s barely six steps away in the tiny apartment. He turns to say something—maybe a goodbye, maybe a see-you-around—but then…

He leans in.

No hesitation.

His lips brush yours—soft, brief, barely even a kiss. Just a breath of closeness. Like he’s trying to remember something he used to know by heart. Or like he’s testing the ache between you.

And for a second, you forget how to breathe.

It’s nothing like the hungry, messy kisses you used to share. It’s delicate. Tender.

Painful, even.

When he pulls back, his gaze drops to your lips, then slowly meets your eyes.

“I still don’t know if I’ve forgiven you,” he says, voice low. Honest. “I’m still angry. Still hurt. There’s a part of me that wants to stay angry because it’s easier than being this… confused.”

You swallow hard. Nods. “I understand.”

“But…” He hesitates. Licks his lips. “I haven’t been with anyone since you.”

Your breath catches.

“I didn’t realize it at first,” he admits. “Just thought I was too busy. Too tired. But it’s you. It’s always been you. Even when I hated you.”

You blink fast, like if you don't, the tears will spill.

“I’m not saying I can forget everything. Or that I’m ready to jump into something overnight,” he adds, quieter now. “But I want to try. Even if it’s slow. Even if it hurts a little.”

You don't say anything for a long time.

Then finally, barely above a whisper: “Okay.”

Yoongi exhales. Like he’s been holding his breath for five years.

He takes one last look at you before stepping out. “Don’t eat convenience store rice balls for dinner again. I’m serious.”

You snorted. “Yes, dad.”

A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, and then he’s gone—down the hall, out the door, like a dream slipping through your fingers.

But he did kiss you.

And he did come back.

Maybe this time, you'll get it right.

He comes over on a Sunday.

No occasion. No reason. Just muttered, “You around?” and your startled, “Yeah,” before you could even think to ask why.

Now he’s sitting on the floor by your coffee table while you fuss around the kitchen like you know what you're doing (you don't). He’s pretending not to notice that she just put the soy sauce in the fridge again even though she always forgets where it is afterward.

“So…” you say, voice light, forced. “Coffee? Or…uh. Strawberry milk?”

He looks up, expression unreadable. Then: “You really still drink that?”

“Only on Sundays now,” you say, shrugging. “It’s tradition.”

He huffs something that’s not quite a laugh, and not quite a sigh.

You set two mugs down. One for you. One for him. Your fingers brush for a second. Both flinch like you've been burned.

You both pretend it didn’t happen.

You sit across from him. He drinks. You stare.

“So. This is… weird,” you mumble finally.

He nods slowly. “Yeah.”

Silence.

You start rambling. “It’s like, I remember everything about you, right? Like how you hate when people stir their coffee with metal spoons. Or how you leave the rice cooker plugged in even when you’re not using it. But also, you’re not that guy anymore. And I’m not—”

“You still talk too much when you’re nervous,” he cuts in, sipping his coffee like he didn’t just pierce your heart with a butter knife.

You went still. Blinked. “Oh.”

“But it’s kinda… nice.” His voice softens. “I missed it.”

There’s a pause.

Then your voice comes smaller. “I missed you.”

He doesn’t reply. Not with words.

Instead, he reaches across the table and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

It’s not smooth. His fingers tremble just a little. It feels like too much and not enough at the same time.

You don't move.

Just whispers, “I’m scared, Yoongi.”

His thumb brushes your cheekbone. “Me too.”

You don’t kiss.

You don’t hug.

You just sit there—awkward, quiet, tender.

Trying.

And somehow, that’s more intimate than anything else you've ever done.

It’s been three months.

Three months of awkward dinners and too-long silences. Of brushing shoulders and pretending it meant nothing. Of burned rice, mismatched socks, and the occasional shared bed on nights when it felt less like relapsing and more like remembering.

Three months of rebuilding a house that was once left to rot.

Now, he’s in your apartment again. On the couch. Legs kicked up, shirt wrinkled, hair damp from the rain.

“You still take forever in the shower,” you mutter, tossing him a towel.

“You still buy the cheap shampoo,” he fires back, voice muffled as he dries his hair.

You snorted. “Sorry I’m not a millionaire idol, Min Yoongi.”

He smirks at that.

This—this feels normal.

But normal doesn’t mean healed.

There are still nights when you wake up gasping, clutching at your chest like the past is a weight pressing down. There are still days he flinches when you disappear for too long, like some part of him is convinced you'll vanish again.

Sometimes you argue. Petty things. Stupid things. The kind of fights that aren’t really about dishes or laundry, but about what they don’t say.

But sometimes—like now—they sit on opposite ends of the couch, your feet resting in his lap, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your ankle while some rerun hums on in the background.

“How’s the new guy?” he asks suddenly.

You blink. “Who?”

“At the center. The kid with the shaved head. You were talking about him the other day.”

“Oh.” you soften. “He’s trying. Had a bad week, but… he’s showing up.”

Yoongi hums, almost like he’s proud of you.

“You’re good at that,” he says after a beat.

“At what?”

“Making people feel like they’re not alone.”

Your throat tightens. You swallow past it. “You didn’t always think that.”

“I didn’t know everything back then.”

You look at him.

“You still don’t.”

He smiles faintly. “Then keep teaching me.”

You don't say anything.

Just shift closer—barely—until your knee brushes his thigh.

It’s not a grand gesture. Not a confession. Just a promise.

You're not perfect. Not healed. Not whole.

But you're trying.

And maybe that’s enough.

The silence in your apartment isn’t awkward anymore. It’s... expectant. Heavy, charged with a kind of closeness that’s been building between you for weeks. The kind that has Yoongi stopping by just to sit on your floor and listen to you hum under your breath while you do dishes. The kind that makes you leave your bedroom door open when you know he might knock.

Tonight, though, he doesn’t knock.

He’s already inside. Shoes off, jacket draped on the back of your chair, and hands curled loosely in his lap as he sits on your couch, watching you with a quiet intensity. You stand across from him, barefoot, holding a chipped mug of tea you haven’t sipped once.

“You okay?” he asks, voice low and careful.

You nod, even though your hands are trembling.

“You sure?”

No.

But you set the mug down anyway.

He watches you walk toward him. Doesn’t move. Just stares like he’s not sure what’s happening—like he’s scared to hope.

But when you settle onto his lap, straddling him carefully, slowly, his hands find your waist like they remember exactly where they belong.

Your lips brush once.

Twice.

Then the third kiss lands, and it lingers—soft, open-mouthed, warm. A sigh breathes out between you, and the moment breaks open like dawn after a storm.

Your fingers slide into his hair, tugging gently, and his mouth parts under yours. He kisses you back with something that feels like ache—like years of what if and almost and never got to say.

His hands are slow. Worshipful.

They map the dip of your spine, the curve of your hips, the familiar scar above your knee. No rush. No urgency. Just rediscovery, and reverence.

“I missed you,” you whisper, forehead pressed to his.

His thumbs press into your waist. “Don’t say that unless you mean it.”

“I do.”

He kisses you again before he can ask twice, your fingers slipping under his shirt, palms sliding up over his chest. His heart thuds beneath your hand—fast, anxious, real.

You pull his shirt off, tossing it somewhere behind you, and he follows suit—peeling off the hoodie you wore too often, too long. Your bare skin hits the air and goosebumps rise instantly.

Yoongi presses a kiss to your shoulder.

Another to the soft swell of your breast.

Then he sinks lower, gently easing you back onto the couch, kneeling between your thighs. He spreads kisses across your stomach, slow and adoring. Your breath hitches when he noses lower, right above the waistband of your shorts.

“Still okay?” he murmurs.

You lift your hips in response, and that’s all the permission he needs.

Your shorts and underwear are peeled away in one fluid motion. His hands slide along your thighs, parting them gently, reverently. You’re already warm, slick, breath stuttering when he leans in.

His mouth is heaven.

A slow, sinful glide of tongue against your clit—barely there, featherlight. Then again, firmer, until your back arches off the couch and your hand fists in his hair. Yoongi groans into you, gripping your thighs as he devours you slowly, expertly, like he’s been dreaming about it for years.

You gasp his name, high and breathless.

He groans again, like the sound alone gets him off.

When two fingers slide inside you, curling perfectly, you nearly come undone. Your hips grind against his mouth, chasing every flick of his tongue.

It builds—hot and slow and unbearable—until you’re unraveling, thighs trembling, eyes squeezing shut as you spill over with a desperate cry. He doesn’t stop, not until you’re twitching from the overstimulation, pushing at his shoulders with a breathless laugh.

Yoongi sits back, lips glistening, hair mussed.

He leans over you, kisses you softly, then rests your foreheads together.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, like it hurts.

Your heart stutters.

You lift your hand to his chest. “Yoongi...”

But he just kisses you again, slower now, less frantic. He pulls back to remove the rest of his clothes, your eyes following the trail of ink down his arm, over his ribs, down to the hardened length of him, flushed and needy.

Your fingers reach for him instinctively, curling around him gently. He grunts low in his throat, resting his head against your shoulder while you stroke him, slow and slick with your own arousal still clinging to his skin.

“Fuck,” he mutters, hips twitching forward.

You smile, barely. “Condom?”

He nods, fumbling for his wallet in his discarded jeans, tearing it open with shaky hands.

When he rolls it on, you guide him forward, pulling him over you, under you, into your space until all there is warmth and breath and bare skin.

He lines himself up and pauses.

Eyes meeting yours.

“Last chance.”

You pull him in with your legs.

And when he sinks into you, slow and careful, your eyes flutter shut, breath catching.

It’s deep.

Perfect.

He doesn’t move right away—just stays there, forehead pressed to yours, both of you breathing through the moment.

Then his hips roll, lazy and sweet, dragging gasps from your lips.

The rhythm stays gentle. Like you’re both afraid to break whatever this is.

His hands slide under your back, pulling you close, until your chest presses to his and there’s no space left between you. You wrap around him, moaning softly, nails digging into his shoulder as pleasure coils tight again.

“I never stopped,” he whispers.

You blink up at him. “What?”

“Loving you.”

The words hit harder than any thrust. You choke on your own breath, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“I know.”

His thrusts pick up, a little harder now, like his body is making promises his heart still aches to believe. He buries his face in your neck, groaning your name as your walls flutter around him, tight and slick.

“I’m close,” he grits out, voice raw.

You cling to him, voice breaking. “Me too—don’t stop.”

And he doesn’t.

He fucks you slow, deep, relentless—until you shatter again with a sharp gasp, nails raking down his back. Your muscles clench, pulsing around him, dragging him over the edge with a guttural moan.

He spills into the condom with a shudder, breath ragged, head resting heavily in the crook of your neck.

Neither of you move for a while.

Just the sound of your breathing.

Your fingers trace the line of his spine.

His lips press a kiss to your collarbone.

“I don’t know how to do this,” you whisper eventually.

“Neither do I,” he murmurs.

“But I want to try.”

He lifts his head, meets your gaze.

“Then we will.”

[marnikula]

Can u do early seasons spencer x reader who has a lot of problems and they let people walk all over them and they dont set boundaries and they struggle with their emotions. Reader likes spencer a lot but doesn't seek him out bc they feel like he deserves better! And u can decide what happens but make it happy ending :)

Oh my word, I literally spent like 2 hours writing this because I wrote something and then my internet cut out when I posted and now it's lost, so I had to rewrite it. Hope you enjoy!

Cw: gn reader, people dumping work on reader, Spencer being cute

Enjoy!

You were a doormat. You knew it, your friends knew it, everyone knew it. You tried to set boundaries, to say no, but it never seemed to stick. Saying no made you feel guilty, it made you feel like a bad person even though you knew you weren't.

Being a doormat, people tended to walk all over you, requesting ridiculous things of you. That is how it came to be that you were sitting alone in the bullpen, the clock ticking away, showing you that it was around midnight and you still had a whole stack of papers to go through. You felt yourself about to fall asleep, and truly, you were too tired to fight it off when a ding signaled the arrival of someone.

Without even turning to look who it was you knew it was Spencer Reid. You recognized his footsteps, and even if you didn't, the smell he brought with him would have alerted you. It was the smell of coffee mixed sweet undertones, almost as if he had spent his whole day in a café. It was intoxicating. "What are you still doing here?" "Working, I have a lot of stuff to finish before tomorrow" "you mean today" looking back at the clock you could see he was right, it was now officially the next day.

"Do you need some help?" without even waiting for you to decline Spencer took half of the pile you were working on. He moved fast, knowing you well enough to know that you hated asking for help, especially from him, he just could never figure out why.

"Spencer, you really don't need to, I've got this" reaching your hands to take the files back only to be swatted away by the doctor was something you did not expect. "I'm not saying you don't have it, I'm just going to help you so you can go home earlier"

Sighing you admitted defeat and went to go make coffee for the two of you. With Spencer's help you managed to make it through the massive stack of papers on your desk in less that an hour, something you would never have been able to do on your own.

"You, doctor Spencer Reid, are amazing, what can I do to thank you?" it was a slight tease on your part. You didn't expect him to ask you anything return, it wasn't like him, he was too nice . That was one of the things you loved about him, and one of the reasons you willed the crush growing in your heart to shrivel up and die. He deserved so much better than you. Someone with a mind as amazing as his own, someone with kindness rivaling his and someone who knew how to say no. You were none of those. At least not in your own eyes.

"You could go on a date with me" Spencer surprised himself with those words, he really hadn't meant to say them out loud, but he really liked you, and in a moment of confidence inspired by sleep deprevation, he decided to take a chance.

"Really? You mean it?" the both of you were blushing hard at this point, him thinking about how he could have possibly screwed this up and you thinking about how this could possibly get any better.

"I-I mean, only if you want to, you really don't have to feel pressured, I know I said I would take it as paiment, but honestly spending time with you was enough of a payme-" grabbing his face in your hands you turned him to look at you, shutting off his ramblings with the movement and shutting off his brain with your words

"I would love to"

[reidsrambles]

Part 1: New Year's Eve

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Description: My only New Year's Eve plan is to help my best friend Penelope entertain her many party guests. When I find myself alone with her coworker, Spencer (who I've had a crush on for ages), it seems that my New Year's might turn out different than I had planned.

(Content/Warnings below the cut)

Content/Warnings: [18+ MDNI] smut, protected (condom) PiV sex, oral sex (F receiving), brief mention of being drunk or high in the past

A/N: This fic is part 1 of a duo. Part 2: New Year's Day is in the works, and will hopefully be posted on time! I came up with this idea literally yesterday, and I've been writing like a madman since then, so edits might be made to this one after posting. I'm posting it right before midnight my time! Credit to @saradika-graphics for the divider graphics, including the one I cropped below.

Names used: Baby

Words (this chapter): 2,025

Words (total): 5,759

Penelope has always thrown stellar parties, but this one might be her largest to date. I can hear the music streaming from her apartment all the way down the hall. I sift through the keys on my keyring to find the one I need: my copy of her house key.

Streamers, balloons, and shimmery garlands cover the walls of Penelope’s apartment. There are somehow more guests than I’d expected. Penelope tends to make friends wherever she goes. Still, I didn’t expect for what seems to be everyone she knows to be free tonight. Many guests don party hats. Some are also wearing those silly New Year’s glasses with lenses in the shape of numbers. Not even two steps in the door, and I jump as someone prematurely blows a noisemaker.

Different dishes that partygoers have brought cover every inch of Penelope’s kitchen island. A potluck of appetizers and various salads, from the leafy green kind to the macaroni or potato variety. I squeeze around the guests loitering in her kitchen, leaning against the counter, probably because there’s nowhere to sit. Inside her fridge, it’s like playing Jenga, trying to find a spot to shove the champagne bottles I bought. 

Penelope’s dazzling emerald dress sticks out in the sea of black and metallic fits. Nobody can upstage the hostess, dare they try. I wrap my best friend in a hug from behind and she reflexively smacks my arm before realizing it’s me.

“Oh, my god!” she shrieks. She looks annoyed, rolling her eyes, but my behavior has garnered chuckles from the group she’s chatting with. Two knitting club friends. “Look who finally showed up! She conveniently had to work all day while I finished setting up.” 

I was here on Sunday doing all the decorating grunt work, but I choose to not argue the semantics. I’ll let her have the upper hand. Consider it an apology for the jump scare, Penelope.

“It’s not my fault that New Year’s Eve isn’t a holiday, and I, like most people, work a Monday-to-Friday, nine-to-five. You are aware of that, right?”

Penelope pecks my cheek before swiping at it with her thumb to wipe her bright red lipstick off. I ask her if she needs help with anything, as a good best friend to the hostess does, but predictably, she’s on top of everything. 

I make my rounds, catching up with the many people I already know and greeting those I haven’t met. “Hi! I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting yet! I’m Penelope’s best friend.” 

Hours pass, filled with stories of so-and-so’s new baby or graduation or other meaningful milestone. Then there are the few party games I’m roped into. On the plus side, every time I loop back around past the kitchen, I pick at the hors d'oeuvres. After work, I picked up the champagne, and then came straight here. The finger foods will suffice as dinner, I suppose.

From the spot I’ve claimed as my own against the wall, I watch my best friend, with her seemingly infinite social battery, open the door and gleefully welcome a couple I’ve never seen. How are people still showing up!? 

With a quick flick of the wrist, I glance at my watch. Still two hours to midnight. Ugh, shit.

I push myself off the wall and snake my way through the field of bodies, metaphorical white flag a-waving. 

“Pen, I know we’re getting closer to midnight, but I need to go take a nap or something. I’m absolutely drained. Just let me recharge for a few, and then I’ll be back out here. Promise.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Penelope says, guiding me a mere two feet to the side—all the crowd will allow. “I’ve seen you chatting it up all night. You know you don’t have to do that, my love. I’ve had the bedrooms locked, but Spencer was feeling a bit overwhelmed, so I let him into the guest bedroom if you want to join him in there.” She’s sincere, but teasing, gently bumping my shoulder with hers. Her innuendo is far from lost on me.

Huh, yeah. Spencer’s  the only one on her team, besides Aaron Hotchner, who I haven’t already bumped into tonight. Hotch is probably at home with the family. Where has Spencer been all night? He is usually a bit of a wallflower whenever he does show up to parties. Being friends with Penelope since childhood and moving out to D.C. with her, I’ve gotten to know everyone she’s close with, especially her coworkers. I’ve had a teensy-weensy crush on Spencer Reid since I first met him, not long after I moved out here, and Penelope’s teased me about it ever since. 

I pull my lips tight and nod. “Yeah, I think I can manage that.”

Yes, I’ve gotten to know Spencer quite a bit over the years, which has not helped ease my crush, but there’s no way he thinks of me as anything more than a friend. He probably just thinks of me as a friend-of-a-friend or as an acquaintance. Even worse… 

It’s kind of become a cycle. I start seeing someone or get into a whole relationship, and then I don’t have to think about Spencer at all, which is great. But, when I inevitably become single again and Penelope mentions his name, the longing starts all over again.

It’s just a crush, though. Everyone has crushes. And most people don’t act on these types of crushes. Why would I put Penelope in the middle of that?

The hall where Penelope’s bedroom, the guest bedroom, and a bathroom are is already much quieter than the rest of her house. All the noise is coming from behind me. The quiet is calling to me like a siren’s song; hopefully just luring me into a 20-minute catnap, if I’m lucky.

I gently tap my knuckles against the guest bedroom door twice before opening it. Only the nightstand lamps are on, and this cozy, warm room feels like escaping to actual Heaven right now. Spencer is sitting on the edge of the bed, hands in his lap.

“Hey, mind if I join you?” I ask, my heart rate ramping up instead of slowing down. 

“[Y/N], hey! Of course. Did Penelope tell you I was hiding away in here?”

I close the door behind me, and the roar of the party dies down to a rumble. “Well, I told her that I needed to get away from the crowd for a little bit, maybe take a nap or something, and she said she had just let you in here. My social battery died like, an hour ago.”

I join Spencer on the edge of the bed, keeping a respectable amount of distance. 

“I’m not much of a party person if you haven’t already figured that out,” he says.

“I don’t think I am either, honestly. Well, not anymore, at least. I was a little bit of a partier when I went off to college. But as I’m sure you could guess, me and Penelope weren’t really a part of the ‘in’ crowd as teenagers.”

“Is college the only time you and Penelope weren’t attached at the hip?”

“Yeah,” I laugh. “Basically. Right before I sent off my college applications, we had gotten into a fight over something stupid. It was so stupid, that neither of us can remember what it was over. But, instead of applying to CalTech with her, I applied to a couple schools I knew she wasn’t applying to. I ended up getting accepted to Georgia Tech. Literally, the other side of the country. I think that I had it in my head that I was going to show her that she’d miss me.”

“And then you guys made up?”

“We literally made up two days after I sent off my applications, yeah,” I nod, my story earning a laugh from Spencer.

“I can’t believe I haven’t heard that story before.”

Another rogue noisemaker is sounded, muffled by the wall between us and the chaos, but it’s enough of a surprise to startle both of us.

“Sorry,” he says, “I should’ve asked. Did you want the room to yourself? I don’t mind if you need me to step out.”

“Oh, no. I’m completely fine. If I wanted to be alone, I could’ve just gone to Penelope’s room. It’s not like you’re a stranger or anything. As long as you don’t mind if I accidentally pass out.”

I sit up and round the bed to the far side, and when I slip under the sheets, I regret my choice of a black skirt and tights for tonight. Spencer sits on top of the sheets on the other side.

“I really wish I hadn’t left my book out in the living room,” he jokes. 

“So, you’re saying I don’t get a bedtime story?”

I try, as discreetly as I can, to slip my tights off under the sheets. Every time I adjust my position, I tug them down a little bit more.

“If you want me to read to you, I can,” he says.

Got ‘em down to my knees.

“I forgot about that whole memory thing,” I laugh. “What’s that called, again?”

“I have an eidetic memory. It’s primarily for things I’ve read, though.”

So close.

“I mean, you definitely don’t have to, but if wanted to read me something, it would be really helpful to mask the noise.”

Yes! Finally. I’m freeee.

I kick my tights off my feet under the covers (a problem for me to deal with later, when I’m more awake) and I can breathe a sigh of comfort at last.

Spencer begins to speak, but I cut him off.

“Sorry. Just don’t let me sleep more than 20 minutes. I’m aiming for 15, even. I should be out like a light. I’m a good napper. Gold-medal worthy.”

I flop back down onto the bed and let my heavy eyelids fall shut. Spencer reads some story aloud with no text in front of him. As I drift off, his voice lulling me to sleep, I know this is going to be something that I playback from memory in the future. A decayed version in my own, fallible memory.

The world is dark, but noisy. I haven’t yet gathered the strength to open my eyes, but the rest of my senses are slowly feeding my brain information. I feel a steady rise and fall against my back. Breathing. A man’s face nuzzled into my neck. I’m being spooned from behind, but he isn’t under the covers with me. He’s above them. Even through the fabric, I can feel him against my ass. The hardness between his legs pressed into my backside. Where the hell am I?

It’s New Year’s Eve. Penelope’s guest bedroom. Spencer.

Spencer’s breathing picks up, and as my eyes flit open, I’m ripped from my sleepy bliss and plunged into utter panic. He’s woken up too. Spencer jumps out of bed at the same time I do, clearly stunned.

“[Y/N], I am so, so sorry. I completely didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“Shit. No, I’m sorry.”

Does he know I have a crush on him? Is he going to think I planned that? In my barely-awake daze, I jump to the worst-case scenario. 

Spencer just keeps rambling apologies and swearing up and down that he fell asleep by mistake. My disorganized words of reassurance don’t seem to be cutting through. 

“10... 9…” 

The chanting from outside our bubble only takes a moment for me to register. It’s already midnight?

“8…7…” 

Spencer still hasn’t shut up. Before I can fully realize what I’m doing, I round the bed to where he’s standing. He stops mid-sentence.

“6…5…4…” 

He hears it. He realizes. Our faces are so close; mine, angled up to his. Was I going to say something to calm him down? I don’t remember anymore. His eyes are darting across my face, mirroring my gaze. Eyes, lips. Eyes, lips. 

“3…2…1…”

Our lips crash together right as a chorus of Happy New Years and noise-makers chimes.

Spencer Reid’s lips. On mine. 

Next Chapter: New Year's Day

AO3 | Tumblr | Masterlist

[strawberries-and-summer-days]

ITS NOT MIDNIGHT ANYMORE . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

pairing: Show!Luke Castellan x apollo!fem!reader!

warnings: swearing + derogatory names i think thats about it

a/n: alrighty!! we're here for the final round of this whole part series thingamajig. i kinda put this off cause i know luke's gotta make a whole oscar worthy speech and i was worried my writing wouldn't cut it lol. but anyhoo i hope you enjoy!!

part one: midnight troubles | part two: meet me at midnight

what.

the.

fuck?

wait... no yeah, what the fuck?

"what?" your voice is quiet and you turn around slowly, your eyes narrowed.

"...because, i- i love you,"

"you're telling me that you don't want to be friends... because you love me?" you eye luke. "you think you can just say you love me and i'll throw myself at your feet and all with be right again?" you take a menacing step forward. "you think you can tell me a lie and get out of this?"

luke's eyes shine with an unrestrained emotion you can't quiet place. "you think i'm lying?"

another step forward. "yes."

luke takes a hesitant step forward. "im not," his voice is soft.

"you are."

"i'm not."

"bullshit."

the look in luke's eyes cause you to hesitate for a moment. is he actually being serious right now?

"then what the fuck luke?" your arms fly out and you drop them. "what in the ever-loving-actual-fuck is wrong with you?" you shake your head and try to repress the anger bubbling beneath your skin. "you think you can just throw this shit in my face? i've been in love with you for years. years. do you see me acting like the worlds biggest asshole? no! do you see me freezing up when someone calls my best friend a slut or a whore? no! do you see my trying to get out of this whole fucked up situation by telling my best friend that i don't want to be their friend and that i'm in love with them? NO!" you heave you breath coming out harshly.

"w-what?"

"i-i'm just done luke," you say quickly barely even noting you'd just told him you love him in your anger.

"y/n-"

"i'm done!" you snap stepping back from him. "i'm giving you until tomorrow afternoon to sort your shit out, and work out whatever the fuck you want to say or do. but after that, we're done. this-" you motion between the two of you- "is done. luke and y/n? over. we're fucking done. you've got," you look down at your watch. "like eighteen hours, and considering how long it takes you to answer, you better get cracking." you roll your eyes and walk away from the twinkling glow of the fairy lights. not even caring when you step in a puddle from percy's shenanigans earlier today. not even caring that it's dark.

your world has been dark for a week.

~~~

everyone in camp could tell you and luke had some sort of falling out. it was obvious when you didn't sing this morning, it was obvious when you didn't come and watch him train, it was obvious when you had brushed past him and he had looked torn, it was most definitely obvious when luke had somehow managed to be bested during sword sparring.

and that was what had set campers off.

sides had started to be chosen and feuds had started to form.

chaos was brewing already and it had only been a day. rumours about what happened - curtesy of the grape bitch, you wanna say phyllis..? - had formed and spread like wildfire.

it was almost scary how much unknown power you both had over campers.

so now you're sitting on the beach watching as the waves lap against the shore contemplating if you should just hunt luke down and smack him instead of talking - it seems really reasonable you guys.

"hey..." a deep voice comes from behind you.

"hello."

luke's warm presence appears behind you and it takes everything in you to not lean into it.

"so..." you start, hoping luke gets the idea.

"so yeah..." luke sighs. "y/n, please, listen to me- no hear me out okay? just let me get this all out and then you can yell at me." he takes a deep breath and lets it all out in one go.

"i love you. i've loved you since the day you showed up at camp all grumpy and refusing to socialise with anyone except me. i love the way your singing can create immense peace, i love the way you scrunch your nose whenever you get embarrassed. i love the way your face lights up when campers come and talk to you. you're a star in the night sky, shining brighter everyday. you're my best friend and im hopelessly- desperately in love with you. i have been since forever. and i'm the world biggest asshole for letting the shit that went down last week happen. please, please, forgive me. i'll do anything."

your heart burns with every word he says. luke's eyes shine with barely unrestrained emotion and his face is the epitome of adoration.

you're both so wrapped up in his words that you don't notice the small gathering of campers at the edge of the sand watching the two of you. each of them, though they've chosen sides luke or y/n, they all hope for the same thing.

luke lifts his hand and gently tucks a stray curl behind your ear. "please say something."

"um..." you breathe, struggling to find the right words to say. "wow."

luke looks at you so earnestly it hurts your heart.

"luke... i love you. i. love. you. do you get that? i've been practically obsessed with you since i showed up at camp. and you fucking hurt me last week, some big speech isn't going to change that."

"y/n," luke starts.

"luke listen to me please." you breathe out shakily. "i don't want to lose you, but i can't- i just can't-" you're cut off when luke's soft lips press onto yours.

the kiss is soft, searching, hopeful. you lean into it slightly and the campers watching nearby silently start to celebrate.

but then you come to your senses.

pulling away, you look at luke with tears in your eyes. "no luke, no. you can't kiss me and make it all go away. you cant just kiss your way out of this. i love you and its tearing me apart."

"y/n," his voice is filled with anguish.

"its physically hurting me luke. it hurts." tears are freely streaming down your face now. "it hurts so fucking much that the one person i trusted to stand up for me, the one person i trusted with my whole being can't even defend me in a petty situation like that. how am i supposed to move on from this knowing my best friend in everything can't even stand up for me?"

tears shine in luke's eyes.

"so no luke. no. i don't care what you have to say anymore. this-" you motion between the two of you. "is done. im done. i love you but i love myself more."

you stand up then, tears falling down your face like waterfalls. "see ya round lukey."

two broken words a wrenched from luke's throat then. "no. please."

"i'm sorry..."

a/n pt2: ummm soo im very sorry for that yeah.... sorry about that ending of the series (if its wanted enough i'll make another part maybe possibly)

TAGLIST: @iammightsadyall, @y0urm0m12, @just35yrsandtrying, @kaceyh24, @dancing-inasnowglobe, @purplerose291, @shoyofroyoyoyo, @purple-imaginess, @spqrkles, @itz-lilywelch, @d1lf-loverrr, @cassiopeia-core

[lilirari]

new year's day

charles leclerc x gn! reader ☆ fluff ☆ food & alcohol ment ☆ 1.02k words ☆ heavily inspired by taylor swift's 'new year's day'.

💭 author's note : a very short & simple writing to start off the year ! i've gotten a bit rusty with written works tbh :( anyways 2024 will be charles' and ferrari's year !! 🤞 (delulu)

it was already past midnight, the leftovers and remains of a new year's party clearly evident in your apartment. there's glitter all over the place and empty bottles of alcohol, boxes of pizza, cans of soft drinks, and random polaroids littered the hardwood floor.

a sigh escaped your lips as you rubbed the temples of your forehead, a trash bag in hand. as you looked around the trashed apartment, your eyes landed on the only other person present there.

" you don't have to stay back, you know. " you pointed out, as the other person shook his head. " it's alright, y/n. it's the least i can do... especially after my friends absolutely wrecked your place. " charles mentioned, offering you an apologetic smile as he looked around the place.

you chuckled softly at his words as you waved your hand in dismissal. " it's all good, charlie. you don't have to apologise. i was the one who invited them anyways so i'll take the blame. although, i must admit that it was quite fun meeting them again. they were the life of the party, especially daniel. it would've been pretty boring without any of them so i don't really regret inviting them. "

charles laughed at your words, nodding his head in agreement. " that is true.. they do know how to party well. "

" hmm.. but charles, you really should go. do you really want to spend the first day of a new year cleaning up an apartment that's not even yours ? " you asked, your voice laced with concerned as you picked up a few empty cans and threw them inside the trash bag.

upon hearing your words, the monegasque man raised an eyebrow. " y/n, are you trying to get rid of me ? " he asked as he slumped his shoulders and folded his arms. " i'll have you know that i'm quite hurt by these words of yours. " he commented, pretending to be upset as you suppressed a laughter, trying your best not to crack at his antics.

" oh, you know it's nothing like that, charlie. but i'm just worried that i'll ruin your new year's day. like, you're supposed to be at home having a good rest right now but you're stuck with me here instead. and this is not really an ideal thing to be doing on the first day of the new year, y'know ? " you continued, voicing your concern over his stay as he just smiled.

" y/n, you're not getting rid of me. there's no point in telling me to leave because i won't. i've already made up my mind. i'm staying here and i'm going to help you until the end. "

there was something about the way he looked and smiled at you that made your heart skipped a beat and your breath hitched. he was always so kind to you, a true gentleman. and the fact that you had the biggest crush on him didn't help at all. as you felt your cheeks start to warm up, you quickly tried to cover it with a small cough. " fine. but you can't complain if you get tired, alright ? "

the sound of his laughter filled the room as he gave you a cheeky smile. " deal. "

the remaining hour went by rather silently, with only the sound of soft music playing in the background being heard. the two of you swept the floors, rearranged any of the furnitures which were out of place and picked up all the trash. the only conversation you had in between the clean-up was when charles found some funny polaroids the other drivers took, which made you both laugh until your stomachs ached and you had to cross your arms over your stomachs in an attempt to catch your breaths.

eventually, you somehow finished cleaning up the place and made it look like how it was before it got trashed. you held onto a mop for support as you sighed, the exhaustion from all the partying and the cleaning finally catching up to you.

charles walked back into the room, having gone out to throw the garbage bags into the bins on the street. " looks like our job's done. " he pointed out as his eyes scanned the room, which seemed to be devoid of any irregularities now and looked spotless. his eyes landed on you as you wiped away the sweat on your forehead. " tired ? "

you nodded at his words as you placed the mop back to its original place and walked up to the driver. " a little, yeah. but it was worth it. thank you for helping me out, charlie. i would've never finished cleaning all the mess in a short amount of time without you. " you extended your thanks, moving your lips slightly to indicate a smile.

" it's nothing, y/n. this is why i told you not to get rid of me. " he nudged your sides, showing you his pearly whites as he grinned. you playfully rolled your eyes at his words, before remembering something. " oh yeah, i forgot to ask you earlier. did you enjoy the party ? "

" i did. " charles muttered, his voice suddenly growing softer as he took a step forward. " there's one thing i regret not doing at the party though. "

" hmm ? what's that ? " you hummed, your eyes searching for an answer in his. nothing could've prepared you for his next words though as he placed a hand on your cheek, his eyes landing on your lips for a mere second before darting back to look at you. he took in a deep breath, as his thumb gently grazed your lower lip. " i really wished i had kissed you when the clock struck twelve. "

your eyes widened and you felt your heartbeat pick up it's pace. did he feel the same way about you as you felt about him ? there was only one way to find out. you boldly leaned in, closing the gap between the two of you as you looked into his eyes. " well, can't you kiss me now ? "

charles couldn't have been more happier to hear those words come out of your mouth as he immediately pressed his lips against yours, giving you the answer to your question through this action of his and a memorable way to begin a new chapter of your life.

© LILIRARI, 2024 ★